Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 10.
the GEORGIA CITIZEN
; RUSHED FVEST SITTrT’ AT MOBS I NT. BV
L l\ W. AN 1)li EWS.
r] . t _/ Hi,rue's Building. Cherry Street,
Tim D-rs below Third Street.
I “ - *>o irr an it mu. in Uunrr.
.j.rttltrmemte a lie* f-*u at chaw will I* Oat Dollar
‘•T; V. /.- -Irrd vonir ur wee. t r the Dirt Uiwr
ln ¥ ‘Mforcarh *ut*x(uent in— rtkiu. Ail sul
„ t - w< stieeflten ato time, wi.l he puMMied nn il
19 ,i ,-ru*r*--J amrdi*<lr. A tlhtml diwumit allowed
. v {,e, U) til*- year.
rnt,d-’ ■ nt* m-idt* !tfc • %unty OtWr*. I>rtij&fi*t#.
■ \ why may wldi tonukt
,, , , u al an* Bu4ana I jHi ‘.rill be irun-rlo !nn
1 r -j.77>1. .1 th- MNmtßhc rat***. via:
, in.- varaaMa too
[ .1 n*’- ib i
*Tr“ *• *0 *lO
u, n -tunß af t:.i r-Lw, 111 lie admitted, rnka {old
’ v , t.-.r fur a l" I mi than tw. tre A<l
-n! wr tea lute* will be rhareed fro rata. Ai>-
- i* ■*- if! [aid .or in advance wtl, be charged at the
,l.i un hotlcea f over t.:a Umet, will he chaw-! at the
v ..ni.ai.ei-OH-Ban t$ iruitiilate- for -Sea to be paid for at
„M<.r land and teinire i ts Bxeeat.n*. Ai'-’i'ni-tn
e i.nanhane. are 1.411 red by lew to be advertued in a
- il "l U r te i.nj pr*-vkm*’to the ilajr id aah-. ’I bee
.‘< :e belli • the Bid T...—lav in tile m nh. between
bwinof ten in ‘be forete-rs and three in the af emm*.
,1 irt bouw in the county in which the property U s.tu-
Mtr , 4 Prreonai Property nol he advertised in like
\,eice in IVbtoiw and 4'reditora of aa Katatc mart be
’lut inhlica’ ion will he made to the Ordinary for
- .-11 Lu o and Secruea. nit lie [Oii.liidied weekly for
1 u>ii iaa for Letters of AdminUtra ion. thirty data; for
n r. Adnii i-tration. monthly, ala Hum.ha; for
~ n ftiim lioar-iitfcsh p, weekly, flirty days.
Kates lor b'orerliadaa us Mnrtnatrs, luonthiv, four
•or estab .sh iix I paters, for tfet fn 11 spore of three
•H. 1, 4 o mpeilinc till. - fraoi executors or adoduiure
“a Is n't has been riven hy the deceased, the full
of three moatha.
J-Hisccllmuj.
Front Chamber's JuunuU.
Gh! Love wh le Love is Left to Thee.
> ROM THE l-KKUA.V.
ih! love while love is left to thee,
1 bit love while love is yet thine own :
The hour will come when bitterly
Tiiou'lt mourn by silent grave* —alone!
Alil let thy breast with kindness glow,
\nd gentle thoughts within thee move.
While vet i heart, through weal and woe,
Heats to thine own, in faithful love.
And guard thine lips, and keep them still ;
To won escapes an angry word ;
■ Ah. Heaven, I did not mean it ill!”
But yet he sorrowed as he heard.
>h’ love while love is left to thee ;
■ love while love is yet thine own :
• hour will come when bitterly
Thou'lt uinurn by sileut graves—alone!
T heard, unheeded then, alas !
tinseling, thou'lt hide thy streaming eyes
lmid the lung, damp churchyard grass,
Where, cold and low. thy loved one Ilf's.
Viml murmur ; “ Oh! look dow non me
‘! timing niv causeless anger still ;
F rgive my iiusty won! to thee—
Ah. Heaven! I did not mean it ill.”
H h>'ars not now thy voice to bless.
In Tain thine arms are thrown to Heaven !
And mill'd the loved lip’s fond earess,
I: nr*wer* not ; “ I have forgiven !”
tic 4nl forgive—long, long ago !
B : many a burning tear he shed
” r thine unkindness—softly now !
H -lumbers now with the silent dead.
1 love while love is left to thee;
‘"1! love while love is yet thine own :
■ ’> hour will come w hen bitterly
Thou’lt mourn by silent graves—alone!
The Flower*.
I cannot for the life of nu tear ro3e or a i
‘traw ery blossom to piece?, in order to re- •
■ -re it into its first principles, or to enlight
myself as to its primeval atoms. All this
panful and beneficent surgery I thankfully
tre to the bo tan cal demonstrator, taking
t - erudite dexterity for granted, but keep
my kaleidoscope out of the way, to show
ie Chaucer laying among the daisies, or Coo
ler and Bean hunting for water lilies, or
Shk-peare standing in the March wind look- !
r g for the daffodils, and dreaming of the
Halims. ‘Tt is my faith that every flower
’ rs the air it breathesand in the annua
R “ele of flowers. I see set forth in most i
T; riJ allegory a dream of love to man. It
■ <’*s*■ me to walk in ** Goal Almighty’s
-■wlen,” and to yield myself to tlic sweet
‘'*“wible monrnfulness with which they
bcd themselves to the living, dying heart.
‘ r at can claim at least the brotherhood of
(fin with these lovely ctiihineu of the dust.
