BY FRED'K L. BAKER.
Not Alcoholic:
• ~,,,,,,,,
A. Highly Concentrated Vegetable Extraet.
A PURE TONIC.
DR. LIOOFLAND'S GERMAN BITTERS
PREPARED BY DR, C. NI. JACKSON, PHIL'A, PA.
WI L L effectually cure Liver Complaint,
Dyspepsia, Jaundice, chronic or nervous
Debility, diseases of the Kidneys, and bad dis
eases arising from a disordered Liver or Stom
ach. Such as Constipation, inward Piles, ful
ness or blood to the head, acidity of the Stom
ach, Nausea, Heartburn, disgust for food, ful
ness or weight in the stomach, sour Eructations,
sinking or fluttering at the pit of the Stomach,
swimming of the Head, hurried and difficult
Breathing, Buttering at the Heart, choking or
suffocating sensations when is a lying posture,
dimness of Vision, dots or webs before the
Sight, fever and dull pain in the Head, defi
ciency of Perspiration, yellowness of the Skin
and Eyes pain in the Side, Back, Chest, Limbs,
ac., sudden flushes of Heat, burning in the
Flesh, constant imaginings of Evil, and grief,
depression of Spirits. And will positively
prevent Yellow Fever, Billions Fever &c.—
They contain no Alchohol or bad Whisky.—
They WILL CURE the above diseases in ninety
nine cases out of a hundred.
The proprietors have thousands of letters
from the most eminent Clergymen, Lawyers,
Physicians, and Citizens, testifying of their
own personal knowledge, to the beneficial ef
fects and medical virtues of these Bitters. I
Do you want something to strengthen you ,9
Do you want a good appetite? Do you wank.
to build up your constitution ? Do you want
to feel well? Do you want to get rid of Ner
vousness? Do you want energy? Do you
want to sleep well ? Do you want a brisk and
vigorous feeling? If you do, use HoopLa OD's
German Bitters.
PARTICULAR NOTICE.—There are many
preparations sold under the name of I:litters,
put up in quart bottles, compounded of the
cheapest Whisky or common ruin, costing from
20 to 40 cents per gallon, the taste disguised by
Anise or Coriander Seed.
This class of Bitters has caused and will con
tinue to cause, as long as they can be sold,
hundreds to die the death of the drunkard.—
By their use the system is kept continually
under the influence of alchoholic stimulants of
the worst kind, the desire for liquor is created
and kept up, and the result is ail the horrors
attendant upon a drunkard's life and death.
. . .
For those who desire and will have a Liquor
Bitters, we publish the following receipt. Get
one bottle of lloolland's Bitters and mix with
three quarts of good brandy or whisky, and
the result will be a preparation that will fur
excel in medicinal virtues and true excellence
any of the numerous Liquor Bitters in the
market, and will cost mach less. You will
have all the virtues of lioolland's Bitters in
connection with a good article of liquor, at a
much less price than these inferior prepara
tions will cost you.
ATTENTION SOLDIERS ! We call the atten
tion of all having relations or friends in the
army to the fact that "lioofland's German
Bitters" will cure nine-tenths of the diseases
induced by exposures and privations incident
to camp life. In the lists, published almost
daily in the newspapers, on the arrival , of the
sick, it will be noticed that a very large pro
portion are suffering from debility. Every
case of that kind can be readily cured by
Boodand's Gelman Bitters. Diseases result
ing from disorders of the digestive organs are
speedily removed. We have no hesitation in
stating that, if these Bitters were freely used
among our soldiers, hundreds of lives might
be saved that otherwise will be lost.
We call the particular attention to the fol
lowing remarkable and well authenticate,
cure of one of the nation's heroes, whose life
to use his language, "has been saved by the
Bitters :"
PHILADELPIIIA, August 23d, 1562.
Messrs. Junes ik Eueuns.- Well, gentleman,
your Hoofland's German Bitters have saved my
life. There is no mistake in this. His vouch
ed for by numbers of my comrades, some of
whose names are appended, and who are fully
cognizant of all the circumstances of my case.
I am, and have been fur the last four years,
a member of Sherman's celebrated battery,
and under the immediate command of Cap
tain R. B. Ayres. Through the exposure at
terdant upon my arduous duties, I was attack
ed in November last with innamation of the
lungs, and was for seventy-two days in the
hospital. This was followed by great debility,
heightened by an attack of dysentery. I was
then removed from the White House, and
sent to this city on board the Steamer "State
of Maine," from which I landel on the 28th,
ofiune. , Since that time I have been about
as low as any one could and still retain a
spark of vitality. For a week or more 1 was
scarcely able to swallow anything, and if I did
force a morsal down, it was immediately
thrown up again.
