AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
215 
goods box, generally filled with a very stout yel¬ 
low woman, a lot of fish, onions, bread, cotton 
cloth, cheap violins, wax dolls, chocolate, and 
agua ardiente.) There were two men in the 
one we visited on this occasion, with the usual 
variety, and with the onions in festoons of 
triumph over the unlucky proprietor of the bull. 
The first inquiries were very general. They 
were based on a report that an American gen¬ 
tleman had lost some very valuable stock on 
the road. It was admitted that they had stop¬ 
ped at the tienda, and the proprietor hastened 
to exculpate himself from any responsibility in 
regard to them. 
“ Ask him,” said Howton, “ wha’s Fer- 
nandy?” 
The response was very unsatisfactory—a 
Mexican of the lower order being about as hard 
to distinguish or catch as one of the wild cattle 
of the pampas, or any particular one of the ver¬ 
min upon his own person. He had stopped with 
the cattle, but had abandoned them, and gone off. 
“Ask him what become of the cattle!'” 
“The cattle had been taken sick, and a few 
days afterwards the cows died.” 
“ Ask him what went with the bull ?” 
“ Ah, senor,” said the shopkeeper, with an 
hypercritical whine, “ a few days afterwards the 
bull died also.” 
“ Well,” said Howton, very much exaspe¬ 
rated, “ask him, what went with the calves?” 
“ Ah, the calves were also very ill.” 
“ Confound you,” said Howton, in great wrath, 
“ I expect you give a big bull punchin, (bull 
fight,) and then butchered the whole business. 
Gentlemen,” said he, turning to us, “I’ll bet 
that bull’s carcase has been strung out as long 
as a bed-cord, and this yaller raskal thing has 
been a retailing of his very chittlins by the 
yard.” 
The black eye of the Mexican glanced with a 
mingled expression of delight and apprehension. 
His brother, apprehensive from our numbers, 
the manner of Howton, and his knowledge of 
the rascality which had beon practised, took the 
American side. He said—“ Me American! Me 
go to New-Orleans quick.” 
“ Y>u’d better stay vvhar you are,” exclaimed 
the indignant joekey, “ we’ve got niggers enough 
there a’ieady.” 
The shopkeeper pursued his narration. He 
evidently played for a point. He thought to 
vindicate his innocence, and strengthen the pro¬ 
babilities of his story, by demanding payment 
for his services. He said in a musical voice — 
“ The bill for the doctor’s attention and medi¬ 
cine is forty-nine dollars and seventy-four cents.” 
“ But for the curing of the calf, to which we ap¬ 
plied various remedies, the bill has been increased 
two dollars and a quarter.” 
“ Cured ’em you thief! You eat ’em up, and 
you want to get your pay twice. Ask him what 
become of the carcase?” 
The shopkeeper could not say ; they had been 
eaten up by the dogs. 
“I declare,” said the desperate Howton, “ef 
the cows and the bull’s been eat up, I don’t 
reckon they eat up that bull’s horns, and I’d 
know ’em amongst a thousand. Ask him whar’s 
the horns. Whar’s the bull’s horns?” 
“ Will thatgentlemanpay the account?” asked 
the cunning Mexican. 
“No, by hokey, I shan’t; they’re no cattle of 
mine. They belonged to a man near Puebly. 
But I hate to see such meanness.” Then he 
added, turning to us, “I know ’em. Ef he had 
any hook upon me, he’d wring in one of thar 
scoundrel aikaldys, and I’d never git done payin’ 
as long as I had any thing, and maybe nuvver 
see home itself agin. So I guess I’ll let him 
slide. Tell him, mistei’,” (to the interpreter,) 
“ that ef you see the man that owned the cat¬ 
tle, you’ll let him know of the bill for doctorin’ 
’em,” 
The call of the driver, and the impregnable 
position of the Posadero, who. from a defendant 
had become an applicant for his bill, terminated 
the inquiry, and the committee rose. Howton 
declared as he climbed up on the coach, that if 
he had time he could prove by the neighbors 
that the “yaller raslcnl had first showed old 
Santy Anny in a grand bull-fight, and then sold 
or made beef of the whole lot, and that if he 
could be sure that he had included that raskal 
Fernandv in the slaughter and sale, he should 
be perfectly satisfied. But,” said he, as he 
showed his enormous mouth at the side of the 
coach, “did you notice how the thing looked 
when I asked him to show me the horns ? I 
had him on the horns, didn’t I?” 
“ But, Howton, how was it about the bill ?” 
“ Why, gentlemen, don’t you see the fact was, 
thar he had me /”—Spirit of the Times. 
PIGS AND CHERRIES. 
A Temperance Sermon. —On Thanksgiving 
afternoon we went to see an old gentleman, 
Uncle S.-, who lives on Long Island, on his 
farm near Brooklyn. Mr. S. is from Germany, 
and has been for some years a strong tempe¬ 
rance man, although brought up with an ardent 
appreciation of the virtues of grape juice. 
“ Uncle,” said we, as we drank a huge tank¬ 
ard of cider, while partaking at his bountiful 
table, “ How came you to relinquish the use of 
wine ?” 
“ Well,” responded the hale old gentleman, 
unbottoning his vest to make more room for the 
third plate of turkey, to which he had helped 
himself, “ I tells you, den : When I first comes 
from Jarmany, we moved into Lancashster 
County, in Pennsylvania, and dere was no wine; 
so, every year we make a barrel of cherry 
bounce, and we all gets trunk on it regular 
every Saturday efening. Nexht Sphring when 
der bounce was all drinked up, I gets der cher¬ 
ries to der hogs. Der consequence was—der 
hogs git shoost as drunk as a lot of beeples. 
