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 removed 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
a 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 whisky, 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.”
