Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, September 12, 1911, Image 1
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ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKV.LLLK, S. C, TI'KSDAY, SSKI'TK.M ItlOII I vi, 1011. NO.'"i-i.
ft 4-2-4 4- 4, 4. 4- 4 4, 4- 4.
S ^ A D AR1
^4 By ETTA V
K< ^ ^ ?f-4 ^
Hj CHAPTER
H Suicide or Murder!
Hke Poole stood at his barroom win
Bv in the morning sunshine, looking
B on the dull main street of Black
H*t. Suddenly a splendid carriage
^Phed by the inn door. A colored
jg| Ho hman in livery occupied the driEgS
^P's seat, and a pale, high-featured
Hntleman, wrapped in costly furs.
Hded upon the luxurious cushions of
^Be vehicle. At the sight a thought
^ erced old Ike's muddled brain.
"Bless my soul, Mercy!" he cried, in
^Kudden remembrance, "Rob Oreylock
|^r didn't come back here last night!"
Mercy Poole, with her sleeves rolled
up over her dimpled, brown elbows,
and a big work-apron about h? r comely
person, was washing the bar, and
H setting the shining glasses in order
upon it. She did not turn or look.
"Have you just found that out?"
Ew she answered--Mercy seldom wasted
lal respect on her erring parent?"But I ,
needn't ask. You were so far gone i
I when you staggered to bed last nignt
that you didn't know who was in the
house or out of it."
'Til own 1 have my failings. Mercy," ,
whined old Ike; "but you mustn't be ,
hard on me?you, my own daughter. |
I'm mighty glad that Bob found a ,
lodging in his father's house. There ,
goes the old man now, grand as a lord, ;
and stiff as a pine-tree. Blackport ]
folks never liked him, and never will. ,
Well, it's a good thing that he's recon- ,
ciled. at last, to his son. Young folks
ean't see with the eyes of old folks, and j
I go for to say that the boy, in this
free country, had a right to choose his j
own wife." 1
Mercy Poole left her glasses, and ,
stalking up to her father, stared over
his shoulder at the receding carriage. ,
"Yes," she said, sharply, "they've
made it up, or he'd have been back |
before this."
"Did you wait up for him last night, ,
Mercy?"
"Yes, I waited up." I
"You were always fond o' Rob," said ,
old Ike, "and he o' you. I hope he'll ,
bring his wife and young 'un to the ,
Woods now, and make things lively
here." I
The dark, fierce face of the girl grew (
gray as ashes.
"You talk like a fool!" she cried. ,
Hinging passionately back from the
I inn-keeper, and then, with a great eitort
she continued. "Of course he will bring
liis wife and child here, why not? Do
you think I care? Rut I didn't suppose (
it would turn out like this?I didn't <
suppose his father would forgive hint
si. soon. He is called a hard man."
"flood lud!" cried old Ike, imprudently.
"One would think from your |
tone, pal. that you felt sorry the gov'- (
ni.r's heart had softened that much." |
Into .Mercy Poole's face tlained a
fierce crimson. Sin- laid one strong
hand on his shoulder.
"If you were not my father I would
shake you? The 'gov'nor,' it seems,
didn't take his forgiven son to ride
with him this morning; he might have
done that just to show Blaekport folks
that he was friends with him again."
"That's so," pondered ..Id Ike. "I
'spose there isn't a mistake anywhere,
eh? Rub didn't come to the inn last
night and find locked doors, and so go
off to some other lodging place, did
he?"
Mercy turned and went back to her
work at the bar. The two had the
room to themselves. The big stove
was redhot as usual, and the sunshine
lay in bright patches on the floor?ev
Ierything was sure to be clean where
Mel'e.v Futile presided.
"Three mure uf these glasses cracked!"
she said, holding tip the damaged
Vessels to the light: "I would like to
smash them altogether over the heads
uf the old sots who waste their time
her??Caleb Frown in partietilar. The
doors were not lurked at all last night,
dad. I?o you think fur the good name
of the inn that 1 would let such a thing
happen? I waited up myself for Robert
C.reylock. and that he didn't come
1 can take my oath, for 1 never closed
an eye all night."
Ike Foole had by nature a dull brain,
and the cup that inebriates had nut
tended to make it more brilliant, but
something in his (laughter's tone made
him stare.
"Kh? l>?r" now! That was hard for
you, and proper friendly toward Robert.
Well, kin is kin No doubt the
old man welcomed him with open arms,
and killed the fatted calf and all that.
Now. Mercy, how is it that you never
think of getting married, like other
gals'.' I wish you'd bring a man here
to help me look after the inn. There's
plenty of Rlackport fellows hanging
round, making eyes at you take your
pick. You're smart and you're handsome?a
gal like you oughtn't to go
longer without a mate."
She turned on him with a short, unpleasant
laugh.
"Let the Rlackport fellows hang
about and make eyes much good may
it do them: but when you see me mat
9H ?luU, tliiTf ii <' - snips kuiiiiik
MB iIk- suit meadows, aii?l you ami your
precious cronies will have reused t i
drink ki'ok together. 1 am tin- only one
who will ever In-Ill you take rare of the
in. Marry'.' You'd better he wary
lloW Villi lllelll ioli that Sllb jee t, lot" it
3 stirs iii me more tleumiis than were
e\? r east oat oi Mary Ma<dc|eiie7"
There was something so startling in
tie- look ami tone of tlic handsome
V iXe||. that old Ike WUS obliged to |{o
8$; behind He' bai for a drop oi rum to
- !
I .or', lor'." In said to himselt as
Ml I'l'V | tie k II11 1111 lle| pail of Soapsuds
and Weill out "She's a eousarned tin?
brand that's what she is' I can't
think what it is that's nuiie across her
(>|? < I lis III III" IJINI > ilI "I
"I'lii" niiisti r ? * -> lurk W Is r?n|?"
l?y I'iioI's Iiiii anain ami a^ain aH?T
dial iin>riiiiitf. ami ilirnituli all Ili>slit
t ls < !' i:la< U|?*rt. I"ii( al im tiim
was his son s? < u with liim
I ?a\ sin i iiil"il day Tln-iv was little
il iin in ii ii iia I i< "ii I \v i x I llif villa ami
4. i- 4. 4. 4 1- 2. i- 2- 4J
?rC
DEED | f
\ 9<T
4
V. PIERCE *
4
^ *? "b % ^ "fc "V "f3
tin* sleepy old town on the shore. The
l>eople nt Poole's Inn heard nothing
more ahout the returned prodigal, and
all their curiosity concerning him remained
ungratified. Inclement weather
prevailed and as it happened, no
person traversed the path across the
marshes and over the old salt-pits.
