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Sir. mi" 9rh s..r .t. L,,he World is Governed Too Much." IIEYRY L. BIOSSAT, Business Manager. ALEXANDRIA, LOUISIANA, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1886. VOL. XLI.-NO 83. THREE LOVERS. -y love Is a winsome maiden, With eyes half brown, halt blue, And her yellow braids show auburn shades, t And truth is not more true Than the heart that beats in her bosom But it does not beat for you. She is as fair and graceful As ladies of high degree, While I am asun*browned farmer, I And one of her lovers three. And my heart keeps time to a flowing rhyme, When her soft eyes smile on me. A doet comes to woo her, And he sings her many a lay, And in serenade and sonnet He sues her night and day; But he does not move the heart of my love And she turns her face away. - An artist comes to woo her; His canvas glows with dyes That are borrowed from sunset splendor- But my lady turns her eyes Across and away to my field of hay, And she does not heed his sighs. I am neither bard nor poet, And my pictures none can see' But the words I speak will flush her cheek, And she does not turn from me For the humble sun-browned farmer, Is the chosen of the three. -Ella Wheeler Wilcox, In St. Louis MaqazI n WOOD-FEARS. They Are Proofb That Nature Is Strange to Us. Unless we live in the country, the woods play but a small part in our lives. We see them only in the summer holi days, perhaps not even then; we become as strangers to their beauty, and for longer or shorter periods forget to think of them. And yet, aside from all phys ical consequences, what a dreary world itwould be were there no forests! Our thought would be parched and restless. and, so to speak, without eyelids. The busiest and most persistently urban among us would lose an horizon restful to the eye, a curtain of green and peaceful recollections. To the wild creatures who inhabit it, the wood is full of terrors. It is at once a covert and a snare, a place of refuge and of lurking danger. The tree that shelters the small bird conceals the movements of his enemy, the owl, the squirrel, or the black snake; there is protection beneath the underbrush, but no certitude as to what lies on the other side of its leafage. Every thing in the wood appears to be in a perpetual state of watchfulness or of easily routed se curity. The sparrow by the roadside will accept you for a listener, if you keep within bounds of the auditorium; transgress them a little, and he meas ures off another dozen feet to the next post, and begins the concert afresh. The chipmunk, after his first start and scurry, pauses to eye the intruder before slipping into his hole, and the glance is often an assured one. But the wood bird and squirrel have no low curiosity and no desire to be seen; they are up and away at the first alarm. The only birds who are careless of a newpresence in the woods are the tiny warblers and fly-catching tribes,who live first floor below the stars and take small note of events m the rez-de-chaussee, and the chickadee, who brings in from orchard and pasture a fund of cheerful audacity to be paid out among the shadows. Do not we ourselves, on entering the wood, take on a certain increase ofsus ceptibility and alertness analogous to this deepened timidity and caution of the birds? Have we no wood-fearsP They may be definite and substantial or altogether vague, but I think that most of us have felt some quaver of this in nate distrust, thisreadiness to take alarm in the forest. "See his little breast heave," I once said, pointing out to a startled maiden a chipmunk, who, in the flurry of his own terror, had been the cause of hers. "I don't wonder at it," she replied, fervently. "Mine does." There are all degrees of this sensitive ness, according to the fineness or oulti vation of the imagination. There are people who suspect every unfamiliar leaf or berry of malicious intent to poison them, who will hardly pluck a flower without challenge, and are more wary of drinking at a ihountain stream than of imbibing the filtered liquid which usurps the name of water in the city. And country people have more shrink ungs and small superstitions, albeit of a homelier and more absolvablesort, than the most urban of excnrsionists. The children, on returning from a day'sber ryming, or "plumming," as they quaintly call it in some parts, report of hearing a bear in the forest border, and are half convinced that their escape to the 'sunlight has been a nar row one. Toads and snakes are not looked upon with more favor by those nearest to their haunts. What a vener able cult is that fear of snakes. It is as old as the oldest religion; it is so widespread that we can almost call it universal, and has roots so deep that it is impossible to tell whether they are fastened in instinct br in tradition. The fact that it is