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Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, June 18, 1869, Image 1

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<Îbt (Oïforb Democrat.
r. λ:, s α ι tt',
ΓΚΚΜ<Two l>ollar·» per rear; Our Doûarand
fifty Cent·», If paid in advance.
Ktitrs of Λ tirer fining.
For 1 squarv.( 1 inch ol «pact-) 1 week, · - fî.00
Kach Mb«eqaeat wc»*k, jj
For 1 3 MO·. #♦ 00; f mo«. #7; I year, #!.».
For 1 cvluron yar fii* ■<«>; | c**l. # *·. J ni-9N5.
SractAL NoTU'i»-3i|i»rewit ai»titlonal.
PltomrK S*»ii« «-·» -Orderaot uodceol £»tate~00
(trdrr* oc Wlflk, pu lima IJO
iiuardi.nn * Non ·.·· l.^i
Administrator'* and Kxecuti r'n Notice*, · 1.50
All other i-**|Eal Notice*. U1 pertqaarc, for three
JOB PRINTING, p* every df<c· r!:,n. neatly executed
• è" N M. rettenjiU!k Co.. 1·· >î iteSirret Bo«ton.
and III Na«aa«i Strrrt, New York, and S. K. Nile»,
Court Street, Bo·ton, arc authorij* d ajjent»
Loral ^I j/« m/ « /'<»<' The liemocriit.
Who ar· »nthorife»i fo rrc ;pt f«»r mono».
J. II l.orejo ν. VlHiir. \ It llnhbarri. IIiram.
SiU/tuu* r. W I»· km il, Hartford
Κ PtMtrr. Jr., RrthH -John F Hi>hb», l.ovrll.
I»r I iphaia, Bryant'» IV M ««or* W. |*ark, Mr\ko.
κ:ι B. Imm,Btvwtlt M ι ;··«. ll Brown. Maaon.
W · · ι * 11 ' " iri Backteld Hcnrv I pt< n, Norway.
F. K. llolt. <"uitou. (>rn Foner. ûrvry.
Ho Inter A Wright. I >ixi'd. K S. W\man, IN ru.
l>avtd S< «all. Κ "»«imner II \M*»tt, Jr..Κ Kumf'd
F. *»hirkr, Frv. 'hu^. .1 U. Ui<-h. I'pton.
I» Il rrwkcU.iif*» iiwM. H. H.I'IiuhU· r, W.S«B*r ,
Α Λ Kinjip. HauoTer. .'a» M ^tiaw.wM rfM
11. Saaad· r«. Sweden.
Τ ra τ oiling V;, nt. K. » «» Vt Pirncr.
SuSvribcr·» fin tell, by β\<ηι·ηΐΒ£ th»· colore»! I
slip ittachnl to their pijxr. tin- .tniouut Λ»»*. and
th«><«· wwhiuj t«> ό ill th'ûMolv-'s of the advanced
piynrat*. rau «> a 1 t.» u« hv mail or hand to tlw I
near «t at; -ut. •"•«■pf. t, '·■ ·»." on the *Itp. ui< ο»·
the paper i« paid for, to that date. \Vh«-n »η»»η«·ν i«
•••ut, car»- >h mid be t.iken toex imin·· the slip, and if
the in·»·!» ν I. u t en-dit»·»! within two we» k·. *c
ahould be apprix J of it.
Professional Cords. ΛΥ.
DR. \V. B. LI I'll 1M.
Will au» ii 11 > tlhf Pra«'tice of
— I·* At>»> —
lltaiuliiliij; Sur^rva for Ικ«·Η«1 Pra·!»·)·,
AT BK^ VN Γ> 1'» >M>. Μ Κ.
Will give «5>· i.il attention t·» the treatment of |
Nervou·» 1> ·«· «'«·
MtnnUj ■· a hen j aid»·. » ill ' <]ι \ >:·· ! t»>
the e\ι in in .at n »f ill*ulid p< «.-ner- an I cencr*
a! · the* burine*». juue 1. W.
SÛLWÏ ÊÎ It. i US I l lfi.
Γ Λ lit > HILL. MK .
— η»κ —
"Hi.. nvre-M-nt» » m.» iir«t-e!.i»- Companies.!
and will i*«ue P«»licie« at a- favorable rate- a* an\
other A^rot. Appli· .ι:.'>η- 1»τ mail l'or t. ir»*ular»
or iri«uran>-e. proniptU an-«i re |. I an\ p;irt of
the County \i«ite«iif rv»iaei4e»l. Apl 1.
■ι ι Bui κ h ii ο ι η ι:.
II. Ill II 11 \ Κ I». I*r«>»»rè. Inr.
ι. i:. El ». IK.
