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erwise ordered.
Tlie Trundle Bed.
As I rumaged through the garret,
Ltofaiug to the falling rain,
As it pattered on the shingles,
And against the window pane,
Peeping over chests and boxes,
Which with dust were thickly spread,
Saw I in the farthest corner
What was once my trundle bed ;
And I drew it from the recess,
Where it hud remained so long,
Hearing ail the while the music
Os my mother’s voice in song,
As she saug in sweetest accents,
What I since have often read,
'“liusti, ray dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed.”
As I listened, recollection
Thut.l thought had been forgot
Cutne with all the gush of memory
Rushing, thronging to the spot,
As L wandered back to childhood,
To those merry days of yore
When I knelt beside my mother.
13y this bed upon the floor.
Then it was with hands so gently
.Placed upon my infant head,
That she taught my lips to utter
Carefully the words she said.
Never cau they be forgotteu,
Deep are they in memory graven—
" Hallowed be Thy name, oh, Father I
Father I Thou who art in Heaven.”
This she taught me, then she told me
Os its import, great and deep,
. After which I learned to utter
"Now they lay me down to sleep.”
Then it was with hands uplifted,
And in accents soft and mild.
That my mother asked “our Father !”
‘ Father, do thou bless my child l”
Years have passed, and that dear mother
Long has mouldered ’neath the sod
And I trust her sainted spirit
Revels in the house of God,
But that scene at summer twilignt
Never has from memory fled.
And it comes in all its freshness,
When I see my trundle bed.
Early Breakfast. —A bad custom is
prevalent in many families, especially
among farmers, of working an hour or
two before breakfast, attending to chores
hoeing in the garden, cutting wood,
mowing, etc. This is convenient on
many accounts, but it is not conducive
to health. The prevalent opinion is, that
the morning air is the purest and most
healthful and bracing, but the contrary
is the fact. At no hour of . the day is
the air more filled with dampness, fogs
and miasmas, then about sunrise. The
beat of the sun gradually removes the
miasmatic influences as the day advan
ces An early metal braces up the sys
tem against these external influences. —
Every one knows the languor and faint
ness often experienced for the first hour
in the morning, and that this is increas
ed by exercise and want of food. We
do not agree with the boarding school
regime which prescribes a long walk
before breakfast as a means of promo
ting health. Probably the best custom
world be to furnish every member of
the family, especially those who labor
out of doors, with a single cup of warm
coffee, well milked, immediately after
rising from bed. Then let them attend
tochres, or mowing, hoeing, etc., for an
hour or two, while teams are feeding,
and the breakfast preparing. They will
feel better and do more work.—Ameri
can Agriculturalist.
Swallowed a House. —John Havner,
while on a bender, recently, made a
mistake very natural to one in his com
dition.
He imagined that he was indulging
in copious libations of benzine, when, in
fact, he was drinking genuine linseed
oil.
Shortly afterward John felt a queer
taste coming into his mouth.
The first idea that occurred to him
was that be was poisoned.
A physician was sent for, and he ap
plied a stomach-pump.
‘ls there arsenic in it, doctor !’ faintly
inquired the patieut.
‘No,’ replied the Esculapious, ‘it
smells like a newly painted house.’
‘ SVhat!’ exclaimed John.,
‘lt smalls like a newly painted house,’
repeated the physician.
‘Doctor,’ cried the now excited pa
tiont. ‘you don't mean to toll m. th«l
CUTHBERT jHf APPEAL.
A True Story of the
AUSTRIAN BUSH.
Some years ago, two men, Charles
Storey and Edward Lad bury, had
charge of an out-lying sheep-station,
belonging to Mr. John Hassall, a
wealthy Austrian squatter. The first
named was the shepherd, the second the
hutkeeper. Their hut stood in the
midst of a scene of primitive nature. —
Except the folds for the flocks, there
were no enclosures of any description.
The country was an open expanse of
grass, with a few undulations dotted
sparsely with evergreen trees mostly of
the stringy-bark species. The walls of
the but were built of rough stakes,
with mud and reeds between them, oth
er long poles formed the roof, which
was covered with rushes. The fire
place was constructed of stones collec
ted from the neighborhood, and in this
the men baked their daily damper, com
posed of flour and water and salt, and
boiled their kettle of tea. Their stores
consisted of ealt beef and pork, flour
and rice in casks, a chest of tea, some
sugar and raisins, and a few other ar
ticles. Tin cups and plates, and two
or three knives and forks formed their
dinner and tea service; a kettle and
saucepan and gridiron were their chief
cooking utensils; some rough slabs of
the stringy-bark trees on tressels, tick
ing filled with wool, a couple of blank
ets, and a kangaroo-skin rug apiece,
formed their beds.
Such a life as they led, in spite of its
sameness, its solitude and danger, has
its charms for many men. They were
contented. May be, their early days
had been spent in poverty and starva
tion in some crowded citj-, amid scenes
of profligacy, squalor, and suffering.
Here they enjoyed pure air, a bright
sky, and abundance of food, and were
moved from the temptations which had
once beset them. Those who have once
occupied nearly every position in life
will be found among the shepherds and
hut-keepers of Austria—men who have
been brought to poverty either through
their own faults or the faults of others.