shared by birds and other animals points to the former source; but if the feeling had not its rise in tradition, it has certainly been among the most potent factors in cre ating it The vivid emeralds and har monious wood-tints of the snake, his patterned spots and stripes, his repro duction in almiostsvery movement of Hoogarth's line of beauty, win for him no admiration. Even his innocence is no shield to him: the world will not be brought to believe it. Take away his fangs and reduce him to a puny size, the aversion he inspires is there all the same, illogical yet ineradicable. Thus it is with the majority of the sensations which I term wood-fears. Apart from all vulgar, tangible appre hension of `ceing bitten or stung, there exists a host of tiny intangible "fear lets," which tease our imaginations or urk unsuspected in the background of Ionr consciousness. Alone in the forest, e listen and keep a lookout; there is a ourse to be shaped; we are alive to very whisper; we startle the partridge, d are startled by him. in turn. An unexplained noise has everywhere an unfriendly sound, and under the trees oises do not so readily explain them Ives as ;n the open country. The very creams and bellowings of the farm ard, familiar as they are, sound new nd unaccountable when heard at inter als across a wooded ridge or valley. 7ometimes it is the creaking and sough Sg of the boughs; the tree-tops, on windy day, give f9rth unearthly moans. I have found the cause of a recurrent and perplexing cry in a rude instrument formed by the crossing of two branches, of which the one sawed upon the other like a violin bow drawn across a string. Both bow and string, stout and tough of fiber, were worn and polished by long practice of that solitary note. Even the lightest wood has its hushed twitterings; its vanish. ings and inexplicable rustlings. The copsedepths Into little noises start. I remember as a child being made curious, then awed, and gradually frightened by a low sound resembling a gentle, regular breathing, which pro ceeded from under an" alder-bush on the edge of a swampy thicket. I drew nearer and peeped in. The only live thing visible was a brown thrush, who, indeed, was skulking away, asif caught in the act; but I knew that, was only his usual conscious, embarrassed air, and refused to suspect him of 'any con nection with the disturbance. No other culprit appeared, and yet the even respirations contin ued, till my courage, like that of Bob Acres, oozed away, and I fled, not from an apparation, but from a vibra tion: More appalling than any sound is the silence and lonesomeness of the deep forest. 'One is haunted by the antiquity which is symboled m long moss beards, and which lies visible all around in huge decaying trees, the unburied ancestors of the monarchs who are still standing strong in their girth of rings. It sug gests the Patheozoic era and' the forma tion of coal to see those great trunks, hewn down by time and tempet,., half sunken in the earth, and already pier haps many seasons on in the existence which is theirs after death. "Covered with mosses and bright fnugi;, they seem still half sentient and more, wrought upon by age than the coal itself, which has forgotten and become inorganic so long ago that years do not count. Among those aged gen erations the mountain climber is an: anarchronism as well as an -intruder, and is confronted at every step bý the question what he doth there. Time has put obstacles in his way; to make any progress, he must clamber over logs, tack around bowlders, and avoid im penetrable places. There silence reigns, t with a break now and then, which leaves it to settle again deeper than before. Even so busy and cheerful a sound as the woodpecker's hammer divides and intensifies the stillness with a certain solemnity. In ancient days of superstition the croaking of a raven foreboded ill-hap. If there were an index expurgatory of New England birds, the jay, for all his heavenly plumage, would have to be S'placed in it. There are few bird notes more weird than that high scream of his, heard in the autumn across the brown fields or through the arches of the pine grove. It rings through all the aisles, making the quietude like a hush of apprehension. There are moments when, on entering the woods, one seems to have broken in upon some high festivity of Nature. A, few hours before, in the same spot, life a was suspended; one cohld walk from I end to end of the wood path and hear. r not a breath, detect no movement save of noiseless insects or a little leaf-hueod a frog, in complexion like h's carpet. That was at the noon-tide solstice, when ,a rose-colored light filtered thrdugh f broad-leaves, and one could fancy siestas P in progress behind the jalous'es of r green. But later in the day what group t ings and activities! Squirrels start and - scuttle off, thrushes