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te^ 1 /** 1 ^ <^*» mmipips£-y-- -.': \HVq&i :' J%'$r>.J*St& •*'-••%* ^^m^^^^^m^^^^^^ THE WATERTOf N HERALD. JK'iE. COUGHLIfl, Editor and Proprietor. SATURDAY, JUL Y 3, 1886. SAVING LIFE. HOW HALF-DROWNED PERSON! OUGHT TO BE 1REATED. Sensibl e Friends Can Sav e a Man' Life—Tb e Ways and Means The y Should Pursue—Hales fo r After-Treatment. Th e annual report of the United States Life-Saving Service, just published, con- tains amon g its 400 page* of interesting reading, some information about thc- treatment of half-drowned persons which is of the greatest value to the tens of thousands of people about setting ofl upon tl eir summer vacations. Here are tuc rules dictated by expe.ience: i ule 1, Unless in danje r of freezing do no t move the patient, but instantly expose the face to a current of fresh air, wipe dry the mout h ahcl\nostrils rip th e clothing so as to expose the chest and wai-t, and give twj or three quick, smarting slaps on the stomach and chest with the open hand. If, however, there is lei^oti to believe that considerable time h s c'ap ;cd since the patient became insensible do not lose further time by practicing Rule 1, but ] rocced imme- diately to Rule 2. After loosening slothes, etc., if th e patient docs not re- vive, then p:ote>'d as stated in Rule 2. Rule 2. If the: aws are clinched, sepa- rate them and keep th e mouth open by placing hetween the teeth a (or k or small bit of wood ; turn the patient on the faoe, i lar»e bundle of tightly-rolled clothing be rig placed beneath the stomach, an a press h -avily over it for half a minute, >r so long as fluids tow freely from th e mouth. R ;le «'. To produce breathing, clear the mouth and throat of mucous, by intro- & i ir.g into the throat th e corner of a aandcrchief wrapped closely around th e for wringer-, turn th e patient on theback , the roll of clothing being so placed be- ocath it lis,to jhii e the pit of the stomach •above th e level of any other pai t of th e body. If there be another person,present, let him, wit h a piece of dry cloth, hold die tip of the ton^u s ou t of on e coiner of the :;;outh (this prevents the tongue from falln g ba k an a chokin g the entrance to -.M.c windpipe), and with the other han d gni^p b >th wrists and ke p the arm s to ...Lly stretched back above the head, thereby increasing the prominence of th e r.b , which tends t o enla g e th;* chest, j h * t wo last n tmed positions are not, however, es ential t o success. Kneel be- ad:: or a«-i.ide the patient's hip?, and, wit h the balls of th e thumb s restin g on eith.e; side of the pit of th e stomach, let th e finders fall into th e grooves between the short ribs, so as t o afford th e best grasp of th e waist. Now, using your knees as a pivot,\ thro w all your weight forward on your hands, and at the same time squaeze the waist between them, as if you wished t o iorec every- thin g in th e chest upwar d out of th e mouth ; deepen the pressure •while you can count slowly one, two, three ;then suddenly let go wit h a final push;-which springs you back to you r first kneeling position. Remain erec;t on your knees while you can count one,two, three ; then repeat the same motions as bef o r J at a rate gradually increased from four or five to fifteen times in a minute, and continue thus this bellows movement wit h the same regularity tha t is ebserV- able in the natural motions of breathin g - which you are imitating. If natural breathin g ba not restored after a trial of the-bellows.movement, for th e space of . three'or four rninutes, then tur n the pa- tient a second time on the stomach as di- rected i n Rule 2, rolling th e body i n th e opposite direction from tha t i n which it was first turned, for the! purpose of free- ing th e air passages from any remaining water. Continue the artificial respira- tion from one t o four hours, or until th e putient breathes, according to Rule 3, an d for awhile after the appearance of returnin g life carefully aid t n e first short gasps until deepened into full breaths. Continue th e dryin g and rubbing , whic h should have been unceasingly practiced from th e -'beginning by th e assistants; takin g care not t o interfere wit h th e mean s employed to produce breathing. Thu s th e limbs of the patient should be lUbbed,always in an upwar d direction toward the body, with firm-grasping pressure and energy, using the bare hands,Jlr y flannels, or handkerchiefs, continuing th e friction unde r the blan- ketB or over the dry clothing. Th e warmt h of the bod y can also be pro- moted by the application of hot flannels to th e stomach and arm j pits, bottles or bladders of ho t water, heated bricks, etc., to the limbs an d soles of th e feet. Rul e 4. After-treatment. As soon as b learning is established, let th e patient be strippe.l of all we t clothing, wrappe d in blankets only, pu t t o bed comfortably warm, bu t with a free circulation of fresh air, an d left t o perfect rest. Give stimulants in doses of a teaspoonful to a tabiespoonful, according t o th e weight of | the pa'ient, every ten or fifteen minutes for the first hour and as of ti n thereafter j as may t*eem expedient* After reaction is fully established, there is great danger of congestion of the lungs, and if per- fect rest is not maintained for at least forty-eight hours, i t sometimes occurs tha t th e patient is seized with gnat difficulty of breathing, arid deat h is lia- ble t o follow unless immediate relief is afforded. In such cases apply a large mustard plaster over th e breast. If the pati.n t gasps for breath before th e mus- tard takes effect, assist the breathing by carefully repeating th e artificial respira- tion. Dr. Labordette, th e supervising sur- geon of the hospital of Lisicux, i n France, appears to have established tha t th e clinching of th e jaws a;id the semi- contraction of the fingers, whic h hav e hitherto been considered signs of death, are, in