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THE MONROE jSSL ADVERTISER.
t.SORGB A. KING & CO.
VOL. XX) 11.
Drugs, Etc.
SB
tlie mint ecnial baUam ever used by
uffi rcri from iiulmonary diacaicx.
It in coinpoxf it of hprlial products, which
liava i* appclflc effect on the throat and
Inntra; detarhra from the air ■;!!* all ir
itatioK matter; camp* it to be exppeto
i ated, and atonic clipi k the lull.tin mitt ion
v. Irtcli produce* the coukli. A alttKle doao
relieve* the moat dl*trp*iii|r paroxyam,
Pool 111* ncrvonaiir'-t, nml enable* tlie *uf
lerer to enjoy quiet rent at night. Ilcinsc a
jiieaaant cordial, It tones the weak tom
*< b, and is specially recommended for
children.
What others say about
° TutVs Expectorant,
Had Asthma Thirty Years,
R.vwimobk, February 1575.
“ I have liail Asthma thirty year*, and never found
a rn< diclne tliat had such a happv effect.”
W. F. HOGAN, Charles St
A Child’s Idea of Merit
Nk.iv Oki.ka.ns, November 11, 15-6.
“ roll’s Expectorant is a familiar name in my house.
My wife thinks it tiie best medicine in tlie world,
and the children sav it is ‘nicer than molasses
* arnly.* ” NOAH WOODWARD, 101 N. Poydra* 81.
"Six, and all Croupy.”
“ I am t lie mother of six children ; ail or them have
been croupy. Without Tutt’s Expectorant, I don’t
• nink they could have survived some of the attacks.
It is a mother's blessing.”
MARY STEVENS, Frankfort, Ky.
, A Doctor’s Advice.
“ h> my practice, I advise all families to keep Tutt’j
I pectorant, in Midden emergencies, for coughs,
II 'up, diphtheria, etc. ”
T. P. ELLIS, M.D., Newark, N. J.
Hold I>V "l! druggists. Vrire SI.OO. Ojjlco
US Murray Street, New York.
‘‘THE TREE IS KNOWN BY ITS FRUIT."
“ Tutt’s l’ills are worth their weight in gold.”
( REV. *• R SIMPSON, Louisville, Ky.
“Tutt’s I’iils m • a special blessing of the ninc
leenth century.”-REV, F. H. OSGOOD. New York.
“1 have used and utt’s I’,ils for torpor of the liver.
They are superior to any medicine for biliary dis
orders ever made.”
I. P. CARH, Attorney at Law, Augusta, Ga.
“ T have used Tutt’s Tills live years in my family.
They urc unequaled forcostiveness and biliousness.”
F. R. WILSON, Georgetown, Texas.
“I have used Tutt’s Medicine with great benefit.”
W. W. MANN, Editor Mobilo Register.
“We sell fifty boxes Tutt's Tills to five ol all
others.”—SAYßE & Ga.
"Tutt’s Tills have only to be tried to establish
their merits. They work like magic."
W. H. BARRON. St., Boston.
" There is no medicine well adapted to the cure
ol bilious disorders ns Tutt’s Tills.”
JOS. BRUMMEL, Richmond, Virginia.
AND A T 1 folio"AND MORE.
Sohl by druggists. ’JS cents a bo.r. Office
US Murray Street, New York.
ITUTTS HAIR DYE?
lITD OTtS ED. jj
HIGH TLST IMONY. ji
I rilOM TUK PI CI I'll' JO! KXJL. tti
■ , "A G.iEAT INVENTION M
■ InjN hppn lnuf.'f Ty !>h Ii t- ~i V . v y
| producing a Hair JKc* which niiilates ij
■ natiirfj to perfection, old bachelor* may |J
I l*rice $1,00 • Offlret 3,~ Mu nun/ St, 9 pi
New \ork, S<thl \>y all ilrtif/tjist*. ■
GOLD
IIMDIATE ATTENTION.
A contiuanee for any length of time, causes
irritation of the Lungs, or some chronic Throat
affection. Neglect oftentimes results in some
incurable Lung disease. Brown’s Bronchial
Troches have proyed their efficacy, by a test of
many years, and will almost give immediate
relief. Obtain only Brown’s Bronchial Troches
and do not take any of the imitations that may
be offered. dec 4 4m.
FOTJTZ’S
HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS,
ArriSfr
jfSra
Aro uncqualcd for th cv*ra and prevention ol
dievusoe in Horses, Cattle, Hogs.Sheep,and Ton la.
DAVID E. FOUTVI.Trop.. Baftunoro, Aid.
For stile by F O MAYS
B. M. Woolley’s The habit of u.-iug Morphine,
i iliiiu Opium, Laudanum or Elix
jjjl I’alliieSS ir of Opium cured painltssly. by
Cl American tl “ s Improved remedy.
