fourth]. I TO MY MOTHER. _._‘..â€"_o WRITTEN [N- LUCRETIA’S SIXTEENTH Y}.AR- ) The following beautiful lines, from Lucretia to heft-.mother. are such a sweet epitome of mater- mil love, that they must find their way to every heart. 0, thou, whose care sustained my infant years, And taught my prattling lip each note of love; ovx-x/ \, VVVWV l‘llghose soothing voice breathed comfort to my ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. fears, ‘ And round my brow hope’s brightest garland wove- To thee my lay is due. the simple song Which nature gave 1“ 9“ Me’s °l’°“’"g he returned. day; To thee these rude, these untanglit strains belong, Whose heart, indulgent, will not spam my lav. 0, say, amid this wilderness of life, What bosom would have throbbed like thine for me 'l Who would have smiled responsive? Who. in 4. Oh, 11m so glad you’ve come home. grief, ‘Would e’er have felt. and, feeling, grieved freeing himself from her arms she like thee? ‘Vho would have guarded with a falcon eye Each trembling footstep,01 each sport of fear T Who would have marked my bosom bounding high, And clasped me to her heart with love’s bright tear "I Who would have hung around my sleepless couch. '_‘ ,Aud fanned with anxious hand my burning , brow ? Who would have fondly pressed my fovered lip, In all the agony oflove and woe ’l None but a motherâ€"none but one like thee, Whose bloom had faded in the midnight watch ; Whose eye for me has lost its witcbery, '†Whose form has felt disease’s mildewed touch You ;. thou hast lighted me to health and life, By the bright lustre of the youthful bloom-â€" Yes; thou hast wept so oft o‘er every grief, i That woe hath traced thy brow with marks of gloom; 10, then, to thee, this rude and simple song, Which breathes of thankfulnesis and love for thee ; To thee,.my mother, shall this la’,7 belong, \Vhose life is spent in toil and care for me. mm “wuâ€" Elliliritliitr. . ~.._.,_.__.____.-_. The \Vontlerfiil Houscmaid BY carromsa A. SOULE. \Vhere were the crowds that had flocked about them as they left its shore? Alas! the widow and her child found none of them. Alone, and unaided, they were left to stem‘ the toi'renthfllachrstty. Theirs was a trite story. One and another lllllig that tried to do, but the onloqny they rested on the dead min’sgtnivc followed his living darlings, till poverty, in its most Cl'ULl sense, pre- sed heavily upon them. fLet us go where We are unknown,’ said Ellen, passionately, yct mourn- fully, one evening. as, after a futile search for employment, she returned ,to their humble lodgings, and buried her weeping face in her mother's ‘bOsom. ‘ They’ll kill me with their ‘cold proud looks. I’d rather beg my bread of strangers than ask honest employment of these scornful ones, who trample so fiendishly upon our sacred griefs.’ And they gathered up the remnant of their treasures, and silently, sc- éretly, lost the same should fly bo- forc them, went to a lonely home in they readily procured icedlcwork, Rand all they could do, for their fing~ ers beautificd every garment that passed through their hands. But the song of the shirt was the only one they could sing. .Night brought no rest to the weary day, and though .twenty, instead ofthe ‘twelvc liours’ of the Bible were spent in toil, they were-famislied and frozen. , ._‘,Mothet,’ said Ellen, one evening, as the hour of midnight found them still at work, ‘ this is too much for 'ygpigan. I shall sew no longer.’ ‘ ut what will you do, darling 'f’ and Mrs. Seymour wept over her pale thin face, ‘shall we starve I’ ‘ Mother, there was resolution in ‘that tone new, ‘mother, I shall hire out as housemaid; don’t attempt to dissuade, me my mind is determined. It is as honorable as tiiis-â€"I shall earn as much, if not more than now; {shall save my board; I shall have my nights for rest.’ She pleaded till she won at least a tearful consent, and entered the service of Mr. Sam- mcrs. ' it (T =I= lift it: it: at. at. His sister’s house had always been .a-second home to Herbert Lincoln, but now it was dearer than ever. ,,,'I‘,hcii"tea-tz~ible, in particular, seemed -to. have a fascination for him, and, 'at the end of a fortnight, he had ‘wipped so many cups of Ellen’s fra- grant tea, that Mrs. Summers decla- hrcd she should certainly present him harbill of board. And though in all .tliatrtimc he had not exchanged a [dozen sentences with the beautiful "rnind, it was but too evident she was the magnet which attracted him. , Business now took him out of doWn, and three weeks elapsed era the city, where we find them. Tore Vol. w. No. 29.. As he was hastening from the depot, turning a corner, he espicd, coming as it were to meet him, the fair girl of whom he had dreamed every night of his absence, and beside her, little golden‘liaired Nell. ‘ Uncle Herbert,’ cried the child, and embraced him passionately. We missed you so much.’ Then said, gracefully, ' and here is dear Ellen, too, ain’t you glad to see her again 'l’ Ellen blushed, but the young man so. coui-tcously extended his hand to her that she could not refuse it. ‘ I am happy to see Miss Seymour enjoying this beautiful day,’ said he in low. gottth tones as respectfully as if addressing a queen. ‘ And I am happy to see Mr. Lin- coln looking so well,’ reSponded the lady with a quiet dignity, anl she passed along. ‘ But where are you going, little niccc l’ said Herbert to Nell, detain- ing her a tiioiiicnt. ‘Ob, to see Grandmamma Sey- mour, she is such a sweet lady too. Ellen took me there once. and it made me so happy that mother lets me go now Whenever she does,’ and she tripped away. Herbert walked rapidly to the first corner. then turned and delibe- rately rcti‘aced his steps and follow- ed the two, till he learned the street and number of Ellen’s home. That night as be carefully exam- ined his bureaus, it occurred to him that his supply of linen was quite deficient, and forthwith he purchased a goodly sized parcel of thc‘raw material, and at an early hour the next day was knocking at the door of the dilapidated house which he had seen Ellen cntcr. Through vaultâ€"like halls and up rickety stair cases he wended his way till he found Mrs. Seymour’a room. The beautiful and saintly face of the widowed mother fascinated him as completely as had the daughter’s and with a reverential lone he opened his errand. “ilillc she iiiSpcctcd the l linen, and made inquiry as to the particular way he would have it made up his eye glancct'l eagerly over the room. The quiiisttc taste of the houscmaid was visible every- where.â€"~Gcraniutns and roses smiled in the winters sunbcains that crept so lovinglyiiito the narrow casement; the white muslin that draped thcm Iliung in folds graceful as snow- wreaths; penciling as rich almost as tnt‘ZZotlnts, hung upon the walls; the ‘00 tlflunu M Teefy. Esq WV, W W GATE AND ADVERTISER. vaA AURORA AND RICHMOND HILL ADVO N mm» “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than. Popular Opinion.†thjirMihV D urina, if ._ ..._...,a ness had attacked Mrs. Summers. lined with graceful clms, and came and when Herbert entered her house on the evening of the same day he shad sent the generous gift, he found it full of sorrow.-â€"-'l’lic physicians only shook their heads sadly, when* asked if there was any hope and when the loving ones gazed on theE white face of the sick one and mark- ed the intcnsity of her agony, they turned away with fainting l‘tcarts.‘ Now, the full beauty of the houscw inaid’s character was developed. Iii- stinctively. they gave up all to her. She directed the attendants, she soothed little Nell, curbed the Wild grief of George, and spoke so sweet- ly to the mourning husband and bro-t ther, that the spirit of fate seemed in their midst. To the sick woman she Was in very truth a ministering angel. No hand so softly wiped her brow, so tenderly bathed the aching limbs, so gently rubbed the cramped fingers, so deftly smoothed the pil- lows, so strangely sweetened the healing dsaught, brought such cool drink to the hot lips, and such deli- cious food to the starved palate. Her presence seemed to beautify the sick room. Under her loving mini- strations, it assumed a beauty that was almost divine. None know whether it might be the gate to Pa- radisc or to a brighter life on earth, but all felt that whether the path of the pale one was licatcnward or here, it was flower-crowned. Day after day, and night after night, found the fair nurse beside her patient.-â€"â€"Palei'iess gathered on her cheeks and lips, but the same sweet smile played there; lassitudc quiver- ed on her lids, but the same hopeful look beamed from the eye; the limbs trembled with wcai‘incss, yet obey- ed the faintest whisper from the couch. The physicians looked in wonder that one so delicate held out so long under such heavy tasks, and whispered one to another, ‘undct‘ God, She is the licalct‘.’ And when the crisis came, when Mrs. Summers lay there so deathly that only by pressmg a mirror to her lips the fluttCring life could be soon at all, when husband, brother. child- rcn and. friends had Stolen softly away, unable longer to restrain their cries, that young girl tari'icd still, motionless, almost breathless, silent prayers going upward. ‘ Oh, how dcar she was to them all when again she appeared in their midst, and said in her own low, sweet ’music tones, “ You may hopcfl’ ‘ Bless you, bless you, faithful one 1‘ exclaimed Mr. Summers, as l rockch wcrc cushioned with rose l he wound his arms around he“ colored muslin; bits of cliitli,gi'ii'gc-" [-Icnccf‘onh, you are one of the ous in hue as Autumn lcavcs, woven treasures of on} household, the sis- into mats, iclicvcd the bare floor of ter of my adoptiom Come hnlwr‘ its scanty look; and a guitar leaned-Ncliic mid George, and thank her. under the tiny mirror, and a few Under Heaven youowc to her. your costly books were scattered in an mother’s life) Limb. We, {aces artistic-like mai'inerliitlicr and tliith-lwem pressed to hers, and passibmue 0"» Wherever the rambling eye would i kisses broung fresh roses into her wish to see pinned some beautifullcheeks. ‘ thing. ‘ This is Tuesday.’ said Herbert; ‘czin l have one by Friday 'l' ‘ Oh, yes, and sooner if y on should desire it.’ ‘ Not sooner, unless you steal hours from the nightpind your wcary looks seem even now to say that you have done so.’ “It is the lot of the scamstrcss,’ said the lady, calmly but sadly. l The young man could not trusti his voice to reply and hastened away. In his office he gave way to his fccl ings. ‘Slic the beloved and the beautiful, toiling in menial service, iltltl that angel-like mother sowing for her living. It shall be so no longer. Thank God foi riches.’ and be seized his pen and inscribed thosc Words on a slip of paper, ‘ An hon- est debt due your husband,’ he on- closed bank notes for five hundred dollars, and addressed the envelope to Mrs. Seymour. of-a-sstrcct, drop- ping it into the post office. Could he have seen the grateful tears that stole down the widow’sl checks, and heard her soul-touching prayers, as she received it that evc- hing, he would have realized the full force of the text. ‘ l'. is more blcss- ed to give than to receive.’ ‘ Oh, that it were Ellen’s evening at liome,’ said she, ‘ thank HeaVcn I mav now l’iave';~her all to myself again. \Vith this sum in hand we can be comfortable without tasking ourselves as scvcrely as heretofore. My beautiful child shall be no longer a menial.’ Impaticntly she awaith Friday evening, for then Ellen would sure- ly be with her again. But that cvc-. l ning came and went, and she was left alone. A sudden an i severe ill-l, Then a nanly hand, oh, how its pressure thrilled her nerves, grasped her, and a full, rich voice murmured ‘ our angel sent by God.’ On a bright and glorious morning, in the month of roses, a splendid equipage drove from the city man- sion of Mr. Summers. It held a family party, the wife and mother still pale, her convalesccncc sadly re- tarded by the fearful illness that had smitten her two idols; George and Nelly, puny, thouoh out of all dan- ger; the lovely Ellen, no longer maid, but cherished angel of hope and love, thin and white, too, with her winter and Spring’s nursing; Mr. Summers, his fine face all aglow with cliastcncd joy, and Herbert Lincoln, looking as though a lifetime of happiness and joy was crowded into that mo-nont. It was the ï¬rst long drive the phy- sicians had permitted the invalids, and they know not where they were going at least none but Horbert. Ellen declined gomg at first. ‘I have seen my mother so little of late,’ said she, gently, ‘I think I must spend the holiday with her.’ But they said no, and promised if. she would go with thcm,.ihcn, they would leave her with her mother on their;’ return, and she should stay without limit of time. How lovely she looked, as consenting at length. she came to the carriage in her surn- mcr array. Herbert thought he had never gaZed on so exquisite a maid- en in all his life, and longed with a frenzy he had never felt before, to fold her to his heart; the shrine which had been sacred to her from the first moment of meeting. ‘ What alovcly home !’ exclaimed Ellen, as leaving the main road they branched off into a Splendid avenue, i l i in view of a small but cltgint maiiâ€" ITALY.