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VOL. VI.
THE APPEAL.
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By J. P. SAWTEII.
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Hy jHiOther.
A helpless babe who nursed me then,
And gave me paregoric,when ,
I wept with pain, till well hg«in 1
My Mother.
And when her precious infant, smiled,
Who called me “angel, I 's “darling child,”
And laughed and wept- in transport wild ?
• .' My Mother.
And when the colic vexed me tore, r
TVho whan at midnight walked the floor,
-And in her aims her baby bore?
My Mother.
Who let me dojust what I choose,
Aiftl dressed me up in. fancy clothes,
And taught me how (o wipe my.im.-e T
My Mother.
And wflclied me still with anxious core,
And washed tny face, and curled tftV l air,
And seC me in my little chair ?
- My Mother.
And who rny youthful laxly hent
Across the knee—oh, sad event!
• And spanked me to her heart's content ?
My Mother.*
And when T cut my flag 1 r who
Broughf me salvo to'soolhe it and cure il
too, •
And checked tnv juvenile boo-lioo ?
* My Mother.
And when at school I made my way. •
Who heard my lessons day by day,
Os L’uget Sound and. Baffin's Bay '!
My Mother.
And when, my pony just in play
Ran off and earned wo away,
Who viewed the scene with great dismay ?
.My Mother.
And when he kicked with nil his might,
And threw.me'higher than a kite,
Who fainted and fell down with fright ?
• My Mother..
Who gently said it was not right
To set the dog and Cat to tight.
'To laugh at such a wicked sight ?
Mv Mother.
Though she is old' and aril alone,
And I to he a li'aa have grown,
'Who* calls me still her boy —her own-? __
My Mother. .
The Fascinatitm oFCiiiß««-
ltood
A beauliffll, lovely woman is. ftl
xvays an object irrosistabiy enchant
ing, the grace and nobility of well
proportioned manhood, gives birth
to a proud feeling of the 'majesty of
human nature, but there is some
thing more intimately allied tQ our
,imaginings-of angelio existence in
the street- purity of a beautiful
child.
There is a mingling of innocence
mnd purity, a something in a beauti-.
ful child that satisfies the most re
fined and deli cate fancy, something
that baffles the severest criticism.
Its radient face, like a polished mir
ror, flashes out every emotion of Its
heart; the chilling doubt, the cold
suspicion, tlie-gloom of guilt never
clouds the radient countenance
all is summer glow and mellow sun-,
shine. It loves and smiles upon all
in its fearless innocence, and as we
gaze upon the bright and beautiful
features the feeling of affection, ad
miration and delight spring unbid
den, into existence. Once in a
while these fresh jewels of child
hood, ofextraordinary beauty meet
you in your sight, as an angel sud
denly clothed in flesh f chasing away
•as if by magic, all melancholy, let
ting in a sunbeam upon the heart
that is cherished in memory, long
after the beautiful vision has passed
away from sight.
A beautiful child with its unstud
led attitude and grace, fasciuates-all
beholders', and is a feast to every
eye that has a true sense of inno
cent grace §nd beauty*.
—Every parent is like a looking
glass for his children to dress them
selves by. Therefore, • parents
should take care to keep the glass
bright and clear, not dull and spot
ted, as their good example is a rich
inheritance for the rising genera
tion.
m ’ For the Catkbert Appeal.
A Tour Through Texas,
OB .
Information for Emigrants.
GENERAL REMARKS ON TEXAS.
It will he seen that nearly all the
agricultural productions in the oth
er States of tlfe Union are raised in
■ every one of the Counties, of this
Slate, except only' the stock-raising
counties of the extreme • west; but
that the counties in the different
subdivisions of the. State, such as
Northern, Northeastern, Middle,
Western, Southwestern, and North
western Texas, differ as regards
their adaptation to diffeiient prod
ucts and in the amount of their
yield, owing •chiefly to- difference of
climate, but, also partly to differ
ence of soil
*. |
Corn is a univerfftl product, and
is raised tv op by the stock, men of
the far west to supply their own
wants. Potatoes and most vegeta
bles are also raised all 6vei y the
State, though -some counties pro
duce much larger crop's than others.