Few of them like to speak of their ear
ly lives. Whatever had been the posi
tion of Storey and Ladbury, they
were now steadily performihg their du
ty. Having despatched their early
breakfast, the two men counted and ex
amined the sheep as they came out of
the fold, and picked out those requiring
any particular treatment. Storey then
started with the flock to a distant pas
ture.
Landbury had no lack of duties.—
There was the fold to repair here and
there, seme sick sheep to doctor, the roof
of the hut to patch, aud a piece of gar
den ground, which he had wisely begun
to cultivate, to attend to. His dinner
was quickly dispatched. His usual
companion, a favorite dog, had disap
peared, he could not tell how, but much
feared it had been bitten by a snake
aud had died in the bush. He lit his
pipe, and smoked and thought awhile*.
Again he busied himself out of doors,
and once more returned to his hut to
prepare the evening meal for himself
and his companion. He was about to
hook the freshly-made dampers out of
the ashes, when he heard a low moan.
He listened—the sound was repeated.
He hurried out and looked about him.
It must have been saucy, he thought,
and was about to return to the hut,
when the sound again reached his ears.
It came from a cluster of bushes a little
distanco off. With an anxious heart
ho ran to the place, and there found bis
companion lying on the ground, bleed
ing trom numerous wounds, and with a
spear head still eticking in his body.—
Lifting Storey in his arms, he carried
him to the hut and laid him on his bed.
‘lt’s the work of those black fellows,’
said Ladbury, looking round the hut.
None were in sight. He came back,
and warmed some water, bathed poor
Storey’s wounds, then he carefully cut
out the barbed head of the spear, and
continued bathing the wound, except for
a short time, when he poured some
warm tea down the sufferer’s throat.
Every moment while thus employed he
expected the natives to attack the hut.
He had no longer Rover to give him
warning of the approaching of a foe.—
There was little doubt that his poor
dog also had been speared. The pain
beiug soothed, Storey at length, to Lad
bury’s great joy, returned to conscious
ness, and explained that he had been
attacked early in the day by natives.—
He had run from them after receiving
several wounds, but had been speared
again half a mile or so from the hut,
and had crawled the rest of the dis
tance, till he fainted from loss of blood
and the pain he was suffering.
Sad indeed was the condition of those
two poor fellows, with no white man
nearer than twenty miles, and no sur
geon within, probably two hundred.—
Night at length came on, when, as the
natives never move about in the dark,
they knew they were safe. But they
both felt certain the attact would be re
newed by daylight, and the event prov
ed they were right.*
Soon after dawn Ladbury, who, over
come with fatigue, had dozed off, was
startled by the 6ound of a spear being
forced through the reed-made door of
the hut. Another and auother followed
through the slightformed walls.
‘We shall be murdered, mate, if I
don’t put them to flight,’ he exclaimed,
taking bis pocket-knife and bill-hook,
the only weapons he possessed, the first
in his left hand, the other partly covered
by his coat, so that it looked like a pis
tol. ‘All ready. We may never meet
again in this world, so, good bye, Char
ley, but I’ll chance it.” Suddenly he
sprang through the doorway, shouting to
the blacks, nearly fifty of whom he saw
before him, that he would shoot if they
didn’t run. They scarcely daring to
look at what they believed to be his
pistol, after exchanging a few wards
with each other, to his great relief be
gan to retire, and as he shouted louder,
took to their heels.
‘We are saved, Charley,’ he exclaimed,
almost breathless with excitement.—
‘But the niggers will be back again.—
Do you think you could move along if I
were to help you V
‘No, Ned, that I couldn’t,’ answered
Storey. ‘But do you get away. You’d
easily reach Jenymugup before night
fall, and if you can bring help I know
you will; if not—why my sand is pret
ty well run out as it is. Gods’ will be
done.’ 0
*i |f>AVA vou- Charley 1-that’s not
firmly. ‘While yott have life I’ll stay by
you, and tend you as well as I can; so
that matter is settled.’
The hours passed slowly away. Lad*
bury cooked their food and nursed h»
mate as gently as a woman could have
done. Night came, and at length they
both slept. Ladbury was awoke by a
call from Storey.
‘Ned, sleep has done me good; I
think I could travel if I were once on
my legs,’ he said,
Ladbury slightly made up their bed
ding and a few household articles they
possessed into a bundle, which he hoist>
ed on to his broad shoulders.
‘ Now, mate, come alone,* he .said,
lifting Storey up, and making him rest
on his arm. It was two hours past
midnight, and they hoped to get a good
start of the blacks. But they had not
proceeded many hundred yards before
Storey found he had overrated his
strength, and sank to the ground.
‘Now, Ned, you must go,’ he whis
pered. ‘Save yourself; I can but die
once, and you’ll only lose your life if you
stop to help me.’
‘What I’ve said I’ll do, I hope to
stick to,’ answered Ladbury. Still Sto
rey urged him to continue his journey
alone. Ned made no reply, but sud
denly started off at a quick pace. Sad
indeed must have been poor Storey’s
leelings when he saw him disappear in
the gloom of night. Death was com
ing sure enough. Already he repented
of having urged his friend to fly.—
Daylight would discover him to the
blacks, and they would finish their work
in revenge for the escape of his com
panion. Suddenly a footstep was heard.
Ladbury appeared without his bundle.