• like to puzzle out their legends, to read
h*ir voiceless svmbol?, to talk with the flow- 1
that are sow a by the winds or the an- i
-ds, watered by the shonv'f, fed by the
4 ’iuoeams and cradled by the lulling night,
to the most attentive and beeechi>g
“i r ‘- do they present or reproduce a reitera
’ cos themselves, or of one onother. bovv
t’er perfect the old model, however taultiess
ta * grouping. Flora's light-pictures are ‘
*• repeated ; her kaleidoscope is always
ir n ng. To lay aside that technical “ian
?age of dowers’ - which Las only been
1 • joght to a dimax in the fragrant East, is
*** the whole earth, “of one language and
ae speech ?” To the child they are the
rives of “life’s fairy time lie looks for lays
“*>ler the lady fern, sees their rubies in the
- “len eowriip-*,holds sacred the strawberry
-lower, listens for the peal of the swinging
ifebells. he gathers them, wearies of them,
••’‘rows them away,
flowers are the universal moralist —not
one but has its 1* sson. its sermon, its song.
* flesand lilies, in wise heads and sacred feet.
4Te formed the text for holiest rhemes, lor
deepest parables, and tenderest morality.
J ith and duty, and love and hope.} and
*'*’ e a od gladness, smile on their dewy face
“-fading in quiet hands, they speak of death
reeping oyer low graves, they whisper
‘n.mortality. They are the emblems a
‘ °f feasting and mourning, of speech and
‘°ce, of sorrow and hope, of grief and love.
Tr *r have mingled largely in the p : ous sn-
PerwtitioDs of all nations, and indeed, wiihont
t ' ,re > they might l> called the divinities
natural religion. Sacrifices are dressed
i-owers. temples adorned with them, the
“*d fondly strewed with tbeir sympathetic
1 fbe god* of firing and running
waters wero propitiated with their fragrant
incense; and of these Fontir alia a curious
relic may still be found in Derbyshire and
some of the midland English counties'. where
the pretty custom of “well dressing” is re
tained by the tower-loving peasantry. Nor
is divination by means of ft iwers altogether
extinet in the southern villages, where they
are even yet invited to emp ! oy their harm
less witchery in disclosing intricate and im
portant love secrets. With death a univer
sal instinct appears to associate them. The
ancient Jews were buried in gardens. Poor
Shelly [lass’on&tely desired to lie among the
flowers—a3 passionately as the milkmaid,
who wished to die in spring, that she might
have a store of them stuck on |her winding
sheet Sr Wm. Temple, a florist of a vety
ditferent order, though his bones were laid
elsewhere, had his heart buried among hig
Dutch flowers. Toe symbolism which made
the beautiful roee an emblem of silence, con
secrated it in a peculiar manner to the sad
hush of death : and thus, while in ODe cham
ber it was twined with myrtle at a festive
entertainment, in the next it might be shed
ding its dying sweetness on the withered
lips of a corpse. Chombera’ Journal.
A True Manhoou.
A true manhood is self-sustaining and self
sustained. It depends upon nothing extrin
sic. Advantaged by outward possessions
or circumstances, it disdains to rest upon
them or claim merit on their account. Lack
ing these helps, it does not sit down, fold the
hands of murmur at the partialities of fortune.
Benefits and opportunities it accepts grate
fully. and strives to improve them—not alone
for itsel*'. but for society alo. Indeed, a trne
manhood implies every noble sympathy, ev
ery generous action, every lofty virtue, in
the common range of life. A true manhood
asks no special fields to display itself. It
can every day develop its nobility and her
oism. Not a gracious word, smile, or act,
springs to the impulse of its large, warm
heart, to lighten human want or lessen
human sorrow, but flashes brighter than a
Toledo blade.
True manhood is Arm and brave, as it is
mild and gentle, and the best gentleman is
also the truest man. Gentlest of the gentle
was Bayard, the cheveher sang jieur et sans
reprorhe. but never sturdier arin bote lance
or sword in defence of virtue, honor, right
Gentle of heart and courageous of soul—gen
tle in feelings ami heroic in action—such are
the Bayards; such are all gentlemen, all true
men. They may be found in courts and
camps, in universities and senatis, but they
also tread the furrow .and dwell iu the hum
blest cabins.
The estate of true manhood cannot be
bought with gold, nor bequeathed by letters
testamentary. In its essentials it is God
given. All other possessions being “of the
earth,earthy,” may be devised and inherited,
but a true manhood s a divine, a heavenly
gift. And if men at large only knew the
greatness and preciousness cfsccb manhood
—how nobler it is in stature and in power
than all titular estate —they would honor
and imitate it more. Manhood, sturdier
manhood, is what society and nations want
to make their foundations firm and their
bulwaiks beautiful and strong. It might
lessen the world s pageants, but it would
increase its grandeurs. When “ life’s fitful
fever” is past, what can remain of man
worth even a pitiful epitaph, save the
memory of a true manhood ?
RELIGION VERSUS THEOLOGY.
Timothy Titcomb thus sermonir.es. in a late
number of the Spnngfiebl Republican:
Religion is a simple thing, so simple that “a
wayfaring man though a Col need not err there
in.” * * * Yet theology—human inven
tion and human learning—has made religiou a
very complicated thing. It insists more on faith
in tenets than in God, and denies to a Christian
spirit the fellowship whichjit acsor is to a ration
al belief. The disgraceful wrangles of the reli
gious newspapers, the great disputes of the
Softools, and high controversies of the pulpit
and the pamphlet are the quarrels and strifes
for mastery of theologians, not Christians—of
learning not love. Theology clings to old words
and phrases after their life has departed. The
ology excludes from the table of the Lord those
whom He has accepted. Theology denies fel
lowship and communion to those whom Love
expects to meet in Heaven. Theology casts
out of the synagogues those who rise to think,
while Christ forgives those who stoop to sin,
and without condemnation, bids them sin no
more. Theology builds rival churches, pits a.-
gainst each other rival sects, and waste’s God’s
money. I believe that it would be every way
better for the world if every book of dogmatic
and controversial theology could be blotted out
: of existence, and Christendom were obhged to
begiu anew, drawing everything from tbe great
Book of Books, leaving Paul and Apollo?, and
Princeton and New’ Haven and Cambridge be
hind, aud learning of Him “who spake as never
man s-p.ike.”