fact, evidences of remaining vital- ity. After numerous experiments wit h apparently drowne d persons, and also with animals,he concludes that these are only signs accompanying the; first stage of-suffocation by drowning, the jaws and hands beoming relaxed when death en- sues. Th e rigor mortis or muscular rigidity of death comes later, alter this temporary relaxation. Th e mere clinch- ing of the jaws and i-eini-contraction of the hands mu^t not be considered as rea- sons for the discontinuance of efforts to save life, bu t should serve as a stimulant to vigorous and prolonged efforts to quicken vitality. Persons engaged in th e tasks of resuscitation are, therefore, earnestly, desired to take hope and en- courngemc:it for the life of the sufferer from the signs above referred t;>, and to continue their endeavors ac oidingly. In a number of ease-s Dr.Loborde tte restored to life persons whose jaws wore so tirmjy clinched that, to aid r. spir. tion, their te;'ih had to be forced apart with iron insii\:me ts. CAL M AN D STORM . As, azure domed, And silver foamed, And flecked by many a snowy sail; The ocean lay, One Summer's day, Scarce rippling in the southern gale; + I felt for me That life might be As tranquil as that Summer sea. But, as I gazed, ' The sea birds raised A cry of dol'rous, sad forebode, Athwart fair heaven Bla-k clouds were driven, And high tbe angry billows rode. Ah, then for me, Prophetic sea, Thou told'st in truth what life must be. Now—azure domed, And silver foamed, Once more it tells the san'.e sweet tale. And this shall Jast, When—life's sands past— For heaven's bright shore our souls set sail. Then Simla,' fair sea, Less glad, less free, Than they who to that Harbor flee! I —Katharine Cooper. THE BEAR PRINCESS. FROM THE FRENCH. Behind the house, Serban sat dream- ing upon a bjnc h ove r whic h the lilac* fdrmed a sort of • canopy, perfumed with their own fies>h (.dor. Th e house was -\ tine building, with white-washe I walls, and a i;oof of red tiles. It belonged to Scrbm' s mother, the Wido w I.epkMvitsch, and was situ- ated in the Galician quarter of Zukoff, not far r rom the Custom-hois.-, And very near the woods. Dam e Lepkowitsc h was a powerful woman, about forty years of age, who m evervbo ly both respected and feared- she wns respe ted bevanse, ever since thp death of her husband, sha had man- aged th e property an d its dependencies all by herself, cultivated her own fields and carried on a little trade as well in wood an d tallow; he r great gray eyes mad e people afraid, as they heard he r voice harsh as th e sound of a knife passing over a grindstone. , No t knowin g ho w to rea d or write herself, &ho had take n care t o send her son t o school at an early age. Serban kep t her accounts and read the papers t o her ; for the good weman, wh o could not m»k e out . a single letter herself, burne d with curiosity to kno w wha t was goin g on at Paris, at Vienna an d other remote places. She loved Serban as a mother loves her only child, bu t she took care not t o let hi m sec it. Was i t not enough to thin k of to wo; k for his future from mornin g until evening? Serban was a dreamer,. Th e only thin g whic h gave him delight was his violin— his mother hfid bough t hi m the instru- men t as an object of distraction—for she though t her son was mdanchol y only be- cause he was too fond of solitude and too muc h given to his own sombre thoughts. Dam e Lepkowitsch wa* far from sus- pecting tha t her son ueeded a han d to direct him, and tha t tha t han d mus t be the. han d of a woman. Fo r th e time being his mother's han d wa* sufficient, but later on i t woul d h a e to be another's; tha t was certain. Lik e a child, he would hav e t o be passed from one| han d to another, bu t tbe thin g did no t seem at all ea y t o do, for it di d not appear to please this great strong youth, wit h his girl's face an d blonde curls. H e seemed to have a horror of everything tha t wore trailing dresses an d long hair ; an d the moment tha t the fresh and beau- tiful face of a young girl appeared before him, or tha t a sweet vo l e spoke t o him, he mad e his preparations to flee. H e never frequented the t a ern, never wen t to balls; h e was never seen a t the fouutain, nor at th e evening spinning parties, nor at any of the favorite resorts of the other young men. None of those amusements attracted him. So that after awhile, his mother became a little anx- ious, and particularly when she saw him sitti. g on the bench, a? he was t o day, like some prince of fairy-tale bewitche d by a fairy. H e had been sitting thus in a brow n study for some time, when suddenly a strange noise fell upo n his ears ar.d dis- turbed his reflections. A sound at once ringing and yet me'ancho'y seemed, \ throug h the calm of the evening, t o come i from th e market-place, an d break its! echoes magically against the houses and amon g th e gardens. There was gentle I harmony i n th e noisy concert. Serban got up, and, wit h his violin' and bow still i n his hand, he slowly fol- lowed the melodious summons, and cross- ing th e hug e gardens, he reached th e Zukoff street which leads to the market- place. There, a compact crowd ha d formed in a circle—soldiers, servants, children— and in the middle stood a youn g girl of great beauty; wh o was makin g a big brow n bear dance. While the latter was turnin g clumsily upon hi-i hin d legs, uttering a grun t of satisfaction from time t o time, the \young girl was tappin g a tamborine,the booming of which, blending with the argentine clash of little bells, produced a uniform sound characterized by a sort of melan- choly fury. Th e profile of the lithe young girl was splendidly outlined against th e brigh t evening sky ; it seemed like the head of some Byzantine saint relieved against a backgroun d of gold. Her feet were shod with dainty red moroce o shoes; she wore a r-hort striped tuni?, and round her neck, a string of coral and silver pieces whic h fell over her richly embroidered garment. A piece of red cloth was gracefully twisted about her handsome darjc head, and gave her face a somewhat Oriental and prophetic aspect. Th e animal understood every one of her signs; he listened to her wit h the blind obedience of a slave who loves and fears his mistress; he sat dow n and gave his paw, rose u p again, and the beautiful girl stod triumphan t upon his rugge d back ; he assumed all the postures of a clown, and. at another signal, began to perform a kind of pantomime. To end with, he threw himself on th e ground, pretended to be dead, and the young girl stretched herself upon him, in the attitude of a conqueror that hi s over- thrown his enemy. Serban sto. d there without moving, but he never took his eyes off her. \Don' t go near h T'\ cried a neighbor, th e tailor Atlas Mensch, \she i.