T-
i
SJt
18
stand each other than the Pharisee and Sad
ducee, or the living and the dead.
Mary was sitting just as her sister and
Ariella had found and left her, when
Martha unexpectedly returned. She hur
ried into the room excitedly and said:
"The Master calleth for thee. Hurry,
Mary, and do not be mopine there any
longer. I am ashamed of thee."
Mary arose, slowly. Martha's voice
jarred on her but she was used to that. She
Teiled herself, and followed her sister con
fusedly. She was unconscious ot any de
tails on that sad, strange walk into the outer
world her first since she had followed her
brother to his crave. She did not lift her
eyes from the ground. She saw the gravel,
and blades of crass, and little pebbles and
glittering sana, and Martha's robe flutter
ing before her. She could not tell where
she was, nor how far she had cone, when a
voice quite near her murmured:
"Mary."
Oh, this was not the voice of any common
mourner, and paltry, petty comforter! "What
neighbor, what friend or kin was there,
whose sorrow sank into her soul like sacred
dew! All Mary's nature lifted itself like a
dying flower to his lace. "When she saw
how broken it was she fell at his feet and
passionately, piteouslv cried:
"Oh, if thou hadst been here he had not
died!"
Cut into the side of the limestone cliff
under the hamlet of Bethany, and with a
glance toward the heights of Olivet, well
shielded by olive trees, and close upon the
highway, thesepulchre of Lazarus responded
drearilv to the gaze of the mourners who had
thronged it. The tomb was new, hewn by
the family upon private land, and carved
with all the mortuary art of the times. It
had not been constructed above a year or
two. Lazarus himself had erected it, ex
pending much thought upon it, that it
might be a spot of beauty and of dignity
worthy of the lamily eminence. Its stone
lip hid gaped now, and shut upon him; one
might fancy that it was with a certain in
sensate pride that they received their de
signer aud creator for their first victim.
It was a. fair day, suuny and warm. The
soul of the coming spring was already in the
air. Budding trees and blossoms trembled
delicately in the low and pleasant wind.
The sky throbbed with the deep color whicli
it wears when the creation of life is at its
fullest and richest. It was 3 day when it
seems impossible to die incredible to be
dead.
Before the tomb of Lazarus there had col
lected a large and serious crowd. The dis
ciples of the Kazarene had made every effort
to prevent the knowledge ot his return from
spreading widely. But this was a thing im
possible. The eminence of the dead, the
suddenness and mystery of the death, wild
rumors as to some cause for it more interest
ing to public curiositv than the fact itself
these had swelled the crowd of formal
mourners who came to gather about the be
reaved household. The return of the Ifaza
reue, with his close personal connection
with the case, had called from Jerusalem a
mixed mass of people who gathered from
every motive under the sun, about the tomb.
Among these could be easily recognized
many persons familiar to our story. Mal-
schi, the Pharisee, stood pompouslv in a
prominent position, with his thick under
lip preyed up in the intensest satisfaction.
Mulachi was not a murderous man, but he
took solid satisfaction in the death of Laz
arus. "What could so benevolently have in
terfered to verity his own position in regard
to the Kazarene? He surveyed the crowd
with the secret elation of a man who says:
I told you so. Hagaar, his wi"e, stood at
konie distance from him, ceremoniously
veiled, more so than a married woman
needed. She acted as if she were a little
ashamed of her husband. Her loud tongue
was still. Her roving eyes were lowered.
But for the fact that it savored of immoral
ity, Hagaar would have been quite willing
that day to be taken for the wife ot some
other man. Say, of that sweet-lipped, de
vout young man yonder, the favorite disci
ple of Jesus, he who, it was said, kept so
closely to his Master, as if not knowing
whether he most loved or feared for him,
whether he were there to caress or protect
him. But John loved his Master. There
was no room le t in his soul for any woman.
John was absorbed in Jesus as the fuel is in
the fire. Peter, the fisherman, whispered
something to him restlessly; but John had
the maunerot one who heard no man.
ltachel, the neighbor of Lazarus, was
among the people, and beside her leaned
Ariella and Baruch, hand clasped in hand.
Amos of Gethsemane-stood behind these
three, saying uothin?, as was the habit of
Amos. Some of the workmen of Lazarus
were in the group, and with them the young
man who made mourning lor Lazarus and
thought of Mary. The old Sheliach from
Jerusalem could be noticed observing the
scene, without commenting upon it. Stand
ing apart by himself, the slave Abraham
wept bitterly. Mary and Martha were not
yet come to the tomb, and it was said by the
disciples of the Kazarene that he lingered
with tne sisters of the dead to comfort them.
'Comfort is a useful thing before that!"
sneered MaKchi, pointing to the closed sep
ulchre. M.ilachi had fcarcely spoken these words
when a murmur ran along the crowd that
the Kazarene and the sisters of the dead
were to be seen approaching the tomb. The
people fell back with a motion of involun
tary respect. The lightest lip ceased its gos
sip and the shallowest heart felt something
like a throb of reverence.
"He boweth his head," whispered Bachel.
"He hath the aspect of a mourner closely
of kin."
"Kin is of the heart," murmured Ariella
to her husband.
"Would that I could see his countenance,"
said a bystander, "but the motion ot the
man bideth it."
At this moment a stir among the people
indicated a diversion ot interest to another
quarter. Enoch the lad. nrowliug about, as
is the manner of boys, had peered above the
sepulchre, treading down the bushes that
crew there, and searching after who knows
what, whether the body or the soul ot the
dead. He had made a discovery which
caused him to run back, as fast as his legs
could carry him, to his former master,
Baruch, with the announcement that he had
seen a ghost. "It was not Lazarus" he
said, "for she was a woman; but you couid
see for yourself that it was not like other
people " Baruch and Ariella, hushing the
hoy, with all speed made their way, trying
to attract as littie attention as they could,
to the thicket whence the lad had emerged.
There, prostrate on the ground, with her rich
clothing torn by thorns, her hair disheveled,
and her facs hidden on her arms, lav a
woman who seemed to be half dead with
grief. Her teeth bit into her delicate flesh;
her beautiful iorm shook with deep, dv
Eobs. She had thrust one hand through the
bushes till it reached the top ot the
sepulchre, and lay there clenched. Once
she was seen to pat the cold stone with a
passionate tenderness enough to break one's
heart to see.