â«'!*r Κ * ill aix· i i> particular attention t··
dh· w- of the Ky<· au ι t·· vr »t; ν· ^urçerv tu all
it* form». Oflk'f over ibc l'»î4 OUce. I
i. d. w ιιχη,
Druggist and Apothecary,
i<rvM'ri|4t«»n.- carefully rom
pootxle·! AU on 1er- |>r<>ui|>tly attended t ».
Kor Oxfonl λπιΙ Cunltrrbivt ι ountie-*.
Γ Ο. .Vllre»», North Waterford Val no.
·« \!i bu>:ntM* Mrut by mail w ill reeetve pn»mpt
atleuUon. man-h 1.'
— Place* of Bu-îbo ,
III Till I. \Μ» NO! Til IMHIV
Counsellors and Attorneys at Law
I» 1X11 1:1. I» . Μ Γ..
! (
m w »·>».·»Γ»'t. J - wKK.ilT ;
\\. t . r κι »:.
Counsellor φ Attorney at Lair, '
Itumford l'oint, >lt»iur,
•1er 1» "8S , :
int. r. κ. ih> iv
sen f, ι; ο λ /> /; ν τ / s τ.
we ι- unr wr ·» r»>si» Ht week f«»iu*·
in* tii· m · >\ t» Movuv» t ν ι \< »t month . the tv
maioder of the tiuu at Wi.»r St mn».k.
Ι»·Τ»·ί!ι warrante*! t > tit <»r no charge will be
ma «le.·# :>ni jau.*.*
J. %. MOIMO>. n. !>..
h κ τ h 1: i>. >1 i:.
t>;li f : ι ΚιηΓ :»1Γ?. Block : U<<>nlnire on l'nrk >t
I». Κ. Il VI I Λ. D..
ni ht ILL D, M K.
Uov Mf
M. F. JOM>.
noiîw vy vu.!. \»;k, mk.
-T< «'tl: :u-frte>l <>n <.<''.1. Silver, or VuImd :
iz«-1 Rul»I«er.
IMH II I OS I I |{. JK..
Counsellor Attorney at Lairy
it κ τ ii κ l . >1 ι:.
s. «. a\dki:ws
Counsellor $ Attorney at Laic,
BICKFIELI), o.\F«»Ul> co.. MK.
• «•W'ill practice in Oxfonl, CumlK>r!an<l an 1
An*lroscoi;«tn « ountii■«.
4.i:om;i: t.
Attorney Counsellor at Lair,
CVet "ppnsii* tk< Atlnnti Il'jrue),
^Ol Til !»AKl>. ME.
Collecting prom^ly attended to.
KXiiRAVt'R* - - South Paris.
Will be fou 11Ί at hi> Re»i<lenco.
Maine Uterine Hospital,
AM» —
Η. P. *HΛTTI't'K. M. I».,
Superintending l'hy-aianau 1 Op rating Surgeou.
|) Of trn.
r ι /> f; /> f* /, f> ir κ /t s»
An oW man η>»«- I «ot nod think
Alone and «ad to-nijrht.
Some failt-d dower* ti**d up with pink,
Have dropped before the Ii»rbf.
Th·* book I γνκΊμιΙ In1 m nfftlu stand
S«*eined qnite untouched f«»i «.fs
It opra'd wide within my h.nud,
Thv.-e flow'r- between the pages.
At once my thoHjrht* jrobark far year·,
My pre-ent life fade- fast.
>J\ oye« grow dim u?i'»idden ti ir#
Spring rm1hth*l t ill nt la-t;
Ami all the mist ofvears roll by ,
And all the weary hour",
Αη·1 once ajrain I hear the siph
Of oik who plucked the«c flow*r«.
I stand onee more l»e»i'b· the st le—
Our iwial try»tme pla«*e—
I watch the look and note therroile
Of <?m* <«et up-inrn'd face.
And then the mist roll· back again,
\ti«l all «rem* like ?» dream .
Tli·· woodland path.the hawthorn line,
The flow'r* Ik m'Iv tlie stream.
Ah. me' tin··»»» little simple flow'.»
Have brought back nil the pa«t,
M> »h.vb»w'd life, no wa«ted hour*,
My h>i|ic·; - » i*o«»n oVrca^t.
Sad tn^morie·. lyinj hushed for λ car··.
Have -|>rtinti t.· lit'·· once more:
I rise, an·! murmur ΊηίΙ-t my u ir*.
• Not Inrt. Irart »Γ"ΐι<' Wbte."
^fleet $lorn.
M r r ι ι: s τ ο r r ι: /;.
"Who is tint old in.ii» loaning over the
fence ? What makes hi* fare sored?
Water did'nt do it. nor lias the 'milk of
human kindness* sweetened his <lisj>osi
tiou anvthing t.» speak of. judging from
the attempt he made just now to hit tint
hoy with his cane; kicked that dog. lost
his balance, and got the worst of it—littlu
dog the smarter of the two."
