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ISSUED TWIOE-A-WEEK?WBDNE8DAT AND SATURDAY. l. k. gbi8t 4 sons, publishers. } % ^amilg jterospagcr: $or the promotion of Ihi; ^olifiqal, gonial, Iflriaultutptl and fl}ommtiitial Interests of the ?ouih. { TERs'inclec0oft!three cen^ ~VOLTJME 42. YORKVILLE, S. C., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1896. NUMBER 100. 1 BY CAPTAIN C] I, Author of "From the Ranks," " k Secret," "The Deserter," Copyright, 1896, by F. Tennyson Neely. SYNOPSIS. Chapter I?Royle Farrar disgraces Rimeflif at West Point, deserts the school and leadB a wandering life, sinking lower and lower, marries his employer's daughter and then commits a forgery. Chapter II?Colonel Farrar, father of Royle, is killed in a battle with the Indians. Chapter III?Royle Farrar's younger brother Will graduates at West Point and falls in love with Kitty Ormsby, whose brother Jack is in love with Will's sister Ellis. Chapter IV?Will is made lieutenant. They all return to Fort Frayne, accompanv ied by a certain Mrs. Daunton. Chapter V.?It has been reported that Royle Farrar is dead; but he turns up at the fort in the guise of a common soldier under the name of Graice. Ellis Farrar and Jack Ormsby quarrel over Helen Daunton. Chapter VI.?Helen Daunton has an interview with Jack Ormsby, in which it transpires that she is Royle Farrar's much abused wife, whom Ormsby has before befriended. Chapter VII.?Helen Farrar discovers her husband. Chapter VIII.?Ellis Farrar witnesses another interview between Helen Daunton and Jack Ormsby. Chapter IX.?Trouble arises between the cowboys and Indians. Chapter X.?The garrison is ordered out to protect the Indians. Chapter XI.?Helen Daunton makes preparations to get her husband away ^ from the fort. Chapter XII.?At the Christmas ball they are startled by the cry of "Fire !" in the guardhouse. Koyle Farrar comes to his end amid the names, and Captain Leale loses his eyesight in the attempt to rescue the unworthy husband of the woman he loves, Helen Farrar. CHAPTER XHL Jack Ormsby did not go east by the first train after the Christmas ball as x had been his purpose, bat he saw no more of the lady of his love. Late that dreadfnl night, rousing for a few moments from the stupor into which she bad been thrown by the announcement that it was her own brother who lay there downstricken in the midst of his career of crime and shame, Ellis Farrar, little by little, realized the whole miserable truth, thafr-he, her brother, was the man who bad wrecked Helen Daun ton's life?Helen, who, to spare that invalid mother an added sorrow, had hidden from her the name of the man whose brutal blows and curses had rewarded her love. More than all did Ellis realize that the lover, whose loyalty and devotion she herself had repaid with scorn and contempt, had suffered her words in silence rather than betray another woman's confidence and thereby divulge a truth that would overwhelm with shame r all who bore the name of Farrar. Then it was that, hysterically weeping, she broke down utterly, and before the setting of another sun the mother and all the household learned from her lips that it was all that was left of Royle Farrar that now lay there, cold and stiff and still in that bare, echoing ward of the old hospital, awaiting the last volleys and the solemn trumpet salutation to the soldier dead. Only a corporal's guard formed the firing party when, just before sundown, the remains of Private Graice were laid in the bleak, snow covered cemetery out on the rolling prairie, but more than a dozen men in the crowded garrison knew by that time that the folds of the flag were draped over the mortal remains of a colonel's son. It was an awestricken group that gathered about the hospital when the bearers came forth with their burden and placed it in the waiting ambulance and the firing squad presented arms. The idea of the recreant, the would be murderer, Tom Graice, being buried with military honors had not occurred to the garrison as a possibility. Yet here was the little escort; here were the j trumpeters?the band had been mercifully excused; here were pallbearers from his troop instead of from among the garrison prisoners, as might have been ruled when one of their number died: here were old Terrv Rnrke and Bome of the senior sergeants of the regiment; here indeed, with pallid face, was young Lieutenant Farrar, with him Mr. Ormsby, the adjutant, quartermaster, the surgeon and one or two veteran cap- 1 tains, Major Wayne and