Newspaper of Burlington Free Press, June 22, 1838, Page 1

Newspaper of Burlington Free Press dated June 22, 1838 Page 1
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fSfot M uvltuf&mi " "0xt lit nn NOT THE G I. O 11 Y OF CKSAll 1UJ T T II U WELFARE OF It O M E . BY II. B. STACY. FRIDAY, JUJVB 22, 1838. VOL. XI No. 574: From the New- i'orktr. CHANGE AND CONSTANCY. Tlieicnrc hiiuli! hours That c ittl existence with die dues nf heaven : They come with epringV Riiy llmv cief, And lend 11 glory to the stars uf even. Over the Past They fhrd halo nT K-renc delight, 'And round the I'lesc-nt east A magic lie.iuly an etherial light. Thpip miimpnts are As brief an beautiful . they pass away, As, one by one, each itar Of gorgeous hope is blotted fioin our day I And ne'er again Are these 10 tiidi us with dreams of bliss 1 1a all on vault so vain That minds must soar to other worlds than this t Life hath its spring, Its summer glories, and its autumn gloom It elieei lerf. withering, When Love and Beauty sink into lhe tomb. Like nature, Inn, Ilalhotir existence its redeeming hours, When iovs shall bloom anew, And Hope ami licauly tpieaj again their flowers, From the New Yoik Mirror. PALETTO'S BRIDE. "As a fi.-li will sometimes gather force, and, with n longing, perhaps, for I lie brightness of upper air, leap bom us prcscnDcd clement, anil glitter a moment nmong the liirds, so will thcie be found men ulio.-e souls icvull against dtsiiny, and make a fiery pluck at things abrive them, lint, like the fisli", n ho drops, panting, with dry scales, bark iu (I, the aspiring man iifienesl regrets the name element he has left ; and. with the failure of his effort, drops back, cuntent, to obscurity." Jeremy Taylor. 'My daughter !' said the Count Spinola. The lady 60 addressed threw off a slight mantle and turned her fair features inqui ringly to Iter father. Heedless of the attention he had arrested, the abstracted Count paced up and down the marble pavement of his hall, and when, a moment after, Francesco catno to htm fur his good, night kiss, he imprinted it silently on her forehead, anil stepped nut on the balcony to pursue, under the aiding light of the stars, thoughts that were more imperative than sleep. Thero had been a fete of great splendor in the ducal gardens of the Boboli, and Fruncesca Spinola had shown there, as usual, the most radiant and worshipped dou'ghter of the nobilila of Florence. The melancholy Duke himself (this was in the days of his first marriage) had seemed eyen gay in presenting her with flowers which he had gathered at her side, with the dew on them, (in an alley glittering willi the diamonds on noble bosoms, and dewdrops on ro-cs that would slumber, though it was the birth night of o Princess.) and marked as was the royal attention to the envied beauty, it was more easily for given her than her tisiinl triumphs for it cost no one a lover. True to his conjugal vows, the fad-featured monarch paid to beauty only the homage exacted alike by cvdry most admirable work of nature. 'hc Grand Duke Leopold had not been tha.only admirer whose attentions to Fran ccsco Spinola had been remarked. A Btranger, dressed with a magnificence that seemed more fitted for a mabqucrade than a court ball, and yet of a mien that jirotniscJ danger to the too inquisitive, had entered alone, and, marking out the dauglt ter of the haughty Count from the first, had procured an introduction, no one knew how, and sought every opportunity which the intervals of the dance afforded, to placo himself at her side. Occupied with the couttly devoirs of his rank, the Count wa, for awhile, unaware of what struck almost every one else, and it was only when the stranger's name was inquired of him by the Duke, that his dark and jealous eye tell upon a face whoso language of kindling and undisguised admiration a child would hava interpreted aright. It was one of those faces that aro of no degree that mav' belong to a barbaric king, or to a Grtjk slave that no refinement would imppve, and no servile habits degrade; faces which tako their changes trom iniuAiitnhle and powerful soul, and arc hewnd the trifling impression of the com mo) usages of life. Spinola was offended witfi t ho daring and passionate freedom of thnalronger s gaze upon Ins daughter ; but jjelesitoted to interrupt their conversation tod rudelv. He Btoyod to exchange conpliment with some fair obstruction in hislvay across the crowded saloon, and, in themext moment, ra'ncesco 6toot alone Who left you at this moment, Fran' .ccaa ?' aekod the Count, with