Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

THE ORIGIN OF ANTHRACITE. A Probable Solution of One of the Longe Stanning Mysteries of Science. The main difference between an thracite and bituminous coal is that the former is devoid of volatile mat, ter. Heretofore the theory generally accepted to account for this differ. ence was that presented a half cen tury ago by Prof. Rogers, while con ductint the first geological survey of Pennsylvania. Observing that the anthracite beds lay in the eastern part of the State, in close proximity to the Archean axis of elevation, he surmised that these coal beds had, so -to speak, been "coked" upon the elevation of the Appalachian chain; ,that is, he supposed that the heat and pressure accompanying the Ap palachian elevation, acting most vig orously near the axis, had distilled and removed the volatile matter of the cross-beds nearest it. To adjust the theory to increasing facts, Prof. Lesley added the sup position that the heat involved in this theory was brought up by con duction when the superincumbent layers of rock was extremely thick, which have since been mainly re moved by the erosive agencies which have been active over the regions for million; of years. The inadequacy of these theories has led Prof. J. J. Stevenson of the ,University of New York to propound another and simpler theory, which was ably defended by h.m at the re cent meeting of Lhe Geological So ciety o! America. He would account for the lack of volatile matter in anthracite coal by the simple fact that it had been longer exposed to that kind of decay which takes place in vegetable mat ter when immersed in water; and which consists chiefly in the loss of the hydrocarbons which. constitute the volatile elements in bituminous coal. On this supposition the anthra cite beds are those which were formed earliest in the swamps and lagoons of the carboniferious period and remained longest devoid of the covering of sedimentary depositi which subsequently preserved them from further change. This theory is confirmed by the fact that there is no such strict rela tion of the anthracite beds to thp Appa:achian axis of elevation as Prof Rogers had supposed, and by mans other considerations which Prof. Stevenson is about to publish. This simple case seems adequate to ac count for all the phenoiren, and probably solves one of the long-stand ing mysteries of geological science. -The Independent. A DETECTIVE'S INSTINCT. ow Intuition Led to the Capture of r Rogue. Not many years ago an American 1etective had a long chase alter an accomplished swindler. The fugitive had escaped before his crime was known. He had sailed for the Isthmus under an assumed name and established himself in business in Lima, where he made many friends by his handsome face and pleasing manners. The detective followed him to Peru after several months. As soon as he arrived at Limia, and be fore he was able to identify the man under a new name, the fugitive learned who he was, and immediately took passage for Valparaiso. The detective pursued him after a fortnight's delay, and discovered that he bad registered at a hotel under a second assumed name, and had made pretences of having business in the interior. After a fortnight spent in unraveling the skein, the detective :ascertained that his man had sailed under a third name for Buenoe &yres. The detective arrived at Euenos Ayres a month behind time. He learned at once that the fugitive had boldly taken passage on an italian steamer for Europe under his real name. The detective embarked for Europe by a steamer of the same line. The steamer anchored at Monte video at the mouth of the Plate, and the passengers went ashore for a few hours. The detective suddenly changed his plans. Instead of re turning to the steamer and continu ing his voyage to Italy, he sailed for Eio de Janeiro by atother vessel. There he found his man. The fu gitive, aft er taking passage for Naples under his own name, had gone ashore the next morning at Monte video, and after changing his dress and shaving off nis whiskers had sailed for Rio de Janeiro under the fourth assumed name. With the connivance of the Bra zilian oficials he was arrested whi:e playing agame of whist at the United States Consul-General's house, and taken on board an American steamer. He offered no resistance. lie seemed contented when the iong chase had ended, and be was head ing northward to be tried for his crime. ".Lmprisonment," he said, "cannot De worse than the suspe-nse of feel ing that a detective is dogging your steps and hunting you down." "But why,'I he asked "-were you not thrown off the scent when you found me booked for italy under my own uame?" "That was the first- honest thing you had done," replied the detective. "It looked like a mask. A detective has to put himself in the rogue's place. At Buenos Ayres 1 was con vinced that you had started for-italy, but I could not understand why you haa resumed your own name. At -Montevideo it came to me like a flash. I knew that the rogue ha~d left his ship, disguised himself and gone to Rio de Janeiro." It is the unerring !nstinct that has made the American detective the best in the world. Bather Dlubtous. Mrs. Brush-Has the hanging com mittee decided about your picture yet? Brush - Yes. Mrs. Brush Are they going to hang it? Brush -Dubious: I heard the chairman say he thought hanging was too good to it, -Exchange.