"Oh! a woman!" murmured Ariella. "Let
me go first, dear Baruch."
At the sound of voice the prostrate woman
gathered herself like a lioness, and bounded
by one great lithe spring to her feet. Her
veil had fallen, and the light of day fell full
upon her wjn and beautiful face. It was
Zahara, daughter and princess oi the House
of Annas, the High Priest.
CHAPTER XXIII.
LAZARUS, LAZARUS, COME FOBTH !
Before the tomb of Lazarus the people fell
back. They made way lor the Kazarene,
who advanced silently. His head was still
bowed. He walked like a man oppressed
with grief. The sobbing women followed
h:. A few paces before the door of the
tomb, they stopped. A breathless hush fell
upon the crowd; that within the sepulchre
whs scarcely deeper. In the silence, a bird
npon an olive branch above the tomb began
to sing shrilly; it sang on lor some moments
uninterrupted, so intense was the quiet; it
was a merry little gay bird, with bright
plumage, and sang as if it had been sum
moned to a festival; Abraham, the slave,
being a dull, affectionate fellow, was sorely
displeased with this untimely mirth and
lifted hit band to stone the bird; but a slight
movement in the bushes above the tomb de
terred him.
A woman a strangar was descending
the rocky steep to join the mourners. She
was accompanied by Baruch and Ariella,
who had drawn back a little behind her;
Ariella seemed to be guarding her and pro
tecting her with tender hands lest the lady'.s
steps should miss their hold upon the rough
way. The three added themselves to the
group below, and stood silently.
Zahara's position was now one of startling
prominence, but she seemed unconscious of
it. Her dress, hastily rearranged, was
folded closely about her womanly figure;
her veil was torn and fell loosely over hair
and shoulders, revealing bcr beautiful and
haggard face. Despair had settled on it.
Her lips were drawn in; her dark eyes
stared straight before her; they were dry
and bright; her hands were clutched across
her breast; her body swayed Irom exhaus
tion which her soul scornfully repudiated;
she seemed to have planted herself where
she was, like n growing thing that was try
ing to take root; she rejected the help of
Ariella, and stood quite alone. Her eyes
were fixed upon one object. There might
have been a couple of hundred people about
and before the tomb. She saw but one. For
the first time in her life, Zahara beheld the
Kazarene.
Jesus was now standing within a dozen
paces of the tomb. His head was yet bowed.
As Zahara turned her eyes upon him, it
dropped into his hands. His body trembled
shook; a convulsion of grief swept over
that sensitive form; snddenly a sob, power
fully repressed, broke upon the air. In
credulous, bewildered, melted at heart,
Zahara perceived that the man wasweeping.
The expression of her face changed as
iron changes to fire. She advanced a step
or two, moving like a woman in a dream;
her eyes open; her clenched fingers un
closed: she regarded Jesus piercingly, then
gently; something like a dumb outcry
seemed to dart over the woman, and to ap
peal from her to him. The daughter of the
High Priest, aristocrat, skeptic, Sadducee,
had never been educated to believe in the ex
istence of life beyond the apparent end of
death. To her despairing view, Lazarus
was buried, and there was the end ol it.
Lazarus was in that limestone rock. There
was no more Lazarus. She had not a hope nor
a laith beyond the rolling of that ghastly
stone upon the mouth of the sepulchre.
Her imagination was destitute of images
which could offer her so much as the appa
rition of comfort in an hour like this. She
looked upon the friend of her lover. He
could weep then he suffered; he loved.
Betrayed by his own pretensions, helpless
in the presence of actual death, mortified,
defeated, humiliated, he stood shaken. Za
hara could have pitied the plebeian, the
charlatan, the ignorant Babbi, this man of
the people, this carpenter, this baffled agi
tator could have pitied? Kay, she could
not A power incomprehensible to Zahara
withstood her. She bad met with faith in
immortality; she had come face to face with
Him who reoresented immortality, who
held out eternal life as if it were a gift in
his hand to the hopes and despairs of men.
Kow, as she stood where she was, piteously
staring upon him, Jesus raised his head.aud
lilted up his eyes and looted upon Zihara.
She saw a man of lofty stature, drawn to
its full height. He had a commanding air.
His garments were the garments of the peo
ple, but his mien was the mien of a king.
His sandals were dusty and travel-worn.
He had the hand of an artisan. His head
was royal and raised itself upon strong
shoulders. He had beautiful hair, of the fin
est texture, curling and fair; his unshaven
beard fell to his breast; the expression of his
concealed lips was delicate as no word can
tell it; his mouth quivered as Zahara turned
her pale face hither, and a little higher, to
ward him, with the uncontrollable impulse
ot dawning respect. It seemed as if he were
touched by the sight of the poor girl's mis
ery. As the two stood conlronting each other
they were to the eye like human love con
fronting the divine human angnish ap
pealing to divine pity the helplessness of
earth questioning the power ot Heaven.
Zihara raised her eyes and looked into
the Kaztrene's. What a gaze fell upon
her ! She felt scorched. That supreme look
burned into her soul like holy fire. Those
eves what color had they? "What form?
No man knew, or knoweth unto this day.
Tears afterward Zahara used to say that
they were to her vision as the sun in mid
heaven, and cf them she could tell no more.
She shriveled under them and sank before
them. The majesty and beautvofthat face,
past power of speech to say it, or form ot
dream to dream it. blazed above her for a
moment. Then Zahara slowly drooped
through all her haughty body, and sank
upon her knees.
"Lord." she murmured. "Lord ! He loved
.thee, aud I restrained him. Blame him not
there in the tomb be is dead. Dead men
cannot tell the truth. Jesus of Kazareth !
it was all my fault. "We loved each other,
and I knew thee not."
But Jesus made no answer to Zahara.
He had suddenly retreated a step or two,
and fixed his eyes upon the tomb. Then,
lilting them to the hoi bright sky he
stretched his hands out in the attitude of
supplication, and so stood, rapt and mute,
among the people, and no one stirred or
spoke in all the throng. Solemnly, in an
undertone, and witnessed only by those who
stood nearest him, he slowly and distinctly
said:
"Behold, I am the Resurrection. I am
the Life. He that believeth on me, though
he were dead, he shall live."
