Picture of the Prairie. The world of Prairie, which lies at a distance of more than three hundred miles west of the inhabited portions of the United States, and south of the river Arkansas and its branches, has been rarely, and parts of it never trodden by the foot or beheld by the eye of an AngloAmerican. Rivers rise there in the broad level waste, of which, mighty though they become in their course, the source is unexplored. Deserts are there, too barren of grass to support even the hardy Buffalo, and in which water, except in here and there a hole, is never found. Ranged over by the Comanches, the Pawnees, the Caiwas, and other equally wandering, savage and hostile tribes, its very name is a mystery and a terror. The Pawnees have their villages entirely north of this part of the country; and the war-parties, always on foot-are seldom to be met with to the south of the Canadian, except close in upon the edges of the white and civilized Indian settlements. Extending on the south to the Rio del Norte, on the north to a distance unknown, eastwardly to within three or four hundred miles of the edge of Arkansas Territory, and westwardly to the Rocky Mountains, is the range of the Comanches.-Imagine then immense herds of Buffalo, showing their uncouth dark shapes, in every direction as far as the eye can reach, and approaching at times to within forty steps of you; or a herd of wild horses feeding in the distance, or hurrying away from the hateful smell of man, with their manes flowing, and a trampling like thunder. Imagine here and there a solitary antelope, or perhaps, a whole herd, fleeting off in the distance, like the scattering of white clouds. Imagine bands of white, snow-like wolves prowling about, accompanied by the little gray collotes or prairie wolves, which are as rapacious and as noisy as their bigger brethren. Imagine also, here and there, a lonely tiger-cat, lying crouched in some little hollow, or bounding off in triumph, bearing some luckless little prairie dog which it has caught straggling about at a distance from its hole. If to this you add a band of Comanches, mounted on noble swift horses, with their long lances, their quiver at the back, their bow, perhaps their gun, and their shield ornamented gaudily with feathers and red cloth, and round as Norval's, or as the full

moon-and imagine them hovering about in different places, chasing the buffalo, or attacking an enemy, you have an image of the Prairie, such as no book ever described adequately to me.

I have seen the Prairie under all its diversities and in all its appearances, from those which I have described to the uneven bushy prairies which lie south of Red River, and to the illimitable Stake Prairie which lies from almost under the shadow of the mountains to the heads of the Brazos and of Red River, and in which neither buffaloes nor horses are to be found. I have seen the Prairie, and lived in it, in summer and in winter. I have seen it with the sun rising calmly from its breast, like a sudden fire kindled in the dim distance, and with the sunset flushing in its sky with quiet and sublime beauty. There is less of the gorgeous and grand character, however, belonging to it, than that which accompanies the rise and set of the sun upon the ocean, or upon the mountains; but there is beauty and sublimity enough to attract the attention and interest the mind.

I have seen the 'mirage,' too, painting lakes, and fires, and groves, on the grassy ridges near the bounds of Missouri, in the still autumn afternoon, and cheating the traveller by its splendid deceptions I have seen the Prairie, and stood long and weary guard in it, by moonlight and starlight, and in storm. It strikes me as the most magnificent, stern, and terribly grand scene on earth-a storm in the Prairie. It is like a storm at sea, except in one respect and in that it seems to me to be superior: the stillness of the desert and illimitable plain, while the snow is raging over its surface, is always more fearful to me than the wild roll of the waves; and it seems unnatural-this dead quiet, while the upper elements are so fiercely disturbed! it seems as if there ought to be the roll and roar of the waves. The sea, the woods, the mountains, all suf fer in comparison with the Prairie; that is, on the whole; in particular circumstances, either of them is superior. We may speak of the incessant motion and tumult of the waves of the ocean, the unbounded greenness and dimness, and the lonely music of the forests, and the high magnificence, the precipitous grandeur, and the summer snow of the glittering cones of the mountains; but still, the Prairie has a stronger hold upon the soul,

and a more powerful, if not so vivid an impression upon the feelings. Its sublimity arises from its unbounded extent, its barren monotony and desolation, its still, unmoved, calm and stern appearance and grandeur, its strange power of deception, its want of echo, and in fine, its power of throwing a man back upon himself, and giving him a feeling of lone helplessness, strangely mingled at the same time with a feeling of liberty and freedom from restraint. It is particularly sublime, as you draw nigh to the Rocky Mountains, and see them shoot up in the west, with their lofty tops looking like white clouds resting upon their summits. Nothing I ever had felt equalled the delight with which 1 at first saw the eter nal mountains marking the western edge of the desert.-Albert Pike.

