NATURAL PASTURE GRASSES.

Otago Witness, Issue 481, 16 February 1861, Page 6

NATURAL PASTURE GRASSES.

The elements which enter into the composition of a plant, or of which the plant is made, are either extracted from the atmosphere through the leaves and stern, or by the roots, from the soil in which they are fixed, and experiments have demonstrated that the air is as .essential to the maturation of a vegetable as the earth and water. Some of the constituents of vegetation can oniy be obtained from the soil, such,' for instance, as silica, lime, and the alkalies, but carbonic acid (a combination of carbon and oxygen), ammonia aud other volatile bodies are absorbed by plants alike through the leaves and the roots, but earthy matter can only enter the plant through the spongioles of the voots. Since the stem, leaves, flower, and seeds of plants are the result of combinations of various elements in certain proportions, a deficiency of any of the simple bodies in the earth would either be fatal to the existence of the plant, or it would languish and fail to reach a perfect state. We know that lime is an essential ingredient in the composition of wheat, and this body is extracted from the earth ; but if no lime existed in the soil, it would be vain to attempt to grow wheat ; and it also follows that, as lime is extracted from the soil by the roots of wheat, that every succeeding crop must diminish the quantity of this body in the earth, so that a repetition of cropping with the same vegetable or class of plants must ultimately exhaust the soil of some of its constituents, rendering a change in the course of cropping necessary to the continuation of heallhy vegetation. It will be seen that when soil is unfitted for the growth of one kind of plant, another may be found that will live and flourish there ; and, from attention to these principles, an idea of the importance of a proper rotation of crops may be gained. But the exhausting influence of vegetation upon the soil is not the only circumstance that prevents the success of continuous cropping ; for whilst plants are extracting aliment from the soil, they are at the same time returning •to it deposits of excrementitious matter. These deposits are injurious to all plants of the same genus, but are generally good fertilisers to plants of other genera ; and thus land which may have become unfit for the continuance of the growth of potatoes is in fine order for wheat.

We are aware that the excrementitious theory is disputed by some writers ; but if one proof of such phenomenon can be adduced, we may draw a general conclusion, applicable to the wholeorder of vegetation. The Cape wattle, and the whole acacia tribe, present a forcible illustration of the truth of the excrementitious theory. The offensive odour emitted by the roots when the ground is disturbed affords a self-evi-dent proof of these deposits ; but these secretions are not always, or even often, to be detected by smell. Those who attribute the deterioration of the soil wholly to vegetable deposits, fail to account for all the effects by this theory for ground that has become unfit for the cultivation of red clover, or is clover sick, has been restored to its former fertility by the application of common salt at the rate of about two cwt. to the acre. The deteriorating influence of injudicious cropping is owing to these two causes combined ; and some notion of this first occurred to the sagacious observations of Mr. Young, about the middle of the last century — this gentleman being probably the first who conceived the idea of conducting farming operations ou the system of rotation for the purpose of obviating the evils consequent on the old system of continuous cropping. A; p'ying the knowledge furnished by the consideration of this subject to the system of grassed lands, we cannot fail to discover the bad judgment of laying down land with only one or two sorts. Rye grass, we know, is a very exhausting plant ; and unless its effect is neutralised by other kinds growing gregariously with it, the land must rapidly deteriorate, and the grass gradually die out. Grasses and herbage sown in proper mixtures, not only are less exhausting in their extracting powers, but, as the deposit of one plant is the food of another, a reciprocally correcting action is maintained, and the ground consequently kept in a proper state of fertility, for the permanent support of all the different sorts growing together, and realises all that is desirable in what is termed perennial pasture grasses.

Some plants present in their habits a remarkable means of escaping from soil which they have rendered unfit for their further support. Thia consists in ejecting their seeds to a distance from the parent plant, or, like the strawberry, ever stretching its long shoots into fresh soil, to insert its roots where it can find elements of support. We could multiply examples of illustration were it necessary, but we have said sufficient to prove the importance of adopting preventive means to escape the consequence of impoverished soil ; we hence observe, that a proper rotation of crops, or a mixture, where practicable, of as many sorts as possible, is the only means of keeping pastures in good heart, and thereby of realising a continuously luxuriant vegetation. — Victorian Farmers' Journal.