The ancient town pursued the even
tenor of its dull, uninteresting way,
until, at the end of a week, something
happened.
one hitter morning a man came riding
at full gallop up the frozen avenue
to Greylock Woods. It was Dr. Jarvis,
the Blackport physician, and the only
being in the place who might he said
to approach to anything like intimacy
with the autocrat of the villa.
"Where is Mr. Greylock?" he said to
the servant who answered his ring.
"At breakfast, sir."
"I must see him at once?I have
news for him."
After a brief delay the Blackport
doctor was ushered into a charming
breakfast room, where, on a hearth of
Persian tiles, burned an open woodfire,
and where Godfrey Greylock, the
very picture of a Sybarite at ease, sat
at his morning meal, with his spinster
sister. Miss Pamela. The small round
table was spread with fine damask, and
ornamented with Serves porcelain,
massive silver and a huge vase of hothouse
flowers. The odor of roses and
lilies mingled with that of hot muffins
and French chocolate. As the doctor
entered, Godfrey Grey lock, with his
velvet dressing grown wrapped ahout
his slight, delicate person, was leaning
hack in a carved oak chair, snapping
his fingers at a Siberian bloodhound
that was stretched on a rug by his
side.
"I regret to say," began the doctor,
making his best bow to Miss Pain,
"that 1 have been sent here as the
hearer of evil tidings."
In person Miss Pamela Gre.vlock was
lhe feminine counterpart of the brother
whom she feared more than loved,
hut tliere the resemblance ended. In
mind and heart the two were utterly
unlike. A gentle, timid little lady, with
emotional tendencies was Miss Pam,
and for months she had borne her
nephew Robert upon her heart. As the
doctor spoke her thoughts flew to him
instinctively. With a cry, she started
up in her chair.
"Sit down. Pam," commanded the
autocrat, in a tone that made her drop
us if shot, "shall 1 bid mv servant set
another plate, doctor?- No? You have
taken breakfast? Absurd, at this hour.
The Blnckport natives are a primitive
people. May I ask the nature of the
IM'W.n yuu hi'iiik na.
The doctor was an old man, In-nsque
hut kind. He averted his eyes from
fjodfrey fjivyloek. and answered, in a
low Voice:
"It relates to your son Robert."
"Oh!" gasped Miss Pain.
"Pamela, will you have the goodness
to ke. p quiet*."" said tlodfrey (Jrcylook,
as she calmly attacked a dish of chick*
en; "your nerves of late seem sadly
unstrung - you had better consult Jarvis
concerning them. Doctor, perhaps
you do not know that my son is to me
a very disagreeable subject. I must
ask you to keep your tidings for
awhile. I make it a point never to be
disturbed during meals?you, as a
medical man, must know that it is
highly injurious. At my age one cannot
safely allow one's digestion to become
impaired."
"True." said the doctor, gravely, "yet
such news as I bring ought to be delivered
at once"?
(Jodfrey (Jrcylock interrupted him
with a wave of his delicate hand.
"I refuse to listen! I confess that I
am an epicure, doctor, and my breakfast
at the present moment is of far
more importance to nie than my son."
"Hut. my dear friend?you do not
know"?
"Pardon* 1 know quite as much as
I wish to. doctor, until my inner man
is satisfied. Here arc the morning papers?lake
? read?do anything you
like, but refrain from disturbing me at
this critical time."
"fjodfrey I beg you" ventured Miss
Fain, l>ut In- silenced her l?v a single
look
Willi a troubled face !? . Jarvis seated
himself to wait. Truly this was an
odd s<>rt of a father wh?? could refuse
to listen to important news of his only
child, on tin- ground that such might
spoil u good breakfast. Miss Fain had
pushed hack from the talde, and was
white with anxiety.
The doctor chafed and fumed, and
regarded tin- epicure with open horror,
while tin- latter deliberately emptied
dish after dish, maintaining an air
of replied languor through it all. yet
eating like a cormorant, and unite oblivious,
as it Seemed, of his sister's
agitation and lack of appetite. Kvery
moment seemed an hour to tin- doctor,
who had no time t" waste, and to
whom tin* position was vastly uncomfortable.
particularly as poor Miss Fain
was searching his lace with agonized
looks of inquiry. Hut ihulfrcy (!reylock
showed no haste.
lie sipped his chocolate lazily, tossed
I its of chicken and crumbs of miifIiit
to the Siberian hound, rang I'mfresh
disln-s. and otherwise tried the
doctor's patience p. the utmost. As for
Miss Fain, she was well-nigh frantic.
"I'eallv." cried the exasperated Jarvis.
at last. I cannot remain lure
longer, Mr. iSrevlock; and neither can
I go with iii.v errand undone."
The master of Ihe Woods dl'opped
his fork, and threw himself back in his
carved cliair. with an air which, in a
IcSS IVlillt-tl |l. is..ii, 1iiiviii ii;i\. i.. . ii
.all.-.l sulky
"W. IIV" Ik- ;tlis\\t |. i|, "w licit i|u y.m
wish t<> s;i> In ii V"
Tin- t|...-iiir I....k. il |iii |. manually
Mr. i?r?*> lin k." hi- ;iiis\\"vvlu ii
liil viiii last srr y.iiir smi l'.il?-rt""
"My s.iii IJ.il.i'i't" Why i-all liiiu |{.il..11"
i in.- wi.iilil think I lia.l a i|..z> ii
s>.its. ait.I thai a. li must I..- tin* 11 i.111 -II
h\ his | ia It hi i la i IiUiiii* I saw him a I
week ago, kill- one dismal iiijr. Mis
intention :11 that time was t>> leave this
part of the eouiitry for tile Far West."
"And you have heard nothing from
Itiin since?"
"iVrlaiuly not. I did not wish to
hear anything."
Tiie old doctor grew graver yet.
"My dear sir. Robert supped at
Poole's Inn the evening he visited you
here, and on starting for flreylook
Woods lie told the inn people that, in
ease of his failure to see tire your forgiveness.
lie should return to them for
a night's lodging. Mercy Poole, it appears.
waited up for him till morning,
but he did not appear, whereupon everybody
at the tavern concluded that
you nan oecome rmmnieu iu jmiui
son. and detained him here at the
Woods. Early this morning a Blackport
fisherman had occasion to cross
the marshes to that piece of ground
where the old salt-pits are, and there
he stumbled upon a frightful thing?
the dead body of a man!"
The doctor paused. Miss Pain sat as
if bereft of speech.
"How very disagreeable." said Godfrey
Oreylock, flinging another bit of
chicken to the hound.
"Evidently," went on the doctor, in a
low voice, "the corpse had lain there
for a week. An ugly wound in the left
breast told its own story, and an empty
revolver was found on the ground by
the poor fellow's side, (toil help you.
CJre.vlock?that dead man was"?
The master of the Woods leaped up
from his chair and looked the speaker
straight in the eye.
"My son?"
"Your son!"