I could not even keep a glass of water on
my stomach. Life could not last under these
circumstances: and, accordingly, the physi.
cians who had been working faithfully, though
unsuccessfully to rescue me from the grasp
of the dread Archer, frankly told me they
could do no more for me, and advised me to
see a clergyman, and to make such disposi
tion of my limite 1 funds as best suited rue.—
An acquaintance who visited me at the hospi
tal, Mr. Frederick Steinbron, of Sixth below
Arch street, advised me, as a forlorn hope, to
try your Bitters, and kindly procured a bottle.
From the time I commenced taking tnem the
gloomy shadow of death receded, and I am
now, thank God for it, getting better. Tim'
1 have taken but two bottles, I have gained
ten pounds, and I feel sanguine of being pei
.tnitted to rejoin my wife and daughter, from
whom I have heard nothing for eighteen
months: for, gentlemen, I am a loyal Virgin
ian, from the vicinity of Front Royal. To
your invaluable Bitters I owe the certainty of
life which has taken the placo of vague fears
—to your Bitters will I owe the glourious pri
vilege of again clasping to my bosom those
who are dearest to me in life.
Very truly yours, ISAAC MA LONE.
We fully concur in the truth of the above
Statement, as we had despaired of seeing our
comrade, Mr. Malone, restored to health.
J‘hti Cuddleback, Ist New York Battery.
George A. Ackley, Co. C., 11th Maine.
Lewis Chevalier, 92d New York.
I. E. Spencer, lit Artillery, Battery F.
J. B. Fasewell, Co. 11, 3d Vermont..
Henry B. Serome, Co. B. do.
Henry T.'Macdonald, Co. C. 6th Maine.
John F. Ward, Co. E. sth Maine.
Nathaniel B. Thomas, Co. F., 95th Penn.
Jahn Jenkins, Co. B. 106th Penn
Beware of counterfeits ! See that the sigL
nature of "C. M. Jackson," is on the wrapper
of each bottle. Price per bottle 75 cents, or
half dozen for $4 00.
Should your, nearest druggist not have the
article, do not be put off by any of the intoxi
cating preparations that may be offered in its
place, but send to us, and we will forward,
securely packed, by express.
Principal Office and Manufactory,
No. 63l ARCII STREET.
JONES & EVANS
(Succersors to C. M. Jackson & Co
Proprietors.
Et' For sale by Duggists and Dealers in
every town in the United States.
4 - 4ft cr a:titbit/km/I
flit ;In bcptitkitt rtnnsilbaitia 'gonna!: peinfttv Xittraturt, agricaluirt, Ettus of Fatal 4fltelligaitt,
PUBLISIIED WEEKLY
AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR.
PAYABLE IN ADVANCE
OFFICE on Front Sti eet, a few doors east
of Mrs. Flury's Hotel, Marietta, Lancas
ter County, Pennsylvania.
Trams, One Dollar a year, payable in ad
vance, and if subscriptions be not paid within
six months $1.25 will be charged, but if de
layed until the expiration of the year, $1.50
will be charged.
No subscription received for a less period
than six months, and no paper will be discon
tinued until all arrearages are paid, unless at
the option of the publisher. A failure to noti
fy a discontinuance at the expiration of the
term subscribed for, will be considered a new
engagement.
ADVERTISING RATES: One square (12
lines, or less) 50 cents for the first insertion and
25 cents for each subsequent insertion. Pro
fessional and Business cards, of six lines or less
at $3 per annum. Notices in the reading col
umns, fire cents a-line. Marriages and Deaths,
the simple announcement, FRE ; but for any
additional lines, five cents a line.
A liberal deduction made to yearly and half
yearly advertisers.
JOB Pnix•rugn of every desenption neatly
and expeditiously executA, and at prises to
suit t • eNtimes.
/Pray what do they do at the Springs.
Pray what do they do at the springs,
The question is easy to ask,
But to answer it fully my dear
Were rather a serious task.
And yet in a bantering way,
As the magpie or mocking bird sings ;
I'll venture 'a bit of a song,
To tell you what they do at the springs
Imprimis, my darling they drink,
The waters so sparkling and clear,
Though the flavor is none of the best,
The odor exceedingly qUeer,
But tLe fluid is mingled you know
With wholesome medicinal thing's,
So they drink, and they drink, and they drink,
And that's what they do at the springs.