affected unnnccrn. ',lhinbi a Venetian,' sho answered. ?nd, his name V know not, my' fat her !' The Count's faco flashed. Who presented him to my darling ?' ho idled, oca n forctntr himsoll to composure T ronceBca rfolored ; and, with downcast ms, answered, 'No one, my lather ! He fcemed to kn,ow me, and I thought I might iave foreotton him. ' Spinoa turncd on his heel, and nfior o few van iiyqtiirios, and as vain a search for lie 6lra)g3r, ordoreu his aiienuanis, auu Ifovo silently home. It wdt closo uoon tlio gray of tho morn rr. antitho Count still leaned over tho Atone nilinr of his balcony. Franceses had been trono an hour to her chamber. a miliar s rinrr sounucu irutti tnu buubi below, rnd, a moment after, a manly and mellow loico broko into a Venetian barca- Irolo, unhang with a skill aud tcudorucsal which a vestal could scarce have listened to unmoved. Spinola stepped back and laid his hand upon his sword j but, changing his thought, he took a latnD from tho wall within, n nil crept noiselessly to Ins datigh. let's chamber. She lay within her silken curtains, with her hands crossed on her bosom, and from her parted lips came the low breath of innncciU and troubled sleep. Reoistired, the Count 'closed her window and extinguished his lamp; and, when the guitar was no longer heard echoing from the old palace walls, and the rich voice of tho screnadcr had died away with his footsteps, the lord of the Palazzo Spinola betook himself to sleep with a heart some what relieved of its burden. On the following day, the Count pleaded tho early-coming heats of summer; and. with slight preparation, left Florence for his summer palace in tho Appenines. When Francesna joined him cheerfully, and even gaily in Ins sudden plan, ho threw aside the jealous fears that had haunted his breast, and forgot tho stranger and his barcarole. The old trees ol his maisnn de plaisunce were heavy with tho leaves of the Italian May the statues stood cool in the shade; the mnuntain rivulets forgot their birth in the rocky brooks, and ran over channels of marble, ond played up through end us leaves and sea shells, and ncreids' horns, all carved by the colctnpnraries of Donalello. 'And here.' thought the proud noble, 'I am a I'eccarl of the designs of adventurers, and the temptations and dan gers of gaiety, and the child of my hopes will refresh her beauty and her innocence, under the watchful eye, ever present, of my love.' Frnnccsca Spinola was one of those Italian natures of which it is difficult for the inhabitants of other climes to conceive. She had no feelings. She had passions. She could love but it sprang in an instant to its fullest power and maidenly reserve and hesitation were incompatible with its existence. She had listened, unmoved, to all the adulation of the Duke's court and had been amused with the devotion of all around her but never touched. The voice of tho stranger at the fpto of the Boboli the daring words he had addressed to her had arrested her attention; and it needed scarce the hour which flew liko a moment at his side to send a new sensa tion, like a tempest, through her heart. She reasoned upon nothing asked no thing; but, while she gave up her soul wholly to a passion hitherto unfclt, the deep dissimulation which seems a natural part of the love of that burning clime, prompted her, by an unquestioned impulse, to conceal it entirely from her father. She had cnnntcrleited sleep when nearly stir. prised in listening to the baracnle, and bhe had little need to counterfeit joy at her departure for the mountains. The long valley of the Arno lay marked out upon the landscape by n wreuth of vapor, stealing up as if enamoured of the lading colors of the clouds; and far away, like a silver bar on the rim of the horizon, shuiie the long line of the Mediterranean. Tho mountain sides lay bathed in azure; and. echoing from the nearest, enme the vesper bells of Vollonibrcsa. Peace ond purity worn stampud upon the hour. 'My child,' said the softened Count, drawing Francesca to his bosom, as they stood looking off upon this scone from the flowery terrace beneath the portico ; 'dues my child love nic ?' Frnnccsca placed her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him for reply. I feel impelled.' fie continued, 'to talk to you while this beautiful hour is around us, of an affi'clion that rctcmblcs it.' 'Resembles the sunset, my father?' 