AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
391 
Wanted a Bachelor. —We recommend the 
following paragraph, penned by a correspondent 
of the Prairie Journal , to any eligible young 
man who is anxious to be settled in life, and 
would like to take for himself, for better or 
worse, a young, square, stout-built, black-eyed 
Indian lass : 
“The Ilaynse Chief offers one thousand 
head of horses, to any respectable white young 
man, well recommended, who will marry his 
daughter, a girl of about eighteen ; settle down 
among them and teach them agriculture. 
“ The horses are worth from fifty to eighty 
thousand dollars. I have seen this valuable 
squaw. She is about the medium size, with 
tolerable regular features, high cheek bones, 
sloping forehead, black eyed and dark hair. 
Her form is square and stout. Her long hair 
fell over her shoulders profusely ornamented 
with shells and beads. She wore a robe made 
of fawn skins, most beautifully ornamented 
with beads and shells. Her step is light and 
proud, her gait easy and graceful.” 
- « 0 « - - 
Valuable Presents.— The New-York Mirror 
speaking of New Year’s presents, says: “The 
best thing to give your enemy is forgiveness ; 
to your opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your 
heart; to your children, a good example; to 
your father, deference; to your mother, con¬ 
duct that makes her proud of you ; to yourself 
respect; to all men, charity ; to God, obedience. 
- • © « - 
, V tcaT' Feeling. —A young miss accepted 
the otter of a young man to gallant her home, 
and afterwards, fearing that jokes might be 
cracked at her expense, should the fact become 
public, dismissed him about half way home en¬ 
joining secresy. ’ 
Hon t be afraid,” said he, “of my saying 
any thing about it, for I feel as much ashamed 
of it as you do.” 
Erroneous Judgment.—A good book and a 
good woman are excellent things for those who 
know how justly to appreciate their value, 
llierc are men, however, who judge of both 
from the beauty of their covering. 
-• ® • - 
V hat makes a Caterpillar so much like a 
buckwheat pancake ? Why, because it makes 
the “ butter-fly.” 
--• G •- 
V hat makes more noise than a pig undor a 
gate? Two pigs. 
-«-#-#- 
Head Lost.— A person threw the head of a 
goose on the stage of the Belleville theatre. 
Costu, advancing to the front, said : “ Gentle¬ 
men, if any one amongst you has lost his head 
do not be uneasy, for I will restore it on the 
conclusion of the performance.” 
-• • »- 
IV hat kind of snuff is it, that the more you 
take of it the fuller the box will be ? The snuff 
of a candle. 
-• 6l- 
Why is there more Catholicism than protest- 
autism in Ireland?—Because the former is the 
religion of the mass. 
-IO «- 
A Fertility well-grounded. — Periodicals 
are the dead leaves that fertilize the soil of Lit¬ 
erature. 
-- 
Pretty Little Thought.— The squirrel jumps 
from branch to branch—the flirt from beau to 
beau. 
Seen Through.—“ I see through it now,” as 
the maid-servant said when she knocked the 
bottom out of the pail. 
Quick Wit.— One of the readiest replies we 
have heard lately was made by an Irish laborer. 
A gentleman traveling on horse-back “ down 
East,” came upon an Irishman who was fencing 
in a most barren and desolate piece of land. 
“ What are you fencing in that lot for, Pat ?” 
said he; “A herd of crows would starve to 
death on that land.” “And sure your honor, 
wasn’t I fencing it to kape the poor bastes out 
iv it?” 
Well Said. —The Portland Advertiser s&ys 
it is a supposition generally conceded to be true, 
that cords of wood given to the poor are re¬ 
corded above. 
-i«i- 
SOMETHING FOR THE GIRLS. 
“What! another lecture?” Yes girls an¬ 
other lecture. I thought long ago that I should 
have to read you a long one about minding 
your mothers. Of course you all know the 
divine command, “ Honor thy father and thy 
mother,” but very few obey it. An undutiful 
child is an odious character, yet few young peo¬ 
ple feel the affection for, and show the respect 
and obedience to their parents, that arc becom¬ 
ing, right, and beautiful. Did you ever sit and 
think about the anguish your mother endured 
to give you being ? Did you ever recount the 
days and nights of care, toil, and anxiety you 
cost her ? Did you ever try to measure the 
love that sustained your infancy and guided 
your youth? Did you ever think about how 
much more you owe your mother than you will 
be able to pay ? If so, did you look sour and 
cross when she asked you to do any thing—did 
you ever vex, ever disobey her ? If you did, it 
is a sin of an uncommon magnitude, and a shame 
which should make your cheek burn every time 
you think of it. It is a sin that will be sure to 
bring its reward in this world. I never knew 
an undutiful daughter make a happy wife and 
mother. The feeling that enables any one to 
be unkind to a mother, will make her who in¬ 
dulges it wretched for life. 
If you should lose your mother, you can little 
dream how the memory of every unkind or un¬ 
dutiful word, every neglect of her wishes, will 
haunt you. I could never tell you how I some¬ 
times feel in remembering instances of neglect 
to my mother; and yet, thanks to her care, I 
had the name of being a good child. She told 
me, shortly before she died, that I had never 
vexed her by any act of disobedience; and I 
would not resign the memory of her approba¬ 
tion for the plaudits of a world, even though I 
knew' it was her love that hid the faults and 
magnified all that w r as good. I know' how many 
things I might have done to add to her hap¬ 
piness and repay her care, that I did not do; 
but the grave has cut off all opportunities of 
rectifying mistakes or atoning for neglects. 