-â€"Il’l a sjon. with too vines, and cmbower- 'Thc King of Italy, his familv, and ed in rare shrul‘ilicry. ‘l trust it holds happy lieiirts.’ ‘ch,’ Said Lincoln, warn ly, ‘that it docs, and we will to day share thoirj'iy, for it is here we are to ;stop.’ Joyful cxclamaltons burst from them all. It Seomcd like a beaming of light into fairy lgtiid, that beauti- ful place, those..- scnscs so long pent tip in the chambch of sickness. They were ushered into a parlor that seemed the abode of the Graces, so charmingly, Were beauty and utility blended. A moment they .waitcd crc thc rustling of satin ari- nourccd the approach of a lady, to whom they were making such an Ullt'el'lll']()l)l0|lS call. She entered, and in a second Nel- lie Summers was clasping her around the neck.â€" ‘Gr indm'imma Seymour, the fairies did not come to you, as you told me last week perhaps they would sometiinc.â€"â€"â€"Oli, I am so glad.’ Mr. and Mrs. Summers stepped forward and grasped her hand ; but Herbert and George, where were they? A scream from Nollie an- nounced thorn. Polo and passion- less Ellen lay in their arms. She had not seen her mother. but her eyes had caught sight of a small Gt‘cck harp in a pillared niche, her; own fatncr's gift, and sold by her when they left that proud city of scorn. Memories so many and sad had unstrung her nerves. Joy scl- dom kills, tliougli.â€"-â€"\Vlicn awakened, from her swoon, size met the tearful ech of her mother. She felt as‘ surcd there was some blest mystery to be told. It was all soon explain- ed. Herbert and Mrs. Seymour had become fast friends in the past winterâ€"«lie had cliecrcd the lonely hours of Ellen’s absenceâ€"he had learned her story and assured him- self that foul wrongs had been done her husband. Employing the best counsel in her native city. He bent all his own energies and talents to the. cause, and sifted the matter to its very root, and triumphed, too. The name came back fairer than ever, and the wealth with it, too; the wretches who had blackened the one and stolen tlte other, cowardly fleeing, instead oftiiaking manly con- lcssioii. ‘l have to thank Mr. Lincoln for it all,’ exclaimed Mrs. Scyn’iour, at the close of her recital, ‘ and I have to pay him yet,’ and she glanced archlv at him. ‘ Bills should be settled, cvcn amongst friends.’ I'Iel‘bt‘lt hesitated a moment. Then he knelt beside her. ‘I have no inotlicr,' he said sadly. ‘ Be as‘ one to me and I am repaid 3. thousand times.’ She throw back the raven locks that clustered on his brow, and im printed there a calm, 3 root kiss. 'Mv son,’ said she solemnly, ‘l adopt you in my love; Ellen rccctvc t1 lirotticr.’ But Ellen was gone. They caught. nowcvcr, a glimpse of white muslin in the green siirubbcry, and she was followed, not by both, though; Mrs. Seymour had, indeed, risei, but a sudden tliiilling pulse in her warm heart checked her, and she resumed her seat. Herbert liastcncd out and found her under the shadow of an old clm, on a bed of moss, with her lap full of roscbnds. Scaling liiinselfbcside her he whispered to her willingr our, long and passionately. his heart’s adoration, and Willi a radiant look of joy, led her back to the house and to: her mother’s knee. I ‘As a brother, Ellcn will not own me,’ said be, ‘but when [asked her if some day, not very far away, she would call me by a dearer name, she was more willing. Our hearts have long been one-â€"bless, mother dear, oh, bless the union of our lives 1" . l “A beautiful day, Mr. .Ienkiug.†“Yes, Very pleasant indeed.†“Good day for the race.†“ Race, what race 1†“ 'l'lic llllllllln race.†“ 011, go along wiili your stupid jokes; get tip a good one, like the one with which I sold .l)ay.â€' “ Day, what day l†“ The day we cole- bi‘alc,’ said Jenkins, who went on his way rejoicing. An unhappy British merchant Writes to a London paper his complaints of female extravagance, and says his three daughters’ clothes cost him $10,000 per annum. llc pretends that he wouldn’t grumble ifliis dinner was always dressed as Well as his family. Night brings its stars as sorrow shows us truths; We can never see the stars till we can see little or naught elseâ€"~antl thus it is with truth. i RIDAY, REA?! 3, 1861. AN ANECDO'I‘E or TEE KING or new work entitled l l Couri,’ we ï¬nd the following anec- dote of King Victor Emmanuel:â€" ' Among the Piedmonlesc soldiers who most distinguished themselves during the late campaign was a ser- geant of artillery