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Madison times. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1884-1???, April 30, 1887, Image 1

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...... MADISONN TIMES.
DI_ :VOTE 1TO TIHE WELFARLi U 3U4D~Ii I'ARIViL -
.-- O. 1. TALL(LA-. MADISON .'ARI'I.. LA., SAT'U DAY. APRIL 3o0. 1887. E .... PERI
V(L. \'.--N . 13. I 'A L 'A .M D ,'O )~..H .A,: 'Ui .' P~. t! 87 '"IM--It0 PRi~
..... .. .. .... ·) )· lr3; 'I'R'_"""L() ,m,, • . . ., , .. ..
HER BOATMAN. '
It asa mooilit ,ighit. The r7i\er,
dat k atl );! l'.en. moved in its rod tcbed
; Rn' gigantict -erpent half )over
COu:t I. J letiutrgy of sleet,.
Here and : the moonbeams fell
",i..in the surfas e of the water, great
'o;f silvery whlite.ness, amidst, the
dark- shadows cast by the ieavy fo 2
;trof the cedar shrubbery which grew
I*t ween the :almost perpendicular
rocks oi the high banks.
Fity feet above the surfar of the
water they reared themeltlvss. and at.
one point they jutted forwardl as it to(
aliute each other, while the river be
neath them deepened and narrowed..
.At this point a brid~te had onceboetn.
thrown across-a bridge which had
beoome a complete ruie, one timber
alone remaining to mark the spot: one
lout and narrow beam-it could not
have been more than six inches in
widtl1--still maintained its pla-e, and
in tmut Y~e informed thle stranLir
that ouce Sa had beeat connection
between Rocky Hill and the mount
ains o the other side.
'pon the surface of the riwer there
was a small rowboat, corataining a
slender, crouching form wrapited in at
dark cloak.
From the top of the bank upon
either side this rowboat would have r
been invisible, but it was there, mak.
ig its way up and down past the a
rocky buttress whicl upheld the beam, '
always avoiding the moonlit spots r
,lon the river.,
The sounds ot carousal were usurp.
ig the place of the quiet of the night,
the drunken jest and the coarse laugh
ter breaking in upon the sentimental
notes of "Home, Sweet IHome"-sung,
you would have averred, by some
lonely youth who was far front the.
scenes of his boyhood--catme plainly'
to the ears of this silent watcher upon
the river, who, it seemed, could not t
tear herself aWay front the sourds I
which came from the the saloon u!,on
the river's bank.
Once only did the moonibeams fall
uago her fair, upturned mace. t
it wasthe face of a woman who
should never have been m that wild,
lonely spot, listenint for tthe sound of t
Svoice which had grown to adcdress I
her with refined words whtch wore the
elest of the cruel, waiting there up
that lonely river, for-she knew
what.
ariel Warner was the daughter of i
umltl parents. She had sxarried, '
. vry o young, a man whonwehe had
sMsh lpd as the embodlmentdf man- d
worth and the perfection cf manly s
bsasty. Prienl and relati-re had
crowded about her with envieus con
gratlattons, and for a time aer life '
was perfect happiness.
t a change had come. Fred War
ar was not what he had seement. On
T afew short weeks of happint as, and "
t. e hbadsome husband had l dunged
io the wildest dissipation. I Friends
smasted to her as long as the money
lseanld, and then they began to hint
that pmhaps Muriel was not alttogeth- t
was something which the spir. a
i d wife would not stand. She broke
with trlatives and friends and clung 9
to the dsipated man who watl her
'a '~s d. From one city to another I1
he had dmagged her with him, anil now I
e ba deserted her and she hpt . fol- li
lowew him.
NH l sm the cultured voice which 1t
warbidl of "Home, Sweet Dome," t
.!his wife was a penniless, half- c
reatture, out upon the river. I1
l*di was penniless, for, regard- c
edlIdel or shelter, she had paid
oaberlast cent for the use of the b
boat which brought her, unsern, yet e
mmaer to him.
A quick, sharp report broke in.upon h
the udlow voice of the singer. ri
it rth reportofarevolver. Mu- n
1 mihear the excited abotne, the
hemuvteampliag of feet, the banging it
Sa ds mgd then the weiul cry, 'A
Mafhryed. the frightened worm. k
.anLte e4 p her oars, just under p
the bea wieh hbad once belonged to
Sesound of heavy feet, rapidly ap. el
ptroaching. came fromi the bank dose p
at hand, and then i dark form rushed n
out between her and thie moodht sky
above her. ir
It was a mian's figure, and he was
attempting to cr~oss the river upon I
the narrow beanm.
$i Excited shouts mand the trampof hur' tI
rilel feet followed hint to the river's a
trinL-.
'Stop"' shouted a voice. "I ar- et
rest you for murder."
No replly came from the escaping w
faurre, which sped nimbly along its
niarow way. a
A sharp chorus of revoversl follow
ci; shot ofter shot was Srod, and then w
the dark ligure wavered, the hands o
grasped wildly at the air, and then tl
there was a f&il. 51
TLe water deluged Muriel with a
showesr of drops a the body entered et
lie water. Shout, and the exultant
ttrart ing voices bl her ttention
until mhe felt. omethig creeping into h1
the boat ihind her. b
) Be turned and uttered a faint
Ae'an, and more than likely the re
iedr.e had taken possession of so
methl e oars,' said a Ntern,
ar. . wounded, then?" she
),eh ig a way from thedrip. ne
YUot wOOl *" returned the I
rowed the il-~5etly the boat was
up the ~ - shadows and d
mooLt -f-- _onet creut by.
entirely oo n a darknegs fell iI
river and , a e w of 0!
silent. -- ILm an pair ero
SThebM h .hIar the ni
deleeup ye
-uli~ - w
'loser .co Muriel. "tell me what you
think about this altair."
