Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f lewis m. grist, proprietor, j %n $nhej??titott Jfamilg Itefospapra: ,|or % |)romolron of ffjc political, Social, ^griralfnral anir (Somnurmt littorals of % JSontjr. j terms--$2.oo a year, in advance VOL. 34L YORKYILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 22, 1888. NO. 34. f be Jfotg leller. PEDI S BLOOD PATH. On the evening of July 11,1866, Martii Fedi, a released convict, journeying o foot from Toulon to his home in th Vosges, France, reached the village c Balliere. He exhibited his papers to th gendarme, and was permitted to enter th village tavern, where he procured foo< and a bottle of wine. The landlord, how ever, learned that he was an ex-convicl and refused to give him a bed. Fedi wa indignant, and a fight between him am the host was imminent, when the latter' friends came to his aid and hustled th galley-slave into the street. He purchasei a flask of brandy at a shop near by, am * " * " At .r went off muttering proiane mreats ui veu geanoe, which were heard by many. An hour later, that is to say, at 7 o'clock the landlord went out, saying that he ha< important business with the village law yer. He did not return. His wife wen at daylight toffhe lawyer's house.' He wa greatly surpsised to learn of her husband' absence. He had not seen him, he said for two days. His housekeeper informet him that he had called Ast evening, bu found him, the speaker, absent, and ha< gone away promising to return, but ha< not done so. What the business of impor tance could be the lawyer could not con jecture. Several other villagers had seen him but none could suggest a clew to his presen whereabouts. The frightened woman now caused j thorough search to be made. The search ing party found asleep against the wall o the church, which stood on the outskirt of the village,a man. His face and hand were besmeared with blood, and ther were traces of it on his clothing. Th heavy knobbed end of a knotted stick be side him was also stained with gore. Ii the grass near by was an empty flasl which had contained brandy. Whei aroused, the sleeper exhibited every tokei of having been on a vast debauch. H could give no coherent account of himsell but he was recognized as the belligerent ex convict. His appearance and the recollcc tions of his savage threats against the mis sing man were considered quite sufficien causes to authorize his arrest. A search of the church discovered in th left of the belfry, where a lot of pigeon had taken up their quarters, the corpse c the landlord with his brains beaten oul and his throat cut. The bell room belo\ bore traces of a desperate struggle, and th flnA" Kuon Hnlnorprl arid the walls be 11UV1 UttU k/VVU v*V*Mr>v%. spattered with blood. Martin Fedi was pui on trial for th murder of Jean Jacques Lassier, publican He declared himself innocent, and toll as nearly as he could recall them, his ad ventures of the fatal night. He had, h said, set out after purchasing the brandy intending to walk to the next village am get a bed there. But he was weary froo his journey of the day, and the night beinj pleasant he concluded to spend it in th church yard. He had emptied his bottl and gone to sleep near where he was found During the night he had been awakenei by a stream of water, deluging his face He was too drunk to bother himself abou it, but wiped his face dry, and shiftinj his position went to sleep again. This explanation was regarded as so pre posterous that the judges laughed at il Martin Fedi was sentenced to death, witl _? the recommendation to mercy usual ii French criminal trials. He was accorde< it, and sent back to the jail he had left i week before to. remain there for life. In the middle of the year 1869 the widov of Jean Jacques Lassier was amazed to re ceive the following, to her, incomprehen sible letter: "Dear Sister?The newspapers we occasional! receive even in this section of the world hav conveyed to me the information of your terri ble bereavement. My poor brother; would i had been in my power to have lain hands o: his butchery assassin! The law would hav been spared a most unnecessary trouble. Iti thetnore'painful to think that death overtool him at the very time it fell in my power i return to him a portion of the fayor he bo gen *? A + m ?nni.o Qf?A T orvm erouaiy exieuutu w mo cow r o plete the restoration by forwarding to the sain mail as carries this letter the remaining 15,00 francs of the (50,000 which fell to Jean's share The mine is prospering, and there will be stil further returns from it." This puzzling epistle was signed "Hecto Bouchet," and dated from Gimpie Creek Australia. The Widow Lassier in her perplexit; went to Monsier Castine, the lawyer, fo advice. All she could tell was that he husband had once spoken to her casuall; of a half brother to whom, on his father' death, he had given up his own share c the small fortune the latter left to star him in business in Australia, whither h emigrated. She had never heard Lassie allude to the matter again, and as to hi having received any such sum as the lei ter alluded to, he had, on the contrary died, leaving no assets but the inn. Madame Lassier acquiesced in this ver; reasonable suggestion. On her retur home it struck her, howeVer, that i would be just as well to write to Hecto Bouchet for the name of his agent ii France. She accordingly did so, am mailed the letter herself, telling her law yer nothing about it. Monsieur Castine undertook, if possible to discover the mysterious agent spoke of in the letter, and he advised his clien meantime to keep her own counsel in th matter. Her husband had probably die* without receiving the money from hi brother, and the agent finding no call mad upon him for the sum, had quietly devol ed it to his own use. The only way t capture him and recover the money wa to remain silent, and to give him no wart ing that his crime was discovered. Three months had passed. Monsieu Castine, who was constantly on the eve c - -^^^>discovering tne cuiprit, ueverjjuuuruiei At last a reply arrived from Australia t the widow's letter. The name of Hector Bouchet's agent, t whom 60,000 francs had been sent fc Jean Jacques Lassier, was Monsieur Vi( tor Castine, advocate, at Balliere. Th lawyer who was assisting Madame Lassie to discover the thief, was the criminf himself. Madame Lassier was a woman of som education and great resolution. She lock ed the letter up and carried a copy of it t the lawyer in person. Castine at firs laughed at her charge, but when sh threatened to place the case in the hand of the police, he lost his nerve and propos ed a settlement. The money, he acknow ledged, had reached him on the very da Jean