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f-' TXXE mercury. PUBLISHED EVESY TUESDAY. notice. uununiodtioM Inti most be accompanied with the lull AU communication* Intended for thte P * P ' r the writer, not neoewarily lor publl- n*»* 0,11 — —j ■ >-> „tion, but M n guarantee of good taith. W , »rfl in no w»y rosponuble lor the view* ..^inlonBOi oorrcepondenU. THE MERCTJRY. TUE MERCURY. Catered a* *eeond-claae m«t*er at the San. denrlUe RueUiflfce, April 27, 1830. A. J. JERNIGAN, PrtorniETon. DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. $1.50 PER ANNUM. VOL. II. £TW. H. WHITAKER dentist, Saadenyille, Q*. Tnn Cash. Oflw at Mo residenoo on Harris Street. April t, 1830. B. D. EVANS, Attorney at Law, April 1,1830. Seadenville, Chu DR. WM. RAWLINGS, Physician & Surgeon Bandera rUle, Ba. Offlee at Saodanrilla Hotel. April 1«, I8»j E. A. SULLIVAN, NOTARY PUBLIC, Senderarille, Oa. Special Attention (Irea to eolleetion o' oUilll». . . _ „ Offloe In the Conrt-Houe*. 0. H. ROGERS, Attorney at Law, Sanderarflle, Qa. Prompt attentloa given to all buaineea. Office in aorthweat room ol Ccnrt-Honae. May ♦, 1HS0. C. C. BROWN, Attorney at Law, Sanderarille, Ua. W1U preotiee In the State and United State. Count. Offloe in Court-flonae. H. N. HOLLIFIELD, Physician & Surgeon, SandatarUle, Qa. Office aeat doer to Mr#, (tayne'a millinery (tore on Ilania Street. DR. i. B. ROBERTS, Physician & Surgeon, SeettmecOle, Oa. May be eoaenlted at tata otone on Haynra •treat, lo iba Maaumo lj»i|a huiliHag, Irotn i • a to 1 p m, and Irom I to • p m; diirini othe, boiu. at hi. maiitenoe, on Cnuroh street, Wticn nnl piutoasioiudly engaged. April ) HUM) Watches, Clocks AHD JEWELRY JERNIGAN. POSTOFPICE HOURS. 7 00 to 11:30 a. m. 1:JU to 6:00 p. m. K. A. Spujtaw, P. If. Subscribe for the MERCURY, Only 81.60 per annum. PUBUSn*D BY •JERNIGAN & SCARBOROUGH. BUY YOUR Spectacles, Spectacles, FROM Two Ships. A ship came in at morning light OR, bnt ita sails wore shining bright, And white as tho dovo’s white wingsl There woro sounds of joy, with tendor fours Low brokon laughs, and half-shed tears. What Is it the white ship brings ? It bringeth tho hairy fair and sweet— See how small aro her unshod feotl IIow her blue oyoB shine through tears! While we sing gladly with Joyful pride, And kneel us down liy tlio cradle sid'o, And pray for her untold years. A ship went out at dark midnight-' Tho waning moon made saddest light, And tho wind sobbed wearily, Tito dead, swathed man lay still and calm, Some flowers within his open palm; IIo sailed for tho unknown sou. And on tiro wan, washed sands of time Wailing and tears made woful rhyluo, While over tho breathless hay Tho still ship sailed beyond tire sight, Tim still ship sailed into tho light Of tho fair ctornal dav. lint, alii bocauso of misty tears, Our oyes wero dim, and dull our oars; Wo saw no angel legions Singing upon tho other shore, As with glad welcoming they hors Tho soul to heavenly regions. WRITING FOR LIFE. JERNIGAN. B^Noiu genuine without our Trade Marie. On band and for eolo, tts,M Ic. Music, Music. GOTO JERNIGAN tom BOLINS, accordeons, BOWS, STRINGS, -WOS1N BOXES, ETC. Machine Needles, OIL and SHUTTLES 01 ViohlBiB, lor uls. I wlU or runs ol Machine* that get Moke, and new pieces are wanted, JERNIGAN. Sloo PRESENT! for a Machine that will <• S>avr as Fast and Easy os this quo. ir ° f Saw Maohlnes. It r -°.C0o i- fo ° t loff la a minutes. ? adt 'aua f i'iJ Tlls oboapest maohine l:i:3d State* Ocular free, mr . circular rroe. Manufacturing Co., Chicago, I1U "My dear Tom, I speak to you not only ns an old friend, but as n medical man; and I sec that it is quite necessary for you to have complete and. perfect rost for somo weeks. You hnvo been overdoing it in nursing that old uncle in the country for tho last threo months, and, to my own knowledge, have taken tho last train down there at night and the flint train to town in tho morning, and have eoniequontly not had a good night’s rest for all that time. How can a man stand it, added to your hospital work all day, without suffering from it? Don’t you feel you require rest ? “Not tho least in tho world," returned Raven. “Oddly enough, tho nursing seems to have done mo good. I confess to having felt thoroughly knocked up some weeks since; but I battled bravely against the feeling, won tho victory, pnd now I’m as fresh as paint and np to work