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IT IS BEST.
/ounnnt say it ! heart and lips are dumb—
The heart that swig. the lips that moved in
prayer.
fllad sous* that made life beautitul and bright,
Tha'*k'S'iviu({ for the love that made earth
lair.
0' trv me. Lord,'’ I said, '‘by any test;
Take all my blessings, all save this-the hat!"
( prayed and slept and when the morning
broke.
The Min rose, but it shone no more for me;
The (lowers were dead that bloomed but yester
noou.
Anil birds sang lonesome songs from every
tree,
nr wintry skies above an empty nest:
Q, f |y u fripnd’s voice whispered'. "It is best"’
it cannot Vie for me; some other life
llav perfect grow, because of all my pain;
gome other (lowers may bloom where mine
have died,
Porn in the night and fed by bitter rain;
And watching angels, fair, serene and blest,
geting his face, may know that it is best!
But lam dumb, O Lord! in all my woe,
j cannot even weep my lost delight;
Out of the realms of songs and sunlit skies
I wander onward, through the lonely night;
I drink Thy cup, that to my lips is pressed.
The wine is bitter. Can I say: “’Tis best'”
Thy dust and ashes crown my bended head,
fhy sackcloth binds mo like a winding sheet,
Thv thorny pub—l cannot seethe end—
I walk with naked, bleeding, faltering feet,
I kneel, O Lord: my every siu confessed
Forgive me that I cannot say: “’Tis best.’’
—Mary Riddel Corley.
FOUND FREEDOM AND BONDAGE.
A. Frenchman’s Short-Lived Joy on
Reaching’ America.
From the New York Herald.
Lucien Mary, a Frenchman, about 24
years of age, was a steerage passenger in
the steamship La Bourgogne, which arrived
in this port from Havre on Saturday night.
When lie came in sight of land he danced
for joy and expressed his delight to those
around him that he was at last within
sight of the Land of Liberty. He spoke
with great enthusiasm of his future plans,
and contemplated with satisfaction an early
trip to a Western State. In his own coun
try he had been a farm laborer, and the
pleasure of American farming he dwelt on
with great and fervid eloquence.
This cup of happiness was soon dashed
from his lips. His days of anticipated joy
were few and were brought to an untimely
end by the officers of the law.
Deputy Marshal Beni hard boarded the
steamer on her an’ival at quarantine. He
was accompanied by a friend who spoke
French with great fluency. Bernhard said
that they searched the list of names of the
steerage jiassengers and found one name that
resembled Mary’s somewhat. This man
was pointed out to Bernhard, and then the
latter, with his French friend, went among
these passengers, telling them that they
were seeking information about an emigra
tion agent in France who had been acting
dishonestly and taking more money from
the emigrants than he ought to take."
Into this trap Mary walked. He told
Bernhard where he cams from and how
mnch he had paid for his passage. Bern
hard was convinced that this was the man
that the French Vice Consul, M. Dousseing,
had requested him to capture on a charge of
murder.
THE IRON WELCOME.
Bernhard requested Mary to go “below,”
and when the officer got his prisoner into
comparative privacy he put upon him a pair
of handcuffs. Mary did not like his Ameri
can reception, and inquired what it all
meant. He was told that he was “wanted
for a murder.” Then Mary exclaimed very
excitedly: “Whom did I murder?” and tried
Laid to get his hands free from the em
bracing irons. He became very stubborn
and reticent and refused to give any infor
mation as to his baggage. The conse
quence of this reticence was that Bern
hard had to wait uctill all the passengers
had claimed their baggage except Mary. It
was then found that one trunk remained.
This the deputy marshal took possession of,
• and in a private room, on the desk, in the
presence of the prisoner, he unlocked it and
examined its contents. This was an ordeai
that upset the prisoner’s hitherto sullen de
meanor. He became very excited in his
manner, and pr-*tCoU‘d against the search
being made. Almost the first portion of the
baggage taken from the trunk was a gray
brown suit, considerably stained with blood,
ind a shirt similarly marked. When these
espe shown to the prisoner he declined to
lay anything, but nis self-convicted look
was very sToquent. Considering that he
would not be making any very great mis
take, Bernhard tog**! his prisoner to Ludlow
Street jail on A'sCday night.
BEFORE ata COMMISSIONER.
Mary was takes before United States
Commissioner Osborn yesterday. Mr. J ohn
N. Lewis, of the firm of Coudert Brothers,
representing the French government, ap
peared for the Vice Consul. Ht* said that
information had been received that on June
10 last the prisoner had murdered his uncle,
Francois Routand, at Fleury, in the De
partment of Sonne, France, and then fled
the country. When the Commissioner in
formed Mary of this charge, he refused to
say anything to the interpreter except that
he was “not guilty.”
Mr. J. R. Abney was assigned to act as
counsel for the defendant, and it was agreed
to adjouni further hearing until J uly (J,
when the depositions in the case will arrive
by mail. It transpired that the murdered
uncle was 70 years of age and that the object
of the murder was to obtain money.
A more minute examination of the pris
oner’s baggage should him to have in his
possession a money bolt, empty, but with
imprints of coin on the leather. Five pock
etbooks were found, in which were about
S3O, a number of letters, two watch chains,
one gold and one silver; a pistol, a knife and
a Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul railroad
time table.
When seen by a reporter at Ludlow
Street Jail yesterday afternoon the prisoner
was in eager consultation with Mr. J. H.
Abney, his counsel, and a third party, who
performed the (unction of interpreter.
A medium sized and well knit young fol
low is Lucien Mary. He had taken off his
coat, his colored shirt was ojien at the throat
and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the
elbows. When smiling, as he occasionally
did while sjmaking with his counsel, his lace
was pleasing rather than repulsive. It was
difficult to reconcile the merry light blue
eyes, the clear and healthy complexion and
the light brown curly hair with the deed of
murder. Presently, however, this expres
sion of countenance would change, the eyes
betrayed fear and horror and hopelessness,
and then the prisoner looked a miserable
object indeed, and a thoroughly bad one
into the bargain. At such moments he
would run his fingers through his hair, dis
covering a low and receding forehead, and
his lit* being firmly compressed, the mouth,
which before was redeemed by two rows of
very white and glistening teeth, looked
cniol and sensual to A degree.
Mr. Abney forbade the reporter to speak
to the prisoner, thinking that it might
prejudice his case. He hail just gone into
the preliminaries of the story and was unde
cided whether he would undertake the de
fense or not.
