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THE
fI@ETSPSE33BSr MSWiSISUiSa
Hill *« pshlished every SATURDAY Morning
In. the Brick Building, at the Corner of
Cotton Avenue and First Street,
IS THE CITY OF MACOS, GA.
UY WM. It. HARRISON.
TER M S :
for the Paper, in advance, per annum, $2.
if not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum.
If not paid until the end of the Year £3 00.
irf’Advertisements will be inserted at the usual
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sired is not specified, they will be continued un
til forbid and charged accordingly,
jj-Advertisers by the Year will be contracted
with upon the most favorable terms.
[rFSales of Land by Administrators, Executors
or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on
the first Tuesday in the mouth, 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 Admimstators, Execu
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 thereof for sixty hays, in one otthe pub
lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
Court House where such sales are o be held.
rENotice for the sale of Personal Property must
be given in like inanuer forty days previous to
the day of sale.
rrTNotice to the Debtors and Creditors olan Es
tate must be published for forty pays.
jr-»Xotice 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
ca n be given by the Court.
i 7'Citations for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary.must
be published thirty pays— for Letters of Dismis
sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian
ship FORTY PAYS. !
(fj»llui.ES 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 compelling Titlesfrom Ex
ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond
hat been given by the deceased, the full space of
THREE MONTHS.
N. B. All Business of this kind shall receiv
promnt attention at the SOI 1 11E UN M USEUM
Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal
Advertisements are published according to Law.
O’All Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, must be post-paip, to in
sure attention, fj)
“A LITTLE MO ICE GRAPE.”
rriHE undersigned, true to his promise, again
|_ 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 lie is proud
to be the advocate.
Leaving the stilts of egotism and shafts of rid
icule 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, ho 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.”
Tiie Mexicans arc 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 lias latterly been giv
en the former by the Americans, and the latter
may ere long take “ another of the same ” ala
mode de Taylor.
After the following there will still bo “a few
mote left.”
Georgia, Jones CouNTY,aIB4B.
This certifies that for more than four or five
years my wife was ufilicted 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 rejoiceß in the
recovery of her long lost health
FRANCIS B lIASCAL.
Macon. June 22d, 1848.
Du. M. S. Thomson —Dear Sir :—Deeming it
a duly 1 owe to yourself as well as 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 mode of thereby
subserving the interests of sulfering 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. Detween these attacks I had a very
severe cough, which led some of the physicians
to whom I applied to believe that 1 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 get worßc,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 but little faith in being
cured, though 1 had witnessed some wonderful
results following your treatment, especially the
cure of that crazy woman you bought of Aquil
•a 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,
tti'nfr”!'" 2 ' 1 gratified in being able to announce
.. ' ave got entirely well, for 1 have had but
»i-h* U a 'J aclt * n twenty months, and that was
mv ago, * * lave now regained about
any marioVfifi lßht ’ !ln<l feel as stron g as almost
di/para"emeSm n ,t’ W £ ich «V* Without
that have «n r lbc c l ,araote roftlic othorcures
tico, I do not r f h qUe L nt l y resulted fronl y°« r prac
this, for l * lat il «y of thorn can beat
Co usumntir, „ rm °? Asthma combined with a
liaiwasfr,) , Co [ l S ,, i especially where the flesh
’ las lon S been classed among the in-
Most respectfully,yours,
H. LIGHTFOOT.
_
nic rS^n , c st »U continues to treat Chro-1
the city l ° m 4 * ( l' stance at his otfico,or either of
throuui’i .1 ir ln ß bouses, and at a distance
whodont rpni n ' ai ° r b >' P riv atc hand. Those
at fiv e j o |i ‘ Ore personal attention, are treated
Usu “l modßii". r,tr "‘ ontb ’ ,ho se who do, at the
P a y must CXt hose who are able to
? r term, t 0 do , R °- without variation from
lh ? c who’ are 2 9 “ • bar « ai '> * s made,
Alters must hr ’ w ,roatpJ gratuitously.
be post-paid, and addressed
fob 3 AI.S.THOMSON, M. I).
Macon, Ga.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
VOLUME K.
o c t r g.
My bife is Like the Summer Rose.
BY THE LATE R. H. WILDE.
My Life is like the summer rose,
That opens to the morning sky.
But ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered on the ground to die ;
But on that rose’s humble bed,
The sweetest dews of night are shed,
Asifshe wept such waste to see ;
But none shall weep a tear forme.
My life is like the autumn leaf,
That trembles in the moon’s pale ray ;
Its hold is frail—its date is brief,
Restless, and soon to pass away :
Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade,
The parent tree shall mourn its shade—
The winds bewail the leafless tree ;
But none shall breathe a sigh for me.
