CHRISTIAN SUN.
IN ESSENTIALS, UNITY;
IN NON-ESSENTIALS, LIBERTY;
IN ALL THINGS, CHARITY.
Volume XXXIII,
SUFFOLK, VA., FRIDAY JULY 16, 1880.
Number 28.
MORE LIKE CHRIST.
BY LIBBIE S. MORGAN.
Only to be more like my Lord I ask,
And no crou too htiacy, no toil a task,
Like Hie, a spirit lowly and meek,
Is the priceless pearl for which 1 seek.
To be like Him in a boundless lore,
Which tliiuketh no evil, and lilted above
Earth’s selfishness, envy, malice a{jd pride,
Could lead to the cross on which lie died.
More like Christ in my constant aim,
To glorify the Father’s name—
In a perfect child-like faith and trust
That bis ways are always wise and just.
More like him in my earnestness,
That the world may know His power to bless,
More like one who knew no siu,
More like my Lord, 0 I more like Him I
’Neath His chastening hand I would not shrink,
Life's bitterest cup would calmly drink,
That purified at last I rise
To mansions fitted in the skies.
^ election^.
AN AMUSING STORY.
An amusT.'ig story is tolil of Mr.
Gougb, when bo "out to Oxford to
address tbe studefits on temperance.
A lew evenings bef'oio an euiitieut
mau was to have delivered a lecture
at Oxford on “Tbe Evils <Jl Tobacco.’
The boys got into the hall an boor
beforehand, each with what Dr. (Jar
roll drull,v emphasized as a “college
pipe” in bis month. The time for the
lecture arrived, but if the lecturer
did, it was never discovered—be was
not visible througb the fog. The stu
dents sent word to Gough when he
caige. that they wouldn’t have auy
temperance, and advised him not to
persist in lecturiug. But he went to
the hall. For twenty minutes he
spoke in pantomime amid the deafen
ii.’g catcalls of tbe boys. Finally he
stepped forward, demanded British
fair play .and offered to whip every
one of the 50b singly. This offer was
loudly cheered anti promptly accep
ted, and a big six foot athlete was
sent up on the stage. Gon£h who is
a little man, backed off as th* big
fellow approached him,and explaiuOb
“My friends you evidently misuuder
Stood pie.' This is to be an intellect
ual contest, not a prize tight.” The
students cheered again at this evi
dence of the American’s shrewdness
and ordered the debate to proceed.—
The college lad was tberefore,obliged
to tackle the temperance champion.
He was at a disadvantage, but he
quoted Scripture and reminded the
plucky lecturer that it wasoue of tbe
apostles who wrote to Timothy—a
young man, too, like themselves—to
take a little wine for bis stomach’s
sake and for bis other infirmities. The
lads shouted vociferously at this, and
wauted to know how Gough could
get around it.
Gough slowly examined the six
footer from top to toe and then, said,
‘‘My friends, look at this athlete, this
fellow with muscles like steel, who
can wield the club of fiercules, who
can beud an English yeomau’s bow,
who could kuock down an ox with the
blow ot a hammer. He is the person
ification of health and strength, but
be thinks he needs a little wine for
his stomach’s sake.”
Gough’s inimitable manner of say
ing this had a tremendous effect. The
students fairly yelled with delight
and their defeated champion retreat
ed.
Another was sent up. He was the
intellectual giaut of his clasp, in con
tradistinction to the six footer. He
with much self-confidence, made a
finished argument for liquor drink
ing, based on Christ’s changing the
water into wine at the wedding fefist.
His comrades cheered him to the
echo and thought bis argument un
answerable, pud Gough was chaffed
for his defeat. “Young men,” said
he,solemnly, “I admit that yeur cham
pion has forestalled me. He has said
for me just what I came here to
charge you to do. Drink all the wine
you can find that is made entirely
out of water 1 ”
IN the humblest dwelling and in
the obscurest corners the noblest, the
most successful, and the most honor
able liyes are lived as trnly as on the
wide avenues and beneath the gaze of
myriads of admiring eyes. Every
life which Christ guides by His light,
and cheers by His smile, aud crowns
with His forgiveness and His reward,
is thoroughly worth living for its ex
perience aud for its abundant re
ward*,— Bret. Porter.