"I think vou have shot some oun."
replied Mlt.rie!. awakening partia:'v
from the trance-lke fecelinga which Iiztu
crept over her.
"You are right. To-night I becanme
the nmurderer of Fred Warner."
"'Fred Warner is my huhband, and
I was on the river listening to his
voice," she said, in the satme calm.
Stone.
"You will listen to his voice rra
more. The woman that he broug ht
to Rocky Hill is any wife."
And then Muriel know the name. of
the man who had rowed her boat' ehat
Snight.
It was Ralph lteseguie, the b anker
and the millionaire, whose ihor ie and.
happiness her husband had ru.,ned.
tShe had never met hinm befc,:e; but
she had heard often of his m:neroaity
and great wealth.
"G(od have mercy to-nibhtia pon four
of his miserable creatures," she said,
still candy.
'"Thr:e." correc'tetd lIese tie. -ri.n
ly. "'Muriel Warner. I know the en
tire histaury of your life. I lefrne.d it
while I was huntin voyour husband
down. I ask no sympathy. I have
done a deliberate murder. I do not
wish ycnuto conceal the n od,' of my
escape. Fred Warner ws your baus
band. He would lhave return'ed to
youl after a time,. I ha ve made t his im
po iible. You have neit4her home nor
friesds. I have money, the accursed
Ott if with which I have hou-'ht my
false wife. In a short time I shall
he hung for this nmurden. 1 have no
relktives on whom to bestow my
w' ealth. It will all go to strangers.
A crept this packet, then; it is yours to
d o with as you think best, and I can
not but be thankful for the chanace
v hicn has thrown you in my way."
A packet dropped into Muriel War
taer's !ap as these words werzo spoken.
'The boat rocked slizthtly as the tall
figure sprang upon the shore, and then
she was alone in the darkness upon
the river.
After this she wandered about the
world, a woman whoselifeand feelings
seemed benumbed forever. She knew
what had happened at Rocky fHill,but
had no desire to return there and eaze
upon the dead face of her husband..
She had no wish to return to the
friends who had grown cold when mis
fortune came upon her. She knew
that Ralph Ressecuie had made her a
wealthy woman, but she felt none of
the sceiples which she once would
have felt abont accenting his money.
She never spoke of that night in the
boat to any with whom shle cam#" in
contact. She never heard w;hether
Ralph Resseguie was captured or not.
She never knew what became of his
miserable wife.
Her past life seemned ahalf folarotten"
dream, and she was only dimly con
scious of the reality of anything.
At thirty-five years of age Muriel
Warner was a beautiful and cultured
woman. She had visited nearly all of
the countries of the Old World. Ac
quaintances she made, but very few
friends,and these often wondered when
in reply to their inquiries site would
say:
"I never read a newspaper. I never
write nor r'eceive a letter."
But her time of awakening cameand
the one to stir the dormant emotions
of her woman's heart was a stranger
and a man.
It was at the Bahama Islands wher e
she first met Norman Van Ness.
He was forty years of age-a Herds
le in the fullness of his manhood, and
seemed to be attracted, nay, to love
her from the very first.
Her deep blue eyes soon grew to
watch for him, and becanse sott aild
tender beneath the light in his dark
ones, and with the growth of her ntw
love many of the feelings of her yourh
came back to her.
Father and mother. long forgotten, i
became dear once more to her, and oft
en she caught herself thinking.
"if he ever speak+, and if after I h
have told him all, we are ever me .
ried, I will get him totake mehoma.to
my parents."
But hte did not speak. Weeks t, ew
into montO-, and the longed-for-lo.ve.
sords never came. Muriel's Jleart
again began quivering with paio. She
knew not that its numbness lhnd dce
parted forever.
Sometinmes she felt that she wacht
to move on; to get away from influ
ences which more than likely woaMkl
prove saddening to her. but she could:
not at once bring herself to do this.
While she was debating the s ubj.ct
in her mind the crisis came.
A storm had been sweeping over I hei
Bahamas, a vessel was going to pieces
upon the reef. Muriel was out upon
the wave-wasted shore, iaereyeshbripht.
and her cheeks rosy with excitement.
Her golden brown hair had been loos
ened by the driviii wiuud, anld she
was that rare but delicioiuscreartuis, a
womans beatitiful when she is mnatAmre.
Norman Vani Nese was Ie her side.
and Muriel expressed a wisIh o row
out near to the life-savingboats whl ic;h
were battling with the waves. and
overladen with hitmnan beings whom
they had rescued iii ., Isalf dlrownedrl
state.
"bet me be your boattuan." plead
ed Van Nes, antd Muriel could not re
press her thoughits which whisl,wevl to
her of that long forgotten night, when
her husband's murderer had been her
boatman.
The strong man took his place at
theoars. Out over the watuers they
rowed together, the dreadful past ri!
ing so strong befor, the woman that
she had no thought of the mtan no near
her.
"MuIriel.," said he. in a low voil;
"Muriel. Muriel, I love you, hut I have
no right to say these words to you.
