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THE
Hill be published, every SATURDAY Morning
In the Brick Building, at the Corner of
Cotton Avenue and First Street,
IS THE CITY OF MACON, GA.
BY WM. B. IIAKBISON.
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if not paid in advance, $3 50, per annum.
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sired is not specified, they will be continued un
til forbid and charged accordingly.
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with upon the most favorable terms.
ifj*Sales of Land by Administrators, F.xecutors
or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours
of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af
ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which
the Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must
be given in a public gazette sixty days previous
to the day of sale.
O’Sales of Negroes by Administators, F.xecu
tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on,
the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal
hours of sale, before the Court House of the county
where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration
or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv
ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub
lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
Court House where such sales are to be held.
O’Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
be given in like manner forty days previous ter
the day of sale.
(L7*Notice to the Debtors and Creditors oian Es
tate must be published for forty days.
ry Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes must be published in a public gazette in this
.State for four months, before any order absolute
can be given by the Court.
for Letters of Administration on
a n E-date, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must
bo published thirty days —for Letters of Dismis
sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly
for six months— for Dismission from Guardian
ship FORTY DAYS.
rj*llut.F.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,'
must be published monthly for four months —
for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of
three months —for cpsnpelling Titles from Ex
ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond
has been given by the deceased, the full space of
THREE MONTHS.
N. 11. All Business of this kind shall recciv
prompt attentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM
Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal
Advertisements arc published according to Law.
O’ All I .etters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in
sure attention. /jD
“A L.I I' t'Lild liotii; GRAPE.”
rjAllE undersigned, true to his promise, again
t presents to the Public more data on which
they can safely base their calculations relative
to the respective merits of the depleting system
of the disciples of Esculapius, and of that invig
orating and phlogestic one of which he is proud
to be the advocate.
Leaving the stilts of egotism and shaftsof rid
iculo for the use of those who have nothing bet
ter to stand on, and no other weapon* for attack
or defence, he selects his standing on truth, and
uses such support only as merit gives him ; and
for weapons, he chooses simply to assail the
ranks of the enemy occasionally with “a little
more grape,” in the form of facts,which are evi
dently the hardest kind of arguments since they
often administer to his quiet amusement by the
terrible destruction they cause among the stilts
and the ludicrous effect they produce in causing
certain individuals to laugh, as it is expressed in
homely phrase, “on t’other side the mouth .”
The Mexicans are not the only people, these
days, whom vanity has blinded to their own de
fects ; neither can they claim much superiority
in the way of fancied eminence and blustering
bravado over many that live a great deal nearer
home. A salutary lesson has latterly been giv
en the former by the Americans, and the latter
may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala
mode dc Tat,lor.
After the following there will still be “ a few
mote left.”
Georgia, Jones County, alß4B.
This certifies that for more than four or five
years my wife was afflicted with a disease pecu
liar to her sex, and notwithstanding all that we
could do, she still continued to get worse. The
Physicians in attendance had exhausted their
skill without rendering her any assistance till,
in 1844, when she Was confined to her bed in a
very low condition, I got her last attendant to go
with me to Macon and lay her case before Dr.
M. S. Thomson, who, without having seen her,
prescribed and sent her medicine that soon re
lieved her, and in the course of a short time re
stored her to permanent health. She has now
been well about four years and rejoices in the
recovery of her long lost health
FRANCIS B. HASCAL.
Macon. June 22d, 1848.
Dr. M. S. Thomson — Dear Sir :—Deeming it
a duty I owe to yourself as well us to the afflicted
generally, I have concluded to give you a short
statement of my case, which you are at liberty to
publish if you think that the best modeoftliereby
subserving the interests of suffering humanity.
