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Helena, Montana, Thursday, January 3, 1889. No. 6 ÇV ÏD^ltlji HfjeralH. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK ». J. FISK. Publishers and Proprietors. Largflst Circulation of any Paper in Montana Rates ol Subscription. WEEKLY °HERALD : One Year. (In advance).......................... $3 00 Six Months, (in advance).........................1 75 Three Months, (in advance).......................... ] 1 00 When not paid for in advance the ra*« will be Four Dollars per y earl Postage, in all cases. Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: Oit y Subscribers,delivered by carrier 81. 00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. $9 OO Six Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00 Three Months, by mall, (in advance)........... 2 50 If not paid in advance, 812 per annum. [Entered at the Postoffice at Helena as second class matter.] AV Ali communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. THE RAIN. We knew it would rain, for all the morn A spirit on slender robes of mist Was lowering its golden Duckets down Into the vapory amethyst Of marshes and «wamps and dismal fens, Scooping t : ,iew that lay in t K e flowers Dipping the ,ewelsoutof the sea. To sprinkle them over the land in showers. We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind, and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain. — T. B. Aldrich. FIGHTING REDSKINS. Well, sir. I've seed a heap o' ups *n' downs in my day an* time, but I don't think I ever wus so completely upsot as I fus when we captured the camp on Little S'wanoochee, said Capt. Jim Storno as he puffed a cloud of smoko from his old black pipe, and leaned back in his chair under the low shed in front of his home. I knew that Capt. Jim had one of his numerous adventures on his miud, and I prepared for the worst. I: o see, me 'n' Giner'l Floyd wus allers great cronies. We used to swap terbacker an' borry each other's knives, an' Giner'l 'ud cuss right afore me, same's ef nobody wa'n't aroun'. A'ter we got th'ough the Okeefenobee we helt a council o'war, an' a'ter it was fin'ly 'greed that ther' wa'n't no inj uns inside o' the swamp, the ques tion wus, 'whar aire they?' Some thought that they'd gone to the everglades, others helt to the idee that they wer' a hidin' out 'mongst the ponds and bayi an' in the creek swamps like a passel o' var mints. At last, howsombedever, Giner'l Floyd Bays to me, says 'e: "Jim"— allers called me Jim for short— •'whar do you think they aire?" "Well, giuer'l," says I, "ef I'm not badly out't it, the dod rotted villyuns aire Bneakin' aroun' in the big thick on S'wanoochee." "Well, I bedumed," says 'e, "ef Jim hain't got more sense than the whole drap shot gang, you may have my years for heel tap, and God knows they're tough enough since these dad blasted gallinip S rs've afoul of 'em. Boys, we'll go over ar au' drive Big Thick, an' see if Jim Ain't 'bout half right." Ye see, giner'l liked the warlike man ner in which I spoke, fur ho saw that ef I came across an Ingin hit'd be "Katie, bar the door" with that savage. I had fully made up my min' to shoot down without quarter every dinged one of 'em that I came across. Giner'l Floyd had an old nigger named Bawnie what he called his body servyant, but ther' wa'n't much servyant 'bout it. The old rascal had done fo'got everything but how to steal, an' he wus as dif as a post, an' so mort'ly Infernal lazy that no matter what time a day it wus his shad der wus allers in front of 'im. Jist so durned lazy that he couldn't keep up with It , , Ef they wus one thing old Sawnie loved botter'n co'n licker, it wus to set on a log Bn' fish. He didn't keer fur jack an' trout an' pike an' red bellies. They wus too brisk fur 'im, but mud cats wus his f lory, becase they tuck their time 'bout itin'. . ... ^ We'd broke up camp an we d marcnea up the S'wanoochee to a p'int 'bout a mile blow whar the Big Thick begins an Gia or'l Floyd halted us an' told us to be very keerful, as we wus in the Ln jins' ken try, an' they wer' li'ble to pop up in the most on expected places. He ordered us to see tnat we kep' our primin' ready, our flints well pecked, Ein' w'en tho time come fur action to bo ready to carry fier and sword into the camp of the hos tiles. He wound up bv axin' us, in bold, big words, to 'trus'* in God an Jackson au' keep yer powder dry."' Well, sir, I sot on gyard till bout mid night that night, an' then I rousted Big jawed John Ltingford an' tole him to take my place while I tuck a nap. I reckiu I slop' mighty soun', an' I cer tainly slep' the sleep o' the jest, for 1 dream pt I kilt seben Injun warriors at one fier, as they sot on a barrikin log, an I was jest afixin' to load my rifle when I waked up. , "Jim, Jim!" come a voice, an I opened my eyes an' seed Bigjawed John astan in over mo. "W'ot you want, John?" "'Sh! The Injuns ain't a qua'ter of a mile off. I hearn a turkey gobble down the creek jest afore day, a'ter I'd ben adoziu' a while"- . "Y'orter not aben dozin' on picket, John; hit's agin orders, an' ye better not Bay nothin' mo' 'bout that.' , "Weil, as 1 said. I hearn a turkey, an I thought I'd have a crack at 'im, but b^ the blue Jehosephat! as I was a-creepin 'long down the creek I happened to loo» down a path that led th'ough a openin m tho thick, whar tho creek bends, an' tbar sat a Injun with 'is gun 'cross 'is lap, an I could