Western Reserve Chronicle and Weekly Transcript of the Times, 1855-03-14

one walking heavily.or dragging a heavy weight across the floor. I sat petrified by fear. A nameless agony was upon me that deprived me of all power of ac action. - tion. action. I thought of Harry and I thought of Ellen, in an inextricable cypher of misery and agony; but I coulJ not have defined a line in my own mind ; I could not have explained what it was I feared. I only knew that it was sorrow that was to come, and sin. I listened, but all was still again ; once only 1 thought I heard a low moan and once a muttering voice which I know now to have been my husband's speaking pass passionately - ionately passionately to himself. And then his voice swept stormily through the house crying wildly, "Mary, Mary! Quick here ! Your sister, Ellen !" I ran up stairs. It seems to me now that I almost flew. 1 found Ellen lying on the floor of her own room, just inside the door ; her feet towards the door of my husband's study, which was immedi immediately - ately immediately opposite Ler room. She was faint fainting - ing fainting ; at least I thought so then. We raised her up between us ; my hu-tbnnd trembling more than 1 ; and 1 unfastened her gown, and threw water on her face, and pushed b ick hr hair ; but she did not revive. I told Harry to go fir a doc doctor. - tor. doctor. A horrid thought was stealing over me; but he lingered as I fancied, unac unaccountably - countably unaccountably and cruell), though I twice a.sked him to go. Then I thought that perhaps he was too much overcome ; so I went to him and kissed him, and said, " She will soon be better, Harry," cheer cheerfully, - fully, cheerfully, to cheer him. But I felt in my heart that she was no more. At last, after many urgent entreaties, and afier the servants had come up, clus clustering - tering clustering in a frightened way ronnd the bed but he sent them away again immedi immediately - ately immediately he put on his hat and went out, sojn returning with a strange man ; not our own doctor. This man was rude and coarse, and ordered me aside, as I stood bathing my sister's face, and pulled her arm and hand roughly, to see how dead they fell, and stooped down close to her lips I thought he touched them even all in a violent and insolent way, that shocked me and bewildered me. My husband stood in the shadow, ghastly pale, but not interfering. It was too true, what that strange man had said so coarsely. She was dead. Yes ; the creature that had an hour ago been so full of life, so beautiful, so reso resolute, - lute, resolute, and young, was now a stiffening corpse, inanimate and dead, without life and wiihout hope. Oh ! that word had set my brain on fire. Dead ! here in my house, under my roof dead so mysteri mysteriously, - ously, mysteriously, so strangely why? How ? It was a fearful dream, it was no truth that lay there. I was in a nightmare ; I was not sane ; and thinking how ghastly it ail was, I fainted softly on the bed, no one knowing, till some time after that I had fallen, and was not praying. When I recovered I was in my own room, alone. Crawling feebly to my sister's door, I found that she had been washed and dressed. It struck me that all had been done in strange haste ; Harry telling me the servants had done it while I fainted. I knew afterwards that he had told them it was I, and that I would have no help. The mystery of it was soon to be unrav unravelled. - elled. unravelled. One thing I decided on to watch bv my sister this night. It was in vain that my husband opposed me ; in vain that he coaxed me by his caresses, or tried to terrify me with angry threats. Something of my sister's nature seemed to have passed into me; and unless he had posi posi-tivtly - tivtly posi-tivtly prevented me by force, no other means would have had any effect. He gave way to me at last angrily and the night came on and found me tilting by the bedside watching rny dear sister. How beautiful she looked ! Her face, still with the gentle mark of sorrow on it that it had in life, looked so grand ! S'.ie was so great, so pure; she was like a god goddess - dess goddess sleeping; she was not like a mere woman of this earth. She did not seem to be dead; there was life about her yet, for there was still the look of power and of human sympathy that she used to have when alive. The soul was there still, and love and knowledge. By degrees a strange feeling of her living presence in the room came over me. Alone in the still midn'ght, with no person near me, it seemed as if I had leisure and power to pass into the world beyond the grave. I felt my sister near me ; I felt the passing of her life about me, as when one sleeps, but is still con conscious - scious conscious that another life is weaving in with ours. It seemed a if her breath fell warm on my face; as if her shadowy arms held me in their clasp ; as if her eyes were looking through the daikness at me ; as if I held her bands in mine, and her long hair floated round my fore fore-heaJ. - heaJ. fore-heaJ. And then to shake off these fan fancies, - cies, fancies, and convince myself that she was really dead, I looked again and again ut her lying there ; a marbU eorpso, ice