‘What! did you think I really was
going ?’ he asked in low voice. ‘You’ll
not beg me to leave you again, mate.—
Come get on my shoulders; we’ll see
what I can do/
Ladbury walked on with the wound
ed man on his back for half a mile or
more. ‘Now sit down here, and I’ll go
back for the bundle,’ he said, placing him
under a bush. No one but a man long
accustomed to the wilds of Australia
could have found his way as Ladbury
did. He soon again passed Storey with
their bundle on his shoulders, and once
more returned for him. Thus th«y
journeyed till the sun rose, when they
reached a stream which they well knew,
having travelled aboat seven miles.—
Ladbury, however, was so completely
exhausted by his exerttons that he felt,
unable to crawl another mile, much less
to carry his two burdens. Storey bad
agaia become 60 ill, and his wounds
were so painful, that it seemed doubtful
that he would survive if moved further.
Though the daDger was great, Ladbury
resolved to camp where they were for
some days, ’till Storey had partly recov
ered strength. At last lie bethought
him, that though Storey could not walk,
and ho oould not longer carry him on
his shoulpers, he might drag him along,
shold the blacks not have traced them
out. He accordingly, with the aid of
some sticks cut'froin the bush, and their
bedding, formed a sleigh, which, without
much difficulty, he could drag along.—
On this he placed the wounded man,
with sch provisions as remained, and
recommenced his toilsome journey over
the grass. He could move but slowly,
aud often had to make a wide circuit to
ovaid any copses or rocky ground which
lay in his course. Even now, too, they
were not safe, fur the blacks, finding the
hut empty, might pursue and overtake
them. Still the brave Ladbury toiled
on; his own strength was rapidly giv
ing way. Once more he was obliged to
halt near a stream.
‘We must camp here to-night, mate’
he said to Stoi ey. ‘Perhaps to-morrow
my legs will be able to move, to-day
they can do no more.’ The night pass
ed away in silence; the morning was
ushered in with the strange sounds of
the Australian bush, and the sun rose,
casting a fiery heat over the plain. Sto
rey had not moved. Ladbury looked at
him anxiously, expecting to find him no
longer alive. He roused up, however,
aud after some breakfast, Ladbury
again harnessed himself to the sleigh,
and moved on. Often he was obliged
to halt; some l times he could move only
a lew hundred yards at a time; a few
minutes’ rest enabled him again to go on.
Still the stages became shorter and the
rests longer as the evening approached.
He felt that he could not exist another
night in the bush. The station could
not be far off. A faintness was creep
ing over him. On, on, he went, as if in
a dream. Several times he stumbled
and could scarcely recover himself. A
sound reached bis ear,it was a dog’s bark.
With the conviction that help could not
now bo far off, his strength seemed to
return. The roofs of the wood sheds
and huts appeared. No one could be
seen. Even then ho and his friend
might perish if he did not go on. It
was the supper hour at the station. On
he mnst go. He got nearer and nearer,
stumbling and panting. The door of
the chief hut was reached, and he sank
fainting across the threshold. Every at
tention was paid to the two men. Lad
bury soon recovered. Poor Storey was
conveyed to the hospital at Albany, but
so great had been the shock to his sys
tem that in a short time, he sank under
its effect.
We read of the gallant acts of our
soldiers and sailors in the face of au en>
emy, but is there not also heroism in
the character of this Australian shep
herd—heroism which might never have
been suspected had no 'circumstances
occurred to draw it out ?
B®*. A cockney conducted two ladies
to an observatory to see an eclipse of
the moon. They were too late; the
eclipse was over, and the ladies were
disappointed, ‘Oh,’ exclaimed our he
ro, ‘don’t fret • I know the astronomer
well; he is a very polite man, and lam
sure will begin again.’
jj@“ According to Milton, ‘Eve kept
silent in Eden to hear her husband talk,’
said a gentleman to a lady lriend; and
then added, in a melancholy tone, ‘Alas,
there have been no Eves since.’—
‘Because,’ quickly retorted the lady,
there have been no husband worth
listening to.’
A negro was caught in a roan’s
garden at Roanoke, North Carolina, the
other night, in close proximity to a lot
of fine cabbages. When interrogated
as to what he was doing, he replied,—
1 His ninrortM-Tian’fr
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, THURSDAY; JUNE 16, 1870.
Jim Smiley’s Prog.
He cotcbed a frog one day and tuk
him home, and said he cal’clated to ed
ucate him; and so he never done noth-*
ing fu» three months but jest stayed in
his back yard and learn that frog how
to jump. And yoa bet he did learn him,
too. He’d give him a little punch up
behind, and the next minute you’d see
the cussed critter whirling in the air like
a doughnut. Sometimes when he got a
good start he’d tarn a summerset, cr
maybe a couple of ’em, and come down
ker flop, all right, like a cat. He got
him up so in the matter of catching flies,
and kept him in practice so constant,
that he’d nail a fly every time, as far aa
he could see him.
Smiley said all the frog wanted was
education, and he could do almost any
thing, and I believe him. Why, I’ve
Been him set Daniel Webster here ou
the floor —Daniel Webster was the name
of the frog—-and sing out: ‘Fliea Dan’l,’
and quicker’n you could wink he’d
spring up and snake a fly ofFn the coun
ter there and flop down on the floor
again as solid as a gob of mud, and then
fall to scratching the side of his head
with his hind foot, as indiffernt as if he
hadn’t no idee he’d done any more’n any
other frog mought do. You never seed
a frog so modest and straightfor’ard as
that frog was, for all be was so gifted.