Then with appetites keen as a knife,
They hasten to breakfast or dine,
The latter precisely at three—
The former from seven till nine.
Ye gods what a rustle and rush,
When the eloquent dinner bell rings,
So they eat, and they eat, and they eat,
And that's what they do at the springs,
Then they stroll in the beautiful walks
Or 101 l in the shade of the trees,
When many a whisper is heard
That never is henrd by the breeze ;
And hands commingled with hands
Regardless of conjugal rings,
So they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt,
And that's what they do at the springs.
The drawing-rooms now are ablaze
And music is shrieking away,
Terpsichore governs the hour,
And fashion was never so gay.
An arm round a tapering waist,
How closely and fondly it clings, •
So they waltz, and they waltz, and they waltz,
And that's what they do at the springs. •
In short as it gOes in the world,
They eat, they drink, and they - sleep,
They talk, they walk, and they woo,
They sigh, they laugh, and they weep,
They read, they ride, and they dance,
'With other unspeakable things,
And they pray, and they Play, and. they pay,
And that's what they do at the springi.
A SUB-CLERICAL SCAPEGRACE.—Many
good stories are told of Dr. Lawson, a
Presbyterian minister in Scotland, who
was so absent-minded that he was some
times quite insensible to the world
around him. One of his sons, who af
terwards became a highly esteemed
Christian minister, was a very tricky
boy, perhaps mischievous in 11 - :s tricks.
Near the Mansion lived an old woman, of
crabbed temper and rather ungodly in
her mode of living. She and the boy
had quarreled, and the result was that
he took a quiet opportunity to kill one
of her hens. She went immediately to
Dr. Lawson, and charged his son with
the deed. She was believed, and as it
was not denied, punishment was inflict
ed. He was ordered to abide in the
Crouse ; and to make the sentence more
severe his father took him into his study,
and commanded him to sit there with
him. The son was restless, and fre
quently eyed the door. At last he saw
his father drowned in thought, and qui
etly slipped out, He went directly to
the old woman's and killed another hen,
returning immediately and taking his
place in the library, his rather having
never missed him. The woman speedi
ly made her appearance, and charged
the slaughter again upon him. Dr.
Lawson, however, waxed angry—de
clared her to be a false accuser, as the
boy had been closeted with him all the
time—adding: "Besides, this convinces
me that you had just as little ground for
your first accusation ; I therefore acquit
him of both, and he may go out now."
The woman went off in high dudgeon,
and the prisoner in high glee.
sir A thickheaded' squire being
worsted by Rev. Sidney Smith in an ar
gument, took his revenge by exclaiming :
"ff I had a son who was an idiot I would
make him a parson." "Very probable,"
replied Sidney, "but I see your father
was of a different opinion."
MARIETTA, PA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 8, 1863.
HE SECOND 'WIFE, V
CHAPTER 1.
THE FIRST WIFE.
"I am the most unforlunate man in
the world I " exclaimed Frederick Rod
man, as he threw himself in a chair in
the sanctum of his friend and confident,
Thomas Sumner.
" What is the matter now, Fred ?"
said Thomas, with a smile upon his face,
for he was not wholly unaccustomed to
the repinings of the other.
" I am miserable?" •
"Pooh, nonsense !"
" You can't understand my case."
"I can't he miserable—l don't want
to be ; I could'nt if I tried," laughed out
Thomas.
"You have everything to make you
contented, and nothing to make you un
happy," groaned Frederick.
Just as much as you have, Fred."
"I m sure I have."
"No you haven't."
"You aye a salary of eighteen hun
dred doll rs a year, which is one third
more tha I get. Yon own a godd
house ; you ave three healthy children,
and a pretty, accomplished wife—"
" That's, alr , you know about it. My
salary- is all I want, and everything else
is satisfactory," interposed Frederick.—
"I complain of none of these:things."
" What do you complain of then ?"
" I'm miserable in spite of all these
things."
" What, with money enough, a wife—"
"There's where the - shoe pinches."
"Your wife ?" asked Thomas, with a
glance of astonishment.
Frederick nodded, though very mach
like one who is ashamed of himself. Let
it be understood before our story pro
ceeds any further that the two gentle
men are friends of twenty years stand
ing, having been "boys together," and
having kept side by side thus far thro'
life. Each was the confident of the oth
er: so much so that Tom's wife was half
jealous of the intimacy that existed be
tween them.