18 and ■ II Aft MauuiaCtured at Atlanta, ,uta„
II Vi. U vl at reduced Prices fest-
U* l lire or and m hundreds ot eases, Guar
, . jj . puiteed, Particulars t REE. Ad
-A. Uti Cl Ot G • 1 dress U. M. Wvolley, Atlanta Ga
(i R I. ENBACKS
FOR BOND HOLDERS)!
GREENBACKS
FOR GOLD GAMBLERS!
GREENBACKS'
FOR NATIONAL BANKERS !
GREENBACKS
FOR THE PEOPLE !
greenbacks
FOR ALL PURPOSES!
For which money is used mterchangable at
par with Cold and Silvt r. in a sufficient quan
tity as to promote industry, invite immigration
and develop the resources of the country, |is
what tue
'GIN GIN N ATI ENQUIRER
Claims is the only remedy for the ills brought
upon the country by Legislation and Laws, en
acted for the benefit of a Monied Class, and the
oppression of Labor and Industry.
Government Credit sustains our Bonds for
the benefit of the wealthy, let the Credit
Sustain Greenbacks
For the benefit of the People who sustain the
Government
Daily Enquirer, per year, $12,00
Weekly Enquirer, “ *, IE
Free of postage.
Ag ents wanted,
Send foi specimen copies.
FAR** A McLEAX, Publisher*
ciisrciisrKr-A.TX, o.
BRICK WORK AND PLASTERING.
—{o{—
O. F. Evans, Contractor,
‘QA.
ORDERS from any part of the Slate
promptly attended to. Address me, Care
JEWETT A’ROGERS, Macon Ga. mchl22t
A BEAK ADVENT ARE.
An Incident of Rocky Mounlahi
Eire.
Dick Barron was one of the most daring
among the pioneers, and he appeared to be
one of the most unfortunate. Together with
• other neighbors Dick had moved from Cen
tral Colorado to the western slope of the Sierra
Nevada Mountains. FI is home was in a wild,
romantic and beautiful spot, and fortune ap
peared to smile upon him, so far as his pecun
iary matters were concerned, for his lands
yielded well in the summer and Ills mines
gave a fair yield of yellow dross in the colder
months.
But death came to the family of Dick.
The first stroke fell upon his oldest boy, a
lad of twelve years of age. The little fellow
was fond of hunting, and, with his rifle, he
would often venture a considerable distance
from his home, and sometimes was very sue
ctssful in bringing down small game. But
one day he was absent much beyond his usual
time, and a search discovered his mangled
remains lying at the bottom of a ledge of rock.
He bad evidently fallen from above and thus
met a sudden and cruel death. The blow fell
heavily upon Dick and his wife, but the man
bore bravely up under his grief, while the
woman gave way to melancholy
Not long alter a second child, a little girl of
five years of age, sickened and died. It now
appeared as if M r s. Barron would go mad, and
for a time her agony was terrible to behold.
But this gradually subsided and the mother
began to sink rapidly, and in a short time af
terward she followed her little one, leaving
still another child, a daughter three years old,
in the care of the stricken father.
The g :ief of Dick was not of an explosive
character, but it was deep and enduring Still
lie had something yet to live for, and he went
to work like a brave man to provi le for his
little Eva- Winter had set in and Dick had
come to the conelu ion to make as much as
possible in the mines before spring, ami then
lo sell his property and go to San Francisco,
where he could secure the advantages of edu
cation for his little one.
For some time the neighbors of Dick as well
as himself had been annoyed by theft, sev
eral lambs and sheep had been killed and
poultry in great quantities had been stolen:
There was a difference of opinion in regard to
these depredations Some said they were
committed by Indians, others by wolves, and
others by bears, but as j et no snow had fallen
and ns the ground was frozen very hard no
tracks could he seen.
One morning, however, the alarm was
given. A light snow had fallen during the
night and tracks were discovered. A large
grizzly bear was the thief and despoiler, and
he must be hnnted down at once. It was not
supposed that they would have to go far to
find the animal, and so LRck seized his rifle
and joined the party, leaving his child still in
bed.
The tracks were fresh’ and a dozen excited
men were soon on the trail. In a short lime
they' were on the monster: but each man
paused, turning their eyes towrad Dick, and
waiting for him to speak. The bear was
standing near the cabin door of Barron, gaz
ing at the child who was seated in the door
way, watching the movements of the animal
with evident curiosity, hut without exhibiting
any signs of fear.
Dick felt his very heart sink within him as
he saw this; but his weakness passed away in
an instant, and without removing his ej T es
from the bear, he asked :
“ Men. can you use your rifles with steady
hands ?”
“ Yes,” replied several.
“ Then raise them and have them ready. Be
sure your aim is good, and that everv bullet
would be buried in the body of the beast in
case of firing. But hold your shots until I
give the word.”
Instantly every rifle was raised.
Dick moved carefully around toward the
back of the cabin. It was his intention to
enter the window, seize his little one, drew
her hack, and closing the door, save her But
now the animal began to niter deep growls,
and advance slowly toward Eva. The father
saw this and exclaimed:
“ My darling, get up, go into the house, and
and close the door.”
