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THEODORE H. CREMER,
Cda l CiSio la. Ma 03 Q
The "JoanytAL" will be published every Wed
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POMTRT.
Dark nom.
TIT MUG. A. B. IT. JOIIB.
Oh, there are some dark hours in life,
When the heart seems charged to breaking
The quickening pulse, with fever rife,
Marks the slumbering passion!, waking.
When the rapt soul in burning chains,
Seems writhing in its sadness;
Yet scorns the show of mortal pains,
And SMILES in reckless madness.
So lightning mocks the storm cloud's power
To dim its vivid flashing;
And revels most when Tempests lower,
With its echoing thunder crashing;
Or the wild laugh of maniac fears,
That rings from Passion's struggle ;
Thus fills the soul with grief and tears,
Its vaunted strength—a bubble !
Yes, there are times we love to feel
A loneliness in sorrow ;
When from the world's bright charms we steal,
And shades from memory borrow.
'Tie then we feel that keen remorse—
The bliss we've madly blighted;
For Time, whilst on his ceaseless course,
Gives back no moments slighted.
hope strews our path with sunny flowers,
And lures us with bright securing;
Yet thorns will spring in fairest bowers,
And wake the sours sweet dreaming.
Life gives no joy without a pain,
Twin-brother with every pleasure ;
Once loot, we ne'er may hope again
To clamp the vanish'] treasure.
The more we love—the more our (care
Aro mingled with its sweetness;
Its evanescing bliss appears
To mock us with its fleetness.
Yea,liere are hours, when haggard thought
'Will crowd our troubled cool ;
•"`'"' When joys of life seem dearly bought,
Beneath its dark control.
Autumn.
On woodland and on mountain side
Rich varied tints appear;
By ITT stone and wandering wave
Pale leaves are falling sere.
The garden flowers all scattered lie,
In sorrowful decay,
And the greenness of the valley slope
Is fading fast away.
And are the verdure and the bloom
In their fresh prime eo dear,
That thus the spirit mourned' o'er
The ruin of the year!
No! 'tie because true types are they
Of lovelier, dearer things;
Hopes, joy. and transports, unto which
The heart so fondly ding.
There is a moral in each leaf
That Iroppeth from the tree;
In each lone, barren bough that points
To heaven so mournfully ;
Mute nature in her silent way
A mystic lesson tells,
And they who watch the Sybil well
May profit by her spells. (Knickerbocker.)
MittICY:ILLA.II'=O7O.
From Graham's Magasine for October.
LIZZIE LINCOLN,
A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY.
CHAPTGR
Oh! I see the oh! and formal, fitted to thy petty
part,
With a little hoard of maxims, preaching down a
daughter's heart. Tennytion.
FORM ♦ND FEELING,
They were twin slating, and so alike in form and
feature that at a first glance you could not tell them
apart; but you had only to watch them for five min
utes to be quite sure that Lizzie was Lizzie and no
body but her own sweet self, and that Priscilla was
Priscilla—for in mind, in heart, in expression, they
were as different assunshine and moonlight or a sta
tue and painting, and with the same sort of differ
ence too; both beautiful—but the one cold, calm,
pale and still—the other glowing with life, full of
spirit, genius and sensibility; Priscilla stately, for
mal, reserved, apathetic—Lizzie wild, loving, trust.
ful, playful and frank ; and as soon as you detected
this difference in their natures, you would begin
also to perceive that in person, too, they differed
slightly ; Lizzie had a fuller, richer lip, a deeper,
darker eye, a cheek more warmly tinged, and ever
changing with her changing mood, a lighter and
inure yielding form, a step of more aerial grace, a
softer, yet a merrier laugh; even her hair had an ex ,
prise;✓.t about it that did not belong to PriceilLq's ;
z. -- ,:::raDziazw.-1 - 13L - .43 , -,...e cat. zaw...aE:Ls.
both were deep brown in hue ; but Lizzie's had a
natural wave that caught the light and changed with
it to gold. Avery body loved Lizzie and petted her:
that is, Avery body whose love was worth having.