The long short of the matter is that the
learned world has become so deeply involved
ia the thoughts of those who have gone before
so accustomed to following ole channels, and
of payiDg revert nee to the opinions and systems
of schools, that it cannot step out freely into
the field of truth aud handle U ings as it finds
them. Tbe common sense that deals with
things instead of systems which treat of them,
and tbe wisdom which grows out of this inti
mate contact and loving association with tbe
actualities of human file and experience, are
worth more to tho world than a.l the learning
in it. This handling of the vital realities of
to-day will* the gloves of dead men ; thia slow
dragging of the trains of tbe present over the
old graes-irrown turnpikes; this old monopoly
of power and pi vilege among interests that
touch every individual—the highest and the
humblest; this slopping of the wheels of pro
gress at avery toll-gate and frontier for the ben
efit of learned publicans, is certainly against the
common sense of the world, a* it undoubtedly
is against “the spirit of the age,” if anybody
knows exactly what that is. Anything and
everything which pi ices fetters upon the spirit
of inquiry, which blinds the eyes of discovery,
land abridgi-8 the freedom of thought, whether
it be contained iu the lore of past ages or of
the present time, is a thing to be contemned
and abjured. A living man with a carcass lash
ed to his hack may creep, but he cannot ruo.
English Bihle Translations. —The fol
lowing list of the different Bible versions of
the English Scriptures, is extracted from
! the Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge :
Wicklwfe’s Bible. —This was the first
translation made into the language. It was
translated by John Wicklifle, about the year
! 1530, but never printed, though there are
’ manuscript copies of it in several of the pub
| lie libraries.
Ttnd \i.es Bible. —The translation by
Wm. Tyndale, assisted by Miles Coverdalo
was the first printed Bible in the English
I language. The New Testament was pub- j
| lished in 1526. It was revised and repub- 1
: lished in 1530. In 1532, Tyndale and his
associates finished the whole Bible, except
i the Apocrypha, and printed it abroad.
Matthew’s Bible. —While Tyndale was
preparing a second edition of his Bible, he ■
was tak u up and burned for heresy at
Flanders. On hi3 death, Coverdale and John
Rogers revised it, and added a translation to
ihe Apocrypha. It was dedicated to Henry
VIII. in 1537, and was printed at Hamburg
under the borrowed name of Thomas Mat
thew. whence it was called Matthew’s Bi- *
ble.
Crasher s Bible. —This was the first Bi
ble printed by authority in England, and
public'y set up in the churches. It was
Tyndale's version, revised by Coverdale, and
examined by Cranmer, who added a preface ,
to it, whence it is was called Crantner’s Bi- (
ble. It was printed by Crafton, one of the
largest volumes published in 1540. After
being adopted, suppressed and restored un
der successive reigns, a neiv edition was
brought out in 1562.
The Geneva Bible. —Pome English exiles
at Geneva, in Queen Mary’s reign, viz:
Cove-dale, Goodman, Gilbe, Sampson, Cole,
Whitting and Knox, made anew transla
tion, which was printed there in 1500.--
Flence it was called the Geneva Bible. It
was much valued by the Puritan party. In
this version the fust distinction ofverseswas
made. It went through some twenty edi- ;
tions.
The Bishop's Bible. —Archbishop Parker
engaged Bishops and other learned men to
to bringouta new translation. They did so in
1568 in large folio. It made what was af
terwards called the Bishop’s Bible. In 1569
it was published in octavo, in small but fine
black letter. In it the chapters were divid
ed into verses, but without any breaks for
them.
Matthew Parker’s Bible. —The Bishop's
Bible underwent some corrections, and was
printed in largo folio, 1572, and called Mat
thew Parker’s B.ble. This version was us
ed in the churches for forty years.
The Doc ay Bible. —The New Testament
was brought out by the Roman Catholics iu
1684, and called the Romanish New Testa
ment. It wa3 condemned by the Queen of
England, and copies were seized by her au
thority and destroyed. In 1609 and 1610
the Old Testament wa3 added, ar.dthe whole
published at Douay, hence called the Douay
Bible.
King James’ Bible, —The version now in
use was brought out by King James’ au
thority in 1611. Forty-four learned men
were employed to accomplish the work of
revising. From death or other causes, seven
of them failed to enter upon it. The remain
ing forty-seven were ranged under six divis
ions, and had different portions of the Bible
ass'gned to these divisions. They entered
upon their task in 1607. After some three
or four years of diligent labor, the whole
was completed. Thi3 version was generally
adopted, and other versions fell into disuse.
It has continued in use for nearly two hun
dred and fifty years.
Money vs. Husbands. —A correspond
ent of a Worcester papsr relates the fol
lowing incident:
Just as the train was about starting
for Greenfield. Friday morning, on the
Vermont aul Massachusetts Railroad, a
sprightly little woman with a child took
a seat in a car mar where 1 was sitting.
The cars were beginning to move, and
the little woman looked anxiously
through the end window of the rear car
for her missing husband, who was in the
depot attending to the purchase of tick
ets, etc. The speed of the < ars Increas
ed. and the woman looked more anxious.
