Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 September 1879 — Page 1

Stan rl n.TdBKLIABLT BBPUBLiCA*. —Published Every Saturday, —MX—m MEBVIN O. CIBBEL. TEH V«: * One copy, one-Ye*r.. ** ® six month* Jr •• tbrae ibodUm ** Orrn:- In Lenpold'a Wone Building, np rtair*. re*r_,oom.

A STERLING OLD POEM. Who shall JoUse man from hU manner. Who "hall know him by hlsdrws? Pauper* may be tit tor Prince*, .prfncesflt for nothing «l*e. . Crumpled shirt and dirty Jacket May bee loth the golden ore or the deepest thoughts and feeling*— Matin vest can do no more, _ There are stream* ot crystal peeler Ever Sowing oat of atone: There are purple bed* and golden. Hidden, eru»he<l and overthrown; Hod, who counts by souls, not dreset I *. Love* and proa perm yoaandrne. While he value* throna the highest Bat mm pebbles In the sea, Man. upraised above his fellows Oft forgets hi* fellows then; Master*—rnlerm—lords, remember Thatyoar meanest kind are men. Men of labor men of feeling, Men of thoughts and men of feme, Claiming equal right* to annabine In a man’s euobllng name. 'there are foam embrtHdered oceans, There are little wood-clad riUs; There are feeble Incbsblgh saplings. There are cedars on the bill*. Clod, who counts by souls not stations. Loves and prosper* yon and me; For to him all vague distinction* Are as pebble* in tbe sea. Toiling hantl* alone are builders Of the nation’s wealth anti fame; Tilled laziness Is pensioned, . Fed and fattened on the same; Bv the sweat* of other* foreheads, "Living only to rejoice. Wnlle the poor man’s outraged freedom. Vainly lifts It* feeble voice. Truth and justice are eternal Born with loveliness and light; Secret wrongs shall never prosper While Were is a sunny right; - liod, whose world-wide voice is singing Boundless love to you and me, Links oppression with it* titles, But a* pebble* In the sea,

CAUGHT ON THE FLY.

A Story of the Diamond Green. Fever-heat would have but little expressed the state of feeling iu Glen maple wbeu it be<*ome known to a certainty that a city base ball club was coming to play a match with the atubitious home organization. Even the elders become somewhat enthusiastic, though a* a rule they "pished” and “pshawed” at the entire thing, and vowed they could see nothing in it but “sprained ankles and broken thumbs and fingers, and waste of time and money” —voted it useless, exiiensive and dangerous, and “not one-half «b good us the game they used to play when they were young—uo-tndeed.” . But til is was entirely different from the customary “squabbles” of the country boys, and they gave in as gracefully as they could, and resolved to see “how the thing worked” for once in their lives, though they knew it would not amount to much anyway. It was the girls, however, that gave frea play and vent to their feelings. The advent of “gentlemen from the city” in the quiet, hum-drum village was in itself sufficient to create quite a huge ripple upon the surface of society at any ume. With the additional Incentive of base ball it rose to a furore, and never had the»e been such a demand for blue ribbons and ties and sashes—that being the color of the uniform of the visiting club. IndeeJ, so great was the run upon the one village foncy store, that the slender stock was soon exhausted, and the somewhat antiquated spinster owner notwily driven to her wits end, but nearly distracted. By “hook or by crook,” however, the numerous wants were supplied, ami blonde and brunette, able to flash out in the most dainty attire, with ribbons aud bows and streamers of navy blue, looking their sweeUst and iutent upon “catching” hearts, even though it had to be upon a “foul.” They were a manly lookiug set of young fellows that eAme in the evening (so as to be rested for the game of thp morrow), and ns . they strolled through the streets were wa ehed from bebiud halLeloeed l>lim|s, and discussed at length—they enjoying the same privilege with the group of beauties sauntering about or playing croquet in the ample and tree-shaded dooryards. “A' handsome, distingue-looking fellow,” commenced Laura Osborn as a was questioned by Worth Seymour, who was wasting the hours of early evening at the shrine of his divinityT' * “The one with black hair ami moustache— th* tallest. I never saw a more perfect model of an athlete, or a man move with so much grace.” “Oh, that is ‘the catcher of the Agates—a smart player,, and a very clever fellow, it is said.” “And handsome as Apollo! One could be reconciled being a man, if lie could be such a one.” “And that being impossible, the next thing to do Li to make love to him.” ' ’ * .