now, and see the true proportions of eve everything - rything everything ; ihen I was Llinded by my pas passions - sions passions and understood nothing. .We went away to our pretty, bright home, in one of the neighborhoods of London, near a park. We lived there for many months I in a slate of intox ication rather than of earthly happiness, and he was happy too, then ; for I am sure he was innocent, and I know he loved me. Oh, dreams, dreams ! I did not know my husband's profes. sion. lie was always busy, and often absent; but he never told me what he did. There had been no settlements either, when I married. He said he had a conscienti6us scruple against them; that they were insulting to a man's hon or, and degrading to any husband. This was one of the reasons, why, at home, 'hey did not wish me to marry him. But I was only glad to be able to show him how I trusted him by meeting his wishes, and refusing, on my own account, to accept the legal protection of settle ments. It was such a pride to me to sacrifice all to him. Thus I knew noth ing of his real life his pursuits or his fortunes. I never asked him any ques questions, - tions, questions, as much from indifference to any anything - thing anything but his love, as from a wifely blind ness of trust. When he came home at night, sometimes very gay, singing opera songs and calling me his little Medora, s he used when he was in good humor; I was gay, too, and grateful. And when he caaie home moody and irritable which he used to do, often, after we had been married about three months, once even threatening to strike me, with that Larful glare in his eyes I remember so well, and used to see so often afterwards then I was patient and silent, and nev er attempted even to take his hand or kiss his forehead, when he bade me be still and not interrupt him. He was my law, and his approbation the sunshine of my life ; so that my very obedience was selfishness ; for my only joy was to see him happy, and my only duty to obey him. My sister came to visit us. My hus husband - band husband had seen very little of her before our marriage ; for she had often been from home when he was with us, down at Hurst Farm that was the name of my dear mother's place and I had al ways fancied they had not liked even the itttle they had seen of each other. Ellen was never loud or importunate in her opposition. I knew that she did not like the marriage, but she did not inter interfere. - fere. interfere. I remember quite well the only time she spoke openly to me on the sub ject, how she flung herself at my knees. with a passion very rare in her, beseech beseeching - ing beseeching me to pause and reflect, as if I had sold mypelf to my ruin, when I prom-. ised to be Harry's wife. How she prayed Poor Ellen ! I can see her now, with her heavy, uncurled hair falling on her neck as she knelt, half undressed, her large eyes full of agony and supplication, like a martyred saint, praying. Poor Ellen ! I thought her prejudiced then; and this unspoken injustice has lain like a heavy crime on my heart ever since : for I know that I judged her wrongrully, and that I was ungrateful for her love. She came to see us. This was about a year and a half after I married. She was more beautiful than ever, but some somewhat - what somewhat sterner, as well as sadder. She was tall and strong in person, and dig dignified - nified dignified in manner. There was a certain manly character in her beauty, as well as in her mind, that made one respect and fear her, too, a little. I do not mean thatshe was masculine, or hard, or coarse: she was a true woman in grace and gen gentleness - tleness gentleness ; but she was braver than women in general. She had more self reli nce, was more resolute and steadfast, and in infinitely - finitely infinitely less impulsive, and was rrore ac active - tive active and powerful in body. My husband was very kind to her. He paid her great attention ; and some sometimes - times sometimes I half perceived that he liked her almost better than he liked me he used to look at her so ofien: but with such a strange expression in her eyes! I never could quite make it cut, whether it was love or hate. Certainly, after she came, his manner was changed towards me. I was not jealous. I d d not suspect th's change from any small feeling of wound wounded - ed wounded self-love, or from any envy of my sister ; but I saw it I felt it in my heart yet without connecting it with Ellen in any way. I knew that he no longer loved me as he used to do, but I did not think he loved her; at least, not with the same kind of love. I used to be sur surprised - prised surprised at Ellon's conduct to him. She was more than cold; she was passion ately rude and unkind ; not so mueli when I was there as when I was away. For I used to hear her voice, speaking in those deep indignant tones that are worse to bear than the harshest scream of pas passion - sion passion ; and sometimes I used to hear hard words he sp?aking at the first soft and pleadingly, often to end in a teniblo

