Newspaper Page Text
Funny Paragraphs.
There is ono field of labor that wo
man can never enter —collecting bills
--becauso “woman’s work is never
chill. ’’
Eve was tho first, and we reckon,
the only woman, who didn’t gather
i,p her dress in both hands, and yell
at the sight of a snake.
We know a man whoso wife don’t
hiss hint because lie smokes. She
hisses Id in because she loves him. It’s
a way some women have.
Character makes man, says an ex
eliange. True, but character has
been Working on time for the last
dozen years.
When wo hear a man bragging
that lie is a self-made man, we often
wonder why ho didn’t ask a wise
man to help him pick out better tim
ber before lie began to build.
It a man can’t make both ends meet
lit him sit down on the end of a
shaky barrel. When the head caves
in the problem will be solved to his
complete satisfaction.
In the theater of life the man who
has a front seat in the orchestra cir
cle 13 not always the one who most
keenly enjoy the show.
We should enjoy our fortune as we
do our heullh—enjoy it when good,
be patient when it is bud, and never
apply violent remedies except in an
extreme necessity.
Two Irishmen traveling on the
Baltimore and Oi.io Railroad truck,
came to a mile post, when one of
them sail! “Tread, aisy, Pat. litre
lic3 a man 108 years old. Ilis name
was Miles from Balt omre.”
A fat French woman dispairingly
says: “I am so fut that I pray for a
disappointment to make me thin.
No sooner does the disappointment
come than the mere expectation of
growing thinner give me so much
joy that I become falter than ever.
The Cincinnati Gazette says lhat
it is queer that so many Bibles live
to a good old ago, while not one pack
of playing cards out of a dozen sees
the second Christmas.
When an ignorant Justice of the
Peace had his attention called to the
section of the luw flatly contradicting
his descision, he replied that he id
ways disagreed with the revised stat
utes in that particular.
Custom compels an Icelander to
to kUs every' woman he meets. What
surprises hi in I lie most is the unusu
al number of old maida that arc go
ing the wrong way.
Remarks a Texas maiden to
her perfidious lover : “I ain’t got
no brother and and. d's 100 old to
fight, but if you will just take one
of these here pistols and step off
a lew paces, I’ll jine in the duel,
and misses won’t count.”
“I’m a rutabaga, and here’s where
I plant my self, ’’ said a tramp, us lie
entered a farm-house near Freeport,
111., and seated himself at the table.
“We ailers bile ours,’’ said the farm
er's wife, and soused him with a dish
panful of boiling water.
It is narrator! th t a would-be joker
in a mixed company, remarked:
“Now, my friends, I think Japan
is the best place to live in the world;
I understand that there are neither
Jews nor p gs there.”
A diminutive specimen, but with
and unmistakable Hebrew caste of
eountonauco, replied: ‘•Well, mine
t riend, I tell you vat it is. Lot's you
and mo go there, and exhibit our
selves. We could make our fortune.
1 could repsesent the Jews, and you
will be the pig,”
Custom compels an Icelander to
kiss every woman he meets, What
surprises him the most is the unusual
number of old maids that are always
going the wrong way.
Wife murder is becoming so com
mon that a woman about to wed
should make her husband sign an
agreement, stating how many years
he intends allowing her to live.
•'Corette Union forced the
1 ). -ckade of Arica, lighting seven
lu’tirs with two Chilian iron clads
aid a transbort. She discharged
ii.-i entire cargo while lighting,
am has return id to Callao.” The
Union was undoubtedly sent from
C.dlao with arms and ammunition
for the Peruvians in the blockade
port of Arica, probaly under the
co Mtnand of Captain Yillancencio,
an I lias succeeded in iter errand,
Respite the Chilian blockade vess
el
W. A. SINGLETON, Ed- d> Prop'r.
VOL 5.
GO FEEL WHAT 1 HAVE FELT.
[Tho following touching lines, were first
road many years ngo. They arc frought with
truthfulness and beauty. Tho circumstances
which led to their npperauce aie said to be as
follows; A young lady of New York occ isiou
ally wrote for the Philadelphia Ledger on the
subject of temperance. Her productions
\vere so full of pathos, and evinced such deep
emotions of the soul, that a friend of her’s
accused her of being a monomaniac on the
subject of temperance, whereupon she wrote
the following:]
Go feel what 1 have folt,
Go bear what I havo borne —
Sink ncutb tho blow n father dealt,
And the cold world’s scorn;
Then suffer on from year to year—
Tho sole relitf a scorching tear.
