Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 January 1889 — Page 6

KING SOLOMON’S MINES.

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.

CHAPTER VlL— Costincku. Solomon's road. When we had gone about half a mile we came to the edge of the plateau, for the hippie of the mountain did not rise out of its exact center, fliough , from the desert it seemed to do so. What lay below us we could not see, for the landscape was weathered in billows of morning mist. Presently, however, the higher layers of mist cleared a little.,and revealed some five hundredyards beheath us, at the end of a long slope of snow, a patch of green grass, through which a stream was running. - Nor was this all. Bv the stream, bis king in the morning sun, stood and lay a group of from ten to fifteen large afitelopes—at that distance we could'not see what they were. The sight filled ns with an unreasoning joy. There was food in plenty if only ve could get it- But the question was ho wto get it. The beasts were fully six hundreds yards off, a very long shot, and one not be depended oh when one’s life hung on the results. ' Rapidly we discussed the-advisability of trying to stalk the game, but finaljy reluctantly dismissed it. > To begin with - the wind was not favorable, and,, further, we should be certain to be perceived, however careful we were, against the blinding background of snow, which we shonld be obliged to traverse. “Well, we must have a try from where we are.” sai 1 Sir Henry. ■*- Which shall it be, Qtiatermain, the repeating rifles •r the ex press as?” Here again was a auestion. The Winchester repeaters—ol which we had two. Umbopa carrying poor Ventvogel’s as well as his own —were sighted up to 4 thousand yards, whereas the expresses were only sighted to three hundred and fifty, beyond which distance shooting with them was more or less guess work. On the other nand, if they did hit, the express bullets being expanding, were much more likely to bring the game down. It was a knotty point, but I made up my mind tbat we must risk it and use the expresses. “Leteachofustakeihe buck opposite to him. Aim welt at the point of the shoulder, and high up,” said I; “an IJmbopa do you give the word, so that we may all fire together.” Then came a pause, each man aiming his level best, as indeed one is . likely to’ do when one knows that life depends upon the shot. “Fire!” said Umbopa, in Zulu, and at almost the same instant the three rifles rang ont loudly, three clouds of smoke hung fora moment before us, and a hundred echoes flying away over the silent snow. Fresentlv the smoke cleared, and revealed—oh, joy!—a great buck lying on its back and kicking in its death agony. We,gave a yell of triumph—we were saved; weßhouldjnot starve. Weak as we were, we rushed down the intervening slope of snow, and in ten minutes from the time 6f firing tae animal’s "heart and liver were lying smoking before us. But now a new difficulty arose, we had no fuel, and therefore could make no fire to cook them at. We gazed at each other in dismay. “Starving mfen must not be fanciful,” said Good; “we must eat raw meat.” There was no other way out of the •dilemma, and oiir gnawing hunger made the proposition less distasteful V an it would otherwise have been. So we took the heart and liver and buried them for a few minutes in a patch of snow to cool them. Then we washed them in the ice-cold water of the stream, and lastly -eat them greedily. It sounds horrible enough, but honestly I never tasted anything so good as that raw meat In a quarter of an hour we were changed men. Our life and our vigor came back to us, our feeble pulses grew strong again; and the blood went coursing through our veins. But mindful of the results of overfeeding on starving stomachs, we were careful « ot to eat too much, stopping whilst we were still hungry. “Thank God!" sa d Sir Henry; “that brute lias saved our lives. What is it, Quatermain?” I rose and went to look at the antelope, forl w»- not certain. It was about the size of adonkey, with large curved horns. I had never seen one like it before, the species was new to me. It was brown, with faint red stripes, and a thick coat. I afterward discovered that the natives of that wonderful country called the species “Inco.” It was very rare, and only found at a great altitude where no other game would live. The animal was fairly shot huh in the shoulder, though whose bullet it was that brought it down we could not, of cour e, discover. I believe that Good, mindful of his marvelous shot at the giraffe, secretly set it down to his own prowess, and we did not contradict him. , We had been so busy satisfying onr starving stomachs that we had hitherto not found time to look abot up. But now', having set Umbonato cut off" as much of the best meat as we were to be mbie to carry, we began to inspect our surroundings, The mist had now cleared mway, for it was eight o’clock, and the sun nad sucked it up, so we were able to take in all the country at a glance I know not how to describe the glorious panorama which unfolded itself to our -enraptured gaze. I have never seen anything like it before, nor shall, I suppose again. -- Behind and over us towered Sheba’s snowy breasts, and below, some five thousand feet beneath where we stood, lay league on league of the most lovely -champaign country. Here were dense patches'll lofty forest, there a great river wound its silvery way. To the left stretched a vast expanse of rich undulating veldt or grass land,on which ■we could just quake out countless herds of game or cattle —at that distance we could not tell which. ‘.This expanse appeared to be ringed in by a wall of distant mountains To the right the country was more or less mountainous, that is. solitary hills stood up from its le~el, with stretches of cultivated lands between, amongst which we could distinctly see groups of dome shaped huts. The landscape lay before us like a map in srvers flashed like silver snakes, and Ailplike peaks crowned with wildly twisted snow-wreaths rose in solemn grandeur, whilst over all was the glad sunlight and the wide breath of Nature’s happy life Two curious things struck us as we gazed. First, that the country before ns must lie at least five thousand feet higher than the desert we crossed, and secondly, that alt the fivers flowed from south to north. As we had a painful reason to know, there was no water at all on the southern ride of the vast range on which

