_Receipt to make Yeast._--Three gallons water, two quarts loose hops, boiled together about three hours in brass or bell metal, strain them off from hops, and at once stir in a quart of flour. When cool stir in a pint of good yeast, and half a pound of brown sugar, to remain open in a piggin or jar 15 or 20 hours, and to be stirred often. Put it then in stone jugs about three fourths full, cork them well and place them in a cool situation. Your jugs ought to be of such a size only to contain yeast for the usual quantity of bread baked at a time. One gill of yeast is sufficient for a common sized loaf of bread, that is made from a plate full of flour. _Boots without Seams._--A patent has lately been obtained for the manufacture of boots without seams.--For this purpose, the patentee proposes that the thigh of the beast should be flayed without cutting open, and afterwards dressed and curried upon blocks. The boot top upon the same principle is to be made of the shoulder, prepared in like manner. FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE. The stanzas inserted below are ascribed, it is believed with correctness, to the pen of the late Governor HOWELL, of New Jersey. The occasion which gave rise to them, was that of his leaving home to join the army which was embodied to suppress the Western Insurrection. They breathe a delicacy of feeling, and a warmth of attachment, alike honourable to the author as a husband and a man. They likewise illustrate, very forcibly, the true character of WAR, whose approach is witnessed with sadness and sorrow, by all the endearing charities of domestic life. I. THE SOLDIER'S ADIEU. Ah! Clara, cease--those silent tears Steal down thy cheeks in vain; Kind hope shall chase away thy fears, Till I return again: But wheresoe'er our route shall be, My heart shall still encamp with thee. Why should we lose the single hour, Which time accords to love, Suppress that sigh, I own its power, Yet joy from hope improve: But wheresoe'er our route shall be, My heart shall still encamp with thee. Let no foreboding fears alarm That regulated mind, Thy innocence shall shield from harm Thy soldier far disjoined: But wheresoe'er our route shall be, My heart shall still encamp with thee. Let idle tales of fancied wo, Ne'er wake for me a fear, Since honour calls, prepared I go, Yet dread that parting tear: But wheresoe'er our route shall be, My heart shall still encamp with thee. Start not my fair!--that morning gun Proclaims 'tis dawn of day, And now the Reveille's begun, To hail the morning grey: But wheresoe'er our route shall be, My heart shall still encamp with thee.