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f „ er Miiffiilae Temperament.
Detroit Free rreee.
The other evening ft policeman was in
fer nod that a resident of Lafayette street
S3 was killing his wife. This is not .an
unusual thing for a husband to do during
these days of pull-backs, tie-backs, get
backs, backups and long trails, but still
the policeman made a rush for the house.
As lie reached the steps the wile had just
finished washing her bloody nose, and she
greeted him with the cheerful query :
“ Hello ! Did you hear of the racket.
“ I heard that you were being murder-
ed,” he replied.
“Oh 1 pshaw ! It was merely a lively
little set-to between the old man and my
self. We have lots of ’em. I don’t always
come out second-best, as 1 did this time,
but it’s all right,
"If a body meet a body
Cornin’thro’ the rye."
“ I should think it would be awful to
live this way,” remarked the officer, as he
glanced around at the many proofs of pov
erty.
“Oh. go long!” she smiled. “We can't
all be dukes and dukesses, and there's no
use trying. I've got six children around
the house, and it’s my duty to carry a
lively heart. Fact is, I'm of a sanguine
temperament, and 1 always look on the
bright side anyhow.”
*• Weren't you set out of a house on
Croghan street for non-payment of rent?”
asked the officer, looking at her more
closely.
“Same woman—same family,” she
laughed. “ I had more fun over that Ilian
you could carry on a freight train. Three
of the children were sick, the old man out
of work, the dog lost, the cat under t lie
weather with cramps, and none of us knew
what to do. However,
“ The sun may he shining to-morrow,
• Although it is cloudy to-day.”
And I sat down on the old cook-stove and
laughed till I cried.”
“ 1 think I saw you at the Poormaster's
1 office,” he observed.
“ And that was another good joke on
Snyder,” she grinned. “Yes, I went
around there and asked for Mocha coffee,
granulated sugar, seedless raisins, Worces
tershire sauce, pastry flour and A 1 coal,
and you ought to have seen the old man go
down in his boots ! 1 got some taters and
meat and wood, and some of the foiks were
put out to hear me singing :
“ The wolf of starvation she winked at me,
By-by—tra-la!
But I married a duke with fortunes three,
h'e—to—fum!
“ Do you iiglit with your husband very
often?” lie asked.
t “Well, that depends. He’s of bilious
temperament, and you can't bet on him.
Some days he'll come in as meek as a lamb,
and smile sweetly as I kick his hat off.
Again he'll come rushing in, bang the chil
dren around, kick over chairs, and dare me
to move an ear. Them's glorious old
times, them ts ! You just ought to see
maternal affection and mop-handle muscle
combine and go for that old autocrat of the
shovel and wheelbarrow! I don't have
and backing, and I don't want any. These
sanguine temperaments never go in except
to win.”
“You have been arrested for disturbing
the peace, haven’t you ?
“The same, 1 have, and were you down
there ? I walked out before the desk in
Lady Audley style, you know, wiped a
tear from my pearly eye, and the way 1
flung law, domestic happiness, muscular
development, mother’s love, conjugal affec
tion and Western enterprise at his Honor
made his hair stand up. lie told me to go,
and I laughed all the way home. My hus
band sat here, wiping away crocodile tears
and telling the children I’d been sent to
Saratoga for my health, when I bounced in
and had him hollering for mercy in less
than two minutes.
“ So we won’t go home till morning—
Till daylight does appear.”
“Well, I guess you'll get along,” said
the officer as he went down the steps.
“ Don’t you bet I won't !” she replied,
standing in the door. “We haven’t a stick
of wood, and nothing to eat but a loal o!
bread, while the rent is two months over
due, hut l am of a sanguine temperament,
you know. If we don’t strike a streak of
of luck to-night we'll have a dry old meal
and another light in the morning, but luck
has got to come some day. Destiny is
destiny, and this old calico dress has got
to do me till snow flies, but
“ There’s many a hard up fam-i-lee
There’s many who want for bread;
But I’m a sandy, sanguine, cheerful wife,
■Who’ll never give up till dead.
If you hear a tussle in here this evening
don't interfere. I've got a handful oi
snuff all ready for the old man's eyes, and
it'll nearly kill me to see him feeling round
for a club with one hand and digging his
eyes with the other. Well, tra-la.”
Trade in Postage Stamps.
