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TUTTS
~~ PILLS!
! INTRODUCED, 1865.
A TOWIIVER
ii the fruitful source of many diseases, promi
“ nent among which are “
DYSPEPSIA, SICK-HEADACHE, COSTIVENESS,
DYSENTERY, BILIOUS FEVER, AGUE AND FEVER,
JAUNDICE, PILES, RHEUMATISM, KIDNEY COM
plaint, colic, etc.
SYMPTOMS OF
TORPID liver.
boas of Appetite and Nausea, the bowels
costive, buts imetiiuos alternate with
looseness, Pain in the Head, accompanied
with a Dull sensation in tho back part, Pain
In the right side and under the shoulder
blade, fullness after eating, with a
clination to exertion of body or mind, Irri
tability of temper, Low spirits, Loss of
memory, with a feeling of haring neglected
aome duty. General weariness; Dizziness,
Fluttering at the Heart. Dots before the
eyes, Yellow Skin, Headache generally
over the right eye, Hcstlesaness at night
with fitful dreams, highly colored Urine.
IF THESE Y/ABNING3 ARE UNHEEDED,
SERIOUS DISEASES WILL SOON BE DEVELOPED.
TUTT’S PILLS
are especially adapted to such
cases, a single doee effects
such a change of feeling as to
astonish the sufferer.
TUTT’S PILLS
ere compounded from smbstances that ar©
free from any properties that can injure
the most delicate organization. They
Henrcli, Cleanse, Purify, mid invigorate
the entire .System. IJy relieving th“ en
gorged liiver, they cleanse the blood
from poisonous humors, ami thus impart
health and vitality to the hody, causing
the bowels to act naturally, without
which no one can foci well.
A Noted Divine says:
Dr. TUTT:—Dear Sir; For ten years I have been
• martyr to Dyspepsia, Constipation and Piles. Last
Spring tour Pills were recommended to me; I used
them i but with little faith). I ara now a well man,
toavo good appetite, digestion perfect, regular stools,
tiiles gone, and I have gained forty pounds solid flssb.
They are wort h their weight in gold.
Rkv. R. L. SIMPSON, Louisville, Ky,
TUTT’S PILLS.
Their first effect is to Increase the Appetite,
and cause tlie body to Take on F'esli, thus !he
•vstem is nourished, nnd by their Tonic Ac
tion on the Digestive Organs, Regular
(Stools are produced.
DR. J. F. HAYWOOD,
OF NEW YORK, SAYS:-
"Few diseases exist that cannot be relieved by re
storing the Liver to its normal functions, and for
this purpose no remedy bus ever been invented that
hub as hippy an effect am TUTT’S PILLS.”
SOLD EVERYWHERE, PRICE 25 CENTS.
Office 35 Murray (Street, New York.
tr Dr. TUTT’S MANUAL of Valuable Infor
mation and Useful Receipts*’ will be mailed free
on application.
TUTT’S HAIR DYE.'
Gray Hair on Whiskers changed to a Glossy
Black by a single Applicati on of this Dye- It im
parts a Natural Color, acta Instantaneously, and is
as Hmnleer a* spring water. Sold by Druggists, or
sent by express on receipt of sl.
Office, 35 Murray St., New York.
45 Years Beiore the ruhlic.
THE CENUBNE
DR. C. HcLANE’S
CELEBRATED
LIVEE PILLS,
FOR THE CURE OF
Hepatitis, or Liver Complaint,
DYSPEPSIA AND SICK HEADACHE.
Symptoms of a Diseased Liver.
1)AIN in the right side, under the
edge of the l ibs, increases on pres
sure; sometimes the pain is in the left
side; the patient is rarely able to lie
on the left side; sometimes the pain is
felt under the shoulder blade, and it
frequently extends to the top of the
shoulder, and is sometimes mistaken
for rheumatism in the arm. The
stomach is affected with loss of appe
tite and sickness; the bowels in gen
eral are costive, sometimes alternative
with lax; the head is troubled with
pain, accompanied with a dull, heavy
sensation in the back part. There is
generally a considerable loss of mem
ory, accompanied with a painful sen
rvion of having left undone some
ruing which ought to have been done.