beat a hasty retreat 4 through the underbrush, partridges t spring up with a sudden rustle of fr'ght a and indignation, and go whirring away e in loud protest. You have d'sturbed a the wood-gods at their feast, the fairies at a gathering, and your sense of intru sion is stronger than when you walked r through the empty halls while they slept. - There is something in these sylvan scat e terings which suggests almost irresisti. r bly the breaking-up of a fairy dance or a flight of shy nymphs. In early morn r ing such interruptions give hints of a y whole night of revehry, and temut us to a believe a little in "the good people," h and half regret their banishment from power. The pale nymphs dancing at -dawn, in a landscape of Corot's-are a they not formed from the dawn itself, a froin the first shafts and glimmering of Slight on the forest's edgeP And may not myths have been evolved in the same y mannerP ' f But of all imaginations that have peo i pled the woods, Shakspeare has most a exquisitely fitted his creations into their shadows and sun-flecks, the'r green t glades and nooks. Mr. Burroughs, mn Sone of his delightful papers on the nat Sural history of the poets, has paid trib a ute to the wonderful accuracy of Shak Sspeare's incidental characterizations of t brdsandplants. But beyond this inti t mate knowledge of herb and songster Sand creeping thing, there is in his out door comedies a breadth of greenery, a Ssense of the manifold harmonies andre r pose of the forest, a consciousness of its s many tints and meanings. The oaks a spread lovingly over Rosalind and the -flowers grow about Perdita. Their speech does not disturb the quiet, nor_ a rang false among the boughs. They jest - and-love; they were born in courts and f must return thither; yet they belong to a the greenwood, and we are never quite s reconciled to see:ng them on the stage. a To find Shakespeare face to face, how s ever, with the woods and the sky,we turn , to The Tempest. I have always had a a fancy that in this play, as in the Sonnets, the poet "unlocked his heart," but that e time or our own dullness has sealed it . again. The Tempest seems to me more - indicative of our relations to Nature e than any other writ'ng. We see in it her terrors, her beauty, and her inseru-, r tableness. We are wrought upon bya f spell; but submit to it reverently, and it , is a kindly spell, while all our counter a spells and pettv: insubordinations dash o themselves against it and end in failure. ,I have often questioned whether these n paltry fears and startings in the woods Sare not punishments, marks of a do s parture from Nature and cessation of - familiar intimate intercourse with her. y But read in the light of The Tempest, the may be partly signs of election; ' cal ato reverence and to wholesome - fear; reminders of the mystery which lies r. about,us, and which we are apt to for - get in the sunlight, though it is there in a its solemnity no less than in the shadow, 7r -Spon~'a Ji~rkc in 4t 0 di J)flnthl A BROAD VIEW. A Statement of the Encouraging Result of the November Electlon and the Good Prospects of the Democracy for 1888. Every one naturally looks at the No vember elections with a view to their bearing upon the Presidency. There 1 are two ways of contemplating those elections now in respect of the subjects 1 to be decided in 1888. One way is to consider the comparative effect upon the fortunes of candidatds.. The other way is to consider the comparative ef fect on the voting strength of 'parties, that is to say, the division which would have taken place in the Electoral Col lege if the. Presidential. election had been determined on the basis of the vote cast during the pres ent month. ; There are 401 electoral votes in the United States. Of theEloctoral Colleg 201 votes are a majority. In 1884 ofl.. these 401 electoral votes 219 , were, cast. for: Mr. Cleveland and. 182 for Mr. Blaine. At the elections -lately held States representing 207 electoral votes went unqualifiedly for the Democratic ticket, and of the original Republican States,; Commonwealths, aggregating 142 electoral votes went for the Repub lican ticket,without perceptible shrink age. The remaining 52 electoral votes in the college were cast by States which are legitimately to be character ized as doubtful in the polities of the future, and which the result this year was very close-so close, that in sev etal of the States official returns will be required to decide for which party a majority 'of their people have cast their ballots. It will thus be seen that if all the surely Republican States and it all the doubtful States were given to the, Re publican party, that organization would even then have but 194 votes 'against 207 securely held by the Democratic party. The opponents of the Demo cratic party will perceive that they must'devise or discover some