Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 10.
the GEORGIA CITIZEN
# rC |UHID EVERY MIItJAT MORMXO BT
L. F. W. AN D lit: \v s.
, lt j.j, e—/h Horne's Building, flurry Street,
Tiro Diors Mow Third Street.
I. HU- :—§l.oo net annum. in tduiHr.
t *h- r**ii r rl.nrjp* will he Onr JM.tr
wHMirii h*-4r*4 words r Ute, t r the Sr*) ii.-rt
w) t fa ‘'emu fe e teh *>it*e.|uif Wltioa. Ail ad
r w )>** * ***** **’ l *> **> Uia*. cM N piiUMwrl Bu ll
,1 jjid 1 :<-CitnlmiriT. A liberal dl*coUi.l lUorred
trh*> adrHi • hr the year.
i trial •innpMi l matte wliai’otuity ffir> pt. Drug**"*-.
A i >.t t tf*. Vert’ ant*. nl others *'k” may aieh to make
i‘urfiiii tool aiH Hutineet Card* <iU te inserted ua
head. *’ !*•• f.4fcrln ntns vu:
f V r*e tinea. r*T at•• n UBS .t ? *S On
\ J ertia'inint nftl.l* eiatat will be admitted. Mbs jaW
■- M <rni. i. * far a lew t mi than twelve nm.ih*. Ad
trite hw wfU te el and prd red>. Jteh
„iLairntr not paid k* In advanca *l. I eharerd at the
HAAaarv \ntkrnt Jotcr ttm Utter, will be charged at thet
Uiwtini-raiean of rwidbi itea 6tr .Mr* <i he paid fnr a
rties, when in*-rUd.
-lies if |j*nd and V**roe. hjr Frt'.'nlor*. Adm'nirtta
. and Qiundiams are red nr law to be edvrrtterd in a
,■ g.it te. forty days wttrlnii* to the day of rale. 1 here
. *>•■ to held nt! the (foa Tnnwtey In the’ a a k, between
hum'<>f bn in ‘be fereatrot aief three ia the afternoon
ihr C"'irt hou* in the evtintr In which the property la attu
•ale. of IVnuaal ln*perty must beadeeitiaed in tike
\atirr to Debtor* and Cn-dltor* of an Estate totot be
JUj iihtleli till.#.
Vatirr that arf.Uo’ioa will ue nude to the Ordinary for
t- s: tod muet lie puMMied weekly for
t iailua be Latter* of Adruiidstra ion. thirty dan; for
[r-c *dnn rim Adi ihldntlon, nemthlv. sly thotiilis; foe
li.-n.bMi* ftt'Bi Uaanliaknii.p, weekly, forty da;*.
Hulea for I'imeliaiit of Vlerlrntn, nnmthlT. fur
- • ih*: for eutafifluh mt 1 papers, for the full epare of three
:.tte; for esspteßaff title - froai eamator* or *diuiai*r
’ r* where a bond ha* bwen given by the deceased, the full
aorfihiri’ month*.
pairiccilnni].
The Ait of Advertising.
| xtndL* ftoß an A +ltm before tb ■** ufck> Ktoc!al Cct- i
vtntui., by R. Blinkerhtff.
As I have before stated, there are va
rious kinds of advertising, all of which
are useful in their place, and of which i
-hill speak in their order. First upon
the list, as the best of all, should be
seed newspaper advertising; it being
pod the whole the ebrapest. readiest,
and most effectual method of attracting
public attention.
The newspaper is published and circu
lated upon the well established principle
if association, being the result of a com
bination of a great many persons, each
of whom pays his proportional expense,
thereby rendering it merely nominal
to each.
The newspaper is circulated without
-toy expense whatever to the advertiser,
whioh is by no means an unimportant
item, as every one will testify who has
had any experience in distributing his
*n advertisements. Not only is the
advertisement circulated by the newspa
pers free of all expense, but it is done .
nii re speedily and thoroughly than it
an lie done by the advertiser. The
newspaper is already an established sys
tem ; a thousand doors are opened to.
welcome ir. a thousand messengers are
i uiy and weekly seeking the Post Office |
to receive it. a thousand families look for
its coming, and a thousand read it when
it does come. Again, those who read
ihe newspapers are the very persons the
advertiser wishes to reach; they are the
intelligent am! well-to-do, the enterpris .
ng cinir-ns of a country, and are there- j
l >re the ii oat likely to buy that which is
worth buying. Again, the newspaper is
not a transient, but a periodical visitor. :
It cnrr.es day by day, we* k by week, and
n expected and welcomed as a friend. —
To it every one looks for information
upon all subjects of interest to himself.
The city reader scans the telegraph re
ports, pores over the commercial column,
un! then at his leisure reads the proposi
tions of metropolitan advertisers, and
■■ ps into politics. The country subscri
be, however, reads everything, from the
motto at the head to the last line of the
-dvertising page. Away from the at
’rtftions and turmoils cf the town, he
bas leisure to do so, and is benefitted by
iviug so. Thus every advertiser reaches
’to person he desires—the wholesale
principally through the daily
prew, and the retail dealer thr-ugh the
weekly press. It is idle to talk about
teoertiaeroents not being read, for ob
servation and experience invaiiably
P r "'e the contrary. Sooner or later,
eveiy advertisement will be read by
every subscriber who would lie inter
ested or influenced by its contents. It
■* true some advertisements are read
-lore and headed more than others, but
’bis is on account of the tact of the
*‘lvertiser and not the fault of the news
paper.