And when it come to a square jump on
a dead level, why, he could git over
more ground at one straddle than arry
other animal of his breed you ever seed.
Jumping oa a dead level was his strong
suit, you understand, and when it come
to that Smiley would ante up money
onto him as long as he had a rsd. Smi
ley was monstrous proud of his frog, and
well he mought be, for fellers what had
traveled and bin everywhere all said he
laid over every frog that they ever seed.
Well Smiley kept the ugly cuss in a
little lattice box, and he uses! to fetch it
down town sometimes, and lay for a bet.
Once a feller—a stranger in these parts,
he was—come across him with his box,
and says he :
‘What mought that be you’ve got in
that box?’
And Smiley says, sorter indifferent
like: ‘lt mought be a parrot, or it
mought be a canary bird maybe 1 But it
ain’t, it’t just a frog.
And the feller tuk it, and looked at it
careful, and turned it round this way
and that, and says:
‘H’m 60 ’tis. Well, what in thunder
is he geod for?*
‘Well,’ Smiley says, easy and careless
‘he’s good enough for one thing, I should
judge—he can just out jump ary frog in
Calveras county.
The feller tuck the box again, and
tuck another long aDd particular look,
and gives it back to Smiley, and says
very deliberate:
‘Well, I don’t see any pints about
that frog that’s any belter’n any other
frog.’
‘Maybe you don’t’ says Smiley. ‘May
be you understand frogs, and maybe
you don’t understand ’em; maybe you
aint only an amateur, as it were. Any
ways I’ve got my opinion, and I’ll risk
forty dollars that bo can out jump any
frog in Calaveras county.
The feller studied a minute or two,
and then says kinder sad like : well, I’m
a stranger here, and ain’t got narry frog
but if I had a frog I’d bst with you.’
"And then Smiley says: ‘That is all
right stranger! That is all right. If
you’ll bold my box a minute, I’ll go and
git you a frog;’ and so the faller tuck
the box, and put his forty dollars along
with Smiley’s, and sot down to wait.
So he sot there a good while, think
ing to bisself, and tuck the frog out and
pried open his mouth and tuck a tea
spoon and filled him chock full of quail
Bbot—filled him pretty near to the chin,
and sot him on the floor. Smiley went
out to the swamp and slopped round in
the mud for a long time, till he kotched
a frog, and brought him in, and gin
him to the feller, and says :
‘Now, if you are ready, jept set him
alongside of Dan’l with his fore paws
even with Dan’l’s and I’ll give you the
word/ Then he says,‘one —two—throe
—jump ! ‘and him and the other feller
touched up the frogs from behind; and
the new frog hopped off lively as a crick
et, but DaD’l never moved a peg—he
gave a heave, histed up his shoulder—
so—like a Frenchman, but it warn’t no
use; be couldn’t no more stir than if he
was anchord out.
Smiley was a good deal surprised,
and he was disgusted, too, but he didn’t
have no idea what the matter was, of
course.
The feller tuck the money and started
away, and when be was geing out of
the door he sorter jerked his thumb over
his shoulder—at dan’l, and says again,
very deliberate, ‘Well, I don’t see no
pints about that frog that’e any better’n
any other frog.’
Smiley stood thar scratching his
head, and looking down at Dan’l a long
time, and at last he says: I do wonder
what in the name of creation that frog
throwed off for that a’way. 1 wonder
if their ain’t something the matter with
him ; he ’pears to loeks mighty baggy
somehow/ And he tuck hould of Dan’l
by the nape of the neck and liftad him
np and says ; ‘Why blame my cat, if he
don’t weigh five pound/ And he turned
him upside down and shack him a little,
when most a double hand ful of shot
came rattlin’ out on him onto the floor !
Then Smiley seed how it was and he
was the maddest man ! He dropped
the frog and tuck after that feller, but
be never kotched him.
Pat and the Ham. —Pat went to the
house of the priest to confess his sins,
and passed into the kitchen to ask for
the holy father; but, perceiving that
there was no one in the room, while a
fine ham was lying on the table fresh
from the market. Pat lost no time in
securing the prize. Hiding it as well
as he could under his coat, he proceed
ed to the apartment of the priest, and
said, —
‘Here, your riverance, is a fine leg of
bacon which I stole and brought as a
present to your holiness. Will you take
it?’
‘Take it!’said the confessor; ‘by no
means. Carry it back, instantly/
‘Faith, an I did, sir, and he said he
wouldn’t take it by no means/
‘Very well then Patrick, you may
keep it.’
‘An’ I’ll be absolved, your riverance V
demanded Pat.
‘Yes; it is yours if the owner does
not take it back/
tri —’ 1 ' '
A Novel Combat.
