Newspaper Page Text
THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
By SMITH, WIKLE & CO.]
INDIKKIT AM) CONSEQUENTIAL DAHA
LES—THK (.MEAT CASK OF DOBBS AS
WOMACK.
The following article will lie read
with infinite amusement. For years
we have met with nothing which has
given as such a hearty laugh as this
nit of burlesque. The parallel is per
fect. The case is fully stated, and its
absurdity fully exposed. The word
“consequential,” in its ordinary sense,
is quite applicable to Brother Jona
than, in making these demands. As
applied to the damages, it is of no
consequent*, as it provokes laughter
rut her t han serious consideration.
Our readers who pay little attention
to public affairs may be reminded
that the claims of the United Stab-s
against England, for damage- done to
her commerce by the Confederate
privateer Alabama, was referred, by
agreement of both parties, to .arbitra
tion. The United States presented
before the arbitrators, claims not on
ly for direct, but ul-o consequential
damages— that is, damages which oc
curred in consequence of other and
previous damages. These damages
cover every ailment to which the
Ixidy politic of the United States has
been exposed during or since the war,
amounting to billions of dollars—
claims which England, very proper
ly, refuses to pay. We copy from the
Macon “Telegraph and Messenger.”
—[Editor of “ The Plantation.”
Colaparchkk, Feb. 7, 1572.
Editors Telegraph :—What you say
about the great onsettin’ war between
England and the United States, and
the question of indirect and conse
quential damages, brings to my mind
tne famous case of Dobbs agin Wo
mack, which happened down on the
Mackasukie, in Florida, when, as you
know, i wur living tnar. In that
case I wur one of the arbytrators, and
afterwards a witness, and if thar is
any man that ought to know all about
indirect and consequential damages, I
am that man.
The way of it were as follows, to
wit, that is to say: You see Zeb l)olJ>s
and Bully Womack wur nigh neigh
bors—well-to-do, small planters, liv
ing on the Mackasukie—but Zel> was
the most forehanded of the two. it |
were long back in the forties—about
Chrisrnus, and warm at that. May
be in old plantation limes you have j
seen one of those long-legged, tar
faeed imps of blackness and mischief
runnin’ about in an osnaburg sliirt!
witii an open collar and ragged dap— ;
full of old JS’lck, and never easy ex-1
eept while doing mischief. Now,
Bully Womack owned just such a lit
tle rascal, named by his mother The- (
ophilas, but they called him JTofl'y for
short. Toffy’s venerated sife had
been down with a load of cotton, and
come back laden with ginger-cakes,
crackers, and other fireworks and
candy for Chismus—likewise a jug of i
sperets turpentime, which, you know,
are a nigger’s suvrin remedy for eve
rythin’ from ground-ich and lbot-pi
zen to the belly-ache and tickdolero, j
or a bad cough and worms. Now,
Satan entered into the head of that
little rascal Toffy. Ho cought one of I
Dobbs’ hull yearlinsand tied it hard
and fast to a saplin with a wisp of j
wire-grass. Then strung its long tail |
with crackers and other fiery sarpents,!
torpedoes and sieh like, ending off
with a great faggot of dry broom- j
sedge. Then he stole his father’s j
sperets turpentime. and anointed the !
whole animal plenteously from head
to heels, putting a double portion of i
the spends on the broom-sedge at the !
endofhistail. Then he lights a match, i
cuts the poor thing loose, and sets the I
sedge afire.
1 reckon such a sight was never
seen on Mackasukie atorc. The fran
tic y earl in made for home like a streak
of iightnin’, yelling like mad, and
popin’, flzzin’ and explodin’ with ev- j
ery leap. lle cleared a seven-rail!
fence in front of the house at a jump,!
and made through the enclosure for j
the cow-lot. On the way he knocked ‘
over a negro gal and old inarm Dobbs, j
(Dobbs’ grandmother) who were!
hanging out the family washing, and j
sot ’em both afire, and they run
screaming into the house. Then,
some how or ruther, the clothes-line
got hitched to the bull, anetthe whole
wardrobe was dragged off and ruin
ed. When he jumped into the cow
lot the cattle, all mad with terror,
jumped the fence into the garden and
ruined the whole concern, and two of
the best cows broke their legs. Then
lie again jumped the fence, made for
a stable and sot that afire, and that
burnt up the corn-crib next to; and
lastly, he took to the woods and run J,
as far as life would let him, and noth
ing but the bones was seen afterwards,
well briled. When old inarm Dobbs
and thi' servant gal run into the house
all alight and screaming, Mistress
Dobbs had the presence of mind to
pull up the front room carpet and roll
them up in it, but they were badly
burned, anil the carpet was spiled. ;
So you see that that yere yearlin bull |
and Toffy together made as much of a
splattemtion on Dobbs’ place as the
little yearlin Alabamy did among the
Yankee ships on the high seas, and it
wur also a real Bull ltun.
But this was not all. Dobbs had to j
go post-haste after a doctor three:
mile off on the way ; he lost his road
in the causeway ford round the head
of Mackasukie —drowned his beet
mare —broke his buggy—ruined his
harness —got a cold with the wet —
took the pneumony—was laid up a
long time—had doctors’ bills very se
riously—lost a ease in court which he
said he would have gained if he could
have gone to town—but what was
worst of all, he lost the purchase of a
place he had sot his heart on, anil was |
sure would make his everlasting for
tune, could he have bought it, but
the Sheriff’s sale came on when he 1
was too sick to think about anything
else.
Now, when Dobbs got well and be
gan to inquire into the matter and j
Toffy confessed his wickedness and j
Bully Womack came up like a man
to see what he ought to do about the i
matter, you may be sure there was
such a talk about damages as was
never 1 aril in that settlement before,
or ai, where else until the Alabamy j
claims were made out. Womack
wanted to stop with paying for the ;
bull and the clothes—and the burnt
stable and com-erib—what he called j
the direct bull damage. But Dobbs
lost his temper at the bare proposi
tion. “Who,” says he, “is to pay!
me for my lost cows, and marm’s hurt
and the girl’s hurt, and her lost time,
and the doctors’ bills for them —and
for what they suffered—and for my
mare —and for the buggy—and for my
pneumony and lost time, and what 1
suffered, and for my doctors’ bill —and 1
for my lost case in court—and the law
fees and costs—and for my disap
pointment —and for the place which 11
have been wanting to buy all my life
—and for what I have lost that 1
should have made on it for the next
twenty or thirty years? 1 must have
all this, at least.” “ But neighbor,”
says Womack, “that would amount
to a good deal more than i have now
or ever expect to have. And am Ito
beggar myself on account of a Chris
mus freak of that little rascal Toffy?”