see a dozen more heads 'mongst tho bushes. I started to shoot, but a ter I saw that the gyard didn't see mo 1 thought I'd better come back an' rouse tho men an' wo'd s'roun' 'em. I tell ye, Jim hit made my hairo rise an' my blooo run cole to think what a nairer resk we wus a-rouuiu'. , . , - _ Hit was mos' sun up, but a thick log hung over tho swamp, an' ye couldn t see very far ahead, but w en we toll Gen. Floyd 'bout the diskivery he sprung up an'ordered us to git ready to march thou* pakin' any noise. AH the camp was v9 by this time, au' we helt a counc'l of war. Langford sejested that we throw up breastworks an' let 'em attack us fust, but we younger ones was dead agin' that. Wo was afeard they'd git away f'om us, an' we list ruled 'im right out. "Well, hadu't ye better gin me a gyard to stay with the baggage an' protect it?" Bays 'e. "No, we'll let it take keer of itself," said Gen. Floyd sternly; "wo want every man to do his duty today." Well. we was soon ready an' Giner'l Floyd d rected me to take one squad an' cross the creek an' go down t'other side, N&ilo him an' Langford tuck the other side. "Boys," says 'e, as we parted, 'we aire agwine into a desper't fight, an' ye know Injuns liaint got no mercy. Wo don't know what tho odds aire, but wo do know that no truo Georgian 'U fail to do 'is duty. Some of us may fall, but the res' mus'n't flinch. Go cautiously, now, an' le's steal a march on the yaller devils. Trust in God an' Jackson au' keep yer powder dry!" Well, I've done a heap o' tough things in my day an' time, but that was the hardest mornin's work of my life. I was young an' ambitious an' I'd allers been athinkin' out how I'd ack ef I wus to come into rale war. That sperit of mine wus what made 'em 'lect mo cap'n of mili tia, an' now that I wus acumiu' face to face with the wild savidges my heart swelled up so big that the collar of my huntin' shirt was too small, an' 1 felt hot 'n' cold all over. Slowly an' keerfully we crep* along tell we come opposite to whar tho beud wus, an' as ve had-orders to ran 'em out so's the fellers in the main body, on t'other Bide, could have a lick at 'em an' maybe make 'em s'render, fin', as Giner'l Floyd said, "save ourselves waste o' human blood. " W'en we got to that pint I tole the boys to sorter siperate an' keep a sharp look out, an' w'en the firin' got hot to take to the logs an' trees, like I'd hearn Ginerl Floyd say he allers done. I crep along up to'rds the bend tell all of a sudden I spied the gyard. Thar he sot on the bank, an' I couldn't see 'is ban's fur the bushes, so's to tell wliuthcr he had a gun or a bow 'n arrer, but I jest knowed he had a gun. Thinkin' o' the gun made me think of my own, an', by the Blue Jehosaphat! I jest turned pale w'u I thought 'bout bav in' loaded it with small shot for cat squir Is the day afore we started on the march, an' in the excitement I'd fo'got to fire i* off an' load it with ball. Well, I was in a predickyment. I did'n' know whether to retreat or not, but, at last, I decided to call up the nighest men, p'int out the savidges—I could see a half a dozen heads—an' let every feller pick 'is man. an* I'd take the gyard. Then I'd call on 'im to s'render, 'n' ef 'e didn't I'd resk squirrel shot an' a jest cause. Beekenin' to tother fellers, I got 'em all up close to me whar they could see the gyard, an' then l tole 'em to single out their men, but to leave the gyard for me. Then I spoke out loud an' says, "In the name of the state of Georgy I call on you to s'render!" All of us lay low, fur we 'spected a vol ley in ans'r, but th'warn't no sich a thing. The Injun did'n' s'much as move. Then says I: "Make ready, boys, 'n' w'en I gin ye the word, fier." All of us got ready, an' I drawed a dead bead on tho breast of the gyard, an' said: "Fire." Pop! pop! pop! she-e-bangl went the guns, my old gun bangin' fier, Ein' afore ye could say scat, thei' was the ongodlies' yell went up f'om the bushes 'at ever I hearn in all my life. "0! Master, Goder'mlghty! Helpl The W uns! the Injuns!" and ole Sawnie went tearin' th'ough them bushes like th' old boy 'mself was closte a'ter 'im. Then we hearn a yell on t'other side, an' we could hear Gener'l Floyd a laughin' an' a cussin' cross the creek, an' I never, in all my borned days, felt as meau. Ye see, that cussed old nigger'd come down to the creek to ketch catfish, an' 'd drapped off to sleep, w'en John diskivered 'im, an' tbar he sot with a whole passel of cypress knees a stickin' up aroun' 'im, an' hit was jest as good a picter of Injuns as ve could a drawed. Rut I tell ye, I bum't the old scoun drel's belly with them squir'l shot w'en I flered, an' he jest thought the whole Creek Nation wus a'ter 'im, an' hit wus the only time that he wus, known to break 'is gait in twenty year. Giner'l Floyd said I orter be permoted, ef twau't fur mithin' but skeerin' some life into the cyarkiss of that old nigger. Bat Bigjawed John had to leave the mulsh beca'se the boys deviledhacked 'im so Txrnt cypers knees an' wild Injuns.