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A WILD WESTERN ADVENTURE. San/'ranri*co Uuldtn Era. Sam S. Hall, “Buckskin Sam.” and old Rip Ford were trapping in the Ar kansas River region. They were men of desperate courage, who had taken their lives in their hands too often to care for the danger they were exposed to. Old Rip was a man who stood five feet eleven in his moccasins—a man whom you would hardly care to meet in the close tug of a desperate battle. His hard,'brown face was seamed with scars from bullet, knife, and claws of wild beasts, and his muscular body showed the marks ol many a desper ate struggle. “Bncksin Sam” was the beau ideal of a mountaineer and plains man, the Western hunter. Al though not so powerful as Old Rip. he was a man of great personal strength and desperate courage. For many a year these two had roamed the trap ping grounds together, fighting Indians, grizzlies, and wolves, chased by night over the burning praries, defending their camp against the sudden attacks of red fiends. They had been out all winter, and, spring approached, the last cache was covered, and the trappers now began to think of returning home. The camp was built up near the river, a tributary of the Canadian, which flowed through dismal canons in which the light of day never shows, under the shadow of gi gantic ctfffs upon which human beings never yet set foot, and only spreading out at places where the cunning beaver had built his dam. The river was bro ken by great rapids, and abounded in rare fish, upon which they had feasted royally for many a day. They had a canoe, and had been discussing the stream in order to save time. “ I am ready to take the chances, if you are. Rip,” said Sain ; “ I don’t like to give myself away,” said Rip. “ What do you know about the river after we get down to the big canon, ttnd who passed through it ?” “ That's the fun of the thing. Rip. We do what no one else dare do,” said Sam. “ I don’t like it,” replied Ford, who was by far the more prudent of the two. “I—ha! what in Jehu is that ?” They seized their weapons, and ran to the door of the hut, in time to see a dozen Indians running down through the grass, blocking .up the only way of escape. The moment the repeating rifles began to play upon them, they went out of sight among the rocks, and be gan their gradual approach, which could only end in one way—the white trap pers would be overwhelmed ! “ There’s only one chance, Rip,” cried Sam. “And that ?” “ The canoe.” “ I am 3’our man,” cried the giant trapper. “ Yon push the canoe into the water and throw r in the weapons while I keep those fellows at bay. Oh, you would ? Take that.” An Indian had raised his tufted head to get a better shot at the trappers, but before he could get back, the unfailing eyes of the trapper had looked through the double sights and the rifle cracked. The Indian sprung suddenly to his feet. spun sharp around upon his heel and fell dead in his tracks. The next moment the canoe shot from the bank and headed down through the boiling flood, plunging in the canon below so rapidly that the In dians had scarcely time to recover from their amazement at the sudden exodus before the trappers were out of sight. One of the Indians bounded to his feet and uttered a low signal whoop, and two large canoes, containing in all about fifteen men, rounded the point in the river above the canon and came flying down under the stroke of the paddles. The Indians on the shore simply pointed down the stream, and the canoes dashed by at a furious speed, the wild yell of the paddlers announc ing to the white men that they were pursued. The first rapid passed, they entered a long s ream of water where the current was only four or five miles an hour, and there the propelling iorce in the other canoes began to tell, and the Indians gained rapidly. On each side of the canoe the canon was a wall, 200 feet in height and the trappers, could only put all their strength in the paddles and dash on as fast they could. Two miles further and the pursuing canoes were scarcely a hundred yards behind, the Indians yell ing like demons as they saw the white men almost within their grasp. Rip Ford shook his head as he looked over his shoulder, when suddenly his canoe was seized by a mighty force and hurl ed downward, like a bullet from a riHe. They had struck another rapH* more powerful than the first, the rocks abso lutely seemed to fly past them. “ this is something like it,” cried the daring Buckskin Sain. “ llow we do move.” “I should say we did, old boy,” re plied Rip. “I am only afraid we are moving too fast.” “ Don’t you believe it: those fellows seem to be standing still, said Sam. “They will get in the current in a moment,” gasped Rip. “Look at that. The headmost canoe of Indians ap peared