Newspaper Page Text
£l)c iCutljbcil Appeal.
J. P. 8AWT ELL, 1 IH. H. J0HS8,
Proprietors.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION I
Four 90
On* M 00
'SC, invariably In advaxcm. All paprn die-
Continued on vxplnUloa of time paid tor.
Tbe gifted ludy who penned these
beautiful line#, was herself a few days
since, translated from her lonely home
in the land of flowers, we trust to « fair
cr and bl ighter scenes on high.’
liasa upon the Death of "Little Jim*
mer."
Speak ooftly, for Angela around tbe bed
Are aotilhing bU achfag, feveriah head :
Whh whUpe a of love and euU Ire tolled palms.
Thev woo him above, lo hla Father's arm* :
Tilt tbe spirit enshrined In that furm m fair
Fled oo pinions of light, tu a brighter iffere
And now midst the shining scranli band.
Ill,Is us prepare for a better land.
Where all sighing, sorrow and team shall cease.
For the home of God k eternal ware.
We laved him there-so still and fair.
The soft wind played thio' hk golden halr-
The parted lips, with a smile srttne -
The bright eyes ck#wl- the quiet mien.
Had almost cheated onr hearts lo think
That hk spirit still boverd anna tbe brink
I t if eartblV love and bon# and Joy -
Alas- my Wne-ejrd rheruh boy I
Ko more well brer thy i.nt ring Uwad
Along the silent hall thou rt dead |
No more thy voice in miming music wakes
K ick cord of thrilling Under*#*#- It brakes
the spell of thk enchanting dream,
trod look thee. In thy youth, to him;
Our hearts in humility bow to tho rod-
We know that It draweth us nearer to God,
Our treasures wa yield to our bather oh high ;
Knsbrined la bk bosom, immortal they lie
THE CUTHBERT APPEAL.
Vol. U,
Cutlibert, Georgia,' THUESDAY, May 7, 1868.
No. 27,
'Th* infidel end HU Daughter.
Suggested by rending a recent nets-
paper paragraph, describing the acel.e
between the brave old Ethan Allen and
liia daughter, oo the eve of her death,
when she anked the #Uru infidel in
whoae faith b« would have Iter to die,
Ilia or her mother’s.
•The dam|* of &' ath are coming fas',
My f tl»«r, o'er my brow ;
The post with all IU soenca. has IW.
And t must'urn roe now
To that dim ftolurw which in vain.
My eym seek deaeiT ;
Tell uie. my f»thrr. in this hour,
In whose belief to die.
••In thine ? I've watched thy scornful milr,
And heard thy wilk-ring tuna.
When e’er the Christian s humble hope
\\ as placed above ih'.ne own ;
I've braid thee sl»eak of Osuing death
Without a shade or gloom.
Ami laugh at all the childish ream
That rlustcr around the tomb.
••Or kit In my mother's faith T
llow fondly do l true*
Through many a wcarv year long past
That calm and saintly f»c* !
llow otteu do I call to mind,
Now she's k-neath tbe soil.
The place, the hour, In which she drew
My early thoughts to Cod t
’Twos then she took this sacred book,
A-.d li inn lui burning p*g#
Head liow IU truths snpport the soul
la youth and falling age.
Aid hade me In Its pnrepts live,
And by Its precepts die.
That 1 might share * heme of love,
In worlds beyond tbe sky^
• My father, shall I look above,
Amid this gathering gloom.
To Him whose promise* of love
Rxwud beyond the tomb T
Or ruroe tbe Iking who halh bk-rord
This checkered Wt of mine !
Must I embrace my mother's faith,
Ur d'e, my sire, In tblue
The frown upon that warrior brow
rawed, like a cloud, away.
And team eounsd down tlie rugged cheek.
That flowing not till that day.
“Not In mine, with choking voice,
Tins Skeptic made reply-
‘•But In thy mother's holy faith.
My daughter may at thou die 1
"Mother nairi • little girl, who
with great perplexity had occasionally
noticed her ptrmt'e equanimity to give
way in trying circumstance*, "mother,
doea God ever fret and aoold ?"
The query waaao abrupt and startling
that it arreated the mother’* attention
•Inmat with • ahock.
"Why, Lizzie, what make* you aak
that question ?”
"Why.Godisgood; you know you
used to call hint ‘Wood Man' when I
was tittle, and 1 should like to know if
lie ever Molds.”
"No, child, no ”
“Weil, I'm glad he don’t; for Molding
always makes me fed so bid, even if it
is not I In fault I don’t think I could
luve Cod much if be scolded.”