My life is like print that feet
Have left on Tampa’s distant strand;
Soon as the rising tide shall beat,
This track shall vanish from the sand :
Yet, as if grieving to efface
All vestageof the human race,
On that lone shore loud moans the sea ;
But none shall e’er lament for me.
Etiquette for Gentlemen.
In the columns of the National Intelli
gencer devoted to notes on New Books,
we find the following chapter from anew
work on etiquette :
In the intercourse of social life the im
portance of li’.tle things is very great. —
Trifles are capable of expressing a great
er degree both of regard and disregard
than larger actions. If you are attentive
in trivial affairs it is said your regard ex
tends even to the smallest considerations;
if you are neglectful in light and unimpor
tant matters, it is observed that you have
not enough respect to be civil even in the
minutest concerns. That person who
picked up the hat of Mr. Madison at the
flight of Bladensburg exhibited an abase'
ment of flattery which it would have been
difficult to exceed ; and that minister who
refused to take up Napoleon’s when he
dropped it in the council chamber as a test
of the consideration he was held in, dis
played a thoroughness of indifference
which assured the Emperor that his fate
was sealed.
We shall here set down, without order
or connection, some points of etiquette ne
cessary to be known and practised by him
who would be well-bred in manner.
At an evening party you should make
a point of going all around the room, after
you have saluted the lady of the house,
and bowing to every lady with whom you
are acquainted. If, also, in any public
room, or place of exhibition, you see any
persons whom you know, you should go
and speak to them.
If a lady is going to her carriage, or is
alone in any public place where it is usual
or would be convenient for ladies to be at
tended, you should offer her your service,
even if you do not know her. To do so
in a private room, as in the case above
mentioned, might he thought a liberty.
If you meet ladies or gentlemen whom
you do not know at a morning visit or a
small evening party, where you sit next
to them and are brought into contact with
them, converse with them with the same
readiness and ease as if you had know-n
them all your life. Moreover, if, in talk
ing with one whom you are acquaint
ed with, there are others in the group
whom you do not know, you should ad
dress them precisely in the same terms
in which you would speak to your friend-
On such an occasion the topics should be
wholly free from embarrassment. A shy
or awkward demeanor towards strangers
in such positions is the certain mark of
one not familiar with the great world.
If you are presented to a lady at an eve
ning party you should call upon her soon
after.
When you receive a card of invitation
you should return an answer immediately,
in the same hour that you receive it. This
is a point of conduct which good breed
ing, good feeling, good sense, and good
morals seem to unite in enforcing, and yet
is often violated.
If a lady accepts an invitation, nothing
hut the most cogent necessity, amounting
to an absolute prevention, should be per
mitted to interfere with her keeping her
word. To decline at a late period after
having accepted, is, I believe, invariably
felt to be a rudeness and an insult, and it
will be resented in some civil way.
A young gentleman should alwa s ac-
MACOH, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 21, 1819.
cept the invitation of a lady, whether he
is intending to go or not, unless absent
from town, or illness, or some such mat
ter will prevent his going, and then the
reason should be stated in the note. It is
so much a matter of custom or of course
for young men to accept, that a bare re.
fusal would excite surprise. If you do
not go, you should call the next morning
and leave your card by way of apology.—
If the party is large there is no very imper
ative duty upon you to go, though it is
certainly more proper and gentlemanlike
to do so, after accepting. If the party is
small, and your presence important, i*
would be rude, and it would do you an
injury with the mistress of the house, not
to appear after having promised to do so.
At an evening party a gentleman should
abstain from conversing with the members
of the family at whose house the company
are assembled, as they wish to be occu
pied with entertaining their other guests.
A well bred man will do all that he can in
assisting the lady of the house to render
the evening pleasant. He will avoid talk
ing to men, and will devote himself entire
ly to the women, and especially to those
who are not much attended to by others.
He will exert himself to amuse the com
pany as much as possible, and to give an
imation and interest to the occasion. Such
efforts are always observed and apprecia
ted by the hostess, and win her regard and
esteem, while an opposite conduct rarely
fails to excite something like resentment.
To show that you take an interest in the
success of her party, and to do all that you
can to promote it, will give her a great
deal of pleasure.
At an evening party never put a tea
cup, wine-glass, glass of water, or cup of
lemonade back upon the same waiter from
which you took it. That waiter will be
handed to others, and it will be disagree
able to them to survey an array of half
empty cups and glasses, and perhaps in
convenient to distinguish which are fresh
and which have been used. Another wait
er, in every respectable house, follows the
first one for the purpose of receiving the
cups and glasses with which persons have
done, and upon it alone should they be
placed.