* as proud as she is wild. I kno w her well; they call her the Pear-Princess. Th e best advice I can give you is to keep out of her way. \ This warning came too late. As the youn g girl approached Serban to picku p th e coins which had fallen at his feet, it seemed to him that she had suddenly ; pulled o;it his heart, and hidden it away under her magnificent dress. An d wher ' she had again put the collar on the bca- aud left the square with her animal, he felt as if he also were attached to armag- ical chain, and obliged to follow her in spite of himself. A t the entrance of the forest, in the spot where stood the little cross beside whic h she halted in order to tak e a re>t an d to share a piece of bread with her savage friend, she perceived that Serb.in was following her. \Wha t do you want?'' she asked. \Nothing . I belong t o the place.\ \Yo u are a musician?\ \No; my mother has a home and gar- den in the neighborhood.\ 'Then what d o you want?\' ' I want to follow you.\ \Tofol'owmc! Are you ciazy?\ A smile played softly about the lips of the handsome girl. \An d why can't If\ asked Serban, quite discouraged. \Because I forbid you to. \ \The road is free for everybody.\ '.'I shall take good care t o compel you to go back home. \ \Vo u can't drive away your shadow. I am your second shadow. I pray you d o not be so cruel. I can't help following you. She looked at him wit h her great sibyl- line eyes and did not answer. While she was eating, he also sat dow n on the grass a few steps away fiom her. Whe n she ha d finished her meagre meal, iho rose up. She took the imperial road, and Serban, after -Hatching the young girl for an instant, followe 1 her at the distance of about a hundre d yards. H e followed her from farm to farm, from vi.lagc to village, from one tow n to another; wherever she halted, or wherever she mad e her bear dance, he stopped, too. and never ceate l admirin g her. He* rested in th e same place where she passed the night—whethe r under a peasant's t :atched roof, or unde r th e starry sky ; he e,u .nehed his thirst at the smi e fountain as.she ; he assuaged his hunge r whenever she and ht r bear took their meals—to-day, perhaps, in a g oomy tavern, to-morrow amon g the stones of some old ruined castle, or per- r haps, in a ditch, unde r some wil d sorb. H e ne er approached her except whe n he felt her to be in danger—whe n a drunke n man would presume t o attemp t to i tak e liberties wit h her—whe n she happened to h e in some very lonesome place—or when, throug h the night, h e perceived the shining eyes of a wolf. Once, durin g a violent storm, whe n she ha d sought shelter under th e willows borderin g a stream, Serban ha d placed himself near her, unde r a nut tree, an d she ha d spoken t o hi m for th e second time. \What i s your name? \ . \Serban ; and Leptkowitsc h is m y family name ! An d you's\\ \M y name is Ca Una. \ \Yo u are not of our courtry? \ \No!\ _ _ • \Then e are you from?\ VFrom the niountains over there ; near th e Hungarian frontier.\ H e asked hei; nothin g more ; then h e began to look at her. H e couldno t sa- tiit e himself with admiring th e adorable creature, whose cha te face was illumi- nated by tw o great dar k eyes tha t flashed beneath her magnitice.it hair. \Bu t wha t d o you wan t t o follow m e this way for?\ she continued, after a short silence. \I f it is simply a joke, I thin k it has been carried on longeDongh. \ \O n the contrary, it is very serious.\ \I be g of you go back home! \ she said to him, in her gentlest voice. Serban shook his head. \Yo u won't? \ \ I won't. \ \An d if I order you ?\ As she said thes i words she rose, and walke d majestically towar d him. \An d if I order you, will you obey mo!\ \No!\ ''Serban, do not provoke m y anger! I hav e been well enoug h able t o tame m y bear,'au d I can just as easily conquer tha t obstinacy of yours. \ \I pray you, Cardina, do not send m e away. \ Th e poor fellow had half risen up, so tha t he found himself on his knees before her, looking u p into her face wit h sup- pliant eyes. j She approached him and stood silent for a few moment >. Suddenly her hand - some face resumed its merriment again. 'Stay , then, \ she said ; \bu t in tha t case you will.have t o p3rform tricks, like Ivanok, my bear.\ \What do you mean by that5 \ \I am going t o show you right now. \ She took oil the chain around th e bear's ne^k and fastened it upon Serban. \Come now, \ she cried, with a burs t of laughter, ''pay attention'!—for if- you don't wor k har d you will get 'nothing, to eat, and if you show yourself disoledient I will^uiiis h you. Up, now! \ Serban got up. \Dance , m y bear, dance'.