even Colonel j Fenton himself! Whoever heard of such > an array as that attending the obesequies i of a criminal? Fort Fraynewas mysti- < fled and talked of it for hours, but the ' story told itself before tattoo, and the 1 mystery was done. 1 They had buried the firstborn of the I oolonel whom all men loved and honored 1 and mourned, and old Fenton himself 1 >? decided that, as Graice had never yet 1 ** been tried and convicted and could never appear before an earthly tribunal, 1 he must be considered as innocent and 1 bo issued the order that no military ( honor 6hould be denied except the band. It was too bitterly cold for them to attempt to play, for the valves of the instruments would freeze at once, and it was deemed best that no sound of the dirge musio should reach the ears of Marjorie Farrar. Neither she nor Ellis knew when the funeral took place, Mrs. Farrar learning only on the following day, Ellis not until weeks thereafter, for. as a result of all the long, gradual strain, culminating in the shock *" of that tragic night and the realization of the wrong she had_ done the honest HARLES KING. Foes in Ambush," "A Soldier's "An Army Portia," Etc. man who had so loved her, her strength gave way, and brain fever and delirium snpervened. In the week that followed that hapless holiday Ellis hovered on the borderland 'twixt life and death, and no man could say that the fatal Christmastide might not claim still an other of the Farrars. Anti that week was one of woe to poor Jack Ormsby. He haunted the neighborhood of the Farrars; he hung about the gateway, importuning the doctor, the colonel, Kitty, Will, anybody, for tidingp of the girl he loved. His fine, alert, intelligent face was clouded with the dread and sorrow that overcame him. He could not see Mrs. Farrar?she rarely moved from her. stricken daughter's side?but twice he saw and talked with Helen, and once, with her, walked out to visit the new made grave. All that week the shadows cast by the glare of the guardhouse flames seemed to wrap Fort Frayne in gloom, and people1 gazed upon the black ruins only with a shudder. The Indians, ever superstitions, naa professed to see the hand of the Great Spirit in the clouds, pointing remorselessly at the spot and warning them of further wrath to come as a consequence of the unavenged murder of a chieftain's son. Cowboys and hustlers, angered against the garrison because it had interposed between them and their purposed punishment of Big Road's band, saw here a capital opportunity of embroiling the red men with their white defenders. By dozens, in shivering silence, wrapped in their blankets and seated on their scraggy ponies, the warriors had looked on at the solemn little ceremony, and within another day by soores the cowboys and settlers were spreading the story that the white chief had buried Tom Graice with all the honors of war, despite his crimes and misdemeanors, simply because he had killed the son of an Indian chief?the son of the chief whoso people killed the colonel of the Twelfth when he attack ea me neemg vinage on me jsuui jrusa three long years before. It was th? white soldiers' way of taunting the red man. It was proof of his real feeling toward the Indian. "Lookout for yourself, Big Road!" said these astute, frontier statesmen. "Chief Fenton and his soldiers have only lured you here within range of their walla that they may the more readily swoop upon you some bitter morning and put you and your warriors, your women and children to the sword." In the intense cold of the three days that succeeded the blizzard, there was no interchange of visits, so to speak, between the fort and the Indian village, but the emissaries of Ben Thorpe had been busily at work. Big Road and his warriors had been bidden to attend the 6tately funeral of their kinsman and friend, Crow Knife, on the morning after Christmas, and had flocked to the scene and lifted up their mournful chant when the volleys flashed mid the crowd of attendant soldiers bowed their heads in mingled homage and sorrow That was as it should be, but what did it mean that his slayer should then bo accorded equal honors? aye, that more officers?chiefs?were present at Graico's grave than when the son of a Brule warrior was laid to rest? This they could not fathom, and this, despite the strained relations that had resulted in the death of Laramie Pete, the cowboy emissaries proved eager to explain in their own way and to explain to attentive ears. "Old Fenton thought he'd done me when