“All I huvo learned thus far,” Mr. Abney
said, “is that Lucien Mary hails from
Fleury, Department of Sonne, in France,
whore he has a father, three sisters and
three brothel’s living—all of them in well
to-do circumstances, I believe. Whether I
believe him guilty or not? You ask me too
much. Yes, blood-stained articles wore
found in his boxes; that, however, is not
conclusive evidence. The case will bo heard
the first week in July, I imagine.”
Morrison’s Experience with the Crows.
From the Washington Post.
001. Morrison, Interstate Commerce Commis
sioner, says tiie Post was all wrong in Inferring
that the c aning of the crows to the tree*
around tho White House meant good hick anil a
continuance of presont felicity. “Why, sanl
he, discussing the matter with Postmaster
Hyde, of Ht. Louis, “tker- never *n such a
Riing of cro w * around ui.v house at W atcrloo ns
came Ihere last October and November, ana
hint that time of nil others, whi n I had been
in the habit generally of winning the. elect ion,
Jehu Laker cmne along and snowed mo under.
1 wouldn’t like to say that tbo crows did it, but
ikiooka very suspicious.”
forced to be honest.
Railroad Passenger Conductors Af
tectedby the Interstate Law.
A dispatch from Detroit, Mich., to the
New \ ork Herald says: “In the opinion
oi some railroad conductors the worst fea
tui o about the Interstate Commerce law is
that it prevents them from ‘knockiug down’
as much as they did.” ,
llr I j'f s P®aker, a passenger conductor on a
in earnest ” spoii;e jokingly, but he was
i " T .u e J? ublic "'iU be interested in knowing
how the law prevents ‘knocking down,’ ” said
the-reportor.
I dare say, and so will the railroad com
panies, replied the conductor. “However,
as l am not one of the complaining ones I
uon t know what harm will result bv enlight
ening the dear, or, as Vanderbilt didn't say,
the rl n public.”
The best way,” said he, “to make you
understand what the new* law cuts the
knock downs’ out of is to tell you what was
formerly done by them. I can do this with
better grace, because, while I know ail
about it, I never took but $2 of company
money in my life, and that I paid back. The
taking and repaying were, of course, un
known to the company or I shouldn’t be
here now.
“The impression the public lias, that all
passengers conductors steal, is very unjust,
and it has made a thief of more than one
good man. ‘Might as well have the game as
the name,’ they argued, and they soon had
the game. The idea that conductors steal
themselves rich is also absurd. They can
(or could) feather their own nest fairly well,
but when any one of them attemots to take
large amounts he is sure to get a ‘blue enve
lope’ and a private posting which prevents
his engaging with any other railroad com
pany in a responsible capacity. To steal
any considerable sum in the course of a con
ductor’s running time—by which I mean,
say twenty years—he must have a fat rur.
and a long one. The sums knocked down
vary from 25c. to $lO. If a man can ‘salt’
two ‘V’s’ a trip, and if he makes three trips
a week, he is doing about $1,500 a year.
Conductors are paid ail average of SIOO a
month. This, with one’s stealing, gives him
about $2,500 a year— only a good living. So
you see this talk about a conductor ‘owning
the road,’ stealing a brown stone front,’ etc.,
is gross exaggeration.”
“Well, let the public have it.”
1
HOW CONDUCTORS KNOCK DOWN.
“11l the first place, then, every conductor
who steals regularly has a method. Tho
principal of every method is about alike,
but the methods differ in detail. For in
stance, the general principal is, or was, not
to steal all money, but part cash and part
tickets. Since the gate system has been so
universally adopted, and comparatively fevv
people get aboard without tickets, the prin
ciple has been reversed. ‘Don’t steal all
tickets.’ There are on this train (the conver
sation was being earned oil in a smoking
car) 181 passengers. About 100 of these are
‘through’ passengers that are going to the
end of my run. The remainder are ‘way’
passengers. As they get off their places
will most likely be taken by others, so that
at the end of the trip there will be aboard
about the same number that started. This
is not always the case, but it usually is on
this train, (the express). Let us suppose,
then, that of these 181 passengers! all but
three have tickets. The three pay their
fares. Tho conductor who would knock
down all three fares would soon be dis
charged. He might hold one of tho fares
and report the other two, but he would be
more likely to hold one fare and two tickets.
The fare is $8 50. The ticket he must dispose
of to scalpel's at a discount, so his account
would stand: —
Knocked down—
One cash fare $ 8 50
Two ticket fares, $1”, less $4 18 00
Total s2l t.O
“Now if the conductor lias set the sum
he wants to knock down per trip on an aver
age, and that sum should happen to be S2O,
his ‘account’ would fall short $8 50, or one
through fare.
THE SCIENCE OF DISHONESTY.
“It is essential to successful knocking down
that the conductor should study the seasons
of travel. There are months when toe bulk
traffic is West and other times when the bulk
is East, and then it is about the same both
ways. He must know when these seasons
begin and he must know, if they don’t be
gin, when it is natural to expect them. He
must read the newspapers and keep posted
on what is going on in the principal cities
on his run—whether the company has any
reason to expect an unusual number of
passengers on a certain day at a certain
station. And he must also know his passen
gers. Yes, sir, know them. I don't mean
than he must be acquainted with them, or
even their names or business, but he must
know whether there is any person aboard
whose presence makes it unsafe for him to
operate. How is ho to knew that? Well,
barring an occassional mistake, it is very
simple, but I can’t explain it. Supposing,
then, that the conductor, whose little ac
count we have just made out, is a veteran
and knows all these things, he sits down in
some car an hour bofore his run’s concluded
and figures that $8.50 from the company's
pocket into his own. For eertaiu reasons
he dosen’t want to steal another through
ticket and he doesn’t want to pinch tha t
other tempting fare. He has picked up en
route S4O or SSO in way fares, but he always
makes a point of turning this ill, as it gives
him a good reputation with the company.
Then what is ho to do? He looks over his
package of collected ticket* and finds throe
for one town, the aggregrate value of the
tickets being $5 50. These he lays aside and
forgets to include them ill his report. Tho
next trip he makes over the run, he will
manage to crib four (instead of two) through
tickets and one cash fare. This you see
averages the thing and make each trip pan
out S3O. He tunas in the three tickets he
kept back the previous trip, which makes
good the number of passengers ho started
with, so tliat a spotter at the depot or on tho
train will be unable to catch him short on
the number.”