\ She commenced t o beat her tamborine, an d th e young ma n began to dance, bot h of the m bursting wit h laughter, just like tw o children. In the meantime the bear ha d ap- proache d them , an d stared a t the m in astonishr.e it. Cadina, in her childish glee, still kep t cracking her whip . \Come Ivanok—come on, my friend, if you want to- Hop ! hop!' Th e anim-il rose on his hin d legs and mad e as if he was about to em 1 race his youn g mistress. Bu t Serban, misunder- standin g this demonstration of friend- ship and fearing that Cadina was i n dan- ger, placed himseif before her for th e purpose of protecting her. Ivano k pricked u p his ears and gave vent t o a deep growl, then, taKing Ser- ban unawares, as th e latter was threat- ening him with his violin bow—which , unfortunately for himself, ho still held in his hand—rushe d at hi m wit h a roar and seized him in his claws. Cardina shouted with all her migh t at th e auimal, and flogged him with- her whi p until he let Serban go ; bu t th e blood of the youug man already crim- soned the grass, an d paie t o his very lips, he sank at ( adina's feet. Cadina stared at him in terror for a moment, then threw herself dow n beside him. \Ar e you dead? \ she muttered, shak- ing him wit h all her strength. No; he still breathed ; his heart was beating t Th e young girl at once regained her lelf-possession;shc die w from her pocket the kerchief she was wont to wear round her neck of evenings, and tore it into strips. Then .she dragge d Serban to the edge of the stream, washed his wounds with the cool water, iKfel staunched the blood which ha d been flowing in pro- fusion. A few moment s later, Serban opened his eyes, and looked at her wit h a smile. She bandage d his head where the woun d was, and after havin g fastened her bear to a neighboring tree, she ran across the fields and meadows to the nearest village whic h revealed its pres- ence above the birch trees by the three gilded cupolas of its Greek church. Whe n she came back she was accom- panied by a barber, who exercis d th e profession of doctor in addition to his regular calling, and by two men carry- ing a litter. After a second bandagin g S^rbr\n was I carried-to 'he village, where-Cadiu.i had T* f anbhii engaged lodgings for herself antl him, at the barber's house. Th e wounds were not very dangerous, but poor Serban remained for more than a wee k prostrate with a violent fever. Then, however, he began to get better fast, and after another week ho was able to leave his bed. Cadina, who had nursed him da y and night, led him outside the house for the fir.4 time. H e sat dow n beside her on the b^nch. His face beamed with happiness a t being able t o see nature again in all he* bright- ness. \No w that you are cured, \ the young girl began, withou t looking at him — \no w that you are cured, you must g o back to your mother, and I shall go on my way alone, with m y bear. \ \Yo u thin k I am willing t o d o that! \ calmly replied Serban. \No , no ! 1 shall either go wit h you, or you shall fol- low me. \ \Why , wha t are you dreamin g of?\ , \ I cannot live withou t you—no t I can - not!'' Cadina bent her handsom e head closer to the young man, and fixed her great eyes upon him. \Why should I hid e it from you she exchiimed wit h sincerity. \I also—] do not want any man bu t you; bu t you arc rich, and I am a poor girl. Wha t would your mother say! No, Serban, tha t couid never be!—you are not speak- ing seriously.\ \D o you love me? \ \Yes. \ \Then , that is all I waut to know. \ ferban rose up ; for the first time he looked energetic. After he had paid the barber he had still some money left, and he hired a vehicle, in whic h h e in- stalled Cadina and her bear; the n they took the road to Zukoff. On seeing Serban again, his mother, wh o hid though t her son lost to her forever, sank dow n almost unconscious. \And what is that you are bringin g me?\ she asked, as soon as her senses returned. \A bear and a betrothed. Will you have her for your daitghter-in law t If so, she will at once become my wife; if not, I shall leave ys u an d follow her an d he r bear.\ \I f she is a goo d honest girl. \ \Yes! \ \If she loves you and you love he r th e same, my blessing upo n her, whether she be rich or poor.\ Cardina became Serban's wife. Th e people of Zukoff were astounde d by th e change thi t had talien place i n Serban; h e ha d becom? a totally differ- ent man, wit h joy i n his eyes an d merri- men t in his , speech^—a man, in short, whom everybody liked. Only Atlas, th e tailor, was not a bit surprised. \What could be more natural! \ inces- santly repeated th e village-folK— \h e married a wife whoJt^as th e gift cf tam - ing wild beasts, and wh y shouldn't she hav e tamed him? It isn't withou t reason she is called Th e Bear-Princoss.\—jV«.w Orleans Timea-D&meerat. CUSTER'S FATE. A N INDIAN CHIEF'S ACCOUNT OF THE MASSACRE. Graphic Recital b y a Siou x Brave o f the Horrible Scene s o f Slaugh- ter—Th e Bravery o f Cus - ter and His Men . Childre n an d Nature . Children have quic k perceptions, an d therefore are goo d observers or seers. Th e observations the y make , however, regardin g the animals anci plants abou t them, while often in themselves quite accurate, lead to very incorrect conclu- sions. This is because children d o no t reason deeply. It takes a long time for the m to learn that not once or twice, bu t a grea t many .times, must one phenomenon follow certain other preceding phenomena to warran t the use of th e logical terms effect an d cause. Caution in forming deductions comes only wit h experience and education. Children have keen eye3 for any strange peculiarities as well as for real or fancied resemblances, an d are quick t o appreciate th e qualities of plants. An enthusiastic botanist an d teacher, speaking of children, said : \The y bow as to some fetich before poisonous plants. \ Monstrosities in Natur e fascinate them. Double apples, strangely shaped knots from trv'es, gro- tesque roots, curious lichens adoru man y \play-houses.