Newspaper Page Text
THE book of mormon.
History of Joe Kcuinrlinble
True 1’iero ul Jnsglcry.
[From tl.e St. I-ouis S;|ctator.]
How many I*"^ ktsow
bmit the origin of the .Mormon religion
rather, of the Book ot Mormon, which
r ? I knew precious little
its authority week, when I acci
bout it until this
LentlT fell in wiih Mr - Clark Brad< f’
So has recently investigation. given the His subject story a
ost searching religion be
[hows ot what stuff a may
lade. The Mormons number nearly
100 000 They are divided in many
, . the polyg
ects bat the principal . . are Utah and the
ous Brighamites in
m Josephites scattered m
ion polygamous The story may be given
-arious places. The Book of Mormon
. a few words.
written by an old broken-down
va8 named Solomon
Presbyterian clergyman
Spaulding. Spaulding was born in Con
jeeticut in 1761. He graduated at Davt
nouth College and settled as Minister
a Congregational church. He made
or preaching, and went into
bad failure at
rasiness with his brother in New York
state, did not succeed, and started an
iron foundry in a town in Northern
lohio. He soon failed in that venture
tnd became very much family discouraged. by taking
Eis wife supported the
[boarders and he spent his time in writ
ling, like though moved what did to Pittsburg, not then when appear, he
family adding second part.
I rewrote his book, a
He afterward rewrote the entire book,
adding a third part. This is the origin
of the manuscript.
i Now, what became of it ? Spaulding
made arrangements to have it printed in
Pittsburg. After a part of it had been
set up the whole manuscript was stolen
by a tanner named Sidney Rigdon, who
was in the habit of loafing around the
printing office. Rigdon kept it concealed
for some years, until he fell in with
Joseph Smith, who evolved the plan of
producing it. Smith belonged to a not
very reputable family living near Pal¬
myra, N. Y. They lived in a house and
supported themselves by hunting and
and fishing and other means suspected
to be more questionable. Joseph, one
day, found a remarkably clear crystal,
shaped much like a child’s foot, and he
declared it was a “peep-stone,” in which
he could read the future and discover
stolen goods, strayed cattle, eto., and on
several occasions was so successful in
predicting the locality of goods and cat¬
tle that he soon came to have consider¬
able reputation. He then extended his
field of operations by divining where
treasures were buried, and under his di¬
rections a great many diggings were
made, unsuccessfully, however. These
diggings extended over a large area,
some fifty miles or more, around Pal¬
myra, and some of them may be seen
now. He fell in with Sidney Rigdon,
who told him of the manuscript. Smith
soon devised a scheme for producing it
under proper surroundings. The al¬
leged book of copper plates was found
under divine guidance, on which charac¬
ters of reformed Egyptian were graven.
The book was accompanied by a pair of
spectacles of wondrous power, which
enabled Smith to translate the remark¬
able characters. This he did from be¬
hind a screen, while an amanuensis took
down his words. The Book of Mormon
was printed in 1830 at Palmyra, N. Y.,
a fanner, Martin Harris, putting up the
cash to pay the printer. Thus Solomon
Spaulding’s manuscript found its way
into print with such additions and alter¬
ations as Smith chose to make for his
own benefit.
A Photographer’s Story.
“An old man came in at 11 a. m. He
Was right from the country; had mud on
his boots, and all the other testimony.
Hewasgoin’ west to his ‘darters,’and
wanted a picture to take with him, you
know. I knew all about it, and soon
had him in the chair, the iron clamps
behind his ears and the camera ‘gun’
aimed at his gray head. He was quite
nervous about something, and asked me
to wait. ‘I want my picture drawed off
to look like this,’ he said, as he pulled a
a tintype of a young man from his pock
e t. ‘The same pose like, you know,’ he
said, as he told me that it was his son,
who had been killed at Stone River. ‘He
was a dear, good boy, he was,’ said the
old man, with a weak voice and a sigh,
‘and I’ll soon be with him.’
“I got him in position while he still
held in his hand the dead boy’s picture.
I went through the usual ceremony,
telling him, ‘All ready now, right still;’
and as I took the cloth from the table,
turned my back to prevent any embar¬
rassment. In thirty seconds I said,
‘That will do.’ He never moved.
Aon may rest now,’ I said; but he sat
still and held the precious tintype as if
wrapt in thought. Thinking he was
deaf, I touched him on the shoulder.