Go kneel ns I have knelt,
Implore, beseech and pray—
Strive the besotted heart to melt,
Tho downward course te stay;
Be dashod, with bitter curse, aside;
Tour prayers burlesqued,your tears defied.
Go weep as I have wept
O'er a loved lather's fall—
See every promised blessing swept—-
Youth’s sweetness turned to gall—
Life’s fading flowers strewn all the way
That brought me up to woman's day.
Go see what I have seen;
Beho and the strong man bowed,
With gnashing teeth lie bathed in blood,
And cool and livid brow;
Go catch his withered glance and see
There mirrowed his soul’s misery.
Go to the mother's side,
And her crushed bosom cheer;
Thine own deep anguish hide,
Wipe from her cheek the tear,
Mark the worn frame and withered brow,
The gray that stereaks her dark hair now.
With fading form and trembling limb,
And atreo the ruin back to him
Whose plighted faith in early youth
Promised eternal love and truth.
But, who, foresworn, hath yielded up
That promise to the cursed cup,
An l led her down, through love and light,
And all that made her future bright,
And chained her there, mid want and strife,
That lowly thing, “a drunkard’s wife,”
And stamped on childhood’s brow so mild
That withering blight—“a drunkards child.’
Go hear and see, and feet and know
All that my soul hath felt and known;
Then look upon the wine-enp’s glow—
See if its beauty can atone—
Think if its flavor you can try,
When all proclaim—“’Tis drink and die ! ’
Tell me "I hate the bowl!”
llate is a feeble word;
I loath— AßHOß— my very soul
With strong disgust is stirred
Whe’er I see, or hear or tell
Of the dark Leverage of Hell !
AN IWAtUEGEftB.
BY JAMES I’. MARSH.
There is, perhaps, no race of men
on the face of the earth whose oiigin
is wrapped in such obscurity as that
of the American Indians. Having a
language that is spoken, but nut
written, the events which have a par
ticular bearing upon the interest of a
tribe can only be handed down to
their descendants in the form of le
gends, which are told lrom father to
son, and these many years in the
minds of the braves. One of these
singu’ar legends forms the subject of
this sin tch. It is said tbt one of
the chief villages of the Mohawk In
dians was situated on the present site
ol the-vilinge ol Lansingburgh, Ren
selaer county, N. Y., at the junction
of the Mohawk and Hudson rivers.
1 pictured in my mind in a beauti
ful day in mid-summer; the sun is
just sinking to rest, the sky is illumi
nated with a granduer that would
defy the brush of Rubens; the birds
in the trees arc twittering to their
mates of the coming night and the
dismal hoots of the owls are just be
ginning to awaken echoes in the
denser woods. Before me In s a large
Indian encampment. The blue smoko
is curling up from many a lire, chil
dren are playing near the entrances
of the wigwams, sturdy warriors are
pacing up and down or collected in
small groups engaged in conversation
while the squaws arc preparing the
eveuiug meal.
I enter one of these wigwams near
by. The occupants aic a squaw and
two young braves. The squaw looks
to lie about forty-five, and is the
mother of the young warriors. A
glance at the young men would tell
you that they are brothers, one hav
ing reached man-hood's estate, the
other approaching the time when he
will straighten back and say, “1 am
a, mam” As I enter, the two broth
A. DEMOCH ATIC F-A. NEWSPAPER,
BUENA VISTA, MARION COUNTY, GA„ APRIL 14, 1880.
ers arc standing, the squaw, squat
ting. Rising and turning to ihe old
est, she says: “My son, many times
havo you fought tho fierce Huron;
ninny limes have you sought the pan
ther in his native lair; fought the
bear in his rockv retreat; you nre
brave, you nre you are dutiful.
You ask that your brother may ac
company you on this expedition
against the llurous. He lias never
uttered the Mohawk’s war cry, be
fore which ail quail and bend like
reeds iu the storm. He has never
been on a great expedition like lhat
which is now about to set torth. He
is young, ho is fcohle as compared
with you, but he is brave. I there
fore consign hiru to you to watch
over, guard and strengthen.” Turn
ing to the younger site continues:
“My son, obey your brother in every
thing, asking no questions, but with
implicit confluence do whatever lie
may tell you,” Then to them both:
“My noble boys remember that your
father fell by the hand of a Huron.