, She withdrew from the blinds and flashed her blue eyes upon him mis chievously, looking superbly beautiful in her robe of soft white, relieved at the throat and wrist by knots of azure; with her golden amber haii; similarly relieved, her color richer and deeper than usual, and her face truly a speaking one. 1 “And if I should, what then?” she questioned, with more of fire shadowed forth than he deemed her posr of* “In love with a base-ball player!” he sneered contemptuously and jealously. ' f . “The base applies to the game, not to the man, I take it,” she answered with spirit. *' ‘Honor aud shame’ —you know the rest. I can see no reason why a man cannot indulge in suob r times and still be a gentleman. It an exhibit of strength, skill and practice, of perfect muscular manhood, and is much better earning a living thus than ‘lolling’ around iu Sybarite at ease.” * “But that does not make it incumbent upon a lady to fail i n love with him.” • - v- ’ “The insinuation to thas effect was your own, jiot mine. Women can appreciate aud praise perfectness in the opposite sex without instantly becoming ‘rav.ug mad iu love;* though I fancy such is the poor opinion mankind are accustomed to entertalu of

them, that, in the ‘slang’ of the day, they are perfectly ready aud willing to •throw themselves away’ upon the first specimen of masculinity that gives them the slightest opportunity.” “And, you could marry a man who devotes himself to such au amusement?” hepaked in both astonishment and bitterness. “If la any other respects he was worthy — I loved him as a wife should love a husband—yes?’ was the decisive response. f

THE RENSSELAER STANDARD.

VOL I.

The discussion m neither a profitable nor a pleasant one for Seymour, and he changed the subject mentally owning thatthe beautiful girl had both out batted and outiMded him, and if the argument were to be continued be would De most strikingly “Chicsgoed.” Accident threw Laura Osborn and her admirer in the society of the catcher of the Agates later in the evening. A hop had been improvised, and the girl saw him under other auspices than those of the “diamond green”—danced with and found him a gentleman in manners—heard him talk and prove himself to be educated—listened to his clear, rich, tenor voiee when flinging that convinced her he was a gifted and cultivated musician; and. being pipued by her conversation with Seymour, made herself more than usually Agreeable. To Charley Morton she proved the most so of any girls present It was geasant tor him to pass the evening the, society of one so beautiful and accomplished. He exerted himself aceordiiiglv. It was to all the Agates a “game” for that one evening only—would never result in any lifetime “match,” and ft didn’t matter who won, for with to-morrow tha “ball” would be a “dead” one, and no “score” rt main, save it might be in memory. After more than “teu innings” of dance and waltz the gayety ended, and “tonu-runs,” sleep if they could, dream if they would—at ail events, rest for the activity on the morrow, and never a fairer one for pleasure, for the particular spoirt, ever dawned upon the earth. It seamed as if nature was smiling auspiciously upon the undertaking, and resolved that nothing of “Probabilities” sos weather should militate against Success. If manly eyes fought the more liquid and lovely ones cif their partners of theprevious night, it was but natural they should do so. IP soft cheeks flushed at some words that? had been spoken, it was only with a fleeting remembrance, and both were soon forgotten in more stirring scenes. And yet those things gave a zest. Interest and eclat to the matter th it it cou|ld not otherwise have enjoyed—gave prominence to particular actors in the scene and made men play as never befifre. Notably this was the case with Laura Osborn and C harley Morton. Even though the fancy |>etween them was to be simply a passing one, yet for the time it was deepen than that of auy of the others, and sbs looked to him to prove himself theipeer o( all, and he looked to her eyesjror praise. And under the other ci|cumstances such a beginning might easily have resulted in something “serious.” Now it was beyond the possibilities. He was simply a “ball tosslr,” and, to Vunsex Whittier’s l>eauti(ul rustic dream of “Maud Muller,” * 9 “She thought of hetjuistere proud and cold. And her mother, rain of her rank and gold,” I to say nothihg of k father who looked upon the game as little, if any better than low and unworthy the attention of any man—mucl tees woman. The contest commenced, and if the visitors had anticipated and easy victory they soon leagued their mistake. The Maples of Gleu maple were far from being “Muffin” players. They were all young or uncommonly strong frames and in uncles —had been constantly trained irom boyhood in a more laborious school than a gymna--8 uni—bad given noiich time and attention to the game arid made it “hot” for their prouder city cousins from the outset. The “baiting” upon their

side was remarkably heavy—more so thau their opponents could rival, aud offsetted wellHhe superiority in catching and fielding. In fact the visitors early begaifto realize the aptness of the* adage that, though “they came for wool, they might return shorn," and exerted themselves to the uttermost against such a calamity. With every’ inniitg the interest became more inteuseT gide after side was “blanked”—a ihn was the exception—and the game iremised to be one of the best on recorq, even when the ‘•high contracting parties” were among the most noted of professionals Sympathy and good wishes were divided. One party was jubilant and then another. Mad “pools" been sold, the chances would halte been narrowed down to a fine point. Eight innings bad been completed and the score stood even. Never .had such a thing been known in the history of the game at Glenmaple. In sthe expressive language of the gamins who lined the fences and hung thickly as apples upon the trees, it was I‘nip and tuck”—a simile more forcibleJthan polite. With changing c<jk>r JLailra Osborn watched the fiuctatations. She had permitted the enthusiasm of her nature to get the better of her customary modesty, and for the once was wrapped up in the victory of the Agates, and most particularly in the skin, grace and daring of , the catcher. Almost breathlessly, she kept her eyes riveted upon him and applauded a more than ordinarily brilliant play on his oart until her qaitfty blue gloves were hopelessly ruii&ed, and hung in strings, and the palms of her delicate hands bore the semblance of blistering. Had he been her lover her face "could