There is, however, a class of [tersons
*ko never take a newspaper at all, at
r*st not their home or local newspaper,
wd consequently they must l*e reached
,n some other way. These persona are
und in every community, and always
■> svtHcient numbers to require attention
frm business men. They are also fre
iQently large consumers, and being ign>-
rnntof the advantages of the market al
ways pay the highest remunerative prices
kr w hat they buy. Under these ciroiiu-
N, noes, the merchant can afford to env
pk>y the more expensive forms of adver
’ siiig to reach them, and he should do so
by all means. Stare them in the face at
every corner with a h-et poster —drop
handbill in their wagons every time
b y come to town, send a circular to
*ton though the Post Office, and in every
°lher way that can be tiiought of bring
your business to ibeirknow ltdge \N hilst
you are doing this you will also inciden
-1 *y j"g the memory of your newspaper
We all love novelty, and
he attracted by it, even in au adver
tisement.
Another important matter to be at
• ied to in an advertisement is in its
and form, or, in other words,
it should be worded, and in its typo
” a l’bical execution. Here, in fact, is
***** advertisers fail. Some content
with a mere business card of
‘ a ‘ & doa*-n lines; others spread the
,ar: * amount ot matter over a whole
utnn * Both of these methods do very
|* ut they fall far abort of what ad
’ ordinarily should be. A card
to designate the location of a business
house, and the kind of business engaged
in, is very useful and should not be
omitted. Strengers visit.ng a town, and
persons residing at a distance, are often
put u{>on inquiry by a card.
ascertains from a local newspaper, which
he picks up at his bo.el, that a certain
kind of business is transacted at a cei tain
place, and he g< es there to see if he can
i get what he wants; so also with persons
i residing at a di-lance, having ascertained
the name and business of a firm, they
1 write for further information. Every
one’s experience will furnish examples of
this kind.
A card also may bo extended over a
whole column with advantage—it at
tracts ilium <hate attention, and there
fore answers an admirable purpose
upon the establishment of anew firm,
*>r upon the receipt of new goods. Or
dinarily, however, it should only be
used as the forerunner of a detailed ad
vertisement.
A regular advertisement should set
forth fully the capacities of a business,
or, in other words, should present in de- j
tail theparticularinduceinentshecan offer
in selling them, their quality,style, prices,
A:e. In short, he must embody in his
advertisement just what he would say to
an individual, were he to visit him to so
licit his patronage.
An advertisement should be plain,
concise and truthful. Some advertisers
imagine that they must be witty or
wordy, and therefore introduce their
wares to the public in second hand jokes
or high sounding phrases. Others stultify
themselves and their business iu doggerel
verses. Dry goods in blank verse, and
groceries in rhyme, may create a laugh,
but the persons attracted will be few and
far between. The proper place for a
clown is in a circus, and not a mercantile
house. ,
An advertisement, again, should be
truthful, simply because a lie is a lie,
whether in a newspaper or behind the j
counter. Lying is also very bad policy;
a customer attracted once bv a false ad
vertisement will not be fooled a second
time in the same way. A patent medi- j
cine imposter may possibly s’ucceed, al
though he never should have the same
customer t wice ; but a regular merchant,
never. Every merchant has some point
of superiority in his business; let him
give that prominence, and then trust to
courtesy and fair dealing for the rest.
“ Integiity” should be the motto of eve
ry department of business; without it,
success is doubtful; with it, entire fail
ure is impossible.
Having determine*! upon the substance ;
of an advertisement, the next thing to be
attended to ia typography and location.
An advertisement should be well dis
played ; that is, it should have an attrac- j
live heading, and its lead ng points
should be prominently set forth. The
way to do this to the best advantage is
a question to be decidt-d, mainly by the
ingenuity of the advertiser and skill of
the typographer, and every one mu-t
decide for himself, according to the cir- ;
cum-tances of each particular case.
An advertisement should be changed
frequently, else, sooner or later, it will
become au old story, and will not be
read as it should be. To obtain its full
efficacy, an advertisement should be
changed with the variations of a stock
in trade, and. if possible, it should he
made so attractive that its change will
be looked for as an item of news inter
est. With proper tact and attention,
this can be accomplished in almost every
business. Take, for instauc-.*, a book
seller ; all he has to do is to secure a j
column in the newspaper, and then fill it
weekly with notices of new books, se
lect criticisms, anecdotes of literary
men, <}cc.; in this way he can bring in
all the changes of his business, and, at
the same lime, make his column one of
the most interesting in the paper, it is
true this kind of advertising will cost
more than the usual form, but it will pay
a per centage more than sufficient to
justify. As with the book merchant, so
with every other ; each can make his
advertisement much more attractive than ,
it usually is. Let every one have a eer- j
tain amount of newspapei space subject
to his whim, and then change it more or I
less weekly, by inserting iten s in regard j
to his business. Ihe grocer, the hard
ware d*aler. the jeweler ami the dry
goods merchaut, should ea< - h have a com
mercial column in which he should con
stantly make known all the attractions
and change in his business. Such ad
vertising will always pay an enormous
profit, and it is exceedingly strange that
it is so seldom resorted to. I believe
the time will oonie when the pre*ent
style of advertising, at least among re
tail merchant*, will go out of fa-hion en
tirely, and will be superceded by the
system 1 have suggested. At any rate,
“it is a consummation devoutly to be
wished,” not only by readers and pub
lishers, but by advertisers al*o.
There is another matter w hich should
not be neglected by advertisers, and that
is liberality to editors and publishers.