Now depart, nor return to bid fare
well, for ii you do, I may not be able
to hold to ray purpose.” Having fin
isbed, she returned to her seat, and
leaning her elbows on her knees, main
tains that perfect silence so charac
teristic of the American Indian.
The two brothers, without uttering
a word, turn, pass around, and wind
ing their way between tho wigwams,
come to the centre of the village,
where preparations arc making for
a war dance, for a large party of Mo
hawks are to set out on the following
day for the country of the Huron in
the southern Canada. Painted in
many hideous designs, brandishing
tomahawks and war clubs, they pass
and repass, before the fire in their
fantastic dunce, amt with wierd move
ment and niysterions jestnres they
fight an imaginary foe, and with de
monical yells, and blood-thirsty coun
tenances tear tbe scalp from the head
and sink the tomahawk deep in the
skull.
But at. last morning came. At sun
rise ihey left the village, and winding
th-'ir way through the valley of the
Mohawk, they turned their laces to
ward the country of the Huron,
Alter several days of steady march
ing they arrive at their destination.
Con ug upon a village, they attacked
it, but they were deceived in regard
lo its strength, for a large party of
Unions being concealed in it they
now sallied forth and gave them bat
tle. A 1 day long the battle raged—
lrom sun-rise to sun-set; first victory
resting with one side, then the other,
until finally only two heroes were left
against the horde of the Hurons.
They wore hemmed in on all sides,
but they foughi bravely until the
younger was struck witli a poison
arrow. He staggered and fell. His
brother attempted to raise him up,
but he was ruthlessly torn away and
disarmed. He Struggled hatd, but
five sturdy braves were more than
his match, and he was soon bound
and tied to a stake where tie witness
ed the murder of liis brother.
The older brother was now left
alone; he wished only for death, but
his captors desired otherwise, I hey
considered it more degrading to be
come a slave than to die at the stake,
so they consigned him to be the slave
ol' their ehieftian.
He was reduced to slavery, and
labored for a year.
In the quiet Mohawk village by the
Hudson many an anxious eye was
turned to the northwest to catch the
first indication ol the returning war
party, but day after day went by,
and at last all hopes of their letuin
iog were given up, for it became ev
ident that their fathers, sons and
brother had all been slain.
It was a beautiful day in autumn,
many years after the setting forth of
the valiant Mohawks, when there ap
peared in the village an Indian who
had passed the prime of life. Not
one in the village knew him. They
could tell by his manner and actions
that lie was a Mohawk, but that was
tue extent of their knowledge.
Turning neither to the right nor
the left, he reached the wigwam ol
the old woman and lilting up theliap
h i entered. The only occupant of
the wigwam—the squaw—was seated
in her accurtomed place on the furs.
With a mother’s instinct she recog
nized him as her son, lost for many
years, and leaping up for joy, she
kissed, fondled and patted him like
a child. Suddenly she started, as
il' awakened from a dream, asked
with eager haste; “Where is your
brother ? Do not keep me waiting.
I long to speak to him —to pat him
on the head as I did in days gone by
Bring him forth, that the desire of tin
old mother may be gratified.” It
was too much for the brave, he sank
down aud buried his face in his hands
and wept, but finally lifting his head
lie replied as follows: “My venera
ble mother: When we parted last,
you consigned m)' brother to iny care.
'you told me to watch and guard him
I did ns you bade until the Great
Spirit called niv brother, and against
tho Great Spirit I have no power. In
the great battle we were the list
standing. The llurous were trem
bling like aspen leaves before my
blows, but, aiflal inv brother was
struck with a .poisoned shaft. He
fell; I endeavored to sustain him, and
as 1 turned to lift him, I was seized
from bebinti, disarmed and bound to
a stake, and there I witnessed my
brother’s murder. Mother, ho is
dead. He has gono to the happy
hunting grounds of his forolatheis,
and you and I are alone left of the
once proudest family of the Mohawk
nation.”
For a few minutes the old squaw sat
like one transfixed, when with a sud
den nervousness she seized her son,
and Lading him out of the wigwam,
she gave vent to the following vehe
ment speech:
“My sou, I know that you have
done your duty. Ido not cuise you,
but you must return to tho country
of the Hurons and bring back and
cast at my feet your brother’s bones.