Scbsckjbe for your church paper.
SUNDAY EVENING THOUGHTS.
UNMONIED CHABITY.
“Not a dime this morning for the
plate—not a dime I although I hare
worked for it and prayed over it, and
the igute minute when it ought to
have made a little noise in the church
and did not, went with a sad echo
through my heart !”
This was poor Mrs. B.’s lamenta
tion as we passed out together through
the vestibule.
This evening how tefreshingly the
prayer and the work seemed both an
swered. Good Dr. G.’s sermon had
been alt about alms-giving. He hiade
it to be not only the hand of 'charity,
which it certainly is, but the heart of
charity also. Giving was pronounced
out aud out as the only satisfactory
criterion of the Christian life, the on
ly reliable test of the church’s fideli
ty ; and in the maiu the Doctor was
right. Giving is a good thing; so
good that when winged by prayer it
comes up before God as our “memori
al,” aud as we all know, it goes down
with men as the very gauge of our
goodness.
Giving is mighty, but it is not al
mighty ; aud in looking out the Doc
tor’s reference texts this evening what
a strange sense of comfort crept into
our hearts as we lingeied lovingly
over that splendid apotheosis of char
ity—1 Cor. 13.
Never before bad tbe tbought
struck us that there is not here set
forth one single requirement of the
Divine love law that is dependant for i
its fulfillment upon our possession of I
this world’s riches; not one demand, j
not one iota hereof exaction that may
not be met by the very humblest and
most untuouied of all God’s children
It is a tender thought, and one
most grateful to those of us who have
fuller hearts than purses, and » ho are
always longing for some meaus where
by we may give richer and more sub
stantial proof ol our love to God and
man. And by tbe way, what a sweet,
evidence page out oi God’s own—very
own—book this charity chapter is to
be sure! Man could uever have writ
teu it; for it bears no trace of his ina
terial Ungers.
The world raises no altar of wor
ship that has not the call of gold eu
shrined. Its judgment-scale knows
of no stifling measure that has not
pounds and pence in it. And its van
tage ground everywhere is surveyed
witn such stingy exactness that there
is at the best but 8 n8rrow »ud naked
verge .for thd poor ™an t0 8taud
upou.
The church too—not the church
proper, thank God 1 only soffld poor
misrepresentative of the church—has
a deplorable way sometimes of put
ting the poor man at a disadvan
tage.
To go into some of our gorgeous
cathedrals and to witness the sump
tuous appliances for worship, an out
sider mighty be tempted to doubt ii
the poor have any heritage iu the
gospel. All is made to look so much
like a capital ooutract for rich monop
olists ; a “celestial railroad” as it
were on which only those can go who
have “taken stock,” or who can pay
for full tickets.
What gross injustice to the church
that things should ever be made so to
appear. And how different from the
estimate of the Divine Master who
sits over against the treasury, and iu
whose sight the “two farthings” of
humble self-deuial are of more value
than the heavy aud noisy coin of ma
uy a pompous Dives.
lc is uo sui to bund us gorgeous ca
thedrals if iu so doiug we houestlj
give back to God the ' wealth that
comes from Him; no siu to have
toweriug temples that look far over
the world of troubled waters and
beckon nations to the worship of the
true Jehovah, liod Himself allowed.