Cbiat Mm.—Homer wee*beggar;
Plautus turned a mill; Terence was a
slave; Berthing died in jail; Paul Bor-
ghcoe had fourteen trades, yet starved
with tham all; Tasso was often distress
ed for a few shillings; Cervantes died
of hunger; Camrens, the writer of “Lit-
aiad,’ end.d bia days in an almshouse
and Vangela* left hie body to the sur-
8 bo a to pay for hie debts. In England
laoun lived a life of meanness and dia-
treae; Pir Walter Kaliegh died on the
scaffold; S.ieio rdied u want; Milfan
sold bia copyright of "Paradise Lost”
for £15, and died in ohecunty : Dryden
lived in poverty and distress; Otway
perished of hunger; Lee died in the
streets; Steele was in perpetual warfare
with the bailiffs; Goldsmith’* "V car of
Wakefield*’ was told for a trifle, to auve
him from the grasp oi the law.
Tr* Oldest Woma* ir Alabama.—
The oldest woman in Alabama is Mre.
Sallie Samson, living in Bibb county.—
She is a native of Jasper coonty, Geor
gia but hat been living in Bibb county
since 1817, in the same neighborhood
she now resides in. and ia 109 years old.
She is as uctive now as she was thirty
years ago, frequently tiding horseback
in the night time, ten and fifteen miles,
to answer professional calle. —Mantpme-
ry Senluni
tA. Brigham Young baa lost five wives
this v.’inter of pneumonia. He baa a
few oiorc left.
A Pleasant Love Story.
All my life long I had known Mary
Moore. All my life I had loved her.
Our mothers were old playmate* end
firet cousins. My first recollections are
•f a boy, in a led frock and morocco
shoes, rocking a cradle in which reposed
a sunny haired, blue eyed baby, not
quite e year old. That boy was myself
-Harry Church; that blessed baby
was Mary Moore.
Later stiff, I see myself at the little
school house, drawing my little chair up
to tho door that Mary might ride home.
Many a healing have 1 gained on euch
occasions, for other boys bosida me liked
her, and she, I fear was something of u
flirt, even in her pinafore. How ele
gently she came tripping down the
steps when I called her name. How
sweetly her blue eye* looked at me.—
How gaily rsng out her merry laugh.—
No one but Msry could ever bring her
heart se soon to her lip*. I followed
that laugh from my days of childhood
till I grew an nwaward, blushing youth
—1 followed it through the heated noon
ot manhood—and now, when the frosts
of age are eilveiing iny hair, and many
children climb upon my knee and call
me ‘ father,’ 1 find that tho memories of
youth are strong, and that, even in gray
hairs, I am following tho mnaio still
When I was fifteen the first great
sorrow of my life came upon my heart.
I was sent to school, and was obliged
to part with Mary. We were not to
seo each other for three long years.—
This, to me ws* like a sentence of death,
for Mary was like life i tael I to ine. But
hearts «re tough thing* after all.
I left college in all the flush and vig
or of my nineteenth year I was no
longt r awkward or embarrassed. I had
grown into a tall, slender stripling, with
• very good opinion of myaelf, both in
I, mend ami particular. If I thought ot
Mary Moore it was to imagine how 1
could dsxsle, and bewilder her with m\
g(K>d looks and wonderful mental attain
ments, and never thinking she might
daxxlo and bewilder me still more. I
was u coxcomb. I know, but ns youth
and good baika have fled, I truat that I
may he believed when 1 say that aelf-
inuoeil had left me also.
An advantageous proposal was mad
me ut that time, and aocepting it, 1
guve up all idea of a profession, and
prepared to go to India. In my bur
ned visit home of two days, 1 saw noth
ing of Mary Moore. She bad gone Vo a
boarding school at some distance, and
was not expected home until the follow
ing May. I uttered out a sigh to the
memory of my little blue eyed playmate,
and then culled myself' a man ’ agvjn.
In a year, T thought, aa the vehicle
whirled away from our door, III a year,
or three yeurs at the very moat, 1 will
retum and if Mary is es pretty ns she
ii«-d to be, why, theu perhaps I may
marry her.
And thus I settled the future of
young ludy whom I had not seen for
four years. I never thought of the pos
sibility of her refusing me—never dreum
ud that she would not oondeseud lo ae
cept my offer.
Hut now I know that, had Mary rm t
me then she would have despised me.—
Perhaps in the scented and affected stu
dent she might have found plenty ol
sport ; but ns for loving me, I should
!>erhaps have found myself mistaken.—
Indin was my salvation, not merely be
cause of my success, but because my
luborious industry baa counteracted the
evil in my nature, and has made mo a
better mini. When at the end of three
years 1 prepaied to return, I said noth
ing of the reformation ot mysell which I
knew had taken place.