A slight, dry cough is sometimes an
attendant. The patient complains of
weariness and debility; be is easily
startled, his feet are cold or burning,
and he complains of a prickly sensa
tion of the skin; his spirits are low;
and although he is satisfied that exer
cise would be beneficial to him, ye.
he can scarcely summon up fortitude
enough to try it. In fact, he distrusts
every remedy. Several of the above
symptoms attend the disease, but cases
have occurred where few of them ex
isted, yet examination of the body,
after death, has shown the liver to
have been extensively deranged.
AGUE AND FEVER.
Dr. C. McLaxe’s Liver Pills, in
cases of Ague and Fever, when
taken with Quinine, are productive of
the most happy results. No better
cathartic can be used, preparatory to,
or after taking Quinine. We would
advise all who are afflicted with this
disease to give them a fair trial.
I 1 or all bilious derangements, and as
a simple purgative, they are unequaled.
beware of imitations.
The genuine nre never sugar coated,
livery box has a red wax seal on the lid,
with the impression Dr. McLank’s Liver
Pills.
The genuine Mel.axe’s Live* Pii.ls bear
the signatures of C. McLane and Fleming
I'R’iS. on the wrappers.
Insist upon having the genuine Dr. C.
McLane’s Liver Pills, prepared by Flem
ing Pros., of Pittsburgh, Pa., the market being
Full of imi tat ions of the name JUclj(in€ 9
B pelled differently but same pronunciation.
DR. RICE,
37 Court Place, LOUISVILLE, KY.|
*
“"•<lu. ccs.ful, ,tfn practice “ill prone. Curee aliform
* prWele, Chronic end eeiueldUeecen, gnermaior*
**• and Impoteucy.
•*’ ’ m touUj. sexual x exoesse* ia ® aturer y*-° r
nd producing some efthe foßowii'g v >m-
Seminal Emissions, Dimncsa cf Sight,
Physical Decay, Pimple* on Face, Arermon tvo
"k'gXSZ
P CoMulUtioa free and invited, charge* ;eaavu*
•** uerreajwndenc* strictly confidential.
„ A PRIVATE COUNSELOR
Of pagan, *eut to anv addre**, teenrely **ald. tor thirty
2l> eita. Should U, read bv aU. Address as
hour* Crv4V A, JS. to? P. M. Spd*.*^ 4P * ■*
THE DAWSON JOURNAL.
BY J. I). HOYL & CO.
BESIEGED-
I was sixteen years old the first fall
eV |-D r ’ to tra l ) leaver. It was in
that year that I met with
the following adventure :
I had been looking forward to a jaunt
for beaver all summer. The fall be
fore, while trapping mink, on what was
called \\ ild Stream, 1 had discovered
a little lake, deep back in the woods,
with a beaver dam at the outlet which
ran down a thickly-wooded hollow.
It was late one bitter, cloudy after
noon when I found the lake. I had six
miles to go to get to my camp, and
merely had time to notice that there
were two beater houses a hundred yards
or so above the dam. That night it be
gan to snow, and 1 went home without
revisiting the place that fall.
But I had kept the locality well in
mind, and as soon as the crops were
harvested, I set off with my traps up
Wild Stream, determined to have those
beaver.
Following up the hollow about four
or five miles, I built a camp about two
miles below the outlet of the lake ; not
daring to build it nearer, for fear the
smell of my fire might reach the beav
er. There I passed the night, and
about ten o’clock next forenoon went
up to the dam with my traps.
It was a nice little lake, surrounded
with black growth, and right across the
outlet the beaver had run as pretty a
dam as ever hunters set eyes on. It was
“crowning” up stream, and a few rods
above it were three huts, which stood
up out of the slack water as large as a
good-sized haycocks
I concluded there might be from fif
teen to twenty beaver there, for they
generally live in families of from four
to ten. And besides the three perfect
houses, there was a fourth, which I at
first took for an unfinished house. But
on going around to the other side, it
looked to me more like a hut that had
been broken into, for there was a rag
ged hole in the top of it as large as a
bushel basket.
I looked all along the shore to see
whether there were any tracks either
of man or creature, but discovered
nothing except some scratches on an
old log that lay partly in the water.
These scratches, however, were evident
ly the marks of claws.
There were no beavers in sight, for
it is rare that they show themselves,
either ashore or swimming, by daylight
But I could hear one “slap” the water
now and then inside the houses.
I thought that I would set my traps
at first along the hank at each end of
the dam, I saw they had slides
and playgrounds. Afterwards, I would
dig out a canoe, or make a raft, and
put down traps around the houses, at
the doorways where they come out un
der water.