we stood, but on the northern side were many streams, mo»t of which appeared to unite with the great river wq could trees winding away further than we oould follow it. We sat down fqr a while a d gazed in silence at thi* wo’nderiul view, Presently Sir Henry spoke. * Isn’t there something on the map about Solomon’s-Great Road?” he said. I nodded, my eyes still looking out over the far country. “Well, look; .there it is!” and he pointed a little to our right Good and 1 looked accordingly, and there, winding away toward the plain, was what appeared to be a* wide turnnike road. We had not seen it at first because it, on reaching the plain, turned behind some broken country. We did not say anything, at least not much; we were oeginniDg to lose the sense of wonder. Somehow it did not seem particularly unnatural tbat we should find a sort of Roman road in this strange land- We accepted the fact, that was all. “Well,” said Good, “it must be quite near us if we cut off totherirht. Hadn’t we better be making a, start?” —tt This was sound advice, and so soon as we had washed our iaces and hands rin the stream, we acted on it. For a mile orsowemade our way over bowlders and across patches of snow, till suddenly, on reaching the top of the little rise, there lay the road at our feet. It was a splendid road cut out of the solid rock, at least fifty feet wide, and apparently well lept; hot the odd thing about it was t iat it seemed to begin there. We walked down and stood on it, but one single hundred psc-re behind ur. in the direction of Sheba’s breasts it vanished, the whole surface of the mountain being strewn with bowlders interpersed with patches of snow. “What do you make of that, ”Quatermain?” asked Sir Henry. 1 shook my head, I could make nothing of it. "I have it!’’ said Good; “the road no doubt ran right Over the range aud across the desert the other side, l?ut the saDd of the desert has covered it up, and above us it has obliterated by some volcanic eruption of molten lava.” This seemed a good suggestion; a s any rate, we accepted it, and proceeded down the mountain. It tWKf a different business traveling along down hj.ll on that magnitcent pathway with full stomachs to what it had been traveling nphiil over the sno* quite starved and almo -t frozen; Indeed, had it not been ior melancholy recollections of poor Ventvogel’s sad late, and of th«t grim cave where he kept company with old Don, we should have been positively cheerful, notwithstanding the sen*e of unknown dangers before us. Every mile we walked the atmosphere grew softer and balmier, and the country hefore us shone with yet more luminous beauty. As for the road itself, I never saw such an engineering work, though Sir Henry said that the great road over the St. Gothard in Switzerland was very like it. No difficulty had been too great for the Old World engineer wno design'd, it. At one place we came to a great* ravine three hundred feet broad and at least a hundred deep. - This vast gulf was actually filled in, apparently with huge blocks of dressed stone, with arches pierced at the botto <■ for a water-way, over which the road went sublimely on. At another place it was cut in zigzags out of the side of a precipice five hundred feet deep, and in the