Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME X.
terms:
The Madison Family Visitor is published
weekly (every Saturday morning,) at TWO
DOLLARS per annum, invariaUy in advance.
Fifty numbers in the year are mailed to euch
subscriber.
/>.• *Tnfltf MCfifi■ v must be given at the
expiration and all arrearages paid,
or subscribers held liable accordingly.
Subscribers wishing the direction of their paper
changed, will notify us from what office it is to be
transferred.
C'iJhmunlcntio.ts. — Addressed, post paid, to the
Mi Jison Family Visitor, with the author's name
in every instance.
*:*r“’All Job Work and other business in the
Printing line, will meet with prompt attention
and faithful execution.
Specimens of our Book, Card, Circular,
Bill and Programme Printing can be seen at the
Office.
Advertisements conspicuously inserted at per
•quare for the first and fifty cents per square for
each subsequent insertion. Those sent without a
specification of the number of insertions desired,
will be continued “ titl/nrUd .”
Notices of the sales of Land and Negroes, by
Administrators. Executors, or Guardians, must
be published forty days previous to the day of
sale
Notices for the sale of Personal Property must
be given at least ten days previous to the sale.
Notice to Debtors' and Creditors of an Estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the
Csurt of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes, must be published weekly fofTWO months.
Citation* for Letters of Administration must be
published thirty days—tor Dismission from Ad
ministration, MONTHLY Six MONTHS -for DisntiS
•ion from Guardianship forty days.
Bubs for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for Font months —for establish
ing lost papers, for the full space of three months
—for compelling titles from Executors «>r Admin
istrator*. where a bond has been given by the de
ceased, tho full space of THREE MONTI’S.
Publication.* will always he .continued accord
ing to these, the legal r -qu'.rcments, unless other
wise ordered.
[From, the ZouUpilU Journal] m
TIIE STAR AND THE LILY.
It was an evening calm and still,
As e’er held earth in sunny fold ;
The azure curtains of the sky
Were fringed with gleaming gem* of gold ;
The wandering airs of night grew faint
Upon the silver-lighted stream ;
The fragrant breath of roses came,
Like thoughts that weave a poet’s dream :
S .ft clouds wore fioa+ißg olf t.' play,
Like glorious birds just loose from Heaven,
While high above their fleecy folds
There gleamed a loving star of even.
Euch night his smiling rays came out,
And sought a lowly murmuring stream,
Along whose banks, soft fleeced with light,
Fair lilies drooped their heads to dream.
One lily, pule and dewy-eyed,
Woo’d by the moonlight colored air,
Poured from her heart the wistful love
That long had lain entangled there.
’Mid odors gleams, ami raiirimitings,
That to the shrine of night belong,
She breathed in fragrant, passioned sighs,
The love that thrilled her soul to song.
That loving star, so pure and bright,
Seemed cold and coy as maiden fears ;
Yet still she raised her heavenward eyes,
And brimmed her lily cup with tears.
And when his beams came trembling down
To kiss the wave that laved her feet,
She slowly drooped her snowy brow,
Till wave, and star, and lilly met;
That loving touch so wildly thrilled,
She wished nor prayed for greater bliss
Than fondly look the love she felt,
And nightly bend beneath his kiss.
When morning came, with blushing hues,
The star would pale upon her heart,
But nor the memory of liis beams—
They grew to be of life a part,
E eti in the garish hours of noon;
But daylight’s veil of golden hue
Concealed his loving smiles from her.
Thus passed the weary lagging hours—
Pale flower below, and star above,
Till pitying angel from the sky
Stooped down and blessed their dream of love.
He took the star-beams from their throne
And placed them in the lilly’s breast,
Where now no more they wandering roam,
But there forever sweetly rest.
A tiny vase of fragrance rare
Contains that glowing star of love;
Unfold its leaves, and nestling there,
Behold a snowy, spotless dove;
Enshrined within the lilly’s cup,
With folded wings and dewy eyes,
It seems to me a sacred thing,
An emblem sent from Paradise—
A beauteous type of woman’s love,
Deep bidden from the world apart;
A dove that never tries its wing,
But broods and nestles in the heart.
SONG.
Meet me by the running brook,
Where the drooping willow grows,
Meet me in the shady nook,
Where the silver waters flow.
Friends we love are broken hearted,
Smiles have flown and tears have started,
Since the time when last we parted,
In the days of long ago.