The husband now appears and com
mences to run. lie gains on the cars at
first, but they are too far ahead of him,
and soon are leaving him behind, al
though he did “run well for a season. ’
It is now the wife’s turn to see what she
can do. In agony she implores the con
doctor, telling him that her husband is
left behind, but he can’t help that. “ I
am started on a journey, and can’t g-t
along without my husband.” “Then let
him attend to his business next time,”
was the cool answer. “ But,’ said the
keen Yankee woman, “ I have no money
with me.” The brakes were applied and
the cars brought to a stand-still, and the
panting husband entered the cars to the
delight of all the passengers, especially
of his wife. Moral—Money will stop a
train of cars much quicker than hus
bands.
Health.
Health is the highest revelation of God in na
ture. It i* the fountain of strength, beauty
intellect and happiness. How many understand
God’s laws of health? In other w..rds, how
many understand hum-n physiology ? Not one
*in ten thousand 1 We have too much gospel and
MACON, GA., SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1859.
; too liitlo common sense. We should much like
| to sse a -'revival” the above subject—a
i common sense revivsL
For the Ga. Citizen.
MEDICAL.
i Dk. Andrews :
Dear Sir —Much to my amusement, I no
j ticc in your issue of the 17th inst., a “rejoin
, d.-r,” by M. S. Thomson, M. TANARUS)., to an ex
tract, made by the “Christian Index,” from
an article of mine published in the April
number of the “Oglethorpe Medical and
Surgical Journal,” of Savannah.
1 n reply, and as an all-sufficient defeneeof ny
article from the uncalled forsparrings of Dr.
Thomson, I submit the article entire, as it
| originally appeared in the Journal, and ask
you to spread it lx-fore your readers. Let
them read anti “ventilate” it for them
selves.
The prominent errors that I pointed out—
as proceeding from unguardedness and a
want of projicr vigilance on the part of rny
Allopathic brethren—are defended by Dr.
Thomson as the true principles —the funda
mental doctrines of Botanic Medicine.—
Rontinism has no legitimate existence in Al
lopathic medicine, and it is candor—noble—
in Dr. Thomson to acknowledge the fact
that it is an essential integral in the struc
ture of the system of Botanic practice.
I meant no fight upon the Botanies, I in
tended, not to combat error as a radical de
tect in another system, but to rebuke it ns a
tad fish in trader intoon ro w n borders. I had no
knowledge of, or agency in, the republication
of “ that portion ” of my article by the
Christian Index; and that all may know
what it is that Dr. T. is cutting at so fierce
ly in his ex-partc ‘‘ rejoinder,” I hand you
the original paper, which, in itself, contains
all the defence that I shall offer—through
this medium —to sustain its truth and itsjiro
portions. Respectfully,
J. DICKSON SMITH.
Rational vs. Routine and Book Prac
tice of Medicine-
BV J. DICKSON SMITH, M. D.
Medicine claims to be both a science and an
art, and the two are so intimately b ended,
that it becomes difficult to define ihe extent
and li it of each. It is denominated the
“ Healing Art,” but the simple term, art, does
notexoress the true character and claims of
nirtli. ine It possesses all thedetining elements
necessary toconstituteitasciencc.andtbe term
is as appn priately applied to medicine as to
any other system. It is a regularly organized
eystem of general principles and legitimate de
ductions fiom empirical tacts and cluneal obser
vations. The term, art, applied to medicine,
expresses only the mechanical administration
of a drug, or the ingenious application oi a
remedial agent. Science declares the reason
and the philosophy lor such appliances.
In the practice ot medicine there is much
that is empirical, but it is not all mere expe
riment and specu'ation. We claim to have
certain fundamental principles, as land-marks
and beacon-lyhts, to guide and govern us;
and, directed by these, we shall be enabled
to steer our bark safely into port, and to give
our patients the entire benefit of medicine,
no matter under what circumstances, or un
der what Sun, wo may find them. Guided
by these beacon-lights, we shall not be very
liable to err, lor they will point us to a care
ful consideration of all the modifying cir
cumstances connected with the treatment of
diseases. Are we combatting disease in
Georgia, or on the banks of the Mississippi?
Iu the swamp, or on the mountain top?—
Amongst the equatorial heaisor ihe S berisn
snows? these land-maiks will guide us aright
in every instance.
With the ingenuity and the tact of art,
and the engineering power of science and
philosophy, we shall be prepared to encoun
ter disease anywhere, and to effect all the
good that medicine, in its wisdom, pro
poses.
Away, then, with the doctrine of section
al medicine, which requires the medical stu
dent to study where he intends to practice
his profession. If the human system and
its physiology be the same every where ; if
the prominent features of disease are similar,
and the settled principles of treatment found
ed upon the same basis, how can it matter
as to where —in what country or school —
the physician has been educated, so that he
has been taught aright. It his mind has
been properly and thoroughly imbued with
the great principles ot Therapeutics, and if
his knowledge of the theory of medicine has
been familiarized and confirmed by practice ,
the medical man will be coinpeieut, with
due care and pi coalition, succe.-stully to prac
tice medicine anywhere; and to dispense the
benefit of his art, as well to the Arab as to
the American; and as well to the rico farm
slave as to the mountain herdsman.
But is it true, it may tie asked, that a'l
practitioners follow and practice physic ac
cording to tl-.ese established principles? or
there not much of habit and routine in our
prole*sion? I am well satisfied that the lat
ter is true, and equally well convinced that
this is one of the great sources of failuie in !
medical practice iu accomplishing its desired j
object, in obedience to the fact thnt there ‘
are generally present certain leading indica- J
lions of treatment in certain classes ot dis- j
ease, the doctor unconsciously gets into the ;
habit of advising a particular round of rem- J
edies in every case bearing the same name. !
