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SANDERSVILLE, GA., FEBRUARY 15, 1881.
NO. 46.
NOTICE.
|j$“ All communication* intended tor this
paper must be aoootnpankd with the loll
name oi the writer, not neoeeearily for pnbli*
cation, but aa a guarantee of good faith.
Music.
tiolins,
accordeons,
BOWS,
STRINGS,
Machine Needles,
OIL and SHUTTLES
for all kind* ol Machines, for tale. 1 will
ftbo order parts ol Maohinoa that get
broke, ami now piooos
arc wantod*
A Her the Feast.
The bolls chime soltly in the gloom;
The guests aro gone; the Are is low;
1 wait within the eohoing room
To greot mine own bciore 1 go.
Mino own ior whom, beside the board,
To-day no empty chair was set;
For whom the silent pledge was poured
While trembling Gars the eyelids wet,
No foot-tall echoes on the stair,
No shadow tails across the light,
No whispor fills the happy air
With the lost rnnsio ol dollght;
Yet all my restless thoughts are stilled,
And, waiting by tbo hearth alone,
My longing heart is warned and filled
With the dear presence ol its own.
Beloved laces, faintly set
In halos oi my tenderst thdbght,
Immortal oj os, whoso radianoe yet
With yearning human love is Iraught,
Dear lips whoso kissos, sweet and slow,
Drop, like a Imlm, on mortal pain,
Dear hands whoso every touch I know,
Yet may not hope to clasp again.
I know not to what dearer height,
In thnt gwoot heaven, thoir thought has
grown,
Or what now fountains ol delight,
Untaatcd hero, thoir souls have known;
But since through changing years 1 keep
Thoir precious memoiy green and lair,
i cannot deem that lovo oan sloop,
Or coase its tender vigils there.
Oh, unlorgelting souls, that swoll
The swilt, exulting host abovo,
Where lace to laoo with Him ye dwell
Whose endless years ore endless love,
To-night, by somo celestial air,
Tito cioudy curtain wide is blown;
Guests ol my heart, bnt grown more lair,
1 seo you, greot you, claim mine own!
—Emily Huntington Miller.
SUSIE’S LOVER.
Ho was only a rongli tar, but ho had a
heap of gold. Pirhaps ah the dangers
that Dick Turner had seen on the great
deep had had thoir influence upon him;
but. certainly, for pinglo-hearted earnest
ness o f character, I never met his equal.
lie had returned from a long voyage,
and the Lope of many years was to be
lulllHid, lor the girl lie had courted so
long a ns to bo his at last.
Susie Willis was a rustic coquette.
Many qualms of jenlonsy had she occa
sioned her lover; many a miserable
in ur had he spent on her account. But
it last she had not only promised to be
>is—she had done that often enough be
fore—but the day had been fixed and
mother week would see Lima happy
man.
Ho tried to still the old feelings ol
jealousy and doubt as ho watched his
sweetheart, and noted the glances she
still often bestowed upon other men.
He, who had no thought but for her,
■v.is moved with wonder to see how
avishly she could bestow smiles and
words of cordiality upon all tho world’
“ Rut it’s aye the way ol the lassios,”
he thought. “ She’ll settle .down to it
when once we’re married.”
He could have wished her to show
more interest in his adventures, in tho
yarns he was so iond of spinning for the
amusement of the village gossips; but
Susie would at any timo rather walk oil'
with one of her younger companions, or
inin In the dance on the green, while
Dick looked on with hungry eyes, long
ing for one of the quips and jokes which
she bestowed so freely upon others.
Still, she had premised to marry him.
Her modest stock of clothes was ready,
iht- banns had been called, and in less
than eight days now she would bo his
wile. Dick was thinking of all this as
he sat in the evening light and smoked
his pipe, and indulged himself the while
in sweet visions of what was to be.
He pictured his home, with Susie as
his wite; in imagination ne saw her
moving round in the two small rooms
which he had prepared with so much
care. His thoughts went further; he
saw himself, at some future time, re
turning from his voyage, to be welcomed
iiy a loving wife and by little children,
who would clan her on his knee and
never tire of the longest yam that he
might spin.
His imagination grew so vivid that
ho rose mechanically to knock the ashes
from his pipe and to stretch himself in
sailor lashion. Then he looked around
for Susie.