he moved that bloody band up here to the fort," said the cowboy king to his admiring audience over at the Baloon across the Platte. "If I don't pay him off with compound interest within the month and make him wish he hadn't monkeyed with my business, call me a coyote. He and the stuck up gang he heads will wish to God they'd left those Indians where they were." And five days after Christmas Colonel HVntnn heard of coiners on within the village that gave him cause to summon bis adjutant and officer of the day, to double his sentries on every front and to realize how much in these few years he had learned to lean for counsel and support on Malcolm Leale: for now the jolonel was forbidden, as was everybody slse, to see him even for a moment. Not only had the flash of the explosion wrecked his eyesight, but there was grave reason to fear that he had inhaled the flame. Captain Leale was suffering torment, yet bearing his burden without i moan. A troubled man was the veteran post surgeon all that woeful week. Ellis Farrar, delirious in burning fever, Malcolm Leale prostrate on a bed of pain, blind and breathing only in agonized gasps, Mrs. Farrar looking so fragile and weak that it seemed as though a breath might blow away the feeble dicker 01 ner me, orners ui uie wumeu more or less overcome and shocked by the events of the last few days, and now, right in the midst of it all, came indications of trouble in the Indian village ap the stream?powwowing, speechmaking and dancing by night, runners flitting to and from the Big Horn, messengers darting in from other tribes? and when Fenton sent for Big Road to come Into the office and explain th< chief temporized, expressed himself af suspicions of some plot to separate hia from his people and to hold him af hostage at the fort. If Colonel Feuton desired to talk, lei Colonel Fentou como to the council lodge at the village, but leave his sol diers behind. Big Road's old men had seen visions and had heard warnings, his medicine chiefs had been signaled by the Great Spirit, his young men wert excited and alarmed, his women wen weeping and gathering their childrer to their knees. If the white chief meanl peace and friendship, let him show it by coming to his lodge with gifts in hif hands instead of guns. He (the whit* chief) was rich, and his horses and hit young men were fat and strong. Big Road was poor and his people wert hungry and cold, his ponies dying. Fenhntta r?Av\o vcifVi nnlt lUU lUUCUU TVVU1U aucj 5UU0 nivu his adjutant and interpreter and a single orderly but for the warning of s Brule girl who had left her people e few years before to follow a soldier low er and had made her home among the whites, a patient,, sorrowing woman, ever since his untimely death. The Amorys had provided for her in every way, for the soldier was one of the captain's troop, and she had grown deeply attached to them, even though now occasionally visiting her kindred. It was at luncheon, talking to hie wife, that Amory told of Colonel Fenton's purpose of riding over to the village that very afternoon, and the story was repeated in the kitchen, where il reached the ears of the Indian girl. Is an instant she had 'darted out of the bouse and gone to the colonel's, where she frightened Lucretia out of herseves senses with the first words she uttered; "They kill the colonel! He no go!" Luckily, Wayne was at band to soothe, support and explain. Other officers were sent for, and, despite Fenton's poohpoohing, so strong were their argument* that at 2 o'clock a messenger was dis patched to Big Road's bailiwick to teb him the colonel had heard that which made him say to the Indian chief that now the only way in which he woule meet him would be at the adjutant'* office, as originally proposed, or else alone and unarmed midway between the fort and the village, no soldiers 01 warriors being allowed to approach within 200 yards, nnless, indeed, Big Road himself should propose an adjutant for each. If this was satisfactory, let the time be set for 8 o'clock and Fenton would be there. The half breed messenger came back in half an hour. "Big Road would send his answer by a squaw," and that was Big Road's way of saying that the white chief was an old woman. Utterly forgetful now of the service Fenton had rendered his people and him, duped by the visions of his medicine men and fuddled with the liquor lavished on him by the cowboys, Big Road was hot for war. No squaw came, no conference took place. Darkness was settling down up on the post