Editors “are men of like passion* with
you,” and are subject to the same influ
ences. They have also a power and po
sition w hich may be wielded for or against
you as the circumstance* may direct, if
you treat them liberally they w ill treat
you liberall? —it is human nature to do
so. My observation teaches me that
editors, as a class, ara generous to a
fault, and they never fail to reciprocate
a proper liberality. In fact, ninety-nine
times in a hundred, an editor repays a
favor with compound interest.
Every one knows that an editorial
notice of a d<xen lines is worth half a
column of ordinary advertising, and yet
there is only here and there a merchant
who hi* liberality enough to procure it.
! Then, again, there ae some merchants
who expect an editorial notice every few
months as a gratuity, and grumble if
they do not get it. Such are f *ols, and
l deserve to be gibbeted for their igno
-1 ranee.
An editor has just as much riyht to
expect from the merchant a donation of
the most valuable article in his store, as
the merchant has to expect the donation j
of an editorial notice. In plain E iglbh,
then, an editorial notice is the most
valuable of ail advertisements, and the
merchant who expects to procure it
should first render himself worthy of its :
bestowal, and then pay fir it, either in
money or kind. Dir. ctors of railroad
companies are beginning to understand
this matter better than they used to. A
few’ yearsngo every convention palavered
for days over the is sue of a few railroad
passes—now we hear but little of it. j
They have, in fact, learned a lesson ■
which common sense should have taught 1
them long ago, and that is, that no i
investment pays better than courtesy
and liberality to editors.
In oonclu-ion, let me urge upon every j
business man to give this subject of ad
vertising the consideration and attention
its importance demands; it will abundant
ly repay whatever thought you may
bestow upon it, by a pecuniary reward
in the practice of its principles.
From thr Marshal ( M 0.,) Democrat.
A Novel Marriage.
Saturday last being the day of sale of
Mr. Wm. Grinstead’s property, previous
to his leaving for the plains, a goodly
number of the ‘sovereigns’ of Pettis coun
ty were collected at his residence, of
whom a few’ hailed from Longwood.
Everything w'as going off smoothly,
and the auctioneer, as usual, ‘knocking
things down,’ when somo of the b’h'iys
discovered a coupleon horseback—a verit
able man and woman on horse—wending
their way towards the party. It being
an uncommon sight in these d'gg tigs, the
b’hoys formed a half circle, of which the
young lady (and she was young) seemed
to be the radiating point. The man in
quired for Squire Thornton, who step
ped into the circle.
‘ W hat do you want of me ?’ said the
’Squire.
‘ Let me speak to you a moment,
’Squire.’
‘ Speak on,’ said ’Squire T.
‘ Wul, you see, “Squire, my name’s
\\ agner, and this gal’s name Wagner,
too, and we want to get married. We
came all the from Dallas county for that
purpose.’
The ‘Squire hesitated for a moment,
seemingly in a study, as to the legality
of such a proceeding but by this time all
hands were collected, and shouts went
up from the crowd ‘ marry ’em Squire !
marry ’em.’
‘ Well I think I will,’ said the ’Squire.
‘ Go ahead, ’Squire ! pitch in ’Squire !’
was heard all round.
At this the bridegroom slewed himself
round, throwing his leg over the horse’s
neck, and his arm over the gal’s neck,
both sat facing the ’Squire.
* Marry ’em a horseback, ’Squire !’
‘ Marry ’em where they are ; you can
marry ’em where they are as well as any
where,’ come from the crowd.
‘ He has’nt the sand in his craw,’ ejacu
lated ihe bridegroom.
‘ Yes 1 have,’ said ’Squire T. advanc
ing towards the girl, and putting the
questions :
‘ Will you be qualified that you will
answer truthfully any questions I may
put to you touching this case, madam?’
‘ I w ill, sir.’
‘ Are you eighteen years of age.’
‘ 1 am, sir.’
The Squire then turned to the man,
(who in chifigit g his position, exposed a
‘ butcher’ Green river brand, no doubt.)
and asked :
‘ Are you willing to take the woman
you now hold by the hand (one arm round
her net k, and her hand in his ; reader re
member. if you are like the writer, wait
for the ‘grin,’) to be your law ful w'ife, un
til death do ) e part V
‘That's what I calkilate on doing.’
’Squire to the woinau : ‘ Are you will
ing to take this man to be your lawful
husband until death.’
* I am sir.’
‘Then I pronounce you man and wife.’
The scene at this period may be bet
ter imagined than described. ‘ The b’h<>ys
was a roarin’ (to use the descriptive lan
guage of a narrator) like Tam ()’Sha liter’s
witches.’ The mirth and fun grew * faster
and furious,’ and amid the corigiatula
tious of the ‘ bone and sinew.’ the happy
bridegroom hauled out a bottle of ‘red
eye,’ and handed it to the bride, who
toasted ‘ present company,’ and handed
it to her lord. ‘ Boys,’ said he, * here is
your health,’ as he took a nip, and hand
td the brittle to the nearest one in the
crowd, who followed suite and passed it
on.
* Alas, poor Yorick,’ twas soon among
the things that were. Tne boy* all drank
success to the newly married e >uple ; foi
gallantry is not scarce in this neck of the
Wood*.
‘ Squire, what’s to pay V said the
bridegroom.
‘Don't charge him, ’Squire, don’t
charge,’ and ‘take but thebutcher—that’ll
come handy at hog killing time,’ came
from the crowd.
‘ If he knew how I was crippled he'd
not charge,’ said the new made husband.
* Are you crippled, sure enough ?’ said
’Squire T.
* I am indeed, ’Squire.’
‘ Then, in that case,’ said the good na
tured Squire, I’ll only tlnrge you for
register ing the marriage; that's fifty cents.