WHAT DISHONEST CONDUCTORS SHOULD
KNOW.
“But he was short on the number the pre
vious trip if he took two through and three
way tickets, besides a cosh fare. ”
“No, he wasn’t,” dryly answered the con
ductor, as lie took a fresh cigar. “I forgot
to say that he turned in a short ride cash
fare, a layover chock, or the number of an
annual pass to take the place of those fares
he had absorbed. That is why the Inter
state law has knocked the business higher
than a kite. Under tho law the roads have
almost entirly ceased issuing passes, and it
is that that makes stealing a risky business.
It’s like this. The conductor who is up to
snuff knows the prominent people living
along the line to whom the company has
granted annual passes. Many are public
men whose goings and comings are chi’ n
iclod in the daily papers. Others travel on
the roud on certain day*; others seldom use
their passes; some loan theirs to friends.
The Wbits of tho so-called chronic
•passengers’ are thoroughly well known to
the conductors, and after having oneo seen
the pass and takeh its number they carefully
preserve that.
FOILING A SPOTTER.
“How are the spotters headed off;”
“I once know a conductor on a railroad
ruuniug outof Chicago who was caught in
a bod predicament. The spotter saw him
collect a fare from a passenger, and tho
chump pocketed it all and made no cash re
turns whatever for the trip. He was asked
to explain, and coolly told the general super
intendent that tho passenger who paid his
fare was a friend whom he deadheaded over
the line, and, fearing some officer or spy’ of
the company might he auoard and see him
pass tiio man without collecting a ticket, he
had the friend to pay him his fare like any
body else, and an hour afterward hod his
monev returned to him. The superinten
dent,‘however was not convinced.and asked
the conductor to hn vo his deadhead friend
call and bear out his statement. The spotter
was to lie placed in the office *o that he could
see tho stranger and identify him or dis
cover the cheat if one was attempted by
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 2(5, 1887 —'TWELVW“S
the conductor. But the latter was too fly
for the superiutendent. He saw right
through the little scheme as quick us a flash.
The superintendent had not spoken the last
word before the man of tickets said it would
be impossible to send his friend to the super
tendent because the friend was far away on
the Pacific coast, where he had gone to seek
his fortune, and the conductor did not
know where he was. The last I heard of
that conductor he was still running—and
stealing. ”
“If spotters are so ineffectual why do the
roads employ them ?”
“They are ineffectual only when they
work that way. When they go to work
right they can always find out whether a
conductor is dishonest, although they can
not always catch him at it or fasten the
crime with proof. The best way is for the
spotter to run over the line for a couple of
months as conductor. The company can
easily arrange that There are so many
rules laid down for railroad employes to
follow that someone or more of them is
constantly infracted. Ttie suspected man
is suddenly laid off for the violation of some
inconsequential regulation—failure to wear
his badge constantly, for instance—and the
spotter, who is usually an empiojeof the
company, known to and by all the men, (but
not as a spotter), is put on to ta'io his place.
He learns after a few trips what the run
ought to average and if this figure is not
met in the conductor’s previous and subse
quent reports it is pruna facie that be is
pinching.”
RACING AT A FUNERAL.
The Head Chief of the Ponca Indians
Buried With Peculiar Ceremonies. El
Wa-si-ka, head chief of the Ponca Indians,
a tribe living in the territory just south of
here, died recently, and was buried with all
the pomp and ceremony known to the tribe,
says an Arkansas City correspondent of the
Kansas City Times. His body was taken on
a blanket from his tepee by his squaw and
ihroe children and placed iu a wagon drawn
bv two horses, which the widow guided.
This was the Indian hearse. Behind this
followed nearly 500 bucks and squaws—the
former on horseback and the latter trotting
along on foot. All the way to the burying
ground the widow and orphans moaned un
ceasingly.
When the burial ground was reached the
squaws formed a circle about 100 yards iu
circumference around the wagon, and out
side of this circle twelve squaws were sta
tioned at intervals of a few feet to keep
away evil spirits by giving vent to un
earthly screeches. Beyond these there were
about j)SO bucks on horseback, laughing,
chatting and trading horses.
After the circle had been formed White
Buffalo, head chief of the Poncns, came for
ward, and in tho Ponca tongue delivered an
oration on the deceased. At its conclusion
the mourners, who in the meantime had kept
their seats in the wagon, pickwl up the four
coiners of the blanket on which repo&sl the
corpse, and, giving it a toss, threw the body
to the ground. Then the widow went to the
rear of the wagon and gathered up some
“culls,” or refuse lumber, which she depos
ited by the side of hor dead spouse.
During this time an Omaha Indian who
had entered the squaw circle kept tiling a
saw which he had in his hands, and the
mourners continued their mourning. As
the Omaha brave had finished filing his saw
he began making a receptacle for the re
mains out of the culls. This receptacle was
in the form of a chicken coop, being eight
feet long and five feet wide and about five
feet high, securely fastened to the ground by
posts. Into this the body, covered with the
blanket and other earthly possessions of tho
deceased, was laid.
A foot race was then announced by the
bucks on the outside of the circle. Four al
most naked Li lians were the particijxuits.
Then followed a two-mile horse race, in
which there were eighteen participants, all
of whom had painted their faces in a hid
eous manner. Riding off the required dis
tance, the chief then signaled for the start
with a looking-glass. At full speed came
the eighteen reckless red riders. As they
neared the circle the entire body of 4(XI
Indians set up a terrific howl, and as the
horees came in past them the excitement
was intense. During the races the body was
entirely disrobed. There were four prizes
in each event—a jacket, a pipe and tobacco
bag, and two blankets. The winner of the
first prize was given his choice of prizes, the
second second choice, the third third, and
the fourth fourth.
After the horse race the attention of the
assemblage was once more given to the dead
chief. The “chicken-coop tomb” having
been constructed the body of Wa-si-ka was
thrown inside and tho ends were closed up
so as to prevent any animal from entering
and carrying off the body. A horse and two
calves, the property of the deceased, were
also laid in the tomb in order that he might
enjoy them in the happy hunting ground.
This ended the ceremony.
THE WIDOW’S BOARDER.
The Landlady’s Strange But Favorite
Guest Turns Out to be Her Husband.
A Washington dispatch to the Louisville
Courier-Journal says: A case somewhat
sensational in nature is about to be brought
up in the couits here. A former chief
clerk of one of the departments is involved.
