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DAILY EVENING STAR.
THE WIFE. BT AG3&S PI?KSOL. It was the dead hour of night. The room was a high wainscotted apartment, with furni ture of a rich but aiitique pattern. The pale moonlight streaming through the curtained window, and struggling with the subdued light of a candle placed in a corner, disclosed the figure of a sick man extended on a bed, wrapped in an unquiet slumber. By his side sat a care-worn though stiil beautiful woman gazing anxiously on his face, and breathlessly awaiting the crisis of the fever?for it was uow the ninth day since that strong man had been prostrated by the hand of disease, and during all that time he had raved in an incessant de lirium. lie had at length dropped into an un quiet slumber, broken at first by starts and moans, but during the last hour he had bee^i less restless, and he now lay as still as a sculp tured statue. Ills wife well knew that ere morning the crisis would be past, and she waited, with all a woman's affection, breath lessly for the event. Aye ! though few women have been wronged as Emily Walpole had been wronged, she still cherished her hus band's image, for he was, despite his errors, the lover of her youth. Few girls had been more admired than Emily Severn. But it was not only the beauty of her features and ?he elegance of her form which drew around her a train of worship pers : her mind was one of no ordinary cast, and the sweetness of her temper lent an ineff able charm to all she did. No one was so eagerly sought for at a ball or a pic-nic as i \ ^ e ei n, and at her parental fireside she was the universal favorite. It was long before she loved. She was not to be misled by glitter or show. She could only bestow her affections where she thought thev were de served, and it was not until she met Edward Walpole that she learned to surrender her heart. Edward Walpole, when he became the hus band of Emily Severn, was apparently all that a woman could wish. He was warm-hearted, of a noble soul, kind, gentle, and ever ready to waive his own selfish gratification at the call of duty. But, alas! he had one weakness, he did not act from principle. His generous deeds were the offspring of a warm heart rathtr than of a regulated intellect. As yet he had never been placed in circumstances which severely tried his principles. But, about a year alter his mar riage, he fell heir to the large property of a maiden auat, and at once his whole style of life was altered. His accession of wealth brought him into contact with society in which hithferto he had never minted, where the polish of factitious politeness often hides the most depraved morals. Above all by abatir doning his profession, he condemned himself to comparative idleness. He now began to be tortured by ennui, and sought any excitement to pass away the time. The harpies who infest society, and with the appearance of gentlemen have the hearts of fiends, now marked him for their prey; and his open and generous nature made him their victim in a comparative short space ot time. c shall nut trace his down ward progress. It is always a melancholy task to mark the lapse from virtue of a noble and generous character, and how much more ho when the heart of a wife is to be broken by the dereliction from rectitude. Emily saw the gradual aberration of her husband, and though i-he mourned the cause, no word of reproach escaped her lips, but bv i every gentle means she strove to bring back her husband to the paths of virtue. ?But a fatality seemed to have seized him. He was in a whirlpool from which he could not extri- ! cate himself. He still loved his wife, and more than once, when her looks cut him to the heart, he made an effort to break loose from his associates; but they always found j means to bring him back ere long/ Thus a year passed, llis fortune began to give wav, for he had learnt to gamble. As his losses ' became more frequent his thirst for cards be* ! came