"Lord!" wailed a woman's voice, "He
did believe on thee!" It was Z.ihara weep
ing at his feet weeping now, like any
woman, the ice of anguish thawed. Kow in
the first thrill of her tears she was aware
that an incredible, nay, a ghastly thing had
happened. The Kazarene had ordered the
stone which guarded the sepulchre to be re
moved. Protests from the lamily whispers
from the crowd a moment of intense and
terrible excitement swept giddily over
Zahara's senses. Speak she could not.
John the Disciple spraug with the alacrity
ol love and trust, to obey his Master's com
mand. Amos of Gethseinane and Baruch
of Bethany followed. The three men
executed the command in silence, and fell
back.
But Jesus rapt in prayer stood with eyes
lifted to heaven, and so standing seemed to
have grown unaware of any who pressed
about him. Mary came near timidly, and
sinking by the side of Zahara, drew the hem
of his dusty garment to her lips and kissed
it. An inexplicable awe hud fallen upon
the hearts ol the throng. The silence became
profound. The bird upon the tomb had
ceased singing.
Suddenly a loud and ringing voice struck
the still air.
"Lazarus! Lazarus!"
Who addressed the dead man. as one ad-
drcsseth a friend who is expected to reply?
The people stared at each other and shud
dered.
"Lazarus! Come forth!"
The cry was commanding and awful. It
penetrated the souls of the living, as light
ning penetrates the earth. If any voice
could have reached the spirit ot the" dead
Great God of our people! Look yonder!
What has befallen us? What thine; 'is this?
"Whom have we in our midst? What is this
blinding sight?
The stone lips of the sepulchre mutter;
the black throat yawns; there is motion
within, and sound. Steps stir there is a
flickering of light and a shifting of shadow
a shape moves and rises before our eyes.
It is the living! Was it the dead?
Clad in his shroud, as the tomb had taken
him, Lazarus, for four days a dead man,
stoops irom the sepulchre, stands uprightly,
and walking steadily into the bright air,
moves down the scattering ranks of his
mourners, and solemnly regards them.
Of love and joy wrenched from death and
despair, what is there to say? The woes
that remain are few. They can only tell us
how Zahara fled forever from the palace
of the High Priest, and loyally sheltered
by Ariella, went in due time to the home
of Lazarus and was wedded unto him
by the sacred lips of the Great
Kabbi, thus protecting herself from the
authority of her father, and becoming the
subject of her husband according to
the Jewish law; how with her own im
petuosity and intensity she flung off her
old life and came forth from her old faith,
even as the dead had come forth from the
THE
tomb, and joined herself with the faith ot
her husband with a cordial soul; how these
two, with the sister of Lazarus and Be
becc.i, the slave, journeyed together, escap
ing the dangerous prominence of their start
ling history, into what they called another
country.
For strangers will mock her when neigh
bors mock, and in the province where they
make their new home these elected ones
taught the faith of Him who had given His
own life for truth's sake and for God's the
faith of humanity aud purity, of mercy and
peace, the faith that respected the poor, and
comforts the unhappy, and is gentle with
the sick, and restores the mistaken and the
willful and the wrong, and gives life unto
the dead. g
But it is doubtful if Zahara herself even
fully understood her own connection or that
of her husband with the tragedy which one
month from the burial oi Lazarus ot Beth
any shook the world.
Upon tha secret influence and spoken
word of Annas, the High Priest, the fate of
the Kazarene hung balanced for so much of
a space as might have saved and did con
demn the grandest and the most piteous of
lives.
How could Lazarus tell Zahara this? She
became so acenstomed to the thought which
her husband did not share with her, that
perhaps she wondered less, or worried less
about the fact, which she reserved, than
might otherwise have been the case. These
must be subjects upon whicli the lips of
Lazarus were sealed those of the grave no
closer. Time did not loosen them. He be
came a tender husband, a busy citizen, a de
vout man; but he remained a silent one.
The friendship experienced by Jesus for
Lazarus, maintained to the end with a sell
obliteration and tenderness upon which it is
heartbreaking to think, went with other re
corded and unrecorded sacrifices to count
the cost of a price, upon which we dare not
dwell and from whose preciousness wc avert
an awed and humbled face.
Whence had he come? Where had he
been? What selemn marvels had he seen?
What awful secrets did he know? What
blessed story could he tell? Passionately
beloved to the end, and assiduously cher
ished, his own wife never knew. She might
as well she would as soon have asked the
sepulchre from which he had emerged.
the end.
SLAUGHTERED AS WOliYES AKE.
A Round-Up of Antelope la it Rnrbed WIro
Enclosure in Wyoming.
Hew York Sun. 1
An interesting story of an antelope hunt
in Wyoming was told in a down-town gun
store the other day. But, though interest
ing, it was by no means cheering to the
sportsmen who dread the utter destruction
of all game by useless slaughter. It appears
that a large ranch in Wyoming was man
aged by an Englishman and owned chiefly
by Englishmen, although there was some
American capital invested. The ranch in
cluded 18 sections of land, and was laid out
three miles wide by six long. The whole
was enclosed by a five-wire buckthorn fence
of the most substantial character. Large
breadths had been sown to wheat, and so
last spring, after warm weather came, the
antelopes gathered from great distances to
eat the young grain.
To the mind o' the English manager of
the estate this called for a violent remedy.
The antelopes must be exterminated. He
therefore sent for his friends around about,
and a party was gathered as if for a uolf
hunt. Mounting their horses, they formed
a line across one end of the plantation, and
then rode slowly toward the opposite end,
intending to corner the came and then shoot
it down comfortably, just as the natives in
Alrica drive game into a V shaped corral
and butcher it. The men in line were
armed with repeating rifles. Before more
than hajf the ground was covered, two
or three of the party became so excited
oyer the appearance of the game
that they opened fire. Antelopes that
were Irom 1.200 to 1,500 yards away were
shot at with the effect ot alarming them and
causing many ol them to stampede back
through the line before it had closed in
sufficiently to make the slaughter com
plete. In all 11 antelopes were killed in the
round-up, and it is supposed a dozen more
were wounded, but escaped. That was bad
enough, though not so bad as other round
ups which were probably held afterward
were likely to be. It seems particularly un
fortunate that au animal like the antelope
should be slaughtered in such merciless
fashion, when it is remembered that save in
"Western Texas and in two or three districts
in the northern part ot the country the
species is extinct.