She was welcome and refresing to their hearts as a
sunbeam, or a flower, or a singing bird, or a balmy
breeze, or a shower at noon in midsummer, .d Liz
zie loved her friends warmly and faithfully, without
stopping to ask herself why. She did not blind her
self to their faults, but she loved them faults and all-
She was a rare, sweet child at heart, though fifteen
summers had somewhat subdued and softened her
too impetuous temperament.
They lived with their mother—a widow of mode
rate means—in a picturesque village of England,
and at the time my story commences were in hourly
expectation of a visit from an uncle, by the father's
side, supposed to be rich, and known to be cross,
gouty and disagreeable.
'Elizabeth,' said Mm. Lincoln, seating herself at
a window to watch for his arrival, must once
more enjoin upon you, that policy, as well as duty,
requires of us to humor your uncle in every whim,
to agree with him in all things.'
But, mother!' said Lizzie, with a pleading look,
I never can act from policy, and as to pretending
to agree with him when I don't, that would be an
absolute impossibility to me. I will promise to do
all that is right to please him.'
'I do not choose to argue the matter, Miss. Re-
member that I insist upon your obedience. I only
wish you were as precise in other matters as youaro
in your absurd notions of right and wrong. You,
my dear Priscilla, will, I am sure, obey me without
a question.
' Certainly, mamma!' replied the demure young
lady in a placid voice.
The tears sprung to Lizzy's lovely eyes; but she
smiled them away, and going to the piano-forte, be
gan to play and sing in a soft, soothing vole°, her
mother's favorite song—
, Though storms may gather o'er us,
The sun will smile again;
Though dark the way before
We're led by Love's true chain.
'Though sadly heaves the bosom,
Joy always follows care;
There's many a summer blossom
In winter's tangled hair!'
Two young and distinguished-looking men, pas
sing at the time, involuntarily glanced in through
the open window, and as Lizzie raised her head at
in going by, she encountered from a pair of dark
grey eyes a momentary glance of earnest admiration
which she never afterward forgot. For almost the
first time in her life, Lizzie Lincoln fell into a deep
reverie ; but it was soon broken by the arrival of a
carriage, from which alighted a bundle of shawls,
flannel, ugliness, gout and grumbling, which was
introduced by Mrs. Lincoln to her daughters as their
invalid uncle.
Lizzie, before Ile entered, had silently placed the
easiest chair, with a stool before it, in the pleasantest
corner of the room ; but she allowed her mother and
sister to assist him into it without offering her aid.
My dear sir,' said Mrs. Lincoln, you are look
ing ten years younger than when I last saw you, and
so like my poor, dear husband l'—her husband by
the way had been considered a remarkably hand
some man— , Doesn't he, Priscilla ? Doesn't he,
Lizzie?'
. Very much,' said Priscilla, And nothing said
Lizzie; but walked quietly out of the room.
. That is a singular young person—that daughter
of yours, ma'am'—grumbled the old gentleman,
, don't think she take much pains to please her rich
uncle,'
Oh ! my dear sir, you must forgive her; she is
timid to a fault. Is she not, 'Priscilla?'
Yes, mamma,' said echo.
And where did Lizzie go? My youthful readers,
if you have not kind and warm hearts like hers, you
will never guess, but I dare say you have, and that
you would have done the same thing. She went
straight to the spare chamber appropriated to her
uncle, to see that every thing was arranged for his
comfort, then into the garden, whence she brought
fresh flowers to adorn the room, then to her own lit
tle chamber, from which she took a bible to lay on
the table by his bed and then into the kitchen to
oversee the preparations for his supper.
Meanwhile, the two young men pursued their
walk and their conversation.
Yes, my dear Howard,' said he who had attrac
ted Lizzie's notice, 'I tell you the simple truth; I
am weary of my rank, my wealth, and the insuffer
able attentions which they bring upon me front am
bitious daughters and manmuvering mommas. How
delicious it would be to settle quietly down in this
charming village with such a wife as that bright,
beautiful, artless-looking girl whom we saw just now
through the window ! Hut I fear I shall never mar
ry, for I shall always be haunted by the idea that
my wealth is the object of attraction. Unless—Ho
ward! I have it! Glorious!'—and, with his fine,
manly face kindling and glowing with enthusiasm,
the young earl passed on in earnest conversation
with his friend. Perhaps he will reappear ere the
close of the story, but in the mean time we must
introduce our readers to a new chapter and a new
schoolmaster.