It seemed to Dr. Jarvis that the cold,
pale face into which he gazed did not
change in the least. There was no
deepening pallor, no contraction of
muscles. The words which seemed sufficient
to crush the life out of this
childless father, overwhelm him with
remorse and anguish, glanced from his
heart like pebbles off armor.
"He was killed the night he left this
house?"
"Beyond doubt."
"That is strange. I gave him money:
was he robbed, also?"
"No. The sum of five hundred dol'
O CO ?fO o fi.it 11*1 t It t U t ill hi? Milf'k'Ht i\ 1 -
IU1 O ?) UO I "II I' VI IIIVUV v a w | ? ... ?,
so his watch. The fisherman who discovered
the Imdy ran immediately hack
to town for help. At the inn that
young grenadier in petticoats, Mercy
Poole, went off in a dead faint when
she heard the news. I was one of the
first to reach the spot."
The Siberian hound leaped suddenly
up from the rug and began to howl.
His master made a quieting gesture.
"Was it murder or suicide?" lie asked.
in a composed voice.
"That we cannot as yet decide," the
doctor answered, feeling that this
Spartan father was, indeed, a strange
study. "The fact that the money was
found in his pocket untouched, and
that his hand was fairly frozen to the
revolver, seems to point to suicide; but
that will In- determined at the inquest.
I am a coroner of this district, and
the weapon by means of which the
poor fellow, without doubt, met his
death, is in my possession. Ah, good
Ilea veil! look at Miss Pain!"
The poor lady had fallen speechlessly
forward on the elegant breakfast
table. Here was one heart, at least,
that finally loved gay, handsome Hob- '
ert tfreylock. Without a word the
master of the Woods rang the bell for
assistance. The servants carried Miss
Pain to her own room. Then Dr. Jarvis,
who was watching at a window,
turned to (lodfrcy (Jrcylock, and said,
impressively:
"My friend, prepare yourself for that
which is at hand?the remains of your
unfortunate son are being brought
home to his father's house."
Yes, he who had been thrust out in
anger jlist one week before, the tlllforlriveii
urodiiral. was returning, indilfer
<ii now t<> the welcome which awaited
him, deal' alike to endearments ami reproaches.
A little procession advanced
slowly np the great avenue, under tinevergreens,
their feet making a monotonous
thiul on the frozen ground, their
heads uncovered in the ghastly presence
of death. With a cloth spread decently
over it, they hoiv that which
ha<l once lieen Robert ilre.vlock. That
short, unlucky life had conic to a dark
and sudden close. In midnight and
solitude and mystery, among the old
salt-pits on tin* edge of the lonely
marshes, the curtain had dropped abruptly
on the tragedy of his little day,
ami Sylphide, tlx- ballet-dancer, was
a widow.
With a firm step tin- master of the
Woods advanced to the door which his
servants had opened, to meet tin- ghastly
procession. His face was like a stone
mask. Dr. Jarvis, who followed him,
searched it in vain for some sign of
grief <>r remorse, (lodfrey fjreylock
did not wear his heart oil his sleeve.
With a hand that never trembled he
rear-lied and lifted the cloth from the
face of his son ?that face upon whieli
tin- disfiguring touch of death had been
set for seven days. Kohert fJreylock's
nearest and dearest would scarcely
recognize him imw. I'nder the curious
gaze of the hearers, under the half pitiful.
half reproachful eyes of Dr. Jarvis,
this Spartan father stood for a iitoI
meiit straight and stony, with one end
of the cloth clutched in his bloodless
tinkers; then he swayed and went down
like a log at the feet of those who
carried his dead soli.
The man was made of tlesh and
hlood alter all.
This was the way that Itohert <!reylock
canie lioiin* for the last time to
his father's home, and no one denied
him admittance now. In his pockets
letters were found, unpaid hills and
memoranda, all unimportant, yet nvcaling
something of the miseries of
his brief married life, tjodfrey tjreylock
sent in haste for the one lawyer of
lilaekpoii. and placed tin* hills in his
hand.
"iJo. pay these immediately," lie said.
The legal gentleman turned to depart.
hut was restrained b\ Dr. Jarvis.
who chanced to he present.
"Mr. ?!r< \ ventured ttie iuivsi?
i:iii. ""\ mi- son hail a wife. Will vnii
liol not i|'\ |i. | of her lllisliaiiil's ileal 117
She 111list he suH'eriiiu ureal anxiety
eoiii eiiiiiiu him."
Tile look Oil I 11 III ll'eV I 5|e\ look's faee
was like ilie lii'eakinu ii|? ?'l i? when
sprint; Moods ale mil
"True." he muttered, with a shudder.
I had I'olUotteU lief VeS, .Melvili. I i I id
tie- woman and hrint; Iht here, and
In i I'lliI I with her "
The messenger l|e|i;il'led ll'olll lilui'k|ioit
?.\ the iie\| train.
Karly in the afternoon he stood at
the door of that West-end lodging
house, where Robert Oreyloek had
lived, and loved, and quarreled with
his fair wife Iris. He rang the hell,
and Martha, the disheveled niaid-ofall-work,
answered it.
"I wish to see Mrs. Robert Oreyloek,"
said the messenger.
"Oh, lor'!" cried Martha, starting
nervously back, "she ain't here, sir;
she's gone? they're all gone, the whole
family?and two months' rent due for
the room, and the landlady as mad as
a yard full of cats."
"Whither has Mrs. Oreyloek gone?"'
demanded the messenger.
"I knows no more than the dead!"
answered Martha, mildly. "She went
off one night a week ago in a carriage,
with a gentleman that used to send her
flowers and things, and we haven't seen
or heard of her since."
The lawyer's face grew preternaturally
grave.
"Ah! And where is the child?"
Tlie simple query threw Martha into
a strange panic.
"Don't ask me!" she cried, incoherently.
"I had nothing to do with it.
I'm allers Named for everything that
happens in this house, from the chimneys
that smoke its Idind to the folks
that run off with their rent not paid.
The child? oh, lor'! what am I saying?
The mother took it, in course."
There was a secret on the girl's
mind. Not a moment's peace had she
known in the last week. On that fatal
night when she had heen set to
watch the Greylock baby, and, recreant
to her trust, had fallen asleep
by its bed, Martha on the stroke of
eleven, awoke to find the cradle empty,
and her charge gone?gone, with not
the smallest clue to the mode of Ms
departure.
The house was still as death, plaint/
its inmates were asleep. In great t?r
ror the girl ran around the room
searching everywhere for the missMig
infant, then out upon the landings and
all about the house she went, listening
for some sound of it. but in vain. The
sick child was gon??stolen, abducted.
Consternation overwhelmed her. Would
she he held answerable for its safety?