\ Their re.diness to ge t hol d of the properties of plants explains ho w it is that children (boys particularly, because they are more in th e out-door world) find so man y things t o eat in th e woods an d fields. A boy accustomed t o tram p about will seldom go a hundre d rods afieid before he begins to nibble or chew something tha t he find =s growin g in his path. Can you not recall a dozen wild things . of whic h you were fond in childhood which long ago parsed from your list of edibles? Sassafras- bark, both of twi g and root* spice wood, \slippery-elm the bud s of th e linden- tree, the tender shoots from the spruce an d larch, all tickle th e palate of th e boy or girl. Men whose boyhood was passed anywhere iti Noriher n Ne w Eng - land may recall ho w fond they once were of something which was called \sliver \ th e cambiu m layer of th e white pine. In certain places it is the fashion t q chew the leaves of the Antennaria, \Indian tobacco\—i n others, thistle- blossoms. Wil l ever honey taste as sweet as di d the dainty droplets taken direct from some unfortunate bumble- bee captured and dismembere d b y the boy seeking wha t h e ma y devour?— Pojralar Science Monthly. Ho w a Soldie r Ran Awa y t o Sea. . One hundre d and nine years ago, in the mont h of February, 1777, a young Frenc h guardsma n ran away t o sea. And a most singular runnin g away it was. H e did not wish to be a sailor, but h e was so anxious to go^jQiat he bough t a ship t o run away in, forUie was a very wealthy youn g man ; and tVough he was only nineteen, he held a commission as Major-General^ n th e armies of a land three thousand miles away, a land h e ha d never seen and the language of which he could not speak. Th e Kin g of France commande d him't o remain 1 a t home', his friends and relatives tried to restrain him ; and even the representatives, or agents, of the country iu defence of which he desired to fight did not encourage his purpose. An d whe n th e youn g man, while dining at the house of th e Biitish Ambassador t o Frr.nce, openly avowed his sympathy with a downtrodde n people, and his determination to help them gain their freedom, the Ambassador acted quickly. At his request, the rash young enthusiast was arrested by the Frenc h Government, and or'er s were given to seize his ship, which was awaiting hi m at Bor 'eaux. But ship and owner both slipped away, and. sailing from the port of Pa^ajes in Spain, the runaway, with eleven chosen companions, was soon on the sea, bound for America, and beyond the reach of both friends and foes. On April 25. 1777, he landed at the little port of Georgetown, at the mout h of the Great Pee Dee river i n South Car- olina; and from tha t day forward th e career of Marie Jean Pau l Roch Y>es Gilbert Moticr, Marquis de La Fayette, has held a place in the history of Amer- ica, and in i:ie interest an d affection of the America i people.— St. Nicholas. Th e celebration of the tent h anniver- sary of the Custer massacre by a few of it> survivors too k place on the scene oi slaughter in Montana a short time ago. Th e great Sioux Chief Gall wen t over the field and described the manne r in whic h Custer's command was destroyed. Gall is a fine-looking Indian, forty-six years old. H e was retice.it at first, but finally told\ his story with dignity and emotion. His account of the massacre, contains many particulars not hcietofor given. He said: \We saw soldiers early in th e mornin g crossing the divide. Whe n Keno and Custer separated w e watche d the m until they came^ dow^into the valley. Th e cry was raised tha t th e whit e soldiers weie comin g and orders were given for the village to move. Reno swept dow n so rapidly upon the uppe r end that the Indiana were forced to \fight. Sitting j Bull an d I were at th e point where Reno attacked. Sitting Bull was the bi g med- icine man. Th e women and children were hastily moved dow n the stream where the Cheyennes were encimped . The Sioux attacked Reno and th e Chey- ennes Custer, and then all became mixed i Up. Th e women and children caught | horses for th e buck s to mount, and the j bucks mounted and charged back on Reno, checked hi m and d ove hi m into | th e timber. Th e soldiers tied their j horses t o trees, came out, an d fought on foot. As soon as Reno was beaten and j driven back across the river,, th e whol e j force turne d on Custer, and fought him until they destroyed him. Custer did hot j reach th e river, but was me t about half a mile u p th e ravine no w called Ren o Creek. The y fought th e soldiers an d beat the m bac k step by step until all were killed. \ One of Reno's officers confirms this, saying : \I t wa s probably durin g the interval of quiet on Reno's part tha t th e Indian s massed on,.jpu$ter an d annihi- lated him. \ Gal l continued : , \The Indian s raaflHl of ammunition an d the n used arrows. The y fired from behind their horses. Th e soldiers go t their shells stuck in th e guns an d ha d to thro w the m away. The n they fought wit h p ; stols. Th e Indians wer e in couples behind an d i n front of .Custer as he move d u p the ridge, an d were a s many as th e grass on the plains. Th e first two companies (Keogh'js an d Calhoun's) dis- mounte d an d fought on foot. The y • never broke, bu t retired step by step* until forced bac k to th e ridge, upon , whic h all finally died. The y wer e shot down- i n line wher e they stood. Keogh's company rallied an d were all killed in a bunch . (This statement seems borne out by facts, as thirty-eight bodies of Keogh' s troopers were found piled i n aheap. ) Th e warriors directed a special fire against the troopers wh o held th e horses, and as soon as a holder was killed, by wavin g blankets an d great shouting, the horses were'stampeded, which mad e i t impossi-1 ble for the soldiers t o escape. The sol- diers fought desperately and never sur- rendered. The y fought standing along j in line on the right. As fast as th e men fell th e horses were herde d and driven towar d the squaws an d old men, wh o gathere d the m up . Whe n Ren o at- tempte d to find Custer b y throwin g out a skirm ish line, Oust.