Imagination a Potent Factor in Aoqulrlng 3 ”Fatal 13180886.. ‘ " ' ' . “Of the whole number of persons supposed to die of disease,” said a: prominent physician the other day, “I should say that at least fifty per cent. are really carried away by fear. Were it not for this element mortality would be far less than it 1s.” In support of this statement he cited various cases where the element of fear. had entered largely in as a pctent fac- tor to persuade people that their time had come. IPresentiments, prophecies, premonitions and general nervousness all played their part. 0n the other hand, a short time ago a patient of a New York hospital was frightened into getting well. This man was brought in an ambulance, suppoSedly dying from heart failure. ‘ He was laid on a table and a diag- nosis showed him to be suffering with hysteria. The surgeon turned to. one of his assistants and, asking for a knife. remarked that he would cut down to the heart and find what the trouble THE EFFECT oE FEAR.I , I was. The patient gave a yell and. leaping from the table, started for the 5 door. Remonstrance was in vain. That . man was cured and never came back. Some t1me ago four cr1minals,con- demned in Russia to die, were taken to a house and Shown several beds, in which they were told a number of cholera patients had died. As a mat- ter of fact, the beds were new, never having been slept in. The criminals were informed that they would be set at liberty if they would undergo the «.r deal of sleeping several nights in the beds. From the prisoners’ point of view it was a possible, though a des- perate. chance of escape. They one. 1 nd all decided to take the chances. At the end of the time prescribed two. .. ere uninjured and went free, but the others developed all the symptoms and, (led of Asiatic cholera. Two physicians determined to take advantage of the impressionable mind of a female patient and prove a theory I for the benefit of science. The lady* had complained of an itching on he1 back. She was told that a blister . would be applzed. ~. Instead, a common postage stamp was‘ appli‘ed, and, so 111ns the chroniclehperformed all the offices of the plaste1 ‘vv ‘11 Was not there. ' - A college professor was once the sub- ~ jcct of a practical joke at the hands of the students. They met him one aftef another, and each successivelvinquired after his health, saying that he looked ill. He took to his bed, a physician was called and for days the professor imag- ined he was ill—N. Y. World. ONLY A MISTAKE, AFTER ALL. And Nothing Ifor a. Respectable - Colored Gentleman to \Vorry About. A serious blunder occurred m a West Virginia county not long ago. A num- ber of the farmers had sustained losses of sheep frOm their respective flocks, and, being skeptical as to the efficiency of the law officers, one night took the matter in their own hands. A dozen or. more of them proceeded some miles away, to the house of Rehoboth Jem- son, and, notwithstanding his protesta- tions of innocence, gave him a severe drubbing. The affair c1eated no little stir, as l‘ehoboth was a very respectable col- ored man, who owned a snug little farm and was a deacon 1n the Baptist church. He had the confidence and esteem of I his white neighbors, who 1vere 'iso worked up over the matter that they considered the expediency of an investi- ‘ gation that should lead to the punish- ment of the raiding party. Within a few days the farmers d1scov- ered they had made an awk1vard mis- take, the guilty party having been caught red- handed and had made a full -' confession; so, being in the maina right, good set of fellows they decided to offer . balm to Rehoboth for his many wounds. '- Three of their number were designated‘ . a committee with full power to act, and : they hastened to the discharge of their ' duty. Old Rehoboth was sitting in his neat little cabin with bandaged head, 1". hile his wife was applying a cooling ‘ wash to his lacerated back. The com— . mittec looked foolish and scarcely knew I how to begin; but finally one . of the - number stammered out an apology, and added that they were willing to pay a reasonable amount as recompense for his sufferings. “La, child, how you does talk, sho’ly! Ameckin’ sich a furse dat I’s ershamed on ye! You jes’ git bacx ter yei homes ’n’ stay dar. I ain’ axin’ nuffin’ ’n’ don’ 11 ant nuflin'. W’y honey, ef I done tuck ~ on erbout de mistecks er white folkses ’ I’d‘ jes’ be plum’ mis’able barf de time.” —Chicago Tribune. ‘ Fooling the Keeper. I A humorous old suburban farmer tells the following story of how he once . fooled a toll- -gate keeper. “It was' when‘ I was a drumme1,” he said, “and 'selling goods around‘ through country! towns in these parts. I was goin’ through one of these old gates, and I slowed upabit and askedof the old fellow at the door: ‘Ah, my friend, do preachers pay to go through your gate?’ ‘No, 5,511, said he; and with a profound obeisance he waved me on and backed into his little room. . “Well, after that I passed through! some eight or ten times, when one day' he accosted me as I drove up: “ ‘Good day, sir,’ he said; ‘what church- -do you preach at, sir, may I ask?’ ' I “ ‘None, my good fellow, none, ’I re- plied - l _ “ ‘What! Didn’t you tell me you wuz a preacher,’ said he. . “ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I only asked you if preachers had to pay. I was just a little curious to know.’ Well, you should have seen that old fellow’ s face, as it dawned upon him where the joke came 1n.”—-N at10na1 Tribune. ' , Career Before Her. , l “I suppose you loved your_ last hus- . band dearly,” said Mrs. Hunter, of J er- ‘ sey City, toMrs. Lakeshore, of Chicago. I “I haven’t married my last husband 3',et ” was the reply. “If you firean to - little. . quered an empire. 1 which, I him, she began to reason with him upon express a supposition that I laid my 1 most recent husband, I can fly that I 61 .”—Town Topics. ' Mister Chicot, mnkeeper of Eperville, stopped his tilbury in. front of Mother Magloire’s farm He was a big fellow 'I‘ ' of forty, red-faced, high-stomached, and passed for being mischievous. He tied his horse to the way post at the gate, then took his way into the court. -He possessed an estate adjoin- ing the old woman’s land, -,which for a long time he kept watch upon. Twen- ty times he had tried to buy it, but Mother Magloire obstinatelyI refused. “Here I was born; here will I die,” she said. He found her peeling potatoes in front of her door. Being seventy- two vears old, she was dried up, wrinkled and bent, but as indefatigable as a young girl. Chicot tapped her in a friendly way on the back, then seated himself on a stool beside her. “Well, mother, and 1s you health al- ways good?” “Not so bad; and yours, Mr. P1 osper ‘E” “Eh' eh! A few pains, otherwise it is satisfactory” “Well, so much the better.” And she did not say anything more. Chicot watched her accomplish what she wanted. Her crooked fingers, knotted hard like crab’s claws, seizing, pincher fashion, the grayish tubercles with one hand, and quickly she moved it, taking ofi long strips of the skin with the blade of an old knife which she held in the. other hand. And when the potato had become quite yellow she threw it into a pail of water. Three‘ fearless fowls came, one after the other, close to her skirts to pick up the peel- ings, then ran off as fast as their legs would carry them, bearing their booty in their beaks. Chilcot seemed ill at ease, hesitating, anxious, with something on the tip of his tongue which would not come out At last he begins: .. “Tell me, Mother Magloire—” “What can I do to oblige y ou. 9” “This farm, you still will not sell itI to me?” “As to that, no. I have said it. again.’ 6“The fact' 1s, I have found an arrange- ment which will suit us both. ” “What is that. 9” “Here it is. You will sell it to me, and still you will keep it. Don’t you see? Follow my meaning?” ' The old woman left off peeling her _ vegetables and fixed her quick eyes 1 with their crumpled eyelids on the inn— ‘ keeper. He resumed: “I will explain myself. Every month I will give you one hun— dred and fifty francs. You hear me well-—every month I will bring to you - here, in my tilbury,'thirty crowns of one hundred sous. And so there is noth— 7 ing changed—nothing at all. You re-1 main here at home; you need not trouble y ourself about me, you owe me nothing. You only take my money. Does this suit y.ou 9” He looked at her with a joyous air, with a good-humored air. The old woman, looking for the snare, considers it with misgivings. She asks: “That is for me. But for you—that does not give you this farm at all.” . He continued. “Don’t worry your- self about that. You will remain as long as the good Lord lets you live. You are at home. Only you,2 give me- a little l“note from your lawyer to say that after you it comes to me. You hav 0 no chil- dren, only nephews, for whom you care - Does this suit you? You keep your land during your life and I give you thirty crowns of one hundred sous every month. It is all gain for you.” The old woman remained surprised, 1 but tempted. She replied: “I do not say 110, only I want to think I it 0v cr. Come again and talk about it ; the middle of next week: I will tell you ' what I think of it.” And Mister Chicot went