While fishing on the banks of a beau
tiful stream in Western Louisiana, I
was Btartled by the roar ing. of some ani
mal in the canebrake near by, appa
rently getting ready for action. These
notes of preparation were succeeded by
the sound of feet tramping down the
cane and scratching the shells upon the
ground. Rushing to the trysting in
stead of there being, as was supposed,
two pararie bulls mixing inapelitiously
in battle, there was a large black bear
raised upon his hind legs, his face be
smeared with blood, which dropping
from his mouth rolled down his shaggy
breast. Frantic from the smarting of
his wounds, he stood gnashing his teeth
and growling at his enemy. On a bank
of snow-white shells, in battle array, was
Bruin’s foe, a monster alligator. He
loosed as if he had just been dipped in
the Teche, and emerged, like Achilles
from* me Styx, with an invulnerable coat
of mail. He was standing on tiptoe, his
back curved upward and his tongueless
mouth thrown open displaying his wide
jaws, two large tusks, and rows of
teeth. His tail six feet long, raised
from the ground, was constantly waving
like a boxer’s arm to gather force; his
big eyes, starting from the head glared
furiously upon poor Bruin, while some
times uttering hissing cries, and then
roaring like a bull.
Bruin, though evidently baffled, had
a firm look, which showed that he had
not lost confidence in himself. If the
difficulty of the undertaking had once
deceived him, he was prepared to go at
it again. Accordingly, letting himself
down upen all fours, he ran furiously
at the alligator, which being ready for
him, thrqw bis head and body partly
round toYvoid the onset, and met Bruin
half-way with a blow of the tail that
roolled bin on the shell. The bear was
not to be |mt off by one hurt; three
times in rapid succession he rushed at
the alligator, and was as often repjilsed
in the same manner, being knocked by
each blow jußt far enough to give the
alligator, before be returned, time to re
cover the swing of his tail. The tail of
the alligator funded like a flail against
the coat of hair on Brnin’s head and
shoulders, but be bore it without flinchi
ing, still pushing on to come to close
hold with his scaly foe. Finally, he
made his fourth charge with a degree
of dexterity which those who have seen
this clumsy animal exercising would
suppose him incapable of. This time
he got close to the alligator, before the
tail struck him, that the blow came with
but half its usual effect. The alligator
was upset by the charge, and before he
could recover his feet Bruin grasped
him round the body, below the fore legs,
and holding him down on his back,
seized one of the reptile’s legs in his
mouth. The alligator was now in a
desperate situation; be attempted in
vain to bite, for his Deck was so stiff that
he could not turn his head round.
Seized with|desperation, the amphib
ious beast raised a shrill scream of des
pair; but being a valiant warrior ‘by
flood and field,’ be was not yet entirely
overcome.
Writhing his tail in agony, he hap.
pened to strike it against a small tree
that stood near the bayon. Aided by
this purchase he made a convulsive
flounder which precipitated himself and
Bruin locked together, into the river.—
The bank from which they fell was four
feet high, and the water below seven
feet deep. The tranquil stream received
the combats with a loud splash, then
closed over them in silence. A volley
of ascending bubbles announced their
arrival at the bottom, where the battle
ended.
Presently Brum rose again, scramb
ling up the bluff bank, cast a glance
back at the river, and, all dripping,
made off to the canebrake. V. L.
Mam’s Shortcomings. —‘Man is a won
derful creature, but if he equaled the
beasts, birds and insects in their owr.
peeiiliar powers, how much more won
derful would he be ? If, for instance, he
could swim like a fish, run like an ante
lope, glide like a serpent, gallop like a
horse, climb like a monkey, spring like
a tiger, and fly like an eagle; or if be
could roar like a lion, sing like a night
engale, scent like a bound, hear like a
rabbit, hold on like a leach, persevere
like an anl, see as far as a bird, guide
himself like a bee, jump like a grass
hopper, sleep like a toad, and diet like
an anaconda, what a marvel would he
appear. But taking his shortcomings
into consideration, he is not so much af
ter all. Think ot it. If a man’s voice
bore the same proportions to his own
weight that a canary bird’s does, his
lightest word would be heard at a dis.
tance of eight hundred miles ; and if, at
the same time, he bad, relatively to his
bulk, the same jumping power as the
tiniest flee, he could spring from New
York City to China at a single bound.—
Ah 1 that would be something like.”
Life’s Stream. —Life bears us on like
the stream of a mighty river. Our boat
at first glides down the narrow channel
—through the playful murmurings of
the little brook and the windings of its
grassy borders. The trees shed tbeir
blossoms over onr young heads; the
flowers seem to offer themselves te the
young hands; we are happy in hope,
and we grasp eagerly at the beauty
arouud ns, but the stream still hurries
on, and still our hands are empty. Our
course through youth and manhood is
along a wilder and deeper flood,, amid
objects more striking and magnificent.
We are animated at the moving pic
tures and enjoyments industry around
us; we are excited at some short-lived
disappointment. The stream bears us
on, and onr joys and griefs are alike left
behind us. VVe may be shipwrecked,
but we cannot be displayed; whether
rough or smooth, the river hastens to
its home, till the roar of the ocean is in
eur ears, and the tossing of the waves
beneath our feet, and the shore lessens
from our eyes, and the floods are lifted
up around us, and we take our leave of
earth and its inhabitants, until cur fu
ture voyage there has no witness save
the Infinite aud Eternal.
car Dobbs says if marriages are
made in heaven, he is sorry for it—for
that very many alliances reflect no great
credit on the place. Dobbs was locked
ent, the other night, during ‘that rain/
VST A lawyer once asked a Dutch
man concerning a pig, in court: ‘What
A Mother’s Death*
Few who have lost their first and
dearest friend can read the following
with unmoistened eyes : * — .