Bailey, oats-, and. rye are grown
Successfully in probably two third 6s
of the counties, while wheat does
not succeed well- except in the
Northern counties, embracing about
one third of the agricultural por
, tion of the State,. Sugar cane is
not profitably’ grown except in the
alluvial or bottom lands, and hence
nearly all the larger sugar planta
tions are found in the rich alluvial
counties near . the coast between
Oyster creek and the Brazos on the
‘cast, and the Colorado oi; the west.
But this crop is hoUV being extend
ed up the alluvial valleys of the
Trinity and many other rivers, and
promises to become a profitable and
staple product in a large number of
the river counties to the distances!
one or two hundred miles from the
coast.- It will bo seen In; the forth
coming (lescvijdion of the counties
that the great sta;4e of "cotton' is
•mentioned-as a leading product Aof
nearly all of (hem. The fact is,
j Texas is more emphatically a cot-’
! ton State • than any other in the
South. Nearly all its vast extent
of l icit soil is w ithin, the paralles of
latitude best adapted to co-tton all
oyer the world; and -I am entirely %
within the"bounds of truth ‘in - say
ing that Texas fins far more rich
virgin sod adapted to cotton than
all the other States put together.
The valuable* timber region of
Texas-is chiefly confined to some
twelve or fifteen counties of East
ern Texas—pinejuid cypress being
the chief timbers find the. most val*
.liable. But it will be seen that all
the "settled counties' have more .or
less of timber, and generally enough,
for fuel and fencing; but for build
ing purposes, the timber of the
Western counties is not generally
suitable, except in some" few coun
ties be'ow. Austin-on the Colorado,
where there' is considerable pine,
and in other counties llicro are;
pretty large bodies. of -Cedar and
•sifme post oak ai'rd others suitable
lor building. . Steam saw-nrills are.
found in all the counties where the'
timber eaipbe used for hauling, and
•from these mills the timber js
hauled-from fifty to one hundred
and fifty miles to the more western
counties, destitute of suitable, tim
ber and sold at SlO, SSO, SOO and
even SSO, per thousand feet, accord
ing to the expense of hauling. At
th*e mills the lumber sells at from
sls to S2B per one thousand feet.
The beautiful' pecan-tree grows
nearly all over' tie State, but more
abundantly along the .rivers of
•Western Texas than in other parts.
Thousands of bushels of peftans are
gathered annually in the west and
exported, bringing a revenue to the.
State of several hundred thousand
dollars. Bine black walnut and ash
are found in many of the timbered
bottoms, and also live oak and
nearly a dozen other varieties of
oak. The wild peach • generally
abounds in the richest and. alluvial
lands in the-lower counties, so like
wise the wild cane. Those who.
are acquainted with the. extensive,
and naked prairies of the North
western States will find 'that the
prairies of Texas presented quite a
favorable contrast to them. Though
we have prairies of considerable ex
tent, yet the travelers here are.
scarcely ever out of sight of timber
in various directions. Nearly ev
ery stream in the Statens bordered
with a fine growth of timber vary
ing in width from a few hundred
feet to eight or ten miles,’ accord;
ing to the size of (.lie rivej. But
there aie also small groves, usually
I called “ Motts,” of timber scalter-
I cd over nearly every prairie of the
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 21, 1872.
west. Nearly every dwelling or
farm house in the State is built con
tiguous 1o timber, sufficient for all
ordinary .purposes. There is no
such treeless and vast expanses of
dreary prairies as are seen in Illi
nois, lowa, Wisconsin, Nebraska,
and other Northwestern States and
territories, where no Texan would
consent t-o live, even if the lauds
were given to him, and coin polled
to pay So or $8 a cord for fuel dur
ing the long and severe winters of
that region.
