278 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
DEUTSCHE ADVERTISEMENT. 
BY C. TOAER WOLFE. 
Mine horse is shipped, and I’m avraid 
He hash been daken, or shtolen, or shtraved; 
Mine pig plack horse, dat looks to shpry, 
’Pout fourteen oder twelve hands high. 
He has peen got shust four feets plack, 
Mit shtriped spots all down his pack, 
Two legs pefore and two pehind— 
Pe shure you keep all dis in mind. 
He’s plack all over, dat is true— 
All but his vace, and dat’s plack, too; 
He drots and tranters, vaux and paces, 
And outvorks Pelzebub in draces; 
And ven he gallops in der shtreet, 
He vaux upon his legs and feet; 
Von leg goes down, and den de oder, 
Und always follows von anoder; 
He has dwo ears shtuck ’pon his head, 
Bote of dem’s neider white nor red, 
But bote alike, shust von, you see, 
Ish placker den de oder pe; 
He’s got two eyes dat looks von vay, 
Only he lost von toder day. 
And ven you vish to dake a ride, 
Shump on his back on tudder side, 
And it is shust as gospel drue, 
De eye vat’s plind vill not see you. 
His tail’s pehind him, long and shleek, 
Only I cut him off last week, 
And derefore ’tis not any more 
As half so longer as pefore. 
He cocks his ear, and looks so gay, 
And vill not shtart and run away ; 
But ven he’s scar’t he make von shpring, 
And shumps about like every ding ; 
He rides apout mit shaiz and cart, 
I never see such horse for shraart; 
And sometimes he go on de road, 
Mitout nobody fur his load, 
But pag of corn, and takes de track, 
Mit little poy upon his pack. 
Mine horse ish not so very old— 
Not haff so young as ven he’s foaled— 
And ven he gallop, rear, or shump, 
His head come all pefore him plump, 
And den his dail goes all pehind; 
Put sometimes, ven he takes a mind, 
Gets mad, and durns all round, be shure, 
Vy den his dail goes all pefore. 
Whoever vill mine plack horse got, 
Shall pay ten dollars on de shpot; 
And if he prings ter tief alive, 
Vy den he pays me twenty-five ; 
Mitout no questions ax’d py me, 
By mine advertisement you’ll see, 
I live out here by Schneider Gap, 
Near Scbtofflefunk’s, 
- —— « © • - 
To Maidens on the Look out for Mates. —If 
a man wipes his feet on the door-mat before 
coming into the room, you may be sure he will 
make a good domestic husband. If a man in 
snuffing the candles, snuffs them out, you may 
be sure he will make a stupid husband. If a 
man puts his handkerchief on his knees whilst 
taking his tea, you may be sure he will make a 
prudent husband. In the same way, always 
mistrust the man who will not take the last piece 
of toast or Sally Lunn, but prefers waiting for 
the next warm batch. It is not unlikely he. will 
make a greedy, selfish husb tnd, with wlioin you 
will enjoy no “ brown” at dinner, no crust at 
tea, no peace whatever at home. The man, my 
dears, who wears goloshes, and is careful about 
wrapping himself up well before venturing into 
the night air, not unfrequently makes a good 
invalid husband, that mostly stops at home, and 
is easily comforted with slops. The man who 
watches the kettle, and prevents it from boiling 
over, will not fail, my dears, in his married state, 
in exercising the same care, in always keeping 
the pot boiling. The man who doesn’t take tea, 
ill-treats the cat, takes snuff, and stands with his 
back to the fire, is a brute, whom I would not 
advise you, my dears, to marry upon any con¬ 
sideration, either for love or money, but most 
decidedly not for love. But the man who, 
when tea is over, is discovered to have had none, 
is sure to make the best husband. Patience like 
his deserves being rewarded with the best of 
wives, and the best of mothers-in-law. My 
dears, when you meet with such a man, do your 
utmost to marry him. In the severest winter 
he would not mind going to bed first.— Punch's 
Pocket-book. 
EXPERIENCE OF A COUNTRY HOUSEKEEPER. 
BY HATTIE HOMESPUN. 
Messrs- Editors: —I have noticed your invita¬ 
tion to your lady readers to fill up the missing 
pages of the “ Journal of a Farmer’s Wife.” The 
invitation is rather too general to meet the 
wishes of ladies, for, you know, they are fond of 
particular attentions. But the pleasure I have 
derived from the discontinued journal leads me 
to forego the usual specialities on such occasions, 
and to offer my mite to your ladies’department. 
This turning one’s household affairs inside-out is 
delicate business, but then it is the best way' to 
initiate young housekeepers into the mysteries 
of domestic economy; and it is with the hope of 
saying something profitable to young wives and 
mothers among your readers, that I send you 
these experiences of the holiday-week. 
Hattie Homespun. 