They loved us I was, I murmured fo
myself, and they ahull find out for them
selves whether I am better wottb loving
than formerly.
I packed up many a token from that
land of romance and gold, for tbe friends
I had hoped to meet; the gift for Mary
Moore, I selected with a beating heart;
it wan a ring of rough, virgin gold, whh
my name and her’* engraved inside—
that was all, and yet the sight of the
little toy strangely thrilled aa I balanced
it upon the tip of my finger.
To the eye* of other* it wa* but
small plain circlet suggesting thoughts,
perhaps, by its elegance, of the beauti
ful white hand that wa# to wear it. But
not to me—how much wee embodied
t |, erc —all these delights were hidden
within that little ring of gold.
Tall, bearded and nun bronze,
knocked «# the door of my luther’i
house. The light# in the parlor window,
and the hum of conversation and cheer
fnl laughter showed me that company
«-*h assembled there. I hoped sister
Lizzie would come to the door, and I
might greet my family when no strunge
eye was looking carelessly on.
But no—a servant answered my sum
mons. They were too merry in the
parlor to heed the long absent one who
asked for admittance. A bitter thought
like this run through my mind aa I
heard the Bound from the parlor and
bhw the half suppressed smile on the
seivant'ii face.
I hesitated a moment before making
myaelf known or asking for any of the
family. And while 1 stood silent r
strange apparition grew up before me
from behind the servant peered out i
small golden bend, a tiny delicate form
followed and o sweet childish face, with
blue eyes, wa* lifted to mine—eo like to
those of one who had brightened my
boyhood, that I started with a sudden
feeling of pain.
• Wbut is your name, my pretty
asked, while the wondering servant held
the door.
' Mary Moore.’
' And what else?’ I aakod quickly.
She lifted up her hand* to shade her
eyes. I Imd seen that very attitude in
another, in my boyhood, muny nhd many
a time—and anewerod in a sweet, bird-
like voice:
Mary Moore Cheater,' lisped the
child.
My heart sunk down like load. Here
was an end to nil the bright dreams and
hopes of my youth and manhood. Frank
Chester my boyish rival, who had oftoo
tried in vain, to usurp my place beside
the girl, had succeeded at laat, and had
won her away from me. This wa# the
child—bin and Mary's,
I sank, body and soul, beneath thi#
blow, and hiding my fuoe in my hands,
I leaned against the door, while my
heert wept tears of blood. The little
one gazed at me, grieved and amazed,
and put up her pretty lips as if about to
cry, whilo the perplexed servant etep-
ped to the parlor door, and called n»y
•iater out to see who it wa# that con
ducted himself so strangely. I heard a
light step and a pleasant voice sayiag :
4 Did you wish to soe my father, sir ?'
1 looked up. There stood a pretty,
sweot faoed maiden of twenty, not much
changed troin the dear little sister I had
loved eo well. 1 looked at her for a mo-
meut, and then stilling the tempest of
my heart, by a mighty effort, I opened
my anna and said :
4 Lizzie, don't you know me T*
4 Hurry ! ho, my brother Harry 1’ she
cried, and threw herself upon my breast
She wept sa if her heart would break.
1 could not weep. I drew her gently
into the lighted parlor, and stood with
her before them all.
There was a rush and aciyof joy,
and then my father and mother sprang
towuid me, and welcomed me home
with heartfelt tears. Oh, strange and
passing sweet is such a greeting to a
way-worn traveler. And as I held my
dear old mother to my heart, and grasp
ed my father's hand, while Lizzie dung
beside mo, 1 felt that all was not yet
lost, and although another had secured
life's choicest hleesing, many a joy re
muined for me in the dtsur auuctuury of
home.
There were four other inmates of the
room, who had risen on my sudden en
trance. One was the bluo-eVod child
whom I had already seen, and who How
stood fa-aide Frank Uhertcr, clinging t»
his hand. Near hy stood Lizzie Moore,
Mary's eldeat sinter, and in a distant
corner, to which sho had hurriedly re-
trouted, when my name was simken,
stood a tall and slender figure, half hld<
den by the heavy window curtaius that
fed to the floor.
When the first rapturous greeting
was over, Lizzie led mo forward with a
timid grace, and Piuuk Cheater grasp
ed my hand.
Welcome horns, my boy I' he said,
with loud cheerful tones I remembered
an welt. 4 You havo changed eo that I
never would hove known you ; but no
mutter about that—your heurt ia in the
right place, I know ’
• How can you aay he has changed ?’