W hen he commenced his reverie she
had been one of a group of girls who
had been merrily discussing some detail
of the coming wedding, but now his eye
sought vainly for her. The girls were
still gossiping, and he crossed the little
path between his homo nud the village
green, and asked in his awkward fash
ion where Susie had gone.
The girls laughed.
“Ah, Dick,’’ said one of them, “can’t
yer lose sight of her for a moment P
Suro, then, and you’ll have enough of
her after the eighth. Let her bide; let
tier have a good time while she may !
“Well, well.” said Dick, in his slow
a ay, holding his pipe at arm’s-length;
“but where be she P”
“She just went off with Joe Miller to
see his mother, and buy some ribbon for
her hat,” said the same girl, with a sort
ol hesitation in her tone which did not
escape Dick'j notice.
“ I'll go ana meet her, said he; and,
suiting the aetlon to the word, he started
down the steep village street and took
his way to tne outlying farms beyond,
and acro-s me fields to the neighboring
town oWJplon, the favorite resort of
the village girls for the purchase of
fla Joe'Miller was an old rival. He made
a. striking contrast to Dick, who, in his
sailor gam,always felt at a disadvantage
mtn tue spruui, trim shopman, whose
tongue was no glib as his own was un-
rcaay, 108, excepting in matters relating
to seataring experience, Dick was not
Susie Had move than once shown ap
preciation oi Jce’s wit and persuasive
speeches, .and had encouraged
great deal more than her lover had[con
sidered fitting. Words had already
passed between them on the subject,
but now that Susie was so nearly ms.
Dick had persistently lulled his jealousy
to rest. So now, as he hurricdalong,
his thoughts dwelt more on the Joys
that awaited him than upon any un
We are in no way responsible for tha view*
at opinions of aonoopoedents.
lnjregirls. 1 offerlHg att0ntioD8 to the vil
W , 7 , 1 a k i? d ra Didly along. The mel-
InYtJi 1 ^! 11 of a summ or’s evening in-
vested the surrouuding cnnntrv with a
charm whoso sweetness Dick felt al-
Source 1 ^ °° U d “ 0t llaVC re °oirnized it*
r»r ncar ‘y ranched the outskirts
& rn i ng down i a i*™
which would take him by a shorter cut
WM.li,S r i Whcre the araperer’s shop
was situated, he saw two figures in ad
vance of him which he instantly recoe-
we™ . a ?u< Su8ie and Joe Mil ™ y The*y
IZt t a i k . ®E““t!y, and .as his rapid
n,nl k r bn J Ug “ t hlm nearer, he could see
thnt Joe s arm was round Susie’s waist,
hi* of ) ea| ousy shot through
his mmd, but lie repelled it ns it rose
nrpuing to himself the long friendship
^ ' C1 i' ad existed between the two,
r„.i?i lad 6 rown up as ^ and girl Uy-
go.her. He went on. As a sudden an-
gle in the lane hid them from his sight,
ho qulcltened his steps, and with a sud-
denness which completely overcame him
I 1 ' 1 ®*™® 0 for Susie lelt him, for, os he
turned the sharp corn >r, he saw her, no
longer walking by Joe’s side, but folded
ill arm ®- H,er bead was on his
shoulder and her hands clasped tightly
around his neck. Too pair were so
deeply engrossed in each other that they
never heard Dick’s factateps or reeog-
nir.ed his approach, until the deep groan
that burst from his lips startled them.
'hey separated instantly, and Susie
as she sa w him, shrank back against the
hedge, while every vestige of color faded
from her face; she looked ns though she
would^hnve fallen. Only for a moment,
The blow poor Dick had received had
been so sudden, bo unexpected, that his
powers of speech had perfectly deserted
hmi. He could find no words, eithei of
anger or reproach. He stood like one
s nnnei. Then, as Susie, recovering her
wonted spirit, camo up to him and said,
with her old coquettish laugh, “ Only n
ant farewell 1 Dick, I-’’ Be gave onn
looka.t her; a great sob, in spite of all
his effort nt self-control, burst from
him, and, involuntarily putting out both
his hands as though to ward on her ap
proach, he said but one word, nnd turn
ing Bis back upon them took his way
homeward.
pleasant reminiscence. .
Joe Miller was employed ini the most
pretentious draper s shop in u Pj°“*
his occupation gave him many oppor
The word lie uttered, Bcnrcoly know
ing himself that ho did so, was
“Good-bye!”
As be pursued his way mechanically
his rapid gait increased almost to a run;
carried away by the great agony he was
enduring, he involuntarily sought relief
in action.