not have expressed: more sympathy, encouragement and praise. Had she already given her heart to him, Charley Morton could not have performed greater wonders. ) The ninth inning began amid the euthusiam. The piny was next to faultless. Butin despite of all efforts the home club succeeded in breaking the tie and placing themselves one ahead. Then the Agates took their places at the bat, resolved to do or die, and by a brilliant display tied again. But another score must be made to gain the victory. Three men were ou bases, Charley Morton had the Willow in his bauds. He braced himself for a desperate effort, turned the last time upon the glowing face of Laura Osborn and then: > •‘Crash! crash! crash!” The temporary stands erected for the ladies had been overloaded, the living mass had pressed to the front ana leaned out in intense excitement, and with a mighty trembling, splintering and crashing, it reeled and fell, with timbers and warm loving girlhood in one terrible confession. •

The quick eye of Morton, fixed as it had been upon the enthusiastic girl, had noticed the first symptoms of destruction. His hat was thrown aside and he sprang to give what assistance he might, to at least rescue the wounded ana dving and remove the dead. And even as he gained the front of the stand a white-robed form shot through the air over the tumultuous mass of

RENSSELAER, INDIANA, SATURDAY., SEPTEMBER, 13. 1879.

wood and humanity—a form as if buried from a mortar—and. nerving himself, he caught Laura Osborn in his arms, and saved her from being crushed upon the hard earth. But it was a dangerous, if not deadly, act of generosity. The momentum and weight forced him heavily backward. He warn picked up Insensible and carried to where proper care oouid be taken of him. And foremoat among theee where the parents of the saved fliri. He had risked his own life for her, and, “ball-tosser” or not, their entire hearts went out In gratitude to him, and prompt measures were bis salvation.

“Is he much—very much injured? Will he live?” gasped Laura to tbe young physician who had been summoned. “Yes; it was more a sudden shock than anything else. Have” (and he glanced michievously at her pallid ace,) “save there may be an injury to some of the vital organs—the heart,for instance. And, Mias Osborn, I can also assure you another thing—his name is not Charley Morton, but Frank Lee,an old college chum of mine, an educated gentleman; and of the best blood in the land. The regular pitcher was suddenly taken ill, and he volunteered, as the playbills call it, for this occasion only.” Laura Osborn turned away her beautiful face, into which the hot blood was creeping and curdling, und it was with a sigh of great relief. And —but “I do not rnyrae to that doll elf. Who can not Imagine to himself.” the sweet courtship that followed. And a year later, when asked how he won his lovely bride, Frank Lee answered, more in gratitude than mirth: “I caught her on the fly!”

How Presence of Mind by an Old Lady Saved Her Life.

From tbe Long Prairie (Minn.) Argue. On Katurday last we were shocked to hear of the sad end of Peter Horner, of the town of Ward, who committed suicide on Friday evening. He waa a single man of about 35 years of age, ana lived on a claim for the last seven years with Mrs. with whom he had lived since he was a boy, and who is 83 years of age. They were preparing to retire about 9 o’clock in the evening, when he told Mrs. Due kin that their time had come to die—*hat they must go that night or the next, and it might as well be then as any time. She saw at once that he was not in his right mind, aud with great presence of mind quietly informed him that she would step over to Mr. SarifTs, their nearest neighbor, and get the boys to sing awhile. He told her he did not want the boys there that evening, and, before she oouid get away, he drew an ax over her head, and was about to strike her dead. She uttered a prayer for aid, and he turned and looked behind him, and at tbe same time she slipped away from him. In a moment he followed her, holding the ax behind him. She asked: “Peter, what have you behind you?” He answered: “Nothing; let us go into the house.” She readily assented, and they both started for the door, but she took a path which led on the opposite side of a small out-building, and as soon as this was between them sue crossed the yard fence into a field of oats, and crept down into the grain as well as she could, and listened for a short time, thinking he would search for her. While waiting she heard a noise near the house, followed by a groan, aud it is supposed that then is when he took his life. Mrs. Dunkin, still retaining her presence of mind in a remarkable degree, took off a white handkerchief wruch she wore around her neck and a light apron which she bad on, fearing that they would betray her in the gathering twilight; and then made the best of her way to the residence of Mr. Sariff, about a quarter of a mile distant, and informeu him of the affair. He went to the house-and found poor Horner lying prone on his face near the doorstep, rigid in ueath, with a large butcher knife lying near his hand. On examination eight wounds were found just\ below the breast bone in front, and two in his throat.