Jacques Lassier had been foum dead. The latter had probably received a noti fication of its arrival the day before, am it was doubtless on that business that h had called to see the lawyer on that nigh which had ended so fatally for him. Find ing himself in possession of what was t him such a princely sum, Castine hai struggled long between duty and th devil, and succumbed at last to the evi counselor. He was perfectly wiling, to make resti tution. He had the sum intact, and if th widow would pledge herself not to prose cute him, and would give up the origins of the criminating letter, he would rende up to her the stolen fortune sou for sou Madame Lassier was too anxious to recov er her money to haggle over the terms She acceded unhesitatingly to Castine' proposition, and the latter proposed to g with her to her house. "No! no!" she replied. "You get th money ready, while I bring the letter. I will save time." Half mad .with excitement she hurriei home, secured the letter, and returned t the lawyer's house. As she left the ini her head waiter called after her to asl her about something which had to be at tended to at once. She either did not hear or did not pay any attention to him, and he hurried after her. She gained the lawyer's house in advance of him, and the door was opened for her by the old housekeeper, who slammed it immediately to a again. The man was about to ring, when a piercing shriek reached his ears. It came from the interior of the house, and was e followed by another and another, f Recognizing his mistress's voice, the e honest fellow threw himself bodily against e the door. It was burst from its fastenings rj and he staggered into a broad hallway. Through the open door at the end came the noises of a furious struggle. The man ^ bounded into his apartment just in time rj to seize the arm of the lawyer as he raised g a knife to plunge it into Madame Lassier's e body, while the old housekeeper held her j with her arms around her throat. A ter2 rible struggle followed. The lawyer inflicted several wounds on his assailant with the knife, when the latter succeeded in wrenching it from him and driving it I again and again into his body. The old 1 ? * 'H -*i 1? I woman haa ner nanus iuu auenuing iu me i j muscular widow. As the lawyer rolled, s bleeding, oa the- JJJooj:, a^miyaber of vil8 lagers, whom the noise of the combat had attracted to the house, came to the assistj ance of the widow and her defender, and t the wounded miscreant and his accom3 pi ice were arrested. ^ The remainder of the story, as it was elicited at what became ol one of the most . famous of historic trials in the land of criminal romance, is easily told. Victor Castiue was the murderer of Jean ? Jacques Lassier. Hector Bouchet, who had known the lawyer previous to his a departure from France, and who was Ignorant of his brother's exact whereabouts, f had chosen to make him the medium of s returning to Lassier the money he had s borrowed from him, with the liberal ine terest the profits of the speculation he had e invested it in had proved. He had forwarded the money in Bank of England a notes, and notified his brother by the same jj. mail, to the address of a friend in Rouen, a that if he would call at the lawyer's he a would Iearu of something to his advantage. e The letter was forwarded at once by the r friend to its destination. Castine, who had already made up his mind to appropriate j_ the money to his own use, denied all j_ knowledge of its meaning, and under pre[ tense of arguing the matter undisturbed, had induced Lassier to stroll as far as the e village church with him. The door of the s sacristan's room had been left open by accident and the inn-keeper went to close it. t As he leaned forward to call if any one j was in the church, the lawyer aimed a fu e rious blow at him with a heavy cane ne carried. It missed Lassier's head and descended e on his shoulder. The inn-keeper stagger, ed forward into the church, and hearing the j steps of his murderer behind him, ran blindly forward. Castine pursued him. e The faint light of the dying day which p found its way down the belfry stairs di[j rectedthefugitive'sflight,andhecontrived a to gain the bell floor before his assassin ~ overtook him. q Then he turned at bay and screamed 0 for help. He uttered but one cry. Before 1 a second could escape him, the murderer ^ felled him with a ferocious blow. Even , then, Lassier, who was a very powerful man, fought desperately, and only suc~ cumbed when Castihe,paving battered his B head to pieces, cut nte throat with his hunting-knife. His blood deluged the floor, and streaming out through the gar? goled waterspout provided to carry off n' the water, which the rainy season blew j in the belfry, it pattered down oh the druna ken tramp below, and dyed him with the damning marks which had cost him his v liberty and his life. Having assured him_ self that his victim was dead, Castine had _ stowed him away in the loft overhead, and gone home. His first work was to instruct his housekeeper in the course, in g case of inquiry, which she should pursue, j. The old woman was devoted to him, and it obeyed him to the letter. Then he wrote d to Bouchet, signing his victim's name, and e acknowledging the receipt of the money. ? When the widow made the discovery she 0 did, he determined to get her out of the . way too and flee. That he did not was no - fault of his. e He died of his wounds in prison. The o old woman was sentenced to a long penal [ term for her complicity with him. His scapegoat was not released from his unmerited confinement for the single reason r that he had already released himself by ? the process of suicide. As for the widow she did not marry her y preserver, as she ought in all logical liter? ary justice to have done. On the contrary, she charged him on the first discovery of P certain peculiarities of his, and had him s senf. tn iflil for theft. >f ,t ? e THE INEQUALITIES OF MEN. r M. Lapouge, of Montpelier, has recently s delivered before the Faculty of Natural Sciences in that town a series of lectures ' on inequalities among men, in the course y of which he said that the political dogma Q of equality rests on hypotheses which are t utterly false. Hedistinguished four social r types among mankind: n 1. The initiators, who show mankind [j the way into the region of the unknown, and who go in front. Restless and daring, with an intelligence which is at least equal ( to the average, men of this type do not travel readily along beaten tracks. New t ideasare the breath of life to them. They | e spend their lives in new creations, they j J are often wrecked, but the true genius rep- J s resents the most perfect form of this type. | e 2. Men of spirit, of intelligence, who, pos-! sessing no creative power themselves, yet i o carry out and perfect the ideas and dislS coveries of the first type, to which they are | really the complement. 