greater, until at length he grew sullen aud desperate. He wa^ now a changed man. He no longer felt compunction at the wrongs inflicted on his sweet wife, but if her sad looks ; touched his heart at all they only stung him iuto undeserved reproaches. He was become harsh and violent. Vet his poor wife endured all in silence. No recrimination passed her lips. ' But in the solitude of her chamber she shed many a bitter tear, and often, at the hour of ! miduight, when her husband was far away in some riotous company, her prayers were heard ascending for him. Two years had now elapsed, and the last j one had been a year or' bitter sorrow to Emily. At length her husband came heme one night an almost ruined man. He had beeh stripped ! at the gambling table, cf every cent of his ! property over which he had any control, and i lie was now in a state almost approaching to : madness. Before morning he was in a hidi i fever. For days he raved incessently of his 1 ruin, cursing the wretches by whom he had been plundered. Nine days Lad passed and now the crisis was at hand. The clock struck twelve. As sound after sound rung out on tiro stillness and died away in echoes, reverberating through the house, the sick man moved in his sleep, until, when the last stroke was given, he opened his eyes and looked languidly and vacantly around. < His gaze almost instantly met the face of his wife. For a moment his recollection, couid be seen struggling in Lis countenance, and at length an expression of deep mental suffering ! settled in his face. His wife had by this time risen and was now at his bedside. She saw tliat the crisis was past, and as she laid her hand in his, aud felt the moisture of the skin she knew that he would recover. Tears of joy gushed from her eyes and dropped on the sick man's face. 44 Heavenly father, I thank thee!" she mur mured at length, when her emotion suffered lier to speak, while the tears streamed faster and faster down her cheek, 44 he is safe! he will recover," uud though she ceased speaking, her lips still moved in silent prayer. The sick man felt the tears on his face, ke saw his wife's grateful emotion, he ki*ew ih-t she was even now praying for him, and as lie recalled to mind the wrong3 which he had in flicted on that uncomplaining woman, his heart was melted within him. There is no chastener like sickncss; the most stony bosom softens beneath it. He thought of the loug days and nights during which he must have been ill, and when his insulted and "abused wife had watched anxiously at his bedside. Oh! how he had crashed that noble heart; aud now this was her return! She prayed for him who had wronged her. She shed tears of joy because her erring husband had beeu restored, as it were, to life. These things rushed through his bosom and the strong man's eyes filled with tears. 44 Emily?dear Emily," lie said, 44 I have been a villain, and c.jin you forgive me? I deserve it not at your hands?but can you, will you forgive a wretch like me ?" 44 Oh! can I forgive you?" sobbed the grate ful wife, 4iyes! yes! but too gladly. But it is not against me you have sinned, it is against a gooi and righteous God." 44I know it?I know it," said the repentant husband, 44 and to his mercy I look. I cannot pray for myself, but oh! Emily pray for me. He has preserved me from the jaws of death. Pray for me, dear Emily." The wife knelt at the bedside, and while the husband, exhausted by his agitation, sank back with closed eyes on the pillow, see read the noble petition for ihe sick, from the book of Common Prayer. At times the sobs of Em ily would almost choke her utterance, but the holy words she read had at length, a soothing effect both on her mind and that of her lius i band. When the prayer was over, she re mained for several minutes kneeling, while her husband murmured at intervals his lieart-felt responses. At length she rose from the bed side. Her husband would again have spoken, to beseech her forgiveness. I3ut with