Philos o phi cal Fiend.

New York Bun. “I should like to sell you a gimlet," said a care-worn looking man as he walked into an office the other day. “We have no use for one," replied the cashier “But you should always look Into the misty future," went on the fiend demurely, “next winter you will want to make holes in your boot heels so you can get your skates on." • “1 use club skates—no straps required. " “You may want to screw some boards together some time. The oldfashioned method of driving the screws in with a hammer is pernicious, as it deteriorates the tenacity of the screw as it were."

“Nothing to day, sir." “This gimlet acts as a corkscrew." “I don’t want it.” “It also may be used as a tack-ham-mer, a cigar-holder and a tooth-brush." “1 don’t want it.” “It has an eraser, a pen, an inkstand. a table for computing expound interest and a lunch-box attachment" ; “I can’t help it; I don’t want it" “I know you don’t; you are one of those men that don’t buy a gimlet unless it has a restaurant and a trip through Europe and an Italian opera attacked. You’re the kind of a man who wouldn’t live near an electric light to save a gas bill." And the peddler walked out with his plumage on the perpendicular.

The Railroad Hog.

“Can I have half this seat?” “No, sir!” shouted the indignant hog. “I represent a whole church and am on my way to Petoskey to camp meeting. V “Now you look a here,” said the woodbox man, as he reached over and secured two terrible grips on the hog’s body; “I don’t represent nobody nor no nothin’, and ’stead of bein’ on the way to camp meeting, I ’spect I’m on the high road to blazes, but you want to yell out mighty quick which half of this seat you didn’t pay for.” It wasn’t 30 seconds before the man on the high road to tdaze* had all the seat, the other refusing to sit beside him. After a minute he shared it with two boys and several satchels, and looking over to me he kindly sakl: “Much obliged for havin’ yer shoo tin’ iron ready. Boon’s you wife gfts to sleep I’ll pass over some of the best gin mortal man ever tried to »waller.”

INDIA'S VENOMOUS SNAKES.

The Bapidxty With Which the . Cobra’s Venom is Difihsed in the Blood—A Lucky Hit in the Dark—How Juggler’s Exorcise Reptiles. New York Hun. “We have in India.” said a gentleman. much of whose life was passed in Hindustan, •‘snakes more venomous than are to be found tn the Western hemisphere, or even in Africa. The most deadly serpent in this country is, I suppose, the rattlesnake, but hundreds of persons have been bitten by it. and have recovered. For tbe bite of a cobra in full vigor, however, there Is no known cure. Immediately after the rainy season the cobra Is in his worst form. He lies dormant while torrents of rain that seem like the renewal of the flood are deluging the earth, rarely coming out of the deep hole in which be finds shelter, and all

that time the poison is accumulating, until the hag at the root of the hollow fang is filled to bursting. The cobra has but one poisonous fang, and when he is undisturbed and not angry this lies flat on the jaw. But the moment an enemy appears the aspect of the oobra changes. He assumes an almost perpendicular position, which is the only one from which he can strike. His tail is thrown into the form of a ring, and on this he stands erect. His head is bent forward, and he makes a figure like that of an old-foshioned walking stick with a crook for a handle. A fleshy hood rises along the back of the neck, and expands to a an-iike shape behind the head, while around his flashing little eyes appear bright yellow rings, looking like spectacles. Seen thus, his tongue darting out and in, he is about as repugnant a creature as exists. When in a position for striking he can spring probably about ten feet; but he is easily killed. He never runs away, and though he will not move toward an enemy to get within springing distance, if the Intruder approaches him he does not retreat, and it is only necessary to stand about twenty feet away and hurl a stick at him. A slight blow will break his back, and he is then powerless. - “Probably the greatest experimenter upon snakes that ever lived was Dr. Fayrer, of Calcutta. He was particularly interested in the discovery of a cure for the bite of the cobra, for the number of lives lost by this cause every year in India is incredible. After years of carefiil study, and after he had exhausted recipes sent to him from all parts of the world, he declared that there was no known remedy for the bite, and that a man impregnated with the poison of a vigorous oobra must die. in the course of his experiments he made a singular discovery, that the bite of one cobra could not kill another. A large cobra will destroy a smaller one, but only by lacerating it with its teeth, not by means of its venom. “Once I stood with Dr. Fayrer in his studio when he was about to make an experiment to determine the rapidity with which a cobra’s poison would do its work. In the middle of the room was a wooden box containing a fourfoot cobra, which had been confined there without food for three days, and was in a horrible stale of rage, and stocked with venom. Not far from the box was a large dog, of greater strength and vitality than an average man. He was chained, and nearly all the hair had been shaved off from one of bis hind legs. At a signal from the Doctor an assistant pulled a string, the door of the box rose, and the cobra, with a cord tied around his tail, glided out like a streak of light. The unfortunatedog had been anxiously watching the box for some minutes, and giving vent to his uneasiness by a low whining noise. The moment he saw the snake coming out he was thrown' into an agony of terror, as is nearly every animal when he sees a cobra, albeit he has never set ei es upon one before. Everybody in the room stood as for away from the snake as possible, the assistant holding the string that waa«ttached to the reptile’s tail; in a second the cobra had fastened its eyes upon the dog, which was the object nearest to it, and rising upon its tail it assumed its horrible position of attack. Then, launching its body like lightning through the intervening space, it fastened its songs fairly in the center of the bare, conspicuous spot upon the dog’s flank. Instantly the assistant pulled the string and dragged the writhing reptile from its boW. and Dr. Fayrer seised the injured part of the dog’s leg between tbe thumb and first finger of his left hand; and with a clean, swift sweep of his scapel cut it down to the bone. Remedies were at once applied to stop the bleeding and stimulants were given, but in a few