Meet me when the starlight plays
O’er the wavelets bright and low;
Tell of our youthful days,
E’er the heart knew pain or woe,
Joy will come to charm or leave us,
Lingering hope will still deceive us;
Life has nothing dark to grieve us,
In the days of long ago.
what’s honor?
Not to be captious, not unjustly fight;
’Tis to confess what’s wrong, and do what s right.
Cl Soitlp'vn 'TUcfkh) Litertmj emtr JllisecUtmcmts Soitrmil, for i\)i ijomc Circle.
A Sporting Adventure.
BY X BACKWOODSMAN.
I Lave often seen account of “hair
breadth ’scapes,” in cases, which
very wise people—who know nothing
about it—in more civilized places, have
charged to the marvellous, but which
we ot the woods—at least many of ns—
know to be not only possible, but highly
probable, and in some instances by sad
experience. In illustration of which, I
will endeavor to describe an adventure
of my own. In 1837 I resided on the
banks of the Mississippi, (C. W.,) as I
had done from my infancy. I was then,
about twenty years ago, stout and ath
letic, and passionately fond of wild
scenery and sporting adventures. The
month of October had arrived—the great
season for partridge and doe’r shooting;
and in accordance with my almost daily
custom, I sallied out with my fowling
piece—one barrel containing a ball, and
the other small shot. I had succeed
ed in bagging some small wares, and
in passing a creek, observed a racoon
busily employed turning over the stones,
in search of frogs, worms, &c. Without
giving the matter much thought, I suc
ceeded in removing “I’rn Minor” to
another if not a better world ; and being
rather corpulent to carry through the
woods, hung him upon a sapling, in
tending to send for him next day ;---iuid
as the part of the country in which I
was, did not afford very large game, 1
charged the second barrel with shot also.
I had proceeded perhaps a mile, and was
crossing the outskirts of a Tamarack
swamp, through a succession of narrow
and rocky glens, with high and preci
pitous sides, and had sprung from a
rather high rock into a rift of not more
than three feet wide, when I perceived
the eyes of an immense buck glaring at
me, at not. over ten feet distance. A
glance showed me that lie had no means
of escape except over myself; and aware
of the desperation of this otherwise timid
creature, under such circumstances, and
at this particular season, I formed my
resolution in an instant. I cocked both
locks, placet) my fingers on the triggers,
and resolved to wait his spring, as I did
not think my charges would injure him
except at the very muzzle. I knelt upon
one knee and watched his eye. All this
took place in a very tew seconds.
At length the haunches and ears
were drawn back, and with a tremendpus
snort, lie bounded in the air, with the
evident intention of descending upon me.
Quick as lightning both barrels were
discharged full into his breast, and I re
ceived a shock as if from a pile engine,
which deprived me of all sensation.—
About three hours after, as near as I
could judge bv comparing dates after
wards, I was brought to a state of partial
sensibility by something licking my face,
and something growling and scratching
my clothes; but being very faint, I did
not look up till the enormous paws tore
my flesh with them. Then, indeed, I did
look up—when what was my horror to
see a huge bear, coolly licking the blood
from my lacerated breast. Weakness
more than self-possession kept me still
a moment, while two half-grown cubs
were tearing and scratching my legs and
feet. The desperation of the case arous
ed me to sudden energy, and I slowly
stretched my left hand (my right arm
was broken) to my back for my hunting
knite, resolved, if such can be called a
resolution, to save my life, if possible. I
had got it drawn from the sheath, and
was watching a favorable opportunity to
plunge it into the brute’s throat, when,
with a frightful roar, it fell across my
body, apparently in the very agonies of
death. A fearful struggle ensued, w-hicli
soon put a stop to my feeble exertions.
When I next came to my senses, I
was seated, leaning against a rock, and a
stalwart Indian youth, who had been
my companion in many a hard day’s
hunt, was busily employed in binding
up my woutids with leaves and strips
torn from his own scanty garments.
Not being able to take me home that
night, he made a fire, and nursed me
MADISON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1856.
as a mother would a child, and next day,
carried me by easy stages to my parents.