third it tunneled right through the base of an intervening ridge of space of thirty yards or more. Here we noticed that the sides of the tunnel were covered with quaint sculptures mostly of mailed figures driving in chariots. One, which was exceedingly beautiful, presented a whole battle scene with a convoy of Pcantives being marched off m the dis:e. Well,” said Sir Henry, after inspecting this ancient work of art, “it is very well to call this Solomon’s Road, but my humble opinion is that, the Egyptians have been here before Solomon’s people ever set a foot on it. If that isn’t Egyptian handiwork, all I have to say is it is very like it’’ By midday we had advanced sufficiently far down the mountain to reach the region where wood was to be met vyith. First we came to scattered bushes wnichgrew more and more frequent, till at last we found the road winding through a vast grove of silver trees similar to those, which are to be seen on the slopes of Table Moumain at Cape Tow®. I bad never before met with them iD all my wanderings, except a the Cape, and their appeaiauce here astonished me greatly. “Ah!” sad Good, surveying these shidingleay. d trees witn evident enthusiasm, “here is lots of wood, let us stop and cook some dinner; 1 have about digested that raw meat.” Nobody objected to t his, so leaving the road we made our way to a s r» am w h'ch was habhlingawav not far off, and soon had a goodly fire of dry bou hs blazing. Cuuiugoffsome Mibstau ia* hunks from the flesh of the iqco which we had brought with u a , we otoceeded to toast them on the end of sharp steks, as ore sere the Kafiis do, and. eat them wiihPt relish. After tillit g ourselves, we lit our pipes and gave ourselves up to enjoyment, which, compared to the hardships we had recently undergone, seemed almost heavenly. The brook, of which the hanks were clothed with drese masses of a gigantic species of maiden hair fern imersrersed wi'h fea'hery tu is < f wild a-i a agus, babbled awiiv merrily at cur side, the soft air murmured ihrough the leaves of thekilver trees, dovre c >re l around, and brigh'-wirged birds fla-hed like living gems from hough to bough. It was like fa-adise. The magic of the place, combined with the overwhelming sense of dangers left behind, snd of the promised land reached at last, seemed to ch trm us into silence. Sir Henry and Umbopa sat conversing in a mixture of broken English and Kitchin Zulu in a low voice, but earnestly enough, and I lay, with my eyes half shut, upon that bed of terh and watched them. Presently 1 missed Good, and looked to s«re what had become of him. As I did-so I observed him sitting by the bank of the stream, in which he had been bathing. He had nothing on but his flaunel shirt, and his natural habits of extreme neatness having reasserted themselves, he was actively employed in making a most elaborate toilet) He had washed his gutta-percha collar, thoroughly shaken out his trousers, coat and w’Justco t, and was now folding them np neatly till be was ready to put them on, shaking his head sadly as he did so oyer the numerous rents and tears in them, which had naturally resulted from our frightful I journey. Then he took Ms hoots, | scrubbed them with a handful and finally nibbed them over with a