a glad feeling at her heart?a feeling such as she had not had for months?she enjoined silence on him, and sat down again by his bedside to watch. At length he fell again into a calm slumber, while the now happy wife watched at his bedside until morning, breathing thanks givings for her husband's recovery, and^hed diiig tears of joy the while. When the sick man awoke at daybreak, he was a changed being, lie was now convales cent, he was more, he was a repentant man. He wept on the bosom of his wife, and made resolutions of reformation which, after his recovery, through the blessings of God, he was enabled to fulfil. The fortune of Walpole was mostly gone, but sufficient remained from its wrecks, to allow him the comforts, though not the lux uries of life. He soon settled his affairs and removed from his splendid mansion to a quiet cottage in a neighboring village. The only pang he felt was at leaving the home which for so many years had been the dwelling of the head of his family?the home where his uncle had died, and which had been lost ouly through his own folly. Neither "Walpole nor his wife ever regretted their loss of fortune; for both looked upon it as the means used by an over-ruling Provi dence to bring the husband back to the path of rectitude; and they referred to it therefore with feelings rather of gratitude than of re pining. lu their quiet cottage, on the wreck of their wealth, they enjoyed a happiness to which they had been strangers in the days of their opulence. A family of lovely children sprung up around them, and it was the daily task of the parents to educate these young minds in the path of duty and rectitude. Oh! the happy hours which they enjoyed in that white, vine-embowered cottage, with their children smiling around them, and the con sciousness of a well regulated life, tilling their hearts with peace. Years rolled by and the hair of Walpole be gan to turn gray, while the brow of his sweet wife showed more than one wrinkle, but still their happiness remained undiminished. IIixts on Paper Hanging.?44 Many a fe ver has been caused by the horrible nuisance of corrupt size used in paper-hanging iu bed rooms. The nausea which the sleeper is aware of on waking in the morning, in such a case, shyuld be a warning needing no repetition. Down should come the whole paper at any cost or inconvenience, for it is an evil which allows of no tampering. The careless decorator will say that time will set all right?that the smell will go off?that airing the room well iu the uay, aud burning some pungent thing or other, at night, in the meantime, will do very well. It will not do verv well: for health, and ?/ - ' even life, may be lost in the interval. It is not worth while to have one's stomach impaired for life, or one's nerves shattered, for the sake of the cest and trouble of papering a room, or a whole house if necessary. The smell is not the grievance, but the token of the grievance. The grievance is animal putridity, with which we are shut up when this smell is perceptible in our chambers. Down should come the paper; and the wall behind should be scraped clear of every particle of its last covering. It is astonishing that so lazy a practice as that of putting a new paper over an old one should exist to the extent it does. Now and then an incident occurs which shows the effect of such absurd carelessness, Not long ago, a handsome house in London became in toleralle to a succession of residents, who could not endure a mysterious bad smell which pervaded it when shut up from the outer air. Consultations were held about drains, and all the particulars that could be thought of, and all in vain. At last, a clever young man, who examined the house from top to bottom, fixed h:s suspicions on a certain room, where be inserted a small slip of glass in the wall. It was present y covered, and that repeatedly, with a putrid dew. The paper was torn down, and behind it was found a mass of old papers an inch