“ And am I,” says Dobbs, “ to lose it
all on account of your rascally nig
ger?” After a good deal of this kind
of talk, they agreed to call for arby
trators in the settlement, and that
was one time when I sot on the case.
You may depend we had a serious
time of it and hardly knew what to
do. At last we decided on the doc
trine of direct damage, from the mere
impossibility of estimating any oth
er, or of paying them if made out.
One of the arbytrators made out a bill
on Dobbs’ statement, and it was hard
ly short of half a million, and then did
not include all the indirect damage—
for you see we could not price the
marm’s smarts, which were dreadful—
nor the negro woman’s, which were
as bad—nor Dobbs’ aekes and injury
r to hi* constitution by the pneumony
j —nor the injury to all their tempers
j and riligion by the pain and disap
pointment, anil cuss words they might
have spoken—anil we could not count
with any certainty uj»on many con
tingencies which I)obhs swore would
have happened but for the misfortu
iiate interruption of Toffy and the
yearlin bull.
But Dobbs would not accept thear
bitryment. He went into law about
it, and finally got into equity, as they
call it, and the case of Dobbs agin
\\ omack was in court for many years.
Finally they awarded a hundred dol
lars and interest from the time of the
great Bull Bun, but meanwhile he had
spent nigh onto forty thousand dol
lars to the lawyers and was about
ruined, la this state of mind he met
Bully Womack one day and casscd
him and assaulted him with a stick ;
but Bully knocked him down and
tramped him so heavily that Zeb
Dobbs was of no account ever after
wards, and that was the last i ever
licerod of the case.
Yours truly,
Simon Short.
Bit. JOHN WRITES TO BILL ARP.
If*-’* “ LoiieHome”—Hi* View* on tlw
t American-RriK’liwh War Thr War Steer
with the Strained Tail—He Wants a
CircuM—Shuks.
From the Rome Commercial.}
Dear Bill' Do you remember
all them fine speeches you andGen’J.
Black made me about farmin? If
you don’t! do. I’ye tried it one year
and I would like to know about what
time the funny part begins. How
long does a man have to experience
before he succeeds, and ain’t it possi
ble that an ordinary man might run
through and break down before he
got a fair start? Don’t a man some
times get too old and fat for his bis
ness before he begins it? The truth
is Bill I’m afeerd I’ve mistukmy ok
| kupation, or else I’ve located on
i surnbody elses land. Armuehee creek
| is mity good for mill ponds, but Ar
! muehee bottom won’t make corn for
I me. It turns up in slick, white greasy
| clods as big as mud turkles, and it
i smells as sour as a still house. There
i is two thousand crawfish holes to the
square rod, and where thare ain’t a
hole there’s a cowicli vine or a snake
root. Old uucle Johnny Cox says it’s
a very pekulyar sile, and has to be
managed keerfuily. The fact is, Bill,
I’m iliappinteil as a farmer, but I
ain’t gin up yet. I thot that I could
set on the dirt fioor of my veranda
and see my corn growing all day 1
long. 1 intended to havo a eornshuk- j
in in the fall end invite you all up!
and have the biggest frolic in the j
world. It actually bothered me at
night thinkin who I’d ax and who Ii
wouldeut, and how I’d fix up for cm.
That corn has never cum up yit.—
Its gone where the cowich tw'inetli
anil the snake root twistetli, and the j
craw-flish boreth his hole. I hired
two fellers to crop it for me, and was I
to give cm ten bushels apiece to the j
acre. The crop diilnt make but ate, !
Bill, and they took it. Ole man Wil
liamson is lettin we have meal and is ;
to wait on me till next crop. He’s :
as clever a man as ever took two tolls j
out of one grist. I hired a nigger to
sow down ten acres of wheat for me !
last fall. He sorter scratched it in,
and 1 paid him ten dollars. That
wheat haint never cum up yet, and it:
is supposed that nigger sold it. You
see that was eirkus week when he
sowed it and 1 stayed in town. I’ve 1
almost lost all hope of it cummin up !
this season. Would you plant the
ground in something else or not?—
Shokly says that li e thinks that
wheat sprouted downwards, and will !
come up somewhere on totlier side, j
but Shokly is always theorizin about |
sumthin.
Bill is there any slinks in town? I
want a bale of slinks—a small bale— I
one that my ole war steer can haul!
over the mountin. Perhaps you can j
git me sum from Gen. Black. He’s j
the President of the Fair and ought
to have saved shuks. I must have
sum sort of ruffness for my ole steer
and mule until grass cuius—shorely
it will come early this spring—shore-
ly it will. If it don’t, why Bill, I’m :
busted on stock, certain. Is there any |
news of another circus cumin ? Tell j
Grady to stir era up and git me a free
ticket. It will take a show once a
month to make me tolerate farmin
as an okkupashun. I’m coning down
next week anyhow after them shucks.
Major Blunt had jest as well hunt cm
up, for if I can’t git era I aint cumin
back here no more, and he’ll have
ine to feed ashore.
Whatsall this news about anuther
war? 1 tell you what, Bill, when I
heard it I looked right at old Dobbin
and he looked right at the wagin like
lie was jest ready to be hitched in for
immediate fiito. I was powerfully
relieved when 1 heard it was a fuss
between John Bull and Yankee Doo
dle. Thats none of onr funeral, Bill,
and I wouldent walk 40 yards to see
’em eat one anuther up. * Yes I would
—l’d like to be on top of Armuehee
mountain and see em site till every
craw fish hole was filled with their
blood, and then manure my land
with their bones. But I don’t want
to run any more, Bill—see about them
shuks as soon as possible. Them
yanks hav got a hankerin after me
and 1 can’t rest till they are exter
minated. But they aint agoin to site
Old England, No sir. They would
ent declare war agin a sick sheep if
they couldent hire sum furriners to
do the fitin. John Bull is afraid of
the Irish and Uncle Sam is afraid of
the Itebs, and theres no tellin what
devilment they would kick up in
case of a war.
Dont forgit my shuks, Bill. The
old steer aint in good fix for anuther
campane. 1 notis his tail looks pow
erful weak. Its never recovered from
the old strain, but theres no use in j
borrowin trouble. My heffer strayed j
over the mountin on Judge Wrights
side about a month ago, and they say
one never gets back from the flat
woods. Surnbody cut off the Judges
saddle skirt last week. I tell you \
them flat woods population is mity
fond of hide and taller. It was the
J udges go to meetin saddle. Pity,
aint it? Dont forgit to see Black
about the shuks.
Yours truly, Big John.
P. S. —I’ve got sumthin to tell you
when I see you. Theres a woman
in the case. The fakt is, Bill, I’m
lonesome. I wish I could call back
30 years and sluff off about 200 lbs. of
surplus flesh, I’d not play a lone
hand no more, and jest think what a
savin it would be in clothes. Look
after them shuks. Rufness is the
thing now. See the furniture shop
and find out what they will make j
me a bedstead for, 7 feet wide. I’m
lonesome shore, B. J.