There arc very many wild fruits
iit -Texas, the most of them I have
mentioned heretofore. Fish in
great abundance are found in the
rivers of Texas and along the whole
seacoast. The freshwater 'fish are
chiefly the-bass, trout, perch, cat
and buffalo; and the salt-water,
the red-fish trout, white fish, croak
ers, sheep head, flounder, cat and
dr.uni fish ; and the finest oysters
abound on the whole coast; also
cTabs; and sea turtles weighing
from one hundred to four hundred
' pounds each,-are frequently caught,
and'are seen in all the seaports, of
Texas. ’ f
Texas abounds with a large vari
ety of wild game, such as buffalo,
deer, squirrels, rabbit, wild geese,
pigeon, dbve, the mallatk’ and can
vass backed ducks, the sand-hill
crane, the prairie hen, wild, turkey,
etc. No where ej.se havfi I ever
see n wild turkey in so great abun
dance, and last but by no moans
least the mule eared rabbit. ,
T. M. A.
I C'Hi’e lor Sivcry.lßriiiß.k
-.sl*'! <
•
1. Eat comfortable meals at reg
ular hours, partaking especially of
farinaceous • food, vegetables and
fruits three times "a day.
2. Exercise regularly, bat so as
not to induce fatigue.
3. Have regular and* long sleep,
going to bed and rising at regular
hours,'and.take sleep about noon.'
4. Keep the mind as much inter
estefl and amused as possible bv
harmless games, sports, etc..
5. Take a warm bath dally about
II A. M, if convenient. . "'
6. Break up all old associations.
7. Keep away from old resorts.
S' Quit chewing at'd smoking to
bacco, for this, blunts the moral
sense, and ■ make the imagination
dull. .‘Liquor makes.Xhe ideal fac
ulty wild unsettled, while tobacco’
makes it obtuse’.
9. Never forget that if yo'u are
to be anew man you must have
new i leas, and these must be such
as to make you discard the use of
alcohol in all' -its forms. Do not
take it ;is a medicine any more than
a beverage, fop it will re-awaken the,
old desire in the one‘case as readi
.ly as in the other.
General Wolfe. —The oelebra?
tefl General Wolfe invited a Scotch
officer to dine with himg the same
day he was also invited by some
' brother officers.
“ You must exeusej me,”'said lie
to them; “ I am already engaged'
to. Wolfe.” *.
| A smart young ensign .observed
| that he might as well have express
ed himself with more respect, and
said: “ General Wolfe.”
.“Sir,” oahi the- ,Scotch officer
with,great promptitude, “we never
say ‘General Alexander’ or ‘general
Caesar.’. ”
Wolfe, who was within hearing,
by a low bow to the Scotel! officer,
acknowledged the pleasure he felt
at the high compliment.
Work and Win.— Whatever
you try to do in life, try with all
your heart to do well; whatever
you devote yourself to, devote your
self to completely; in great aims
and small, be thoroughly in earnest.'
Never believe it possible that any
natural or improved ability can
claim immunity from the compan
ionship of the steady, plain, hard
working qualities, and hope to gain
its end. There is no.such thing as
such fulfillment on this earth. Some
.happy talent and some .fortunate'
opportunity, may form the two hap
py sides of the- ladder on which
■some men mount, but the rounds of
that ladder must be made to stand
wear and tear ; and .there is no sub
stitute for thorough going, ardent
and sincere " earnestness. Never
put one hand to anything on which
you cannot throw your whole self;
never affect depreciation of your
work,, whatever it is. These you
will find to be golden rules.
One hour lost in the morning
will put back all the business of the
day ; one hour gained by vising cur
ly will make one month iu the year.
Marrying' a Foi'tuiie.
‘Have you heard the news about
Miss Temple, Ned ?’ said Charlie
Ashton, as lie sauntered leisurely up
to the desk which Edward Farn
harn occupied in Smith & Jones’ of
fice on Wall street.
The warm blood colored Ned’s
face in spite of all his struggles to
.prevent he replied :
‘No, I hope no harm.’