Elopement in High Life. — A romantic story of which the following is an outline, is current in the East Riding of Yorkshire :— During the last week apartments were ordered at Scarborough—the famous and fashionable watering-place — for a lady and gentleman and a female servant, who w ere to arrive by rail the day following that on which the landlady received her instructions. Preparations were duly made, and the party arrived by the express train from York. The housekeeper thought there was some little mystery hanging over the couple and their attendant, the husband so much resembling a servant, while the appearance of the wife at once carried the idea to the old woman's mind that she was a lady, of position. Still she could not get the attendant to tell her M a word in secret" until the evening of their departure, and as we have been fortunate enough to become possessed of the whole v love story," we give it to ?ur readers and can vouch for the exact information that was furnished by the lady's servant, and finally endorsed by the " happy couple theiufielves. The lady, of whom we may be allowed to say "she was one of England's btanties," was the second daughter of a very wealthy country gentleman. Keeping a large establishment in the East Riding, and her lover , and, bejoved^was- imne other tljan the- valet in T.hjs^nplpyj The^age of the former \yas,'apparently 20, and the latter about 25. During

I the valet's 1 faithful .services of nearly five years he had succeeded in gaining the affections ,of the young lady, and the temporary absence of her parents had often afforded the two lovers ( an op|K>rtunity of " wandering by moonlight alone" and speaking of coming events. The young lndy, who by the way has a nice property in her own right, taking the advantage of leap year, at last "popped the question," and we need scarcely say the young man was overwhelmed with joy at her condescension, for he feared to take .such a bold step. Plans were then devised for their marriage, and as it was well known that her parents would not listen to such a .proposition, they had to (arrange for the ceremony to be performed .at -a remote place. Her father had occasion to go to London on business, and this gave an excellent ftppoitunity for the two effecting their purpose. The young lady told henpapa, as it would be lonely for her to remain at home while he was, in town, she wished to visit an aunt. Her request was complied with. Instead, however, of going to visit her aunt, who lived in a town 18 miles distant, she went to a romote little village, where she remained a fortnight, and at the expiration of that period she was followed by her lover, and the parish clergyman performed the marriage ceremony. They then proceeded from the village to Scarborough, from whence it is supposed they have gone to the Isle of Wight. As to how her parent received the news of his adored daughter being married, we are not able to say. " What is done, however, cannot be undone," therefore it would be pleasing to know that be will acknowledge the bride and groom. — Manchester Guardian.

Happy Women — A happy woman ! is not she the very sparkle and sunshine of life? A woman who is happy because she can't help it — whose smile even the coldest sprinkle of misfortune cannot dampen. Men make a terrible mistake when they marry for beauty, for talent, or for style ; the sweetest wives are those who possess the magic secret of being contented under any circumstances. Rich or poor, high or low, it makes no difference ; the bright little fountain of joy bubbles up just as musically in their hearts. Do they live in a cottnge ? the fire light that leaps up on its humble hearth becomes brighter than the gilded chandeliers in an Aladdin palace. Do they eat brown bread or drink cold water from the well ? it affords them more solid satisfaction than the millionaire's pate de fore gras and iced champagne. Nothing ever goes wrong with them — no trouble is so serious for them, no calamity so dark and deep, that the sunlight of their smiles will not "make the best of it." Was ever the stream of light so dark and unpropitious that the sunshine of a happy face falling across its turbid tide, would not awaken an answering gleam ? Why, these j«yous tempered people don't know half the good they do.

Domestic Duties. — The elegant and accomplished Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who figured in the fashionable as well as the literary circles of her time, has said that " the most minute details of housohold economy become elegant and refined when they are ennobled by' sentiment," and they are truly ennobled when we attend to them either from a sense of duty, or consideration for a parent, or love to a husband. "To furnish a room," continues this lady, "is no longer a common place affair, shared with upholsterers and cabinet-makers ; .it is decorating the place where I am to meet a friend or lover. To order dinner is not merely arranging a meal with my cook ; it is preparing refreshments for him whom I love. These necessary occupations, viewed in this light by a person capable of strong attachments, are so many pleasures, and afford her far more delight than the games and &howß which constitute the amusements of the world."

