Cuthbert weekly appeal. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 18??-????, April 28, 1871, Image 1

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Cuthbert weekly appeal., April 28, 1871, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextVOL. V. THE APPEAL. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY, BY SAWTELL & CHRISTIAN. Terms of Subscription: One Year. ...$3 00 | Six Months... .s2 00 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. £gT No attention paid to orders for the pa per uo'ees accompauled by the Cash. Hates of Advertising ! One square, (ten lines or less.) $1 00 for the first aud 75 cents for each subsequent inser t.on. A liberal deduction made to parties Vho advertise by the year- Persons sending art vertieements should mark '•the number of times they desire them inser ted, or they will be continued until turbid and Charged accordingly. Transient advertisements must be paid for -at the time of insertion. Announcing names of candidates for office, #5.041. Cash, in all cases Obituary notices over five lines, charged at regular adverrising ra'es. All communications intended to promote the private ends or interests of Corporations, So cieties, or individuals, will be fdiarged as ad vertisements. Job Work, such as Pamphlets. Circulars,. Cards, Blanks, Handbills, etc., will be execu ted in good style and at reasonable rates. All letters addressed to the Proprietor will he promptly attended to. Church Directory. METHODIT CHURCH— K B Lester, Pastor. Preaching at 11. A. M. Ql 7 12, P. M. Sab bath school, 3, P. M BAPTIT CHURCH— F M Daniel, Pas tor. Preaching at 11. A M. &712, P. M. ab bath school 9 1-2, A M. PREBYTEUIAN CHURCH—J S C..z BY, Pastor. Preaching at 11 A. M. 7 1-2, P. M B,ib ■bath school 9 12. A. M. The Stream of Life. One summer'.'* d«y I paused to look Upon a little bubbliog brook ; 'Twas but a tiny mountain rill That took its source high up the bill. I wandered down its mos-iy banks, And a a tolled its merry pranks ; Now gliding on with whispering purl Then rushing down with giddy whirl, ]d tranquil peace through meadows green. And wirdly through the dark ravine ; O’er rocks and crags it onward leaps, As down its course the little rill Ran ever on, and ever will, In some dark mountain lost— From rock to rock in anger to t, Or, spnrkling in the summer sun, Through changing scenes it journeys on, Until its waters find a grave, Commingled with the ocean’s wave. But ever yet, from year to year, Fresh waters in the stream appear ; For every drop that runs its course, Another issues from its source. Thus ever runs the Stream of Life, Through joy and sorrow, calm uud strife, Life’s transient troubles all annoy, All feel the light of fleeting joy ; ■Swift, carried down the current tide, Through storm and calm we onward glide; We're botue to-day through scenes of light, Then plunged amidst the gloom of night; Emerge again in light to find We’ve left the darkness far behind. Tims alternating joy and woe, Along the stream of life we go ; The changing scenes upon the shore, Departed once, tfe see no more ; Adown the stream we’re ever borne. Cur bark can never backward turn ! We know not when our voyage ends, We only know to where it tends. That all our joys and sorrows past The grave arrests our course at last, Through ull, our little lives but seem . Like drops of water in the stream ; We journey ou, the journey’s done; We die! the race of life is run ; The stream that bears us on no more, Rons on just as it ran before. For every voyager that has been, Anew one comes upon the scene-- An actor in the busy strife. A traveler on the Stream of Life. A Little Story on Grant.— The Roanoke (Virginia) Times pub lishes the following : • A go.od story is told by one of the Methodist ministers now in this place attending conference. We do not recollect of ever seeing it in print, and we think it too good to be lost. It is as follows: During the war a “Confed.” was captured by'the Yankees, and hap pened to be taken to Grant’s head quarters. Alter being questioned by the general, the old ‘‘Confed.” asked him where he was going? “.I am going,” says Grant, “to Richmond, to Petersburg, to Heav en, and it may be I will go to hell.” After eyeing the general for sev eral moments, the old “Confed.” said : “General Grant, you can’t go to Richmond, for General Lee is there ; you can’t go to Petersburg, for ■General Beauregard is there; you can’t go to Heaven, for Stonewall Jackson is there; but as to going to hell, you may get there, for 1 know of no Confederate in that region.” Those who think our culti vated lands must grow poor as they grow old, will find food for rcflee tion in the fact that not main years ago the average yield of wheat per acre iD England w as about ten bush els—it is now over thirty. I Shtay Mit Dk Temperance. —A Dutchman gives his reasons as follows for joining the temperance: “I sail tell you how it vns. I drink mine lager, den I put mine hand on miiie head, and dere vas von pain.— Den I put mine hand on my body, and dere vas anoder pain.