"Come away from the window ; 1 am
so coM ; U al ways makes mo >hiver t<>
l»M>k at him."
"What :i misfortune it is f.»r one t<«
have a low. groveling nature, corrupt a"
birth anil growing more eorrupt a· time
wears on. 1 am not a believer in the old
exploded notion of total depravity—far
from that ; but I do b. lievo that if some
are born angels, some others are l»i»rn
very vile. Λ great d.-al of true precept
and example are needed t<» bring the last
named class to good, true nun hood and
"Αρι ι η : In some, in alter years, me
angel becomes -> bewildered and lo>t,
amid the world's perplexities And laby
rinths that hut seldom we see it shining
through ; yet it is there t"<»r all that, and
after many devious w;imli'rinps «ill
rniut' right at last. There ars th »sc whtwo
tngel never for*akes them, never lose."
tin· war, who g » ou in their -!ii«i :iper
feet way, drawing all hearts unto them :
tndwhen they take th ir tlight. they lead
lis nearer heaven. The good may keep
>n in their shining way, ail the had may
become the g-χκΐ by right ilireeted effort.
"Tell you about that man?" Ye-, cer
tainly, th.it w.t . wh it I was coming at.
That man was horn under unfortunate
:ireumstanee>·—hi- father vile, hi- moth
er fal>e and vain; and having wealth at
u- command, and. nothing in the world
;odo sa\e to pamper hi- app« tite and find
"anil with hi- -ervant-. he continued to
rr«»\v to niitus estate under unfortunate
:ircumstances. His life lias l»een a fail
ire—physi» ally, mentally, and morally, |
mles- indeed -ueh examples are needed
jeeaMonally to illustrate how depraved
ι l»eing may become who never restrains
ι passion and who freely tip- tlie bowl.
"Did you notice the glanc·· he gave me
ust now? There was no love in the
look; he has not forgiven me a slight '
wound his pride received years ago.when
tie ami I were younger and days were
lark for me and brighter for him. Hut
lie never will know, and (iod alone does :
lenow, how near I came to killing my
»oul before the altar, ami living a li" with
liim; forthere never was a time when he
loved me or 1 him : but though he did not
love me, he asked me to be his wife, part
ly because the big bouse seemed lone·
- »me, perhaps, since he had become sole
ma'ter, and partly because he thought he
-hotild like to see ηι«· at the head of his
table, with much th»? same feeling, 1
think, one ha.- who Lias a handsome horse
in his stable; for 1 w;is good looking then,
[H'ople -aid. My eyes were veir beauti
ful, hair glossy and abuudaut, and my
complexion a clear sparkling white—it
you know what that means—not a dead,
lifeless white; but thought, work, and
time chi.-el away at one's form and fea
ture*. leaving the hair thin and white,the
L>yes faded and dull, the complexion yel
low ; and what does it matter? W'e shall
have a new suit throughout by-atid-by.
ι >nly when one tries to picture one as in
the days gone by, who can believe it is
not a picture of the imagination ?
"We lived in that cottage yonder,
through the trees—father and 1. lie was
blind and we were poor. 1 do not re
member my mother. But I must go back
to the time when my father's sight whol
ly failed him. lie had complained of
growing weakness and pain in his eyes a
long time; but I was not prepared to see
liim come into the room, one sunny morn
ing, groping his way, or to hear him say
in a kind of resigned, helpless manner;
'Daughter, lam blind Γ We didn't speak
after that fora long time, anil 1 fear the
silen· » broken by my sobs made the bur
Lien harder to bear.
"By-and-by 1 finished getting break
fast. and after things were put away, sat
down to think. Sudden shocks sometimes
seem to awaken new energies; new
thoughts spring up as if one had stepped
into another world, where all is new or
differently colored. λ\"ο had lived com·
fortahly, with something to spare. I had
not thought it might not continue or of
the possibility of my father's becoming
blind. Now I saw ruin before 11s. The
hclplessnt ss of the dear old man and
t _λ ι ♦- ; ι - ι à l. -
1 _
with the thought until it could be hid no
longer. Is a long dreaded sorrow easier
to be borne, when it comes, or the sudden
shock of it, 1 wonder?
•Ί sa w plainly something must be done.
! M % father never could work for us any
more. I must work lor him. Hut what
could 1 do? Again and again 1 asked
myself the question. First I tried teach
i ing—woman's resort—but soon broke
I down under that and did not go out of the
I house again for two months. N'.it encour
aging. Mirelv. Next I obtained a situa
I tion where I could 'tend shop' for a few
hours in the busy part of the day. I sup
pose 1 had not fully recovered my usual
strength. I was n«>t strong at l>cst. and
that soon brought me down again. Then
1 tried «-wing, but earned so little at that,
1 s.»on gave it up in disgust.
