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THE LEWISTON TELLER.
CARL A. FOIIE8MAN, Editor and Prop LEWISTON, IDAHO. As soon as cholera appears in Med iterranean ports this country is in dan ger. It is not the part of wisdom to ignore the possibility of a choleru invasion even so early as this summer. The Cornplantor Indians of the Pennsylvania reservation are a rem nant of the once famous Seneca tribe. They have no vote and pay no taxes, but seem to be much like white m cr in other respects. Ckopping should bo as various as the climate and soil will admit of. Aud farm values will recover in such measure as men farm every acre well and variously. That will remedy the distemper in time, if persisted in. In answer to tho question, what has become of the German carp planted in the Kansas streams? Secretary Gra ham of the State Agriculture college says the less said about the carp the better. The catfish look wise und say nothing.__|___ A German medical journal speaks of Sued, the fasting man, as a "hun ger virtuoso." The expression is good, but not sufficiently definite. A common tramp, a barn-storming actor, or even u small boy, might be a "hun ger virtuoso." It is a source of regret that tho American seaman, who once navigates the oceans with the smartest vessels in the world, should be forced out ol business by the foreign seamen whec steam is taking the place of sail in the traffic of the world. The Russians are the more intelli gent observers, and indulge in no self deception in such matters. Russian officials declare that cholera is pro ceeding northward and westward steadily though slowly, and this is con firmed by the French consulate at Bag dad. Railroad builders are anxious for another boom, but it is not likely to come this year. At the same time, the railmakers ull over the country are crowded with work, and are turning out immense quantities of light rails, weighing from 20 to 40 pounds to the yard. Production in this country is not sear as various now as it was thirty years ago. Our farmers generally have but one or two strings to their bow. They crowd each other in single Hues of production, overproduc iag in fact, and thus bear prices be low profit. In a recent article in the New York Tribune, Andrew Carnegie, the great iron master, gave it as his opinion that the three greatest obstacles iu the way of the. success of young men in busi ness are tho drinking habit, the "big head," and outside speculation. Many sagacious men would not hesitate to put down tho last us the worst of the three. ' A colored woman called at the Brunswick, Ga., telegraph office, and had dictated the following message to'her son: ''Are you dead? Answer to your loving mother, Susie Louis iana Thomas." That was a queer message, but it was sent. The next day the answer came back. It said: "Not dead, but alive. Will let you know wlion I die." Bovs now rig up alarm bells for their pleased parents and modest houses are many of them fitted up with electric il conveniences through the ex pertness of embryo scientists. This tendency of thought among tho young toward amusement and employment in a field of effort which is expanding with amazing rapidity is one of tho gratifying signs of the times. The meanest man in Maine lives uorir Lewiston. He had an onlv son, who was drafted and killed in the war. The father now says: "I was short sighted in not paying$40J for s substi tute, lor I have been forced to hire a man ever siace to help carry on the /arm, and it has cost me thousands above the price of a substitute. Be sides, he was a master hand to work, mod the smallest eater I ever saw." A distinguished German professor has announced that Jie has discovered the fact that a man's eyesight is im paired by tight collars. If the dis tinguished German professor had delved less in profound hooks and ac quainted himself with the practical matters of life—and death —he would have known that his discovery was no new discovery, for every one has known for eenluries lhat a tight collar made of hemp will utterly destLoy a man's eyesight in ten minuter more or less. The young man who surprises his aged mother by lighting every gas jet in the house by simply touching an electric button may some day please as well as astouish the world by throw ing a flood of light upon some of the most important problems of the elec trical science by simply connecting currents of his own thoughts under tho pressure of inspiration. A REMARKABLE ESCAPE. As a train on the Consolida teil rond was entering the city of New Haven Conn., one morning, a young woman attempted to cross the track. The locomotive was still a few rods dis tant, but she rau, showing the ner vous hnste frequently evinced by the fair sex in such a situation. She did not heed what was beneath her feet so much as the object of her dread. Unfortunately, she was where a side track was connected with the main by a switch, and she caught her foot in a frog. She struggled desperately, hut her foot was held ns if it were in a vice. She cried out, then almost swooned. The engineer applied the air-brakes, although it wns