upon the crest of the rapids, and came flying down after the trappers at a furious speed. The Indians no longer used their paddles with the exception of the man who sat at the stern, and by a touch on the water, now at one side, now at the other, regulated the course of the canoe. The second canoe follow ed in a moment, a little further in shore. As they gazed, the bow of the last canoe was suddenlv lifted into the air as it VOL. Ill—NO. 14. struck a brown rock in the channel, which the occupants tried in vain to avoid. The fierce current caught the stern, and in un instant there was noth ing left of the craft save broken frag ments, while the occupants with loud shrieks of terror, were borne swiftly on by the resistless tide. “ That ends them,” said Rip Ford. “Be careful, Bam, for your life!” On, on, borne by the power which they could not resist, the two canoes were hurried. There was a scene of w ild uxultution in the hearts of the w hite men, for they could see that their enemy ' would have gladly escaped if they could from the perils that surrounded them. Their mad desire for scalps and plunder had led them into a trap, and they no longer thought of the canoe in advance. They knew, as the whites did not, the terrible danger before them, for they had explored the banks of the stream on foot many times. The river suddenly nar rowed, and the trappers rushed into a canon barely twenty feet wide and nearly roofed over by the cliff' on each side. The current was not quite so rapid here, and they guided their canoe easily. “ This gets interesting, Rip,” said Sam as they went on through the liar row pass. “We are going”—“To our death,” interrupted Rip Ford, in a sol emn voice. “Do you hear the falls?” Through the splash of water and the dip of the paddles they heard a low, dead, tremulous roar, which was the sound of falling water. For a moment the bronzed face of Sam blanched, and then he drew his figure up proudly, say ing : “ Better than the scalping-knife or stake, old friend. As the Frenchman says “ Vive la mort!” Long live deash !” It was, indeed, before them, for as they shot out of the narrow' pass they saw the falls —how high they could not tell, hut the smoke which arose showed that it was not a small one. “ Keep her head to it,” cried Rip. “If wedon’i get through, it’s good-bve forever,Sam !’ • The swift current caught them, and the canoe, hurled forward with terrible force, went flying toward the verge. A moment more and it shot out into the mist and went down into the unknown depths. Each man clung to his pnddk as lie went down, held by an invisible power, whirled to and fro, as in a malestrom, and then shot up into the light below the falls. Far below them the canoe floated, and as the current swept them down the. two men looked back in time to see the Indian’s canoe come over the falls sideways w ithout an occupant. It was hurled far out and fell lightly cm the water, only to he ar rested by the strong arm of Buckskin Sam The Indians, appalled by their dan ger, had upset the canoe in their frantic efforts to escape. What became of them the trappers never knew, for when they reached the foot of the rapid far below the falls, and righted the canoe, they made no pause, but hurried down the stream, and before night were safely floating in the waters of the Canadian River. Two days later they reached Fort Sill in safety. An Obliging Hotel Huest. The other evening a kind-looking old man was escorted to a room on the third floor of a hotel to pass the night, and it was not five minutes before the bell indicated that he wanted to see a waiter. A colored boy ran up, ducked his head into the room, and asked what was wanted. The old man said he didn’t want anything, but the waiter was hardly down stairs before the bell rang again. “ Did you w ant suflin ?” he inquired as he reached the room again. “ Nothing,” replied the old man as he opened the door. In about two minutes the bell rang again, and this time the waiter ex claimed : “If you don’t want nuffin what aVe ye.jinllin.de bejl forf”, “I want to oblige' the waiter,” re-: plied the did mail. “Dewatah? Oblige de watali ?” “ Yes ; it says here, ‘ Please ring the hell for the waiter,’ and if he wants it rung I am willing to oblige him, al though I’m tired and sleepy, and shall not pull it more than four times more un'ess I know that some of his family are sick.” He was tall and awkward, and she was short and bashful; both wore a nervous aspect of exceeding great joy. They entered a hotel in St. Louis, and after he had registered his name and lady, he said to the clerk : See here, mister, me and my wife have just been spliced, and I am'just going to show Amanda the town if it takes a mule a day. Now give us one of those rooms like the temple of Solomon, you know. The