-r and jM wh o wer e with hi m were dead. Whe n th e skir- mishers reached a hig h poin t overlooking Custer's field, the Indians were gallopin g around and over th e wounded, dyin g an d dead, poppin g bullets and arrows into them. Whe n Reno mad e his attac k at the uppe r end, h e killed m y tw o squaws an d three children,which mad e m y heir t bad. I then fought wit h hatche t (meaning mulitated th e soldiers.) Th e soldiers ran out of ammunition early in th e day. Their supplies of cartridges were i n th e saddle pockets of their stampeded horses. Whe n their ammunition was gone th e Indian s killed th e soldiers with hatchets ; a lot of horses ran away an d jumpe d into th e river bu t were caugh t by rquaws. Only forty- three Indians were kmed altogether, bu t a great man y woundto$ Ones came across th e river, an d died in th e bushes. We ha d Ogallalas, Mineconjous, Brule, Teton, Uncar.apa, Sioux, Cheyennes, Araphoes an d Grcsventres. Whe n th e bi g dust came i n th e air dow n the liver (meaning Terry and Gibbon), w e struck our lodges an d wen t u p a creek towar d the Whit e Mountains. Th e Bi g Hor n ranges were covered with, snow. W e waite d there four days, an d the n went over t o the Wolf Mountains. \ | I t has been popularly supposed tha t ,-Custer entered th e river, bu t such wag not the case. Wage s i the mine* in the Black Hills range froi:. .g; v \,50 to -f~> a day, and are regulated by the amount and character of wo:k performed. A Shor t Furlough. Wha n the T wenty-Fifth Tenn esse* In- fantry yrfe encamped near Wartrace, in th e spricgo f 1863, a farmer from a neigh- boring county came i n wit h a large goods- box fiilled wit h \pies an'things. \ Dur - in g his stay, he was approached by a soldier who m h e ha d know n in eivil life, wh o wante d to mak e use of his empt y box as a means of escape from camp, tha t h e migh t pay a short visit home. Th e farmer, not being s ire tha t it would be right to comply with th e re- quest, thoug h willing to accommodate th e man, mad e no promise, but privately referred the matter to Col. Hughes, wh o told hi m he ha d no power t o grant a fur- lough to the applicant, bu t if he could ge t out of camp in th e empty box, it would be all right. H e charged th e farmer, however, no t to let his friend ] kno w that he was cognizant of his at- j temp t to escape. j Tha t strategy ha d been attempted be- | fore, the colonel was aware, and he didn' t choose t o let i t continue. Th e soldier wen t off in th e dry-goods ; box. As the wagon, wit h its unsus- j picious-looking load, reached Duc k River I the next morning, it was met amid stream by several mounte d guards, wh o accused the owner of trafficking in whis- key to the soldiers. This h e stoutly de- nied ; but they told hi m they must mak e search, whic h thev proceeded at once to do. Mounting the wagon at a given signal, they hoisted th e box overboard into th e river. As it began to sink, a struggle was heard goin g on within, and an upheaval of the top disclosed the frightened face of the would-be truant. Gen. Bushrod Johnson and more tha n half of his brigade lined the bank t o wit- ness th e denouement, and the shouts of laughte:- and derision were, for a while, perfectly bewildering to the poor fellow, wh o stood u p t o his waist in water, not knowin g which way to go or what to do His punishment, thoug h mortifying, proved salutary, for he mad e a good soldier, and served out his. time without once asking for a furlough or privilege of any kind.— Yo-uth'j Cou>pmti</u. What Meteor s Bring t o th e Earth . Th e meteors coming t o ouf earth wit h out, excepting to their superficial vitrifi ( cation, -undergoing any change, w e art able, by subjecting the m to analysis, tc derive from them some precise facts re- specting the constitution of the bodies in space. The first fact, whic h comes out from hundred s of analyses, is, tha t they \ have not brough t a single -substance which is foreign to our globe. About twenty-one elements, all know n to the e hemistry of the earth, have been recog- nized as present in them. Amon g these, iron, silicon, magnesium, nickel, sul- phur, phosphorus and carbon^ are the most important. Whil e they are all clad externally in a common livery, meteor- ites, when examined in their fractured rarts, along wit h traits of similarity, present considerab'e differences. They have been classified, according t o their types, into four groups, ac- cording to the, proportion of iron they contained. Those of the first grou p are composed almost wholly of iron, which is know n asjmeteoric iron. I t is always alloyed wit h nickel an d a few other metals, an d contains carbon free or in combination, as i n steel, wit h fre- quently sulphuret and phosphuret of iron in scattered globules and grains. I t is always recognizable by a single peculiar- ity in its structure. If we moisten a polished Burface of i t wit h an acid, w e shall immediat-dy observe th e appearance of numerous straight lines, as fine an d as- true in their parallelism as if mad e wit h an engraver's tool, and crossing one another i n a net-work of regular geomet- rical figures. These designs, called the figures of Widmanstaettea, after th e first observer of them, result from th e fact that th e metal is not of homogeneous constitution. I t is composed of tw o alloys of iron and ni kel, i n ^crystalline condition, one of which, not being af- • fected by the acid, stands cu t in relief : from the other, whic h is attacke d by it. ! Th e meteorites of ~ thi s grou p are called holbfiderite$, or all iron, i n distinction from th e others, whic h contaiif also stony matters. The y are vastly-more rare tha n those of th e other groups. Th e \atony substances of tbe other groups consist chiefly of silica in combination wit h magnesia and peroxide of iron, as peri- dote or pyroxene. If these Silicates are in small proportion and thinly- scattered throug h th e iron, the y are ssy&sideritea; if it i s th e iron tha t is in relatively small proportion an d appearing only i n isolated grains, they are sporadosiderites. I n