'Yes ! Shall I tell you how ? Uy affect ing with its soft influence every ohjeel under the bend of the sky ! My Francesca ! there ore parents who love their children, and love them well, and yet find feelings for other attachments, and devotion for every other interest in life. Not so mine ! My love tor my child is a whole existence poured into hers Look at me, Francesca ! I am not old. 1 am capable, perhaps, of other lovo than a parent's. 1 here aro those among the young and beautiful who have looked on mo with favoring eyes. My blood runs warm yet, and my step is as full of manhood perhaps my heart as prompt to bo gay as ever. I mean to say, that 1 am not too old for a lover. Does my daughter think so ?' 'I have been long vain of your beauty, dear father,' said Francesca, threading her hand in his dark curls. 'There are other things that might shore your empire in my heart politics, play, the arts a hundred passions which possess themselves of men whoso fortuno or posi tion gives them means and leisure. Now listen, my daughter ! You have supplanted all these ! You havo filled my heart with yourself. I am tempted to l ive my heart is my daughter's. I am asked to play my thoughts aro with my child. I have neither time for politics, nor attention for tho arts my being breathes through my child. I am incapable of all else. Do you hear me, Francesca ?' 'I do, dear father !' Then, ono .moment more ! I cannot conceal my thoughts from you, and you will pardon love liko mino for ungroundod fears. 1 liked not tho stranger at the Duke's palace.' Francesco stolo a quick look at her father, ond, with tho rapidity of light, her dark eyo resumed its tranquility. 'I say I liked him not! No one know him! Ho is gone, no ono knows whither! I trust ho will novor bo neon more in Florence. But I will not disguiso from you that I thought you pleased with him!' Father !' 'Forcrivo mo if I wrong youbut, with out pursuing tho subject, lot your father implore you, on bis kuece, for tlio coufl tlenco of your hcort. Will you tell me your thoughts, Francesca? Will you love me with but lliu thousandth part of my ad oration, mv devotion, for my child' Father I will!' The Count rose from the knee on which ho had fallen, gave his daughter a long embrace, and led her in. And that night she fled over the Tuscan border, into neighboring Romngna.and, with the stran ger at her side, 6ped away, tinder I he cover of night, toward the shores of the Brenla. Like a city of secrets, sleeps silent Venice. Her sea-washed foundations are buried under the smooth glass of the tide. Her palnce entrances arc dark caverns, im penetrable to the eyo. Ilcr veiled dames are unseen in their floating chambers, as they go from street to street; and myste riously and silently glide to and fro those swift gondolas, black as night, yet carrying sadness and mirth, innocence and guilt, alike swiftly, mysteriously, and silently. Water, that betrays no footsteps, and covers all with the same mantle of light, rills her streets. Silence, that is the seal ofsccrosy, reigns day and night over her thousand palaces. For an hour the Emooth mirror of the broad canal that sweeps under the Rialto, had not been divided by tho slccl prow of a gondola. Francesco Spinola stood at the window of a chamber in a palace of gorge ous magnificence, watching that still water for the coming of her husband. The til ver lines of the mooti stole back impercepti bly, as her full orb sailed up l lie heavens. and the turrets of the old architecture of Venice, drawn clearly on the unruffled bo sum of the canal, seemed retiring before a consuming sheet of silver. The silence seemed painful. To the car of the bcauti ful Florentine, tho want of the sound of a footstep, of the echo of some distant wheel, the utter death of all sound common io even the stillest hour of a paved city, seem cd oppressive and awful. Behind her burned lamps of alabaster, and perfumes filled the chamber, and on a cushion of costly velvet lay a mean ond unornamcnted guitar. Its presence in so costly a palace was a secret yet withheld. She wished to touch its strings, if only to disperse the horror of silence. But she raised her fingers, and again, without touching it, leaned nut and watched the dark arch of the Rialto. A crondola, with a single oar, sped swift w from its black shadow. It could not be Paletto. He had gone with his two faithful servants to St. Marc's. The oar ceased the bark headed in the water splashed on the marble stair and the gondolier stepped on shore Ah. who but Paletto, had such a form as stood there in the moonlight ! 'Are we to be married again,' said Fruncesca, as her husband ontered the chamber, 'that you have onco disguised yourself as a fisherman ?' Paletto turned from the light, and took up the mysterious guitnr. 