better than ever.” “You don’t look it. I repent, you look thoroughly worn out. But you know your own business and state of lio.ilth; and, now your uncle is gone and has loft you a potful of money, you can take things more easy." "Yes, old boy, I’m game for anything —mind and body first-class; and I intend to stick to my hospital work. It’s very good of you, .Tack, to take an interest in my health and all that, but say no more about it, I bog." “I promise to sav nothing to nobody. Raven and I wero at tho same hospital —St. Lnzanis—whero ho held a medical and I a surgical appointment. Wo were both hard worked, often day and night; and my time and attention, for about threo months nftor the above conversa tion, wero so fully occupied and en grossed that I thought no more of the occurrence. Raven looked in good health, and was very successful—indeed ho bade fair to rise in a short time to great eminence in the profession. Ho was immensely popular with every one. His gray hair and bright blue eyes, and healthy, florid, complexion, combined with a frank, op^.i and hearty manner in speaking, mndo him a friend with everybody , and inspired confidence in all his patients as well as in ull his friends. As nearly as I oan recollect, it must have been about throe months after his uncle died that Raven came up to me ono day in the hospital. “I’ve just received a summons to Ex eter," said he. “The family is wealthy and influential; and, from what I know of the case I’ve been called there to at tend, I’m sure it’s more of a surgical than a medical ono. It will be an excel lent chance for you, Lawson; and I can promise you a good fee to begin with. Therefore, if you can possibly manage it, meet me at Paddington this evening at hnlf-past nino, and wo will go down to gether by the express. Send me word during tho afternoon whether you can oome or not.” I hesitated. It was the depth of win ter, and I hardly liked leaving my wife and a most important baby; but fees wore scarce—this was a golden oportun ity not to be rashly neglected. I de cided to risk my wife’s disappointment. “It is most kind of you, Tom. I will certainly go down with you. So far as I can sec, there will be nothing to pre vent ray doing so.” A gleam of satisfaction shone in his bright blue eyes. “Yon promise?” “Unless anything unforseen should happen to prevent me, I will be down at the station by half-past nine.” “Remember!” Raven was dramatically impressive, I thought, as we parted; and I arranged my work so as to bo able to keep my appointment. The hardest task was breaking the news to Amy, who would be low-spirited and conjure up all kinds of horrors and impending railway acoi- dents, and who finally dissolved in a jfhower of tears as I tore myself away, burdened with no ends of nigs and com forters to alleviate in some measure the moral wet blanket she had thrown over me. SANDEBSVILLE, GA., APRIL 26, 1881. NO. 4. I was only just in time to catch Raven, who hastily opened the door of tho rail way carriage. “Jump in, Jack, jump in! Hnlf-a- orown to the guard has secured this com partment for us all the way down; so we shall have it to ourselves without fear of interruption. Time’s np; you have run it fine. Fire away 1" IIo flung in my bag and tho several mgs, etc,, and wo entered. Tho guard touched his hat and shut tho door with a bang. “This door is unlocked, guard?” saidl. “Yob, sir; side nearest tho platform is always unlocked. The other door is locked.” Ho whistled, and the train started. “I can’t bear the idoa of both doors being locked,.".-! remarked to Raven "In case of accident it would bo impos sible to escape from the carriago.” “It doesn’t matter,” he said, and then relapsed into silence. For about twenty minutes ho remained opposite to me, sometimes with his eyes closed, sometimes with them fixed upon mo in a most unpleasant manner. All my endeavors to draw him into conver sation failed, and after a time I gave thorn np and also relapsed into silence. Suddenly ho rose from his seat and drew from the inside of his overcoat a long and pointed knife, which flashed ominously in the lamplight. “Jack Lawson, we must both of us die to-night," said he calmly and delib erately, without any excitement of man ner. “I feel that tho time has come for both of us to quit this vale of tears." “l’es; I quite agree with you, Tom Ra ven," I replied—seeing what had hap pened—in