In May 1841, after considerable exposure to
cold, I was attacked with Asthma, which pros
trated me very much, and notwithstanding all
that could be done to prevent it, it continued to
return about every two weeks till in 1846, I ap
plied to you. Between these attacks I bad a very
severe cough, which led some of the physicians
to whom I applied to believe that I had consump
tion. I applied to physicians of both the Min
eral and Botanic schools, of eminent general
qualifications, but all to no benefit, for I contin
ued to got worse, so much so that I had reduced
from being a strong, fleshy man, down to a mere
skeleton and could hardly creep about.—When
I applied to you, I had hut little faith in being
cured, though I had witnessed some wonderful
results following your treatment, especially the
cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil
la Phelps, in Jasper, yet they gave me confi
dence and by persevering in the use of your
remedies, and as it were hoping against hope,
~a i" n J uc h gratified in being able to announce
'at 1 have got entirely well, for I have had but
ciht U attack in twenty months, and that was
V lntlnl hs ago. I have now regained about
°( mcr weight, and feel as strong as almost
>• nan °ffifty-one, which is my age. Without
»l'! r ‘ l ß einc ut to the characterofthe othercures
•; ~ ,l) e so frequently resulted from your prac
te- ’ not think that any of them can beat
C ’ 01 confirmed Asthma combined with a
has w™? j PC i cou ßfr» especially where the flesh
elm. i , bas long been classed among the in
tables. Most respectfully,yours,
11. LIGHTFOOT.
Jiic ci Un ' ° rs 'B ne< 3 still continues to treat Cliro
thc pit CS { rom a distance at his office,or either of
throinrh .1 : ar< *’ n .S houses, and at a distance
who dm 16 r ? mii or hy private hand. Those
at)i v . 1 require personal attention, are treated
usual .nl . rS por month ’ those who do, at the
Pay must Grale rate , s ‘ Those who are able to
our tom to ?°»without variation from
those wl!r’ Un ess " distinct bargain is made,
l.ctUrs , are , r V >t ’ w 'll be treated gratuitously.
»t«st be post-paid, and addressed
feb 3 M. S.THOMSON, M. D.
Macon, Gu
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM
VOLI’iTIE I.
$ o e t r g.
THE WASDEREK’S RETCRJT.
Air —Old Virginny's Shore.
The day was gone, and the night was dark,
And the howling winds went by’,
And the blinding sleet fell thick and fast
From a stern and stormy sky,
When a mournful wail through the rushing gale,
Was heard at the cottage door—
O ! carry me back—O ! carry me back
To my mother's home once more.
’Tvvas a youth who had left his mountain home,
He had wandered far and long ;
He had drained the goblet's fiery tide,
At the festal midnight throng.
But a dream of home came o’er his heart,
As he crept to the cottage door—
O ! carry me back—O ! carry me back
To my mother's home once more.
I have left the hall of the tempter’s power,
And the revel wild and high—
They cared not in their reckless mirth
If I wandered alone to die.
Doth the fire still burn on the household hearth*
By the elm-tree old and hoar ?
O ! carry me back—O! carry me back
To my mother’s home once more.
Like the weary bird that has wandered long,
I will seek my mountain nest,
And lay this aching head once more
On my gentle mother’s breast.
Once more will I seek the household hearth,
By the elm-tree old and hoar—
O! carry me back—O ! carry me back
To my mother's home once more.
[lt is a fortunate thing that such melodious
airs as the above are rescued from oblivion, by
adapting them to words worthy of the music.
No reader of taste orjudgeme.nl will hesitate to
prefer the beautiful lines above, to the coarse,
senseless doggerel contained in the original.
Ed. Museum ]
THEY CAN’T POOL ME !
“Suspicion is a heavy armor, and
With its own weight impedes us more.’’
Billy Keene’s peculiar boast was the
utter impossibility of bis being hoaxed, or
in his more expressive phraseology, fooled.
They can’t fool me! was ever at his
tongue’s end, and so evident were his at
tempts to impress this fact upon all with
whom he had anything to and >, that he not
unf i equently made a fool of himself!
Billy always made a point of express
ing his disbelief of everything, however
plausible, that reached bis ears, which,
by the way, were exceedingly easy of ac
cess, being not more than five feet two
inches from the ground, when their owner
stood upon his feet.
Suspicion was always the one idea in
his mind : he sus[)ected every one of some
abortive design to gull him—from the
most respectable friend down to poor old
Isaac, who bad no more idea of a practi
cal joke, than a polar bear might be ex
pected to have of a baby-jumper.
Billy was not naturally hard-hearted,
but he was so suspicious that he turned
twenty beggars from bis door, where lie
relieved the necessities of one. In vain
was the imploring eyes raised, and the
wasted hand extended to him for alms.—
The more piteous, the more evident it
was to him a hoax. It all sounds very pi
tiful, he would exclaim, but I’ve seen too
much ofthe world—l’ve heard too much
such stuff—it’s no use—you can’t fool me!
and the wretched mendicant was compell
ed to seek in other quarters for that charity
which believeth all things, which thinketh
no evil.