THE JUNKET'S M1RK0R.
He TJaea it Like a Bnd Boy to Annoy HI.
Hrlzubom In the Zoo.
Washington Sunday Herald.
There is a very interesting case of animal
intelligence, combined with original cussed
ness, to be seen over at our infant "Zoo" in
the Smithsonian grounds. The hero of this
tale is a monkey. His keeper has suspended
a little round mirror in his cage, into which
his monkeyship often looks quite admiringly
at his own beauties. The other day he made
a discovery. He happened to look at tl e
glass just as a beam of sunlight touched ii,
and saw that the light was reflected back
into the eyes of a cockatoo, across the way
in a cage. The angered bir I gave a screech
and the monkey immediately put this and
that together, while a cunning expression
shone on his face, just as it used to on
"Peck's Bad Boy" when he was up to mi -chief.
That monkey kept shifting that glass as
the sunlight moved along, with delibeiat'on
and maliee, to make it flash every few
moments into the cockatoo's eyes. Then the
latter would break forth into screeches
again, which so pleased the monkey that
he would jump about in an ecstacy of de
light and perforin all the acrobatic feats
that he knew. Then he would return to the
sport oT slii ting tne glass so as to put the
cockatoo into a fresh rage. This perform
ance was kept up uutil both keeper and
visitors who witnessed tjie scene came to the
conclusion that there was no need to hunt
for the "missing link" longer. That
monkey displayed intelligence enough to
entitle him to the honor, and to forever
settle the truth of the doctrine of original
sin. This primeval sinner did not even need
an Eye tocorrnpt himl
BOTH HAD TRAITS.
Idioiyncrncles ol Clinrnctcr That Cropped
Out Unexpectedly.
New York Sun.1
"I have a Iriend here whom I want to in
troduce you to," he said after they had met
and chatted a moment in the Erie depot
across the river.
"Oh, certainly."
"I beg to state in advance, however, that
he has one curious trait of character which
you may expect to see developed."
"All right. My friends contend that I
also have one."
The two were introduced, shook hands,
passed the usual talk, and after four or five
minutes number three suddenly queried:
"By the way, have you a pocket knife?"
"Yes."
"If you please."
He pared his nails and talked for three or
four minutes longer, and then put the knife
in his pocket aud excused himself on the
grounds that he must look after his bag
sage. "That s his trait," whispered the man
who had introduced him "he's taken yonr
knife away with him. Curious, isn't it?"
"Not halt so curious as my trait 1" ex
claimed the other, and, striding after the
man, be seized him by the shoulder, whirled
him around in a savage manner, and said :
"Either return that knife or-I'll lick you
out of your boots right here and now 1"
"Ah 1 Beg pardon I" and the knife was
handed out so quickly that it seemed to be
red hot.
The wonder of the age Salvation
Oil, for twenty-fire cents a bottle. It kills
all pain.
PITTSBURG DISPATCH,
NOT ALWAYS SEDATE.
The Pnrilans Have Iieen Sadly, Mis
represented in History.
JOKERS AS PLENTY THEN AS NOW.
Picture of a Colonist's Kitchen on a Winter
Sunday Evening.
CREED AND LAW NOT ALL OP LIFE
fWRITTEN FOB TnB DISPATCH. I
HE Puritan moth
er was just as se
vere as the Puri
tan father. Over
the doorway and
the great mai te
" creed, creed,
creed," was writ
ten, and beauty as
well as "claptrap"
was ban ished.
"This earth is a
vale of tears and I
but a worm of the dust,"" was the song and
Burnishing Up the Rifle.
declaration of the average Puritan, male
1 A irif y- V-f
r h
'SQUIRE JOHN BLACKSTON'S nOKNED STEED.
and female. The sight of a clergyman or
"godly minister" would almost make a Pur
itan cross himself, despite the fact that
Bomish ideas were scoffed at and denounced;
and yet, gentle reader, did you really know
that these Puritans were only human beings
after all? Were you aware of the fact that
there was a good deal of hilarity and
almost deviltry going on all the time? It
is impossible to squeeze out all of the evil
that is in the human family. Some there
are that "won't be squoze," as Deacon
Caldicut once said in "Tuu Meetin'." No
one can deny that there was many a sly
wink and titter among the comely matrons
and prim maids as old 'Squire John Black
ston, gravely striding his horned steed, with
his grjat coat tails flapping in the wind,
went to church through the irregular and
undulating roads. Then there was the lovely
aud good-natured Dame Preston, than whom
the Lord never made a better, when sitting
or presidrag one night at table with her
company, was startled by a crash at her
back. Things were tumbling, splitting,
breaking and smashing; the dear soul was
paralyzed for a second, and then, shouting
with all her might, said: "Smash, darn,
devil, I've broke my kittle!" which was in
deed the case, the S hook upon which it was
hanging having parted. Did the Puritan
assembly rise and leave the wicked woman?
Oh, no! They laughed till the tears came,
and later on Dame Preston laughed, and
still later on the "cyder" and a bit of grog
(rum) helped to appease the religious senti
ments and sorrows. There can be no doubt
that if you or I were wiliing to eavesdrop
just a little, we might creep around the
Turning the Dumb Betty.
raspberry, tansy and lilac bushes which
bonier the tan-based old house, and peek
through the wooden inside blinds, and find
a jolly group of men and women playing
that lorbidden ganfe, shuffleboard (cards),
or crosspile.