He has achieved quito n reputation and Is
popular in social circles. For the past
twelve or fifteen years he has ;>ee:i a mem
ber of the household of a widow who kept
a swell boarding-house in the Want End.
and has always been looked upon as a con
firmed batchelA. Recently lie quit his old
time landlody”and took up lodging else
where. It is due to this act that the sensa
tion has come to the surface. Certain state
ments nmde by tho former landlady’s family
led toan investigation, which ileveloped tho
fact that the chief clerk and the widow were
married in Bait,more on August , 1873.
The marriage, however, was never made
public There is said to be quite a romance
connected with the early life of the lady
whoso name is connected with the affair
How much this romance has had to do with
the seeresyf-niuintainod in this instance is
hard to determine. But it is certain that
the parties have been entitled to occupy tiie
jiosition of husband and wife for fourteen
years, and have lived in the same house,
mingling with the other inmutes of the
house without their marriage ever having
been suspected. The lady is still good look
ing, intelligent, an 1 beurs an excellent re
putation. Since the former chief clerk has
changed his lodgings it is said the matter
will come up in the courts in the form of a
suit for divorce, when all tho facte will be
made known,
A Gruff Old fJ^t.
From the Arkousaw (HBtler.
On a railway train, a pale and
care-worn, sat holding a now;
don't cry,” she said, face
against the child’s face. • man”
—meaning a gruff old -si! near
—“will coine here ami snap our heads off
Just look what an awrul face ho is muking
at us? I’leoso don’t cry and wo’ll see papa
after awhile. Oh, mercy, he is coming.”
she said, a the gruff-looking old fellow ap
proached her.
“1 can’t make her hush, sir,” 3ho said,
pleadingly. “I know that it’s very annoy
ing, but I really can’t help it.”
“Let me take her.”
The woman, fearing to disobey, suffered
him to take the child, who, too much as
tonished to cry. meekly submitted. The
gruff nian walked up ami down the ear, and
once the tremulous woman fancied that she
saw him press the child to his bosom. When
ho returned the little girl to her mother the
woman asked:
“Are you fond of children, sirP
“I—l—hardly know,” he reput'd, looking
away. “I suppoae I am. I loved —I say 1
received a dispatch this morning tolling me
that my little girl i* dead.”
He sat down, and a moment later a woman
who had Just got on tho train turned to a
companion ana said: ,
“Graciou* mol Junt look at that gruff old
fellow. I would not have him speak to me
for the world:”
SPIDERS AND THEIR WAYS.
Some Cunning Specimens—Remarka
ble as Architects and Upholsterers.
From the Boston Herald.
Among the many things that the approach
of summer brings for one to enjoy, or to lie
a source of anuoyauce, is the spider. The
spider family is very numerous, no less
than fifty kinds being described by natural
ists. All spiders have eight legs, with
three joints In each, and terminating in
thin, crooked claws. They also have eight
eyes, differently arranged, according to the
species. Some have them in a straight line,
others in the shape of a capital V, others four
above and four oelow, others two above,
two below and two on either side, and there
ore still others that have them arranged in a
manner too complicated to describe without
drawings. On the front part of the head
they have a pair of sharp, crooked claws, or
forceps, which stand horizontally, and
which, when not in use, are hidden from
view in little cases beautifully* adapted to
their reception, and in which they fold up
like a claspknife, and remain there between
two rows of teeth. When the spider bin's
it thrusts a white proboscis out of its month!
with which it instils a poisonous liquid into
the wound. The abdomen, or bind port of
the spider, is separated from the head and
breast by a small, thread-like tube. The
outer skin is a hard, polished crust.
Avery curious specimen, not often found
in this country, but which is said to lie very
coinmon in Italy, is the hunting spider, :*>
called because, instead of spinning webs to
entrap its prey, it jumps on its victim. It
is small, and of a brown color, bountifully
sjiotted, ami its hind legs are longer than
the others. When it sees a fly il or 4 yards
distant, it plans its attark with considerable
deliberation, creeping softly up and seldom
missing its object. When in a direct line,
the spider springs upon the back of the un
suspecting fly and catches it by the head,
and, after satisfying its hunger, carries the
rest away fpr future consumption.
The nest of this spider is very curious. It
is about 2 inches high, and is composed of a
close, satin-like, texture. In this are two
chambers placed prependicularly, in which
the spider reposes during the day, generally
doing his hunting after night fall. The
parent regularly instruct* her young how
to pursue their future vocation, and when
in the course of their instruction they hap
pen to miss a jump, they run a way and
hide as though ashamed of their future.
The most extraordinary nest is that of the
mason spider, a native ot the tropics. This
nest is forme-l of a very hard clay, deeply
colored with oxide ot iron. It is in the
form of a tube, about 1 inch in diameter
and (5 or 7 inches long. It is lined with a
uniform tapestry of orange-colored silken
web, of a texture rather thicker than flue
paper. This lining is useful in two ways.
It prevents the wall of the house from fall
ing down, and, as it is connected with the
door, it enables the spider to know what is
going on above, for the whole vibrates
when one part is touched. To one who has
never seen this nest, the word door may
seem singular, but, neveytheless, there is a
1 door, and a very ingeniously contrived one,
too, and it is regarded as oiie of the most
curious things in the whole of Insect archi
tecture. It is a little round piece, made to
flt the opening, slightly convex inside and
concave on the outer side. It is composed
of twelve or more layers of web similar to
that with which the nest, is lined, laid very
closely together, and so managed that the
inner layers are the broadest, the others
gradually diminishing in size, except near
the hinge, which is about an inch long.
All the layers are united and proiongpd
into the tube, consequently it is tno firmest
and strongest port ion of the whole st ructure.
The material is so elastic that the hinge
shuts as though it had a spring. The nest is
always made on a sloping bain;, and one
side is higher than the other, the hinge being
invariably placed on the highest side. The
spider knows well that when pla si in this
way the door will fall and close itself when
pushed from the outside, and so nicely doe;
it fit in the little groove made tor it that the
most careful observer can scarcely discover
where the joint is. Should the door bo re
moved, another one will soon be put in its
place. These spiders hunt their prey by
night, and devour them in the nest. A pair
of spiders, with twenty or thirty young
ones often live in one of these nests.
One or the 'largest nests to be mot with
in this country is that of the labyrinthic
spider, whose web every one has seen,
spread out liken bread sheet in the hedges.