thick, stuck togeth?r with their layers of size and exhibiting a spectacle with which we will not sicken our readers by describ ing.?Dickens' Household Wordx. K.EI4T. the Store-house, -with dry goods I tirunes, on Penniylvinia avenne, between 7th aud 8th street?, lately occupied by Yi-rby x Miiler.? For particulars enquir* of YEllBY & MLLLKK. Miys Dennett's building, corner ol" 7th st. aiid I'enn. dec 4? I >KH>ILTUA AiiBOW HOOT?A v?ry supe L> rkr article, jutt reevhei. W. T. EVANS. The Snake and Crocodile.?The following thrilling account of an engagement between a boa constrictor aud a crocodile in Java, is given by an eye witness : It was one morning that I stood beside a small lake, fed by one of the rills from the mountains. The waters were clear as crystal and everything could be seen to the very bot tom. Stretching its limbs close over this pond, was a gigantic teak tree, anu in its thick, shining evergreen leaves, lay a huge boa, iu an easy coil, taking his morning nap. Above him was a powerful ape of the baboon species, a leering race of scamps, always bent on mis chief. Now the ape, from his position, saw a croco dile in the water, rising to the top, exactly beneath the coil of the serpent. Quick as thought he jumped upon the snake, which fell with a splash iuto the jaws of the crocodile. The ape saved himself by clinging to the limb of the tree, but a battle immediately com menced in the water. The serpent, grasped in the middle by the crocodile, made the water boil by his furious contortions. Winding his folds round the body of his antagonist, he disabled his two hinder legs, and, by his con tractions, made the scales and bones of the monster crack. The water was speedily tinged with the blood of both combatants, yet neither was disposed to yield. They rolled over and over, neither being able to obtain a decided advantage. All this time the cause of the mischief was in a state of the highest ecstasy. He leaped up and down the branches of the tree, uttered a j 7 yell, and again frisked about. At the end of ten minutes, silence began to come over the seene. The folds of the serpent began to be relaxed, and though they were trembling along the back, the head hung lifeless in the water. Tne crocodile also was still, and though only the spine of his back was visible, it was evident that he too was dead. The monkey now perched himself on the lower limbs of the tree, close to the dead bodies, and amused himself for ten minutes in making all sorts of faces.at them. This seemed aiding insult to injury. One of my companions was stand ing at a short distance and taking a stone from the edge of the lake, hurled it at the ape. lie .was totally unprepared, and as it struck him on the side of the head, he w;?s instantly tipped over and fell upon the croco dile. A few bounds, however, brought him shore, and taking to the tree, he speedily dis appeared among the thick branches. A KNOT OF EEL-GRASS. BY CHAKLKS CLEWLINE. The Oswego river isn't navigable far up; for it is cut off by a bridge about half a mile from the l.'tke, and a mile further up it is cut .otf by a dam. Between this bridge and the dara there is a rift, which is a famous place for catching fish in wears, hilt out into the middle of the river, in form like a Y, with the fork up the stream, and down to the lower end there is a crib into which ihe water and fish run, pitch ing down a little fail of about three feet, and then as the crib is built of slats, the wator runs out, leaving the fish to be picked out by the proprieiurri of the wears. i. I They used to catch lots of eels there, and a rousing follow, b;g as a boy's leg and long as a stick of wood, was thought dear in Os wego at fonrpeuce. But, some how, buying eels, even if v.e g?;t them for nothing, did'nt suit me, and I determined to steal a few of them wears up there. I toll Mrs. Werts, the young widow that 7 v C I boarded with, what 1 was going at: and I reckon she was up to them games, for bhe furnished