These Puritan folk hadl their Monday
mornings and Saturday nizhts just the
same as we do. The mother of a lamily of
nine girls did not go a-visiting on washing
day; no, she got the girls into line, and that
too before daylight, and made them scrub,
scrub, scrub, and the boys had to take a
hand also, for they could turn the Dumb
Betty a sort of washing machine at least
a half hour before the horn blew for
school. Now it is not at all probable,
and no modern mother will admit
that their great, great grandmammas
went about the house with sanctified looks
and mumbled over prayers when that wash
ing was on. They joked, talked ot the
Pequot war, the landing of the new migra
tors, the importation and raising of tobacco
at Marblehead, the poor quality of choco
late, "the grand wake," for their funerals
were nothing else; pretty colors and furbe
lows and no end of local affairs; they laughed
right out loud when they discovered that
their washing was out before their neigh
bors'. Oh, they were a merry people when
roused, a sad set, no doubt, when the church
and Indians claimed their attention. They
courted, told white .lies, scrambled in the
SUNDAY, MARCH
wet forest leaves skated, husked, drank
rum, ale, and beer, went gunning, got mar
ried, sang, and did exactly as we do, but un
questionably not with that freedom and lib
erty of action. Ko, they restrained them
selves, but "it was in 'em'," as Mother Endi-
cntt remarks in her quaint recitations of "ye
olden days." '
Sunday was, among the Puritans, a day
in which they tried to put up the natural
shutters of their existence. All actions
were ordered and measured off for the Lord;
it was Hii day; one only of the seven was
completely given to the Creator, which the
Creator must have been thankful to them
.or. But let its step into some of the good
colonists' kitchens along about 5 o'clock in
the evening of a winter's Sunday. In one
we find n group of farm hands seated ahout
the open fireplace quietly converging and as
quietly smoking their corncobs. Occasion
ally some one of the party will squirt a
mouthful of tobacco juice onto the roaring
back loc, and pretty soon another red-laced
chap will crawl Ue'ore the hot blaze with his
hand in front of his face and reach for a long
heating iron, which, when found, he would
withdraw and immerse into a huge mug con
taining cider. Others follow his example,
and in an honr or so the group become ani
mated enough. By 8 o'clock the farmer
comes in and squats down on the great high
back settle. All is attention. He talks
about the scanty loam of last season, pro
poses to make a stone fence around the rear of
the farm, suggests the removal of a number of
trees which can be hauled on the snow to the
barn, and thinks it wise to keep the road
open toward the Plymouth people. By 9
o'clock all levity and business ceases and
everyone of the household gathers in the
great sitting room and listens devoutly to the
evening prayers, aft which they all" hustle
off lively to their cold beds, where they
mentally curse the frost and;chills of winter
and thus meditating they soon shiver off to
sleep. So the Sabbath day has passed, the
church going is through with until lecture
night, and no great sins have been com
mitted except, maybe, that the farmer
has thought it over in his mind,
that he would clean off a lot of Indian wig!
warns that had recently been set nn ,?
The Colonial Fireplace.'
his estate. Then, too, there may have been
a few muskets scoured up and some bullets
cast, or perhaps the ambitious vouug colon
ist may have nailed a wolfs" head to his
door, thus publishing the fact that he was
entitled to a bounty; at any rate there; was
not that awe and grave solemnity lurkinz
everywhere which the historians would allow
us to suppose. No, the Puritan, elder or
workingman, maiden or matron, was not a
bit different from the people of to-day, in
fact there were no more "cranks" then than
now. The provincial New Englander of
1650 and 1890 is one and the same parcel and
ever will be. Creed is just as rampant in the
old country parishes now as it was two or
more centuries ago, and so is nonsense; so is
the loud laugh, the joke, the keen wit, and
love for innocent amusement; all the talk
which we read about thesobemesss and holv
sanctiuumiousiicss of the Puritan is only the
conclusion of a writer who has read' the
clergyman's history of the colonial days.
Depend upon it that a more complete idea
can be obtained of the lives and enstoms ol
the early settlers by reading the town records
than by accepting the theories of the learned
writers of to-day. Doubtless religion was
more important than civil law, but to pre
sume that there was "no fun" in those davs
is a mistake; the joker never dies. S. D. L.
HIS TEMPER RDINED.
A Onco Good-Xntnred Statesman's Story
of
Ills Troubles.
"Look out for me to-day," said one of the
best-natured looking men in the House of
Representatives to a Washington Sunday
Herald reporter the other aliernnon. "I'm
very ill-temDered and liable to bite my best
friend, or pull a newspaper man's ear, or do
anything else that's desperate."
"Oh, you've got a Mr. Hyde side to your
character, have you?" said the reporter.
"I'm glad I found it out. "What sort of a
dose do you take to develep it?"
"Well, I've had to take dose enough in
the last two weeks to make a Hyde out of
the angel Gabriel, it seems to me," the
statesman continued. "These confounded
officeseekers give a man no rest, night or
day. Those who have the least claim on
you are the most bothersome. They won't
take no for an answer. If you manage to
escape them here at the Capitol, they follow
you to your bouse. If you don't see them
there they hang around aud waylay you on
the street. One conlounded fellow has fol
lowed me like a sbadow for the last two
weeks. In that time'he has called by actual
count at my house just 15 times, at all hours
of the day aud night. I used to be one ot
the best natured men in the world, but I've
been in a chronic ill-temperof late, and
these infernal bores are to blame for it.
Goodby," and the member dove thiough the
swinging doors and (disappeared within the
realm where Mr. Keed reigns supreme.
Casting a Few Bullets.
1890.
FORMS OF DELIRIUM.
Remarkable Figments of a Tempo
rarily Disordered Brain
OBSERVED AT A CITY HOSPITAL.
Chains of Imaginary Events With All the
Vividness of Ecality.
rjIPXOTISJI IN HYSTERIA AND MANIA.
rWBITTES TOB Till DISPATCn.l
Without circumlocution or preface, I want
to relate some really remarkable manifesta
tions of delirium which recently came un
der my observation in a city hospital. They
were remarkable (or the vividness of the
scenes to the patient, while he talked and
acted rationally enough in other ways dur
ing the existence of these fancies, quickly
realized they were delusions, and yet in
sisted that nothing in real life was ever
more deeply engraved upon his memory.
While lying in bed in his private room in
the hospital reading one evening, he sud
denly heard the voice of a well-known
friend. "Why, what in the world ever
brought him here?" was the first puzzled
thought of the patient. The next questions
were, "Where is he? and to whom is he
talking?" There was close listening for a
few moments and the astonished patient
found that the friend was in the office of the
hospital, and talking with the Superin
tendent, and about himself (the patient).