— Montgomery M. Folsom in Atlsmta Con stitution. In the Presence of a Spore. The scourge which makes readers of telegraphic dispatches from Florida trem ble appeals to a vague sense of horror tnd dread. It tells how helpless Eire we in the presence of a plague which is only a despicable little living thing, so infin itesimally little that we can neither see, nor touch, nor paint, nor kill it. t If a Marks or Shepherd could only photograph It; if we could go netting for its coveys; if wo could discover its habits and ring bells and catch its swarms in beehives; if we could build great fires in the streets and make streets and houses perfectly dry and force air currents burdened with these flying spores into flames; if we could see the shape and how these little creatures move, wo could perhaps de stroy them. But art and learning and genius and the t niest heroism, ever illus trated in self sacrifice, tire all impotent and uncrowned and humiliated in the iresence of a spore.—Dupre in Birming — (Ala.) News. presi luun A French Clothier's Advertisement. Tho latest device for attracting the attention of possible purchasers which has been adopted by several Paris shop keepers is an "immovable boy." Outside a clothier's, for instance, the "boy" stands without moving a muscle, and bears on his carcass the newest fashion in blouses or corduroys. Passers by are easily at tracted by the remarkable figure, which they take to bo an effigy in wax work or a tableau vivant. The boy has been well drilled and lives up to his work. IIo smiles not, neither does he wink, nor does he betray by the slightest sign, token or movement that he lias anything in com mon with the ordinary palpitating and effervescing specimen of humanity, the "boulevard boy." The device draws, for spectators are usually lost in amazement at the impassive features of the breathing simulacrum of a dummy figure.—London Telegraph. I I I IN SOME BRIGHTER CLIME. Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to rae's a secret yet. Life, we have been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather, 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear— Perhaps "twill <?ost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; 8ay not good night, but In some brighter clime Bid me good morning. —Mrs. A. L. Barbauld. A BROKEN SIXPENCE. "Oh, Alan, Alan—I canna lat you go. The cry was so full of bitter anguish that it touched even the light and cal loosed heart of the man who heard it. "Never mind, lassie," he said, cheerily. "What's 'good-by,' anyway? 'Tis so much better than 'farewell.'" "Ay, laddie, ay—'tis so. You'll come again—you'll come again to Margurth, as you've gie'n me word, Alan?" The question was so eager, and yet bo tenderly confident ! "Come again to you and Ob£m?" he asked, laughing. "Now, could I stay away? There, they are calling from the boat; I must go. Good-by, Margurth; be true to the broken sixpence." "True to her troth plight," she thought; "tha angels in heaven could not be truer." And as lie waved his hand to her in last farewell, she did not know that he had no more intention of returning to her tc keep his plighted faith, than he had of putting on a last year's faded garment, thrown aside for a newer fancy. She watched him till the blinding tears hid him from her sight. A cracked and querulous voice greeted her as she en tered the little cottage. "So 'ee's aye gane, the noo? An' 'twoulc ha' been as weel had it been a montl a-gane. Ye've fashed me sair, Margurth wi' your lovin's and leavin's. Gae to you: wark, girl." Margurth sighed. It was so hard t< be forced to her regular routine of duties while her heavy heart longed for thf brooding silence of the beach and cliffs She had yet to learn that grief is sooneS' overcome by tiring labor. "I'd ne'er lia' seen him had 'ee gane 1 month ago, aunt," she said, listlessly. "I'm thinkin' 'twould ha' been as wel had ye no'. " "What mean ye, aunt?" Margurth cried indignantly. "I hae his faith—surelie y» canna misdoot the broken sixpence!" "Ay, can I," replied her aunt, grimly "an' him as weel till I see him again." The days went heavily by at the cot tage. The aunt was more ailing and com plaining than usual, and Margurth 's life at best was a hard one. She had a soul above dusting and disl washing, things that occupied her aunts whole attention when she was able t> drag herself about her work. "Ah, bonus laverock!" sighed Margurth, catching th} sound of his merry lilting as it dropped t> her through the blue air. "Could I but wing wi' you for a day, how quick I'd fini him, an' nestle noon into his lovin' heart!' But these longings she kept close lockel in her bosom, and the winter passed ii loneliness, but tinged with hope for tie coming spring. When the snow had melted enough ftr her to reach the village again, to inato her simple purchases, she found that dui lng the snows and storms evil rumor hal been busy also. On every hand she me with coldness Eind suspicious wliere she had been accustomed to warn cordiality from her Scotch neighbors. Shi was vaguely troubled, but forgot all about it in her bitter disappointment at finding no letter as yet from Alan. Sho was walking slowly, with bent head, and was half way through tha town, when suddenly a young girl turned the comer ahead of her and was hurrying swiftly away. "Alice!" she called, joyfully. Surely her dear friend, her playmate of so many bygone years, would be glad to give her welcome. The girl hesitated, then turned slowly and waited. "I thocht ye didna see me," said Maj gurth, smiling. "I'll gae wi' ye to the mi ther, noo—I hae a word frae aunt." To her surprise, the girl did not move to accompany her. "What is't, then?" she exclaimed im patiently, "what ails the folk?" "I daurna, Margurth," said Alice, sadly. "Mither forbid that I should speak wi' ye, even. I canna bide to talk." Alice saw two friends coming and tried to hasten away, bnt Margurth caught her dress and so held her. "Ye shall na gae," she cried, "till ve hae tailed me a'!" "Gude company, 'tis ye're keepin',Mis tress Alice!" cried the two girls who had Inst come up. "Wheer's your fine lover, Margurth?" they sneered. "'Tis my lover ye're speirin' after; 'tis for him ye treat me sae! Because I hae a gran', gude mon to wed ye gie me shame! 