Jloctvu aub lllioccllaitw. ;
THE MAN WHO RODE TO CON EM A UGlji |
Into the town of Conemaugh,
Striking the people's HOIIIH with awe, ,
Hushed a rider, aflame nnd pale,
Never alighting to tell his tule,
fitting his big hay horse astride,
Run for your lives to the hills I " ho cried;
"Run to the hills! " was what ho said
As ho waved his hand and dashed ahead.
"Run for your lives to the hills!" he cried,
Spurting his horse, whose reeking sido
Was flecked with foam as red nH flame.
Whither he gocH nnd whence he came
Nobody knows. They seo his horse
Plunging on in his frantic course,
Veins distended and nostrils wide,
Pi red and frenzied at such a ride.
Nobody knows the rider's name-
Dead forever to earthly fame.
" Run to the hills! to the hills!" he cried;
- 'jßun for your lives to the mountain-side!''
''Stop him ! lie's mad! just look at him go!
'Tuin't sa r e." they said, "to let him ride so.''
"He thinks to scare us," said one, with a
laugh,
"But Coneinaugh folks don't swallow no
chaff.
>Tain't nothing, I'll bet, but the same old
leak
In the dam above the South Fork ('reek."
blind to their danger, callous of drend.
They laughed as lie left them and dashed
ahead.
"Run for your lives to the hillst" he cried,
Lashing his horse in his desperate ride.
Down through the valley the rider passed,
Shouting, and spurring his horse on fast;
Rut not so fust did the rider go
As the raging, roaring, mighty flow
l)f the million feet and millions more
Of water whose fury lie fled before.
On he went, nnd on it ( nine,
The flood itself a mighty flame
Of surging, swirling, seething tide,
Mountain high nnd torrents wide.
God alone might measure the force
Of the Coneinaugh flood in its V-shaped
Behind him were buried under the flood
Coneinaugh town and all who stood
Jeering there nt the man who cried,
"Run for your lives to the inountuin-side!"
On he sped in his fierce wild ride.
"Run to the hills! to tlio hills! " ho cried.
Nearer, ncuror came the roar
Horse and rider fled before.
Dashing along the valley ridge.
They came at last to the railroad bridge.
The big horse stood, the rider cried,
"Run for your lives to the mountain-sido!"
Then plunged across, but not before
The mighty, merciless, mountain roar
Struck the bridge and swept it away
Like a bit of straw or a wisp of hay,
but over and under and through that tide
The voice of the unknown rider cried,
„ " Run to tlio hills! "to the hills! "it cried—
"Run for your lives to the mountain-side!"
—John E. bo wen. in Harper's Weekly.
OUR PEGGY.
BY ALICE BROWN.
T was a most exciting
1 if Mamma read 1
it aloud to Daphne j
Al and mo at tlio break- j
■ fast table, and wo look- j
y C A cd at 0110 another in
' fSf amazement over its'
most important part,
t the postscript
// "You know my girls
W' have been riding a tri
cycle for sonio time,"
Annt Margaret bad written. "They
liavo had 0110 with an attachment,
BO that it can be used by one per
son, or as a tandem that is, used
by two riders. Lately, howovor, they
have been teasing for a new tandem,
with certain improvements about
which I don't in the least understand, —
and 1 have bought it 011 condition that
they givo the old 0110 to your girls. As
you havo 110 horse, I know they will ,
enjoy it oxtcodinglv."
"Did you ever hear of anything so j
charming ?'' cried Daphne, clasping her
hands.
"1 don't know, dears," said mamma,
more doubtfully, "I should he sorry to
have you under lake anything that might
be considered peculiar or unladylike."
"Aunt Margaret lets her girls ride ! "
"Yes, but they aro near the city,
where the fashion is beginning to j
spread. I don't see, for my own part, I
why you shouldn't do it, even if you i
aro hooted; but, girls, I can't help
thinking of Uncle Melchor."
Ho did wo think of him; wo thought,
and spoke of him tooofton forourpoace
of mind. Uncle Mel was rich, and we
were very poor. Moreover, the time
had come when wo needed to go away
to school. Mamma had always taught
us lliat it was a mistake to suppose the
world owed us a living.
"You have 110 right to your uncle's
money simply because JlO has a great
deal and you have none," she said.
"But, if ho would lend you a small sum i
for a beginning, I think you could work ;
your way at Ellsworth Seminary. You
would pledge yourselves to repay it, ,
with interest, when you arc old enough ,
to support yourselves; and, though he
would be taking a risk, wo should all try j
to make that risk as small as possible." :
But when the scheme was proposed to
Uncle Mel, he vetoed it at once, and
with tlio utmost vigor.
"Go away to school!" cried ho ;
"What for? My mother never studied
beyond long division, nor yet my grand ,
mother, nnd they were good house ;
keepers and excellent women. You be ;
good, sensible girls, and learn to make ;
bread and darn stockings, and when I'm j
with my money, you shall havo it. 1
■That was not what we wanted, how-1
Hr, and we at once set about trying to !
■d work in some town which had an !
■winced school for girls. Meanwhile |
■ lived in the little cottage Uncle Mel :
flve us rent free, raised our own vege ;
■bles, and bound shoes.
■ But to return to that morning's din
lission.
I "You must not displease your uncle,"
laid mamma. "I can't help hoping
that, in case some very rainy day should
borne in the midst of your school course,
1,0 would lend you a little money. You
know he is kindacc nding to his lights. "
"Only Madge and I want to read by
electricity, instead of knitting by
candle light, as his grandmother did,"
said Daphne. "Be bold, mamma! be
bold!" #1 . .