me with a pillow-?ase to bag my game and two pairs of woolen mittens to me iu nobbing the slippery customers; and thus armed and equipped 1 set out on my mid night eeling expedition. When i came abr??sfc of the wear. I dis covered that the skill' I had seen there at sun down was gone ; but as I knew that the water wasn't more'n up to my arms, I did not care much, aud so I wad? d oil' to the wear, where I found and bagged about twen ty real swingers. My pillow case was nearly full, and I was just about to get under weigh for home, when the great-grandaddy of all eels came walloping down into the water. I pitched x O # I into him, but my mittens had gat so slippery, with the slime of captured eels, that 1 could not hold him a second. There we had it, for about ten minutes?up and^down, over and under, slip slop?till at last, I got mad, and making a desperate dive for the old fellow, 1 got his head into my mouth, and- Wah ! faugh! what a taste, as teeth crunched through and through his head until they met, and the big eel dropped quietly down leaving part of his cut-water, bit otf somewhere about the eyes, in my mouth. I spit it out quicker, and about all my inside *' fixing" with it. Wasn't I sick? For about twenty minutes I tried to turn myself wrong side out like a stocking; and then pillow-cased the old eel, waded ashore, and mizzled for home as if 1 had swallowed a land crab, and been ridden for months by a double and twisted attack of Maumee fever. Next morning, before I turned out, I heard the little '*widder" singing out in the back i ' o entry, where I'd slung my bag of eels? "O, Charley ! Charley ! come here quick!"' Well, I did; and, as I'm a live sinner, there on the floor, among the eels, and the biggest of them all, was a thunderiug great black wafer snake, with his nose bit ojf Just about the eucs. %s Those two pigs in the back yard had an eel fcreakfast that morning, aud Clewline swore au'oath never to go wading about in the night after other peoples' eel3 again. [CarptL Bag. Simple honesty, the naked truth, pure vir tue, and a straight-up-and-down way of deal ing with the world, have as much advantage over vices, trieks and stratagems in the long run, as a good equere trotting-horse has over a prancing poay or racker, tnat goes his mile or two like the mischief, and is done fur the rest of his journey. WRECK AND IUI\. A Scene in tke Bay of Naples. In October, 1848, I went over to the Island of Capri, some twenty miles from Naples, to enjoy a rustic festival. Our party consisted ol some Englishmen and some Italians. The latter being in the serviee of the Govern ment, had a fixed time laid to. their leave of absence. W lien the morning arrived that was appointed for the departure of our Ital ian friends, we accompanied thciu to the shore, where they made their arrangements tor the passage back to the maiuland. There was a srotng west-and-by-south wind roar ing round the Island, and the sea looked dangerous; but in Naples, where there is no career for a young man out of Government j employ, an official must not tritie with bis ; poat. The preparations, therefore, for the ! launching of the boat went on. It was one of those wide bottomed boats, commonly u-ed in the port of Naples, upon which the stran ger starts out for a moon light row to Tosillippo, or betakes himself with his portmanteau and his carpet-be**, or with his wife and her pill-box full of =a few things to the steamer. Such boats are not made for riding on a stormy sea. The men preparing to put out that morning were our two friends, the officials, and two boat men. One oi the passengers was hailed by the Captain of a good strong bark upon the point of starting. "Come with us, llafi;el luccio : it will be madness to sail out in that cockleshell through such a sea." Kafiieiluccio, a delicate youth, reolied that he was no coward, lie had come in the boat, and might go back in the boat, with the Madona's blessing. The other passenger was a