CHAPTER 11.
~ Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand."
At twenty-two years of ago Charles Welford came
to the village of 8-, poor and unknown, but his
mild dignity of manner, his prepossessing appear
ance, his yoothful and handsome countenance, gain-
ed him a host of friends, and the small number of
pupils to which he had limited himself was soon
made up. Mrs. Lincoln sent Lizzie and Priscilla to
be perfected in French and Italian—mid the former
made wonderfully rapid progress—if not in the lan
guages, at least in the affections of her teacher.
Miss Lincoln,' the master would say, endeavor
ing, but in vain, to look stern, 'I shall be obliged to
detain you after school hours, if you persist in talk
ing and laughing;' and Lizzie would blush and
maintain a demure composure for the neztthree min
utes and a half—then he would hear the little gipsy
buzzing away again, for the least sound of her sweet
voice always attracted his notice, and calling her to
him with a grave face, but inward delight he would
point silently to a little chair at his side.
Poor Lizzie half pouting, half pleased, with a
smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye,' would qui
etly obey. I rather think Lizzie liked the punish
ment upon the whole; for his dark eyes had talked
to her soul a language more pleasant than French
or Italian—and after looking earnestly up to them
for a moment to discover if he were really offended
—reassured by the glance of affectionate interest
which he returned to her inquiring gaze, she would
study for hours by his side, happy and tranquil, and
silent as a dove in its woodland nest.
Now and then, when she had been more than
usually wild and uncontrollable, Mr. Wolfer.] would
feel it his duty to detain her after the other pupils
had left, in order to give her a serious lecture upon
the lightness of her conduct; but the serious lecture
generally ended in a long ramble through the woods
after flowers to assist their botanical studies. Arid
during these rambles would confide to each other's
sympathizing hearts their memories, their hopes,
their tastes and preferences. Lizzie with all the
simple trustful tenderness of a child, and Charles
with the frankness natural to a spirit still fresh, pure
and untrammeled.
,Do you know, Mr. WeWord,' said Lizzie ono
day, 'I would give a great deal that my uncle was
poor 1'
Poor! Lizzie—what a strange wish! Why!'
Oh, because—he is so ill, and cross, and unhap
py that I pity him from my heart, and I would be
so very, very kind to him if he were not rich ; but
as it is, mother makes me treat him coldly.'
'Howl Ido not understand you. Ithought she
was all attention to him and wished you to be so
too.'
KeeWaiga t wa tilh.q mi,v,awan Lint:SA.s.
indulge his whims and agree with hint in his queer
opinions—and so I make it a rule to be inattentive
to him, except in his absence, and then I do all I
can for his comfort; but that is not much. I should
so like to soothe his pain by reading to him, or sing
ing, or caressing him. lam afraid he wont live
long, and he seems to suffer a great deal at times—
oh ! don't you wish ho were poor?'
Lizzie was right ! 11l in mind and body, the un
happy old man, was daily wasting away. Of all
his relations, of all the world, Lizzie Lincoln was
the only one he loved, and she alone of all (Trap
rently neglected him. Yes! in spite of her neglect
he loved her. Ho struggled against the preference,
but in vain ; he could not help it—she was so frank,
so sweet, so frolicsome, and, above all, so like his
favorite brother. Importuned, beset, followed, fawn
ed upon for his wealth alone, he had become disgus
ted with life, and his naturally kind heart embittered
by suspicion.
CHAPTER M.
mrrriNs AND MTSTIFICATION.
Mrs. Lincoln, don't you prefer cold muffling to
hot ones V asked the uncle at breakfast ono day,
with a look of dogged determination that rather
mystified his auditors. Mrs. Lincoln changed an
involuntary wry face into an acquiescent one—if
there was any thing she preferred hot rather than
cold it was a muffin—and replied, Oh! decidedly
my dear sir! They are infinitely more palatable cold,
I only ordered hot ones to please you. Wo will
have some cold ones immediately. John, bring
some cold muffins.'
A sardonic smile flickered on the old gentleman's
furrowed face as he turned to Priscilla—
. And which do you prefer V
Priscilla, as usual, glanced at her mother and then
replied—
'Cold ones, sir, of course.'