“ By and by, hogs get sober again, and I tries 
’em mit anoder mess. Der hogs was very hun¬ 
gry, and come runnin’ up to cler trough, 
schquealin’ like der tuyfel; den dey shtick in 
deir shnouts, and shmack deir chops till dey git 
a taste of der cherries; and den dey all run 
around der yard mit der tongues wide open, and 
deir mouths hanging out, and rub de ground 
agin dair noses to take away der tashte. Hogs 
couldn’t sthand it, no how—make dem orful 
sick. 
“ Old dad said, ‘ neffer geefs it up dat way:’ so, 
nexht week I geefs der hogs anoder mess of der 
cherries; and when I comes mit der bucket to 
feed ’em, right away dey seem someting wrong. 
Up dey all walks shlowly to deir feed; and, 
when dey schmelt der cherries, all turned right 
around mid deir hind quarters to der trough ! 
“ Ever since dat time, mine poy, when der 
prandy subject comes up, I shoost rights about 
face, and has noting to do mit der subject.” 
We felt as though we had heard an impressive 
temperance lecture, and congratulated ourselves 
that Uncle S. had strengthened the conviction 
that temperance is better than indulgence.— 
Journal of Commerce. 
- *©€- 
Ladies with Soles. —An American travelling 
in England, sets it down as one of “ the sights” 
of that country, that he actually saw ladies with 
soles — whole solts ! soles such as are soles! “ I 
saw one,” says the astonished traveller, “who 
had a sole between herself and the ground 
which was actually half an inch thick! It was 
a rainy, muddy day, and she (in her good sense) 
had provided for it.” Well, the English are an 
odd people, and perhaps their women do wear 
shoes with soles half an inch thick; but a trav¬ 
eller who has any regard for his own reputation, 
had better not report such stories to our Amer¬ 
ican ladies. They certainly will not credit the 
statement that English ladies wear such vulgar 
things, even when the streets are ankle deep 
with mud, snow, or slosh. Colds, aches, con¬ 
sumption, death itself, could not force them to 
adopt such a ridiculous fashion. The right to 
wear stout, water-proof boots is, indeed, a male 
prerogative, which the boldest champion of 
woman’s rights has not yet invaded, so far as 
our information extends,— N, Jd. Farmer. 
THE PARLOR. 
There is not only a tendency now to a life in 
a hotel, but to a perversion of family arrange¬ 
ments into an imitation of the same model. 
Families do not possess that wholeness, which 
they once had; but are broken into as many 
fragments, as there are persons in them. A 
chamber was once a room to sleep in; it has 
become a place to live in; and the parlor is 
deserted. Yes, that charming spot, the attract¬ 
ive center once of all the household ; the scene 
of so much gentle industry, innocent diversion, 
instructive and agreeable conversation, and 
sweet and unaffected intermingling of the soul 
and mind, is abandoned to fashionable callers, 
for the most part, where heartless talk occupies 
the place of genial interchange of feeling, and 
style and exhibition have banished enjoyment 
and repose. 
According to the present mode, the various 
members of a family are convoked together from 
their isolated apartment scarcely more than 
once or twice a day; at dinner generally, and 
sometimes perhaps, like militia platoon filing, at 
tea. Breakfast is a scattering affair, at which 
every one arrives, as he does at church, any 
time during the morning. Many of these habits 
remind one strongly of penitentiary arrange¬ 
ments, where the occupants of the cells are 
separated from each other at all hours except at 
meal times. There is rarely a general muster of 
the tenantry of all the stories, any more than 
there is of firemen, except on the ringing of the 
bells ; and as soon as their appetites are extin¬ 
guished, they slink back again into their retreats. 
Are these the manners, we would ask, which 
are likely to attach the members of a household 
to one another; to make a pleasant home, affec¬ 
tionate children, and promote sobriety and con¬ 
tentment? The propensity to spend the 
evenings away from home is growing general. 
What is the reason ? Need we look for an 
explanation beyond the fact that there is so 
little intercourse and social pleasure and amuse¬ 
ment in the domestic circle, so that pleasure 
even of the most innocent kind, which the heart 
naturally craves it there denied ? The home is 
consequently deserted nightly, first for the 
theatre or ball-room, then for the debauch and 
tap-room. When such corruption does not 
follow 7 , there is a want of heartiness and strength 
in our natural affections, w 7 hieh wisely cultivated, 
form the basis of our most substantial and solid 
happiness, and much of our prosperity in life. 
We would not advocate a bigoted restriction 
of our social nature to the narrow boundaries 
of our own roof. By no means. But the fire, 
that is not first kindled on the hearth-stone, 
will not be felt beyond the outward walls. 
There can be no genial expansion, where the 
center is dead and cold. We believe society to 
be a divine institution, and the family ligament 
the fundamental, the strongest, and most vital 
portion of the whole structure. It will be diffi¬ 
cult for us to maintain our present form of 
government, and the liberty which it secures, 
without preserving the little primordial germ of 
it wrapped up in the family circle. Foreign 
nations will struggle in vain for the permanent 
attainment of what we possess by inheritance, 
till the elementary constituent members of such 
a system, as are comprised in family govern¬ 
ments, shall be recognized and established. 
What then tends to impair the beautiful 
structure of the family, its contentment and 
satisfactions, should meet with such a rebuke as 
is due only to a mischief, which is undermining 
virtue, and the very foundations of our repub¬ 
lican edifice. And the evil is none the less, 
because the injury which is doing it is out of 
sight, below the surface, and therefore causes no 
alarm. Our fathers would never have conquered 
freedom without a careful nurture in the bosom 
of families founded on virtue and affection, and 
in turn promoting them. We, their children, 
will fail in maintaining the acquisition, if we 
wickedly throw away the helps by which it was 
originally won .—Newark Daily Advertiser. 