as calm a voico as his own. “I have long thought that life was be coming very undesirable; and, to leave it in your company, with you, my oldest and warmest friend, would be the most agreeable thing to me that could hap pen. But—you are not married, Tom?” “Thank Heaven, no!” "Remember, I am married; ond, had you given me notice of this wish of yours before starting, I would havo made ar rangements and have spoken to my wife to propnre her. Have you mr.do your will, Tom?” "No, I have not.” “Good Heaven, man, not made your will! Tom, it is absolutely necessary foi both of us to rauko our wills before we die. I have not made mine, and should not liko to leavo the world with the el'.anco of my wife and child having to go to tho workhouse or bo chargeable on the parish after my death. You would wish to leave your money to somo one in particular—is it not so?” “Of course I should liko to Jeave my money properly—of—course—yes! I uever thought of making my will." “You must also remember, Tom, that it would never do to dio deliberately, in the way wo both desire to die, without leaving to tho world our reason for the act. You would not wish your name to be a by-word and tho cause of derision to any one, I am sure; and I am certain I don’t wish my own to bo so. There fore wo must both draw out our roasons for dying.” “Do you know, Jack, I never thought of that?” “Well, then, first put your knife down on the cushion there, and then we will set to work. I’ve plenty of papor in my bag and plenty of lead in my pencil, and we’ve the whole night before us.” A tremblo of my hand, a quiver of my voice, would have boon fatal. I opened tho bag and drew forth the writing paper. Tho knife was on a cushion at my side. “Now, Tom, let ns first state our rea sons to tho world for wishing to dio to night by our own hands. If you will dictate to me your reasons, I will write them down, and then we will rerise and correct them. After that, I will dictate my own to you and yon shall write thorn. Wo shall be able to do our work well and quickly.” “Quito light, Jack; we ought to give them our reasons. How odd that I never thought of that! .jet me see; if I kill you first, I might write them out after ward.” “Ah, but who will write out mine? Don’t be selfish, there’s a good chap!” “To be sure! Well, are you ready?’ He began dictating long and flowery sentences. Now and again I interrupted his flow of language to gain time. This kept him thoroughly occupied and in terested, while the train sped - on at ex press rate. He had nearly finished liis long, rambling dictation, when, to my inexpressible delight, I felt the speed of tho train gradually slackening. I knew that my ohance of deliverance was near. “Read over for yourself what I have written,” I said to him. “The carriage is very close—a little fresh air will do us good. I will make any corrections you may require.” I sat on the knife and reached over to lower the glass. A slight fumbling necessitated my rising to manage better, and the knife was in my left hand con cealed under my coat. I turned round to look at my poor friend, and saw him trying intently to read my scribble by the light of the lamp, seemingly un conscious of the stopping of the train. In another moment the glass descended, my hand was thrust through the window and on the handle of the door. The train nearly stopped as I jumped out, shut tlio door, and hold tho handle firmly. Poor Raven even tlion was quito engrossed with wliat I had written for him. I called the guard, and secretly and quietly the porters wero assembled on the platform at tho door of the car- | riage. “Como, Tom, this is Swindon! Lot us havo a cup of coffee!” I called to him through the window. In that moment the spell was brokon. I saw him look for liis knife, then rush to the window at tho opposite side; but wo were too quick and too powerful for him. The guard, two porters, and my self jumped into the carriage, and he was secured. My best friend, with a brilliant future before him, and in tho ripe portion of his life, was a raring lunatic, and has re mained hopelessly so—insane from that time - one of the many victims to over work. I need scarcely add that tho caso which Raven had represented to mo as culling him to Exeter was nn entire fab rication, and was invented by him ns part of tho scheme which, in his mad ness, he had no doubt seriously imagined would