Muriel, have you never thought that
I might be Ralph Resqetuieul?"
"Can it be?" she said. slowly. "I
did not see your face by daylight, you
know."
"tes, it is I, a married man and a
murderer; but still I love you Muriel.
"And I love you," shesaid, in a tonew
of despair.
They were nearing the life-hoats I
now, and one of the crew shouted: a
"'Van Nes,we cannot go ba* just
yet, mand here is a manad woman
.ue mo t aeapd ldt Wea t pus li
treni in vyort boat, and you can take
t l,-t, :a hore."
'i''-'.I haId hid l the dripping
. in the hottoin of+Ae b•uat, and
,wi: strong stroke.s al(Ie head
l:Ialph I: e-9u1e0 pulikeet- o·'.re.
1 h'I I: thery wert that int'
elh:.. for the fig,. John O ulnl' I
.den- Sanders is Orleat
4celebrat"
* "y God. im\" ild discip)- slong t
*'And lFred "V satisftc- hanfgtel,
r.ith a thlil of renlrel inll' C:
Sp It was true. F .bhs ith not
t died, andl t ,r d s fd ltnaoadet
these two walltler-. u, :. car are of
if tie earhth had Ilen al farce', W'ol• all.
t The days. of the gull ty pair on earth
werenutnbered. Mabel Itessegqienever
r repowerel tconcouslnes. Fred War
1. ner lived a few days, long enough to
.apsk the forgiveness of the two he had
t wrongedra,t-thlen expired.
r IRalph Reaseguie and Muriel Warn',
were lmarried and returned to Muri el's
r old home, where. in the sunshin.e of
happiness. the dark days no their lives
were forgotten.
The Best Hog Gue .ser.
1 The recent arrest of sev eral farners
, by emsusar'iet in the 'jniuldoy of An
thony :omsustock, for aldulging in the
an amuseent of gutess ~A at tile weightt
of a at, hoI,.. lea:ds the "Thunthnai!
' Sketcher" of the Rochester I'nioh to
L relate the lollowing story of Hiram
I ibley. the we!-known millionair 'of
that cit y, wh 0oe benefactions to ('or
nell universi y have, been so generous:
The best ºhog-guesser western New
i Yo rk ever produred is Iliranm Sibley
of [Rochester. A well-authenticated
incident wictah occurred on a farm
near this city a few years ago abund
antly illustrate his acumen anti
success to ,his direction. lie had lone
Sen..eys an enviabl, reputation for
ttms titte-honored amusemlent, sand
wihen he visited t he farm in question
and found a well-dressed porker ready
ior the guessing proress, everybody
'. was ',leased, "for." said one to anoth
er. "here is a man who will get mighty
cls;e this 'ere aninal's heft." In
short, Mr. Sibley was invited to guess,
:and proceeded in due torm and after
Sstpproved ceremony to do so. Said
weighs exactly t wo-hundred-and sirx
ty-one-- pounds- and-a- quarter."
SNo sooner was the oracular sentence
uttered than stalwart handslifttd the
dressed hag front its hook and placed
it upon the scales. It weighed 6,61 3-4
-half a pound over Mr. Sibky'sguess!
The latter was thoroughly disgusted,
exclaiming. "liow could I have been
Iso much mistaken?" Iut he proceeded
I nevertheless, contrary to his custom,
to take another scrutinizing view of
the poker. Presently his eyes lighted
~ up with triumph. as he detected a
stone in the hog's mouth designed to
keep the jaws extended while the car
cass was being dressed. "rake out
that plug," he said, "and you will find
it weighs precisely half a pound." And
it d:d, to a grain!
His Little Boots.
By Will . C'lemnens, in Detroit Free I're. I
Up in the cemetery on the hill I I(
picked the pebbles front off his grave t
and smoothed tile new-made earth
with my hand and brashled away some c
dead leaves that had fallen there. 1 I
think there was a tear dropped on the t
Sgrave as I bended over it, and there 1i
were little rivulets of tears running
I down both my cheeks as I came away r
frmIn the lonely cemetery.
And I entered the house again. O, 1
how ca iet it seemed without the pat- I
ter oahis little feet, and his little cry c
of welcome. Ah, my precious one, l
pa.~a misses that sweet and tender r
grajting. And on the mantel I saw a
hlih pair of little boots-the first and if
only pair he had ever worn. I put
them on the mantel with my own
hands the night before he died. Such i
little boots: How I looked at them, /
and how she has taken them in her 1
hands, and kassed the stiff, black, a
heavy-soled things, and shed her tears a
upon them. Hlow his little eyes did e
shine with joy and happiness when I a
~brought thhenl home! How those red e
itops and brightest copper toes en- gi
chanted his youthful heart! Then, t,
when she nmade his first pair of pants
to wear with the boots, hislittle body jo
*swelled with ttride: Dear little bootel 'F
On the mantel there in silence they i t
.seen to speak sweet and tendler a
words to me. I love them because he I
iwore them. And she !oves them far w
mnore thant I, for every mtorning she i y
kisses thlenm. and every evening she w
wipesaway her tears, with their little si
red tops. Oh, dear little boots! The ia
kingdotm o the world could not buy w
them from nus. They are the sweetest I
Smemories iof our dead boy that God nl
could give to u-. His little boots! w
Evitn now I hasten to the mantel and
I touch them again with my roueh en
fingers, and the tears are falling thick
and fast upon his little boots! t.