Of course,' ho replied sarcastically— ,, And you
Miss Lizzie 1'
Lizzie looked up frankly in his face—. Uncle,you
know I like hot ones best, and I think your taste a
very singular one if you prefer them cold.'
Who said I preferred them cold I Not I. Come,
Lizzie, we will share this nice one together, and here
comes John with the cold for your mother and Pris
cilla. Hand them to your mistress, John. lam
sorry, ladies, you have been eating hot mutliins
merely on my account.' And he glanced at Lizzie
so comically while her mother reluctantly helped
herself to the unpalatable bread, that she could
scarcely restrain a smile.
CHAPTER IV.
DEATH ♦ND DISAPPOINTNIENT.
A few weeks after the conversation alluded to in
the last chapter, the old man sent for the fatuity to
his bedside, which ho had not left for several days,
and with a half repressed chuckle of satisfaction,
informed them that he had an important secret to
reveal. Mrs. Lincoln bent eagerly over hint, Pris
cilla seated herself with her usual quiet composure,
and Lizrie half drew back.
You have repeatedly told me, madam, that it WO3
for my own sake, you valued me so highly—for my
own superior qualities of mind and heart, for my
striking resemblance to your deceased husband, not
for my wealth—that wealth was nothing in the eyes
of affection, etc. t thank you as you deserve for
this assurance. I will not insult you by a moment's
doubt of its sincerity.' Mrs. Lincoln smiled benign
ly, and Lizzie turned impatienly to the window.—
, I have taken you at, your word, and fully trusting
to its truth, have made my will accordingly. It is
in the hands of my solicitor. I have left the whole
of my vast property, in specie and landed estate—
with the exception of a trilling gift to one who is
very dear to me—to a distant relative, the only one
who has never troubled me with Isis company, his
attentions, or his flattery, a poor apprentice at a dry
goods store in America."
Unable to conceal her disappointment and vexa
tion, Mr. Lincoln hurried from the room, Priscilla
followed with a still statelier step than usual, and
Lizzie, springing from the window, clasped her un
cle's hand, exclaiming, lam so glad ! lum so glad !
Now I can nurse you with pleasure, and love you
as I choose!"
The old man was speechless at first with surprise
and joy, at length he exclaimed— , N it possible you
really care for me 1'
Dear, dear uncle, were you not kind to my poor
father in trouble? Did you not assist him with
your purse and your influence? and do you think I
can ever forget it l'
The invalid sunk back on his pillow with closed
eyes, through which tears, the first lie had shed for
long years, stole over his withered cheeks and mur
muring, thank rod fell into a tranquil sleep, still
holdipg Lizzie's hand fast locked in his. From that
time until his death, which happened in a few days
she nursed him with the tenderness and attention
of an affectionate daughter.
Mrs. Lincoln was agreeably surprised to find on
the opening of the will, that the trifling gift to one
very dear to him,' was no less than a sum of £2OOO
bequeathed to her daughter Elizabeth.
The latter generously, or as she said justly, sha
red this sum with her mother and sister, and affairs
wen: on riiibefore, excepting however the rambles
after (lavers in the woods grew lorger and more
frequent.
We are trying to find the little blue Forget-me
not' which Mr. Werfoed is sure grows in these
woods somewhere,' said poor Lizzie, blushing and
!roiling when one dny a friend questioned her rather
CHAPTER V.
LIZZIE AND A LOVEII.
Autumn had come, with its cheerful firm, its pic
nic fetes and evening dances, and with it came to
the village of S- a young and wealthy nobleman
who fell desperately in love with Lizzie at a party,
and one afternoon when she eame into her mother's
little parlor looking particularly bewitching in her
little straw bonnet and graceful mantilla; and found
him there alone, he suddenly offered her his hand and
heart. But Lizzie laughed the matter off, by telling
hint she could not possibly stop to accept it, as she
was in a great hurry to go into the woods, in search
of a certain little blue flower called the Forget-me
not: Away she tripped, and when she returned
en hour after sunset the youth had vanished, and the
village that knew him, knew hint no more.'