Billy was once married, but it was a
long time ere he was fooled into a state of
double blessedness, yet (as be himself ac
knowledged,) be often met with hair
breadth escapes before he was finally
booked. We recollect bis boasting once
during bis bachelorship, that Emma 8.,
the only daughter of a neighboring mer
chant, was endeavoring to ensnare him
into the matrimonial noose. He was ma
king the boast to bis particular friend.
Other people don’t notice it, said he, but
it is as plain as day to me. She thinks I
don’t see her plan ! ha ! ha ! she can’t
fool me ! Folks say her father will give
her a cool ten thousand ; humbug! if she
has got the spoons, why should she be so
anxioustoget into my good graces? that’s
the question ! She is rather pretty to be
sure, but I wonder if she thinks I believe
her complexion and teeth ate natural.—
Guess she’ll find I ain’t quite so verdant
as she thinks 1 am. No sii, she can’t fool
me.
Billy accompanied these words with a
sly wink of peculiar expression, and gave
no little cause of astonishment to his
MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY lUORIVIMG, JULY 14, IS 19.
friend, who for reasons best known to
himself, was aware that the young lady
was of any such intention as Bil
ly injjviked to her. Billy was no less as
tonishe*i*Uext dgy, at hearing of the mar
riage f* iris fn’ehd e&rly that morning, with
the idefitldafEjniria 8., whose ten proved
to
al charms were all natural, maugre Bill’s
expectations. His friend found in Emma
a lovely and devoted wife, while he, still
wrapped in his “heavy armor,” remained
a bachelor.
But at length, as we have already told
you, our hero was married. How any
daughter of Eve managed to fool him into
a union is now, and ever must remain a
profound mystery. We are certain, how
ever, that he was married, for wo found
him at fifty, a widower, with an only
daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen.
Our worthy friend was proud of his
daughter Mary, and well indeed he might
be : for she had a sweet, lovely face, and
a faultless form, and there was a world of
mirthfulness and mischief in her sparkling
eyes. Nor was it strange that others
should love her besides her suspicious old
father, who could be fooled. There was
a village rumor, (and we cannot deny that
Madam Rumor for once told the truth,) of
a warm attachment between Mary and
Edward Seymour, of whom all spoke in
the highest terms of praise. All com
mended his good nature, frankness and
ability ; but as Billy always stemmed the
current of public opinion, he had the pen
etration to perceive that these lauded vir
tues were all moonshine : that in their es
timation.of feeymour, the world were all
wrong, and he obstinately opposed the
union. He was inexorable, and finally
Mary, out of respect to him, yielded an
appaient compliance to his wishes, and
Se\ mour s visits and communications were
discontinued, and though she tried to ap
pear as mirthful and happy as ever, yet
her heart was ill at ease, and her im
prisoned love would betray itself in her ev
ery look and action.
At length Edward, whose “hopes never
died, ’ laid a plan for possessing himself of
Mary s hand—indeed the desperate and
almost hopeless prospect of fooling old
Billy Keene ! Did he succeed I Have
patience, reader, and you shall hear all.
One sultry July afternoon, a pale faced
gentleman, whom Billy remembered to
have seen in the street, but with whom he
had no acquaintance, called at bis bouse
and requested to see him immediately on
“important buiiness.” He was showed
by Mary into tbo parlor, and our hero
soon entered.
The pale faced young gentleman first
introduced himself, and then the object of
his visit.
“I nave an unpleasant disclosure to
make Mr. Keene, which is of the greatest
importance to you and to the happiness
of your daughter. You are of course a
ware that Edward Seymour has succeed
ed in making his friends believe that he
has given up all hopes of marrying your
daughter; this is merely to fool your sus
picions, but I am confident you have too
much acuteness to believe it.”
“Certainly,” said Billy, highly gratified,
“go on, he can’t fool me !”
“Well, as I was going to remark, my
room at the Eagle is next to Seymour’s,
and this morning I overheard him relating
in high glee, to someone in his room, a
plan for over-reaching you! and eloping
with Miss Mary. I detest eaves-dropping,
but he was talking in a loud tone, and his
door was a little way open—so it was
forced upon me.”