clerk called to a hall boy and said, show this gentleman to the bridal chamber. At this, the tall rustic be came instantly excited. Not by a long shot! ye slimy-haired, biled-sliirted, dollar-breast-pinncd, grinning monkey, ! yon can’t play that on me ! If I am from the country, ye don’t catch me and my wife lodging in your dog-goned : old harness room. HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER 27, 1878. I•• NiiALi, hi: k\oh each other THERE TANARUS” BY LK.NO. TF rittm for The Hartwell Sun. In that beautiful world, that City of Light, IVhostjoys tlic saints of all agesshall share. | Where day never fades into shadows of night, j Shall we know each other there? ! On that evergreen shore where the palm trees grow. Where bright pearly gates stand ever ajar. Where o’er diamond pebbles the crystal waves flow. Shall we know each other there? When beneath verdant boughs with lus cious fruit gemmed, Past toils with the joys of Heaven we com pare. Shall we recognize all in that sainted throng?— Shall we know each other there ? As oft we shall meet, oil the golden paved street. With dear ones of old, whose love we prized here. Shall their eyes sparkle then with the same love light; Shall we know each other there ? Will we recognise those who have soothed our woes, Who loved us and helped us our burdens to bear, On whose loving breasts we’ve nestled to rest?— Shall we know each other there? Can the voices whose sweetness our souls thrilled on earth, Ripple strange new tones on Eden's pure air. And touch not the heart that responded of yore ? We shall know each other there. Through the soul’s dim windows though darkly we see. For we look through tears of sorrow and care. Yet we know our friends here. Then “as we arc known.” We shall know each other there. If o’er the direful gulf ’twist Hades and bliss. The beggar transformed to angel so fair, Was still known by Dives, from depths of despair. We shall know each other there. When far above the brightness of sum mer's noon sun, Our Savior’s face did radiant appear, if Moses and Elias to Peter were known, We shall know each other there. There, no lack of knowledge shall happi ness mar; Our souls shall quaff all the joy they can bear And daily drink deeper of fountains of bliss. We shall knoxo each other there. HER BODY FOR DISSECTION. Hl!i Elizabeth R. Itruiivou'ft Very Re markable Will. .V. I". Sun. In the New York Medical College and Hospital for Women an autopsy on the body of Miss Elizabeth 11. Branson was made under peculiar circumstances yes terday. About nine months ago Mi's. Dr. C. 8. Lozier, one of the founders of the college, received a letter from Miss Branson, who asked to be received as a free patient in the college, enumerating some of the characteristics of her disease, and offering, as an inducement, to per mit her body, after her death, to be dis sected for the benefit of science. She was then in Philadelphia. Mrs. Lozier, having received many applications for free beds, was obliged to reply that the institution could not take any more free patients. She said that the value of her body Vor dissection would be no adequate ■ ompensation, because, under the laws of the State, subjects arc provided from the unclaimed dead in the hospitals at the low rate of $5 each. Several months afterward Mrs. Lozier received word from Dr. Holbrook of Laight street that Miss Branson had decided to enter the hospital, and that her friends would de fray the necessary expenses. Miss Bran son came to New York about seven weeks ago', and remained in the hospital .until Tuesday last, when she died. Her story was that she was the daughter of Isaiah Branson, a Quaker, of Chelsea, Wayne County, Indiana. She was about 49 years of age. At the age of 23 she was one of a number of guests who were poisoned in a hotel in Cincin nati. From that time she dated her ill ness, and for twenty-six years she had had abcesses and ulcers. Her suffering caused her to study medicine, and for a hrng time she supported herself by teach ing and lecturing. She was engaged in Boston in 1870 with Dr. Dio Lewis, and at the Centennial Exhibition in 1870, in attending the Butler health lifting cure, but gradually the exertion became too great for her and she was obliged to desist. She was fully aware, on en tering the hospital, that she had an in curable cancer. She was of medium stature and build, with a high, intellect ual forehead, dark-blue eyes and chest nut hair. She won the affections of all who went near her. Mrs. Lozier says that in all her practice she never met a woman w ith more heroic fortitude under excruciating pain. Every minute of the last few months that she was not under the influence of anesthetics she was in agony, and yet she smiled, regret ted that she was giving trouble, and of ten