The child looked up, smiled, and then arose,
attempting to do the bidding of the father;
but the monster advanced with a fearful howl,
and as the door was closed against him he
struck it with one of his huge paws, shatter,
ing it into splinters.
“ I feared this. Fire; but be careful and
not injure my child 1” cried the father
He discharged his own piece, and at the
same time a doze* other rifles rang out. The
bear gave a most fearful howl, turned upon
his enemies, glaring upon them with eyes of
fire, and seemed just upon the point of spring
ing upon them. Suddenly, however, the beast
appeared to change his mind. Turning quickly
around, the monster entered the cabin. A
shriek was instantlj- heard, and the father
rushed forward, knife in hand, to save his
darling But he was too late, for with a bound
the beast had dashed through the window,
holding Eva in his teeth.
Ofi’ he ran with all his speed toward the
highest mountain peak, while the cries of the
little one came back to the earn of the half
frantic father.
And now the monster began its ascent, bear
its precious burden. Onward it went and up
ward, climbing forward, as rocks toweriDg
above rocks arose to obstruct his pathwaj'.
All this time it kept up its fearful howling,
and for a time the wails of the child were
heard; hut they became fainter and fainter,
until the sound could no longer be distinguish
ed. At length it disappeared from view be
hind a jetting ledge.
When the intention of the animal was first
made apparent, a kind of terror seized upon
every heart, and a cry of agony burst from
every lip. And well might they have shod
dered ; for they now knew full well that the
ferocious animal was a she bear, and that she
wit; carrying the child to herej’rie den as food
for her cubs-
For a time the father had stood with face
blanched with despair, and with form trem
b’iug like the brown leaves which still clung
to the trees around him. But that weakness
was onlj' momentary, for he became again the
invincible father; and, with the speed of an
antelope, he rushed for the cliffsjhiseyes fixed
upon the point where the bear had disappeared
with hi* loved darling.
FORSYTH, GEORGIA, TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 7, 1878.
To any but the father, and to him under
any other circumstances, the journey would
not only have been a wearj r , but an almost
impossible one. But the anxious parent paused
not for an instant, lud- el, he seemed to gain
nc-w strength and courage at every step. Now
a fearful rocky ledge would obstruct Ids way,
but he would mount upward, making a ladder
of the trail twigs which hung to their sides.
Onward and upward until the giddy height
upon which he stood was horrible to con tern
plate. But he did not look back- His child
was further on.
And now the point was reached where the
bear was last seen.
At this instant a strange sound fell upon the
ears of the father. At first, it was only the
cry of a child. Then, mingling with it, came
! the fierce growl of the she-bear, and following
this, the yelping of cubs. Oh, what agony
filled the father's bosom at that moment!
Could it be possible that the ravenous beasts
were already in the act of devouring his treas
ure ?
Dick sank upon the solid rock, while the
perspiration rolled in streams from his face
and body. A blindness came over him, and
he felt himself unable to move.
Then came a voice from below. It exclaimed,
“ Courage, Dick. I’ll be with you soon, and
j'et save your child.”
“ Child! child! ” murmured Dick as he
started up. “ Yes, I must not give way to
this weakness so long as my child yet lives;
and I can hear its voice even now.”
The poor father became strong again. He
moved forward a few steps, and paced around
a point of rock, from behind which came the
sounds.
A terrible sight met his gaze !
A little girl was lying upon her back upon
the rock. The monster was near her, holding
her down with ore of his huge paws, which
rested upon her breast. The little one had
ceased her stragglings, evidently in despair,
and was now sobbing as if its poor little heart
was broken. The bear was bleeding profusely',
and had evidently fallen from exhaustion The
bullets which had been sent into her body had
given her, no doubt, her mortal wound : but
she was tenacious of life, and could accomplish
much after that wound was recived, but be
fore her life was yielded. Like the parent who
now sought his daughter, the first thought of
the bear was of her young, and even in her
dying agony she had clung to the food she had
brought them.
Only a few feet higher up were the cubs
They saw the mother, and they appeared to
anticipate a great feast, for they were strug
gling to reach it, while they lifted their young
voices in chorus with that of their parent.
Dick knew' that he must save his childsoou,
or it would be too late. Soon he resolved to
creep as near as possible to the monster, and
then spring upon her with his knife; for, in
his haste and excitement, he had dropped his
rifle.
Just as he was moving forward, the hear
turned, and their eyes met. The dying beast
uttered a terrific howl, and then looked down
at her victim. Then she glanced at her own
cubs, and again at Dick. Her expression
seemed to say: “ You will have no mercy on
my young; why should 1 have upon y'ours.”
It was a dreadful suspense for Dick. He
was satisfied that the bear could live only a
few moments. But what might not occur in
those moments? A single blow with her huge
paw and his darling would be torn into frag
ments. A movement upon his part might
cause this blow to fall.
The hunter becomes so accustomed to the
various animals with which he comes in con
tact that he can almost read their very thoughts.
Their actions can nearly always be interpreted
correctly. So was it with Dick now. He saw
the intentions of the bear, and knew that his
own action must be prompt and powerful, or
it would be too late.