evident that the train could not ba more than considerably slackened before it reached her. She was apparently doomed. At this moment, a man, with o jacknife which he had opened as he ran, dashed to her side, with two slashes cut the shoes from her heels to her toes, p ulled her boot from it, and grasping her in his strong nrms, drew her from the track. The next second the locomotive passed over the spot where she had stood. It was as gallant a deed as ever a man did for a woman's sake. The train was stopped a moment. The passengers learned the particu lars of the rescue. The men raised the windows of the cars, swung their lints and cheered as they saw the hero support his h. f-ia intim» com panion in his arms. The train moved forward, and the man and the woman were by them selves. They looked into each other's eyes; the man with solicitude, the maiden with gratitude and admira tion. "I can never thank you enough for your brave and generous act," she said. "Do not mention it. It was noth ■ His modesty was that of the brave, How my heart beats! I was so She had now sufficiently recovered j from her agitation to notice how her ; new friend was dressed. She saw that he must be a railroad conductor, he being attired in one of the blue uni . , , , forms commonly worn by conductors, and having upon bis head the wide square blue cap wh.ich these men are frightened! Were y'ou not afraid?" she exclaimed. "I had not time to think whether I wns or not; and besides, we railroad men are used to close calls." required to wear. Moreover, worked in gold braid on the front of the cap was tlie word "Conductor." Like the majority' of conductors, Joseph Williams (for such was his name) had a broad frame nnd was square shouldered. It is said that the motion of the train tends to give conductors their sturdy shape and solid appearance. That he was brave, alert, and efficient, hud been proved by his recent deed; nnd, on account of it and his manly bearing, she im mediately reposed great confidence in him. She told him that she was the only' daughter of Robert Blakeman, who kept a bakery in New Haven, and that she lived with her parents in a little home in the western part of the "Elm City." Mr. Williams received permission to accompany her home, he telling hey that on account of tlie shock und fright which she had sustained, she ought to allow him to go with her, especially' as he was noton duty that day, nnd would not inconvenience himself by doing the favor. She saw an eager look in his eyes, and she blushingly gave her consent, it was very evident that each welcomed aa excuse for their continuing together. As they walked along, the conductor's admiration for his companion rapid ly increased; and it was not to he was slender and graceful, with a beau tiful, thoughtful fuce. which indicat ed innocent enjoyment of life. But her greatest charm was the singu lar artlessness of demeanor nnd con tiding. yet shy munner, utterly un conscious of her captivating ways. She was ready—alas! perhaps too ready—to believe in everything that was fair to look upon and appeared to lie good. Already she felt so grat ified _to Mr. Williams, and so much admired him for the risk he hud tnk w ondered at, for she was one of those w inning maidens that no man w ho is susceptible to female charms can help liking. About twenty years old. she en for her sake, that she believed him to be the possessor of every quality runt enters into the strength and , u *v of true manhood. As soon ns they reached the main thoroughfare oft lie'town, they seated themselves in a horse car, rode fro.*!, pleasant and shaded streets; by the beautiful Green, an oasis and resting place in the \cry heart of the v*'! 8 ,, c; - v tlie buddings of l ale college^over whic-h, m tiours jof I „I quietness,the spirit of learning seems to brood; then by tine residences and far beyond the business center, to a quiet neighborhood where modest but comfortable homes cun Leioucd. j They were soon at the door of the Ï iretty cottnge where our heroine ived. Mr. Williams went in and re mained a few moments. He was introduced to Miss Blakeman's mother, a middle-aged lady with a mild and tranquil face, evidence of a kindly disposition, who shed tears as she pressed the conductor's hand and thanked him most fervently for preserving the life of her only child. As he turned from the door, Miss Blakemun, with a deep blush over spreading her cheeks, and in timid accents thanked him a second time for saving lier life, and expressed the hope that he would call again. He said that ho would be happy to do so, and, tipping bis bat politely', wandered down street. Now that lie was no longer under the spell of her winning ways he was affected by a singular depression of spirits. He walked slowly, nnd closed and unclosed his hands nerv ously. Meanwhile these thoughts ran through his mind: "I must not go there again. It would be imprudent and might result in breaking up that innocent girl's hnppiness and covering me with dis honor. I ought merely to have thanked her nnd not led her to be lieve that 1 would come again. But she is very