ME FRIEND'S MIND WRONG.
Then there ensued perhaps a half-hour
a conversation, perfectly rational and plaus
ible at the beginning, upon a subject not
necessary to relate, but which presently
further astonished the patient because it in
dicated that something was wrong with his
friend's mind. This became more and more
evident as the talk of the friend was pro
longed, insomuch as the Superintendent
finally remarked to the friend, "Don't you
think'it would be a wise thing to have some
one look after you?"
This made the friend angry, but he kept
on talking until his speech became simply
the reiteration over and over again of the
same statement. It was so evident that he
had become suddenly and violently insane
that he was seized and taken to a padded
cell in the basement of the hospital, where,
for an hour or more, he kept yelling at the
top of his voice a variation of one theme.
The patient was deeply moved for the suf
fering of his friend and wondered why no
one was notified of the man's misfortunes.
Presently, after the friend, through sheer
physical exhaustion, ceased the noise in his
cell, the patient heard another well-known
voice talking to the Superintendent about
the astounding and sudden insanity of his
friend and upbraiding the Superintendent
for not having given notice at once of the
case,
EVEN TO DETAILS.
It was agreed that it was better to leave
him in the cell that night and take steps in
the morning for his removal. Then quickly
afterward another friend called to learn the
particulars of the Superintendent concern
ing the case. These were told, with great
precision of detail, by an attendant in the
office, to each caller.
Long after midnight the patient heard
his insane friend once more. He had
awakened and seemed to berestored in a de
gree to sanity, as in a natural voice he be
gan to ask himself where he was, and won
dered how it was he happened to be locked
up and what was the cause. Then, suddenly,
his mania returned and he was restless and
noisy for some time, finally quieting down
until after daylight, when he again
awakened once more talking rationally. He
began to go through the old letters in his
pocket to see what they were, reading them
aloud. Several he read calmly and tore up.
but finally he found one that aroused his
ire, and he began blaspheming the writer of
it and the subject. This was continued un
til about 9 o'clock in the morning, when a
carriage was brought and he was removed to
some other place, where the patient vainly
tried to ascertain from the hospital nurses
and attendants.
It was not more than an hour later that
the patient began to doubt if there was any
truth whatever in all the exciting incidents
to which he had been an unwilling listener.
A pointed question put to a nurse convinced
him that it had been a delusion, notwith
standing all its vividness and apparent co
herency. A PECULIAR HALLUCINATION.
In the afternoon of the same day when
the patient was again reading, preferring to
read rather than attempt to talk with a
very dull attendant, he was annoyed by the
conversations going on in the surgical ward,
on the floor above him. One man seemed
inclined to monopolize attention and con
tiiiuilly made oracular remarks about what
others were saying, to which the other pa
tients in the ward did not take kindly.
Finally some chance remark about book
keeping gave this Sir Oracle an opportunity
to become more oracular than ever.
"I think I know more about that sub
ject," he said,"tbau any person in the room;
yes, or in tne city, eitner. l nave oeen a
bookkeeper for 41 years. There are book
keepers and bookkeepers, but not one in a
hundred deserves the title. Do you know
how many books it takes to keep books
properly? Why, it requires eight."
All other persons stopped talking to listen
to him except one boy who had been
brought in with a broken leg who would
swear and yell with pain every few minutes
despite the efforts of the nurses.
. "And why does it require eight books?"
the old man went on. Because each is a
check against the other, and if an error is
made it can be found; it is impossible not to
find it."
There was a pause for a few minutes while
the talker evidently gathered strength and
the closer attention of his auditors. "I will
give you an illustration," he said. He then
spoke briefly, but iu a surprisingly intelli
gent manner, of the ramifications of a cer
tain class of business with which the patient
was thoroughly familiar.
THE OLD BOOKKEEPER'S STORY.
"The head of one department of this busi
ness," he continued, "is allowed, a certain
amount of money to run that department.
At the end of the year he found a discrep
ancy in his accounts of S13.000, according to
his own books. I was well acquainted with
this manager, and he consulted me. He
told me that while his own books did not
foot up right, both the cashier aud the gen
eral bookkeeper insisted that his accounts
were all right, even though his books were
wrong. I looked at his books books?
Why, he only had a day-book, a mere
memorandum. The cashier and the sreneral
bookkeeper both kept regular sets of books
" 'My dear lellow,' I said to him, 'you
don't suppose you have kept books, do you?
Do you think you can tell anything about
your transactions by re erring to such mem
oranda as these? The bookkeeper is right
and you are wrong. The bookkeeper is
right and you are wrong. The bookkeeper
is right and you are wrong. The bookkeep
er is right and you are wrong.'"
"Oh bother the bookkeeper being right.
What's the use of saying it so many times?"
interrupted a gruff voice.
"Why do I say it so often?" replied the
old man. "I said it eight times because
the general bookkeeper had eight checks
against my friend and had eight chances
nay, certainties of being right, where my
friend had no check whatever against the
bookkeeper, nor even against himself. Do
you see why I repeated it so frequently?"
ERRORS IN TIIE BOOKS.
There was another pause, after which the
old bookkeeper resumed: "Now, I want to
tell you further why the bookkeeper was
right and my friend was wrong. I told you
the bookkeeper bad a cheek against my
friend. He also has checks against himself.
Suppose the bookkeeper discovers bis ac
counts will not balance; there is an error
some place, but it can be found and it must
be found. He must never stop until he
finds that error. He goes over all his books
very careally and fails to find it. He goes
over them aznin and still does not discover
it. And again and again he goes over
them until that error is found. And again,
and again, and again, until that error is
found."
The old man kept on lepeatingthc "again
again and again until that error is found,"
until first one and then another of his listen
ers, in language more emphatic than polite,
insisted that If he didn't shut up they
would pitch him out of the window.
He ignored tho interruptions very calmly,
and finally said: "Now you are wondering
why I said that so oficn. But I wanted to
impress upon your minds the fact that eat
ing, sleeping, "rest, must all be laid aside by
the bookkeeper, and he must patiently and
persistently seek until he finds his error, be
cause there is" one there, and he knows it.