* Den I put mine hand in mine, pocket, and dere vas notting. So I jine mit de temperance. Now dere is no pain more in mine head, and de pain iu mine body vas all gone away. I put mine hand in mine pockets, and dere vas dwenty dollar. So I shtay mit de temperance.” The Wrecker’s Wager. There are few parts of England more wild and desolate than the mining districts of Cornwall. Na ture, as a counterpoise to the treas ures which, she has lavished on this region, has given to its external features a most forbidding aspect. The eye takes in a prospect of bleak and barren plains, with neither tree or shrub to protect the traveler from the v ind that sweeps across them, and presenting danger at ev • ery step from the numerous shafts by which they are intersected. It is truly an inhospitable country, and the nature of its inhabitants quite accords with its unfriendly charac teristics. They are to a great ex- tent repulsive in appearance, for bidding in manners, and cruel and cunning by natural disposition, and seem hardly to have risen very much above the barbarous state of their ancestors. It was late in the autumn when I visited this region, and towards the close of a gloomy day that I found ntyself at the resi dence of Capt. Thomas—so I shall call him— a man whom I had met in London, and who had persuaded me that the only sure way to make a fortune was to invest a trifle of ready money in a copper mine. He held the rank of Captain, by the custom of the country, as a mine, like a ship is conducted by a captain and officers. The Captain was t atlier a decent specimen of his class, for where there are so many combinations ot miner, smuggler, wrecker and consequently ruffian, a man of even tolerable manners and address is something. My worthy friend, however, had one besetting weakness, which I afterwards dis covered he would have considered it quite udmissaole, to have robbed his own father, rather than not to have robbed at all. Our supper being over, he pro posed an adjournment to the “lied Dragon,” or red something—it is so long ago I have almost forgot— where lie assured me I would meet a most respectable society of gen tlemen, and where I might pick up much valuable information. They were all particular friends of his, he added, captains and pursers of mines. It was a dismal night when we sallied out, a thick mist was gathering around, the sea was breaking against the huge rocky cliffs of the Coast, with a deafening roar, and at times was heard the distant thunder. It was thtn, with a most comfortable feeling that I found myself safely housed at the rendezvous of those choice spirits of the mines. The party to which I was introduced were seated at a long deal table, in an apartment half kitchen, and half tap-room, at the upper end of which appeared a blazing lire. On one side of the room a door opened into a small par lor, and in the corner was a bar, to enable the host to dispense to his customers their various potations from his smuggled treasures. The arrival of Captain Thomas was hail ed with marked satisfaction. We were soon seated, and in a twink ling a large tumbler of hot brandy and water was placed before me, and a pipe thrust into my hand.— The conversation, which was rather loud when we entered, was now suddenly hashed, and intelligent glances were quickly interchanged, which I saw related to myself.— Thomas understood them, and said : “ You need not be'afraid ; this gen tlemau is a particular friend of mine and a great patron of the mining arts. ’ I then begged to as sure the company of my veneration for miners and mines, and all con nected with them. There was a vis ible brightening up at my declara tion, and doubtless at that moment various were the plans of rascality that were hatched to put my devo tedness to the proof. “ A likely night, this, Capt. Thomas,” said a beetle-browed, short, muscular man, whose dark eyes peered from be neath a brow of peculiar ferocity. “ Uncommon likely,” returned the other; “audit we have a bit of luck to night it would not be a bad beginning this winter.” “Ah!” said Lite first one, who answered to the name of Knox, “my wife says she thinks Providence has deserted our coast. We haven’t had any thing worth tejling about these two years. I’ve seen the time when we’ve had a dozen wracks a season.” “ Well, never mind, Master Kfiox,” said a pert looking, snub-nosed fel low named Gray, whom I at first took for an attorney, but afterwards found that he was a mining agent. "Nevermind, Master lvnox,” said he j ingling a bunch of seals, which peeped irom beneath the waistcoat of that worthy. “You have made the most of your luck, and it you don’t get any more you won’t harm.” “Why. yes,” said the fellow, drawing out a handsome gold watch which hardly seemed in keeping with his co.irse attire, “ 1 don’t com plain of the past, and yet I had a narrow escape with this. It it hadn’t been for my boy Jim, 1 should have lost it ” “ He’s a cute child, that boy of yours,” remarked one. “ There never was a cuter.