The dimes were duly forked over, amid
cries of ‘ hurrah, my ’Squire,’ ‘ well done,
Squire,’ from the fun loving circle, every
! one of whom wanted a front place, not
, for the lack of room, for they had the
prairie to stand on.
Tne bridegroom, who appeared to be
about thirty-five years of age now inqui
red the way to Brunswick which being
! told him, he regained his position in the
saddle, and wishing all the unmarried
1 ones the same happiness that he felt, him
self and spouse * went on their way re
-1 joicing.’
MACON, (U., SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1850.
Poverty—Temptation—Victory.
C. L. Brace, secretary of the New York
Children’s Aid Society, writes to the New
j York Post, the following touching account
of the struggles of a young girl with want,
and misery, and temptation, in the great
wilderness —New York.
Some two years ago, a young English girl,
of perhaps filteen yens, with refined man
nets, and pretty, thougn pale face, presented
herself at our office and nervously asked for
some place in a family in the country.
She told the usual story of poverty, and
we only observe that her hands were veiy
thin and bony, and her cheeks hollow, and
i that on being to an excellent home by Mr.
: Marcy, her tye3 fiiled with sudden tears of
thankfulness. Something was given her to
eat, which she received quietly, and on the
! next day went to the place.
Lately on a revisit to the city, wo learned
the particulars of her history. She had been
in England in good circumstances, as her
j manner and language showed; had come
, over after the death of her father, and on the
wasting of his property, to seek her fortune,
as do so many others, in America. She
sought at once to enter some trade, and to
! earn a living for herself; but without friends,
and with the crowded competition of the
city, she could fm<l no opening. In the
same wav at the intelligence offices, after
waiting for many days, she discovered no
chance for herself.
Each day her means were being exhaus
ted, and she was at length forced to pawn
all the ornaments and relicts of better
She was reduced finally to living in a small
attic room cf a tenement house, sleeping on
some straw in one corner. Hour after hour
through the weary day, her little feet were
traversing the streets, as she followed adver
tisements and looked for a chance to woik.
At last she reached the point in which
every available means had been sacrificed,
every penny spent, and hunger stared her
in the lace. She describes her feelings then
most touehingty. One day she could get
through quite comfortably wi.hout anything
to eat; the second, she crouched herself in
her bed. “And do you know, sir, what I
found best to stop the hunger? “Why, I
drank water, and then I prayed, and some
how I always felt better and stronger after
it”
The third day, when it seemed as if Bhe
could not hold out much longer, she would
go faintly down stairs to a woman she knew
in one of the lower rooms, and this woman
would offer her something to eat, which 9he
would take carelessly, no one ever suspected
that the poor creature was being saved from
starvation.
In this mode of life she grew so weak she
could scarcely walk, and as thin, she says as
any skeleton. Sne was attacked, too, with
terrible headaches, an I some days, she is
sure she was delirious, for she now remem
bers how she seemed sometimes to see angels
and spirits in the little room bringing her
food.
Once or twice she determined to beg,
though she felt as if she would rather die;
and she went into a siore, and said, gasp
ingly, “She was hungry.” The people were
very kind, and sat her in a chair, and gave
her food, and once, she recollects, a cup of
tea.
Then as she lay on her hesp of straw,
thinking of the dear old English home, and
the dty9 that were gone, she would some
times say:
“What have I done to deserve this?—
Why should God make me suffer so.? Why
should I be so deserted ?”
One day she she had gone down into low
er room, and sat there weak and despairing,
when a gentleman entered whom sue des
cribed as very grand and wealthy in his ap
pearance. lie spoke to her kindly ; said fie
watched her go in and out, and that she
must be in mi-fortune; that he had so much
admired her; yes, and loved her! She an
swered, gasp ng with weakness, “Why do
you come here to insult me because I am
poor?”
Then she describes it. be replied that he
did not mean to insult her that he truely
loved her; and in various phrases he offered
to her to live with him, bu* not as bis wife.
The poor girl crouched down with her
head in her hands, confessed that for a mo
ment the thought crossed her mind, What if
she snouhl do this ? No one will know it.
Here is comfort and a home, an escape at
length ; and on the other side, a long, weary
struggle and starvation.
But in the midst of this—she almost be
lieves it was real—there seemed to come up
tefore her a figure of her mother she saw
the face and the warning gesture almost as
distinctly as she ever saw any one. She
seemed to call her away—and then she
thought of all she had ever told her of heaven
and God, and she started up and said, with
sobs and gasps—we may be sure eloquently,
for she tells the story now with eyes flowing
with tears, and tones that thrilled the heart.
“I know I am poor, 1 have nothing, 1
have no home and no friends, I am starving;
but if vou should give me all the money ol
New Yoik, heaped ten times over, I would
not do this thing ! Why do you come to
tempt me and insult me because lain poor?
and she fill down gasping, but she says she
saw the man started back, with lace ghastly
pale, saying:
“My God 1 What a sin you have saved
me from!”
That day she heard accidentally of the soci
ety to help children, and resolved to go there
for a last chance. If she failed there, the
only tiling left her seemed to be self-distruc
tion or death- We have the happy result.
The simple truthfulness and pa'hos of ih s
girl’s story cannot in any way be represen
ted. Os all hero c scenes wh eh the upper
Powers ever locked upon in this world, what
cun surpass that where this poor, weak, star
ving girl, deserted of men, and seemingly
almost abandoned by God, spurri3 from
the greatest of all temptations, and deliber
ately chooses starvation rather than dishon
or or wrong !
