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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.