Still he did not move, and I noticed a
fixed stare in his eyes. He was dead.
He had died in the chair, and I had the
negative of a dying man. Of course I
got help and sent word to his friends.
The doctors said he died of heart dis¬
ease. I developed the picture, and
started as I saw the face of a dead man
look at me from the collodion coating.
It was a nervous day for me I can tell
you, and I have always been careful with
old people .”—Cincinnati Time*- Star.
A correspondent asks if it is proper to
dance with a married lady when her
husband is looking on. Certainly. The
dancing is sure to be very proper under
such circumstances.
The Conyers Weekly.
VOL. VII.
LA MORI.
The Day is dead. See how his life-blood dyes
The soft cloud-pillows in the western skies.
What tho’ a smile still glorifies his eyes ?
I tell you he is dead ! Why loiter here
Till those unsightly proofs of death appear,
And the sad Night drops tears upon his bier?
Nay, let us go, while yet the skies are red,
Ere Darkness draws the curtains of his bed,
Our last look finds him beautiful, tho’ dead.
Dear Love is dead; slain by his own delight,
What tho’ his feverish cheek is strangely
bright,
I tell you he lies dead in all his might
Let us not wait till on his rigid face
There rests no lingering luster, and no trace
Of his surpassing beauty and young grace;
Ere ’round his stiffening frame, from head to
feet,
Satiety shall fold her winding sheet,
While his still form, tho’ dead, is fair and
Bweet.
Let us shako hands. There is no more to say.
Wo part with Love until the Judgment Day—
This is the end of dreams like ours alway.
Ella Wheeler.
Mount Desert.
BY O. E. DAVIS.
“And so you leave Mount Desert and
pleasure to-morrow, Miss Young ? You
have made the summer doubly pleasant
to me—pleasant as I always find vaca¬
tion time.”
“It is very good of you to say so, Mr.
Darley, and I’m sure you have made
Mount Desert very pleasant to us. In¬
deed, my mother was saying only this
morning how useful and nice to us you
have been. But, you see, she must be
getting back to New York now; there
are the boys going away to school, and
all that.”
“Well, I suppose it is necessary. But
you won’t like leaving ?”
“Why, of course it is. No, I shall be
very sorry to leave; and yet I shall be
glad for some things to get back. It will
feel so much like home after all this
traveling and seeing all these things.”
“Yes, no doubt you will bless the
first brick house and dull pavements
you see in town: they give your eye
such a sense of relief and quiet.”
“You are going to stay on here some
time with Mr. Paget, are you not ? He
tells me now you have left the hotel
where you met us, you have got such
pleasant rooms.”
“No, I don’t think I shall stay on
here any longer after this week.”
“Why, I thought you intended to
stay right on into the fall, and he- in¬
tended to read all the gossiping old his¬
torians, and you meant to hunt up every
kind of fish that could possibly live in
these cold Maine waters.”
“So I did ; but I’m not going to now.
I’m going to leave. I’m tired to death
of it.”
“Why, just now you said it was al¬
ways pleasant; and what will Mr. Paget
do?”
“Oh, Paget! Paget! I suppose he’ll
come with me c-r else he won’t. I used
to think Mount Desert pleasant, but I
don’t now.”
“Well, you are a changeable person.”
“So would you be if But do you
really think me a changeable person,
Miss Young ?”
“No, Mr. Darley, I don’t think—at
least I didn’t think that you were ?”
“Well, but what did you think about
me? I think you thought something
about me. ”
“Perhaps I did. One thinks some¬
thing about everybody, you know; but
perhaps I don’t think it now. ”
“I suppose you thought something
about Mr. Paget, too?”
“Oh, yes, I thought something about
Mr. Paget, of course. I like him very
much.”
“But how differently did you think
when you thought about Mr. Paget and
myself ?”
“That’s a very difficult question. I
—at least we—thought you very nice,
too; bul
“But—but what, Miss Young?”
“Oh, nothing, except that I thought
so.” differ¬
“Bnt I want to ask you how
ently you thought, and I want you to
understand me, and not to look too
serious.”
“Why, you don’t think I’m serious,
do you ?”
“Well, as a rule, you are not serious,
certainly; you are delightfully gay. But
there is a certain quality of seriousness
about you; and you are always very
serious when I want to say anything to
to you. Remember how serious yon
were that day when we looked at the
old wharves over in Rockland ?”