___ The Real Problem. "i have enough to support you, Ethel. Will you be my wife?' "Well, Charley, you must excuse me if I am cautious. But you say you have enough to support me. Who is going to support you?"--Rarper'5 LIFE'S PART. jeme tread the boards In motley garb, And some in 1ik attire; 'While some fQ tattpr, humbly plod To phiy the y'putn or sire. It matters not, or young or ola, Or bcld or timid heart. So we have courage to go And bravely play our partI Tho' others pass us on the wa, -More heralded than we, DBlled greater tban the grand old pay Yet ne'er dospondent be: Lift up the brave and gallant brow. Let sadness e'er depart, &nd speak our lives with purpose trua To play the noble part I The curtain soon will slowly fall, The lights grow dim to eyes That well havo borne the steady glare, But stars still gem the skies I What then? Within another sphc're we'll live with lightened heart; [t maters little if we here Have played a hero's part ! What then, if hcro we be forgot? Perhaps a grave unknown Is all the sympatby tmat man To us, at last, has shown If but this worldless epit aph Is left on one dear heart: 'He bravely strove from youth tol ao, An. nobly played Lii's part!" - GRACE BRAYTON. "Do you really think there is an thing in it?" asked Arthur Denton, t looking down into the ftushed and in terested face, with a half amused 3 smile. "Why, yes, Arthur, I do," an, swered Grace, hesitatingly. "I think there s such a hing as though C transference, but whether any prac tical use could be made of it or not I'm sure I don't know." Arthur Denton and Grace Brayton .vere afranced lovers. Their parents t had been lifelong friends and for t years had lived in the same block in Cantonville. As children they had attended the same school and had never been separated except for the few years that Arthur had been at college and Grace had been at board- I ing school. Everyone had a' ways ex- s pected them to marry, conseiuently their engagement soon after y.rthur entered business hau created no sen -ation, and they had fallen into the a habits jof engaged couples so nat- r urally that they hardly realized any ditference themselves. They were only waiting for Arthur's expected promotion in business before settling iown into a home of their own. While at school, Grace had become very much interested in metaphysics and kindred studies and was inclined to specuiate a good deal in physiology. But Arthur's more conservative mind hated mystery and dislikea new ideas, so in their many discussions on the suaect he usually made light of her th ories and sometimes quiz. ed her unmercifully about them. But to night Grace, who had been reading the report of the Society of Psychical Research of England, was more earn est than usual and had succeeded in incitingr Arthur to a more serious 2 consideration of the subject than ever before. Yet their discussion had 6 ended with the question and answer with which our story opens.* ' Well, dearie," continued Arthui. Ls he arose to go, "I won't tease you ~ any more. I'm sure, if thought ~ trarsterence were a possibility, it ~ would be very nice for lovers." '-Promise me one thing," Grace said, impulsively, putting her hands ~ on his shoniders as she stood in front. of him and looking earnestly into his ~ face, "that if we are ever separated I and you should feel me calling you ~ that you will come at once." "I promise," answered Arthur, gissing her good-night and feeling C very sure that they never should be ~ separated very long if he could hinder ~ * * * * * * * t A few months afterward Arthur' Denton sat in his office late one af ternoon feeling~ a bit lonesomle. (Gracel was spending a few weeks with a school frieni who had married a lum erman and was living in a little town called Beechwood in Northern Wisconsin. Her enthusiastic do scriptions of the woods and wild flow ers had at last induced Grace to make her a long promised visit. The I long-expected promotion had come and their jwedding day was fast ap proaching, so Arthur's meditationas were not altogether unpleasant as he ' drummed idly on the writing desk - from which his afternoon's pile ofC letters had just been taken by the clerk. Suddenly he felt a shiver sz down his back and creep over his r t nerves, followed by his name being a called by some one, he thought, in pain. He started to his feet. There was no one in the room, and when5 for a moment he opened the door and peered into the workroom every thing was as usual there. Who could have called him? The voi. e sounded like Grace's, but Grace was 100 miles away. It surely must have beent imagination, Hie sat down and pres ently the same sensation occurred again, followed by the same call. But this time he perceved