charming; nnd what would be the harm of cultivating her ac quaintance'' How I wish—but it is too late. I nm only' suffering the just penalty' of my youthful folly, and I must bear it like a man." During the few succeeding weeks _.V I j 7 ' iT.j.: „„ 1 Williams attended to his duties as usual. The greater part of the day he : was on trains running between New York and New Hnven. Four nights of each week lie spent in New Haven, when lie boarded at a hotel near the railroad station. He went about the city' but littlq, and did not see Miss Blakeman. One evening, bow ser, at the end of the month, while strolling along the edge of the Green, he met her, nnd although something warned him to leave her ns soon as , , A . ^ , possible, he found the temptation ; too grent to be^resisted. After the ■ customnrv greeting, she gently re proached him for not having kept his promise, nnd he at once made a stumbling apology for having failed. He imagined that sue looked not so w x , ie ! im , * irst seen , r : I and that a shade of sadness pervaded j her usually joyous spirits. Strangely enough it flashed through his mind that his failure to seek her society her: but his modesty forbade his entertaining tins thought. Nevertheless, there was a thrill in her voice, a tender light in her eyes, nnd n confiding touch in the arm which she had placed in his ns they walked along, that convinced him that she wns far from being in different; nnd his resolution to fore go the pleasure of her society was P ut to flight. i They' bad ice cream at a. restaurant ," p ? t to Miss Blakeman s I home, winch thev reached about 8:30 j 0 » dock Mr Williams wns so well j entertained that it was 10 o'clock j before be could bring himself to take Thereafter he called ns often as once, nnd sometimes twice a week. Occasionally he took Miss Blake man on a drive through the pleasant environs of the city, or up the pic turesque nnd lofty East Rock, on the summit of which now stands a noble landmark, a massive soldiers' monu ment. At that time the hill-top was not crowned with any .work of n»*t, and was without historic associa tions; but the splendid view of field and forest, of sea and of city, nnd i ^ eave of tlie fair girl, the grent rock itself were there then to delight as now. Miss Blakeman never tired of gazing on this scene, and the genuine enthusiasm which she expressed w henever she wns at this spot, or wherever else the beau ties of nature were spread before her delighted eyes, amply repaid him for his little kindness in taking her on their little excursions. Meanwhile, with a curious feeling of commingled dread nnd satisfaction the conductor noted that she believed in him. He saw, in fact, that shehiul become deeply attached, nnd this was his excuse for continuing in her society. He argued that he could not absent himself without wounding her feelings. As too often is the case under such circumstances, he shrank from making a frank avowal which would cause lioth of them pain, and allow ed himselfto drift along. He put off wlmt his sense of duty prompted, nnd trusted that though some fortun ate, but not probable combination of ' circumstances, all would yet turn out well. The longer lie delayed, the more serious the matter became, un : til it seemed too late for an explana tion. He realized at last that the girl loved and trusted him with her whole heart, nnd he knew that he loved her liotter than life itself. He pushed the bitter cup with reckless selfishness from his lips, and crimin ally lived on. He was moody and wretched, and it was with the great est difficulty that he could attend properly to the responsible duties of a conductor. Frequently he wished that in* had never lieen born; and tlie strong man would sometimes awake in the middle of the night, and weep as if his heart would break. When in the presence of his Edith, the very fi j bers of whose being seemed to be en twined with his, he was often sad und ! strangely absent-minded, only by a j great effort could he rally from such j moods aud appear himself. j At first Edith was not alarmed at the eccentric conduct of her lover, she attributed it to the worrv of bus i nMrt or temporary indisposition, When,however,thedepressionbecame habitual, she besought him to tell lier what troubled him. He made li"'lit of her anxiety a.nd pleaded di-health. Nevertheless she was , not satisfied. A strange forboding seemed to warn her of unseen trouble that no thought could banish; and yet Edith's love was tothe fullest ex tent confiding: not a tremor of sus picion, not a shadow of doubt dis turbed her. She had believed that his honor was ns immovable os the north star. The wonderful wealth of u pure woman's affection, tender ness and confidence had been lavish ed upon this man until it could al most be said that in him she lived, moved and had her being. And now this innocent life, this lovelyond lov able personality', feeling for the first time the thrill of a great and pure passion, was suddenly overspread by a threatening cloud that robbed it of the sunshine which had warmed and nourished it. Why should one so good, so