The Danbury (Conn.) News says:
“ A young lady in a neighboring
town has taken up dentistry fora liv
ing. All the gentlemen patronize her.
When she puts her arm around the |
neck of the patient and caresses his j
jaw for the offending member, the j
sensation is about as nice as they I
make ’em. One young man has be- j
come hopelessly infatuated with her.
Consequently he hasn’t a tooth in his ;
head. She had pulled every blessed !
one of them; and made him two new
sets and pulled them. She is now at
i work on his father’s saw. He holds j
! the saw.
A countryman up on the Air Line
Railroad observed a gang of hands
laboring, and one of them wearing a
ball and chain. lie asked the labor
j er why the ball was chained to his
leg. “To keep people from stealing
j it,” said the darky; “ heaps of thieves
I about here.”
| Women are said to be second to
the press in the dissemination of
i news.
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 81, 1872.
[From the Utica Uerald.
COL XT TWENTY-FI VK.
How the Wife of a ttira Editor Carbed bis
rasraveraablf Trap* r
I found the cherlshedTace of Maria
Ann wreathed in smiles, the other
evening, when I returned from my
arduous daily toil. (I am engag
)ed as standing man at a saloon. Bo
many men are treating, that the sa
loon-keeper hires six of us to betreat
ed. We all drink with every candi
date who comes in, and it makes
business pretty brisk. )
Said my chosen one, “ Joshua, I
am afraid you do not always find me
: an angel in disposition.”
Said I, “ That’s so—hie —my dear,
I don’t seldom find you ’ngel in—in
anything.”
“ And,” she added, “you are not
always the most pleasant man in the
! world.”
I did not feel called on to reply.
“ Now,” said she, “ read that.”
She had cut an item from the col
umns of some paper wherein a de
; men ted writer told about some im
possible woman who, being troubled
j with a bad temper, counted twenty -
! five every time she got provoked,
and thus became a sweet, amiable,
and dearly loved ornament of the
house of her delighted husband. I
read the article as well as the condi- j
tion of my head would allow, and re
j marked, “ Bosh.”
Maria Ann paid no attention to me, j
but unfolded her plan. She said that !
, every time I got mad I should count :
twenty-five, and every time she got
j mad she would count twenty-five. I
asked her who she thought would
pay our rent while we sat and count-
I ed twenty-five over and over all day j
long. Then she said I was always i
raising objections to her plans for our
mutual improvement, and I said I
was not, and she said I was enough
;to try the patience of a saint, and I
j said she was too, and she came for
! me, and I told her to count twenty
five; but she forgot all about that,
! and just tallied one in my left eye.
Then I was going to remonstrate
with the poker, and she told me to
; count twenty-five, and I said I would
not; but I did before she had pulled
more than half my hair out. Then
she made me count twenty-five over
and over, until I was out of breath
and felt real pleasant and good-na
t urned. So we went to supper. Now,
the eat was curled up in my chair,
but I did not see it until I sat down;
and 1 did see it then, but I was pret
ty sure it was there, in fact I knew
it was there as well as I wanted to,
and more to. I felt inclined to rise
up suddenly, but as I gathered to
spring she brandished the tea-potand
murmured: “ Joshua, your temper is
rising; count twenty-five or I’ll break
your head,” and that cat was draw
ing a map of the Tenth Ward with
her claws around behind me with
the streets and boundaries marked in
my own blood. I rose to explain,
and said, “My dear—l—” but she
caromomed on my head with a well
short teacup, and sprinkled my face
with a quart of hot tea, and I sat
down and counted twenty-five, but
it killed the cat. The old fellew
died hard, though. I could feel him
settle as his nine lives went out one
by one.
A few days’ practice of this rule,
Under the loving instruction of Ma
ria Ann, has enabled me to conquer
my temper completely. Nobody
can get me mad now, I am in a state
of perpetual calm and I want to see
the man that wrote that story. _ I
want to fit him for the hands of an
undertaker, and make a demand for
mourning goods among his friends.
Then I can die happy—counting
twenty-five.
The Memory of the Dead.—
One beautiful trait of our humahity is
the tenderness with which we cher
ish the memory of the departed. Let
death take from the household that
troublesome and ungovernable child,
and all that we remember are his
sweet and gentle words, his rare qual
ities, his loving ways, his beauty and
his manliness. The child stands be
fore our eyes, not as he was, but as he
might have been had all God put in
him been perfected by love and grace.
He is now always “ dear child” in
our thoughts, and not selfish or un
lovely. The children long for their
dead companion with a real and ten
der grief; they would be pleasanter
were he back again; they are sur
prised to find how much they loved
him. Friends long to have the oppor
tunity, now lost, to show their love.
Friendly Recognition.— lt is
said that Dr. John Hall calls “ hand
shaking” a means of grace among
Christians. Nothing can be more
desirable or beneficial than for church
members to pay some friendly atten
tion to strangers and visitors who at
tend the public services of the sanc
tuary. We have heard of a Boston
minister who says he once preached
on “ The Recognition of Friends in
the Future,” and was told after ser
vice by a hearer that it would be
more to the point to preach
about the recognition of friends here,
as he had been in the church twenty
years and didn’t know any of its
members.
A NIGUT PICTURE.
It is night now, and hero is home.
Gathered under the quiet roof, elders
and children lie alike at rest. In the
midst of a great peace and calm, the
stars look out from the heavens.
The silence is peopled with the past;
sorrowful remorses for sins and short
comings, memories of passionate joys
and griefs rise out of their graves,
both now alike calm and sad. Eyes,
as I shut mine, look at me, that have
long ceased to shine. The town and
fair landscape sleep under the star
light, wreathed in the Autumn mist.
Twinkling among the houses, a light
keeps watch, here and there, in what
may be a sick chamber or two. The
clock tolls sweetly in the silent air.
Here is night and rest. An awful
sense of thanks makes the heart swell
and the head bow, as I pass to my
room through the sleeping house, and
feel as though a hushed blessing
were upon it.— Thackeray.
Serve God ; let him be the author i
of all thy actions; commend all thy!
endeavors to him who must either j
wither or prosper them, please him j
with prayer; lest, if he frown, he j
confound all thy fortune and labor, ]
like drops of rain upon the sandy j
groun d.— Raleigh.
TAKE CARE OF THE CATTLE.
It is the cattle of the farm that do
so much to make farming profitable.
They represent more money than any
other class of farm stock, and the uses
to which they are put, are more va
ried than those of any other descrip
tion of domesticated animals what
ever. Take care of the cattle.