stout black bearded man, and the two boat men were a youth and a weather-beaUn sail or from the port of Naples. The little harbor at Capri, is so shel tered from certain winds that there is o*'ten a deceptive smoothness in its waters. It was only by looking out to sea, that'one detected, 011 that wild October morning how the water writhed under the torture of the wind. Far as the eye could reach, the sea was covered with those smaller storm waves, called in the phrase of tiie country pvcore. These, as the day advanced, swelled into great billows, (cuva'loui) which came rolling 011 upon our little island, and clashed vio lently against the coast of Massa and Somnto. The boat had been shoved off, and hadie turned for some article, left accidentally be hind. A group of weather-wise old sailors thronged about the lool-li ?rdy crew in vain urging them to wait for fairer weather; but they put out to se.i again, aud made strait for the c.-tpe, under the summer palace oi' Tibe rius. This is a well known point, which boatmen often seek when they desire 10 citeti a direct wind for their pa-sage to the mainland. The gale that had been blowing round tiie island appeared to pour out lrum this point its undivided force, aud beat the sea with a strengtli almost irresistabie. We S i vv the mast of the little *>oat snap the mo ment it had reached the cape, and ttie crew put back not to a'.vait calmer weather, but to seek another temporary mast, an I start.aicain. _ r * ?' " i?o tnreat or persuasion could detain the Italians, who feared to exceed their term ol' leave. A rude mast was set up, and again the boat started, leaping across wave after wave. We saw 110 more of it. "I watched it i'ur some distance,1 said rho captain of the bark, which had started at the same time ? '? Their mast bent as though it would lue.tk at every puff of wind, and the little sail iiuttercti i.Ke a ha n<liv< rehief upon the a a v. s. In a moment it disappeared, and we knew that our foreboding had prove 1 true/' The rest of the tale I had from the iips of tiie black-bearded olheial, the sole survivor: ;u;d a wilder tale ot human passioxt does not often tail wit a in the bounds ol sober truth. Tiie old mariner at, starting had bplac ed at the hei.n, as the most competent lu ni of the party; but there was an alainiing din reace between the eddies, currents and bilior.s at the Cape, and the smooth waters of the i>ay of Naples. A monstrous cacaltone appeared in the uistance, leaping, roaring, ioaming. It was close upon their quarter; its crest overhung them ; and in an instant, said my informant, they were swallowed up. The boat was overturned, but the crew? struggling desperately for life?rose with it once more to the surface, clinging to its 1 ot torn. In their last agony they glared upon each other, lace to face, among tLe heatiug waves, and the loud execrations of his com panions were poured passionately 011 ine ancient inarriuer, wkose want of skill was cursed as the fatal cause of their despair. The hold of the poor ol 1 follow, weak with age and faint with emotion, had not strength enough to bear up amid the tossing of the waters, aud as his grasp relaxed, tiie others watched his weakness with a fiendish satisfac tion. 44 It is some consolation," exclaimed one, "to see you die first, fool as you are." lie did not hear the latest male iictions, but went down in the deep sea. The next who died was Raffaelluccio, up on whose dai'y work the daily bread of a mother and three children depended. "1 am still with cold, and can hang on no lonrrer,"' he said to his companion. "Get on my shoul ders," was the answer of the stronger man; and so he did, and so he died, the hvifig man With the doad weightupou him, grappling still for lite, and drifting before the storm. The young boatman, the other surviver, trembling himself upon the brink of eternity, crept round to the dead body, anl having robbed it of a watch and chain, and other valuables, | pushed it lrorn