"What could 1 do? Now I asked the
question with a sickening dread 1 had
not known before, amounting almost to
agony Λ slave hound hand and foot,
with all his soul ali\e for action, perhaps
feels something of what I felt then. 1
was not strong enough to labor at any
employment \ stated time, every da\ ;
neither could 1 leave my lather alone all
day. Again and again I asked myself.
What could I do? And, occasionally,
w hen alone,spoke it aloud, and echo only
swered *l>o !' I think 1 could have torn
her eyes out, had .-he not always kept
just beyond niy sight and reach. 1 want
ed to · / ,' only couldn't see the way.
What human, whether man or woman,
would not become discouraged under
those circumstances ? Do you know ?
•-Had 1 been a man, with wife and
children to support, I probably .should
have drowned myself, thus leaving theni
to battle alone, while I serenely reposed
inside the 'g«»!«len city.' But I doubt me
λ cry much if the suicide has a much bet
ter time, after all. than it he had bravely
battle 1 for the good things of life that
are hi^, taken his share of life's good and
e\ il and cared lor his little ones, instead
of leaving them to wander through,temp
tations and trials, uncared for and unkept,
aloue. But to return. 1 am always run
ning away from my .subject.
"i cou ni ηοι>ιηι>ι\ nor sec iiiv poor
father starve, and I could not and would
not set· hiiu cat the broad of charity.—
lint there it i·» again. NVh.it could I do?
Night alter night I lay awake an·! tossed
on my bed. and clasped my hands in des
juir, trvin^ in vaiu to think what 1 could
do to keep u* from want : and then
1 would pray as only the desperate can
pray : but all to no purpose: the ravens
did not brinsr food as tonne of old : strength
Ο ' Ο
did not flow along my veins to enable me
to do the work of life; nor did spirit get
so far ahead of matter as to enable me to
.take no thought for the morrow.' After
a time Nature would become exhausted,
and toward morning I would fall asleep.
"Month after m >nth went by in this
manner, and still no solution to our difti
eulties. Father Mi-peeted our funds were
getting low, but he did not know that tin·
last live dollars had been taken from the
box. and I had used three of that : but he
rarely smiled, and my heart seemed ach
ing lead.
"Then it was th>it man came to me.
What i* he standing there >o long for?
He asked me to become his wife. There
was relief! Would 1 not grasp the hand
held out to me ? Here was the answer to
niv oft-repeated question. Here is food
and -lieit» r, and 1 can care lor his house,
and make it pleasant and inviting and
>eein home like to him. What matter if
I di 1 not love him—can never come near
his soul life, nor he mine ? 1 can prove
faithful in deed if not in spirit. 1 shall
not be the lir>t woman who has sold her
self. soul and body, nor the last, I fear,
for a roof to cover her head and bread to
put in her mouth.
"While these thoughts were running
in my mind.I toM him I must have time to
consider, as the lunor was altogether un
looked for and unexpected. 'Take as
long time as you picas ·, only don't say
no,' and he was gone.
"That night it came to mo in my wild
unrest ; I could write. I had never tried;
but there was a voice within, telling me
I could do that. "You know/1 it said,
•you can do that, for power was given
you to move the hearts of men to nobler,
kinder deeds. 'Try, and see,1 and say
ing to myself Ί will try,1 I fell asleep.1
"When I woke, late the next morning,
distinctly before my mind's eye stood the
outlines of my story. It had all been en
acted before me. In dream life I had
I iced it. Now I would write it that oth
ers might live it, too. All night long it
went trooping through my brain, and
when I sat down to write, it was as if 1
had threaded a part of my own life into
the pen's jw>int and was weaving that in
also. 1 copied it, and sent it with a note
to an editor, who, it was said, had a kind
heart beating in his bosom, and had giv
en many a poor discouraged toiler, when
ready to fall by the wayside, a helping
hand—a cheering, strengthening word,
! whereby they had been enabled to stiug
! «rie on ami ultimately reach a noble height
Γη the world of letters. But I trembled
so when I «hopped the note into the post
office that I eonU1 hardly stand. I ha<l
not trembled when that man asked me to
become hi* wife, nor had I prayed over
what my answer should bo, ns I prajed
• for success now ; but I said to myself, in
■ prim desperation, il this last effort for a
1 living is a failure, 1 will accept his ofTer,
and (iod forgive me if 1 do wrong.
♦•In one month, probably before, 1
should know if my sketch was accepted
and paid for, which was the interesting
part, after all, just then ; and if there was
a prospect of my earning a living by my
pen. The alternative .seemed too drcad
i fill to contemplate.