3. Men who, with : much or little intelligence, can work only r with others, who mistrust every new idea : )f not accepted by all the others, but who r> seize it with avidity when their neigh- . o bors adopt it. If intelligent, these men are docile, but they dislike every change j 0 in routine. 4. Men of this type are not I ir fit to attain even the smallest step in culture. e Evidently every man cannot be classed ,r under one or the other of these divisions, j tl In human societies clear lines of demarka- I tion do not exist, but for general purposes I e the distinction issufficiently evident. The i superiority of a race or nation depends on "o the greater or smaller number of men of I ^ the first two classes. The race which is i 0 richest in the first type is the bionci s dolichocephalic, and this has been the 3. case even when the people among whom r. he lived were not of this kind. In y Egypt, Chaldea, Assyria, Persia, India, d and even in China, men of this type ruled. In the Greek and Roman world it was the [_ same, and it is so still. In our own day j the rank of a nation corresponds with the e strength of the blond dolichocephalic elet ment. The Gallic and Frank elements [. which made France great were of this type, 0 and it plays the same part in England, ^ Germany, and America. Xearthese come e the Semitic and Mediterranean races, who 1 had reached a high grade of civilization when the blond dolichocephalic peoples _ were still savages. Theremainderof mane kind must be reckoned the passive races. The brachycephalie races of Europe, the j Celto-Slavs, rarely produce men of the r first intellectual type. In the social changes of recent years brachycephalie men, j 1 who form the lower classes, have been !t elevated and brought forward, and herein, s the lecturer thought, lies the great danger 0 of the future deterioration of the French nation.?[Scientific American. t JfcaT There are men in the world of so little importance that they have no ene1 mies.?[New Orleans Picayune. n SQT Be thankful every time a friend de? serts you, and thus forces you to strengthen yourself. ^Hiscfllanf ous ilf.ulini). CHAPTER ON DEAFNESS. It would take a much longer paper than I have space to write to describe the anatomy of the ear and the pathology of the different kinds of deafness. It is a most intricate structure, fearfully and wonderfully made, and consisting of tubes external and internal, a drum, muscles, nerves and bones of its own, all lying inside one of the hardest and strongest bones of the human body. This latter is specially designed by nature to shield it from blows. It is supplied with air by a long tube called the eustachian, opening into the back part of the throat. This tube I mention specially to account for the fact of people becoming deaf through bad colds or swelling of the tonsils. Observe that the ear must be sup plied with air, or. hearing oecomes an impossibility. . You hear this air crackling in the ear when you go through the process of swallowing the saliva. Well, if it is closed by the products of inflammation, or if it beshut up as.to-.its.mouth .by the pressure of a swollen tonsil, it is obvious enough partial or complete deafness will be the result for the time being. This is sometimes called throat deafness, and, like every other form of the complaint, requires special treatment. It is, perhaps, one of the commonest, if not the commonest kind. If caused by the pressure of the tonsils it is merely mechanical, and the remedy is removal of the cause. When, however, it is caused by the extension of inflammation of the mucous membrane during a cold, it mayor may not depart with the cold. It would then have to be seen to surgically, and the passing of a catheter might be necessary, a simple but delicate operation which only a professional man could be trusted to perform. VARIOUS KINDS OF DEAFNESS. Another very common species of deafness is that caused by obstruction of the external tube of the ear with wax, which may be dissolved out or syringed out by a practiced hand, when the cure would be complete. If the drum of the ear be eaten through by ulceration, no permanent cure is of course to be expected, but a visit to a clever aurist may send the patient home rejoicing nevertheless. There are inflammations of various other portions of the ear which I need not mention, all of which ~ TUaha 5a olorv a lrinH nf cause ucanins. mcic ?o ?iou ^ ? deafness caused by paralysis of the nerves which carry the impression to the brain from the ear. Many forms of the complaint are accompanied, especially at the outset, by disagreeable noises in the organ, or apparently in that part of the brain adjoining. It is as if one were actually listening to the rush of the blood through the vessels of the brain. I am not sure that it is not so, and that* one cannot even judge of the state of his circulation by these sounds alone. Both this same singing in the ears may occur in those who are not deaf, and if it continues long it is well to consult your physician, especially if you be fat and plethoric, for it may be an early symptom of apoplexy, or what is called "a stroke." We often hear one friend say to another: "You're very deaf to-day," and perhaps the reply is: "Well, I am a bit deaf today; I vary with the weather." This is a species of deafness common in the nervous, and really arises from debility, consequent perhaps upon some .temporary derangement of the digestive organs. People subject thereto should Hve Carefully and abstemiously. They should try to live so as to-be independent of the use of drugs. HEARING IMPROVED BY NOISE. I have heard it said that the deaf hear better when any noise is going on, probably because then other people are talking loudest. I really believe that is the true reason. But ray grandfather used to relate an instance of the deaf colonel of a regiment who was so convinced of the truth of this opinion that whenever he had to converse on parade with any of his men or officers, he used to have the drummer to beat up close alongside. There is one affection of the ear which is of a very disagreeable kind, and which I must mention while I think of it?running from the par. If the exuding matter were non-offensive it would be bad enough, but from being mingled, I suppose, with the secretion of wax, it is fetid. The most simple form is that occurring in children of a strumous diathesis, where it proceeds simply from the outer canal of the ear. It is not then