Would she be called upon to produce
it at any cost? And failing to do this
what would her punishment be?fines,
imprisonment or hanging? Martha
was timid and cowardly. To shield
herself, by fair means or foul, was her
first instinct. But how could she face
the mother on the return of the latter
from the play? Time passed, and
Sylphide did not return. The night
wore on, yet she came not. Then a
thought struck the stupid brain of the
maid. Perhaps it was Mrs. Oreylock
herself who has taken the child?indeed.
now that she considered the matter,
nothing could lie plainer. No other
person could have entered the chamber
successfully, and made off with the
little thing in darkness and secrecy. .
So. next morning, when it was noised
..i. ..., ili., ill.,i ill,. Ctrevliiek fain
iIv had disappeared, and when the
landlady and the other lodgers began
to question Martha about the infant,
her story was ready.
"I gave the ehild its medicine," she
declared, "and it was sleeping sound,
and I was a-lcuning back in my chair
with eyes closed, but not dosing, oh.
no! wide awake, when in comes Mrs.
Ureylock, all in a Mutter, from the play,
and she just snatches up her baby and
throws lur shawl around it, and goes
out. and I so dazed 1 couldn't say a
word, and, anyway, it wasn't my business
to stop her, for the child was
her own property."
To this little fabrication Martha had
ever since adhered so tenaciously that
she now began to believe it herself.
And when this Hlackport lawyer stood
on the lodging house threshold and
overwhelmed her with questions, after
the first guilty panic, Martha told her
lie again.
"Lor* sir, Mrs. flreylock took the
baby away the night she went off for
good. She had quarreled with her husband
that day?a right-down battle the
two had?and after the play she came
back for her baby, and carried it, the
Lord only knows where! 'Twas sick.
T watched with it myself, and the doetor
said it couldn't live."
"Vail your mistress, girl." cried the
lawyer. "I must hear the whole of
this story."
(To be Continued.)
ENGLAND'S LARDER.
It Might Be Stripped Pretty Quickly
If She Had a War.
will, ui.ii.v lu'iiiirinir foreign food
supplies into Kugland at the rale of
i;4:t4 worth every minute of every
ilay in tlie year t:resit Kritain esimiot
aeetlinulate a sloek of provisions
law enough for a year's supply,
some experts say not enough for half
a year.
"Others llollht If We eoulil llolil out
for three motitlis without foreign supplies."
says the (jueen, "ami all agree
Unit three weeks war. or even threat
of war. won hi enormously ineresise
the priee of IstulTs. In the ordinary
way the proportion of food ami
ilrink brought over the sea is over 4per
eel it of our total imports, heing
in round figures C2fiii.iiiio.iMio out of a
total of Cfifitt.tMMi.iMMi. of this sum
CTO.ihim.Mini goes for grain and Hour
alone, ami nearly fifty millions for
meat, in addition to sixty-three millions
fiir food sind drink not otherwise
speeilied. and exi'ludiug lil'ty millions
for food. I rink and tobacco subjeet
to duty.
"What we as a nation have t > fear
is not invasion but starvation. To the
gloat mass of the people of this eouiltry
iIn- 11iieslion is not "Shall we win
or lose iii war'.' but. shall we have
eliollgll food (o live >11 w hell tile lleXt
big war runies'.' It is to meet such
an emergency that (lie use in this
country of silos for grain, or national
granaries, has been advocated.
"The cost of creating and maintaini..??
w-il..*: (nielli I... ciiliuiil..|*:i till*.
tlliiliull \\ < SllppuSe till' rust III' sill}. !?
iIi'i';iiIii<iuk1iI wnulil easily euvi-r it:
I 111 as an insurant*!' against punie it
\\ 111<I well In- w in lli I In* expense,
while as a. sal't-nuai'il in time u| war.
aiiti aKainst iiiiinilii-nl famine it wuiilil
! in valid lilt-, ami i i k It t easily turn
defeat i lit it virtmy ami ilisasli-r I ?
sa i'i-iv.
"i li lira I la i is |iruvisiiiiii*<l fur l\vi?
years ami Malta has silus whieh keep
ruin Kmm| fur as lung as fmir years.
I tins SII|I|IU|| j||? tile truth III' I lie Itililieal
staten11-iit that Jusi-ph in tIn*
ilr.v eliiuali- uf Kk.v'pi I'eil iln- peupli*
willi eurii stuieil I'm- seven years. The
idea is i In- gradual eulleetiuii uf an
ainiitliit uf wheat eipial In mie year's
impurl and its autumatie reiu-wal hy
i-vehaimiiiM it fur tin- new main as it
arrives al the different purls."
H. C. BEATTY JR.
IS DECLARER GUILTY;
Virginia Wife Murderer Convicted by
Jury. _ |
DEATH SENTENCE NOVEMBER 24TH.
i
Jury Took the Papers. Kneeled In
Prayer, Gave the Whole Case Care
tui consideration, ana was oacs in |
the Court Room In Less Than an [
Hour.
Chesterfield Court House. V;i.. \
Sept. 8.?Twelve Virginia farmers
knelt at dusk tonight in the obscurity 1
of the small jury room of Chesteiiield
court house, praying fervently that \
they might pass judgment aright on
Henry Clay lieattie, Jr.. indicted for
the murder of his wife. Crimly de- ^
termineil they arose a moment later .
and silently, one Ly one. recorded the s
unanimous verdict of "guilty."
Causing in solemn contemplation ,
for lifty-eight minutes, weighing care- I
fully the meaning of their decision ^
and once more on bended knees heseeching
Divine assistance that they t
might not err. they tiled into the
hushed stillness of a crowded court
run in and with startling suddenness
twelve voices, instead of the usual one .
of the foreman, spoke the single word \
"(Juilty." a
Receives Verdict Coolly.
It was almost a shout. The specter j,
of death which stalked Midlothian <i
turnpike on July IS last when the life
of Mrs. Louise Owen Reattie was taken
away with the single report of a s
shotgun, stared hard at the young a
husband, ready to claim its victim by s
electrocution on Friday, November (|
24. Hut the prisoner returned the
gaze, unswerving and unafraid.
The court of appeals, to be sure.
will be asked to grant a writ oi error ,|
and a new trial. Voting licattie, cog- \
nizant of the legal weapons yet .'it his
disposal, did not surrender. Instead. J
he consoled his broken-down father, n
white-haired and wrinkled, and coin- 11
foiled hint its lie whispered:
e
"I haven't lost yet. father. '
I'll usual as has been the tragedy
and the gruesome stage where it oc- s
rurrod. the twelve jurymen did not li
hesitate to admit to their friends that J1
they stood in judgment not only over
the cold-blooded murder, but upon \
his marital infidelity as well. It per- '
haps was the dramatic climax of Vir- .v
11
gtnia justice which in the last half- p
century has swiftly sent to death such t
famous murderers as Cluverius. I'llil- <1
ips and McC'ue. c
Wendenburg Convincing.