Only for a whilo. As he left tho town
behind him and reached the more soli-
tHrv path across the fields ho staggered
in his walk, and as a hasty glance round
satisfied him of perfect solitude he flung
himself down on tho grassland upon the
besom of mother cartii shed tears which
his manhood would have denied him
elsewhere.
Hours passed. The force of the shock
he Bad received was so grent that, when
at last he attempted to rise and collect
his thoughts, ho could not recall the
actual time at which ho had received it.
He pulled out his great, old-fashioned
silver watch, and could scarcely credit
the .evidence of Bis sight as he found
that it was nearly eleven o’clock.
He tried to think. Little by little the
sceno came back to him; more than that,
the recollection of the thoughts that lmd
tilled, his mind in his walk haunted him
ns well. With tho dream of Susie and
the little ones which had tilled his brain
enme the horiid remembrance of the
man in whose arms he had seen her.
Never in all the years that he had
c< >prted her and her white arms been
round his neck; never in her life had
her head rested upon his shoulder in
the utter abandonment that, he had
witnessed.
Curse her!—yes, curse her!—the jade,
tho jilt, faithless, wretched woman that
she was I Andos for the man, for him
no curse could be deep enough, no
anathema sufficiently stern.
The blood boiled and surged in bis
brain. Murderous thoughts entered his
mind. He saw himself wrestling with
Joe, belaboring him, killing him! Yes,
that was it—killing him!
Of course, that was the only thing to
do. Put the wretch out of the way;
kill him—ay, kill him! He repeated it
aloud again and ngain. But not all at
once. Oh, no! Let him suffer slow
torture; let him taste all the horrors of
death: let him be punished as he de
served.
His thoughts began to take shape. He
saw himself waiting an opportunity to
waylay Joe; he clinched his fist, and
reveled in the thought. He gloated over
it. He half rose, and, beating the
ground with his fist, was about to take
a solemn o All never to rest till Joe was
put away—never to give up his ven
geance, never to forgivo or forget that
injury, when upon tho stillness of the
night breeze came the sound of the vil
lage church clock as it chimed the
hour.
The first stroke arrested hi3 attention.
It came with such weird distinctness on
the air that he paused to listen.
One, two. Ho drew a long breath;
then involuntarily he began to count.
Like a child he went on till ho reached
eleven. As the last stroke fell, he so
little realized what he was counting that
he uttered the l welve in expectation ol
the stroke which never came. This,
trifling as it seems, recalled him; but
the mechanical effort had done his mind
good. He was not thinking of Joe
now.
How was it that his thoughts had
gone back far, far into the past P He
saw a homely room, a bed, on which a
figure covered with a patchwork quilt
was lying; a large, old fashioned, eight-
day clock in the corner, striking—ves, it
was striking—how many P Eleven;
yes, that was it; now ho remembered.
He saw more. He saw himself, a far
younger man, standing by that bedside,
holding a fragile hand in his; he heard
liis mother's voice: it seemed to him
distinct as when the words fell on his
ears ten years ago: '
“ Meet me there, Dick!”
He stalled, turned, rose from his
crouching position, and drew a long
breath.
“Meether there!”
He had often thought ol it. In the
Jong watches at sea he had told himself
often enough that he was a sinful man
and must heed his ways, if he meant to
do it, and yet he had never been very
bad—not near so bad as others.
He hadn’t drunk till he was no better
than a beast. No, the thought of his
mother and Susie had kept him from
that. He did not like to think of some
of his sprees on shore. He hoped his
mother would never know about them;
st 11, it wasn’t so very bad, after all. He
had never committed a crime, done
murder, or even hurt anv one in »
hi awl. No, his record was pretty olean.
But how—how was it nowP There
was Joe. Well, Joe certainly must die:
he ought to; but—
Dick rose and began walking toward
his own home. A feeling he would not
acknowledge had entered his mind. Ho
reached the village green. The lights
were nearly all out. Only in the inn
they still burned, and would till mid
night, ho knew. He had signed the
pledge long ago, when he first asked
Susie Willis to be his wife. For her
sake he had kept it—but how nowP
He hesitatedf, then resolutely turned
homeward. His good angol had not for
saken him- Worn out in body through
his troubled mind, he threw himself on
to his bed in his ciothes/and fell into
an uneasy slumber.
He could not have slept long when he
was awakened by n confused sound, a
noise of hurrying and shouting.