method 'of crrying the State of New-York be-. -fore they' can hopefully expect to elect the President of the United States. New York seems to 'be a permanent stumbling-block in the way_ of such calculations. It has' gone Demooratic over a longer series of elections than any which have passed consecutively to they credit, of .the Republican party in this State in all the history of that organization. .. i 1 New York went Democratic in 1882, in 1883, in 1884, in 1885 and again.in 1886. The most elementary reasonmg leads to the conclusion: that the State should be expected to go Democratic in 1887 and in 1888. because the; pres .tige,, the future and the inclinatibn of the part~y, victoriou~ifor four years in successiOu will be enlistedl4n produd ing such a' result;:, and because 'that party is now 'and then will be in execu tive control of the Governmeht of the Commonwealth and of the United States.: _-«. The House of Representatives of the Fiftieth. Congress., will be' securely Dehmocratic. We may be tiire that the next House6 of Representatives will be moderate, business-like and practical. We maybe sure that the present House of Representatives, in its final session 'during the ensuing winter, will be inarked by 'a chastening sense oftre sponsibility, which.will lead it to act cautiously, prudently, sloiwly, doing little more than passing the.necessary appropriation bills, and not trying to revive or unsettle any of ese large questions which the peop1 'havepre ferred should not be brough o a de cision at the present time. It will also he seen that'manyofbithe losses in Congressmen are due to local and,,personal causes.. Districts West, South and Enst have got tired of voting for the same men. There: was a dis position in many quarters to have new blood brought to the front. : The. result is seen in"a Congress which` contains perhaps 'a smialler proportid of' re elected men and a larger proportion of men new to public functions than any which has assembled for twenty years in the United States. . SThe President's friends very spirit edly maintain that any attempt . to hold the Administration responsible for these local losses and for these set backs is unfair. They declare that Mr. Cleveland has not concerned him self with the petty details of politics, but that he ha§ been reasonably con siderate of the position, the power, and, relatively speaking, of the rights Sof politicians of large degree, whose primacy in the leadership of the party is attested by the results in contests of large proportions, and by the, consent of large communities.' There is much to justify this con clusion. He who talks with mea: on the street, at their places of biisiness, or on the avenues of travel, finda .that Sthe President is highly respected, that his honesty is admitted, that hia :firm ness is appreciated, .and' that his homely, direct, personal way of doing Sthings contrary to precedent. and out Sof routine, has commended himito the c people, as truly as it'mpy have' lost him ;the regard of that::'limited and I superstitious class, the politicians ,by: Sprofession., ... a SThe President certainly has a ooign of vantitage in the Presidency itself which is not to be lost sight of.- His Administration can not be regarded is a failure without a confession of jtidg ment againist the party itself. The in Sclination of Democrats to 4shcceed 'oi. t their own behalf must 'be aiidh e Ssynonymous with the effort to repre ~sent that the administration- of their Sown election has ..been successful ailso. This does not meanthat the party isi bound to the renomination- of-Mr.t Cleveland, or that Mr. Cleveland Is bound to submitto a renomination an'd Sto place his-leisUre and a large portion of his future at the further dispositiori Sof the people, unless he shall so desire But it does mean that the party iaini. good shape and that it kit a.ablew t-o I make the present Demioeratie&odmAd tration an instrument in the perpetu~a: Stion of Democratic control of the offlcee as it was to make the Jasokott Adiiin: * istratiop a factorih -the eo ofe * *hi a Van" Bureh Admihis6tti6idi-i Pierce Administratibnnf " "ho a election of the Buchasna Ai1*ii I There is no dimspoitio cratle statesmen and *politiclans to an tagonize the President iow, or in 1886 r to commit themselves to -an unalter able programme for 1o88. But there is a realization of the collective strength of the Democratic party, and :there is, 7 so to speak, a reconsideration of the i lessons of the late election, which C strengthen and encourage the heart of the party, and which correspondingly depress the expectation and hope of its adversaries.