A Glymnpse of Royalty. tl
"The first glimpse I ever had ofl roy
alty," says Olive Imogan, "was of ex.
Queen Isabella of Spain. I was in the
Turkish section of the Vienna exposi- p
tion, when I noticed a coarse, fat el
derly woman, plainly dressed and vul- f
gar in every movement, come wad- h4
dling along. Nhe was shaking all over ii
like a bowl of je:ly, and looking keen- w
yiv about her with beady eyes, while te
behind her walked a youth hardly .t
come to manhood'sage. He wore ca
a stovepipe hat and a Prince Albert
coat. The ex-queen wore a black lace el
overdress over black silk. She worea at
black lace bonnet with long streamers te
of ribbon behind, and a mass or red g
roses mingled with the lace, and .-he
had sonme very beautiful diamonds in ne
her ears andat the throat. She went ne
aboult cheapenine everything and ds
looking for some Turkish r'e. to buy, feo
but she seemed to think that the;rwice H
was raised on account of her royalty, hi
and in a loud aside in French she wi
spoke to her young son, saying that
hlie must come there the next morning. sa,
wearing a plain suit and a cap, and p
get the carpets at a lower pnce. I
saw this same queen at theoperasoon
after in al the glory of full dress, and -
she mad., to mna kinai e* of the
-et muelting I ew wit Ise
I2 et."~~ bb~~~~
A BlATE RIDGE ROMANCE.
The VFirst Iraand talvpes His ,llim. Bat a le
1 bt1aeful Ialghe lIreaL the Crlhalal I.a,.
Rakich \ .VC.) etrr. New York Hcrerli.
i, 11Al the youth there is no llmore ro
manl! UI region thlan tat beyvotd tli
Blue l:idge nlmountainls, in this State
whelru he wolf a:tl t he Indian yet p:
thei- part as inl tih.e days of early set
tlentiuzt. IIn Jactkson county a \a-t
tract o! land is ownel by the I htre
lk,.. i, "eaCtt-rnl hand" of thi . ntn.
pow, r:'l tribe ia:t aug there t4iret e
tate.
fin .l I,- len reto's in a e e"entr:
lbf th*-c In a fands a: lattie' sday i
SInhlstiet :or: iof he-old n|i't1 lHat "trnth:l
:,t .t ii: I i t ;h tiei lj i has<i , r ,i,
and N\ t tt i : l'armitlta vanl'yt v miie eI'i: ,
to a - rt. in reii life mttore rtnlunt it
than t;- i tie tl tale of "I linoch Ir
denll, o. ,r .'whiclh s li  l e.·" n t hal
grownt s rlisli sict iieir il , tit.
'Senator Kope Elias ate ihe di..
tinetion Iol eol#n the first ilebr,-w
who has \et he llhl a seat in tihe Leic
laturt. of North Caroin a Iln ihe
early ida- of the century .l+tb llio -
ry. at intleer of the .lehwieh rate atnd
taitlh, wa ret urned front the old "heir
ough'" of( New Berne, but w-s not al
lowed tie take. his seat, ith incde lied
by an overwheliing vote oi the Legis
lature that he was not a "trie he
iiever." Henr3 spoke in lhis ouvitn de
tense, and his lpeech, lre-palredl
for hinm by tihe illustrious tilliatin
t(astont, yet remains as a ialodel of
eCompositiotn aunli of vigorous protest
a.ainlst old prejiudices as to reliaion
atn sect. Buit to Senator Elias no
such barriers were opposed. He is
the Senator from the far Western dis
trict, and in that district, which em
bractes a territory larger than some
of these United States, is .Jakson
county, the scene of our iromanie.
Seated by a cozy fire the other
Inight. in a committee room in the
C'apitol, Senator Elia% re'ated the
facts in tihe case.
He said that in 18i2 a stal.
wart lountaineer nuined Ilam.
rick, who up to that time., haid l an:
aged to avoid the war and its attend
ant features of volunteerint or beinc
conscripted,brought a bu xom wife with
him from Swain county into Jackson
county, and made his home in this
quiet and lovely cove in the Indian
reservation.
Months passed. The pair were de
voted. The young wife experienced
all the delights of a thoroughly prini
tire existence. Bat this was not to
last. There was a regiment of Chero
kees; in the service of the State, un
der the command of old Col. Thomas.
One day an officer of this regiment
returned and found Hamrick in the
cove. The latter wasconscripted and
hurried to the front. His wife next
heard from him in Northern Vixgina.
Letters were infrequent, messages
seldom came.
In 1864 the wife-to whom a pair
of twins, a boy. and a girl, had been
born-learnel that her husband had
disappeared: that after his name on
the roll of his company was only that
dreadful entry "Missing."
In 1805 the war ended, and with its
close came to he' the news that her
husband had deserted-gone over to
the enemy. Year after year passed.
The wife kept the vigil of love and
wearily waited for the missing husband
who never came.
There were wooers enough, and "the
widow" as she was called in the neigh
borhood talk, had what was there
considered good offers. One patient
lover named Bowers. thrice rejected,
pe.rsevered, and in 175 won the prize
of his devotion, lHe brought his ei
fects to his wife's home in the cove.