"lie was no very anient lover and wil
ling to wait for his answer, as I suppose
the possibility of a refusal never entered
his head. Ho was called handsome,liked
by the ladies who saw not the blackened
heart beneath the fair exterior, and felt
well, of course, for what good looking
nun, flattered by the ladies, doesn't feel
! well ?
••1 went about the house calmly, quiet
ly, and it seems to me now, in a kind of
deadened sensibility. I felt that I could
endure all things; whatever came now
>hould not move mc—a very unhealthy
state of affairs, no doubt; and when, at
! last, the mail brought me a letter with
ten dollars enclosed, and a wish e\pie-s
fora series of slioit sketches for each
of which the same amount would be pai I.
I l could hardly believe my own eyes—
that from the darkness dawned a light,
afar off. it might be. but the gladening
ray- b«d me away frt»m the deep, dark pit
at "my feet, and placed thorn upon a solid
••1 read the letter in a sort ol maze.and
could not comprehend all it meant to me
until three days after —just a.·» long
takes to cure a man of love. In my ea-c
it meant sal \ at ion from a lift' of <\n, a
home and comforts for my father ami my
self, all within my reach, honestly and
casilv to be accomplished. 1 laughed and
cried* both together and by turns, and as
tonlshcd my poor old lather by giving «".u
several beari>h hugs, very unlike the em
brace of his •gentle daughter,' as he used
to call me, audi thanked my Heavenly
Father that he had not forsaken hi-child;
(as if he ever did forsake his children;)
that I had not been left to' do that thing,^
thai the light had broken through at last ■
••My dear, g'M»d father never knew how
near his child came to selling her-clf; he
on I ν knew how happily and peacefully
our lives glided by, with plenty at the
l»oard and pej.ee in our hearts, till one
summer morning, with a smile on his bp-,
he passed 'over the river;' he will be
there to meet mc, my mother by his aide,
those darkened eyes restored to sight. A
joyous welcome home! 1 can think of it
only goin.j h>mc after a long journey in
foreign lands.
·· «What did 1 tell him, and what did he
say ?* I told him 1 did not love him a> a
wife should love her husband. He
slammed the door ami walked horn·· fast
er than 1 ever saw him before or since.
\s 1 entered the room where father -at.
he asked if the wind was rising; we had
dreadful hurricanes then; 1 said, 1 fear
The old llacltrlor.
By Josii Hit ι ivos.
A chronick old bachelor i/ iin ariably ov
the neuter gender, i don't care how nmeli ι
he may offer tew bet thalt it aint so.
They are like dried apples o.t a string—
want a good soaking before they will do
t<> use.
I suppose their iz some of then» who
ha?e a good excuse for their nnterness;|
many of them :ir«* ti»«» stingy to marry.
This iz one of the be>t excuses I kno ov,
for a stinar man aint fit tew have a nice I
Some old bachelors git after a llirt, and
kan't travel so fast as she doz, and then
konklndes awl the female group are hard
to ketch, and good for nothing when they
are ketehed.
A tlirt is a rough thing to overhaul un
ies.·» the rigSt dog gets after her, and then
they are the easiest ov awl to ketch, and
often make very best ov wives.
When a tlirt really fills in love, she iz
sis powerless as a mown daizy.
lier impudence then changes into mod
esty, her cunning into fear, her spurs into
a halter, her pruning hook into a cradle.
The best way to catch a tliit iz tew trav
el the other way from which they are go
ing, or sit down on the ground and whis
tle some lively tune till the tlirt comes
Old bachelors make the llirts ; and then
the flirts get more than ever, by making
the old bachelors.
A majority of the llirts git married
finally, for they have a great quantity of
the most dainty titbits of woman natur,
and alwus hav shrewdness to back up
Flirts dont deal in poetry and water
gruel; they hev got tew hav brains, or
else somebody would trade them out of
capital at the fust sweap.
Dissappointcd luv must ov course bo
all on one side, and this aint en\' more ex
cuse fur being an old bachelor than it iz
for a man to quit awl kinds of manual la
bor, jist out of spite, and jine a poor house
because he kan't lift a ton at one pop.
An old bachelor will brag about his free
dom, to you, hiz relief from anxiety, hiz
independence. This is a (lea l beat put
resumption, for everybody knows their
aint a more anxious dupe than he iz. All
his dreams are charcoal sketches of
boarding-school misses ; hed ressos, gre:is
es his hair, paints his grizzly mustach,
cultivates bunyons and corns, tew please
his captains, the wimmen, and only gets
billed at for his pains.
I tried lwing an old bachelor till I waz
about twenty years old, and came near
dicing a dozen limes. I had more sharp
pain in one year than I have had since,
put it all in a heap. I was in a lively le
ver all the time.
There is only one person who has in
habited this world thus far I hat I think
could have been an obi bachelorand done
his subject justice, and he was Adam;
but I hold it is every man's duty to #e
leckt a partner and keep tho dance hot.
