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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