“ Mother, I should not be surprised
if our Susan gets choked some day.”
“Why, my son?” “Because her
beau twisted his arms around her
neck, and if she had not kissed him j
to let her go, he would have strangled
her.”
A loving heart and a pleasant coun
tenance are commmodities which a
man should never fail to take home
with him. They will best season his
food and soften his pillow, It were
a great thing for a man that his wife
and children could truly say of him,
“He never brought a frown of un
happiness across his threshold.”
Men often attempt, by the light of
reason, to discover the mysteries of
j eternity. They might as well hold
i up a candle to see the stars.
MISCE LLASEOUS.
I CALLERS EXPERIENCE WHEN NEW
YORK WAS WITHOUT GAS.
Yes, the gas works have exploded,
and Egyptian darkness is upon us.
I don’t care, only it seriously inter
feres with our ritualism at St. Albans
anil I)r. Ewer’s. Last night I had to
take a lantern to find the church at
all.
The gas work people say nobody
has been hurt by the explosion. I
guess if they could see the fun anil
sentiment, the proposals and surren
ders of hearts in up town parlors,
they would say differently. A good
many people—sentimental young
people—have been hurt.
Sunday evening was a great night
above Thirty-fourth street. Dark
ness prevailed in a thousand parlors.
Many young ladies expected their
sweethearts that night. Nobody’s
face was visible. I-was greeted "as
“ Dear William” twenty-four times
by gushing young ladies. I made
one call on anewly married couple.
The young wife came tripping into
the dark hallway. “My dear Wil
liam ! why did you stay away so
long?” exclaimed a sweet young
voice, and then she threw her arms
wildly around my neck —our lips
met.
At one house on Thirty-fourth
, street, a sweet, liquid-eyed brunette,
j threw her arms lovingly around me.
“ O, Walter, why did you not come
: last Sunday ?” she sobbed; then she
sank sweetly on my bosom.
There was no light—not even a
candle. So I said, “ Weep not, Lau
j ra,” and then I kissed her thirty-six
| times.
It was nice.
I called on Forty-sixth street. A
ponderous matron came tripping into
the hall—dress decollete, liair ala
Pompadour. She seized my hand
earnestly, and said:
“O, Charles! Ido hope you will
like the opera to-night; kiss me be
fore we go.”
Which I did.
“Do you love me, George?” she
whispered.
“ Undoubtedly,” remarked.
“How much, darling?”
“ Too much—too much!” I falter
ed.
“Oh ! I am too happy,” she mur
mured, as she twisted her fingers in
my auburn hair, and held me in a
sweet embrace.
This sort of thing went on at twen
ty-seven different houses. I liked it.
To-night I shall make thirty-two
calls. *
BISHOP GEO. F. PIERCE.
This distinguished divine reached
his sixty first year on Saturday, the
3rd inst., the day being celebrated by
a family gathering at his residence.
He is now in the forty-first year of
his official character as" Bishop of the
M. E. Church South. His entire
manhood has been consecrated to the
good of souls. During the eighteen
years which he has been discharging
the functions of the Episcopal office
perhaps no minister in America has
done more hard work, travelled
further, preached oftener or more
effectually-exercised a more faithful
watch over the interests of his Church
than Bishop Pierce. He has visited
all the portions of that field of labor
embracing about forty Annual Con
ferences—from the Atlantic to the
Pacific ocean, occupied by his denomi
nation—Sparta Times.
A MAGNANIMOUS BLACKSMITH.
A one-armed horseman; recently
traveling through Missouri, stopped
at a blacksmith’s shop to have his
horse shod. The smith noticed the
empty sleeve, and asked him if he
lost his arm in the war. He replied,
with a sigh, that he did, and even
more, going on to relate how he left
home to enlist in the Southern army,
and at the close of the war, on going
back, lie found that his wife who
thought him dead, had moved away,
and he had since been unable to ob
tain a trace of her. “What is your
name?” asked the blacksmith. When
the answer was “J. M. Walrup,”
he suddenly released the hoof over
which he had been bending, and,
without looking at tke soldier, cried:
“ Follow me into the house,” and
hurriilly led the way. Result, the
discovery of Mrs. Walrup with
three new children by her side. She
had suppposed Walrup dead, and
had accordingly been married to the
blacksmith. The two men wisely
came to the conclusion to let the lady
choose between them, and she elects
in favor of Walrup. Then she say3
she cannot do without the children,
and the blacksmith says, after a most
painful pause, “ You shall take them
my dear.”
“ When the steamboat St. Luke,”
says the Cincinnati Enquirer, in a
most touching paragraph, “stopped
at the landing some hours later, Wal
drup on board with his still weeping
and thick veiled wife, and the black
smith followed with his children.
The boat’s bell rang for the starting,
and the separation was at hand. The
crew, the passengers, the captain—all
who witnessed it—were affected to
tears by the touching scene. With
great drops rolling down his tawny
cheek’ the smith kissed the children
one after anotner, and in a choking
voice bade their mother ail eternal
good-bye. The two men gazed wist
fully at each other’s faces, shook
hands long and earnestly, and then
the blacksmith, by a strong effort of
iron will, released the hand of Wal
rup, and walked quietly to the shore.
He never turned his face again to
ward the boat, which soon passed out
of sight around a merciful bend of
the river, but strode on, with head
bowed down, to the home whither
the voice of his wife and children
should welcome him no more.”
INCORRUPTIBLE INHERITANCE.
No poverty there! Millions have
left the earth poor; but has one enter
ed heaven poor ? Lazarus, the mo
ment he died, was a beggar at the
gate ; but a moment after liis death
his estate had grown so fast that the
haughty worlding, still surviving in al
his affluences, in comparison with
him, was a penniless pauper. O poor
believers, rejoice in prospect of your
grand inheritance. It is really* im
mense, inestimable, undefiled* and
fadeth not away. Has it not been
your endeavor to lay up treasures in
heaven, why not oftener think of the
result there? Fear not. There is
good news from that far off country.
Unsuccessful as you may have seemed
on earth, your heavenly schemes
have all prospered.
The treasury of God overflows with
your wealth. And it is safe—perfect
ly safe. Neither moth nor rust cor
rupts it, nor can thieves break through
and steal it. Moreover, it shall
increase—forever increase. As long
as you live on earth you add to the
principle, and its interest will multi
ply, beyond computation to all
eternity. Croesus was rich ; Solomon
was rich; Lueullus was rich, but the
humblest heir of God is richer far
than all. It may be that the stores
you have accumulated in heaven
; would buy this town, buy this district,
j buy the world, and still be compar-
I atively untouched. Nay, think not
j this extravagant.