away as con- tented as a king who had just con- \Iother Magloirc The next night Do not count on it! Do not talk about it' remained thd‘ughtful. she did not sleep. During four days she had a fever of hesitation. She smelt something bad for her in it, but the thought of thirtycrowns a month. of this lovely, clinking money which would come rolling into her apron, .without her doing anything. would fall to her as if from heaven, consumed her with desire. She went, therefore, to see the lawyer and told; him her case. He advised her to accept Chicot’s proposition, but instead of thirty to ask fifty crowns of a hundred . sous, her farm being worth at least sixty thousand francs. “Should you live fifteen years,” the lawyer salt , “in this way he only pays forty-five thousandfrancs.” The old woman qnivered at the pros- pect of fifty crowns of one hundred sous per month; but still she had her doubts. fearing a thousand things unforesecv '——tricks hidden—Land she remained until evening askingquestions and un- . able to decide or to go away. At last she orders the act toIbe prepared and l she goes home, dazed as if she had1 drunk fourI pots of new cider. When Chicot came to“ know the‘an- swer she allowed herself to be entreat- ed, declaring that she would not. But,= gnawed by the fear that he would not consent to give the fifty crowns of one' hundred sous, as he insists she at last ' announces her pretensions. , " I. He had a shock of disappointment: and refused. Therefore, to convince the probable duration of he1 life. “I have little more than fiVe or six 3 cars for certain. Here I am nearly soventy- three, and at that not vigorous... The other night I thought I was pass-7 ing a11ay. It seemed to me that they were obliged to early me to my bed.” But Chicot was not to be caught. “Come, come, old experienced one, you. are as solid as the church bell. You'wvill live at least one hundred and. ten years. For certain it w ill be you who will bury 1 me 9! The whole day was.lost' 1n discussmn u But as- the old woman would not con- 'gi1e the fifty crowns. , The following day they signed the I. agreement, and Mother Magloire dc; ”of wine. Three yeals passed. The old woman was mil aeulousl y w ell. She did not seem to have aged at all, and Chicot de- spaired. It seemed to him that he had ‘ "been paying this income for half a century; that he had been deceived, . cheated, ruined. Sometimes he went to pay a visit to the farm, just as one gees in the fields in July to see if the wheat 1s lipe for the flail. She received him with a m1 schiev ous look. One would have said of her that she congratulated 3 no” herself on the good joke she had play ed on him, and he remounted his tilbury , muttering: “Y on old carcass; y ou won’t die!” He did not know what to do. 011 seeing her he would like to have choked her. He hated her with a sulky, fero- cious hatred--with the hatred of a peaS< ant who had been robbed. ’ . ‘ Well then he would find the means. Accordingly, he'came oneday to see her, rubbing his hands as he had done the first time when he came to propose 'the arrangement. Then, after chatting a few minutes: “Say, mother, why do you never dine at my house when you go through liperville? 'People tattle; they say that we no longer are friends, and that makes -me mourn. You know that at my house you do not need to pay. I do . iiotgrudge a dinner. Any-time you' feel inclined to come, come,without cer- emony; that will please me.’ \Iother Magloire did not wait for a second invitation. Two days after, on her way to market 111 her jaunting car, conducted by Celestin, her groom, without formality, she put her horse in Mister Chicot s stable and claimed her promised dinner. , The innkeeper, radiant, treats her like a lady, serves her with chicken, meat pudding, leg of mutton, and cab- bage with bacon. But, being from her infancy tempel ate, having alw a3 s lived on a little soup and a buttered crust, she ate scarcely anything. Chicot. disappointed, insisted. Neither did she drink. She refused to take coffee. He asked: “You will accept, of course, a small glass of brandy ‘2” “Ah! as to that, yes. I do not say And he called across the inn with both of his lungs: “Rosalie, bring the brandy, the superfine, the Eau-de-vie.” The servant appeared, holding’a long bottle, decorated with a paper vine leaf. He filled two small glasses. “Taste that, mother; it is famous." And the good woman began to drink, 1 cry slowly, taking small sips, thereby making the pleasure last longer. After empty ing her glass she drained it, de- cleal' mg: “That, yes—that is the fine cham- pagne brandy. ” She hadn’t finished speaking 11 hen Chicot poured her out a second dose. She would have refused, but it was TOO late, and she slowly tasted it, as she had done the first. He then wanted to make her accept a third allowance, but she resisted. He insisted: “This, this is milk, do you see ? I drink ten, twelve without harm. It goes down like sugar. Nothing in the stomach, nothing in the head; one might say it evaporated on the tongue. ’l‘hereds nothing better for the health!” As she had a desire for more she ac- quiesced, but she took only half a glass. 