— I’ll tell you sir,” said he, addressing me, “ It is two years ago, come De cember, on a Sunday, when we w ere all at church, that we had news of a wreck. Well off we all started, and the parson not the last, to see what God had sent us. We found on coming up, that it was a French In dia-man. She had gone to pieces on the rocks, and the goods were floating around like dirt. I wasn’t loDg in making the most of it, and CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, APRIL 28, 1871. Jim was jest going off for the cart, when I spied, half covered with weed,and hidden by a piece of rock, the body of a Frenchman. I soon saw I had got a prize, for he was loaded with money and trinkets. These I quickly eased him of, as he’d never want ’em, but to make sure, I hit him a good slap over the head, just to see whether life was in him or no. (Here a general grin went round.) Well, I was just go ing away, when I see’a a diamond ring on his finger, and the finger being swelled with the watei* I cuts it off, and walks off with my goods. I hadn’t gone far when little Jim runs after me, crying, ‘ Dad, dad, hit him again, dad ; he grinneth.’ I looked back, and sure enough that rascally French thief—wheth er it was drawing the blood or not, I don’t know —but he was moving his arm about, and opening his eyes as if he was bent on taking the bread out of my mouth. This made me mad, for these FrenchmeD area spiteful set and hate English men as they hate the devil, so I makes no more ado, but I hits him a lick with the tail of a rudder, lay ing close by, and I’ll warraut me he’ll never come to ask for my goods.” The miscreant chuckled over this horrid recital with all the self-satisfaction that one might feel at the recollection of a virtuous ac tion ; while his companions to whom the story .was familiar, felt do other sensation of uneasiness at its recapitulation, than from the re collection that they had not been able to do the same thing. Knox was evidently the villain par excel- lence. I saw others around, me whose countenances would have hung them at any bar in England, but none ventured to boast so open ly of crime. Knox was the only avowed professor of villainy, and seemed to glory in his right of pre eminence. I have traveled some> what, at and have met ruffians of eve ry grade, hut never before did I have the fortune to hear depravity of such a character so freely con fessed. “ Well Knox,” said Gray, after a pause, “ so you’ve seen Ho bart; how’s poor Bill?” Knox placed his finger significantly on his cheek. “ Ilow,” said the other, “dead ?” “ Dead as a fish,” return ed Kuox. “ You know I was in it, and a sharp fight we had. Poor Bill had three balls in him; he died the same night A universal ex pression of sympathy followed this announcement, and various were the questions put as to the details of his death. It appeared that he was killed in an engagement with a revenue cutter. “ lie was as like ly a lad as ; ever run cargo,” said Thomas. “ Where did you bury him ? Alongside of the gauger, I ’spose,” said Gray, who ventured a malicious glance, though apparent half doubtful of the consequences. I never saw so speedy a chauge as that remark produced in Knox. In an instant his brow became as black as the storm that wa3 raging without. “What have you to do with that, you meddling, conceited fool!” said he, as he fixed his black eyes, almost concealed by their overhanging brows, on the object of his wrath. “Now, mark me, mas ter Gray, play no more of your jokes on me. This is not the first time I have warned you, but it shall be the last.” I learned after ward that the gauger alluded to was Knox’s half brother, who was supposed to have met his death by the bauds of his relation, his body being flung down a shaft near the sea. \\ hat confirmed the suspicion was that he had frightful dreams about his brother, and would trem ble lik.i a child if left alone at night. Be that as it might, however, a tierce altercation was now proceed ing between Knox and a friend of Gray’s who had replied to the oth ers threats, anil serious conse quences might have ensued had not the attention of all been diverted by a loud knocking at the outer door. This seemed so unusual an occurrence that the host hesitated to unbar the door, for never w T as a stranger known to arrive there at such ati hour and on such a night too, for the rain w r as still pouring in torrents. The knocking contin ued, and although we were too many to fear anything like person al danger, still I could see an evi dent uneasiness spreading through out the party. The knocking was now fiercer than ever, and the host w as compelled to unbolt aind unbar. As the door opened, in stalked a fall, weather-beaten looking man, enveloped in a huge, shaggy great <-■'’at, and a broad oil-skin hat on his head “ hat do you mean by this ?” he said, dashing his hat upon the floor, and shaking the rain from his coat like a huge water dog—“keep ing a traveler outside your house on such -a night ” As he spoke, was heard, a heavy, booming sound from the sea. “A wrack, a wrack,” shouted Knox, and