when at lust the westwarc sentries reported a small party of Indians riding out from the village toward Fort Frayne. The trumpeters were just scattering after sounding retreat when the officer of the day con I I I "They kill the colonel! He no go!" veyed the news to Fenton, and in two minutes an officer, with a dozen men, trotted out from the stables of Troop K and 400 yards beyond the sentry posts signaled to the advancing warriors, "Halt!" There were ten in the party and Big Road was not among them. The officers, returning from stables and retreat roll call, had gathered about the colonel on the wesward bluff and fieldglasses were brought to bear on the opposing parties, now only dimly visible in the gloaming. Over at the barracks the men were still gathered about their respective parades, despite the fact that supper was ready and they as ready for supper. All over the garrison had gone the rumor of Big Road's hostile and defiant message, and the troops were wrathful at the indignity put upon their colonel Some of them had stepped inside the quarters and were quietly examining their belts and equipments and counting the cartridges in their boxes. Ormsby, sharing the suppressed excitement, had hastened out tc join his friends of the Twelfth, his nerves tingling again at the thought oi the possibility of a skirmish, and now he stood witn ronton ciuse ui jiuuu, Miming eagerly for the first developments. Bnt little time was wasted. There was a brief parley between the lieutenant with the troopers and a formidable looking Indian who seemed to lead the others. Then the officer turned and sent a man galloping back to the post. In four minutes he was in the colonel's presence, dismounted and making his report. "Big Road's compliments?I mean, the lieutenant's compliments, sir?and Big Road sends his delegation for three s wagon loads of meat, "flour, sugar an< 3 ooffee, sir, and says as the colonel hasn' i oome to see him he's going to move." > . The coloDel laughed?the first laugl since Christmas, somebody remarked a t tiie time. "Are you sure there's no mis I take, Fallon?" he asked the messenger ; "That's what the lieutenant aske< I the Indians, sir, but we have two o: \L' troop with us?what's left of 'en I ?one Brule and t'other Ogalalla, am 3 they both translate it the same way, an< 3 Bat is with us, too, sir and he says it'i i like Big Road when he gets liquor ii t him. He thinks he's lord of the earth t Bat says he's drunk now, and believe 3 the colonel will be glad to do as he de > mands for fear of him." ' > "Well, who brought the message ' Who's that big buck in the lead there?' > i "That's One Eyed Bull, sir?hin that was nursed in the hospital heri r -after the fight, three years ago." "Bull? He ought to know better thai 3 to bring any such message," said Fen 3 ton reflectively. "I presume he dan 1 tot refuse, however. Mr. Adjutant, ' mount Fallon's horse, gallop out there, and tell Bull to tell Big Road to go t< ' the devil. lnat'B an on inai neaa. *jap ' .tain Farwell, as Boon as your men bav< bad sapper let them saddle and be read; ' for night work. Orderly, have my hors< ' sent up in half an hour. That's all to: the present, gentlemen. Come, Jack? 1 Lou's waiting dinner for us." It was the first time that any one hac seen Fenton mad, as Amory put it, " when the group broke up. "Either Big ' Road will come down off that higl 1 horse or the old man will snatch him, ' and within the next few hours too. ' Ormsby brings us luck. He never comet 1 out here that we don't have a shindy ol some kind." More than one officer was thinking ol this remark of Amor>'s as they scattered ' to their homes. Man?1 a dinner was kepi waiting and many a housewife had tc be placated when the lord and mastei hurried in, and tongues that were primed with wifely reproof were stilled by the tidings that quickly spread from door tc door. Big Road had made an insolent demand and coupled with"it a defiant message. Big Road was drunk and had threatened to move with his village, | and then it would become the duty of (j the Twelfth to surround and herd him , back. Upder the stipulation of a late ' treaty he was allowed for his winter range only the south bank of the Platte, L from Frayne to the breaks of the Medicine Bow. If he crossed the Platte and . j struck out for the Big Horn, he invaded I ti e cattle lands and laid himself open r .to attack from the hostlers. If he ! dovo into the mountain range to the soulh, he left his reservation and forfeited the rations and