dangerous in itself, and is remediable by great attention to health and injections of an astringent and disinfectant nature applied by means of a little syringe. And now what have I to say about the treatment of deafness? Very little, I fear. Were I talking to students it would be different, but the ear is such a delicale organ that in nine cases out of ten meddlesome domestic surgery makes matters worse. Each case must be treated on its own merits, and the sooner the bettersimple cases by your own medical adviser, and the more difficult by those men who make the ear a specialty. But as prevention is better than cure, I may mention that no one should expose his ears to draughts, especially blizzards; that the less interference with the ear at all times the better; for example, picking the ear, or poking pins or penholders in ifc, does not conduce to contemplation ; that wearing cotton or wool in the ears is a stupid and dangerous practice, and more likely to induce cold than prevent it; that scrubbing the ear out in the morning with the corner of the towel is a bad practice; and finally, that boxing a child on the ear may lead to permanentdeafness.?[Family Doctor in Cassell's Magazine. LIFE RECOLLECTIONS. How many people complain that they do not succeed in life like others around them. A large majority regard the attainment of wealth as the most satisfactory reward of life's labors, because they fancy that this is the key that will unlock all other avenues to happiness in life. I was conversing some time ago with a man of wealth ^whom I supposed wasreallyone of the happiest of men ; he had worked his way up in the battle of life to a position of wealth and influence; he had a splendid mansion well fitted up for a pleasant life. He said, t4lt is a great mistake to suppose that money gives a man happiness. It is not so. I have got all 1 need, and yet I am far from being happy?1 have a skeleton in the closet that the world does not see." A writer in a New York paper puts it about right, lie says: "The man who is dependent on his daily earnings for the food he eats and the clothes he wears, is one of the vast majority who are now living, according to an old-fashioned but very striking phrase, 'from hand to mouth.' A foolish fellow who fancied that work under want as a taskmaster was degrading, took great pains to impress those present on one oc-1 casion, with his statement that he chose j his occupation chiefly as a means of recreation, and that he followed it solely for the benefit of his health. A sturdy mechanic in the country remarked that he, too, worked at his trade solely to protect his health. His whole life, he claimed, had been given to toil for sanitary reasons, for if he did -not work he would starve! What was true of him is the law of life. "The desire to do away or suspend this common law, and to provide for all-remaining years, by a gathering of means that shalfmake want impossible, thus enabling the possessor, as he thinks, to insure his needs, without further cost or trouble to himself, is the prolific source of discontent, since there are few who can gratify it, and when the limit marked at the outset has been reached, the feeling of security is still as far off as ever. lie who has food and raiment to-day and is therewith content, has attained the coveted success, in that direction, but he who insists on exacting hostages for the future will never find the ideal rest. A life of faith and trust is the only one that has a warrant of sunshine, and no outward fortune can satisfy the hunger of the heart which would substitute attainment for hope. "There are two sufficient reasons why men should not set their hearts on the acquisition of wealth as the sole measure of success^n life. One is that the chance of such ari*attainment is so small as to make it almost certain that the desire will never be gratified, and the wholelife will be em bittered by the failure. The other is that if the coveted possession is secured it never brings with it the hoped-for peace. It is the inevitable law, which can never be repealed or evaded, that no earthly pleasure can give a rest for carping care or guard the future years from attacking want. No matter how many millions the hands may tightly grasp, or how cunningly the hoards may be invested that, were to insure against the days of syjjvthe sky will still be overcast, and and dread gnaw like a perpetual canker into the vitals. "It is not the whole of life to eat and drink, and to have clothes and a shelter. But if this was all of it no security can be obtained that will till the remaining years with sweet contentment. We were made for active service, and all efforts to purchase exemption only increase the unrest that comes from idle living and wasted hours. Usefulness is as essential to happiness as activity is to health, and nothing will serve as a substitute for personal exertion in the one or the other. The dili?ent hand that seeks to gather and scatter lessings, either broadcast if they are many, or in a narrower circle if it can grasp but few, will minister most efficiently to the heart which gives it this radiant mission. The most successful man is the one who has been of greatest use in his day and generation."?[Macon Advocate. ADVENTURE WITH A RATTLESNAKE. They told me when I arrived home that I looked pale, and my wife said she knew I should sufferfrom so much wading in the cold water after trout." I am now going to relate what frightened me, and see if the readers blame me if I look white. f It was on a bright June morning in the year 1885 Eddie harnessed old Jimmy to Iirannn itlhilo T rlrfisnorl 11 n in mv hunt tllU II 1II1V A V4AVWWVV* AM *? j ing suit and told the old woman to get the lunch ready. I had a stout pair of corduroy pants made on purpose for hunting and fishing, and in their make up the pockets were large and long and hung down on ray thighs in a way that I did not fancy. "Hallo ! how is this?" I cried, as I put my spare lines in my left pocket, "I thougnt you promised to alter these pockets before 1 would want to use them again." "Who knows," said my wife, "but the depth of those pockets may yet save your life." I said no more. "All ready," shouted Eddie. I turned and saw old Jim's face peering in at the window. I jumped in and made off, taking the road that led up into the heart of old Ossipee Mountain to a valley called Canaan. After a hard scramble for the horse, we found ourselles in the happy land?surrounded on ik side,s by lofty mountains?we drove -yp to one of the farm houses and obtaTneda hitfching place for our horse; then with our fishing tackle we started for Bean's pond?a wild, lonely place, high up among the