piece of fat, which he had carefylly saved from the inco meat, till they looked, comparatively speaking, respectable. Having inspected them judiciously through bis eyeglass, he put them on and began a lrcsh operation. From a little bag he carried he produced a pocket comb in which wa* fixed a tioy looking g ass, and m this he surveyed himself. Apparently lie was not sai* fled, for he proceeded to d • his hair wiih great care. Then came a pause whilst n-again contemplkred ihe effect; still it was m<t sa'isfactorv. He felt h : s chin, on which was now the afcumulated sci ub of a ten day’s beard. “Surely,” thought I, “he is not gorag to try and shave.” hut siit was. lakii-g the piece of fat with m hii-h he had greased Mb boots he w ash ied it carefully in the stream. , 'lhen dving again into the hag he brought out a little picket razor wit h a gua r d to it, such aft are sold to people atraid of cutting themselves, or to thus ■ abdut to undertake a s-a voyage. Then he vig wously scrubbed his chin with the fat and began. Bdtlt was evidently a painful process, for he gn-aned very much over it, and I wasconvu'sed with inward laugh'er as I watohed him strugg ii g vurii that stubbly beard. It seemed so v>rv odd that a man should take the trouble t > shave himself wuh» a piece of fa> in such a place and under such circumstances. At last he sticceeded in gening the worst of the scrub off ihe right side of his face and chin, when sud-, denly 1, who viras .wa chiDg, became aware of a Hash of light that passed just by his head. Good sprung up with a profane exclamation (if it had not been a safety razor he would eeitainly have cut his throat), and so did I, without the exclamation, and this was what 1 saw. .Standing there, not more than twenty .paces from wl. ere I was, and ten from Good, were a group of men. They were very tall and copper colored, anil some of them wore great pluffies of black feathers and short cloaks of leopard skins; this was all I noticed at the mo ment. In front of them stood a youth of a out seyenteen, his hand still raised and his body bent forward in the attitude of a Grecian statue of a spear thrower. Evidently the flash of light had bev-n a weapon,and he had thrown. As I looked an old soldier-tike looking, man at pp d forward out of the group, and catohing the youth by the arm said something to him. They then advanced upon us. Sir Henry, Good and Umbopa had by this time seized their rifles and lifted them threateningly. The party of natives still came on. It struck me that they could not know what r.flre were.or they would not have treated them with such contempt. • r “Put down your guns!’! I halloed to the others, seeing that our only chance of safety lay in conciliation. Trey obeyed, and walking to the front I addressed the elderly man who had checked the youth. “Greeting,” I said, in Zulu, not knowing what language to use. To my surprise I was understood. “Greeting,” answered the man, not, indeed, in the same tongue, but in a dialect so closely allied to it that neither Umbopa or myself had any difficulty in understanding it. Indeed, as we afterward found out, the language sp ken by this people was an old-fashioned form of the Zulu tongue, bearing about the same relationship to it that the English of Chancer does to the English of the nineteenth century.— ' “Whence come ye?” he went on, “what are you? and why are the faceß of three of ye white, and the face of the fourth as the face of nur mother’s, sons?” and he pointed to Umbopa. I looked at Umbopa as he said it, aud it flashed acrossmethat he was right. Umbopa was like the faces of the men before me, so .was his great form. But I had not time to reflect on this coincidence. “We are strangers,and come in peace,” I answered, speaking very slow, so that he might understand me, “and this man is our servant.” “Ye lie,” he answered; “no strangers can cross the mountains, where all things die. But what do your lies matter? If ye are strangers then ye must di£, for no strangers mav live in the lund of the KukUauas. It is the king’s law. Prepare, then, to die,o i strangers!” I was slightly staggered at thig, more especially as I saw the hands of some of ‘the party of men steal down to their sides, where hung on eaclj, what looked to me like a large and heavy knife. “What does that beggar say?” asked Good. “He says we are going to be scragged,” I answere I, grimly. “Ob, Lord,” groaned Good; and, as was his_wav when perplexed, put his hand to his faMe teeth, dragging the top set down and allowing them to fly back tn his jaw with a snap. It was a most fortunate move, for the next second the dignified crowd o f Knkuanas gave a simultaneous yell of horror, and bo ted back some yards. “What’s up?” said I. “IPs his teeth,” whispered Sir Henry, excitedly. “He moved them. Take them out;. Good, takq them out!” He obeyed, slipping the set into the sleeve of his flannel shirt. In another second curiosity had overcome fear, and the men advanced slowly. Apparently they had now forgotten their amiable intentions of doing for us. “How is it, oh strangers,” asked the hid man, solemnly, “that the teeth of the man (pointing to Good, who bad nothing on but a flannel shirt, and had only half finished his shaving) whose body is clothed, and whose legs are bare who grows hair on one side of his sickly face and not on the othe , and who has one shining and transparent eye, and teeth that move of themselves, coming away from his jaws and returning of their own will?” “Open your month,” I said to Good, who promptly curle<l up his libs and grinned at the old gentleman like an angry dog. revealing to their astonished gaze two thin red lines of gunva* utterly innocent of ivories as a new-born elephant.. His audierice gasped. • “Where are his teeth?”tbev shouted; “with our eves we saw them ” Turning his head slowly, and with a gesture oi ineffable contempt, Good ! swei t h s.hand across his mouth. Then i he grinned again, and lo! there were two rows of lovely teeth. The young map who had flung the knife threw himself down on the grass and gave vent to tc prolonged howl of terror, and as for the old gentleman, his knees knocked together with fear.