Perchance among those in thi3 day who
sneer at or bnrgam for woman’s virtue, this
little story out of real life of New Yoik, may
show what a princeless pearl this virtue is,
that the lonely, tarnished girl could choose
the slow pangs of famine rather than loose
it
Kissing.—Kate L K., writing to one of
the most popular magazines of the day on
the subject of kissing, says; ‘I am vain
enough to pride myself on being a girl of
sense, and i dearly love and can appreciate
good kissing—indeed, I should quite as lief
have a nice, sweet kiss, as a Cashmere. It
is to me one of life’s sweetest enjoyments;
some of my happiest moments haves been
sp nt in kissing. A rich hearty kiss, from
(Hump, warm, rosy, moustached lips, will
last one whole day.’
You are a girl after our own heart, Kate
Come up this way and we will promise that
you will be satisfied. We re some on kis
sing, ourself, and we like to find a girl that
coincides with our opinion.
For the Ga. Citizen.
MEDICAL.
Dr. Andrews:
Dear Sir —The following strictures were
sent as indicated, to the Christian Index, but
for reasons that I presume were satisfactory
to the Editor, were not published. I have
no fault to find with their evident desire to
avoid making their religious paper the me
dium of a medical controversy, but I would
suggest as the best means of carrying out
that policy, that in future they select articles
of a less controversy jl character for their
health department.
Thinking that the subject now broached,
might be ventilated with advantage to the
public interest, and being unwilling that
such an imputation as “criminality” on the
part of the “ Botanies” should be passed in
silence, even though conjoined with a like
charge against Allopathists, 1 hand you the
article, and ask for it a place in your inde
pendent sheet. T.
To the Editor oe the Christian Index.
Dear Sir —ln the health department of
your issue of the 26th of April last, you ex
tract from the Oglethorpe Medical and Sur
gical Journal, the “argument” of an arti
cle by J. Dickson Smith, M. I)., of Macon,
Ga., which contains statements reflecting,
with unnecessary severity, on a class of
Practitioners, many of whom doubtless are
patrons of your paper, and would hardly ex
pect an attack through that medium. Nev
ertheless, if your object be to place before
your readers medical as well as theological
truth, all complaint on that score will be ob
viated by the opening of your columns to a
moderate, good tempered and resj*ectfwl re
joinder.
We have no objection to urge against the
exposition ot tho errors of his professional
brethren, so boldly undertaken by Dr. Smith;
that, he has a perfect right to do, and we arc
bound to say that he does it most scathingly
but we have a decided objection to bis placing
us upon the same footing with Allopathic
“routinists,” as we have no desire for any such
association, and would be pleased to havethe
opportunity of placing ourselves right be
fore your readers if you will indulge us in a
few comments on that portion of his article
to which you have given currency.
In order to a proper understanding of the
position occupied by “ Botanies,” it maybe
necessary to state some of the points in which
we seem to be agreed in reference to Allo
pathy itself—and first as to the character of
its practices: Dr. Smith says that in that
“ there is much that is empirical.” That is
candid to begin with, and far be it from us
to cast a doubt upon the statement, for ice
are convinced that it is truth itself. We also
subscribe cheerfully to his next proposition:
“If the human system and its Phy
siology be the same every where, if the
prominent features of diseases are similar,
and tho settled principles of treatment found
ed upon tho same basis : how can it matter
as to where the physician has been educated,
so that he has been taught aright ?
The italics arc ours, and wc think that
makes all the difference. Upon the first part of
the proposition is onr system founded theo
retically, and it is the only system that gives
those principles practical vitality, as will be
shown.
After stating the proposition, Dr. Smith
enquires, “Is it true that all practitioners
follow and practice physic according to those
established principles, or is there not much
of habit and routine iu our profession ?” In
reply to which, he says “the latter is true,”
and “is the great source of failure in medi
cal practice,” and wc are far from casting
the shadow of a doubt upon the statement
so far as it refers to his own system.
He further says that Doctors contract the
habit of prescribing for names instead of
symptoms, which leads them into all sorts of
error, and instances the mere naming of
Pleurisy, Kheuipatism, and Incarnation, as
leading directly to tho employment of the
“lancet,” “eolchieum,” and “mercury,”
without regard to the peculiar circumstan
ces which have originated the attacks. This
he designates as “ empirical,” but seems him
self oblivious of tho fact that a simple cold
will produce all these, and what will cure
t he cold, will cure either of those seem inglj- dis
similar conditions! This; however, by the
way, his idea of wbat constitutes “the
science and philosophy of Medicine,” con
sists of the study of each individual case by
each individual practitioner, according to
all the modifying circumstances surrounding
each individual patient, and then “applying
the resources of his art” with such “care
and discretion” as he may possess, having
first “cast aside liis text books!” as unwor
thy of consultation, and constituted himself,
as Dr. S. expresses it, “his own doctor.”
We don’t quote this as one of coincidence of
views, far from it, but to show that what he
calls the “science and philosophy of medi
cine,” is just what we would call empiricism
run wild, in which each man pursue* his own ,
course, having no text books, and no two of
them thinking alike! Having entered this
“ Dedalian labyrinth,” just see how the doc- j
tor gropes around. He says: “In many
eases we cannot pronounce any definite
name ; the symptoms arc heterogenious, and
perhaps we cannot decide which of several
diseases predominate.”
In this dilemma he gets but poor comfort
from what is understood as “treatment,” for
he says “ the method of treatment instituted
in one case may not be applicable in anoth
er case of the same name and character, and
the same symptoms may be present in dis
eases of very different character.” “So many
modifying circumstances are perpetually oc
curring, that wc cannot decide that any two
cases are precisely identical!” This state of
things would present a fine chance for scien
tific display, on account of the certainty (?)
with which all would prescribe.
