Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, February 13, 1856, Image 1

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Fashionable Streit Sweepers
Splashing through the gutters,
Travelling through the mire,
Mud up to the ankles,
And a leetie higher.
Little boys uproarious
'Cause you show your feels
Mess me ! this is glorious,
Sweeping down the streets.
Bonnet on the shoulders,
Nose op to the sky;
Both hands full of flounces,
Raised a la Shaug—high 1
Underskirts bespattered,
Look amazing neat ;
And your silks get "watered"
Sweeping down the street
Street sweep at the crossing,
Says you spoil her trade
Guesses you're the patent
Street-sweeper ready-made ;
(lives you a slight jostle
While she joins your suite;
Gracious I what a hustle
Sweeping down the street I
heaps of dirt and debris
Close behind you trailing ;
Joker says "wet dry-goods
Make first-rate retailing !"
Straws, eigar-stumps, "catch it,'
And augment the fleet ;
Goodness I what a freshet,
Sailing down the street I
If men admire such fashions,
I wish to licuven they'd try 'ern
If they'll agree to wear 'ear,
We'll agree to buy 'em.
They II but our understauding,
They fetter flt , t our feet
Till we're not hit a baud, en
Po4e,int dov.ll the shrug.
titect Cafe.
At the entrance of one of those gorges,
or gaps it the great Alapachian chain of
mountains. in their passage across the;
northern portion of Georgia, a blacksmith
had erected his forge, in the early settle
ment of that region by the American race,
and drove a thrifty trade in the way of (a
C's" a 'S and bDulaltZltlO nr:hs far OIL cot.
tiers, nod shoeing horses fur wayfaring
people in their transit through the country
to examine gold mines and land.
As he was no ordinary personage in the
affairs of his neighborhood, and will ionize
a conspicuous figur'e in this narrative. some
a ccount of his peculiarities will not be un
interestln,g. Having acted through life in
a homely maxim of his own --"pity up as
you go up'—he had acquired seine money
and was out of debt, and consequently en-
joyed 'the glorious privilege of being in-
dependent,' in a degree that is unknown to
many who occupy a larger portion of the
world's attention than himself. He NVaS
burly, a well looking man of thirty-five,
just young enough to feel that all his lac.
pities, mental mid physical, had reached
their greatest development, mil just old
enough to have amassed sufficient experi
ence of men and things, to make the past
serve as a finger post to his future journey
through life. With n shrewd, but open,
bold and honest look, there was a gleeful
expression in the corners of his eyes, that
spoke of fan. The 'laughing devil in his
eye' was mita malicious spirit, however.
Ilis physical conformation was that which
combined great strength will agility, and
if he had been fated to have been a catem
porary of his great prototype, Vulcan
there can be no doubt that the Lemnian
blacksmith would have allotted to him a
front forgo in his establishment, to act as a
sort ofpattern card, and to divert the pub
lic gaze from his own game leg to the fair
proportions of his foreman.
Now, although Ned Forgeron, for such
on as the name he had inherited from some
Gallic ancestor, was a good natured mats,
yet in the possessim of great muscular
strength and courage, and the admiration
which a successful exercise of the powers
never foils to command, had somewhat
spoiled him. Without meaning to injure
any mortal he had managed, nevertheless,
to try his prowess on sundry of his neigh
bors, and from the success which always
crowned his honest efforts in that way, had
unconsciously acquired the character of a
With very few early advantages of ele
mentary education, he had nevertheless, at
different periods, collected a mass of het
erogenous information, which he was very
fond of displaying on all occasions. He
was a sort of political antiquary, and could
tell the opinion of Mr, Jefferson or Mr.
Madison, on any subject, and was referred
on all disputed points of the theory and
history of the government, that rose among
the candidates for the legislature and coun
ty politicians. Thiihe studied on account
of the consequence it invested him with.
But why he had treasured up an old and
well thumbed copy of Paine's 'Age of
Reason,' and affected scepticism as; to the
veracity of the story of Jonah and the
whale, and Belaam and his ass, would be
hard accounting for, unless it proceeded
from the desire of a character of singularity
and erudition. When vanity onco gets the
mastery of a man's reason, there is no tel
ling the absurdities it will lead him into.