He clutched his knife, and with his arm
nerved with desperation, hope and a fatherly
love, he sprang directly at the throat of the
monster, who received him with a tremendous
howl and with mouth wide open.
Had the beast been uninjured, the straggle
would have beeu of short duration, for the
odds between a man and a grizzly bear would
be as great as that between a lion and a mouse-
But the monster was now dying, and death
was near. She retained all her courage and
will, but not her strength.
Dick gave her several rapid blows with his
knife. She groaned almost as a human being
would have done, and fell upon her side. But
she recovered in an instant, and striking Dick,
she threw him to the earth. But the father
had seized his beloved daughter, and throwing
her a little apart, she was now out of danger.
Not so with himself.
He was now stretched flat upon his back,
and both the paws of the beast were upon his
breast, and he could feel the sharp claws en
tering his flesh- The two great, glassy eyes
glared into his own, the terrible growl rang iu
his ears, the jaws were extended, the long
white teeth glistened, and the blood red tongue
was ready to lap up his blood. He straggled,
but could not move. A moment more, and
all would be over with him forever, now the
death-grip was fixed upon him.
And to add to his agonj', he had seen his
child ran toward the edge of the cliff. It would
bedashed to pieces in falling, even as its broth
er had been.
But would this lie a misfortune, since the
father must die t Would it not lie better for
her to join her loved ones in another world
than to remain in this cold world, alone?
Just at that instant, however, there came
the report of a rifle. The hear relaxed her
hold and fell heavily upon the body of Dick.
He rolled the animal awaj" and sprang to his
feet. A friend had arrived in time, and not
an instant too soon. He was holding Eva in
bis arms. She was not hurt.
The father could not help shedding tears
over his rescued darling, for never before had
she appeared half so dear to him. But he re
solved not to expose her to any further danger
of the kind, and so he took an almost immedi
ate departure for the home he had selected in
the Golden State.
A general elephant fight occurred lately as
the herd of elephants, belonging to John Rob
inson s circus, was crossing the South Ann
river, near Louisa Court House, Virginia.
“ Bismarck” was thrown off the bridge by
“ Chief," and would have been drowned if old
“ Mary" and several of the employees and
citizens had not interposed to save his life.
Nobody was hurt
“In G-od we Trust 99
Jefferson Davis’ Letter to tlie Re
mortal Association, Xlaci.ii. Ga.
Mississippi City*, Miss.,
April Uth, 1878.
Gentlemen: —l sincerely regret my inabil
ity to be present at the laying of the cornel
stone of “ a Monument to be erected at Macon,
Ga., in honor of our dead Confederate sol
diers.”
The event possesses every attraction to me ;
it is inspired by the Ladies Memorial Associ
ation ; the monument is to he located in the
Key stone State of the Confederate arch; and
to commemorate the sacrifices of those who
died in the defence of our inherited and “ in
alienable” rights.
What though we were overborne by num
bers, and accessories not less efficient, truth is
not to be measured bj' success in maintaining
it against force; nor is the glory less of him
who upholds it iu the face of unequal odds,
but is it not rather more to his credit that he
counted all else as dust in the balance when
weighed with honor and duty. On many a
stricken field our soldiers stood few 1 faint,
but fearless still, for the}' wore tlie panoply of
unquestioning confidence in the rectitude of
their cause, and knew how to die but not to
surrender. Let not any of their survivors im
pugn their faith by offering the penitential plea
that “ they believed thej' were right”
Be it ours to transmit to posterity our une
quivocal testimony to the justice of their con
victions, to their virtues, and the sanctity of
the motives by which they were actuated.
It is meet that this monument should have
originated with the ladies of the land, whose
self-denial was conspicuous through all the
trials and sufferings of war, whose gentle min
istrations in the hospitals, and at way side re
fectories, so largely contributed to relieve the
sick and the wounded, and whose unfaltering
devotion to their country’s cause in the dark
est hours of our struggle, illustrated Hie fidel
ity of the sex which was last at the and
first at the sepulchre.
I am profoundly thankful to them for invit
ing me to represent them, as their orator, on
the approaching occasion. Had it been prac
ticable to accept, their request would have
been, to me, a command, obeyed with y no other
reluctance than the consciousness of inability
to do justice the theme.
Thanks to the merits of our Confederate
dead, they need neither orator nor bard to
commend their deeds to the present genera
tion of their countrymen. Many fell far from
home and kindred, and sleep in. unmarked
graves; but all are gathered in the love of
those for whom they died, and their memo
ries are hallowed in the hearts of all true Con
federates.
By the pious efforts of our people manv
humble cemeteries, such as, iu their impover
ishment, were possible, Rate beem prepared,
and the Confederate dead have been collected
in them from neighboring battle-fields. There
annually, with reverential affection, the graves,
alike of the known and the unknown, are
decked with vernai nowers, expressive of grat
itude renewable forever, and tj'pical of the
hope of a resurrection and reunion where the
wicked cease from troubling and the weary
are at rest.