that the voice was not an audible one. It was onlyc his own sensation which made it sem p to t~e so. He arose and began to walk the floor trying to shako off the feeling. But again and again he felt the a strange shiver, followed by the im pres~on that he was being called. Suddenly he remembered his talks with Grace and he stood stfil in his walk-, as he wondered i f it coild l.a that she were calling him now. "I don't believe there's anythna in it," he muttered, "and yet if it should turn out that she is in trouble I'd never forgive myself if I do not o to her." He locked the oflice and pansing s only to give a few directions to the cerk, he hastened to the house of the Braytons to in:1uire if they had heard from Grace. Yes. a letter hadl just been received and she was tll I right when it was written. Not ha- ~ ing the courage to tell her palren'ts of the nameless fear that (oDpre.,sed himl he burrit d to his own home. On hlis way he came to a sudden diecision.l "'i1lruln ill to li echodlt foP ay or tw 2, anyway," he thoutght; "I II viii do no harm egen iK she is n1!! right. and1( as I foo'l now I certaimyv I -oir tnj .cap un til I ltuow ho~w shec i j ie hurr'ld hor..e. gc~t hisocr o )t. and was soonl112 r isnin ini the a i re-tion of ce'ch wood as fa4t as5 1th ' teaml cars could carry him. It wa~ long night to him. for his anxietv kncrease~f with cverv mile, Hie looked rT alt anld worn when he arrived ath s destinaition ibetwen S and 9 the ( aext mlarning. t "Wil youpeas dirc~ m to.Mr.I ' Sentiey's residence?" he asked of th tation agent as soon as he stoud upo ,he platform. "His house is over there," answere ,he young man, nodding to the onl Ine residence in the little new town ituated on a small hill a shcrt, dis ,anm-e from the deDot, "but there' io one there now: everybody In tow s out in the woods hunting for thla ity girl." "Is she lost-Miss Brayton? asped Arthur. "They say that she is." "How did it happen? Tell me uicky" "W.Vhy, you see, the ladies went on torseback riding last night abou undown and Miss Brayton's hors ook fright and ran into the wood rith her on its back. Mr. Bentle .r1l some men followed her as quickl .s possible, and after awhile the ame upon the horse eating grass an he was nowhere to be seen. The ame back and organized a hunt hey've been out all night and ha Lot found her when last heard from. "Oh, my poor Grace:" groane Lrthur. "Please tell me how 1 ca; nd the men and I'll go and hel] hem," he added, to the agent. "l'll go. too, in a minute," th oung man responded, hastenin. ack to his office as the train move( way from the station. As they h ur ied away he handed Arthur a bal f twine. "Put that in your pocket," he said 'you nay need it. When a fellov ets out in the woods he's liable t >se his bearings and not be able t ell the points of the compass or any hing. so we generally take alons ome string to use for a guide when vtr wego oi the regular beat." Arthur too the wine mechanicall, nd they soon reached the edge o he woods. Here they found Mrs entley, surrounded by a group o ympattizing women, crying and re roaching herself by turns for havin. lowed Grace to ride that particula orse. Pausing only a moment t reet her, Arthur and the agent hur ied on in the direction she told hin hat Mr. Bentley and the men ha< aken, and in an hour or two cam( pon them as they had paused for i arley in a slightly open space. "Denton, old boy, how did yo1 appen to come?" exclaimed Mr entley, springing forward to mec1 rthur as he saw him approach. "I came on the morning train an< nuired for you, and the agent toi e what had happened." 'Well, we art doing all we can, yo1 ee.'" Then, in a few words, he detaile< he plan of the hunt, asking Arthu f he had any suggestions to offer The theory the men were working or ras that Grace had either jumped o een thrown from her horse unhur nd had then started to return to th illage, but, missing her way, wa till wandering in the forest. If she had been hurt they argued he would have been found near th, orse or along tne path between hirn nd the village. A rthur had no sug estion to make, but was anxious t e at work, so he fell into the plac ssigned him, and the whole part noved on, occasionally hallooing o lowing horns and whistles to attrac he attention of the lost girl shoult he be with in sound of their voices an< astruments. They moved, steadil; n until noon, when they mnet anothe arty of men who had been search og in another direction. A halt wa ailed, and after consultation though hat it was no use to push the hun urther in this manner, as all wer ure that they must hax e overtaker he girl ere this were she simpl; alking about. Arthur lay on the grass with hi at over his eyes and a great cry go og out of his heart. "ZOh, Grace: Grace:" he cried men ally; "if there is such a thing a hought communication do tell m there you are, that I may come- t He had b gun to think that sh iust be dead, yet he could not ri( imself of the impression that sh ras calling him. 