‘Well I should guess it wasn’t.
Come, put up your books, and* as
we go up town I’ll tell you.’
‘No ; I cannot leave yet,. I have
not* finished my balance.’
‘Oil, pshaw! finish that to-morrow
before ten o’clock. I woulden’t work
as hard as you do for any living,
and much less for those bankers,
who think all a fellow’s made for is’
to work and make money for them.'
Com.e. along.’
fNo ; I cannot go.’
‘Well then the.-tale is short, she’s
had a big fortune left her, some say
Live hundred thousand dollars.
An involuntary sigh escaped fted
and he Father muttered than spoke:
‘l’m sorry to hear it.’
‘Why what’s.got into you? Sorry?
Why, l haven’t heard anything that
pleased me so much in many- a day-.
I always liked the girl, but .1 am
not philosopher enough to marry
her for love alone. My doctrine is
when poverty comes in at the win
dow, love goes out at the door-.’
‘I am afraid that I don’t agree
with you in such things, but I have
now. Misg Temple, in my opinion,
would be a fertilise for any man,
did she not possess a qenfi of mon
-‘Pshaw, Ned; (hat’s old fogy.
Love in a cottage ! ha! ha! Well,
I liked her .pretty well before," but I
can’t help thinking her attractions
j- very greatly enlarged since I Jjeard
j that ne\ys. I never should have
j thought-of any thing but a plqas
; ant acquaintance— guess i’ll go for
| her now. Goad bye, old fellow, and
[ don’t hurt yourself working over
j those books.’ . *. *
j Ned tirade no' reply, -but felt as if
!he would like to grind beneath Ins
: heel onepvho-could speak so irrev
erently of her who, in his ijea t coni'
j billed every grace of beast and mind
j and perfection of form, add feature,
which should make up a perfect
woman. Ilis thought turned to ac
tiofijlind he caught- himself stum
ping his heel bn the desk stool with
suchjbrce as almost.to dent a hide
jin it, aud looking up saw’ Mr.
! Smith’s steady gaze fixed'oh him.
j ‘Back to his work he tried to,
| bring his thoughts, but they were
| not subject to his will, and he found
I ■•himself in great danger of writing
the thoughts passing through his
mind. ‘She is lost to me now. Olq
how I wish it had never happened!’
.Up had closed tht book, put away
the papers, and, with that dreary,
j lost, far away kind of look, passed
! qnheedingly among the throng on
i the money mart of the world. -
Charley Ashton lost no time in
his opportunities, for
that night found him 'seated
tete-a-tete with Miss Temple, in a
cosy little room in Twenty-first
’street. -
Miss Temple was an orphan, and
for years-liv.cd with her aunt—her
father’s-sister. An income 'of four
j hundred dollars a year had been
left, which at least supplied all nec
essary wants. She was not asham
ed to assist her aunt about, many
things some would call VnCtriaT; and
In form and feature, heart and mind
all her acquaintances said, fully sus
tained the high opinion we have
seen Ned Barbara had of her.
Ere (he evening was over, CJiar
ley Ashton had succeeded in ap
pearing deeply in lave, and not
many days had passed ere he had
proposed and was accepted. Os all
her male acquaintances, Miss Tem
ple bad always preferred tin? tw 0
young men mentioned. It was true
«he had rather leaned to the gpiiet
Mr. Farnham, but of late be had
ceased to visit Her, while Mr. Ash
ton’s presence had beeu almost con
stant. Hence she persuaded her
self that she loved him, and accep
ted him.
'Charlc'y urged a speedy marriage,
which came about in a conversa
tion too long for me to detail, where
in-it appeared that‘some of the
‘boys’ on the ‘street’ were fixing up
a pool to buy. ft certain- stock, and
our. friend Ashton wanted some of
the live hundred thousand dollars'!
to put in it. Miss Temple [ refer
red a longer time, urging that time
would make them Know each other
bettor, especially in the* intimate re
lation they now stood. Charley
1 vowed that he knew that time
could Lever develop any. faults in
her.