It may be many years before your
return, but Unit you may know that
you are not forgotten, I will kindle
the fire on yonder rock. Every night
it shall burn. Rain, snow, hail or
the forewiuds of heaven shall not ex
tinguish it- It shall be a beacon fire
to greet your eyes as long as there is
life in this poor old body. Now, leave
me. turn your face again to ward,
the country ol the llnrons,nor return
until your mission is accomplished.
Depart this hour, for I long to know
that you are on your journey.” They
separated; she returning to her wig
wam, lie to the valley of the Mohawk.
Years rolled by. Every night the
beacon fire was lighted and cabt its
glare on the surrounding country.
Tho old woman, crouching down
beside the rock, wept bitter tears.
I was a sorrowful licture, that moth
er holding her lonely vigils, weeping
us if her heart would break. Feel
ings of sorrow in her bosom as deep
as those of any white mother, she
wept there alone for h-r two lost sons
—fi r she now thought her eldest to
be dead. No family now, to suppoit
tier in tier old age, when she mot
needed her sons; no friends, no hope,
no home. The world had been a bar
ren desert to her; it. had been as bit
ter as gall, harder than iron, and she
only wished for death to end her suf
ferings that she might taste the bliss
of the happy hunting grounds.
At length the old squaw became
too feeble and infirm to climb the
eteep hill in order that site might
light the beacon fire, so some of the
younger members of the tribe did it
for her, and us she would cat -li a
glimpse of the first spark as it struck
the dry wood, a smile would cross
tier face, and then she would pass
off into quiet slumbers.
One cold, freezing December day
in a terrible snow an old Indian up
peered in the vlliage. He was known
by no one. He was attired in ragged
and patched buckskins, and strangest
of all he carried a pack on his back.
No one would have thought that it
was waudering son returning for the
second time, but so it wss.
Having arrived at the country ol
the Hurons, in attempting to obtain
his l)rother’s bones, lie was captured.
Again and again ho made attempts
to obtain possession ol them, aud af
ter many years he was successful.
Having secured them he bad now re
turned to his homo with his precious
burden on his back in the inanucr
that I have described.
Going to the old wigwam, ho en
tered. The minute the old squaw’s
eyes met his she leaped up. For
getting the ailments of age and her
palsied from, she was about to grasp
him about the neck, when ho cast
the bundle at iier feet, saying:
“Mother, there are my brother’s
bones;” then pointing to himself,
“here are miuc;” and with his form
shaking like the ground when con
vulsed with an earthquake, he sank
down —a corpse.
The old squaw was overcome; the
shock was too great for her nervous
system, aud as the dying day passed
ami was gone, her spirit departed
with it.
Thus these three, separated in life,
were in death united forever.
Ohio wants a law passed provid
ing that when a judge sentences
an offender to tho penitentiary it
shall bo ascertained if ho has a
fa nily depending on him for sup
port. The fact shall be certified
to the warden, who shall keep a
record of the convict’s earnings,
and, after deducting 25 cents a
day for his food and clothing,
shall pass the balance to his credit,
aud apply it to the support of his
legal dependents,
A N ELOPEMENT Fit USTIIA TED .
An English girl, near Manchester,
tied a string to her toe and let it
—Llie siring, not tin toe—hang out
the window lor a gentleman friend to
pull iu order that she might not miss
her music lesson. The rector of the
chuich, it is farther stated, on hear
ing fho arrangement, refused the
couple tho sacrament. And this re
minds us of a little story. Once up
on a time a young lady who desired
to take an elopement tour, adopted
the English girl’s plan, and the lover
was to be on hand at day-break to
give the signal. The string used for
tbe peddle was a stout cord, and one
end was dropped from a third story
window into the back yard, and the
other end attached to tbe damsil's
great toe. And the 1-gion runs
that a Lcaithy gout of the William
persuasion arose early next morning
to look for the early worm, as
it were, and wandered into the yard;
alter eating up all the tomato cans,
barrel staves and broken crockery
ware, he found the siring and took
that in as desert. As soon as the
string was drawn tight the goat
stood upon his hind legs and gave
the string an impuLivejcrk. Tho girl
awoke. The goat gave another sud
den pull, and the maiden jumped out
of tiie bed with a smothered cry of
pain. Then she stooped down to de
tach tile cord jnst as tho rediculous
beast gave another violent jerk, and
she lost her equilibrium—and her too,
too, almost—the cord cutt'ng into
the tender flesh. She sprang to the
window and called in a hoarse whis
per: “Stop pulling, Chai'lil’ll be
down in a minute.” Then, she made
another effort to untie the cord, but
that diabolical goat gave his head
several angry bobs, and eacli time
the girl gave a cry of pain. Again
she softly culled out in the darkness:
“Charlie, if you don’t stop jerking
that way I’ll not tome down at all.”