To be remembered, honored, beloved, by
their people is the reward bestowed on our
Confederate dead. It, is the highest which a
good and purely patriotic man could desire.
Should it be asked, why then build this monu
ment? the answer is, they do not need it, but
posterity may. It is not their reward, but our
debt. If the greatest gift a hero gives his
race is to have been a hero, in order that this
gift may be utilized to coming generations,
its appreciation by contemporaries should be
rendered as visible and enduring as possible.
Let the monument, rising from earth toward
heaven, lift the minds of those who c<jme after
us to a higher standard than the common test
of success. Let it teach that a man is horn
for duty, not for expediency; that when an
attack is made on the community to which he
belongs, by which he is protected, and to
which his allegiance is due, his first obligation
is to defend that community; and that under
such conditions it is better to have “fought,
and lost than never to have fought at all.’
Let posteritj' learn by this monument that you
commemorate men who died in a defensive
war; that they did not, as has been idly stated,
submit to the arbitrament of arms the ques
tions at issue—questions which involved the
inalienable rights inherited from their ances
tors, and held in trust for their posterity; but
that they strove to maintain the State sover
eignty which their fathers left them, and which
it was their duty if possible to transmit to their
children
Away then with such feeble excuse for the
abandonment of principles, which may be
crushed for a while, hut which possessing the
eternal vitality of truth, must in its own good
time prevail over perishable error.
Let this monument teach that heroism de
rives its lustre from the justice of the cause in
which it is displayed, and let it mark the differ
ence between a war waged for the rotJtier-like
purpose of conquest, and one to repel inva
sion—te defend a people’s hearths and altars,
and to maintain their laws and liberties. Buch
was the war in which our heroes fell, and theirs
is the crown which sparkles with the gems
of patriotism and righteousness, with a glory
undimmed hj r any motive of aggrandisement
or intent to inflict ruin on others. We present
them to posteritj’ as examples to be followed,
and wait securelj' for the verdict of mankind
when knowledge shall have dispelled misrep
resentation and delusion. It is unreasonable
to hope that mature reflection and closer study
of the political history of the Union, may yet
restore the rights prostrated by the passions
developed in our Jong and bloody war? If,
however, it should be otherwise, then from
our heroes’ graves shall come in mournfu
tones the
“ Answer fit:
And if our children must obey,
They must, but thinking on our day,
T’will less debase them to submit ”
Yours, faithfully,
Jefferson Davis.
A Good and Simple Remedy. —Mr. A. W.
Jackson, a successful farmer and a number
one horse master, handed us a few days since,
the following recipe for the cure of colic in
horses. He lias often tried it with good re
sults in every caae. He regards it as an infal
lible remedy: “ Take one-half pint of wheat
flour and dissolve it in three half pints of cold
water, then use as a drench." It is a cheap
and simple remedy, within the reach of all.—
Sander tv ill* Courier.
DE ATH AT SEA.
How Soldiers Pear ll—A Sad Scene.
[Boston Commercial Bulletin.]
Sokliers die bravely on the battle-field, and
resignedly in the military hospital on shore,
but there is something very sad in a soldier’*
death at sea. The surroundings of the ship
hospital are unfamiliar to his ej’e; the roll of
the vessel is painful to him, and the thought is
ever present to his mind that if he was on
shore, if he could see the green fields, or even
the snow-clad earth, his recovery might be
possible. Although nothing could be more
comfortable than the couch on which he lies,
and scarcelj' anj thing more soothing than the
gentle roll of the vessel to one in his condi
tion, he longs to stretch his limbs on the bar
rack hospital bed and to feel that he is on firm
ground.
Then the thought of the lonely burial in the
wide waste of waters obtrudes itself upon his
mind. To be launched over the vessel’s side
into the lonely ocean, committed to the deep,
and left without a stone or a wooden cross to
mark the spot where his mortal remains were
consigned to their everlasting rest. All this is
inexpressibly saddening to the dj’ing soldier.
On shore his comrades would have lollowed
his remains to their resting place in the church
yard, and fired a farewell shot over his grave,
and with reluctant step have left him to sleep
the sleep that know* no waking till the trump
of the archangel summons the dead to judg
ment.
How differeut at sea! Sewed up in a ham
mock, the corps to which he belongs sum
moned to the gangway-slip, a few short but
solemn prayers said over the dead, and then
the awfnl words :
“We commit this body to the deep !’*
A plunge, and the corpso sinks into the sea;
the flag is lowered ; the vessel sails on, and the
dead is left alone to the tossing of the angry
waves, or to sink deep into the coral caves of
the ocean. No comrade may come in after
days and drop a tear over that grave; no lov
ing hand may come and plant a flower there;
it is lost; swallowed up in the immensity of
the great grave yard of the deep
The writer has stood by the side of a dying
comrade in the hospital of a troop ship, and
heard the dying man give utterance to such
thoughts as the above.
“What does the surgeon say?” he asked.
“ Tell me the truth, comrade. I am not
afraid of death.”