named Vigna, who lost an arm by a cannon ballat San- Miirtino. His Majesty, when visit- ing the wounded the day after the battle, was struck by the young sol- dier’s cheerful countenance, and asked him the nature of his wound. The young man showed his mutila- tcd limb, and received the King’s assurance that he should not be for- gottcn. ~ After making inquiries re- specting the young sergeant, his Ma- jesty ordered his name to be inserted on the list of promotions as officer. Some weeks after, the King, meet- ing him again, inquired if he hadrc- ccivcd his commission, and. on recei- ving a negative answer, said that he would see to it, and he. accordingly gave fresh orders, which he thought were to be executed. Some months later. however, during a review at Turin, the King saw a young ser- geant approach him, showing the slump ofhis left arm. His Majesty recognized him. nodded, but took no further notice at the time. On his return to the palace, however, he sent for General do In Marmara, and made inquiries as to the non~cxccu- tion of his orders. It was then as- certained that the young man’s pro- motion had been delayed under pre- text of economy His Majesty die rccted the cominisswn to be at once sent to the sergeant, with a command for him to present himsclf at the pa- lace as soon as he had got his uni- form. Of course the young officer lost no time in attending to the royal behest, and when he was admitted into the king’s presence, his Majesty asked him if he had a horse. ‘ Not yet, sire,’ said he. ‘ Then go to my stables and chocse one, replied the king, ‘ and come. and try him before my windows.’ Vigna made choice of a fine thoroughbred horse, and rode up and down before he window where his Majesty $100.. ‘ “fell, how do you like him ?’ inquired Vic- tor Emmanuel. ‘ Ah, sire, it is a pity so fine an animal should be so headstrong. He would be awkward in the artillery.’ ‘W'ell. themgo and choose another.’ The young ofï¬cer soon after came again on a beautiful chesnut horse, which be de- clared Would suit him admirably. ‘I should think so,’ said the king, laugh- ing, ‘ for he carried mo twelve hours at Palcstro, and never even started. You have made a capital choice. Keep him, and may good fortune at- tend you.’ AFRICA AND ITS Resourcesâ€"Mr. Lyons McLeod writes to the Times : “ it is a Well-attested fact that from \Vcslern Africa(sliippitig port Lagos) cotton in abundance may be pur- chased at 2.1 per lb. ; and, allowmg for exorbitant overcharge for clean- ing, freight, &i-.., it may be sold from the same locality in Liverpool at 4% per lb. This cotton is equal in quality to New Orleans (which has never sold under 5%, and has fetched 91 per lb.) at 65 per lb.; proving beyond doubt that from Western Africa, which is nearer our shores than the cotton districts of America, we may obtain the same amount of cotton for £20,000,00 for which we are paying the slavehold- crs ofthe United States £30.000,000 per annum. The United States are cotton manufacturers as well as cot- ton producers; the slavcs in the South being clothed in cotton made at the north, instead of the former receiving it manufactured from us in payment ofthe raw materials. The consequence has been that during the last fourteen years our imports from America have cchcdcd our exports to America by above £112,- 000,000 sterling. In other words, We are obliged to pay the United States £8,000,000 sterling per an- num in gold for the supply ofcotton. in Western Africaâ€"the Yoruba country and along the valley ofthe Nigerâ€"the natchs are ready to supply any amount of cotton for Manchester anl Glasgow manufac- turers, besides opening the markets of the country to the active compe- tition which will arise for shipbudd- ing timber, palm oil, shea butter, dvewoods, ground nuts. indigo, sugar. gums, copper, (31.0.; all of which must be purchased by the British manufacturers, giving us a balance of trade as much in our fa‘ vour as it is now against us with the United States. i l i TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. ‘ \Vhole N0.. 