'Tis that ye are jealous o' my gude luck," cried Margurth, with blazing eyes. "Na na, spitfire," cried one; " 'tis not your lover we care abou', 'tis that he hae 'gotten an' gane,' as the sayin' rins. He'll no' come again to marry. " Alice had shrunk back at this last ch, but now she looked inquiringly art ■gurth and waited for her answer. As for Margurth she seemed like one stricken to stone. Then she tore her broken six pence from her bosom, where it had rest ed for so many months, and held it out to them. "D'ye see that?" she cried, her breast heavifig with anger and pain; "an' daur ye gae against the broken saxpence? I'm Ein honester lassie than you the day, ye bold faced things." For an instant the girls were silenced, for to them the ceremony of breaking a sixpence when plighting a troth was much more binding than our engagement ring, so easily ci ranged from one hand to another; and in fact is only exceeded in solemnity by the marriage ceremony it self. But the girls soon recovered them selves. It would not do to be cheated in that way of so entertaining a bit of scan dal. "SEixpences are mony," said one at last, "in' how ken wo but ye brak it yourseT? "Rs a year ago the fair night sin' he left ye; if your speech be true, he'll come again before the year is oot—so we'll wait wi' a' patience till fair night, an' then we'll see!" They ran away laughing, carrying Alice with them, though sho looked back Eind evidently would have spoken. But Mar gnrth had turned away, and was walking sadly homeward. So this was what it afl I 1 I it meant and unless Alan was there before fair night— she shuddered to think what her life would be after that, until he should come, with pointing fingers and cruel sneers following her wherever she went. And if ho should never cornel Her heart stood still with susklen fear. I "You'll eome to me, Alan, dearie, 1 dearie!" she hsdf sobbed under her breath. So Intense was the pleading in her voice that it seemed as though he mast hear and answer, were he at th e other side of the world. Involuntarily she put out her arms, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, in the Einguish of that I sudden doubt Suddenly she ran against something, unseen through her blinding tears, and a harsh voice exclaimed: "What mean ye. girl, rinnin' against peaceable folk In such manner? Hae ye no e' en your head? Gae hame to your gude aunt, girl, and tell her Dr Maken zie says she's neglectin' her duty I'm heEunn' strange an' wicked tales o' ye, Margurth. " It was dusk when she reached the little cottage. How long she had wandered in her crushing grief she did not know The door stood open, and eis she crossed the threshold her foot touched a prostrate figure. It moaned as she bent over it, and Margurth cried in sudden horror. "4upt ; aunt!" By greal exertion she succeeded in get ting her on the bed, and then she threw her little shawl over her head and started for the village. The way had never been so long before, yet she had never gone so fast. At last she stood before the house of the English doctor^ who had recently come there, and hurriedly rang the bell She could not go to Dr. Makenzie, who had dosed her aunt with harmless pills for years Tho doctor was at home, and looked sharply at her as she made known her errand. "You are cold and tired, my girl," he said, "come in and rest. "Na, na. I canna," she cried, breath lessly. "Haste, gude mon, oh, make haste—she's like to dee!" It seemed to her almost as though she was in some way to blame for her aunt's seizure. The doctor shook his head when he saw the patient. She might live a month, he said, and she might live only till morn ing. He gave Margurth some medicine for her and then went away, promising to look in again the next day. One week, two weeks passed and then the stern soul was forever at rest. It was not until after the funeral that Mar gurth had time to think of herself and her own future. The events of that af ternoon had so faded before the tragedy that followed, that it was not until now that she remembered how near fair night had come. Her mind was in an agony of hope and fear, belief and foreboding. Her days were full of waking terrors, her nights, of fearsome dreams, the min ister called to advise >ith her as to her future, and was willing enough to receive her into his own family, her aunt having left her all the little wealth accumulated by years of toil, but Margurth seemed scarcely to hear him, and only said, "Wait a wee, sir, an' let me speir wi'my* sel' afore I say 'av' or 'na.'" "I am fearfu', Margurth, that what the evil tongues say has some foundation o' truth. I will return to you when you are acquent wi' your own mind," said the good man, half angrily, as he took his leave. "I shall send my sister to be wi' you till you hae decidit." 'Twas fair day fast sinking into night. All day long knots of girls had gathered among the gay booths or under the trees at the edge of the grounds, discussing some project which seemed to cause mirth for all, and to which one fair haired girl cried "shame!"