The huts stood out ninety or one
hundred feet from the shore, where
there was considerable depth of water.
There was a great quantity of sticks
with the bark peeled off, floating about
in the pond. These came from some
poplars a little above, several of which
the beavers had felled into the pond
The hitter inside bark of the poplar af
fords to the beaver its choicest food.
I set my traps with a “sliding-pole,”
taking a great deal of pains with them,
so as to get the beavers into just water
enough to drown them. It was a rath
er nice job and kept me busy until near
four o’clock, and four o’clock does not
come till near night in October.
By the time I got hack to my camp,
it was sunset. I kindled a fire, and cut
off a few slices of my pork, and had
just got it well to cooking in the spid
er, when I heard the most startling
screech in the woods that can well be
imagined.
It sounded away up towards the lake.
I knew very well that no lynx or bear
could make such a noise as that. It
flashed on my mind in a moment what
had broken the beaver-house.
One is always liable to run across a
Felis concolor near a beaver village at
that season of the year. The beavers
now and then afford them a choice meal,
and before the frost seals the ponds and
hardens the walls of the huts, they stand
a chance of capturing the intelligent
creatures.
One of the old “wood sachems” was,
no doubt, lurking about the huts, and
likely enough, had been watching me
while I set my traps. Now he had ta
ken my track, and was following along
after me. I had heard old hunters tell
how these creatures would follow a man
around —till dark.
If I had had a tight camp which I
could have got into, I should have felt
better. But I had only a little bough
shed. And my gun was a cheap four
dollar fowling-p'ece, good enough for
partridge and small game, though the
DAWSON. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MAY 1, 1879.
lock was not always to be relied upon
to snap a cap.
I thought it all over—pretty—fast
and concluded that the best thing for
me was to be going.
I had made my bough-slied close be
side the brook. Without stopping to
even take off my spider, I caught up
my gun and ran down the bed of the
brook, six or eight rods, so as to leave
no fresh tracks for the beast to take.
I may as well own that I was scared.
Yet I thought the creature would like
ly enough smell the pork and prowl
around my camp awhile
1 ran rapidly for the first mile or two,
then settled down into a dog-trot. I
had gone about a mile or a mile and a
half more, I should think, when I heard
that same ugly, raspy screech again, not
half a mile back.
That made iffy heart jump, for I had
begun to think that I had given the old
fellow the slip. If I didn’t run then,
never a fellow did! —over logs, rocks,
and through windfalls and brambles.
I knew it was a race for life, and I
ran like a fox. But in less than three
minutes I heard the animal again, and
it seemed as if he wasn’t a hundred
rods behind me.
I was hot enough with running, hut
that screech sent a cold chill down my
hack. The beast was coming right up
to me!
It was an awful place to run in—all
logs and roots. Forest fires had killed
the old pine growth, and the trees had
fallen across eaeh other, every way.
It was getting dusk, too. In one of
my tumbles I came near going head
foremost into a great hollow log, and
lay for an instant breathless.
But a crashing in the bushes not far
behind told me that my relentless pur
suer was close at hand. It was no
time for picking out nice hiding-places.
The hole in the log seemed to offer a
refuge, and I threw in my gun, and
then backed into it myself, feet first.
I kept hacking till I was far as I
could get, and there I lay and panted.
I bad got back ten or twelve feet.
For some minutes, I could hear noth
ing of the panther. Then I heard him
moving about with soft, catlike steps.
A moment after, the bole at the end
of the log darkened, and I caught a
glimpse of two fiery orbs, that gleam
ed with a pale flash.
In my frantic haste, I had thrust
my gun into the log muzzle foremost.
It was useless, I could not turn it
in there, yet I held the butt ready to
thrust with. The creature, however,
did not attempt to crawl in After
an eager look, the eyes disappeared,
and a little after, I heard the beast
at the other end.
Then I heard him smelling along
the outside of the log. When he got
his nose just off against where I lay
inside, the animal gave vent to a quick
growl, and began to dig!
It made me shiver to hear him put
his nails into that log! I expected
nothing but he would have it open
and claw' me out.
But I suppose the outside of the
log was tolerably sound and tough;
for after digging like a fury for a few
seconds, he stopped, and then Isaw r
the pale gleam of eyes at the hole
again. .
I halloed and yelled at him. But
the eyes continued to regard me
steadily, and they seemed to grow
larger and larger there in the dark.