be for tho benefit of both of us. I frequently go to tho asylum whore ho is to inquire after him; but tlio men tion of my name brings on such a violent aggravation of his diseaso that I am not allowed to see him. Poor Rnvonl I fear I shall never seo him again! That terrible night can never bo effaced from my memory, and I can never suffi ciently congratulate myself on haring so fortunately thought of tho expedient which answered so admirably—Writing for Life. the knife dropped upon the platform, Wonders of the Sky. Students of astronomy will find the following calculations, made by Mr. O. B. Warring, very interesting. They wero presented by that gentleman be fore tlio Poughkoepsio Society of Nat ural Soienco recently. Mr. Warring says if we supposo tho distanco between t-lio earth and tlio sun (about ninety-two and one-third millions of miles) to bo reducod to a dozen rods or moro, tho sizo of tho two globes to bo reducod in (ho Raine proportion, tlio distanco from tho earth to tlio nearest fixed star would still bo, on tlio name scale, about nino thousand miles, and to the more distant ones it would be not loss than 18,000,000 of miles. From tlioso more distant stars tho light must travel for sixty centuries beforo it roaches us— and yet light travels so fast that it would circle round tho earth more than seven times in a single second of time. If the sun could bo reduced, in imagination to 1-100 of an inch in diameter, the earth would then be of microscopio size, about 1-10,000 of an inch, but the dis tance between it and tho nearest star would not bo less than three miles. If tho sun were a hollow sphere and the earth were placed at its center, with the moon revolving around it in its estab lished orbit, there would still be a dis- atneo of 200,000 miles from the lunar orbit to tho surface cf tho solar sphere If these relations of sizo and dis tanco nro inconceivable, the forces which compel the planets to move in their cliptieal orbits aro quito much beyond our comprehension. A bar of stoel three inches square will sustain a weight of 540 tons, but a bar having a section of 144 square inches would sustain 8,G40 tons, which upon a railroad would require 864 cars to support it and twenty-three locomotives to transport it. To deflect the moon from a straight course into its present orbit, or what is the same tiling, to retain it in its present course, would require tho united strength of not less than eight steel bars, each one hundred miles square, or, more accurately, a single bar whose section is 87,500 square miles—more than largo enough to cover the States of New York and Ohio together. If this force were represented by a web of steel wires, each one-quarter of an inch in diameter stretched from the earth to tho moon, they would be distributed over our earth on the moon side only six inches apart, and if a similar web were stretched from tho earth to the sun, tho force exerted between those two bodies would require the wires to cover one side of the earth as close together as blades of grass upon a lawn.—Burlington Hawkeye. Effect of Imagination Many an illness is caused by imagi nation, and those of us who go about our work with calmness and confidence are much moro likely to escape disease than others who aro filled with appre hension should infection come within ono hundred miles of them. In con nection with this tho Arabs toil the fol lowing story: One day a traveler met the Plague going into Cairo, and accosted it thus : “ For what purpose aro you entering Cairo ?” “ To kill 3,000 people,” rejoined the Plague. Somo time after tho same traveler met the Plague on its return and said : “ But you killed 30,000.” “Nay,” answered the Plaguo, “I killed but 3,000; tho rest died of fright.” WOMAN’S COLUMN. Old Meld*. I have come to tho conclusion that thero aro people who aro old-maidish besides women that are unmarried, Simply living a single lifo does not make ono nn old maid, although that is tlio cognomen tlioy all receive indis criminately, when thoro is a world-wide difference in tlieir characteristics. The very jolliest, sweetest, most companion able woman I ever knew was a single lady of middle age ; but one might call her with the poet “Tlio sweetest women Ever fato porvorso Donied a household mate ; Who kept so long hor gonial mood And simple faith of maidenhood.” * She is dead now, and many call her