THE CHRIS
IN ESSENTIALS, UNITY;
IN NON-ESSENTIALS,
Volume XXXIII.
SUN.
IN ALL THINGS, CHARITY.
i
SUFFOLK, VA., FRIDAY AUGUST 18, 1880.
NTumbor* 82.
LITTLE THINGS.
We eall him strong who stands unmoved—
Culm u Home temptet-beaten rock—
Whan Home great trouble burit its shock;
We say of him, hia itrengtb i« proved ;
But when the ipeot alarm folds in wings,
Bow bears he then life's little things?
About hit brow wt twins our wreath
Who seeks the battle's thickest smoke,
Bra ret flashing gun and sabre-stroke,
And scoffs at danger, laughs at death ;
We praise him ttll the wbole land rings:
But it he brave in little things?
We call him great who does some deed
That echo hears from shore to shore—
Does that, and then does nothing more;
Yet would his work earn richer meed,
When brought before the King of kings,
Were he hut great in little things.
We dosety guard our castle gates
When great temptations loudly Knock,
Draw every bolt, clinch every lock,
And sternly fold our bars and gates,
Yet some small door wide open swings
At the sly touch of little things.
| can forgive—’ lit worth my while—
The treacherous blow, the cruel thrust;
Can bless my foe as Christian must,
While patience smiles her royal smile ;
Yet quick resentment fiercely slings
Its shots of ire at little things.
And I can tread beneath my feet
The hills of passiuu'8 heaving aea,
When wind-towed wave* roll slormily;
Yet scarce resist the siren sweet
That at my heart’s door softly sings,
“Forget, lorgct lile’hlitile things."
But what is life? Drdps make the sea ;
And i«etty cares antytnullevents,
Small causes and small consequents,
Make :»t» the sum lor you and me I
Theu, ohf for strength to meet the siing9
That arm tbd points of little thiug* !
^ciciiion^.
THE POWER OF THE GOSPEL.
There is perhaps no aspect of their
work so discouraging to the ministry
as the indisputable fact that the ma
jority ot congregations are not what
they ought to be in point of numbers.
Of all the trials the miuistiy are
called to endure, pleaching to empty
pews is the most severe; yet it is oue
that is common o uearly all who
preach. Pnblisbei figures show that
ao astonishingly sipall portiou of the
people, especially in our cities, hear
preaching, and that, though the num
ber of church sittings is far less than
the population, yet'those sittings are
not nearly filled.
The great problem of the average
pastor is to remedy' this state of
things, and in some wiy awaken an
interest in his miuiBtr; of the word.
Besides his proper worl, he feels bur
dened with the nittiitily more diffi
cult task of securii g hearers from
among these who fe< I no interest in
him Or bis message.
The failure, iu many cases, is not
only a source of discouragement, but
the occasion of strong temptations to
resort to clap-trap,questionable meth
ods of advertisement, a sensaiional
style ot preaching, aud, gravest of all,
the temptation to modify the trutji to
suit ths taste of the multitude—to
“preach another gospel” thim thaf of
Jesus Christ. These temptations k»re
increased by the fact that some who
yield to them succeed iu securing
larger audiem-es tbau many who ad
here to the apostolic methods.
Under such circumstances, the
preacher must revert tp.ihe terms of
his commission, and rptiiemtxir that
bis only sure guarantee ot success iu
the ministry is the powee of the go^
pel. That guarantee is the power of
God, and does all that t^mnipoteuc^
can do to save men. It is God’s ebb,
sen ageucy for the salvation of tbe|
world, and be stands pledged to give
it efficiency wherever it is preached
in its purity, saying, It si all not re
turn unto me void, bt t accomplish
that which I please, anti i; shgll pros
per in the thing whereto t sent it.—
The terms of every pr$a sher’s com
mission limit him to the < ue work of
preaching the gospel of Christ. This
he 16 bound to do whether' men “will
bear or forbear.” He b .8 no right to
do anything else, aud ii pronounced
“accursed” il be ventui > to “preach
any other gospel.” He b not called
to provide hearers for b mself by re
sorting to the arts of tbj demagogue
or the rhetorician, aud catering to the
1 ow tastes aud preferences of men.