At the close of a powerful address .
by L. U. Wendenburg. the voluntary J
assistant of the common wealth in the ,
case, the suspense was felt not alone *
in the courtroom but in Richmond
where thousands of people waited the ,!
outcome.
The jury had for eleven days heard J1
evidence, for two days speeches, but
the words of Wendenburg rang in
their ears as they left the court room
to liinl their verdict. t
"Let that man go free," he cried, d
"what, let that man go free! \\ liy 'I
the motherhood of Virginia, the wo- o
manhood of this nation, will shudder >
in terror as the security of its life is s
threatened. Let this man go free! y
The man who basked in the degraded li
sunshine of another woman, while at
his home a young wife nursed his f
child! < J en I Ionian. I merely ask you li
in the name of justice to do your I
duty." li
?/!..: jl,
viviaiy ruriiji/s w> > ?
In vivid details. tin* prosecutor ''
portrayed the wife as she started oil
her innocent journey into the cool air
of a summer night. The jury saw *
again in their minds the automobile "
in which she rode heside her lilisliand. '
how Heatlic stepped into the darkness
of the thicket, found the shot-gun I.
which he had earlier concealed ami .
deliberately slew his wife. .,
The desperate ride home with a
bleeding and lifeless body crushed
into the small space in the front part
of the machine, the husband coldly i
sitting against the blood-covered head s
of his wife, were graphically detailed I
to the jury, duly passing attention I
was given by Wendeiiburg to the pur- <
chase of the gun by Paul I'.eat tie. a a
cousin of tin* accused. The defense a
had claimed, lie said, that on Paul's
story alone was built the case of the s
prosecution hut lie held aloft til** f
blood-stained clothing of the prison- t
el' "as tile mute evidence of the i
crime." and asked: :i
"Do you want any other evidence?" I
Displays Bloody Clothing.
Itlood decked the loWel* fringe of
the shirt in deep black blots; not a
mark was on either sleeve of shirt or i
coat. The prisoner had said that In* i
held his wife with one hand ami steer- .
ed his car with the other hut the ah- i
seiiee of blood oil tin* arms, the pros- i
editor declared, gave the lie to his \
story. Not alone with the clothing i
did tin* prosecutor disentangle what s
he termed "the cheapest fabrication r
of the cheapest llltl I'd el'," hilt lie |
shouted shame at the prisoner for i
his relations with it mere slip of a r
girl, from the age of 1 :t until within |
his own married life, and held her <!
forth as the motive for the crime. i
"And tin- prisoner admits that it i
was his passion." said Mr. Wendell- .?
burg. "Yes it was passion, but pas- i
si.*i. i...en ..r in., in.vii Mini mission <
that si-nt to death his wife so that he n
might continue his vicious pleasure." s
Mr. WTndcnhurg concluded his ail- a
dress a few minutes after live |>. in. j
A hrief respite was given the jury ami i
at a.L'.s 'iicluek it In gan eonsiileralion ?
of I lie ease.
Minds Already Made Up.
Kor lilty-eight minutes, they were |
together in deep consultation, a jury |
of simple farmers who each morning s
sang hymns and strove to forget the j
story of dissipation with its tillhy i
chapters as related day after day on |
tile witness stand. What had heen t
gciiii.iily predicted was true their |
minds were well made up In-fore they j
h ft the court room. \V. T. ISurgcss. |
a si|uare-jttwed man. with an earnest I
face, was elected foreinaii. t
They balloted end it was no stir- s
prise, they afterwards declared, that fj
all voted alike. They prayed that |
they might not take a life in vain and \
tlley Opened their consciences to one |
another for nearly an hour, so that i
tlu-y might go hacli to the court loom
liruily convinced of their duty and of <
one iiiiuil. I
Beattie's Nerve Endures. '
And in the court room sat Henry j
i'lay Ileallie. Jr.. the sporting page
of a newspaper spread before him
111| I III- did not read long. ill- folded
the paper and concealed his face in it .*
Those who sal near the hoy of iron lierve
observed a IlloVe ill tile twitch- I
ing of his lips as though murmuring a
a prayer as lie sal with closed eyes I.
awaiting lite return of tin- jury. lie ;i
raised his head for a moment, drop- i
peil the paper again and began read- i
ing. Then lie whispered a few words |
to his father and brother. It was for t
tllelll III felt and to till-Ill lie cotllisell- e
ed cheerfulness. a
- I ...I. I I V
II w.is i n ; 11 i \ u.n n in
rimiii when (In* jury ivt unieil. Three
nil l;ilil|>s KiiVe Iin;it;i'l lltsler In III- I
si-i-im . Sunset's i-?-iI rsivs still stiv;i k- \
I 111i-i>11lc11 tin- vvimliiu's. tin every I
sill rested :i |i-li'Ltr;i|ili instrniik-iit ;iml ;i
n|M i :itni s teiisvlv \\:iil? ?! I".?r I In* :m- \
imuiuiniint ill (In- verdict. A 111ii k
iiisiss nl' faces rising in ;in incline In
tin* shnliliy i-i iliiiK stared at tin* Juryii)i*ii.
Kainniis jurists |miki*il down.
Inn. frmn lly-spcckcd pa in lilies. In
I Ik* iiiiihIs nl' tin* KnpinK crowd n*ii
1:1 iiii*iI ;l*?* llinii^lit nf tin* powerful
-iiiii li nf tin* pmsrcutiir ami liis d***
111111i i;11i 11 nf Hi. man "who exehniiK
I (In* jslinv nf viriiii* fur passion's
fi*i*lili* tapers."
The Dramatic Moment.
"I'll.* rnlll'l askl'il till* I Il'isi ill I *r ill
rise. Ill ii|i\v himself up caiiiuy
mil ua'ii-d.
"Han1 yiiti _:i-iitli'iiii'ii agreed nn a
v*i i*i I ii t ?" asked Judge Walsnn.
"\V?* havi* " said Kinoiiinn Iturgcss.
Tin* prisoner hail t'uiitiilriitly i*\ii'rtml
a "hung jury." not acquittal
inr conviction. Thi* cnurt requested
lie audience run to mnniiesi us apu'oviiI
<>r disapproval whatever tnc
/erdiet.
"And what is your verdict?" ask d
Judge Watson, turning again to
foreman Hurgess.
"tJuilty," answered Burgess, but iiis
nice was swelled by the shout of
leveii others.
I"nversed in law or the forms of
i murder trial, the jurymen had not
ipeeitied what degree of murder.
\sked what degree. Mr. Burgess aniwereti
simply "guilty as indicted."
'iider Virginia practice murder is
resumed to lie second degree UllleSS
therwise specified. It was incum eiit
upon tile jury to fix the degree,
to Judge Watson advised the jurymen
0 confer again on the point and sev n
minutes later they conformed, this
im with the verdict of "murder in
lie first degree."
Hears Doom Calmly.