"You are not going to complain of
your wife," continued Tom.
" I can't keep it any longer. I shall
feel easier after I have unburdened my
mind of this dreadful secret," replied
Fred, with a woeful glance at the other.
"Out with 'it, my dear fellow."
"I was deceived in my wife."
"The deuce you'were ; and have you
just found it out after living with her
seven years 2 ''
" I could not speak of it, even to you,
Tom."
" What has happened, Fred`? "
" Nothing new, it is the old story,
only agravated by long continuance."
" What ails her?"
"I am not happy with her."
"I am sorry for that; bu) is it your
fault, or hers, or. both ? " -
"I don't think it, is my fault. I am
sure I try to be a, good husband. I have
always done everything I could to please
her, and to make her contented and hap
py.l.l
";That long face of yours is almost
enough to disgust her with humanity,"
continued Tom laughing.
" Do you think I have done anything
to make her unhappy ?"
"I don't; but lam astonished. Why
Fred, when you married Julia, you im
rnagined her the handsomest woman in
the world. She is very pretty now, and
half the men in town envy you."
"Beauty is nothing compared with—
" With what ? "
"With neatness." •
"what 1 Fred, you are an old Betty!
You are a fool !" exclaimed Tom, jump
ing out of•his chair. •
"If you had suffered one half what I
bave, you would'think differently."
"Do you mean to say that Julia f.s
not a neat woman ?"
" I do Tom."
"I don't believe it. Just explain a
little."
" Well, for instance, she is not neat
about her person." .
"If that were true, Fred, I would
give you my sympathy; but it is not."
" I sometimes come home and find
her with a dirty calico gown on her."
".Would you have her to wear silk to
take care of the baby?
"Perhaps not silk, Tom, but=
"You have 'no business to have ba
bies, Fred. Do you expect your wife to
take care of a child all day, and look as
nice as waxwork? You are wrong. I
have heard my wife,speak- of Julia as 'a
very neat woman ;, net 'nasty nice' bat
much neater 04nNcaien generally are."
" She is mistaken ; I could speak of
other things."
"Don't speak any more of that sort
Is she ill-humored or fretful ?"
"No."
"Then go home and thank your stars
you are so well situated."
"You don't understand my case,
Tom."
"Yes, I do, precisely. You are more
nice than wise. It isn't possible for
your wife to keep your house perfectly
nice while she has three children about
her. She does very well. I •think Ju
lia is one of the best women in the
world. Does she neglect your wants 2"
" Does she not take good care of you
when you are sick ?"
" The best in the world."
And Tom questioned him on a dozen
other, points, and everything was satis
factory.
"You are an old Betty, Fred. You
ought to have been an old woman. I
see through it. You are tired of her.
You have lived with her seven years,
and she has become an old story. The
novelty of existence has worn away, and
yen have selected one thing, considering
that you have made out a good case
against her. You have not.. No doubt
she has her faults and foibles. Perhaps,
in some particular instance, you have
had reason to complain of a want of
neatness; but she is not generally . unti
dy. 1 knoW to bille - contrary. Now,
Fred, you must look on both sides of
the question. You'must give her credit
for all her love, patience, and fidelity;
for the weary days and nights she has
watched by the bedside, when you and
your children lave been sick ; for her
gentleness, her soft words that turn
away wrath ;.for herself, an angel on
the whole, who has deScended froin
heaven to brighten your: path; and
against this long list of blessings you
are to debit the accidental leaving of a
slop pail in the entry, and the unpar
donable-sin of wearing a calla° dress
which the baby had soiled. Get out,
Fred ! you area heathen."
"You.don't understand my case,"
moaned the poor husband.
"Haven't I summed it up for you 7"
".You don't know what I have en
dured."
" I don't want to know. By the
way, Fred, have you got fifty dollars in
your pocket to lend me fora fortnight ?"
"I have," replied Fred, promptly
pulling out his wallet and handing ever
the money.
" Sorry to trouble you again."
" Glad to do it, Tom," he added with
a smile, which evinced his sincerity.
" Think no more of your wife's short
comings. We must bear a good deal,
and you have less than your share."
" I can't help thinking how different
it would have been if I had married
Emily Berard."
"'Married the—town pump 1" ex
claimed Tom, indignantly, "She is' an
old Betty 1"
"You wrong her: When I was mar
ried she
,was very beautiful."