other meteorites, comparatively few ki number, no metalic iron can b e per- ceived, and the y ar e called asiderites. Th e most interesting specimen* amon g the m are remarke d b y their dttll-black color, and a general appearance like that of peat or lignite. Besides stony matters , they contain carbon in combination wit h hydrogen and oxygen-r-a chemical qual- ity whic h has led to thei r bein g exam - ined for remains of organic beings. *M Bu t no trace of anythin g of th e kin d ha s bee n discovered. —Popular Science Monthly,, A Quee r Occupation . A Journal reporter wa s out on th e river one nigh t this wee k an d missed th e midnigh t car. Forced t o wal k home, h e stopped to talk wit h a police roundsman , and it wa s 1 o'clock whe n h e resume d his way. Jus t the n a bull's-eye lanter n was seen movin g alon g th e Woo d war d avenue car track, an d soon tw o me n wer e opposite-th e stere i n th e portico of widc h the reporter an d officer stood chatting . \What do , you fnid^his-morning?.\ , aske d the officer of th e man carryin g th e buIPs-eye. _\Di8 vos no t a werr y good mornin', \ wa s th e answer ; \yous t a gouple of hankerchief, von pair of glove, vph gane . un d tw o dollar. ; Maybe w e get s more, bu t dot s all now,\ an d th e curious pro - cession moved on. \What are those fellows . doing? \ queried the re porter. 4 'Seeking wha t the y may find. That' s a pair of old regu'ars. The y are on dec k every morning, good weathe r or bad . The y hustle along the street rail- way s an d pu t everythin g of value the y can find into tha t ba g the y carry. Tha t is,ithey profess too ; bu t once i n a whil e w e tak e th e liberty of examinin g their clothes an d have hit **uppnii bracelet , a watch , ring, char m or^uecklace that* th e owner is very glad t o hwe returned. The y do a thrivin g business.' Youn g fellows that catch the luigt car are often three sheets'in th e wind, hilarious an d unfit to transact business wit h prudence. The y dro p money, a cane, a handkerchief, a pair of gloves, an umbrella, sometimes a hat, and occasionally a watc h whe n too stupid to have any realization of wh^fc is goin g on. Ladies from the theatre s dro p a shaw l or other wrap , a bracelet, an d frequently other articles of jewelry.These chaps mak e a clean swee p of their route an d very often glean a good harvest. A fair rewar d generally induces a retur n of any valuable toits rightful owner, bu t if tha t is not foi thcom'n g th e rule tha t 'finders are keepers' is' enforced. There are a numbe r of men and boys i n th e city tha t are i n the same business. A good man y stores are swep t out at night, an d before dayligh t these sweepings hav<Bf been gone throug h as carefully as if it' were know n there was a gol d dollar in; every shovelful. Ra g piles are picked oyer, an d every gutte r along th e business streeta,.is scanned wit h th e same care. All-night houses an d gamblin g resor ^ are regarded as bon anzas, and the y ar$ looked after front an d rear. All th e feU lows in th e business seem to be'-doing fairly well, an d I never learned ^ of bu t two tha t attempte d to load thei r bag s wit h anythin g they hadn' t a righ t to! pick up.\ — Detroit Journal. Davi d Davi s an d th e Scamp . By one of th e Judge' s friends I a m told a story whic h has not appeared in prin t yet, I believe. It is, I think , character- istic of him, and showed tha t h e was not entirely deficient i n humor, A confidence man, no doub t thinkin g tha t th e bttlky form of th e justice woul d mak e hi m an easy prey t o his- wiles, stepped up to hi m in the Metropolitan Bank, one day, whil e Mr. Davis was depositing a large amoun t of money i n bills. I t was an attemp t at th e old trick of droppin g a bill, draw - ing th e victim's attention to it in th e hope of diverting his watchfulness from the bigger pile of notes about t o b e deoosited by him, and make.--away, wit h the m at th e opportune moment. Th e scam p droppe d his.$ 6 note on th e floor, nudge d the Justice in the side wit h his elbow, andwhiipered : \You'v e droppe d something. \ \Al l right, \ quietly re- marke d Mr. Davis, who kne w a thin g or two about the gentry to which his offi- cious friend belonged; \I'll take care of it.\ Wit h tha t he planted his ponderous foot and whole weight on the note, wdiilo he banded in his deposit. Tha t done, he leisurely asked the confidence ma n to pick u p th e note for him. The latter could not bu t grant th e request. I t was wit h a twinkl e of his eye tha t it disap- peared in Judg e Davis's pocket to find its. way On the following day into the treasury of some charitable institution.— New York Tribune. Obstinacy in opinion? holds the dog. matis t in the chains of error, without hope of emancipation. TH E flOHE DOCTOR. For Impaired Digestion . Those wh o would aid an impaired d i gestion may seek in certain foods, such as broths, stale bread, mil k or coffee, taken awhile before regular meals, effi-. cient helps ; while alcoholic drinks , an d especially th e sour wines, sugar s an d others, ma y b e not only of n o use, bu t even actually prejudicial. T o th e child and th e invalid the results are n o less useful. For Sore* . Wounds,vEto. Fo r any kin d of insect or bu g in th e ear, wet your finger in the campho r and, ru b the inside of th e ear just as thoug h you were washin g it. Whe n the skin U broke n or for an y sore that has no corruptio n in it, wet th e margin of a newspaper i n your mout h till very soft, au d stick i t on th e wound . T o stop th e nose from bleeding, stick a wa d of brow n pipe r as far u p unde r th e uppe r lip as passible. Fo r poison oak, bath e in cream an d gunpowde r twice a day until cured. Casto r Oil t o Remove Warts. A correspondent announces throug h our columns the virtues of castor oil i n the removal of warts. \Constantl y ap - plied for from tw o t o four or si* week s each day—tha t is. onctrn dsy—i t ha s not failed in m y hands, \ says th e writer, \in any cas* of any sL e or lo:'g standing . Th e time i t t ikes may try th e patieace of th e user, but if fa thfully used they wifl ge t their reward in th e removal of th e war t without leaving any scar. I hav e used it wit h some s.icce s in othe r growths, an d had benefit enoug h t o meri t further trial.