Ho started up and went to the win
dow. Ho threw it open and called out
in a voice which could have been scarcely
recognized as his i
“What’s amiBsP”
“Fire! fire!” shouted many voices.
‘ Down in Upton. Look across the
fields!”
Hurrying to join the speakers, Dick
soon recognized the meaning of the ex
citement.
The village was on high ground and
overlooked the town, from which great
volumes of smoke could now be seen as
cending.
The villugers were hurrying across
tlio fields. Dick joined them and was
soon at the scene of action. The excite
ment suited his mood.
The water supply iu tho country town
was very inefficient. There had beon
little rain for some weeks; the flames
were having it all their own way.
“ Where is it P Whoso house is it P ”
were the questions on every tongue.
But tho smoke hid tho view; they
could only determine that it Whs on the
High Btreet. Some one said it was tho
Farm, garden and household.
druggist; but no, it was too far down
T|
It might bo the bake-house, or the
brewery. Yes, that was very likely.
But as they hurried on public opinion
decided that it was none of these. It
was the draper’s-yes, noVdoubt abou
it: and so it was.
When Dick reached tho spot the ex
citement was very great The ware
house beneath the house where the firo
had commenced had been piled with
cotton goods, and the flames had made
f reat headway before it was discovered,
’t.e upper part of the house was already
in flames, and the active townspeople
were busily throwing up all tho water
they could collect, whilo a solitary fire
man, awaiting the tardy arrival oi the
engine, in vain attempted to keep order.
‘ • Is every one out of tho houseP” ho
was asxing, as Diok camo within ear
shot.
“Ay! ayl” replied many voices at
once. The children and the servant and
the master and his wife are all safe.
“ThankGod forthat.” said Dick, and
with less thrilling excitement he stood
among the spectators, when suddenly a
woman’s voice was heard, in tones of
Save him! Save Joe Miller, some of
you men I Are none of you men enough
togoP His room is tne back attic 1 It’s
safoyet! Will none of you go for him P’
It was Susie’s voice. Changed
as it
was with the sharp entreaty in it, Diok
recognized it. He started. Into his
mind came a horrid thought. His rival
was having his deserts—burning, per-
hnps suffocating to death I
For a moment he enjoyed it. Every
base instinct in his nature reveled in the
thought. But Susie had seen him. She
Bprang forward and caught his arm.
“ Dick!” sue cried, “ if you ever loved
me, save him, for I love him!”
Dick gave one look into her face. A
moment, torrib.e in its agony as that of
death, passed. He seized her hands.
“Kiss me!” he said—“kiss me as you
have him!”
Susie, without a word, put her lips up
to his. and in another moment his foot
was on the ladder which, reared against
the house, seemed wreathed in flames.
He reached the attic-window in safety,
and disappeared through it.
The crowd of villagers in the street
held their breath in suspense while they
awaited the reappearance of our hero.
Scarcely a minute had elapsed, how
ever, ere Dick reappeared at the window,
holding by the arm his rival, still scarce
ly awakened, and pushing him on the
ladder, prepared to follow him in his
rapid descent to the ground.
But the excitement had unnerved
him, or the heat and flames dazzled
him: for while Joe descended safely
amid tho acclamations oi the crowd,
Dick stood as if uncert tin, paused in his
descent, staggered and fell prone into
the smoking ashes and debris on the
ground.
Thoso who had witnessed his heroic
deed rushed to his help, but it was soon
plain that he was beyond it. They
raised his head, and would have moved
him from the dangerous falling beams;
but as they attempted it he opened his
eyes, smiled in Susie’s face, and saying,
“I’ll meet thee, mother!" fell back
dead.
Words or Wisdom.
Judge not from appearance lest you
might err in your judgment.
Great things are not accomplished by
idle dreams, but by years of patient
study.
They that do nothing aro in the read
iest way to do that which is worse than
nothing.
Be happy if you can, but do cot de
spise those who are otherwise, for you
know not their troubles.
Every person has two educations—
one which he receives from others, and
one more important which he gives
himself.
It many times falls out that we deem
ourselves much deceived in others be
cause we first deceive ourselves.
He who is falae to present duty breaks
thread in the loom and will find the
flaw when he may have forgotten its
cause.