—a cry which was drowned in laughter. As the dusk deepened they stealthily left the place and in the early dark gathered around a little cottage in the outskirts of the village. At first there was laughing and rapping at the doors, and cries of "Margurth!"—then one or two stooped and threw handfuls of mud at the shining windows; and finally one, more bold than the rest, pushed open the door and led them in to wreak their chEis tisement on the unhappy girl within. But Margurth was not there. It was a beautiful night—soft and dEirk, lit only by the stars, that winked merrily at the dark river flowing heavily by. Two forms were outlined against the stEff lit sky, sitting hand in hand on the bal cony above; a third crouched stealthily below. The man was speaking and there weis no mistaking the love that quivered through his earnest tones. The listener below shivered with mortEil cold. "There is one incident in my life, Ethel, that I have been ashamed to tell you." His companion turned her soft eyes on him in wondering surprise. "But now that our wedding day is so near, " he con tinued. "I feel that I must tell you and so be able to bring to you a cleEir con science. More than a year ago I was in Scotland, as you know, and while there a little Scotch lassie fell in love with me. I'll admit I was flattered, too, and—well, to tell the truth, I suppose I made love to her, and finsilly went through the Scotch custom of breaking a sixpence with v >r— partly because she expected it, and I couldn't bear to see the tears in her blue eyes, and partly because I couldn't resist the romance of it. I kept my half ; here it is." He laid the little broken bit of silver in the palm outstretched to receive it, kiss ing the little fingers as he did so. "But you love me best, Alan?" she mur mured. "Ay, love, better than life itself!" he said, and the crouching figure moaned as if in pain, then rose and stole noiselessly away. "Then 1 forgive you, you bad boy!" she said, tenderly. "And no doubt your Scotch lassie forgot all about you before the year was out, and has peacefully mar ried some shepherd or something—they are most all shepherds in Scotland, aren't they?" "I hope she has," said Alan, doubtfully. Some way ho could not quite forget tho look in her eyes that last morning as she bade him good-by. "Hark, what was that!" Bat the river tells no tales, even though it gives up its dead.—Kate A. Bradley in Detroit Free Press. In Mr. Gladstone's Study. Mr. Gladstone's study at Hawarden castle holds 15,000 volumes, which sire ranged on shelves jutting out into the room. There Is not a book that Mr. Glad stone cannot lay his hand upon the mo ment he wants it. There are three writing desks in this room, one of which is for the exclusive use of Mrs. Gladstone. The ex premier breakfasts at 7 und dines at 8, Breaking his fast by a ligh t luncheon at exlock.—Hamer's ARE THEY EVER CURED? Patients In an Insane Asylum—A Very Serious Question. The question recently raised by ex patients of an insane asylum, whether sane people are ever kept there after cure because cruel relatives will not take the legal measures necessary to get them out, has caused a good deid of talk. Every village has its unfortunate, who is pointed out as a whilom madman or mad woman A terrible name it is to bear, too, for never can eome the day, this side of the grave, when he who has once been into the dark valley is safe against a pos sible return. He is always a subject of suspicion and knows it, and if to this knowledge is added the belief that he was locked up wrongfully his position is doubly galling. A reporter asked a young doctor who has served his time in the asylum wheth er sane people were ever kept there when they ought to be at liberty. "That is a very delicate question," he said, "and very hard to answer. The dividing line between sanity and insanity is very narrow and very faint sometimes, and it is a very delicate matter to say when a person has crossed it. Some times a patient will be jolly and appa rently sane for months and then sud denly fall back into the depths—perhaps into the dangerous stage—of lunacy. It may be laid down as a safe rule that a man who has been once insane may be come so again, especially if worried and fretted, and facts like these must eater igto any discussion of the question you have asked. "Now it frequently happens here, as at all asylums, that a patient reaches the state so close to a cure that it would be hard to say that he was not all right. He begins to fret over his confinement, and if he could be taken out and not worried with the cares which invariably accompany a battle with the world, he would be far better off, perhaps, than under the nag ging influence of the bolts and bars, which he knows in an asylum stand be tween him and liberty. To send such a man out into the world and compel him to fight for himself would be cruel. Nine times out of ten he would be back again very soon, and much the worse for hav ing left the asylum. Now that is the class of cases which has undoubtedly been brought to public attention, and some of them are sad enough. I will say this: that if the medical staff of an asy lum is satisfied that a patient is thor oughly cured—cured so well that he or she can face the strain of a battle with life—no heartless relatives would be able to keep that patient imprisoned." "But how about inebriate patients?" asked the reporter. "Well, they are a sort of exception to the rule," said the doctor. "Many a man is kept in an asylum who is perfectly sane, who, if he were allowed the liberty of the outside world, would be sure to drink to excess. The insanity of drink is in him. Such a man, I think, is better behind asylum walls."