Nosologj” recognizes mbre than fifteen
hundred diseases or shades of disease, each
shade of difference requiring a different rem
edy. In the materia mediea there are recog
nized about three thousand different reme
dies that it is said are each applicable to a par
ticular shade of disease; now, scientific (?)
medicine requires that the practitioner shall
not only know the particular shade of differ
ence in each ease, but he must apply the par
ticular remedy adapted to that difference.—
Will anyone acquainted with the evolutions
of numbers take these figures, and the num
ber of Allopathic practitioners even in Geor
gia, and say wbat the chances would l j for
any two of them to agree once iu a million
of cases ? And if each man is to be “his
own doctor,” to cast aside his looks, and act
upon his own idea of the case, what be
comes of the science? Where is the certain
ty, without which there can be no science,
forscieneeis ascertained truth, and the infer
ence is fair, that it must be wanting in that
system, no two of whose praetioners hardly
ever agree, either as to the disease or the
remedy, though they may have read the same
books, heard the same lectures, and in other
respects had their medical instruction iden
tical ; and the same want perhaps explains
the fact that what has been regarded as
quackery in one age. is accepted as scientific
truth in the next, and in the next is thrown
aside, as the most arrant and destructive
humbug.
Disease, according to the Doctor’s esti
mate, must be some dancing devil or French
man's flea, the “symptoms” of whose pres
ence must be “discriminated very narrow
ly,” in order that the most prominent may
be combatted ai they occur,” by giving just
the proper remedy at the proper time, de
volving upon the physician the double duty
of watching the remedy as well as the dis
ease, in such a way as to enable him above
all things, to avoid another habit which Dr.
Smith says his brethren have got into, which
is “ objectionable and exceedingly devasta
ting \n its consequences,” viz: “ rontinism,”
in giving a description of which his candor
is greatly in excess of his prudence, especi
cially when in referringto bleeding, he gives
an instance. He says: “the routine prac
tice was to bleed, and accordingly, in almost
every ease, the lancet was popped in, regard
less of the, character of the pulse, the
strength of the patient, or the typhoid ten
dency of the disease, and many a case has
thus been bled down irrecoverably l That
is, hied to death! And nobody that recol
lects the common practice of twenty years
ago—that then was considered scientific, and
for denouncing which medical reformers of
i that day were called quacks—will gainsay
i that proposition, and but few will doubt bis
I correctness when he says that, happily this
i practice has yielded to the persuasions (de
-1 monstrntions) of healthful reform, and this
I instrument is now used comparatively sel
dom. Dr. Smith is no doubt right again
when he says: “Through the same kind
of habit many of our important remedies
have been employed as hobbies, and made
the instruments of mischief, having been,
without regard to the causes of the malady,
given at random !” That is saying a good
for the system the world has so long
beer, trusting for life and health, and consid
ering the tact that the “important reme
dies ” belonging to that school, are confess
edly the deadliest poisons, and that Mercury
and Morphia have been the principle “hob
bies,” the admission that they have been giv
en at “random,” deprives the statement that
the results have been exceedingly devastating,
of the slightest exaggeration, and we honor
Dr. Smith for the manliness with which he
has come forward to confess it.
We think, however, that he is mistaken in
attributing all the “ mischief ” to “ routin
ism,” for there could be no harm in giving
a safe medicine repeatedly, if the exigence of
the case required it, to effect the object in
view, and if the physician knows just what
is needed, and knows at the same time that
the remedy he prescribes will effect that re
sult, just as certainly and indubitably as food
relieves hunger, or water thirst, it would
be “ criminal” in him if he did not perse
vere in its use, and repeat it until the object
be attained in the one case, just ns it is in the
other, and if the process be somewhat rou
tine, it will correspond none the less certain
ly with all the other operations of nature, of
which scientific men have any knowledge,
and the fact that so much trembling watch- ‘
fulness is necessary to what Dr. Smith
thinks a proper method of administering i
Allopathic remedies, proves that certainty of
result cannot be one of their attributes, and
we would advise that those articles which re
quire such close watching to keep them from
doing “ mischief ” be shunned, as men are
who require to be subjected to the same pro
cess. The practitioner that cannot calculate j
the effect of his remedies with almost math
ematical precision, and is not able at the i
same time to apply them on scientific prin- |
ciples to the case in hand, is compelled to i
grope in the dark, and must be very careful
and watchful, or he will, if using poison, do ‘
“ mischief ;” and hence the application of
the term scientific to such proceedings would j
be a misnomer, and it would only require the I
dismissal of “text books,” and the constitu
ting of “every man his own Doctor,” to,
make them the very essence of empiricism j
andquintessenee of quackery.