said to her attendants: “Oh, I last so long.” About a month Hgo Mrs. Lozier was surprised by receiving from Miss Brun son a document which she said was her will. On examination, it proved to he the gift of her body for dissection, for the benefit of the college. The will rends ns follows: “ I, Elizabeth Branson, late of Leba non, Ohio, now of New York City, be ing of sound mind and memory, and considering the uncertainty of life, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last will and testament concerning the disposition of my body as follows : I give niv body to the New York Medical College for Women, of which Clcnicnce S. Lozier, M. l).,is President, for such scientific uses as she and the faculty of said college may designate. The following uses I suggest: First— that a full examination of the diseased parts be made, and that minutes he kept for the benefit of all who may wish to investigate. Second —that after exami nation the body he dissected for the ben efit of the students of said college. Third —that the skeleton he well mount ed, and then preserved forthe use of said college and its students, with my name and the circumstances of my death. I hereby appoint Clcmence S. Lozier, M. I)., as above, to be executrix of this my last will and testament, and give her full power and authority to act w ith out giving anv bonds or writing for any legal formalities except suen us are ab solutely demanded by the statutes of New York. In making this bequest lam actuated solely by the love of science and a de sire to contribute to its progress. In witness whereof I have hereto sub scribed my name and affixed my seal, in the city of New York, this Bth day of October, 1878. Elizabeth R. Branson, M. D.” The signature is in a full, round, bold hand, and the witnesses are Charles S. Boyce and M. L. Holbrook, who ap pend the following: Subscribed by Elizabeth 11. Branson, the testatrix named in the foregoing w ill, in the presence of each of us, at the time of making such subscription, and the above instrument by the said testa trix to her last will and testament. Each of ms -have, at the request of the testatrix, and in the presence of each other, signed our names ns witnesses thereto. Charles S. Boyce, Norwalk, O. M. L. Holbrook, 13 Laight St., N. Y. Several weeks before her death, Miss Branson talked with composure of the w ill that she had made, and spoke of the benefit to the college and to science that she thought would follow the dis section of her body. In obedienoe to her request, those who had known and talked with her, met yesterday in the dissecting room. Be sides Mrs. Lozier, Prof. Carmichael, Prof. Dcnforth, Prof. Dillon of the fac ulty, Dr. Hills, Dr. Marv Briuckmann, Dr. Holbrook, and Dr. Doyce, were 30 students. Every one present was famil iar with Miss Branson’s story,, her de votion to the science of medicine, and heard lierdying words :“ Thank you all, dear ones, who have done so much for me.” Whether that part of the will requir ing the skeleton to he prepared and pre sented to the college shall he carried in to cffei t is a matter of doubt, because there is no money to defray the expense, .unless someone volunteers to pay for it. The heavy mortgage on the hospital property ot Thirty-seventh street and Lexington avenue is held by the Stein wavs, and it is feared that the decline in real estate that lias swamped so many private fortunes will reach the hospital. A similar disposition was made by Dr. Warren of Boston to the institution in which lie was a professor. Mrs. Lozier said that she had often contemplated disposing of her own body, and that she had argued the subject with her son, Dr. A. W. Lozier, and bis wife, J. De la Montagnie Lozier, who were rather opposed to it. “It is better than cre mation,” she said. New Process of Digestion. Athena Chronicle. “Is it true, (4. Dub,” asked one of an inquiring mind, “ that you swallow ed sand lor dyspepsia !” “Yes,” answered G. Dub, “I did, and if you will wait a little while, I’ll tell you about it: “ You sec, I have never looked at a human stomach, hut in sausage time. I took a pig stomach. I cut it open and found whar the corn and such like went in, and then I turned it over and found whar it went out in the bowels, I jist looked at it, and tliar was a little sort of a door to flop down until the corn was all churned up in the stomach, and all around it looked like puckering strings, to keep it tight and close. I thought that a human’s stomach must be jist like it—leastways, I have often seen folks that reminded me of hogs. May be this little door and these puck ering strings in rne was out of order. I jist thought they must be too small or they must lie covered with something, and every time when what I eat want ed to go out of the stomach, it couldn’t; WHOLE NO. 118. and it would git sorters our and ferment and churn up; and then I’d have to (ling it tip. 1 got so worried and mad, that I thought I’d try and flx the thing. All the doctors around had given me enough truck to kill a horse, but it never done a domed bit -of good. I coifldn’t look at a bottle—l mean a clear glass one—without making a face. These dark bottles, holding about a quart, don’t have no such effect on me. -Durn the doctors! 