supplies which ! the agent at Fetterman Bend was bound to issue at regular intervals. He had quarreled with the agent and moved his village up stream to within ten miles of Frayne?which he had a right to do. He had quarreled with?and on good grounds?the cowboys and then been taken under the wing of Uncle Sam for safety, and now be proposed quarreling with his benefactors and launching out on forbidden territory, and that meant business for all at Frayne. But One Eyed Bull was no truculent warrior. He had delivered his message in accordance with his chief's demands, and in far more civil tone and terms than it was consigned to him, then had waited in dignified silence, confronting the somewhat flippant bluecoats from the fort, refusing to mako any response to the jocularity and ridicule in which some of their number indulged or to enter into any discussion with Bat or t-mn Tn^ion ooMiora na tr? the rvrnh U/iU U*TV AUU1HU UVAV><V? ^ HW .w ?? J able inspiration of Big Road's bombast. Well enough he realized when the adjutant arrived upon the scene that the "bluff" had totally failed, and before a word was spoken read contemptuous refusal in the young officer's face. They were indeed cold and hungry over in the village, and he himself and the warriors with him would have been glad of a feast on army rations. Nor were the warriors at all satisfied with the judgment and discretion of i their chief, but one and all tbe Indians were now imbued with the warning of i their medioine men and expected nothing less than some sudden act of hostility on the soldiers' part. If there ever was a time in Big Road's history when a clear head and cool brain were needed, it was now, just when he had ; succeeded in getting drunk, and well had the cowboys reasoned. While some of the number lured the chief to the banks of the Platte and plied him with lies and whisky, others were scurrying up and down the valley, routing out the ootflaya QTlfl " Vinctilprfl" Hfld inU^lJUiCU) DOIUVIO MUM U MW darning them to be in readiness to gather at the given signal, for there was no telling what would be the first consequence of their diplomacy. If Big Road simply broken camp and started with his whole village in the dead of night in hopes of leading the soldiers a stern chase to the Big Horn, they could stumble in his way, impede his flight and bring on a row in which, with vastly superior numbers, they could at least > tob the red men of their pony herd, i That would be part satisfaction for the 1 death of Laramie Pete. Then, when the ' soldiers came up, they could sail in after them and claim such spoil as was worth having and all the credit of havi ing brought the chief to bay. If, on the other hand, Big Road became so crazed with their firewater as to go down and 1 beard the lion in his den and defy the cavalry at the fort, then there might be a pretty scrimmage right over on the flats when the colonel ordered the chief's arrest, and when the soldiers were tackling the warriors in the open and having a nip and tnck fight of it the frontiersmen could surround the village and helD themselves. There would I be only eld men and women and children t to defend it There was gloom, therefore, in Bull's sole remaining optic as i he received in majestic silence the adjut tant's indignant rendering of the colo nel's message, and, motioning to bis . blanketed braves to follow, he turned 1 about and rode away, f " What do you think they'll do?" was 1 the eager question asked the adjutant 1 on his return to the post "Is he mad 1 enough to mean fight?" h "He is. if he doesn't cret anv drunk ) er," was the answer. "More whisky . would be the surest way of settling the s question now, but it would rob us of - the pleasure of knocking him out?and be d d to him for spoiling my din? nerl" ' At 8 o'clock that night, with one i platoon in dispersed order well to the 3 front and others in reserve, while the garrison of Fort Frayne stood by their i arms within the fort, Captain Farwell's troop moved slowly up the dark valley, 3 along the snow covered flats, out beyond , the point where the delegation was met , at dusk and held at bay, and, though ) the stars were glinting in the frosty sky > and not a breath of air was stirring 3 and the night was still as solitude itr self, not a whisper could be heard from 3 the direction of the village, not a spark r of fire could be seen. Over against them - on the northern shore were sounds at times as of rapid hoof beats muffled by 1 the snow. Half a mile out a horseman , loomed up at the front and in a moment f was merged in the advancing line, t "What is it, sergeant? What news , have you?" asked the young platoon commander. 