And perhaps after days and nights of weary
search he finds it in the very last place he
would have ever thought of looking for it
not in any of the ledgers, but in the day
book, the blotter.
TRIED NOT TO LISTEN.
Now, that was certainly a coherent talc,
with au apparently proper premise and a
logical sequence. The patient tried not to
hear it; he even argued with himself that
it was only another delusion; in fact, he
felt sure it was a delusion, yet it required
actual information as to the location of the
male surgical ward to satisfy himself that
the old bookkeeper and all his statements
were only figments of a disordered brain.
But not yet was the work of delirium
ended. On the evening of that same day
commenced probably the most remarkable
of all the mental phantasms which
grew into an apparently logi
cal story and made a deeper
impression than all others upon the patient.
It can only be outlined briefly, because it
occupied over 1G hours in its full develop
ment. One of the lady nurses was a mar
ried woman, who bad her son in the hospi
tal. She met that son just outside the pa
tient's door, and asked him to do an errand
for her and bring her four articles. He
couldn't understand, and yet the request
was a very simple one. Astonished at the
wonderful dullness of the child (as the pa
tient supposed it was), she took him in the
room adjoining that of the patient, and
there endeavored to make him understand.
There she patiently examined him lor along
time, the patient hearing every word that
was said, and when the mother finally real
ized that her son, who was not a child,
had become insane over his mathematical
studies, her grief was profound and all the
more terrible because she repressed its evi
dences as much as possible. There were
other developments and a continuous
growth ofthts story until long after day
light the next morning. During the day
the patient learned there was no married
woman, no son, no grief; nothing at all but
a singularly life-like chimera.
POSSIBILITIES IN HYPNOTISM.
In the foregoing there is nothing but a
simple statement of facts. Now as to an
other reason for their publication beside
that of their own novelty. Mr. Pierre
Janet, Professorof Philosophy in the Lycee
of Havre, France, has devoted much atten
tion to the cure of hysteria by the use of
hypnotism, xn the March Scribher's Maga
zine William James has an interesting
article on a work written by M. Janet, en
titled "De l'Antomatisme Psychologique."
In this work of over 400 pages M. Janet
recites the results of his experiments', inves
tigations and cures. Some of these are cer
tainly wonderful; indeed, almost incredible
in what they reveal of "the bidden self."
But it is not of them that I wish particu
larly to speak. M. Binet, a noted mem
ber of the Saitpetrie school, has also written
a paper on the same subject. M. Binet
say3 that hysteria is a "contraction of the
field of consciousness."
M. Janet says persons afflicted with hys
teria are capable ol realizing only halt what
a normal person can. Both writers say that
the second self has no subsequent recollec
tion of the act committed. They allege that
hysteria is a splitting up of the conscious
ness, a defect of unifying power, which may
result from abnormal weakness.
M. Janet says he succeeded in getting the
same phenomena from persons in alcoholic
delirium as he did from hvsteric patients.
If this be the case, then the proper defini
tion of hysteria is not so much what M.
Binet srives a "contraction of the field of
consciousness, but rather what both savants
say, "a splitting up of the consciousness."
THREE DISTINCT SELVES.
It would take too long to describe even
briefly the cases of two women, called in his
work Luie and Leonle, treated by M. Janet,
but it is sufficient to say that they developed
three distinct selves, and only in the third,
when deepest under the influence of hypna
tism did they know the other two. In their
first, or normal, selves, they knew nothing
of the actions of their two other selves.
The three phantasmagorias, the result of
delirium, which are related in this article
occurred to the patient at a time when he
was capable of fully realizing all his sur
roundings, and when he could read and un
derstand what he read. There was no for
getlulness of them nor of what actually took
place while they seemed to be taking place.
That must then have been a splitting up of
the consciousness. The hidden self was act
ing at the same time as, if not in unison
with, the normal self.
Now, the final question is this: If hys
teria can be cured by hypnotism, and if, as
M. Janet says, alcoholic delirium is akin to
hysteria, of which there is little doubt,
why cannot hypnotism be brought into use
to cure delirium? It would be interesting
to ascertain what would be the result it a
person in delirium was thrown entirely into
the hypnotic state. Being controllable by the
operator the result should be beneficial to
the patient. M. Janet does not state what
efforts were made to relieve one delirium
victim. All that Mr. James reports is that
the man was made to walk, crawl, lie down
andjtalk, while the patient was under the
impression throughout it all that he was
standing beside his bed. This gives no
further information than that a person in
delirium is still amenable to hypnotic in
fluences. CHARLES JACKSON.
TnE MAN OP F.MJ01) AND IRON.
Bismarck tho Ilero of Thirty Duels and Two
Attempted Astasslnailons.
New York Herald. I
Bismarck is suspected of having fought
oyer 30 duels, and that he foucht four is
certain. One of them withian Englishman;
but not one was discovered by the authori
ties. In the official list of punishment his
name figures four times, but only twice for
serious offenses. The first is a sentence of
ten days' imprisonment for officiating as
second in a duel.
Assassins have twice paid Bismarck the
compliment of attempting to "remove him."
The first attempt occurred in 1866, when
Julius Cohen, better known as Blind, an
adopted sonjot Karl Blind, shotat him in Ber
lin. Bismarck clutched his aggressor by
the arm and held him till the police ar
rested him. Blind, or Cohen, committed
suicide in prison.
The second attempt took place in 1874 at
Kissingen, where a young mechanic named
ICullmaun, who professed to have been im
pelled by hatred of the Chancellor's eccle
siastical policy.slightly wounded him in the
arm with a pistol shot.
AN EN0R1I0DS SNAKE SKIN.
Thirteen Feet Long and Nearly Fifteen
Tiicbea In Circumference.
Seattle rosi-Intelllgcnccr.
