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~4 1-. :2:~‘~""‘»~‘"~“ " - _ N. v '- _-: v : A‘WATER DRISKER’S uxrcnmxcn. i The following pleasant lines were communi- acted by J. Martin. an English chalk-digger, to the Brittsh Workman. We take them from the October number of that very beautiful and excellent sheet : I've work’d in the heat, and I’ve worked in the cold, I". workyd Wm, the Young, and lrve worked vvvwswvWV«oWW~./V\AM.rwr\/\..VWW\/V\N , with the old. Ilve work’d very late, and I’ve worked very soon. I've work’d by the sun, and I’ve tvorkod by the moon; ' But I’m sure I can tell you without any fear, I canyWork very well without any beer. ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. “1! <' AND :RnunnOND :Hnn; '\/ WW /'\/' ADVOCATE AND ’A . W .“ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than. 'Popular Opinion.” Vol. I“. No. ‘27. .H‘ U, _‘ I’ve work’tl far’ from home, and I’ve worked mmfil‘u’nce to the thint’b mound rather high, them, which is a marked character- l've work’d in the wet, andl’ve work’d hi the 131m 0f the red man, yet ll was CV“ dry, I’ve work’d amongst corn, and I’ve worked amongst hay, I've work’d by the piece, and I’ve worked by the day, And I’m sure I can tell you without any fun, I can work very well without any beer. 1’“ work’d amongst lime, and I’ve work’d ‘- amongst chalk, I 've work’d amongst still folks, and these that u could talk . , I‘ve work’d amongst iron, and I‘ve work’d amongst wood. I’v work’d amongst bad, and I’ve work’d ‘ amongst good, ' But wherever I go, there’s nothingl fear, 80 much as the foolish, made foolish by beer. I’ve wrote and I’ve read, I’ve summ’d and I’ve talk’d, v ‘ I’ve been out on pleasure, with friends I have walk’d. . _ But never. no nevor, no use could I see, 0! taking strong drink, so hurtful to me ; Thus I’m sure I can tell you without any fear, These things can be managed without any bee . THE PLACE WHERE MEN SHOULD DIE. How little reeks it where men die, When once the moment’s past, In which the dim and glazing eye Has looked on earth its last; Whether beneath its sculptured urn The cofiined form shall rest, Or, in its nakedness return Back to its mother’s breast. Death is a common friend or foe, _ As different men may bald; And at his summons each must go~â€"_ The timid and the hold 1 ,But when the spirit, free atid warm, Deserts "it as it must, What matter where the lifeless form Dissolves again to dust I The soldier falls, ’inid corpses piled, Upon the battle plain, .Where reiiiless war steeds gallop wild Among the. mangled slain; But. though his corse be grim to see Hoof trampled on the sod ; What recks it, when the spirit free, Has soared aloft to God. , The Coward’s dying eye may close Upon his downy bed, And softest hands liis'linibs compose, ' Or garments o'er them spread; But ye, who shun the bloody fiay, Where fall the mangled brave, Goâ€"strip his Coffin-lid away, And see him in his grave. \ â€".___...~__, V _.. Titanium __ “ w W AN INDIAN TALE. FCUNDED ON FACT. BY “ sum.” k CHAPTER L Tm: rcd men of America are ra- pidly becoming extinct. The grand old forests whose solemn stillness once ccliocd their tread now resound With the strokes of the ’woedman’s axe, or have given place to cities and villages, whose spires and domes reared IleaVClleat‘d, mark the ad- vent of another race. The streams, whose waters were cleft by their birchen canoesâ€"the brooks, whose crystal drops slude their thirst, are new navigated by winged and spirit- driven boats, or How through crep- ped fields and cattle-haunted pas- tures. Those children of the forest whOSe places we have usurped, are passing awa '; but they leave behind them many a history and tradition of‘ self-sacrificing generositv and thrilling romance, which mtiy fitlv serve to ‘pomt a moral or adorn it tale.’ _ It was near the close of the Revo- lutionary War that a party ofOne-ida Indians were encamped on the banks of the beautiful Oi‘iskany, within1 sight of the range of liills,*on-one of which was the famous 'CounCil Rock,’ that has Within a few years been removed from the spot where for ages it had lulu, and new rests in the cemeti'y at Utica, New York. {heir wigwums, which were about vcnty in number, were grouped to- gcthcr; and at the entrance of each were stacked three or four tuttskets as. if in readiness against a surâ€" prise. It was just at even, and the set- l'ng sun, Streaming up from behind jccts of his care. the hills, with a thousand golden rays threw to the furthest eastern cloiid a Warm ‘Good-night.’ Seated to- gether upon the ground, apart from the rest, were the old men of the tribe, giuvcly smoking their pipes, and conversing in low guttural tones. dent, from the fierce glancing oi eyes towards the western horizon, and the studiousness with which each avoided the othcr’s look, that some deep emotion agitated their minds and occupied their thoughts. Some rods from these old chiefs were assembled the young warriors, to the number of about forty, gayly adorned Willi paint and feathers, and ‘their belts hung about with scalps. They were collected around their chosen leader, Tisha Mitigo, wliosc noble form towered above the rest with an air of majesty that bespoke his lofty soul and generous spirit. Like the others, his head was sha- ved, save the long scalp-lock; and that wasgray. His eyes were deep- lv set in their sockets, and glowed with extreme brilliancy; and his fea- tures, which, unlike the rest, were not painted, were remarkably hand- some. Around his neck, he wore a Igold chain, to which was attached a jet cross; and over his left shoulder hung a. black ostrich feather, or plume. 'l‘hcsc few peculiarities in the dress of Tlsha-Mlngo, though trifling in themselves, would not have been allowed to another than the'rcmarkable personage who wore them; but a respect and admiration for his singular bravery, and perhaps too, fear of his terrible power, pre- vented any who might have borne him envious hatred from interfering with his pleasure. On the present occasion, however. as -'I‘ishaâ€"l\ling0 harangucd his bro- ther Warriors. thicatciiiiig sounds were upon their faces; and occa- sional grunts of dissatisfaction, as he proceeded, told that his words were received with displeasure.- Proudly defiant of their murmurs. the dusky orator continued his fiery discourse, until his Indian eloquence held CVei'y heart vibrating on the chord of sympathy that grew from out their hearts unto his own. Strained forward was each neck; and eager cars drunk in the music of his tongue, until the rich tones of his voice fell upon the still evening air, as if uttered harmoniously with some- thing fiom above. The aged-cliicftuns had drawn near to listen; and the Indian mothers and maidens cauti- ously approached, and hung upon his words in awe. So motionless were all, that like a picture was it into which the artist was breathing life. The speaker ceased; and every voice proclaimed: “ He shall go free 1” Although they preserved that sociallhumble cottage, he taught them in i their various studiesâ€"more by his own words than from books; or, ta- king them to the banks of the river, or into the woods, he joined with them in sports, teaching them to guide the light canoe, or to use the rifle without fear; and, in the cvcii~ lug, taught them to i‘cud'the golden lines upon the sky, callingtiic stars by name; or repeated to their at- tentive ears wild legends of Germa- lie’s lather, seeking he ' with frantic, nic lore, and choice morceaus from those oldcii bards whose songs came floating down to us upon the billows of time, untilthe hour for them to part came, when a song of prayer was said, and the three, in one cm- brace, bade each other “Good- night.” Four years passed thus peacefully and happily in their humble home, had attached those two children to their father, and liim to them, so strongly and so closely, that their lives, as it were, heat iii one pulse; their hearts flowed back and forth into each other; while their neigh- bors, fcw in number, loved and re- spected them, regarding the father With a certain awe which the mys- tery of his former rank and Station inspired. ‘ . Emilie Granger was now seven- teen years old, and her brother Adol- phc thirteen. "I‘lle education they had received placed them fur ubovc others of their own age, and untitled them for companionship with those among whom they were thrown; and this caused them to seclude themselves in a measure, and to be almost constantly together. The taste‘ of Emilie led her to seek its gratification in the wild beau- ties of scenery about her home; and her lively imagination turned every rock into a castle, every bird into afuiry, and made the winds sing Serenades and dirges at plea- sure. Hei- physical traini‘ng had been such that she knew not fear; and slicplicd the paddle, or pointed the rifle, with skill and pleasure; and when, in her Wanderings in the thle woods, she met any of