—New York Weekly.
W itîi most persons, there is an epoch
in life when the eyes become «lijjhtlv
flattened. It arises, probably from a
diminished activity of the secreting ves
sel*. The consequence is that the globe
is not kept ipiite as comparatively distend·
ed with fluids as in youth and middle
age. There is thus an elongated axis of
vision. Λ book is held further off to be
read. Finally, becoming more flattened
by the same inactivity within, the difti
culty i« met by putting on convex g! ι><·
es. This j« the waning vision of ago.
If. however, when that advancing im
perfection is first realized, fhr individual
persist* in the attempt to keep the book
in the old focus of vision—even if he reads
under perplexing disadvantages, never
relaxing, but pcrseveringly proceeding
just as he did when his eyes were in the
meridians of tla-ir p« rfcction, the slack
vessels will at hist come up to his as
j si.-tance, and the original local distance
J will be re-established.
I'lii-> statement will unquestionably be
combated, energetically, by thos«> who
! use glares. Hut it will be a waste of
fiuvnsic powder, because the fact is
established beyond cavil. \\*e do not
pretend it will I c successful in every in
staller ; but generally, if glasses are once
resorted to then the opp >rtunity of doing
without them is forever l>«t.
Ν cry aged men may be noticed reading
fine print; and ladies too, by -core··, who
resisted glasses at the age of life referred
to who enjoy all the comfort of distin* t
vision, and they will, until, like the
deacon's chaise, every stick in tho v ehicle
falls to pieces at the same time.
Therefore, begin with a firm resolution
nevi r to use glasses of any kind, for
reading or writing. The ancients knew
nothing about such contrivances ; if they
had, there would have been poor eves in
al undance, and oculists to meet the
emergency. Cicero never complained of
imperfect vision at the age of sixty-three,
lie even wrote his last letter by torch
light, on the eve of being put tt> death by
the waiting soldiers. Humboldt died at
ninety-two, having never been embar
rassed with those modern contrivance.·»,
lunettes. John Quincy Adams, illustrious j
for scholarship, at a ripe old age saw
without them. Indeed, it would be a
laborious enterprise, to collect a catalogue
of names in the chronicle of literary fame,
of men and women, who wefe indepeud
ont of glasses. — [Dr. J. V. C. Smith.
< >nee a week is often enough for a j
decent white man to wash himself all j
over, ami whether in Summer or winter, ι
ami a hogVhair brush, in a room showing
at lea*t seventy degrees Fao nhcU. If a
man is a pig in his nature, then no
amount of washing will keep him clean,
inside or out. Such an one needs a bath J
even* time he turns round. Ht» can do
nothing· neatly.
Ilaths should lift taken early in the
morning, for it is then the system j»osse.>ses
the power of reaction in the highest
degree. Any kind of bath is dangerous
soon after a meal, or soon after fatiguing
exercise. No man or woman should take
a bath at the close of the day unless by
tlie advice ol the family physician. .Many
a man, in attempting to cheat his doctor
out of a fee, has cheated himself out of
his life; aye, it is done every day.
The safest mode of a cold bath is a
plunge into a river; the safest time is
instantly after getting up. The neces
sary effort of swimming to shore compels
a reaction, and the effect is delightful.
The best, safest, cheapest nr.d most
universally accessible mode of keeping
the surface of the body clean, besides the
once-a-week washing, with soap, warm
water, and hog's-hair brush, is as follows:
Soon as you get out of bed in the morn
ing, wash your face, hands, neck, ami
breast ; then into the same basin 01" water
put both feet at once, for about a minute,
rubbing them briskly all the time; then,
with the towel, which has been damjiened
by wiping the face, feet, &c., wipe the
whole body well, fast and hard, mouth
shut, breast projecting. Let the whole
thing be done in about tire minutes.
At night, when you go to bed, and
whenever you get out of bed, during the
night, or when you fmd yourself wakeful
or restless, spend from two to live minutes
in rubbing your whole body, with your
hands, as far as you can reach, in every
direction. This has a tendency to presen e
that softness and mobility of skin which is
essential to health, and which too frequent
washings will always destroy.
That precautions arc necessary, in con
nection witJi tliobatii room, is impressively
signified in tho death of an American lady
of refinement and position, lately, alter
taking a bath, soon after dinner; of
Surgeon Hume, while alone, in a warm
hath ; and of an eminent New Yorker,
under similar circumstances, all within" a
year.—[Ilall's Journal of Health.