She was answered by anoher savage
pull, and the cry of anguish that es
caped from her lips brought her
mother with a look of affright and a
lighted lamp. Tile young lady faint
ed, ihe elopement was nipped in the
bud, and—and tho disappointed
maiden’s toe was sore for two weeks.
The goat escaped.
“PUT OX PETTICOATS
The Indian custom is to butcher
prisoners taken in battle. Such, how
ever, was not the practice of Tecum
seh, the great chief who, as an ally of
the British, fought against us in the
war of 1812. lie hated the Ameri
cans, but he fought as a warrior, and
not as a Thug.
Inlßl3, Cot Dudley, while attempt
ing to relieve Fort Meigs, where Gen.
Harrison were besieged by British
and Indians, was defeated with great
slaughter. As usual, the Indians be
gan killing the American prisoners.
Gen. Proctor, the British commander,
looked coolly on, and made no effort
to restrain them/’
Suddenly a voice sounded like a
clap of thunder, ami Toeumseh,
mounted on a foaming horse, dashed
amoug the butchers. Two Indians
were in the act of killing a prisoner.
Springing from his horse, Tecumseh
seized one Indian by the throat and
the other by the breast, and threw
them to the ground.
Drawing tomahawk and scalping
knife, he dared any Indiad to touch
another prisoner. A chief disobeyed
and Tecumseh brained with the tom
ahawk. The Indians sullenly de
sisted.
“What will become of my Indians!'’
ho exclaimed. Then, turning to Proc
tor, who stood near, he sternly de
manded why he had not.put a stop
to the massacre.
“Your Indians cauuot be com
manded,’’ replied the General.
“Go away ! You are unlit to com
mand. Put on petticoats V' was the
sgoruful reply.
ANNUAL SVJiSCTdPTJON, $2 00
TURNING THE TABLES.
A laughable circumstance occurred
ilia other day—says an English pa
per—on a railroad. A young gentle
man was traveling to town, and when
lie arrived at Watford a prim, sedate
gentleman of the older school got
into fho carriage. As scon ns the
train started, without asking the old
boy whether be liked it or not, the
young pulled out his cigar and begun
to puff away, on which, old square
toes violently remonstrated, and said
he would make a regular complaint
to the authorities when he got to
town. Nothing daunted, the young
ster continued his cigar till just be
fore he got to Euslon Square, when,
jumping out ol tbs carriage, he call
ed to a policeman and beggeil him to
take his friend into custody, as he had
been smoking in the carriage con
trary to his express wishes. While
tbe altercation was going on our
young friend mixed in the crowd, and
lias never been heard of since.
lIOW TO STOP A PAPER.
An exchange says: You have an
undoubted right to stop a newspa--
per when you arc disposed upon pay
ment of all arrearages. Do not hes
it;ate to do so on account of any ten
derness of feelings for the editor.
And when you discontinue your pa
per do so manfully. Don’t be so bit
ful as to throw it back to the Post
master with a contemptious ‘I don’t
want it any longer!’ and have ‘re
fused’ written on the margin, and have
the paper sent back to tho editor.
If you do not widi longer to receive
tiie newspaper, write a note to the
editor, like a man, saying so; and be
sure that arrearages are paid. This
is the way to stop a paper.
A Level-Headed Merchant.
A wholesale grocer in this city,
who became rich in business, says
liis rule has always been when lie
sold goods on credit, to at once
subscribe to the local paper of his
debtor. So long as his customer
advertised liberally and vigorous
ly. he rested, but as soon as he be
gan to contract his advertising
space, lie took tiie fact as evidence
that there was trouble ahead, and
lie invariably went for bis debtor.
Said lie,“the man who feels toopoor
to make his business kncwd, is
too poor to do business. The with
drawing of an advertisement is ev
idence of weakness that business
men are not s’ow to act upon.—
New York 7’itries:
THE CUCUMBER.
The cucumbor is known to have
been cultivated for more than 3,000
years. In ancient Egypt it was ex
t nsively grown, and is so at the pres
ent day. The precise date when the
plant was first cultivated in England
is not recorded. With the melon, it
was commonly cultivated iu the reign
of Edward III.; bat, in consequence
of the war of the Roses, the cultiva
tion of it was neglected, and at last
entirely lost. The plant was intro
duced again at the latter part of the
reign of Henry VIII.