'Could it be tha he was calling him from the othe rorld? "If I1 only knew," he thought, ". ould bear it better." Presently he remembered that shi ad often told him that in order ti ceive a message it was necessar. at the mind should be in a cain nd passive state. With a stron: iort or the will he controlled hi elings, and remained perfectly quie rhile he awaited the coming of iessage. in the course of a few mo ents the we 1-known shiver passec ver his nerves, followed by a glimpsc f A. open space in the woods, a darl ole and sonmething lying at the bot Like a flash it came to him tha: race might have fallen into som< ole and been hurt back near th< learing. "Have we passed any holes intc hich she coulli have fallen?" h< sked of Bentley, starting up sud enly. "I haven t noticed any," was the nswer. "Yet we haven't lookec articuarly, as we were so sure shi -oud be found wandering around' "Let's go back and look over the r'ound you went over last night,' :d Arthur.sprin;:ing to his feet, witi -esh hope ini his face. The men were nothing loth to gr ithe direc'tion of home, so thel rc soon ini readiness to start ~rthur walked beside J'entley Ii lence for awhile, looking carefull: >r every appearance of a hole. A st he stopped still. "i'm goimr~ to try an experiment en tley," he said, taking some twi romn his pocket and iastening it to ree as he spoke. "I wish yo: 'ouldn't qule~tion me. but you and w men wait here until I'm half a! our ahe.adl of you, thcn follow no .owy." 'All iht," sai~d Bentley, so comn tely ti couriaged that he woulc a '.e f'aLow c .d a thing Arthur sug ested, iilonly. to b~e relieved fron je .jppressive responsiblity of lead uz a hcoprlces hunmt. Arthur phri:edc into. the forest .;ing tihe ball of twine in bis banL nw nd as he w~e:nt. Wh1eun he had gone far enougi yfr'om the rest to be unseen t;) em and their vo ces unheard hj i.he pvtccsed, leaned against a trec id clo ed his eyes, wh;lc he waite. >see ;ny inmre imipressioa, wou2E The shudd.:' did not come tri' time, but he felt strangely impele to go in a certain direcion. It wu as if something were pulling hiro y lle followed the strange impulse ant it led him through the most tanglet portion or the tores t, in -a di.e -tio: tranverse to the one taken by thi i men. t Some times it was with diicult.' he maue his way over fallen stump and through matted unaderbrush then he would core to a compara tively open space. where trogres. was easy for a short distance. H( made frequent stops, during whici with closed eyes he waited for somt I new impulse to come to him. bui nothing more definite than the invis r, ible pulling came. Sometimes hi: r heart misgave him, but he pushed or ( in spite of his fears, and was sur rprised after a time to find himseli I hurryino, along, ap unconscious eager r ness having taken possession of hi whole nature. i At last he came unexpectedly upor ' a little forest lake, and a lock o1 I wild ducks, disturbed by h's ap i proach, tlew upward with a sudden whirring sound. The June sun was shining down upon the water with 3 an uncomfortable heat. Not a r breath of air stirred its sarface, and I around it, on every s'de, as far as - Arthur could see, was dense, da k I forest. Ie hesitated which way tc turns but the unseen impulse seemed to lead along the shore which he r followed for a quarter of a m:le, when > he came to a little clearing. > A few trees h:id been felled and -heir stumps were still standing. The i remains of an old log cabin half fallen to decay. showed that the place had once b.cn occupie: as a home or a lumber camp. r Ile was crossing the clearing, look. . ng in every direction to see that n C Ign of the lost one should escape his eye, when he was startled by a low moan. le listened and heard it r again. "Grace. Grace." he called, witL - beating heart. "Are you here?" 1 There was no answer, but again he heard that low moan, this time quite near. He followed the sound a few steps and came to what had been a shallow well rudely stoned up, but now perfectly dry and so over grown with weeds and grasses that he came near passing it by unnoticed. le sprung forward, and gneeling .it the opening, looked down and ilainly saw a woman's form lying at the bottom. while another moan made assurance doubly sure. It was the work of but a moment for him to I clamber down the rough sides of the e old well and tenderly lift up the form of Grace. She did not know him, and as he turned her face toward the light her flushed check4 and restless eyes told him that she was in the delirium of fever. Lifting her up as high as he could and par tially iesting her body on a projecting stone, he succeeded in climhing to the top and laying her tenderly on the grass, with his coat for a piliow, and ran back after the men, shout lag as he went. lie had not gone 3 ar when an answering shout told hirir i hey were already coming. "I've found her. She's hurt. Come Sand help me," he called. I "Ay, ay,"4rom a dozen voices, and i the crackling"6f the bushes in every Sdirection gave proof that they were Snot slow in coming to his aid. -"Why, this is Jack Shaw's old c abin," exclaimed alr. Bentley, as