minutes the dog began to exhibit those symptoms of drowsiness that always >reoede death from the bite of a cobra. Every effort was made to arouse him, but within a little more than twenty minutes from the time the snake bit him the dog lay dead on the floor. In this instance I do not think more than two seconds elapsed after the bite was given before the injured flesh was swept out. The result conveys some idea of the' rapidity with which the poison acts. The dog exhibited no indications of suffering. And in this respect the poison of the cobra is different from that of all other venomous reptiles, and especially from that of the rattlesnake. The bite of the latter serpent convulses the victim with pain, but the wound inflicted bv the cobra causes a perfectly painless death. The doomed person sinks gradually into a calm, deep sleep, against which no resistance can be made, and from which there is no awakening.

“I remember once being called by my servant to look at his wife, who, he said, had died in the night. That the woman was really dead there was no doubt; but what she died of was a problem. .She had been a large, strong woman, apparently In perfect health, and when she returned home the proceeding night she made no complaint of feeling ill. She was very drowsy, however, and as soon as she lay down she fell asleep. This gave a clew as to the cause of her death, and a subsequent examination discovered two small punctures dose together on the calf of the leg. She had been bitten by a cobra in the night, while walking carelessly through the long grass, and, probably supposing that a wamble had stung her, she went home without dreaming that she had received afetal wound. “But though the vigorous cobras, when they bite, always inflict feta wounds, there Is certainly some means

by which they can he rendered harmless. Ido not mean by pulling out the poisonous songs, for that would probably kill the snake, or in any event, if done by jugglers, it would he likely to be detected. I should think, however, that they might enrage the oobra, and force it to strike three or four times at a dog or some other animal. This would exhaust the poison, and until it was renewed the reptile would be

harmless. In its entirely wild state, however, tbe cobra always seems to have a supply of vemon in reserve. At least I have never heard of any one being bitten by one of theee creatures in the Held and recovering. But once, while I and two of my friends were sitting on the veranda or our bungalow, in Allahabad, a juggler was announced. He was a harsh featured old man, and his sole stock in trade consisted of a heavy canvas bag, which seemed to be empty. At all events he turned it inside out and shook it, and allowed us to examine it. Then be threw it upon the ground, and did not touch it any more until the exhibition was over. We. however, looked into it again, and walked over it, and satisfied ourselves generally that there was nothing inside of it Then the juggler, squatting down half a dozen yards away, began to wave his wand at the bag ana mutter spells and incantations. Soon we were startled by seeing the canvas quiver, and then undulate in a more decided manner. Then the mouth was pushed open, and an immense oobragliaedout. It had the appearance of a wild snake, excited to the ufhaost pitch of ferocity, and as it worked its way rapidly along the veranda, its head erect, its spectacle encircling its eyes, and its tongue darting quickly in ana out, we all thought we should obtain a better view of the reptile by climbing upon the table. We got up there as quickly as possible, and