1 have taken enough tonics and bitters and ’lixirs to swim in, and there is no telling how much bismuth and something they call saccharated pepsin, but it ain’t a blast ed thing but a pig stomach or chicken gizzard all ground up; in fact, it’s enough to make a fellow sick to think about it. much less take it. I thought if they hadn’t killed me after trying so hard, I’d try a spell myself. So I thought if 1 could jist git something to rifle out this opening to my stomach and cut away the phlegm that I thought was thar, I’d hit it on the head. I thought about it for a long time, and often seeing the chickens picking sand, I thought if it did them good, maybe it would me. So I went to the branch and got about a bushel of the purtiest, j clearest sand I could find, and I washed it jest as clean ns it could be until I only had about a half-gallon left. It looked : s clean, bright and shiny as glass. I took a tenspoouful three time s a day. It jist seemed to me 1 could feci the sand scouring and gouging away at my in wards. Anil it made me laugh when I thought how that little door would Hop, and how them puckering strings would sorter tingle as the sand was rubbing and grinding all the phlegm off. It ap peared to me that I was 1 letter, hut I don’t know. I have taken enough darned stuff to fill one side of a drug store. Leastways, I was no worse— and nobody can sav I haven’t got any sand in my gizzard—if I’ve got one. That’s why I took that sand.” A Man not to be Frightened by Trifles. Little Lock Gazette. A cruel joke was played on a man last night by a drug clerk. He medi cated a glass of whisky, with some harmless liquid, and placed it where a troublesome frequenter of the house would get it. The man came in, and the clerk busied himself among the bottles. Turning around he saw that tlie glass was empty. “ Wonder what become of that stuff? I had just, fixed it up to use as bed bug poison. Somebody must have turne 1 it over.” “ I turned it over.” “ Did you get any of it on you 1” “ I think I did.” “ You'd better wash yourself, for it was as poisonous as a snake.” “ What was in it ?” “ Why, it was half prussic acid.” “ What was the other half?” “ Whisky, I believe.” “Are you sure the other LMf was whisky ?” “ Yes, but I’m more certain in regard to the acid.” The man sat down and exhibited so little concern that the clerk referred to the subject again. “ I'm very glad that no one drank it. I’ve been watching it pretty closely, for the proprietor has a habit of drinking j everything he can get his hands on.” “ I’m glad the proprietor didn't drink it.” “ Why ?” “ Because I drank it myself.” “Great heavens man, you are dead.” “ Hardly.” “ Why, my dying friend it was my bug poison.” “ I'm not a bug.” “ But you’ll die just as certain as you live.” “ Didn’t you say that it was compos ed of one-half whisky ?” “ Yes, but the other—” “ any difference about the other half. I killed the whisky,” and lie looked around as carelessly as a justice of the peace when a witness is being sworn. Henry County (Ala.) Register: Don’t get too big lor your breeches just be cause you are a little prosperous, and have a few more dollars than some of your less fortunate neighbors. Many a man much better off' than you are has come to his wallet and staff’. Before the! war we remember to have heard a then rich man say that he was never to work in the field. That same man to-day is ploughing an ox and splitting rails. Fact —and, if we felt so disposed, could name him. Go slow on your moonshine prosperity and riches, for you may yet tumble. Don’t get the big-head, but take your prosperity slow—you may get under the weather, and vet be glad to have your poor neighbors recognize you. A poor man is just as good as a rich one, if not a little better—were it not for the poor people, this thing called a world would soon he a nothingness, and the inhabitants would soon go to the devil. The poor, and not the rich man, keeps this world moving. Is he | entitled to no respect for it? Think and i consider the matter. MODERN SAMSONS. In the last century there lived in • England a man named Thomas Topham, who was renowned for his muscular power. lie could, with case, roll up in his fingers the pewter platers which were in fashion at that time, or strike an iron poker upon Ids arm until he bent it at right angle. He took a bar