CHAPTER VL
Trust me, cousin, nil the current of my being sots
to thee. Tennyson,
A flood of warm golden light from the setting sun
poured in through a vista of the woods, and lighted
up a picture there well worthy of such an nomi
nation.
A young and graceful girl was leaning against
the trunk of a noble tree. Her straw bonnet lay on
the mossy rock beside her. Her soft curls fell show
ering round her face, as she bent over a flower which
she held in her hand. It was the little blue , For
get-me-not,' from whose mystic petals many a ro
mantic village maid had learned her destiny. Leaf
after leaf the blushing girl pulled off, murmuring as '
the did so, in a low and trembling tone, half spor
tive, half in earnest, , He loves me—he loves me not
—he loves me—he loves me not'—only one leaf
remained— , lie loves'—the flower was gently with
drawn, and the hand that held it pressed passionate
ly to the lips of a noble looking youth who had
stolen unperceived around the tree. Let me speak
for the last loaf, Lizzie,' he whispered, 'lle loves
thee more than life! Dear one, may he believe his
love returned?' Lizzie smiled through her tears—
he drew her to his heart !
For a moment the lingering sunshine rested
softly on the fair tableau, then passed and left it to
the holier light of love.
CHAPTER VII.
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride,
How meekly she blest her humble lot,
When the stranger William had mark her his bride,
And love was the light of their lowly cot.'
Have you found the blue Forget-me-not' yet
said the good old rector of S—, with a meaning
smile, to a fair and white-robed maiden at his side,
as they sat with others at the bridal feast about a
year after the performance of the forest-tableau.—
Lithe Welford looked up in her husband's eyes,
which were bent fondly upon her, and smiled, but
did not reply.
Pleasant and comfortable, but simply furnished,
was the cottage in which the schookrater and his
beautiful end happy wife passed the first few months
of their marriage. Dut Charles grew restless then,
and persuaded Lizzie—v.l:o never could sexist his
persuasions—to take a little journey with him.
Gn their own humble chaise, they travelled through
the delightful and richly cultivated country, and
Lizzie was enchanted with almost all she saw.—
There was but one draw back on her happiness: and
that had always been her chief trouble from child
hood—her sympathies were too powerful to allow
her to behold poverty or misery in uny shape with
out a pang of pity and an ardent wish to relieve it;
and this her humble means would riot always allow
her to do. As shepassed some beggars on the road
to whom she had thrown some silver, she turned to
her husband with tears in her eyes and said—
. Oh, Charles ! I never care for wealth for my own
sake, but would it not be a divine happiness to
possess the power of relieving others V
Charles smiled, rather too gaily she thought, but
be pressed her hand so tenderly that she could not
chide him. At the close of the second day's jour
ney, they came to a beautiful and extensive park,
and then a glimpse of a magnificent ntansion. Liz
zie thought it must be a palace. Ilea eyes flashed
with delight, and then filled with tears. film was
excited and nervous she knew not why. She had
read of such places, but she had never seen one, and
she begged Charles to stop the chaise fur a few mo
ments, that she might gaze her fill. .We will drive
through the park,' said her husband, I know the
ewer well.' She thought his voice trembled, and
looking up in his face she SAW that it was lighted up
with a glow of lofty exultation, which so well be
came his refined and aristocratic beauty that she
involtarily raised his hand to her lips and kissed it
fondly, yet with a vague fear for which she could
not account. They drove through the park to the
principal enjeance of the house; as they approached
it was flung wide open, and from a train of liveried
servants stepped forth an old man, who smiled an
earnest welcome as he respectfully assisted Charles
to alight. Lizzie was dumb with wonder.
4 Come,' said her husband, holding out his hand,
Where are you taking me, Charles 7'
!To my home! dear Lizzie,' he exclaimed, pres
sing her fondly to his bosom, as he bore her half
fainting into the library, where a pleasant fire was
kindled. • Welcome to my home—to the home of
my father! my own, my precious wife!'
And who then are you, husband'!' asked the
bewildered and half frightened Lizzie, tinting on a
sofa by his side.
My dear Howard,' said he laughing, to a 1 oung
Doors you-maxima me nurouuut roc to soy
The Earl of E—, dear madam,' said his friend,
coming forward with a smile.