Mamma laughed, and, after a night s
consideration, she gave her formal sanc
tion to the tricycle, which arrived a day
or two later.
"But I do hope," she said, doubtfully,
as she examined its shining whee's and
1 springy seats, "I do hope yon won't try
to ride* last, Perhaps you can bo more
ladylike about it, if you do it slowly.'
Such a time as we bad in getting
started to ride at all! First we made
over some old dreises, lengthening the
skirts nml relieving them of superfluous
togs of trimming which might get
caught in the wheels. Then wo learned
tVoil the machine, and finally to ittttiiage
it. The cousins hud written that, with
its fourth wheel behind, it was a clumsy
affair compared with their new three
wheeler; but we, who were used to no
lighter means of transportation than
the family wheelbarrow, were more than
satisfied with our new steed.
Our exalted sense of its merits at |
once prompted us to christen it "Pegrt- i
SUB," a immo which became "Peggy" in
e\ery-day conversation.
Fortunately, wo lived soveral miles
from the village, and could practise
without fear of many spectators, but
whenever we did meet acquaintance or
stranger, wo were saluted with grins nnd
witticisms. In spite of all this, how
ever, wo did learn to ride, and day by
day we gained strength, aud our color
brightened.
One June afternoon, after a longer
ride than usual, we found ourselves near
the little cross-road where Uncle Mel
cher lived. A year before, alter quarrel
ling with the village authorities, he hud
bought a small c >ttnge, eight miles from
church and store, and had token up his
abode in it, with the pica-sing conscious
ness that ho had withdrawn as far as
possible from the local civilization. It
was a dreary place, but Undo Mel liked
it, and Mrs. Sinihions, liis old house
keeper, tolerate ! what lie chose.
"Madge," said Daphne, putting on
the brake, as we reached the cross-road,
"let's go and call on Uncle Mel. It's
only two miles farther,"
"I wouldn't for worlds?" said I. "He
is suro to scold us for riding Peggy."
"Well, we can't help that. He knows
by this time that we have the machine,
and he might as well see it. Come, ami
have it over. O Madge, before I'd be
afraid I"
For an answer I put my feet down
hard 011 tlio pedals, and started Peggy
onward. Girls don't like to bo dared
any more than boys do.
"I'll go," said I, "but wo must hurry,
for it's getting lute."
Wo turned int the narrow road, and
in due time reached the house. Vnc'o
Mel was sitting 011 the piazza, reading a j
newspaper, but after one long, steady j
look at us, he got up and went indoors. j
We had gone too far to retreat, and so i
we alighted and walked up to the house. !
"Tell them not to bring that thing a j
foot nearer! " came Uncle Mel's voice j
from the sitting-room. "If they've a I
mind to come in here like decent girls, j
tliey'r welcome, but I won't have any
Crazy Janes ridin' bicycles up to my
door." Just then Mrs. Simmons ap- j
peared in the entry. She vos evidently j
glad wo had heard the message, and that 1
she need not repeat it.
"You jest roll it back a mite," she I
whispered. "You know your uncle's a
leetlo sot."
So wo meekly trundled poor Peggy
behind the big syringa bush, and then 1
walked into the house with as much
composure as we could summon. Uncle
Mel was sitting in his great chair, drum-1
ming with his lingers <ll the table. That
was a signal we knew well; it meant
"Danger!"
"What do you mean by comin' here
on that tiling? " he inquired.
"We wore riding near here, and so
so we thought we'd call," said Daphne, 1
faintly.
"I've heard all about it," went on
Unele Mel. "Deacon Tolman says
you're the talk of the town, ridin' round !
on that new-langled steam-engine. If
you blow up with it, it's all you dc
serve."
"It doesn't go by steam, uncle," I
ventured.
"Don't tell me what it goes by! T
don't want to know anything about it.
Tlie least I expect is, you'll break your
mother's lioait and go to ruin, circus- '
ridin' round the country."
Just then dear, comforting Mrs. Sim- j
11101 s reappeared. "There's some bread !
and milk 011 the kitchen tabic," she said,
in her mildest tone, and strove to draw
us out of the room without attracting
liis attention. That was impossible.
"You're welcome to the broad and
milk," lie said, "but you ain't welcome
to make my house a ready voo for such
goin's on. Now you hear to me, once
for all: don't you bring that thing with
in si mile of me again while you havo it."
"No, sir," said I, meekly, and we
hastened out after Mrs. Simmons
Even sho had a word of disapproval.;
"Boom's if you might ha' known how
lio'd take it," she remarked, as wo began
to drown care in the Rowing bowl of
milk.
"Don't you get lonesome here? " I in- ,
quired. It had become desirable to
change the subject of conversation.
"Lonesome! I guess I do. Your'
undo seems possessed to get away from !
folks. Now, we aint got 110 neighbors
except them sliif'less Barrages, a mile
away, an' they aint 110 use to us. We're
both 011 us too old to walk a mile, if
'twas to see tlio President."
"Why don't uncle keep a horse? " said
Daphne.
" 'Taint likely he. could do that 'thout
a hired man to harness up," said Mrs.
Simmons. "Even the cow's too much
for him sometimes. It beats me to!
think what he'd do if one or both on us
should bo sick at night, with 110 boss, |
an' no man, and the doctor eight mile
awav."
