Rising Sun Times, Volume 3, Number 136, Rising Sun, Ohio County, 18 June 1836 — Page 1

THE RI

SING

SUN

I AVISri NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF MY LIVING ACTION'S, TO KEEP MINE HONOR FROM CORRUPTION." V A LILY. K. tiljEXX. SUIV, 1XD1AIYA, SAT UK WAY, JL'AE 18, IS6. VOIiOIE 111.-AO. 136.

THE VA(;OXtK. I've often thought, if 1 were askeil Whose lot 1 envied mnl What one I thought mo?t liphtlj talked Of man's unniiinheri'd host I'd say, I'd he a mountain hoy, And drive a uohlv team. Wo, hoy ! Wo, hoy ! I'd cry, And lightly lly Into my ssddle-scat; My rein I'd slack My whip I'd crack What musick is so sweet? Six Marks I'd drive, of ample chest, AH carrying high the head; All harness" il tight, and gajly dressed In winkers lipp'd with red Oh yes, I'd he a mountain hoy. And such a team I'd drive. Wo, hoy I Wo, hoy ! I'd cry, The lint should fly Wo, hoy! you Dobbin. Ball! Their feel should ring, And I would sing, I'd sing my fal de rol . My bells would tingle, tingle ling, Hcneath each bearskin cap, And as I saw them swing and swing, I'd he the merriest chap Yes, then I'd he a mountain hoy And drive a jingling team. Wo, hoy ! Wo, hoy! I'd cry My words should fly, Kach horse would prick his car; With tiihtcn'd chain My lumbering wain Would move in its career. Thn golden sparks, you'd ee them spring Beneath my hor'es tread ; Kach tail I'd braid it up with string Of blue, or flaunting red ; So does, you know, the mountain boy Who drives a dashing team. Wo. hoy ! Wo, hoy ! I'd cry Kach horse eye With fire would sccru to burn ; With lifted head And nostril spread They'd seem tha earth to spurn. They'd c hamp the hit, and fling the foam, As on they ilracg'd my load ; And I would think of distant home, And whistle on the road Oh, w ould I w ere a mountain boy I'd drive a fix horc team. Wo, hoy ! Wo, hoy ! I'd cry Now, by yon sky, I'd sooner drive those steeds Than w in renown, Or were a crown Won by victorions deeds. For crowns oft press the languid head, And health the wearer shuns, And victory, trampling on the dead, May do for (Joths and Huns Seek them who will, they have no joys For mountain lad, and wagon hoys. THE FARMER.

From the Genesee Farmer. IMPLEMENTS OF HL'SIIANDUY, &C. To my Sox h is intended this letter shall be composed of miscellaneous subjects, and bring into view several things which, although very important to farmers, have not been distinctly noticed in the preceding letters. 1 be gin with implements of husbandry. To have tools enough to work with, and such as are well adapted to the uses for which they arc designed, is ve ry essential to successful agriculture. IV lahnr with a worn nil t imnlement. or with one that was never fit for the use to which it is applied, or that is dull, or in other respects eut of order, is, to say the least, exceptionable econo my. Many do this under a mistaken notion of nrudence. Nothing, thev think, should be lost-everv implement should, as thev suppose, be made to perform all the service of which it is capable, or in other words, be fullyworn out. Much of this prudence is indeed commendable, but it may be, r. - ami onen is, carried to an unreasona ble extreme. Suppose, from considerations of economy, vou operate from uay to tlay wiui a worn out, broken, dull, and worthless hoe, when with a few shillings a good one might be purchased, witli which double the value . . ... . of labor could, with equal and perhaps greater ease, be performed. Is this, think' you, practicing according to enlightened views ot economy I t armors whose resources are small, must not inlecd expect to be supplied with all me varieties oi implements which, in connection with more liberal circumstances, would be advisable; yet they should, so lar as tlieir means will admit, have a supply of such as are most needed, and these should be well con6tructed lor their uses, and be kept in good order. Much ucpenus on Keeping tools m proper order, and preserring them from needless rum. I have spoken of the hoe. iv is "(. "u Ktiuiy it is one of the most important implements 01 uusuauuiy. iui n nccus io be kept in gooa oruer. in my eariy life, having no uenesee farmer io instruct mc, or suggest improvemcnis, I scarcely new any ncuer way, wnen my W was battered and became dull, than lo use it in uiai wnuiuvn. i uc .. .i l : a : 'l'U -