he came in sight of the place. "it was near here that we found the horse." They made a litter of the savory pine branches, tied together with string and cushioned with men's coats, and lifted Grace, still moan ing, upon it Then strong arms car ried her tenderly back to the village, while the station agent ran on ahead -to telegraph to the doctor, and a Scrowd of small boys accompanied or outran him in their eagerness to tell the news. Yes, she lived. Orne limb had been broken by her fall, and fear and ex posure had greatly shattered her rerves, so the fever had a long run. But careful nursing and a good con stitution brought her through at last As soon as she was able to sit up she was taken home and while she was still an invalid she and Arthur weri u.arried. "Grace," said Arthur one evening 0hat autumn, as he was reading an article on psychic influen e aloud to her from a magazine, "did you really try to call me that night you fell ir the woodsy" 'Oh, yes," she answered. "1 knew It was the only way I'd ever be found, so as long as I had my senses I kept calling and calling." Well,1 don't understand it. My Ilndingyou aslIdid may be armere coincidence, but I never should have gone after you as 1 did if I had not believed you were calling me at the time." "WV 11. I was." soid r"*i Cao And Arthur, looking up into hei sweet., calm face, wondered at the simple faith of women.-Utica Globe. The Crow as a Scavenger a Fraud. A curiaus result of the rel~Ious riots in Bom'ay has been the expios ure of the hollowness of the plea that has been put forth for the c ow as a scavenger. Lazy governments in the East have been wont to excuse their sanitary short-ominas on the ground th it "the crow, the pariah dog, and the kite", may be relied upon to cleair away the otfal in the streets, but the smells of Constantinople and Smyrna have. not i e ~n observed to be much the less because the dogs eat of the offal throwai from the houses, nor hasJersalrnor Cairo been found to beays.eter from the presence of the muongrels who destroy the repose of visitors. IIn like manner the Bombay crow aas failed to justify his ancient repu tation. During the Bombay riots, when the operat'ons of the city scav egers were brought to a standstill, dead varmin and offal accumulated in extraordinary quantities in the bazaars and slums of the native quar ters, till the city became a "paradise for the crows;"-but the Bom bay crows entirely neglected this opportunity, and thus have comie to be denounced ais "shami sanitarians."-Londor Daily Telegraph. In Melbourne, Australia, there is a barber named Taylor whose next door nigbor is a tailor namerd Shavo. WHYDOIUR TEETH DECAY? 4everal Theories Advanced'of Which Tou Take Your Choice. For a long time the question as to tvhy the teeth decay has been the theme of speculation. One of the theories is that by bolting our flour we take out of our food certain minerals which are important for a sound structure, and their absence causes the teeth to be fragile, to easily crack and break, and this process once begun, they soon go to pieces. The remedy prescribed was whole meal bread. There are a good many people who believe their teeth have been saved by this prescription. Others, have, however, failed to save theirs by it. Another plausible story, which never gained much recognition, was the op positition; it was that the teeth are kept from decay, not by mineral mat ter, but by abundance of living matter in them, the so-called protoplasm. The living matter keep the teeth alive and in repair. A third theory is the one most dent ists have adopted. It is that cleanli ness will keep the teeth from decay and nothing else will. A majority of us have settled down to this as cor rect, so far as it goes. Still another theory was suggested in this journal many years ago, that the teeth do not get sufficient exercise on the soft food eaten by a majority of people, and that the remedy is more hard food. This necessitates chewing, which brings more blood into the organs, and they are better nourished and so become strong enough to resist decay. This theory has also received favorable recognition and acceptance by many dentists and physiologists, but in prac tice little has been done to realize it. Still another theory has recently been suggested. It is that the fifth pair of aranial nerves which supples the teeth and also supplies many other parts is overworked in our western races, and does not carry to them sufficient nerve force to produce perfect nutrition. The facts which support it are that the Indians and negroes and other uncivil ized races almost invariably have splendid teeth. An examination of the mouths of ten of the Indians in "Buffalo Bill's" Wild West Show showed no decay in them. It showed more or less wear on the grinding sur faces, which comes from eating hard food. This gives them plenty of exer cise, and so it is difficult to decide whether it is the work that makes them strong, or more abundant nerve force from less overworked nervous systems. There is, no doubt, some truth for all