Then it went back to the other end,
and pretty soon began to dig once
more. I could hear the splinters tear
off. How long it would take the
creature to get through the log, I
could only guess, but I got out my
knife and opened it.
The animal kept digging at the log
for a long time, first at one end and
then at the other, but never once
tried to crawl in. It was lucky for me
that this was a tolerably sound log.
Then he changed his tactics. He left
off tearing at the log, and I rather
thought he had gone away. But as it
was very dark, I concluded to stay where
I was till daylight.
It was not a very uncomfortable po
sition. But there were plenty of great
black ants that kept running over me,
and now and then I got a bite, sharp as
a needle. My fright wore away, and
being very much exhausted with my
run, I fell asleep several times. But it
was a tedious night at best.
After it was light, I determined to
venture out. But first I though it would
be well to try an experiment.
So I put my cap on the butt of the
gun and stuck that out, and moved it
around a little. I was just going to
draw it back, when, pounce ! came the
creature and graobed off the cap, its
ugly claws scratching on the gun butt
That made my heart jump. The sly
brute had been lying in wait all the
while, watching for me. He played
around for a few minutes, hut after that
I heard nothing more of him for the
day.
Yet I dared not come out, and I
passed some hungry hours. I had al
ready been twenty-four hours without
a mouthful of food.
Just at night I thrust out my cap
again.
The animal did not spring at it, yet
I was still afraid to crawl forth after
the example I had had of its slyness.
The night that followed was, without
any exception, the most uncomfortable
twelve hours I ever passed. I was
faint with hunger, and from lying so
long stretched out, it seen? id as if I was
coming in two in the middle. I ached
all over, and was in a fever from thirst.
Towards morning it began to rain. I
reached my hand out, and sucked off
the drops that fell on it. As soon as
it had grown fairly light, I poked out
my head and took a quick glance right
and left. Not seeing anything of the
panther, I crawled out and tried to
jump up as quickly as I could, for I
was still afraid that the animal might
spring upon me from behind. But I
was so stiff and cramped that it was
some moments before I could get up
straight.
I then started down stream for home,
and went as fast as I could, for I was
afraid that the animal might still he
hanging around, at no great distance.
The folks said I was a comical, not
to say pitiful, object, when I reached
home, bareheaded, covered with wood
stains, and my clothes torn to strings.
I did not go up there beaver-hunting
again that fall.
Ito.ssuiu the Beau.
A correspondent of the Inter-Ocean,
at Washington, writes for the name of
the author of the popu’ar song, “Rosin
the Bow.” Last week we published
letters from two different sources, each
claiming a different author. A corres
pondent sends a letter from Colonel
W. 11. Sparks, who not only claims tho
authorship of the now famous song, but
as will be seen, gives the original ‘Ros
suin the Beau.’ Mr. Sparks says that
in 1826, he located in Mississippi, and
began practicing law. After speaking
of his neighbors, he says: ‘Among these
were two equally remarkable hut very
unlike. One was a schoolmaster, who
was quite old, and had been teaching
in that neighborhood over forty years.
His name was James Rossum. He was
peculiar in his habits. On Monday
morning, neatly dressed and cleanly
shaven, he went to Vis duties in the old
schoolhouse, where two thirds of his life
had been spent, and assiduously devot
ed himself to the duties of his vocation
until Friday evening. On the morning
of Saturday, he arrayed himself in his
best, arid devoted himself to visiting
the ladies ef the neighborhood. He
was a welcome guest at every house.—
This habit had continued so long that
he had acquired the sobriquet of ‘Ros
sum the Beau.’ The other’s name was
Cox, wao was a rollicking good fellow,
and the best vocalist I ever knew. He
was in song, what Preutiss was in ora
tory, and they were boon companions.
Both died young. Cox was frequently
at my office, and upon one occasion
when he was there Rossum walked by
the door, and his age was apparent in
walk. Cox looked at him, and after a
pause, turned to me and remarked in
quite a feeling tone, which lie could as
surae at pleasure, and its eloquence was
indescribable: ‘Poor old Rossum!
someone of these sunny mornings he
will have a noble funeral, and all the
ladies will honor it by being present, I
know.’ Soon after he left the office and
being in the humor, 1 seized the ideas
and wrote the lines. Soon after Cox
returned, and I handed them to him.