Ten years more passed and 15886
came. Not one word of the long-lost
first husband had been heardsincethe
ieturning soldiers brought news. in
1865, of Hamrick's desertion. True
as the wife's devotion was to her sec
ond husband, she had yet a warmn
spot in her simple heart for the first,
and an her rude. uncultured way sheI
even wove a half-romance ott of the
great and apparently unending nays
tery of his absemne.
One bright day last summer a stan- I
ler cameto Bowers' home in the cove.
The place was in most respects like
it was in 1863, for changes in the
mountain wilds are made elowlv.
Bowers was not at home. The wife
was now a Boxom woman of forty
years, far tidier in appearance anIl
with much more natural grace and
spralghtliness than the average woman
in that section. The stranger asked
who lived there. He was told "the
Boweres family." In a hospitable
manner he was asked into the house,
where presently came to their another
two children, one of six and the oth
er of nine years.
At dinner time the family received
two more additions-a youung lpan
and young woman about twentv.
tharee years of age, exceedingly alike
in faceand manner. The stranger ask
ed, "Who are these?""They are latm
ricks," was the reply of thegood wife:
"my chfildren-by my first. husband.'
People in the mountains in many
cases love to talk-in fact, are not in
frequently garrulons-and in half ani
hour the wife had told the story o: her
firs t marriae and the deep mystery
which had ended it. The stranger lis
tened attentively, and just as tlw
story was concluded Bowers hismself
"ame in.
A neighbor crame in and soon learn
ed the story too. The w'te buetied
about of course, excited. bit not in
tears. Hamrck and Bowers talked to
gether.
The neighbors, after the manner 01
neighbors all the world over, told the
news to people within reach, and next
day these came to hear and see. A
few, very few, had a remembrance of:
Hamrlck: not vivid, but faint, for he
had lived in that section but a little
while, of course.
Presently some loquaciols neichbor
said to Bowers: "WA ell, what are you
going to do about it?"
"About what?" was the reply.
"Why, about Ihat man IIularick. I
Be's vomr wiMo's husband."'
u pt sunew faes on the matter.
Bowhase mat thought @1 it In that
into tears.
There were i dozen people an the
hous. All were lcistenmng andall look
inre with rude c:triosity.
The house strn .d cramped. Bow
,ras said: "Let's go outdoors." All
0- W'ent.
e No soo 1.1r had they arrived ini the
i ard t ,an the wife went to liuwets
and threw iher arms about hinm.
" .At this 1ia:tev til Intalliness ther,'
t was in illutrick cameI to the .surfacet
anud 'a.serttd it-elf He said: "lit
ti11l You what I'll do. peojple; I don't
wI:ti to mtake io disturbance and I'll
r" riglhtb:ack w here I canle froml."
Tlhat was all lie sai:. The crowdl
ihalf lspoke. half nodded assent to the
', lro!tositiotn and plan in one. Hight
i.4 tle, under the trees, the matter wis
Sýettt ,l.- iiin court tw-iore ia :ur-.
!latitrlt k said he was satisfied, :ial,
. Ic-lared that this time he woould ut:
" nor eLned.'" He told the INopl,l,., his
wit,, his children, all good-by. Unly
Ie i;a ri itid, not through aniy sei
finctnta:lity about the situation,~ but
out of ipurt emotion and a desire to
I do her titl y in her onn sinal;e wa\.
TIure wast, nevertheklss, iin the sit
itl:lln. as in the sil'jiect, everythine
that tihe most ardent novelist coual'!
ui tle-ire, and yet to these people all way
it fact. a hart fart, without possibly
thet bariet suggestion of sentiment.
SlThe neictlllors did not spread the
news very much outside their own cis
e,-I. and the affair was al nmere matter
of neighhlorliood talk. Noonethouglht
I that the law would ever step in. But
step in it did, in a way just as romnan
tic, though just tts real, as everything
else.
A neiighbor of Bowers' had what in
t that country is known as a "falling
out" with him, about a cider-preas.
Out of these trivial affairs grow quar
rels. harsh words, nay, blood-letting
e and even homicides, not infrequently.
STlhis time Bowers' new-made eneiamy
was of atnother stamp of man. lie
kr it w of t lie Ha nrick matter, but a few
Imontlhs before settled. So last Octo
he er he went to the county seat and
there gave to the Solicitor or a grand
jutiryman the infornmation that Bow.
ers was violating the statute by un
I htwfully living with a woman. anid that
tihat woman had also violated the
;aw in coninmmitting big/amy.
Now herer was a situation. Bow
Ser-. and his wife were arrested and
Ienator Elias. a lawyer of repute in
all that region, was sought to defend
thel. The husband, who had given
bond for his appearance at court,
rode many miles after "Lawyer Eli
as" and told him the whole story.
The lawyer, a man of culture, was
'astonishled at the story thus unrolled
tefore his very eyes. Court met and
the lawyer used all his eloquence and
t persuaiveness. He told the whole
story-of the deserted wife, the long
vigil of love, the giving up of the first
t husband for dead, the remarriage, the
return of the long-lost husband, the
verbal agreemen t that he should re
turn to the far Northwest and all re
main as it was.
r The narrative had itseflect upon the
Srudest minid; but the law had techni
cally, unknowingly been violated; it
must be technically enforced. So there
was a technical verdict of guilty, with
a recommendation to the mercy of the
a court if the parties lived separate andtl
apart.
This was Lawyer Elias' chance, his
opportunity; he seized it. He told
Bowers that he and his wile bad best
go out of that neighborhood, and that I
they might live together; that the
verdict was only technical, and the 1
judgmiient a mere form, and that in
the future the law would not again
disturb them.