these theories. Fragile teeth will decay, no matter how well they are cleaned. Strong teeth will often re main sound with no care whatever. Still, care of the teeth is useful. But what is most needed is strong teeth, and no doubt but exercise for them is as beneficial as for the muscles. The exercise cannot take place without a supply of nerve force, and it certainly will bring to the teeth abundant blood, which, if good, will nourish them well and help to make them strong. It has always been remarked that the negroes of Africa have very fine teeth. There large jaws furnish abundant space without crowding. One dentist has toid me the reason why so many children's teeth crowd on each other is because the jaws are too small, from lack of exercise, to hold all of them. Negroes no doubt do exercise their jaws a good deal more than the whites, else they would not be so large. But the negroes also clean their teeth careful ly. A physician who has lived six years among them in Africa writes me that he thinks every negro in the re gion where he lives spends forty min utes daily in cleaning his teeth. He probably has little else to do to help him pass the time. I do not know whether Indians ever clean their tpeeth or not, but I will find out if possible. The H~indoo cleans his teeth with great care, and he never requires a dentist, for they do not decay as ours do. In a very old Hindoo medical book, one of the oldest in the world, the "Charaka Samhta," now being translated into English, I find this sentence: "The stick for cleaning the teeth should be either astringent, or pungent, or bitter, one of its ends should be chewed into the form of a brush. It should be used twice a day. Washing the teeth re moves bad odors and tastes." There is much more, but this will suffice. Journal of Hygiene and Herald of Health. _________ The Inland Empire. Abundance, as far as the products of elds, orchards, and hopyards can sup ply it, is the largest of the season to the people of the great inland Empire. While the traveler, choking with dust and languishing with the heat, peers from the cars wondering at the tremen dous amount of useless material that nature found upon her hands ein the construction of the universe, great stacks of hay, waving fields of ripen. ing wheat or huge piles of grain in bags awaiting railroad rates that will permit their movements without loss to the producer, and sleek cattle, mind ful of the fierce rays of the sun, borws ing upon the wide ranges, refute his impatient criticisms of the utter worth 'essness of this vast land. While there are large tracts that must remain arid until some system of irri gation is devised to make the surplus priitation of the winter months a blessing to the upper country instead of a source of mischief to the lower lands, there are vast areas that have been reclaimed to agriculture by tillage and irrigation, and the product of these is simply phenomenal. Passing through the entire eastern section of Oregon and Washington by rail at this season of the year, one wonders how anyone an be induced to make homes on its seeming wastes. But halting at one of the cities of the plains into which the surrounding country has poured its wealth of fruit and bounty of vegeta bles and meats, the conviction of the roductiveness of the region is forced .pon the miost skeptical traveler. The ;)yalty of the people of the Inland Empi:a to this section is unswerving, ;nd their confidence in its future great ness is boundless.-Portland Oregon Change Their Minds. Men change the'r minds as well as vomen, as evidenced by the fact that he man wh> called his sweetineart a turtedOVe after three years of mar ried life may refer to the same in lividual as a snapping-turle.-.fonk HOW CONGRESS PASSES A BILL. Its Journey from Inception to th% Hand of the President. We have been requested, says ths. Youth's Companion, to describe the process by which Congress changes a "bill," that is, a measure in the form of an act, into an "act," or a law. Before we do so it will be well to remark that all bills do not go through every step of the process. There are short cuts, by which the enactment of bills to which there is no objection can be facilitated. A bill, unless it is one which in creases or diminishes the revenue, may originate in either House of Congress. In order to exhibit the process in full, we will follow the imaginary fortunes of a tariff bill, which can originate in the House of Representatives only. We will suppose that some membei introduces a bill to put steel pens on the free list The import duty is now eight cents per gross, or one-sixteenth of a cent each; and the revenue in 1893 was less than $75,000. The bill is referred, as a matter at course. to the Committee on Ways and Means, and it will never be heard from again unless that committee reports It back. A motion is sometimes made t( discharge a committee from the con sideration of a certain subject, and to ring the matter directly before the House. But such a motion is rarely 07 never carried. It has been decided that the refet