the juggler seized the snake around the neck and held it dose to his foce. In another moment the oobra’s songs were buried in the man’s forehead. But this did not seem to disturb the man in the least. With the Mood streaming down his foce, he grasped the snake tightly, forced open its mouth with a slender piece of stick, and showed us that the poisonous feng was there, for he raised it up and pushed it down with the little swifcih. Then he put the serpent back into the bag. where it writhed for a few minutes ana then lay still. When we looked In. it was not there, and we rubbed our eyes, and thought we had taken more brandy and soda than was good for us. But there on the man’s forehead were the two little holes, the unmistakable marks of a cobra’s bite. They were already changing from a red to a livid hue, and there seemed to be but little time to be lost if tbe juggler’s life was to be saved. Takingafittle pod, like a coffee bean, from his pocket, he placed it upon the wound on his forehead, where it stuck fost. The flow of blood soon stopped, and the man, having received his reward, made his salaam, and walked away with what seemed to be an empty bag under his arm. Knee that time I have seen many jugglers bitten by cobras apparently without evil result. “These men have a wonderful influence over snakes. They tame them to an amazing extent, and very often come to a European’s bungalow and offer to clear all the serpent’s outof the compound or enclosed ground for a small consideration. If the proposition is accepted they squat down upon the ground and play a quick, horrible jaggiiug tune on a reed flute. Very soon the owner of the compound is astonished to see snakes of aU kinds and sizes coming out of holes which he fondly hoped were tenanted only by toads or rats. They move with a soft measured motion toward the musician, who quickly grasps them and places them in his bag until twenty or more are there, then, having, as he says, cleared the compound or snakes, he receives his money and carries off his prey, to let them loose on another man’s property, and whistle them up again for a new reward, for they are all his own tame snakes, and come to him when he blows his flute.

“I once had what I believe was a marvelous escape from being bitten by a cobra. I anu Tom Norris, an old friend of mine, were riding along the road ond moonlight night. It occurred to us that a horse race would be an agreeable variation to the routine of our somewhat monotonous horseback excursions. We were soon tearing along at break-neck speed, but the race was quickly ended. Before we had galloped a hundred yards my horse struck his foot against something, rolled over, and I ‘came a cropper.* I was a good deal shocked, and when I recovered myself my horse was out of sight. Neither I nor Tom Norris had the least idea in what direction he had gone, and while my friend galloped along one road I started on foot on another. I had walked about a mile, aud was just passing the little Post Office, when I saw something nearly four feet high directly in front of me. It was like an upraised stick, and when in my haste I had nearly walked over it, it shot straight toward me. Mechanically, I raised the short stick I carried in my hand and struck out. I took no aim whatever, and I am not all sure that H did not shut my eyes, like a young cricketer, as I delivered the blow. But it hit its marie, and, aa I afterward found, saved my life. For a cooly who came up a few seconds later with a torch held his light to the ground, when a full grown cffcra lay writhing helplessly with his nick broken. I was startled on that occasion; but I was far more disturbed at another time when, aa it afterward turned out, there was no snake there. It was the worst season of the year for venomous creatures, when Tom Norris

and myself were occupying a small bungalow in Jubbulpore. We slept in the same room, each of us having a lounge, and it was about 2 o’clock in the morning, and {fitch dirk, when I was awakened by something striking me on the back and felling, as the sound seemed to indicate, in a coil upon the floor. ‘What’s that?’ exclaimed my friend, who awoke at the same instant, and I made no i eply, for I had the strongest possible dislike to say what I believedit to be. ‘What’s that?’ he asked again; and then I answered, ‘I think it’s a snake, and he has tfitten

me; will you get up and go for a light?’ Tom Norris lay still for a while. Then he said: ‘Now, look here, old fellow, if a cobra has bitten you he won’t do you the least additional harm if he bites you again; but what is the use of my being bitten too? Hadn’t you better get up and go for the light yourself? 1 Could any logic have been more rear sonable? lat once got up, and after

some trouble procured a light, and we began our search for the snake. But first Tom Norris examined the place where I had been bitten, and his foce grew very grave, for there were the two punctures, and it seemed clear that a snake had injured me. We hunted about the bouse for ten minutes, and although I felt myself growing drowsy I began to hope that it was not a oobra, but some lesß venomous reptile that had bitten me. At hurt the mystery was solved. As we entered the bath

loom, a wildcat, that for some incomprehensible reason had taken refuge in the bungalow, went flying, half mad with fright, out of the window, carrying hair a dozen panes of glass with her in her exit In her confusion she had evidently jumped upon the bed, and her daws had penetrated my back, making two little holes precisely like the bite of a oobra. To say that I was relieved would give you a very poor idea of my sentiments as the cat sprang through the window. All my drowsiness vanished, and I slept no more that night. “The chief food of the cobra is the frog. After the rainy Besson these creatures fill the air with a load steady croaking all night. Occasionally,how ever, a shrill shriek is heard above the ordinary noise, and the practiced ear discerns the ciy of the unfortunate frog when a snake .his seized it. Early one morning, by the roadside, I found a cobra in the act of making his meal. He was slowly sucking the frog down his throat, tail first. I Killed the snake and released the frog, but for a long time the latter lay unable to move. Its eyes were bright, and its head was lively enough, but the rear part of its body seemed to be paralyzed; the hind legs, which had been down the snake’s throat, were helpless. Finally it contrived to dra& itself away in the long grass. “Formerly the Government gave a rupee for every dead cobra delivered to its agents, but I think the custom has been abandoned, for it was discovered that breeding yards had been established in various parts of the country, and numerous natives were making a comfortable living by rearing young, snakes.”

Mme. Musard’s Hotel.