They acted on the stugestion. re
mnoved to Ilacon county, and now live
I there at peace with the world. Only
a few weeks ago the son was married,
and in the spring the girl will become i
a bride.
So Senator Elias told the story, a
I true story in all particulars, which has I
in it all the elements of thefancifuland a
unreal, and yet just as true as the fact,
known of all men, thatthegreat peak:
ot the Blue Ridge raise themselves
akyward in Western North Carolina.
The SLtrougest Ma on Earth.
SThere is a man on the Darson River,
below Dayton, named Angels Cor.
della. who claims to be the stronitest
mI an in the world. Hfe is uan Italian.
augel t wetty-eight andl stands live feet
and ten inches, weighing 19S pounds.
IHis strength grew was born with hiin,
for lihe had no athletic trainng, lie
differs fromn other men chiefly in the
osseous structure. Although not ol
uInusual size, his spinal column i
much above the ordinary width, aid
his bones and joints aret made on sint
ilarly larger and generous stale. He has
lifted a t man of U-(m pounds with the
middle lintger oe his right hand. The
man stood with one loot on the floor,
his arms outstretched,his hands urasip
ed by two persons tobalancehis body.
(-ordella then stooped and placed the
third tinger of his right hand under the I
mana's foot, aand with scarcely anry ner
ceptible effort raised him to thehetaht 1
of tour feet and deposited hint on a
table near at hand. Once two power
ful men waylaid Cordella with intent
to thrash him. but he seized one in
each hand and hammered them to
cetilr until life was neatly knocked
out of them.
The Methodist "That's So.'"
New Yorkl; Tribune. a
The old-time Methodist habit o
slotititn -Amen" and "That's so
i brother-" in chuch sometimes leads tt.
ludicrous results. An int'anc - oc-t;lr -
redtl recenitly in the Ilansomplae.e M~Ith i
i odit cthurch In Brooklyn. The Rev.
;(;eorge E. Ree3l in his sermon was tell
ing of the benefits of giving, aid illus
Strated it by examples from the Bible.
SAn old gentleman frequently interrup
ted by shouts of "Amen"' and "Tilhat's t
,so." Tim preacher remarked that
sonte persons migitt doubt what It
told theu. and say: "Oh, that Colly
what Mr. Reed says, and he doesn't
know much anyway." Just thea .
came the familiar interruption, F
"That's so, brother." The house was
convuled with lasughter, and the pas
tore miled aod maid: "Yoor hae- c
i'Ek*** *A* ii **I s ps. ;
PICK DAVIS' MAGNETIC TABLE.
SPi'lece of urniture on tWhich the
oawner WVon Thousands Throwing
ytrie.
Fr ten years past there has stood in
the c ,rlcr of the billiard room of the
Iprinci:"al h:utel in this town a rickety
Il u'"L-t.t.ii,. writes a Hanford, Cal..
o...' -'.ilent -f 'Ih- Ne-o Fork Sn.
It.- a, i'tll-thle-... eau-ed it to remain in
.' i. pat-ce during the changes of the
hutl s tuuatc orolrictor-hips. It Was
a roInd tamhi- covered wa.t an old gray
armi}l' bh!'i:l.t. tacked to the edge
through a log strin, of leather. At
re-,. tlar ditua:Ce,, were four pieces of
tnu cium n -hu ni:il down to.- the play
er, :., I:v tl.c.ir hghted cigars ot. In
l:Ltce' e:ll'r. it: four rudel.-mnadle legs
were -o -haky that no one cared to teet
.r hi chis on tite table, and it was
ch.,tIly 1,-l bh the ~itcsts to throw
Il'ohlr "o'.< itti ita'm on when they went
to thI r tl aalo. iFor :t lou tilme tile
prtio ,.it iropt.tor ilwa)s a tl when he
iooklei at tie t:ai,!' thiat Ihe "tit'tiidedi
to le':t it uIt lO-imorroitV iandt get at new
on., butil!? . htollll'h iw ti was Ito d(onte
unti l:ut h?: perhap.s Ilthin onl, because
lool,;o be.,ii too tiar their coati o n tImn
tl:11., a.nl lher impromptu remarks on
Iti' asubject teudtd to complicate malt
'ters.
It was :,after :a ouble harreled ex
pIlo,-ioni of thli k:n1I the orher day that
the pro|l:r.'tor !Iut hkis b:artenoier to cut
the o,\'r oli" the table, and make kind.
liug-;;tooo.l t thile ca.ed thing. Tihe
butlthto-ir aitw p.d out Is knife and
bo'.uian to carte the blanket. lie had
jult Iide one cu savaue -lash and:l hadl
startoll a second when his knife struck
something mctalic. He then ripped
the (coter off and found at steel plate
imile inches lung and six inches wide,
whichl wars set uilsh into the
tahl],. Tile plite was about
a tolot froin the edge and pierced with
a dozen holeq. Every one wondered
wihat it wai. for. a:ld an old townsman
renmemibered that the table was
brought th11re from Virginia City years
ago anti presumed it was used in the
early days to play some kind of crib
bilge. When the table began to hbe
chioplwd l p a I ght was thrown on the
character of thet table; for underneath
the top. concealed on a little shelf by
one of the legs, were a small battery,
coils of wire. and some complicated
ma:chinery connected with one of the
tinplates. The'e were covered with
rut and dotit.