At that moment wo started and looked !
at one another. Apparently we had all 1
heard the same thing, a faint "Hallo!
hallo!" Again it was repeated, and
then Mrs. Simmons started to her feet. ;
"You mark my words, poor uncle's :
dim' the mow for eggs and fell! " she
cried, as she hurrird to the door, j
"Run, girls, run to the barn! You're (
spry or'n I be."
We gathered up our long skirts and
ran. Asweiieurea the barn theories!
grew more distinct, and when we entered
the great door, there lay Uncle Mel on \
his back, trying in vain to raise himself
from the pile of rubbish on which he 1
had fallen.
"Are you all deaf?" he asked, ns we
j hurried up to him. "I've hollered my
j self hoarse. Now, don't go to actin'
! like a lien with her head cut off," he
! added, as Mrs. Simmons appeared on
! the scene. "I've broke every bone in
; my body, and if you women go to drag- j
gin' me round, you'll break the rest,
(iirls, you jest run down to Bun-age's, :
an' tell Eph an' Sam to come an' lift me |
up. Tell 'em to send somebody else for 1
the doctor? I've got. to lay here."
"Come, Madge! " said Daphne, taking
:ro by the arm. "I know where the
Burvages live. Hurry! " She ran into
Ihe liouso for our hats and glove*, and
by the time I reached her was wheeling
Peggy out from the syringa bltsh:
"Jump on ! " site cried; n Nbver mind
your gloves. Put your best foot fore
most. "
We rolled out of the yard and down
the dusty road. Hitherto we had tried
to ride in a style that might bo generally
considered consistent with good deport
ment ; we had sit straight, and even
composed our faces to an expression
suggesting "plvheh and prisms.'.' Now;
wlten I siiw Daphne bending
to iter work in true professional style, 1
a'so tried to turn all my energies into
foot power. We did not speak ; breath
was not plentiful enough to waste.
We found that Mrs. Simmons's mile
was a long one, but not many minutes
had passed when, dry-lipped altd pant
ing, we rode iiito the Burrage's yard,
where a man was pumping water.
"Uncle Melchor has fallen in the barn
and hurt himself," began Daphne.
"Will you and your brother go and help
him up? And will you please give Us
some water?"
Ho slowly filled the rusty dipper, and
passed it to us.
"Sho!" said he. "Jest what I ex
pected ! What's the old coon want to
go elimbin' round for, anyway ? "
"Will you gonotr *" insisted Dapline.
"He may be dying."
"Oh, yes, I'll call Eph, and we'll fetch
up there in the course o' fifteen minutes.
But what under the cailopy do you cull
that thing you're ridin' on? "
"It's a tricycle," said I. "Have you
a horse, to go for the doctor? "
•'No, I ftint, but —"
The pedals began to turn, and so did
Peggy. I knew what Daphne had de
cided, and I was ready to do my part.
Out of the yard we went, and on until
we reached a trim little cottage near the
road.
"Has your father a horse ?" called
Daphne, to a bare-headed and bare*
footed boy who silt 011 the fehec, gazing
at us, in what we hoped was admiring
a we.
"Yup."
"Is he at home—the horse, I mean? "
"No, lie aint."
On wo went without another word. At
the next bouse there was a horse, feeding
in a neighboring orchard. Daphne gavo
it one glance.
"Madge," said she, "I could run
faster than that barcbones. Arc you
good for six miles moro ? "
"For twenty!" I cried, with moro
; zeal than accuracy.
As to the work that followed, I can
| still declare that I never knew anything
!so wildly exhilaratiug. Our breath came
fast, and our cheeks were burning ; but
i wo gained on time, and annihilated dis
tance,
Two more triumphant girls could
I scarcely have boon found that day than
I wo, as we rode up to Doctor Miller's
I house—and certainly 110 hearts ever
I sank lower than ours, when we were
I told that the doctor had driven away
five minutes before.
"He took the road to Greensboro',"
said pretty Mrs. Miller, "but I am al
most sure lie meant to stop at Mrs.
Moore's cottage, about a mile and a half
from liore." Away we toiled, working
almost against hope, fortbe Greensboro
road was terribly sandy. I beard noth
ing and KUV nothing ; I only breathed
and struggled.
"Hurrah!" cried Daphne, at last.
"There's the house, and there's the
I doctor!"
! But alas for us! He had just put tho
weight in his carriage, and was pro-
I paring to step in after it. Foot-power
I was no longer of use, and wo lifted up
our voices and shrieked.
"Doctor!" wo culled. "Dcctor!
Wait! wait! "
! He paused, ho looked, and tho day
i was won.
"Well, if you're not two crazy girls! "
ho began, as wo rode up to him; but a
; glance at our faces must have shown
him that 110 spirit of fun had prompted
1 our chase.
i "Can you go to Uncle Mololier's? " 1
| asked, with what breath I had left.
' "He's broken every bono in his body! "
| Then Daplino took up the tale, and,
after a brief explanation, tho doctor
turned his horse about.
| "Now, you girls have had exercise
' enough for one day," said he, "and I
| shall stop and tell my wife that you'll
1 spend the night with us. Then, after
I ve seen your uncle, I'll drive round
and explain eyerything to your mothor.