12?. SHOULD MANURE BE APPLI- ED IN THE SPRINGOR FALL? ‘Our object should be, first to keep the manure in a heap within as small bounds as possib'e, and not let it go through the leaching pro- cess. Second, let us apply all man- ure thatis on hand to the spring crops. By this means we "gain gmucb; we have more time to draWit out, the weather is cool and the manure not subject to evaporate; and third, we have it in our use four or five months in advance of the old fogy system. Then, if we wish, these spi ing crops can be followed by wheat in the fall. By that time the manure will have become thoroughly mixed and amal- gamated with the soil, and we may look for a good result. I have strong- ly advocated the application ofcoai'se manure to corn, as the roots are of a more searching nature than those of smallcr grains.’ The English far ours, as a gene- ral rule, apply the bulk of their ma- nurc to the turnip crop. The tur- nip does not occupy that place in our rotation that it does in England, and, we believe, never will. Our cold winters and hot summers are against its extensive cultivation asa renovating crop. At present we have no crOp that is to us what the turnip is to the English farmerâ€"no crop that can truly be termed a ‘ fal- low cr0p’â€"-no crop that at once serves to clean and enrich the soil. Our great American cereal, Indian corn, allows the free Use of the horse-hoe, but its growth does not enrich the soil. Beans come nearer to what We want. They impover- ish the soil but litt‘e, and, being plant- ed in rows or hills, allow us to clean the land. Our principal renovating plant is real clover. Till we discover something better, we must depend principally on clover to enrich our land. ‘ Manure your green crops,’ is the English rule. ‘Insure me a crop of turnips,’ says the British farmer, ‘ and I will insure you every crop in the i'Otation.’ Acting on this principle, it follows, from the pre- ceding considerations, that we should apply our manure to clover. This is contrary to the generally received opinion, and we state it hesitatingly. Such a method of manuriug may not produce th: most immediate benc- fit. but where farmers keep plenty of stock, where clover bay for winter feeding is properly appreciated. and where one of the chief objects is to make manure and keep tip the forti- lity of the farm, we think it will be found in the end better than to ap- lply the manure directly to grain crops. But will not manure spread out on the fields lose its strength? There may be a little loss, but not enough to form any serious objection to this plan. HISTORY OF THE PLOW. The ï¬rst plow is supposed to be the rude branch of a tree, cut so as to have a cleft at the point, which dragged along the surface of the ground. scraped a furrow into which seeds were thrown. It soon occur- red to the liusbandman that he might relieVe his labor by yoking an animal to the long arm of this primitive in- strument. then arose the necessity for a handle, affixed to the back so that the plow might be guided. The strength of the animal soon wore away or broke the clcft"of the branch and the necessity gave rise to the invention of means for attracting movable shares, first ofwood, and next of stone, copper or iron work- cd to a shape adopted to the cutting of furrows, so as to avoid the exces- sivc labor arising from the plowman’s having to lean upon the plow with all his Weight to press it into the earth. Justsuch implements as those conjunctures ind;cate was used by the Saxons. Some of the facts con- nected with the history of the plow are almost incredible. In Ireland there once prevailed a custom of ‘ plowing by the horse’s tail.’ The draughtâ€"pole was lashed lo the tail of the horse, and, as no harness has employed, two men were necessary, one to guide and press upon the plow. the other to direct the horse, which he did by walking backwards before the miserable animal, and beating it on the head on either side, according to the direction required. This custom prevailed for a consider- able time, in spite of a law which was passed in the early part of the seventeenth century imposing severe penalties upon persons found guilty Do youâ€! By the. rowers; _ of ‘ plowing by the horse’s tail, as “ Wllt‘l‘t'acmuï¬i {W “Slust “*0 50†OleC in the act mentioned and described.’ I 31’9"“ like ‘9 W“ “l‘ 3’ ’\._r\ (\_M/\_."Â¥f'~/\/ .smw'v From Rev." Caesar Ottaway’s 'Skelches in Erris and Tyraleys,’ it appears that the practice lin ‘ in the remote west of Ireland as late; ‘And from a paper as‘thc year 1840! ~‘.On the breed of horses in Scotland in the Ancient Times printed in the first volume of the Society of Auti- quarians of Scotland,’ we ï¬nd the same onst‘om was practiced in that country as late as the year 1792.