Ihe old townsman woke up and re
mnembering seeinhi in d;lys gone by a
wan named l'ick Davis win $7,000 at
dice on that very table. from a cattle
man. in about lifteen tseconud besktes
packin utip sundry thousands and hun
Sl reds at other times from those who
were ganmblingly inclhned. Two drinks
al-o caused the old townsman to snd
mdenly reeolhct that Davis cname down
to Missel Slutgii--a.s Hlanford waiq call.
ed then--fromn Virginia City with a
i li rcputation as "dlip chtcenr." and
the boys* cane in from far and near to
1 buck him. It was said that Davis had
won over $1u0.000 at dice in the mines,
where he was called "'lucky Pick." As
li he was not found out in his play he is
_alive to-day, but he has changed his
name and ownes a big ranch in the San
Joaquin vallev. So it is seen that one
way to wealth and respectability has
been for a "'stre thing man" in the
discovery of a magetic outfit to do up
people with dice, and not to get caught
because he got in his work single
handed..
I ------*
DIAMOND STEALING.
I Feeding Preetous Gems to a Greedy
Dot and Then Killnlg he Dog.
Although there is a considerable and
clever detective staff on the diamond
tields. there are those at Kimberly who
can outwit the police. at any rate for a
time. and so it hIappens that snoh a
number ,of stones is annually stolen as
to prove at factri in disturbing the
market price, says thinmbibrrs' Jouratsl.
The e'h:lmtec"s or dtetection are no
adoubt groat; lout thhe hop of sei CUring
a few hundred pounds by a little pecu
lation is so temnpt,:ing that there are al
was i hundred. of men at "the game."
Some of the thieves-thlat is. the men
who steal thie stones they are paid for
unearthmg-dlisplay- great ingenuity la
carrying away the gems. The business
of liamond diving is naturally of a
routgh-and-readv kism., and presents
opportunities fr fraud which are not
I available in other inldustries. When
diamond stealing tirst becanlme'a ousi
nesi those intr.reted. suspecting no
evil, were easil3 chleatei. Stones were
then carried away conc·ealed about tihe
person of the labor.rs, but as the
thefts increased greater precautions
were taken to iuistre the dletection of
thie thieve'. Some of thie dodges"
which havo been resorted to in order to
carry disuoomo,!, frooim the digginm s
bare been not a little remarkalle. We
Ihave olii rooll. Ihoweveyr, for a cam
ple or t\o. I 'poot one occasion it isre
atell thlaLt an ilgentiouns laborer wrap
ptcd thlo -toonJes io na small piece of soft
blreasl, thie iior-el bho: mg i',oodiiv snap
ped by a dog.. . do was t"arefu llv
looketl after tll thie rmine was left be
hinol. whe-n it ws rmtth isli killed to
obtain t:.w hidoImn .1:..rntom!o whiieh
woro. ootlitsaned ill its stoma:th. lk
me'tic fowl. havre been tra.med to swal
low ;,e -mnaiaer btones,. which have
afterwa;rd be"n .nt out of their crops.
A parcel of stoloon gem, hiave r en
knowlm to havT. l,.llm gou out ,of a well
watch.' I lti:iir, I hay n, been in
genioul; I ,-:o,:,:n I to the hair of a,
horse's ta 1.
JFaets Ahlmt Elrop·,es H~ ar.
T'lle wars of Eui]roomo. s:lce tlte -ix
toauttli centtzr. 0 r.-cito tihe f!:uowiln g
table:
tars und iSskenl too tILi' :a, qjmaitihtot, ,f terri
tory.. ................... . ......... 44
For the Iv ,f tritu ................. *
for rrerl-si ..................... 4
Frorn the It.sm -al; n of tIrritr,......... .
tin qurh to- of too,,, oro .eorobo_,:t;v' ... .
From riIlaus to .rso ... o t .m........ 44
From tnpret rts ol as-:atilutv, to ail amti ... .ll
From rivarir in lohlence................. -
From eoums-ellst quarrels............. 5
Civil wa.. . ...............................
*- *W*..·........***¶·9******
'I'lo lTeahiugs of (Geology.
auo ;uly teache-. us that countless
torm- of iti. hsave pasecd away, as far
a, wt can ti-l. , fore'v r.
SIe. l'e :slail P 'rnd a lh'it eonce hnad had
lo,:tl Ii hit at1on on earth have dis
t!,pt:earei trot:: the staet,. and have
n1ow 1110. It n11'a41. anid not only
.c'lst.t and tienera. butt whole orders
have cone, leavini only the-ir epitaphl
. n t he gtravestones which mark their
htt resting places. AnAd yet, side by'.
side with this, we are brought face to
face with the remarkable constancy
of ,t her species. In the Silurian rocks,
which occupy the lowest place batl
two tl'ambrin anI Luarentian) inttha
.eological thronologty, we are tau&i"
that "'renains offoramlinW~la, some
thelrn apparently identt al with exzis
ing form, hate been detecteted in eva&
otis piat ,," a'lmid in the cretacuoe
rocks some of the foraminifera ate
theL same as those now dredged aup
from the bottom of tihe ocean.