the shoulders of nis friend into I the sea. i5-> there ouly remained these two ' men, clinging to the boat and gizing on each other anxious!v. The thought had crosse 1 the mind of the young man that if they lived until they should i>e thrown ashore, the surviving passenger would require that he should deliver up ihc watch and other valHab'.es to the family of ItaiFaelluccio. He may not have taken them with a design of theft. lie probably saw I that the dead body cumbered his com pan | ion, and committed it from a good human ! motive to the sea, having removed the jew elry. But to retain possession of the property, ??? a^? his conscience did not bid him shrink from murder, of which no eye of man would ev" see the stain. An uiiei^Mu.1 ui .. silence liis companion ana le- ve 1 ?W W0U. boat to drift to land, a sole 00 ** made richer by the wrecv-' "i reid^it his eyes ' said my inf?railllt. ? ? was in them, and 1 watched him well; bufa happy sea raised h.s s.de uf the was h.s opportunity; aud immediately he struck a heavy blow upon my be d If ?! was the younger 1 was the Z hi summoned me to struggle lnv ilf' J ?? that chance of life which either ?f'us L"j upon the gulf of waters. There was a horr - ble wrestling. I am tho onlv surviv.r "All that day, and through a ?t.-mv pitch dark night, I lay tossed about, almoa senseless, in the liay of Naples. But before dawn on the second day, my boat w'a* cast ashore at TorrcdeU' Annuniiata, and tlie-c locked between two rocks. I had* "i ? strength to crawl to the Coast-guard-hon-e' in which 1 perceived that lights were twinkling. 1 was spurned. My papers were demanded. 44 Faint as I was, in time I found it po^i ble to make the good officials understand un ease, and excuse the production of creientii* from the fi<hes. They took me in at;d treated ; me with Christian kindness. My looks h id j frightened them?my face was bloated, and ! my eyes protruded like those of * lobster " The mother of Raifaelluccio was livin- in Capri, and L was there when the news cTute hack el her sou's fate. In the darkness of an October night, the ruined family?the bereux ed mother and her daughters?mounted their house-top, and turuing towards the shrieked wildiy for the sou and brother wiluui ^held from them. The voice of woe that then thrilled in niv ears will never be forgotten. 1 never knew till then what agony could be, not expressed only, but communicated by the wail of women. GxtEAT XED1CXL DICOVEKY! 1VITII sueh testimony. no stronger proof run he-iv T T ??> uuiet* it be inai oftlii> Wwuderfui llacupt Ve ^e^etabie Tincture. Let the ailiicted read! read ! 1>AKU LLLVILLL. AUXGANT CotXTT, (Md..) ) Mm j 4, Itos. j To M'Sxrg. Mnrtimrr cf- Mowbray: i>i:AU&ias: in justice v> ui. ilampton'tf Vegetable Tia> ture. i wist. U> iuform yoa that I wat.tak<-n sick t.u ti e ?>d ol .J.tuutry iasi. with au atf -ciiouoi tueatouiach, boweif, and kitlno s. I was attended by f ?ur eminent pii}\-i "iaut lor more thn.ii two niout-ns?m 1 i to n'Ue?r ii j I had si me knowledge of the j*re:tt virtue iu Hampton'^ Tincture fr?>m one bottle which iuj wiic h:t'l takei. two year* sin e. I came t<> the con iu>ion that I would t ike no m^re mejiciue from my physician*, but try the Tiuctur* and i hiu happy t?? inform you I had not take* it .v days Ih f ?re I tell its powerful influence upon w stomach. 1 have continued jr the Tiucturc. an<l nui a ?w aide 11 leave my room, and can eat any couiui< a diet wiiuout much inconvenience or prepare oa n.v sl-iuaeh. The afdicted or their friends are daily visiting: nmto learu ~jt the great virtue there is iu this Tincture f j liumpton's. 1 xpeet to send you several certificates in a f 'w.!?v?? one especially from a young lady who li"s been contitol to ner room twelve monidis, \?ilh a di^ase of die Le?a, alicciing the br.tin. Respectfully yours, K. W. IIALL On the permancy of the cure hear him. Still another lett r froai the above I liARKELLVlLLF.. ALLEGANY C H NTY, OfUilvr 1-i, hoi. ) M s-rs. Mortimer d If -xcbrag : Okah mks: 1 aai hippy to inf >rm you tliat this ia* finds me iu the enjoyment o: ^'*>d Ileal ih, by tti? u* of \our Hampton's i'luciune and the l?ie->uar ? f <e?j 1 utii nibbled lo pursue my daily avnnatioa> a? u>u*... 