1 (iood-by."
j "Shall wo?" asked Daphne, when lie
had gono.
j "We must—or lie down and cover
I ourselves with leaves. I don't believe
I could ride five miles more to save the
; nation."
i Then we toiled back through tho sand
1 to the doctor's house, and sweet Mrs,
Miller gave us a royal welcome. When
| the doctor came home, he brought the
news that Unc'e Mel had broken a log
and that mamma had been sent for tc
nurse him.
j "And you are to pack up your clothes,
and ask one of the neighbors to take
1 you over there, also," he said, adding,
with a demure twinkle of tho eye,
"Though, what your mother wants you
for, I can't imagine, unless it's to ride
on errands and chase inoffensive doctors
! about town."
! Uncle Mel was ill for many a long
1 week, and we had a dull and quiet time
jin taking care of him. One day in Au
j gust, as mamma was sitting with him,
1 he said, suduenly, "Call in tiiem girls!'
Wo appeared, a little doubtful of 0111
! reception.
"The doctor says, if it hadn't ha' beer,
| for your ridin' 011 that thing, I should
ha'been wuss ott"n I was," he began
abruptly. "Where is it." "
"At home, unc'e," said I? "You tolc
us it wasn't to come within a mile
1 "There, there, don't twit! "said 110.
1 "Do you want to go to school? "
j "() uncle 1"
1 "Now, don't 'O uncle' me! I'm goin
j to turn your mother out of her house
, and live there myse'f. I'm too old to be
so fur away from neighbors."
| This looked serious. Poor ns the
' house was, we had, as yet, no othei
1 shelter.
"I've took a place in Ellsworth," lie
went 011, "and I'm goin' to let youi
j mother live there and board you while
i you go to the Seminary. Now, don'l
1 act so shaller. You tire me all out! "
1 For Daphne had dared, what 110 one
| else had probably done during the lasl
, fifty years; she had kissed Uncle Mel
cher; and Uncle Melcher looked as if
,he actually liked it.—[Youth's Com*
1 panion.
Peculiarities of Taste.
I "It is a funny tiling," said a Pullman
palace car porter, "that all the Southern
and Eastern lines you Jind the pas
sengers sugar their stewed tomatoes.
But on the Western lines you rarely see
! them do it. Sugaring stewed tomatoes
i with pulverized sugar started in the
i South, I believe. You rarely see it
done in hotels. On ali the Southern
! lines the first thing the passengers ask
II for is 'rock and rye,' and the porter
■ 1 who does not keep a stock of 'rock and
| rye' does not know his business. But
you can't get it up here. I have asked
i; "for it at half a dozen pla es in Phila
> j dolphia. They don't keep it."—[Phila
delphia Inquirer.
TWO QUEER CASES.
THE PART IMAGIN ATION PLAYS
IN DISEASE.
A Man Who Believed He Was Fatal
ly Stabbed —A Patient Who En
diired Torture for thb Purpose of
Fooling the Doctor.
There are two cases to which I will
call your attention that afford an illus
tration of what a curious thing human
nature is, says a New York letter to Vie
Cincinnati Enquirer. The first ift that
uf John Burke, who has been a butcher
At Eastman's slaughter-house for ab >ut
x year. He is a muscular fellow, \\ ith
the usual high flow of spirits and vital
ity possessed by men who follow this
callihg, and the direct opposite to Wlittt
is termed the nervous temperament.
Burke got into a qtiarrel with a fellow
worker in the slaughter-house : nd came
to blows. Burke was getting the best
of it, and the other combatant, in order
to even up matters, seized a knife and
made a vicious thrust at Burke's abdo
men. Burke cried out: "I am stabbed,"
and fell upon the floor unconscious.
There was a long rent in his red-flannel
shirt, and as ho rolled over on the floor
lie was covered with blood from head to
foot. An ambulance was speedily sum
moned rind Burke was packed into it
and driven at full speed to the Bellovuc
Hospital. He moaned ard cried aloud
with pain all the way to the hospital,
and said that he felt he was dying and
wanted a priest sent for. When he
reached the hospital he was pulseless,
pale alld exhausted, ttuct wtls hurried
without delay to the surgical Ward. I)r.
Connor, the house surgcoil, ripped off
the man's clothing with norvous haste,
and the sight that met his eyes nearly
threw him into a fit. Instead of the
viscera that he expecled was hanging
out, he was astonished to find tlrnt there
was not a spot or blemish upon Burke's
body. The knife had simply slit the
shirt and grazed the skin without break
ing it. The ambulance surgeon, in the
first instance, had been deceived by the
blood which Burke had fallen into on
the s'aughter-Jiouse floor. Dr. Connor
told Burke that there was nothing the
matter with him, but he would not be
lieve it and said that ho felt the pain,
and it required an orderly with the vig
orous application of a heavy strap to
his body to bring him to his senses. He
left the hospital cured in about two
hours, impressed with the belief that
lie had been in the bauds of magicians.
The ease of Burke shows what a large
part the imagination can play in disease
or injury, ami confirms what physicians
have everywhere found, that where the
imagination is treated first, the disease
disappears suddenly without drugs.
Burke was honest in the belief that lie
had been stabbed, lmt in the follow ing
case of Louis Fitzgerald the patient
was neither honest in action nor inten
tion.
Fitzgerald is a young man, with a j ,
dark skin, firm muscles, and presuma- !
Vly largo development of the bony sys- | ,
k i'in. He was a little wild, and his i
lather placed him on the sehoolship St. \ .
Mary for discipline. After ho had been j
011 the ship a year he fell into the hold, '
Sroke his arm and ruptured one of the j
futßclcs in the neck. An abscess j
'firmed from the neck and discharged
>us for two months before it healed. ■ .