“ It is better that you should know the truth.
He has no hope.”
“I thought so. W ell, God’s will be done,
but it is hard to die in the middle of the ocean.
If I had been on shore, even iu a foreign
countrj', it would have been easier. It is hard
to be buried at sea.”
“ The sea will give up its dead.”
“Aye, that is right, comrade. I ought to
think of that. Seamen, they say, like to cher
ish the thought that they will be buried at sea;
but lam a soldier. I would die happier if I
knew that I W'ould be buried on shore and he
followed to the grave by my comrades. There
is something beautiful in a soldier’s funeral on
shore. The solemn music—that Dead March
iu Saul—how I used to love it I ’ My poor
mother! It will grieve her to think that I was
buried at sea. Read me that, comrade about
the sea giving up the dead.”
The chaplain at this moment approached,
having been sent by the surgeon. He read
the passage of scripture asked for, and nmnj'
other beautiful passages.
The dying soldier closed his eyes during the
readirg. He lay silent for a long time after
the chaplain had ceased. Then he opened his
eyes and muttered, feebly:
“No funeral parade; no music ; no farewell
shot over my grave—committed to the deep.
The—sea—will—give—up—its—dead. Com
rades—my mother—Farewell!”
And he ceased to live.
Next day tlie vessel came to a stop for a few
minutes. The ship’s bell was tolled; the flag
floated at half-mast, and the soldiers of the
corpse to which the deceased belonged was
paraded at the gangwaj’. The prayers were
said, the body launched over the side, and the
vessel resumed her course. Some of the mem
bers of the other corps on board were sur
prised on learning, late that evening, that a
s oldier had been buried during the day.
It is better that such things should be so.
Nothing can be gained by saddening men un
necessarily. Cheerfulness is one of the most
potent of sanitary agents. Every care should
be taken to maintain it among large bodies of
men.
Once a year a Boston chemist makes an offi
cial analj’sis of some of the alcoholic bever
ages sold in the bar ioom9 of that city. He
has just reported on 128 samples gathered at
random by agents of the License Commission
ers. Advocates of total abstinence will be
pleased to learn that he found a great deal of
adulteration, but they will not be so well satis
fied with the accompanying fact that not one
of the adulterating substances was poisonous.
Indeed the principal fraud indicated is the
watering of liquors—a clear gain to the cause
of temperance. In fifty samples of malt
liquors no bitter ingredient except hops was
found, the adulteration consisting of harmless
coloring matter. The lowest percentage of
alcohol in ale was 4.82, and the highest 7 92;
in lager beer the range was from 4.10 to 6 65.
Only two ont of twenty samples of whisty
were free from fraudulent coloring or flavor
ing substances; but nothing was found worse
than caromel and prune juice. Not a single
sample of pure brandy was obtained, every
one being artificially colored and flavored,
while water had been added to the extent of
from five to thirty per cent. The gin and rum
had been watered, and were certainly no more
injurious than pure gin and rum. It seems,
therefore, that Boston tipplers are as free trem
danger ac any tipplers can be.
If a man connects his fate with that of a
good, peaceable, industrious, sweet tempered
and virtuous woman, who is so ordered that
she is a friend in need, a cheerful companion,
a good nurse, a sharer of his burdens and his
soother in his hour of trouble, lie lias found
the best of God’s handiwork. But if he weds
a woman, with a peevish, jeaious, dissatisfied
rii-.position, who is continually inviting tamity
broils, it w ere better that a mill stone bad been
hanged to his neck and that he had been
drowned in the sea. Young men, beware!
Go slow, and see to it if you marry at all, that
you get tlie former. Marriage is a lottery and
your happiness ior life depends upon the liirow
of the die.
The Terror* of Dinner-Giving
[By “A Toiler of Society” in London Week]
A great deal of misery is caused by that
awful quarter of an hour, half hour, or three
quarters of an hour, as the cause may lie, con
sumed in waiting for dinner. AH the guilts
are ill at ease, bridling or supercilously stony
according to their sex, with that thoroughly
English sentiment composed of a mixture to
fear of moral contagion and surprised resent
ment at finding themselves in the society of
people to whom—O horrid thought!— they
have not been introduced. Of course every
individual in the party is aware that every
other unit in it 19 a respectable member of so
eiety, in that he or she is considered worthy of
a seat at the same board with him or herself.
But the host’s estimate of respectability is not
thought to be authority sufficiently strong to
justify a Briton in breaking the awfnl silence
of his lips. The sacred shibboleth of “Mrs.
Mumble Mumble, I t me introduce my friend
Mr. Mumble Mumble”—probably the intro
ducer knows neither of the introducers’ names
has not been pronounced, and consequently
the women all look as if ready to exclaim:
“Go away, you horrid man, how dare you
come near me? I don’t know who j'ou are;”
and the men walk stiffly round, or retreat me
chanically into corners with the peculiarly
bristly appearance and sub audibility growl
ing demeanor of strange dogs upon their
guard.