He was fond of speaking of Volney, and
being found with a copy of Taylor's *Di
egesis, in his hand, although few of his
neighbors had heard of the author of the
'Ruins,' or knew what Diegesis meant.
This peculiarity, together with the per
tinacity of the Missionaries, Worcester and
Butler, which carried them to the peniten
tiary, may account for the great aversion
of Mr. Edward Forgeron to all preachers
of the Gospel. His dislike for them was
so excessive, that he could scarcely speak
of tho *hypocritical scoundrels,' as he call.
ed them, without flying into a passion and
using indecorous language.
But a circumstance occurred which gave
his zeal a distinct and sectarian direction.
A Methodist preacher over in Tennesse,
who was fond of spicing his discourse with
anecdotes, once made the blacksmith the
principal character in a long sermon. His
peculiarities were diluted on and his here.
ales dealt with, inh2coming severity. He
was ridiculed by the preacher. All this
came to the ears of Forgeron, with such
additions and embellishments as stories
usually receive in passing to a third per
son. •It would be as useless to describe a
mountain storm, us to picture the wrath of
This inountaiueer. But if we cannot por
tray the storm, the consequences may be
easily told. The blacksmith swore in his
wrath he would whip every Methodist
preach''r thatrassed the gap, in revenge
of this insult.
Forgeron was a man of his word, as the
bruised features of many of John Wesley's
disciples could testify. His character soon
went abroad, and the good old matrons of
the surrounding counties on each side of
the mountain trembled at his name. In
short, the mountain pass, which was real
kndsoen n •
ter would seek for a picture and was jei
the spot to remind a youth fresh from his
classic studies of the place where Leonidas
and his three hundred Spartans fell in at
tempting to defend Greece from the army
of Xerxes ; but in despite of the grandeur
of its beetling cliffs, and the beauty of its
verdure, it was associated in the mind s of
many pious persons, with the broad gate
that leads to destruction. And Ned For
geron, the handsome blacksmith, was in
vested with the attributes and hideous as
pect of his Satanic majesty by many a
mountain girl, who would doubtless have
fallen in 'love at first sight' with him, un
der any other name.
The preacher whose circuit lay on the
other side of the mountain, at the time
Ned's direful edict was promulgated to the
world, was a meek and lowly man, who
approached nearly in his natural disposi
tion to willing obedience to the. mandate
relative to turning the cheek to the smiler.
The poor soul passed many sleeplese nights
in view of the fate that awaited hint at the
mountain pass. In his dreams he saw
Forgeron with a huge sledge hammer in
his hand, ready to dash out his brains, and
would start with such violence as to wake
himself. He inquired if there was no
other place at which the mountain could
be passed, Only to learn his dorm more cer
tainly. Being a timid man, but withal
devoutly iinpress.ed with a sense of duty,
he resolved to discharge his duties faithful
ly, be the consequences what they might.
Like a lamb going to the slaughter did lie
Arend his way toward the gap; as he came
in front of the shop, the blacksmith was
striking the last blow on a shovel, and sing
ing to the tune of 'Chit the kitchen'—
'Old Georgia is a noble State,
for lairs are good and her people great'
On °etching a glimpse of the poor par-
son, who had flattered himself that he was
about to pass with impunity, Ned sung out
—.Stop there, you eternal shadbelly, and
pay the penalty of my injured reputation!'
The holy man protested innocence of
having ever intentionally injured hint, by
word or deed.
The man's subdued looks and earnest
voice, had half dissuaded Ned from his
stern purpose, when the giggling of his
striker and the oheering of two or three
idlers, nerved him to do what he felt to be
mean. Let any one pause a moment, and
reflect if he has ever been urged on to acts
his consciemce smote him for, by the opin
ions of others, before Mr. Forgeron is sen
tenced as a devil. 'f he preacher received
several boxes on his ears, and heard many
denunciations against the sent before he
was permitted to depart, and when that
permission was given he was not slow in
availing himself of the privilege.