cold, with the lips set and rigid, and the death band beneath ber chin. There she was, stiff in her white shroud, the snowy linen pressing so lightly on her ; no life within, and no warmth about her, and all my fancies were vain dreams. Then I buried my face in my hands, and wept as if my heart was breaking. And when I turned away my eyes from her, the presence came around me again. S long as I watched her it was not there ; I saw the corpse only; but when 1 shut this out from me, then it seemed as if a barrier had been removed, and that my sister floated near me again. I had been praying, sitting thus in these alternate feelings of her spiritual pres presence - ence presence and her bodily death, when raising my head and looking towards the farther corner of the room, I saw, standing at some little distance, my sister Ellen. I aw her distinctly, as distinctly as you may see that red fire blaze. Sadly and lovingly her daik eyes looked at me, sad sadly - ly sadly her gentle lips smiled, and by look and gesture too she showed me that she wish wished - ed wished to speak to me. Strange, I was not frightened. It was soatutal to see her there, that for the moment I forgot that she was dead. " Ellen," I said, " what is it V The figure smiled. It came nearer. Oh! do not say it was fancy! I saw it advance ; it came glidingly; I remem remembered - bered remembered afterwards that it did not walk, but it came forward to the light, and stood not ten paces from me. It looked at me still, in the same sad gentle way, and somehow, I do not know whether with the hand or by the turning of the head, it showed me its throat, where were the distinct marks of two powerful hands. And then it pointed to its heart; and looking, I saw the broad stain of blood above it. And then I heard her voice I swear I was not madI heard it say, I say to you distinctly, whisper softly, " Mary!" and then it said still more audi audibly, - bly, audibly, " Murdered!" And then the figure vanished, and sud suddenly - denly suddenly the whole room was vacant. That one dread word sounded as if forced out by the pressure of some strong agony; like a man revealing his life's secret when dying. And wheu it had been spoken, or rather wailed forth, there was a sud sudden - den sudden sweep and chilly rush through the air; and the life, the soul, the presence, fled. I was alone again with Death. The mission had been fulfilled ; the warn warning - ing warning had been given ; and then my sister passed away, for her work with earth was done. Brave and calm as the strongest man that ever fought on a battle field, I stood up beside my sister's body. I unfastened her last dress, and threw it back from her chest and shoulders; I raised her head and took off the bandage from round her face ; and then I saw deep black bruises on her throat, the mark of hands that had grappled her from behind, and that had strangled her. And then I looked further and I saw a small wound below the left breast, about which hung two or three clots of bloo l, that had oozed, up, despite all care and knowledge in the manner of her murder. I knew then she had been first suffocated to pievent her screams, and then stabbed where the wound would bleed inwardly, and show no sign to the mere bysiander. I covered her up carefully again. I laid the p How smooth and straight, and laid the heavy head gently down. I drew the shroul close above the dreadful mark of murder. And then, still as calm anil resolute as I had ever been since the revelation had come to me, I left the room and passed into my husband's study. It was on me to discover all the truth. His writing table was locked. Where my strength came from I know not ; but with a chizel that was lying on the table, I prized the drawer and broke the lock. I opened it. There was a long and slen slender - der slender dagger lying there, red with blood ; a handful of woman's hair rudely severed fiom the head, lay near it. It was my sister's hair! that wavy, silken, uncurled auburn hair that I had always loved and admired so much! And near to these again were stamps, and dies, and moulds, and plates, and hand writings with fac similes beneath, and bankers' cheques, and a heap of leaden coin, and piles of incomplete bank notes; and all the evi evidences - dences evidences of a coiner's and forger's trade, the suspicion of which had caused those bitter quarrels between poor Ellen and my husband the knowledge of which had caused her death. With these things I sw also a letter addressed to Ellen in my husband's hand handwriting. - writing. handwriting. It was an unfinished letter, as if it had displeased him, and he had made another copy. It begin with these words no fear that I shoul 1 forget them, they are burnt into my brfin "I never really loved her, Ellen ; she pleased me only as a doll would please a child ; and I married her from pity, not from love. You, Ellen, you alone could fill my heart; yrjK alona are my fit helpmate. Fly with