Adventure in an African River.

I manned my boats and went on shore for the ivory that was left. I found that it would take the whole day to embark it, as we had to go two miles further up the river than the depth of water would permit the vessel to do, for the ivory was in the boat close to the king's house. I had sent off four boat loads, and it being then noon, I went off with the fifth myself, that I might get my dinner, leaving the second mate to attend on shore, and taking the first mate with me, who mess ed in the cabin. As we were in the middle of the stream the boat struck against the stump of a tree, as we supposed, and knocked so large a hole in the bow that she began to fill. I immediately ordered the men to pull for the nearest point, which was on the opposite side of the river, that we might ground the boat to prevent her sinking.

The first mate, who was a very active man, finding that the elephants' teeth prevented his reaching the bow of the boat, and stuffing into it some oakum which had been found in the sheets, sounded with the boat hook, and finding that there was not more than three feet of water where they were pulling, jumped over the bows to put the oakum into the hole; but the poor fellow had only been in the water a few seconds, when he gave a shriek, and we perceived that a large shark had snapped him in two. This was a sad mishap, and the men, terrified, pulled as hard as they could, while two of them bailed out the boat, to gain the

shore, for we knew what fate awaited us if we sank in the river. With great exertions we succeeded, running her up among the canes, which grew on the side of the river so thick that it was difficult to force our way through them.

We landed up to our knees in the mud, and throwing out the ivory, we found that a whole plank was rent out, and that it was impossible to repair our boat; and we were hidden by the canes from those who could have assisted us had they known that we required their assistance; and we had no possible means of communication. At last I thought that, if I could force my way through the canes to the point down the river, I could hail and make signals for assistance; and, desiring the men to remain by the boat, I set off upon my expedition. At first I got on very well, as there were little paths through the canes, made, as I imagined, by the natives; and although I was up to my knees in the thick black mud, I continued to get on pretty fast, but at last the canes grew so thick that I could hardly force my way through them, and it was a work of exceeding labor. Still I persevered, expecting each second I should arrive at the banks of the river, and be rewarded for my fatigue; but the more I labored the worse it appeared to me, and at last I became worn out and quite bewildered. I then tried to find my way back, and was equally unsuccessful, and I sat down with anything but pleasant thoughts in my mind. I calculated I had been two hours in making this attempt, and was now quite puzzled how to proceed. I bitterly lamented my rashness, now that it was too late.

Having reposed a little, I resumed my toil, and was again, after an hour's exertion, compelled, from fatigue, to sit down. in the deep black mud. Another respite from toil, and another hour more of exertion, and I gave myself up for lost. The day was evidently fast closing in, the light over head was not near so bright as it had been, and I knew that a night passed in the miasma of the cane was death.

At last it became darker and darker. There could not be an hour of daylight remaining. I determined on one struggle more, and reeking as I was with perspi ration, and faint with fatigue, I rose again, and was forcing my way through the thickest of the canes, when I heard

a deep growl, and perceived a large panIt was ther not twenty yards from me. on the move as well as I was, attempting to force its way through the thickest of I the canes, so as to come up to me. retreated from him as fast as I could, but he gained slowly upon me, and my strength was fast exhausting.--I thought I heard sounds at a distance, and they became more and more distinct; but what they were my fear and my struggles probably prevented me from making out. My eyes were fixed on the fierce animal who was in pursuit of me, and I now thanked God that the canes were so thick and impassable. Still the animal evident. ly gained ground, until it was not more than twenty yards from me, dashing and springing at the canes and tearing them aside with his teeth.

The sounds were now nearer, and I made them out to be the hallooing of A moment's pause, some other animal.

and I thought it was the baying of dogs, and I thought I must have arrived close to where the schooner lay, and that I heard the baying of bloodhounds. At last I could do no more, and dropped exhausted and almost senseless in the mud. I recollect hearing the crashing of cranes, and then yells and growls, and struggles, and fierce contention, but had fainted.

I must now inform the reader, that about an hour after I had left the boat, the captain of the slaver was pulling up the river, and was hailed by our men in our long boat. Perceiving them on that side of the river, and that they were in distress, he pulled towards them, and they told him what had happened, and that an hour previous I had left the boat to force my way through the cane brakes, and they had heard nothing of me since. "Madness!" cried he, "he is a lost

man.

Stay till I come back from the

schooner.