The prisoner stood erect and moioiiless.
His face, in color a yellowsli
green throughout the day. was
hitiiobile. 'file light of a lamp east
1 dreary shadow on Ids upturned chin
is he faced the jury. His eye-lids
agged, hut did not blink. In steady
:alie fastened his eyes on the faces
>f tlie twelve men who had pmnouncd
his punishment as if to penetrate
heir minds and determine the reason
rhy. It was not a resentful expresion.
however, and when the court
i.-?ked if the prisoner had anything to
ay. he answered.
"I have nothing to say." and sat
low II.
The perfunctory motions for a new
rial were made by counsel for the de
iisc. iiit- usual granting <'i I'crnission
fWii to argue the* point was
Ii*iiici] as Judge Watson in a stern
nice declared that ill rulings of the
ourt were < n comparatively unmportant
detail and in no way could
lave inlluenced the verdict. A stay
f execution was granted, however, in
rder to give counsel an opportunity
o apply for writ of error when the
ourt of appeals meets in November.
Judge Lectures Prisoner.
Judge Watson delivered an impresive
speech to the prisoner. He told
low the young man had stained his
iwn life and that of the community
n which he lived by his sordid acts.
\ hen the trial lirst began, said Judge
Vatsoii. he hud hoped that Virginia
night be cleared of the crime for
k'liich not only the state felt shame,
nt the entire country deprecated. He
lad hoped that counsel would prove
lie defendant innocent, but tlie evilelice.
he regretted to note, was all
oiivineing and overwhelming.
"The court in this trial," said Judge
Vatson, "has endeavored in all its
lecisions to lean toward the side of
he prisoner and in its charge to the
ury as well attempted to give him
lie benefit of every doubt and every
pportunity to establish his innocence,
'lie rulings mostly have not been
ii matters of law but on small t|Uesioiis
of fact.
Sentenced to Death.
"You have had a fair and impartial
rial. Mr. Meat tie, and the jury has
one what it considers its duty.
'Ilcl'efore. you have been convicted
>l? murder in the lirst degree and on
Coveinbef '!. between the hours of
utilise and sunset, you must forfeit
our life to ihe community. Alay (!o?l
iave mercy on your soul."
A moment later, by the side of his
alitor and his brother. Douglas, their
leads bowed ill grief, walked young
teal tie in the darkness to his cell a
11111 I ft *< l yarns away.
Hut the drama of tin* day was not
vt r. A sharp report and a Hash
flit tile thick idackness outside.
"My tind!" exclaimed Judge W'at<iii
as through his mind Hilled the
ante thought that startled hunilreds
round him.
Hut it was not another tragedy. The
irisoiier was seen walking calmly on.
"he detonation was an unusually
leavy charge of a photographer's
lashiight.
Finds Relief In Tears.
The crowd lingered at the jail and
cored into the cell illuminated by a
ingle lamp. on the lied with his
lead in his hands sat Heattie. his
other and brother beside him. Jailer
'ogbill sent the curious away. Only
i few saw the prisoner break down
ml Weep ill the Solitude of tile cell.
An hour later the hamlet was decried.
a few hundred yards away
rim the stone jail i na small hotel
welve men gathered their belongings
n silence, and one by one they drove
iway into the darkness to the simple
tomes from which for a fortnight
hey had been absent.
As to Beulah.
Heiilah Hinford. the girl of the uiilerworld
the woman in the ease whose
'elatioiis with young Heattie furnish d
a dominating feature of the pros-'
eulioii's case, did not figure us a witless
during the trial. Neither side
nis willing to call her. ImmediatelyI
ipon her release from the jail where
lie had been held for possible testinony
she disap| eared from Kieliiiond.
hurried to New York and alnost
at the hour when the jury was
egistering its verdict that carried the
tenuity of electrocution for her quonlam
eompanioii she was posing for
notion pictures at Stateii Island and
inrsing theatrical ambitious. Step by
ti p during today's arguments Attoriey
Harry M. Smith. Jr.. associate
otinsel for the defense, had endeavreil
to show that young Heattie's
ti.ry was entirely eoinpatible with his
etioiis and the testimony before the
lir.v. lie reviewed the evidence to
lulicate the danger of eircumstantial
viileliee.
Wenderburg's Argument.
Attorney \Yctidenhtirg for the state
o ld up the shirt that the prisoner
iad worn and charged that Heattie
at against his wife's lifeless body
n^ii'inl of Ind11i11g lii-r with one hand
in his di'spi-rate riilt- in i In* < >\vi'ii
nune after tin- iniKi-ily. II'- i i-I'i-i ri'il
a tin- clothes sis 11 iil - li-stiinuiiy t<i
rismier's Ktiilt. Ili- ridiculed tin*
ilc.i iif si lii-sinI -II, 1111k111 w 11 ssiant
liKhw ayiiiaii of Jim |m.iiiiiIs weight al
wiiiK "this littstripling uf k'fi"
l'i-altii-1 In Isik. away llu- Klin ami
i-iiiili-il lIn- probability uf sm-li a
liant walking away wlu-n in the grap>li
tli. ari-tisi-il It'll t<i tin- ground
villi tin- Kim Mr. Wfiiiioiihnrg ssii.l
hat young Ht-siilif on I lit* niKhl of the
iiiinli-r |>111 mi (In- iilili-st suit In* lia.l
"lit- was I ii i t-ln-si|i." ssi hi I hi- prose nliir.
"in s|?>il any lull I lit* nhh-st suit
n- had willi I In- Id I of his wife."
flu prisoner m-i voiisly liiiKi'i'i-d a ih-dal
two lingers di-notiiiK thai lie
tail worn tin- suit (win- liel'iire.
Gave Jury Re ,pite.
Tin- arguments were i-oiu-ludi-d at
i.us p. in Judge Watson had (In- jury
xi-i-i-ist-.l in tin- opi-n air for fifteen
11i11nl --s (i|- so. Wln-n tin* prisoner
Isii was given a hri.-f airing on lln>
a w is a IdK l ow d surged around him
lid Ik- askc.l I., l.e t;.k.-l. lo Ills cell
ii I In- jail. Soon In- ri'Siinii'd his seal
ii i In- luir. JinIk.- Watson hrielly deiVel'e.l
III!' I'.'ISI' lo llle Jlir.V. Wllit'll IViied
at fi.l's p. 111. Tin- i-oiirt inIt>|-tii'
it...I il- ll.-.e .i..W1I-...I I., v....
II I 111 III lfl.lt II 1 ll' l
11> ..I' tin- .-xliil.its in ill.- i-iisi- tiny
i..ill.I I..- I>r<?uuht liy Sln iil't Cill.