I would not barter the heritage of
the most destitute of Christians for
i the whole globe and all its improve
| ments. Lift up your heart, let it
expand and overflow with bliss. At
the <flose of the short journey through
time, you will see eternity upon you,
all radient with the variety of your
boundless possessions, hopeful, hap
py.—Exchange.
He that will be angry for anything
j will be angry for nothing.
A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT.
Out in a certain Western fort, some
ime ago, the major conceived the
| idea that artillery might be used
: effectively with the Indians; by dis
pensing with gun carriages,* and
fastening the cauuoj upon the backs
of mules. So he explained his views
to the eommani:fc*sJ*j*nd it was de
termined to try the experiment. A
howitzer was selected, and strapi>ed
upon an ambulance mule, with the
muzzle pointing toward the tail.
When they had so-cured the gun, and
loaded it with ball eartridgs, they led
that calm and steadfast mule out on
the bluff and set up a target in the
middle of the river to practice at.
The rear of the mule was turned
towards the target, and he was backed
genly up the edge of the bluff. The
officers -tooil around in a semicircle,
while the major went up and inserted
a time-fuse in the touch-hole of the
howitzer. When the fuse was ready
the major lit it and retired. In a
minute or two the hitherto unruffled
mule heard the fizzing there on his
neck, and it made him uneasy. He
; reached his head round to ascertain
what was going on, and as he did so,
j his body turned, and the howitzer
began to sweep around the horizon.
The mule at last became excited, and
his curiosity grew more intense, with
his four legs in a bunch, making six
revolutions in a minute, and the
howitzer, understand, threatening
sudden deatli to every man within a
half mile. The commandant was
observed to climb suddenly up a tree;
two lieutenants were seen sliding
fiver the bluff into the river, as if they
didn’t care at all about the high price
of uniforms; the adjutant made good
time toward the fort, the sergeant
began to throw up breastworks with
his bayonet, and the|major rolled over
the ground and groaned. In two or
three minutes there was a puff of
smoke, a dull thud, and the mule—
oh! where was he? A solitary jack
ass might have been seen turning
successive back-somersaults over the
bluff, only to rest at anchor, finally,
with his howitzer at the bottom of the
river, while the ball went off toward
the fort, hit the chimrtey in the ma
jor’s quarters, rattled tne adobe bricks
down into the parlor, and frightened
the major’s wife into convulsions.
They d<s not allude to it now, and no
report of the results of the experiment
was ever sent to the War Department.
A personal paragraph concerning
ex-Senator Edmund Gh Ross, of Kan
sas, states that the gentleman—who
refused to be bribed or driven into
voting for the impeachment of ex-
President Johnson “for high crimes
and misdemeanors ” —is now publish
ing in the southern part of Kansas a
weekly paper, from which he derives
his support. The ex-Senator is a poor
man, and it is sad to reflect that, in
this age of official corruption and rog
uery in high places, the very modest
means of the ex-Senator of the Unit
ed States is one of his best recommen
dations to the title of an honest man—
a species of the genus homo, which,
unfortunately, well nigh disappeared
from the arena of American public
life.— Ex.
A REMARKABLE SET.
Old Farmer Gruff was one morning
tugging away with all his might and
main a barrel of apples, which he
was endeavoring to get up the cellar
stairs, and calling at the top of his
voice for one of his boys to lend a
helping hand, but in vain.
When he had, after an infinite
amhunt of sweating and puffing, ac
complished the task, and just when
they were not neeeded, of course the
boys made their appearance.
“ Where have you been, and what
have you been about, I’.d like to
know, that you could' not hear me
call?” inquired the farmer, in an an
gry tone, addressing the eldest.
“ Out in the shop, settin’ the saw,”
replied the youth,
“ And you, Dick ?”
“ Out in the barn, settin’ the hen.”
“ And you, sir?”
“ Up in Granny’s room, settin’ the
clock.”
“And you, young man?”
“Up in the garret, settin’ the
trap.”
“And, now, master Fred, where
were you, and what were you set
tin’ !” asked the old farmer of his
youngest progeny, the asperity of his
temper being somewhat softened by
this amusing category of answers.
“ Come, let us hear.”
“ Out on the doorstep, settin’ still,”
replied the young hopeful.
“ A remarkable set, I must con
fess,” added the amused sire, dis
persing the grinning group with a
wave of his hand.
The field is too wide, the harvest
too great, the world to broad, and hu
manity too precious, either for delays,
for jealousies, or for strifes. Indeed,
this human life is all too short to al
low the indulgence of vain regrets.
And when the sense of weakness, or
of guilt and sin, overbears the weary
head and heart, I cam but remember
the trusting and triumphant joy of the
Apostle. —John A. Andrew.
The idie hour is the devils opportu
nity.
Charity is an eternal debt, and
without limit.
A poor spirit is poorer than a poor
purse.
It is fruition and not possession,
that renders us happy.
Whatever makes man really hap
pier, makes him better.
Gravity is the inseparable compan
ion of pride.
It costs more to avenge wrongs than
to bear them.
There is a heroic innocence as well
as a heroic courage.
A mild tempered woman is a bal
sam that heals matrimonial sorrow.
Hope is like a bad clock, forever
striking the hour ofhappiness, wheth
er it has come or not.
We should not retain the remem
brance of faults we have once forgiv
en.
The grand essentials of happiness
are something to do, something to
love, and something to hope for.
To every praying man Jesus says,
“ According to your faith be it unto
you.”
No man in possession of his mental
faculties, is too small, too feble or too
poor to be of service to his fellow-man
if he has the will.
It is a mortifying reflection for any
man to consider what he has done,
compared to what he might have
done.
Truth is immortal; the sword can
not pierce it, fire cannot consume it,
prisons cannot incarcerate it, famine
cannot starve it.
He that is taught to live on little
owes more to his father’s wisdom
than he who has a great deal left does
to his fathser’s care.
Birth into this life was the death
of the embryo life that proceeded, and
the death of this will be the birth in
to some new mode of being.
The best humor is that which con
tains the most humanity; that which
is flavored with tenderness! and kind
ness.
Agricultural Department.
THE CULTURE OF BEANS IS A FIELD
CROP.
Premium Essay at the Atlanta Fair, Oct.,
1871.
»Y A. C. TAX KITS"
From the Rural Southerner.]
In this land of cotton and corn
fields, embracing hundreds, and some
times thousands of acres, bean culture
may seem an insignificant business,
when suggested as a field crop; yet
thousands of bushels of this crop,
grown in Northern latitudes, are an
nually brought into the South, every
bushel of which could be grown with
profit, anywhere between the Potom
ac and the Gulf. This is the time to
diversify our crops, when that of our
great staple so often foots up the year’s
toil with a balance on the wrong side
of the account. No crop is unimpor
tant that can be made to pay, and
finds a ready market. As an article
of food, nothing grown in the soil
equals the bean in its nutritious char
acter ; containing, as it does, eighty
four per cent, of nutriment matter.