He is not responsible loc the results
of his preaching, or for tie number of
his hearers. He is ouljj responsible
for being personally itnbqed with the
spirit of the gospel, and i|r preaching
it in all fullness by his lit aud in hie
pnlpit. If he is ooueoitjia that te
preaches and lives “» wlole gospel,”
he may confidently ex'.pott yult, an!
has a right to exonerate *w»elf Iron
all blame if men refuse to bear. He
can say with the apostle: “If our
gospel be bid, it is bid to them that
are lost: Iu whom tbe god of this
world bath bliuded tbe minds of them
which believed not, lest tbe light of
tbe glorious gospel of Christ, who is
tbe image of God, should sbine unto
them. For we preach not ourselves,
but Christ Jesus tbe Lord.”
If tbe gospel of power does not save
muu, they cannot be saved by uuy
other tueaus. And if tbe faithful
proclamation of the' gospel does not
secure a heariug, it is not the fault of
the preacher, but of those who refuse
to hear. The time foretold by St.
Paul has come, “when they will not
eudure sound doctrine; but alter
their own lusts shall they heap to
themselves teachers, having itching
ears: and they shall turu away their
ears from the truth, and Bhall be
turned unto fables.” „ .
Tbe faithful minister need not
blame himself for tbe refusal of such
people to bear biin, or be tempted to
adapt his message to their perverted
taste. There is no conceivable sub
stitute tor the plain and simple gos
pel of Christ, and it is gross infidelity
to high calliug, and utterly useless,
for any minister to attempt to win
and save rneu by any other means.—
Northwestern Christian Advocate.
DISABLE DJEGGARS.
A writer in the Evening /Standard
has given a pa in Cully graphic account
of tbe way the public sympathies are
only too ofteu imposed upon by the
“disabled” beggar. The su. cess of a
disabled beggar, we are told, depends
nut only on the extent of his disabili
ty, but also on its rarity, and on the
way it catches the eyes of passengers.
A man who has lust oue arm is sup
posed to be more helpless thau one
who has lost one leg, and does better
—quite as well, indeed, as a man
wanting both legs. A man who has
lost an arm and a leg is twice as val
uable a beggar as the oue just meu
tioned. One wanting two legs and
an arm rates higher still. While the
mac who has no arms at all, when
such a rara avit makes his appear
auce in the mendicant world, is above
all price. Heartrending as it may
seem, we are assured by the writer
that women that get hold of peculiar
ly hideous-loofiiug beggars inveigle
them into marriage if they can, iu or
der to perpetuate the profitable con
nection. “I have repeatedly heard,”
be says, “women ot the lowest class
declare that for a husband they would
prefer an average beggar to a day la
borer, one blind or maimed to any ar
tisan, and a singularly frightful-look
iug object to the general run of fore
men. In consequence, the beggar is
quite run after in his sphere. Some
of these beggars’ trulls are women
with curious histories attached to
them. I knew one who claimed to be
the daughter of a famous Freuch no
hie, and who in consequence was
known iu her quarter as ‘The Conn
tess.’ She really had received a lady
like education. When I saw her she
was about forty, aud possessed the
remains of good looks. I believe that
up to the last she might have—I will
not say resumed her former stauding
iu society, but retired into descent
obscurity, for she had well-placed rel
stives. Or Bhe could at any time'
have earned a respectable livelihood
for herself, for she was a good liu
guist, aud skilful at embroidery, lau
painting and similar work. Bat she
preferred a life of coarse riot with one
piece of deformity or auotber, aud in
the vilest haunts.” With such facts
as these before us, those to whom
God has entrusted this world’s goods
need to exercise special care how they
dispense them ; aud wbe'e they can
uot' themselves exercise the necessary
vigilance, they should rather eutrnst
the ineaus to experienced Christian
workers.—Night and lJay.
Bitualism fiuds little favor with
tome English Bishops. The Bishop
hf Manchester, at a recent ordination,
tkid that in Paul’s time men were
houteut to be experts iu godliness
father tbau iu controversy ; to he re
ligious rather than theological. He
declared that it was impossible for
h)i4 to become interested in many
questions which were agitating the
church; it made no difference to him
what Iff® color or shape ot a vestment
was,^whether the bread administered
iu communion was leavened or un
leavened, whether the wine in the
chalica was mixed or nnmixed. Bone
of these things seemed to him to con
cern the weightier matters of the
Wise men talk because they have
sobbing to say; but fools talk be
canse .they want to say something.