“Yes, but that was some time ago,
and_ But- let us talk of something
else and be friends,”
“But we are friends, are we not?
Only-” Darley, along. Mrs.
“I say, come
CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO., GA„ FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1884.
Young says she’d like to look inside the
new hotel before we get into the car¬
riage, though it does look like a meet¬
ing-house except for the tower.”
“Oh, 1 don’t care for the hotel,
thauks, and I believe, Miss Young, you
would, would you not, prefer to finish
your sketch of that yacht ? It will be
in 1 ! done now.”
“Yes, perhaps, I should; that is, I
think that I ought to finish it.”
“All right, Paget; we’ll join you in
five minutes. I’d just like to sketch
the coast in the distance myself; it looks
so well just now with the sun on it.”
“Well, don’t be long coming down.”
“Had you not better get your sketch¬
book out now they have gone, Mr. Par¬
ley, and begin the coast ?”
“Oh, my sketch-book ! OL, I suppose
I have forgotten it!”
“Never mind, here’s a leaf from my
block; and here’s a pencil.”
“Thanks; but I don’t want to sketch
at all.”
“You are changeable, indeed 1”
“I want to sit here and talk to you
and look at you, as you are going away
to-morrow.”
“But if you look at me I shall be em¬
barrassed and unable to sketch, too. Be¬
sides, you know tue coast looks so well
just now, with the sun on it.”
“Bother the coast.”
“What, the coast that you used to
rave about, with its grass mosses of rock
and the white spray darting up in clouds
against it! You used to say it reminded
you of what—what did it remind
you of ?”
“I really, don’t know. But I wish
you were not going away to-morrow. I
don’t know when I shall see you again,
if I ever clo.
“Why, mother asked you to come
and see ns, if you ever found yourself in
New York.”
“If I ever do! I suppose I should
run over from Boston and you will ask
me to dinner; and then you would show
me your house, and, perhaps, your fa¬
vorite seat in the library; and Mrs.
Young would be very distant, and you
would be very stiff and reserved, and un¬
like what you are at Mt. Desert.”
“What a splendid picture, down to
the easy-chair, even ! And my good
brother will look at you through his eye¬
glass, and offer you a cigar, and say
queer fellow or good fellow of you,
‘should think,’ when you are gone. But
you won’t really leave Mt. Desert?”
“Yes, I shall, and knock about some¬
where, spending my time as uselessly as
I usually spend it. But do you truly
expect me to come some day, Miss
Young?”
“Yes; I shall be very much disap¬
pointed if you don’t come. We Lave
been such eood friends, and mother
likes you, and—and we have been such
good friends, you know.”
“Then I certainly shall try to come.
Anu, perhaps—will you let me begin to
talk again as I did that day at Rock¬
land V”
“I don’t know. But I can’t sketch if
you put your arm across my block, Mr.
Darley. And I think it’s quite finished
now—I could finish it at home.”
“Never mind finishing it; let ns finish
something else, which may remain un¬
finished forever if we don’t do it now.
Please look me in the eyes, and let me
go on with what I said on the beach at
Rockland a month ago. Only then you
said it was very painful and sudden, and
you had never dreamed of it. Have
you ever done so since ?”
“Mr. Darley, I think—but I hear
Mr. Paget calling. We must go home. ”
“But may I not come home with you
—I mean to New York, and further ?
Will you not trust me to find you a
home ?”
“Darley, Darley, where are you?”
“Your eyes look yes, and your lips
say ‘Yes.’ Thank you, thank you; it
shall be indeed a home.”
“Darl 9 v. I say. didn’t vou hear me ?
Win S a long five minutes your sketch
takes 1 It’s getting late, and Mrs.
Young is in the carriage. Bat—I hope
nothing is the matter, Miss Young ?”
“No; nothing at all, thank yon.”
“No, nothing is the matter, Paget,
and I’m sorry for being so late, But,
vou see, Miss Young and I have settled
—I mean we have arranged- -to leave
Mopnt Desert and go home—to make a
home, you understand.” — Domestic
Monthly.
“Youb daughter ? It is impossible.
Why, you look more like twin sisters.”
“No, I assure you she is my only daugh¬
ter,” replied the pleased mother. And
the polite old gentleman spoiled it all by
remarking: “Well, she certainly looks
old enough to b~ your sister."