The sale of Mme. Mnsard’s jewels produced a total of $250,684.60. The Parisian received by the last mail says: “The hotel where the sale is taking Slace is an elegant three-story edifice, To. 53 Avenue de Jena. You enter by a lofty porte-cochere, flanked by two well-developed caryatides. The court yard is light and airy; on the right the coach houses, the harness ‘rooms and fine stabling for twenty horses. You enter the house by a double flight of steps surmounted by a commonplace glass fan-roof. The nail is well proportioned. Crossing it you enter the boudoir draped in pink. The Ceiling is painted by Chaplin; so are the panels. The prevailing tone is pink, and the capitone work and drapery is pink. It was Chaplin who painted the ceilings and panels of the private apartments of the Empress Eugenie at the Elysee. Mme. Mus&rd bought the Empress’ famous collier of 475 pearls: Mme. Mus sard was one of the great glories of the Third Empire, and her hotel is a good example of the prodigality of -that epoch. The antechamber is draped in blue; the ceiling is again by Chaplin, as also are the panels; the chimney ornaments are in Dresden china, and the mirror is a very fine piece of Dresden ware. Passing from the Dresden room we enter thesalle-a-manger, a very elegant room, the panels of which are in heavy carved wood stained in two shades of brown and hung with crimson. The furniture in modern boisnoir, elegantly carved and very effective. The lustre is a remarkable piece of white Dresden, and the etagerea are loaded with specimens of Saxe, Sevres, Delft, Japanese and Dresden faience and porcelaine. In the hall we notice a good Zeim, and on the staircase two or three poor examples of that master and a very fine Daubigny. On the first floor to the left is the library, a

very pretty room furnished with inlaid wood bookcases. The ceiling is by Chaplin, and the pictures are by Chaplin and Muraton. The contents of the bookcases are entirely out of harmony with the bookcases themselves —three volume hovels flanked by three volume novels, just like one of the windows of Mudie’s library in Oxford street. Mme. Musard probably did not take kindly to reading and she does not seem to have read French books at all. All the books were the usual red, blue and green fashionable novels with which the firms of Bentley and Tinsley are in the habit of strewing the tables of the English aristocracy. Over the boudoir is a bed room very somberly furnished with a profusion of religious subjects, ivories, paintings and triptychs. The bedstead is of black oak, with laoe hangings and plumes. Tan bedroom, which we took to be that of the late mistress of the house, was hong with deep red curtains and portieres and papered red of a different shade. It is hung all round with pictures, among which is a splendid Daubigny, a very pretty Corot, and a remarkably fine Chaplin representing a group of children. Throughout the house we observe that the pictures are hung in a bad light The floor is covered with an imitation Turkey carpet The bedstead is a small ebony lit-de repos, ornamented with very ordinary faience plaques, imitation of Rouen. The nangings are very ordinary. Over the head ofthe bed is an ivory Christ with a sprig of buisson stuck Iff the arm, a souvenier of last Palm Sunday. The cabinets are of black ebony and modern Parisian lacquer. Hie cabinet de toilette is prettily fitted np In the Chi-

nese style. The washing service is of Sevres porcelain mounted in silver. On each side pf the fire-place is a dressing table and jdaas surmounted by gilded eagles. The pictures in this room are by Ziem, De Beaumont and Chaplin, who must’have made a fine thing out of Mine. Mnsard. His pictures and ceilings mostly bear the date of 1868. The furniture of the hotel to splendid and luxurious, but it does not tend to show that Mme. Musard was a woman of much taste. Some of the

pictures are very fine specimens, and will fetch very high prices, but the knick-knacks and bibelots which were daily in her hands are of the most ordinary and untasteful description. We noticed a number of pistols and arms, and especially quantities of knives of all descriptions, to say nothing of table knives. This is an interesting feet to note, particularly as Mme. Musard hailed from Connecticut, where folks are peculiarly given to whitling.”

Stn.-n.Aard-, MXWBABLABB, IJTD. RATES OF ADVERTISING: One;*t)lnmn, one year...... «*) 00 Half aolnmn, one year to oo Quarter column, one year ......... SO 00 f Eighth column, one year... io 00 Busts Mb* Cards — ..... J 5.00 a year. KXADnra noticb. ...£ cents a line, JOB PRINTING or all kinds neatly and cheaply executed j! Hates on application.

NO. 13.

No bald-headed man was ever Converted by a sermon during the fly season. When yesterday I asked yon, love, One little word to say, Your brother Interrupted ns; So please say yes-ter-day, A Pulaski hoy recent!v swallowed a penknife. Although not quite out of danger, be finds some consolation in the fact that the knife belonged to. another boy. “The man who fell off the fence into the brambles was much nettled by the occurrence. We hope thistle be appreciated,” says a punster. Weed have said the same thing. A Canadian girl carried a twentyfoot ladder 100 yards, placed it against a burning house, climbed up, and— Well, she didn’t putout the'fire. She fell backwards on a man and nearly killed him. We know a girl who will wrestle with a croquet mallet in the hot sun for hours and not complain. But just ask her to hold on to the wooden end of a broom for a few minutes and she’ll have a fit.