At il.Jii 11. in.. ili<- jury r.-iiirn.-.l l<>
In- ?- >11rI r<i.>111 .-in.I .-iiiiiuiiiu-.-.l its
.-uli.-l ..I' 111111-<I.-1 It was s.-nt l.a.-k
i. lis ill.- .l.-m*-.- an.I al'l?-r Im-mik <>iii
I...ill iiiin- ii.iiiiil.-s. i-.-tui'ii.-.l willi tin
i.li.-l ..I' in ii r.l.-r in 11 it- first .l.-yr.-c
Defense Begins Fight.
The defense then mailt* its tight for
ninety ilays within which to tile its
|M*titinii lor a writ of error t the
state supreme court of appeals. Prosecutor
Wolidenhiirg objected to what
In* termed tin* unnecessary delay in
the ailniinistratioii of justice in this
case.
Mr. <'arter claimed the defense had
already heeii forced to an early trial,
hut November 24 was tinully set as
the day to which execution of sentence
Wollhl he deferred. The court
adjourned ill I.-- |>. 111.
REPORT OF GINNERS.
Work of Baling Is More Advanced
Than Usual.
The ginning of cotton of the growth
of 1911 was carried on more actively
throughout the cotton licit to September
1, this year, than in any similar
period in the history of the industry, at
least as far as accurate ginning records
have been kept. This is shown
by the first ginning report of the season
compiled by the census bureau
from reports of its correspondents in
the cotton growing states. A total of
771.4 15 bales had been ginned up to a
week ago. This is greater by almost
three hundred thousand bales than the
previous record, made in 190.1.
The continued hot and dry weather
in a greater portion of the belt, especially
in Texas, was chiefly responsible
for the increase. These conditions
meant the early maturing of the crop
1 >tit this alone is considered not the
cause of tlie greater ginning. Farmers
have been more active in getting their
crop to the ginneries, and it is said, in
some counties of Texas, where the
bulk of the increased ginning was reported.
the entire crop practically already
has been ginned.
Little relation appears to exist, according
to census bureau experts, betwen
the size of the crop and the quantity
of cotton ginned during any period
of the season. This is shown in
the big crop years of 1904. 1906 and
1908, each of which produced more
than 13.000.000 bales. In these years
the percentage of the total crop ginned
to September 1 was 3.8, 3.1 and 3.1 per
cent, respectively, while in 1905, when
the crop was lo.soo.ooo. 4.5 per cent
i?f it was ginned by September 1. Txist
year 3.1 per cent of the total crop was
ginned to September 1.
The first cotton ginning report of
the season, issued last Friday by Director
B. Dana Durand of the bureau
of ttic census, department of commerce
and labor, shows that 771,4 lf? bales,
counting round as half bales, had been
ginned from the growth of 1011 to September
1, compared with 353,011 bales
of the growth of 1910 ginned to September
1. 1910; 338,242 bales for 1909.
and 402,228 bales for 1908.
Round bales included this year are
6,994, compared with 10,976 for 1910
11,537 for 1909, and 20,862 for 190S.
The number of sea island bales included
is 539 for 1911, 218 for 1910,
1.236 for 1909 and 1,221 for 1908.
Comparisons of the number of bales,
counting round as half bales, ginned
to September 1 for the past four years,
follows:
States. 1911. 1910. 1909. 1908.
Ala 40,500 4.196 13,535 26,298
Ark 170 28 449 323
Fla 3,764 608 3,542 2,524
flu 134,075 20,491 106,301 64,693
l?a 7,616 1,101 3,450 4,618
Miss 1,849 538 1,670 4,330
N. C 1,209 4 1.070 101
i >kla. ... 4,205 393 1.370 8
S. C. .. . 13,907 208 18,949 9,399
Tenn .... 5 4 6
Tex 559,114 325,435 237,901 289,928
Other Sts. 14 11
BAGDAD, MEXICO.
A Wicked City That Prospered and
Then Was Wiped Out In a Night.
There arc a few people still living
in Matanioras who remember the
riotous' town of Itagdad, which at the
height of its prosperity had a population
of nearly lii.ooo and was the neutral
port through which practically
all tiic cotton from Texas and other
southern states was exported during
the civil war when the southern ports
were blockaded.
Ilagdad was on the Mexican side of
tbe Rio (Irande near the mouth of the
river, about twenty-live miles east of
Matanioras. With the closing of the
southern ports by I'uioii blockading
1 ,U "eelfti ?,f t i 11. I i i \ i r || nllt
\ r.wi> in*- urt-t wuj ?/? UMU...O
let for cotton am) an inl?*t for supplies
became urgent. It was in response
to this demand that Bagdad came into
being.
The population of Bagdad was cosinopoliian.
Thieves, fortune hunters,
bandits. adventurers and the riffraff
of the seven seas gathered there and
revelled in the gold that Mowed
through the plaee. Finally the town
met tlie fate of its Biblical predecessor
in crime. Gomorrah, and was
completely destroyed. in October.
IstJT, Bagdad was swept away by a
combination hurricane and tidal wave.
More than 3.0't'i lives were lost, and
not a vestige remains to mark the site
of the town. It vas annihilated in
one night.
It. M. Miller, who came from New
Orleans to Matatnoras in lstls and
established a merchant business her",
is still a resident of the town.
"Dining the latter days of the civil
war." said Mr. Miller, "and immediately
following the close of that
strife crime and chaos ruled this part
<d' tin- border, both on the Mexican
and the Texas side.
"I remember that shortly after my
arrival in Matamoras I had business
that took me to Bagdad. A regular
stage line was operated between the
two places, and taking this lumbering
vehicle one morning 1 and several
others started on the trip to the wonderful
port. A few miles out of town
we were held up by a band of brigands
led by Juan Cortina, the notorious
bandit chief, and robber of
all our money. A little further on another
band of thieves stopped us and
relieved us of our watches.
"I had friends in Bagdad and decided
to eontinue on the journey. Arriving
in the town I found conditions
the most remarkable, I believe, that
ever existed in any place of similar
size. The narrow streets were thronged
with hundreds of drunken and
vicious people. All nations were represented
in the uncontrollable mob.
Negroes from the West Indies,
Frenchmen. t'ubans. tlreeks. Italians.
Spaniards. Portuguese ami men of
iM-aily every other nation were represented
in thai riiitniis population.
"Murder and robberies wviv of almost
hourly occurrence. tJamblers
plied their vocation upon the streets.
< >ne night in the town was sutticieiit
for me, I vividly reineniber. however,
the scene presented iii the harbor. I
counted twenty-two steamships and
many sailing vessels waiting to discharge
and take cargoes.
"Pagilad was believed by the people
at that lime to have a promising future
as a deep water port. Millions
of dollars worth of trallie poured over
its wharves, but with lite closing of
the civil war and the ending of the
efforts of Maximilliuu to obtain control
ol* .Mexico tile future of the
mushroom port and town did not
seem to be so bright. It could Hot
have survived litany more years even
bad it not been destroyed by the great
storm."