He contracts tbe habit ot prescribing for .
name instead of tor symptom*. He directs
his r* medies to certain diseases by name, dis- |
regaidmg tbe peculiar ciicumstauces under
which these attacks originated, and over
looking some unaccustomed, yet very impor
taut leaiure they may present. Is the case
and agnosed Pleurisy? ihe lancet must be used.
Does he cull it Rheumat sm? colehicum is
forthwith written m the prescription. Is it
infiamution ? itieicury 18 the great antiphlo
gistic, aud must be employed. No allow
ance is made for idiosyncrasy, lor malignant
tendency of disease, or for any other circum
stance. The names are recognized and the
remedy known, l’ne employment of certain
drugi and certain recipes soon becomes a
confirmed habit, and every patieut affected
with the prevailing disease of the neighbor
hood, irrespective of complication aud the
i various modifying ctrcumstauces ol each,
i meets the same treatment. Tnis is empirical,
i vs. scientific practice, and cannot claim that
success which 19 expected of medicine. The
practitioner ought to study each individual
case, applying the resources of his art with
caie and discretion—according to all the mod
ifying circumstances surrounding his pa
tient. In this consists the science aud philos .
phy of medicine.
Another prevalent error of practitioners,
and particularly those just entering t e arena
of practice, is the habit of looking to their
text-books, and relying upon them in the
treatment of disease. Instead of prescribing
for, and combatting existing symptoms —
excited by peculiarities and various compli
cations—they seek to give definite names to
every case, and to institute that course ot
treatment marked out in the books for that
particular disease. This course is impracti
cable lrorn the very fact of the divers lied
complication of disease. In many cases we
cannot pronounce any definite name. The
symptoms are heterogeneous. Perhaps we
cannot decide which of several diseases pre
dominate. Here again we see the necessity
of lo ‘king to symptoms and not to names,
for it is often to prescribe (or a case
than to name if. Ever}’ practitioner must be
his own doctor, lie mu- f t cast aside his
books and act upon his own judgment in
the case. Have we general principles? w
must apply them according to our own judg
ment from the circumstances around us,—
The method of treatment instituted in
one case may not be applicable to an
other case of the same name and character.
So many modifying circumstances are per
petually occurring, that we cannot decide
that any two cases are precisely identical.
This inclination and attempt to practice
medicine from books is an unfortunate one.
It leads the practitioner into many perplex
ities, and to coustant disappointment. The
success of his practice will not be commensu
rate with his laudable desires. The practi
tioner can better appreciate the exact coudi
lion of hispa'ient, ihe precise character ol his
disease, than can the author of his book, who
tias not seen the case. Upon careful clinical
investigation must depend our success in
treating disease, for it is only in this way that
we can ‘'find out what the matter is,” and this
we must do “ before we can s fehj go to work
to cure it.” Book practice ot medicine, then,
is to be condemned because of its impracti
cability; and because it is less expedient
than clinical tact and clinical study.
There is si ill another habit in the practice
o ‘ medicine that is objeetiouable and exceed
ingly devasiaiing in its consequences and
tembney. I allude to routinism. It U said
that more persons have lallen victims by the
hand ot routine practitioners of medicine,
than have ever fallen by the sword. Whether
this be true or not, it is undeniable that such
persons are unsafe practitioners, and not to
be trusted with the management of multi
form disease. This habit consists in indulg
ing a regular round of prescription for al
most every case they meet —not seeking by
close investigation, to discriminate mely
between diseases, and between symptoms. —
They incline too much to the maxims of the
Botanies, riiat a I diseases originate from the
same exciting cause, and consequently are
amenable to the Same course of treat
ment. The Botanies were, at one time,
■ criminally guilty of this kind of routinism.
j They had one “ course of medicine” through
which they carried their patients, and the
same “ course ” was repeated again and again,
til! the patient was cured or and ad. But
“ medical r>f>rm ” lias of late seized upon
them, and tnev have measurably abandoned
this heroic routine.
In this same manner the lancet has been mo3t
mischievously abused, and this error is still
operative in some sections. The routine j
practice was to bleed, and accordingly in al
most every case the lanc-t was popped in,
regardless of the character ol the pulse, the
strength of the patient, or the Typhoi 1 ten
dency of the dise tse ; and many a case has
thus been bled down, irrecoverably. But
happily, this practice, also, has measura
bly yielded to the persuasions of healthful re- |
form, and this instrument is now tiSw-U com
paratively seldom. Through the same kind
of habit, many of our important remedies !
have been employed as hobbies , and made
the instrument of mischief.
Iu the investigation and management of
disease, it is not only necessary to attend to
symptoms and to combat the most piomin
eutasthey < cour,butto inquire imotheorgan
that is suffering and to ascertain the precise
nature of the existing lesion. The practitiouer
must discrimate narrowly , Tor the same symp
toms may be present in diseases of very dif
ferent character. But the importance of
looking to these points is not recognized by
the routinist. He disregards the peculiar
and special teatures of the case, adhering to
Ins accustomed habit. He knows what par
ticular drug or recipe he has used in previous
cases, and at random he employs the same.
Cotemporary with his efforts to modify
the symptoms, and to give comfort to the
patient, the practitioner should inquire into
the causes of the malady he is treating. This
may be all important, for, like the “thorn in
the flesh,” the disease may not yie'd until the
offending cause has been removed. It is im
portant, in every morbid eondiuon, to seek
out the cause, in older to remove iq if prac
ticable. Tne maxim “To lie causam cessat
effectus is often, though not invariably, true.
This consideration is generally ovei looked or
neglected by the routinist. He contents
himself with simply combating the phenom
ena present, caring nothing for the source of
the disease, or iis ultimate tendency.