■aid my mother, gently, ‘ to be sure, lie
looks older and graver, and more like a
man than when ho went away, but his
eyoa and smile are the same as ever. It
is a heavy heurt which changes I
He is my boy still.'
4 Aye, mother,’ I answered, sadly, ‘ I
am your hoy still.'
Heaven help me I At that moment I
felt like a boy, and it would have been
a hlesaed relief to have wept upon her
bosom, aa 1 had done in infancy. But
I kept down tbe beuling of my lisart
and the tremor of my lip, and answered
quietly, as 1 looked into his full hand
some face:
You have changed, too, Frank, but
I think for the better.'
Oh, yea—thank you for Uie oompU-
ment/ be answered, with a hearty
laugh.
•My wife,tell* me I grow baudeomer
every day.’
Hie wife. Could I bear that name
and keep silence still.
' And have y >u seen my little girl T
he added, lifting the infant in his arms,
und kissing tier crimsoned cheek, 1 1 fall
you, Hurry, there is not such another in
the world. Don’t you think ehe looks
very much like her mother used to ?’
•Very much I’ I faltered.
• Hullo I* cried Frank with a sudden
ness thut mode me start violently, 4 1
have forgotten to introduce you to my
wife; I believe she and you used to be
pluytnatos in your younger days—yes,
llurrv I” and he slapped me on tho
back* 4 For the sake of old time# and
bcoause you were not at tbe wedding, I
will give you leave to kiss her once—
but mind, old fellow, you are never to
repeat the ceremony. Come—bore she
is, and I for once waot to aee how you
will manage those ferocious moustaches
of yours in the operation.’
lie pushed Lizzie, laughing and
blushing towards roe. A gleam of light
and hope, almost too dazzling to bear,
oume over me, and 1 cried out before I
thought, ' Not Mary ’
It muat have betrayed my secret to
every one in the room. But nothing
was said, even Frank, in goneral eo ob-
tuae, wua thi# time silent. I kissed the
fair cheek of the young wife, und hur
ried to tbe silent figure looking out the
window.
4 Mary—M»ry Moore,’ I said in a
low eager tme, 4 have you oo welcome
to give the wanderer ?'
See turned and la d her hand in mine,
and said hurriedly :
44 I am glad h> see you here, Harry.'
Simple words, and yet ho\V blessed
they made me. I would not have yield
ed her up lliut moment for an emperor's
crown. For thore was the happy homo
group and the dear home fireside, with
sweet Mary Moore. The eyes I had
dreamed of by day and night, were fall
ing beneath the ardent gaze of mino,
und tho sweet face I had so long pray
ed to see was there bosido mo £ I never
knew tbe meaning of bappincee until
that moment.
Many years have passed since that
happy night, und the hair that was dark
and glossy then, is fast turning gray.—
I am now grown to be an old man, and
can look back to z happy, and I hope
well spent life. And yet, sweet as it
has been, I would not recall a single
day, for the love that made my manhood
so bright, shiues also upon my white
hairs.
An old mini Can this bo so? At
heart I am as young as over. And Ma
ry, with her bright nair parted smooth
ly, from a brow that has a slight furrow
upon it, is still the Mary of other days.
To me she can never grow old or
change. The heart that held her in
fancy, and sheltered her in the flush and
beauty of womanhood, can never oast
her out till life shall cease to warm it.—
Not even then, for love still lives above.
Woman’s Tongue.
The volubilty of the female tongue
from the earliest period of writing, has
furniahed a fertile and inexhaustible
theme for the pens of epigrammatists,
satirist#, poets mid dramatists. There
is sealcely a coinio writer from Aristo
phanes downwarda^who has not indulged
at womun'ii ex|>enne on the garrulity,
fluency, and unfailing powers of her
speech. In Congreve# onmedy of ‘The
Way of the World,’one of the charac
ters is thus made to speak of a lady in
ullueinn to her glibnesa und inveteraoy
of talk : ‘She bus got that everlasting
rotation of tongue that Echo bus no
chance with her, but must wait till aho
diva to oatcb her laat word.' Let us
not, however, charge the fair sex alone
with slippery and endless loquacity.—
We should bear aome of the burthen on
our own ahouldcrs. I have met in my
time with a few mon who could dispute
the paliu of v«' a 1 ■ and incessant speaoh
with the most renowned gossip of tho
other sex. Chiufoat of those wua the
lale Mr. Julien, who was, indeed, one
of the most fluent and indefatigablo
talkers I have ever known or heard of.