blessed, although none ever call her mother. I havo known women, mothers, who wero so bigoted, ao narrow-minded, so exceedingly conservative that if these are the characteristics that distinguish old maidism then certainly they had missed their calling, It is not givon that all should marry, how much moro worthy of honor the woman who not haring, by reason of adverse fato or circumstances, met or married tlio man of her choice, tho man whom alono bIio could " lovo, honor and obey," prefers to remain single rather than get married to escape tho stigma attached to tho appellation “ old maid,” wrongfully attached, I think. Many know and ‘appreciate tho lifework of thousands of women, who aro doing their work and bearing their burdens and often tho burdens of othors with no man to help or hinder them. Undoubt edly woman’s best sphere is home, and most women are happier married than they would bo single, but it is true that many of tho Rweetest, the truest, the best women are tlioso who rather than squander tho treasures of their affec tion on somo unworthy object, accept the nemo of old maid resignedly, and go about, tlieir daily work cheerfully and conscientiously with only perhaps a smothered sigh that tho sweetnoss of motherhood is not for thorn.—Rcocy. PnriiHolH. New parasols aro somewhat larger than tlioso of last summer, and aro made ef satin morveillenx, surah or brocaded satin. The novelty of tho season in shape is the so-colled Mercedes, in which, by an ingenious device, the out side is mado to cover the ungraceful projecting top of tho stick, thus forming a sort of canopy, which is ornamented with lace or beads to match tho rest of the trimming. This variation of shape adds nothing to tho price, which ranges, according to the material used, from ono to fifty dollars. The linings are in a contrasting color iu many instances, but cream white linings aro preferred because they aro moro generally be coming, and are appropriate with toi lets of almost any color. "White enameled ribs showing outride of the lining are a now feature. Borders of bayadore-striped satin, or else of plaid satin are seen on many of tho dark-col ored parasols. Instead of bordering the outor edges, this gay band is sometimes around the middle of tho parasol. Spanish lace and fringe aro tho trimmings most used. Very dressy parasols for tho carriage aro of white satin surah covered with narrow frills of white Spanish lace, and lined with pink-white or cream-white silk. Black lace frills are mounted on red, black or cream parasols. Gilt and sil ver brocades are also used for handsome parasols. Sticks of natural wood aro used—among these are the whito Pyre nees oak and many others that have a green tinge. Ebonizod sticks and those with ivory tops, and the whito satin- wood polished to look like ivory, are on tho richest parasols. Gingham para sols are of the striped blue, pink and white Scotch ginghams to match drosses, and plaid ginghams are also used. For the seashore are printed parasols with one gore different from ’the others, and on this single gore is printed a picture that is meant to rep resent a hand-painted scene. A nov elty in shape is the square parasol with eight gores, four of which are narrow and form corners. The Japanese shapes reappear, bnt "are not so flat as those of last summer. Fashion Notes. Bronze hues are in fashion. Colored straw will be much worn. Most bonnets are of medium size. All shades of yellow are fashionable. Black toiiets ore os fashionablo as over. Iron-rust red is a new shade of this color. Silver-gray and rosy lilac are very fashionable. Brocaded stuffs continue to bo used or jackets. Tufts of feathers are worn more than long plumes. Plaids bid fair to have a run -of fash ionable favor. Draperies continue to be very elaborate on dress skirts. Puffs of crimped tarlatan are the proper trimmings for widows’ caps. Plusli-like stripes, either plain or ombre, aro seen not only in thin fabrics, but in tho ribbons and the surahs for pieco trimmings. New linen collars aro straight bands liko those worn by clergymen, but are mado to lap in front, finished with a curve, and fastened with a gold button. Stars of gilt or steel aro on dark satin ribbons; rainbow stripes, with a plush or gilt stripe, are on others; a great deal of green, black and gold is combined in the Madras plaids. During the summer months pokes and pioturesqno