He got up, walked, and hummed differ
ent airs, until he fell upon the old
Methodist hymn tune in which they
have ever since been sung. Here is the
first verse:
“ ‘Now, soon on some soft snnny morning.
The ti r st thii.g my neighbors know.
Their ars shall be met with the warning—
Come bury old Rossum the beau.’ n
—Christian Index.
A short time ago a little boy went
with his father to see a colt, lie pat
ted the colt’s head and made quite a
fuss over it, until finally the stableman
told him to be careful that the colt
did not turn round and kick him. When
the little chap went home, his mother
asked him what he thought about the
colt I like him pretty well, was the
reply; “he’s real tame in front, but
he’s awful wild behind.’
Nothing does a doctor so much
good as to prescribe an ocean voyage
for a sick man who can’t raise enough
mtney to pay bis street oar fare dowD
town.
TOOMBS ON THE TOPIC.
He is in Favor of Slinging a Beltful of
Pistols.
We met General Toombs at the
Kimball house last night, and he tack
led us on the question of carrying con
cealed weapons.
“What in the li—l are you all making
such a fuss about carrying concealed
weapons fori” says the general.
“Well, general, it is to keep people
from killing ono another,” we re
plied.
“Yes,” says he, “it will have just
the opposite effect. Everybody is ex
pected to lay aside his pistol, and the
first thing you know some d—n coward
who regards neither law nor honr r, will
shoot you in the back. It is all wrong,
sir! A man ought to carry arms when
lie thinks his life is in danger. It is
not wrong for him to do so, and so far
as I am concerned, I will do it whenev
er I want to defend myself.
“My life is worth more than all the
sentiment you can put into such a ques
tion as that. I consider the right of
self-defense irrevocable, and when I
have the right of self-defense, I can
use anything I can get or find that will
be available. I Lear some fools talk
about abolishing pistols, putting them
under restriction like you do prisoners.
I hold that a man has the right to use
poison to defend himself. Suppose a
man had a vial of vitriol in his hand,
and was attacked by someone in such
a manner as to excite the fears of a
reasonable man that he would kill him,
don’t you think he would be justified in
using his vitriol by throwing it into his
assailiant’s eyes? The tru‘h is, the way
to protect human life is to let every
man who is the aggressor know that
the man he attacks is able to defend
himself, and it will prevent difficulties.
They say nobody but a coward will car
ry weapons. That’s a lie I know
plenty of men who carry them, and
know they are not cowards. It is gen
erally the cowards who want you to lay
them aside, so as to give them an ad
vantage over you.”
“You think then, general, that a man
ought to have a right to carry a pistol
any way he wants to ?”
“Certainly I do; and it is better for
all parties. A man sends you word
that he is going to whip you. He is a
larger man than you are. Are you to
sit down and quietly wait for him to do
it ? The Bible don’t teach a.iy such
doctrine as that. Suppose this man
comes upon you and finds just before he
gets to you that you have a derringer
in your pocket. Nine chances to one
he will come up smiling with a proposi
tion to bury the hatchet. I haven’t
any confidence in these men who send
you word ahead ot a fight, anyhow. My
plan has always been to take them at
their word and he ready for them. They
would generally find that out and come
up smiling.’
The general turned to go up to his
room and as he walked up stairs, he
added that he had more to say on this
subject and would give his views in full
on it. “You know.” he said, laughing
ly. “I am not afraid to say what I
think on that or any other subject, the
newspapers with their, little shirt-tail
full of type to the contrary, notwith
standing.’’—Atlanta Constitution.
Negroes l>rown!<l in Dry Creek.
Last Sunday six negroes —four men
and tw o women—attempted to cross
Dry Creek in a batteau. Parties on
the bank tried to dissuade them
from the undertaking because the
boat was too heavily loaded, but to
no avail. The one guiding the boat
said that he “was choking that cat,”
as he shoved out into the stream.
The consequence was the boat cap
sized, and two of the men and the
two women found watery graves. At
this writing their bodies have not
been recovered. It was a fearful
sight, there being many negroes on
the banks mingling their cries with
the shrieks of the drowning, but
could not give them no help what
ever.
Dry Creek is a fatal place. It is a
kind of valley that begins in Worth
county and runs through Mitchell and
a portion of this to too Flint river,
two miles aboveß.iii.bridge- It nev
er lias a drop of water within its vale
except in times of unusual floods and
freshets, then it becomes a foaming
and boiling river, rushing through
the pine woods at a fearful rate.