\— Therapeutic Gazette. Quinine fo r *- c irle t Fever . Durin g th e late epidemic of scarlet fever in Peoria, a writer in th e Mfdieal Monthly claims t o have successfully use d quinine t o preve n t th e spread, of th e dis - ease i n fanulie/a s soon as a single mem - be r was attacked. I n n o instance, h e says, ha s i t attacked an y othe* raemher of th e family unless th e attaa k ci m > <>n i n a dsiy or tw o after commencin g th e qui - nine . He gav e tw o o r thre e grain s thre e times a day, accordin g t o the. age of the child ; then, after four or five days, tt^ - dose may b e lessened; bu t th e Use of qui-V nine must be kep t u p for three weeks, or until th e sic k member s of th e family are fullyrecovered. —Cbicag^Jfom. r A Ptomeer*s Tussle With Indians. A daughte r of Ada m Poe , know n t o th e present ponee r history readin g gene- ration as Adam Foe t th e India n filter, i s th e oldest pcia m Uvinjg in Wayn e county, Ohio, writes a correspondent of the Cincinnati Enquirer* She i s ninety- five years of age. I n speakin g of the conflict wit h bigfoot she states tha t he r father's account of th e fight dif- fers from -th e account -given by his- torians, -who wrote that her^ father^ * Ada m Poe , ha d th e encounte r wit h Big - foat, when she fays tha t her father al| Ways told tha t his\b:oter Andre w P*e* ha d th e han d t-band fight wit h th e India n chief, whil j he, Adam , sho t an d killed the Indian . He r recital of he r father'sacoun t is as follows: \A tody of seven Wyando t tes mad e a raid upo n a whit e settlement on th e Ohio River, nea r For t Pitt , an d killed an old ma n who wa s alone i n a cabin. The news of th e murde r soon spread, an d m y father an d Tjncle Andrew , wit h some neighbors, se t out-to captur e and punit h th e murderers . The y followed th e Indian s „aH night, an d nex t mornin g foun d a t: ad leading t o th e river. My uu cie Andre w di d not g o directly t o th e river, hut left father an d th e others an d wen t throug h th e thicket. H e stole dow n t o th e ban k an d d^sepvared Bigfoot an d a little Indian With gun s ready waitin g for th e pursuiag party . Uncl e Andre w conclude d t o shoo t Big- foot, an d raised his gu n an d pulled th e trigger. Th e gun only snapped, an d di d not discharge. Th e snappin g attracte d th e attention of th e Indian s an d the y discovered Andrew , wh o saw it wa s too late for hi m to run, so h e spran g to - war d th e Indians . H e caugh t the m bot h and threw the m down . Th e little India n got loose an d dre w his tomahaw k t o kill Andrew , wh o kicked backwar d and knocke d th e tomahawk from; th e little Indian's hand . Meanwhile Andre w was holdin g Bigfoot. H e finally released him , an d seizing a gu n belonging t o th e Indians, shot th e little Indian. Big- foot again grabbe d Andre w - an d the y rolled into the water, an d Andre w go t Bigfoot's head unde r watery and , suppos- in g th e Indian was drowned, h e released his hold. Hi s supposition wa s not cor- rect , an d the y bot h started for shore Bigfoot reached the shore first, an d E icked u p th e gu n wit h which Andre w ad shot the little Indian. A t thi s time my father appeared on th e scene, attracted there by th e re - port of th e gun. His gu n happene d to> b e empty, an d both h e an d Bigfoot started on a race t o load. I n hi s hurr y Bigfoot jerked hi s ramro d out to o far, and it fell owt of bis hand, M y father loaded first an d shot Bigfoot jus t as the India n was raising bi s gun . Seeing Andre w in the water, m y father looked 'after him , an d foun d tha t he had been wounde d in th e wrist by th e little Indian's tomahawk . Andre w called t o father tha t he could help ^himself, bu t father Was anxious for his safety an d wen t t o his assistance, while Bigfoot, i n hi s dyin g struggles, rolled into th e river and his body was carried off b y th e cur- rent. Th e remainder of tb e pursuin g part y came up, an d seeing Andre w i n the water, too k hi m for aa India n an d shot hi m in th e shoulder, bu t h e soon recovered. Th e other Indians wer e over- take n and'killed,' an d in tha t fight m y father was wounded . Weighin g th e Recomuiendati o -vs. \Yes said P . D . Snow, \I wa s as- sistant .Secretary, of State way b»Gk i n the sixties. Those were the palm y days of the State, too. State scrip wa s wort h forty cents on th e dollar. Bu t th e rus h for offices was as great the n as i t i s now . Governor Ramsey used to b e at his wit's end to kno w ho w to reconcile the office seekeis whe n several -wer* after one place. Finally, one day, whe n h e ha d been reading over the ponderous files of recommendations that candidates sent him, a happy though t struck him. \ '^am,' said he,\ opening the door to Jennison's room, 'get me a good pair of scales*' ' 'Tlie general was muc h younger then, an d off he flew to notify Charles Mcll- rath, the State Auditor, wbo.sentpu t an d bought a good pair of platform scales. The Dluff-govern7r took the m an d care-' fuiiy'.weighed the documents of th e va- rious candidates, and finally gav e th e commission to th e one havin g th e weightiest recommendations. It was a good selection, too, an d di d honc r to th e Governor's judgment . \—St.PaulPimeer- Press. •-.'-. • .. Somethin g Wrong . 4i The Lord helps those.-who help themselves,\ Is a n unimproved assertion, Thinks Johnny as the pantry shelves Give way t o his exertion. For as he rises smeared with jam, An I feds the ire? paternal, He knows ths adage i s a sham Aad leads t o woe infernal. — Texas Sijtings. .ife^SjSfc^^J^iM,,,.