When the servants are engaged in hand
ing tea or doing any other special service,
you should not withdraw any of them from
that duty by sending them from the room
for anything else—as for a glass of water,
a piece of ice. This is particularly im
portant at a small party, where there are
hut few servants, and where their absence
will be more inconvenient.
If a person in conversation has begun to
say something, and has checked himself,
you should avoid the tactless error so of
ten committed, of insisting on hearing
him. Doubtless there was some reason
for this change of intention, and it may
make him feel unpleasantly to urge him
forward according to his first impulse. In
like manner, if a person has been interrup
ted in some remark, or prevented in at
tempting one, and when having an oppor
tunity to speak evinces no desire to repeat
his intended observation, you ought not to
lay any compulsion on him to do so. Iri
all probability the remark he designed to
make was of a trifling sort, not worthy to
be uttered under circumstances of so much
attention as you create for it by calling
for its repetition ; or it may have been of
a kind proper to the time when it was first
offered, but not adapted to that after-mo
ment at which you call for it. In such
cases, if you have been the hinderer, it is
better simply and calmly to apologise, and
then give place for him to speak if he wish
es to ; but not by word or manner to force
him to speak. It is to be supposed that
every one has courage enough to say what
he wants to, without being drawn upon
the stage ; and if the remark would do
the speaker credit, depend upon it he will
give to you of his own accord.
In passing a lady in the street, who is
accompanied by a gentleman on the out
side there is the same reason for your ta
j.j nr> the inside that there would he for
you°to walk on that «ia» If were with
them. You should take that side, then,
unless you would pay the gentleman, if he
were alone, the compliment of giving him
the wall.
When you salute a lady or a gentleman
to w hom you wish to show particular res
pect, in the street, you should take your
hat entirely off, and cause it to describe a
circle of at least ninety degrees from its
original resting place. The inferior clas
ses of men, as you may see if you think fit
otake notice of them, only press the rim
of their hat when they speak to women of
thier acquaintance.
If, in walking, you meet a friend, ac
companied by one whom you do not, speak
o both. Also, if you are walking with a
friend who speaks to a friend whom you
are not acquainted with, you should speak
to the person ; and with as much respect
and ease as if you knew the party. If you
meet a man whom you have met frequent
ly before, who knows your name, and
whose name you know, it is polite to sal
ute him.
If you have paid a compliment to one
man, or have used towards him any ex
pression of particular civilty, you should
not show the same conduct to any other
person in his presence. For example, if
a gentleman comes to your house and you
tell him with warmth and interest that you
are glad to see him, he will be pleased
with the attention, and will probably thank
you ; but if he hears you say the 6ame
thing to twenty other people, he will not
only perceive that your courtesy was worth
nothing, but he will feel some resentment
at having been imposed on. To treat all
the world with discriminating respect and
the same show of affection, does less good
than to treat every one with coldness ; for
it begets a reputation of insincerity.
When music is introduced at a party,
the playing should either he by profession
al persons or by some members of the
family at whose house the company are.
It is not delicate to invite any of the guests
t o go to the piano and tax their efforts for
thee ntertainment of the circle.
At dinner, there should not he much
conversation during the first course, while
the meats are receiving attention. At
least, during that season the remarks
which are made should be brief and quiet,
and not upon earnest or exciting topics.
Long stories should be avoided, for the
listeners have other organs than the ear,
which they are wishing to exercise at that
time. At a latter part of the entertain
ment, discourse is agreeable.
If you are at a small party where tea is
made in the same room, you should not
enter into conversation with the lady who
presides at the table, and you should not
draw your chair close to her. She has
need of all of her attention in arranging
and predaring the tea-waiters, and she al.
so requires room for her arms.
How a Circumstance may determine
Life. —lt is now some years since Mr. E.
a respectable inhabitant of Brighton, who
carried on the business of a plumber and
glazier, died ; leaving behind him a wid
ow and a daughter. Mrs. E.gave up the
business, and removed to another part of
the country, London, we beuevv.