Wilson's Bberch-t,oading Rifle — Most of the breach-loading rifles we have seen have ueen distinguished for their ingenuity, but not at all for their simplicity : an exception is the one before us. This effort on the part of Mr. Wilson to produce a really simple yet effective breech-loader is to our mind a complete success ; and the result is accomplished without screws, joints, or levers. Where the barrel of the rifle ends and the breech begins is sunk a groove the width of the diameter of the bore and its depth from the upper surface. This groove is continued to the end of the stock. Fitted with nicety into this groove is a slide, the whole length of the breech-piece, having at its inner end a plug exactly the size of the bore of the rifle. To secure this slide in its place, a' cotter is made to pass through the lock side of the stock, and through a staple beneath the slide, in the same manner as barrels of guns are kept in the ribs which pass beneath them. To charge the rifle, it is only necessary to pull out the cotter and draw back the slide, put in the cartridge, force home the slide, and push in the cotter, and then you can fire as soon as you like, and at the rate of eight or ten rounds a-minute. Both cotter and slide have thumb or knob pieces at their outer extremities, for their more easy adjustment. Mr. Wilson claims, among other things, for his invention, "that it is being free from screws, levers, and all complications, and is not liable to be put out of order ; that it is easy of manufacture, and can be made entirely by machinery ; that an accident from careless loading is impossible; that the breech-plug can be detached for cleaning the barrel, and replaced' in a moment, and that the action is always in good order, requiring no adjustment in use ; that it is adapted for sporting purposes, either in single or double-barrel guns ; and, above all, that the principle can be applied to all ready-made Enfield rifles." — Spectator.

Thb Massache at Damascus. — A traveller, in whose veracity we place full confidence, and who has just returned from Syria, assures us that the providential escape of the Jews from the massacre recently perpetrated at Damascus was chiefly owing to the following circumstance: — After the slaughter of the Christians the fanatics meditated an attack on the Jews. When deliberating on the subject a sheik who is held in great estimation, and whom the Jews had befriended, strongly opposed the meapure. They allowed themselves to be dissuaded for a moment. But the next evening they resumed their deliberations. Once more the sheik succeeded in dissuading them. Another day thus elapsed. . For the third time the murderers now met more firmly than ever, resolved on the massacre of the Jews. The sheik, seeing that his opposition would be overruled, pretended to acquiesce in their determination, and ou(y a«ked them to ascertain previously whether the proposed attack was the will of God. For this purpose he proposed that the trigger of a loaded pistol with which one of the fanatics was armed should be pulled. If it went off at once the project met with the approbation of the Deity. If not, it was a sign of the divine disappaoba tion. So said, so done. Fortunately for the Hebrews, the pistol did not go off. The fana tics dispersed once more. Meanwhile help carrte. The murderers had lost the chance of another slaughter — Jewish Chroj\icle.

Dreadful Sufferings im the Polar Sea..—' The only survivor of the crew and passengers of the barque Kitty, a sailor named William Armstrong, arrived at Gal way by the Prince Albert last August. Armstrong, on the 29th of June, 1859, shipped as mate of the barque Kitty, of and from Neweastle-on-Tyne, which sailed with a cargo consigned to the Hudson's • Bay Company. She was commanded by ! .Alexander Ellis, and besides her crew of Able bodied seamen, she took out a few passengers, who intended to settle in the locality. The vovflge from the outset was rather boisterous and protracted, for the vessel did. notgtt off .the^ Ainericaii-A.shorPj till,, the: , beginning oi August. On the 11th of that month ehe wjas em eloped in a f<i{| when pf£'Cape, Resolution,, aud she was suddenly surrounded by huge