cOmuiauded such. But it is a siu to
have God’s house ever so. built or so
managed that the poor are made to
feel that they have no part or lot iu
the matter, and are really, whether
they feel it or not, ousted out of that
heritage which is emphatically theirs:
To the poor the gospel is preached.—
Sod enough it is and cruel euough
when Christ’s church is ever made to
turn such a face as this upon our poor,
suffering, sorrowing, sinning world 1
But charity’s purse is not in the
keeping of even holy church, and at
such a crises as this her true money
knows uo discount. We may indeed
be too poor to sit in the grand cathe
dral with its “loug-drawyi aisle and
fretted roof,” too poor to take any
partin the priestly parade of pious
pomp, too poor to add one drop to the
unotious sayings of luxurious fullness
and—worse still and far more to our
shame and sorrow— too poor to give
more than the meanest mite to any of
the good and noble charities that lie
so near onr heart, and which the
cbarcb, like the nursing mother that
she is, has always in her keeping.—
And yet, thank God for it, we can
never bo too poor for that charity—
Th»t sufl'ereth long snd is kind ;
That enrietb not;
That thinketh no evil ;
That rejoicetii not in iniquity, but rejoicetb in
the truth;
That beareth all things;
Beliereth all things;
Endureth all things.
As we go over it verse by verse
what an exquisite poem it is ; and all
true too ami written by that hand
that shaped the world into beauty
and the heart of man into the sensi
tive plate l'or the appreciation and re
tention of that beauty.
Ah, not one iota of advantage has
the rich man over the poor man here!
In all the vast and varied heueiits ol
this glorious endowment they stand
before the Benefactor equal. With
out it having nothing, with it pos
sessing all things—equal, though the
oue may have the golden coffer of
royalty at his disposal and the other
the empty chest of squalid poverty.
And here is the stamp uuder which
lies the secret of true charity, and
which seals it to us as the gift, “the
most excellent gilt,” from that ex
chequer whose coin bears on it no im
age or superscription of this world’s
Cassar, hut the loving face of rite dear
All Father, whose riches are truiy
“without money and without price.”!
auu j“i wune we are coi; ^iniiuai- i
ing us on the glorious truth that the j
indulgence of this heaveu-fed wealth !
of charily does not dejieud upon our j
possession of this world’s pomp, or j
power, or circumstance, we i re forced '
to rejoice with trembling, snowing |
how far beyoud the measure of anv
such meter it goes iu the matter ol
eostl.v requirement ; one indeed to I
which all the ring of I his world^pic- j
cions metals, all the gilts of this'
world’s Astors and Stewarts and Van-1
derbilts are, iu very truth, but as ihe !
‘•souuiliug brass.” Far easier ana j
cheaper it is for most of us to give I
our goods to feed the poor and our j
own well beloved bodies to be burueu j
even than it is to give the prayer ol
forgiveness for the man that has
wronged us, or the soft auswer that
lurueth away wrath to the mau that
smites us.
Ah, these are the checks in the
Christian man’s world of business
that cannot be made payable iu sil
ver, or gold, or bault deposit. Yet
what is our richest charity worth if
it cauuot honor them 1 Honored
they must be, and can be if our char
ity is iu a good, healthy and sound
condition. Here is the very crucial
test to show if such is its state, or if
tt is insolvent, broken and good for
nothing. Charity is God’s bank; it
“never faileth and if any such run
on it show it to be weak and insuffi
cient, we may tie sure it is not fod
from the Inexhaustible.
When we come to examine our
selves in this way what an alarming
ly small stock of any such charity
capital most of us can boast to be
stire! Yet we Gall ourselves Chris
tians, aud charity, we must remem
ber, is no optional quality that may
be considered iu some vague way as
“generally necessary to salvation”—
uo ornamental grace that cau be dis
pensed with when time of pressure
make U3 economical of our virtues.—
it is the element aud integral God
within us; greater, St. Paul tells us,
than the Hope that seeks for, or the
Faith that fiuds us salvattou. It is
the likeness of God iu the soul that
shows us regenerated by grace, just
us the huuiau features ou tbe bumau
face show us generated of flesh aud
blood. But it is more than features
or impress; it is tbe very blood aud
breath of the uew birth, aud we can
uo more.be God’s child aud not love
than we can be man’s child aud uot
breathe. It is simply one thing
without which uo Christianity is. *
• Now, if the best charity we know
could ouly be made payable iu hard
money—and hard mouey it certainly
is to most of us to get and to give—
what a comparatively cheap thiug re
ligiou would be, and what a fearful
responsibility would be lifted from
our human souls. Indeed, if we
could ouly indemnify our piety by pe
riodical payments in the spiritual
coin of charity, what a great mat ter
it would be for us; say, for instance
we could be let off from auy further
demands upon our charity by beiug
in a munificent state of forgiveness to
even our bitterest enemy once a year,
or that we could establish a quit claim
by indulging* it) a largeness of pa
tience and forbearance and loving
kindness regularly once a month or
once a day ! But this perpetual, nev
er-ending, never-to-be avoided de
mand upon us that comes through the
commonplace minutiae of every-day
life, this it is that is so costly and so
exhausting! And just here it is tbat
failure and bankruptcy ccrne to so
many of ns that, are quite well to do
ip tbe circumstantial charities of the
oburcli and tbe world.