Death comes an unsought oguest to
every board, and at his special bidding
some beloved cjne goes -home tefthis mys
terious home.
Time and philosophy may teach res
ignation unto hearts made desolate by
his coming; but they can never fill the
vacancy therein, when she that was ogr
mother no longer casts a halo about our
darkened heart. "1%.
A mother’s place—so loved, so wor
shiped—once empty must be forever so.
A breast once panged by a mother’s
death, no medicine can reach with heal
ing.
No mind, however sacred, no heart,
however hardened, can forget the gen
tle being whose sufferings begot hia life.
A mother is truly our guardian spir
it upou earth. Her goodness shields and
protects ; she walks with our infancy,
our youth and mature age—ever shel
tering us with her absorbing Jove, and
expiating our many sins with her blessed
prayers.
And when our mother, with all her
burden of love, her angelic influence,
her saintly care ceases her beauteous
life, how much we lose of borne, of hap
piness, of heaven, do one can reckon ;
for our mother was dodo but ours, and
we only can know how holy she was—
how. sacred her memory must always be.
But may we not borrow consolation
from the thought that our loss is Heav
en’s gain ; that surely one angel watches
over us, erasing with grateful tears the
records of our sin, aud making easy our
path to her with blessed and blessing
prayors ?
A Good Memory. —When Napoleon
was at Erfurth, in 1807, a legion of
kings and princes thronged his court,
and doffed their ancient crowns before
his royalty ot yesterday. At one of his
soirees , which was attended by that bril
liant company, the conversation turned
upon a papal bull which had been issued
by one of the early popes, respec
ting the precise date of which different
opinions arose. An Austrian prelate
assigned it to one particular epoch,
while the Emperor contested the cor
rectness of his reference.
‘ln a matter of this nature,’ said the
cardinal, ‘your majesty will admit that
I am the more competent authority;
and I think that I am, moreover, cer
tain the bull belongs to the period I
have stated/
‘For my part/ rejoined Napoleon, ‘I
will not say that I thiuk\ but I will at
ODce put it on another issue; 1 am certain
that your eminence is mistaken. But
the point admits of an easy verification.
Let somebody bring hither the work of
Baronius on the early history of the
churches, and if I am wrong I will read
ily acknowledge my error/
The book was brought, examined,
and the date indicated by the Empe
ror founds to-be correct. The astonish
ment of the circle may be conceived at
witnessing such an instance of accurate
Recollection on a subject, which one
would have thought could never have
existed in a mind constantly occupied on
such a variety of matters of so tremen
douß an importance to the destines of
the world.
‘When I was a lieutenant,’ resumed
Napoleon. This sentence spoken with
the utmost simplicity and indifference—
when I was a lieutenant —produced a sin
gular effect on the assembly, and the
representatives of the thousand-year
old monarchies of Europe exchanged
sinificant smiles with each other.
‘When I had the honor of being a
lieutenant of artilery,’ said the Empe
ror, in a more emphatic tone, ‘I was
g-arrisoued for two years in a city of
Dauphine, in whieh there was only one
circulating library; I read through ev
ery book in the collection thrice, and my
memory has not lost one single incident
of what I read at that time. The book
just referred to was in the catalogue of
the library. I read it with others, and
as you see I did not forget its cod tents.
His eminence will, therefore, excuse my
apparent presumption in differing in
opinion with him on such a topic/
A Royal Romance.— The Queen of
Prussia was) the other day, the heroine
of the following adventure :
She was walking with one of her la
dies on the road leading from Sans-Sou
ci to Potsdam, when she saw an old
soldier who had lost one eye and one
arm, sitting by the wayside. The old
man looked very sad, and the queen
stopped in order to inqure what was
the matter with him.
‘Oh, madame/said the veteran, who
evidently did not know who the lady
was, ‘I am in the deepest distress. I
have but one child—a daughter, a young
girl, who, until recently, was employed
as a chambermaid at the Royal Palace
in Potsdam. She received good wa
ges, but the other day, one of the girl*
who hated her for some reason or oth
er, charged her with having stolen eome
articles of value, and, although my dear
girl strenuously protested her inno
cence, she was discharged. Now she
cannot find another situation, and so I
am deprived of my only support, for
my scanty pension is not sufficient to
buy bread enough for ns/
‘I believe I can help you, my friend/
said the queen.
The veteran looked at her incredu
lously. The queen, however took down
his name and that of bis daughter, and,
after giving the old man some money,'
continued her walk.
The Berlin correspondent of the Bal
tic Gazette, who relates the above, adds
that the queen, after examining the case
of the veteran’s daughter, ordered that
a more lucrative position should be giv
en to her, and sent a handsome present
to the veteran.
SSL. A certain preacher having chang
ed his religion, was much blamed by his
late associates. To excuse himself, he
said -he bad seven reasons.’ Being
asked what they were, lie replied, ‘A
wife and six children/
JB©*A little Sabbath School scholar
said she couldn’t help laughing to think
how astonished Goliah must have been
when the stone from David’s sling hit
him, as she didn’t believe that such a
thing ever entered his head before.