Modest Job.?Tlie.v were discussing
;i I 1111 4*11 MJIU'.S Mfll.'IIIM Willi liutl IMTII
a railroad attorney before In* heeatne Jl
statesman, and who, many thought,
had not given up his joh when he assumed
his toga.
" It's all rot!" said a man who knows
the senator, "lie never was a railroad
attorney exeept to go out and try damage
eases Why. all that man ever was
was a eow-eoroner!" Saturday levelling
I'ost.
BATCH OF OHIO SNAKE STORIES.
Some Ancient Tales About Reptiles In
the Middle West.
The first serpent nf its rare which
started utit hy destroying the prospeets
of the whole human family in
tile Harden of Kdeti, the .Midgat'd serpent
of X >rse mythology, and the almost
equally ancient sea serpent of
periodical bathing place notoriety
have perhaps stimulated more imaginations
than any other imlivduals of
their species, but none of them has
anything to do with one fine eollec
lion of snake stories which is familiar
to every student of North American
ethnology.
These stories, says The New York
Sun. begin 1,500 or perhaps 2.000
years hack, when the parent stock of
all the Algonkian tribes still lived up
in Canada north of the strait of
Mackinac and most of the Iroquoian
family lived north of the St. Lawrence.
The country south of the lakes, the
Ohio valley, was the abiding place of
it tribe of serpents of tremendous size,
who when not doing business elsewhere
were likely to appear suddenly
and unexpectedly in the Algonkian or
the Iroquoian country, to the consternation
of the peaceful human inhabitants.
Sometimes a single serpent
would come rolling across the country.
his head sticking up like a factory
chimney above the top of the tallest
forest, and sometimes a party of them
made day and night hideous for the
wretched villagers, whom they regarded
as suitable fare.
The first of these invaders, according
to one Algonkian story, desired to
destroy all human beings out of pure
unadulterated cussedness, a trait
showing his close relationship to the
serpent of the Garden of Eden. Not
satisfied, apparently, with his own
swallowing capacity for that purpose,
he brought with him an undescribed
monster, three other indivduals of unclassified
kind, and a flood.
rFI*.. ll<i/\d o t b.. mi kiiutni'c frt(/uf llur
materially reduced the Algonkian
population, but the remainder climbed
up on the Turtle Island, or Mackinac.
until Michabou. the Hercules of
Algotikian mythology, came to their
assistance and put a quietus on the
Hood and its author together.
Another Algonkian story preserved
by the Chippewa* is that a number of
serpents, perhaps to retaliate for the
first one's defeat, attempted to blot
Michabou himself out of the universe.
They were taught the difference between
a man warrior and a wideawake.
full-sized demi god when Michabou
skinned the white chief snake
of the party alive, and covering himself
with the skin as a convenient kind
of armorplate chased the remaining
reptiles back into their own country
before they realized that they had
been headed in that direction.
The Iroquoians, competitors of the
Algonkians in everything else, seem to
have resolved early not to be outdone
by the latter in the telling of snake
stories. The Senecas relate that a serpent
besieged their forefathers in a
fort on the hill Gerundewah, in northern
New York, by the effective process
of coiling himself entirely around the
fort. Some of the inmates, attempting
to escape, walked down his throat,
whereupon one of the tribe who from
the inside of the defences hail prudently
watched the disappearance of
his relatives conceived the idea of experimenting
upon the monster's vitals
with a poisoned arrow.
The expedient was so successful
that the serpent went rolling down
the hill, clearing off the timber as he
went, and disgorging the heads of the
people whom he had swallowed into
I^ike Canandaigua, where they still
remain in the shape of large black
boulders. Some patriotic Seneca,
realizing the deficiencies of this narrative,
seems to have improved upon
it. for his tribesmen have another
version, asserting that two serpents
besieged the fort and that both were
disposed of by a reckless young warrior.
who made love to the female
snake of the pair.
The Tusearoras apparently understood
that the snake idea per se had
been developed to the limit in the
Seneca legem! and, therefore, to acquit
themselves creditably added
horns to the enormous reptile, which,
they affirm, once appeared south of
Lake Ontario provided with a breath
so poisonous that a multitude of the
Iroquoians died from inhaling the infected
atmosphere. This last snake of
the series so far outclassed the Seneca
serpent in formidableness that presumably
poisoned arrows were inadequate
to the occasion, for a storm of
thunderbolts was required to expel
him from the Iroquois country.
The indestruetiveness of this horned
serpent, so impressed the imaginations
of the Cherokees that they believe
him to be still in existence and
in some of their sacred formulas invoke
>iis favor and help as a great
medicine god.
Some archaeologists do not regard
these tales as mere examples of the
human mind's inherited ambition to
excel in snake fiction. They recognize
them as myths, that is historical accounts
with most of the facts left out
and the remainder popularly exaggerated.
They find otln r statements in the
ancient histories of the Algonkian
and Iroquoian tribes which show
clearly that the monstrous snakes
were really human tribes, who. like
the ancient Mexicans and Central
Americans, worshipped a snake god
along with the sun deity. These snake
people built more than one earthern
representative of their ophidian deity
in wnai is now souin wesiern unn>.
The celebrated Serpent Mound in
Adams county. Ohio, which is a quarter
of a mile long, seems to be the
model from which the Algonkian and
Iroqitoian historians pit their idea of
proportion in describing the size of
their forefathers' adversaries.
Made Fast Time.?The New York
Times has made the interesting experiment
of sending :i telegraphic
message around the world, directed
to itself. No especial arrangements
were made in advance, the message
being tiled in the telegraph office in a
purely commercial way, with the ordinary
press request to "please rush."
It was rushed. The message was
sent west and was received from the
east by the same operator who sent it
exactly sixteen minutes and thirty
seconds later. Kleven years ago
('resident Itoosevelt and Clarence II
Macko.v sent a dispatch around the
world in a fraction over nine minutes,
but on that occasion special arrangements
had been made and every
operator along the route of ifS.t> 1
miles was sitting at his key ready to
speed tin* message along its secured
right of way. The speed made by
the Tillies message was. though, rapid
enough for all practical purposes.
The message was tiled at exactly 7
o'clock Sunday night. It passed
through Manila, H.ltio miles away,
sixty seconds later, at .vol o'clock
Monday morning, allowing for the
thirteen hours added for tile difference
in time. Sixteen relays Were
made during I lie journey, which gave
an average speed of twenty-nine miles
a second. During its entire journey
around the world the Times message
travelled north of the equator.
It is an interesting question wln-th
cr tin* lieu win-ifss nn-iinm <n s?*miiiik
iiii ss;ik?'s will enable I In- Times'.*
ririinl fur eoinnnrcial messages
ai'nllllil lilt' globe to III- lowered.
Ilixhesier, N. V., Deinnerat and
t 'bl'olliele.