large round huts will bo most generally worn, but oven then the small close bonnet of laco and flowers will not be wholly abandoned. Silk net with a tape edging is shown in widths for trimming ond for strings; this comes in blaek, cream and whito, as well as the stylish bronze d’art, condor brown, and tho now laurier, or laurel pink. Pink or blue muslin hems an inch wide aro all around wido mull neok- ties. Sometimes tucks of the same width are across the ends of tlio tie, and colored miiBlin to match tho hem is passed inside the tuck. Canning Corn. In tho vicinity of Boston thero aro nu merous establishments devoted to the canning of greon com, and as tho process is similar to that to which all articles of preserved food aro subjected, a description of tlio method will servo as an ox- ample for the rest. The corn is planted oxpressly for this pnrposo, and wliou it is in condition to can it is stripped of its husks, after which it is thoroughly wiped, to remove the silks. It is then passed along to another set of hands, who, with knives made for this purposo, cut off tho kernels from tho cob. This work is done over a largo wooden liop- por, there being generally fouAands nl work at one machino, and the corn is allowed to drop through into a tub. When this is full it is taken into another room whore it is weighed out in small quantities, eaoh amount just sufficient to fill a can, tho com being forced into the can by means of a powerful automatic press, which oporates very rapidly. The cans aro then taken to the soldering room, whero each is caro- fully wiped and tho top is soldered on, a small hole being made in the cover to allow the escapo of air. Tho next stop is the cooking, which is done by placing tho ean in wooden vats filled with water and kept at the boiling point by steam boat. After being cooked a wkilo the cans aro taken out, tho airholes are nowly opened, and they aro subjected to a thorough shaking to force out tho air which operation is most important. After this tho corn is again cooked, tho cans aro soalod air-tight, and they are then ready for market. All articles are treated in a similar manner with the exception of preparing them for the cooking process, and when finished they aro practically imperishable, as they will koop for years iu any clinmto. All through Massachusetts there are exten sive vegetable canning establishments, as well as in other parts of Now Eng land, and within tho past few months tho business lias increased to a marked extent in Jho State of Maine, especially u com.—Cultivator. Do Not Exaggerate. There aro persons whom you can al ways believe, because you know they have the habit of telling tho truth. They do not “color” a story or enlarge a bit of nows in order to make it sound fine or romarkable. Tliore are others whom you hardly know whether to believe or not, because they “strotoh” things so. A triflin'? incident grows in size but not in quality by passing through their mouth. They take a small fact, or slender bit of news, find pad it with added words and pain> it with highly colored adjectives until it is largely unreal and gives a false impression. And one doesn’t like to listen to folks when so muoh must be allowed for “ shrinkage.” Cultivate the habit of telling the truth in little things os well as in great things. Pick your words wisely, and use only such as rightly mean what you wish to say. Never “stretch” a story to make it seem bigger or funnier. Do this, and people will learn to trust and respect yon. This will be better than having a name for telling wonder ful stoi ies or making foolishly and falsely “ funny ” remarks. Thero aro enough real funny things happening in the world, and they ore most entertaining when told exactly as they came to pass. Gilhooly hired a pony the other day to take a little exercise on. Ho got all the exercise he wanted, and-os ho limped to the edge of the sidewalk to rest him self after taking so much exercise, a kind friend asked him: “What did you come down so quick for?” “What did I come down so quick for ? Did you see anything up in the air forme to hold on to?”—Galveston jbews. At least 80,000 lu' v a , owe"e slain in the United States by sportsmen lost season. 