THE COST OF CARELESSNESS.
How often do we bear as an exeuse
for some 'barm done or wrong com
mitted, ‘‘I did not mean to do it. I
bad no thought of causing any such
trouble!” Certainly, “want of
thought” draws after it a great train
of evils, and leaves behind it a broad
trail of cost and sorrow. ' We see the
results of carelessness in all depart
ments of life, and in all degrees, from
fbe most trivial, causing only incon
venience and confusiou, to the most
far-reaching, casting a shadow into
eternity.
A nurse fell down the stairs with
an infant in her arms, and fifty years
afterwards there was a hump backed
uiau creeping about the streets. A
child threw a piece of letnou peel on
the sidewalk, and there was au acci
dent au hour after, in which au old
lady was severely injured—so severe
ly that she will never be able to walk
again. A switch-tender opened the
wrong switch, and the heavy train
dashed iuto a great building that
stood at the end of the short side
truc^Prnd lives were lost amid the
wreck. An operator gave a careless
touch to his instrument, and there
was a terrible collision on the rail.
A boy shot an arrow from his bow ;
it went whizzing away from the string,
and a comrade is blind for tbe rest ol
bis life. A woman poured oil from
a can iuto ber store to hasten her tire,
and there was au explosion, and au
outburst of dame, which burned down
tbe buildiug about her. A young
mau pointed a gun, iu sport, at his
best friend, playfully sayiug that he
would shout him; and one noble
youth was carried to bis grave, aud
another goes through life with an aw
ful shadow of memory banging over
him, which quenches ail his joy, aud
makes all life dark to him, A drug
gist’s clerk compounded the prescrip
tion iu haste, aud iu au hour a sick
girl was dyiig in terrible pain aud
convulsions from the poisou in the
prescription. A beautiful young lady
da ueed at a party oue ebill miduigbt,
aud then raised a window in a Bide
room to let the fresh air lair ber hot
cheeks ; aud in a little while they iol
lowed her to an untimely grave.—
What long chapters of accidents are
every year recorded, all of which re
sult from carelessuess! A little care
lul thought ou the part of the re
sponsible persons would bare prevent
ed all of them, with tbeir attendant
horrors and their long train of suffer
ing and sorrow.
And there are other illustrations.
Millions of letters every year go
wrong, fail to reach tbeir destination,
aud find then way to the dead-letter
office, because tire writers carelessly
misdirect them. The execrations
that are uttered against the govern
ment beloug nearer home. A colored
boy charged a hotel clerk with giving
him only one dollar in change for a
fifty dollar bill. He was ready to
swear that it was a fifty dollar note.
The case grew excitiug, aud then au
honest washerwoman came, saying
that the 6oy had given her a fifty dol
lar bill for a one. A gentleman lost
an overcoat. His suspicion fell on a
neighbor, and a trap was laid to de
tect his guilt; but after a great deal
of wicked feeling the coat was found
precisely where the owner left. Many
a servant is abused and wronged and
uruelly treated on charges with simi
lar ground. A Boston man coming
home rather lute, in a drenching rain,
felt for his watch at his door-step, to
see the time; but it was missing.—
He had been robbed. He remember
ed it all—just a few doors back a man
rubbed against him iu passing. He
was the thief. He flew after him,
overtook him, raised his umbrella,
and demauded his watch, or be
would strike. The terrified man
bauded it to him, and the good citi
zen went home proud of his courage
aud success. The morning paper told
of a bold highway robbery, a most
daring affair. The robber lifted an
enormous club and was about to kill
the quiet pedestrian. It happened
just close by this gentleman’s house.
‘•That is strange,” be said, as his wife
read the account at breakfast; “1
was robbed of my watch aud over
took the thief at that very spot and
recovered it.” His wife assured him
there must be some mistake, as he
had left bis watch at home the morn
ing before, and she bad since noticed
a Btrange one on tne bureau. Mo
it turued out that he was the rob
ber.