0 utii u< e<i next »■ sk. I he Empress Frederick of Prussia has adopted the dress of a German widow, w hich, though severe, ia very pictor-

QUEER MAINE INDUSTRIES.

Wooden Toothpicks and Thread Spools, Compressed Sawdust and Moccasins. »■ , There is an industry which gives employment to hundreds of people in this section of the State which owes its origin to a whittler, writes a Pittsburg Dispatch correspondent from Maine. This is the making of wooden toothpicks. There is a factory in this town which turns them out at the rate of I know not Low many thousand per day, and there are many similar factories in a nqmber of neighboring villages. Aside from the men and boys directly employed in the production -of these useful little articles many qthers are bchefitted by the industry. The farmer who owns the trqes, the woodsman who them down, and the teamster who cuts hauls the timber to the factory, each* comes in fflr a share of the money paid out by the toothpick manufacturers. The wood sells for $3 to $4.50 per cord at the factory, aud as each factory takes from 600 to 1,500 cords per year, quite a respectable amount is paid for raw material alone. The wood used is white birch and poplar, and must be straight-grained and without knots, so there is necessarily a good deal of waste. It is estimated that enough toothpicks are made in Maine each year to load a freight train of fifty cars. In round numbers the toothpicks number 5,0u0,000,0J0, or about seventy-seven picks for each man, woman, and child in the United States. That would scarcely be enough; but the toothpick consumers need not be alarmed, for there are several factories devoted to this industry outside of Maine. The inventor of the- wooden toothpick is still living and still making toothpicks. He was in South America when he made the first box, and got the iflea from the natives, who seem also to have a penchant for whittling. Well, he employed his leisure time in whittling out a box of picks, which he sent home to his wife. She gavera part of them to a hotel-keeper, andihis guests liked them so .tfrellthat heat ence ordered a large quantity. The man in South America smiled when he got the letter, but at once engaged a number jf natives and set them to whittling. Next he returned to his native town in Maine and went to inventing. In due time he had a machine that would make picks about 10,000 times as fast as the swiftest South American whittler, and since 1860 he has been doing his best to supply the world with toothpicks. He has so perfected his machine that one operative can make 15,000 picks per minute. His business rivals are numerous and toothpicks are cheap in spite of the fact that, there is said to be a sort of toothpick trust controlling the production. Another peculiar industry which flourishes in Western Maine is the making of thread spools. They are cut from smooth, white birch timber, a wood which works easily, by various kinds of improved machines. There are numerous mills throughout the lumbering,region where the birch is sawed about 4 feet long and from 1 to 2 inches in width and thickness. These strips then go to the spool factories to be converted into spools. The processes are numerous, but. with one exception not darticularly interesting. The method of polishing the spools is novel and original. A barrel is filled nearly full of them and then revolved by means of machinery and Pelting until the spools are worn smooth by rubbing one against another. Spool manufaeturing is the most important industry in several of thv villages of Oxford couutv and will doubtless continue so until the supply of white birch timber gives out. i I can remember the time when Yankee shoe-makers cut their pegs themselves. They would saw off a white birch log, leaving it smooth and even, then plow little furrows across it in two directions with an instrument which I believe they called a peg cutter. Then enough of the wood was sawed off to make the pegs the right .length and the block was split np into pegs »by using a knife. I don’t suppose anybody makes pegs that way now. They are cut by machinery from white birch and maple and New England supplies the whole country. Pegs are worth from 35 to 95 cents a bushel at the factories. Up in Bangor there is a firm styling itself a ‘‘compress company” and its business is baling sawdust. Sawdust, shavings, etc., are taken from the sawmills and planing mills in tram-cars to the compressihg mill and there squeezed into an almost impregnable mass. Large quantities are used by Various manufacturers for different purposes. Turning from the wooden products of this woody region I will mention one distinctively Yankee industry and then conclude this letter. The making 'of leather moccasins is carried on in this State quite extensively. Now Maine has not a great many Indians, bat she has thousands of ltimbermen, and each lumberman wears moccasins in winter. The Indians, if they were all mocca-sin-makers. couldn’t begin to supply the market, so the moccasin factory takes hold and helps them ont. A moccasin, by the Way, is a sewed boot, made without sole leather, tue top and the bottom being off the same piece. The leather is tanned by a peculiar process which **. * ’■ ’ * ; : ' r ' ’ 7 ' ri ...