“MORE TOOT
Here is a ease oi spoiling the tiuth
by making it too strong.
“It seems to me that your loaves
arc not of the same weight,” mutter
ed a fault-find ng housewife to a ba
ker, as she poised a couple of loaves
from his basket, “do 3 ou supposo you
can cheat me.”
“I don’t mean to cheat you,” re
plied the man of bread, not relishing
such an insinuation; “I know the
loaves were weighed —every one of
them, and one weighs just as much
as t'other, and more, too, I daresay,
if the truth was known.”
CLOSE KINSHIP.
These is a man in the western part
of this county, who some years ago
married the widow of liis own son,
and she was also his own niece. The
lady has hud children by both hus
bands. Now what kin arc they ? It
presents about as mixed kinship as
any case on record. —Pittsboro (N.
C.) Record. ~ g -....
SENTIMENT AND SENSE.
Love, faith, patience—the thref
ossciitial of a happy lifo.
Pleasant nnd good manners must
bo made up of petty sacrifices.
Pleasure comc3 through toil, and
not by self indulgence or indolucc.
•
Mean souls like means pictures are
often found in good-looking frames.
Experience is a torch lighted in
tho usliesof our hopes and delusions.
\i lion one is fagged, hungry and
and( pressed, tho worst 6oems most pr<:4t*‘
able.
NO 31
Hope softens sorrow, brightens
plain surroundings, and cusca a liard'
lot.
Find eartli where grows no weeds,
and you may tind a heart where no
error grows.
Work is the weapon of honor, and
lie who lacks the weapon will never
triumph,
There is nothing that so fpftncs tho
(ace and mind,' as the presence of'
good thoughts.
The heart is a book which we ought
not to tear in our hurry to get at its
contents.
It is easy to pick holes in other'
people’s work, but fur more profits--
ble to do better work yourself.
As l<mg as hearts beat, as long as ;
life exists, in whatever age, iron or
golden, will find love.
Harsh words have many a tinwr
alienated a child's feelings,.and crush
ed out all love of home.
Take a true view of life; be prow)
that you have work in tho world's*
busy path and do it well and honor
ably.
Some people clream such lofty
thoughts that not the strongest wings
of speech could ever touch, their low
est thoughts.
Life is too short to nurse one’s mis
ery. Hurry them across the lowlands
tiiat you may linger on the mounUia
tops.
Drunkenness places man ns mnetn
below the level of the brutes aa rea
son elevates him above them.
Humility is the Christian’s greatest
honor; and tlie higher men climb the*
further they are from heaven.
One who is contented with what
he has done will never become fa
mous for what he wifi do.
The beautiful is a manifestation of
the secret law of nature, which, but
for tliis appearance, lud been forever
concealed from us.
Nothing is so wholesome, nothing
does so much for people’s looks, as a
little interchange of the small coin
of bcncvlence.
Every good picture is the beet of
sermons and lectures. The sense in
forms the socL What ever you have,
have beauty.
The force, the mass of character,
mind, heart, or soul that a man can
put in any work, is the most im
portant factor in that work.
Wealth may minister to the best
part of man, but only minister —not
master. When it usurps the throne
and becomes monarch it is of all
things most pitilul and abject.
Tile powers of the mind, when they
are unbound and expanded by the
sunlight of fecility, more frequently
luxuriate into lollies than blossom in
to goodness.
It nas been beantifully and truth
fully said; “The blossom cannot tell
what becomes of its odor, and no man
can tell what becomes of his influence
and example, that roll away from him
and go beyond his ken on their peril
ous mission.”
It appears that the Irish famine is
creeping from the coast to the inte
rior, and, instead of diminishing, it is
be'icved that the worst has not yet
been experienced. During the sum
mer months it is feared that the fam
ine will be more severe than it is
now. It has been said, too, that tho
suffering does not compare with tho
famous famine of 1848; but if this bo
only the beginning no one is prepar
ed to say whether it is as grievous
or not. That ca’unot bo decided un
til the want is relieved. Besides,
the secondary effects of famine aro
often more terrible than tho first.
Pestilence follows protracted famine,
and fever oftn accompanies it.
Therefore much distress wiil be saved
by keeping its terrible consequences
under control.