ence of any part of the tariff to a com mittee involves the reference of the whole subject Accordingly the Ways and Means Committee may report a full tariff bill as a substitute for the bill to make steel pens free of duty. When the committee reports the bit it is "read twice"-that Is, the title of the bill is read-referred to the commit tee of the whole, and ordered to be printed. All revenue and appropria tion bills go to the committee of the whole, under the rules of the House. In a day set for the consideration oi the bill, the House goes into committee of the whole. A chairman, appointed by the Speaker, presides. The bill is read by sections and clauses, after gen eral debate has closed, and any mem ber may offer amendments. All voting in committee is by rising; the yeas an' nays are not taken. When the bill has been gone througl. and- all amendments have been voted upon, the committee rises and the Chairman reports the bill back to the House with the amendments. Thd House then votes upon them, either singly or in gross, and by yeas and nayr if they are ordered to be taken. The bill is then ordered to be engross ed, that Is, written out in a fair hand just as it is after being amended, and to be read a third time. As it is usu ally already engrossed it is at once read the third time-by title, as before-and passed. The Clerk takes the bill to the Senate. by which body It is referred to the Fi ance Committee. In due time the com mittee, if it sees fit, and not otherwise, reports the bill back to the Senate, with propositions to amend. In the Senate the bill Is considered "as In committee of the whole;" the amend ments of the Finance Committee and >ther volunteer amendments are ac epted *or rejected; they are again oted upon when the bill Is reported to the Senate from the committee of the whole, and the bill is passed. As the two houses are not agreed upos the bill, a committee of conference, usually consisting of three members >f each branch of Congress, Is appoint ed. The committee, when it has come to an agreement, reports to each House; and the acceptance of the report is the fial stage of the bill In its passage. The measure is now "enrolled." that is, It is printed In large, open type upon archment, and is taken first to the Fouse, where it is signed by the Speaker; then to the Senate, where the Vice President signs it; and finally to the Pr esident, whose approval com pletes the process, and makes the bill law. Congress is notified that the bill has een approved, and the original copy f the act is deposited in the office of the Secretary of State. Possibly Had One. A Georgia cattle buyer, who Is also a g~od Presbyterian, was somewhat sur prised recently to find out how utterly nknown in a certain part of the Cohut a mountains was the good old Presby terian Church. It is said that he had stopped at a humble cabin home, and uring the absence of the man of the house was negotiating with the old woman for the purchase of a cow. In the *:ourse of the conversation he re arked to her that she lived very far back in the mountains. She replied: "Yes, but a leetle fudder up the roa4 hars several other families." Wznderng what religious faith mighi e here, he inquired if there were any Presbyterians about there. "I can't say," she said. "I never pal ty attention to such things and ouldn't know one If I wus to see it. But John is a powerful hunter, and you can look back of the house among il hides and maybe you can tell me If he has ever kilt one."-Atlanta Con ititution. An Old Custom. The nomination of Sheriffs according o the present mode dates from 1461.1 rhe "shire-reeve" was first appointed y Alfred the Great to assist the Alder nan and Bishop in the discharge of he5.r judicial functions in counties. In Edward III.'s reign It was enacted that hey should be "ordained on the mor 'ow of All Souls, by the Chancellor, r~asurer and Chief Baron of the Ex ~hequer." The only instance of a fe nale Sheriff is that of Anne, Countess tf Pembroke, who, on the death of her rather, the Earl of Cumberland, with )ut male heirs, in 1643, succeeded to the flice in Westmoreland, and attended he Judges to Appleby. Straining the Cold. While in the show business ir. Pensylvania, Artemis Ward was ut to sleep in an attic where the ah had b, en taken out for ventil a ion. In the night it turned told. Mtmus got up. and was busy at the vndow. "What are you doing, Artemus? is companion asked. -'..'m so c-cold," he chattered: '6 was 1-anging up some of these hoop kirts. I thought they'd keep the oarnet of the old ont " 31ANTS IN SWAMPS. pur Only Specimens of Extinct AntmaW Preserved by ire. It would perhaps be difficult to fin& anybody who would speak a good word for swamps. The man who drains one and turns its marshy su1 face into productive soil Is univer sally regarded as a public benefactor. So the projected draining of the Dismal Swamp of Virginia and the Okefenokee Swamp of Georgia is re- I garded only with favor, and few could be found to regret the disap pearance of those remarkable feature? 