W e have thus reviewed several practical
errors preva'ent in the Med cal profession,
and which, we consider, fruitlul sources of
unsound practice. They all need to he re
buked and sedulously guarded against, in
indulging them we violate the plain princi
ples of Tnerapeutics, and turn aside from
those scientific land-maiks that are to guide
and govern us in the cure of disease, and in
the alleviation of human suffering. If med
icine be a science then iet us use it as a
science, giving our patients the entire benefit
proposed.
The error we pointed out in reference to
book practice, is mainly indulged by the
younger practitioners who are just launching
out into tbe field ot practice. While students
they read and comprehended the books, flat
tering themselves with the idea that every
thing would he equally plain and intelligible 1
at the bed side. But in this they are doom- I
ed to disappointment. They do not find ;
things exactly as described, f.*r no two cases
are met with, which are precisely identical.
Books are mainly useful by way of imbuing
tbeir minds with a knowledge of the great ;
general principles of medicine; but when 1
they reach the clinical room, they are left to ‘
draw upon their own heads as text books.
They will there find demand tor the exercise
of all their reasoning powers.
Theie is an easy, and almost natural incli
nation, on the part ot practitioners of medi
cine, to become toutinisis, and consequently
w’c find tbe older ph>sicians most addicted 1
to this error, and most amenable to this
charge. Insidiously habit entwines itself
around their actions, and unconsciously they
yield to iis dominion. Tbe unlimited confi
dence they acquire in their own tact for per- j
ceiving aud recognizing at a glance, the pre
cse nature and character of the case, de- 1
stroys in their own minds the necessity of
thorough investigation, as wrll as the great
practical importance of scrutiny, and nice
discrimination.
Medical men should always be on the alert,
looking out for some m-w feature of disea e,
and ever taxmg their ingenuity, and • raw
ing upon the resources of science and its phil
osophy lor ex;>edients adequate to tin t mur
gencies. Is the midst of all our experience
and imagined skdl, we must not lose the
guidance of reason and philosophy. We
cannot safely depart Iromihose land-marks,
the general principles of Therapeutics, and
the established laws of medical science.
The profession of medicine is honorable,
beneficent, noble ! Freed trom the shackles
of empiricism, and the paralysing restraint of
habit and routine, and guided by the engi
neering power and skill of science and reason ,
it is to be haiied as a welcome reprieve, the
greatest boon lrom the miud of man to man’s
estate. Let us then as the votaries of so no
ble a calling, guard well its sacred portal- I .
L-t us seek to block up thsee avenues of
ma'.-practice by thoroughly imbuing our
ininds with a knowledge of the fundamental
principles of medical science, and bestirring
ouiselvep to that energy and ambition that
will not be content with doing less for our
confiding patients than the vast domain of
rnediciue proposes. Its design is benevolent,
and its application, in order that its contem
plated benefits shall be realized, must be vigi
lant and faithful. “Thus fortified and gold
ed by all the lights that illumine the Preses- j
sion in ils present advanced and advancing
condition, the practitioner will be enabled to
shine as the well informed and rational phy
sician, happy in his own resources, and a
blessing to the community whose confidence
is reposed in him.”
A Modem Ananias.
BY A. JAY, ESQ.
‘Old Steve, or, lying Stephens,’ as he was
familiarly termed, by virtue ol a strong orig
inal genius, and indefatigable perseverance
and application, had acquired the reputation
of being the greatest liar that ever existed
in the State ol . Whenever he made
his appearance, therefore, at muster or train
ing. he was sure to be surrounded by a host
of eager listeners. He greatly excelk and the
renowned Munchausen, who simply told ex
travagant stories, and sometimes blundered
on the truth. Steve, on the other hand
never told a word of truth, even by mistake,
in ill his life, and lied circumstantially, and
in every particu'ar. In short it came to him
as natural as eating and ihinking, or rather,
as breathing, ror lie not only lied to listeners,
but when he had no other persons to talk to,
he would tell lies to himself, just to keep his
hand in. This fact was ascertained beyond
a doubt by his denying it in the most solemn
manner when somebody accused him of the
praciice.
It was Mr. Stevens’ good misfortune one
time to lose a great deal of money on a
horse race. This made him uncommonly
serious, so he went to a campmeeting, w hich
was held about five miles from his residence
to see if he could make up a little by‘shaking
props’ with the boys. They happened, how
ever, to be too much for him that time, and
he was completely cleaned out. This made
our friend feel, if possible, more serious than
ever, arid as there happened to be a power
ful preacher there, who could make himself
heard at the distance of a mile, he thought
he would turn over anew leaf at once.—
When he got home, therefore,ihe first thing
he did was to send for the minister. The
worthy man came, and to his amazement
found that btevens wanted to join the
church!
‘I have no hesitation in laying yonr prop
osition before the brethren,’ said the good
man, trying to smother a laugh.
‘Of course you haint,’ responded Steve,
with great confidence.
‘And you could give satisfactory evidence
of amendment, Mr. Stevens,’ continued the
minister, emphasising the word, ‘they might
take you on probation ; at any rate, we have
a meeting to-night, and can let you know
to-morrow.’
‘Probation be d—dogged!, ejaculated
Steve as the minister beat a hasty retreat j
why can't they let me jine at once, whde I
feel like it?’
The proposition, as might have been ex
pected, created a g'eat sensation. There
was hardly a m< mber of the church, male or
female, who had not at some time or other,
been victimized by Stephens’ slanderous
tongue, and they could hardly hear his name
with patience. Some ot them went so far
as to say tht if he joined they would leave,
and that settled the matter, for they were
among the fore-handed f’ who could afford
to lose them? However, to avoid any
trouble with an unscrupulous fellow like
Steve, it wa3 resolved to breathe the matter
to him as gently as possible. Two of the
most respectable men in the church were
appointed to calll on hint, and it was gener
ally understood, such was their known mild
ness of disposition, that every possible excuse
con-istent with truth would be made for not
receiving him.