the dusky sons of tlic‘foi‘e‘st, whose friendly footsteps not uiifrcquently brought them even to her father’s deer, shc dcliglizcd to sound their untutorcd minds, and unlock the secrets of their simple hearts. One day, she had wandered fur- thcr than usual, having paddled up the river alone in her canoe, and, leaving it, strayed into the woodsin search of wild flowers, when the low mutterings of thurder announc- ed the approach of a storm. Has- tily springing from the mossy seat A single warrior darted from the: whore site had been arranging her crowd. and entered a Wigwam which flowers, she hastened to regain her stood apart from the others. The canoe, and paddle down the stream next instant, reappezirii'ig, he lcdlto her home. But the clouds ga- forth a youth, whose arms were tliercd quickly; and hardly had she closely pii’iioncd, and brought him pushed from the shore when the into their midst. their own dross feathers, and beads, and a tomakawk, and placed them upon the youth they had freed. And, as the gentle blood of France that flowed in his Veins mantlcd his check and tears ofgratitudc filled his eyes, hands by the violence of the wind, the pale-faced youth spoke out his and she herself hurled into the wa‘l heart among them, and warmly prcn tcr. sed each extended hand; while, with poor girl would have sunk, when a With his dagger, l tornado fell across her path with 'l‘ishzi-Mingo severed the cords that terrific force. bound him; while others took from I was lifted on the swollen tide, and The fragile canoe the next instant dashed against the limb of a tree which had been whirled into the river, and split asunder; while the paddle which she held wassnatchcd from her Stunned by the shock, the a swelling breast. 'l‘isba-Miugolook- dark foii'n darted through the ll'CCS ed on, and smiled iriouri'ifullv. What i that overhung the barks of the river, . . .' , t - ., . thoughts were passmg in his mind at ' and plunged into the foamy waves that moment, let the cross he were and the grief-stricken lock upon his head hint at. while we reltte a por- tion of his former life. CHAPTER II. SIX years prior to the occurrences which we have just related, there lived,‘in a newly formed settlement on the Mohawk River, a French gentleman of rank, wht')se political misfortunes had driven him from his native country to seek ahomc in the land for the homeless. Here be cultivated a little patch of ground, and devoted his leisure hours to books and to the education of his. two motherless children, a bov and girl. In the education of thcsb chil- dren, he was exceedingly careful, and, indeed, this seemed to be the single purpose and aim of his life. All the enthusiasm of his nature- to have been pressed into the service of this end, and all the affections of this heart centered in these two ob- Eurly in the morn- ing, he might have been seen busily at work cultivating his little patch of land, so that the remainder of the day might be spent with his children; while, during the day, sitting under} the wide-spreading oak that stretcliu l with a wild yell that outspakc the storm. He grasps the sinking maid, and, throwing licr senseless form' across his shoulder, buffets the rising tide, and, straining every nerve, reaches the opposite bank in safety with his precious burden. her upon the ground, he sustains her, still senseless, with one arm, and shields her from the storm with his own body. llalftcrrilied by her pale beauty, he dares not speak to her, or even remove the hair that partly vcils her face; but, motionless and breathing subducdly through his dilated nostrils, his black eyes grow upon her ti'ai'isparent lids until they part, with a sigh, and the lustrous monitors beneath return his gaze. Once more they close, as if she would return to the dream of her happy home from which she wakcd; and her strange preservei' waits, breathless, till they 0pc again. This ‘tlmc, she recovers hcr senses, and starts back as she meets the half- avertcd look of the timid savage, whose arm still supports her. And now the young._warrior stands up, raising his tail form erect, and, fold- ing his arms across his breast, waits for the maiden to speak, for thc‘storm has passed. . , . l . . . ,. .1 a, ' cdus arms Fromm“,eg over ms, llct scattcicdtheughts.cturning, Placing v RICHIHOND HILL, FRIDAY, JUNE 7,» 1861. Emilie thanks her preserver with tears of gratitude, and, taking from her own nch a chain and cross, bids him stoop while she puts