Apropos of the volubility of Jullien'a
tongue, there are many atorics. The
following is worth preserving : Mr.
Juliun was traveling from Loudon to
the contry with a party by express train.
The party occupied ono curriug* depart
ment to themselves. Diroutly the train
started Jullivn began. The greater the
rule of going the luster he talked. No
ono attempted to speuk ; no one found
an opportunity ol doing so. The olook
was wound up and set going, it was im
possible to stop it. The iuoessant clatter
and the rapid artioulation of his talk,
sounded like an elaborate accompani
ment to tbe sing-song sort of music
made hy the wheel* rattling over the
rail#. After this hud gone on for some
time without any prospect of its coining
to an end, the gentleman seated next to
Jullien handed his snuffbox to his friend
opposite, accompanied hy a look that
seemed to say, 4 He’a going it now.'—
The friend took a pinch of snuff, handed
back the box, aud replied, nodiug his
head towards Jullien, 44 IIud ho been
among the fallen angels when they were
ejected frem heaven and hurled into (he
bottomless abyss, he'd have. talked the
ivhoU time of Am — Onoe a Week.
Hnnra to Hougtzazvza#.—llmtae
cleaning time will soon be here with all
its benefits and yet accopanying miseries.
For the benefit* ol tbs many who have
walla to white Wash, we give llie follow
ing :
White chalk ia tliqitott aubetitute for
lime as a wash. A fine and brill
iant whitewash preparation of chalk ia
called 'Pari# White.’ This we buy at
the paint stores for three cents # pound,
retail. For eaoh sixteen pouds of Pari*
White we procure half * pound of the
white transparent glue, coating twenty-
five cent# (fifty cents a pound.) The
sixteen pounds of Paris White is about
a# much a# a person will use in a duy.
It is prepared a#follow#: The clue i#
covered with cold water at night, and
io tbe morning is carefully houted, with
out searching, uotil dissolved The Par
is White i# stirred in with hot water
enough to give it the proper milky con
sistency for applviop to the walls, and
the dissolved glue is then a Ided id I
thoroughly mixed. It is then applied
with a brush like tbe common lime white
wash. Except on very dark and smoky
wall* and ceilings, a smclo coat is sum
cient. It is nearly equal in brilliancy to
'zino white,’ a far more expensive arti
cle.
Advici to Gowsiwmvxs.—Dr. Hall
say#:—"You want air, not physic; you
want pure air, not medicated air; you
want nutrition, such as plenty of meat
and bread will give, and they alone;
physic has no nutriment; gasping# for
air cannot cur# you; monkey capers in
x gymnasium cannot cure you; and etim
ulauts cannot cure you. If you want U
S et well, go in for bet/and outdoor air,and
o not be deluded into the grave by ad
vertisements and unreliable certificate*.'
Mau Cat Man.
The great African traveler and goril
la hunter gives the following account of
his visit to tho country of tho Fans, a
tribe of cannibals on the west coast of
Africa. He says :—"When I landod in
that goed country, the first thing I was
presetitud with, vrne an attack of fever.
Alter a whilo I heard of tho gorillas
and ol the cannibals, and wanted very
much to see the country which contain
ed them. The ohiof objects of travelers
in that oountry is to get on friendly
terms with the chiefs. I got acquainted
with one man—King Diopo—a very
nice fellow. I can easily remember the
sight be and his ministers presented the
first time I paid him a visit. I will give
you the costumes of hi# majesty add of
hie ministers. King Diopo was drossed
in a swallow-tailed coat, about the style
our grandfathers wore, and that he must
have pmoured from some traveler, and
nothing else besides I His Prims Minis-
tsr had on a white shirt, one sleeve lost,
and which could not hnve been waahod
for two years, and nothing else. Tbe
socond head man had a necktie on, and
nothing else. The third head man had
a hat on, and nothing else I Another one
of the suite wore a pair of shoe*, and
nothing else I After the King and his
ministers cam* his wives. Hie chief
wife carried an umbrella, and wore noth
ing else besides. I found Diopo a very
good and kind man ; he said he lovou
ine and my race. 1 hod a great many
gnrimnta with me—coat#, trow.scis,
shoos, and thousands oi beads. I was
sorry that I bud brought the pantaloon#
with me, as I never found a native who
would wear them. Notwithstanding
the kindness of Diopo I informed him
that I wiahed to go further into the into
rlor, and finally lie let me go, sending
hia two sun# and their wives to hear me
company. I reached another tribe, tho
king of which wanted me to marry
among his people, and offered mo either
sue of his daughters, or one of his wives
I then started tor the interior, where lay
the country of tho Fans—a race of can
nibals.