‘But,’ said Miss Temple, ‘there is
another reason, and I think I can
be free with, you now; I have
spent so itmcb of iny little irreome,
and aujit has‘no spare money—that
I have no means of defraying nee
essary expenses.’
‘But you have the fortune, left
you by your California uncle, even
if you have not received, if, your
agents will certainly ' an ad
vance.’
‘I have no fortune, dear Charley.
Some "thought ft was mine; but the
fortune to which -you probably al
lude w;Ts left to my cousin, Miss
Tompson Temple, to-whom. I intro
duced you at the Philharmonic.’
Ah,’ it was, indeed ! She is a fa
vored young Indy;; but now much
does she receive ?’
‘Report said five hundred thous
and and liars, bit c.iu.-in Nan lias,
been inforniea by the agent that
there is but ten thousand dollars in
money—the rest in houses and lots
in San Francisco,.valued ninety
thousand dollars.’
‘Ah!. well, really, how 1-hCSe
tilings spread. But to our matter
I guess, Miss Anna, yon-had better
have your own way.’
The hours of that evening drag
ged . heavily along, and cn they
lengthened, Charley Ashton-s man
tier became more formal. He left,
and Anna’s warm heart thought
over the'cook tounnor and the cool
er parting. No sleep came to her
eyes that night. .
‘Can it be ?’ she said to herself a
thousand times; and yet it- must,
for his manner changed almost'from
my telling him of Nannie’s for
tune.’ .- ' ' . , , - •
The next night came, and Char
ley was uo’ti» his. usual [dace, and
the next also. About a week after
.ward, a short note informed Miss
Temple that having lost all his sav
ings in a bad speculation, lie should
not think of holding licit’ to an en
gagement winch would be out of
his ppwer.to consummate in years.
To spy this did not grieve her
would be false, but it did not re
quire ljfm’y days to teach her that
she had not-loved Charley Ashton
as she should the man , she was to
marry.
-Vgai:i our two yotfpg ’men met,
this time u:i Broadway. Charley,
gaily sauntering along, hailed Ned
in the old familiar way:
‘ Vi ell, bid boy, off early to-day.’
‘ I’ve been promoted, 'and am not
obliged to work so late, though I
often do ; I am going riding in the
park ; my head has ached much of
late, and I am more nervous than
formerly.’-
* Shouldn’t work so hard ; don’t
get Any tlianks'fOr it. By the -by,
that fortune of Miss Temple’s turns
out to be all in my eye.’ ■ .
‘How—what’s that?’ was- the
eager reply.
‘ Well, a Miss Somebody Temple
bad about .one hundred thousand
dollars left her, but it wasn’t our
pretty little friend.’
1 But I beard you were attentive,
some said engaged.’ *
‘ There’s no telling what mi«-ht
have been, but for the fool of an
aunfmaking a mistake in names. —
However, it’s all over now. . You
know that I, at least, can’t afford
to marry, if she is a Peri. I know
•you- entertain sonic sort of a foolish
notion that love, etc., will do, but
it’s all bosh. Give me the dimes,
my boy. When poverty comes in
at-the window,- etc., you know.—
Take my advice, and drop all such
foelish ideas.’ . !
Ashton might ns well have .talk
ed to the .!imp-po.st, for all the hear
ing jKed Farnham did. - What he
was thinking of we cannot say, but
h'e did not go to the park that af
ternoon, and the .evening found him
in the little parlor which had so oft
en bben graced by* Charley’s pies
ence. Ere the evening had p*assed,
he explained his long absence, told
her of his better prospects, and of
fered his.heart and hand. She ask
ed three .weeks to consider,' he to
visit her as often as' he pleased.—
After,that time lie was accepted,
and Annie learn what true love was.
Here my story might end, but
there is a*sequel.* Some.mouths af
ter the. engagement, 'Mr. Smith
tapped Ned.on the shoulder, and
motioned him to the private office.