We can drop our extra dollar, or
hundred dollars, or thousand dollars,
as tbe case may be, ou the commun
ion plate and feel and look very com
fortable and respectable, or we may
build houses for the poor and regard
ourselves as benefactors, or we may
feed our sick euemy and think our
selves most heroic. And it is all no
ble charity and highly commendable.
But better than all this is it to
meet with sweet, unfaltering love the
incessant claim on us that comes from
tbe paltry traffic and never done ex
action oi every-day and all day long
home life ; to be kind aud forbearing
to the vexatious children, tbq tor
meeting servants, the invalid sister,
the nucougenial brother, the unchar
itable friend, or, euiargiug tbe circle,
not to be envious of the neighbor who
lives in a Uuer house, or drives ip a
better carriage. And why! Be
cause charity euvieth not ; not to feel
important, or ostentatious when we
come into promotion ourselves.
For what reason! Charity vaunteth
not herself—is not puffed up.
Sever to have the eye fixed on the
ma n chance tot our own advantage
when employed in any public service.
Wliereiore! Charity seeketh mother
oicn.
.rv' uuiue, nuiuau, m tuc cuuiuu su
cieiit-.s, in the state councils, to know
it" iieil'.l worries, no spiteful' detrac
tion.-.,..o.selttsb distinctions, no greedy
am bun ns, no deceitlul pieteusious,
ao losuiitous rivalries. Sucli wealth
cal! rani e of a beggar a sceptred Uiug,
and crown the head boned low iu
poverty with Jewels brighter thau a
queen's diadem. It may not make
any l-Juti noise iu this busy and male
rial world, probably does not suuuu
hall'so weighty iu men’s ears as the
jingling of a lew dollars of the money
givers; but as the thousand dollar
banknote falls softer upon the church
plate than the cheap and loud eoppei
coin, so the comparative noiseless
and priceless wealth of heart-coined
love has a silent worth that God ap
preciates, and even though it have no
representative for current use iu this
world’s almighty dollar, it is God’s
bullion that waits for coinage at a
higher taint. It is the 'pure gold"
that will not rust nor canker, the
"good gold” with which Christ’s heav
en is paved.—Tarpley Starr, in South
ern Churchman.
FOOD AT SCHOOLS.
The venerable Archdeacon Allen,
of Prees, Shrewsbury,has writteu the
following letter to the Times, and has
thus started another subject for dis
cnssion during what is known as the
dull season
“Can yon at this season lind room
for a request to the masters of high
class schools that they will on some
occasions partake of the dinuersset
before the boys under their charge t
Some months ago a grand son ol
mine came from the head master’s
honse of one of our first-class schools
to spend the holidays with me. lie
seemed to be languid in manner, aud
his cheeks were colorless. After
three weeks his manner and appear
ance greatly chauged for the better.
He told me, on my questiouiug him
as to the food set before him at
school, that it was so greasy and ill
dressed he had no appetite for it. I
asked him if the head master ever sat
down to the food prepared for the
boys, the answer was, Never. 1
ventured to write to the head master.