'l‘hereupon Chicot, with a breath of generosity, cried out to her: “See, since it pleases you, I will give you a small cask; this will let- you see that we are always a pair of good friends’ The good w oman does not sa3 no, and she goes away a little tips3. ° The next day the innkeeper entered Mother Magloire’s court, and from the bottom of his carriage pulled out a little barrel encircled with iron. Then he wished her to Itaste its contents to prove that it was the same brandy; and when. both drank three glasses on going away he declared: “And besides, you know, when this is finished there is still more. Do not feel embarrassed. I am not grudging. The sooner that is finished the more pleased I will be.” And he remounts his tilbury. Four days later he returns. The old woman was in front of her door cutting bread for her soup. He approached her, wished her good day, talked close to her face in order to inhale her breath. He noticed a whifl of alcohol. Now his face brightened. “You surely will offer me a glass Of b1 andy. 9” said he. .- They tench times. But soon the news spreads through the country that Mother'Magloire got intoxicated when alone. One picked glasses two or three . her up sometimes in her kitchen, some- times in her court, sometimes in the neighboring roads where they were obliged to carry her home as inani- mate as a corpse. Chicot did not go to see- her any longer. When one spoke to him about the peasant he murmured, ' with a sad face: ' “Is it not sad, at her age, to have taken such a habit as that? Don’t you see, when one is old there IS no help for. it. Some day it will likely end badly for her. ” It did, indeed, end badly for her. The winter following, near Christmas, she fell drunk 1n the snow. And Mister ChiCot inherited the farm. while he declared: ' “That peasant, if only she hadn’t become a drunkaIrd, surely might have lived ten years longer. ”-—From the French, for Chicago I Tribune. —_’l‘here' s no music) in a “rest.” but there’s the making of muSic in it.‘ And. people are always missing- that part of- the life melody, always talking of per- severance and courage and fortitude; _. . but patience is the finest and werthiest part of fortitude, and the rarest, -tooI. ' —:Ruskin. cede the innkeeper at last consented to _ EDI AWAY.‘ BEFORE FOBTY MEN. Captain McCain Know the Sioux Better Than They Know Themselves, and They ' Dead Shot. and A130 Scalp Takersf‘, - » 1 In the pioneer days, to reach Montana _‘ from Cheyenne. in I.Wyoming, required a roundabout journey: that involved a double crossing or the Rocky mountains, with a change of base at Salt Lake City. ’ IIThé United States government brought about a better ,Iconditlon of travel by‘ constructing a on 1' through the Gallatiu valley along the course of the Gunpowder river, reaching around the base of the mountains in a curvilinear form, which avoided the heights of the Rockies. To protect this route from marauding In- dians three forts were built—Reno, Phil Kearny and C. F. Smith. These were garrisoned by United States troops. In 1866 the murderous Sioux from the Yellowstone valley pursued a sanguiuary course up through the Gallatin valley and into Montana. It was marked by rapine and plunder. They besieged Fort Reno and killed many of its garrison, including a brother of A. K. McClure. They envir‘oned Fort Phil Kearny,- and wiped from the face of the earth every human being whosawalls it failed to protect. Then .3they surrounded Fort C. F. Smith, where 200 Union soldiers found themselves surrounded by more than 1, 000 death seeking Indians. Ea- cape seemed :; impossible. A courier got word of this condition of aflairs'to Gen~ eral Hancock, who was then stationed at St. Paul, and he sent a messenger to the governor of Montana at Bozeman, calling upon him to relieve the besieged garrison. The chief executive of the ter- ritory of Montana at that time was Green Clay Smith, who, by the way, re- cently died in Washington, a Baptist clergyman. He had been a member of congress from Kentucky, but President Lincoln made him territorial governor of Montana. He was seated on the porch