makes its color a yellowish white. It is soft and flexible and very easy on the feet. Each pair of boots is made large enough to hold the owner’s feet and two or three pairs of stockings, thus enabling the lumbermen to defy snow and cold. The moccasins are not of deer skin, but of leather made of the hides of cat le. They are cheaper than cowhide boots and the woodsmen greatly prefer them. There is not a country store in the whole State where they are not kept for sale. , ■

A LITTLE DINNER.

An embroidered square >of linen should be placed under, the centerpiece. /(- Oysters or clams may be served on a thick bed of water cress, in their shells, with accompanyiqg forks. Little dishes of small, round radishes make pleasing bits of color. Dishes filled with Baited alinonds are de rigenr. With thesalid, cheese straws should be served; tied in a bundle with a narrow ribbon; they may be on the table if desired. The ice balls are an addition to many salads and are made as follows: Take a piece of ice as large as a teacup, pound fine in an old towel, and press it with the hands until perfectly round. An attractive “fish dish” consists of medium sized cucumbers, cut in half and carefully scraped out and stuffed with cold boiled salmon (fresh or canned) fix with mayonnaise, half a cucumber served to each person. Oysters may be broiled and served on an ordinary small skewer with little bows of ribbon tied to the “handle!” Then five or six well-broiled oysters impaled on the spilt, served on (or off) toast, and the plate is ready for the table. .The ice cream may be served in paper cases covered with artificial flowers, or in individual bricks and shapes. The cakes, if small, fancifully iced ones, may adorn the table in little dishes. In the finger bowls » piece of lemon, a pansy, or geranium leaf may float. A pretty and delicious salad is as follows: Small potatoes hollowed out and filled with dressed celery, mayonnaise poured over the top, and a few capers added; the potatoes placed on a bed of lettuce, with some ice balls interspersed. Chopped water-cress makes a delicious substitute for celery.

FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.

In fashionable households, instead of the parents sending ont announcements of the latest family addition, the new-comer announces himself or herself by a tiny visiting-card, the date of the birth and the address following the name. Here are a few rales for debntantes: Never show temper, however much you feel it. Never be late in keeping In engagement. Never resent a seeming slight, but smile and bear it. Never confide anything to another debutante. Never betray your feelings in public or your preference for a member of the male sex anywhere. The woman-suffragists are greatly pleased with some utterances made by President-elect Harrison recently in regard to the woman movement, and they are predicting the new administration will encourage the appointment of women in the departments, postoffices, and to other places now held almost exclusively by men. Mrs. Harrison herself favors the pecuniary independence of her sex quite as much as she does temperance, women’s suffrage and other reforms. It may be that the reign of Lucy will vet be much outdone.

OLD SAWS RESET.

Look not a gift horse in the mouth, but keep your eye on his hind hoofs. Murdei will out, and the murderer get out if the lawyer knows his business. A wild g 0033 never laid a tame egg t bat its egg will grow tame if kept long enough. There is no fool like an old fool, except it be the young fool who fools with an “unloaded gun.” Faint heart never won a fair lady, unless the owner of the heart had plenty of stuff. Rome was not built in a day, as some of the young western cities of our country were. Time and tide wait for no man, and not even for a poor, weak member of the opposite sex. Fortune knocks once at least at every man’s door. But the trouble is that a great many poor chaps are not lucky enoughto be home at the time.

A Slip of the Tongue.

Lewiston Journal. An agreeable young man whom I often meet, was calling with dne ceremony on a nice Auburn girl, the other evening, when her brother Tom, just arrived home from college on the eveninp train, rushed into the room and embraced his sister. ' ** “Why, how plump you’ve grown, Edith!” he exclaimed. “You’re really quite ah armful!” “Isn’t she?*’ exclaimed the agreeable yonng man, and then he felt a chill racing down his spinal column. “That is,” he stammered, “I’ve no doubt of it—l ” i' The brother looked carving knives at him, and the maiden blushed furiously. “I mean—er,” said he, “I should judge sol” >

MATTERS OF LAW.