‘ Going to marry my niece?’ said
that gentleman.
i £ I am engaged to Miss Anna
Temple, sir, and. *we expect in a
quiet wa’y to be married, one month
li'orn to day. ButT was not aware
that she was your niece.’
Keith.;-\v.is I until a few days
since. As for your quiet way, ua*
det stand me, sir, the child of my
only sister can be married nowhere
else but in my house. Come, now,
no flinching, I’ve heard all about it.
But she’s poor—poor as Job’s’ tur
key ; and I’ve too many children to
give her more than,a decent wed
ding.’-
Ned did not understand tjie ex
pression on Mr. Smith’s face, but
lie felt a little angered, and replied:
‘ I should never have addressed
her, and I would release her this
moment if I knew she was an heir
ess.’
‘No, you don’t. I know you,
and I know the whole story. You
can go.’
Ned pondered long'over this "sin
gular conversation, but no satisfac
tion came from his own thoughts
or from Anna. She replied b\ r a
smile or a kiss. Notwithstanding
all the urging of her new-found un
cle, Anna refused to leave her aunt
uutil Lite time for the wedding.—
The event came, and the ceremony
was over. Then Mr. Smith called,
the young couple into the library,
and drawing from his safe a strong
iron Lion, said :
“Now, young .man, you’re tied
hard and fast, and I'll tell you that
you’ve got an heiress, aud a rich
one, too. A foolish brother of her
father’s, one who would go to Cali
fornia, took it into his head to die,
not 'eng since, and left such a botch
ed up will that it has taken six
months to got the straight of it.
We were his agents, and 'kept
the matter to ourselves, because jt
was a large sum aud might create
impostors. We soon disposed of
the one hundred -thousand dollars
to Miss Amyi Thompson Temple;'
but the contents of this box, five
hundren thousand dollars, in bonds,
we used more scrutiny in assign
ing, and in the course of our inves
tigation, 1 not only found the right
ful owner pf our trust, but the child
trf my only sis for. Sir, you* arc
worthy’of her, and what is less, her
fortune. The morning papers will
announce you as. a partner, in our
house.”
il&iue Sister Intlsiesace,
Who can measure the influence of
sister in the home of her childhood
and youth. The sweett’purity, .the
devotion to truth, the constancy of
affection and the disinterested love
of a sister, exerts an influence over
Urn boys, incalculable in its results.
Docs the sister know that her seem
ingly rude and careless brother, who
eelighis to tease her at every oppor
tunity; looks upon you as the pride
of his heart, that beneath ail' the
careless vexation and storm of au
thority, there is an undercurrent of
unfaltering affection that would de
fend you from all harm, and to the
last extremity, and avo be to him*
who would offend against you in his
presence.
The boys think they have a birth
right to storm, dictate and govern
all around them, but you can make
them think they do sa while , you
may tell them how to do it.
When days and years' shall have
swept by, through all the storm, and
■sunshine, when passing through
temptations and encountering many
a lowering tempest, ''your sweet
face will thine out and upon
Jiis soul as the face of an angel, and
your voice like the subdued, mel
low tones of the lute will float
through all the chambers of his
.heart waking memories of youth’s
halycion days that will then mas
ter a]l his thoughts and control his
c.utfvard and inner life, the voice of
love calling him from the skies ie
the ways of integrity, truth, and
happiness.
Sincerity is speaking . as \we
think, believing as wo pretend, act*
ing as we profess, performing as
we promise, and being as \ve ap.
pear to be.—
Two little girls, were lately
prattling together, and one of them
said: - “We keep four servants,
have got six horses and lots of car
riages ; now what have you got ?”
With quite as much pride as
the other she answered, “-We’ve
got a skunk under our barn.”
—“See.here, Jim Brown, did
you ever say that my father hadn’t
as much sense as Sam. Smith’s yaller
dog ?” “No, I never said no such
thing. Fsaid that Sain. Smith’s'
yaller dog-had no more sense than
your father ever had —and that’s
every word . I said.” “AYell, it’s
lucky you didn't say the other tiling,
I tell you !”