In the lumber business of the State of
Maine, the employees, whose muscu
lar power is taxed to an extent in ex
cess of that of almost any other labor
ing men, prefer the bean to any oth
er staple article of food, as they can
“do harder work on it than on any
other diet.”
PROPER KIND FOR CULTIVATION.
That cultivated in largest quanti
ties is a small, white bean, growing
| on a bunch or bush, like that of the
early garden bean; having scarcely
any vine above the first cluster of
; pods, which is generally near the
■ ground. It is known as the Navy
Bean , because made to form a portion
of ship-stores for long voyages, and
rated as medium beam in Northern
market reports.
MODE OF PLANTING AND CULTIVA
TION.
The culture is simple and easy.
They are usually planted in April or
May, in drills two and a half to three
feet apart, and the beans dropped four
or five together in spaces of twelve to
eighteen inches in the drills. The
after-cultivation is with the plow and
hoe, as other field crops of level cult
ure. Soil that will produce twenty
bushels of corn per acre will produce
a good crop of beans; but a better soil
is desirable, and will yield a better
return than in cotton at twenty-five
cents, and with one-fourth part of the
labor.
APPROPRIATE MANURES.
The special fertilizers for this crop,
when necessary, are phosphate of lime
and woodashes. Ammonia, in all its
forms and combinations, is not only
worthless to this crop, but is injurious
to it; producing too much vine at the
expense of fruitage. The bean is a
legume which extracts that alkali in
its gaseous form from the nitrogen of
the atmosphere, which, combining
with one of the elements of water,
forms ammonia. That ingredient in
stable manure, Peruvian guano, etc.,
is lost on this crop. Stable manure,
if applied to this plant, should be as
thoroughly decayed as possible, with
a consequent dissipation of a great
part of its contained ammonia. This
is not one of the exhausting crops;
but on the contrary, is supposed to be
beneficial to the soil, from its produc
ing an effect similar to that of the clo
ver crop, which has been shown by
the researches of Prof. Vcelcher, to
enrich the soil, even when the whole
product is removed from it; although
no experiments have thus far determ
ined this fact as to the bean.
IIOW GATHERED AND CLEANED.
These beans grow on the same vine,
all ripen about the same time. The
work of harvesting is simple and easy.
When ripe, the vines are pulled up
by the roots and thrown down in the
row to dry. In one or two days of
fair sun-shine they are ready for
threshing in the field on a threshing
sheet or wagon-cover. With a small,
limber sapling they are readily
threshed, and on the vines being re
moved, the beans are left nearly clean.
If no fan-mill be at hand, the powder
ed leaves and small trash left in the
bulk, are easily removed by dropping
from a scoop or shovel on a windy
day. If planted in the latter part of
April they can be gathered in July,
and often in June, when they are
ready for market. If thoroughly dry
when threshed, they are kept in bulk
without damage from heating.
YIELD PER ACRE, AND VALUE OF
CROP.
The yield per acre, of course, varies
with the richness of the soil planted;
but what is termed a good soil for cot
ton and corn, will produce twenty to
thirty bushels of beans per acre, and
forty bushels are sometimes gained
from soils well adapted to the crop.
The price in Northern markets for
medium beans, ranges from two and
a quarter to two and three-quarter
dollars per bushel, according to the
supply. The cost to our merchants is
usually fifty cents or more, addition
al for transportation and other expen
ses. They usually command at least
two dollars and a half, and sometimes
three dollars per bushel in our mar
kets.
OTHER BEANS FOR FIELD CULTURE.
The only other variety of bean wor
thy of attention as a field crop, is the
Lima Bean, large and small; the lat
ter otherwise called Carolina, oriSew
ee Butter Bean. There is no differ- i
ence in the value of these two varie
ties for cultivation or for market. The
latter is a little later and continues
longer in bearing in the field; but the
product from the same area will be
found about equal in bulk. The great
drawback to the cultivation of the
Lima Bean is the expense of setting
poles to each hill, and the labor in
gathering, which is considerable; but
when the value of the crop is estimat
ed, this objection loses its importance.
The price in Northern markets is usu- f
ally twelve to fourteen dollars per i
bushel, and never under ten dollars, I
in the ripe state. The poles should I
be set in checks of about five feet, be- j
fore the beans are planted, and the j
ground in the hill should be fertilized |
as for the navy bean; eight to ten !
beans being dropped to each hill, ini
order to provide for the ravages of in-1
sects, and the failure of some of them I
to make their way through the crust
that rain and sun may form on the j
top of the ground. There are but few !
neighborhoods in Georgia which do j
not contain a swamp or spring branch •
where the black alder abounds in j
clumps, affording bean-poles in quan-!
tity, and which require but little j
trimming before they are ready for |
setting, which is done by aid of a !
crow-bar. The labor in "getting out j
and setting the poles is much less than
what an unpractical estimate would
assign to it. These poles can be used
a second year by sharpening from the
sound wood. After the plants have
formed the second leaf, they should
be reduced to four or five to the hill.
It is the practice of market garden
ers to plant two or three times as
many seeds as are necessary for a
stand, in order that they may “ help
each other to break the ground.”
There is good sense in this practice,
in case of the Lima Bean. When a
hard crust has formed in clay soil, by
united action the germinating seeds
lifts that crust entirely from the un
der-lying soil; while two or three
beans might not make their way
through the crust they could not
raise. If the beans are left to ripen
they should be gathered as often as a
considerable quantity are found ripe,
otherwise, on becoming very dry the
pods burst and scatter their contents.
After gathering, they may be exposed
to the sun for a few hours, when the
beams are readily threshed out and
cleaned. The ripe beans are equally
I as valuable for table use as those in
i the unripe state, but require more
! time iu the preparation. The de
mand for them in our cities and towns
j is constant, both in the ripe and un
ripe stage; the latter for table use,
! and the former for that use as well as
for seed. The amount i>aid annually
by the South for Northern grown Li
ma Beans, for seed, would tax credu
, lity, if it could Ik .scertained. Yet,
i the South, rather than any other part
of the Union, is the home of this bean.
Northern growers, in a higher' lati
. tude than forty-two degrees, cannot
get the Lima to mature its seed;
while hero, from an early planting,
we can gather ripe beans from June
; to November; and in good soil, and
with good tillage, a crop can be pro
duced that is highly remunerative to
the cultivator, and saves that much
from Northern pockets to fill our own.
IMPROVEMENT OF LIVE STOCK.
Inferior stock should be got rid of
as soon as jxissible. It is a very erro
neous practice to waste provender by
feeding animals which will make no
adequate return for the outlay. Old
horses, cows and sheep are very un
profitable stock; the former are not
vigorous enough to perform the labors
of the farm, when the most needed.