mountains. Arriving there we caught sixty speckled beauties. After this we ate our lunch and | caught twenty more trout, and made up our mind we had caught all we could carry over the rough road, and we had promised the women folks that we would get them some spruce gum, hence we had taken our long-handled chisel with us. Upon the north side of Ossipee Mountain is a heavy growth of spruce and for it we aimed. As we toiled up the old logging road we suddenly came upon a rattlesnake basking in the sun directly in our path. Eddie obtained a stout pole, and with a few well directed blows killed him. He measured five feet and a half, and had 22 rattles. Oh ! how I shudder when I see one of those monsters! Talk to me of your pithons, cobras, moccasins and your water snakes. I think there is nothing more deadly than our own New England ratlesnakes. I know they give you warn ing of your danger in shrill, piercing alarms, but their deadly spring is made at the same time of the warning. I took a stout line and tied it round the body of the snake, and Eddie dragged him along, while I began my hunt for gum. I knew from the nature of the varmints there must be another snake not a great distance off. But we were after spruce gum, not rattlesnakes, and we began to skirmish round briskly, for the afternoon was passing. Up the side of the mountain we saw a monster spruce upturned by the wind of the previous spring. The top was lodged among a clump of scrub oaks. Along Jhe sides of this tree were many lumps of pure spruce gum. I gained the side of the fallen tree and worked my way in among the thick shrubbery. As I began to pick off the lumps I thought what a lurking place for snakes. These scrub oaks were about four feet high. I knew I had stout garments on that would stand the pulling of the bushes. I had secured twenty or thirty lumps of gum, all within my reach, and was making a push farther on, when I paused as though a thunderbolt had burst upon me from the clear heavens above. Reader, did you ever hear that alarm ! If not, you may have heard the shrill cry of our locusts that fly from tree to tree during the warm days of summer. Well, then, vou know something about the alafminfte of the rattlesnake, and this was what 1 heard and what arrested my steps. Within one second after I looked down, the deadly reptile was ready to strike, the head was thrown back, the upper jaw raised until it fairly lay over towards the crest, and I knew the blow was coming. I could only throw up my hands, start backwards and think of my wife and ~L:IJ i 1 /\U I Vw.,,. 1! fn I'jlliureu Ul HUIIJU. V/II . nuvv 1UJ jjhou UK. flitted before my mental vision?was my life of wild rovings all over the world to end here on the side of Ossipee Mountain? The blow came quick and strong, striking me upon the left thigh, and I gave a spring backwards; I looked downwards and saw that the venomous reptile was clinging to my pants, the hooked fangs preventinghis letting go while I was in that position. In another instant, however, the prehensile tail or the lower part of the body, caught among the bushes and the fangs were torn away. In starting to spring back my heel caught against some obstruction, and in order to save myself I was obliged to grasp a branch of the fallen spruce, the only thing at hand stout enough to support me, and in doing this I made a slight spring to the left. Merciful power! My left foot came down on something that moved and struggled and hissed and I felt a shock as though 10,(J00 galvanic batteries had sent their current through me. I cast my eye down, and I saw a bright bow formed of two fine threads of light, clearly defined amid the deep shade of the scrub. I knew it was the monster's eyes flaming, making a curb of light as the ugly head swept to and fro. But only for a moment my foot was on its body, not more than a third of the distance from its tail, so that full two-thirds of the body was free, and it was a large snake ! What did I do ? What could I do ? Backwards to the sled road I staggered, faint and dizzy, knowing that I had been struck and expecting every moment to feel the touch of poison on my vitals. As I reached the logging roads Kddie was by my side. He had noticed the fallen spruci and was making for it. But he paused and gazed at me, ex claiming: "Father, what ails you ?" "Bitten!" I gasped. "A rattlesnake, father?" "Yes," I said. "Where?" I laid my hand on my thigh, where ! still felt the force of the blow. "Let us look. We'll cut into it, bind 01 a piece of the fat of the dead snake ant then drive for home. Quick, where is it?' My thigh was exposed, fair and ruddy but not a mark of the poisonous fangs wai to be seen. "There's not a bit here, father. Not i sign of one." Eddie's happy smile of assurance gavi ?v> oUnnotK nM/-l m t? to no noa tn m t 11JC OblCU^tll, ?liU iijJ bliuu^llio vuijiv> iu uij aid. I looked where the threads of th< corduroy had been started up into loopi by the tearing away of the snake's fangs and saw that it was directly over theob jectionable pocket. I put my hand int< the pocket and drew forth the only thinf it contained, the broad flat piece of shingli with the trouyine wound upon it. The line was new and of fine white silk and we saw upon the silken surface th< stain of the snake's deadly virus; but w< saw it more plainly upon the smooth wood The teeth had struck through the pant pocket and three turns of the line to thi wood, and we could follow the yellowisl green lines where the subtle poision ha( crept along the grains of the wood a though they had been drawn with pei and ink. A RAILWAY CATECHISM. How many miles of railway in the Uni ted States? One hundred and fifty thou sand six hundred miles, about half th< .mileage of the world. How much have they cost? Nine bil lion dollars. How many people are employed b; them ? More than 1,000,000. Who built the first locomotive in th< United States? Peter Cooper. How long does a steel rail last with aver age wear ? About eighteen years. What is the cost of a palace sleepini car? About 816,000, or $17,000 if "vesti buled." What is the cost of a high-class eight wheel passenger locomotive ? About $8, 500. What is the longest American railwa; tunnel? Hoosac tunnel, on theFitchburj Railway (4J miles). What is the highest road in the Unite< States? Denver and Rio Grande, Mai shall Pass, 10,852 feet. What is the higest railroad bridge in th United States? Kinzua viaduct, on th Erie road, 305 feet. What is the longest railway bridge spa in the United States? Cantilever span i Poughkeepsie bridge, 548 feet. What is the longest mileage operated b a single system? Atchison, Topeka an Santa Fe system, about 8,000 miles. What line of railway extends farthes east and west? Canadian Pacificrailwaj ?? ? t? ~ 4*? ~ "? 