There is a great deal of the same
want of carefulness in other ways,
whose cousequences are not so mani
ifest, and yet are no less painful and
destructive. A man speaks light and
careless words, perhaps in humorous
mood, perhaps in impatience or irri
tation ; and while the laughter goes
ronnd, or the fever of anger burns in
bis breast, » heart is writhing in ago
ny, pierced by the crnel barb.. He
did not mean to give pain to thatiten
der friend ; lie would not do it inten
tionally for the world; but he'ha*
left a wound and a pang there which
no alter kindness can altogether heal
and soethe. There is a manifold min
istry of pain and wrong wrought thus
by carelessly uttered words. Some
persons appear always to say the
very things the/ ought not to say.
Hawthorne says that awkwardness is
a sin which has no forgiveness in
heaven or on earth. And surely care
lessness is laden with the guilt of
countless griefs and sorrows, which no
alter penitence can ever remove, or
even palliate and soften.
A peisou’s name is mentioned in a
certain circle, or in a quiet conversa
tion, and the most inexcusable liber
ties taken in speaking of him—hi*
character, his business, bis acts. No
one means to do him barm or injns
tice, and yet, in the guiss of confi
dence, words are uttered which are
like so many cruel stabs. Few hab
its are more common than this, and
yet what right have we to say one
defamatory word of auolhsr, or start
even by a hint a suspicion of himt
We may plead that we had no inien
tiou of injuring him, but the plea
avails uothing. We are responsible
uot only for onr deliberate, purposed
acts, but just as much so for the acci
dental and unconscious efforts that
go out from us. They say that every
word spoken into the air goes quiver
ing ou, >n uudying reverberations,
forever. Whatever we may say of
this statement, as a scientific fact, we
are well aware of the infiuite and far
reaching cousequeuces of the smallest
words, as moral forces. Tb« poet’s
fancy is not a mere play of imagina
tiou. The song we sing, and the word
we speak, we shall indeed find again,
from beginning to end, somewhere in
the eternal future, stored away in the
nooks and crannies of other lives,and
tuflneociug them for good or ill, for
pain or pleasure.
“We soatter seed with careless hand,
Aid dream we ne’er shall see them more;
But for a thousand rears,
Their fruit appears,
In weeds that mar the land,
Ufhealthful store “ .
There is no part of this life we are
living day by day that is not vital
with influence. We cull certain things
small and iufinitesimal, and indeed
they seem bo; but when we remember
that there is not one ot them that
may not let in motion a train of eter
ual consequences, dure we call any
thing insignificant! We are ever
more touching other lives, often un
consciously than consciously, and onr
touch to-day may decide a destiny.
Our silent example, as well as our
words aud deeds, is vital, and throb
bing with influence. There is need,
therefore, for the most unwearying
watchfulness on every act and word,
lest in a moment of unheeding we
start a train of consequences that may
leave sorrow and ruin in its track for
ever.
"SOBER BY ACT_0F PARLIAMENT."
Canon Farrar, D. D., in his recent
address entitled “Temperance aud
legislation” just published by the
National TemperauceSeciety,refering
to the cry so often made that “You
cannot make people sober by act of
Parliment,” says:—
“Gentlemen, it is not true that yon
cannot to au immense extent make
people sober by act of Parliament.
You can; it has been done over vast
tracts of America. It is beirg done
iu wiue areas oi our colonies. it is
done iu hundreds of our English par
ishes where the land owner has the
wisdom to shelter his people from
crime aud pauperism by the simple
rule which he, on his single authority,
can make, aud make unquestioned,
but which Hundreds of poor men aud
poor women and poor children on his
ou his estate cannot make, however
passionately they desire it, and how
ever deeply it affects their social, mor
al and religious welfare—namely, that
there shall not be a single liquor shop
on his estate. Not make people sober
by act of Parlimenti Why, at this
very momeut, to their own immense
benefit, you are making 20,000 people,
.'among whom are the very worst drun
kard in England, not only sober by
aet of Parliment, but absolute teeto
talers by act of Parliament. Who
era those! Why they are the poor
prisoners now in our prisons, not one
of which from the day he enters pris
on is allowed to touch a drop of al
cohol, aud who, in consequence of
this restriction are as a class, in spite
•f all their other advantages, so com
pletely ,the healthiest class of people
iu England that there is a lower rate:
of mortality amoug prisoners than
there is among professional men, aud
that as the death-rate stands highest
of all among publicans who sell alco
hol, so it stands lowest of all amoug
prisoners, who are absolutely depriv
ed of every drop of it.”