JLfter ho got out of the ship's hospital, !
hid was compelled to report for duty, j ,
bo began to have fits daily, lie had so- j .
vore convulsions, frothed at the mouth, j
became perfectly rigid, and exhibited j 1
tlio symptoms usually found in epilep- j
y-
The tests ordinarily made to discover
whether a patient is shamming were i
tried without disclosing any deception, |
and Fitzgerald was relieved from duty. :
When ho got his freedom the lbs de- j
creased in number and abated in in ten- i
sity, but another interesting phonome- 1
lion appeared. Hi? lost the sense of feel- |
ing in the right hand and according to
his description the amesthesia spread
up his right arm to the shoulder. Then |
the, right leg was attacked, beginning i
at the toes and extending slowly to the I
thigh. Tlio nmrsthesin then took a I
jump to the other side of tlio body and !
in a short time the left arm and leg were I
without feeling. This condition con- j
tinned to spread until the trunk and
head showed apparently the most com
plete amesthesia. Fitzgerald claimed
that lie had neither tasto nor smell, or
at least theso senses were pervorted, so
that the same thing at different times
would taste and smell differently.
There was no interference with the mo
tive power, and ho could walk and use
his muscles nearly as well as over. He
was sent to St. Francis Hospital. The
entire history of Fitzgerald's ease led
Dr. Coudert to be skeptical, and ho
made a thorough and c ritical examina
tion. The patient's body was pricked
in eveiy part with needles, and needles
were run under the patient's nails, a
test that will make a stout hearted man
cry for mercy, but tlio lad paid 110 at- i
tcution to it. An eye vise was applied j
to the eyeball. This would make a J
statue weep, but Fitzgerald gave no sign ■
of pain. While the pat ent was blind- :
folded heated irons were kept close j
enough to his body to bum and blister ;
without being met with a protest. A '
little a'oohol was set on tire on his j
abdomen, and he seemed to enjoy it. |
There was every evidence that it was a
genuine an r stliesia, and a strong Fara- I
die current run from the spine to the j
legs did not dispel the idea. Such an !
extensive amesthesia had never b en i
met with before, and the medical pro- ]
fession took a great interest in examin- j
ing the patient. He did not object to !
any test that was suggested. His mind
vas ill at ease and ho exhibited peevish- |
nes.s at times, but this was thought to |
be due to the effect of the disease upon I
the brain.
Another peculiar feature was that
quite frequently there would be a swell- I
ing in the back of the patient's neck, in
the form of a pouch, similar to that seen
in pigeons. The pouch was soft and I
disappeared of its own accord. It could [
be flattened entirely by pressure. Such j
an interesting affair could not help but j
arouse curiosity as to its cause, and Dr. '
Coudert took the? best means of finding |
it out. Without placing the patient
under the influence of ether, the sur
geon made nu incision into the patient's
neck and found that the bag was simply
tlio skin in an elastic form. A small ,
channel, which had been left by the ab- j
sccss, ran from the skin to the back of
the mouth, and the mysterious swelling j
was easily explained. The patient, by •
filling his lungs, could, by an attempt,
to expel the air while his nose and mouth
were tightly closed, force the air through
this channel and distend the skin in the
back of the neck.
The patient submitted to the closing
of this artificial opening into the mouth
and the other parts of the operation
without a word of complaint, and his
flesh never quivered as the knife sank
I through it.
i The operation disclosed that tlio
j patient had been deceiving the physici
j ans in one thing, at, least, and when his
' body was weakened by the wound the
physician constantly hiimmetcd into his
mind that lie was an impostor, rind
finally his resolution gave way and lie
admitted that ho had been practicing
deception ever since lie had the epilep
tic fits 011 the St. Mary.
Th*s was ft most remarkable confes
sion, He had endured pain and tor
ture of almost every kind Without a
liiurmiir, Simply for the purpose of
boiiig rt riuriosity and deceiving the
physicians. Hfi ' picked up enough
knowledge to carry him tliidugh by
reading medical books while on the
s -hoolsliip. Such endurance as he
showed was never seen before, and
the manner in which he could control
the muscles so as to prevent the out
wold manifestation of pain, by will
power, riide l as It probably Was by a
body not naturally sensitive, Will be ail
interesting study for students in meta
physics. Fitzgerahl now admits that
fie felt everything that was done to him,
*it* I says that the pain at times was
sevcrd.
DELICIOUS PURPLE WORMS.
An Article of Food Which the Piute
Indians Gather.
When, in 1849, the California gold
fever was making itself felt throughout
the country, J. M. Keelcr was a young
man living in the East. He was not
proof against the impulse to seek his
fortune iil the Initios, alld came to New
York with the hojie of finding partners,
111 this he was not disappointed, and
with a number of others he chartered a
New Orleans packet, stocked it with
previsions to last a year and a half,
sailed around Capo Horn and reached
the Gold ell Gate in safety. Since then
Mr,Kefiler lias almost lived continuously
in Californiftjbut is now visiting this city,
arid has brought with 111111 many fine
in in era logical specimens. After showing
these to a reporter the other day, ho
lian led to the latter a small bottle, say
ing: "Do you know what those tilings
are >" In the bottle were a dozen or
move dark colored objects, shrivelled,
but juicy-looking. The average length
was about one inch, and they had the
appearance of luscious raisins. The re
porter said he supposed that was what
they wel'e. Tiie Californian smiled,
too, as lie said: "No, they are not,
they're worms." Then he went 011 to
say tlmt they were considered a great
i luxury by the Pluso Indians.