“Therb, now!” exclaimed Mrs. Bas
com ; “the paper says that Professor
Henry Clam, a noted scientist, has
been instantly kiUed by the explosion of j
a retort. What a warning to married
1
men not to quarrel with their wives."
THE CATTLE PLAGUE.
Prof. Law of Cornell University Offers
Some SuKKentiotts.
Prof. James Law, the celebrated Vet¬
erinary Professor of Cornell University,
being questioned concerning the pleuro¬
pneumonia now creating some excite¬
ment among Western cattle-breeders,
said that he had something to say on the
subject. His remarks summed up are
as follows:
1st. The plague having been allowed
to reach the West, it is no longer safe to
purchase stock cattle that have been
carried by rail or other public convey¬
ance; that have been in public sales, mar¬
kets, fairs or other assemblages of cattle,
or that have been in contact with cat¬
tle so exposed.
2d. Stock cattle should be taken only
from well-known herds that have had no
deaths nor sickness for six months, nor
any additions made to their numbers in
that length of time, nor any contact
with adjacent or passing herds.
3d. Stock cattle should not be oarried
home by rail or other public conveyance,
unless these shall have been first thor¬
oughly cleansed and disinfected, and un¬
less the train has carried no other cattle
on that trip.
4th. Any stock cattle carried home by
rail, etc., as above, even when this is
done under disinfectant precautions,
should be carefully secluded in quar¬
antine, under separate attendance, for
three months, until they are found non¬
infecting.
5th. Butchers and dealers handling
fat stock destined for slaughter, should
on no account allow them or their prod¬
ucts to come in contact with stock oat
tie.
6th. All public carrying companies
should cleanse all cattle-carrying cars
and boats, and disinfect them with a
lime whitewash containing four ounces
of chloride of lime to eaoh gallon of
water.
7th. These precautions should be kept
up until by Federal and State action the
plague shall have been stamped out,
should this still be possible.
Our Steamship Captains too Reckless.
A Captain in the Royal Navy may
certainly be supposed to speak with au¬
thority on the dangers of ocean racing.
In a letter to the London Times, Cap¬
tain James W. Gambier, R. N., writes:
“I have recently twice crossed the At¬
lantic, in both instances on steamers of
great tonnage and the highest speed,
and I have gone down to my cabin at
night, to turn in, with a feeling that
nothing but the Providence which sits
up aloft, and in looking after poor Jaok,
has to perform the same duty for passen
gers, could avert a fatal accident if any
vessel approached ours at the same
speed. Through dark, thick nights,
amidst blinding storms of hail, still we
drove ahead at fifteen or sixteen knots
(seventeen or eighteen miles roughly),
with the most reckless disregard of
what we might chance to meet.”
Captain Gambier suggests that a cer¬
tain degree of safety would be attained
if insurauoe companies were to deciirib
to insure these ocean steamers, unless
all alike adopted a certain track, and if
the vessels were to be mulcted by the
companies if found out of the track, un¬
less able to give a satisfactory reason,
such as broken-down engines or th«
like. The writer further suggests tha‘
as a safeguard against the danger o
collision, the entire upper deck shoulr
be constructed as a raft which woulc
float off when the vessel sank, a plan ht
declares wholly feasible. Considering
the vast proportions which ocean travel
has now attained, this is a question
which interests a large part of the pub¬
lic, and suggestions from such a source
deserve attention.
A New Idea.
A new idea has been started in bee¬
keeping. It has long been a grievance
among farmers that a neighbor should
keep a large number of bees without
any pasturage of his own and gather
honey from crops planted and sown by
others. It might not be that any loss
or damage was inflicted, but it was a
clear case of reaping where one had not
sown and gathering where one had not
scattered, aod therefore had a large ele¬
ment of injustice in it. No doubt the
unfounded charges against the bees that
they injured the crops and the fruit, es¬
pecially grapes, were thus originated,
and more from prejudice than any real
belief. A Mr. Hetherington, of Scho¬
harie county, N. Y., is one of the most
extensive bee-keepers in the world, and
it is said keeps 2,500 swarms, a large
number of which he puts out among
farmers to whom he pays a rent for the
use of the pasturage, clover, buckwheat,
etc., grown upon the farms. This is a
new departure which will oommend it
self to farmers who do not keep bees, as
an example which other bee-keeper*
might follow.
NO. 29.
A RAILROAD DISASTER.
