_To prevent smut in wheat._--Take four quarts of good lye, or a sufficient quantity to wet your seed, and add to it a bushel of wheat, stirring till the whole is alike wet, then sow it immediately, as the strong lye will injure the seed if delayed. The lye may be as strong as you can bare to sow without injury to the hand. A little tallow applied to the hand will prevent injury from the lye. I have continued this practice 12 years out of 20; and have never known it to fail of success. I have frequently made use of smutty wheat for seed, and found my crops perfectly free from smut. Much depends on having the lye sufficiently strong to take off the fuz on wheat. JOSIAH BENJAMIN. Berlin, April 26, 1820. _For preserving Eggs._--In March, put about half a pound of quick lime in a stone or earthen pot, and add a gallon of cold water;--next day fill the pot with new eggs, tie a paper over it and put the pot in a cool place. The eggs will be found perfectly good after being kept a year. It is quite necessary to keep lime in the walks of your hens, as it causes their laying eggs throughout the winter. FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE. EXTRACTED FROM THE MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS OF C. E. The following piece was handed about in manuscript, about the year 1776, and I do not know that it has been ever printed till now. It was said to be the production of the Rev. THOMAS COOMBE, a native Pennsylvanian, and about that time a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, in this city. C. E. A HYMN TO RESIGNATION. Oh! from that high and holy sphere, Where, thron'd in light, you dwell, Sweet maid, in all thy charms descend To gild my humble cell. Thy presence heightens every bliss, Draws out the sting of wo, Allures to brighter worlds above, And makes a heaven below. The pilgrim, roving all night long, Through dreary tracts forlorn, Oft sighs, oppress'd, and sighs again, The wish'd return of morn. As I in sorrow's gloomy night, Condemn'd awhile to stray, Look up with ardent eye to heav'n, And ask the devious way, O! screen me from surrounding ills, Let dangers ne'er annoy, The arrow that in darkness flies, Commissioned to destroy. Inconstant as the idle wind, That sports with every flow'r, When earthly friends by turns drop off, Friends of our brighter hour; Do thou, mild cherub, fill my breast, With all that's good and wise, Snatch me from earth's tumultuous scenes, And lead me to the skies. There kindred spirits ne'er deceive; Soul mingles there with soul; Sweet Sympathy and Truth are there, And Love cements the whole. More welcome to this sorrowing heart, Oh, pensive queen, thy strain, Than all the joys mad Riot gives To sooth the clamorous train.