The Earl of E—, cweet countess, e Awed
Charles, think you that dear foiehCad will ache
beneath this toy ?' And taking from a casket a
coronet of diamonds, he placed it on her hood and
kissed her tearful eyes. ' And what did the youth
ful countess do? Forgive her Etiquette! Forgive
her Mr. Howard!. Site was weary—ahnost ex
hausted with excitement and fatigue—and closing
her lashes still wet with tears, upon her husband's
shoulder, she murmured a blessing upon his name,
and fell fast asleep like a tired child, as she was !
Courteous reader ! if you have not already followed
her example you may do so now—for my story
is ended.
INISTAIVS EZlEfiArii
D el! lIEld fl ,
For Consumption of the Lungs.
Cr7 - 3-aNcE , MV.t. ` I ,..Q.cEa , T. - v\cm)cri 2
Affections ado. Liver, Asthma, Bronchitis,
Pains or Weakness of thy Breast or Lungs,
Chronic Coughs, Pleurisy, Hemorrhage
of the Lungs, ;and all atkctious of the
Pulmonary Organs
Nature's own P'escrip'ion.
A compound Balsamic preparation of the
Pruntta Virginiana of V. ild Cherry Bark,'
combined with the Extract of Thr, prepa•
red by a chemical process, approved and
recommended by the most distinguished
physicians, and universally acknowledged
the lust valuable medicine ever discovered.
No Quackery ! ! No Deception
In setting forth the virtues of this truly
great medicine, we have no desire to tieceive
those who are aboring under the affliction,
nor do we wish to eulogize it more than it
deserves. Yet we look around and see the
vast anteont of suffering and disiTess occa
sioned by many of the diseases in which this
medicine has proved so highly successful,
we feel that we cannot urge its claims Lou
strongly, or say too much in its favor.
Various remedies it is true have been of
fel ed and putted into notice for the cure ot
diseases of the Lungs, and some hive no
doubt beets found very useful. hat all that
have yet been discovered, it is admitted by
physicians and all others who have witness
ed its effects, that none have proved as suc
cessful as this. Such, indeed, are the
Surpming Virtues
Of this Balsam, that even in the advanced
stases at Consumption, after all the most
esteemed temu dies of physicians have failed
to effect any change, the one of this medi
cine has been productive of the most aston
ishing relief, and actually effected cares
atter all hopes of recovery had been dis
paired of,
In the first stage of the disease, termed
Catarrhal Consumption, orie,itriting from
neglected COLDS, it has beau ward with no
; den iating success, nod hundreds acknowl
edge they owe the restnrati , on of their health
to this invaluable medicine alone, in that
form of consumption se prevalent amongst
delicate young females, dog:manly torstita
debility, or
Zflc
" G3ing into a Decline,"
A complaint with which thousands are lin
gering, it has also proved highly successful,
and not only possesses the power of checking
the progress of this alarming complaint, but
also strengthens and invigorates the system
more efllt tually than any medicines we have
ever possessed.
. . _
4ides its suprising efficacy in consumpz
firm, it is cqually efficacious in Liver Gun
plaint, Asthma, Bronchitis, and all aft,c ,
tions of the Lungs, and has cured many of
the mist obstinate cases, after every abet'
remedy had failed. t ry- Fur particulars see
Dr. Mi istor's treaties on consumption, to be
had of the agents.
WHILE LIFE REMAINS WE STILL HAVE
SOM X FICPE
A SURPRISING Conm.---Among the many
singular cures which this medicine has ef
fected, there is perhaps none in which its
powers are so Wily shown as in the case of
Mrs. Austin.
This lady has been Consumptive for seve
ral years, and during the greater part of this
time had received the best medical attention,
and tried all the most valuable remedies, yet
nothing could be found to arrest its progress.
She b-came subject to violent fits of cough
ing, expectorated large quantities of Matter
occasionally tinged with blood, and . step by
step this fearful disease continued its
course, until all hopes of a recovery was des
paired of. While in this distressing situa
tion, lingering upon the very verge of the
grave; she commenced the fuse of this Bal
sam, which, to use her own expression, op
perated almost like a charm. In a few days
she expectorated freely, the cough Nas gra
dually suppressed, and every day appeared
to add fresh vigor to her looks, and now, in
the place of that emaciated form withering
to decay, she is seen mingling in society, in
better health ti t an she has enjoyed for years.