This country lies In the mountains
near the western coast of Africa, about
two degrees north ol the equator, nnd
two hundred and fifty miles from the
coast. The village (u Fan village) stood
on tho top of a hill, and when I appear
ed in it the people gathered around mo
in multitudes. They took tne lor a spir
it, and called out, "Look at hia feet, they
have no toes, his feet are black aud h.a
face another color ; what is tho spirit we
aee ?" I n#ver before #aw such wild
men. They were all armed to the teeth
with spears, poisoned arrows and knives.
Their bodies were tattooed nil 0T#r, their
teeth were dyed black, and they looked
more liko ghouls than men. On the
ground were the skull# of dead men,
and bones were scattered all through
the street#. The women were tho tig-
lieat I ever saw, and were much small
er than the men. The king did not
want to see me, being ufraid thut he
should die if he saw a spirit. Tho men
did not seem ufraid, but tho women did.
I saw one of the latter run into one of
the hnta with tbe leg of a man just cut
off Thi# made mo feel uncomfortable
nnd my only consolation was that I was
very thin and not worth much for eat
ing. At length the kinf{ caino to me
surrounded by his warriors H
dressed with the skins of wild beasts
and held a spear in his hand ; he looked
at me with wonder, and 1 did I he suine
with him. He suid he was not ufraid of
me when Miirrnunded by his warriors
I put a bold faus on it, and said thut
■pirits were never afraid also. They
guve me a hut to Bleep in, but I did not
sleep that night—the woman with this
leg deprcsHud my spirits. In the morn
ing when I arose and went out at the
back door, I met with a grand recep
tion. Oartnlbals from every part of the
country had come to seo me. They got
acouatomed lo me in limo, and I to
them, and we became tho best friends.
After a few days the queen came to see
me. 8be wae a lovely crcaturo—teeth
sharpened to a point, body tattooed all
over. Cooked plantains were brought
to me to eat. I told them I never uto
ooeked food, for I was afraid that men’s
flesh hud been cooked io the same pot
before. Tbe cannibalism of these peo
ple is of the worst kind. They eat the
oodies not of their enemies only, but ul-
so of their own people. A man, how
ever, does not eat the body of one of bis
own family, but families exchange their
dead with each other. In one ousethat
1 know of a corpse five days dead was
•old for food. They like their game
high. They all agree that a woman i#
tenderer than a mun, not the heart
merely, but the whole body. Boys also
are tender, but old men very faugh. I
myself could see no difference in tho ap
pearance of the flesh of men and that of
the gorilla, except that it wa# u little fi
ner in texture. But in spite of their
cannibalism, they aie in many respect#
the finest tribe in that country. Their
houses uro built low, not mure than five
feet in height, on account of the torua
dove. Tbe walls are made of the bark
of tree* ; they huve a little door in front,
and a back door, but no windows. I’o-
lygumy is common among them, and
the more wives a mun ho# tbe happier
he seems fa be. Slavery ia known, but
ia not much practiced, fa-cause men are
scarce ; and they prefer to eat them
rather tbun make efava* of them. They
work iron in the moet beautiful maimer;
make koivee, and very sharp axes. They
are exceedingly given to fighting, hence
their foudueee lor working in iron, apd
their expertnees at it. Nothing from
the coast reaches them, except a few
beads and pieces of copper. That cov
er the hand’ee of their knives With skin
taken from the bodise of fften. On part,
ing, the king rfiade me a present of ofle
of tbeae. It had belonged to his father,
and was covered with human skin. It
wa# considered a great mark of reaped
fa receive inch a present} it was a com
pliment similar to tbe presentation of a
diamond snuff box with us. These can
nibal tribes ore always fighting; and are
the dread of all the |ieopfethat surround
them, conquering every tribe with
whom they have come in contact.—
Rome ten yeaie ago they were aome
two hundred and fifty miles from the
coaet : to-day they are found within ten
miles of the coast, having destroyed or
driven away all the other tribes between
them and the ocean. W bat impels them
to move towards tbe west I could not
find out While among the Fans I
heard of other cannibal tribes toward*
the northwest One day I journeyed to
that country ; thoy were called tbe O#-
hnibos. I could boo ne difference be
tween them and tho Fans ; they had the
■aide appearance and customs, and their
villages were similar. They told me
that there were other cannibals beyond
them. But not feeling comfortable
among them, I commenced to make my
way towards the coast.