Recent Decisions of the Indians. Supreme Court. Damages may be recovered for an injury inflicted on Snnday by the negligence of the defendant, although the injured person was working on Sunday, in violation of thq law on tfrat subject. This rale is applied in this case to a brakeman on a railroad train. A railroad company is liable for an injury to a brakeman caused by requiring him to use machinery which it knew to be defective, but of the defective condition of which the employe had no knowledge, and could have nonq except by taking unnsual and extraordinary precautions. This rale is applied to an injury caused while coupling cars by a defective brakebeam, the condition of which the brakeman could only Bes by stooping down and looking under the car. Declarations which were the natural emanations or outgrowths of the act or occurrence in litigation, although not precisely concurrent in point of time, if they were yet voluntary and spontaneously made so nearly contemporaneous as to be in the presence of the transaction which f!hey illustrate and explain and were made under snch circumstances as necessarily to exclude the idea of design or deliberation, are admissible as part of the res gestae. In this case the declarations, which are held admissible, were made within two minutes of the injury and in responee to a question as to how the injury happened. (1) An award which is good upon its face can not be impeached except for causes enumerated in Section 845, R. S. 1881, (2) The Court, when it is sought to have judgment rendered upon an awaH, can not hear extrinsic evidence as to the merits of the case or the justice of the award, or inquire as to whether the arbitrators decided according to the weight of the evidence or observed strictly to the technical rales of law in hearing or refusing to hear the evidence, but it may near evidence pertinent to the statutory grounds of objection. (3) Where the trial court hears affidavits and counter affidavits upon a question triable by it) and thus makes a decision upon conflicting evidence, the Supreme Court will not review the decision. (4) In the consideration of a motion to modify or correct an award, under Section 846 R. S. 1881, the Court will be limited to what appears upon t the face of the submission and the award. Appellees complaint charges that he is the owner of lot 68 in the town of Rushville, on which he resides and has resided with his family for many years tbat the appellant is the owner of lot 67, adjoining lot 68, and twenty-eight feet distant from appellee’s res dence; that on appellant’s lot there is a frame Bhop which appellant and another are converting into a public blacksmith shop, for the purpose of shoeing horses and doing a general blacksmithing business; that such business will greatly interfere with the comfortable enjoyment of appellee’s property, etc., wherefore he asks that the defendants may be enjoined form erectihg, maintaining and using the building as a blacksmith shop. Held: That the complaint is bad, it not being made to appear therein that the defendants threaten and intend- to conduct the business—in itself legitimatein such a qaanner as to constitute a nuisance, i An assignee, believing that certain lands conveyed to him by the debtor possessed a value above the amount 'of a mortgage lien thereon, and being notified by the mortgagee that a part of the mortgage was due and foreclosure imminent, to se&ure time within which to make an effort to sell the land paid the mortgagee all the interest and a part of the principal due on his mortgage out of the trust funds in his hands, the mortgagee agreeing to repay* the same on demand of the assignee if the court or general creditors should not sanction the payment. The mortgage was subsequently foreclosed and nothing was realized for the several creditors. Action by the assignee to recover the amount so paid, the complaint allegin g the facts stated. The sureties on this assignee’s bond, on their application, were made parties, and plaintiffs filed a complaint alleging that the creditors had obtained judgment upon the assignee’s bond partly for the breach of duty represented by such payment and that they had been compelled to pay the judgment, therefore they asked to be subrogated to the rights of the assignee and creditors as against the aljresaid mortgagee. Held: That the mortgagee must repay the moiiery so paid to him. Held, also. That the sureties are entitled to be subrogated. Held, also: That there was not , : an improper joinder of parties plaintiffs, and that a joint jndgment in favor of plaintiffs was proper.

Wanted Enough.

Young De Fast (who has bean out very late the night before)—Have you filled the bath-tub, as I told youT Valet - Yes, sah. “With cold water?” “Yes, sah.” '• “Then lead me to it." “Watah’s awful cold for a bath, sah.” “I don’t want a bath. I want a drink.”/:* - • i_ A mam with a new idea cannot be too i careful of it. 'ft may get a#ay from him and become original with some. else.