Old milch cows are not fit for dairy
purposes, and old breeding ewes pro
duce small weak lambs and very light
fleeces. The improvement of his
stock should be the constant aim of
the farmer. This may be done by se
lecting the best breeding animals that
can he obtained. No money is more
judiciously expended than that which
goes to procure the services of a first
rate stallion, hull, buck or boar. In
order to produce superior stock, the
breeding animals, male and female,
must be of the best quality, and they
and their progeny must have abun
dance of good provender at all sen
sons. Young stock of all kinds are
sometimes injured for want of suita
ble food and shelter at the most criti
cal period of their lives .—Live Stock
Journal.
THE VALUE OF A SCRAP BOOK.
Every one who takes a newspaper
which he in the least degree appre
ciates, will often regret to see a num
ber thrown aside for waste paper
which contains some interesting and
important articles. A good way to
preserve these is by the use of a
scrap-book.
One who has never been accustom
ed thus to preserve short articles can
hardly estimate the pleasure it affords
to sit down and turn over familiar
pages. Here a choice piece of poe
try meets the eye, which you remem
ber you were so glad to see in the
paper, but which you would long
since have lost had it not been for
your scrap-book,
There is a witty anecdote—it does
you good to laugh over it, though,
for the twentieth time. Next is a
valuable recipe you have almost for
gotten, and which you have found
just in time to save much perplexity.
There is a sweet little story, the
memory of which has cheered you
many a time when almost ready* to
despair under the pressure of life’s
cares and trials.
Indeed, you hardly take up a pa
per without perusing it. Just glance
over the sheet before you, and see
many valuable items it*contains that
would be of service to you a hundred
times in life. A choice thought is
far more precious than a bit of glit
tering goiil. Hoard with care, the
precious gems, and see at the end of
the year, what a treasure you have
anticipated.— Exchange.
PLANT IRISH POTATOES.
<irish potatoes, if uot already plant
ed, should be put in at once. Choose,
if possible, a good black, moist, but
not wet soil, and manure liberally,
avoiding, however, too much crude
stable manure if you desire tubers of
the best quality. Wood ashes, chip
manure, rotten saw-dust, and the scra
pings of the house-yard, are excellent
lor this crop.
How to Plant Melons.— The
best plan known for planting water
melons cucumbers, and cantaloupes,
is as follows: First, dig holes twelve
feet apart each way, large enough and
sufficiently deep to insert a usual
sized barrell. Take out the upper
head and place it down in the hole
within two or three inches of the
top. Then pack the dirt well around
the barrel.
Fill the barrel one-third full of lime
stone rock, one-third full of wet straw
well tramped in, and the other third,
on the top ol the straw with as rich
loam of dirt as you can get. About
the 25th of April, soak your seed in
warm water in which soap has
been dissolved for twelve hours.
Then plant three hills in each barrel,
with the small end of the seed down
and two seeds in a hill. They will
need no cultivation, and from the
time they commence bearing will
continue until frost in the fail, and
will yield ten times more than the
usual way of planting.
A SIMPLE REMEDY FOR DANDRUFF.
There are doubtless few persons,
especially among gentlemen, who do
not suffer from the inconvenience of
dandruff. Physicians seem to consid
er it not of sufficient importance to
engage their attention, and the poor
victims are left either to practice tneir
virtue of endurance, or for a cure, to
try some of the many nostrums adver
tised in the public prints.
The intolerable itching which
frequently accompanies the trouble
some complaint, is not the only
unpleasant feature, as, to persons of
any pretensions to neatness, the ap
pearance of the white scales on the
coatcollar and shoulders is very ob
jectionable.
The writer, during a number of
years tried the different alcoholic
solutions of castor-oil, and many other
preparations, without permanent
benefit, and as a last resort, was led
to adopt the plan of cleansing the
scalp with borax and carb. potassa.
This proved effectual, but after a
persistant treatment of some months
the hair beeamejsensibly thinner, and
perhaps would have soon disappeared
altogether. The belief that dandruff
arises from a disease of the skin,
although physicians do not seem to
agree on this point, and the know
ledge that the use of sulphur is fre
quently attended with very happy
results in such diseases, induced me
to try in my own case. A prepara
tion of one ounce flour of sulphur and
one quart of water was made. The
clear liquid was poured off, after the
mixture had been repeatedly agitated
during intervals of a few hours, and
the head was saturated with this
every morning. In a few weeks!
every trace of dandruff had disap
peared, the hair became soft and
glossy; and now, after a discontinu
ance of the treatment for eighteen
months, there is no indication of the
return of the disease. Ido not pre
tend to explain the modus operandi
of the treatment, for it is well known
that sublimed sulphur is almost or
wholly insoluble, and the liquid used
was destitute of taste, color or smell.
The effect speaks for itself. Other
persons, to whom it has been recom
mended, have had the same results,
and I communicate the result of my
experiments in the belief that it may
| be valuable and acceptable to many
who havesuffered in the same manner
as myself.
John L. Davis,
In the Journal of Pharmacy.
Courage when genuine, is never
cruel. It is not fierce. It foresees
evil. Its trepidations come either
I before or after clanger.
LAWSHE & HAYNES,
ATLANTA, GA.
H'*" AVE ON HAND AND ARC RECEIVING
Vh» finest iitock of the itrle* of
DIAMOND A GOLD JEWELRY
In upper Georgia selected with care to r the
FALL AND WINTER TRADE
W ate lie* of the beat maker* of Europe and
America.
AMERICAN AND FRENCH CLOCKS’)
STERLING and COIN SILVKU-WARE,
And the best quality of
SILVE PL TED OODS,
At prices te suit the times. Gold silver A steel
SPECTACLES TO SUIT ALL AGES,
Watches and Jewelry repaired by Competent
Workmen. Also Clock ami Watch Makers’
Tools and Materials.
sep 13-ly
3r*oclcet and Table
KNIVES and FORKS,
SPOONS, CASTORS, RAZORS,
SCISSORS, CARVERS, ETC., ETC.
CROCKERY, CHINA, GLASSWARE,
NOW ARRIVING
DIRECT FROM EUROPE !
Diamond Oil,
AT
M’BRIDE & Co’s
MERCHANTS!
Consult your Interest
Save freight and ruinous breakage by buying
from
Mcßride & co.
BEAD THIS.
Atlanta, March I, 1872.
We, the undersigned, commissioners for the
“ Atlanta Hospital Association,” have selected
prizes lor distribution from the splendid stock
of Mcßride & Cos. Ticket holders can see these
beautiful prizes at Mcßride ft Co’s store.