Reminiscences of tlie Accident ntt l.nsco
un.de Itrldscin Missouri.
The presence in Denver of Mr. O. A.
Reed, the Chicago Traveling Agent of
„he Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Rail¬
way, Galls to mind one of the most hor¬
rible railway disasters that is known
in the annals of railroading. It occurred
in October, 1857, at the time of the
opening of the Missouri Pacific Railway
from St. Louis to Jefferson City, Mis¬
souri, and it is known as the Gasconade
bridge disaster. In the morning of the
day on which the accident happened
sixteen coaches filled with the most
prominent men of St. Louis started out
from that city filled with the brightest
anticipations of a delightful trip, and
among the passengers was Mr. Reed. In
the train there was also a commissary
car filled with the choicest wines and
liquors, and amply supplied with eata¬
bles. Eighty-eight miles west of St.
Louis the Gasconade River empties into
the Missouri, and witliiu sight of the
latter stream the railway stream crosses
the Gasconad^. The bridge over the
Gasconade had been tested, and so con¬
fident was the engineer who built it that
he rode upon tho locomotive. When
the train reached this bridge the passen¬
gers were in the midst of luncheon, and
the white-aproned darkeys were in the
act of carrying the wines and liquors
through the cars, and no thought of
danger appeared to enter the minds of a
single one of the hundreds who were
upon the train. Suddenly the crash
oame and the engine plunged through
the broken bridge into the river below.
It was followed by several of the oars,
while all but one of the others were
jerked from the rails and thrown across
the track. A scene which is beyond de¬
scription followed and the destruction of
life was fearful. Mr. Reed wa s sitting next
to the window, about the centre of one
of the cars, and he attributes his escape
to the fact that he had just a moment or
so before raised the window, The
weather was misty and he desired to
look at a steamboat which was opposite
them in the Missouri River, and he
raised the window for the purpose of
getting a clearer view. When the orash
came his car plunged forward into the
water, but the rear portion of it rested
on the unbroken part of the bridge. Mr.
Reed caught the side of the window
with his hands and this prevented him
from falling into the front part of the
car, as it stood upon end in the water.
Almost all the other passengers fell, a
confused and mangled mass, into tl\e
end of the ear and with them went the
stove and other articles not securely
fastened. The gentleman who sat in the
same seat with Mr. Reed was one of
those who fell forward, and he was also
among the killed. Altogether there
were forty-four persons killed in the ac
cident and about fifteen subsequently
died from their injuries. There was
only one lady in the party and she es¬
caped without the slightest injury. The
civil engineer who built the bridge and
who was riding on the engine was among
the dead.
To this day the accident on the Gas¬
conade bridge is spoken of in Missouri
as one of the most horrible of which the
people of that State have any knowl¬
edge .—Denver Tribune.
Konnd Hats.
Harper's Bazar says: Round hats
are in the ample and compact shape
worn during the summer, with rather
high crown, and a narrow brim that is
rolled alike on both sides and in front,
or it may be pointed upward directly
above the forhead, or slightly wider on
the left side, but it is always very nar¬
row behind, hats being designed, as the
bonnets are, to be worn with the hair
dressed high. Felt hats trimmed with
velvet and a bunch of feathers directly
in front will be most used, but there are
ako many velvet hats trimmed with
China crape that may be plain or else
embroidered with gold, The velvet
trimming is a smooth or folded band
around the crown, and a facing on the
brim. The ornamental galloons and
passementeries are sometimes added on
this velvet facing. Wing clusters made
up of small pointed wings are much
used on round hats. The shapely point¬
ed Pierrot hats, sugar-lOaf crowns, and
melon-shaped crowns, are shown in felt
and cloth for girls and misses. The
Tam o’Shanter is also imported, made
of cloth — red, blue, gray, or brown
embroidered with crescents or sprays
done in gilt threads or in silk of the
same or a contrasting color.
A New York traveling salesman has
married a Hoboken dressmaker, A
drummer and a fluter in one family
ought to make it lively for the neigh¬
bors.
__ ____
Beware of green fruit. The fruit
nannot help being green, but you can,
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT VVE FIND Iff THEM TO SOtlUE
OVER.
A LITTLE QUARREL.
Two ladies had had a little tiff, and
one of them remarked as she departed:
“Well,, as I told my husband this
morning, 1 shouldn’t care to be in your
shoes.”