Monday, December 2,9th.—Oh, what a disap¬ 
pointment for the children, Christmas on Sun¬ 
day, and no Santa Claus! But Sabbath is over 
now; the stockings were examined at an early 
hour this morning, and the many presents have 
afforded amusement for one day at least—about 
as long as they usually last with the little folks. 
We had our Christmas turkey on Saturday, and 
this has been wash-day, as usual, in spite of pres¬ 
ents and “ wish you merry Christmas.” Rather 
more to do than usual to-day—feel tired and dis¬ 
pirited with the drudgery of housekeeping. 
Wonder how one poor little woman can accom¬ 
plish all she wishes ; how she can be aufait — 
in parlor and kitchen, take all the necessary 
stitches, and improve her mind at the same time. 
Tuesday , 27 th. —Terrible wind all day; yet 
ventured out to our maternal meeting, and was 
not blown away after all. Was very much en¬ 
gaged in cutting out a coat for Willie, and did 
not like to leave it, but feel amply paid for the 
effort. Was rebuked for my want of faith by 
finding so many. there ; gained new courage to 
persevere in faithfulness to the little ones God 
has given us. There is a prospect of winter in 
good earnest now; we have had none as yet. I 
rather dread snow, though Willie has long been 
watching for it, that the famous sled may be 
brought out from its summer hiding-place. 
While he indulges in many anticipations of fun, 
and slidi lg down hill, I think of the boots full 
of snow, the wet stockings, and frosted feet; but 
boys will be boys , and I know not that it is wise 
to shield them too tenderly. They seem to prize 
fun most that costs them something. 
Wednesday , 28 th. —Rose this morning feeling 
blue, and headachey ; wholly unfit to commence 
operations in the sewing line, so my good hus¬ 
band proposed an early dinner, and a ride five 
miles distant, to visit some relatives. This pro¬ 
position pleased me, and I caught at it eagerly, 
notwithstanding visions of certain pigs that were 
to be killed the next day. I thought I would 
have one holiday before plunging into the mys¬ 
teries of sausage-making and lard-trying. About 
one o’clock, my husband, sister Annie, Willie, 
and myself packed into our little carriage, and 
good old Kate bore us on as briskly as if we had 
been fewer in number. It was a splendid after¬ 
noon. We found friends well, had a pleasant 
visit, a nice tea, and arrived home about six 
o’clock ; found Bridget full of business in the 
kitchen, little Jamie fast asleep in bed, and grand¬ 
mother rejoicing over the arrival of brother John 
in our absence. Indulged in the luxury of read¬ 
ing most of the evening, and feel bright and 
happy—ready for any duty on the morrow. So 
much for change of scene ; nothing like it when 
one gets moping, disgusted with life’s duties. 
We generally return thinking our own home is 
about the happiest spot in the world, after all. 
Thursday, 2,9th. —“0 mother, it snows!— 
Father, father, just look out of the window, and 
see how deep it is; wont you give me a sled- 
ride?” were the exclamations which caused 
my sleepy eyes to open this morning; and, sure 
enough, windows and all were packed tight with 
snow—our first snow. We took our ride j ust in 
time. I thought to myself, grand ! a stormy day, 
and I’ll accomplish wonders with the needle ; so 
1 hurried through the every-day morning labors, 
and sister Annie and I were soon seated, needles 
in hand. Many hands make light work, and we 
have accomplished all we hoped to, to-day. We 
are expecting the said pigs to-morrow, and I feel 
as though I could take hold of the sausages and 
head-cheese with good-will, having had such a 
fine day for sewing. It has snowed hard all 
day, and has grown cold so fast, that we can but 
just keep warm, close by the fire, while my sage 
husband, who is doing a little writing yonder, 
approaches this side of the room occasionally to 
warm up his fingers —to say nothing of his ideas. 
There, he is fairly frozen out, and Annie and I 
will have a woman’s chat over this bright fire. 
Friday , 2,9th. —Still storming, and awfully 
cold; plenty of business out of doors, shoveling 
paths and sweeping off snow. In-doors, still 
intent on sewing, as it is entirely too cold to 
think of cutting up the pigs—which have been 
killed—until they are thawed a little. Bridget 
has managed to clean the heads and feet, and 
put them soaking for head-cheese, and my part 
is deferred until to-morrow. An old friend of my 
husband dropped in to dinner, relieving the mo¬ 
notony of the day; spent some little time in 
playing the agreeable to him, and have passed 
a pleasant and profitable day, but am weary and 
too dull to write more. 
Saturday, 31s£.—Stirring times in the house¬ 
hold this morning. This is the day for sausage 
making; for here in the country the saying of 
a certain gourmand, who affected this article, 
“ Sassengers is good if one knows as who made 
them,” is entirely inapplicable. We all know 
that; for the housewife who should not preside 
over this operation, in person, would lose caste 
at once. They must all pass through her fin¬ 
gers, and the youngest tattler in the house knows 