The secret agents of the Post Office arc
overhauling postmasters who have been in
business correspondence with dealers in
various specialties, most of them lrauds,
with a view of disposing of postage stamps
in large quantities. These irregularities
have been discovered exclusively in offices
of the fourth class, in which, in lieu of
salary, the postmasters is allowed GO per
cent, on the first hundred dollar's worth
of postage stamps sold, 50 per cent, on the
next three hundred dollars worth,
and 40 per cent, on the next six hundred
dollars’ worth.
Some publishers and jewellers have gone
so far as to send special circulars to post
masters offering to take payment for the
goods in postage stamps. The bait is
snapped at, and only sucti postmasters as
bj r their own blunders send misdirected or
non-directed packages of stamps in regis
tered envelopes, requiring the packages to
be opened, are detected. Hence only a
few of their many transactions ever come
to the knowledge of the authorities. In
order to escape detection, the postmasters
frequently send remittances of stamps by
express. Many of the rural postmasters
are storekeepers, and arrangements are
made bv them with the mercantile houses
from which they purchase goods to accept
either whole or part payment in postage
stamps. The result of all this is shown in
a comparison of the Post Office reports.
Sales of stamps in some of the little cross
roads offices have latterly swelled from
fifty or a hundred dollars a year to several
thousand dollars. This increase of sales
in small offices, distributed throughout the
$1.50 A YEAR.
Southern and United States, perceptibly
decreases the sales in the offices of the
large cities. The Government loses the
amount of the commission paid the country
postmasters.
Only.
“ She is nobody ! Only a post-trader's
wife,” said the pretty Mrs. Helknap with
a toss of the head. It was only a sentence,
but it hurled the speaker and those dear to
her from a position long held and highly
prized, and brought to light transactions
that made Americans, for a time, almost
lose faith in public men.
Only one Marshal failed to obey com
mands at Waterloo on that memorable
18th of June, but it broke the proud heart
of Napoleon, caused defeat to be written
on the French banner, which heretofore had
only victory inscribed thereon, and brought
untold glory to Wellington and joy to the
allied English and German troops. Of this
defeat Thiers wrote : “ As for this battle,
no one can deny that the plan and execu
tion were all that could be expected of a
commander.” It was only Grouchy who
was to blame, and be was only a little too
la.e, but Napoleon died in exile because of
it.
Only a child left within a burning house.
Who would enter at the risk of life and
save him ? He was saved, and after years
proved it was a life worth saving to the
church and the world. It was the immor
tal Wesley.
Only a fallen girl. Years ago she was
pure and happy. It was only one false
step at tirst, but years of misery have fol
lowed. May Gou show mercy to the fal
len one.
Only one glass more. The thirst cannot
be quenched. Down, down the victim
goes, saying: “Only one glass more.”
Hundreds of ruined families and broken
hearted mothers the world over can tell the
rest of that sad story.
Chemists tell us that only one grain of
iodine imparts color to seven thousand
times i!s weight of water. So in our lives
things that seem only trifling at the time—
a misspent Sabbath, a broken promise, a
careless word even—oftentimes give color
to events of infinite importance. God
grant us grace to comprehend the vast ness
of that brief word only, ere it be too late.
The Jew.
The Jew still walks the earth, and bears
the stamp of his race upon his forehead.
Tic is still the same toeing as when ho Hi st
wandered forth from the hills of Judea.
If his name is associated with avarice and
extortion, and spoken in bitterness and
scorn, yet, in the morning of history, it
gathers round it recollections sacred and
holy.
The Jew is a miracle among nations. A
wanderer in all lands, he has been a wit
ness of great events of history for more
than eighteen hundred years. lie saw
classic (Jrecce when crowned with inlellec
tual triumphs. He lingered among that
broken but beautiful architecture that rises
like a tombstone over the grave of her de
parted splendor.
The Jew saw Rome, the “ mighty heart”
of nations, sending its own ceaseless life’s
throb through all the arteries of its vast
empire. He, too, has seen that heart cold
and still in death. These have perished,
yet the Jew lives on—the same silent,
mysterious, indestructible being. The
shadow of the Crescent rests on Palestine,
the signet of a conqueror's faith —still the
Jew and his religion survive. He wanders
a captive in the streets of his own once
queenly Jerusalem, to meditate sad and
gloomily on the relics of ancient power.