The hostess, outwardly calm and smiling, is
suffering inward agonies, knowing very well
that the dinner must he spoiled, and fearing
also the temper of an irascible cook. The
host shows outward and visible signs of his
inward and spiritual torments, for men cannot
dissemble. Everybody is as wretched as it is
possible for English men and women to he
even on a festive occasion. Empty as to their
interiors for want of food, empty as to their
heads for want of conversation. Then, if by
chance people are all in time, matters are not
mended. The cook knows from past experi
ence that dinner ordered at 8 o’clock must not
be]ready before half past 8. Consequently the
same delay occurs as if some guest had been
late The same dull dumbness of deep despair
settles like a funeral pall over the company,
the same mental suffering is undergone, with,
in the case of the host, a still greater pang
superadded. The poor sinner at first merely
wonders why dinner is not served when all the
invited guests are assembled, then gradually,
and with swiftly increasing strength, the ter
rifying thought itself upon him that some
catastrophe of the kitchen must have occur
red. Ttie wretched man begins to think in
what language he had better announce to his
friends that there is no dinner for them. If
he could only begin it would not be so had ;
but how is he, a small item in a large crowd,
to attract attention ? Ought he to clap his
hands, or cry “ Silence 1" and then make a lit
tle speech ? Or should he convey*the intelli
gence briefly and without comment from the
loftv elevation of a chair, somewhat after the
manner of a person dismissing the congrega
tion, or what should he do?
C heese Hade r Potatoes.
A foreign paper says cheese is made from
potatoes in Thuringia and Saxony in the man
ner described below. Possibly the process
may be found worth trying if not profitable in
thi* ccuntry: “After having collected a
quantity of potatoes of good quality, giving
the preference to a large, white kind, they are
boiled in a caldron, and after becoming cool
they are reduced to pulp, either by means of a
grater or mortHr. To five pounds of this pulp,
which ought to be as equal as possible, is added
one pound of sour milk and the necessary
quantity of salt- The whole is kneaded to
gether, and the mixture covered up and allow
ed to lie for three or four days, according to
the season. At the end of this time it is
kneaded anew, and the cheeses are placed in
little baskets, when the superfluous moisture
escapes. They are then allowed to dry in the
shade, and placed in large vessels, where they
must remain for fifteen days. The older the
cheeses are the more their quality improves.
Three kinds are made; the first and most
common is made as detailed above ; the second
with four parts of potatoes and two quarts of
curdled milk; the third with two parts of po
tatoes and four parts of cows or ewe’s milk-
These cheeses have this advantage over other
kinds, that they do not engender worms, and
keep free for a number of years, provided they
are placed in a dry situation and in well closed
vessels.
A Terrible Fate.
In India, lepers are occasionally buried
alive. When a leper is past all hope of living
more than a few days or weeks, his nearest
relations arrange, with his approval, for his
immediate inteiment. Self destruction by bu
rial is called vunaafi, and is regarded as so
highly meritorious that the disease is sure to
die out in the family of the victim. So lately
as 1875 a leper named Oomah, living and lin
gering at Serohi, entreated his wife to put an
end to his misery'. A bunnia, or tradesman,
was accordingly' engaged to make the necessa
ry arrangements, which simply consisted in
hiring a couple of laborers to dig a hole, into
which they thrust Oomab, he consenting to
his own death. The Durbar, coerced by the
British Government, at last took cognizance of
this incident, and fined the widow one hun
dred rupees. The bunnia wu sentenced to
three j'ears’ imprisonment, and the grave-dig
gers each to two years; but it is very unlikely
that they will undergo half that punishment.
A remarkable case was before the United
States District Court in Cincinnati a few weeks
ago. Henrietta Woods, a mulatto woman of
sixty years, brought suit against Zebulon Ward,
now of Little Rock, Ark., but formerly War
den of Kentucky l’enitentiary, for kidnapping
her and selling her into slavery in 1853. She
claims damages to the amount of $15,000-
The woman’* evidence wa9 that she belonged
to Mrs. Cerode. who brought her to Cincinnati
and manumitted her in 1851. After staying
here two years she w*s enticed across to Ken
tucky, where she was kidnapped, taken first to
Lexington, afterward to Frankfort, while
Ward was in charge of the penitentiary, and
be took her and sold her to one Gerard Bran
don, a Texas planter, who kept her at work
until the emancipation by law. The case is a
singular one because of the length of time
that has elapaed since the occurrence, and as
being a relic of the slavery system now dead.
PUBLISHERS AND PROPRIETORS
Brutal Spoil* in Terns.
On Sunday, in San Antonia, Texas, the bull
which overcame the lioness on Sunday, the ?th
of April, was brought iuto a cage to fight with
the African lion “Old George,” a very fierce
and powei ful animal, hut somewhat old. The
bull was lassoocd in a field and was brought
into the cage with great difficulty, goring a
man badly on the way. The lion, quietly eat*
ing a piece of raw beef, was separated from
the bull by a canvass curtain stretched across
the cage. As soon as the ropes were taken
from the bull’s horns this canvass partition
was drawn aside. The attack was at once be*
gun by the bull, who rushed madly upon the
lion and tossed him ten feet into the air. The
lion fell heavily to the ground, but immedi
ately sprang up and made a spring at the bull.