it upon his. The young brave kneels at her feet to receive the gift. Alas for the warriors happiness, the unconscious girl has won his simple heart, and,, with broken utterance he lays'it' at- ,llql‘ feel! if It was at this moment that Ethi- gi‘icf, haVing started in pursuit of her at the first indications of the storm, pcrccivcd his daughter with hair dishevellod and face yet pale from cxhaustation, sitting on the ground, while a dusky figure knelt by her side. The river lay between them; and, upon the impulse of the moment, seeing only his daughter’s pale face, and the wild-looking sa- vage so iicai‘hei', he raised his rifle and fired. The report caused Emilie to look up; and, seeing her father rushing towards the river, she cried out: ' llerc, fatherâ€"here l am !’ Then, turning to her dark friend, she was about to ask him to help her father to cross the river, when she per- ceived blood trickling down hisshoul- der, and saw that his right arm hung powerless at his side. V" “ Oh, flea- vens l' she cried; ‘it is my father’s bullet! Oh, father, what have you done l’ And,_throwing herself upon her knees before the warrior, as he hadjust now knelt to her, implored him, with clasped hands, to forgive her father for her sake. . "l‘he'll'hite Fawn has won' the heart of Tisha-Mingo. llis life is hers; and he will forgive her father,’ was the noble answer. . By this time the excited parent had succeeded in crossing the river, and Emilie ran to meet him. In a few words she told him all, keeping back only the confession of the brave warrior, and the unhappy man, stung with self-reproach, hastened towards the wounded chief, who still stood motionless,and, havmg received from him assurances that. his unfortunate rashncss was forgchn, embraced him with two French warmth of heari,ovcrwhclining him with thanks and grateful protestations for having saved his daughter’s life. \Vith all his other accomplish- ments, Mr. Granger was a skillful surgeon, and, having probed the Wound, he found to his sorrow that the ball had shattered the bone, so that it would be necessary to convey the wounded man to his house before he could properly dress it. The chief hesitated to accept Mr. Gran- ger's proposal to go home with him, but an imploriug look from Emilie decided him, and the three took the shortest path through the woods’to their house, wherethey arrived in about an hour. \thn they had reached the house. TishusMingo was faint from loss of blood and pain. Some blankets were thrown over the low scttce under the old oak-tree, and the sufferer re- clined upon them, while Emilie lia- ving sent her brother for some water, stancth the blood that oozed from his wound, and spoke words of com- fort und cheer that caused him to forget his pain. As evening crept on, and the lord of day cast histrnys upon the forre'st trees, this little family of father, son and daughter sat around the wound- ed wariior as he lay under the dreaâ€" my inflnence of a powerful narcotic. Mr. Granger had been rendered truly unhappy at the unfortunate oc- currence which had Stretched the warrior upon a bed of pain, and he sat near him, watching his vciy breath. and fearing the setting in of fever. He constantly moistened his lips, and felt his pulse, while the concerned expression on his face con- veyed his fears to the anxious Emilie, who sat near watching the counten- lancc of her prescrver and of her lfather alternately. Towards the latter part of the evening, the chief was in :1 hiin fever, and his mind wandered dellâ€" i'iously as be tossed to and fro upon 'his couch. Now, he was leading on' his braves to the fight, and be sound- ed the fearful war-whoop; anon. he joined in the councils of his tribe; .and again, the more recent scenes of that afternoon flitted before his disordered imagination, and he was struggling inthe water, bearing Emi- lie up the bank, asking the Great t to her his simple heart, and his [in ,gcrs sought the chain and cross, turn~ mg the latter over and over; now, a shudder passed over his frame, and his lips were compressed as if to lpartake of it. - large Father to unseal her eyes, confessing, , lregaled himself on' a small matter of crimp- VERTISER. ; MN\,\,\_2\A,/\/\.r\_. ~c/v TERMS: $1 50 In, Advance; those words, “The VViiite Fawn ihas won the heart of Tisha Mingo jâ€"lze will forgive her fat/ten” while a smile passed like a gleam of sun- .shinc over his dark features. f » (To be concluded in our next.) ‘ljpTEL LIFE IN NEW YORK. How great was the contrast ove- .twecn the American hotel life into ,which we were now thrown and gthc quiet. domestic life at h0.ne!