instantly a dozen fellows were up and ready to rush like blood hounds on their prey. “Keep your places, you fools,” cried the stran ger , “if she goes ashore it will be many miles from here, with the wind in this quarter. I’ve heard the guns 6ome time, but she has a good ofling yet, and she may man age to keep off. I’d lay my life she is a foreign craft; they areal ways in such a hurry to sing out.” The company had now seated themselves and resumed their pipes. They likewise took the liberty of scanning the new arrival. There was nothing iu his appearance very remarkable beyond the fact or his being a tall, muscular man, having short black hair, and immense bushy whiskers, meeting under his chin, together with large, black eyes. Altogether, his countenance was not an unpleasant one. He did not apologize for hie intrusion, but called at once for his pipe and his glass. “ Did you come from the Por treath side ?” asked Knox. The stranger took a whiff and nodded assent. “-Who brought you across the moor?” “Do you think no one can tread the moors but yourself and the louts of theplace?” answered the stranger. “None that I ever heard of, ex cept the devil,” said Knox, peering suspiciously at the stranger. The latter laughed. “ The path is dangerous by night,” said Thom as ; “ few strangers find the way alone.” “ Then I am one of the few, for here I am,” sMd the stran ger. “ I’ve lived here, man and boy, these forty years,” said Knox, “ and I never knew a stranger do that before.' And you must be a stranger, for I’ve never seen you before.” “ Are you sure of that ?” Knox scanned him attentively. “I never saw you before.” “ You see then, a stranger can find his way in these paj - ts. I came by the Gauger’s Shaft. Thou knowest the Gauger’s Shaft,” said he, significantly. “Do you come here to mock me,” said the other, with a furious impreca tion ; “if you do, you had better return afore harm comes to you.” “ You are a strong man,” said his op ponent, “ but I am so much a strong- er that I could hold you with one arm on yonder fire until you were as black as your own black heart. Cotne, if you have a spark of cour age, I’ll put it now to the test.”— “ Courage! I fear neither you nor the devil.” “ I will wager you this heavy purse ot French louis d’ors against that watch and ring that be fits thy finger so oddly, that you dare not go into yonder room alone ahd look on the face you shall meet there” “You are a juggler and a cheat,” cried Knox, “ I’ll have no thing further to say to thee.”— “ There’s my gold,” said he, throw ing a heavy purse on the table; “ look at it, count it; a hundred as bright louis as ever were coined in France against your watch and ring not worth the half.” The eyes of the wrecker glistened at the bright heap. HWhat is the wager ?” he demanded. “If you will dare go into yonder room that I will, raise the form of one whom thou would’st jnost dread to see.” “ I fear nothing and belive you to be a cheat ?” “ There’s my gold.” “ Take the wager,” cried several of Knox’s friends, “ we’ll see you have the gold.” “ Done!” cried Knox, with a sort of desperate resolve, and he placed the ring and watch on the heap of louis. “ I must have arms and lights.” “ Take them,” said the stranger, “ hut before you go I will show you a portion of your property you have never discovered.” He took the ring, and touching the inside with a pin, it flew open and discovered a small space filled with hair. It was not until that moment that it was discovered that the stranger had lost the little finger of his left hand. For a moment ail was ns still -as the gs-ave, a frightful suspicion seemed to have taken possession of every one around that the murder ed stood before them to claim his own. The stranger broke into a loud laugh. What ails you all, are you afraid of a man without a fin ger ?” and his laughter was louder than before. “ I’ll not go into that room,” said Knox in a low, broken voice. “ Then the w T atch and ring are mine,” said the stranger; “you have to forfeit the wager,” and he began to fill the bag with the coin. “ It’s a base juggle 10 rob me of my own,” cried Knox, whose cour age returned as he witnessed the business-like manner in which the stranger fingered the money. “ Keep to your wager, man, ” cried Thomas, “ we’lisee you right ly dealt with. He can no more do what he says than raise old Belze bub himself.” “Will you stand to your bar gain ?” asked the stranger. “ 1 will, and defy you and all your works.” He took a candle and loaded pistol and went toward the room. If ever the agony of life was condensed into the short space of a few minutes it must have been so at that moment. .Ruffian as he was he was a pitiable object. Pale and trembling, without even making an effort to conceal his dis tress, he paused and turned irreso lute even at the threshold of the door. Shame and avarice urged him on. He entered the room and closed the door. If I say that I looked on as a calm spectator of these pro ceedings I should say falsely. 