-George 1ope, in Brook, lyn Eagle., a B A Great Difference; Secretary Lamar has been maklug some rattling speeches in the South west and telling the people that the United States is a pretty fair place to t live in nfter all. Though he did not e avoid the subject of the war and for- P mer sectional differences, he expressed a the belief that the North and the South have reached a stage in their history e when they can look arms and march through "the corridors of time" to the music of the Union. Let us see-See retary"Lam ar is a Soulthern man - Mr. Blaine has been'making 'a tour through Pennsylvania .and liew Jer say, doing his best to keep the old' ante-bellum. antagonisms alive. He has shaken them up as a kennel keeper lashes his dogs and sets theim all yelp ing. Then in a magnificent peroration he ddscribed the tyranny of the whites c and the oppression, of the oblacks until t the groundlings were" wild with deo It is a little odd that the South should accept the new order of things, while t Mr. Blaine insists that unless the North hates the South it yields one of its 'greatest privileges and is recreant to its most important duty.-'Ni; 'Y. Herald . A Democratic Senate. Every day brings fresh evidenice thatE the elections resulted in a grand -lemni ocratic triumph. In addition to carry ing Minnesota, California anild Colo rado, and reducing the Republican i majorities in Iowa and Ohio; the party : makes such gains in State Legislatures I as will gtiarantee the complete obliter ation of the Republican majority in the United States enate. '' In-the presentenate the Republle ans have a majority of eight. It. was expected that there would be a slight reduction in this :majority, buit the most hopeful. didn't anticipate that it would be wiped outin a single contest. The general belief as thlat by 1889 suiciolnt changes" might be made to. tchange the.complexion .of the b:ody,; but the laitte victory has madeie it 'ipossi ble by the fourth of March nexti This is the most importantresult ol. the elections. To have the support of1 the Seitte'to thi DeniX bratic Adminis tratiidis strengthening the aim of Athe party, more .direr - y.and. ;effeotively . thane any :other ,-agency ..could ac coiaplish.'With such a resutilt the Dem Scrate, havei noi rason to complaint 'f Sthe late election.- ares-urg, alreo:' t P Couldn't^ Carry Hin Theý'boston Hera : (iad.)finds two;.1 auses i ~a the decreased vote for the t Republican candidate for Governor In Massachusetts. The first wass thedis satisfactin with" Mr.. Ames. "The second -cause," it says, "we find, in the 3 activityof Mr. Tamies =G.Blain. a$ea Republcan; leader.. This revived the wort, inmemories that pertained:to the Republcn party in: Its later. saction., a It did mored. It gave evidence which 1 seemed to mnirk the further degenera tion of the party:. 'Mr. Blaiie, appear ing in public as a Republican leader,: identified; himself: with the Repiblican r party wherever it existed. He was a heavy load to carry in :Masilchusetts. Not alone the Independents, but many SRepublicans had cometo feel that with Mr. Blaine'sdefeaittwo yearsago there Sought to be an end-of him sas 'oandi Sdate for the ;Presidency. They saw him 'pressing directly to that goal again; they saw the Republican :preps of o"the. State defending and even eulo Sgiiiig his :speeches;i'they saw-most t diseonraging of all-Mr. Blaine invited t to take a part in their owncanvass. - They weie disheartrned and disgusted, Sand thus theybecame indifferent to the Scanvass.' - s :-..No Further -Us e for. iim. - : The Republiscn nwspapers do not seem as seriously moved as :miight be t expected by the *gradual elimination of the colored man from Congress. Thereis a hint in their comment on the •subject-of "a feeling on the Spait of the: party that itt has no Sfurther use. for ,the - colored Rep rosentatle and no- longer. cares to take the trouble to elect. im.i :Speak i ing; of th fact that hditonenegromenm I ber hasbeen chosento thefiftiethCon Sgres,::the Buiffald:o Epre says: he'yiersn, 1 h559arlc58'e ds eni oi the ne ] .in cng-s. anid since thattime he has Sgeen- n and usually silent di~g y ure in thbat Nationalbody. 'His gradulretire. - Sinent ~inay well be takep'as an additional proof of his I~tle abu gati,,on, and in so: l muchits signicane lsimportait. Itmay be . f questioned, however. iF his presence In the '- hails o if legslatiton was O: ahns benefit to the individual member or to the race.- To sit in i soniber dumbnefls throug.'e dally se~sios. Sto.vote wth. the Repiblican sldesaflid draw his monthly treasury warrant itroem the Ser -. geant.at.Arm as geie.lly tbe snum.total of Sthe negro member's achlievements He rarely spoe. leannw ihe did break leno~p interest Ii his remarks was-nusally confned to the galleries. - : o S the negrio;.pssln outOf Cong res ss he israpidlleaviug the islative chambers I of the Sdutbein'States.