My expostulation was ill received. It
1 could learn that he sometimes dined
at the table of the boys under hi.
charge, I should be easy under the
scolding he gave me. A granddaugh
ter is now under 1113' roof. She ha»
been at a school charitably set on
foot for the reception of the orphan
daughters of officers. She has excel
lent health. For breakfast she may
choose either tea, coffee or oatmeal
porridge, with milk, brown or white
bread and butter. For dinner, varie
ty of meat and pudding, all nicely
dressed. The mistress always dines
with the girls. For tea, bread and
butter or jam, cake, with tea. At
night a glass of milk and a biscuit.
The expense of board, lodging aud
schooling to her widowed mother is
£12 pound a year) no extras. Facb
girl sleeps in a separate enclosure.—
The coutrast between the treatment
of this girl and her cousin, whose
father pays tenfold for his son’s
schooling, seems to me instructive.11
Satan is not a mere spectator of
the work of revival. He has combi
ned all the powers of an arch angel
to organize the spirits that have en
tered into his malignant project to
ruin the souls of men.
1
FAMILY BIBLES.
Previously to this generation a
family Bible was a common possess
ion. Not to have one was a defect.
The book was either an imperial oc
tavo or quarto. Its size made it sui
table for the registry of marriages
and births, rendered it legible by old
people, and with little light,and gave
it a reverend aspect. Many holy and
loving associat ions clung to this book.
It was possessed of sacred memo
ries and traditions. It is good for a
family to possess some pieces of old
china, a grandfather’s chair, or any
other like pieces of furniture. It con
nects the present with the past, and
is an element of family life, a source
of stability and just self-respect; but
much more may be said of the family
Bible.
Such was the volume from which
the old man read to his wife aud
daughter by the fireside, aud on
which he laid bis spectacles down to
smooth his brow, look kindly around,
and say a word about the dead to the
living.
All this is past, or fast passing
away. We find now a small Bible,so
small that only young eyes can read
it, and so cheap as to ho thrown
about negligently ; or, if there be a
large Bible, it is one that has been
bought in parts at an extraordinary
expense, considering the income of
the pmehaser, bound up in a showy,
but insecure cover, and theu laid on a
side table or shelf. It is too precious
ro be used, and too cumbrous. It is
a mere ornament, and oiteu covered
with other ornaments—shells, or wax
figures, or a Tyrolese shepherd in
china. In fact, it is a stand or shell
ton curiosities, or such objects of art
as the hawker supplies to the sim
ple.
This is a change for tiie worse, and
if becomes us to meet it, if possible
The question is, bow ! Very good
Bibles are to be bought cheap, from
societies and at bookstalls aud pawn
brokers’ shops, sad as it is to see
them there; but theu, how are these
books to be conveniently and safely
supplied to those who should have
ihein ?
Suppose a fuud raised in a parish
for the distribution of Bibles ; proba
bly the ubundauce of the article
would bring it into contempt. Sup
posing good-sized Bibles were given
to all children leaving the school,
there would be an accumulation of
large Bibles often in a cottage, of Bi
bles owned by children, who do not
like a large book, aud would not use
it. What is needed is this, not that
every person in a house should have
a large Bible, but that every house
should.
Suppose oue were presented to
every couple on their wedding-day,
this would keep things right tor the
future; but it would not supply the
defects of the past.
In fact it is no easy matter to say
what is the best thing to do; and we
throw out the subject for the careful
consideration of those who wish well
to the homes of their poorer brethren.
All that we can at present suggest is
a gentle discouragement--mf those
huge Bibles taken in at an enormous
expense by the poor; otters to assist
in procuring a right-sized book, when
desired ; and the gift of a good sized
Bible by masters or friends, on the
occasion of the marriage of those iu
whom they are interested, aud who
would receive such a gift kindly and
value it as a testimonial of regard.—
^Ye are not to mouru over the good
old times, but lefaiu whut is left of
that good, recover that which is lost,
and add it to the many blessings ol
the present.— The National Church.
---
DRESS PLAIN ON SUNDAY.
many who find it bard to maiutaiu !
their places in society.
2. It would lessen the temptations
which often lead men to barter hon
or aud honesty for display.
3. If there were less style in dress
at church people in moderate circuin'
stauces would be more likely to at
tend.