4- r. 4Ua T)a a! a (~\r\r\r\ t running uuin Hucucu 1110 iraiiuv; vtcai What road carries the largest numb of passengers? Mahattan Elevated Rai road, New York, 525,000 a day or 191,625 000 yearly. What is the fastest time made by train ? Ninety-two miles in ninety-thre minutes, one mile being made in fortj six seconds, on the Philadelphia an Reading Railroad. What is the fastest time made betwee i Jersey City and San Francisco? Thre days, seven hours, thirty-nine rainutt and sixteen seconds. Special theatric* train, 1886. What are the chances of fatal accider in railway travel? One killed in 10,000 000. Statistics show more are killed b falling out of windows than in railwa accidents. THE SENSE OF SMELL. Apparently developed in a much greatr degree than that of horses is the scentin power of cattle. Most animals seem t identify their young by their smell. Th barbarous custom still prevails througl out the country of placing the hide of buthered calf before its mother to stop h? mournful lowing. It would be rating hi man acumen rather high to suppose that mother could recognize her baby by ii skin, yet a cow will identify the blood relic of her offspring and instantly ceas her noisy grief. Yard fed cattle nose the: hay filled racks and bins from the man varieties of dried fodder and select onl such as will please their palates and nou; ish their bodies. Cows eat many kinds of fungi?the con mon puffboll when young, mushroom fairy ring, champignon, and some woo growing toadstools, by which their mil is much affected; but by far the greatf number they pass untouched with a cor ternptous sniff. The pig, from the wel known and proverbial length of its con; bination nose, would naturally be expec ed to have enlarged olfactory sense, an so it has. When its omnivorous appetit is considered, and it is remembered ths it seeks the greater part of its food b plowing under the surface of the groun to obtain it, where it cannot see and mus detect it by the process of smelling befor if run crpt. if tn its month tn taste it. it discernment of the edible and non-edibl from the countless things its nose encour ters is, to say the least, highly eomplimer tary to that much derided organ. It i said that "learned pigs" (they are worth, of capitals) are first trained to their car playing accomplisments by placing grain of corn under such cards as they are aftei ward by signs instructed to moye. The ground mole, with fur covered eyes capable at the best of discerning brigh light only, discovers and chooses food ii its subterranean groping by its long, deli cately constructed nostrils. Sheep ar even more dainty than cattle in selectinj their nourishment, and, like all other ani mals, depend almost entirely upon th sense of smell. Lambs, after a long sepa ration from their mothers, will seek then out in a large herd. But experience goe to show that sight and hearing are auxili ary to scent in some cases, as lambs fre quently fail to recognize their mother after the latter have been shorn.?[Nev York Times. A Convincing Argument.?Dr. Vin cent says that he never denounces peoph for playing at cards, dancing and theatre going, because they are not absolutely but relatively wrong. But he leaves th< adoption of these amusements to the judg ment of the young people in this way "I draw a picture of Bev. Dr. John Hall Bishop Matthew Simpson and D. L. Mood^ sitting down together and shuttling card for an evening, dancing themselves rec with half-dressed women, or going to thi theatre. They always seem shocked a the mere mention of such conduct by sue! Christians. But I ask them if they don' want as good a place in heaven as a bishoj shall have. And then I tell them that i they can approve of these amusement! in church leaders, then of course they maj ask the leaders to approve the same ii them; otherwise, not." It is a good put ting of the issue. Now is tiie Time.?Just at this time there are some moral questions being pro pounded to our people which must be an swered. If the best interest of the coun try is to be protected it must be by the united solid forces of people who claim t( be in favor of it, and this4cannot be unlesf religious people \vill vote despite all tc the contrary in favor of what their ^best judgment tells them is right. We i can never expect legislation in favor of morals and good government as long as those whe claim to be its friends vote for men whe are opposed to it. Consistent legislation is the result ol consistent voting. Let every man think of this.?[Lowndesville Advertiser. s SYSTEMATIC STUDY. It is the study which a man does at his - odd minutes, rather than his study at regular hours of study, which is likely to give him his superiority as a scholar. And this sort of study almost any man can find time for, whatever is his ordinary occupation. Men nowadays talk of eight hours t as a full day's work; but the man whose daily work is limited to eight hours has i spare time enough for all needful rest and * recreation, and for sufficient study to make ' him before long a man of marked attaini ments in almost any line of acquired s knowledge. Even if his regular work covers ten or twelve hours a day, he still * has time enough to make steady progress in various lines of special study. The 3 men who have made their mark in the i world as eminent scholars, or as students 3 of exceptional proficiency in particular 3 lines of research, or as experts in this or i that direction of practical knowledge, have rarely been men who had nothing else to 3 do but to fit themselves for the sphere in ( wnicn tney attained nignest distinction. 3 In most cases they gained their pre-emi- J nence through a wise use of the spare time i which they nad, above the hours of their ' B regular daily duties. And there are few 1 B young men to-day so closely occupied- at J what they call their regular work, that 1 3 they might not find time to prepare them3 selves by special study at odd minutes for 1 a place among the proficients in almost ' I any department of human knowledge. It 3 is true that they may not care to do this, 1 3 'hat they may not feel like working hard ] in another direction after having worked ' hard "all day" at that which gives them j their daily bread, or to the doing of which 1 - they are bound in honor. But that is a 1 - matter of inclination, rather than a ques- ! b tion of practicability. No man is likely , to make high attainment in any sphere 1 - unless he is willing to do more every day than "a regular day's work," and unless 1 y he is ready to do extra work when he does 1 not feel like doing anything. This is as ' e true in the case of