â€" Progress of Cultivation. To PREVENT ROT IN DWELLING HOUsnsâ€"Makc two or more open- ings in the external walls, and put gratfngs on them to keep out vermin, from below the basement floor. Inâ€" scrt a tile pipe into the fire-wall With one end open to the space below the floor, and carry the pipe up the centre of the fire-wall as close as possible to the fire ï¬ne, and out at. the chimney head. The air in the pipe will be rarefied, being in close contact with the ï¬re flue, thus cans. ing a continuous upward flow, sweeping the place below the floor of all the foul air, which. in my opi- nion, is the chief cause of dry rot.â€" The whole of the apartments‘ln the house may be ventilated by means of this pipe, by inserting a tube into it at the level of the ceiling, with a valve in it to prevent downdi'aught. I have adopted this system for the last ten years, because I know ofno beltetxâ€"Builder, London. How T0 Gm EARLY TOMATOESâ€"â€" An eminent gardener thus writes :â€" A good large turnip is far better than any hot-bod for propagating early tomatoes. Cut off the top, and SC( op out to a shell three quarters of an inch thick. Fill the cavity with rich mould, plant lialf-a-dozen seeds, and place the turnip in a box of loam. Keep in a warm room, in a place having an eastern exposure, if possible, and sprinkle Willi tepid water every day until there is no longer anv danger from frost, then remove the turnip to an out down bed, and thin out all but one plant. Should the turnip shell put out shoots, pluck them off. and the shell will soon rot, affording a fertilizer to the tomatoc plant, that will send it ahead wonderfully. A dozen or so of turnips thus tomatized, will afford an abundant supply of caily tomatoes for any ordinary family. I-Ior Bansâ€"You who love the garden, and intend that your tables shall be graced with the delicacies of the season, will not forget to prepare the hotâ€"bod in good time.»- Do not look upon it as a scientific operation, one requiring a carpenter or any other artizan to construct it, but take the square, saw and ham- mer, and make it yourscli in double quick time. Purchase the sash, if you have no cld one. In some shel- tered and sunny spot, throw out the earth to the depth of a foot, fill in with horse manure, and on that six inches of fine loam or leaf mould, and put on the glass. Water pro- perly, and when the whole is sufï¬ci- ently warm put in the seed. Pussâ€"A light dry soil, not over rich, Suits the pea. If they grow too vigorously and show no sign of bloom, run a spade along about eight inches from the row straight down, and thereby root prune them. Do this each side of the row, and they will bloom in a few days.â€" i’lant as early as the ground can be worked, and again every two weeks for succession throughout the sea- son. Plant in single or double rows from 4 to 6 feet apart, according to the different heights, about an inch apart in the tow, and 3 inches deep; hoe often. ln dry weather peas should be soaked in soft water 5 or 6 hours before planting, and if ground is very dry it should be wa- tered in the hills. A letter was receiVed in New Orleans directed “ To the biggest fool in New Or- leans.†The postmaster was absent, and on his return one of the younger clerks in- formed him of the letter. “ And what become of it?’ inquired the postmaster. “ \Vhy,’ replin the clerk, “ I did not know who the biggest fool in New Orleans was, so I opened the letter myself.†“And what did you find in it'l’ “ Why,’ re- spondcd the clerk, “ nothing but the words, “Thou art the man.†A day’s hearingâ€"A beggar while on his rounds one day this week, ca'led on a clergyman (within two and a half miles of the Cross of Kilmarnock), who, obeying the Biblical injunction of clothing the nak- ed, offered the beggar an old top.coat. It was immediately rolled up, and the beg- gar, in going away with it under his arm, thoughtfully remarkedâ€"“I’ll hae tae gi’e yo a day’s lieai'in’ for this, na.’ Though the surface of mother of pearl seems perfectly smooth to the touch, its re- duction of prismatic colors is proved to be owing to exceedingly minute inequalities in its surface, SllOWn by taking an impress- ion from it in black wax, when the wax is found to reflect the colors.’ Finding a voiceâ€"During a rehearsed, Brahma said to Tom Cooke, who was the, cocductorâ€"“ NOW, Tom, keep the pianio, quiet here, becausr. just at this part, to give effect, I intend dropping my voice. ’ said Tom