—New York World. Work of a Hotel Chambermaid. The hotel porter has to move and lift some heavy baggage. But he has an occa sional rest. It is on the muscle and sinews of the hotel chambermaid that the heaviest and longest labors fall There is one on my floor who has an average of thirty five rooms to attend to every day. That means for each room bed making, sweep ing, dusting, sheet changing and looking after the toilet requisites. The house keeper has a sharp eye, is eternally vigi lant, and not a room is slighted. Cham ber work doesn't look hard, but it's very wearing. I think the man of average strength would look tired after he had bent over his fifteenth bed and tucked the sheets in properly. Every other morning this girl must arise at 4 and sweep the parlors. Sho can escape from the house and her toils every other day from 4 in the evening until 7 next morning. The remainder of the time, when not asleep, she is on the move. She is of the muscular draught horse breed, and, though not over 20, her shoulders are bent like a bow from years of stooping over beds while making them up. She sings at her work, and tells us that she never could get through it if she did not sing. She will be an old, over worked woman in ten years. A fresher, younger "help" will supply her place when she tumbles out of the ranks from sheer exhaustion. None but stout girls can endure here. The landlord naturally and reasonably wants the strongest girls, for the same reason we want the strong est horses to draw our loads.—Prentice Mulford in New York Star. Treatment of Whooping Cough. The value of Mobin's treatment of whooping cough by sulphurous acid is re ceiving strong confirmation from many sources. Dr. Manly, in The Practitioner, expresses the opinion that, if it was car ried out in every case, at the end of six months the disease would be unknown. The method used by him is as follows: The patient is in the rqorping put into clean clothes and removed elsewhère. All his clothes and toys, etc., are brought into the bedroom, and sulphur is burnt upon a few live coals in the middle of the room. The fire is allowed to remain in the room for five hours, and then the windows and doors are thrown open. The child sleeps in the room the same evening. About twenty-five grams (a little under an ounce) of sulphur to every cubic meter may be burnt: this is equivalent to rather more than ten grains per cubic foot. The other room is fumi gated in a like maimer during the night; the patient practically living in an at mosphere of diluted sulphurous acid gas for some days, while in several cases the process is repeated at the end of a week. —Science. Strengthening the Memory. Among the axioms which fill the moral columns of a weekly journal is ono that "There is no better way to strengthen the memory than by speaking the exact truth," and another, that "A liar should havo a good memory." Tho editor has a decided tasto for mnemonics.—Shoe and Leather Re porter. __ THE FOND FAITHFUL HEART. * Deep down "neath the bosom of ocean Unsounded by plummet or line. At peace from the storm and commotion, That rage o'er its billows of brine, There are secrets that time shall not fathoifl, There are jewels unknown to earth's mart; As deep, as true, and as precious Is the voice of the fond, faithful heart. —Jessie Bartlett Da via. CHINESE LAUNDRYMEN. WONG CHIN FOO TELLS OF THE BUSINESS IN NEW YORK. The Almond Eyed Journalist Shows How His Countrymen Are Set Cp Financially. The Mysteries of the "Whey" or Syndi cate—The Eaundrymen's Law. . The question has frequently been asked by Americans, "Do these Chinamen wash clothes in China? How is it that nearly all who come here enter the laundry busi ness? Do they love it?" No, they do not love it any more than any other kind of labor. They did not even know what the "Melican man's" shirt looked like, much less how to dress one, before they came to America. Laundry work in China is invariably done by women, and when a man steps into a woman's occupation he loses his social standing. They become laundrymen here simply because there is no other occupation by which they can make money as surely and quickly. The prejudice against the race has much to do with it. They Eire fine cooks, neat and faithful servEints, and above all, very skillful mechanics at any trade they have a mind to try. In the western states, where their value is better understood, they are used in as many different positions as any other foreigners, and the laundry business is occupied only by those who fail to find other employment. tfo OTHER alternative. But here in New York as yet there is no other alternative. Many an able minded man as well eis skillful mechanic who came to America to better his condi tion may be found wielding the polishing irons in a New York Chinese laundry. It takes from seventy-five dollars to two hundred dollars to start one of these Chinese wash houses, and the way most of these laundries are stEirted would give valuable tips even to an American Wall street deaeon. The main expenditure in a Chinese laundry is a stove and a