mountains of ice, so as to render escape almost hopeless. The bergs could be seen through the fog, gradually drawing nearer and nearer, until at last the vessel was touched by them. The crew and passengers were naturally panicstricken, but they soon recovered, and commenced their efforts for the saving of their lives. Two boats were got out, and as much provisions as could be put into them in the huYry^vere stowed away ; and one, under the c6nim»ml of the captain, the other under that 0f Armstrong, the mate, left the ship's side, just as the bergs closed upon the ill-fated vessel, and crushed her into pieces. She then went down. The boats then managed to get through an opening but only to find themselves in a field of ice, consisting of floating masses, the pieces which sailed continually by threatening destruction every moment. For days the two boats beat about, in vain making attempts to reach the open sea, while each morning broke with the same dreary prospect. It was then, found that the cold was beginning to take effect upon them, and fearful symptoms of the frost-bite became painfully apparent. Remedies such as were within their power were applied, but they were useless, for the poor creatures gradually became worse, and dropped. off one after another. The survivors performed the sorrowful duty of consigning their comrades to the deep, thinking, as they did so, that perhaps the next would be one of themselves. The crew worked, willingly, and as constantly as their physical infirmities would permit them. Day after day did they work on, hoping that their efforts would lie successful, or that some welcome sail would heave in sight and rescue them from their unfortunate situation ; »but none appeared. At last the boats separated in a fog, and the captain's boat was never beard of again. Armstrong with the few persons in the boat still surviving, pursued his course. The miseries which they had hitherto endured were now augmented by hunger; their stock was gradually becoming smaller, and the allowance to each man was curtailed, and the little crew in the boat was getting fewer in number, while the survivors were becoming weak and sickly. Those who were sinking under the privations, as their hour approached, became maniacs. They did not know their companions; while scenes which they had witnessed at home in their family circles were repeated over and over again — in their imagination they beheld their sisters, mothers or wives, as the case' might be, and endeavouring to clasp them soon died in the most fearful agonies. Such were the scenes which the survivors witnessed frequently as one was snatched from their number. Two or three, besides Armstrong, only remained when the welcome crj' of " land " was ritised, and the men strained their eyes and asked one another could it be real. It was at length reached, but too late for some of them. The ecstacy of such a discovery, after being 62 days in an open boat and suffering such privations in a polar region, was too much for them ; and all, with the exception of Armstrong, as they reached the long-wished-for land, sank to the ground exhausted, aiid •died. Thus the whole of the crew, with the exception of one, had died ; and it is no wonder that he dropped upon- his knees and returned thanks to his God that he had been spared. Having obtained a little rest, he wandered along the shore, and was so fortunate as to fall in with some Esquimaux on a hunting expedition. They conducted him to their huts, and there kept him for a considerable time, until he had recruited his strength. They then brought him to a place where some Moravian missionaries were residing, who forwarded him to St. John's in the early part of August. Up to the present moment no tidings could be got o1o 1 the vessel, and it was long since supposed that every soul had gone to the bottom. — JUastem Counties Herald.

Fatal Accident — Five Lives Lost. — The «chooner Randolph from Kai Koras, arrived in this harbour on Tuesday evening last, bringing the melancholy intelligence of the death of Captain Kempthorne and four others. The following are the particulars of the accident, so far as we have been able to learn. The Randolph was lying at the Kai Kora Peninsula, moored in a small boat harbour. On Monday, the 21st Jan., Captain Kempthorne, accompanied by M.r. Harwood, (lately arrived from England), J. Thomson, Joshua Miller (two men of colour), and John Roy, started in a small boat for Waipapa River, a distance of abo-it twenty miles. When the boat had reached Mungautana, a point of land about half way, the natives state that a disturbance appeared to take place in the boat, when all at once they lost sight of the men but saw the boat. Being convinced that some accident must have occurred they kept watch for the men, with a view to render what assistance they could. Miller was quite warm when they got him on shore, and they did the best they could to restore animation, -but without effect. Four of the bodies were picked up by the Maories the same evening, and one, John Thomson, the following morning. The bodies were identified, and interred by C. R. Keene, Esq., abreast of the pjlace where they were picked up. The boat had been built at Mr. Fyfe's station for Mr. Trulove, to be employed as a ferry-boat on the Waipapa river, and the parties in her were on the way to deliver the boat when the accident occurred. Captain Kempthorne was master of the Randolph, and has sailed out of this port for some years. He has left a wife and three children to mourn his loss. The parties with him were not the crew of his vessel, but parties who were residing at the Kai Koras. — Wellington Independent, Feb. 1.~

Transatlantic Air Ships. — The preparations are nearly completed in New York for the departure for Europe of Professor Lowe and his associates in their aerial ship. A trial trip has already been made with a successful result. This "trial proves the possibility of directing the course of this ship through the air ; and, as the general direction of the air is eastward at a 'certain distance from the earth, the probability of Professor Lowe's reaching Europe is very strong. Should this European voyage be successfully accomplished in the short space of 48 hburs, as the professoranticipates, it will make a complete revolution in the manner of conveying intelligence between the two continents, as advantage can be taken of the eastward current, in the return voyage by passing round the world. The name of this novel ship is the Great Western. Its extreme length or height is 300 feet; its larger diameter 135 feet; the basket in which the mail aud passengers are to be conveyed is 30 feet diameter, and constructed to carry 12 persons. Under this basket is an iron life boat, 40 feet long, which contains a caloric engine, which is designed to give the direction to the ship by moving a fan, rather than to propel the ship itself. Professor Lowe states that he will take letters for all parts of Europe, and promises to deliver them safely within two daj's. The proposed crew of i be Great Western is Professor Lowe, two scientific associates, and atr ex-i perienced sea captain to command the boat, in case it might be necessary to change the aerial for water navigation. — Engineer.