Never, never lay past for yourself the memory 
of an unkindness to, or neglect of, your mother. 
If she is sick how can you possibly get tired of 
waiting upon her? How can you trust any 
one else to take your place about her? 
No one could have filled her place to your 
peevish infancy and troublesome childhood. 
When she is in her usual health, remember she 
is not so young and active as you are. Wait 
upon her. If she wants her knitting, bring it 
to her, not because she could not get it herself, 
but to show that you are thinking about her, 
and love to do something for her. Learn to 
comb her hair for her sometimes. It will make 
you love to be near her. Bring her a drink, fix 
her cap, pin on her ’kerchief, bring her shoes, 
get her gloves, or do some other little thing for 
her. No matter how active and healthy she 
may be, or how much she may love to work, 
she wdll love to have you do any little thing that 
will show you are thinking of her. How I 
should love now to get down on the floor and 
put the stockings and shoes on mother’s dear, 
fat, white feet, or to stand half an hour comb¬ 
ing and toying with her soft, brown hair! 
Girls, you do not know the value of your mother, 
if you have not lost her. Nobody loves you, 
nobody ever will love you, as she does. Do not 
be ungrateful for that love, do not repay it with 
coldness, or a curse of coldness will rest upon 
you, which you can never shake off. Unloved 
and unloving you will live and die, if you do not 
love and honor your father and mother. 
One thing, never call either “old man” or 
“old woman.” It is quite a habit in the coun¬ 
try for young people to name their parents thus. 
This is rude, impudent, and undutiful. Any 
aged person is an old man or an old woman. 
There should be something sacred, something 
peculiar in the word that designates parents. 
The tone of voice in which they are addressed 
should be affectionate and respectful. A short, 
surly answer from a child to a parent falls very 
harshly on the ear of any person who has any 
idea of filial duty. Be sure, girls, that you each 
win for yourselves the name of a dutiful daugh¬ 
ter. It is so easy to win, that no one should 
be without it. It is much easier to be a good 
daughter than a good wife or mother. There 
are no conflicting interests between parent and 
child as between husband and wife. A child’s 
duties are much more easily performed than a 
parent’s; so that she who is a good daughter, 
may fail to be a good wife or mother; but she 
who fails in this first simple relation, need never 
hope to fill another well. Be sure, then, that 
you are a good daughter. It is the best pre¬ 
paration for every other station, and will be its 
own reward. The secret you dare not tell your 
mother is a dangerous secret; and one that will 
be likely to bring you sorrow. The hours you 
spend with her will not bring you regret, and 
you shall never feel disappointed or out of humor 
not being permitted to go to some place to 
which you wished to go. You should love her 
so well that it would not be felt a punishment 
to give up the gayest party to remain with her. 
Nothing is more beautiful than to see a girl take 
off her things and sit smilingly down with 
mother because she wishes it. But this letter 
is growing long, and my thoughts have wan¬ 
dered ; so good night. Go and kiss mother as 
you used to do when a child, and never grow 
too large or wise to be a child at her side. 
Mrs. Swisshelm. 
•--• © •- 
A Model Dairy-Maid. — Mrs. Long, the ven¬ 
erable mother of Col. Holloway Long, of York, 
has made cheese every summer save one, for 75 
years—and good cheese too.— Livingston Union. 
■-• © •- 
Corn Meal Pudding — Boiled. — Pour over a 
quart of corn meal sufficient boiling water to 
scald it, stirring to mix. Add half a teacupful 
of sweet cream (or a cup of milk,) and the 
same of dried cherries, or any other fruit, with 
a little salt. When milk-warm stir in a cupful 
of lively yeast—cover close and set in a warm 
place to rise. When light stir in flour to make 
the batter quite stiff, and let it rise again. Put 
it into a pudding-bag which has been wrung 
from water, and its inside dusted with flour or 
meal, to keep the pudding from sticking. Boil 
from one and a half to two hours. Serve w r ith 
sweetened cream. Four or five hours are neces¬ 
sary to prepare this dish. 
Another. —Pour over a quart of meal barely 
sufficient water to scald it. Add a cupful of 
buttermilk and half a cup of cream, with salt 
and saleratus, (soda is always better,) to sweet¬ 
en. Add flour till the batter is moderately stiff 
—fruit as before. Boil two hours, and serve as 
above.— Michigan Farmer. 
- »• • - 
Ointment for Chilblains. —Take olive oil 10 
oz., turpentine 3 oz., yellow wax 1 oz., balsam 
of Peru 4 oz., and camphor 10 grains. Melt all 
these together in a clean earthenware vessel 
under a gentle heat, and when they are all -well 
incorporated it is fit to be put up in boxes for 
use by rubbing. This is for broken chilblains. 
For unbroken chilblains, the following com¬ 
position makes a good salve :—Olive oil, 2 oz., 
turpentine 1 oz., and 20 grains of sulphuric 
acid. These are all mixed together'cold and 
well stirred. It is applied to the chilblains 
morning and evening, by being well rubbed in 
with the hand.— Scientific American. 