Above him shines the clear sky, fair as
when it looked down on the towers of
Zion ; but now alas ! beholds only a deso
late city and an unhappy land. The world
is his home. The literature of the ancient
Hebrew triumphs over all creeds, and
schools, and sects. Mankind worship in
the sacred songs of David, and bow to the
divine teachings of Jesus of Nazareth who
also was a son of Abraham. Such is the
Jew. His ancient dreams of empire are
gone. How seldom do we realize, as we
see him in our city streets, that he is the
creature of such a strange, peculiar destiny.
Neither age, nor country, norclimate, have
changed him. Such is the Jew, a strange
and solitary being, and such the drama of
his long and mournful history.
Itnpiri of Siihjcrl.
There were two of them hanging over
the front gate the other night. She was
standing within the yard and he on the
sidewalk outside, both leaning on the top
rail, and apparently as happy as two pigs
in a corn-field. He was saying, “ Now.
my own little darling, sweet idol of my
soul, whose image is ever on my heart.”
when he saw the old man coming down the
front walk, and continued in a different
strain. “ The potato bugs haven’t destroy
ed our crops so much since we purchased
paris green, and you will find, also, that
cabbages can be raised better on a richer
soil.” The old gentleman heard it, and
turned back, saying, as he entered the
house, “ These young people take more in
terest in agricultural affairs than people
generally suppose.”
Tt is stated that an old man at Black
ville, S.C.. recently declined an offer of
12£ cents on the dollar for $750 Confederate
money. The Courier-Journal pronounces
the story ridiculous, and says: “if the
person who made the offer will only prose
cute his efforts he can get a steamboat load
of that sort of currency at less than 124
cents on the dollar, as when the war closed
thousands of people had all the old barrels
| und boxes about the premises crammed
1 full of it, and the most of them have got it
yet.”
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1, 1877.
l.iiiCN to n Dri'tismitkcr.
Charles Francis Adams in Deernit Free Press.
4
I.
Ob, wherefore bid mo leave thy side,
Dear Polly ! I would a- A :
How can 1 all my feelings cloak.
When in thy smiles 1 basque?
Nay, “ Polly-nay,” 1 cannot go !
<Mi. do not stand aloof
When of my warm affection
You possess, oh, wat-er proof.
11.
Why will you thus my feelings gore
By sending me away ?
You know it's wrong, of corset is,
Thus to forbid my stay.
It seems as though some fell disease
Was knawing at my heart.
And hem-orrhage would soon ensuo
If we, perchance, should part.
111.
I'lien waist the precious time no more,
But let the parson tie us
Sew firmly that the marriage knot
Shall never be cut bias. .
In peaceful quietude we’ll float
On life's unruffled tide,
Nor let the bustle of the world
“ Pull-back ” as on we glide.
Hornet hi ita' in the lied.
21 ex A deter.
Judge Pitman has a habit of slipping his
watch under his pillow when he goes to bed.
The other night somehow it slipped down,
and, as the Judge was restless, it gradu
ally worked its wav downward toward the
foot of the bed. Alter a bit, while he was
lying awake, his foot touched it, and it felt
very cold; he was surprised and scared,
and, jumping from bed lie said :
“ By gracious Maria ! there’s a toad or
snake or something under the covers. 1
touched it with my foot.”
Mrs. Pitman gave a loud scream and
was out on the floor in an instant.
“ Now don't go to hollering and waking
up the neighbors,” said the Judge. “ You
go and get me a broom or something, and
we’ll lix the thing mighty quick.”
Mrs. Pitman got the broom and gave it
to the Judge, with the remark that she felt
as if snakes were creeping all up and down
her legs and back.
“0, nonsense, Maria ! Now you turn
down the covers slowly, while I hold the
broom and hang it. Put a bucket of water
alongside the bed, too, so's we can shove
it in nnd drown it.” •*—*-
Mrs. Pitman fixed the bucket and gently
removed the covers. The Judge held the
broom uplifted, and as soon as the black
ribbon of the watch was revealed, he
cracked away three or four times with his
broom. Then he pushed the thing off into
the bucket. Then they took the bucket to
the light to investigate the matter. When
the J udge saw what it was, he said :
“ I might’ve known that. Just like you
women, to go screeching and fussing about
nothing. Who’s going to pay me for that
watch? It’s utterly ruined.”