The middle of this web, which is of a very
close texture, is suspended like a sailor's
hammock by tine silken threads fastened to
higher branches. The whole curves up
ward, sloping down to alpog. funncl-slmped
gallery, nearly horizontal At the entrance,
but winding obliquely until it becomes
almost perpendicular. This gallery is
about a quarter of au inch in diameter, is
more closely woven than the sheet part of
the web, and g ■ !Jy descends into a hole
in the ground o > a soft tuft of grass.
Here is tiie spiilf ■'sdwclling-olnee, where he
may lie found resting, with his legs ex
tended, ready to spring and catch the hap
less insects which get entangle 1 m his sheet
net
The most famous of all spiders is the
arantula. It is a inhabitant of Italy,
Cyprus and the East Indies, Its breast and
abdomen are ash-colored, az aro also the
wings, which have blackish rings on the
inner side, its eyes are red, two of them
1 icing larger than the others and placed in
the front of its head. Four other* ore
placed in a transverse direction near the
mouth, ami the remaining two are close to
the back. It generally lives iu bare field';
where the laud is soft, and it avoids damp,
.had) places, preferring a rising ground.
Its nest is 4 inches deep, half an inch wide
and curved at the bottom, and here tho
insect retreats in unfavorable weather,
weaving a web at the door for security
against rain and dampness. In July it
casts it* skin and lays eggs to the number
of 730, but does not live to rear tiie young,
as it dies in Ihe early winter, Tho bite of
this spider was formerly regarded as fatal.
It was said that the part bitten liecamo
greatly inflamed, then sickness and faint
ness camo on, followed by difficulty in
breathing, ana thin by death. The only
cure resorted to was music. A musician
was brought to the patient, and he tried one
air after another until one was found that
would makd tiie sufferer dance. The
violence of the exercise brought on profuse
perspiration, which cured flu* disorder.
All this was long believed, but its truth
was questioned, and investigation showed
that the tarantula was harmless, and the
supposed injuries inflicted '>y it wore ma le
use of as an excuse for indulging in a dance
similar to that of tho priestess of Bacchus,
which the introduction of Christianity had
put an end to. Those who were not im
postors were merely afflicted in coiiscrFi*nca
of the bite wirb that nervous illucs.; known
as St. Vitus’ dance, ami to this saint many
chapels have been dedicated. A story is
told that a gentleman traveling in Italy
several years ago was anxious to see the
dance, but as it ivas too early in the year to
find l,hat spider, the only tiling he could do
wus to prevail ujxm a young woman, who
had Iteen bitten the year before, to go
through the dance for him just as she did at
that time. She agreed to the pi oposul, and
slow, dull music was played until the right
chord wus touched, when she started up
witli a frightful yell, staggering like a
drunken person, holding a handkerehief fa
each hand and moving correctly to tlic tune.
As the music became more lively the more
wildly sho jumped about, shrieking all the
time. The scene was most painful through
out. She was dressed in white and adorned
with ribbons of various colors, and her
hair fell loosely about her shoulders, which
were covered with a white scarf. This is
the maimer in which all the patients
dressed.
There is another interesting specie* of this
insect, the water-diving snider The diving
spider is not satisfied, as frog* are, with tiie
air furnished by the water, but indopond- i
entlv carries down a supply witn him to his J
submarine territory. TV hen the little diver |
wise* to inhale a fresh supply of air lie rises j
to the surface, with his body utill in the
water, generally coming up every fifteen i
minutes, although naturalists state that be '
can remain in the water for many days. A
thick coating ot' hair prevents his getting
wet or otherwise inconvenienced. This
spider spins his cell in the water. It is com
post'd or closely woven, strong, white silk,
and is shaped iike half a pigeon’s egg. Some
times this nest is allowea to remain partly
above the water, though generally it is
submerged, and is attached by a groat
many irregular threads to some near object.
The only opening is at the bottom. This is
sometimes shut, when the spider remains
quietly at home with his head downward.
He remains in this position during tlio
winter months
MOUNTAINEER MURDERERS.
Parker Lucas will Follow His Ances
tors to the Gallows.
The New York Herald has the following
dispatch from Roanoke, \ a.: Iu tracing
the history of Parker Lucas, who was I'on
victed lost week hi Pearisburg, Giles coun
ty, Southwestern Virginia, ami sentenced
to be hanged on August 5 next, for murder
ing John Bailey, a neighbor and former
friend, one tails to find a single mitigating
feature.
Parker Lucas, a big. row-boned, hardy,
ignorant and passionate mountaineer, is in
this generation no better than tfco greater
part of his relatives, and reaps tlio same re
ward that befell Jerry Lucas, hanged in the
fall of 1814, and Dave Lucas. Parker’s un
cle, hanged Juno IN, 1843.
scene of the last tragedy is near Suit
Pond, a small lake of spring water, about
three-quarters of a mile in length bv three
eighths of a mile in width, close to the top
of one of the highest of Virginia’s moun
tains. Here, away from the world, schools,
churches and, almost, from civilization,
Parker Lucas ami a few others of his class
have squatted and held possession of lipid
through choir dexterity with the rifle and
the terror their brutal natures have in
spired. No one attempts to dispossess or
evict them from tin* miserable log and mud
hovels they live in, for comparatively few
people are anxious to form targets for un
erring marksmen. Certainly none of the
good people of Giles are willing to sacrifice
themselves for the magnificent view the
mountain affords, down the wild, rugged
and rocky New river, which flows at its
base. Nor are they sufficiently avaricious
to claim the land for its timber or its tillage,,
when they know full well that an attempt
to occupy would lie the signal for rifle prac
tice, which would cease only with or through
extermination.
With such surroundings and family his
tory is there room for wonder that Parker,
rough in feature, still rougher ill instinct
and passion the inheritor of murderous in
tentions, the bully and terror of the neigh
borhood—should some day follow the family
example?
PAKKEH LUCAS’ RIFLE PRACTICE.
Unable to read or write, perfectly ignor
ant of the looks of the inside of ;i school or
church, removed from the restraints of so
ciety and law, lie naturally regarded human
life as of but little more value than that of
the game secured through his .skill at shoot
ing.
l'aking offence at some supposed undue
familiarity between Bailey and his (Parker’s)
wife he sent liim word that if he ever set
foot on his (?) land, death would follow.