"I call tbein the nut pine worm, .bo
cause they feed on the nut pine tree;
what the scientific name is I do not
know. On the Eastern slope of the Si
erra Novada Mountains in Southern
California, between Bodio and Bishop's
Creeks is a great stretch of theso nut
pine trees. They bear a small nut ex
tremely rich in oil. So rich are they
that you don't wnnt to ent many of
them. In August the ground under the
trees begins to be covered with green
worms, thick as a man's finger and from
one and a half to two and a half inches
in length. The worms soon grow wings
and fly into the trees. The worm,which
should now be dignified by the. name of
butterfly, does not leave the tree, but
soars around among the branches ex
tracting the oil from the nuts. In about
a month the body is full of oil; so full,
in fact, that the entrails ha\o been
forced out. Then the wings fall off.
"It is about this time that the Fiutes
make their appearance and camp among
the trees. They come in large numbers
and provided with sacks. The worm
having lost its wings again, it crawls
along the limbs of the tree to the trunk
and falls to the ground. Incidentally it
falls into a trap prepared by the Indians.
To prevent the worms from escaping
they dig trenches around the roots of
the treo, the trenches having concave
sides. I have known of a bushel of
worms being taken from one of theso
trenches. When the crop of worms has
been harvested, the Indians build tires
011 flat stones or the hard earth. When
the bed has become hot, not hot enough
to roast, the worms are spread upon it
and dried. They arc then placed in the
sacks ami carried to the. Piute camps. A
frioinl of mine once told me that lie had
ono season estimated that fifty tons of
these worms were gathered and dried."
"How do the Indians uso the worms?"
I 44 Jn soups. The Piutes seem nover
;to tire ot' soup. They have it almost
| every day. A buck is allowed two worms
I and a squaw, cne for each dish of soup.
Sometimes a gallant Indian gives a
pretty or popular squaw one of his por
tion. The worms are not eaten until the
soup has been consumed, they being re
served as a final tid bit. I have tasted
tlie worms and found them very palat
ablo. They are rich and oily, like the
nut upon which they feed." —[New York
Tribune.
The Balm of Gilead.
Balm of Gilead, in English, stands
for several distinct plants, and is sutli
eient proof that some other than the
English, or any living language, is
neco. sary, in a scientific sense, to name
plants by. For example, we have a
poplar known by this name, and to
botanists as Abelc balsamifera var. can
dicans, and so named on account of a
resinous gum that covers the buds of
the tree early in the spring, and of a
i strong perfume. Then there is a plant
! called Balm of Gilead that used to bo
cultivated by cottagers and others in the
| garden and window, of a delicious fro
-1 glance of the leaves when rubbed, nnu
which is Dracoceplialum canarien.se, a
| plant with blue flowers from the Canary
i Isles. It is also called Dragon's head,
| one variety, !>. parviflorum, being com-
I tnon in this country on rocky placesand |
by our lakes.
, | the lhdm of Gilead spoken of in the |
1 Scriptures, and known in the form of a
I drug, is obtained from a plant called
, Amyris Gileadensis, growing to the size
of a small shrub, with protuberant buds
and loaded with a balsamic resin. Lin-
I nans, in naming this plant, obtained
| the name from the Greek a and muron,
l meaning a balm. The English word
halm, or baiim, itself being derived
; from the Greek, meaning to heal. It
f formed an article of merchandise across
I the desert, that we know of when Joseph
j was sold to the Egyptians, seventeen
I hundred years before the Christian era,
| very much as it is known to this day,
ami is graphically ' spoken of in
| Jeremiah as a healing halm for all
wounds.
There is a number of species, and
among them the famous rose-wood of
| commerce, A. balsamifera, also called
candlewood, is found in Jamaica. All
i parts of the tree are full of the warm
, aromatic particles, of considerable value
in medics, as arc? others found on the
same island. There is one member of
the genus, a native of East Florida,
named A. Eloridana by Nuttall.—
| Prairie Farmer.
ONE of the worst cases of revenge upon
a motlier-in-lnw is reported from Buenos
Avres. The young man had quarreled
with and left her. He then advertised
in the papers that, at the house whero
i she was living 44 a domesticated croco
dile" was for sale, and lor days the poor
i j old lady was besieged by Kimdreds of
! I bidders for the curiosity. '
THE JOKERS' BUDGET.
JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY
MEN OF THE PRESS.
What Kept Him—A Matter of Daily
Bi'eacl -Ho Had Been Warned.
WHAT HE CATiLED SLOSHING ABOUT.
At a certain "court time "in Pike
county, there was a trial for a general
row, and a witness testified that the 1
Slantonstall "just kept slosliin' about." i
As this remark regarding the chivalrous
Slantonstall was frequently repeated, j
said the lawyer for the defence: !
"Come, witness, say over again what
It Was that Mr. Slantonstall had to do j
with the affair,"
" Slantonstall ? Why, I've told you ,
several times the rest of 'em clinched
and paired off, but Slantonstall he just
kept slosliin'about." #
"Ah, my good fellow," exclaimed j
Nat, quite test ly, " wo want to know
what that is. It isn't exactly legal evi
dence, in the shape you put it. I'ell us
what you mean by sloshing about.
