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BY SAWTELL & JONES. €!)C Cutljbcrt Appeal. Terms of Subscription; One Year..... 52 00 | Six Months $1 25 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. Rates of Advertising: Ou« square, (ten lines or less,) $1 00 for the first and 75 cents for each subsequent insertion. Contract advertising as follows : Space. Js Months 6 Months 12 Months 1 Column $25 00 $45 00 $75 00 2 Column 40 00 75 00 100 00 One Column... 50 00 90 Ou • 150 00 Obituaries, $1 00 per square. LEGAL ADVERTISING. Ordinaries.— Citations for letters of ad ministration, guardianship, &c,..*.** . $4 00 Application for letters of dismission irons administration 5 00 Application tor letters of dismission from guardianship,... 4 00 Application for leave to sell Land, 4 00 Notice to Debtors and Creditors,'.4 Ou Administrator’s Sales, 4 00 Sheriff's— Each levy, 4 00 \ “ Mortgage fl fa sales 500 q Sale* of Land by Administrators, Executors, fir Guaidians, are required by law to be held on tso lirst Tuesday in the month, between the hours often in the forenoon, and three in the after noon, at tWe Court House in the county in which the property is situated. Terms of sale must be stated. Notice of these sales must be given in a public gazette 40 days previous to the day of sale. Notice for the sale of personal property must be given in like manner, 10 days previous to sale day. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate mnst be published 40 days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell land, must be published tor one month. Citations for letters of Administration, Guard ianship, <fcc., must be published 50 days—for dis mission from Administration, three months ; for dismission from Guardianship, 40 days. Rules tor foreciosuac of Mortgages must be published monthly tor four months—for estab lishing lust papers, for the full space ot three months— for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where hond has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months. Publications will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal requirements, unless oth 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^,