“ It was you that made the fuss, not
me,” said Mrs. P. You needn’t try to put
the blame off on me.”
“O, hush up, and go to bed. I’m tired
of hearing you blather. Blame me if I
ain't going to get a divorce and emigrate.”
And the Judge turned in and growled at
Maria until he fell asleep.
The I>;ui|iiin* Heart.
T/acy Hooper in Philadelphia, Telegraph.
A curious story is now going the rounds
of the papers relative to a singular relic of
royalty, namely, the heart of the hapless
Dauphin, or rather the boy King, Louis
XVII. At the time of his death he was
under the care of a skillful and learned
physician named Pclletan, who presided at
the post mortem examination of the poor
child's body, a task wherein he was assist
ed by three of his colleagues, and which
proved that death had been produced by
scrofula and consumpti n. During this
examination Pelletan contrived to steal the
heart, unseen by his companions, and to
conceal it he w rapped it in his handkerchief
and put it in his pocket. He afterwards
placed it in spirits to preserve it. At the
end of a few years the alcohol poured upon
it had all evaporated, and the heart bad
become thoroughly dry. So he put it in a
draw’er with sundry other anatomical prep
arations, and troubled himself no more
about it. On one occasion it was stolen
from him by a secretary, w’ho knew what
it was, and he only regained it after the
death of the thief. When Louis XVIII.
ascended the throne, M. Pelletan hastened
to offer him this precious relic, suggesting
that it should be deposited with all due
form and ceremony on the high altar of St.
Dennis. But the King, for some reason or
other, probably because he suspected the
authenticity of the relic, declined the offer,
and would have nothing to do with it. So
the heart of the poor little Dauphin, most
guiltless of the many sufferers of that time,
is now in the possession of Dr. Gabriel
Pelletan. the son of its original owner.
When Marie Antoinette first clasped her
noble infant boy in her arms, her wildest
imaginings could never have depicted the
ultimate fate of the baby heart that beat
against her paternal bosom—a dried ana
tomical preparation in the hands of a Pa
risian doctor.
The Days of 1 he Week.
Our names of days of the week were in
troduced by the Northern pirates, miscalled
Saxon, and were derived from the Scandi
navian mythology, as :
Sunday—The Sun’s day.
Monday—The Moon's day.
Tuesday—Tico's (or Tuisco’s) day,
Wednesday—Woden’s day.
Thursday—Thunre’s (or Thor's) day,
Friday—Friga's (or Frea's) day.
Saturday—Seterne's (or Saturn's) day.
lion lo Explode a l.ainp.
The Scientific American gives some of
the circumstances which lead to the explo
sion of kerosene lumps, the philosophy of
all of them being that the tlamo may pass
down the wick and ignite the vapor which
accumulates in the upper portion of the
lamp. This vapor is not explosive, as the
term is ordinarily understood, lmt when it
is confined so that the gasses resulting from
its combustion can not escape freely into
the open air, the vessel confining it will be
shattered. This ignition of the vapor may
be brought about as follows :
1. “A lamp may be standing on a table
or a mantel, and a slight puff of air from
the open window or door may cause an ex
plosion.
2. “A lamp may be taken up quickly
from a table or mantel ami instantly ex
plode.
J. “ A lamp is taken out into the entry
where there is a draft, or out of doors, and
an explosion ensues.
f. “ A lighted lamp is taken up a flight
of stairs, or is raised quickly to place on
the mantel, resulting in an explosion. In
these cases the mischief is done by the nir
movement —either by suddenly checking
the draft, or forcing air down the chimney
against the flame.
5. “ Blowing down the chimney to ex
tinguish the light is a frequent cause of ex
plosion.
fi. “ Lamp explosions have been caused
by using a chimney broken off at the top,
or one that has a piece broken out, where
by the draft is variable and flame un
steady.
7. “ Sometimes a thoughtless person
nuts a small wick in a large burner, thus
leaving considerable space along the edges
of the wick. An old burner with the air
draft clogged up, which rightfully should
be thrown away, is sometimes continued in
use, and the final result is in an explosion.
An |!llcr Hull.