principal remedy for the evil then known to me was, (0 put on t lie more strength. So slow was 1, and just so slow are farmers in general, to make, without example or instruction, even the slightest improvement in husbandry. Having for many years been a diligent reader of agricultural journals, 1 have learned, among other things, that a hoe, as well as an axe or a sythe. can be made to operate better fur being sharpened. Had 1 learned nothing more, this alone would have nearly remunerated what the journals cost trie. I now keep a file almost exclusively for sharpening my hoes, shovels and spades, and frequently, when I carry my hoe into the field, 1 take my file with me, that if by any means my hoe should become dull, I may readily put it in order. There is, in the practice of many farmers, an unpardonable slackness in needlessly exposing to damage such tools as arc liable to be injured by the weather. All tools, composed in whole or in part of w ood, arc of this description. hen tools thus composed are, as many allow them to be, perpetually exposed to the weather, they hasten to destruction, and the period of their existence is very short. All such tools should be kept under cover, and exposed to the weather as little as they can be consistently with the use required of them. Here permit me again to bring myself and my own practice into view, for in no other way can I so happily illustrate the sentiments which 1 wish to express. In the early days of my husbandry, I did not so well understand the economy of farming implements as 1 should have done, nor was I sufficiently careful to keep my tools under cover. The consequence was, my tools lasted but a little while, and the expense of keeping myself supplied with them amounted to a heavy tax. It was not until nearly twenty years ago, when I began to read the journals, that 1 fairly understood the importance of keeping wooden tools under cover. Here again I am indebted to the agricultural journals. Let it not be said,

Common sense should have been a suffi cient teacher, relative to the subject of which 1 am treating. 1 rue it should, but common sense has rarely been found sufficient, without other help, to teach ihe most simple maxims of husbandry. 1 altered my pratice, and became 7 "ireful to house my wooden tools he diilerence in their durability wai as soon lound to be almost surprising, and mv tool tax was reduced at least fifty per cent. I have now two ploughs which have been in use not less than twelve years, and although they have been used, more or less, every year, they are still eood. It is not known to me' that ere has been the least giving out in the wooden part of either of them. My practice is, when I have done ploughing, to put my plough lm mediately undercover. 1 he same is my practice in regard to every other wooden implement of husbandry. 1 can assure ou, that to take good care of tools, especially to house such as are likely to damages by the weather, is, to the farmer, a matter of no trilling importance. No one who neglects to do this, should expect to become thrifty and successful agricultural! The adane,uA place for everv thine:, and every thing in its place, ' is, to all business men, and especially to farmers full of import. There are many prac i i j i tical men who indulge a carelessness as to imttini! Urines, and especially tools, to their proper places, which never fails, and cannot fail, of operat ins to their ureal advantage. There are many whose practice it is when they have done their work, to drop ineir tools, and leave them where they were last in use. instead nf n-atherino-them up, as they should do. and carry them to their appropriate place. This practice admits of no cxruep. It is needless, and the evils with which it is fraught are many and great. Hence when tools are wanted, they are not to be found, for not unlreuuciil v it i on tirely forgotten where they were left Much time is spent in searching for i losi tools, and ihimucss in me mean lime suspended, because it cannot go on lor the want of them. INolhing can be easier than to prevent all such unnappy disasters, and many other perpiexities and damages, which result irom me same culpable cause. The only requisite is, to make it an hahilua 1 . . ... i practice to gainer up tools, when work

is done, and carry to a place appropriated to their keeping. To have a particular place for every set of tools, or several sets together, may seem rather notional, yet it is very important. Farming business, more if possible than an other, needs to be carried on in an orderly and systematical manner. In general, only one sort of work should be going on at a time, and as a general rule, that one sort should be finished