“I imagine not,” the other replied.
“You would find them painfully close
fitting.”
WITH A KEEN SENSE.
“Look here,” said Colonel Bloater,
addressing an acquaintance whom he
suddenly met in turning a corner, “you
are a very long time in paying that bilL
You do not seem to care.”
“Oh, yes I do, Colonel."
“No, sir, you do not. You do not
seem to remember your obligation.”
“Oh, I remember it, Colonel. If I
did not, I would not cross the street tc
avoid meeting you. I have a keen sense
of obligation, otherwise I would not be
put to so much trouble.”
“Now here; you are not acting right¬
ly. Juet put yourself in my place
and--”
“Impossible, Colonel. I cannot put
myself in your place. I cannot imagine
your feelings, for no one ever owed me.”
—Arkansaw Traveler.
THE LON (I, LONG DAT.
Visitor to Nantucket—For goodness*
sake tell me what you do here in the
winter?
Native—Oh, we get on pretty well.
We go to bed at sunset and sleep next
day till noon; then we get up and pray
for night to come, that we may go to
bed again .”—Boston Transcript.
A CRUEL MAN.
Mother (to married daughter)—“Why,
What’s the matter, Clara? What are yon
crying about?”
Clara—“Henry is so cruel (sob), he
is getting worse and worse every day
(sob). What do you suppose he said
just now? He told me I must get rid
of cook; he couldn’t stand her cooking
any longer (sob). And he knows we!
enough that she hasn’t done one bit of
cooking for a fortnight, and that I have
done it all myself! Boo-hoo I boo-hoo!”
—Boston Transcript.
A BATNT DAT.
Mrs. Winks—“Did you notice in the
Arctic reports that the exploring party,
after running out of food, kept them¬
selves alive on seal skin ?”
Mr. Winks—“Yes. It is strange that
it should contain so much nutriment.
But speaking of starvation reminds me
that, we have not saved a penny this
yea., It won’t do to go on that way,
you know.”
“Certainly not, and that is what I was
going to speak about. We must lay up
something for a rainy day. We don’t
know how soon we may meet with mis
fortune."
“True, and as Uncle Jake has prom¬
ised to send me a present of $500 in the
fall, I think it would be a good starter,
don’t you ?”
“Just the thing, dear. Buy me a $500
sealskin saeque for a Christmas present,
and if the worst comes to the worst—we
can eat it, you know.”— Phila. Call.
SUNDAY CLOSING.
New York Alderman—“No use letting
John go to the public library. All of
them are closed on Sundays.”
Mrs. Alderman—“Oh ! you must be
mistaken. I know one was open Sun¬
days this spring, because I was there
myself.” had
“Yes, it was then, but wo have
them closed up since.”
“Why, what for?”
“Well, the fact is they interfered with
the business of my saloon .”—The Cab.
GBEAT STRENGTH OF SINNERS.
“My dear boy,” said an earnest Sun¬
day-school teacher at the North End
Mission to a frowsy urchin, “do you
know that we are all sinners ?”
“Yes, marm.”
“Do you know that you are a sinner?*'
“Yes, marm.”
A long and earnest talk followed, in
which the claims of the gospel were
fully set forth, but the teacher was only
rewarded by an unintelligible stare.
Finally, it occurred to the teacher
that perhaps she had taken the boy be¬
yond his depth, and she inquired:
“John, you know what a sinner is,
don’t you?”
“Sinners, marm? oh, yes; sinners ip
strings in turkeys’ legs .”—Boston Globe .
The Diseased Cattle.
Dr. Salmon, Chief of the Bureau of
Animal Industry at Washington, is very'
positive in his opinion that the cattle
disease which has appeared at several
points in the West is contagions pleuro¬
pneumonia. The commission which in¬
vestigated this disease two or three
years ago reported that it was invariably
of foreign origin, and up to that time
had never extended beyond a narrow
belt along the Atlantic coast. They
recommended the mest vigorous meas¬
ures for stamping it out and protecting
r .eom it all lines ot communication to
the West, as, if it once got into Western
herds, it would be very difficult to dea 1
with. They were also of the opinion
that the only certain way of checking
its progress was to slaughter the whole
of every herd in which it made its ap¬
pearance. Comparatively little has
been done toward carrying out tho
recommendations of the commission, and.
as a consequence what its members mos*
dreaded seems to have happened.