The bull received him on his horns ami again
gored hint in the side ami threw him savagely
against the iron bare, bleeding and badly
bruised, aud so frightened him that he refused
to fight more. The canvass was then drawn
between the combatants, and the lioness which
encountered this same bull last week was
turned in with hot mute. The curtain was
again druwn aside, and the pair were turned
against the bull The bull looked for a mo*
luent on his old antagonist, and then rushed
savagely upon her, tossing her iuto the air and
breaking two of her ribs. He then turned
upon the lion, and gave him another toss into
the air, badly goring him. The lions then
crouched iu a corner of the cage, completely
cowed, and the bull deliberately approached
and smelled them, but did not renew the at
tack. He stood pawing the dirt in token of
his victory.
I his bull is terribly savage and dangerous
He is ten years old, aud has killed five other
bulls in single but extremely fierce combats.
He is of mixed Texas and buffalo blood, and
is larirer than the average Texas bull. The
next fight will be between this animal and
three noted Mexican hull fighters.
The Value or n Scrap Book.
Every one w ho takes a m wspaper w hick he
in the least degree appreciates, will regret to
see any one number 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 accustomed thus to preserve
short articles, can hurdlv estimate the pleasure
it affords to sit down and tnrnover the pleas
ant, familiar pages. Here a choice piece of
poetry meets the eye, which you remember
you were so glad to see in your paper but
which you long sinee would have lost had it
not been for your scrap book. There is a
witty anecdote, it does you good to laugh over
it, yet for the twentieth time. Next is a vnl
liable recipe you had almost forgotten, and
which you found just in time to save much
perplexity. There is a sweet little story, the
memory of which lias cheered and encouraged
you many a time when almost ready to de
spair under the pressure of life’s cares aud
•rials. Indeed, you can hardly ta':.e up a sin
gle paper without reperusing. Just glance
over the sheet before you and see how many
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 glittering
gold. Hoard with care the precious gents and
see at the enu of the year what a rich treasure
you have accumulated.
—
What a Farmer Ought to linow.
A farmer ought to be not only an accom
plished tiller of the soil, but also an excellent
mechanic, a fair harness maker and mender of
shoes, a tolerable carpenter, a pretty good
blacksmith or machinist, and also a widea
wake, thorough judge aud breeder of stock,
know how and caring for their ailments—not
only horses and cattle, but sheep, hogs, mules,
poultry, or anything that money can be made
out of. With all this he should be a civil en
gineer, acquainted with levere and hydraulics
and repairs of pumps, and if, in addition to
these requirements, he understands laying
stones and brick, and putting on plastering, as
well as applying and mixing paints, be will
find plenty to do, to say nothing of what he
ought to knew about grain and milling it. His
wife, und in fact good wives generally, must
not only understand housekeeping, but she
m ist be a good cook, baker and confectioner,
know how to fit and make garmer tsof all
sorts for both sexes. She must understand
cauuing fruit and making pickles and pre
serves, With these, the experience of a few
years’ observation as a mother, ought to make
has something more than an ordinary physi
cian. Most ailments pertaining both to hu
man beings and beasts are but trifling at first,
and if taken in time are easily cured.
One Hundred and Kinclecn Year*
Old.
On Monday aJ ternoon tbe village of Lodi,
Kcdina county, 0., did honor to Lomer Griffin,
its oldest inhabitant, and probably the oldest
living human being in the United States, by
observing the one hundred and nineteenth an
niversary of his birth day. Early in the after
noon, Mr. Griffin, in company with his wife,
made his appearance at the hotel, feeling
sprightly and well, having walked from his
home, which is quite a distance from the hotel,
and considered himself ready to receive the
congratulations of all his friends. Quite a
numlrer of his friends participated in the fes
tivities, The birthday dinner was partaken
of by all present, and after this had been prop
erly attended to by the concourse of people,
there was some little speech making indulged
in by several gentlemen. The event passed
off in the pleasant st manner, and the old gen
tleman felt highly gratified by the many at
tentions showered upon him by his fellow
citizens.
The numerous Mrs. Brigham Yoings have
torn off their weeds and are looking for fur
ther conquests in the matrimonial line- Lucy
Biglow is the first to tuke to herself anew
husband. What Bishop McAllister found in
her to admire deponent sayelh not, but his at
tention was undoubtedly attracted by the en
dearing term given her by the other meiubcia
of the fan ily—the“ Squasbhead.” Lucy must
be having a nice time of it in her new home,
for one of her s'sters has declared that she,
too, will have snare in it, and has applied f r
a divorce from her |>reseut husband, w ith that
object in view.
Ennv man who kin swap horses or ketch
•ish. and uct ti about it, iz just uz pius az men
, vVtr git to be in this world. —Josh Billings.
XO. 18