and letting my han Is fall heavily on my lap, said in an undertone, "No, no ! she s too weak, too childish!" Then she went up stairs abruptly ; and I heard her walking about her own loom for near nearly - ly nearly an hour after, in long, steady steps. I have often thought, that, had she told mc then, and taken me to her heart her strong, brave, noble heart I could have derived courage from it, and could have borne the dreadful truth I was forced to know afterward. But the strong are so impatient with us ! They leave us too soon their own strength revolts at our weakness ; so we are often left broken in this weakness, for want of a little patience and sympathy. Harry came in a short time after Ellen had left me. "What has she be. n say ing?" he cried passionately. His eyes were wild and bloodshot ; his beautiful black hair flung all in disorder about his face. "Dear Harry, she has said nothing about you," I answered, trembling. "She only asked what was your profes sion, and how much we had a year. That was all." "Why did she ask this? What busi ness was it of hers!" cried Hairy, fierce fiercely. - ly. fiercely. "Tell me!" and he shook me rough roughly - ly roughly ; "what did you answer her, little fool?" 'Oh, nothing;" and I began to cry : it was because he frightened me.' "I said what is true, that I knew nothing of your affa'rs ; as, indeed, what concern is that of mine? I could say nothing more, Harry." ' '-Better that than too much," he mut- j tered ; and then he flung n.e harshly back on the sofa, saying, "Tears and folly and weakness ! The same round, always the same ! Why did I marry a mere pretty doll a plaything no wife!" And then he seemed to think he had said too much ; for he came to me and kissed me, and said that he loved me. But for the first time in our married life, his kisses did not soothe me, nor did I be lieve hi assurances. All that night I heard Ellen walk steadily and unrestingly through her room. She never slackened her pace, she never stopped, she never hurried, but the same slow measured tread went on ; the firm foot, yet light, falling as if to music, her very step the same mixture of manliness and womanhood as her character. After this burst of passion, Harry's tenderness to me became unbounded ; as if he wished to make up lo me for some wrong. I need not say how soon I for forgave - gave forgave him, nor how much I loved him again. All my love came back in one full, boundless tide; and the current of my heirg set towards him again as be before. - fore. before. If he had asked me for my life then, as his mere fancy, to destroy, 1 would have given it to hirn. I would have lain down and died, if he had wish wished - ed wished to see the flowers grow over my grave. My husband and Ellen grew more es estranged - tranged estranged as his affection seemed to return for me. His manner to her was defying; hers to him contemptuous. I heard her call him villain once, in the garden be below - low below the windows ; at which he laughed his wicked laugh, and sai l " tell her and see if she will believe you !" I was sitting in the window working. It was a cold, damp day in the late au aunt - nt aunt n, when those chill fogs of November are just beginning; those fogs with the frost in them, that steal into one's very heart. It was a day when a visible blight is in the air, when death is abroad every everywhere, - where, everywhere, and suffering and crime. I was alone in the drawing-room. Ellen was up stairs, and my husband, as I believed, in the City. But I remembered since. that I heard the hall dojr softly opened, and a footstep steal quietly by the drawing-room up the stairs. The evening was just beginning to close in Jull, gray and ghostlike ; the dying daylight melting in in-to - to in-to the long shadows that stalked like wan wandering - dering wandering ghosts about the fresh grave of na nature. - ture. nature. 1 sat working still, at some of those small garments about which 1 dreamed such fond dreams, and wove large hopes of happiness; and as I sat, while the evening fell heavily about me, a mysterious shadow of evil passed over me, a dread presentiment, a consciousness of ill, that made mc tremble as if in ague angry at myself though for my folly. But it was reality. It was no hysterical sinking of the spirits that I felt ; nor mere nervousness or cowardice; it was some something - thing something I had never known before ; a knowl knowledge, - edge, knowledge, a presence, a power, a warning word, a spirit's cry, that had swept by me as the fearful evil marched on to its con. cluMon. I heard a faint scream up stairs. Ii was so faint that I could scarcely distin distinguish - guish distinguish it from a sudden rush of wind through an opening door, or the chirp of a mouse behind a wainscot. Presently I heard the same sound again, and then a dull muffled noise overhead, ac of some