" Well," answered the witness, very
deliberately, " I'll try. You see John
Browet and Sykes, they clinched and
fought. That's ill legal form, ain't it?'
"Oh, yes," said Nat, "go on."
"Abneyand Blackmail pitched into
each other, and Blackmail gave Abney
a black eye—that's legal, too, ain't it.'"
"Proceed!"
"Simpson and Stokes and Murray
was altogether on the ground, a liittin
one another—that's legal, too, ain't it! 1 "
"Yes, but what about Slantonstall!"
"And Slantonstall made it his busi
ness to walk backward and forward
through the crowd, with a big stick in
his hand, and knock down every loose
man in the crowd, as fast as he come 011
'em. That's what I call slosliin' about."
—JNew York Mercury.
A MATTER OF DAILY BREAD.
"My friend," said the long coated old
man, solemnly, "haveyou made prepar
ation for the day of judgment ?"
"Sir," replied the young man, "that's
how I make my living."
"Young man!"
•'l'm employed in the sheriff's office."
—•[Time.
AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
Type-writer Agent—l called to sco
you in reference to your type-writer.
Would you exchange if you could get
some improvements ?
Merchant— I can't; I'm engaged to |
her.—[Judge.
COMMUNING WITH NATURE.
Close by tlio sparkling brook whose
silvery waters danced in the sunlight
and rippled joyously over the golden
sands they sat in silence—Georgo and
Laura—drinking in the glorious beauty
of the rustic scene and communing with
Nature in one of her chosen shrines, j
Afar in the west the sun seemed to 1
linger on the horizon's brim as if 1111- j
willing to shut out from his gaze the j
lovely landscape that glowed with a j
softened and oven melancholy radiance j
in his departing beams.
A thrilling cry burst from the lips of
the beautiful girl.
"George? George!" she almost
shrieked.
"What is it, darling?" ho asked,
placing his arm tenderly around her
waist. " Has the romantic, yet oppres
sive, liveliness of the scenery saddened
your spirits "
"No, George!" she screamed, wav
her hands wildly and making a frantic
jab at the small'of her back. " I think
it's some kind of a bug!"—[Chicago
Tribune.
EXPERT TESTIMONY.
Little Nan, of four summers, consider
ing it her duty to entertain a lady who
is waiting for mamma, enters into con
versation:
Nan—llavc you got any Jittlo girls?
The Caller—Yes, 1 have two.
Nan—D-do you over have to whip
'em {
The Caller—l'm afraid I have to,
sometimes.
Nan —What do you whip 'cm with?
The Ca'lor (amused)— Oil, when
they've been very naughty I take my
slipper.
Nan (most feelingly, as mamma enters)
—Y-yo-you ought to use a hail-brush;
mamma does, and it hurts awfully.—
[Life.
A PROVISO ADDED.
All old vag who had been in the habit
of calling on a certain business man on
Griswold street for dimes was asked the
other day how much he would take t >
keep away for all future time. He
thought for a moment and then replied :
"Give me fifty cents and I'll never
bother you again."
"I'll do it, Here—let me draw up a
writing to that effect."
All agreement was drawn up and the
vag read it over and laid it down with
the remark:
"I can't do it. There's something
cold-blooded about that."
"Hut you agreed to."
"Yes, 1 know, but think of a man sell
ing his manhood for fifty cents. I'd
starve first." ,
"Well, how much do you want?"
"A dollar."
"I'll split the difforonco with you."
"Well, I'll sign, but I want a proviso
inserted that I do not hereby lose my ,
self respect, and that Ido not forfeit the .
right to come up stairs and strike the
man in the next room if I get hard ,
U P"
It was added, and he signed and went
oft" to strike a free lunch con 11 tor. —| De
troit Free Press.
WOULDN'T 1112 DAJTEL).
"Hut if you don't love him, Clara,"
why are you going to marry him ?"
"Hecauso ho dared me to, mamma.
He know my high-spirited nature, too.
O, I 'll mako him sorry enough for it,
don't you bo afraid!" (Chicago
Tribune.
TUB SLOW MESSENOELL BOY.
Hagley—l saw a, me'ancholy sight a
few days ago—a messenger boy stand
ing pensively mi tlio street corner.
Fogg —That's nothing.
Hagley—No, but some, one had hung
on the boy's back a sign: "Will move
about August I."—[St. John Telegraph.
NO MOKE SALKfs.
Confectionery ami Tec-Cream Man
We'll lose ten of our best customers
text week."
Assistont—Wo will? Are they going
to Oklahoma'
"No; they're going to get married. |
[New York Weekly.
AN EXPEKT.
"What is an echo if" fisked the teach
er of the infant class.
"It's what you lu ar when yon shout,"
replied a youngster.
"Js it caused by a hill or * hollow?"
; again asked the teacher.
"Hoth," wns the ready reply.
"How so?"
1 "The hill throws back the holler." — j
I [Binghainpton Republi"<*n.
WILKINS'fI SLUR.
Grigsley (after offering his box to
Wilkins and both have lighted their
cigars)—l like to lie back in an easy
chair like this, Wilkins, and forget the
cares of the day. What a solace is a
good cigar! See that! How pleasing
life looks through an azure cloud of
Havana! We've nothing to complain
of, I should say, Wilkins.
Wilkins—Nothing; unless it is the
cigar.—[Chicago Herald.
WHAT KEPI' HIM.
Irate Mamma—Goodness mo? It's
half an hour since I sent you around to
the store to get those things, and here
you are back without them.