of his residence in Bozeman when Han- cock’s message was handed to him. To a visitor from theeast, who was seated by his side, and who is authority for this narrative, he 'said: “What in the name of heaven can I do? Fort G. F. Smith is 250 miles away. The country between here and there is filled with Sioux Indians. Our militia force consists of exactly 427 men. Not a man of them could reach Fort C. F. Smith alive. I am absolutely powerless. However, 'I will send for Colonel Howie. ” At that time Colonel Neil Howie was United States marshal for the territory of Montana. He was a typical frontiers- man. It was to this man that Governor smith addressed himself, banding him General Hancock’s dispatchIand saying: “Colonel, we can’t do anything for those poor devilsin Fort C. F. Smith. We haven’t enough men, and those we have couldn’t get ‘ there. Am I not ri ght?” “No, ” said Colonel Howie quietly, without any exhibition of excitement. and with the gentle voice of a woman. “There is no trouble about that, ' govern— or. We can arrange that matter and still :-' leave the Montana frontier protected. I will need some picked men and a good leader for them. I think Captain Mc- Cabe is best fitted for this undertaking. I will go out and find him. ” McCabe was another gentle voiced man with blue eyes. He didn’t make much noise. governor: .“Oh, yes; it is easy enough. But I’ll need 40 of the best men I can select. You can keep the rest of your volunteer force here’ Governor Smith looked at him in amazement. So did the visitor from the fort. They both thought he was either insane or a braggarIt. Governor Smith said to him, “How 1n the name of heav- en do you expect to raiSe the siege of Fort C. F. Smith with 40 men when you know that it is surrounded by more than 1,000 bloodthirsty Indians, and that the country between here and there is covered with thousands more of mur- derous Sioux?” Said McCabe quietly: “Why, govern- or,- it is easy enough. The Indians know us, and knew that we know them better than they know themselves. You folks from the east have an idea that What‘ yOu call Indian atrocities are simply un- meaning exhibitions of brutality; that scalping, for instance, is simply a form of torture. In that you are mistaken. The Indian believes that no man can go to the happy hunting ground—heaven we call it—who has been deprived of his hair. Their motive in scalping a victim is to carry out fiendish hatred to its utmost . I- by preventing him from having a happy hereafter. Therefore to deprive an In- dian of his scalp is to rob him of his hope of a happy hereafter. My men nev- er kill an Indian without scalping him, and the Indians know that. The 40 men I will select for this expedition are un- erring in their aim with the rifle. They can shoot 16 shots in 16 seconds, and every ball means a dead Indian, and ev- ery dead Indian means a scalp, and ev- ery scalp means a warrior deprived eter- = belly of a chance of ever reaching the happy hunting ground. My 40 men will walk from here to Fort C. F. Smith Without firing a shot. ” “Incredible,” said Governor Smith. “True, ” said Captain McCabe. What was the result? Forty men walked the 250 miles from Bozeman to Fort C. F. Smith. Indians watched them on every 511716.133! days their progress was signaled by circling columns of smoke and by night by fire' from mountain tops. But not a shot was flied. When they gotwithin sight of Fort C. F. Smith,- the 1‘, 000 Whooping Sioux who held the garrison in siege fled, and the 40 frontiers'men from Boze- ' man marched in and escorted the 200 Union soldiers bagk to the territOrial capital without the loss of a life. N ot a shot had been fired. Not a scalp had been lifted—Philadelphia Times. I Know the Captain and His Men a... He acted. He said to the' sDIDN." T. FIRE A SHOT ~ -,WHY THOUSANDS OF INDIANS MELT? manded ten crowns for some measures ‘ —-—--——.- >—-~ O- «’0» 0,4“ ”-— nnlv Eight-Page one Gent Paper in . Connecticut SOLD IN Nor walk, South NOr-walk, East! Nora? walk, Westport, Saugatuck, New Canaan, Dar-ion. Rowaytcn, and Norctcn. N 0 other Paper in N orwalk compares with Local and General News. Its local' news is bright, reliable and well written. After once. reading The Evening Gazette you will. be convinced that it is the best evening. paper in Western Connecticut, and will take no other. Having a special corresppudent‘ingeach town, it is one abled to furnish the latest and freshest news. 1 1: NT. SUBSCRIBE FORa IT. 0111111113: TPEN DAY AND EVENING... K's? Ask your newsdealer o1: newsboy to bring it to you for a week it for: «1...;
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