As. newly wedded couple received
the following congratulatory tele-'
gram: “Congratulations on your
nuptials; may all your troubles be Lit
tle ones/’
Ilai'sh Words.
Harsh words can never die,
Deeply they rest.
In all their rankling power
Down in the breast.
What though one may torgiye,
And all regret be met
With kind response, alas!
Nor.e can forget. , ,
Harsh words will darkly rise
. In happiest hours.
Rank thorrs in memory's path,
• Crashing the flowers.
Rank weeds whose poisonous breath <
Mildew and'blight unfold,
Wasting the heart like death,
Chilling and cold.
Ilarsii words once spoken, stand,
Tear drops that fall
On ocean's foiling waves,
\V.ho can recall ?
So by nnkindness moved,
Deeply (lie heart feel
Wounds, which though pardoned all,
Nothing can heal.
Oh. then'beware, beware.
Weigh well each word,
Lest in some tender breast
Anguish be stirred;
Lest when.’lii?all too late,
Thou wouldst call back again
Harsh words whoso memory
. Mocks thee in vain.
Veiioih oY Toad*.
At file risk of increasing the
young ladys horror of toads, we
venture to repeat the story which a
British paper brings us. It says
that the toad does in reality pos
sess venom capable of killing cer
tain animals and injuring man.
This poison is not, as is generally
thodght, secreted by the mouth; it
is a sort of cutaneous secretion,
which acts powerfully if the skin be
abraded at the time of contact
Dogs which bite toads soon give
bowls of pain. Smaller animals
coming under the influence of the
Venom undergo true norcotic pois
oning, soon followed by convulsions
and death.
Experiments show that the matter
exuding from' tlm parotid region of
the < toad becomes poisonous when
introduced into the tissues. Some
savages in South - America use the
acid fluid of the cutaneous gland#
of the toad for their poisoned arrows.
The venom exists in a somewhat
large quantity on the- toad’s back.
Treated with -either, it dissolves,
leaving a residuum, which contains
a toxic power' sufficiently strong,
even after complete dissection, to
kill a small bird.
l?otas3a for Potatoes.
In a recent address, Dr. Nichols,
of the Journal of Chemistry, alluded
'to the “.detororation in our potato
crop during the past twenty years,”
and made the following explana
tion regarding the causes of this
falling off: I have a field of potatoes
upon my farm which I expect will
yield 300 bushels to the acre, which
may be regarded as an old fashioned
crop. I know that this crop will re
move from the soil, in- tupers and
tops, at least 400 pounds of potash.
I am also certain it will remove 150
pounds of phosphoric acid. Now
these amounts are very large, and
serve to show that the potato plant
is a great consumer of the two sub
stances; and also, it shows that in
order to restore our potato fields to
their former productive condition,
we must supply phosphatic com
pounds and substances holding pot
ash iu large quantities. For six or
eight generations in New England,
our fathers have been .exhausting
soil, by removing these agents in
their potato and other crops, and
we have reached a time when the
vegetables are starving in our fields
f<H - want of their proper food. Our
farmers have found that new land
gives the best crops, and this is due
to the fact that such 'fields afford
the most potash. But-so long .as
ire crop our potatoes .so 'unreason
ably, we cannot resort to new
land, as land is not new .that has
had its potash and phosphatic ele
ments removed by* grazing animals..
Remember that a potato field which
gives but 100 bushels to the acre,
requires at least IGD pounds of pot
ash, but by allowing the tops to
decay upon the field; GO pounds of
thi3 is restored to the soil again/as
that amount is contained in them.
A medium crop of potatoes requires
twice as much phosphoric acid as a
medium crop of wheat, so that in
two years with wheat, the laud is
deprived of no more of the agent
than it loses in one year with pota
toes.
- A public speaker lately tried
to give his hearers a definite idea
of eternity, in the following man
ner : “Why, my friends, after
milHStns and millions of years have
glided into eternity, it will be a
hundred thousand years till break
fast time.”