The “thorn in the flesh” instanced by the j
Doctor is an apt illustration, for in all cases j
of disease “the offending cause must be re- |
moved.” How is that done in the case of |
the thorn ? If removed at once the disturb- j
anee is slight and no diseased condition of i
consequence follows, if not removed acer- ‘
tain action is set up called inflamation, which
gome doctors might try to subdue by bleed
ing perhaps, but as that is evidently intend
ed for the removal of the thorn others would,
more scientifically, encourage and assist in
such a way as to attain the desired object
as soon as possible; heat and moisture would
be employed in the shape of poultices to the
part, and a little internal stimulus might be
used to give vigor to the circulation, and
though the practice might be “routine,” and
would have to be repeated and repeated still,
jet the practitioner would not have a doubt
of his success, even from the first, and if
there be sufficient energy in the system he
must succeed, there cannot be a doubt about
it, because the practice is based upon laws,
just as certain as those that sent Newton’s
apple to the ground or that maintain the
worlds in space. But there might be a
thousand thorns or obstructions in the flesh,
and a high degree of inflamation indeed
would begot up for their removal, but would
that change the principle? The aim of
nature so to speak would be the same in both
instances, bleeding in the , 'rst case might
only partially thwart lier efforts, in the last
it might be fatal, because by it the forces are
destroyed that are brought to bear upon
them for their removal, but if assistance is
rendered bj’ applying heat and moisture ex
ternally, and the internal energies are in
creased, not destroyed, the result is again
assured unless both the energies and assis
tance be overtaxed. Well if thorns by the
thousand can be thus removed, maj’ not small
er obstructions by the million, giving rise to
the state called fever be also removed on the
same principle, and if your agents are well
chosen, by the same means; and if we can by
| stimulation and relaxation applied both in
ternally and externallj’, control fever and
inflamation invariably, and have our agents
few and well chosen, would not that be re
ducing medicine to a science in fact, and
casting to the winds the crude and hetero
genius notions of bj-e-gone ages, that have
hitherto had, without meriting it, the name?
Well, if fever hnd inflamation be thus con
trolable by agents that act in perfect har
mony with the laws of life, neither poison
ing the sj'stem nor withdrawing the blood,
in what consists tho “criminality” of their
frequent repetition ? Does not the crimin
ality rather consist in the closing of the
eyes to such light as Medical Reform par ex
cellence has thrown upon these subjects, and
with wilfull and inveterate prejudice cling
ing to obsolete notions “ that confessedly
lead the practitioner into many perplexities
and constant disappointment, and result in
consequences exceedingly devastating ?”
But the doctor thinks a routine practice
can never be scientific. If 90, medicine is
the only exception, for every thing scientific
in other respects is routine, and we maintain
that nothing really scientific can be other
wise! The laws that govern the chemical
affinities are so unvarying that the absence
of a single condition is fatal to the desired
result. The operations of mathematics are
all routine, and the surveyor of to-daj’ can
track his predecessor of a hundred years,
bj’ due observance of them; the astronomer
of to-day by the routine calculations of
mathematical science, can foretell the eclipses
of the sun and moon, the planetarj’ transits,
the distances of the heavenly bodies, &c.,
&c., just as well as Newton could; and by
the same routine calculations, the mariner
can navigate his ship over the trackless
ocean with as much certainty as if he had
finger posts and mile stones all the way!
But let either of these despise the routineism
to which science subjects him, and he, like
the allopathist,soon finds himself at sea with
out rudder or compass, the sport of every
wind, till brought up suddenly on some hid
den rock, when with “exceedingdevastation”
all around he is able to appreciate the state
of those who give “peculiar drugs at ran
dom.”
But routineism does not stop here, it is
evidenced in all the physiological laws that
govern the animal economj’, eating and
drinking, secretion and excretion are always
going the same rounds from daj- to day
throughout the generations of men, and will
so continue, and if so, whj* should it be sup
posed that no routine laws control disease,
making it subject to a routine “course” of
treatment, that may be repeated with the
best effects, should the first effort fail in pro
ducing the desired result.
A “course” of medicine that may thus be j
relied on, the “Botanies” have adopted and !
practised with such success that the most
ignorant of them have cured diseases that
the most learned Alopathists have abandon
ed as incurable, and though efforts have been j
made repeatedlj’ to trace some “ mischief |
and devastation ” to that treatment, not a
case has occurred in which it could be sub
stantiated. There is, therefore, nothing
“criminal in the routineism of the Botanic
“course;” That there is in the Alopathic, we
have the evidence ot Dr. Smith and a host
of others to prove, and we trust that hence
forth its advocates will speak of it with that
modestj’ that becomes their acknowledged
position, and, though misery loves company,
refrain from their attempts to drag down to j
their own level that of the “Botanies.”
Respectfully,
M.’ S. THOMSON, M. D. |
From the Charleston Mercury.
Interesting Discovery of Fossil*.
Hardly moie than a year hs elapsed,
since the Mercury was enabled to announce
to the world the discovery of positive proofs
of the existence of the horse on this conti
nent, prior to its habitation by the white man,
or perhaps any race of men, from investiga
tioas and discoveries among the fossils of
Ashley river, by that indefatigable student
of nature, Prof. F. S. Holmes, of the College
of Charleston. Wo are again indebted to
the labors of the same gentleman for the
discovery of fossils of a still more remarka
ble and interesting nature, viz: The pro
duct of man’s ingenuity in immediate rela
tion with the remains of the mastodon.
This is stai tling, for it carries the red man,
or some race of rude invention, back to the
era of the mastodon, which is established.
This discovery was made upon the prem
ises of Dr. Klipstein, Christ Church Parish, a
gentleman of ardor, and reputation in scien
tific research. The surrounding country is
undulating, remarkably so for the low coun
try of South Carolina, the immediate spot
being the reclaimed bed of a pond of former
ages, within a narrow belt of elevations along
the sea shore. There had been a rank growth
of juniper, cedar and willow on this spot,
which was only cleared a few years ago.—
About two years since, Dr. Klipstein, in
making an excavation for a ditch across this
piece, threw np a middle upper tooth ot a
mastodon and two teeth of horse, all
fossils.