'It is no night to be in-dnnrs, my Francesca! Come with mo to the lagoon, and 1 will tell you the story of this dpspimd instrument. Will you come?' he purMied, as she stood look log nt htm in wonder nl his strange dress and disturbed look. 'Will you come, my wife?' 'But you have returned without your gondoliers !' she said advancing a step to take hi hnnd. 'I hnvc rowed a gondola ere now,' he answered ; ond, without further explana tion, he led bcr down the lofiy staircase ond seating her in the stern ol the b.irk which ho had brought with him, stepped upon the platform, and with masterly skill and power, drove it liko a shodow under the Rialto. Ho who watched tho born of a quarter moon gliding past the lowers, pinnacles and palaces of the drifting clouds, and in his youthful and restless brain fancied such must bo the smooth delight and changing vision of a traveller in strange lands one who has thus dreamed in his boyhood will Fcarco shoot through Venice for the first time in n gondola, without a sense ol famil iority with thn sceuo and motion. The architecture of the clouds is again drifting past, and himself seems borr.o onward by the silver shallop of the moon. Francesca sat on the low cushion of tho gondola, watching and wandering. How should her luxurious Paletto have acquired the exqoit-itc skill with which ho drove tho noiseless boat like a lance-fly over the water. Another gondola approached or was left behind, the corner of a palace was to be rounded, or the black arch of a bridge to bo shot under, and the peculiar warning cry of tho gondoliers, giving notico of their unheard approach, fell from Ins lips so mechanically, that tho hireling oarsmen of tho city, marvelling at his speed but never doubting that it was a enmrodo ol tho Piazza, added tho "fratella mio" to their passing salutation. She saw by every broad beam of light, which bctwoen tho palaces, catno down across them, a brow clouded and n mind far from tho oar ho turned so skilfully. She looked at tho gondola in which she 6at. It was old and mean. In the prow lay a fisher's net, and the shabby guitar, thrown upon it, seemed now, at least, not out of placo. She looked up at Palotto onco more, and, in his baro throat and bosom, his looso cap and neglected hair, sho could with difficulty recognize tho haughty stranger of the Boboli. She spoko to him. It was neces snry to brako the low-born spell that seemed closing around her. Palotto start cd at her voice, and suspending his oar whilo the gondola still kept way as if with its own irresistible volition, ho passed his hand ovor his oyes, and buomcd waking from eonio painful dream. Tlio gondola was now far out in tho lagoon. Around them floated an almost inipalpablo vapour, just making tho moon light visible, and the soft click of the water beneath tho rising and dropping prow was the only sound between them and the cloudless heaven. In that silence Paletto strung his guitar and sang to his btidc with a strange energy. Sho listened and played with his tangled locks, but there seemed a spell upon her tongue when she would ask the meaning of this mystery. 'Francesco !' he said at last, raising his head from her lap. 'What says my fi-hermen ?' she replied, holding up his rough cap with a smile. Paletto started, but recovering his com posure, instantly took the can from her jewelled fingers and threw it carelessly upon Ins head. 'Francesca ! who is your husband ?' Paletto.' 'And who is Paletto ?' I would have asked sometimes, but your kisses have interrupted me. Yet I know enough.' 'What know you ?' 'That he is a rich and noblo seignior of Venice !' 'Do I look ono to night ?' 'Nay for a masquerade, I havo never seen a better ! Where learned you to look so like a fisherman and row so like a gondolier ?' Palettn frowned. 'Francesco !' said he, folding his arms across his bosom, 'I am the sou of a fish crman, and I was bred to row tho gondola beneath you ?' The sternness of his lono checked the smile upon her beautiful lip, and when she spoke it was with a look almost as stern as Ins own. 'You mock mo too gravely, Paletto ! But come ! I will question you in your own humor. Who educated the fisher man's son ?' 'The fisherman.' 