NO 25.
Gos*ip About A. T. Stew
art.
Speaking of his adaptability for
business, the great merchant prince
said that for many years he had the
utmost distaste for business, so
much so that he disliked the task
even of purchasing articles for his
own personal use, that he hated to
go and buy a pair of gloves. That
Mr. Stewart has managed to over
come this repugnance to trade was
exhibited in the statement, in reply
to a question, that he now employed
twenty-five hundred persons, had
crossed the ocean thirty five times
and had sold upward of $75,000
worth of goods at retail in one day.
Mr. Stewart stated that his ambi,
lion was to make the sales at his up
town store Teach SIOO,OOO per day,
lie keeps busy about five hundred
porters, and has delivered from his
retail store as many as five thou
sand packages in one day. At this
establishment he has eleven hun
dred employes. Mr. Stewart ap
pears to carry the responsibility of
his enormous business with perfect
ease, comprehending much of its
vast details-and miautiie in a most
remarkable manner He is a hearty,
well-preserved man of about seventy
years, and looks as though he might
enjoy the blessings of life for a good
many seasons yet to • come.
Bad Air.
Air, the breath of life, is the first
want of the hugian being, and it is
also the fast. At every pulsation
during life we need this life-sustain
ing clement. Yet one would sup
pose, by the bad ventilation of
houses, chtmdies, aud tlicatfes,
that a man was made to live
without air---at least, that it was a
matter of indifference whether Be
had much or little, or whether it
was good or bad. We read in the
papers- of the death of persons front
suffocation in wells, mines, or by
escaping gas, and we are startled,
wondering why people will, be so
careless; yet thousands of -people
die by inches, or only half live, in
consequence of the impurity of the
air which they breathe. If one is
shut up in a. small room without any
admission of fresh air, air cotained
within the room soon becomes ira.
purer by h iving been breathed over
and over, and very great lassitude
or depression of life and spirits is
the consequence. The blood re
quires to bo revitalized constantly
within the lungs by coming in con*
tact with atmospheric air. Indeed,
that is the whole office of the lungs,
to aerate or revitalized the blood
(which is there met by the atmos
pheric air), and change it from dark
venous blood to brigla scarlet as
- blood, thus preparing it to
carry life to every part and tissue
of the system. In the lungs the
blood loses many of its impurities,
and takes on the life-giving oxy
gen from the air ; and in proportion
as the air is abundant and pure
which we breathe, in propor
lon we have the glow of health and
the enthusiasm of living which
comes from well-vitalized blood.
Greatest Iron Works in thb
World.: —Krurp’s great Iron
Work's, at Es%*u, Germany, cover
nearly eight square miles, and one
and a half miles under cover, 'fhey
furnish.employment for ten thou
sand men, who do their work under
a discipline as strict as that of mil
itary service. Castings weighing
forty tons have been made soverai
times in these works, and ton and
twelve-ton blocks, are overy day
sights. There arc forty-nine ham
mers in the works, of which four
of live are twenty-fivef tons, three or
four fifteen’tons, and a large num
ber five and ten tons. The greatest *
ol all.the hammers is a wonder, and
cost $500,000. Its foundation, is
one hundred feet deep, consisting
of three tires—the first constructed
of solid masonry, the second of the
heaviest and stoutes oaks to be
found in all Germany, and the third
of cylindrical segments of cast iron,
upon which the anvil blocks rest.
The head of the hammer weighs
fifty tons, its face of steel, and in
the making of it, after the steel had
been cast, and while it was molten,
cast iron was poured into it from
the baclv Everything that belongs *
to it is in duplicate and triplicate.
For steam cranes .serve it, and these
are each tested to beat forty-ton
ingots, which are the largest cast.
In 18(50, sixty one thousand tons of
steel were turned out from these
works.— Exchange.
—When is a school-boy like a post
age stamp? When he gets licked
and put in a corner to make him
stick to his letters. *