events a few months hack, she was in the
great metropolis, on a visit to some friend,
with her daughter, now a beautifol young
woman. As the mother and daughter
were passing one day through the Strand,
they were overtaken by a violent storm of
rain, which compelled them to look about
for a place of shelter, and none presented
itself more opportunely than the porch of
a large mansion, the nature of which was
not known to the fair refugees, but which
was, in fact, the banking-house of S. S
and P., one of the most wealthy firms.—
Here the ladies took their stations, but had
not been there long before the door of the
bank opened, and a young man of genteel
appearance presented himself, and begged
that they would step in until the violence
of the storm had passed. The ladies ac
cepted the offer and were escorted by
their polite conductor into an inner room
of this establishment. What passed there
it is not in our power to say. The con
versation, we may presume, turned upon
the ordinary topics, the weather, the
amusements, the incidents of the day ; but
whatever: the conversation, it was agreea
ble to all parties. At length the storm sub
sided—the rain ceased ; and the ladies
arose, and with many thanks to their young
host, withdrew—but not before he had
succeeded in drawing from them the ad
dress of their London residence. Nor
was it long before he availed himself of
•4>;» information, called and obtained per
mission to repeat :!’ fl visit, which he did
•*— until after a cC. riain ime
time and agan. _ ‘ -»tachment,
the young man declared ms
made proposal for the hand of the young
lady, and was accepted. The parents ot
both parties were favorable to the union,
and a few days ago the London papers
announced the mairiagp, of the eldest son
of Sir John Paul, of *J ne < irrn D f S. S. and
P., to the daughter 0 f Mr. E-, ot
Brighton. The d* Q f chivalry may be
gone, but those f ‘-ue eallantn and dis
interested lov will las? while the human
heart beats J{ome journal
NUMBER 31.
Everything Goes Wrong.
BY MARIANNE.
“What is the matter, Ellen V' said a
mother to her daughter, one evening as
they were sitting together at work, “what
great event has kept you silent an hour ?”
“No very great event, mother: only a
great many little ones, which have put me
out of patience. Everything has gone
wrong to day and Ellen laid down her
work and looked up in her mother’s face
as if demanding sympathy.
“That expression is a very common one
with you, Ellen : your ‘wrong days, and
your ‘right days’ come round almost as
Mondays and Tuesdays Now that we
are alone, and not very likely to he inter
rupted, let us examine the matter, and see
if we cannot find some way by which these
wrong days may be turned into right ones.
Now what was your first trouble this mor
ning 1”
“Why you know I was late at breakfast,
and father didn’t like it, and the coffee
and rolls were cold, and then-—”
“Stop ; one thing at a time, if you please
your first trouble might certainly have
been prevented—you could have been up
in season if you had chose.”
“Why, I was fast asleep how could I—”
You were fast asleep when breakfast
was put on the table, very probably ; hut
were you not waked at half past five 1 ”
“Yes—but—hut, —l thought it was too
early to get up then.”
Ah ! there is the difficulty; it is never
too early to get up after daylight. You ■
know that it is my wish that you should
get up as soon as you are called and your
father’s displeasure and your cold break
fast were the consequence of your disre
garding that wish. I know of nothing
which is more apt to make a day go wrong
than beginning it badly.”
“Well, perhaps I might have prevented
that, but I am 6ure I could not help the
shower jhat came up as I was going to
school and I wet my feet so that I was
uncomfortable all school time ; and I dropt
my books in the mud and then my com
position, which I had taken so wuch pains
to copy neatly, fell out, and it looked so
bad that I was ashamed to carry it to the
teacher.”
“As to your wetting your feet you should
have worn your over shoes, as I wished,
and then your feet would have been dry
and comfortable; although it did not rain,
the streets were very wet and muddy.
Dropping the composition was, I allow,
an accident which you could not have hel
ped,—hut tell me did you bear these little
trials pleasantly and patiently, or did you
go in to the school room out of temper
disposed to be dissatisfied with every
thing.”
“Why, of course, mother I could not,
when evergthing had vexed me so.”
“Do not say so : never say you cannot
be pleasant. I have shown you that two
of the evils of which you complain were
caused by your negligence and the third
was not such a terrible trial but that it
might have been borne, had you not been
impatient and fretful beforehand. If,
when you found yourself late at breakfast,
you had acknowledged yourself to be in
the wrong and resolved to do better the
next morning, iustead of excusing yourself
you might have dismissed the subject
from your mind, instead of allowing it to
worry you as it has done. Well, what
was your next trouble V’
We will not follow Ellen and her mo
ther in their examination. It appeared
that most of her troubles were little trials
which she could hardly have noticed had
she been in her usual frame of mind. El
len was convinced that whereas she had
been in the habit of saying “that every
thing went wrong,” the fact was that she
herself had been in fault, and she that night
resolved in future to bear all unavoidable
accidents so pleasantly'and patiently as to
have no more days when “everything
would go wrong.”
Innocent Confession. —A lady, at con
fession, amongst other heinous crimes,
accused herself of using rouge. .