-' T he reaction Is per s Ihmps iaut nS a-atnD - r ot ?req Press. : ..:ef- Blae!i rill : probably' not SIisucceed -in4 n ;extensive business of a i-dconi i ;llti whllic lie is isaid to a hIveeinibarke. Mr.COonkling, towar*d i. ,whni~hoe-is- :ald- l be making ad rit apoesi 4 epo*'te d to have said in4Bps a aisf aln to pieces because i- bf1a& ians.agement;" and, although t h:ieolnot be'led into expressing an . 'iiitno Bloeine, "his general manl iii.wr.p such; as to gqive the impres i l aa ;ehe; recent rumor olf eOpali $ln betgweeae his hfidnds and Mr.i ]i~lt t in the interest of the latter was Ief- the absurd inventions of the - ~-.- ~ a - - .z-e, BATTLE OF ANTS. - lo vrie March of Two Armles, the Desperate M Attack and Herole Repulse. In the summer, a year ago, a swarm T ft black ants, Formica Ponnsylvanica, of built their nest between the ceiling and ui roof of a shed near our dwelling in the p suburbs of Philadelphia. At a distance of a few hundred feet from the shod a m second colony of the same species had ei also built a home in a sheltered place. ti Both nests .were unusually populous. Battles between ants of different spe cies, fought for the purpose of captur- hi ing slaves, have been often described. li But on a bright morning in August I was a witness of a fight between these is two colonies of the same species, which could have been waged for no such pur pose, and which gave the obcasion for a greater display ,of retihaught. on the al part. of the.comnba tants.tliian Is usually n conceded to the ant, i: The nest in the roof was the-one at tacked. The only approach to iit from the ground was by a post and pla~ered wall about six feet high. A °.3)smQt I plank floor feited' closely nainst the wall and post, and was raised above the d round by a low step. This floor was e scene of the conflict, . While I stood wondering at the unu sual commotion I saw at the distance i_ of a fedr feet a host of small workers, closely followed by a great horde- of tl soldiers :streaming along a fence from the other distant nest. They must have . numbered thousands. In a very short b time these hostile workers had descended t the fence to the ground, swarmed up. . the steps. to the door, and poured in r crowds upon the defe.nsye scouts. The 'antagonists rushed upon each other, tl and with their strong jaws cut off here .a leg and thereiman antenna, and some times severed the body of an opponent n at a blow. The foremost soldiers of the defensive party soon came to the rescue, and the swarm of hostile workers were v driven back toward the step. But by' this. time the soldiers of the attacking .party had reached the floor, moving deliberately onward in a dense, iblack mass, crushng-the smaller foes as they advanced. In a few moments a the 'small workers were either all killed or retired from the front. Then the battle between the soldiers of the op posing force . began -. in earnest. Halting - moment till their > ranks were close and compact,. though by nio means regular, the ti 'invaders advaiced to the attack in a v dense mass, seeming to completely cover '' the floor over `which .they moved. In this close array they met the defenders, whom they greatly outdumbered. Thby~ were received, however, with a courage :.as great as'theirown,'and; their, ranks '. were quickly broken up and thrown i' into apparent disorder. . . After te general charge had been tht made and the combatants were mixed in an undistinguishable crowd, single "champions. were> seen' rushing I around the floor seeking a foe. When j two of these . ehampioqs: approached-' each other a mutual examination with the ends of their antenna seemed neces- e sary to tell foe from friend. 'Many such i meetings were friendly, and after the t 'salutation both would rush away at full Speed. -But when by, the 'delicate test O'tfeehi g .or whatever serves them to, I ithus dist nguishb, each had found, an enemy they rushed upon, one another ' with ithe utmost rage, linched 'both , with feet:and jaws, and,;doubling thems I 'selves up, rolled over the 'floor, biting t and tearing each 6Other, 'entirely un 'disturbed ina their deadly work by being lifted up into the air with ,a pair of . foredps.' At one time the'floor was very' • nearly black with these rolling combat-. ants. As the battle progressed the superior ] numbers: a the invaders drove.the de fenders of their home slowly backward 'to-the foot of the post. Then a number of the small workers, who had been sta-: tioned upon the post, ran rapidly up to the nest. In a moment a fresh army of i soldiers, numbering many hundreds, rushed from the nest,. and, descending i the post, passed the guards at the bpae and fell upon thevictpr!ous foe, driviig them back sloly ut' steadily to the I edge of the"~s~p. The guards at the base ofhe post did not appear to leave their stationto engagein the the general fight, and only took pa;rt in it at all when the attacking soldiers tried to pass them to reach the nest. The fight lasted about five hours and ended in a total rout1of the attacking party. Toward the dclose tha~wounded7, doubtless of the invading party, were Sseen dragging themselves toff the fie~ generally carrying with them some ene' my which had fastened upon them by hisl jaws in a death embrace. In many cases these attacked foeman were found Sto consist only of a pair of jaws and a Shead, all the rest of the body .having Sbeen torn away in the fight. Withbull . dog tenacity the headheld onfirmly,.re ,slating all efforts of the wounded ants to remove it.