The skin shed by a rattlesnake which was
found on the bank of the Illinois river, and
is now preserved at the Boys' Seminary at
Tahlequafa, in the Indian Territory, meas
sured 13 feet long, is 14J inches iu circum
ference, and has 15 buttons. The person
who has examined, measured, and reported
upon it, says that it is a very dry skin, and
therefore assumes that it probably shrunk
considerably in drying, but this is not so, as
the skin of a snake is thoroughly dry when
shed, and consequently represents the tall
size of the snake. At any rate, this one is
big enough without claiming any such al
lowance, and represents a poisoning power
which it would take at least a barrel of old
Bourbon to counteract.
THE FIRESIDE SPH11I
k Collection of EnipiaM Its for
Horns CraoMng.
Address communications for this department
to E. R. Chadbourn. LeioUlon, Maine.
978 ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL.
11-29.1-22 21-10-7 is represented by A. 2-31-18-2S.
bvH. 17-6-26-14-24 23, by C. 8-&13.bvD. S0-1Z-4-32-SM&-27.
by E. 2(W3-3-13-5. by F. 15, by Q.
The total is a well-knowu old saying:
R. E. A. DlNO.
1)79 SYNCOPATION.
If I were a stroner partlzan.
(Thank heaven. I'm not that kind ot man).
And if in an election fray
My candidate should win the day.
No doubt I'd whole with rapturous glee,
So very happy I would be.
But if some sudden threatened harm
Should fill my soul with dire alarm.
Then, when I saw great danger nearv
'Tls likely I would last with fear.
Perhaps this puzzle is so blind
That few can the solntion find;
I'll give to solvers, then, a clew;
For whole a certain bird may do;
Of last It may be truly said
It Is a well-known quadruped.
NELSONLUt
980 CURTAILMENT.
Wealth is an object of desire.
To lay it up we strive.
And in our efforts never ceasa
While all alive.
The ways are many to increase
Tho stores ror wbich we sigh:
But some are failures, oven though.
Our best we try.
If our advice Is worth the Ink
Of lifelong toil the fruits.
Would prime gain lucre, friend engage
In Iucre-tive pursuits.
ASPIROV
981 DIAMOND.
L A letter. 2. A constellation. 3. Scalps, i.
Rendered courteous (Otis.). 5. Situated on a
calvx. 6. A prophet. 7. Mineral resins'. 8. Legis
lative bodies. 0. Ends (rare). 10. An island near
Africa. 11. A letter. R. O. Chester,
982 DECAPITATION.
The man of whole is one ol nerve.
Who pushes on and does not swerve
Or fail in his endeavor:
He has an end In view, and ha
Fursnes it wilh such energy
As brings him nearer ever.
He does not wait for chance to bring
Some future day the wished-for thing.
But keeps right on pursuing:
Always acting, always working.
Never lagging, never shirking.
Always up and doing.
The foolish man who trust3 to last.
Lets all the golden hours slip past
While he's no effort making:
He' always standing in a pause
And nangbt accomplishes because
Be makes no undertaking.
While he is in the poor man's niche,
He sees his neighbor getting rich
Bv efforts never slacking;
He says that he does not succeed.
But tails behind and comes to need
Because in last he's lacking.
NzLSONIAN,
983 RIDDLE.
A part of a goblet, or ship, pipe, or tree;
An irregular chaotic tantrle:
A ring: and just matter: Hovr what cin I bs .
That compose such a curious iangle?
Go search in tho Arctic when hunting'ls good.
And I will peep at you from under my hood.
Uael Gret.
984 nALF-SQUARE.
L Danish sculntor. b 1S15. 2. German musi
cian. 1630-1685. 3. French reformer, d 15U. 1
A black mineral. 5. Thread wound into a ball.
6. Of him. 7. The indefinite article. 8. ii
half-square. II. c. Buboes.
985 ANAGRAM.
The alr-heat-wind notices.
Ob, wonderful sciences! r
Nevr-lancled appliances!
What won't those scientists dot
The world is progressing.
And men are egressing
From darkness to light that is new.
Till now for a penny
In newspapers any
The weather predicted we view;
And the beat thing about ic
Although you may doubt it.
One time out of ten tuey come true.
FlLORnC
9G CHARADE.
"A child is spoiled when he is young.
A flsh when he is old"
An adage that, though never sung,
In prose is often toliL
Thus people. It they'd last on well.
Will not all this, nnwise.
JPrime ttsb when spoiled will never sell.
Nor children eyer rise.
AsriRO.
987 SQUARE.
L One who maintains that generals, or tha
terms used to denote the genera and species of
things represent real existences. Z. Town of
Los Angeles county. Cal. 3. Certain sand
stones. A. Lingera. 5. Interior. (J. Harsher.
7. A token used on the continent of Europe.
(Nanus.) Delphine.
988 NUMERICAL.
-While 2. 3, 1 is something fair,
A 3. 2. 1 1 cannot bear;
Although this last I do not dread
To see upon a lady's head.
Deflcienry in weight is given
As meaning of the four to seven;
But in a parable we find
A meaning of a different kind,
Whienshowstnat to the ancient granger
Four to 7 wa not a traneer.
An article of frequent use
Ko donbt the 3 aud U produce.
For 1 to 9 we have no relHh,
Because we And 'tis something hellish.
' J. McK.
ANSWERS.
960 HANDLES
C A R D b
MAT
G
HOE
CROPS
R U N N E R S
070 A puzzle.
971 Hurse-man-ship.
D72- V
C I T
O A R K D
O R C I N E S
CAUODEJtON
VI R I DOMARU8
TENEMENTS
D E M A N D S
SORTS
N U 3
S
973 L Avis. SIvi. 2. Alexis; six, ela. 3. Nu
lei. gem. tun.
974 Hearth, earth, heart.
975 SPECTRE
Walnuts
Impious
Nervine
D u d o e o N
L u N A T i c
E p i c u r E
976 Bramble.
977 Sham-rock.
HEATING BY ELECTRICITY.
A Minneapolis Mill Man Soemf to Huts
Solved the Difflcnlt Problem.
The electrician in charge of the lightning
plant of a flour mill at Minneapolis says
the Hew York Sun, has devised te'veral
forms, of electric heater for use in the
mill. Among them are an electric oven to
test the baking qualities or the flour a
heater for the glne pot used by the belt men
in cementing belts, and a device for warm
ing a large tank ol water in which the mill'
men warm their coffee for the midday lunch.
-f.
-A
V&tSMl