trough for washing, and partitions for dry room and sleeping apartment, and a sign. As a rule it requires $100 to open a laundry in New York. But this amount is a fortune to a newly arrived China man, and unless he starts immediately into the laundry business, ho would be come a burden to some of his friends. The Chinese immigrant, unlike his Euro pean compatriots, never comes here unless he is safely surrounded by friends or relatives upon his arrival. These imme diately initiate him into the mysteries of the laundry business. In some friendly laundry the newcomer is placed under a six months' apprenticeship, beginning at the wash tub, until he reaches the ironing table, and lastly tho polishing board. These apprentices begin with $3 per week and board, and a gradual addition of $1 per week after the first months, until they are able to take charge of a laundry them selves. Then if he has money he hires a place and hangs out his sign. If not, he goes to ono or two friends, and they will call a "whey" or syndicate for his benefit in the following manner. MYSTERIES OF THE "WHEY." Suppose I have Ein established laundry, and want to borrow $200 at a certain per centum premium, but I cannot find any one Chinaman who is able to loan me the amount. I put up a notice in Mott street that upon such and such a day I wish to make a "whey" of twenty men, who all are supposed to be situated like myself, each wanting to borrow $200. When we twenty borrowers all come to gether we each put down $10. Then each one secretly writes upon a slip of paper the amount of interest he is willing to give to get th® $200. These slips are carefully sealed and thrown into a bowl. At a given time they are opened, and to tho highest bidder goes the $200, less the interest, which is invariably deducted immediately from the principal. Frequently as high as $4 is offered for the use of $10 for a single month. In such cases each of the nineteen other bor rowers gives to the lucky one only $6 apiece for the $10 apiece which they make him pay next month. Then the next highest bidder gets the $200, less the interest he offered, and so on, until the entire twenty, at twenty different times, have obtained the use of this $200; but the one that comes the last, having offered the least Interest of them Eill, reaps the harvest of the "whey." ^ This method is adopted by most Chinese'laun drymen in New York and other large cities to open new laundries. It partakes of the gaming flavor which is captivating to every true CelestiâL No Chinaman can transfer his place of business into the hands of another with out at lea»t thirty days' notice in "China town," on Mott street, and the buyer is not required to pay him more than nal? of the purchase money until the legal thirty days are past. This is the laun drymen's* law, made four years ago in this city, to nrevejit a latmarym%n from absconding from his creditors. Upon the compl etio n of the thirty days creditors and debtors must meet at the transferred laundry, and when all of the old debts Eire liquidated a clear title of the laundry is given to the new owner.—Wong Chin Foo in The Cosmopolitan. The Hotel Register Must Go. The register at some of the fashionable hotels will soon be among tho unused if not among the forgotten things. There is a movement on foot to abolish it en tirely, and sooner or later, like a good many other things, it will have to go. People are busier now than they used to be, or else they are lazier. Formerly hotel guests registered their names and the places from which they came witli a good deal of accuracy and attention. Now most of the public men and generally all lady travelers decline to allow their names to appear on the book at all. They simply give their names and places of residence to the clerk, who notes tho same and sticks the little card containing the in formation in the office rack. The real object of the register was to accommodate the outsider any way, and even in this respect has fallen into disuse. Tho stranger comes in looking for a friend Eind consults the book, and nine times out of ten if he does not find the name on the register he turns and asks tho clerk if tho person I 10 seeks is stopping in the house. This is a fast age, and the regis ter seems to bo in the way now on the hotel desk.—New York Graphic. Nobody has invented a contrivance whereby a man at the theatre can drop a cent in the slot and get a clove. Some New Found Indian Tribes. The great table land of Matto Grosso, In the western part of Brazil, is still one of the least known portions of South America. When Dr. Clauss and Dr. von den Steinen peuetrated it several years ago, and followed the large Xingu river from its head waters to the Amazon, they floated down about 1,000 miles before they reached the known portion of the river. They did not have time to adequately study the strange and unheard of Indian tribes they met amid these dense forests and barren uplands, and for the purpose of making further researches among them Dr. von den Steinen returned to the upper Xingu last year. He visited the villages of nine of these tribes, and in a recent lecture in Rio de Janeiro he gave the in teresting results of his studies. There is hardly a comer of the esirth whose people have not had some inkling of the great world beyond them. But these primitive natives of the upper Xingu had, apparently, never seen a scrap of trade goods or heard that