-Cor. Phikadelpha Ledger. SCIENCE ANO FICTION." the Maaner ha Whhch the TWo Avi'a debted Jto t5eh Other. The bonds linking toetBlier s& and fiction are already strong. :Scien owes to our novelists n~ uch of it tiletr est. -much of its publicity. Tb. . . cionten slowly and o ~rdously hammers out . some 3e discovery, sonice i ccogialthiR Sof the individuality o, certain grp of symptomae s'cha beeaipretedu work, he too oftenlune this d.. ' cry, with allktheiness of techDc~t y betokening the hewd laoihmL though which it hass paed; n then som gtooot Samaritn of ,snovel u n 'cre upon it,"rto'6 1eh It . to i4 tract to it the attetionf t and thus to. save it fromdeL comes ~a gg picQosvM for abehort , But if the selentist'hart6ii - grathftenlk boalso has the novehiu vels to dilate poiip end w*hisSw~ • he has been supie wt 5 esecape tiromth e e bt o ..i a. e which he h s n anb tu th0adl For the continuance of this good fel lowship there is reason to be hopeful. Medical science has never perhaps been -f more active than at the present time. The new diseases and the new methods criti of treatment which have inot been - utilized in novels are already forming owl portentous crowd clamoring for recog- that nition in story. Neurasthenia and its lur cure by the Weir Mitchell process of - massage has not, to my knowl- mut edge, yet been drawn in, .al- thin though the marvelous cures of abol bed-ridden individuals would seem to furnish scope for an interesting cat worker. The antiseptic process also cor has itspicturesque sides; the saving of of t life and limb on the battle-field, as ur nished by the medical records of the - last Egyptian camipaign, gives ample sere opportunity for surprises of the most he telling character. Bo The recognition of hitherto unre alized disease by means of the ophthal moscope and the prognostic" value of trot the signs might also be described. Loco- allo motio ataxia has already played a part =ei in an Agnostic dialogue: in a. cotem Pary,. -but there is hVet rooml for its, irther development i the pages .of pap fiction. llMetallo-therapy is .itoo ,much discredited now .to find favor, but the not prophylactic:action f ocopper against Fri holera as util reentl suiclently Chi -unproven to .allo6w of its `being swept . into the ~'ortei-of fiction, for the in- sail structl6ionof hose do°o n-sTh d not follow why the medicatl jo. rn" l diously. : - It is impossible to lay down` rule. or' bel topointitout: all the lines which might anc be followed. riThe aim ofthis artilet a is ley to show frointth past what has been so. worthily accompiished,,what has been - recklessly undertaken, as well as, the Kau mistakes of those attempting t6 foretell ry the future of medicine, in thehope that, nia while affording interest to the public, itt t may also help novelists, who, with the its materialist of a recent poet: er j Would learn with the boldest to think,: t Would grapple with things that perplex, ; Would tme On the verge and the brink Where the seen and the unseen are met. Nineteenthd Century. B QUEER. ANSWERS. . Ambiguous Remrs Made by +Persons -Wýso Failed to Weligj Their ; 1:orul. There is something that is fresh and invigoratlng in a piquant and unex-. Speoted answer: whlich is like a dash of wh salt spray on the face, it half :takes away Mr the :breath while It arouses an activ.e os vitality by the sensation it creates. To this class belongs .thle answer of tbe li bashful young ministerwho-was invited rat to -stay and: dine;. at the .hoase p. jo o wealthy parishioner upon .whomal i me was calling:. The hosts' after the fash.~ ion of the ,daoy,apologized for the din- -b ner ad said had they expeted c'-omrn-" ito an lit have been bettir. . s S,,elly, sir,' replied theyongcan;' "'I am ery thankful, fori what Lhave. ° had, as l did not expect to gel d nor here." k A young woman who had been - inbg relatives wastreaedwiththe i lidaW. # eat hospitality, and a she ws leavin her friends ventured to .hopfethat she d had enjoyed herself ;-a .: .. :.. i;Y6 . "L- " have had nothing to complain of"a' t was her answerwbhch was negative .praise tosathe least -long to the high pea'orhf pl : e made aiormal esalldrecentlya upon a s; lady of her acquaintaince and waitede n n the parlor while her ;.card was sent p., be A tiny specimen f a glr as present, in who eyed the eleantvsitor very closely ti f and seemed mucn interested. n her ap pearance. :..: be "Well, my dear," : remarked: the vis tik tor, with. approval, asshe smoothed out ;Ti S-her silks and laces, .what do you think so of me?" WI - "Oh;" said the little ,girl, witl the in r charming 'candor of hildhood, "I'ver d seen flounces before!" -: in '"Well; Jimmy, you've bought a new a to a frieid, a "he isn't much to look at, a isheP" fr "Sure, I diidn't buyhim to - ook at,!' mse a nswered Jimm, dr3yly asd he jogged tu Salong.