“Ha! ha!” roared Billy, “he can’t fool
me ! the poor idiot. I should like to see
him try it; how is he going to do it 1"
‘‘His plan,” said the pale face, “is deep
ly laid, but he is a fool to imagine that he
can deceive you by any contrivance of his
brain. Ho has employed a little black
boy who brushes boots and does odd jobs
at the Eagle to call at your house after
dark this evening, with directions to tell
you your sister Jemima has been taken
of her old complaint, and wishes you to
come to Pineville, to see her immediately,
and while you are gone they will go to
Jones’ and be married.”
“I’ll teach ’em to try to fool me !”
“I know, sir, that you could not have
been duped by two such green ones, even
it 1 had not discovered their plan to you,
but at the same time, (if I might presume
so far as to offer my advice,) I think that
you had better pretend to believe the yarn
about your sister’s illness, ajid, under co- j
ver of going to Pineville proceed straight
to ‘Jones’ Tavern,’ wait for the runaways
break up their plan, cover them with con
fusion, and bring your daughter home.—
This will convince them forever of what
they ought already to know, that they
might as well give in that they can’t fool
you !”
“Capital idea!” said Billy, “much in
debted to you, sir. You’re right, they—
they can’t fool me ! Good day.”
“Good day, sir.”
Billy indulged in an immoderate fit of
laughter, when his pale faced visiter was
gone. So Edward Seymour was going to
fool me, was he ?ha ! ha ! I guess he’ll
find me a tough one, though : guess he
can’t be fooled so'easy neither! and so
deuced kind in him too, to put me on my
gua.tl. He’s a gentleman and no mistake.
The afternoon, dark and cloudy, soon
passed away and after it came a black
night, and a black boy. Billy heard the
message of the latter with well counter
feited concern for Jemima’s illness, and
bidding old Isac saddle his mare, was soon
on the road to Jones.’
The night was black, and a drizzling
rain chilled bis bones, but still lie mut
tered to himself, as he slapped his arms
together, to accellerate the tardy circula
tion. Cracky, how they’ll look when they
find me waiting for them at Jones.’
Spose they think I’m half way to Pineville
by this time. Ha ! ha! guess Jemima aint
very bad. They can’t fool me !
“Why bless my soul, Mr. Keene, what
brought you here in this storm 1” asked
the burly Jones, as our worthy friend,
drenched to the skin, reined the old mare
up at the door. His only answer was,
“you’ll see something presently, Mr. Jones
that will tickle some, I calculate; they
can’t fool me.
The old mare was soon in the comforta
ble stable, while the owner pacing the
bar-room floor only uttered at intervals,
“you’ll see some sport presently Mr. Jones
—they can’t fool me.”
An hour passed away—another—elev
en o’clock and no carriage.
That pale faced jackass couldn’t have
been fooling me could he I thought the
suspicious Billy. No by jingo—here they
come. Now Mr. Jones, if you want to
see rare fun, just step to the door—they
can’t fool me.
The carriage rattled up to the door in
furious haste; the driver reined in the
reeking horses, and sprang from his seat;
the steps were thrown down, Edward
leaped out, assisted Mary to alight, and
Squire Curtis followed. Billy concealed
himself behind the door, until the happy
trio were in the sitting room—then with
an air of triumph, he very cooly walked in
exclaiming, “Smart set you be ! thought
you could fool me, did you ? ha! ha ! ha !
Miss Jack-a-napes, you had better put your
bonnet on again, sister Jemima aint dan
gerous, and its pretty late, so we’d better
be getting towards home, ha ! ha ! fool me
will you 1”
Mr. Keene looked around to see what
effect his unexpected appearance had pro
duced ; Mary did not as might have been
expected, faint away on the occasion, but
stopping forward half weeping, half smi
n g, she broke the awful pause with “I’m
ready to go now pa ; but first let me intro
duce you to my husband Edward Sey
mour; we were married at home an hour
after you started. It was so kind in you
to go and leave us to make our own ar
rangements that we thought it would be
too bad to make you ride home on horse
back in this storm, so we came to fetch
you back and offer you a seat in our car
riage. Now you’ll forgive us, wont you
pa 1”
“Im sold, give me your hand,” said the
crest-fallen Billy. “Give me your hand
Seymour. This is the first time I ever was
fooled, and you are the first person who
could ever fool me. God bless you, my
son,” said the old man, affected to
tears, you’ve done what no man ever could
do—you’ve fairly fooled me, you’ve won
her, and you are worthy of her.”