4f our American landscapes. Yet, setting aside the strange pie. uresqoeness of such marshy regions, and the curiosities of plant life which they exhibit, It is easy to show that swamps have been useful in a man ner that could hardly have been an ticipated. They have very effectually served the cause of science by pre serving the remains of some of the most remarkable of the former in. habitants of the earth. Here in America the skeletons o several mastiodons have been found embedded in ancient swamps, and so perfectly preserved that no diml culty whatever has been encountered In restoring the bones to their nor mal position, setting tne skeletons on their feet, and thus exhibiting to the eyes of modern men the monster animals which were probably famil iar sights to our ancestors nobody knows just how many thousands of years ago. In Ireland the ancient swamps were equally efficacious in preserving for us the gigantic elks which be ;ame mired in them. Swamps have proved no less usefu. agents of science in other - parts ot the world, and particularly in Aus tralia, New Zealand; and Madagas car. What could be more Interest ing than the bones of a giant bird which was in all urobability the roc described by Sindbad? Just such bones have been discovered in the marshes of Madagascar and New Zealand, and there is plenty of evi dence that the great birds which owned them were the contempo raries of men in the past history of those islands. But for the swamps we might have remained ignorant of the fact that birds with legs larger and heaver than those of the largest horse once flourished in the South. ,rn Hemisphere. Lately these Madagascar swampt. have yielded other remains of ex tinct animals, hardly less interesting than the huge bird, the epiornis, it self. These are the skeletons of a creature resembling a lemur of gigan tic size, but remarkable for the small quantity of brains which it possessed, It is said that there - i evidence that man was responsible for the destruction and disappear ance of this creature. If so it was probably a simple case of brains against brute force. There is reason for thinking that ,till other discoveries remain t3 be made in Madagascar, discoveries that will possibly bring to light even more interesting facts. concerning theI former inhabitants of that part of he world. Suppose one of our ?wamps, whici. we regard as utterly tseless, should preserve to a remote future age the only remains of some animal like the bison or the tiger. now rapidly be coming extinct. Then men of science then living would have the same reason for rejoicing that that swamp had existed, that we have for beingI thankful for the revelations'_con tained in the swamps of ancient d'ays, VONDERFUL FEATS OF MEMORY. Some Minds Have a Facility for Retainin. certamn Classes of Facts. Among those who have performeL reat~ feats of memory Cassell's Fam ily Magazine mentions Dr. Fuller, author of the "Worthies of England." He could repeat another man's ser mon after hearing it once; and could repeat 500 words in an unknown lan guage after hearing them twice. He one day undertook to walk trom Temple Bar to .the farthest end of Cheapside and to- repeat on his re turn every sign on either sid3 -of the - way in- the order of their occurrence, and he did It easily. In such feats as this the eye plays a chief part: yet blind people also, have good memo ries. Rev. B. J. Johns, t(hal.aln of the blind asylum, London, testifies that a large number of pupils learn the Psalter and that one young man was there who could repeat not only the whole of the 150 prayerback Psalms and a large number of metri cal psalms and hymns, as well as a considerable amount of modern poetry, including Goldsmith's "De serted Village," but the whole of Milton's "Paradise Lost," with marg inal notes and a biography. Lord Macaulay on one occasion repeated to himself the whole of "Paradise Lost" while crossing the Irish channel A t another time. while waiting in a Cambridge coffee-house for a post caise, he picked up a country news paper containing two poetical pieces -one the "Reflections of a xile" and the other a "Parody on a '1 Ballad"--looked them once through, never gave them a further thought for forty years and then repeated them without the change of a single word. Macaulay's mind, some one as said, was like a dredging net, which took in all that it enc untered, both good and had, nor ever seemed to feel the burden. Very much unlike a redging net, and more like a strainer, are the minds of some other >ersons who carefully select what ttl~y vill retain or hav-e a natural facility , or remem,bering special asso ats-George Bidder for fgrs i )alter Scott for verses, Mzoat or languages. WHEN people say they have the tomach ache, the ache is not in the ' stomach at alL. Just Divine. M iss A rtless-I think the theater s just heavenly, don't you? Mr. B~lae-Wll-er-oh, I reckon so. You know the stage has wiugs Tashington News. nis c~atm. Pr-dita-Ernest is awfully frank. Penelope-And do you love him be. ause he is frank? Perdita-No; ecaue he is Ernest,-Trnth.