Little Dick —It was such a long time
before my turn came to bo waited ou
that 1 forgot what it was you wanted.
"Then why didn't you come homo
and find out?"
I "I was afraid if I left I'd lose my
turn."—[New York Weekly.
A QUERY.
I Have yon ever perceived the expression
Of jo.v that creeps over a man's face.
When the bootjack strikes with a dull, dead
thud
And he knows he has struck the right place?
—[Lawrence (Mass.) Aiueiicau.
A TING LINO MEMORY.
Times there are when people tingle
Recollecting days of old j
When the mother took the shingle
And the thud was harsh and bold
—[Boston Courier.
FAIR PLAY.
Ah, husband, do not scold you wife
And make htfr poor heart ache.
Because she can't build pies like those
Your mother used to make.
That is, unless your quite prepured
To seethe whole thing through,
And buy her hats and dresses as
ller father used to do.
ONE MORE FAKE.
Mrs. Rilgood—Poor man! how did
yon lose your leg?
Mr. Rip tout (accepting the quarter)—
It got stolen.
Mrs. Rilgood—Stolen?
Mr. Riptout—Yes, marni; lifted.—
[Judge.
A C'OOL SPELL.
Mr. Jingle—What word is Alice form
ing with her blocks?
Mrs. Jingle—lce cream.
Mr. Jingle—l thought so. Do you
know, when she makes that word it al
ways puts me in mind of the little tiff
we had several weeks before wo were
named ?
Mrs. Jingle—Why?
Mr. Jiiiglo—lt's such a cool spoil.
NOT SO VERY THRILLING.
"Has MeCorkle told you that hair
raising story of his?"
"No; is it thrilling?"
"Not particularly. It's merely his no
count oi cultivating his moustache."
A FUNNY STORY.
Duinlcy ( who Jias just told a funny
Btoiy)—Ha! lift ! ha! not bad, oh?
r'cathcrly—No, Pumley, not very
bad; uiuf you toll it so much better than
you used to. —[Harper's Magazine,
MUST TO FRIENDLY.
Bjomes—You ami Giles have becomo
great friends of late.
Morritt —I should say so. When we
meet now he doesn't tap me on the
shoulder; he thumps me in the back.
nis HAD BEEN WARNED.
Prudent Parent—But can you support
a family, Mr. Dolley ?
Dolley—Ob, I don't propose to try
to. I'\e been warned against marrying
all my wife's family.—[Bazar.
HOT ENOUGH FOR YOU.
He—What are the wild waves saying?
She—Oil, they are probably making
some current remarks. - [Philadelphia
Press.
PHILOSOPHICAL REASONING.
Farmer—See here, stranger, tlier'
hain't no lisli in this stream !
Fisherman (sadly)—lt doesn't make
any difference; I wouldn't catch any if
tlier' was ! —[Puck.
A DISMAL DRIVE.
She—l am sorry, Mr. Browne, that I
cannot bo otherwise than a sister to you.
It is getting late, by the way, and I
think J had better be home soon; would
you mind hurrying up the horse ?
lie (savagely)-Oh, not at all, but
you see J expressly asked for an old
j horse, and wo are seven miles from
j home, and this nag only makes tlireo
! miles an hour. Get up, there, you !
! [Bazar.
DOES IT PAY?
"Does it pay to strike!" shouted the
| orator.
i "It depends on how much you striko
for," said the base ball enthusiast. "If
it is a tliree-baggcr it pays every time."
A CHANGE or OPINION.
"A nymph of the wood. 1 ' lie willed her when
She tripped over mountain, field and glen;
but then—alas for hits fancy free—
A nyniph of the wouldn't she proved to bo.
—[Bazar.
California's Seed Trade.
The seed trade appears to be destined
to a very great expansion in California
at a not very distant period. In tlio
single county of Santa Clara, not less
than 1,200 acres are now devoted to the
production of garden socds. Over 00,-
1)00 pounds of lettuce seed and 120,000
pounds of onion seed have been shipped
Hast in a single season. In other coun
ties a guile important business has been
developed in the production of clover
seed, beans and pens for the supply of I
distant markets. While the State may
not secure the monopoly of the seed
business, because goou seeds are grown
in the Atlantic Suites, the rapid increase
of business in California indicates tliat
one at least of the great cent:es oi the
seed business is said to bo in that State.
The quality of many small seeds pro
duced there, such as onion and lettuce,
will have much to do in bringing the
seod interest into greater promiuonco.
Profit From Beet Sugar.
Some idea of the profit to bo dorived
from the beet sugar industry may be
formed from the fact that tlio refinery at
Brohna, Germany, paid during 'the
campaign of 1888-89 dividend< of J,IOO
marks to the share. These shares are
of a par value of only 1,000 marks, so
that here is seen the extraordinary
spuctaclo of a business that pay* 11.0
percent, profit in a single season. Tho
experience of the refinery at Landsborg
j is encouraging, though not equal to the
1 preceding eas*. The latter establish
| mcnt paid dividends of 1,000 marks ou
i shares costing 2,000 marks each -no
I small profit- under any circumstance,
j THERE hasbeen a marked decrease of
strikes within t lie past three years. In
; 188(5 the number of employees involved
j in strikes and lockouts was 4-18,000, in
1887 about .'Mo,OOO, and in 1888 only
(211,000. At the name time there was
! an increase in the number of successful
J strikes.