'And his palace ond bis weolth whence came they, Signor Pascatore ?' The scornful smile of incredulity with which this question was asked, speedily tie ii trom nor hp as Paletto answered it 'Listen ! Three months since I had never known other condition than a fisher man of the lagoon, nor worn other dress than tins in which you see me. Tho first property I ever possessed beyond my day's earnings, wos this gondola. It was my father's, Giannotto the fisherman. When it became mine by Ins death, I suddenly, wearied of my tamo life, sold boat and nets, anil with thoughts which you cannot understand, but which have brought you here, took my way to the Piazza. A night of chance, begun with the whole of my inheritance staked upon a throw, left me master of wealth I hod never dreamed of. i becamo a gay signorc. It seemed to me that my soul had gone out of me, and a new spirit, demoniack if you will, had token possession. 1 no longer recognised myself. I passed for an equal with tho best-born, my language altered, my gait, my humour. One strong feeling alone predominated an insane haired to the rank in which you wero born, Francesca ! It was strange too, that I tried to ape its manners. I bought the palace you have j uft left, and filled it with costly luxuries And then there grew upon me the desire to humiliate that rank to pluck down to myself some one of its proud and cherished daughters such as you !' Francesco muttered something between her teeth, aud folded her small arms over her hiisom. Paletto went on. I crofsed to Florence with this solo in tention. Unknown and uninvited, I entered the palace at tho fete of the Boboli, and looked around for a victim. You were the proudest and most beautiful. 1 chose you anil you nrn here. Paletto looked at her with a smile, and never sunbeam was more unmixed with shadow than the smile which answered it on tho lips of Spinola's daughter. 'My Paletto !' nhe said, 'you havo tho soul of a noble, and tho look of one, and 1 am your bride. Let us return to tho pal. ace !' 'I havo no paloco but this !' ho said, stri king his hand like a bar of iron upon the side of the gondola. 'You havo not heard out my tale.' Fruncesca sat with a face unmovod as marble. 'This night, at play, I lost all. My ser vants arc dismissed, my palace belongs to another, and with this bark which 1 had repurchased, 1 am onco more Paletto tho fishcrmnn !' A slight hoavo of the bosom of tho fair Florentino was her only response to this astounding announcement. Her eyes turn ed slowly from the face of tho fisherman, and fixing apparently on some point far out in tho Adriatic, sho sat eilcnt, motionless and cold. 'lama man, Francesca !' said Paletto after a pause which, in tho ulter stillness of the lagoon around them, seemed liko a suspension of the breathing of nature, and 'I havo not gone through this insane dream without somo turning aside of tho heart. Spile of myself, I loved you, and I could not dishonor you. Wo aro married, Fran, cesca!' Tho small, dark brows of tho Florentino lowered till the silken lashes thoy overhung seemed starting from beneath her forehead. Her eyes flashed fire below. Bene!' said Paletto, rising to his feet, ono word more whilo wo havo silence around us and aro alone. You aro freo to Icavo me, and I will bo far repair the wrong I havo dona you, as to point the way. H will be daylight in an hour. Fly to tho governor's palace, aunounco your birth, decluro that you woro forced from your father by brigands, ond claim his pro- IUCIIUII. liu nunu ill" uuiiwhu Jim, uiiu tho consequences to myself. 1 will suffer in silence' With a sudden, convulsivo motion, Francesca thrust out her arm, and pointed a einglo finger toward Venice, Paletto bent to his oar, and ouivorinrr in cvoiv seam beneath its blade, tho gondola sped on its way. Tho steel prow struck fire on tho gronito stops ol tho Piazza, tho superb uaiignter ot bpinola stepped over tho trem. bling side, and with a half-wovo of her hand, strode past tho Lion of St. Mnrk. and approached tho sentinel at the palace gate. And os her figure was lo6t among the arabesque columns shaded from the moon, Paletto's lonuly gondola shot once more silently and slowly from tho shore. N. P. W. From tho Cultivator. THE NEW HUSBANDRY. , SUBSTITUTION OP FALLOW CROPS FOR NAKED FALLOWS. Fallowing is the mode of preparinjr land, generally green sward, bv ploushin" it a considerable time beforo it is ploughed for wncat and rye, to bo sown in autumn. A naked fallow is such 09 receives no inter mediate crop botwecn the first ploughing and seeding for the main crop; n fallow crop is one that intervenes between these two processes. In England, fallows ore generally broken up in autumn, receive re peated ploughlngs during tho ensuing sum mer, and aro sown in autumn, or cropped with turnips, and sown tho third. year