DISINTERESTED TEsvisioNv.----Having
witnessed the sot prising efficacy of Dr:
Wistaes Balsam of Wild Cherry, in the
case of Mrs. Austin, I cheerfully acknowl
edge the above statement to be ti ne and cur
root. J. C. ‘VALTERS; M. D.
LIVER COMPLAINT.---MrS. Eligl Thomp
son was afflicted with this complaint for
nearly live years, during which time she sVaS
under the most skilful physicians—had tried
Mercury, Botanic and Itomcepathic rem . ,
dies, and every thing that offered her any
hopes of relief. She had dull, wandering
pains in her side, sometimes in the shoulder
and small of the back, a hacking cough, fre
quent pains in the breast, and had been him- •
hie to sleep on her right side for three years.
By the use of this Balsam she was cured in a
few weeks, and remains well to this dar.
ELIZA THOMPSON.
cute IldS at, r , a,Wriswkitqw.v.“Fetnt,4,,l44:l-....
advocates, it still may be gratifying toyod to
receive a communication from any one that
has been relieved by It. Such. sir is truly
my case. Ibr ire been a victim of that terri
ble disease consumption, for many months,
and have suffered so much, that I had
come almost weary of my life. fleAring
your Balsam SO highly praised, I began ta
king a few weeks back, and can assure you
that it has relieved me more than any thing
I have ever used before, and 1 con fi dently
believe it will cure me e ' ff..ctually. Please
give the bearer the worth of the enclosed,
and oblige..
Yotirs Respectfully,
JOHN PEARSON.
Chester county, Sept 6, 1841.
Film! Wistart—lt gives me much plea , .
st;re to inform thee that my wife's health has
improved very much since she has been
using thy Rilsam of \Vild Cherry, mid we
think there is no doubt it will cure her. She
has taken the two bottles 1 purchased from
thee a short time since, mid her cough is
much better, she also ski ps well at night,
and says she has found nothing to give her
so much relief. Thee will please give the
bearer two bottles more for
Toy Friend,
ED WAR D Hormts,
Q 7" Read the following from Di% Jacob
Hoffman, a physician of extensive practice in
Huntingdon count" :
Dean• Sit procured one bottle of Dr.
Wistar's Masao, of Wild Cherry, from
Thomas Read, Esq. of this place, and tried
it in a case of obstinate Asthma on a child of
Paul Schweble, in which many other rem e
dies had been tried without any relief. The
Balsam gave Sudden relief, and in my opin
ion the child is effectuelly cured by its use.
Yours. a tc.
JACOB HOFFMAN, M. D.
Dec. 23, IR4I.
Dean• Sir:—Your Balsam of Wild Cherry
has t Mcted some astonishing cures here.—
One of which i e au Old lady, Mrs. Russe!,
who has been suffering for a lung time with
shortness of breathing, and general Weak
ness, until she was finally (bilged to keep
her bed. Mtn various other remedies had
Fir en resorted to in vain, she commenced
using your Balsam, and after taking two bot
tles was so Inr recovered an to be able to at
tend to all the duties of her house, and on
taking twu lucks more was entirely cured.
Respectfully &c.,
JOHN S. C. MARTIN,
Pottsville, Pa,
CA tyr lON.—As there is n spurious mix•
turn called Syrup of Wild Cherry, purcha
sers should be particular to ask for Dr.
11 haw Balsam, and Lbserve his Signature
on the bottle.
Prepared for the pi oprietor, and sold at
wholesale by Williams & Co., ehelnists,
No. 21 Minor street, Philadelphia, Anld also
in almost every town in i he United States.
Price one dollar per bout,
. .
l'or sale by 7'hoinas krud, Huntingdon,
and James Orr, Hollidaysburg.
November 30, 1342.
A. K. CORNYN,
ATTOII3III7 14177 a
UNTING DON, PA.
OAT in Main a'reel, guy, doors Zvi at
Mrs. MCCOA3 , ( 7 . 3 Torperance Hozioe.