We have heard of practical jokers going
a long way around to gain their point; hut
an incident occurring recently in Virginia
City, Nev.. puts the tassel on the cap of
the climax. It seems that one of the emi
nently respectable citizens of that town is
the owner ot a stock ranch in Texas. A
short w hile ago he received from his agent
there a photograph of a high-priced blooded
bull, a magnificent specimen of pure Dur
ham. The old gentleman (who by the way
is near-sighted) was justly proud of the
.r>t'oto"T:;nh nd took, iofiovie qyjigbt > dis
playing ii turn extolling its merits to every
one who came in his office. Seeing this, a
couple of his young friends took the picture
from its place one day, and pasted over the
rear half the corresponding port on of a
cow’s photograph. The picture thus pre
pared was rephotographed and placed in
the accustomed place of the original. As
usual, the old gentleman took out the pho
tograph the next day to show' to a friend
whom he had called in for the purpose.
Handing it to him with a look of pride, he
exclaimed: “ There, sir, there is a bull
that is a bull, and no mistake. That is the
kind of bulls we raise in Texas, sir. The
examining party gave one glance at the
picture and tossed it back, wdlh the re
mark : “Well, if that's the kind of bulls
you raise in Texas, your stock won’t in
crease much, that's all I can say.”
The old gentleman, with a look of hor
ror on his countenance, hastily glanced at
the photograph, put on his eyeglasses, held
it out at arms-length, turned it over and
over, and finally, when he got his breath
exclaimed: “ Why, bless me ! Bless my
soul ! Really—’pon my word, what kind
of a bull is this ?” Then one of the jokers,
looking over the shoulder of the irate and
astonished stock farmer, exclaimed:
“That? why that’s an udder bull of
course!”
“ My John.”
A New' Orleans paper has this: Gover
nor Nicholls’ apartments were crowded
with many visitors who had called upon
matters of business (and some without bus
iness), when suddenly the governor’s atten
tion was attracted by the door flying vio
lently open, whereupon in stalked a female
of no very small dimensions. The gover
nor, with his usual urbanity, rose and ask
ed the female to be seated; but this, with
scornful mien, she peremptorily declined,
at the same time asking :
“ Are you the governor?”
“ 1 am, madam,” was the reply.
“ Well, sir, if you are the governor, I’d
like to know where my John is.”
The governor became confused, and in
quired, who is John?
“ Who is John, indeed?” reiterated the
excited individual. “ Who is John? why,
sir, you as governor should know that
John is my lawful, wedded husband.”
“ I assure you, madam, that 1 know
nothing of your John, as I have never seen
him, and this is the first time I have ever
had the pleasure of meeting you.”
Whereupon the infuriated female hissed
forth : “ \ ou're a pretty governor, to be
sure; governor of the State of Louisi na
and not know where my John is ! Why, sir,
the duty of a governor, let me tell you. is
to know where every decent, respectable
woman's husband is.”
Thereupon she made a break for the
door and came near upsetting the porter,
who, as luck would have it, made a dexter
ous lunge to one side and saved himself.
l'ickleri Onion*.
Take some small onions, peel and throw
them into a stewpan of boiling water, set
them over the fire, and let them remain un
til quite clear; then take them out quickly
and lay them between two cloths to dry.
Boil some vinegar with ginger and a whole
pepper, and, when cold, pour it over the
onions in glass jars, and tie them closely
over,
" o|< •• liiick MtUrts."
Detroit Fro* I'rest.
They were a sleepy lot on the four
o’clock ear going down Michigan avenue
yesterday. The day was hot, the dust
thick, and only one man, ami he beyond
the prime of life, opened his eyes as a wo
man crowded in. with a long paper-box
under her arm. His eyes opened a little
more as she sat down near him, and, pres
ently, they widened to their fullest extent
as he read the label on the box—“ Ono
| doeen open-backed shirts.” He glanced
from the box to the female and back, and
I groaned out:
j “ l.aml ’o love! but what will cornu
next?”
She looked around at him as if she feared
j that a case of colic would come next, and
lie brightened up a little and said :
“ n ell, I've worn 'em for a year, and I
know they are handy and reliable. If my
daughters want to get half-a-dozen npioco
1 shan't cry over it.”
“ Were you speaking to me?” she nsked,
after seeing that no one else seemed inter
ested.
" I sorter was, and sorter wasn’t” ho
replied, ns he worked a faint smile to his
i face, “ I was saying that it's wonderful
' how much the inventive genius of this
country lias done for us on the shirt ques
| lion.”
She hitched away a little.