The remainder of the scene, our pen,
though made of the stoutest steel, is too
feeble to describe. Old Jones, who had
been a wonderful spectator of the singu
lar meeting, shook hands with Billy, as
sured him that he had seen much more
fun than he anticipated; and when the
wedding party started home, Mr. K. re
cognized by the coach light, the pale faced
young man,transformed into a driver.
Our hero is still living, surrounded by a
lovely group of graudchildren, and ho is
NiritfßEK33.
still firm in his belief that he can’t be
fooled.
The last time we saw him he was listen
ing to an account given by Seymour, on
his return from the city of that wonderful
invention—the magnetic telegraph. “I
wonder,” said the old man, “if Ed thinks
I suck all that yarn about writing and tal
king by lightning’ or about sending a let
ter from New York to Buffalo in a second 1
No! notin twenty-four hours either!
It’s no use, Ed, you may tell that to the
women and children, but you can’t pull
the wool over my eyes again. I’ve seen
too much of the world— you can't fool me."
Husband And Wife.— The mutual du
ty of husband and wife is love: wherein
the society, sweetness, and felicity of mar
riage consist. In that is included the
bearing with the infirmities of one another.
This always prevents fierce passions, the
causes of strife, and makes the patient
party better. The exercise of this affec
tion is mutually distinguished. The love
ofthe husband is consoling and comforting
providing and protecting ; tlie love of the
wife obsequious and assisting. His su
periority and her subjection must be sweet
end with love. The husband must not be
bitter; nor the wife sour. The husband
must govern the wife as the soul does
the body, with wisdom and tenderness.
There is a servile subjection, full of free
dom, from love : and this is of wives to
husbands. Ihe wife, though inferior, is a
fellow ruler with him over children and
servants. She is subject as his vicegerent,
always preserving love and reverence in
affection, and expressing meekness and
obedience in actions. She as his deputy
is to dispose things for his credit and profit.
Prudence is requisite in both, that they
may deposit their cares in each other’s
bosoms, and trust their secret thoughts as
securely as in their own hearts. The
principal duty of husbands and wives is a
tender care for the good of each other's
souls. The husband should lead her in
the way to eternal life, by his counsel and
example, and the wife, by her humble and
holy conversation, recommend religion to
his mind and affection.— Bates.
I’ kying Leeches— Rich Cooking. —A
physician in one of the trios of cities ad
joining Boston, recently prescribed leech
es to be applied to one of his patients, a
son of the Emerald Isle. The Irishman’s
wife mistaking the word “applied” for
fried, in the hurried manner in which the
direction was given, fried a small mess of
blood-suckers and gave them to her hus
band to eat. At the next visit of the phy
sician, finding his patient no better, he en
quired if she had applied the leeches, as
he had ordered.
“Och, shure and I did,” replied the wo
man : “I fried them in a little butther, but
Pathrick, poor man, said he’d rather be
aftlier atein’ a dish of fried grubs.”
The Doctor looked amazed.
“You don’t mean to say that you fried
leeches ?’’ he ejaculated. “By my hopes
of all the Saints’blissins, I did,” she re
plied ; “and it would ha’ done your soul
good to see bow beautifully I cooked the
little squirming things.”
“You didn’t give them to your husband
to eat V’ exclaimed the physician, with
increased astonishment.
“Sure an’ I did ; ivery blessed son of
’em.”
“Didn t I tell you to put them on his
stomach ?” asked the Doctor.
“Faix an’ I did,” she replied, “and if
poor Pathrick didn’t swallo ’em down the
right way, they’re on bis stomach now !”
The Physician said no more, but ad
ministering a powerful emetic to the pa
iieui, lie sloped. In a few days after
wards the woman met the Doctor, when
she complimented him on the wonderful
effect of the fried leeches ! and declared
that her dear Pathrick “was as well as
iver!”
(£r Men lose many excellent things,
not because they want power to obtain,
but, spirit and resolution to undertake
them.