charming, nnd so capable df experiencing love's highest joys, be visited by trouble at the very mo ment when her happiness was great est, nnd when it was adorned by such a rainbow of promise? While our gentle heroine was in this condition of love and forebod ing, she received a letter directed in a, to her, strange writing and evi dently that of an illiterate person. Fortunately she opened the letter when alone in her room, nnd she found the contents ns follows: Windsor Locks Ct. July 10 1885 Edict h bln chemins 1 wnt to tell yu tli et .Toe Williams ns yu is ket'jiin com panic withe now is my husband uml yn orter not hnv nothin more to do withe him for mv sake and yuern allsoe, a friend i kin relie on Imz tolt me nbut his 1 doins nnd i doenot blame yu for i here yu gopus him to be u sinKiill man i( yuer the : rite sort yull giv him his wnikin ticcut and if nint up to thet i'll com donne to new havens ineself and se abut this ere biznen* Mus. Joe Williams Edith, first startled nnd then stunned, nearly fainted. The reason for the strange conduct of her lover was apparent, and the poor girl felt overwhelmed with grief and indigna tion. Then came the sustaining thought in the hope that the letter had been writen by some malicious , enemy. Nevertheless, she was ; haunted by' a feeling that she ■ wag about to be terriblv disnp p 0 j n ted. During the remainder of the day she suffered untold agony', and, as evening approached, at which time she expected her lover, her dis ...... traction of mind was so great that, I on the plea of headache, she remained j j n j ler rooni j A.t last well-known footsteps, heard by j iei , through an* open window, caugec j her to hasten to the door; and ; gcarPe j v n ac j the bell ceased to ring liefore Bhe ffreete<1 her lovor . „ .................. , the drift of its contents, and staggered j as if stricken with a blow. His eyes Her demeanor was so strange that he was immediately' filled with an in definable dread. She appeared to be calm, but was deathly' pale, and her hand was cold as ice and trembled when he touched it. As soon as he entered she banded him the letter and simply said, in cold faraway tones: "Do you know what this means?" Ho unfolded the letter with hands that shook in spite of all his efforts at self-control. He rapidly caught were cast down, great drops of per spirntion stood on his brow, nnd the agony and helplessness of the man were absolutely pitiable. "It is true!" she almost shrieked. "Great God, yes!" he answered in thick accents, as he smote his brow with the palm of his right hand. "But have mercy; let me explain!" "Never; you're a monster!" "Edith, I entreat you." "It is too late, Joe; how could you lie so cruel? My heart is breaking!" She flew by him with a moan, and, flying up tlie stairway, sought to hide her agony. With outstretch arms, Williams ran into the hall nft er her. He believed that he would find lier fainting, and he expected to catch her falling form, i When she reached the head of the stairs she turned and cried: j "Go, go; I cannot bear it longer!" i Ho hurried from the house und wandered liketone insane through the 8treets - He passed a sleepless night, nnd rose in the morning, haggard ; nntl desperate. He did not care wllat became of him. and almost hoped for death to end his misery, Mechanically, at 11 n. m.. he took chargeorntrain bound for New York, He was now comparatively calm, nl though it seemed as if there were no future for him except one of misery; j hut from long habit, he attended to his duties well. At the edge of the eve ning he stated from New York in charge of another train. Duringthe day lie had resolved to end his life. His plan w as to ascend to the top of polis, and allow himself to strike the roof of the structure as the train passed under it. He would lie killed at onceandhis body would fall tothe ground. The verdict would be that death was caused by an aeccideut, and lie would escape the odium which attaches to suicides. In accordance with this resolve he one of the cars, shortly before the train urrived at a covered bridge, about 30 miles out from the metro climlied to the top of the ear, next to the rear one, when tlie train was with ' n about four miles of the bridge, and 80 waited bis doom, j It was cloudy, but not intense ly dark, a storm wus brewing 1 and over the indistinct landscape 1 . through which the train rushed '*^e an unchained monster that ; seemed to delight in newly found t freedom, there rested a portentious ; gloom. Puffs ofdnmp aireamefrom the sen nnd smote the desperate man's cheek; and he saw the faint gleam of a lantern rocking from the gaff of some vessel that was plowing the dark waters. Once he thought he iieard the slow, solemn wash of the surf; but he probably imagined it, the cars rattling so loudly as to , drown all common noises in tho vicinity. Turning his eyes inland, he sa w* the dim outlines of wooded hills in the distance, and the light of lamps around which he imagined happy families were gathered. And yet nothing seemed real to him, und iie could scarcely believe that he was not in a world where all