I vk ι NO \\ is v..—fjov. Brings once said
to a lahy, "Madam, it you will go by your
self in some corner here, and spend Imlf
an hour thinking over your acquaintances
and friends; and count the number of
victims to intemperance in each family
and can then come back to me, ami sa ν
that you think nie fanatical in doing nil I
can to keep others from an evil so com
mon and so dreadful, I will take wine
with you if you wish mo to do so, for I
know you arc a reasonable woman ; but I
know that you will com« hack agreeing
with me that "touch not, t i-te not," is
the only safe rule." She replied la tch
ing, "Of course III doit or anything
else that you lequcst, but don't expect
mo to be converted ; for you radical re
former.·» always exaggerate danger.'' She
went, and in half an hour returned pale,
her e>es filled with tears, exclaiming, Ό
tiovernor Briggs! how could you ask ine
to do such a thing at a party? I am appall
ed ; it is s,> dreadful to find that I do not
know a family that does not number one
victim, and some have had their brightest
I »!l by it—fathers, husbands, children—it
is too dreadful to think of. I would not
have believed it. You are quite right,
and 1 will never ask you again to drink
wine, nor call you fanatical for not taking
Important I kstimony.—The following
letter which we tint! published in the
Herald of Mechanic Falls, from a
venerable and estimable citiztn of that
place, will be read with plcarttre:
Mft. KmroR : 1 have ju^t left my
business as a hotel keeper. It is often
said by whiskey drinkers that a man can
not keep a hotel without selling ardent
spirits. I know hotter. I hare l»een in
the btidn s* here for twentv-three
\ears. have paid all rnr supply bills, and
saved more than seven thousand dollar*,
and yet I have never sold one drop of
spirituous liquors, not even cider. Besides
I have had some eight or ten competitois
in the hotel business since I started here,
some of them bad men and ruutseller*.
but thank (rod, by the aid of tempérance
men, I have been sustained, and out-lived
them all. 1 have deemed it my dutv to
keep temptation out of the way of mv
sons and daughters that I have reared,
and the consequence i> they are respect
able men and women, representing at
least a lair share of this world's goods.
I am thankful to say that our village is
nearly clear of this vile traflie, and I !>··
lieve there is moral force enough to stop
it altogether. Therefore let us unite one
and all, and say to the rumscller, "You
must and sit u.r. stop your deadly traflie."1
Yours truly, >Vw. Coiib.
A Max ok Xkrvk. A Washington let
ter remarks of Mr. (îreely "that the con- ι
Irol he has of his countenance is nearer
what is related of Talleyrand than anv
man we wot of—it being said of the lat
ter that if any man were to kick him be
hind, a man in front could not tell from
the expression of his face that an\thing
unusual was occurring." This reminds
a correspondent of an incident that oc
curred in Omaha; A gentleman wh » had
received an insulting mi--ive determined
to resent it promptly. Next day, thin*
• ng he saw a man ahead, he hastily ove r- |
took him and administered >evual pedal
salutations. The kicktc remaining pa*
>ive. the kick' /· went round in iront to sc«
the uflfcct. and discovered to his r*gi·'
that he hail kicked the wrong man. l»<·
apologized, and was answered:
"Don't mention it. From the frequen
cy of such little episodes in my experi
ence I was sensible of your demonstra
tion, but was not awaie you had made
any mistake."
Four 4*reat Eventa.
The present century lias seen these four
great events :
1. Morse's invention of the Telegraph.
2. The laying of the Atlantic Cable.
.S. The death of Slavery in the United
4. The completion of the Pacific Rail
In twenty-live years the continent has
been spanned l»y the wires of the tele
graph. Ten yea · ago the lightning be
gan to run beneath the sea. Five years
ago the war for freedom ended, and
slavery died. Yesterday the iron track
was made complete from Portland to San
The young man of today, who has
seen all these things accomplished, will
have tales to tell to his grandchildren
such as no grandsire of our day can
summon from the stores of his memory.
—X. Y. Evening Post.
—A friend relates the following "joak:''
A party of men were surveying for a
railroad, and of course they are entitled to
the best there is along the line. At one
house they thought the proprietor was a
little tardy in producing the cider. It
came at last, and was tasted by oneofthe
party with great deliberation. "How
much cider did you make this year?" he
asked. "Nine barrels," was the reply.
Another sip. "Well, if you had had
another apple, you might have made
another barrel."
Head Advertisements,
Readers of newspapers who habitually
omit to read the advertisements are un
wittingly losing some of the most interest
ing portions. If the paper is stupid the
chances are that the advertisements at··
not more so; if it is bright, its advertising
columns probably possess real interest.
For, in the first place, these columns are
filled by hundreds of writers, ea< h pre
senting in his own vein a subject of vital
interest to himself, and compelled to seek
brevity and point; while the so-called
reading matter is prepared by a com
paratively small number ol men, who do
not always believe what they write, much
less feel a keen acceptability, and do not
always aim at brevity, but sometimes are
prolix. In the next place the advertise
ments really represent a wider range ol
human operation·' than doe- the onli '·>
gr ide of news; nothing eruld'··■ ·" "
tu lie m ι. y telegram-, and η ulnng
brighter than many advertisements, l-or
adtcrii inghas reached its proper place η
pu.>ti "Uimation of late years, an.I it is
now m »de .» subject of earnest study.