It appeared that he had called for
me, but being told that I was only gone
a few minutes, thought he would make
up to me. He accidentally came to
where I had shot and hung up the
raccoon, but found that some bears had
broken the sapling and eaten up their
cousin. He then struck their trail, and
followed them to where ho saw the old
one apparently devouring something, he
did not know what, lie fired, and being
aware of their tenacity of life, waited to
re-load his rifle, ere he ventured to ad
vance—a sad job for me, as by its dying
struggles I have been maimed for life.
It is worthy of remark that the deer had
been so close upon me, when I fired,
that liis breast was singed, and that the
barrels of the gun wore found nearly
eight inches deep in the wound formed
by their own discharge, while I and the
stock had been driven upward of thirty
feet by the force of his spring.
Such are some of tho perils of the
backwoods spoilsman, and which, with
many others equally romantic, is an
“owre true tale,” as I and many others
know by hard experience.
2.40!!
.Charley was a young husband—alms
band of.six weeks only. Intends going
to on business of importance
Time short—Train starts at 2:40, pre
cise!//.
“ Angeline,my dear, are my shirts laid
out? I want to pack’em in my trunk.”
Angeline, my dear, (lolling on the
sofa.) —“ No, they ain’t, Charley. I can’t
do everything and practice my music
besides. You’ll find them in the top
drawer of the bureau, I guess.”
Charley plunges his hands and head
in the drawer. “Gracious, Angy, they
aint here—and I can’t find any clean
pocket handkerchiefs—and the collars,
deuce take it, are without strings 1”
Angeline, in a dozy reverie. “Charley,
you are too tiresome—you know I can’t
sew on collar strings ; and now I remem
ber, I gave out all your shirts this mor
ning to the laundress.”
Husband of six weeks, (blubbering
like a soda fount.) —“Only this mor
ning! You knew a week ago I was to
go travelling this morning ! What am
Ito do for a shirt, madam ? Must I go
to with the shirt Nature gave
me ? I tell you, Madam, you must alter.
Do you hear? You must alter 1”
Angeline, (contemptuously.) “Shirts!
buttons 1 strings 1 Go buy a dozen 1 As
for you, sir, you are a lior-hor horrid
b-bru-brute, sir, and I’ll g-g-go ho-home
to my m-ina-mamma, that—that I will,
sir.” Ccrtes.
Young Husband, (looking at his
watch ) —“ Ten minutes past 2. Train
starts at 2:40. Your Ma be a-hum 1
She’s an old cat, and you’re a kitten—go
to your Mamma, puss. You’re a sweet
span, very I”
(Throws some things in his trunk.
Calls a porter, and hastens to the railroad
station, revolving in his mind whether
“’twere better to bear the ills” he has
or fly to some wild mountain and be a
hermit. Angeline screams and falls on
the sofa, crushing the poor poodle hid
under the cushion—concert a la howl.
Charley reaches station at 2:41f —hears
the steam-whistle blow its horrid blast
just a mile on its way. Feels just like a
man a little too late. Wonders if all
men have their shirts ready. Wends
his way home slowly, and finds his wife
playing and singing at a terrible 2:40
rate : “ The laddie that wooed me in the
meadows green /”
Slave Difficulty.— A number of
Slaves made their escape from the bor
der counties of Kentucky on the 28tli
ult. An attempt was made to arrest
them in Cincinnati, when the slaves
fired and slightly wounded several spec
tators. A slave woman cut the throat
of one of her own children, killing it
instantly. Several of their number were
wounded. Six were arrested, and eight
escaped.
A Touching Incident.
A little girl, in a family of ray ac
quaintance, a lovely and precious child,
lost her mother at an _ige tjsa»fiurly to
fix tho lovely features in her remem
brance. She was as frail as beautiful,
and as the bud of her heart unfolded, it
seemed as if won l>3 r that mother’s prayer
to turn instinctively heavenward. Tho
sweet, conscientious, prayer-loving child
was the idol of the bereaved family. She
would lie upon the lap of the friend who
took a mother's case of her, and, wind
ing the wasted arm around her neck,
would say : “ Now tell me about mam
ma?” And when the oft-told tale had
been repeated, would softly ask, “ Take
me into the parlor, I want to see my
mamma.” The request was never re
fused; and the affectionate child would
lie for hours, contentedly gazing on her
mother’s portrait. But
“ Palo and wan she grew, and weakly
Hearing all her pain so meekly,
That to them she still grew dearer,
As the trial hour drew nearer.”