objects were unsubstantial nnd intangible. Everything appeared to be fleeting and evasive, and he bi gnn to think that he himself was but a shadow nnd his previous life nothing more tlmn a dream, the latter part of which was an appalling nightmare. There are conditions of extreme peril when the mind of a sensitive temperament is subject to a phenom enon in which time seems to be an nihilated. It often occurs, we are told, to a person drowning, who, be ing resuscited, have said that their lives were brought before them as if condensed in a panorama, ns it were, and in the few moments of strangula all the good and ill of their past have been flashed before them. We all know from experience that to one overcome by fatigue, in a sleep of one 1 minute a dream has had existence that called for an hour to relate. This is what happened to Joe while standing upon the roof of the car; lie sn w swiftly approaching the dim, huge form of the covered bridge that was to be bis death. His life came before his mind as in a flash of lightning; and not only were the events crowd ed into one horizon of his view, but those events seemed to assume rela tions to each other that were not on ly novel, but instructive to him. Gleaming over all was not the light of sin, but that of weakness and folly, nnd, as of consequence, a power yet left him ofretrieving himself tugged at his will, and urged the abandonment of his purposed suicide. He saw how in his early youth he had permitted himself to become entangled in an af fair with a vulgar, ignorant, and as j he now' believed, a vicious girl; how, ! in a moment of generous impulse, he | had made the wretched creature his ; wife; and so, w ithout lifting her from degradation, had been dragged down to abject misery. Life with her was intolerable to both. They had separ ated, although he yet supported her in wanton extravagance, that kept him in poverty. This wns not sin; it was folly. The sin came in when he caught a glimpse of heaven on earth that might have been, and was not. It was a griev ous wrong to win the affections of a poor girl lie could never honestly claim as his own. What right had lie to leave bis work unfinished? What right to throw away all chance of re trieving, in some way. his wretched past? Why not bravely live on. und trust to the good Father of all for the opportune redemption? Two parts within himself seemed to con tend for mastery—one appealing to his pride, the other to his better na ture. Pride won, and folding his nrms resolutely he awaited the horri ble blow. The train wns on an up grade, but behind time, and tlie engineer had called for all the speed of which the locomotive was capable. The long, heavy ears, flying nlong nt 40 miles an hour, vibrated so violently that nothing hut long practice enabled the conductor to preserve his balance and remain standing. Every second brought his death nearer and nearer. He hud braced himself for the final blow, when suddenly the shrill whistle of "down brakes" rang out, and the reversal of the engine brought such nn unexpected shock that tlie con ductor wns hurled from the roof of the ear to the road beneath. For tunately, he fell in a marshy piece of ground that lined each side of the track ne* r the river. The soft, yielding earth saved him from being knocked insensible; and, ns lie in stinctively struggled up, he was conscious of a flash, a shock, a crash, nnd then a dead silence, followed immediately by loud cries, escaping steam, and agon izing shrieks that seemed to pierce through and ride above tlie awful tumult. Joe knew only too w**ll that a col lision bnd occurred at the mouth of the very bridge he bnd selected to ilieupon. Dragging himself from tlie mire, he hurried to the wrecked train. The telescoped cars were jammed and smashed into each other, nnd the aw ful tact that 'they had taken fire was but too evident; nnd the wounded wretches, held to an awful death with in, were screaming in agony for relief. All these had been extricated by the men and passengers left unhurt, save one, a woman whose screams pierced' the hearts ofall. Joe, seizing an ax, cut his way into the burning car nnd found the poor sufferer cruelly hurt, held by a seat. How in the smoke nnd heat he worked cannot be told in words. He would have perished in his attempt but for the water poured over him from buckets and even hats which tjie passengers car ried from the river. At last he won; and gathering tliesuffere/inhis arms he worked his way from the cars. Arms were stretched tenderly to take the last living of tho wounded, and she was carried to a bank and laid softly upon the green, cool sod. Joe dragged himself after. Why he did so he could scarcely snv, for he was so exhausted he could senreoly stand. He threw himself upon the ïmund near the form he had rescued. The woman wns insensible; but lov ing bunds, feeling, as men feel in such nwful calamities, the Savior moving wit hin them, bathed her face and gave lier stimulants until consciousness re turned, and she feebly moaned out her pain and thankfulness. A few words were uttered that made Joe rise and look