with nancy, in tne united States, naked fa lows arc more often broken up in Juno or July, receive repeated plotighings, and arc sown in September. For fallow crops, old swards are broken up in autumn, and clo ver lays in the spring; the first receives one or more ploughlngs in the eprino-, and immediately after tho seeds which aro to constitute tho fallow crop. Clover lays receive i no laiiow crop upon the Hrst lur row, or with but ono ploughing. Naked fallows, in England, occupy the cround a year; ond if they are sown with winter tares dr rye, as they often are, to bo fed off in tho spring, they are termed bastard fal lows. With us fallow grounds lay idlo but pari oi a season. There is no agricultural writer of note, and vory few good farmers, who now con tend lor the propriety of naked fallows, ex ccpt on stiff clays, or wet grounds, which can only be worked in the summer, and this for tho purpose only of being able to clean such soils from root weeds. Wo subjoin two or three quotations in corrobo ration of this fact: 'Tallowing wa9 necessary as long as grains only, all of which exhaust the "soil, were cultivated; during the intervals of tilling tho fields, a variety of herbs grew on them, which offered food for animals, and tho roots of which, buried in the soil by tho ptougn, lurnisneu a groat part ot the neces sary manure. But at this day, when wo nave succccueo in establishing the cultiva tion of a great variety of mots, and artifi- cial grasses, the system of fallowing can be no longer supported by tho shadow of a good reason. The ease with which fodder may be cultivated, furnishes the means of supporting an increased number of animals; these in their turn supply manure and labor and tho farmer is no loncer under the ne cessity of allowing his lands to be fallow." L,iaplal. "It is already acknowledged, that it is niy upon wet soils, or, in other words, upon lands unfit for tho turnip husbandry. that n plain summer fallow is necessary," jteio r.ain. n,ucy. "As there is only ono good reason for laiiowmg, namely, to destroy weeds, nnd as this can be done full as well by fallow crops, that is, by crops that require frequent hoeing ando4eaning, during their growth, no follows ought to bo permitted in a good system of agriculture. " 7'. Cooper. We have quoted in tho last number of our fourth volume, the practical cxamole of the late Chancellor Livingston, showing an increased profit, of nearly two hundred per cent, resulting from substituting fallow crops for naked fallows, besides nn increase of cattle food, upon one hundred acres of arablo land, of sixly-fivo tons, ond the ma nure from sixty. fivo cattle, which this food would keep. In pages 80 and 104 of the some volume, we have given Greig and Beatson's systems of managing clay farms, in winch naked fallows arc dispensed with, and tho profits doubled, by substituting fallow crops. Thcso evidences might be greatly multiplied wore it necessary; but wo have so many examples and illustrations in every quarter of our country, .that ho who will may profit by his own observation and inquiry, t he expense of tho summer fallows may bo saved and a very valuable extra crop obtained, by tho now modo of practice. In regard to what arc tho best fallow crops? This will depend much upon the soil. Upon stiff clays, oats and peas aro recommended, which although not cleans ing crops, succeed well upon an undecom posed sod. Potatoes also answer well; ond if they do not ripon early enough for winter grain, they prepare the ground rc markobly well for spring wheat. Clays should be broken up in autumn, if intended for a fallow crop, that the frost may brcok down and pulverize tho soil, and that the decomposition of tho tod may commence earlier in the spring. The late Jbhn Lor rain, of Pennsylvania, who was an excel lent piaclical farmer, as woll as a gentle, man of science, recommended, that in ploughing for grain, al'tor a fallow crop, tho furrow bo superficial, so as tint to turn up tho vegetable matter of tho sod, lyil to leave it whero thu roots of tho ensuing crop will most need it. Upnn light soils, Indian corn, beans, peas, potatoes, turnips, oroth or roots, constituto good fallow crops, par ticularly preparatory to spring wheat and barley. CONCLUSION. Wo have gono over tho ground wo pro posed to examine. Wc havo endeavored to explain what wo mean by tho JWto Sys Urn of Ilutbandrylo dovolopo Us princi pics, and toehow whv, and wuK.HEroKC, is superior to tho old or common system. Wc have, wc think, demonstrated, 1. That tlio f trlilily of tho farm