1 tune a ureat d'.'ire that t le aoti'ted yhouki ?i- * chi,' ^:e::t eura ive power." of the 'iiucture. x j\iu with respect, vourti, H'. UAL!. T:5 K ALMOST MIItACUL0U?CUi5EMn? le-> Ilv - toii !? \ eutllt >le Tin; lure Oil our IUos( . ! zeos?iueu well kn iwti and trie I?*e ?!i < ,?. woii-i to f'iiow anvil.iugoa rect?r?i in yieieiuei j it. !? 's\y iowi /;U;'C Jci' it.< lf \h my f/iiwt'* i * j Ui*: su nt ttsU 'iohy. P.fLTIXORE, July ?>, 1-CJ, | M*syrs. M>rtitr*r rf : <<ei i-: j Iht I ??.ig ait ;ekeu w:;ln;rysi < ;iS. fr'Uii whi? l: * ijr. ? ;;ui u cer f ;i: e ? ??u my i:^L. !e,^. (idtin; N 't r 1 ' last Xovmbi-r I !?*>k a (Jeep colli, wliieh ],>( t?.? >t 1 V J '13 sieiail to id i,i?. Mas O'iKUS pieur.-V. u!i;<li f'l j !fi" v,;:h a <0.; ivpiv ?lld j ivl 1! ? | itavinr no rest tlay or ni^bl. and c? n iaiitly ti.n ? : - ; lip ;r >ui my :t U:i'*kmatter. 1 be-auje tiaic ; e..- at"d. jrrownu wear.er*-very day. and ke? | iui: 1.0 1 ; :.i.? gj?;;?o;r part of the ti:?e. >ly trieudb tboujlil i ' -"i I I'.ie <*? >(i.?nmplioii. a;:d at t'.iiie" I v.'as also of I " Opiniou. At th.> of my di^'as-. afer liavii '1 in mv and var.otis 1 ? wiitiout tu- e". advi-?il iue '.o ti v i'li. iiAUl f )N .* V i.01.1 1 LVC'I'KK. nil'! pr cur?*<J ?r>* a l<ottie. ?Li ii 1 -i " i' " ! nounce tlie jie-.i-M uiiMHvtie I ever t *ok. IM r<-1 . I la-", a half the c ?iltent- of on b'U.e 1 fp'l '??u ^ proved ; and now. h.iviuir tak?*n 1'iit f"-'' ?*?tl?-, if cot.tyn and horr *n'irr ?/ /?/1 ?c. auJ 1 uia ,T bittU to atuod to hu.-in>*.<*. J ctn truly ?ay thai. ?i'^ the bVA^iii'* of <?wii. I have I*-n r?*rtt<> I hejtlf.h 1 iiovt e.ijoy by the use of thi? *tn??t i? v* ? ?* | medi'iue. Youis, W hSU-V !?'h Svhr^Jer. Lear tiara?4r-et r"ni.?>Vi>rTfT. An?. IH. lk'1. Nr.J. K. Ji/tHfh?l*-,r Mr: WLi e I am in p,i.,,'*l o;?|?om"| to P;-.tcr.: i-'ie--. ? ;.nd'T e n:;. !? ? I ttial 1 hav?* L'i?*.jt c n ; I nee in the vii tue- < ! ! tons \e^er?h!e 'linetnre. Fr.r ?ereral month* t. - ? us?d i^ in my tau.ilr, an I in i" F ?ia. !<?? ? f etj'e, oi. z;n?-s. hi| j .-en.-nil l? i 'v.vitr. erjt:r- ? ? e S. So f-ir a- Ui V e' p r e . ??f e\t< II !.?. 11 T' t'Tr. I >' * ! !?? i- up ir: rer*o?nmen Jing it ?o ,i(e :???'>??? i >. ? > and eUacieat MMdf. VfckXOM KSUlKkt For ?%Je by f. Ptott A Co.. Wnt-hin^n. T? C Wallace K ? i?t. c>r. K ?nd 1-' ' ' I I). B. Clark#-, cor. M l. *t. Ill# W J. Wjm-r. ?'?IL -t.. n<" r f,< ue:sr*?T >!clntir?'>, c r. I and 7th *t. (irav x lUllantyne. 7th rt.. at-*: ii. s. T. Ci"K:IJ. ??e'?rretfiwn. C. C. Berry. Alexandria, Va. And by I.T'i^'i-t* ir-Tjernllv. ?-v< nrwher? MORTIMKH A MOWBRAY, General As-ent?, Baltimore#* ROSb'S KERVOL'S CORDIAL! Tiv trif.fi Vutuau; >*irat;on in M'uval rI,?lK thousand^ who are suTerir^ with any M:-' j J[ Affe tioxk will find inime .i.ite re.ief in unt ? ?' i w(?nf:erful C,>p ml. It eures Neuralp.a. H'.'.rt I/i-*^ } ^a pit ttion. ?|e rt> urn. Nervon# Head-AcJ.e. lr? n. ! toe MuRc.es o; tWsh. Wakefullnefw, and all r td the luiad or body; whether w^rn down by car* bor. or atudv. Thia truly wond'-rful Med?eirr. from i,? jvctj]:*? ? : y e!Wt in alhiv nir the mo't vi'! i.t S?-r\ j- A - "nd compietelv era ii?-:-Tir Z theru fr -in the h t?-i justly iv Urmed the jrr:im <e-t di- ov ry ia th ? ?-i n ' *l?ti:c ne. It subdues and av?-rt" all !:io?e .'?e'?'>u? - ??ti*1 over whi*h the c.o-t profjui.d in*-Ji :1 ?k:* hitherto had no c^?ntrol. It is a ^tnd restorer io ^ ( ius? ?p a weak constiiutVm. alreadr worn ' n '1 i *r>'r*1 ',u?i,tl/ cured by usiux a single b-itl*. rnce .^i cents, and to bo had ft th<* st r?- of Z. D. ii ih/iau, W. IL Giluan, t L.r 1 Co-' Sanurl Butt, ^a'lan, John W. \*im, T t /V, -Wci' * Lawpenre, IVa Wiirirton niy, - Is- nidwcll, Cie'Tjeto* u, < 1). t < tie toviUvrcsiu a: xauiiiju - --