That hour had come tit, last, and the
weeping neighbors assembled to sco the
little one die. The dew of death was
already-on the flower as its life sun was
going down. The little chest heaved
faintly—spasmodically.
“■ Do you know me, darling ?” sobbed
close in her ear tho voice that was dear
est; but it awoke no answer.
All at once a brightness, as if from the
upper world, hurst over the child’s color
less countenance. The eyelids flashed
open, the lips parted, the wan cuddling
hands flew up, in the little one’s last
impulsive effort, as she looked piercing
into the far above.
“Mother!” she cried, with surprise
and transport in her tone—and passed
with that breath into her mother's
bosom.
Said a distinguished divine, who stood
by that bed of joyous death :
“ If I had never believed in (he minis
tration of departed ones before, 1 could
not doubt it now !”
“Peace I leave with you,” said the
said the wisest Spirit that ever passed
from earth to heaven. Let us ha at
peace, amid the 1 spirit mysteries and
questionings on v hich 1 [is eve shall soon
shed the light of eternity. —National
Era.
Fish with a Steel Thai-. —One of
our merchants who has an eye to the
interests of the trade, has invented anew
mode of catching black fish, namely,
with a steel trap. It has proved itself
so valuable an operation, that all our
fishermen are providing themselves with
steel traps. And the demand for the
article is greater than the supply. The
instrument used is of tho old fashioned
kind, with iron teeth closing together.
The modus operandi is decidedly unique.
Hie trap is set and baited, properly pro
vided with a sinker, and let into the
water. An ominous click below denotes
the amusement at hand ; the fish tries
to steal the bait, but immediately the
trap steals the fish, when he is drawn up
to the surface, often three at a time,
and at the rate of ono a minute. The
returns for one day’s sport are reported
at above a hundred. This is certainly
an age of progress and steel traps.—
New Haven Register.
Ludicrous Mistake.— A Washing
ton correspondent of the Baltimore Clip
per says that Gpy, Sr., of the National
Hotel, and Gen. Cass are so much alike
’tis hard to tell tother from which.
Last week a gentleman coming down
the stairs cried out:
“Guy, I can’t stand this—being put
in tho third story; having to tramp
three flights of stairs every time I go to
my room! ”
“Sir! it is not Guy, but Gen. Cass
you address,” was the reply.
Gent, appologized and went out —
soon returned—thought he certainly saw
Guy, Sr., before him, and exclaimed:
“Guy! Guy! a good joke—l mistook
old Cass for you just now.”
“Sir,” said tho General bluffly, “ vou
meet Old Cass again 1 ”
Hard of Hearing.—A Love
Story.
A young Jonathan once courted tho
daughter of an old man that lived “down
east,” who professed to be deficient in
hearing, but forsooth, was more captious
than limited in hearing, as the sequel
will show.
It was a stormy night in the ides of
March, if I mistake not, when lightning
and loud peals of thunder answered
thunder, and Jonathan sat by the old
man’s fireside, discussing with the old
lady, (his intended mother in-law,) on
the expediency of asking tho old man’s
permission to marry “Sal.” Jonathan
resolved to “pop it” to tho old man
next day. Night passed, and on the
dawn of another day, the old man was
found in liis barn lot, feeding his pigs.
Jonathan rose from his bed early in the
morning, spied the old man feeding his
pigs, and resolved to ask him for Sal.
Scarce had a minute elapsed, after
Jonathan made his resolution, ere he bid
the old man “good morning.” Now,
Jonathan’s heart beat; now he scratched
his head, and ever and anon gave birth
to a pensive yawn. Jonathan declared
that he’d as lief lake “thirty-nine
stripes” as to ask tho “old man ;” but,
said he aloud to himself, “ however, here
goes it, a faint heart never won a fair
girl,” and addressed tho old man thus:
“I say, old man, I want to- marry
your daughter.”
“You want to borrow my halter. I
would loan il to you, Jonathan, but my
son has taken it and gone off to tho
mill.”
Jonathan, putting his mouth close to
tho old man’s ear, and speaking in a
deafening tone, “I’ve got five hundred
pounds of money 1”
Old man, stepping hack, as if greatly
alarmed, and exclaiming in a voice of sur
prise, “ You have got, five hundred
pounds of honey, Jonathan ? Why, it
is more than nil the neighborhood has
use fur 1”
(Jonathan, not yet the victim of de
spair, and putting his mouth to the old
man’s ear, bawled out) “ I’ve got gold.”