bur of anger and imprecation. I could not understand why they quarreled. Tbere was a mystery between them I did not know of; and I did not like to ask them, for I was afraid of them both as much afraid of Ellen as my husband and I felt like a reed between them as if I should have been crushed beneath any storm I might chance to wake up. So I was silent, suffering alone, and bearing a cheerful face so far as I could. Ellen wanted me to r turn home with her. Soon after she came, and soon af after - ter after I heard the first di-pute between 'hem, she urged me to go back to Hurst Farm; at once, and for a long time. Weak as I am by nature, it has always been a mar marvel - vel marvel to me since, how strong I was where my love for my husband was concerned. It seemed impossible for me to yield to any pres-ure aga nst him. I believe now, that a very angel could not have turned me from him ! At last she said to me, in a low voice : "Mary, this is madness ! it is almost sinful ! Can you not see Can you not hear?" And then she stoDDed. and 1 1 ' would say no more, though I urged her to tell me what she meant. For this tenible mystery began to weigh on me painfully, and, for all that I trembled so much to fathom it, I had begun to feel that any truth would be better than such a life of dread. I seemed to be living among shadows; my very husband and sister not real, for their real lives were hidden from me. But I was too timid to insist on an explanation ; and so things went on in their old way. In one respect only changing still more painfully, still more markedly ; in my husband s conduct towards me. He was like another creature altogether to me now, he was so altered. He seldom spoke to me at all, and he never spoke kindly. All that I did annoyed him, all that I said irritated him ; and once ( the little widow covered her face with her hands and shuddered,) he spurned me with his foot and cursed me, one nif ht in our own room, when I knelt weeping be before - fore before him, supplicating him for pity's sake to tell me how I had offended him. But I said to myself that he was tired, an noyed, and that it was irritating to see a loving woman's tears ; and so I excused him, as often times before, and went on loving him all the same God forgive me for my idolatry ! Things had been very bad of late be between - tween between Ellen and my husband. But the character of their discord was changed. D Instead of reproaching, they watched each other incessantly. They put me in mind of fencers my husband on the defensive. "Mary," said my sister to me sudden- lyt coming to the sofa wher I was sit ting embroidering my poor baby's cap. "What does your Harry do in life? What is his profession?" She fixed her eyes on me earnestly. "I do not know, darling," I answered vaguely. "He has no profession that I know of." "But what fortune has he, then ? Did he not tell you what his income was and how obtained, when he married ? To us, he sad only, that he had so much a year a thousand a year ; and he would say no more. But has he not been more explicit with you?" "No," I answered, considering; for indeed, I had never thought of this. I had trusted so blindly to him in every everything, - thing, everything, that it would have seemed to me a profound insult to have even asked of his affairs. "No, he never told me any anything - thing anything about his fortune, Ellen. He gives me money when I want it, and is always generous. He seems to have plenty J whenever it is asked for, he has it by him, and gives mc even more than I re require." - quire." require." Still her eyes kept looking at me in that strange manner. "And this is all you know?" "Yes, all. What more should I wish to know? Is he not the husband, and has he not absolute right over eveiy eveiy-thing? - thing? eveiy-thing? I have no business to interfere." The words sound harsher now than they did then, for I spoke lovingly. Ellen touched the little cap I held. "Does not this make you anxious?" she said. "Can you not fear as a mother, even while you love as a wife?" "Fear, darling? Why? What should I fear, or whom? What is therr, Ellen, on your heart?' I then added passion passion-tely - tely passion-tely ; "Tell me at once ; for I know that you have some terrible secret concealed from me ; and I would rather know any anything, - thing, anything, whatever it may be, than live on longer in this kind of suspense and an. guish ! It is too much for me to bear, Ellen." She took my hands. "Have you strength?" she said earnestly. "Could you really bear the truth?" Then see seeing - ing seeing my distress, for I had fallen into, a kind of hysterical fit I was rery deli delicate - cate delicate then she shook her head in despair.