“What is the use of it ?” asked the coA
r~'ssor.
m make niysell handsomer.”
* And does it produce that effect V’
•'At least I think so, father.”
The confessor on this, took his penitent
out of the confessional, and having looked
at her attentively in the light, said,
••Well, madam, you may use rouge, tor
you arc ugly enough even with it.”
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will be executed in tlic most approved sty.*
and on the best terms, at ike Office of the
SCTTTHEP.IT mttsettm,
-BY—
WM. B. HAftRISON.
The Polite Girl.
BY LAMAN BLANCHARD.
There was nothing ; no, not a dash of
the high life below stairs Vulgarity in her
courtesies to the gardener or the stable
boy. The chimney sweep was just as
sure of a gentle and gracious reception. —
In short, little Ellen could not, though
she had tried, have laid aside the bland
and most urbane qualities of her manner.
As little was she capable of divesting tlrem
of their real grace, or of having them mis
taken for affected airs or mock civilities.
She was polite merely because she could
not help it. True, her politeness was ex
cessively ludicrous sometimes, and now
and then rather embarrassing when it im
plicated others by taking upon itself to
speak for them. Thus I overheard her
one morning prefacing a message I had
given her for the boot-cleaner, with my
“compliments,” (she was polite enough to
call me her master, which I was not,) her
master’s compliments, and he thought tlier
boots had not been so well polished of late.
She never received even a command from
any one without a "thankee,” and she al
ways took a letter from the postman with a
nice little courtesy, and a smile of acknow
ledgement that implied a sense of obliga
tion for his kindness in bringing it. “My
master’s much obliged,” she would some
times say, as she handed twopence. I’m
not sure that she did not, one wet day,
crowm her politeness by offering to come
and ask me to lend the postman my um
brella ; she was certain he would get wet,
and carrying other people’s letters too !
One occasion I particularly recollect,
it affords a good illustration of Ellen’s sen
sitiveness on the score of giving trouble.
A man had brought me some books, for
which on delivery she impressively thank
ed him ; when, as he was turning away, it
occurred to him that he had a letter to de
liver with the packet, and he began to
search his pockets industriously in his bag.
Observing the anxiety with which he pried
into the corners of it, she said to him, in
her excess of good nature, “Ch, sir, don’t
trouble yourself.”
“Trouble myself!" returned the honest
man, elevating his eyebrows rather con
temptuously, “why, if I have a letter to
deliver as well as the books, I must deliv
er it, musn’t 1 1” and he proceeded with
his search for a minute or two, when El
len’s good natured concern for him broke
out again with, “I’m sorry to keep you
waiting.”
“Waiting!” muttered the messenger,
“why, it aint you that keeps me waiting.
But no, there’s no letter here ; certainly
not ; well I thought I had one.”
“Oh, sir!” cried Ellen, bent on tran
quilizing his mind, and settling the mat
ter with the truest politeness and delicacy
of feeling, “oh, sir, never mind ; I daro
say it does not signify; another time, per
haps !”
Ellen’s stay in my landlady’s service
was not of long duration ; for my landlady
herself wastaken suddenly ill—was dying.
A friend of the invalid sent twice a day to
enquire how she had slept and how she
had sat up. Ellen regularly brought down
the answer, “My missis’ compliments,and
she has had a very indifferent night or „
“My missis’ compliments, and she feels,.
very weak to-day.”
This went on for six weeks, and Ellen,
seemed to grow more and more sensible
of the kindness and attention every time
the messenger came. The compliments
were sent hack as usual, hut the intellj-y
gence became sadder and sadder. At
length, one day, when the friendly in«
quiry after the health of her mistress cams*
as before, Ellen crept to the door with
swollen eyes streaming with tears, and.
sobbed out the melancholy answer* “My
missis’ compliments, and she dieu this
morning at eight o’clock.” Here is ■ the >
“ruling passion” displaying its strength,i,
not exactly in death, but in its neighhqr- ,
hood.
The Right Spring.- —A lady brought
a child to a physician in Utica, to consult
about its precarious health. Among oth
er things she enquired if he did not- think,
the springs would be usetul ?
“Certainly, madam,” replied the. dpc
tor as he eyed the child, and then took a
pinch of snuff. *‘ ? l* haven’t the least hepb
tation in recommending the springs, aqd
the sooner you apply the remedy the. bet'
“You really think it would be good for
the dear little thing, don’t you 1”
“Upon my word it is the best remedy 1
“What springs would you recommend,
doctor ?”
“Any will do, madam, where you can
get plenty of soap and tco,'cr / /