4 i "They'ro off, sir! A whole gang of f old folks and women on ponies and travois has started across the Platte. ! The warriors are all there yet. You'll 1 hear Big Road shouting in a minute. 5 He's fighting full and is urging on some > deviltry. I can't make out what, but r from adl we can understand of it he i wants to lead a rusb through the.stables > to capture or kill the horses. He's just > drunk enough to try, but the others < won't let him. They declare they won't ; follow him. They know too much. [ What they want to do is to get out and reach Trooper creek tonight, I reckon." ; "Ride back, then, and let the captain know. Who else are out at the front on j watch?" "Only Rorke and two or three of the Indian troop, sir. They are taking care of themselves, though." And then for a moment the forward [ movement ceased. "Halt, halt!" were l the low toned orders of the noncommis, sioned officers dispersed along the line, , and under the twinkling stars, dim, ghostly and silent, the extended rank of riders Beemed as one man to rein in and wait. Here and there an impatient charger began to paw the snow, and i others sniffed suspiciously and cocked meir poiuitu OiUU ill uucuuguvivuv* vuv unseen village. Some young troopers, tremnlons with excitement and cold combined, began to slap their fnr gloved . hands on breast or thigh and had to be sternly called to order. Presently a ; muffled horseman came riding up from ; the rear, a trumpeter in his tracks. "That's right, Martin. You did well ; to halt a minute. I've sent back word i to Colonel Fenton. He had wired to the agency before we pulled out" i "Can't we turn 'em back without his authority, sir?" "No, even when we know they mean to cross the Platte. But orders will i come tonight. The wires are working well.'1 i "Captain, did you hear what Captain . Amory said' this evening?" asked the youngster as he edged in closer to the elder's side, "that Ormsby never came out here that we didn't have a shindy i with the Sioux?" , "Yes, but poor Jack is out of the dance this time and can't be with us as he was before. " "I don't understand," said Martin, having some vague theory that the ill1 ness of Miss Farrar was at the bottom of Ormsby's inability to take part in the promised chase. "I didn't suppose i anctuino fwnM kpftn him from takins a i hand in soldier service." "Well, that's just it Those fellows in the Seventh are as punctilious on a ' point of duty as any man we know in the army. Ormsby promised to be back with his company for some review or ceremony within this week. fle'b got to go. They've telegraphed to remind ; him, and he has just time, barring aci oident, to make the trip." ( to be continued next wednesday. | ??? Didn't Know of the Election.? There is one county in the United States whose residents did not know of the recent national election. That is Charlton county, Ga. The officials in the office of the sec- j retary of state are authority for the declaration that the people of the ! county could not have known of it, 1 for no election w&s held there and the official digest of the election in Geor- ( gia has been made up witn unarnon county left out. The famous Okefeenookee swamp covers most of the territory of the j county, which is on the Florida line, and, indeed, runs down into Florida. According to the maps, there are 1 several towns in the county, with { Traders' Hill as the county seat, but ' all efforts of the secretary of state to j get returns from there have proved unavailing, and it is claimed as a certainty that no election was held there. ? 1 8?" If any person can think of a good s reason why a one-armed cripple should 1 wish to caress a busy buzz-saw that per- i son will be able to explain why Spain j wants to get into a war with thiscoun- i try. |c JttiacrUaneoua Reading. LANGUAGE OF THE HEN. The ordinary domestic fowls affords the most positive evidence of the possession of a language that is understood. There are many decidedly different calls, which if taken down in a phonograph and repeated in a hen house or yard would produce interesting results. On a warm day, when hens are released from their coop, when their minds are undisturbed and all nature looks bright and inviting, they sing as they feed?a continuous repetition of kerr-keer-kerr, with various modulations. The rooster never utters it, nor