No farther excavations were made until
recently, when Prof. Holmes, in the interval
NUMBER 8.
of Lis labors incident to his intended publi
cation. embracing the Ashley river discove
ries, with a few friends, made an excursion
to the spot, expecting to find the skeleton
of a mastodon. A short work sufficed to
uncover a piece of a mastodon s tusk,
eighteen inches in length, which had been
broken off. On the opposite side of the
ditch, dug two years ago, was found addi
tional remains of the same tusk, which is the
tusk on the right of the snout, measuring in
’ all over six feet in length. Beside the root
; or base of the tusk was found a portion of
j the socket bone of the mastodons snout,into
! which the tusk accurately fitted. This bone
is in a fair state ofpreservat on; but the tusk,
being of ivory, is very fragile, but still beau
tifully presents the peculiar structure of the
ivory. Additional teeth were found, com
pleting the right upper jaw. The smallest
anterior grinder is three inches in length and
two in breadth. The posterior tooth is a
monster, though not whole; when complete
it measured seven and a half inches in length,
by three and a half in breadth, and was com
posed of three papilla.
While uncovering these remains, Prof.
| Holmes discovered the left femur of the Cer
vus Vtrginiana, the common deer which still
roams our forests, and an edge of the shell
of an Emys , a fresh w ater turtle or terrapin.
These formed a very interesting group, for
among them was discovered a fragment of
pottery, the manufacture of some early
aborigines of South Carolina, identifying the
contemporaneity of mankind, the mastodon,
the deer and the turtle. The hard portion
of the bones only are [(reserved, theadjtcent
soil being stained with the decayed bones and
other elements of these animals.
The soil in which these lossils were found
is about a foot in depth c>f pure muck or
vegetable matter, overlying a thin strip of
quuksand. Burrs of the pine, and traees erf
several trees, abound in it. Beneath these
fossils, as well as about and above them,
were the branches of cedar trees, and the
burrs and leaves of the pine. The ivory
tusk was of a brilliant black, when first ex
humed, but it blues by exposure to tke
light.
It would bo supererogatory in us to pro
nounce upon the importance of this discov
ery, when our friend, Prof Holmes gives aa
yet no opinion. It is merely an interesting
j discovery, which commends itself to the
; study of the palseontolc-gist. We remember
of no other instance of the finding of human
: manufactures among fossils of the era of
these.
Prof. Holmes, in his investigation into the
remarkable nature of the fossil region about
Charleston, is giving our city a prominence
in a geological point of view, second only to
that which accrues to him as the diligent
explorer of this vast storehouse of nature’s
records.
A Glance at the Past—Battles in Eu
rope.
Asa matter of interest, at present, we
give the following result of desperate battles
fought in Europe since 1812 :
On the heights,four miles from Salamanca,in
SpaiD, the English and Spaniards under
Wellington,totally defeated the French under
( Marmont,on the 22d of July, 1812. The al
lies lost five thousand two hundred men, and
the French sixteen thousand.
At the battle of Smolenski, in Russia, in
1812, the French loss was seventeen thou
sand, and that of the Russians ten thousand.
At Burond'no, on the 7th September, was
fought a desperate battle between the Rus
i sians and the French. The French lost
j in killed wounded and prisoners, fifty thou
i sand; and the Russians about the same num
ber. The survivors of the French army, from
j the Russian campaign,were not more than
1 thirty five thousand out of an army of five
hundred thousand men,
At Luizen, in Rusian Saxony, on the 2d
May, 1813, the allied Russian and Prussian
forces were defeated by the Fiench under
Napoleon, the French losing eighteen thou
sand, and the allies fifteen thousand men.
At Bautzen, in Saxony, on the 21st and
22d of May, 1813, a battle took place be
tween the allies and the French, in which
the French loss was put down at twenty
five thousand, and that of the allies fifteen
thousand.
At Dresden, in Saxony, on the 29th and
27tn of August, 1815, the allies were defeat
ed by the French. The loss of the allies
was about twenty five thousand in killed,
wounded and prisoner*, and that of the
French about twelve thousand.
At Leipsic, in Saxony, in October, 1813, a
de-perate battle was fought, which lasted
three days, and the French were totally de
feated by the allies. Napoleon lost two
matshals, twenty genet als and sixty thou
sand men. The allies lost one thousand sev
en hundred and ninety officers and about
forty thousand men.
At Victoria, in spain, on the 21st of June,
1813, the English and French fought a battle,
in which the French lost seven thousand and
the English five thousand one hundred and
eighty men.
At Toulouse, in France, Wellington de
feated the French under Soult, on the 19th
April, 1814 The French loss four thousand
seven hundred; allied army’s loss four thou
sand five hundred and eighty men.
At L-gny, in France, a battle occured be
tween the Prussians and French on the 16: h
June, 1815, two days before the battle of
Waterloo, in which the Prusians lost fifteen
thousand men, and the French six thousand
eight hundred.
In the decisive battle at Quatre Bras, in
Belgium, on the 16th ot June, the day before
that of Waterloo, the allies lost five thou
sand two hundred men and the French one
hundred and fourteen.
At Waterloo the total loss of the allies
was sixteen thousand six hundred and thir
ty-six men. Napoleons was about forty
thousand. . , v, .
Neither the Austrians nor the Prusian3
can derive much encouragement from histo
ry to engage in a war with France. * The
French troops have only been matched in
these wars by the English, the Spaniards
and the Russians—scarcely by the last nam
ed.
Baimed for Liberia.— The ship “Mary
Caroline Stevens” sailed from Baltimore for
Liberia on Tl ureday, with 353 emigrants, in
cluding three Presbyterian Missionary Minis
ters. The emigrants w*ire principally man
umitted slaves.