Rensselaer Gazette, Volume 2, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 September 1858 — Withilding Corn. [ARTICLE]

Withilding Corn.

Between eighty and ninety years ago, there lived, in the Connecticut Rivdr Valley, two farmers, one of whom was named Hunt, and the other Clark. The former in early life, had been a man of strong Xvill, and somewhat hasty and violent temper. Sometimes he had been seen beating his Oxen over their heads with the handle of his whip, in a way to excite pity of the bystanders’, and, expostulated with.' ho excused himself by saying that he had the most fractious team in town. By-and-by, an alteration took place in the temper of farmer Hunt. He became mild, forbearing, and, what was.most remarkable, his oxen seemed to improve in disposition at equal pace with himself. Farmer Hunt joined the church, and was an exemplary man. His neighbors saw the change both in himself and his team. It was a marvel to the whole town. One of his townsmen asked him for an explanation. Farmer Hunt said: “I have found out a secret about my cattle. Formerly they were unmanageable. The more I whipped and clubbed them, the worse they acted. But now, when they are contrary, I go behind my load, sit down and sing Old Hundred; and, strange as it may appear-, no sooner have I ended, than the oxen go as quietly as I could wisji. I don’t know how it is, but they really seem to like singing. In the course of a few years, the two farmers were chosen deacons of the and they both adorned their profession. About the time of their election, a greviouS famine prevailed in tlie valley, and the farmers generally were layinjg up their corn to plant the ensuing season. A poor man, living in the town, went to Deacon, Hunt, and said: “I have come to buy a bushel of corn Here is the money. It is’ about all I cam gather.” The Deacon told him bg could not spare a bushel for love or He was keeping double the usual quantity for seed corn the next year, and had to stint his own family. The man urged his suit in vain. At last he said: “Deacon, if you don't let me have the corn, I shall.curse \ou.” “Curse me!” replied the Deacon, “How i dare you do so!” “B-ecause,” said the man, “the Bible -says : so.” “Nonsense,” exclafnied Deacon Hunt; “tlrere is ny such thing in the Bible.” “Yes there is,” replied the poor man. “Well,” said the Deajcon, “if you can’ find any such text, I’ll give you a bushel of corn.” They went into the house, when the poor man went to the old familly Bible, turned to Prov. xi, 26, and read: “He that withholdests corn, the people shall curse him; but blessings shall be upon the head of him that selleth it. The Deacon was fairly caught “Come along,” said he, “and I will be as good as my word.” He took him to the corn-house, measured out a full bushel of corn, helped the man to put it on his shoulder, and, just before his departure, being somewhat of a Wag, and he said, with a twinkle of the eye: “I say, neighbor, after you have carried this corn home, go up to Deacon Clark, and curse him out of another bushel.” Death of a Russian Lady from Glanders.—The awful death of Madame PalesikolT one of the most charming amongst all that bevy of charming Russian ladies who sometimes'gladden the winters of Paris, has created a terrible shock amongst the circles she so lately embellished by her presence. The unhappy lady left Paris but a short time ago on a tour to Germany. While stepping from the floor of the opera house at Berlin, to gain her carriage, she let fall one of) her bracelets close to the pavemenlt. Stqoping to pick ilt up, she noticed at title time, laughingly, that “one of the horses beidnging to a carriage staiididg at hand had dropped his head so close to her face that he had toucheq her, and left a moist kiss upon her cheek;” In-a few days the unfortunate lady was taken ill with that most horrible disease, glanders, and, in a few days more breathed her last, in spite "of the attendance of the first physicians of Berlin, ai d every resource to be obtained by wealth or by the ceaseless vigilance of ifripnds.—Court Journal. (WyPerry Cox, a prisoner who broke jail, a short, time ago, at York Penn., |ias turned up on Frazer river, where he boasts of making S3O a week by barbering. ly destroyed by fire on Friday night.