That parent who does not care for his own children is wanting in one of the es es-sential - sential es-sential elements of humanity. Almost the entire brute creation are his superiors in. natural affection. The providence of very many races of animals in laying up a store for the future wants of their off offspring - spring offspring is somewhat remarkable. The worm and the bee provides in the crysa crysa-lis - lis crysa-lis the food for the unfledged insect; the fowls of the air, the fishes of the seas, the eptiles of the marshes, the forest kings in their lairs, the whole teeming population of the fields and forests, show their affec affection - tion affection for their young by their constant ex exertions - ertions exertions to protect, to nourish and mature those of their kind which they have brought into existence. It is not wonderful that man, the crown crowning - ing crowning work of all terrestrial life, should pos possess - sess possess this affection in a higher degree than all other animals. A higher incentive than the mere instinct of his nature ought to actuate him. It rests upon the idea of duty moral obligation, inseparable from his being. Parents are anxiout for their children, and this anxiety shows itself in the sacri sacrifices - fices sacrifices they are always ready to make for them. The father toils early and late to store a fortune for them ; the mother with nightly vigils and daily cares grows pre prematurely - maturely prematurely old in her anxiety for them. And how frequently are their gray hairs multiplied by the unkind returns of those for whom they have thus lab-red and watched ! An undutiful child, how un unnatural - natural unnatural ! Parents should not deceive themselves ; such erratic characters, un untrue - true untrue to all the nobler sentiments and af affections - fections affections that bind parent to child and child to parent, are not without their le legitimate - gitimate legitimate parentage. Habitual disobedi disobedience - ence disobedience is the natural result of over indul indulgence. - gence. indulgence. The child at three years old who has not learned to obey will be res restive - tive restive under parental authority at nine, and master at home at twelve, and ready to eject his parents from home at twenty. All this may take place exactly in con conformity - formity conformity with the development of mind and body. The pampered child grows to be a human animal. Those moral sus susceptibilities, - ceptibilities, susceptibilities, mighty regulators to human force, have been left dwarfs in their very infancy, and the intellect reels under the crushing weight of unbridled will. This will becomes the tyrant lo execute all the mandates of the baser passions, and places its crushing heel upon every struggling aspiration of the nobler manhood. Thus in the pride of his heart, the young man of parental fortune, but without a soul, be becomes - comes becomes ashamed of a father's wrinkled face, calls his sober counsels puerile deems his mother " a foolish old woman who knows nothing of the world," and himself as the embodiment of all the sa sagacity - gacity sagacity and availible wisdom that has come down from generations of ancestors. This wisdom is all concentrated upon the point of personal gratification, his sagaci sagacity - ty sagacity in eluding every restraint. Parents seldom imagine that they are bestowing tb.dr labors, upon tons to de

The readers of the Farmer know or ought to know, for we have told them of often - ten often enough, that animals housed or kept un under - der under good shelter, and warm, require less ; food than those exposed to cold, but alls perhaps, do not know the reason why. Animal heat is produced by the decom decomposition, - position, decomposition, or, chemically speaking, eombut Hon of the food in the stomach, by oxygen ' drawn into the lungs by breathing. Oxygeii" is a simple element, which combines with '' every thing animate or inanimate.' It is' always positively charged with electricity and by some is considered a form of elec electricity. - tricity. electricity. Its action in the decomposition of food in the stomach, is the source of ani animal - mal animal heat, and combustion as properly takes place in the stomach, by the action of oxygen on the carbon, or food, as if th" same were burnt in an ordinary fire; and gives out exactly as much heat. Thai ; combustion in the stomach, however, is " -slower, and the heat longer in developing" itself. . ' Oxygen will consume all things wit ; which it comes in contact. It constitutes . a portion of the atmosphere, and is' coo.