Economical: Young Wife (shopping) —“l’m giving a small dinner to-mor-row, and I shall want some lamb.” Butcher —“Yes ’m; forequarter o’ lamb, ’m?” Young Wife—“ Well, I think three quarters will be enough!” Eulalie’s sweet poem entitled “The Cucumber’s Victim,” has been received, and is respectfully hut firmly declined, on the grounds that we cannot encourage a muse which makes “really gorgeous” rhyme with “cholera morbus.” , ’D*fa» dot vay since I vas a schtldt, My hopes dey alvas go dedt; I nefer lofed somebody’s vlfe Oxcept dot feller proke my headt, I neber trained a rooshter nb To lick dot neighbor’s goose nex’ door, Bat vhen he’sh ready forder chob, * By Bhlngool be don’d Ilf no more. Lo, the poor printer, sitting on his stool, dissembleth slyly with his stick and rule—sogers all earnestly o’er this and that, with one eye peeled upon the hook for sot; or, waiting for copy, o’er the stone he stoops, and two-em quads in hand, be jefis for dupes: If the person who sent us the following conundrum will forward his address, he will hear of something to his disadvantage: “What is the difference between a slice of ham and a newlymarried woman running off with another fellow? Ans.:—One is being fried, and the other’s a fleeing bride.” “Gentlemen of the jury,” said Mr. Phelps to the twelve men or Worthington, Minn., who had convicted his daughter Qf selling cider without a license, “all I’ve got to say is you’re a set of jackasses, and you may wave your ears over that solemn truth.” Mr. Phelps was fined $lO for contempt of court.

Last year a man patented a fen which, fastened to the hack of a rock-ing-chair, was made to work by the motion of tixo choir. This your some one has fashioned a fan whose motive power is the sewing-machine; and next year we see no reason why a combined fan and fly-brush should not be invented, to be attached to hoardinghouse tables and operated by the inmate strength of the butter.” —He was a worthy pastor, Who saw with grief and care, His congregation go to sleep, j Or—which wa£ worse—elsewhere. He pondered long and deeply, This wise and pious man, And at last hiton a simple And most effectual plan. Next Hmulay, of his sermon The text wheh he had said, He slid down the pulpit stairs And stood up6n his head. By thousands flocked the people That preacher great to hear, And the trustees raised his salary To seven thousand a year. Old Phineas Rice was one of the quaint types of itinerant Methodist preachers. He had a hard path to cultivate once, and when he made his report to the conference following he reported the church “looking up.” The Dishop presiding expressed his pleasure, but asked for au explanation, cause no one expected sugseso -Ibk that parish. Dr. Rice was equal to the occasion, aud added: “WeiT,-bishop, the church is on its back, sh.d can’t look auy other way.” Theresas a roar of laughter all oyer the conference

The Right of Privacy in the Delivery and Receipt of Letters. Washington Dispatch. < In a matter involving the question whether a postmaster is required under the laws to testify ih a judicial proceeding as to who rerfpi a box in his office, who took the letters from it, etc., tending to show what became of certain correspondence, the subject was referred to Assistant Attorney General Freeman, of the Post Office Department, and he has advised the postmaster should not be required to answ.er the inquiries. He says: “The Postmaster is an agent of the Government, and there is no relation which the Government sustains toward the people of such high trust, aid of such peculiar and confidential a character as that which it sustains in the transmissions of sealed communications. The name of the person addressed is written on the outside of the letter for one purpose alone —that of enabling the postmaster to deliver it to the proper person. For

any other purpose the postmaster is presumed to have no knowledge of the address. Not only so sacsed does the law regard the right of private and confidential correspondence that it requires letters addressed to a particular box or place to be delivered at that particular box or place, even though directed to uo particular person, thus enabling parties, if they choose, to protect themselves against the unlawful disclosures of any one holding the mail.” • * * He recommends that the postmaster appear, and, if required to purge himself of any supposed contempt by the statement that tlm questions addressed to him relate to matter* within his knowledge only in his official character acquired in the discharge of hi&fluty as postmaster, and not in his individual capacity as a private citizen, and that by the law and the regulations of the department, which have the force of law, he is forbidden to answer the questions.

Pastures which are not closely grazed send up seeds stalks early in summer, the ripening of which exhausts the soil and plants, and prevents the animals from reaching the fine grass beneath. Bypassing the reaper, set ten or twelve inches high, over the pasture as soon as these stalks are thrown op, all the above-montion bad effects are prevented, and a handsome, even surface of green herbage is presented to the eye. /

CONDIMENTS.