\'olnaIe' of intezresting lore, fasraJ
nflt tin a* the ietendls of fairylandortle
nm:agic taicu of Arabia. are there writ
tetn '1 the, hieroglyphicsi of vaulte'
dornw ard haInging -talactite, ofb i
bone allt a ,in and inpleipl nts of vs t
rild use. The many rac's of nlenwhbo
inhabittl t he lhand of ,,rehistoric tiig.
apliwar agains on tee scene'; somet
of their nuanner of life is revealsd
Again they hunt the saimmmoth biow7
anduI bear over the broad plat s
and trltouih t'icrk forests. At one
tile we sre t heri nusing the dog, tbhei
hors.e :l : . i hure for food. Stra '
revotEilnt ions ve takled place in thlS
ifwt. 'T'he dat early passed out of fa*.
vo', and its y.e ha.s not b,:en revivei
The horse wtgun ne'l as food in Homesl
Britain and aft cr t h- Englishin vaiy ':
it was aifterward forbidden by tht
rchir. hbecallse used by the Scan '
It: vititls in honor of their god Odin; now
it is urs111 i Francet' and other
tries. Th'l1 Britons, however, w
not eat t e hl.r---it was jekl to
,nlawi,,il to do so. 'Thle rVi
lhnd of time 1ha1s tanged this, 8oU
now atccept the hare as lit for food. 4.
Even the rude artists of thoseI
t1\ e tinmes when man was ai cavo-dwi
er, have left us specimens of theirsklll
In the caves of D6rdolone, in theassot
of Franc'e, are found horns and boou
with spirited carvings of reandeer,
son, ubex and birds done upon tfiiSi
One of the mlost interesting of t
relie.s is the portrait of at mammo
carved on a tusk of the sam fr
the cave of 1laon Madelaine, in
ogne. Siniple a these artistic attei
are', they tell its that man wa" et
togetiher uncivilazed. This must
admitted. even if we regard th s
ings as the most advtpnmid astL
day, which tperlnaps, we have n"'
to do. What part of the artol
will be recorded in the stony
geological future? Not the h
assuredly; and so it may have been
the past.--Chambers's Journal.
- ----·- 0 --.
An Old-Timne Doetor.
The Waterbury (Conn.) A
thus talks about an old-time
England doctor:
Dr. John I). Meers of Nausatoek
widely known as one of the most
ful and sucessfeul physicians of
time. His practice aniongthe
was quite extensive, and it was
custom to take his pay for servfois
the produce of the farms, seldom
never keeping accounts or making
charge, but sending for a buebsl
potatoes or corn or a barrel of
as he happened to want it.
on the far mera were always
at sight, for he used to say he
not intend to overdraw," and, m
families in those days were larla
the children iquite as likely to be
then as now, it is quite likely that
paid in his way for all that he efoWI
el. He was always very ears e alat
to injure his uatients and a ·
very little nedicine, b'tt, if calledti=
see a nan who was a little *oto..
sorts. would prescribe a diet of toasg
and cider, or something equally sah:
ale, and leave nathure to effect a
e was oncn called to see a man wba
had been in btred several days, and, g
entering the room, he sat down, stulkI
his long leus under the bed, move_,
his lpectacles to the top of his b
head and sat and told stories for a(s
hour. He tlat; sent onle of the bos
to draw a ,gluss of cider, which
dlrank. and ntade his preparationo Pt.
leave tie liouste. Thle a.ck man
if he wa,, noIt goinS to 1lrescrlbe feV'.,
huim, or cive him Fomethint to take.
"Oh, yes, y.vs, -es." replied the dos
tor; "'you just ee.t i, and stir ablsoI
a littl., an(d wash tip and put onl
cletan, shirt land ,ou will be al r-ltl I
guess." Notwitdhatanding thedoetm' E
;.eculiarities in slurh lcases, he was on
of the most earetul and devoted Iph."
siciarns ot da ngerouc illness, and womd
oftel, l apipear. unsolicited and u -me'
ectced in the sck room long after mkli
night. sogreat was his anxiety for the
welfare of his latients.
As thefSpirit Wings ItsFllght.
Pars Letter in Scienre.
At a recent meting of the Academy
of hcienees. MI. l-ayem. of the Medical
clhool. rt.ad a paper on the phenom.
1-na ,ott ilcl thhe hid of an animal
u!lter dea1,'t:,tion. \ith or without
tran-fusioti of fresh blood. As soon
a I the head is senarrated from the
body tlh.' eyes move convulsively, and
a look of wonldfer and anxiety isnothe
able on the tf:t.. Tthe. jaws separate"
with ;orc,.. ali the tongue seems to
i,· in a ttanri. '':te. 'rhare appeas
to h, 5ome , '(,,rious..is of what as
zoaing on, tit this does not last more
thiat three. or four seconds. If prep.
rationlls iave prleviously hetrna-de - ,
thitt the heirt after S[larlion cO'lo
"it.|es to rec-ive, a fresh supply ,,
blood. tlhe voiutitar!' tmanifesttttion.
p *.,t u. lotiz a th lo)huod supply i4
sticient-that i' for ha~lf an hour t.r
so. When a blood ,ttl.pply isfurnrst,|
after the ha]-:tl has beconle entirely
luotioaleans, t lie pietoZOl:(e'nt aire as o
lows: t,,mie'otitractii,. \ery weei
an feehble, taike place espec'aily in the
tlnu.hles of tlw' lips,; thet sonle 'respiraL .
tory efforts; reflex actions of the r
first weak, then well marked, but
eeiids remia droovig t we
see aeleg ad i ib'l'

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