one whose regular work j is that of systematic study, as of one whose 1 study is supplemental to work of a very | different sort. If, indeed, a young man ? can have study as his principal occupation, - hp has a finp start in thp nnrsnit of know! edge; but in any ease he must work out of > regular hours as well as in them, and must r work whether he feels like it or not, if he 1 would be a man of mark in the line of his y life studies; and the young man who is S ready to do this can hope for high attainment accordingly,' even though he is not d privileged just now to give himself wholly to study. e VANITY?WISDOM, e Without contentment there can be no real happiness. Without godliness there n can be no solid contentment. The pursuit Q of happiness is a race in which "run all." The happiness which a class of people y seek is in the entertainment or gratificad tion of the senses?in something that titillates unto sensual pleasure?something it pleasing to "the lust of the flesh, the lust 7, of the eyes or the pride of life." The seni. sual dominates the spiritual. The poor slave-soul is kept in subjection, being made 1- to provide with inventiveness, ingenuity and industry for the indulgence of the desires and passions of the beast part of hua manity. "Sowing to the flesh" seems to e be the prime service of the souls of some r- people: "they live after the flesh." As d they live so near like the lower animals it may not be hard for them to believe that n after death there will be no more of them e i than the "spirit of the beast that goeth ? downward to the barth." d For this class of people to be happy they must ever be seeing something, hearing it something, feeling something, smelling something, eatingand drinking something, y Cut them off from these sources of happiness y and it may be said that they are of all ani mals most miserable, indecent exhibitions on the stage, immodesty in women's dressing, "hugging to music" in modern dances, ;r tables with varied meats and drinks 'g tempting to gluttony and drunkenness 0 and such like afe occasions of high happie ness, to sensual people "a nice time they j. have. All this is of the world. And the a world passeth away, and the lust thereof," (r leaving the deceived pursuers of happiness to cry with the daughters of the norsea leech, "Give, give!" tg Wisdom's way of seeking contentment is y this: ;e But godliness with contentment is great ir gain. For we brought nothing into this world, y and it is certain we can carry nothing out. r. And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. The King of Color.?It is a curious J circumstance that red, the unseen color of v so many, is the favorite color and may be called the king color of the normal eye. ' It was especially so in ancient times. If i" we examine the Bible we shall find that " the Hebrews scarcely ever use color as t* an epithet, as we do when we say "the J blue sky," "the purple hill." They say, e indeed, "the Bed sea," but blue is scarcely lt mentioned as seen in nature, only in the "blue and purple and scarlet" of the tab^ emacle hangings, or the high priest's robes, ,t or the pavement of the king's palace, of "red and blue and black and white marble," in the book of Esther. Yellow, ex' cepting as a sign of disease, is mentioned but once or twice: "Her feathers like " yellow gold." But red is largely spoken " of, as in later times, and perhap>s as incorrectl.v, for we did not invent, we only ins herit the expressions, "red gold," "red wine," one of these being merely orange and the other a ruddy purple. "Red hair" is a modern, or rather medieval, . inaccuracy; "red cow" we get from the ancients. These epithetsall appear to show _ a certain fancy for calling things red as the more kingly and costly color. e Rivers Swerving to tiie West.?It = appears that the western and southwestern " bank of the Rio Grande is the one which e suffers most from the abrasion of the current. Why does the river show thistena dqncy to work to the westward ? Some3 thing like this appears in the case of the " Mississippi. Formerly the river had its " principaldebouchmentintotheseathrough 3 bayou Manchac and the lakes. In the v course of time that route was abandoned for the one now known as the main river, I which is very considerably to the west ward of the old outlet. In the meantime b the river has shown a disposition to trans fer its channel still lurther to the westr i ward through the Atchafalaya. Can it be e made to appear from these facts that there , - is a tendency in great rivers flowing in ' general directions along, meridians of the ? earth's longitude to swerve to the westf ward? Can it be held that because the s rotation of the earth on its axis to the east1 ward the weight of the water in such Ion - gitudinal rivers is thrown by the centri- | t fugal force against the western bank so as j 1 to abrade them with incresed energy and ] t effect??[New Orleans Picayune. . f Gracefulness?Its Best Teacher.? ) 3 Nature will generally be found to be one 1 of the best teachers of gracefulness. No \ 1 artificial rules can teach us the exact } amount of force requisite for the various ] motions and attitudes we assume. The j infant in his innocent glee, and the child t j in hisboundingsports, areseldom ungrace- ( - ful. It is when we contract an excessive r - self-consciousness, and think more of the - appearances we make than of the objects 3 we desire to accomplish, that we become r ) the most ungraceful. t i The shy and bashful man knows not how 1 > to manage his hands and feet, because he r t is thinking so constantly of them ; but if a i he would withdraw his mind from his 1 i own appearance, and fix it upon the best s > means of accomplishing his purposes, a g ? more natural manner would pervade his s actions, and he would lose much of his h F awkwardness. The principal reason why f : education and culture confer grace of v manner is, that they teach the best way to V jse our powers so as to economize their force; and leading us out of ourselves, ;hey rivet our attention on what is before is, thus working with Nature rather than striving to supercede her. What it Really Means.?Did you jver think what it really means to be a 'tramp ?" No home, no friends, no work, 30 chance, nobody in the wide world to ?re whether you live, or die in the gut;ers like a dog. No heaven for such vags ;o inherit: no decent grave to hide them >ut of signt; no opportunity to be anyhing, and no hand stretched out to give he greeting or the good-by of love. Nojody to feel an interest in you, whether fpur bones ache from cold or your skin :racks with fever. No spot in all the world :o call your own, not even the mud wberen your