-â€"-â€" The ladies were certainly relieved l almost entirely from liouschOld cares. ;Thcre was no marketing, no anxiety about providing for dinner, he fl - , troubles about servants, no ‘washing day.’ Our, meals were served to suit our convenience. Breakfast might be obtained from lialfpastsix till eleven, and on a scale of which !eveii our neighbours north of the Tweed have no conception. lvvas Itotally Unable "to do justice to the good things which shrrounded inc, and my \Vaitcr consequently mani- fested a good deal of anxietv on my iaccount. After I had partakcn of a steak, potatoes, and fried oysters, and had assured him the“ had made an excellent breakfast, he would gently rcmonstratcâ€"‘Sure you wantsomctliing else? A little beilcd fowl, or an omech ' Well. you will have some hot cakes ?’ Hot cakes are an Atticrican institution (every an ‘ institution,’ in America.) These hot cakes resemble crumpets, and are generally served in a pyramidal form, a large cake formingr the base, and the small one the apex of the pile. A little butter is placed be- tween cach cake, and syrup (mol- asses) pourcd over the whole. An Englishman is filled with astonish- ment when no for the first time he- holds an American taking breakfast at an oxdinziry hotel. Before him is placed an“ array of different dis-nos, according to the season. He will first dcspatch half a melon ; this is merely to prepare the appetite for what is to follow. Next he will take shad ; then a steak, with a few ‘fixings,’ in the shape of potatoes, ioast. boiled, or stewod; follOWed by a dish of toast immersed in milk, some oyster fritters", and lastlyâ€" by hot cakes. Luncheon is Served from one till two for those who wish to In a small dining- room dinner is served from two till five, and again from six till, eight,the latter meal being intended for guests who arrive too late for the principal dinner, which is served in the large dining-hall at halfpast five. Tea is on the table from six till nine, and supper from nine till twelve. The half-past five o’clock dinner at the ‘ Fifth-avenue Hotel is an imposing sight. ~The dining-hall is a very and handsomely-furnish'ed room, and, having no pillars, it pre- sents a light and cheerful appear- ance. About 350 guests usually sit down, and 3 Walter is allotted tc not more than five diners. The waiters are marshalled like a com- pany of soldiers, under a ‘coloncl’ or head waiter, and a ‘lieutenant- coloncl’ or second head. Having asked each guest what soup he will take, and received lilgpi‘dei's, the waiters take up a position. The head waiter, at the top of the centre table, calls ‘attention ’ by the stroke of a bell; at a signal,evcry cover is lifted from over the side dislies.each man face about.und the whole march out in file. The same order and ’ precision are observed in bringing in. the tarts and dessert, in cleaning the tables of dishes,and in removing the cloth. Every delicacy ofthe" season -â€"without a figure of spccchâ€"â€"is iii- cluded in the bill of farc.â€"-flmericu ‘ as it is, by John Cassell. icritic, stating that although the Python ., _ jaltlllllll food. subduea to i'iolo pain, and aguiii' The heirs of Robinson Crusoe have iii- stituted a suit to recover thg island of Juan Fernandez, foundinglheir claim upon the ground that lie was “monarch of all be surveyed.” An amiable cutliiiSiast, a worshipper of nature after the manner of l’tosseau, beingl melted into feelings of universe! philan- thropy by the softness and serenity ofa spring morning, resolved that, for that (lay at least, no injured animal should pollute hisboard; and having recorded his vow, he walked six miles to a hamlet famous for fish dinners, where, without any idea of breaking his sentimental engagement, he ed cod and oyster sauce. This reminds one of a harmless piece of quizzing in a he was addicted to gravy over his potatoes. custom, I should remark, is termed ‘ "AN'HOUR W A PORK-PACK- ING HOUSE. ' Yesterday morning we spent an ' hour in the packing house of Messrs. Flintdr Stcarns,’on South Clark St., near Twelfth. It is not generally understood to how great illvaXlCUl the pork packing business has on- ,tercd into the trade and capital of Chicago. > There are several of these houses in this city and its cn-' virons, ‘ emplbyin’g :an immense capital. . . p I This being the case. these who know nothing Of the medus operandi by which one pricking house can dis- pose of a thousand hogs in a day, willddubtlcss be pleased to accom- pany us in our savory visit. 