Excellent Cement — Five years ago We, applied a cement composed of whitelead paint, whiting, and dry white sand, ia & small tin roof that leaked like a . sieve ; it soon hecaraq nearly as haf*d as a stone, has never scaled off, and has kept the roof since then perfectly tight. It was put on about the consistency .of thin putty. Slater's cenienfc, for - stopping leaks proofed chimneys, w^on^posedQ^lmseecl oil, witting, ground glass,- and, ,some r brjqlt^ dus.t. It is a good ceinsn^for, tbia p ; urpo^ also for dosing the Join^of/atope sjieps to nouses. — English pap??, , . j; , v v' ' ; •S^M for fvye MmlS* 11 Because you can t pass it, said the boy.

An (American jury: acquitted charge of horse stealing, although the crime was clearly proved against him, simply because he stole the horse to elope with his sweetheart, who was present in court during his trial, and waiting to marry him if he was acquitted. • " .

"Sambo, -what's yer up to jaow-a-(days ?" "O, I'se a carpenter and jiner." " Ho ! X guess yew is/ What department does yer per-form,-Sambo-?" " What department f Idoeb de circular work." * What's that?" " Why, I. turn de.grindstone.'l

SCHOOL-DAY REMINISCENCES. When you and I were younger, Jack, what merry times we had? Don't you remember the -dark night when we went after Shad ? How .suddenly came up a shower, a mile or two from town ! The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, -and didn't it pour down ? And such a soaking «s we got — it chilled us through and through. 'Twas dark as pitch : and then the wind, my goodness, how it blew ! And then, to cap the climax, *« still faster down it poured— it blew the sheet from out your hand, and yon pitched overboard, us ff you were not wet enough — that our misfortune crowned. By George, you nearly, came within an ace of being drowned ! Besides, we lost our net, you know — wasn't that a night of fun? And what a lot of fish we caught — had not a single one 1 When we got home all cold and wet, not a single word we said, but sneaked as 'silently as 'mice, upstairs, and went to bed. And, Joe, don't you remember, too, when *t P —Boarding School, to play off tricks you made it an invariable rule ? Ah, Josey, 1 could always see the mischief in your eye : and 1 knew soma one would catch it before the day went by. Heaven help him, then, whoe'er he was that 'fall beneath your game ; no matter wnether priest or clown, to you 'twas all the same! The way you fixed the sexton on Sunday was a sin — by Justinserting in his seat an ugly crooked pin. 'Twaa after prayer, and all the folks 'with ! hemming had got through — had cleared their throats, etcetera, as church-folks always do, at the very nick of time when all were still and calm, just as the worthy pastor rose to mumble out the -psalm. On tip. toe up the aisle came Ben, so cautiously and slow, and down he sat, but soon Jumped np r and loudly sang out " Oh ! " You being right behind him, liis wrath tnt*» turned on you ; and didti't it create a fuss— wasn't Benny in a stew ? How all the congregation stared, -and wondered why the noise ; and didn't the old minister, Joe, reprimand us boys I And don't you know one meeting night, how you tied up the bell, which every night, at nirie o'clock, was rung the hour to tell, when all good folks should go to bed (a custom still t in vogue. in the old Woodeu-Nutmeg State), 'twas nicely done, you rogue. , , The steeple it was pretty high — some stories, six or more — the rope passed through a little hole in the centre of each floor, and down into the vestibule — it on a peg hung there, coiled up to keep it out the way, with several feet to spare. How nimbly up the stairs yon crept, as any monkey could, and underneath your arms you had some sticks of maple wood. Then slowly pulling up the rope, a half- hitch o'er the hole you made, and through it put a stick ; then up the next steps stole. And so ou to the belfry. top, where fast the bell you bound ; and next the clapper, several times, with cloth you tied around. When everything was "snug and 'fast"— as all the sailors say — you tnrned about, and noiselessly down stairs you groped your way, and stalked jnto the meeting-room with