before another is undertaken. Some there are who strive hard for perisha ble treasures, and vet accomplis'i little or nothing, because, instead of'domg one thing at a time, and doirg it well, they mix together and half do many things, thus renderinir their efforts in efficient and unavailing. It is of the first importance to a farmer, that he plan and manage his business in such a manner as always to be ready for his work when it comes to him. I3v this I mean, he should take effectual care to eep his business in a forward condi tion, and never suffer ordinary causes to hinder him from being ready to perform everv sort of work at the time when it should be done. How often we see the reverse of this! Many there are who always keep their business behind hand. Of course, when lanting time comes, thev arc not rea dy for it their ground is not prepared, and there is other work which must be done before they can attend to planting. Accordingly, if they plant at all they uant out of season, arid can have little prospect cf gathering any other than a ight and imperfect crop. It happens just so when the time comes to sow wheat, or put in seed lor any other crop. They arc not ready. This, to say the leasts is a miserable way of conducting the business of a arm. So far is it from being the right way, that is the very antipode of correct practice. 1 he only true, com fortable, and successful way of conductin"; the business of a farm is, to keep fully up with it. and be ready to do every thing at the time when it should be done. This requires good planning, prudent forecast, and a due regard to order and system in t.he re gulation and management of business. My next and closing remark is, that trmers should know the value of time, and learn to improve it in the best practical manner. It is impossible lo attend, in a proper manner, to the numerous and multifarious concerns of husbandry, without praticing rigid economy as to time. When 1 speak of time only as it relates to temporalities, I scarcely know what language can be employed duly to express its worth. It has been said, "lime is money, but this is only a ve ry faint and imperfect expression of its value. It is, indeed, the richest treasure which our beneficent Creator has been pleased to commit to our trust. Money is not comparable to it. let how many there are who place no es timate uponit, and squander it away in idleness and profligacy : lo know how to improve time to the best advantage, to gather up the fragments thereof, and apply thern all lo uselul purposes, are attainments of inestimable value. Hap py the man who has been able to make himself, in any good measure, master of these almost sacred arts. How many baskets full, think you, will he take up? A 1' atiiek. Xt zo York SlatCyMarch, 1S3G. From the Religious Magazine. MY SISTER. One morning in my early life, 1 re membered to have been playing with my young sister not then three years old. It was one of those bright morn ings in spring, that bring joy and life to the heart, and dilluse gladness and animation through all the tribes of hv ing creatures. Uur teehngs were in perfect harmony with the universal gladness of nature. Even now I seem to hear the merry laugh of my little sister, as she followed me through the winding alleys of the garden, her cheek suffused with the tlow of health and animation, and her waving hair float ing in the wind. She was an only sister, the sole com panion of all my childish sports. We were constantly together, and my young heart went out to her, with al the atfection, all the fondness, of which childhood is capable. Nothing afforded me enjoyment, in which she did not participate; no amusement was sought which we could not share together. That morning we had prolonged our

play till near the hour of breakfast

with undiminished ardour, when at some slight provocation, my impetuous nature broke forth, and in my anger I struck my little sister a blow with my hand. She turned lo me with an ap

pealing look, and tiitj large tears came into her ees. Her heart was too fuii to allow her to speak, and shame made me silent. At that moaicnl the breakfast bell summoned us away, and c. returned to the house without exchanging a word. The excitement of play was over, and as she at beside mv mother at breakfast, I perceived bv occasional glances at her, that she" was aie and sad. A tear seemed ready to start in her eve, which her little self possession could scarcely repress. It was only when my mother inquired if she was ill, that she drank her coliee, and endeavored to eat. I was ashamed and grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the first opportunity when we were alone to throw my arms around her neck, and entreat her forriveness. When breakfast wascnded,my moth er retired with her into her own room, directing me in the mean time to sit down to my lesson. 1 seated myself by the window, and ran over my lesson but did not learn it. My thougts were perpetually recurring to the scene in the garden and at the table. It was long before my mother returned, and when she did, it was with an agitated look, ind hurried step, to tell mc that my poor Ellen was very ill. 1 asked eagerlv if I might go lo her, but was not permit ted, lest 1 should happen to disturb her. A physician was soon called, and every means used for her recovery, but to no purpose. The disease, which was in her head, constantly increased in violence, and she became delcrious. It was not until evening that I was permitted to sec her. She was a little recovered from the severity her pain, and lay with her eyes closed, and her little hand rested on the pillow, beneath her head. How I longed to tell her the sorrow 1 felt for my un kind ness to her in the morninsr, and how much I had suffered for it during the Qay; but I was forbidden to speak to her and was soon taken out of the room. During that night, and follow ing, she continued to grow worse. I saw her several times, but she was al ways insensible of my presence. Once indeed,, she showed some signs of con sciousness and asked for me, but imme diately relapsed into her former state. On the morning of the third day, I rose at an early hour, and repaired to the sick room. My mother was sitting by the bed. As 1 entered she drew me to her, and was for some time si lent, while the tears flowed fast down her face. I first learned that my sweet sister was dead, as my mother drew aside the curtain that concealed her from me. 1 felt as though my heart would break. The remembrance of her affection for me, and my last unkind deed, revived in my mind; and bury ing my face in the folds of the curtain, rwept long and bitterly. I saw her laid in the coffin, and low ered into the grave. I almost wished to lie down there with her, if so I might see once more her smile, and hear my forgiveness pronounced in her sweet voice. Years have passed awaj', and I am now a man but never does the recol lection of this incident of my early life fail to awaken bitter feelings of grief and remorse. And never do I see my young friends exchanging looks, or words of anger, without thinking of my last pastime with my own loved Lllen. THE FUTURE. In the number of Blackwood for Jan uary, there is an interesting and wel written article, entitled, "The Future," in which the writer ventures to pre dict the destiny ot Kussia and Amer ir.i. "There are, at the present time, two great nations in the world, which seem to tend towards the same end, although they s'.arted frcm different points, allude to the Russians and Americans Doth of them have grown up unnoticed ; and while the attention of mankind was directed elsewhere, they have sudden ly assumed a most prominent place a mono- nations; and the world learner their existence and their greatness at almost the same lime. "All other nations seem to have near ly reached their natural limits, and on