John H. Inman, of Danbridge, Tenn.,
came out of the Confederate army, at the
close of the war, twenty years of age.
and with less than $100 in his posses
sion. He obtained a subordinate posi
tion in a New York cotton house, of
which he is now the head. Last year
his net income for the year was $190,-
000 and his fortune is now about $1,500,-
000. Mr. Inma i is quoted all over the
world as authority on cotton matters.
“Como right into tho house children,”
shouted Mrs. Shuttle. “You are making
more noise and uproar than a session of
Congress. What do you suppose jhe
neighbors will think l”
Fum Mid Utntin Not**.
Calves in winter need good feed, bet
ter than yearlings
In purchasing bulbs buy mixed va
rieties of the hardy sorts.
The Massachusetts Ploughman asks If
oven have not been abandoned for
horses t.o much in doing farm work.
Add a little wood ashes to the flower
I iots of favorites, and see how quickly
t will flourish and improve the
growth.
The old adage which says lime ap-
E lied to tho land will enrich the father
ut impoverish the con contains much
truth.
To purify a sink or drain: Dissolve
one-half pound of copperas in two gal
lons of water. Pour half of this liquid
ono day and the other half next.|
A correspondent of the Ohio Parmer
writes to thnt journal that he has raised
three heads of cabbage on one stalk by
pinching off the first one which
appeared
The National Live Bloch Journal thinks
that wildness and bad temper in a mare
may bo remedied by breed ing them, and
cites several instances where this has
succeeded.
A Maine farmer, who has beon very
successful in cultivating the blueberry,
says bis best success has been on the dry
uplands, and he has always transplanted
his bushes from where he found them.
Filling a horse rack with hay, as some
persons do, and permitting a constant
supply, is ono of the most probable
means of producing disease, and the
most positive to render animals unfit
for fast work,
A surgeon in the German army calls
attention of all who have to do with
horns to the danger of using the
pocket-handkerchief to wipe away any
foam which may have been thrown upon
their clothes. Glanders have been com
municated in that way.
Plymouth Rock pullets hatched in
April will, if well fed and cared for right
along, commence laying by the middle
ot September.
Tbe meat of turkeys that aie kept
supplied with charcoal during the period
of fattening, is said to be superior in
point of tenderness and flavor.
When liOgs i.ie put up to fatten and
fed on dry corn it is tho practice to give
them hut little water; but they require
some. It would not be possible tor a
bog “to live for weeks” without water
or other drink when foedlng on dry
corn, although when fed on new “soft”
corn a very small quantity of water will
be sufficient, and possibly, if the corn is
very soft and unripe, water might not
be indispensable.
ltaclv**.
Tea Biscuit.—With a spatula soften
hall a cupful ot lard or butter in a bowl,
add a quart of flour with two full tea
spoonfuls of baking powder sifted in it.
Mix into a middling light dough, with
about threo- quarters of a pint ol milk
with one teaspoonful of snlt dissolved
in it. When mixed turn out on your
hoard, knead it a little, roll it in a sheet
half an inch thiok, cut thorn out with a
plain round cutter, place them close to
gether in a quick oven and bake.
Fine Sweet Rusks.—Soften two table
spoonfuls rf butter in a bowl, whisk
two tablespoonfuls of sugar, three eggs
and flavoring to your taste (lemon gene
rally), together with a pint of milk, add
to your butter in the bowl two quarts ol
flour with four teaspoonfuls or baking
p-jwer sifted in it, then add milk.oggs,
etc., and mix, adding a little more muk
if required to make it ol the desired
consistency. Bake in balls size of large
wa.nuts placed together on buttered
pans with sides to them. Moderate
oven.
Stewed Caukots —Scrape and boil
whole forty-live minutes. Drain and
cut into round slices a quarter of an inch
thick Put on a cupful of weak broth—
a little soup if you have it—and cook
half an hour. Then add three or four
tablespoonluls of milk, a lump of butter
rolled in flour, with seasoning to taste.
Boil up and dish.
Stuffed Squash.—Pare a small
squash and cut off a slice from the top;
extract the seeds and lay one hour in
salt water; then fill with a good stuffing
of ciumbs, chopped salt pork, parsley,
etc., vret with gravy; put on the top
slice; set tbe squash iu a pudding dish:
put a tew spoonfuls of melted butter and
twico as much hot water in the bottom;
cover the dish very closely and set in
the oven two hours, or until tender;
lay within a deep dish and pour the
gravy over it.
Danger in Eating ({nail.