Five years ago this creek was full,
at which time a youth of this city was
drowned in attempting to cross it
I with a horse and buggy. In fact ev-
I erytime it has held water some life or
lives have been destroyed.
VOL. 15-NO 8.
A BLOODY DEED IN VICKS
BUBG.
Murder of a Young Steamboat Clerk m
a Low Musie Hall.
Vicksburg, Miss., April 20-—The
Alhambra, a low music hall, was last
night the scene of one of the most cruel
and outrageous murders that ever oc
curred in this city. At one o’clock
Sunday morning, a nuber of persons of
both sexes were regailing themselves in
the wine room of the above named es
tablishment. Among those present
were Jack Burton, Captain of the
Night Police; John Bent and Joe Dent,
steamboat clerks. Burton, a man of
herculean proportions and great courage,
is, when sober, a good natured fellew,
but when intoxicated is apt to be quar
relsome, and is disposed to play roogh
practical jokes at the expense of his
friends. On the night of the killing
his humor took the playful turn of
knocking off the hats of all who came
within reach of his cane. Among oth
ers thus treated was Joe Dent, but, un
fortunately, Burton’s cane glanced and
struck Joe in the eye. John Dent, his
younger brother, a boy in years and
stature, seeing what had occurred, rose
from his chair and said to Burton : ‘See
here, Jack, you’re getting too rough
If this thing does not stop somebody
will get hurt.” Burton replied: ‘lf
you don’t like it let her jump,” and he
reached for his pistol. At this juncture
some of the bystanders a‘tempted to in
terfere, but without effoct. One of the
actiesses, in her effort to interfere, was
pushed aside by Burton so violently
that she fell t> the floor. Burton drew
his pistol and fired twice. John Dent
was struck in the kee and fell. Com
inins, a door-keeper, was struck in the
hip, and fell also, and as he arose he
saw John Dent rise also. Burton then
deliberately took aim at John Dent and
fired, and Dent fell dead with a ball in
his temple. There is no direct testimo
ny that John Dent was armed or made
any threatening demonstration. The
witnesses all agree that they saw a pis
tol flash from the direction whv.ro John
Djnt stood, but the evidence is almost
conclusive that it was not in his hands.
Burton was shot in the shoulder-blade,
but the evidence did not disclose who
fired the shot. Public scutiment is at
fever heat. Dent is the fourth man
who has been killed here within six
weeks. He had barely crossed the
thresho’d of manhood, and was general
ly popular. Burton is a giant in sta
ture, and, physically, a match for ha f
a dozeu men like the Dents.
What is in the Bedroom.
If two persons are to occupy a bed
room during a night, let them step up
on weighing scales as they retire and
then again in the morning, and they
will find their actual weight is at least
ajpound less in the morning. Frequent
ly there will be a loss of two or more
pounds, and the average loss through
out the year will be more than one
pound—that is, during the night there
is a loss of a pound of matter which has
gone off from their bodies, partly from
the lungs and partly through the pores
of the skin. The escaped material is
cabronic acid, and decayed animal mat
ter or poisonous exhalations. This is
diffused through the air in part and in
part absorbed by the bed clothes. If a
single ounce of wool or cotton be burned
in a room, it will so completely satur
ate the air with smoke that one can
hardly breathe though there can only
be an ounce of foreign matter in the
air. If an ounce of cotton be burned
every half hour during the night, the
air will be kept continually saturated
with the smoke unless there be an open
door or window for it to escape. Now
i lie sixteen ounces of smoke thus formed
is far less poisonous than the sixteen
ounces of exhalations from the lungs
and bodies of the two persons who have
lost a pound in weight during the eight
hours of sleeping, for while the dry
smoke is mainly taken into the lungs
the damp odors from the body are ab
sorlcl into the lungs and into the pores
of the whole body. Need more be said
to show the importance of having bed
rooms well ventilated and thoroughly
airing the sheets, coverlets and mat*
tresses in the morning, before pa king
them up in the form of a neatly made
bed ?
To Restore Alpaca and Merino.
Sporg- the right side with clear
cold coffee, winch has been strained
through a piece of black calico or
muslin (a bit of black 11 uslin is better
than a sponge to dampen with) and
iron wi h a hot iron immodi iteiy on
the wrong side: it will ‘look as good
as new.’’ —Boston Journal of Chemis
try.