The rest of the story must be told in Ste
vens’ own words.
‘When old Deacon Peabody came along, I
sat in the back door with a hoc handle, and
I hope to suffer if I wasn’t mad enough to
rear right up. A cousin of my wife’s, whose
sister was a member, had come over and
told us all about it.’
‘Good morning, Mr. Stevens,’ says the
oM hypocrPe.with a face as long as a yard of
pump water.
I said nothing, but kept on whitling.
‘I came down to to see you this morning,’
says he.
‘WU,’ says I, ‘how do you like my looks?’
‘O,’ says he, ‘what I mean is. that I came
down to labor with you.’
‘Wotk away then, why don’t you?’ was
all he got out of me.
‘But, Mr. Stevens,’ said he, very solemn
ly, ‘the church sent me down to talk with
youaminute.’
‘Wal, you’ve bin talking for more than
five minutes, Deacon Peabody,’ says I, are
you goin’ to begin ?’
The old Israelite looked mad enough to
bite my head off at a snap, but he thought
it best to keep cool, so he drew a long breath
and went on :
‘Nobody wants to hurt your feelings, or
make any troub'e, Mr. Stevens, but the
church have come to the conc'osion that
j erhaps on the whole, under the tircum-
i stances, and in view of everything, it might
j be possible best all round, and taking all
things into consideration, for you not to be
hasty in applying jist at present They think
on mature reflection that it might be as well
if you’d conclude to postpone it a little while,
say a year or eighteen months.’
‘They dew? W'al now. Deacon, what
l makes’ em think so ? The church ain’t full,
i is it ?’
This was a hard question, the old sarpint
knew very well that it wouldn’t answer to
say he didn’t know—for he knew fast
enough—and knew that I knew he did. So
I says he:
‘Mr. Stevens, I’m sorry you’re so riled
about it; you’ve no occasion. I didn't come
to offend; you know as well as Ido why
the church don’t accept you.’
‘lf I knew, I wouldn’t ask you to tell me,
I Deacon Peabody.’
‘Well,’ says he, ‘don’t you know what
large stories you’re in the habit of telling ?’
‘Who says I tell large stories ?’ says I,
’tis an ontruth and you can’t prove it ain’t-
Now, ain’t it a shame for a man like you to
go around scandalizing a neighbor that way?
What story of mine did you ever hear that
wasn’t true? Come lay your finger on the
first story, and I won’t say another word.’
‘Why, there’s so many oa’ em,’ answei
ed the Deacon, ‘that it’s almost onpossible
to specify any one in particular. But now I j
think on’t don’t you remember that story .
you told about your father being killed by
a bear ?’
‘My father being killed by a baar!’ says I; ‘>
there it is now ! That’s jist th. 6 way folks j
lie about me ! It's an omrutb, like the rest
on ’em, and you ought to be ashamed. Dea
con Peabody, to be running around telliu j
things that ain’t so.’
‘Well,’ said he, pretty short, ‘you’ve made l
that ’ere observation about often enough, if
you didn’t say your father was killed by a
bear, what was it you did say ?’
‘l'll tell you; I said that father was one
of the first men to bring sheep into this
town, and that’s no story, is it ?’
‘No,’ said he, ‘it ain’t.’
‘And I said that one day he lost one of
them ’ere sheep in the woods—and that’s
likely, if it ain't true- and when he was
looking for it, 1 said he came across a bear.
The bear growled at dad, and he holered at
the bear, and finally the beast came at him,
and tore all his insides out, and then your
father, Deacon Peabody who was a respect
able man, sir, and would never a’gone about
town scandal zing a neighbor, you father
heard my father holler, and came up, and
seeing how matters stood, ran for the doc
tor. When the doctor came the first thing
he did wa3 to catch a shtep and cut his in
sides out and put them them in the place of
dad’s, and I never said dad was killed by
that bear!”
‘No sir! I told the naked truth, I said
he grew as well ever he was except that he
hankered after hay all the winter, and had
wool enough grown to make him an overcoat
in the spring? You don’t call that a large
story I hope. It you won’t let a fellow jine
tne church because he tells the truth, you
won't find many decent members, I guess?’
Tne old man riz right straight up and
walked away without saying a word. Whai
he thought I could never find out, for the
old chri?tian hasn’t opened his mouth to me
since.
Pulpit Profanity.
For the benefit of those who indulge in pal
pit profanity, we publish the following from
the Nashville Christian Advocate, hoping it
will have a good effect upon them.— Bran
don Republican.
Mr. Editor: I had hoped that the several
pungint articles that have appeared in out
Advocates upon the practice of using with
too great freedom the name of the Almighty,
would prove tflVctual; but in this I hav<
been sadly mistaken.
Whether it is the result of thoughtlessnes*
on the part of minister-*, or a desire to im
press feeble thoughts by connecting with
them awful appeals to the justice of the Crea
tor. the practice is highly reprehensible, and
shocking to refined sensibilities. That no
good can be * ff.-cted by it is obvious; wbil*
it i3 certain that much harm has been done
by indulging in such things.
Some months ago I went to hear a very
popular young minister, who was holding
forth in F. His subject was “Christian char,
ity.” For fifteen or twenty minutes be held
his congregation spellbound, a3 he portrayed
the loveliness of Christian charity. Every
one seemed interested; and many’ a tearful
eye evinced the success ofhis effort. But he
must necessarily- give us the converse—and
paint the hideous deformity of “religiou
btgotry.” After dissecting the sickly pre
tensions of various terns to the appellation o
“The Church,” and presenting the loud huz
zas of individual leaders, he said, “Such men.
if justice were meted out to them, would
stuk so low in hell that they would have to
rise, in the day of judgment, to meet com
mon damnation.” - The effect upon the con
gregation was immediately visible. Chris
tians dropped their heads, a.id sinners look
ed round in astonishment. Many pretty
things were afterwards said, but no impres
sion was made upon the congregation. That
one expression had effectually destroyed
every thing that had been said, and blocked
up his way in what followed. He struggled
hard to make an impression in the latter
part of h : s discourse, but it was as water
spilled upon the ground.