A young man advertises in a city
paper for a place as salesman, and says
he has had a great deal of experience.
Koskoo !
THE GREAT REPUTATION
Which Koskoo has attained in all parts of ths
country
Asa GREAT and GOOD MEDICINE
And the Large Numler of
Testimonial*
which are constantly being received from Phy
sicians, and persons who Have been cured by
its use, is conclusive proof of its remarkable
value.
AS A BLOOD PURIFIER
IT HASIYOf EQUAL
BEING POSITIVELY THE MOST
Powerful Vegetable Alterative
YET DISCOVERED.
DISEASES OF THE BLOOD.
"The life of the flish is in the Blood," Is a
Scriptural maxim that science prove* to be
true. The people talk of bad blood, as the
cause of many diseases, and like many popu
lar opinions this of bad blood is founded in
truth.
The symptoms of bad blood are usually
quite plain —bad Digestion—causes imperfect
nutrition, and consequently the circulation is
feeble, the soft tissues loose their tone and
elasticity, and the tongue becomes pale, bioad,
and frequently covered with a nasty, whit#
coat. This condition soon shows itself in
roughness of the skin, then in eruptive and
ulcerative diseases, and when long continued,
results in serious lesions of the Brain, Liver,
Lungs, or urinary apparatus. Much, very
much, suffering is caused by impure blood. It
is estimated by some that one-fitth of the hu
man family are effected with scrofula in some
form.
When the Blood is pure, you are not so lia
ble to any disease. Maoy imparities of the
Blood arise from impure diseases of large cit
ies. Eradicate every impurity from the foun
tain of life, and good spirits, fair skin and vital
strength will return to you.
KOSKOO!
AS A
LIVER INVIGORATOR!
STANDS UNRIVALLED.
BEING THE ONLY KNOWN MEDICINE
that efficiently stimulates and corrects the
hepatic secretions aud functional derangements
of the Liver, without Debilitating the system.
While it acts freely upon the Liver instead of
copious purging, it gradually changes the dis
charges to a perfect natural state.
SYMPTOMS OF LIVER COMPLiINT AND
OF SOME OF THOSE DISEASES
PRODUCED BY IT-
A sallow or yellow color of the akin, or yel
lowish-brown spots on the face and other parts
of the body; dulness aud drowsiness, some
times headache; bitter or bad taste in the
mouth, internal heat; in many cases a dry,
teasing cough ; unsteady appetite; sometimes
sour stomach, with a raising of the food; a
bloated or full feeling about the stomach and
sides; aggravating pains in the aides, back, or
breast, and about the shoulders ; constipation
of the bowels; piles, flatulence, coldness es
the extremities, etc.
KOSKOO!
Is a remedy of Wonderful Efficacy in the core
of diseases of the Kidneys and Bladder. In
these Affections it is as near a specific as any
remedy can be. It does its work kindly, si
lently and surely. The relief which it affords
is both certain and perceptible.
DISEASES OF THE KIDNEYS AND BLAD
DER.
Persons unacquainted with the stroctnre
and functions of the Kidneys cannot estimate
the importance of their healthy action.
Regular and sufficient action of the Kidneys
is as important, nay, even more so, than regu
larity of the bowels. The Kidneys remove
from the Blood those effete matters which, if
permitted to remain, would speedily destroy
life. A total suspension of the urinary dis
charges will occasion death from thirty-six to
forty-eight hours.
When the Urine is voided in small quanti
ties at the time, or when there is a disposition
to Urinate more frequently than natural, or
when the Urine is high colored or scalding
with weakness in the small of the back, It
should not be trifled with or delayed ; but
Koskoo should be taken at orce to remedy the
difficulty, before a lesion of the organs takes
place. Most of the diseases of the Bladder
originate from those es the Kidneys, the Urine
being imperfectly secreted in the Kidneys,
prove irritating to the Bladder and Urinary
passages. When we recollect that medicine
never reaches the Kidneys except through the
general circulation of the Blood, we see how
necessary it is to keep the Fountain of Life
Pure.
KOSKOO!
meets with great success in the cure of
DISEASES OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
Almost nine-tenths of our people suffer from
nervous exhaustion, and are therefore, liable
to its concomitant evils of mental depression,
confused ideas, softening of the brain, insanity,
and complete breaking down of the general
health. Thousands are suffering to-day with
broken-down nervous systems, and, unfortu
nately, tobacco, alcohol, late hours, over-work,
(mental and physical,) are causing diseases
the nervous system to increase at a fearful ra
tio.
The symptoms to which diseases of the nerv
ous system give rise, mav be stated as follows:
A dull, heavy feeling in the head, sometimes
more or lees »evere pain or headache ; Period
cal Headache, Dizziness, Noises or Ringing in
he Head; Confusion of Ideas; Temporary
Loss of Memery ; Dejection of Spirits ; Start
ing during Sleep; Bad Dreams ; Hesitation in
Answering Questions; Dulness of Hearing ;
Twitching of the Face, Arms, etc., which, if rot
promptly treated, lea l to Paralysis, Delirium,
Insanity, Impoteuey, Apoplexy, ete., es e.
KOSKOO!
Is NOT a secret quack remedy. FORMULA
around each bottle. Recommended by the
best Physicians, eminent Divines, Editors,
Druggists, Merchants, eto.