- . tinually inhaled by breathing. An adult ' person inales about thirty-two ounces of it daily, which, unless there be a constaal . s jpply of carbon kept on hand, in the . form uf food, for it to act upon, will con consume - sume consume the body itself, and thus the soure ' of life becomes the cause of death. The food is the part to supply animal warmth. Io winter, when we exercise . in the cold air, and the amout of oxygen in consequence of the contraction of the air . by cohl, that we inhale is increased the necessity of food to supply the carbon con consumed - sumed consumed increases in the same ratio, and . by gratifying the appetite we furnish fuel, that insures protection from cold. A tsarv ing man freezes withhalf the cold that would freeze a well fed person, be because - cause because he has not fuel to keep up the in , ternal fires. Our clothing is an equivalent for a por portion - tion portion of food, as this external protection from cold, renders necessary a less internal fire to keep up the natural temperature of the body. So with animals, the natural tem temperature - perature temperature of their bodies has to be kept up, and if exposed to cold, more fuel, in the form of food, is required than if they were kept warm. On this same principle, a mac requires one eighth more food in winter than in summer, to keep up the internal fire that preserves the temperature of his body, in cold weather, the same as it is ia sum summer. - mer. summer. Ohio Farmer. SQUASH Pies wrrHorrr Eces. To make the best of squash pies (when eggs are 37 to 50 cents per dozen,) use none, but put in the place of them soft crackers powdered fine. Just advertise that for he benefit of the ret cf the poir folks

I went to seek for Christ, And Nature seemed so fair. That first the woods and fields my youth enticed. And I was sure to find him there : The temple I forsook. And to the solitude Allegiance paid ; but winter came and shook The crown and purple from my wood ; Eis snows, like desert sands, with scornful drift, Beseiced the cokusn'd aisle and palace gate ; Ky Thebes, cut down with many a solemn rift, But epitaphed her own sepulchred state : Then I remembered whom I went to seek. And bless d blunt winter for his council bleak. Back to the world I turned. For Christ, I said, is King ; So the eramp'd alley and the hut I spurn'd. As far beneath His sojourning. 'Hid power and wealth I sought. But found no trace of him. And all the costly offerings I had brought With sudden rust and mould grew dim ; I found his tomb, indeed, where, by their laws. All must on stated days themselves Unpriow, Unpriow,-ktocking - ktocking Unpriow,-ktocking with bread a dead creed's grinning jaws. Witless how long the life had thence arisen ; Due sacrifice to this tbey set apart. Prising it more than Christ's own liring heart. 80 from my feet the dust Of the proud world I shook ; Then came dear Love and shared with me his crust, And half my sorrow's burden took. After the world's soft bed. Its rich and dainty fare. Like down seem'd Lore's coarse pillow to my head. His cheap food seem'd as manna rare ; Fresh trodden prints of bare and bleeding feet, Tum'd to the heedless city whence I came. Hard by 1 saw ; and springs of worship swett Gush'd from my cleft heart smitten by the same ; Lore look'd me in the face and spake n words. But straight I knew those foot prints were the Lord's. I followed where they led. And in s horel rude. With nought to fence the weather from his head, The King I sought for meekly stood ; A naked, hungry child Clung round his gracious knee. And a poor hunted slave look'd np and smiled To bless the smile that set him free ; New miracles I saw his presence do,- No more I knew the horel bare and poor ; The gather .d chips into a woodpile grew. The broken morsel swell'd to goodly store ; I knelt and wept ; my Christ no more I seek, His throne is with the outcast and the weak.