A POMPEIAN HOUSE.
The Naples correspondent of the
London Daily News writes: “The
bouse which was begnn to be ex
oavated at the celebration of the cen
tenary of Pompeii, and is therefore,
called ‘Casa del Ceuteuario,’ and from
which I then saw three skeletonsftlug
out, has proved to be the largest
hitherto discovered, and is of peculiar
interest. It contains two atria, two
trichua, four ala- or wiugs, a calidar
ium and tepidarium. It occupies the
eutire space between three streets,
arid most likely a forth, which has
yet to be excavated. The vestibule
is elegantly decorated, and its mo
saic pavement ornamented with the
tlgure of a dolphin pursued by a sea
horse. In the tirst atrium, the walls
of which are adorned with small
theatrical scenes, tlw pavemeut is
sunk and broken, as if by au earth
quake, and there is a large hole
through which oue sees the cellar.—
The second atrium is very spacious,
with a handsome peristyle, the col
umns— white and red stucco—being
twenty-six in number. In the centre
»s a large marble basin, within the
edge of which runs a narrow step.—
On the pedestal at one side was
found the statucttof the Faun lately
described. The most interesting
place is the house is an inner court
or room, on one side of which is the
uich, with tiny marble steps, often to
bo seen in Pompeian houses. The
frescoes on the walls are very beauti
fill. Close to the fl»or runs a wreath
of leaves about a quarter of a yard
wide, with alternately a lizard and a
stork. Above it, about a yard dis
tant, droop, as il from over a wall,
; large branches of vine or ivy am!
broad leaves like those of the tiger
lily; and very freely, naturally, and
gracefully drawu. At each corner
of the room a bird clings to one of the
branches. Then comes a spate
bordered at the top by another row
of leaves—in whioh is represented a
whole aquarium, as if the room were
lined with tanks. There are different
sorts of shells aud aquatic plants
lying at the bottom of the water, and
swimming in or on it all kinds of fish,
jelly fish, sepias, ducks and swans,
admirably sketched with a light vet
Arm touch. The ripples made by the
swimmiug ducks are indicated, and
one duck ia ju6t flying into the water
with a splash. On each side of the
niche this amusing aqaariuin is en
liveuod by a special incident. To the
left a large octopus has caught a
monstrus murtena (lamprey) which
turns round to bite—in its tentacles ;
to the right a fine lobster has pierced
anothermurtena through aud through
with its long hard feelers, or horns.
These creatures are painted in the
natural colors very truthfully. On
the left wall of the room, above the
fishes, are two sphinxes supportiug
on their heads square marble vases ;
on the brim of each of which sites a
dove. Behind the niche, and on the
left side of the room, ruus a little
gallery with a corridor underneath,
lighted by small square holes in the
border of haugiug branches. The
wall of this gallery behind the niche
is decorated with a woodlaud laud
scape, in which, on one side, is rep
wseuted a bull runuing trantically
away with a lion clinging tb its haun
ches ; on the other, a horse lying
struggling ou its back, attack by a
leopard; all nearly the size of life.
On each side of the doorway is pain
ted respectively a graceful doe aud a
bear.
The other rooms are also very beau
tiful; one with a specially elegant de
sign ou a back ground ; in another a
small fresco representing a man pour
ing wine out of an amphora into a
large vessel. The bathrooms are
large and elegant, the cold bath spa
oious aud of marble. In oue room a
corner is dedicated to the hires aud
penatee, aud iu the fresco decoration,
arnoug the usual serpents, &c., I no
fciced the singular figuro of a Bacchus
or bacchante, entirely clothed with
large grapes. In one of the mosaic
pavements is a head of Medusa, the
colors very bright aud well preserved
As some of the rooms aie only exca
vated to within two or three feet from
the Uoor, it is possible that many val
uabla ornaments or statuettes may
may yet be found, as everything indi
cates that this splendid house be
longed to some rich citizen.”
Many a Christian trusts Christ to
carry him through the valley of the
shadow of death, who does not rely
upon Him to take him through the
dread to-moriow. If you aro Christ’s
you have no light to worry. lie is a
safe pilot. You can trust him in the
shallow, quiet river, as well as in the
sea beyond.
