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THE mercury. n9 joooikI-cl*** mutter »t the San- *" tonviUe l'oitotBoe, April 27, 1S80. gjadenTllle, WasblBfiton Ceunty, «e* rVBLIBUED IT JERNIGAN & SCARBOROUGH. t+ttif***- .fl.flO per Tear. the mercury. THE MERCURY. *1 PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY. A. J, JERNIGAN, Pbophtetob. DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. •l.fiO PER ANNUM- VOL. I. Music, GOTO JERNIGAN FOB rosin boxes, etc. a. J. JERNIGAN. G. W. H. WHITAKER, DENTIST, 8antlersviile, Ga. Terms Cash. Offloo at hi. riwidonoe ou llarria Street. April I, 18S0. B. D. EVANS, Attorney at Law, April J, 1RS0. SanderiTiUe, Ga. DR. WM. RAWLINGS, Physician & Surgeon, Gandorsrille, Ga. Offioe at Bandoraville Hotel. April II, IBM. E. A. SULLIVAN, NOTARY PUBLIC, Saadi Special attention {Iran Ct’imiJ. file, Ga. to oolloclion < Ofllea In the Coort-Hooae. 0. H. ROGERS, Attorney at Law, Sandoraville, Ga. Prompt attention pfiyen to all business* OiBm In northwest room ot Court-House. M»y ♦, ieso. C. C. BROWN, Attorney at Law, Sandoraville, Ga. Will piactlos in the State and United States Offloe in Court-IIonao. Bandemville, Ga* door to Mre. Bayne’* mUlinerj ■tors on Hariis Street. SaaderaTiUo, Ga. ShM?* a \ hU offlo « °n Haynes a to 1 » m U r'? 1/0 ge buUlli “«. Irom 8 he, Uu» lr "“ 3 <« * P mt during he " not p,„ ^ d f nCe - °" ? hun,h A Pril 1 1BBU mUly eu K«Ked. batches, Clocks H. N. HOLUFIELD, hysician & Surgeon, DR. J. B. ROBERTS, hysician & Surgeon, AND JEWELBY •wained it ERNIGAN. postoffice hours. \ w to 11:30 a. m. 1:30 to 6:00 p. m. — B - A. SPLLlTAJf, P. M. bscribe for the MERCURY, 91.50 per annum. ■ife PU “USnED BY & SCARBOROUGH. buy YOUR Psclacles, Spectacles, from JfcRNICAN. Konuino without our Trade Mark. On hand nnd for sale, :!^ ,i “ l,( ‘( | htooi [inii.ij i f/X. vV become ™ 0M from un eon, tic ad* |0 *» P rod « C0 b * ,,er d «™i°I*<l “*• I.A.JOSES.WILMIiNGTOH, CEL POINTS. ••oipdin^ . u«„ve „ •, » wSW “ecome mt ... - .. *»*nph« "'‘bTesUmoui^^ llj belie? ,,r °tlier Tom's , v i V°, Ur PoInu t 0,10 ‘bird more wi?n«. Ut , n wc ? k nRf>1 aud 1 Tnn ' tolrl n,p h ! 1 nt whcre It WM drilled thu ol" . r '.' ,l,c ! t ' I drlllud A CLiYI °N. Ju., Ml, Pleiuant, Del. them a fair 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. ■•M ■ . - i