1 be gan to grow nervous, and was in fected with the superstitious, feel ing which had evidently taken pos session of my companions. The only unconcerned person was the stranger, or at least he was apparently so. He tied up the money, watch and ring in the bag and placed them on the table. He then took two pieces of paper and wrote some characters on both ; one lie handed to Thomas—it was marked with the name of the gau ger—the other he kept himself.— lie advanced to the fire, and, mut tering a’few words, threw into it a small leaden packet, and retired at the same moment to the end of the room. The flames had hardly time to melt the thin sheet lead when our ears were greeted with the most terrific explosion . that I have ever in my'life heard, and it seem ed as if the elements were in uni son with it, for a deafening thun der crash at the same moment shook the house to its foundation. Every man was thrown violently to the ground, the chairs and tables tumbled about, every door was burst open by the shock, and hard ly a pane of glass remained entire. This with the groans of the men and the screams of the women, com pleted the terrors of a scene w hich, if any one could have w ithstood w ithout actual fear, he must have been a bolder man than I was. For several minutes—at least so it ap peared to me—did we lie stunned on the floor, expecting every min ute the house to fall over us in ru ins. All was, however, silent as death, except the roaring of the storm outside. So when the sense of suffocation was somewhat re moved by the fresh air forcing it self through the open doors and window s, w T e ventured to hail each other. It was sometime, however, before we could get a light, and then our first care was to look to our friend in the back parlor. Wfi found him lying on his face, quite insensible, and bleeding from a wound in his head, which he must have received in falling. We brought him in the large room, and afteraiime we procured restoratives. 1 never shall forget the wild and ghastly look with which he first gazed around him. lie looked as though seeking some horrid object. “It’s gone,” he cried; “thank God ! what a horrid sight—who saw it ?” “ Saw what—who ?” ask ed Thomas. “ Just as bloody and ghastly as when I pitched him down the shaft,” cried he, incoherently. “ Hush, hush,” said Thomas, “ you don’t know what you are talking about.” “ Who says' I murdered him ; who says I got his money ? He’s a liar, I say, a liar! His money is sunk with him. Let ’em hang me; I’m innocent; they can’t prove it.” It became too distressing, fortunate ly for the feelings of all; the un happy man, or rather, now, the maniac, relapsed into insensibil ity, and in that elate was convey ed home. It was not till then that we thought of the stranger. No trace of him could be found. The mon ey, ring and watch had disappeared. Strange rumors were abroad the next day. Some men going very early to work swore they saw a horseman filing over the moors, crossing shafts and pits without once staying to pick his way. It could have been no human horse man nor steed that could have sped on such a wild career. There was another report which accounted for the appearance and disappearance of the stranger in a more credible way. Some smugglers reported that on that night they saw a beau tiful French smuggling lugger shel tering from the gale in a little un frequented bay along the coast. It might have been that one of the crew who had made himself ac quainted with the circumstances, mentioned, which were no secret, and made this bold dash for a prize. But this version of the story w T as scouted as quite unworthy of the slightest credit, and the former re mains to this day the popular be lief. Marvel of Microscopy.— A mi croscope has recently been construc ted in New York which magnifies objects 9,000,000,000 times. At the rate of enlargement an ordina ry fly could cover a space equal to New York City below Wall street; a man would appear more than a hundred miles high, and a hair of the ordinary length from a lady’s head reach half way from New York to New Haven. Yet, under the enormous magnifying power, the creations of the Lord ouly r dis play new beauties. The microscop ic shell called an “augulalum,” of which about one hundred and forty placed end to end will reach an inch and which, when examined under ordinary powerful microscopes, is simply marked with lines of exquis ite delicacy, exhibits under the in strument half globes of white silex, whoes diameters appear to be an nch and three quarters, and of which only fifteen can be seen- at once. In reality the point of a cam bric needle is larger than the circle upon which these fifteen globes ex ist, and yet that circle appears like a desert-plate covered with lady apples. — Appleton's Journal. Utilize the Carcass. —When a farmer loses a horse, or ox or any other animal, instead of leaving the carcass to be devoured by dogs or crows, he should cover it with six or eight times its bulk of earth, and thus arrest the fertilizing gasses which will be thrown off in the pro cess of decomposition. By so do ing