of iron and, placing it behind his neck, holding the two ends in his hands, he brought these ends forward until they met in front, then—a feat which re quired still more dexterity—he brought it straight again in a similar manner. He is said to have lifted with his teeth, and held out for a time, a wooden table six feet long, and with half a hundred weight attached to one extremity. These performances are recorded by Dr. Desaguliers, a French scientific writer, who made it his business to in vestigate the Ruhject. personally, while collecting material foroneof his works. In 1744, living then thirty years of age. Topham went to Derby and obtained permission of the authorities to display iiis prowess in public. A stage was erected for him, and on this singe, among other performances, he raised three casks filled with water, the total weight of tlie three being‘l,B36 pounds, and it will be observed that in doing it lie brought the muscles of his neck and shoulders particularly into requisition. The muscular strength of his legs had been affected by an injury he sustained during an incautious (experiment. He had undertaken to pull against two horses from the trunk of a tree, but, being unscientific in tin mode of ex ertion, and placing himself disadvan tageously, he was defeated, and his knee-pan was fractured. It was the opinion of Desaguliers that, had he I gone properly to work, Topham might have pulled successfully against four horses instead of two. The two horse feat was accomplished in the last cen tury by a powerful individual, a Ger man named Yon Eckeburg. This man sat down on an inclined board, with his feet stretched against fixed support, and two strong horses were unable to re move him from his position. Standing on a platform, like Topham, h > sustain ed the weight of a large cannon round his waist, and. at another time, bending his body in form of an arch, he allow ed a stone of more than a foot in thick ness to be broken upon his abdomen by the blow of a sledge-hammer. Of Maurice of Savoy, son of the Elector Augustus 11.. it is recorded that his strength of finger was so great that he could snap iron horse-shoes between his fingers like pieces of glass, and, on one occasion, finding himself in want of a cork-screw, lie took a long nail, and, with his fingers, twisted it round into the shape of the implement he required. Such are some of the feats which the human body is able to accomplish by muscular exertion. (0 West. Yes, son, yes, yes; go out west and buy a farm. There is no life so inde pendent ns that of the honest farmer. Do not be discouraged if the work is a little hard at first. The grasshoppers will eat up all your first planting, hilt they will devour it so early in the sea son that you can plant a second time. They won't eat that planting until just about three days before harvest. Then von will have nothing to do all fall and winter and you can put in your full time starving. The next year's crop will be destroyed by constant rains anil floods. The third year a drouth wilt burn up everything that has a root or a leaf within ten miles of your farm. The fourth year, however, everything will go well. You will raise a booming crop, get it all in and safely housed, and sit down happy and contented, waiting for the market to rise. Then a prairie fire will come along and burn up everything you have in the world except the clothes you have on. Buy a farm? A young man is neglectful of his best interests and most solemn duties who does not buy a farm right away. — Burlington Hawk-Eye. They Were Happy. They looked sad, and doubtless feltso, as they stood up against the liorsc-rack. “ Times arc hard,” sighed one. “ Wuss than ever before,” tiie other responded. “An’ work’s exhaustin’.” “ Hit draws a man down powerful.” “ I never saw money so hard to get a fist Oil.” “ Yes, hit’s skascr’n lien’s teeth.” “ But I've got one fif'ty-cent note left, you bet.” “ Ah, well, I lmint.” “ Let's soak her down for drinks.” “ Now that sounds sumthin’ like re sumpshun iiv bizness, that do,” And they hid themselves behind the screen in a jiffy. Henry County (Ala.) Register: A couple of little fellows were overheard, yesterday, as they Rat in the sand oil the sunny side of the school-house, talking as follows : “ Say, Tommy, did you notice mother shake her head at me when she passed the pie at dinner to day ?” “ Yes," answered his compan ion. “ What did she do that for ?” “ She always does that when we have pie and company. She wanted me to refuse pie. I didn’t though, this time, and when I go home to-night I’ll get this ear yanked about an inch and a half, and then comes the goldarndest larrtippin’ on my bare legs, and all for that stingy piece of pie.” A negro in Oglethorpe has a foot that actually measures 15 inches long.