At the next annual conference, whoa
circuits were assigned to the different
preachers, this one made his , appearance
punctually, but by some process of casuis
try, convinced himself that his duty did not
call for a revelation of his sufferings. If
he was too sensitive of the blacksmith's
character to expose it to rude remark, or if
he had a preference that some worthier
brother shoii4 occupy that healthy station
among the mountains, is difficult to conjec
ture. But Forgeron's reputation had ex
tended beyond the circuit and been done
ample and severe justice to by others, who
had heard of his fame. It soon became
the subject of animated conversation, and
there was no little wincing, each one fear
ing it would be his cruel fate, to be sent a
victim to appease the wrath of this human
minotaur against the Methodist church.
After a time it was decreed that the Rev
erend Mr. Stubbleworth was the doomed
individual, and when the annunciation
came, many an eye of mingled pity and
curiosity was turned on its ruddy, good
looking face to see how the dispensation
was borne, but not a muscle moved. With
a quiet smile he professed a perfect willing
ness to go where ho was sent. He was
'clay in the hands of the potter,' he said.
It he piqued himself on a stolid indiffer
ence to the blacksmith's pummelings, or
relied on his ample dimensions to protect
himself, he never disclosed, but appeared
as self-satisfied and content as ever. Ills
predecessor looked for all the world like a
mouse just escaped from the fangs of some
terrible grimalkin.
Mr. Stub bleworth arranged his lew sub.
!unary affairs, and bidding his friends adieu
mounted his old roan and departed for his
new home of trials. with a sung of praise
on his lips. Let us hope the best for him.
The Rev. Mr. Stubbleworth was very
much pleased with his new situation ; ha
ving been transferred from a level pine
woods country, near the confines in Florida
the novelty of mountain scenery and the
pure, brazing atmosphere, seemed to in•
all the mothers, on the singular beauty and
intelligence of their children, with a deli
cate allusion to their own personal appear
' anoe, he soon became a general favorite.
He •knew which side of his bread the but
' ter was on.'
The time arriving for his departure to
visit the tramontane portion of his pastoral
care, he was warned of the dangers he was
about to encounter, but they were heard
with the same placid smile. The worthy
ladies pictured to him chimeras dire,' suf
ficient to have abated the zeal of any oth
er individual. But that gentleman quiet
ed their fears, by appealing to the power
that "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,
with a countenance as tomblike es could
be imagined. And he departed—singing,
"At home or abroad, on the land, on the sea,
As thy wants may demand, shall thy strength
ever be."
They watched him, until his portly per
son and the horse grew dim in the distance
and turned away, sighing that such a good
man should fall into the hands of that mon
ster, the blacksmith,
Forgeron had heard of this new victim,
and rejoiced that his size and appearance
furnished a better subject for his vengeance
than the attenuated frame of the late par
son. Oh, what a nice beating he would
have ! He had heard too, that some Me
thodist preachers were rather high spirited
and hoped this one might prove so, that
he might provoke him to fight. Knowing
the clergyman must pass on Saturday in
the afternoon, he gave his striker holiday,
and reclining on a bench, regaled himself
on the beauties of Tom Paine, awaiting
the arrival of the preacher.
It was not over an hour, before he heard
the words—
"how happy are they, who their Saviour obey,
And have laid up their treasures above,"
sung in a full clear voice, and soon the vo
calist, turtling the angle of a rock, rode
leisurely up, with a contented smile on his
'How are you old elab•eides 1 Get off
your horse and join my devotions,' said the
'I have many miles to ride,' answered
the preacher, 'and havn't lime. my friend.
I'll call as I return.'
'Your name is Stubbleworth, and you
are the hypocrite the Methodists have sent
hero, eh ?'
(My name is Stubbloworth,' he replied
(Didn't you know my name was Ned
Forgeron, the blacksmith, what whips ev
ery Methodist preacher that goes through
this gap !' was asked with an audacious
look. 'And how dare you come here 1'
The preacher replied that he had heard
Forgeron's name, but presumed that he
did not molest well behaved travellers.
'You presumed so I res, you are the
most presumptuous peel you Methodists
that ever trod shoe leatb any how. Well
what'll you do if I donihip you at this
time, you beef•headed diple you ?'