He went back to the schooner, and taking two of his crew, who were negroes, and his two bloodhounds into the boat, he returned immediately, and as soon as he landed, he put the bloodhounds on my track, and sent the negroes on with them. They had followed in all my windings, for it appeared that I had travelled in all directions, and had come up with me just as I had sunk with exhaustion, and the The panther was so close upon me. bloodhounds had attacked the panther, and this was the noise which sounded on

my ears as I lay stupified at the mercy of the wild beast. The panther was not easily, though eventually overcome, and the black men coming up had found me, and bore me back in a state of insensibility on board the Sparrowhawk. The fe ver had set upon me, and it was not till three weeks afterwards that I recovered my senses, when I learned what I have told to the reader.--Captain Marryatt,

STOPPING A RAIROAD. The following anecdote, illustrative of the opposition made by an old lady in New Hampshire to the running of a railroad on her land, was lately told at a dinner celebrating the opening of the Vermont Central Road, by a Mr. Samuel Walker, director on the Boston and Maine route. Ou alluding to the birth day of this road, and particularly to the opposition of the New Hampshire folks which the Company encountered, he said that: 'After they had overcome the men they had to encounter the women. One good widow lady, who owned land on their line, which she refused to sell, hearing that the teams were coming to cut through, declared that if the legislature could not stop it she would. So she took her knitting work and seated herself on a big stone that lay immediately on the line, and told the first teamster that if he drove through there he had to drive over her. The teamster refused to do so ungallant an act as to drive over the lady, but drove his team up to her, and getting from her barn his arms full of hay for his oxen, took his seat beside her. Up she rose, and declared that, railroad or no railroad, she would not sit beside so ugly a fellow. This was the last of the opposition in New Hampshire.

THREE FAULTS OF NURSES.-1. To lisp in baby style, when the same words, in an endearing tone, would please as well: the reverse should be-the voice clear, emphatic, and each syllable distinctly articulated, for imitation. 2. To tell of witches, ghosts and goblins; such superstitions, impressed upon young minds are. rarely gotten rid of. 3. To direct a child to act like a man: whereas it is not often becoming for a little boy to ape the man, but only to conform his demeanor to his age-every age has its own peculiar decourousuess.-New England Galaxy.

AGRICULTURAL.

Root-Grafting."

BY F. K. PHENIX, DELAVAN, WISCONSIN. I have never seen in any Eastern publication what I consider by any means a full and accurate description of the best method of root grafting; and as this is new, so far as I know, and decidedly the most popular method of propagating fruit trees, and in many respects as decidedly the best, it seems to me that too great pains cannot be taken to ascertain and establish the best mode of performing the operation. Root-grafting is very applicable to apples, pears and plums, and I think is much the easiest way to work apples and plums; pears bud so easily, that with any pear stocks, save seedlings, I should prefer budding. Seedling pear stocks I have never tried by grafting in the root and boxing, as with apples, and I see no reason why they might not be used to as good advantage in that way as are apple roots-by grafting in which, as is well known, a great saving in stocks is effected. The following remarks apply particularly to the apple, as I have never tried grafting the plum or pear on their own roots, (though I have the pear several times upon apple roots,) in the winter and boxing them-but I have of ten root-grafted them in the spring, and with the best success.

The roots for grafting must of course be secured in the fall, and should be fine, thrifty seedlings of at least two years growth, though our yearlings, which sometimes have roots nearly one half an inch thick, make as fine trees as I ever saw. In preparing the roots for packing I always cut off the tops abont six inches from the roots, in order to save room, and for convenience in handling them when grafting. The roots are packed in tight boxes in thick layers with moist earth amongst them, and between the layers; the boxes I keep in my cellar. The boxes for packing away the roots when grafted, I have twenty-four inches long, twelve wide and five and a half high on the inside, which should not be very tight, and will hold from six to 1,200, according to the size of the roots and the closeness with which they are packed. When ready to commence operations, I take a quantity of the roots, as many as are wanted during the day, and after trimming off all the side roots quite close

to the main root, say within one_fourth or one eighth of an inch, I proceed to cut them up in pieces from three to four inches in length-never longer-marking the upper ends of the roots if necessary, in order to distinguish them when cut up; and throwing the pieces into a pail of water. If desirable to cut very close, the upper piece need not have more than one inch of clear root upon it. In re gard to size-I have often been obliged to use roots not larger than a pipe stem, and where they were thrifty and perfectly sound, and set out under favorable circumstances, they have done well; still I greatly prefer larger. When the roots are cut, they are then washed by stirring and turning them a few minutes in the pail and changing the water once-leav ing them, when washed, in the water. I then take my scions, and after marking the name of the variety upon a little stake eight or nine inches long, (which I keep with them constantly, and in boxing put between the kinds,) I cut and prepare two or three hundred grafts ready for setting and pile them up. The grafts I have from three and a half to four and a half inches in length, and with a tongue as in splice grafting. The cut or slant at the lower end of the graft, on which the tongue is made, should not, with common sized scions, exceed about half an inch in length for various reasons; nor should it on the root.