be would secure a quantity of manure which would pay him five times over for the trouble it would cost him ; for there is very little laud in the older portions of the State, which might not be greatly improved by the application of fer tilizers. Ifeg* Fences should be built in season, and sufficient to stop the cattle, and make the farm to be se cure ; especially between your field and your neighbor’s. Good fences save a vast amount of annoyance; bad ones are a fertile source of trouble. Mange in Cattle. The cause of mange is the pres ence of a minute insect (or acarus ,) which, has its habitation in the skin, and burrows its way from the sur face underneath the cuticle. Mange in the horse and ox, and scab in the sheep, are one and the same affec tion, although the acarus in each differs somewhat in form and size —each animal having its own pe culiar insect which cannot be trans ferred to the skin of a different spe cies. The symptoms of mange are a constant rubbing, and itchiness of the animal, which, w hen examined, will he found to have the skin de nuded cf hair ip places, and having a sort of dry scurf. When this is removed by the finger, we find small raw looking pimples discharg ing a yellowish sorour fluid. Oil examining the scab under a micro scope, the acarus may be distinctly seen. In long continued and chron ic cases, the skin becomes thickened and- thrown into w rinkles and folds. The p&rts more especially affected are the skin about the neck, breast and thighs, where it hangs loose find in folds. In the treatment of mange we have to accomplish two things— destroy the insect and ova, and re store the healthy action of the skin. For the former purpose almost all the various poisonous compounds of the Pharmacopaea have been em ployed, and often to the destruc tion of the animal. Arsenical com pounds, although destructive to the acarus , are too often destructive to the animal two, and should not be used Mercurial compounds are equally as effective, but should be used with extreme caution, as pty talism (or saliivatien) will often en sue; when these compounds are used especial care should be taken to keep the animal from cold and wet. The following form will be found efficacious: Soft soap, one pound ; Mercurial ointment four ounces Well incor porate, rub into the affected places, and let it remain fora day" or two, when it should be removed by T means of warm water and a brush. Oils of all descriptions, especially animal oils, are destructive to in sect life, and having the recom mendation of being sale they may be used in all eases when the dis ease has not gotten too firm a hold on the system. Sulphur is also a very valuable medicine in the treat ment of skin diseases, and like the former has the recommendation of safety. It may be used in the foim of an ointment, but as greasy ap plications arc objectionable, proba bly the best form of employing sul phur is that of the sulphuret of po tassium, or the liver of sulphur, dis solved in water. Take liver of sul phur, one ounce; water, eight ounces, to form a lotion to be ap plied twice a -lay. In old standing and chronic cases the skin will require more stimulat ing treatment than any of the forms recommenced above, and for this purpose the following liniment may be applied: Oil of tar ; oil of tur pentine ; linseed oil—equal parts. Rub well into the skin with a brush every other day. It must be borne in mind, in making choice of a remedy, that no one agent can be deemed a specific, and that to in sure success, a change is often re- quisite, as after a certain number of applications even the most potent remedy will appear to lose its effeet. In all cases, however, constant clean liness is requisite, and the skin should be well washed with soft soap and water after each dressing A mild laxative may now and then be given, and small doses of flower of sulphur as an alterative.—Prai rie Farmer. About Vegetables. Now’ that the spring weather is upon us, to be followed quickly by the heat of summer, the considera tion of what we shall eat is not un worthy of being entertained. . We may get along very’ comfort ably during the cool winter months on our usual diet of bacon, and all kinds of greasy and fried fruit, but Providence does not give us fruit and vegetables in profusion in the Spring and Summer seasons without reason. The use of them at these seasons is in our climate, absolute ly neces ary for good health. A Laplander or an Esquimaux may exist all the year round and enjoy excellent health on a diet of tallow candles and whale oil. In fact, in such cold climates the use of greasy food is necessary to pro mote an animal heat; but in our climate, during the Summer months at least we are generally troubled with too much of that article.