Subscribe for the Sun.
I .
Jurat r
COMPOSTING COTTON SEED.
Superphosphates are good fertili
zers for turnips and 'fodder corn,
encumbers, melons and cow peas;
also for garden peas and mustard.—
Ashes are good for potatoes, onions,
beets and earing corn. A combina
tion of the two in a proportion of lot)
pounds of 12 per cent. soluble phos
phate of lime to 50 ppunds bf mlftnate
of potash—250 pounds of the acre—
will immensely help to btake 50
bn-hels of com. If 3CO pounds of cot
ton seed be well wetted, ai*l then
mixed with i bushels of hard wood
ashes, and permitted to ferment, all
the time kept moist, and turned sev
eral times, they will form a compost
that will saponify the oil in the cot
ton seed, break down the hullo, and
reduce them to a pulpy mass of moat
wonderful fertilizing properties. Tberi
mix this mass with one ton of well
rotted stable manure ; let the whole
stand three weeks; turn it twice;
keep all the time under shelter, and
it will be tit for use. I consider this
quantify equal to400 pounds of guano'
and it will bring as large crops as can
be gotten from that quantity of guano
applied to an acre in the drill.
The practice of composting cotton
seed wi ti phosphates anil manure is
objectiouabia, and sneli is my exper
ience. The following are the rea
sons: The cotton seed are made dry
and hard, the Hulls are not broken
up ; the 'benefits from the seeds are j
not obtained on these accounts. I j
hav-e noticed the seeds entire two
years alter using fhn compost, show-.
icg they had not given up their v.ilua i
ble properties to plants. The phos
phate forms an insoluble fatty acid
with the oil in the seed, which coat-1
iagdeties rot and prevents decompo-1
sitibn. To avoid ail those iuconveni
eneies, I prefer enmposting the cot
ton seed with an alkali, so as to form
a soap, as this will break up the
hulls, aud permit tile, valuable fertil
izing properties of the seed to be
readily surrendered to the plant for
food. Ashes contain the cheapest
alkali for this purpose ; 100 pounds
of ashes will saponify duo pounds'oi
cotton seed, and reduce them to pulp.
aeuce the above compost is recom
mended, which has proved eminently
valuable in my experience.
1 have fouud that by applying this
1 compost to the surface of the hill, let
ting the rains carry the soluble parts
down, and the cultivator mixing it
with the soil during the progress ef
growth and cultivation, the most
profitable crops of corn and sweet
potatoes cau be raised. When plros
phates are to be used, I...prefer usiug
them in the drill by themselves.—
Wlieu the drills are opened to re
j ceive the corn, I scatter 100 pounds
per acre of ltd per cent, soluble rock
phosphate, then drop the corn, cover
ing lightly with a harrow and culti
vator, aud on the top of all drop the
| compost at the rate recommended.—
tf-UHS corn is 'plan ted 'early "i n "Starch,'
which it should be, there will be am
ple opportunity for the spring rains
carry down the soluble parts of the
fertilizer to the corn roots.—J. .4., tit
Country Gentleman.
Fig Pickles.—Gather the figs
wlieu ripe aud not much opened.
Put them in stioug salt and water
for twelve hours; then drain off the
briue. Scald it aud pour over the
figs hot and again let then* stand
twelve hours. Then drain off .all the
brine aud wash them well in vinegar,
and let them stand in it several hours.
While soaking, prepare enough
apiced vinegar to cover t hem, adding
one pound of sugar to a gallon ofvin
egar, or more, if yon prefer the pick
les pretty sweet. Bring the spiced
vinegar to boiling heat aud strain.
Drain off'ail the vinegar the figs were
soaked in, put them in jars, and pour
the spiced vinegar, boiling hot. over
them. Use the best cider vinegar:
fill each j r two-thirds full of figs,the
balance with vinegar.
How to Make the Horns of
Cattle Short.—W. L. „ Warning,
Jr., ia the American Breeder and Plait
ter, says: When the calf is four mouths
old, cut its horns as close to the as
you can get it. It can be done with
a pocket kuit’e. At that age the low
er part of the is nothing more than a
gristle. It bleeds a little, but we nev
er knew a calf hurt by the operation
It is rare that the horns grow to be
over five inches long. It makes a
harmless cow and a much prettier one
thaiVQrith long horns.