“So have I, Jonathan, and it is the
worst cold I ever Ifad in my life.” So
saying, he sneezed a “ wash up.”
By this time tho old lady came up,
and observing Jonathan’s unfortunate
luck, she put her mouth to the old man’s
car, and screamed like a wounded Ya
hoo—
“Daddy, I say Daddy—you don’t un
derstand ; lie wants to marry our
daughter.”
“I toid him our calf halter was gone.”
“ Why, Daddy, you didn't understand
—lie’s got gold !—lie’s rich !”
“lie’s got cold ur.d the itch, eh! —
What’s he doing here with the itch,eh!”
So saying, the old man aimed a blow at
Jonathan’s head with his cane—but
happily for Jonathan, he dodged it. Nor
did the rage of the old man stop at this,
but with angry countenance, ho made
after Jonathan, who took to bis heels;
nor did Jonathan’s luck stop here, ho
had not got out of the barn yard, nor
far from the old man, who run him a
close race, before Jonathan stumped his
toe, and fell to the ground, and before
the old man could “take up,” lie stum
bled over Jonathan, and fell sprawling
in a mud hole. Jonathan sprung to his
heels, and with the speed of John Gilpin,
cleared himself. And poor Sal she died
a nun, and never had a husband.
A writer in the Knickerbocker Maga
zine suggests that in all probability the
bird of wisdom called owl was intended
to be called howl, but the first eoeknev
who ’eard ’iin ’oot got k’exasperated and
dropped the h’aitch. H’ornithologists
and h’entymologists will please notice
and correct tUHr works h’accordingly.
Horace Mann, in a speech recently
delivered by him, says that “a dying
miser will pinch a dimo until tlio eagle
upon it screams.” Unluckily, however,
for the learned gentleman’s accuracv,
there is no eagle on a dime.
Excelsior.
Higher! is a word of noble meaning,
the inspiration of all great deeds—the
sympathetic chain that leads, link by
link, the impassioned soul to its zenith of
glory, and still holds its mysterious ob
ject standing among the stars.
Higher! lisps the infant that clasps
its parent’s knees, and makes its feeble
essay to riso from the floor—it is the
first inspiration of childhood—to burst
the narrow confines of the cradle in
which its sweet moments have been pass
ed forever.
Higher 1 laughs the proud school boy
at his wings, as he climbs the tallest tree
af the forest, that he may look down on
liis less adventurous companions with a
flush of exultation, and abroad over the
fields of his native village. He never
saw so extended a prospect before.
Higher 1 earnestly breathes the stu
dent of philosophy and nature; he has a
host of rivals, but he must eclipse them
all. The midnight oil iu his lamp burns
dim, but he finds light and knowledge
in the lamps of heaven, and his soul is
never weary when the last is hid behind
the curtains of the morning.
And higher 1 his voice thunders forth,
when the dignity of manhood has invest
ed his form, and the multitude is listen
ing with delight to his oracles burning
with eloquence and ringing like true
steel in the cause of freedom and right.
But when time has changed lii« locks to
silver, and when the world-wide renown
is his; when the maiden gathering flow
ers by the roadside, and the boy in the
field, bow in reverence as he passes, and
the peasant looks to him with honor
can ho breathe forth from his heart the
fond wish of the past 1
Higher yet! lie has reached the apex
of earthly honor, yet his spirit burns as
warm as in youth, though with a steadier
and paler light, and it would borrow
wings and soar up to high heaven, leav
ing its tenement to moulder among the
laurels he has wound around it, for the
never-ending glory to be reached only
in the presence of tho Most High !
A Man Saved by iiis Wife’s Corpse.
—Mr. Walters, a passenger on the
steamer Anthony Wayne, was taking
from Chicago back to Philadelphia the
remains of a fond and loving wife, to be
buried among her relations and friends.
During the trip the ill-fated boat explo
ded her boilers, killing nearly every one
on board.—Mr. W. was lifted several
hundred feet into the air, and fell into
the water almost lifeless. Tho night
was dark and dreary, and in his strug
gles to keep himself afloat he acciden
tail}' struck against a box to which he
clung all night long with desperation.
When daylight appeared he discovered
that tho box which had saved liis life
contained the corpse of his wife.