maybe kept up, and augmented, by tho manures it can be made to furnish ; 2. That tho condition ot tho farm may be much improved, by thorough draining; 3. That the capacities ol tho lorm, can bo fullv developed only by good tillage ; 4. That the profits of tho larni, aro ma terially augmented by alternating crops, and a system of mixed husbandry ; 5. That tne calllc oou nun manures oi the farm, the main sources of fertility ond profit, may be greatly increased by tho cul tivation of roots ; 6. That theiaoor of tho farm, may bo economised, and tM products furthergiu creased, by substituting fallow crops for naked fallows. And finally, that wnro""thcse several im provements generally introduced into our agricultural practice, they would render our farmers more itidependant, bring indus try into better repine, and essentially pro mote the prosperity and happiness ot all classes of society. Thero is no tloubt that most of our im poverished farms may, under the system of management we hove been describing, and with the auxiliary and available aid of linio, marl, gypsum, swamp ca'lh, ashes, &c. be progressively innJiJnvud in fertility, ond rendered productive and (profitable. Wo have the strongest grounds for this be lief. Tho like Im baon done in Great Rritoin, in the Netherlands, in Gbrmany, in France. Worn-out lands have there been renovated and rendered vitj valuable. They have been so in the Uniled States. They ore now undergoing this improve ment in the valley of the Hudson Tho partial introduction of the New Husbandry, has, within a few years, doubled Jhu sur plus agricultural products of mnt of tho counties between Albany and Now York ; and yet tho improvement has there been but begun. The same management which our subject suggests for the renovation of old lands, will perpetuate the fertility of those which have been newly brouglil under culture. Although the soils of the great secondary formation of the west will not so soon be. cotno impoverished os those of primitive and transition formations; mid though fer tility may be more readily restored to them, when it hns become exhausted yet tho same cenerol laws govern in all. Deteri oration will nrnn-rcs in all soils which aro nrnnnnil. nn esa tnen 13 returned io llic what is being constantly carried on. make it his business to continue nun mm n i nrnriipn mair mil l menls which it has been our performance of which, ho lLr-p . A li.-ni UIU ICUIIlli; u lliu uuu for political offences, from tho following par Lewiston Telegraph. Pete, the hangman, the execution of the two latter. blicntt gave him gtOO and let from hftn and his pockets rifled. uuwii iu i ui a luvuru on mil iving UIIUl, IU LIIU j.lll Ulllll III! JIIUIUUUUII. i snerui men sent mm un to t no reaco tavern nn Duntlas street, where ho ir. a r. . i.. i .... . .,. (lumber and recognized. Mo said to tha person who knew him, that ho had mur. dered three persons for money, and that such was his remorse of conscience, that if ho could get a rope ho would hang himself. He left the place for tho woods and has not been seen since, and there is no doubt that ho has destroyed himself. This is.Jho end of tho career of a hangman. "TII0 SULTAN" IN THE WEST INDIES. Mr. Curtis who went out to St. Domin go with this extraordinary elephant, has relumed to this city. lie relates soma interesting incidents connected with tha elephant Tippo Sultan which took placa soon after their arrival Port an Prince. Tim animal wos imported into (his country eighteen years since, and is bejiuved to bo tho largest cvor exhibited in the United States. Ho is ten ,'cet high, and weighs over 12,000 pounds. His tusks are four feoti'long. Since he has hoon brought to this country, ho his travelled more than seventy-five thousand miles. His usual giiil is throo milos per hour ; but ho. can travel t'on with ease, and ha been knuftvn to walk sixty niilos in 64 hours. Whilo exhibited in the Znnlogical Insti tute, in the Bowery, orid other places, ho evinced a remarkably docile and offection oto disposition. His erratic character seems to have devolopcd itself for tho first lime in December last, whilo at Port au Prince, which does not appear to bo in ac cordance with tho memorable example of fidelity and attachment which ho exhibited towards his kcepor, whoso lifo he saved miner circumstances of imminent pern. In December, 11126, ho wasexnibldiii tho Menagorio located in tho Bowtfry. on tha silo whero the building of tho Institute itlnow stands, A tiger and tigress broko

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