A recent Issue of the Washington Be-
publican says: A Republican representor
tive ran against a well-known Nimrod
last night, who whispered to him the
follow ,lg story: “It will be recollected
that at the time Buchanan was inaugu
rated a large number of persons were
poisoned at a certain prominent Wash
ington hotel. The winter immediately
preceding the inauguration was an un
usually hard one. The proprietor of the
hotel, to please his guests, had procured,
as is stated, all the quail in the surround
ing country. These birds had been
starved to such an extent that they were
compelled to feed upon poisonous berries
and leaves until their flesh became thor
oughly permeated with the poison.
The birds have been starved
for weeks, and are now feeding
upon such berries and buds as make
their flesh poisonous. The deep snows
in the country prevent the birds from
receiving their usual sustenance from
seed anit tho sands or 9mail gravel
which assist in digesting and assimilat
ing the same, and consequently they are
driven to those modes of sustaining life
which, while they may be useful to
themselves for the time being, render
their flesh highly injurious to human
beings as an article ot food. The birds
arc being killed at the present time by
shooting and trapping, and the country
people who offer the same in market are
ntirely ignorant of the terrible and in
sidious poison which they are daily dis
tributing. All through the adjacent
country of Maryland and, Virginia we
have what is known as the poison oak.
This is a vine which bears berries very
similar to those of the wild grape vines.
The touch of the “poison oak” is
dreaded by all who travel the woods.
Its contact so swe.ls the hands and face
as to almost render the individual un
recognizable by his friends in a few
moments. The quail at this season ol
the year seeks tne poisonous berries
which grow upon the vine.
Diphtheria.
Diphtheria Is generated by breathing
impure air, such as cornea from damp
apartments, dirty cellars, gutters, sinks,
decaying matters, pools of standing
liquids and other sources ot filth. It is
usually oonfined to persons from two to
fifteen years ol age. The atmosphere,
the breathing of whioh causes the dis
ease, seems to be full of living things,
vegetable and animal, the bacteria and
miooooppins. some of which lodge in the
throat and form white splotches, whioh
are distinctive of the malady, and whose
presence quickly poisons the blood;
hence there should not be a moment's
delay in sending for a physician, as the
march of the disease is always rapid and
its virulence increases every hour.
As with most other diseases, diphthe
ria is more likely to attack those whose
symptoms have been debilitated bv ill
ness, poor diet, or any cause whatever.
Any irritation of the throat prepares
the way for the disease. Any person
affected should be taken to an upper
room, into whioh no one should come
but those in perfect health, and who
have not the slightest scratch or sore on
any part of the body, particularly the
hands. The room should be ventilated
all the time, all discharges should be
quickly removed, the olothlng frequently
changed and at once covered with water
containing carbolic acid.
Diphtheria taken from another person
is more malignant than when generated
by bad air.
treatment or diphtheria.
Take from two to five grains of cblor*
ate of potash, put it far back on tho
tongue, allow it to melt gradually, and
repeat every hour until a decided im
provement takes place, which is usually
In a few hours. One of tho best plans
of treatment is the following;
OABOU,
l 111,KB, 2 HidCUUi*.
6 ounco*.
4 dmobuis
8 limp,.*
JO drop*.
0 a., it.
Hot w,\
Alcohol,
Oreoaote,
Muriatic Mid,
The Happy Man*
By day, no biting cares assail
My pcdceiul, calm, oontented brw
By night my slutnl *r* nevcr t i*il
Of woloome roji.
Soon as tbo inn, with oriont learns,
Gilds tho lair ohnmbere oi tie day, .
Musing 1 traoo tbo murmuring streams
That wind their way.
Around mo nature All* the scene
With boundless plenty and,delight;
And touohod with |oy sincere,
I bleu tho Bight.
I blots the kind, oreatlng power
Bxerted thu* for trail mankind j
A t whoso oommand deaoend* tbe
And blows lh« wind.
Happy the man who thu* at ease,
Content with that which nature gives;
Him guilty terrorsjnover seise;
He truly live*.
—Chamber J Journal.
HUMOROUS.
This is to ho used m a gurglclevory thirty
minutes.
IimiRVALLT USB TUB FOLLOWINO REMKlin
Chlorate oi potaita, 3 driiolmis.
Water, 6 ounces.
Sugar, 1 ounce.
Tinotureoi muriatioMid, 2 drachms
Hose—A teeipoonful every lour hour*.
It is claimed that the above treatment
will cure nineteen cases out of twenty.