" Beautiful enough now ; but f wouid
sooner have married my grandmother.
Why didn't you marry her P'
"Because I was a fool. It would
have been different with me now if I
had."
"That's a fact! She is no more the
equal of jab. than Biddy lloreen, the
washer-woman."
Frederick Rodman went home not at
all comforted or assured by the eloquent
rebuke of his friend. Emily Berard, the
old flame, was uppermost in his thoughts.
It had been said that she was a volun
tary old maid on his account. She was
a very nice body, and no doubt would
have made him a very good wife; so did
Julia, but it takes two to make a happy
couple. . .
CHAPTER-11.
THE SECOND WIFE.
The lapse of '6. single year produced a
great change in the household of Fred
erick Rodman. The scarlet fever bad
raged in the town, and his two youngest
children had fallen victims to its vio
lence.' :fuliri,i'ivorn out by the loss of
of sleep and:the poignant grief of their
sickness and death, was prostrated with'
typo old. fever, from the effects of which
she did not'recove'r.
Frederick wept bitterly and sincerely
over the grave of his wife. He was now
alone with his oldest child, and he could
not but, see that the good Father had
afflicted him for the repining thought'he
had cherished..;
He had seen his vnfe patiently watch
ing,forfour weeks at the bedside of his
dying, little .ones ; , lie had seen her re
fuse to sleep or to rest; he had Been
her wear herself out in her devotion to
her darlings.
He wps alone now, and the grounds
on which he had complained of her
seemed too trivial to be regarded. He
saw her as she was, now that he could
no longer see, her with, his bodily eye.
She was, as Tom bad said, an angel. He
could see only her good qualities, and
mourned her departure as much more,
than though he had never complained.
Tom was his friend now more than
ever, if lie could be more than he bad
been. He did not rebuke now. He
had spoken plainly at the right time,
and now he had only words of hope and
consolation.
"I shall never forgive myself," said
Frederick.
"Take a cheerful view; it is hard,
very hard, but it is all for the best," re
plied Tom.
It is very hard for me when I think
how unreasonable I have been. You
were right, Tom. She was an angel,
and I was a demon."
"Never mind that, now."
" I have got a real woe now. I miss
her every moment I am in the house,
even more than I miss my two children.
Everything reminds me of her. No one
places my slippers on the rug now ; no
one, with anxious'care, watches to sup
ply my every-want, adjust everything to
suit my humor ; no one welcomes me
with a -cheerful smile. Oh ! Tom, I
feel as though I should go mad 1"
"Be calm, Fred."
" And what a brute I was ! I did not
appreciate her. Tom, 1 wronged her.
She was a neat woman. I see it now.—
I was a fool ! I shall be miserable for
the rest of my life."
He was not, for another year found
another change in the household of the
disconsolate husband -- found Emily
Berard the mistress there. For a time
there was a novelty about his new ex
istence which pleaSed his fickle mind ;
but this soon wore away, and Fred dis
covered to his surprise that Emily had
her faults. It is true, she was "as neat
as wax." She never permitted her slop
pail to be left in the entry for a moment ;
always looked as tidy before breakfast
as after tea; and in every respect suited
the fastidious taste of her husband.—
But it is not time yet to visit him.
Some two years after his second mar.
riage Tom dropped in upon him, to
spend an hour. Fred looked moody and
sad. In vain he rallied and tried to be
cheerful.
"Take an apple, Tom," said he, pass
ing the dish.
"
Thank vou."
" Fred !" exclaimed Mrs. Rodman,
"is that the way you address your
friends,? You talk like a bear."
" That is our way," said Tom, pleas-
an tly
"It is . a very vulgar way. Don't put
your feet on• that chair, Frederick. It
is a dirty trick,"
Fred quietly removed the offending
foot, and looked sadder than before.
" Think we shall have some .rain
asked Tom, disturbed by the silence,
"Don't drop your apple core upon
the floor, Frederick," said Mrs Rodman,
with a frown. 4'l, declare it is no use
trying to keep things neat where you
are And if you haven't got your mud
dy boots, on I"
“So hive interposed Tom. "I
didn't think to bring my slippers with
me.”
The lady frowned.
"Well, I believe I. must be going,"
continued Tom. • -
"I feel kind of stupid to-night ; be
lieve I will walk over with you,",added
Fred, rising. •
" F rederick," said • Emily, smartly,
"you know I don't like to be left alone
in the evening."
