THE following recipe from the writings of Miss Hannah More, may be found
useful to your readers:
In a climate where the attacks of fleas are a constant source of
annoyance, any method which will alleviate them becomes a _desideratum_.
It is, therefore, with pleasure I make known the following recipe, which
I am assured has been tried with efficacy.
Boil a quart of tar until it becomes quite thin. Remove the clothing,
and before the tar becomes perfectly cool, with a broad flat brush,
apply a thin, smooth coating to the entire surface of the body and
limbs. While the tar remains soft, the flea becomes entangled in its
tenacious folds, and is rendered perfectly harmless; but it will soon
form a hard, smooth coating, entirely impervious to his bite. Should the
coating crack at the knee or elbow joints, it is merely necessary to
retouch it slightly at those places. The whole coat should be renewed
every three or four weeks. This remedy is sure, and having the advantage
of simplicity and economy, should be generally known.
So much for Miss More. A still simpler method of preventing the attacks
of these little pests, is one which I have lately discovered myself;--in
theory only--I have not yet put it into practice. On feeling the bite of
the flea, thrust the part bitten immediately into boiling water. The
heat of the water destroys the insect and instantly removes the pain of
the bite.
You have probably heard of old Parry Dox. I met him here a few days
since, in a sadly seedy condition. He told me that he was still
extravagantly fond of whiskey, though he was constantly "running it
down." I inquired after his wife. "She is dead, poor creature," said he,
"and is probably far better off than ever she was here. She was a
seamstress, and her greatest enjoyment of happiness in this world was
only so, so."