8uIhit1H6i WaafelagUi Cffiuty* S«* JERNI8AN A SCARBOROUGH. Maximus. I hold him groat who for lovo’s sake Can givo with gcunrous, earnest will; Yet ho who takes for lovo’s swoot sake I think I hold more generous still: I bow before tho noble mind That freely somo groat wrong forgives; Yot nobler is tlio ono forgiven Who boars that burden well and livos. It may be hard to gain, and still To keep a lowly, steadfast heart; Yot ho who loses lias to All A harder and a truer part. Glorious It is to wear tlio crown Of a dosorvod and puro success; Ho who knows he,, t o fail has won A crown whoso luster is not lest. Groat may ho ho who oan command And nilo with Just and tender sway; Yot is divinor wisdom taught Bettor by him who can oboy. Blosaod are they who die for God And earn tlio martyr’s crown of light. Yot ho who livos for God may ho A greater conqueror in His sight, —Atlrlnide Proctor. FUN. Mississippi lias more wom.cn than men Utah has Mormon. Many actors aro like oysters. Yott can see all thero is in them as soon as they open tlioir mouths. Fust appearances aro cod to be evry. thing. I don’t put all my faith into this sayin'; I think oystors and clams, for instance, will boar lookin’ into.— Josh Billings. A genius has invented a “ fireproof paper,” which at first sight would seem to mako it possiblo for Colonel Inger- soll to havo his paper sent to his new address in tho noxt world.— Norristown Herald. Spooking of a soldier a gentleman used the expression, “ He takes no note of timo, save by its loss,” but afterward acknowledged his mistake, as all sol diers have to mark timo frequently.— Philadelphia Sun. “I throw this off in ton minutes,’’ softly said tho poet, placing n manu script on tho editorial table. The edi tor said that when it came to Bpeed no long-haired poet should distance him— and ho threw it off in less than ten sec- omlf—off the tablo into tho waste bos ket. In the year 1880 America issued sev euty patents to women. And not one of thosj was an indicator to be attached to tho bed-poBt to show if there is a man under the bod. And yet, think how much getting down on hands and knees such a thing would savo a woman.— Boston Post. THE HOME DOCTOR. For bleeding at cavity of extracted tooth, pack tho alveolus fully and firm ly with cotton wot with alum water. For bleeding, take linen or other rags, burn to charcoal and put it in the wound, and no moro blood will come. For diphtheria, garglo lemon juice and swallow somo of it. A few drops of camphor on loaf sugar affords imme diate relief for sore throat. For cough, take suet, boiled in milk. For bums take a tart applo and simmer in lard till it forms a salve. It heals quick and always without a scar. To cure enlarged neck, take two ta- blospoonfuls of salt, two of borax and two of alum, dissolve in two of water and apply throe times a day for ihreo weeks. Tho following is said to be n remedy for fever and ague : Twenty-four grains of quinine, two drams elixir vitriol, twenty-two large tablespoonful of rain water. Doso, take each half hour through tho day until taken up. For burns or scalds, varnish the wound with tho white of an egg. The application of the egg is more soothing than sweet oil and cotton, tho common remedy for burns. Tho following is said to be a good cough mixture : Take paregoric elixir, sweet spirits of nitre, tincture of balsam of tula, of each equal parts ; mix them together, and tako a teaspoonful in cold water threo times a day. Miss Parloa gives this cure for hoarse ness; Bake a lemon or sour orange for twenty minutes in a moderate oven, then open it at ono end and dig out the inside, which sweeten with sugar or molasses, and eat. This will cure hoarseness and remove the pressure from the lungs. A tablespoonful of pulverized alum sprinkled into a hogshead of “water (the water stiiTed at the same lime) will, after a few hours, by precipitating to tho bottom the impure particles, so purify it that it will be found to possess nearly all the freshness and clearness of the finest spring water. A pailful, contain ing four gallons, may be thoroughly purified by a single teaspoonful of the alum. For the earache toast an onion thor oughly, take tho heart out, put it into a piece of flannel and insert it into the ear, having previously put a few drops of hot water into the ear. The white of an egg, into which a piece of alum about the size of a wal nut has been stewed until it forms a jelly, is a capital remedy for sprains. It should be laid over the sprain upon a piece of lint and be changed as it be comes dry. m 1 m.