— Many of the Summer complaints, so prevalent amongst us, are due to the manner iu which we diet our selves. We should eat more vegetables and fruit and less meat. There are quantities of excellent vegetables that can be cultivated easily in our climate that are almost unknown. The cost and trouble of raising them would be but little. An abun dance and variety qf fruits and veg etables on every farm and in every garden would materially diminish the doctor's bills. —Farmer and Garden. Sxg* An old sailor, passing a grave yard, saw on one of the tombstones “I still live.” It w T as too much for Jack, and shifting his quid, he said: “Well, I’ve heard it said that there are cases in which a man may lie, but if I were dead, I’d own it.” Bathing in the Dead Sea. A recent traveler in Palestine thus describes an experiment which those who have shared it are in lit tle danger of forgetting: Bathing in the Dead Sea produ ces as novel a sensation as if you found yourself suddenly endowed with wings, and emulating the feats of a tumbler pigeon in midair. You become a clumsy float, a top heavy buoy, a swollen cork, the in stant you are in its waters, and arms, legs, and body are apparently endowed with the strangest quali ties. It is as if heavy weights were affixed to each directly you attempt to move, and experienced swimmers fail in their best strokes, by reason of the unnatural buoyancy with which they have to contend. Your limbs are on the surface, and you cleave the air with your hands the moment you try to swim, and the man who w r ould be drowned as soon as he w r as out of his depth in any other sheet of w r ater iu the world is the one best fitted for bathing in the Dead Sea. He eauDot sink in it, let him do wdiat he will. It is as if he were incased in life-belts, or sprawling on a feather bed. If he lean back and throw his feet up it is exactly as if he were resting in a peculiarly well stuffed easy chair, with a legrest to match. He may fold his arms, turn on one side, lie flat upon his stomach or back, clasp his knees with both hands, or draw toes and head to gether in the shape the human body would assume if crammed hastily into a jar with its extremities left out, and no more possibility of sink ing than if he were in so much soft sand. Woe to him if he be tempt ed by these unusual facilities to stay long in the water with his head un covered ! The bare and rock walls of the low-lying cauldron which hold the Sea of Death reflect baok the burning sun and concentrate its rays, and a coup de soleil will be the aU but inevitable consequence of his imprudence. Two of our party entered the water and remain ed in it for some seconds before they recovered their heads, and the result was severe shooting pains, great sickness and dizziness, which lasted until their immersion, an hour later, in the refreshing waters of the Jordan. Woe, too, to the inexperienced stranger, who, fol lowing his rule in other bathing, dips his head as well as his body into the Dead Sea. Inflamed eyes and nostrils, together with hair and beard laden with acid salts, are among the penalties of his rashness ; while if he tastes its waters, he be comes acquainted with a greater concentration of nastiness thau had entered into his imagination before In buoyancy and bitterness the Sea of Sodotn exceeded all we had heard or read respecting it; but in some other particulars our antioipa tions were falsified surprisingly.— We looked for gloom,and we found brightness; we had imagined turbid waters, and we found a lake exquis itely clear and delicately blue; we expected perfect silence and an un broken waste, and we found the birds singing sweetly among the tamarisks and oleanders, which spring up wherever a stream finds its way from the mountains to min gle with the mysterious inland sea. Mediaeval Christianity. Queer scriptural ideas prevailed in the middle ages. We' find the following in an English paper : In the Strasburg library there was a wonderful collection of Bibles first printed, the oldest bearing the im press of “Mentolio, 1466.” In it Mo ses is pictured with horns, and there is also a picture of Satan smiting Job with boils, in which the figure of the devil carries us back to the prehistoric and pagan ideas of evil spirits, for he is .no other than a hairy Saytr, such as we find in class mythologies. In a manuscript Bi ble written with great beauty' and illustrations, in the year A. D. i192, we come to a very primitive idea indeed. For example, Adam and Eve are pictured as two plump and pretty children, while the devil, which offeis little Eve the apple, is a beautiful woman with golden hair rolled up so as to form a crown ; from the waist down she is a ser pent. Among other illustrations belonging to twelfth century MSS., thero was one in perfect colors rep resenting God the Father, lie was represented by a young man of great but severe beauty, and flow ing hair, looking on an open book. In another the Trinity was pictured as three beautiful youths with physiognomies similar enough for them to be regarded as triplets. Old Age Without Religion.