II ι - i π - · - - men are Ik ginning to under
stand r ' ι ; it in advertising they are pr.ici id
ling tie· art of .sale-man upon the whole
public instead of U|H»n a -ingl·· indi\ idual,
ami the) study the art accordingh . In
.renuitv is tasked to devis® bits ol rhyme,
conundrums, od.l conjunctions of the art
icle on hand with the latest matter of pub
lic interest, anecdotes ending with ad\ ice
to buy your bats of Hit. trieks with types
and seductive stories which beguile the
leader into an advertiser's store. Hence
adver.isementi are a curious index ol hu
man character, being dull, verbose, pithy,
straightforward, polished, blunt, witty,
or the opposite, as their writers happen
to be, and in a certain sense, advertisers
arc writers of essays for prizes, for, upon
the supposition that their bu-ines-» is con
ducted with average sagacity. those u no
write the best will win the larg t pi i/o
of public patronage. The most bri.-f,
most pointed, and the oftenest renewe »
adverti-ements are the nn»"t read ι le and
the be>t pa\ inu, and the nailers who
won! I -at I ι thob ■: : ! · of what is go
• »t· ' lb « ·!' 'm- »»'
ν γ y . ·.; · . *
*ιη.ι * - ' «
i.ra. O* ' i ' " · Ltclnr*
The Siieiititie Λ- "iatioii <>: \\
ton—I Iwlieve that i- thr nauu—pn - *
upon On. Thomu au invitation t«» „rt e
the members his story of the battle of
Xa.-hulle. Gen. Thoma-. with great re
luctance, conscuteil. 1 ktn»w that I am
doing wrong to gi e any account ot it,
but 1 cannot reebt. The day i- near
when every trait ami every anecdote of
this remarkable man will hetreasiiicd up,
and the Boswells be toanke 1 for ieoi■!·
ing them.
With a map hung upon the wall, and
armed with alight rattan. thestaUart
form of the soldier stood before the little
company as much embanassed as a girl,
rhe man who had marshalled great
armies, and unhesitatingly took the re
sponsibility in huge lights, when the fate
lit the, republic hung trembling on the
issue, blushed like a boy, while the
perspiration gathered in drops upon i t*
forehead. It wae with the greatest ■ ffort
that he forced himself to proceed. H<
did so, however, with clearness Ηη·1
power. Ho sketched in a tcv\ bri-t · «-ids
the compaigu that < uluiina'
l>attle before Nashville. It·· Hi η .... e
the position of the troops umb r I oih
Hood and himself, lie told, witn the
|H>wer of words when uneolored by any
imagination, the situation of the enemy as
the irmics lay facing each other,
until the hour came when they «ere
f.uce»l to try conclusion-, and ot t!ie
ν |r(>,r that followed.
!Ι ·>ΐ*ν IlcVer v;|b imÎ4ik| illifiM· a · >M
ver>aiioiial lone, nor did he lor a >ecotid
betray any t«*«*linIt « a* the great cap
tain changed to a historian, ami retaining
tin· traits in the one that made him I'amou,
in tin* other. In conclusion, In* ««aid,
calmly, that looking over :J1 the ground,
he could find hut one error with which to
charge himself. Hut that, he .«-aid, «a» a
grave error. At the close of the first
day's lighting, he thought of detaching
Steadman with lorce enough (·» po^ess
himself of the fords of Tennessee -ο as to
intercept the retreating enemy. Orer
cautious, and fearing to we:iken his forc
ée, he hesitated and delayed umtil after
the second day's fight, and then if was
too late. That was one error, hut. he said,
it was a grave one.—Washington ( <>r. of
Cincinnati < 'ommeicial.
1)o.mkstic scenic. "IVeUy time ofnight,
.Mr. M f for you to come home—pret
ty time, three o'clock in the morning;
you, a respects hie man in the communi
ty, and the father of a family."
" Tisn't three—it's only one ; I heard it
strike. Council always sits till one
".My soul! Mr. M , you're drunk
—as true as I am alive; you're drunk.
It's three in the morning.'
"I say, Mrs. M 4 it's one. I heard
it strike one as I come around the corner.
two or three times*
His s|)ouse could say no more, so she
How το Protect Squash from Brc β.
Take a piece of cotton butting and
saturate it with kerosene, and place it
around your vines ; if they are large lay
the cotton on the vines in small pieces.
Wool or cloth will answer. He careful
not to get the kerosene on the vines. Do
this and you wiJl not be troubled with
bugs. Ν«

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