such a modest graces the very type of innocence ; no smile was /on your face. ' ' Well, jjine o'clock soon wore around, and with it came old Ben ; to ring the bell, he was you know, the most exact of men. For twenty years, as sexton he, had rung each nightly chime, and everyone in Pumpkin-town depended on his time. If any clock was slow or fast, they waited for the night, to hear the ringing of the bell, to set their turnipii right. He walked up slowly to the peg, but ah 1 io rope was there ; and what was his surprise tp's^e it dangling in the air above his head— beyojid -his reach. Now what was lie to do ? tie got a bench and stood thereon, and tried to pull it through; but all his efforts were in vain ; " Oh, (he deuce to pay," said he. " Good Lord ! I shall be late — what will the people say? He pulled and tugged, and jerked and strove, with all his might and main ; then fiom-ihe bench jumped in a rage, then he jumped up again ; and with a superhuman strength, again he p.ulled and tore ; the rope it broke, when down came Ben, all sprawling on the"floor; and with him, too, down came the bench, which made an awful din. The people rushed fiom out the chui ch," said Ben; "Now, 'tis a sin, to play me off this scurvy triek — to put me in th"U plight : I'll give them Josh !" and up he rose, and went and got a light. Up the first flight of steps he sprung, and found stick number one. " So, ho ," said he, *• thU is your game; my time will come for fun." I'll' pay you off for this, my lads:" and then he tried to ring ; the bell as stubborn as before, would do no such a thing. So upward every flight of stairs, nil wearily and slow, into the belfry dark and high, h» was obliged to go. The wind it whistled loud and shrill, above, around, about, until a most unlucky, puff did put his candle out. " May God forgive me, now," he said, "and on those devils frown I Was ever man in such a fix ? — but I must needs, go down." Then feeling every inch hU way, backward, as best he could, and cautiously, he downward went till on the ground he stood. Lighting his lamp a second time, upward again he hied ; this time the lamp did not blow out, and he the hell untied. "Thank Heaven!" he sighed, " this is the last — I'm wearied out almost— it's all right now, I know;", alas! he reckoned not tha host. He never dreamed as reasoned he, so wisely, but not well, that all his troubles were sot o'er, that muzzled wag Uie bell. With lighter heart, and aching legs, he bent his steps once more:— down the dark stairs — but misery ! what was for him in store ? Right willingly he pulled the iop», and joy! the bell swung round ; but to his great astonishment, it sent forth not a sound. " Father of grace and love," he prayed, " what is the matter now ? At I'm alive, the clapper they have taken off, I vow ! Grant me the p~t> tience, oh, good grief, these trials, all to bear ; ttiig *is too much ior mortal man — .enough to make Job suear. Oh imy poor limbs: again must I those horrid stairs ascend? .curse,- curse those toy's | why did my fate such torments hithersendt" ••' Reluctantly he dragged himseiEth"* third time, then on high, and found* the clapper tnu filed tip» and which ho did '\ititie. "To-make assursflte* doubly sure, he.&wuftgrfttf^*nd'ftt>,< and;* Satisfied that all was right, ichunUddowti" below, *nd(g*ve a louder.; louder peal 'than ever fee tolled 'befbjcj. the swffat'rah down his Sweltering f*oe 'in stream* from Jevery -pore. ; . v - ' ..','• ' "Ohpwheuch ! 'Us done j too*, scat's <hael<»k —my soul,. 'tis half-past nhie *> itrbat.wjU thfifiU lage people think i>e»J, .'U? 9«5 f ft u lV'^/-*^S 11 1* 1 I've done my best, great jyood.hess knowsf-how T perspire!" he said; then, 'Benny, h» Iqicl^cf*^ the churolvwent home, and.weat ta'befl.^- ♦'". "**-. ; , And all the folk's in PunapWin tdwp iwerec ratlUer gstruek aghast, ta find, that - mpr'e than hajf-an-how tog^fast. Apd.skcbr^t^ » setting bqok their .Yankee oiocki had they, and the next night i.lm^iih,^%^%WM^mej ,slyV- : t*.aJJs |? i Tf ' J -^ &As~P fi § * '^jf'fe^\?'s"%j f 'fe^\?'s"% •, then, the' mischieP£ii^ou--yet. -.;--' yj 4-v-iCi-*^ r

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