Now, the impression made upon my mind
was—
-Ist That the preacher said this with a
vindictive spirit that showed him as far from
the true spirit of Christian charity a* those
he was sinking to such depths of ruta.
2d. That it was so discordant with what
had gone before, that it shocked the mind
NUMBER 9.
and unfitted it for further worship.
3. That the expression was uncalled for,
and unbecoming the pulpit
4. If uttered by a street drunkard, that
very minister would have called it “horrid
profanity.” Mary.
Sleeping Together.
From HaU s Journal of Health.
If a man were to see a quarter of an inch
| of worm put in his cup of coffee, he could
not drink it, because he knows that the
whole cup would be impregnated. If a very
small amount of some virulent poison be in
troduced into a glass of water, the drinking
of it might not produce instant death, but
that would not prove that it was not hurtful,
only that there was not enough of it to cause
a destructive result immediately.
We sicken at the thought of taking the
breath of another the moment it leaves the
mouth, but that breath mingles with the air
about the bed in which two persons lay :
and it is rebreathed, but not the less offen
-1 sive is it in reality, on account of the dilu
tion, except that it is not taken in its concen
trated state. One sleeper corrupts the atmos
; phere of the room by his own breathing, but
when two persons are breathing at the same
time, twelve or fourteen times in each min
ute, each minute extracting all the nutriment
i liom a gallon of air, the deterioration u ust
be rapid indeed, especially in a small and
j close room. A bird cannot live without a
large supply of pure air. A canary bird
hung up in a curtain bedstead where two
| persons slept died before the morning.
MaDV infants are found dead in bed, and
it is attributed to having been overlaid by
the parents; but the idea that any person
: could lay still for a moment on a baby, or
! anything else of the same size, is absurd, —
Death was caused by the want of pure air.
Besides, emanations, serial and more or
less solid, are thrown out from every person.
Thrown out by the process of nature, be
cause no longer fit for life purposes, because
they are dead and corrupt; but if breathed
into another living body, ;t is just as abhor
ent as if we took into our mouths the matter
of a sore, or any other excretion.
The most destructive typhoid and putrid
fevers are known to arise directly from a
number of persons living in the same small
room.
Those who can afford it should therefore
arrange to have each member of the family
sleep m a separate bed. If persons must
sleep iu the same bed, they should be about
ihe same age, and in good health. If the
tiealth be much unequal both will suffer, but
the healthier one the most—the invalid suf
fering for want of entirely pure air-
So many cases are mentioned in standard
medical works where healthy, robust infants
and large children have dwindled away and
died in a few months from sleeping with
grandparents, or other old persons, that it is
useless to cite special instances in proof.
It would be a constitutional and moral
good for married persons to sleep in adjoin
ing rooms, as a general habit. It would be
a certain means ofphysu-a invigoration, and
of advantages in other directions, which will
readily occur to the reflective reader. King 9
and queens and highest personages of courts
have separate apartments. It is the bodily
emanations, collecting and concentrating un
der the same cover, which are the most de
structive cf health—more destructive than
the simple contamination of an atmosphere
breathed in common.
Wonder.
When a young man is a clerk in a store,
and dresses like a prince, smoking “fine ci
gars, drinks “nice brandy, ’ attends theatres,
b ills, and the like, I wonder if he does it all
upon the avails of his clerkship.
When a young lady sits in the parlor all
lay, with her fingers covered with rings I
wonder if her mother don’t wash, and do the
work in the kitchen ?
When a deacon of a church selU strong
butter, recommenuiug it as sweet, I wonder
.f he don’t rely on the merits of Christ for
salvation ?
When a young lady laces her waist a
thitd smaller than nature made it, I wonder
if her pretty fingers will not shorten life some
dozen years or more, besides making her
miserable while she does live?
When a man goes three times a day to
get a dram, I wonder if he will not by and
by go four times ?
When a young man is depending upon his
daily toil for his income, and marries a lady
who does not know how to make a loaf of
bread or mend a garment, I wonder if he
is not lacking, somewhere, say towards the
top for instance ?
When a man receives a periodical or news
piper, weekly, and takes great delight in
reading them, but neglects to pay for them,
I wonder if he has a soul or a gizzard ?
How to Keep Poor.— Buy two glasses of
tie every day, at five cents each, amounting
none year to $36 40; smoke three cigars
>ne after each mt-ale, counting up in the
coun=e of a year to 532 70: keep a big doe,
which will consume, in a year, at least sls
worth of provisions, and a cat $6 more—al
together this amounts to the snug lutle sum
■t sllO 22—sufficient to buy several barrels
f flour, one hundred busnels of coal, one
barrel of sugar, one sack of coffee, a good
coat, respectatle dress, besids a frock lor tbe
baby, and half a dozen pairs of shoes, more
or less.
Noticing “the Photography of Sound,” a
Philadelphian would like “to see the ‘shape’
of a good long snore; of a pig squealing un
der a gate ; of a thousand brick falling; of
au alarm of fire ; of the bursting of a barrel
! of sour crout; or the first cannonade along
the line of the Ticino.
“The only liberty cap,’’ says a clever and
i witty author, “is a nijghtcep. In it men
Visit, one-tnird of tbeir live?, the land of
. gl, op— tbe only land where they aie always
1 free equal.’’