1 Upon the outside of a large and Substantial brick building. the eye discoversa winding track, leading from the hog yard to the upper part of the building. Up this inclined plane a stream of live hogs ai'c_lazily groping their ‘xvay. ArriVing at the top they enter the sladghterhouscâ€" a pen ten or fifteen feet square. In this stands a man swinging with his muscular arms a pon'dcrous sledge- hammcr. At each blow a hog falls senseless. Two men armed With hog knives follow him and finish the work of botchery by severing the arteries ofgthc neck. This deiie, the poor hog is slid through a trap, doorinto a vat of scalding water, kept constantly at almost boiling heat by steam pipes passing through the bottom. v The hog is floated along to the opâ€" posite end of the tank, Where a pair of tengs,(what else shall I call them) operated by a lever, picks him .up and deposits him’upon a table, upon each side-of which is arranged a long row of men, (scrapers),who turn out the bog at the far end of the table in a state O'f'lllldlly.' There are not far from 25 of these scrapers,not one of whom is idle for a single llinrnenl As soon as a hog emerges from/ the Vat, the ouc'that preceded him is passed to'the next scraper, continu- ing his journey from one end to an-t othcrias each successtve porker fol- lows after. At the end of the table he is sus- pended'upon a' revolving crane. A pailfull of water dexterously applied, gives his carcasea sleek and clean- ly appearance. anwhilc he swings around in front of a savage looking titan, armed with a terrible knife,'sleevcs rolled up to his shoul- ders,and besmeai‘cd with blood from head to feet. At one sweep of that knife the hog is opened and the in- wards removed. Anothcr pailful of, water prepares the,carcasc for the cutting block. A truck, having pro- jecting arms, is then trundled up to the *CIZIDB, and by simply raising the the. carcase upon, the extreme end of the arms, and it is then easily transferred to the hooks, whereit is lelt to cool.' . This entire operation is so simple and yet SO complete, that not a hand touches'his porkship during the ope- ration of being transferred. The hogs are usually allowed to cool off during the night, when they are taken to the cutting block, where two menlwith cleavers proceed to prepare them for sailing down.â€" Fourteen blows generally suffice for each hog, when the several parts are thrown into a hopper, andpassed through the floor to the next story below, where the packers and salt- et‘s put the pork in barrels. and the coopcrs finish the job by heading them up. After the pork has had time to settle and dry, the brine is poured in from a vat in which it is manufactured. \ . The packing season usually lasts about three months. Since the com- mencement of the present Season, about the middle of November, Messrs. Film (3:. Stcarns have killed and packed about 13,000 hogs. The average net weight of these have been 230 lbs., an increase of 100 lbs. per head upon the average of last year. About '75 men are employed in this establishment at from one to three dollars per day. We should enjoy our fortune as we do our healthâ€"enjoy it when good, be patient when it is bad, and never apply violent remedies except in an lextreme neceSs-ity. Love should be disinterested and un- calculating. That low: which hath ends will have an end. Women in the olden time were pro- hibited frotn marrying until they had spun lgorean Sir Richard Philips would not eat a Set or bed furlllluw’ and hence lhel’ were called spinstcrs Until they were inur- vied. TWholc No. 13o. - hands, theperson in charge eccvcs ..-r-.OTK'-»<. , ’5" Excrsmn on THE TONGUE.