the mother hen; it is ln/ilrir Af Kon bliC DUUg KJl IUO "gu'iuvaj vi uvu creation. Now, let a hawk appear in the sky or any disturbing element; an entirely different sound is beard. The ben stops, stretches ber - bead upward, and with the cock utters a decided note of warning in a high falsetto, k-a-r-r-eI And if the enemy still comes on it is repeated and every ben in the vicinity lowers its head and runs to cover. The sound says in the gallus language: "An enemy is coming; run!" and run they do, the kerr-keer-kerr being discontinued only when all danger is past. Note the joyous call of the ben that has laid N an egg. Cut-cut, ca-da-cut! comes oft repeated from the hen house, and other envious hens are informed beyond any question or mistake that Mrs. Gallus has laid an egg. Now, when the eggs are hatched we have other and maternal notes. There is a deep, monotonous cluck, cluck ! that is a warning to others and a gentle admonition of the chicks to remain near, but it is not a call. Note tbe difference when the mother or proud cock finds a worm. The cock appears to be greatly excited, and be pretends to peck at it, make the guileless nens believe that he is about to devour tbe bonne bouche himself, all' the time he is saying cut, cut, cut? come, come, come?rapidly, which causes the hens to ran pell-mell in his direction, to find in many instances nothing, being merely a device to call the flock away from some rival. But in the case of the mother the little ones always find some tidbit she has discovered. The baby talk of the old hen to her chicks exists in great variety and is suggestive of tenderness, affection and solicitude. When the hen has her brood beneath her ample folds she often ntters a sound like c-r-a-w-z-z-e of half warning and contentment. 'And when an intruder enters the coop after dark she utters a high, prolonged whistling note like w-h-o-o-e, softly repeated, indicative of wonder and slight alarm. If a fox or coyote or other enemy seize her how quickly comes an entirely different cry?a scream of terror and alarm, k-i-a-i-a-o-u, repeated again and again, and so full of meaning that the owner, some distance away reaches for his shotgun and answers the signal of distress. Popular Superstitions.?The rattlesnake, because of its venomous bite,, is universally dreaded, and, writes Dr. W. J. Hoffman in Appleton's Popular < Science Monthly, numerous curious beliefs are current respecting this reptile, also the use to which the various parts may be put, and the treatment of its bite. The rattle, if tied to a string and suspended from the neck of an infant, will serve to prevent convulsions; if carried by an adult, it will guard against rheumatism. The oil is employed as a remedy for deafness, and the uenom, diluted, mixed with bread, and made into pills, has been administered internally to cure rheumatism. Another curious superstition, held by young men, is that if one places a snakes tongue upon the palm of bis band?beneath the glove?it will cause any girl, regardless of ber previous indifference, to ardently return his passion if he be enabled but once to take her hand within his own. This resembles to a certain extent the former use in Germany of a dove's tongue, which was similarly employed ; and furthermore, if one became aware that the choice of his heart failed to respond to bis affection, be had only to place a dove's tongue within bis mouth and snatch a kiss, when the girl's objection or indifference to him would instantly vanish. Eight Hours to Sleep.?The value of sleep to brain-workers cannot be exaggerated. In a recent lecture on nervous energy it was said that the brain requires 12 hours of sleep at four years of age, gradually diminishing by hours and half-hours to 10 at 14, and thence to eight hours when the body is full grown and formed. Goethe, in his most active productive period, needed nine hours, and took them. Kant?the most laborious of students?was strict in taking never ess than seven hours. Nor does it appear that those who have systematically tried to cheat nature of this jbief right have been, in any sense, jainers of time for their work. It nay be a paradox, but it is not the ess a truth, that what is given to ileep is gained to labor. 8?" Never lose a chance of saying a rind word. As Collingwood never taw a vacant place in his estate, but )e took an acorn out of his pocket and jopped it in, so deal with your comjliments through life. An acorn costs lotbing but it may sprout into a proligious bit of timber.