It is a very proud house that will
not carry his oats.
LIME IN AGRICULTURE.
The “Journal of Forestry” briefly
sums up many of the uses of lime
when applied to the soil. The eff'eet
of lime, as will be seen, are in part
mechanical and in part chemical.
I. ( pon deep alluvial and clay soil
it increases the crop of potatoes, and
renders them less waxy. Sprinkle
over potatoes in a store-heap it pre
serves them, and riddled over the cut
sets it wonderfully increases their r«r
tility. •
-. Lime eradicates the finger-and
toe disease in turnips, and gives
greater soundness to the bulbs.
3. It gives when applied to meadow
land, a larger produce of more nutri
tious grasses. It also exterminates
coarse and sour grasses.
4. Upon arable land it destroys
weeds of various kinds.
5. Lt rapidly decomposes vegetable
matter, producing a large amount of
food for plants in the form of carbonic
acid gas.
(1. It destroys or neutralizes the
acids in the soils; hence its adaptabil
ity to sour soils.
i. It acts powerfully upon some of
the inorganic parts of the soil, especi
ally on the sulphate of iron found in
peaty soils and the sulphate of mag
nesia and alumina.
8. It proves fatal to worms and
slugs, and the lavas of injurious in
sects, though favorable to the growth
of shell-hearers.
9. Slacked lime added to vegetable
matter causes it to give off its nitrog
en in the form of ammonia; combined
with acids, it sets free the ammonia
which is seized by the pints.
It). Its solubility in water causes it
to sink into and ameliorate the sub
soil. when the soil contains frag
ments oi granite or trap rocks, lime
hastens their decomposition and lib
erates the silicates.
II. Its combination with the acids
in tiie soil producessaliue compounds,
such as potash, soda, etc.
1J. Strewed over your plants, it de
stroys or drives away the turnip fly.
13. .Worked in with grass seeds,
the beuetiofal effects of lime, chalk,
uiarl, and shell-gaud have been visa
bin for 30 years.
14 Applied to the rot heap, lime ef
fectually destroys the seeds of weeds.
To sum its advantages: when prop
erly applied to the soil, it purifies and
stimulates its actiou, thereby promot
ing the growth of healthy vegetation
of all kinds.
GREEN MANURING.
Soils are enriched by ploughing un
der plants that grow upon it. Plants
| which grow most rapidly, and which
produce the largest amount of stocks
and foliage in the shortest time at the
expense for seed and labor, are the
most valuable for the purpose of green
manuring. Plants that grow quite
high are not desirable ones to raise
for the purpose of plowing under, as
it is diflieuit to cover them. If vege
tation is covered very deep, it will
rot slowly and be of comparatively
little value to the next crop planted
on the land. A crop raised for the
purpose of being plowed under bene
tits the soil in other ways than by en
riching it. It keeps it shaded during
the hottest portion of the year, and
shade acts to increase fertility. It also
keeps weeds in check, and so insures
not only a rich soil, but one compara
tively free from noxious vegetation.
| Soil, if rightly managed, may be made
the means of adding to its own fertil
I ity. Left to the operations of na
I ture, soils do improve, but their pro
I duct ion may be increased much faster
' by the expensive means pointed oat
l as above.
I * * ——
Sweet Pickles.—These are made
| from pears, and peaches, plumbs, ap
ples and other fruit, also from water
melon linds, the fleshy part of ripe
cucumbers, etc. The material is cook"
ed in water until soft enough for
straw to pass through easily, and,
when cool, placed in ajar with a few
cloves stuck in each. To each seven
pounds of fruit, take three pounds of
brown sugar, oue quart of vinegar,
four ounces cinnamon and two ounces
cloves. Boil the vinegar, sugar and
spices together for a few minutes,
and pour over the fruit. Repeat the
boiling for three days in succession,
and put away for use.
Wagons or carts with broad tires
may be drawn orer newly ploughed
laud without cutting iu, aud on mud
dy roads they are pulled with greater
ease than uarrow tires, because the
soil is packed down and not cut up.
The popular prejudice in favor of nar.
row tires is a strange one, as it is im
possible to keep roads in repair where
they a<;e used.
[ Woek lor your church paper.
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