â€" There was great excitement the other day in the surgical ward and operating theatre of the Royal-Iti- fii'mary, Edinburgh, resulting from the expectation of a very formi- dible surgical operation taking place that morning. The patient had for a long period suffered from cancer of the tongue, and Professor Symc had determined upon removing the organ boiily. Shortly after twelve o’clock the man was led into the theatre, placed Upon the table, and quickly rendered powerless through the influence» of chloroform. Mr. Syme commenced by making a ver- tical incision through the intoguhicttt covering the chin, and thensawed through the lowcrjaw at the symâ€" phy sis. The division being made, be next proceeded to cut away the tongue at the very root, closeto the hyOtd bone. "The arteries were quickly tied, and the l'iuamorrhage iwas comparatively little, the man having lost only a few ounces of blood. The jaw was again placed together, and the intc‘gumen’t sewed up. The patient Was able to Walk out of the room, At the closo’ofthe operation, Professor Svme rei‘iiark~ ed that the i'emOVaI of the tongue bodily had been successfully per- formed in Italy, but the mode cf operating was of a different nature, the incisions liavmg been made eti- tii'cly in the threat; but liecon- si-dcred that that mode Vt as attended with more danger than the one he had chosen to adopt- S’recx l’Avs ALL THE Timurâ€"e. ‘ The treading of this article,‘ says the Valch Farmer, ‘ wasthe remark of an old further the othcrdzty while dcplori'ng the failure of lilS'ilV'lléat crop. One year the wheat fails; another year the oats fail, another year the corn ; but. says he, ‘Stock pays all the time.’ He moreover remarked, that the farmers who early give their attention to stock- raistng had gone right along with- out sct-backs, and had outstripped the grain-growers. There is no doubt much truth in the old man‘s remarks. Stock is the surest and most. rcmunerativc; but in thickly settled regions it is better and safer to divide the interest between the two. The two assist each other and improve the farm. Waste straw and offal of the grain crop will go far to feed the stock, while the waste and offal of the stock will go far in fertilizing the soil and im- proving its capacity for productive- ncss. The strength of the soil is a greater dcsideratum WltiL theft-11:1, n iiit‘i'. The coil lo maniac ofwealth, his treasury, his bank of deposit.â€"â€" He must keep it good, or his paper is protested; his reputation as a farmer is dishonored. It is well to keep a variety of stock, as wcll as ' to raise a variety of grain crops.â€"-â€" The general profits. of each yearare thus kept nearly equal. Farming may be done closer, less wasted, and more made. APPLE-TREE Beitnn.â€"â€"'l‘liisinsect seldom attacks young trees kept con- stantly growing. They rarely dis- turb the nursery when the soil is kept loose and the trees Isufl'crho, Checkâ€"~heice the importance of transplanting with care, and allow- ing no drawback to theirprogrcss. Trees, allowed to spread low, (and where the soil is not used for the cultivation of crops this is a good way of raising them.) seldom suflcrv from the attacks of this insect on account of the shade produced about the stem of the ll‘CC. The Barrie Spirit says:-~Thc water of Lake Sil‘ncOe is much higher this year ii at has been known by the oldest; inhabitant, being as much as thiity inches above the ordinary level. The marsh at Bradford is a complete lake, and the road to l'lOllalltl Landing completely submerged. in cor.- trast, the waters of Lake lfuron are lower than usual. It would therefore lead to the supposition that the outlet by way of the Severn river is in some way interfered with. THE BENEFITS or LiFii: INSURANCE. â€"â€"\Vc learn from Mr. l‘i’laddsm, Secre- ‘ tary el'tlie Scottish Provincial Insurance Company, that the late Mr. Stoker, a conductor who was killed by the late acci« dent on the \Vcllaiid railway had his life insured in that office for £500 sterling, He had been but a short time insured and his family will now receive tire full amount. â€"â€"Leader. Anephcw of Mr. Bagges, in explaining the mysteries of a teakcttle, dcscdbes the benefits of application of steam to useful purposes. “For all which,” remarked Mr Baggcs, “ we :huve principallV‘ to thank â€"what was his name i” “ Watt was his name, I believe, uncle,” replied the boy. What is commonly called absence of mind has never been considered incom- patible with the presence of a vigorous iii- tcllect. The late distinguished mathe- maticau, Professor H n, of Aberdeen, was notorious for his absence of mind. Emerging: liastilv one day from the arch- ed gatcway at King’s College, he stumbl- ed ageing a cow, which chanced to be passing. In the confusion of the moment, the Professor raised his hat, exclaiiiiiiig, “ I beg your pardon, madam,” ‘Nalking in Union Street, a fetv days afterwards, he did accidentally stumbled against a lady who was walking in the oppOSite till‘t’CIlOll. In sudden reccolcctlon of his former ad. venture, called out, “Is that you again, you brute?”