Dried 8weet Potatoes—A Val
uable Discovery*
To the Editor of the Alexandria Gazette :
Allow me to invite your attention to
a recent discovery which must prove in
valuable to the South, now that cotton
can no longer be profitably raised.
Cotton had been known for genera
tions, but only to supply Uie family’s
need, until Whitney’s genius reiuonued
to a world’s demund. So aluo the
sweet potato can be grown in fabulous
Quantities, but its perishable uature con
fines it to home oonsuption.
Experiments hnve been mad establish
ing facts of great impotance relative to
the sweot potato.
A bushel, when pared with the koife,
•nd this wastes much, weighs fifty two
pounds, but when dried only ten pounds,
having lost three-fourths In bulk ana
four fifth# in weght t Half a pound,
when boiled three-quarters of an htur
in an earthen vessel, (tin discolors,) fills
a largo dish, in color and flavor, precise
ly like tho root on your table at this sea
son of the year. Twenty cents a dish
would not bo considered high, and yet
it give# three dollars and seventy cents
to the planter, for ten cents will pay the
cost of drying, aud twenty cents that of
boxing and freight to market. Now,
strike off ono half for margin and mer
chant'# profit, and did cotton ever pay
like this ? when you consider that five
hundred buabcia fa the acre is not un
common.
You are aware that the sweot potato
hua undergone a chemical change a fo\V
weeks ufter being dug. At first it is
dry und moaly and a universal favorite:
but then it becomes soft and soggy, and
is rejected by many. It is aviaent that
no such change can take place in the
speoimon enclosed, hard as flint stones.
This delicious vegetable, therefore, can
now be plaood on the table every day of
the year in its best condition.
Thero must be a great foreign de
mand, for in Europe it is ecartiely known,
and even in our own country, West und
North, it is seldom aeen.
You will also find a specimen of dea-
siunted Iriah potuto The firet trial wae
a complete failure; they came forth al
most black, an I I gave it up in despair;
but subsequent reflection suggested that
when boiled they became white—what
tho difference ? Acer rdiogly thoy were
submitted for a few minutes to steam, in
order that the outer surfuce might be
oooked, to form a mucilage imperviou#
to tho atmosphere. Tbe result wa# very
gratifying—they nppoared bright and
aemi-transparent. When boiled and
compared with other# you can perocive
no difference.
It ia evident they will keep during
tbe iongost voyage. How valuable for
■ea ■ tores, with only ons-forth original
bulk, and one fifth the original weight I
How important, too, in a sanitary point
of viow, for there is no scurvey with po
tatoes twice a week.
Fiumcib II. Smith.
Baltimore, March 20, 1868. •
W An industrious German statist!,
ciun—he must have been a German to
have had the neoesaary patience and in
dustry—has computed that 2,762,000
lives have been lost In tbe various wars
which afflicted Europe from 1816 to 1804.
In the Crimean war there died 260,000
Russians, 107,000 Fienobinen, 16,000
Englishmen, and 1,600 Italians. Tbe
Polish insureotion cost 190,000lives, and
independence of Greece 148,000. Al
giers bus occasioned to France the loss
ol 146.000 men. Io tbe Italian war 69,-
664 Austrian# porisbed, 80,220 French
men 28 610 Italians, 16,000 Neapolitans,
uud 1,870 Pupal troops.
. What p rils ladies will encoun
ter to be in fashion I They are gene
rally supposed to show timidity in the
presence of wild animals, but they would
rather face a mad bull than nut have
their dresses gored.
Sl)r Cutfybcrt ^Appeal.
RATES OT ADTCRTBlIfft »
Oo# dollar per #q«*r» of tea UN# for th# flrtt fa
••rtfoa, tod Smoty.flr# OCBt# pit aqaere for aaok
■ubaaquimt ItmfMoO, ttrt #ze*#dUq( tkNe.
Oo#oqoare three (booth#.............. • eo
Oo« aquar# oo# year MM
Fourth oft oolotnn alt month#. M0«
Half cot HMD all monlh*. .it TO 0#
OuSettnnn an (moths. 100 M
What Shall we Cook!
Thi# question is often asked by house*
keepers, who are in doubt what to get
for dinner. A writer in one of the
Northern papers thns pleasantly apeaks
of (his matter, which ia worthy of rno-
■ideratkm by all housekeepers. He
•ays :
Last year, being the gnat for a month
of a housekeeper, who had an elegant
home and appointments, with all nt band
for oomfort and convenience, 1 wae
much surprised at her frequent and earn
est repetition of the queetien. "What shall
I cook to-day f If we only coold live
without eating, or if one meal pit day
were all that were necessary, I should be
happy aa a queen. Hut this cooking
and eating three regolar meals, beside#
Inch, and llarry auob an epicure, la too
much for my skill and patience.'*
I could not help the bright little wo*
mau although not devoid of sympathy for
her, nor failing to aee what a eharm
would escape from her home, could ah*
have ber wish.