upon the face of the woman he had rescued. She was his wife. "Folly," he said, bending over her, 1 j ! | ; "don't you know me? I am Jce your husband." ' His fuce blnckennd by smoke, with his hair burned and eyebrows Hinge»] so disfigured the poor lellow that it was by his voice ulone she recognized him The poor little white face was distorted by pnin; but, crowding it down, she feebly said, "Joe— I'm sn glad." He attempted to put his arm about her, but a cry ot agony at the move caused him to desist. As it was, lie stooped and kissed her trembling lips, and made a pitiable effort to cheer her with loving words. She was dying. He felt, all the old love came back, ill-assorted as they had been. For a while she gasped ns for breath, nnd then by an effort she gathered words to whisper, "dear Joe" and died. • •••••• It was nearly n year after this ter rible event that our hero sought th» home of one he now felt was his only love. The story of his heroic con duct nnd the dreadful railroad ac cident, and his strange effort to rescue the woman who proved to lie his wife, had gone into the journals; so that he was free to enter the hum ble dwelling, an honest and honor able abode. While waiting in the parlor, he heard a step upon the stair. His heart throbbed so that it seemed to choke him; and when she did appear he could not utter a word. Nor was it necessary. He seized the girl in his arms and said, "Be mine." "I have been yours, .Toe," respond ed the girl, "since the moment you saved my life.—Belford's Magazine. Scared By Skulls. One very noticeable peculiarity of the Bellingham Bay cities is the ab sence of Indians and Chinamen. The former are seldom seen here and the latter never. Why the Indians avoid this place is not known, but some of the siwashes said that the natives held this part of the state in super stition [through an event happening during the Indian war about 1866. It ran thus: One night during the trouble with the savages a certain camp of white settlers were expecting nn attack. The whites were informed by a friendly but half witted Indian, who had received small sums of mon ey from the settlers for occasional services he had done them, j Thewhitemen, finding that the sav ; ages would far outnumber them, re ! solved to thwart them by stratagem, ; and this is tlie way it was accomplish J ed: j The Indians, on t heir way to attack ; then, would have to pass through a I thickly wooded ravine that lay on j the north side of tlie Noosac river, knownasthe "Devil's pass." Antici pating tlie savages' march, the white men concealed themselves in the gorge. They were armed, and carried with them six human skulls belonging j to the surgeon of the party. ! The whites had resolved to play 1 upon the superstition of the red man. nnd for the purpose especially had j they chosen this dark retreat, of which the Indians had long been tim id. It was 10 o'clock at nisht (March 11, 1866) when the white settlers reached the dreaded racine. They j hurriedly stationed themselves with their muskets commanding the In dian trail, while four ot the party lighted pitch torches nnd inserted them into tlie skulls niter the "Jaek o'luntern" fashion, thus giving them a most ghastly appearance. The lighted skulls were stuck up ! ncross the path the Indians would Have to travel on their way to attack the camp. j Thesavagescnme stealing along in ! lnrge numbers about midnight, and seeing the ghoul like, fire ej-ed skulls j stretching across their very pathway, ! they took them for human devils and j fled in great fright, never parsing un til the camping grounds of the In dians were reached. The white were saved by strata- gem and the Indians have ever since held a superstitious fear of this section of the country.—Seattle Press. -——— • -<«»•— --- Some Odd Ideas of Crime. Kansas City Times. Did you ever stop to think of the absurdity of this thine we cun call crime against society?" Some one breaks into your bouse, steels your 1 money, tlie savings of years aud ! leaves you helpless. Or some one sets you to indorse his note, leaves you to prty it. and ruins you finan cially. This is called nn ofiense against society, tho man is danger ous, and must bo punished and re strained. He is sent to prison for twenty years—so as to give him ample time to repent—set to work, and the proceeds of his labor taken by society. Where are you? You are really the one ngninst whom the offense was committed—you are the only sufferer. Why. then, not let the earnings of his lnbor go to reimburse you? That seems so simple a rule of justice that the wonder is idiots, let alone law-givers, have not seen it long since. But they haven't, and they won't ns long as we allow men who live by teaching such stuff to do our thinking nnd lnw-inaking for us. Even a savage, a barbarian, knows better thon this. This "crime ngninst society" is like tho old fic tion of "a sin against God." You go to hell for one nnd to tho penitentiary lor the other, when in fuct the only "erime"committed is against the man who suffers the injury, and the only sin committed is ugninst our fellow man who suffers.