Mt. Stubbleworth pulsed his willing
ness to do anything rentable to avoid
such penance.
'Well, there's three tlgs you have to
do, or I'll maul you into elly. The first
is, you are to quit preacog ; the second
is, you must wear this will and testa
ment of Thomas Paine ; at to your heart,
read it every day, and breve every word
you read; and the third you are to curse
the Methodists in ever :roved you ever
get into.'
The preacher looked i during these
moral propositions, wilful a line of his
face being moved, and adze end replied
that the terms were unreonable, and he
would not submit to lhei
ElVell, you have got nOurfing to sub
mit to, than. I'll lorrupou like blazes I
I'll tear you into doll sat, corner•vays !
Get down you long•facethypoci:te.'
The preacher remonst.ted, and Forge
con walked up to tho hoe and threatened
to tear him off, if he di not dismount,
whereupon the worthy inn made a virtue
of necessity and alighte:!.
have but one reques! to make, my
friend, that is you won't bat me with this
overcoat on, It was a precut from the la
dies of my last ciren:t, at!) I do not wish
to have it torn.'
'Off with it, and that :t.ldenly you ba
sin-faced imp you.'
The Methodist preacherslowly drew off
his surcoat, as the blacis.mith continued
his tirade of abuso on hinvelf and his sect,
and as he drew his right land from the
sleeve, and threw the gement behind him
he dealt Mr. Forgeron a teenlendnus blow
between the eyes, which aid that parson
at full length on the ground, with the testa
ment of Thomas Paine beside him. Tho
Rev. Mr. Stubbleworth, v.:ill the tact of a
connoisseur in such matters, did not wait
for his adversary to rise, mounted him
stowed his blows, with a bounteous hand,
on the stomach and face of the blacksmith
continuing'his song where ho had left off;
on his arrival at the smithy—
"Tongues calinot express, the swoet comfort and
Of a soul in its earliest lone," [peace,
until Mr. Forgeron groin having experien
ced 'first love,' or some other sensation e•
qually new to him responded very lustily,
'Nough ! Nough ! Nough ! Take him
off!' Hut, unfortunately, there was none
by to perform that kind office, except the
old roan and he munched a bunch of grass
and looked on as if his master was 'happy'
at a camp meeting,
'Now,' said Mr. Stubbleworth, 'there are
three things you must promise me, before
I let you up.'
'What are they 7 ' asked Forgeron ea
'The first Is, that you will never molest
a Methodist preacher again ' Here Ned's
pride rose ; and he hesitated, and the rev
erend gentleman, with his usual benignity
renewed his blows and sung—
"I rode on the sky, freely justified I,
And the moon it was under my feet."
. .
This oriental language overcame the
blacksmith ! Such bold figures, or some
!king else, caused him to sing out, , Well,
I'll do it—l'll do it I'
'You are getting on very well,' said Mr,
Stubbleworth—q think I can make a de
cent man of you yet, and perhaps a chria
'The second thing require of you, is,
to go to the Pumpkinvino Creek Meeting
house, sod hear me preach to•morrow.'
Ned attempted to stammer some excuse
—.l—l that is-'
When the divine resumed his devotion
al hymn and kept time with the music stri
king him over the face with the fleshy part
of the hand—
"My soul mounted higher, on s chariot of fire,
Nor did envy Elijah his seat."
-- --
Ned's promise of punctuality caused the
parson's exercise to cease, and the words
redolent of gorgeous imagery, died away
in echoes from the adjacent crags.
'Now the third and last demand I make
of you is peremptory.' Ned was all at
tention to know what was to oome next.—
"You are to promise to seek religion, day
and night, and never rest until yed obtain
it at the hands of a merciful Redeemer.'—
'f he fallen man looked at the declining
sun, and then at the parson, and knew not
what to say, when the latter individual be
gan to raise his voioo in song once more,
and Ned kew what would come next.
'l'll do my best,' be said, in an humbled
'Well that's a man,' Mr. Stubbleworth
said. 'Now get up and go down to the
spring and Noah your face, and dust your
clothes, and tear. up Mr. Paine's testansen4
and turn your thoughts on high.'