Much of this young housekeeper's
dislike for culinary natters arose from
her inexperience and ignorance of the
various methods of preparing tbe same
article of food.
Variety ia tha spice of life," la oo
less true of our Btomach than of our
higher need#. Physiologists state this
to be exceedingly important for health.
The cravings of tho stomach testily to
tho truth ot tha assertion, and the great
All Father,in his lavish supplies, teaches
us tbe same fuct.
In order to redeem our necessities for
food from entire animalism and vulgari
ty, all possible effort should be made to
eioroise oar* and taste in tha prepara
tion of food and the arrangement of tbo
table, We have given sciontifio laws
and principles by which to prepare tho
good things at our disposal, besides the
cravings of natare to assist our common
sen#e and good taste.
When woman’s roady brain and skill*
ful fingers plan and execute what con*
duces to the health, comfort and ra*
finemont of hor family, with oheerfulneaa
and alacrity, ber duties wifi lota their
homely aspect; there will ba fawer
sources of diecontonl, and she will won
der at her former aversion to what boa
become so fruitful of good.
She to whom these oarea are especial*
ly committed, i# wofully at fault, if
through pride, neglect or ignorance, her
dear* ones euffer in health or cheer, or
are constantly reproached for neading
to cat three times a day I
The family meal should bo something
to be looked forward to with delight,
tbe table adorned with tasteful dishes,
and surrounded by ohaerful, talkative
facoSj if digestion is to be promoted and
happiness secured.
TTmiVersity or Geob<ju.—Univeraal
interest is being manifested a# to who
the successful one Will be— "The First
Honor man ’—at tho approaching com
mencement of tho University ol Gaor*
giu. The contest ia said to be exceed*
ingly cleB#, tho prominent aspirants
being Bean of Augustu, Hammond of
Atlanta, nnd Barnett af Washington,
Wilkes county.— Chronicle k Bentmel,
24 th.
„__,Br(jwnlow’8 Militia cost tha State
of Tennessee 9817,000. To meet this
expense all the current receipts of the
treasury were used, tnd it became neo-
eeeary to rob the children of tbe Stats
by Using the school fund to pay the Jan*
uary interest on tbe Stato debt.
A you ng man not far from Portland
Me., was attending his sick father (who
was a rigid Haptin and while rubbing
his father's baoz, their paetor, who Wax
ireeeut, asked the son if he waa not
lathing too bard f ‘‘No air,” th# son
replied, "he ia a bard-shell Baptist,"
23CA Dutchman waa relating hia
marvelous escape from drowning, when
thiiteen of bia companion* was loat by
the upsetting of • boat, and he alone
caped, c And how did you escape their
fate ?' Mked oce of bis hearers. *1 tld
not go in de pote,' was tho Dutchman's
placid reply.
„ A Frenchman who was arreated
... for crying "Vivo PBmparattfn,*
was sent to prison the other day for
shouting "Vive la HepubHque.” Tha
judge told him he must not only learn
what to cry, but when.
Til a Tallow True.—Tbe tallow troa
of China, which gives riea to a vast
trade in the northern parts of that em
pire, has been introduced into India. It
grows with groat luxuriance io tho
Diioon# und iu th* Konistarof the north
western piovinocs and tbe Puqjab. and
there are now tens of thousands of trees
in the government plantations of Kowla*
ia, Hawar Buiign, aud Ayar Toll*,
,;om which fans of seeds are available
for distribution. Dr. Jamiaeon prepared
from the seeds one hundred and fifty
pounds of tallow, and forwarded fifty
pound# to the Punjab railway, in order
to have it# piopeihM as a lubricator for
railway machinery tested. For burning,
tbo tallow is excellent; it friyea a clear,
bright, inodorous flame, ana is without
smoke. Tbe tree fruits abundantly
both in tbe Dhoona tod plains, IM
Cao«e oi Short Liis.—It has been
thought that people are degenerating be
cause they do not live as in the days of
Methuselah. But tbe fact is, provisions
■re so very high, nobody can a fiord to
live very long at current price#.
grow# with groat rapidity, many traea
raised from seeds introduced eight yean
Ago being now six feet in cireuoiwiaca
at three foot from the ground. The
timber is white and close grainad, and
well fitted for printing blocks. The
leaver, too. are valuable u» a dya.