Bailey, forgetting, or not heeding the
warning, started one afternoon to the vil
lage to nave a broken rifle fixed, and in fol
lowing the path (there are no roads or fences
there), crossed a portion of the land claimed
by Lucas, and, the latter observing him,
went into liis cabin, grabbed his rifle, hur
ried out and fired, the fatal shot striking
Bailey iu the head, back/of one ear, and
passing out the opposite side, near the eye.
Although the murder occurred about and
o’clock in the afternoon the murderer re
fused to let any one approach the hotly
until the lyrival of the Sheriff the following
morning. Lucas calmly and soundly slept,
the night through, while the body of his
victim lay but a few feet away, in plain
sight, uncared for and unattended to by the
few people who had gone to the placo but
dared not go near the corpse. Surrendering
quietly to the Sheriff lie manifested no con
ception of having committed a crime; on
the contrary, he gave evidence of being
rather proud of iiis work, and since his
conviction be seems to feel only that hisown
life is in danger, and expresses regret at not
killjng his wife and youngest son at the
time of shooting Bailey.
HIS grandfather's crime.
Jerry Lucas. Parser’s grandfather, during
the war of 1813 became criminally con
nected with an absent soldier’s wire. On
the return of the soldier, Jerry, at the earn
est solicitation of the depraved woman, in
vited him to his place, where he was after
ward found murdered beneath a pile of
stones.
Lucas confessed that he beat his victim
over the head with a club until he supposed
life ha/1 fled, and then went to the soldier’s
house and stayed there all night. To be
satisfied in the matter he returned in the
morning to see if tlio man was dead. He
found turn sitting up against a tre -, cov
ered with gore. The poor fellow Rigged
and pleaded for his life, offering to give up
his wife and leave the country as soon as he
was able, and to nc.er mention wtiat hail
boon done to him. But Jerry was inexor
able. finished the murder and concealed the
lxalv. For this murder lie was Imaged in
1814, and "Old Ran.’’ Parker Lucas’ lather,
sat under the gallows when he whs hanging,
and amused himself by eating ginger-bread.
AOTHKH FAMILY SPECIMEN.
Have Lucas tegan his career of crime
when I!) yytrs old by stealing a horse, for
which he spent five years in the penitentiary.
Very shortly uftei- his return home I®
robin and n peddler and went to tin- penitentiary
for there veal s more A cousin of Dave’s,
a lad of only nineteen or twenty, was liter
ated from the penitentiary at the name time
and the two cousins started for home in
i-oiiipnny, but the boy was never seen uftor
wurd. Dave, in some of his drunken frolics,
boasted of killing the bov and throwing the
body in tliej'ivor. In fact, he even told the
boy’* lather that when ho ran his knife into
him ho bawled like a calf. The murder was
committed for the trifling sum given by the
authorities to enable the ex-convicts to rea'-h
home.
His next murder was his sister’s son, with
whom he had a quarrel and fight, ending in
killing his nephew with a blow from his
hand, iii which be had a piece of lead. He
was tried for this offence, but escaped
through some technicality.
Shortly after this a cattle driver was
passing the neighborhood on foot, and Dave
was seen to follow him with a rifle, and iu
a few infinite* t he reportof a gtm was beard
in that direction and Dave returned with
blood on bis clothes, but the strungor was
never seen again. No investigation seems
to have followed this affair.
HEREDITARY INDIFFERENCE TO LIFE.
Dave’s last crime was the killing of John
Roff, a poor laborer, on his way home, in
Floyd county, with some scanty savings for
his family. Dave killed him within a few
yard* of nis residence and, witli the same
indifference manifested by Parker, left the
body of his victim unconcealed, and no
dreaded and obs<nire is tlio place that the
body wo* lying above ground for nearly a
week before disooverv.
The crime met with it* due punishment
June 34, 1843, when the murderer died a* he
had lived, unrepentant and without a sign
of remorse. Even on the scaffold he swore
at an attending clergyman, anil tried to bite
the Sheriff as the rope was adjusted around
his neck , m _
John “Lucas, a younger brother of Dave,
killed hi* man, a first cousin, but escaped
hanging and wa* *ent to the iienitentinry.
The family 1* very prolific, and the daugh
ters are fully as wicked as the sons.
The Lucas family, the original settler* #d
the largest family of Gilt* county, presents
the extremes of it* society While one
branch is noted for its probity, ri>eetabiUty
and intelligence the other branch has been
the antithesis, as the above slight sketch
clearly shows.
HOTEL PENSIONERS. f
Many and Curious Charities Dispensed
by Hotel Men In New York.
Prom the New York Evening Sun.
“There goes one of thorn,” said Clerk Herd
of the Victoria Hotel.
He pointed to a neatly dressed and gen
tlemanly appearing man who was climbing
up the first flight of stairs from the office.
He had been talking about the charities
dispensed by hotels, and hail remarked
that few people had any idea of the
amount given away by hotel proprietors
every day.
“T don’t believe there’s a hotel in New
York which does not daily feed a great
many poor families. Naturally there is a
good deal of waste, especially where hotels
are run on the American plan at so much a
day, and there could be no better way of ilis
posing of the surplus. Every morning at,
tile back kitchen door of the Victoria you
will find a score or more of poor people wait
ing for their dole. The same sight ran be
seen at all the other hotels.”
“But about our friend who just went up
stairs? What, has he to do with this bock
door business?”
“Oh. tliat’s a horse of another color. We
have three grades of charities. First there
are the poor people who make no disguise of
their poverty anil go direct to the Kitchen
door. Then we have the semi-respectable
element that come to the counter and ask
for something to eat. If they look shabby,
as they generally do, we reler them to the
kitchen, where the servants eat, and they
get a good meal. But they can’t get it
every dny. We keep tally on the faces of
these fellows, and when they try to become
chronic we choke them off. The third class
is the most interesting. It is eminently
genteel, like the man you saw climbing the
stairs to the dining-room a few minutes
ago. For one reason or another a man may
be stranded in n big town like this for days
at n time. He lias no friends, and until re
lief comes lie is half desperate. Scarcely a
day passes when one of this class does not
come in here to the desk, tell his story, and
ask us to give him something to eat. He is
well dressed. There is nothing in his ap
pearance that would offend any of the guests
in the dining-room; which is a matter we
have to consider, of course. We ask if he
has ever been here before. He says no. If
be was a regular we should know him in h
minute, for we don’t propose to run a cara
vansary for beats or tramps. Then, in
order to make him feel the embarrassment
of his position as little as possible, we give
him a note to present to the bond waiter
when he enters the dining-room, and he is
treat/ 1 / 1 with just the same courtesy as one
of the regular guests.