“ Twenty years ago,” he ninsed, ns ho
hitched after her, “ if any man had told mo
that the dormant genius of this country
would soon muse up and invent a button
| behind shirt I'd have looked upon him as
! crazy. But dormant genius was all O. K.
She roused, she invented and l’vo got ono
o’ them very shirts on.”
The look she gave him ought to have torn
him all to pieces, hut it didn't.
“One year ago,” he calmly resumed,
“ if anybody bad told me that the gentler
sex would soon demand open-backed shirts,
I'd have gone a fishing and never returned.
But the epoch has hove in sight—she's
right here. I can recommend them as
boss.”
“ Who arc you talking to, sir ?” she de
manded in nn awful voice.
“ 'To you, madam. I was saying that if
T wear t hem there is no reason why you
shouldn't.”
“ I appeal to these passengers !” she ex
citedly exclaimed.
“Sodo I ” he answered. “Everybody
in this car, with a hutton-bohind shirt on,
will please stand up until 1 can count
noses.”
The old man stood up. Ho was all
alone, lie looked around in a sorrowful
way. and said :
“ The noses have it, and the resolution
is laid on the table. However, I’ll stick to
mine, and I don't believe this woman boro
will go back on her dozen till she has given
them a fair show. Which side of the neck
do they button on. madam?”
The yells that followed brought in the
driver. 'The old man was pointed out as a
drunkard and a woman-insultor, and the
driver was feeling for his neck when the
astonished man cried out:
“ Who’s drunk ! Who’s insulted any
“ He kept talking about sTiirts I” efuitt
the woman with the box.
“ And you’ve got a box-full !” shouted
the man.
“ I hain’t nei !”
She turned lip the box, and saw the la
bel for the first time. She grew red, then
white, and there was an awful silence.
Ripping off the cover she exhibited a bolt
of mosquito netting nestled away in the
box. Nay, she belli it up, and even shook
it at the old man. De smiled softly, nod
ded his head a dozen times, and blandly
said :
“Correct, madam —I tumble to it. That
doesn’t look like a dozen button-behind
shirts, and I’m grieved if I offended. Put
it back, madam, forget that you ever saw
me, and wear any kind you are a mind
to !”
NUMBER 41).
Prevention ol Swaiinlna.
A correspondent of the lice Krrjicrit
Mmjazinr, in relation to the swarming of
bees, says : “ After 1 have had all the in
crease I desire, when a hive shows an incli
nation to swarm I move it to the place of
some weaker hive. In that way 1 make
all my colonies strong, and when l have
accomplished that object hut still have a
hive that threatens to swarm I change
places with another, that may also show
signs of swarming. The change of the
workers destroys the propensity ofswnrm
ing for the time being, and by giving them
plenty of box room they will store honey,
and if they are again inclined to swarm,
you may move back again and it will have
the elfect.”
Miss Corisande was born only two years
earlier than her brother Tom. When Tom
was ten years old she gloried because she
was twelve. When Tom was known to bo
fourteen, she confessed to sweet sixteen.
When Tom proudly boasted of eighteen,
she timidly acknowledged herself past nine
teen. When he came home from college,
with a moustache and a vote, and had a
party in honor of his twenty-first birthday,
she said to her friends : “ What a boyish
fellow he is ; who w-ould think he was only
a year younger than I?” And when Tom
declared he was twenty-five years and old
enough to get married, she said to a gentle
man friend, “ Do you know, 1 feel savagely
jealous to think of Tom getting married.
But then I suppose twins always are more
attached to each other than other brothers
and sisters.” And two years later at Tom’s
wedding, she said with girlish vivacity, to
the wedding guests, “ Dear old Tom, to see
him married to-night and then think how,
when he was only five years old, they
brought him to see me, his baby sister ; t
wonder if he thinks of it to-night.” You
have met Miss Corisande, probably. She
lives in your town. —Bvrlinfjton Hawk-eye.
Sandersville Herald : “Mr Kirkland
cut open a hollow log to catch a rabbit the
other day, and on drawing it out he also
drew out an immense rattlesnake that had
partially swallowed the rabbit. He struck
; the snake upon the head, when sixteen
young furious rattlesnakes ran out the
! pouch under the body of the mother snake,
rhe little snakes were very bellicose, but
were all killed. There were seventeen rat
tles on the old stake, and it measured about
five feet in length.”