human beings existed outside their little circle of observation. They use no metal imple ments, but fell trees with stone axes to clear the ground for their plantations of Indian corn, cotton and tobacco. Wearing shell ornaments, they use hammers ana nails of stone to perforate them. They make knives out of shells and the sharp teeth of a certain fish, and with these poor tools they carve their rudely orna mented stools and weapons. Dogs and fowls are found in all parts of the Amazon valley that have been visited by traders, but tnese Xingu tribes have never heard of them. Neither have they EUiy knowledge of the banana, sugar cane and rice, with which natives of the tropical zone are generally fEimiliar. They have not the slightest conception of a God, but they believe they will live again after death. Theii most important myth relates to the creation of the world, which, in their view, consists wholly of the head waters of the upper Xingu and Tapajos rivers. From the languages and pottery of all but one of these tribes the explorer de rived tho idea that these isolated peoples Eire allied to tho original stock of the once powerful Cariba, who journeyed from the sont!» to the sea. One tribe differed so greatly from all others that he was unable to trace its relation to any other people. These people are almost wholly isolated even from each other, and their languages, though of the same derivation, are so dissimila" (hat the tribes cannot under stand eac.i other. Few people exist today who are so primitive in their ideas and so low in the social scale as these new found Indians of South America.— New York Sun. An Execution in Siam. In the center of tho field two short stakes had been driven into the ground., and to these when the executioners had finished their meal tho prisoners walked slowly out.without any one to guard them. On arriving at tho stakes they again prayed; they sat down with their backs toward the stakes, to which their arms were tied, after which an official walked out, blindfolded them with strips of linen, filled their ears with clay, and then re tired with his assistants, leaving the con demned men alone in the middle of tha field. About two minutes after the exe cutioners walked out armed with Japanese swords and sat down some thirty paces beyond the prisoners. They sat thus for perhaps a minute; then rose and ad vanced toward the doomed men, execut ing fantastic dance like figures, almost as if cautiously approaching an enemy, till they came within striking distance, when they raised their swords as if to strike, but instead of doing so turned round and retired to where they started from. After a short pause they advanced ag:.in in the same manner, but, on com .g close, stooped down and looked fixedly for about ten seconds into the faces of the prison ers, who sat perfectly motionless, and then again retired. The third time they advanced, and, as in the first instance, raised their swords us if to strike, but in stead of doing so they turned round and again retired. Then they knelt down, and, bowing toward the commisr'oner, called out, in Siamese, that they awaited his order. On receiving the word they advanced tow ard the prisoners more quickly than before, and when within reach, after standing for a few seconds with their sw ords poised in the air, proceeded to cut their heads off. The head of the man who had begged for his life %vas taken off at three blows, but seven or eight were struck before the head of the other—an immensely powerful looking man, with a thick, muscular neck—fell. The moment the first man's head fell his executioner ran off to a temple close by to perform certain rites, the other executioner fol lowing as soon as tis victim's head was off.—Chicago Herald. Contagiousness of Leprosy. The contagiousness of leprosy still con tines to be a mooted question. * Dr. Rake, superintendent of the Trinidad Leper hospital, has mEide a report to the British Medical association which embodies the results of his experiments in the cultiva tion of the germ of leprosy, the bacillus lepræ, which have been under way for the past four years. Ho says that (1) at a tropical temperature and on tho ordinary nutrient media he lias failed to grow the bacillus lepræ; (2) in all animals yet ex amined he has failed to ind any local growth or general dissemination of the bacillus after inoculation, whether be neath the skin, in the abdominal cavity, or in the anterior chamber; feeding with leprous tissues has also given negative results; (3) he has found no growth of tho bacillus lepræ when placed in putrid fluids or buried in the earth. He further says that E.ii inquiry of this kind is practically endless, so varied are the conditions of temperature, time, nutrient media, living animal tissues, or putrescent substance, and so many are the observations neces sary to avoid or lessen the risk of errors of experiment.—Science. Ruin After a Forty Years' Fight. One of tho longest inter-town fights ever known in Maine was that over the construction of the bridge across the Se basticook river, at Peltoma Point, be tween the towns of Pittsfield and De troit. Tho movement for the building of the bridge began in 1848. The former town wanted it, the latter town opnosed it. Tho fight went on, year after year. Every board of county commissioners was -rawu into it. Not until 1888, when tho bridge was built, was the war ended. —Lewiston (Me.) Journal.