AN ACTOR PREACHER.
Queer Mingling of Sublime and Gas
tronomic.
Jonathan Ilaskell is called the actor
preacher. He is a revivalist waken
ing up the small towns in Illinois. Ho
is now at Sublette, and the church ac
commodations will not hold the people
who want to hear him and be saved.
The heathen of the tewn and adjoining
country do not know what "to make of
it. He just collars the people's wills
and drags them up to the front. Has
kell is peculiar in his evangelical meth
ods. He must have been very hungry
—nearly starved—the other day when
he uttered the following invocation,
which is rather a threat than a prayer.
“Lord warm up the hearts of the
people of this God forsaken place, to
send up something to eat to the parson
age. Chickens, Lord, eggs, honey,
flour, sugar, coffee, potatoes, ham, air
most anything eatable, Lord, for we
are hungry, and don’t forget to have
them send some pickles, Lord. Amen,
Sing: ‘We’ll stand the storm, we’ll
anchor by and by.’ Take up a collec
tion. Thanks I Now you can go home,
if you want to.” •
And this man is said to be able to
convert sinners by his air of familiarity
with the powers above, to bully the peo
ple into giving him something good to
eat—even specifying the delicacies that
will best tickle his palate and agree
with his stomach. He is a beggar for
bread, evidently, but he begs eggs, hon
ey, sugar and coffee, and pickles, chick
ens, too. A 1 these dainties he asks of
te L r and then passes around the
hat among the people for an immediate
answer to his prayer for pottage. His
words sound like those of a religious
tramp —too cowardly to steal ought
right or beg like a man. Any other
kind of a tramp who should call a meet
ing and talk in that way before the
people would be certain to get eggs at
least. But the actor preacher puts it
on other and safer grounds.
A Cake Dodge.
There is a man with a cake doing a
thriving business in Michigan. The
papers throughout the State are expos
in<r him and in a short time, no doubt
lie will be compelled to seek pastures
new. He comes in town to start a bak
ery .and brings a sample of his work
along in the shape of a large and ele
gantly frosted cake. Some hitch takes
place about the lease of the bake shop,
and he concludes to raffle off the cake.
The raffle takes place: the splendid
cake is won and perhaps kept on exhi
bition for a day or two. Then it is
cut up, or a party is arranged to assist
in its consumption. . When they at
tempt to cut up the cake then comes
the fun. They find it is made of wood,
tastefully trosted. In olden times they
asked for bread and were given a stone;
but in this State they asked for cake
and were given wood. This cake dodge
has been successfully played in many
of the Michigan towns and will proba
bly be tried in others, but now that tli3
papers have taken up the swindle, our
cake man will no doubt s'.rike for some
other State. Look out for him. Fix it
so that his cake will be dough, instead
of wood.
l)r. Carver, at a recent exhibition in
England, placing ten glass ball on the
ground, fired a bullet into the turf im
mediately beneath. The missile tear
ing up the soil, thew the balls into the
air, and they were broken as they rose.
The Doctor’s greatest feat was per
formed for a wager of one hundred
pounds sterling that he would hit an
apple upon the end of a knife held by
his colored attendant riding on horse
hack at full gallop at a distance of thir
ty yards. A large apple was procured
and stuck on the end of a pruning knife.
The negro mounted a horse and held the
target with his left hand as far as possi
ble behind his body. Tue start was
made about one hundred yards away,
and when the rider came within range,
riding at a furious gallop, the Doctor
fired. The first attempt was a failure,
and odds of ten pounds to two pounds
were bet against Carver. The second
time he struck the apple, knocking it
into half a dozen pieces.
A young girl named Susan Johnson
of UniontowD, Ky., who is addicted to
reading novels, dressed herself ill boy’s
clolhes, and armed with two pistols and
a dagger, took the steamboat for Ev
ansville, intending to lead a life that
would be a terror to the foe. Ou the
boat some deck hands were moving
freight, and a big rat ran out in the di
rection of our hero. Miss Johnson
jumped on a bale of tobacco and scream
ed. They carried her to the ladies
cabin, where she remained during the
round trip, and she is now at home, with
no desire for a life of adventure.
- -
‘ .Vbere a woman,” sh>s M’*. Part
ington, “has been mariied with a con
gealing heart, and one that tieats de
sponding to her own, he will never
want to enter the maritime *;#
I tig ii .
** * *