— Alas ! for him who grows old with out growing wise, and to whom the world does not set open her gates when he is excluded by the present. The Lord deals so graciously with us in the decline of life that it is a sham? to turn a deaf ear to the les sons which He gives. The eyo be comes dim, the ear dull, the tongue falters, the feet totter, all the senses refuse to do their office, and from every r side resounds the call, “Set thine house in order, for the term of thy pilgrimage is at hand.” * The playmates of youth, the fellow-la borers of manhood, die away and take the road before us. Old age is like some quiet chamber, in which, disconnected from the world, we can prepare in silence for the world that is unseen. When is a scarf-pin like a ship? When its on the bosom of a rising swell. NO. Ig VARIETY. A bad omeu— to owe met* money. The right kind of timber for castles in the air—sun-beams Evergreens—those who do not take the papers. A “Free Agent”—One who 1 goes off with his employer’s money, The man who drew a long breath has taken another chance in the same lottery. The nearest an old bachelor gets to the matrimonial a sir single. We are told there is nothing made in vain. But how about a pretty young girl ? Isn’t she maid en vain ? Josh Billings insists “.it" is at statistikal fakt, the wicked work harder tew reach hell than the right eous do tew git to heaven.” The chap who took th« thread of life to sew the rent of a house, has gone and invented a patent, point for cross-eyed needles. Those who look for faults, find fault, and become fault finders by profession ; but those who look for truth and good, tiud that. lt is the opinion of the doctor that the lawyer gets his living by plunder, v/hilo the lawyer knowa r the doctor gets his by pillago. “ Is it wrong to cheat a law yer?” was recently very ably dis cussed by the members of a debat ing society. The conclusion ar rived at was that it was not wroug, but impossible. A prudent man advised lais drunken servant to put by his money for a rainy day. In a few weeks his master inquired how much he had saved. “ Faith, none at all,’* said he, “It rained yesterday and it all went.” “ You must have lived here a long time,” said a travelling Eug lishman to an Oregon pioneer.— “ Yes, sir, I have. Do yon see that mountain? Well, when I came here that mountain was a hole in the ground.” The Englishman opened his half-shut eyes. “ So there’s another rupture of Mount Vociferous,” observed Mrs. Partington, as she put down her paper and folded up her specs.— “ The paper tells about the burning lather running down the mountain, but don’t state how it got on fire, “ Work of an iutendiary, I sup pose.” The following words really formed the peroration of the coun sel’s plea for his client in an assault and battery case in Athens, Ala.: “Let the humble ass crop the this- ' tie of the valley ! Let the saga cious goat browse upon the moun tain’s brow; but, gentlemen of the jury, I say John Gundle is not guil ty.” With big tears in her eyes, a sweet little Pennsylvania girl of five summers asked Will dear little brother Johnny die to-night, moth er ?” And when she was assured that the doctor thought not, she continued, while sobs choked her utterance : “ Poor Johnny, I wish he would, cause then I could have his little white-handled knife and fork.” Old Dr. Stears, of New Lon don, in his latter years, kept a drug store, A gentleman one day pur chased a cigar of the Doctor, and lighting it, began to smoke. “Please do not smoke in the store,” said Dr. Stearns, politely ; “it is against my rule.” “ But you sell cigars?” re joined the gentleman—“ sell ’em to smoke, don’t you ?” “ sir, we sell cigars,” replied Jhe Doctor, a little sharply—“ and we sell physic; but we don’t allow it to operate in the store.” A good story is told of a late college president near Boston. On one accasion the students substitu ted a large dictionary ia place of the Bible, at the morning devotions. On openiug the book he saw at once the situation; but he said nothing, and proceeded to the prayer, which he prolonged for an hour. The stu dents got out of all patience, but they appreciated the sly remark of the venerable president, on his re tiring, that he “ found all the words lie needed in the volume they had placed on his desk.” Things a Lady Never Confess es.—That she laces tight: that her shoes are too small for her; that she is as old as she Iqoks; that she paints ; that she is ever tired at a ball; that she has been more than five minutes dressing j that she has kept you waiting ; that she blushes when a certain person’s name was mentioned ; that she is ever in the wrong; that she doesn’t arguej that she is ugly ; that she has a bad memory; that she intended to give offense; that she has ever been in love; that she ever “jews” a shop keeper ; that she is Vain ; thst she has ever flirted; that she is too old to marry. Tee railroad and wagon bridge across the Mississippi at Keokuk, lowa, the only wagon bridge cross ing the river, was completed on Wednesday. Its cost was about $1,000,000. The bridge has eleven piers, two abutments, and the lon gest drawn span in the world, being three hundred and eighty-four feet in length. In the centre are two spans two hundred and fifty feet wide, to admit of the passago of rafts.