“Do you know it is a funny thing, but we
have entertained many an angel unawares
in this way. Not a great while ago a very
impressive looking man came to the desk,
and, saying he was in bad luck and a per
feet stranger in the city, asked us to give
him a breakfast. He said he laid just landed
from Australia, and was awaiting a remit
tance from England. Well, we took no
stock in that part of his story, but he got
the breakfast all the same, anil he was most
profuse in bis thanks. It must have lieen
nearly a month before we saw him again.
Then he entered the hotel very modesty, re
cognised the clerk who had befriended him,
and asked for a suite of rooms on the parlor
floor. At the same time he asked the clerk
to take care of about. £3,000, mostly in Eng
lish money It turned out that he was the
young son of an English Lord, who hod
been trotting around the glote and hail
simply missed connection* when he reached
New York. He was with us for three month*
and before he left hail knocked a largo hole
in t hat £2,000.
“I could mention a great many other in
stances where our charity patients have
turned up tramp*. That’s pure luck. We
never think of it when we oblige them, but
we naturally got the benefit if their ship
comes in.”
“You will never find such charities dis
pensed,” said Clerk Wall, of the Hoffman,
“at hotel* where all the dining is done ala
carte, as it is here. Whatever charities we
have to give are bestowed outright in
money. You can see at a glance that where
every meal is cooked to order there can’t
lie the waste there would be in a hotel run
on the American plan, at so much a dav,
where more or less waste is always to be
found.”
PEOPLE WHO SAVE MONEY.
Ovor a Hundred Occupations Repre
sented iu One Bank's Depositors.
From the New York Mail and Express.
“What i lass of people deposit most largely
with you'” was asked of Merritt Trimble.
President of the Bank for Havings, or
Bleeckor Htreet Havings Bank, as it is fsoino
times called.
“Oh, wo are known as the servant girls’
bank. Of the new account* opened with us
in the year 188(1, domestics opened 3033.
There were 17,105, in all, of which no occu
patlon was given in 41)71, and sundry trie lex
3230.”
Next to the domestics come clerks, 874.
The laborer* were not far liehind. as thorn
wore 700 of them. Seamstresses were next,
;tna, anil liquor .i-mleni ...i. next, iv./,.. !>-o.
Boarding house k *pors manage to savo
something, as 2fi) nit a little iu the bank.
Bartenders are thr riv but *hr are unt <•
many of them as of liquor dealers. Only 215
of them put away mo .y. Trere are ju->t
seven h-si iruiteieiK in the list. Hli/ieinakcrs
lay by a penny or two, a* 186 are among the
depositors. The tobacconists follow closely,
174, anil the tailors and cabinet-makers are
not far behind, there being IflOof the former
anil 103 of the latter. Tips must lie more
general than is popularly supposed, as 1.54
waitere were among the depositors. Tho
carpenters are a close second to the waiters,
there being 151 of them, and the butchers
were one more than the carpenter*. Tho
cartmen were 145 in number, the peddlors
144, bakers 143 and washer* 137. It was a
close shave between the barber* and musi
cians, but the I>arise's, with 133, are five
ahead. Tho blacksmitlis pounded on their
anvils, and tho gris-ors weighed on their
scales to tho same purpose. There are 123
of each of them, while the punters were
only one behind, anil the iunk dealers were
118 in number One hundred and nine por
ter* carried their savings to tho bank, 108
machinist*, 100 agent* and 103 watchmen.
There was only one more merchant than
there were bootblack*, of whom there were
an even 100. Next came W coachmen, 01
confectioners, 87 farmers, 85 firemen, 80
police officers, 85 furriers, 71 milliners, 00
jeweler*, 7!) conductors, ft 7 bookbinders and
an equal number of nurses, 03 stone-cutters,
70 printers, 01 plumbers, 57 physicians, 58
hatters, 55 teachers, 40 engineers, 43 gat
dener* and the some number of actors ami
upholsterer*, 48 attorney*, 38 masons, 34
druggists. 33 tinners, 23 artificial flowi-r
--makers, 30 vamishers, 38 artists, and the
same number of coachmakers. There were
just a spore of milkmen, 18 weavers, 15
cooper*, 8 each of oldiers and engravers,
7 moldegs, 8 each of boatmen and seamen,
and 3 each of boiler-makers, ostler* and
oystermen.
This make seventy-one different occupa
tions. There wore grouped umler “various
trades'll* muuy more, and in those not
named there were probably one-half as
many more, so that about 175 different oc
cupations out of the 218 mentioned in the
last oee*us saved money and put it away on
interest in one'saving*'bank. If the occu
pations of the depositors in all the sav
ings bank* were given without doubt all
the occupations would be found to be repre
sented.
Tho larger number of depositors put in
between *2O and *3O each, tlie next Urgent
from lIUO to *3OO, and the next from $lO to
*2O. There were 1884 that put in between
*1 and *5.
Of the depositors 2636 were married
women, 1901 single women, 1264 widows,
1606 minors and 181 colored person*. The
Urgent number of deposits Wore made in
June.
A WILD MONTANA STORY.
A Scout’a Adventure in the Wolf
Country.
From the San Prancisco Examiner .
“I read with considerable interest the re
port of the pigeon shooting match between
Dr. Carver and Graham the English cham
pion,” said a gentleman from the North to a
reporter yesterday. “But as interesting as
I imagine the match was, I do not believe it
was so absorbingly so as one I witnessed be
tween Dr. Carver and Vic Smith, or Yel
lowstone Vic as he wa* called. It took
place last July at Livingstone. Montana.
Dr. Carver was out with Cole’s circa* giv
ing exhibitions of glass-ball shooting, and
that was a more drawing card than tne me
nagerie or tumbling, or even the horseback
riding. Bright and early the cowboys came
in from the ranges from a hundred miles
around, many having lieen on the saddle
all night. The quick work of the doctor
commanded general admiration, ami he was
lauded freely, for while the cattle herders
were ail crack shots with the rifle and Colt’*
revolver, they knew at once they had not
the ghost of a chance against the man whom
Mr. Cole had introduced into the Territory.