ly io be charged with the maintenance o: their power, but these are still in the act of growth: all the others are stopped, or continue to advance with extreme difficulty, while these are proceeding vsitii ease and celerity along a path to which the human eve can as-

,rn no turn. The American struggles iaii s-t (he natural obstacles which opose mm; the adversaries of the Kusian aie men; the former combats the wilderness and former life; the latter civi.ization, with all its weapons and us arts; the conquests of the one are therefore gained by the ploughshare; those of the other by the sword. The nglo-American relies upon personal interest to accomplish his ends, and gives free scope to the unguided exer tions and common sense of the citizens; the Russian centres all the authority of society in a single arm; the principal instrument ot the former is freedom: of the later servitude. The startine point s diflerenl, and their courses are not the same; et each of them seems to be marked out by the will of Heaven to sway the destinies of half the globe.1' "Arbitrary punishments will not for ever prevail in the Russian Empire. As successive provinces and kingdoms ire added to their vast dominions as their way extends over the regions of the south, (lie abode of wealth and long established civilization, the passion for conquest will expire. Society will extinguish this as it does all other desires. With the acquisition of wealth and the settlement in fixed abodes, the desire of protection from arbitrary power will prmg up and the passion of freedom will arise as it did in Greece, Italy, and modern Europe. Free institutions will ultimately appear in the realms con quered by the Muscovite, as they did in those won by Gothic valor. 13ul the passions and desires of an earlier stage of existence will long agitate the mil lions of the Russo-Asialic race; and after democratic desires have arisen, and free institutions exist in its older provinces, the wave of the northern conquest will still be pressed on by semibarbarcus hordes from it3 remoter dominions. Freedom will gradually arise out of security and repose ; but the fever of conquest not be finally extinguished till it has performed its destined mission, and the standards of the Cross are brought down to the Indian Ocean." MEDITATIOX. I have a soul, an immortal soul. Let me stop a moment and consider the vastness of my possession. I look around me, I perceive every thing indicates decay. My body, the casket which contains my rich treasure, subject as it is lo pain and distress, strongly points me to the dust whence it came and whither it tends. This earth, this fair creation spread out in every rich variety of hill and dale, grassy lawn, purling stream and boundless ocean, we see subject to constant changes, and inspiration tells -us it is to be reserved for burning. The sun, the moon, every flaming comet, every glowing gem which studs the milkey way, shall be blotted out, and the heavens themselves shall be rolled together as a scroll. I find, then, the fairest, the brightest, the noblest works of nature, must-come to an end, and although they should continue from age to age, yet the time wili come when it will be found that they are not they will leave their stations in creation, and the places which now know them will know them no more forever. But, my soul, this immortal something within, this spark of Deity must exist to all eternity. Eternity let mc repeat the solemn word. How deeply does it vibrate on my ear and sink into my heart! and how strongly docs it stamp the value of the soul. What! to have begun an existence, which can never terminate; an existence, which, when eternal ages have rolled their ccasless rounds, is no nearer its close than when it first began! What kind of existence is this to be! Is this existence which so far exceeds the bounds of time and space, or the utmost stretch of thought to be an ex istence of happiness or misery? '.ion's Herald, We understand that a man was found dead in the prairie, between this place and Lafayette, on Sunday morning last. He was lying in his wagon, when found, with one armextended towards his'jug,' the contcntsof which, no doubt, caused his death. Cractfordsville Record,

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