Ned arose with feelings he had never ex
perienced before, and went to obey the
lavatory injunction of the preacher, when
the gentleman mounted his horse, took
Ned by the hand, and said—lLeep your
promises and I'll keep your coarse'. Good
evening, Mr. Forgetton—l'll look for you
to-morrow, and off he rode with the same
inaperturable countenance, 'singing so loud
as to scare the eaglets from their eyrie, in
the overhanging rocks.
Well, thought Ned, this is a nice busi
ness ! What would people say if they
knew Edward Forgeron was whipt before
his own door in the gap, and by a Metho
dist preacher, too T But his musings were
'more in sorrow than anger.'
The disfigured countenance of Forge
ron was of course the subject of numerous
questions that night among his friends, to
which he replied with a stern look they
well understood and the vague remark that
he had met with an accident. Of course
they never dreamed of the true case.—
Forgeron looked in the glass, and perhaps
compared the changing hues of his 'black
eye from a recent scuffle' to the rainbow
shipwreck scene—'blending every color
into one.' Or perhaps ho had never read
that swig and only muttered to himself,
'Ned Forgeron whiped by a Methodist
preacher !'
His dreams that night were of coarused
and disagreeable nature, and walking in
the morning, he had an distinct memory
of something unpleasant having occurred.
At first he could not recollect the cause of
his feeling, but the bruise 4 on his face and
body soon called them to mind. as well as
the promise. Ho mounted his horse in si
lence, and went to redeem it.
From that time his whole conduct man
ifested a change of feeling. The gossips
of the neighborhood observed it, and whia-
pered that Ned was silent and serious, and
Lad gone to raeeting every Sunday since
the accident, They wondered at his bur
ning the books Ito used to read so much.—
metamorphose of the jovial, dare devil
blue ksmith into a gloomy and taciturn man.
Supposed, very Imply, that a 'spirit' 1,34
enticed him into the mountains, and slier
giving him a glimpse into the future, had
misled him to a crag, where he had fallen
and bruised his face. Others gave the
prince of darkness the credit of the change
but none suspected the Methodist preach
er, and as the latter gentleman had no
vanity to gratify, the secret remained with
This gloomy state of mind continued
until Forgeron visited a camp-meeting.—
The Reverend Mr. Stubbleworth preached
a sermon that seemed to enter his soul, and
relieve it of a burden, and the song of
'How happy are they, who their Savior obey.'
was only half through, when he felt like a
new man. Forgeron was from that time
'a shouting Methodist.' At a love-feast, a
short time subsequent, he gave in his ex
perience, and revealed the mystery of his
conviction and coversion to his astonished
neighbors. The Reverend Simon Stub
bleworth, who had faithfully kept tho se.
cret until that time, could contain himself
no longer, but gave vent to his feelings in
convulsive peals of I aughter, as the burn
ing tears of heartfelt joy coursed their way
down his cheeks. Yes, my brethren,' he
said, 'it's all a fact, I did maul the grace
into his unbelieving said, there's no doubt
of it P
The blacksmith of the mountain pass
became a happy man and a Methodist
*tittt litisdang.
The cadet sleeps in the barracks in a
room with one other; at half past five in
the winter the reveille awakens him he
immediately arises, doubles up his blan
ket and matress, apd places them on the
head of his iron bedstead, he studies until
seven o'clack ; at that hour the drum beats
for breakfast, and the cadets fall into rank
and proceed to mess hall. Twenty min
utes is the usual time spent at breakfast,
Guard mounting takes place at half past
seven, and twenty-four men are placed on
guard every day. At eight o'clock the
bugle again sounds, the professors dis•
miss their respective stations, the cadets
form ranks opposite the barracks, and
march to dinner. Between eleven and one
a part of the cadets are occupied in riding
and others in fencing, daily. After din
ner they have until two o'clock for recre
ation. and from two to four o'clock the bu
gle sounds and they go either to battalion
or light artillery drill.
This exercise lasts an hour and ti half.