4. Universal moderation in dress
at church would improve the worship
by the removal of many wandering
thoughts.
5. It would euable all classes of
people to attend church better in un
favorable weather.
'6? It would lesson ou the part of
the rich the temptation to vanity.
7. It would lessou on the part of
the poor the temptation to be envious
and malicious.
8. It would save valuable time ou
the Lord’s Day.
9. It would relieve our menus of a
pressure, aud thus euable us to do
more for good enterprises.
Subscribe for the Suu.
farm aiul firenkle.
^ '"i
DIVERSITY OF SOILS AND MOOES OF
CJJLTURE.
It may be laid down as an agricul
tural axiom tfcat different soils re
quire different Inodes of culture. Not
enough attention ;s paid to this prin
ciple in practical farming. The at
tempt is too often made to cultivate
every Bold alike, withont regard to
its mechanical! texture. Nothing
could he a greater mistake, for there
is a very great diversity in the char
acter of soils. Sfime soils may t’e
tilled with one third the labor of oth
ers, the one requiiing only the light
est and simplest kools the other
the strongest bud most ex
pensive. Of conrseithe processes in
the two cases call for*,unlike modes of
culture.
It would be well if farmers would
make their implements and modes of
tillage strictly adapted to the charac
ter of the different fields; aud under
a system of diversified farming it
would be well to begin (early to con
vert the tields of stubborn sail into
permanent grass lands, pastures, or
chards, &c., and reserve (only those
the easiest cultivated for the annual
crops requiring plow and hoewerk to
make them. Of course where the
laud is all ol' u kind these 'remerit*
will not apply, hut numberless farms
do have a diversity of soils, in which
case it becomes the part of wisdom to
turn the diversity to advantage in
the general management of the farm
With some this is r.o new plan, but
too many fail to pay any regard to it
and thereby impose much labor and
c >st on themstIves that might easily '
b ■ avoided.
Bat it is to one about to rent or'
: pm chase a farm that this tjat-’t of the :
! difference in lands assumes the high
. est importance. It is to be presumed
that ever, man has some choice, and
! that lie may, even in the limited com
pass of a single neighborhood, find
either sandy loams or stiff clays. Bat
how often is it the case that mechan
ical condition of the soil is made the
pivot of nis decision f An eligible
location, large and convenient build
iugs, and things of like character will
often determine a man to take a farm
of a close and clayer texture, that
is hard to cultivate and hard to keep
in order, in preference to one of a
taudv nature though of equal fertili
ty, but less eligibly situated or iu
other respects less inviting than the
former. If he would think more of
the hard expenditure of muscle, both
of man and beast, required to keep
the first iu order so as to insure good
crops, lie would be sure to choose the
one with the sandy loam, and the
chances would be greatly in his favor
of making more iu the end.
It is true,rich clay or compact lands
are very productive, aud' for some
crops, as grass, are admirably suited,
but the sandy loams may be made
equally productive at half the labor,
aud the owner limy easily substitute
annual sowed crops for forage in
place of the grass. Neither a sand
ductive, yet bota eau be made so, but
the outlay of work required on the
elay would greatly preponderate.—
Xow it is the.very jtem of toil that is
desirable to reduce to the minimum.
We should then, if we were goiug to
buy or rent, take the farm that re
quired the least expeudature of mus
We, and had we a farm containing a
diversity of soils, we would us soon
as possible get the annual crops, or
those calling for plow and hoe work,
on tiie fields that were the readiest
tilled. And if there was not enough
of this latter kind for our purpose we
should set to work to ameliorate the
mechanical structure of certain fields
in order to reduce the amount of la
bor that would he required on them.
1 he character of soils is susceptible ol
great modification, but too little re
gard has heretofore keen paid to this
matter.—Jtttral Messenger.
Cube foe a. Cold.—the follow
ing recipe is good for a cold in the
head :
Take a good sized piece of flannel,
aud just before retiring to bed, wrap
well around the head; leaving just
space enough open to admit respira
tion. lhe cold will vanish before
morning.