wandering footsteps leave their leeting mark; no prospect ahead, and no inbroken link to bind you to the past. A. name like a curse to blight every hope 3f manhood, and a reputation, like a ball md chain on your leg, to hinder the way to any good accomplishment. I tell you when we sit right down to it, and figure 3ut what it really means to be a tramp, I ?uess we will not find it so easy to withhold a niece of bread and a cud of coffee aext time one calls at our door. * Velocity of Earthquakes.?The :ourse which an earthquake runs is usually very rapid. From the moment when the first shock was felt at Lisbon to the period when all was over, and nearly 30,300 people were killed, not more than four minutes elapsed. A few seconds, we learn from "Our Earth and Its Story," are usually a more frequent time for the shock i)r shocks to last. Yet, while Caracas in Venezuela was almost destroyed, 12,000 of its inhabitants killed by the earthquake of 1812, within the limits of half a minute, there are cases in which constantly recurring shocks last for weeks, months, and Bven years, as if the laboring earth was still trying to relieve itself of some of its superabundant energy. For example the Calabrian earthquake of February, 17^83, was not quite finished before December, 1786, and it is a common observation that the preliminary shock is usually followed by one of greater severity, and this in its turn by others less intense, like the distant claps of thunder which herald the passing storm. But in this brief span the most frightful havoc can be wrought, and the wave of destruction propagated from the most distant regions. The rumbling earth sound travels, for instance, at the rate of 10,000 feet per second, and the earth wave, on an average, about, 1,200 feet in the same space of time, though in Charleston, as we have seen, a much higher rate was attained. The Habit of Being Sick.?In a pamphlet, recently published, we find the following statement, which no fair minded person will question : "Many chronic in valids are simply the victims of a chronic mode of thought; they have formed the habit of being sick, and they could if they would, or rather if they knew how, form the habit of being well. So many believe that they cannot help being weak, nervous, ailing and miserable, that they live year after year bound with the fetters which they have forged for themselves. Many a woman frets herself sick, and many a man has lost his life form an overtaxed mind, which has brought corresponding disease to the body. "How often does it happen that a physici4n who has practiced a specialty for a ndmber of years becomes at last a victim to the very disease which he has labored so longto overcome in others. It has been a picture before his mental vision which at last finds outward expression upon his body."?[Hall's Journal of Health. Successful Men.?Amos Lawrence said when askedfor advice: "Young men, base all your actions upon a principle of right; preserve your integrity of character, and doing this never count the cost." A. T. Stewart, merchant prince of New ? York, says: "No abilities, however splendid, can command success without intense labor and persevering application." The world-renowned Eothschilds ascribe their success to the following rules: "Be an off-handed man ; make a bargain at once; never have anything to do with an unlucky man or plan; be cautious and bold." Edward Everett said: "The world estimates men by their success in life, and, by general consent, success is evidence of superiority." The Bible says: "Seest thou a man dilligent in business, he shall stand before kiners: vea, he shall not stand before mean men." " Franklin quoted and verified this. Good Health and Work.?There are many persons in the world whose only capital is health. They are engaged in work of various kinds, and so long as health lasts they earn a good living. They must learn how to avoid illness by living in the right way. There are others who have lived wrongly in youth, but have found out their errors in time to have a fairly good constitution left. These may live to a ripe old age, healthfully, if they only take care. There are still others with everything that riches can give; these must learn to live rightly, too, if they want to be well. Plain food, exercise, etc., will enable these to live long, as they are not troubled by the necessity of work so that they may live. Wealth comes not from our income, but from the amount we save of it; so health comes not from the amount we have to go on with, but from the amount we save, by not spending it on trifles which waste our strength and give us no return. Destruction Wrought by Insects in America.?The annual loss to productive industries in the United States caused by insects is estimated at $150,000,000. Here is a fair battle between man and another sort of earth occupiers. They are smaller, but if they can whip us, have undoubtedly as good a right to the world as we have. As civilization advances, new insects make their appearance, marching sometimes eastward, but generally westward. There are few, if any, forms of vegetation that have no parasites that devour either foilage or fruit. The loss to the cotton crop is estimated at $15,000,000 a year, while that to the apple crop is not much less, and that to the potato crop at least one half as much. But the estimate is not a fair one until into the loss is counted the time spent in fighting to secure the proportion that is saved. What's the Matter with This ?? A mathematician writes : "A friend asks me to multiply $5 by $5. I do so and announce the result as $25. All right. Now multiply 500 cents by 500 cents, giving the answer in cents pure and simple, not as " ? t .1. 1 fractional parts 01 a aonar. ? uu so miu am surprised to see the figures climb up 250,000 cents, which is $2500. As $5 and* 300 cents are equivalent, the result is pudding. It cannot be urged that decimal marks should be used. A cent, as such, is is distinct a unit as a dollar, and, as the ' esult is to be announced in cents, the decimals cannot be pleaded in extenuation of he rather surprising result. But there is ilearly something wrong. What is it?"? Exchange. Rubbing off Rough Edges.?Some nen, fond of reading and of a scholarly urn of mind, make a great mistake in eading the exclusive lives they do. Every nan is better for associating with people, ,nd the wise man while never ceasing to ove his books and studies, will find hiraelf wiser and his mind healthier if he ;oes forth into the big world and, so to peak, gets next to the great popular leart. When a man associates with his allow, the rough edges of his nature are zorn off and a good deal of nonsense is