Z. H. ORME, M. D.. 1
J. F, ALEXANDER, M. D VCoin.
K. S. RAY, M. D. |
We offer real {inducements in Fruit Jars.
Do not buy till you see our Jars. They are the
best and cheapest in the market.
nov3o—tf.
FERTILIZBRS a
Dickson’s Compound,
SOLUBLE PACIFIC,
Tanio Mininjr an! Mamfactnrlii Cos..
CABOUNA
ATLANTIC PHOSPHATE CO.,
MAGNUM BONUM,
PARAGON,
ALSO
PERUVIAN GUANO,
GROUND AND DISSOLVED BONES,
LAND PLASTER,
SALT,
Acid Phosphates
FOR
COMPOSTING,
171 OR CASH, or on time on manufacturer’*
■ terms—some guarantee 15 cts. for Cotton
delivered. Please call and obtain circulars.
Gilbert & Baxter,
fcblS —lra. Agents.
STERLING
SILVER-WARE.
SHARP Sc FLOYD
No. 33 Wliiteliall Street,
ATLANTA.
Specialty,
Sterling Silver-Ware.
Special attention is requested to the man
new and elegant pieces manufactured express
ly to our order the past year, andqnite recently
completed.
An unusually attractive assortment of novel
ies in Fancy Silver, cased for Wedding and
Holiday presents, of a medium and expensiv
character.
The House manufacture on aa
unparalleled scale, employing on Sterling Sil
ver-Ware alone over One Hundred skilled
hands, the most accomplished talent in Design
ing, and the best Labor-saving Machinary, en
abling them to produce works of the highest
character, at prices UN APPROACHED by any
cempetition. Our stock at present is the lar
gest and most varied this side of Philadelphia
An examination of our stock and prices will
guarantee our sales.
OUR HOUSE USE ONLY
925
BRITISH STERLING,
1000
jan 4—ts
AGENCY
GEORGIA LOAN & TRUST COMPANY
D. W. K. PEACOCK, AGent.
CARTE RSVIL.EE, GEORGIA.
OF FICE in the Store-room of A. A SKINN E ft
A CO., Main Street.
Monej received on Deposit.
Exchange nought and sold.
Advances made on Cotton and other Pi< duce.
dec. 6-sw
VOL. 12-NO. 37
The Western Antidote I
McCUTCHEON’S
I CHEROKEE INDIAK BITTERS.
This highly valuable Indian Rsmedy is
too well known, whenever it has been need,
to require epeeial notice.
Those who ere unacquainted with its won
derful operation upon the system will tad
it a certain remedy in all Diseases es the
Kidneys, Bladder and Urinary Organs. It
is very useful in Rheumatism, Liver Cesa>
plaint, Ague-Cake Dysentery and ether
complaints. It warms the stomach and
bowels; cures Colie and Obstructions es the
Breast; sustains exoessive abor of both tv
dy and mind; cures ihe Piles, promotes the
Appetite, assists Digestion; prevents un
pleasant dreams and frights; strengthens**
judgment; cures Nervous, Asthmetieal and
Hysterical Affections; removes all the din.
orders of weaknes and debility ; punts* the
Blood; cures Neuralgia and Dispcpsia. te
gether with moat Diseases peculiar te {fe
males.
Old and young, male and female, have been
greatly benefited by its ust, as hundreds*,
letters from sll parts of the United Staten
will certify. Let those who are unae>
quainted with McCutchkos’s “Chereks* la
dies Bitters, n before saying this ie tec
much, try a bottle, and all who do ** will
unit* in testifying that th* half has not beam
told.
Cheroke* Indian Bitten possess** an ener
gy which seems to communicate new life In
the system, and renovate the feeble, fainting
powers of nature. Its operation upon th*
tissues of the body doe* not consist in affect
ing the irritability of the living fibre, bat in
imparting a sound and healthy stimulus Sc
the Vital Organ*.
It strengthens substantially and durably
the living powers of the animal machine; is
entirely innocent and harmless; may be ad
ministered with impunity to both sexes, and
all conditions of life.
There is no disease of any name or na
ture, whether of young or old, male or fe
male, but that it is proper to ndmin ; ster it,
and if it be done seasonably and parser#?-
ingly it will have a good effect. It ic per
fectly incredible to those unacquainted with
the Bitters, the facility with whieh a heal
thy action is often in the worst case restor
ed to the exhausted organs of th* stStik;
with a degree of animation and desire far
food, which is perfectly astonishing to all
who perceive it. This Medieins purif ** th*
blood, restores the tonie power of the flbM*
and of the stomach and digestive organs;
rouses the animal spirits, and substantially
fortifies and reanimates th* broken down
constitutions of mankind.
Indians are the most healthy of the human
race. They take an abundac* of physical
exercise, breath* pure air, and live on tisa
ple diet. When sick, they us* no mineral
poisons, but select roots, herbs, and plants
“from the great drag store of their Own
tor.” McCctchiox’s “ Chbeoksi Ibdtai
Bittibs” is a combination of these vegeta
ble substances which render it entirely in
nocent to the constitution of th* most deli
cate male or female. The wonderful power
which these “Bitters” ar* known to pea
scss in curing diseases, evinces t« the world
that it is without a parallel in th* hietary
of medicine, and afford additional evidence
that the great benefactors of th* country ar*
not always found in the temples of wealth
nor the mazy walks of science, but among
the hardy sons of Nature, whose original,
untutored minds, unshackled by tk* ftntfa
of science, ar* left free t* pursue tk* dic
tates of reason, truth and common sense.
Since th* introduction of this remedy in*
o the United States, thousauds have bees
raised from beds of affliction whose liven
were despaired of by their physicians and
pronounced beyond th* reaeh of medicine
McCuteheon’s “ Cherokee Bitters ” kas
driven the most popular medioines es every
name, like chaff before the whirlwind, from
every city, town and village where it kas
been introduced, and is destined ere long te
convince the world that the red man’s rem
edies are the white man’s choice. For die
eases peculiar to the female sex there in
nothing better. Old and young, male aad
female, have all been greatly benefited hy
its use. Hundreds of certificates, frem all
parts of the United States, which ar* enti
tled to the fullest confidence, speak of it in
the most favorable manner.? These ar# no
only from persons who hav# been eured hy
it, but also from some es the most eminent
physicians and druggist who have sueeeee
fully tested it in their practice, and velnn
tarily offer their testimonials in its fnvoc
For sal* by all D«»l* r *-
Special- Notio.— Merchantsjand drug
gists doing business at a distance from the
railroad, when ordering my “ Choreke* In
dian Bitters,” will please state tk# depot *
which they have their goods shipped,
so doing, I can sometime* snppl
wants much earlier.
Address all orders to
R. H. Mos
• i
Who alone is author?
th* original and ger
oet 20—ly