"Poor Fred !" ejaculated Tom, as
the door closed behind him. "lie is in
for it now.."
" What do you mean by offering to
leave me alone in the evening 2" snarled
14Irs. Rodman, when the door closed be
hind the visitor.
"You have driven my friend away;
and I thought you might as well drive
me out too."
“It is time he was gone. He is the
coarsest, most brutal fellow I ever saw ;
and you must discOntinue this intima
cy.”
"Never I He, is my , best friend I"
" I don't care if he is. He had the
ipapudeace to answer every time I spoke
to• you." '
"I am not accustomed to be. snapped
•
up in that , manner before my, friends."
"In—:.deed I'
"I. will not submit to it," replied
Fred, beginning to have a little grit.
"You will not ?"
VOL. 10.-NO. 1.
" No ;" and Fred proceeded to button
his overcoat
" Where are you going ?" asked the
astonished lady.
" Over to Torn Sumner's."
" Are you going to leave me here
alone 7"
u 1 am,"
"No, you are not !"
Fred moved towards the door.
"You shall not go; I will go.wilh
you, if you do."
" Come along," answered Fred, des
perately, as he bolted out.
Mrs. Rodman had gone too far. 'She
had raised the tiger in the nature of one
who was disposed to be very yielding
and quiet. Be had gone and she threw
herself into the rocking chair and wept
from sheer vexation. Was this the
beautiful Emiiy .Berard ? . Fred had
caught a Tarter; but he was rapidly
changing into a Hottentot to meet the
emergency.
" What, Fred ! yon here ?" exclaimed
Tom as he entered the sanctum of the
latter.
" I am here ;" and he briefly related
what had passed since Tom's departure.
" Give me your hand, Fred I That
looki more like you. Keep it up. If
either is to rule, you are the one."
"'Tom, I am miserable."
" I don't wonder."
" "Neither Julia nor I used to rule.—
We were equals. There is not a day,
scarcely an hour, in which I do not
think of Julia. She was so different 1"
" So she was."
"Now I am snapped up every two
minutes, for the most trivial things."
"Sorry for you, Fred ; but you must
fight your way through."
" I shall . ; I have begun now."
"By the way, Fred, I see she had a
colico gown on."
"Yes; and since the baby was born,
she is not as neat as she was. It has
taken the starch all out of her. I would
not care for that, if it hadn't also raised
a devil I know not of before."
Thus Fred complained, not without
reason, now, of his other half. He knew
what an angel Julia had been, and
sighed fur the joys that had passed for
ever away.
But he fought his way to a peace, for
the viragil, having fully aroused him,
found that he carried too many guns for
her; and though life was a misery, it
was a continued conquest.
Reader, God made your wife or your
husband on purpose for you. Repine
not at your lot.
FAST LIFE AND SWIFT DECAL—The
only counter'clack.---The times in which
we live teem with wonders. Nothing
seems impossible'; for the impossibili
ties of one year become the common
place events of the next. Lightning
presses, instantaneous communication
between the most distant points, and
innumerable inventions for compressing
vast amounts of business into small
spaces of time, and for curtailing the
processes of production and manufac
ture, are among the marvels of this
marvelous era. Under such circumstan
ces, we may truly be said to live a "fast
life." But whether the whirl and rusk
by which we are borne along is really
conductive to our happiness is another
question.
. Certain it is, that the average dura
tion of human life is decreasing in the
midst of this excitement. The modern
phases of disease seem to puzzle and
baffle the faculty, and with two remar
kable exceptions, viz., Holloway's Pills
and Jiolloway's Ointment, no medicines
appear to make the desired impression
upon internal or external disorders.--
These two celebrated remedies are said,
however, to.be accomplishing the most
wonderful cases throughout the length
and breadth of the land. Liver com
plaint and diseases of the stomach and
bowels, which in a majority of cases are
produced by over-exertion and over-ex
citement in business, yield to the Pills
when all the resources of the druggist
and apothecary have failed, and erup
tive and scrofulous complaints seem to
bo equally under the control of Hie Oint
meat. We congratulate Dr. Holloway
on the signal success of his great medi
eines in this country. From what we
know of the man, we have no doubt that .
the profits derived, from that success
will afford him far less satisfaction than
the knowledge of the good his remedies
hays effected.—X Y. American.
ar An English writer says in his ad
vice to youti married women, that their
mother Eve maaried a gardener. It
might be'added that in consequenca of
his match he lost his situation.