The Best and Most Popular Medicine in Use
prepared only by
J. J. LAWRENCE, M. D.,
ORGANIC CHEMIST,
Laboratory and Office, No. 6 Main St.,
- NORFOLK, VA.
Price—ONE DOLLAR PER BOTTLE
For sale by Druggist* everywhere-
VOL. IV -NO. 31.
A
HEROIC REMEDY.
HENRY’S
OARBOLIO
Constitution
RENOVATOR!
BASED ON SCIENCE.
PREPARED WITH SKILI*,
and all the available ingenuity and experlneae,
that the art of pharmacy of the preaent day
can contribute
And Combining in Concentrated Form the moil
Valuable Vegetable Juices
Known in the History of Medicinea far
PURIFYING THE BLOOM*
Imparling
NURTURE TO THE SYSTEM*
Tone to the Stomach,
And a Healthy Action of the Liver, Kidneys,
Secretive and Excretive Organ*.
A OYING ZOUAVE
Lay breathing his last on the battlefield, his
companions surged on and left him alone.—
They knew the cause of his approaching end—
it was the deadly bullet. No friendly voice
could cheer him to life —no human skill could
save him.
Thousands of Precious Lives
are to-day as rapidly sinking, and as surely
tottering on to an untimely end, in Suffering,
Agony, Wretchedness, and Ignorance of the
cause which
Science can arrest and assuage.
Nourish into new Life and Vigor,
And cause the Bloom of Health
To dance once more upon their withered Cheek*
DISEASE, LIKE A THIEF,
Steals upon its victims unawares, and befora
they are aware of its attack, plants itself firm
ly in the system, and through Degleet or inat
tention becomes seated, and defies all ordinary
or tempo: ary treatment to telinquish its mer
ciless grasp.
Do You Know the Cause of
The wasted form—the hollow cheek 1
The withered sac sallow complexion f
The feeble voice—the sunken, glassy eye 1
The emaciated form —the trembling frame t
The treacherous pimple—the torturing sore f
The repulsive eruption—the inflamed eye !
The pimpled face—the rough colorless skin 1
and debilitating ailments of the present age T
The answer is simple, and covers the whole
ground in all its pliazes viz: the
FANGS OF DISEASE
AND
HEREDITARY TAINT
Are firmly fixed in the
Fountain of Life—the Blood.^
THE
Indiscriminate Vaccination
during the late war, with diseased Lymph baa
TAINTED THE BEST BLOOD
In the entire land. It has planted the germ of
the most melancholy disease in the veins of
men, women and children on all sides, and
nothing short of
A HEROIC REMEDY
will Eradicate it root and branch, foreran
Such a Remedy ia
HENRY’S
CARBOLIC
CONSTITUTION
RENOVATOR.
Ox reaching the Stomach, it assimulatee al
once with the food and liquids therein, and
from the moment it passes into the Blood, it at*
tacks disease at its fountain bead, in its germ
and maturity, and dissipates it through tha av
enues of the organs with nnen ing certainty,
and sends new and pure Blood bounding
through every artery and vein.
The tubercules of Scrofula that sometimaa
flourish and stud the inner coating of tha ab
domen, like kernels of corn, ara withered, dis
solved and eradicated and the diseased parU
nourished into life. The Torpid Liver and In
active Kidneys are stimulated to a healthy ac
cretion, and their natural functions restored la
renewed health and activity.
Its action upon the blood, fluids es tha bedy*
and Glandular .System, are
TOXIC. PURIFYING AND DISINFECTANT.
At its touch, disease droops, dies, and tha rla»
tint of its violence, as it were,
LEAPS TO NEW LIFE.
It Relieves the entire system of Pain* and
Aches, enlivens the spirits, and imparts a
Sparkling brightness to the Eye,
A rosy glow to the Cheek,
A ruby tinge to the Lip,
A clearness to the Head,
A brightness to the Complexion,
A buoyancy to the Spirits,
And happiness on all sides.
Thousands have been rescued from the fettftf
of tl e grave by its timely uge.
This Remedy is now offered to the ptfofie
with the most solemn assurance of its iotrinsie
medicinal virtues, and powerful Healing prop
erties.
For old Affections or is*
Kidneys, Retention of Urine,
And Diseases of Women and CkiUlrau
Nervous Prostration, Weakness, General Lassi
tude, and Loss of Appetite, it is unsurpassed
It extinguishes
Affections of the Bones, Habitual Costireams,
Diseases of the Kidneys, Dyspepsia,
Erysipelis, Female Irregularities, Fis
tula. all Skin Diseases, Liver
Complaint, Indigestion, Piles,
Pulmonary Diseases, Con
sumption, Scrofala
or King’s Evil,
S y p hillis.
Prepared it
Pro£ M. E HENRY,
LMECTOR-OENERAt
OB Kltß
BERLIN HOSPITAL*
M. A., L. L. D„ F. B. S.
HENRY & CO., Proprietors,
laboratory, *7B Pearl Street
Post-Office Box, bili, New Tore.
fT* CONSTITUTION RENO VALOR U ft
per bottle, six bottles for $5. Sent an*- where
on receipt of price. Patients are reeaested to
correspond confidentially, and rtplr will
made by following mail. y *
Sold by all respectable Droggj^,