After that, they devote the same time to
recreation until parade, which takes place
at sunset. After parade, they form into
rank in front of the barracks, and the
names of the delinquents are read by an
officer of the cadets, Supper comes next
and, after supper recreation till eight o'-
clock when the bugle sounds to call to
quarters, and every cadet must be found
in his room, within a few minutes, at study
and must remain there thus employed un
til half past nine. At half-past nine the
bugle sounds—ihis is called tatoe ; and at
teu the drum taps, and at tea every cadet
must be in bed, having his light extin
guished, and must remain there till ma
tting. If during the night, the cadet is
found to be absent from his room more than
thirty minutes and does not give a satisfac
tory account of himself, charges are pre
ferred against him, and he is csurt-tuar
The use of intoxicating drink and to
bacco is strongly repudiated ; no are play
ing at chess wearing whiskers, and a great
many. other things. The punis! , ment to
which the cadets a:5 liable, are privation
of recreation, ikc., extra hours of duty,
reprimands, arrests, cenfinemetd to his
room or tent ; confinetnent in prison, con
&lenient in dark prison, distnission with
the privilege of resigning in public dis•
The Squire's Georgia Widow.
..Oh !"says the squire, •I wish I was
married and well over it. I dread it pow
erfully. I'd like to marry a widow. I
alters liked widows since I know'd one
down in Georgia, that suited my ideas ad
'About a week after her husband died,
she started down to the graveyard, whar
they planted of him, as she said, to read
the perscription onto his monument.—
When she got thar, she stood a minute a
looking at the stones which was put at
each end of the grave, with an epithed on
'em that the minister had writ for her.—
Then sho buret out, ! boo!' says site I
1.!.L0ne..5.. he was one.Jai tg itri1 , ...1X1141.,,4
about a week ago, he hiougltt - down from
town some sugar and a little tea; aod
some atore.g,oods for me, and lots of litt' , ‘
necessaries, and a painted hose for Jeers,,,
'd child got his tn..... all
yelleinttucking . . of it; and then he
kissed the children all round, and took
down that good old fiddle of lus'n and play
ed up that good old tune :
"Rake her down, Sal, oh 1 ran - rang diddle.
Oh 1 rang clang diddle, clang, Bang dal"
.11en..,' says the Squire, , she began to
dance and I jilt thought she was the grea.
Lest woman ever I see."
The Squire always gives a short laugh
after he tells this anecdote, and then fil
ling and lighting his pipe, subsides into
an arm chair in front of the •Exchange,
and indulges in cairn and dreamy reflec•
Preserving Fruit in their own Juice.
Thirteen bottles of preserved fruit were
exhibited lately at Rochester, New York,
by Wm. R. Smith, of Wayne county,
vie ; five of cherries, two peaches, one of
different varieties of currants, one of black
berries, and one of plums. They were
examined by a committee, and found of
fine flavor, and the committee expressed
the opinion that the art of preserving fruit
in this manner is practicable, and that the
fruit, when carefully pet up, can be made
to keep as long as may be desirable. The
method of preserving is thus given to the
New York State Society by Mr. Smith :
wrhey are preserved by placing the bot
tle filled with the fruit in cold water, and
raising the temperature to the boiling point
as quick as possible; then cork and seal
the bottles immediately. Some varieties
of fruit will not fill the bottles with their
own juice—these must be filled with boil
ing water, and corked as before .mentioned
after the surrounding water boils." Fruits
can also be preserved by carbonic acid gas.
The bottles, after the fruit is put into them
should be charged with the gas under
pressure, to expel all the air, and then
sealed :T.—Scientific alinerican.
Charcoal for Swine.
It is not perhaps, generally known, that
one of the best articles that can be given
to swine while in preparation for the tub,
is common charcoal. Tbe nutritive pro
perties are so great, that the hog have sub
sisted on it without other food for weeks
together. Geese confined so as to deprive
them of motion, and fattened on three
grains of corn per day, and as much char
coal as they can devour, have become fat
tened in eight days. The hog eats vora
ciously, after a little time, and is never
sick while he has a good supply. It should
always be kept in the sty, and be fed like
all other food, regularly to the inmates.
VOL. XXI. NO. '7.