The object of all true education is to
vitalize knowledge. Some teachers in
struct their scholars very thoroughly,
who never educate them at all. They
teach them to commit the rules of their
arithmetic or grammar by heart, but
never lead them to comprehend a single
principle, make them learn thousands of
names of places, without giving them an
idea of geography.
Good Excuse.
A doctor had a friend whom ho was
accustomed to meet every day, but at
length the latter avoided him, and the
doctor could never get near enough to
speak a word to him. But one day
happening to come suddenly on his
friend, the doctor saluted him with—
“ llow comes it, my friend, that I
never get to see you of late; that you
try to get out of my way 3”
“ Why, the fact is,” he replied, “1
bav'nt been sick for so long, that I am
ashamed to meet a doctor.”
Why are the ladies of the present day
like the iiilies of the scriptures ? Because
they toil not, neither do they spin ; yet
Solomon in ail his glory was not arrayed
like one of them.
NUMBER 7
Hard Shell Wit.
Rev. ■ ■ - ■ Nicodemus, an aged ex
pounder of the Hard Shell faith, was
recently indicted upon two counts by the
brethren of his church.
The first was, that he had officiated
at a Methodist meeting; and the second,
that, in speaking of the fleetness of a
certain old race horse, he had said,
“Scoredouble would Jly," which they
thought was, to say the least, a flagrant
perversion of facts.
Nicodemus was tried, found guilty,-
and suspended. He appealed, prayed a
new trial, and asked to be heard in his
own defence. This was granted, where
upon lie said : “ I confess to you, my
breetliering, that I did say old Score
double would fly, but my meanin’, ao
cordin’ to the tex, was, that agreeable
to natur, he must soon- die in the flesh,-
and then under the wings of vultures be
would fly ! And I did, my flock and
breetliering, attend a Methodis meetin’;
for the tex says, ‘ feed ray sheep.' The
Methodis, so called, invited me into thsiv
pulpit. I went up, my breethering. —
When they were done, they asked me
to dismiss the kongregashun. It being,
to dismiss and cut oft' the work of the
Devil, my breetliering; methought if
would be doing the Master’s service. So
I dismissed them, my breethering. If it
had been to continue, Nicodemus would
not have been tliar, my breethering!"
Nicodemus was acquitted joyfully, and
ho was bid by the “breethering" to go 1
forth again and “feed the sheep.” *
Very Dry Doctrine. —On board the
Cunard steamers divine service is read l
every Sunday morning. A passenger
one Sunday asked one of the crew, “Are
you obliged to attend to public worship!"
‘ Not exactly obliged, sir,” replied Jack,
“ but we would loose our grog if we
didn’t.”
“We’ve been Swimming.” —“Sara,
where have you been ?”
“ We’ve been swimming, father."
“We 2 who’s been swimming with
you?”
“Nobody, sir.”
“Well, but you said “we’ve bee#
swimming,” did’nt you ?”
“We’ve been swimming, father!"
“Who did you swim with, then, you
young rascal ? ”
“ Me, father,” said the pert urohin,
“ why, I swam with the tide.”
Here the youngster hardly dodged •
potato sent at his head.
—
Dobbs says that beauties generally
die old maids. They set such a value
on themselves they don’t find a purchaser
till the market is closed. Out of a dozen
beauties who have come out in the last
few years, eleven, ho says, still occupy 1
single beds. They spend their day*
working green dogs on yellow wool
while their evenings are devoted to low
spirits and Tupper’s Philosophy.
A man in California, under the sen
tence of death by hanging, asked the
shcrifTthe evening previous to his ex
ecution, “ I say, sheriff, at what hour i»
that little affair of mine to come off.”
Conclvsive. —We cut the following,
which appears as a P. S. to a certificate
to the efficacy of a certain cure-all med
icine, from the Philadelphia Mercury.
It is perfectly decisive of the merits of
the medic'ne:
P. S. My Uncle, Bacchus Pottinger,
was afflicted so long with the gout,
(contracted by living too much on boat's
meat aud alligator’s eggs,) that life be
came a burden to him. He took only
four boxes of said pills and his life waa
a burden to him no longer.
A painter having turned physician,
was asked the reason. “ Because my
former business exhibited my mistakes
in too glaring a manner. I have now
chosen one in which they will all b#
buried.”
Wadded comforts are poor substitute*
for wedded wives.