The principal point is to find out
what will destioy the bacteria. Tannin
will kill them in two hours. A solution
of copperas, that is sulphato of Iron,
will kill them; also ohlorlne water and
dilute muriatlo, sulphuric and nitric
acids. If copperaa is used as a gargle it
ehould not be used stronger than a piece
half as large as a nutmeg, dissolved in a
pintoi water; ora level teaspoonfbl oi
tannin dissolved in a teaspoonful of
warm water. But it is better to roly ou
chlorine washes above named, and it
would be a safe plan, should any mem
ber of the family have diphtheria, for
each of the others to gargle the mouth
every hour with chlorine solution.
Instead of using solutions, a few grains
of either chlorate or potash, tannio acid
dr coperas, known as sulphate of iron,
may be plaoed dry, far back on the
tongue, to dissolve gradually and spread
over tbe surfaces. It is a more simple
method ol applying these remedies, and
would be more likely to reach further
down the throat and to remain longer
in contact with the diseased surface than
when applied in gargles or swallowed.
Theso remedies are powerful to cure
in proportion to the
in proportion to the promptness with
which they are used .—Hall's Journal of
Health.
Drawing the Long Bow.
Thoso who are in the habit of telling
prodi iou< stories ought to have goon
memories; but, fortunately for the world,
their memor es nre generally short ones.
Sheridan used to leal with these menda
cious pests in a in uim r peculiar to him
self. lie would never allow himself to
be outdone by a verbal prodigy: when
ever a monstrous story was told in his
presence, lie would outdo it with one of
his own coinage, and put the narrator to
tho blush by a falsehood more glaring
than his ow. A gentleman in his
hearing once related a sporting adven
ture of his.
“ I was fishing one day, say in a cer-
of delicious trout.
tain cold spring full
and soon caught a large mess. But,
what was really surprising, not a foot
from tbe cold spring there was one of
boiling water, so that when you wanted
to cook your fish, all you had to do,
after hooking them from the cold spring
was to pop them directly in'o tho
ing.”
The company all expressed astonish
ment nnd incredulity at this monstrous
assertion, with the exception of Sheri
dan.
“I know,” said he, “of a phenome
non yet more surprising. 1 was fishing
one day, when I came to a place where
there were three springs. The first was
a cold one stacked with fish, tbe second
a boiling spring and the third a natural
fountain of melted butter and parsley.’
“ Melted butter and parsley I ” ex
claimed tho first story-teller; “impossi
ble!”
1 beg your pardon,” said Sheridan,
coolly, “ I believed your Btory, sir; you
are bound to believe mine."
“ Another incident occurred to me,”
continued the gentleman. “ I was out
shooting onco and spied a brace of birds.
I was out of shot; but I threw the ram
rod into the barrel of my gun, fired, and
Hnurr, linfli Kiv/ia ”
Miners, like sailors, bend to the ore
Firemen, ns well as othor people like
to talk of their old flames.
Barbers should make good Arctic dis
coverers. They frequently get near the
pole.
As the sled is bent, so is the boy in
clined ; as the all pper falls, so is he made
to mind.
"Though he sleigh me, yet will
trust in him,” says the pious maiden oi
her lover.
A boy can pull four times more weight
in boys on a Bled than he can coal from
the bacK yard.
The newspaper writer is something
liko a coroner, inasmuch as he is fre
quently obliged to go on an ink quest.
During the rocent census taken in
Switzerland the female oitisens of all
degrees energetically protested against
telling their ages.
“ What do you lovs best in all the world?’j
He asked aa he looked in her eyee,
Anil she answered so soft and caressing,
“I love sausage and pumpkin pies.”
It is clear that the Philadelphia Newt
man has some pretty daughters, for he
siiys: “ Nothing will chap lips quicker
than going out into the cold air after a
good-night kiss.”
“ Lot’s go bunting to-day.” " Impos
sible t I was married onlyyesterday."
"When will you go P" “,when I am
lues in love.” “WhenP” “In a fort
night.”—.Ftms Paper.
A novel pump, discharging fifty gal
lons a minute, worked by hand, has
been invented by a convict on Black
well’s Island. Now we know where all
tho novels come from.
Elephants have beealenown to live
40.i years. Robinson’s oirous has one
eighty-four years old whioh is as frisky
ns a kitten, and, by tbe way, is a con
firmed tobacco clicwcr.