When the grafts are prepared, the roots are taken from the water, and piled up with the upper ends all towards you. The roots, one by one, as I set them, are thus prepared with a tongue, and the grafts inserted. They are then spread out, so that the outside moisture may dry off, in order to have the grafting wax adhere. This is made by melting and stirring together four parts rosin, and a half beeswax, and one of tallow. I put it on warm, or while in a fluid state, and with a shaving brush, which is very neatly done. It is not by any means necessary to have it perfectly tight-a little put on the side where the bark of the root and scion meet, and on the root where cut, is all that is requisite. Many, if not the most of those who graft in the root, use waxed strips of cloth or paper, and some tie with strings, using no wax, but these in my experience are tedious and perfectly unnecessary operations. Last spring I set out above 20,000 in the way I speak

of, and with excellent success--indeed I have sometimes, when planting out from the boxes, taken out 500 without finding a single graft that had failed. After being waxed the roots are ready for boxing. The box is partly filled with fine earth, some of which is packed up against one end; I then take up some of the roots, and even the tops of a handful in my hand, and set them up slanting against the earth, beginning at the right hand side of the box, with the tops about two inches above it. In order to get the tops even, and keep the tiers separate across the box. I use a thin, narrow strip of board, which reaches over the box, and is placed behind every fresh tier whilst putting it in-and also a little punch to jam the earth down firm behind each tier, and next to the box. After placing the row, the dirt should be worked amongst the roots and packed snugly against them. There need be no fear of disjointing them, unless they are handled very roughly. When the box is full, it is set away in a cool cellar, where the mice cannot get at it.

In regard to their freezing, whilst thus boxed up, I have had no experience, but I have it from a first-rate nurseryman, who has tried the experiment several times, that it does not injure them in the least, even if they freeze and thaw out two or three times during the winterthat is, if they are well boxed. I do not think I should like to have them frozen after they had started to grow much, nor should I care about risking it any way if it could be avoided. When the boxes are exposed to the heat and light, and supplied with water, the shoots put out exceedingly rapidly, and hence they should not be thus exposed till about two weeks before setting, otherwise they will grow so long and weak that it will shock them severely when planted out. They should be set as early in the spring as the ground will admit-though I have known them set as late as the middle of May, and with shoots from six to eight inches in length, but not with the best success by any means. I prefer, however, for several reasons, to have the shoots two or three inches in length when planted out. They should be set in good mellow soil, and with the top of the scion an inch or two above the ground. The sprouts from the roots should all be taken off when they

are set.

I have grafted in the above manner for several years, and I believe with as good success as could be expected. I find, according to my books, (in which I keep regular lists of the varieties grafted each year, with the number set, also the number of each kind alive in the fall,) of one variety 137 set, and 124 lived; another, 204 and 190; 173, 165; 103, 102; this, to be sure, is better than the average, though no better than would have been under favorable circumstances, but we out-westers have to use such stocks as we can get.

Root grafting in this way can be done at any time after cold weather sets in, though I do not like to commence before Janaary, and should prefer waiting longer, or till February, if convenient, as it is rather difficult to keep them from starting too early, if done so long before spring. Should there be any roots or scions prepared that are not used the same day, they can be kept perfectly well in water over night, or even two or three days if necessary. The regular day's work grafting, as above, is 500, and it is not a hard task, after a little practice, where the tools and materials are good.

[Downing's Horticulturist.

THE ORCHARD.-How to increase the fruitfulness of orchards.' Alkaline or ammoniacal preparations have been applied to young trees, as well as to old ones, for the purpose of stimulating their growth, and accelerating their fruitfulness, such as whitewashing their trunks and branches, rubbing them with soapsuds, and spreading round their roots lime, gypsum, charcoal, soot, ashes, &c. If you apply it to vines, or to young apple trees, there is nothing that contrib utes more to make them bear an abundance of fruit; nor does this only produce a greater increase, but it also im proves both the taste and flavor of the wine and of the apples.-Amer. Agricul.

SUBSTITUTE FOR GLASS IN HOT HOUSES. -It consists of a chemical transparent water-proof composition, for rendering muslin, calico, or linen, for the frame of green houses, &c., impervious to rain or moisture, admitting light equal to glass, much warmer, and the plan's never burn under it. It is proof against hail storms, so frequently destructive to glass.-Bay State Farmer.