Cire for Hydrophobia.
Any remedy for this terrible disease
should be bailed as a blessing. The Eliz
abethtown (N. J.)jPost comes to us mar
ked (says the Scientific .ntnerican,) by the
editor to direct our attention to the follow
ing rema;ks and receipt for curing this
"Some three years ago we published in
the Post a remedy for that terrible disease,
but it seems credence was not given to our
knowledge. Yet there are still living many
evidences of its effioa cy. It was first pre
scribed on a consultation of three physi
cians for an individual who had been hit.
ten and badly torn by dog known to be mad
and we believe. after the individual had
one or two spasms of hydrophobia. The
patient was cured, and lived many years.
Of the three physicians but one still one.
vices, a man of nearly 85 years, and he
Una had occasion to prescrtbe the same
remedy, during along term of fifty year's
practice, for other persons bitten by rabid
animals, and always with success. The
last time was within our memory, be.
tweets the years 1820 and 1824, we be
lieve, when several children in the south
part of Chesterfield, or north part of Wills
borough, in this county, were bitten by a
cat. Animals a-ere bitten by the same cat
and went mad and died. We know not
if any of the individuals bitten are still
living in that neighborhood, but there. are,
undoubtedly others who will remember the
circumstances. A remedy so well-known
to have proved a cure, should be known
to the medical profession and to the world;
and we once more publish it hoping that
muny others may imbibe a portion of the
faith we ourselves have in it; and again
prove its efficacy should anoccasion un
fortunately offer.
"Keep the sore running or discharging
matter as long as possible with powdered
verdigris dusted into the wound, and give
one grain of mineral turpeth at a dose three
times a day in a little dry sugar rubbed
very fine. and washed down with wa rm.
I tea ee water, until the mouth is sliglAy af :
[ the appearances of tl.e affection in the
mouth have disappeared ; then repeat the
course in the same way. Repeat the cour
ses three or four times in the course of six
Iweeks, when I consider the patient out of
Preservation of Wheat from Weevil
Numerous remedies have been proposed
to protect wheat from the ravages of wee
vil, but the most of them have been im
practicable or too expensive. M. Cailat,
in France, reommends the use of tar, as
a certain and economical agent for their
destruction. He says :
“The efficacy of tar in driving away
the weevil and preserving the grain, is an
incontestable fact. My father had, a long
time ago, his granaries, barns, and the
whole house infested with these insects so
much so that they penetrated into all the
chests and among the linen. He did place
art open bask, impregnated with tar, in the
barn, and then in the granaries—at the
end of some hours the weevils were see t 4
climbing along the wall by myriads, and
flying in uli directions from the cask. On
moving the tarred vessel from place to
place, the premises were in a few days
completely cleared of these troublesome
and pernicious guests. The agriculturist
who wants to get rid of weevils, may, as
soon as he perceives their presence, im
pregnate the surface of some old planks
with tar, and then place them as required
in his granaries. Care must be taken to
renew the tar from time to time in the
course of the year to prevent the return of
the insects.
Do You Eat Pork ?
Physicians have just discovered that the
tape worm only troub!cs those who eat
pork. The Medical Gazette asserts that
the Elebrews are never troubled with it ;
the pork butchers are particularly liable to
it, and that dogs fed on pork ere universal
ly afbicted—in fact it turns out that a small
parasite worm,-called erystecersys, (from
two words signiifying a sthall sect and
tail,) which much effects pork, no sooner
reaches the stomach than from the change
of diet and position, it is metamorphosed
into the well known tape worm; and the
experiments of Dr. Kuchenmelster, of
Zittoria, upon a condemned criminal, have
established the fact beyond all eentmdic..
tion, Pork eaters ,vill please make a note
—Daily NtleB.
HELP ONE ANOTHER.—Sir WalterScottsays:
"The race ofmankind would perish did we cease
to help each other. Front the time that the
mother binds the child's hoed till the moment
that some kind assistant wipes the doathdamp
from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist
Without mutual help. All, therefore, that need
aid, have a right to ask it of their fellow mor•
talc ; and no one who has it in his power to
grant. can tofu.* without incurring guilt,-