Notice.—The person whostole “Songs
of the Sanotuary” -Horn pew No. 39
should impr ive the opportunity ot sing
ing them here, as be will have n > occa
sion to sing them herealter.
Ten years ago tho United States
boasted fourteen cities of over 100,000
inhabitants each; now wa have twenty
—a greater number than any other
country in the world contains.
We see an articlo in the papers about
boy inventors. We hope they will in
vent a boy who won’t whistle through
his fingers and yell on tho streets at
night.—Cincinnati Saturday Night.
A Bay City (Mich.) philosopher tried
to stop a runaway horse by taking hold
of a wheel of tbe carriage. When he
stopped revolving he wasn’t any better
looking than he was before, but he knew
more.
Tiio young woman who had many
suitors, and from the time she was six
teen until she was twenty-one rejected
them all, reforred in her later life to that
period as her “ declining years.”—Steu
benville Herald.
A poet asks, in thirty-two lines,
“What do the trees say P” If he was
to recite his poetry under several trees,
we don’t believe they would say any
thing. They would leave.”—Worm
town Herald.
The lightning usod on theatrical stages
costs $30 an ounce; but then so little is
required that you can kill a $60 brigand
unu ten $19 brigands so beautifully lor
aliout two cents. A little lightning is
a dangerous thing.
Ex-Governor Warmotb, of Louisiana,
will get from his plantation a million
pounds of sugar this year.
brought down both birds.
“ A more singular circumstance bap-
K ened to mo, retorted Sheridan. “ I
ad promised a friend of mine in Lon
don hall a dozen partridges lor dinner
on a certain day. I had forgotten my
agreement when I heard the distant
horn of the stage conch which was to
take my game to London. I rushed into
my preserve, and, in the hurry of the
moment, forgot my shot, and left my
iron ramrod in my gun-barrel. I fired
at a covey of partridges, killed six,
threw them into a hamper, and gave
them to the coachman. There was the
game not only killed, but Bpitted.
This audacious narrative effectually
silenced tbe story-teller.
The so&les whioh fly off from iron be
ing worked at forges, iron trimming,
filings or other ferruginous material, if
worked into the soil about fruit trees, or
the more minute particles spread thinly
on tbe lawn, mixed witir the earth of
flower beds or in pots, are most valuable
to the peach and pear, and, in fact, sup
ply necessary ingredients to the soil.
For ' ‘ *
'or colored flowers they heighten the
bloom and ineveaso tbo brilliancy of
white or nearly white flowers of all the
rose family.—American Machini&l.
Gamers Hair.
For some five or six years past, says
the St. Louis Republican, small quanti
ties of camel’s hair have been shipped
to thiB oountr.v to seek a market, ana it
has been utilized in several ways, but
not to such an extent as has usually been
imagined. Camel’s hair consists of sev
eral grades or qualities, from the-wool
that layb close to the animal’s hide to
the long, shaggy hair which covers por
tions of the body All this hair or wool
is sheared from the; animal the same as
wool from sheep, and pauki d in bales
ior transportation. Heretofore all
this material has come from
Western Asia, Arabia and Persia, from
whence it was Bent westward through
Russia to the Baltic ports, and there
shipped mostly to Liverpool and Lon
don, from whence it round its way to all
parts of the world. The fiber, though
long, is coarse and strong, and makes
dress good for winter wear of a some
what rough and shaggy appearance. It
is only woven into cloth, however, with
a wool body, as its texture would not
admit of its being used alone. The
coarser hair and the wool that accom
panies it are used iu the manufacture of
carpets, and are found well adapted for
that purpose. Though popular to a cer
tain extent, the use of camel’s hair in the
United States has been somewhat lim
ited; but on effort is now making to
import it in larger quantities, and to
find new uses for it. The importations
heretofore through Russia have been ex
pensive, but recently large quantities
have been obtained from China,
and recently the first invoice, con
sisting of one ton, started from
this city overland. Occasionally small
lots have arrived from China in
suiling vessels around Cape Horn;
but tbe trade in this way has been so in
significant that no notice has been taken
of it, and the ohief supply has, up to the
present, been had by way of Euro re.
Now, however, it ia found that the direct
trade w ith China is the most profitable, -
and every port will be made to foster it.
Siuce th« first of the year the arrivals of
camel’s hair from all sources have been
much larger than ever before, and as the
thread is thought we 1 of, some new
uses wilt be found lor it.
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