"Just after the Doctor had finished his ex
hibition Marquis ilc Mores, tie cattle baron
of Dakota, approached him and said that he
had a man that he would like to match for
a thousand or so at glass-ball shooting. Car
ver was not making matches just then, but
he courteously agreed to accommodate the
Marquis and his man. Whispers w ere then
going around that Yellowstone Vic was the
unknown, and a few bets were made at par.
In half an hour loth men were ready, and
rode out of the canvas covering three hip
podromes out to a level piece of ground.
“The way those two men handled their re
spective horses eaused tne liveliest cheering
and the lioys from the ranges were wild
with delight. Then as the contest liegan
mirth wa* suppressed by keen excitement.
"Cowboys always want the bast man to
win, and though they felt the honor that
would be conferred uixin them by a victory
for their own man, they never once intima
ted their desire to see Vie triumphant. It
was the closest contest Dr. Carver had, for it
was a tie, and when the match had ended,
the two men shook hands anil the Doctor
said, ‘Your’e tho test man I ever met, Mr.
Hv.itb, and though it is a tie, I’m satisfied
to let it remain so ’
“This little speech was hailed by loud de
li must rut ions of approval, and then Carver
asked Vic if he could not travel with him,
but as Vie was chartered to Marquis de
Mores for a boar hunt lie could not join the
circus.
“Vic Hmith is a famous character in the
northern Territories and though he is lesa
than 35 years of age, his experience as a
Government scout has given him a wider
knowledge of the country along the Missonri
and Yellowstone rivers, the Big and Little
Horn, and Powder, Musselshell and Tongue
rivers than any man in Montana or Dako
ta. I spent a day in Vic's company last
summer, and lie told me an event in his life
that was a* remarkable as it was interesting.
He wn* bom in Milwaukee, and ran away
from home at the age of 13. When 17 he
was carving mail between Fort Atmrerom
bie, on Devil’s Lake, and Grand Forks. The
city of Grand Forks was then only a wolf
station. That is, there whs only a shed for
traveler* to nut up at and for men who
poisoned wolves tor a living during the
winter. They received bounty money for
each tail and sold the pelts, and they did
quite well during the rail and winter. It
was in the fall when the frosts were heavy
and biting cold that a rich prospector named
Brown arrived at the wolf station, and told
the men that he was looking for hind. He
intimated that he had (5,000 upon him, and
was anxious to have it laid away in some se
cure place for tlie several days he would re
main in camp. The men were all supposed
to te honest, and the traveler had no fear.
"In the comp wns a dissolute man named
Robinson, who had lieen lounging about for
u month and making himself generally ole
noxious to the other men. Brown had lieen
in camp three days when Robinson took
leave of tho men with the remark that he
was going up to the fort, which was 138
miles distant and a throe days’ ride.
“Vic wax out u ■lay aiul half from Port
Abercrombie with bin mail, and was ridiug
along at an easy cantor when Robinson rode
up. ‘Halloo, Vic,’ be says, ‘timt's a nice
horse you're riding. Vic answered that it
was, but thought Robinson's was a much
better one. Then the latter proposed a
trade, and to hurry up a bargain offered Vic
a premium of soo. It was accepted at once,
and as they wore parting Robinson handed
him a pistol, which he bad him to put in hi*
saddle pouch. Vic was very happy when
ho pulled up at the next ‘dog station’ about
sundown and set to work preparing ids sup
per of bacon and bread. He had just fin
ished his repost when half a dozen wolf men
came up to the door. Thov did not speak,
and uf ter waiting some time for them to
make some remark Vic told them if they
wanted any supiier they could como in cook
it for themselves. ‘There's lot of bacon and
Hour, so help yourselves,’ he said. They
looked at each other and then roared with
laughter. ‘You’ve got considerable galL
youngster,’ they said, and thon one stepiied
m and took him out of the shanty. They
bound him hand and foot, and then driving
u stake into the ground tied him to it. Thia
done, they went in and prepared their sup
per. Vic was young, though spirited, and
fie 1 logged that they would not leave him in
that position all night, for he would free*#.
They would hold no conversation with him,
but turned in and slept until morning.
When day broke they arose and found Vic
numb and apjarently lifelee*. His limb#
were swollen to twice their sire from the
hemp which had been tied so tightly about
them. He was in a frightful condition, and
his long black, glossy hair wu turned to
white; not a black hair could be seen. One
old man in the jiarty took comi Mission on
him and loosened his hands. A consultation
was held and it was decided to hang him at
once.
“ ‘Where did you get your hors.;’’ they
asked. He told them but they did not l/e
--lieve his story. Then it just dawned upon
him that the horse he got from Robinson
was not his property. He was correct in
hut Humility. Browu left camp the day af
ter Robinson did. nnd the latter, knowing
that Brown intended [Missing along the trail
next dav, lay in wait and murdered him. A
traveler, iiassing soon after, noticed tb*
body and informed the wolf men at the sta
tion. They started out immediately to find
the murderer, and seeing Vic with Browu*
horse, Hupixisod they had the right man.
“Vic pleaded with tears in his eyes and
asked thorn to go up to the fort and ask the
oflicers there whetiier he hail not left there
only two days since.
“Thev did not wish to go to the trouble,
but the old man said they should give him
that little show for his life, and the others
ni utiicsood. They decided to take him with
in six miles of the fort and wait there while
one man went up and inquired what time
Vic had left. This was done, and Vic's life
was saved. But what really saved him was
the ulwonre of trees where ho had been tak
en, for had there been one about his execu
tion would have taken place that night.
Kince that time Vic Hniith has Won the ter
ror of vigilance committees in the Territo
ry. Ho has no respect for any of them, and
would go miles to me a member la-wooed.
For the | unit two years he has been employod
by the Murquis de More* and Theodore
Roosevelt, ot New York, who give him S3O
for every bear lio steers them against.”
Mbs. Pious -I do wish, Mr. MdSnorter, that
you would come up and see iny husband. He la
very ill, and I am afraid will die without experi
encing religion. Don't you think you can con
▼inec hirn of the noceaaltjr of atoning for his
come up this afternoon and see If I can t induce
him to leave some of tiU fortune to the new
theological seminary. ... .. ..
Mm. Pious (hastily)—On second thought, Mr.
MeSnorter, 1 don't believe your presence will be
necessary.— Tid- Hitt.
A COCIITST BDlToa says: “An interesting
article entitled: ‘The Soul After Death, and
What Be-jome# of It.’ is crowded out tide week
i to make room for more important matter. — •
i dPttC*.
11