-Detroit fe f .s.- fe S ' FARMERS' CLUBS; . . SThe Advantalges -of Small and Well-Ar a ranged Neighborhood Poietle;:s. Is f i-have made a careful- study -eft Sfarners' clubs" and hbowto to codiui Sthem, for ten years and n:fin s doing have changed my views eonsderably. Iatls'firt aidvocated cuinty Or townsnhip j olubs as the best posslble -org~atinstion i L for th 'farmer. I hve sttoeided' solme Sof the besrt iti:st yi bs- to :e ifouda that I thought ·iw l coipir itd-p ith tli Slocld iclubs with wihich I am amiliar. SIrin the large clb the attendance si . Slwayshireeula andz tetalkigag usare *to b $edone y the-few+' It. isprobably impossie to get a: hndred or more men tether n a organi aion with oUit gettig so.me who are wlti din 5T4erbose;:.ana+in the large :g satioi Stetmid, whomeho :need :tha i Sthtprepat toradf radfo aI ti -lInt ui ettd Is ip home£oftheme· ,erl a I t is wlL-t icns o r anygle Xl f eaan' t e n inior; a zu: orgai$*a ow it em 6 tnya9 osralu PITH AND POINT. -it requires very little ability to find fault. That is why there are so many critics. -There is a man in .Wisconsin who owns sitty newspapers. He is so poor that his clothes rattle when he walks. - Burlington Free Press. --There are some men who have so muoh genius that they. can't do any thing but sit around all day and think about it.-Shoe and Leather Reporter. -"Please inform me if there is any cat of the height of two feetP?" asks a correspondent. There is not. The size of the voice probably misled you. -We don't wish to deter anybody ., from being polite, but we can't help ob serving that many a man has been a heavy loser through a olvil action. Boston Post. . . . -One cause of the throat and long trouble in this country is the foot that.. all of us sing: too much and so s~betly., Neither the throat nor the luhgs 'were intended to stand such strains.: -Disgustedi writer-Idon't believe the papers want igoodpoetry. Friend-Oh;, . I guess they do6.. D. W.-No; - they- do' not. I've just had two poems refused. :'7 Friend-Oh, now :I know they do.-::' Ch(cago Rambler. .-'Charley,:what tie a chestnut bell.?" : - said his glrl. "Oh. its, a bell thatrina when any one tells an -old story.' :~'Well, they couldn't call. me a chestnut belle; I have no ring." It suoeedll. " and they are ito be married when Char-. ley has his alary raised.-N Y. Gra -L1ghbtnikstruck a hive of bees lit Kansas the:other dky. The painfnulato ry is soon told. Thie misguided i light. ning came out of thathive quicker than : Sit went in,:-and went off- into space with . its, tail.between its legs. Moral: ov-.ev, er pick a quarrel where vou are nOt ac 9ualnted with the folks.-Te zaa 8ft. -What made him proud-- . . ' e didn't jump off the Brooklyn bridge, And he swama not the rapids cool Se balanced him not on a feartul:rldgs, Hewasn'tsobig a ool, But he Is a prodas a row of pns, -. . Sn his feelngs there's nane so comj.par, a. hls squIi was blgger than Nelghbor' Wien's, - - And he took the first prizeattheflar. .-.cdols a" :Bun.' - -Most everyb ody hlia hispet phrase,' which heis apt to use on all occasions' Mr. Haseed's Is .met'witif some sno-.. cess.". "How are you getting on with . y:our ...itock-raisg. Mr. HaysleedP" he was asked ' .een l "Wei," he re-a, ?plied. ",'ve fief wth same success -~an raisin' .calves.". "How's yoz' oldest :by ;doing at soo " 'Welhe's.. mneets' with some suOcerss asasc:o te.idu I-.he iner....ot a ,ine-n iriihO e p'Yad s r ig days' t~i 1 et the w . -N . .- , "it * . - ee a t toor o Asd at ff e e - :e.,AROtfly hie- oawf oe ao a th wearat a o inmt o ar, ýmeof s>' - In all rwoles ot wrealt have ti nd u rng the winter. 'ono. ~ T' n rti leio f u one n- ': .wh s tIn.of the i rtuitl whi h we aed vorat&-i i Mall te mufltrofs artte the...,oatd-n,: . whointer? he answer ine xeabs on raire.n 6ns , .e itO cors id : n oy "-." a eady. bug a woolen r s carff, tils then, dminn g the winter.oom . ew o ounI d epier springce days :bd pe "d . oth T walesindvida erare wien :458 ant Ithltrdug " a . l wion othe-tr witho nier oe olds adti Th ria~ t d aer o fo n thi s t.o . tilese wihroa was always tendte hadbit o eiweaf-' - iscrfdntin e'. urn .g thewinter.. ira nit oi goiearl inthe fal scitr hae hin i tn;lohe c spring dia roadt woase' c STi.se i'the wieduay dd ote r h ealtsad a less' nr etos If 6 jeUjtI0S M~5 P A alf6~n mmd '4tw b~e-l:ese me~ te i p InIndisn2 inustec~ dp~O~ l B. ~nt dai~r