The odor of flowers is never so
sweet and strong as before a storm. Beau
tiful soul! when the storm draws nigh
thee, be a flower.
ICPAII pleasure must be bought at
the price of pain ; the difference between
the false pleasure and the true is jut this:
for the true, the price is paid before you
enjoy it, for the false, after you enjoy it.
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will be execu'ed in the most approved style
and on the best terms,at the Office of the
3CTTTEE3IIT I£USETTI£,
-BY
WM. B. HARRISON.
Modestv.—Behold the daughter of in
nocence!— how beautiful is the milduess
of her countenance ! how lovely is the dif
fidence of her looks!
Her cheeks arc dyed with the deep
crimson of the rose ; her eye is placid and
serene, and the gentleness of her speech
is as the melting softness of the flute.
Iler smiles are as the enlivening rays of
the sun ; the beauty of her presence as
the silver light of the moon.
Her attire is simple ; her feet tread with
caution, and she feareth to give offense.
The young and the old are enamored
with her sweetness ; she carricth her own
commendation.
She speaketh not the first in the conver
sation of women, neilber is her tongue
heard above her companions.
She turneth not her head to gaze after
the steps of men ; she inquireth not of
them whither they are going.
She frequenteth not the public haunts
of men, she inquireth not after the knowl
edge improper for her condition.
So becoming is the behavior of modes
ty, so lovely among the daughters of wo
men !
80“ One of the most beautiful gems in
oriental litterature is contained in a pas
sage from a Persian poet, Sadi, quoted by
Sir W. Jones, the sentiment of which is
embodied in the following lines :
Thesandal'tree perfumes when riven,
The axe that laid it low.
Let man who hopes to be forgiven,-
Forgive and bless his foe.
Cheering Thought. —Sound instruc
tion is like a small stone thrown into the
water ;it sinks to the bottom, and disap
pears, hut when it struck the surface, it
raised a wave ; this again produced anoth
er wave, till the whole was in agitation.
This thought may often cheer the mind, in
seasons when all looks dark ; and though
for the present the work may not be “joy
ous but grieveous,” yet aftorward the
most trying parts of the discipline may be
those which will call for the deepest thank
fulness.
S3P An Irishman, going out hunting
one day procured an old musket and sal
lied forth. He had not gone far, when
he discovered a squirrel perched on a tree.
Paddy took a deadly aim, but instead of
hiding the squirrel, the gun kicked poor
Pat heels over head down a bank, and
Mr. Squirrel went off about his business;
chirruping with all his might.
“Faith and the divil,” said Patrick, as
soon as he could recover himself, “if you’d
been at this end, my honey, you wouldn’t
go off'eburrupee, chirrupee, churrupee.”
Ilf A native of “Down East,” descri
bing with characteristic exaggeration, the
remarkable properties of Guano, as a pro
moter of vegetation, said that a few hours
after planting cucumber seeds, the dirt
began to fly and the vines came up like a
streak, and although he started off’ at the
top of his speed, the vines overtook and
covered him—and on taking out his knif e
to cut the darned things he found a large
cucumber gone to seed in his pocket.
|0“ “I wonder this child :dim’t go to
sleep,” said an angry mother to a female
friend. “Well 1 don’t,” replied tho lady,
“its face is so dirty it can’t 6hut its eyes ;
why don’t you wash the little innocent V’
••Why, what is the use ? water won’t get
it off,” was the reply. “Take soap then.”
“But the doctor said I musn’t give him
a soapo rific if the child kept awake all
night.” “Well, that doctor ought to be
lathered, that’s all.”
|C7“ Time clocks may stop, hearts may
cease to beat, but still time goes on, stay
ing or accelerating its pace for none ; 60
prayers advance or delay its speed, though
the sad and joyous count its strokes by
seconds, of a dfferent length.
The Potato. —lt is, a fact not general-;
ly known,.perhaps, to farmers, that
are two parts in the potato, which if sepa
rated and planted at the same time, one
will produce tubers fit for the table eight
or ten days sooner than the other. The
small end of the potato, which is, generally
full of eyes; is that part which produces
the earliest ; the middle or body of jbe po
tato produces late, and always larger ones.
A farmer in the Amherst Cabinet says he .
always pursues this plan in order to obtain
an early supply for the table, which aro
usually fine and mealy.— Me. Cultivator.