Tuknip peel, washed clean and
tied np in a net, imparts a flavor to
soups. Celery leaves and ends serve
the same purpose.
The weather is exceedingly warm
at this time,but owing to recent show
ers the corn is looking finely.
Subscribe for the Sun.
GARDEN WORK FOR JULY.
The matter of chief importance this
raontli are crops for a succeasien, to
he sown or planted during the month,
-soch ns corn, peas, beans, small Mi
nding, radishes, endive, &c.
Cabbage.—Plant oat daring damp
| weather or after a rain the cabbage
intended for winter use. Flat Dutch
•and Drumhead Savoy are the be9t.—
| The last cooked like cauliflower is al
j most as good.
| Set out brocoli and cauliflower and
treat as cabbage, except that if the
weather be dry at any time water
i freely. Do not sprinkle daily, bat
j once or twice weekly a good wetting
I or irrigating them so the ground will
j become wet three or four inches_
| Liquid manure or manure water oc
casionally between the rows or hills
will be of great benefit.
Sow a bed of early turnips and thin
them out as soon as the rough leaf
appears, aud work them well.
Set out the half of yoor main crop
of celery early and the balance to
ward the close of the month. Protect
with shade for a few days until root
ed. Do not let the plants suffer for
moisture or work.
Sow cucumber, beaus, cantaloupe,
occ., for pickles.
Keep pepper free from weeds,and
lull up slightly ns they grow. Keep
the ground light and moist, at least
not droughty. Gather seeds as they
ripen, aud also herbs, and dry both
in the shade ; when perfectly dry put
in paper bags; label each bag and
hang up in a dry place. Keep the
whole garden clear of weeds and neat
in appearance. Do not neglect the
growing or the bearing vegetables,
and always be watchful to koep up a
.uccessiou of crops, applying such
manures as furnish the most agreea
ble and therefore most effective plant
food suitable to each kind of crop.—
F.xch'xnge.
SUMMER DRINK FOR HORSES.
At a season of the year when the
endurance of horse flesh is taxed to
the utmost, everything that will tend
to brace np aud strengthen the
horse’s system is of importance.
During the long days of summer
many farmers order the teams to be
watered at least once in the forenoon,
say about 10 o’clock, and once in the
afternoon.
If, instead of giving them naked
water at these times they would order
a mixture of meal and water, they
would fiud it of great benefit to the
animals.
It is with some danger that a horse
hot from labor, is allowed to drink a
large quantity of cold water, bat
few handfuls of meal is thrown inro
the trough aud thoroughly mixed it
will be greedily drank, and will serve
to strengthen up the animal by offer
ing more nutriment to the stomach,
aud counteracts the tendency to sad
den cramps and colics that often arise
from the free use of water alone. It
is cljeap aud safe, and is sure to be of
benefit.
The horse deserves and needs all
the nourishment that it can get now,
and the same amount of meal and
trouble could not be better invested
anywhere upon the farm. Try it.
A Pleasant Deink.—When feel*
itig weak from overwork or suffering
from summer complaint, the follow
ing drink gives immediate relief and
is very pleasant and refreshing.—
Sweeten a goblet of cold water just
from the well with a heaping table
spoonful of nice sugar, to which add
about half a teaspoonftal of essence of
peppermint. It is really nice.
Oeange Ceeah.—Make a custard
with the yolks of eight eggs, four
nnnces of pounded sugar, a quart of
milk and the thin riud of aboat two
oranges. Stir it till it thickens. Dis
solve one ounce of gelatine in a little
warm water, and add to it thejnice
of one orange, add this to the cns
tard, straiu, pnt it into a mould and
place it on ice.
Mix a half pint of vinegar and a
half pint of milk. When they have
formed a curd take the whitea of five
eggs and boil the whole together;
sift into them sufficient quick lime to_ .
make the whole into a paste. It is a
good cement to held broken glass and
crockery.
Potato Podding.—Two ponndn
potatoes boiled and mashed, one-half
pound sugar, one-half pound hotter,
six eggs, and one nutmeg. Dine a
dish with paste, and bake.
Work for yonr church paper.