Entries Tagged 'Weird Stuff' ↓

The Jews of eastern Palestine and Asia Minor have a queer tradition which has survived from ancient times and tells of a remote period in their history when every fully developed Israelite was equipped with three perfect eyes. The two main optics, according to this curious old-time legend, were situated in the front part of the head, just as Jewish and other eyes are to-day, but the third–the one that made the early patriarch a monstrosity–was located in the back of the head, just above the nape of the neck in the edge of the hair. This wonderful third eye was not “evoluted” out of existence, as useless organs generally are (according to the ideas of the progressive scientists), but was closed by the divine injunction on the day when Moses was given the tables of stone on Sinai. You remember that God’s command on the day that the tables were renewed was to the effect that no should be seen in the vicinity of the holy mount. (See Exodus xxxiv., 3).

The believers in the three-eye tradition says that Moses supplemented God’s command by ordering the faithful who were encamped in the valley to turn their heads from the mountain. This they did, but took good care to uncover the eye that was situated in the back of their head. Moses, noticing this show of duplicity on the part of his followers, asked God to close the third or rear eye, and since that day the Israelites, in common with the remainder of humanity, have been forced to depend on two eyes only.

A wild woman has been seen in the woods near Liberty, Texas. A man on horseback got sight of the strange creature, pursued and overtook her; when she halted, found her to be a medium-sized, middle-aged, well-formed woman with long, dark hair, and clear blue eyes. She was in a state of nudity, save a girdle of moss around her loins. Her body and limbs were covered with a coat of hair about four inches in length. She was much frightened, and seemed unable to talk. The “solitary horseman” attempted to drive her towards the settlement, when she became enraged, seized a club, and turned upon him with the fury of a demon, and it was only the speed imparted to his steed by a liberal use of the spurs that he kept out of her way. Other parties had previously reported seeing this home-made gorilla, and an organized effort to capture her is to be made.

There is not a railway man on the New York Central who runs on freight trains that does not believe that the through freight known as A. S. No. 1, is a “hoodooed” train. The train runs from Albany to Suspension Bridge, and in the past few years has met with many accidents. Saturday morning the “hoodooed” train left Syracuse on time. Charles Detsel, a brakeman, who has been running on the road for the past five years, was assigned to make the run as forward brakeman. Detsel did not wish to take the run, saying to his companions that the train was “hoodooed,” and that he believed that he would meet with some bad luck. Everything went right until the train reached Coles’ bridge, between Lock Berlin and Lyons. A brakeman on a westbound local that followed saw Detsel lying in the ditch at one side of the track, and the train was stopped and the injured man taken to Lyons. The entire scalp was torn off his head and he is in a dying condition. It was this train upon which Conductor Gowan was killed at Adams Basin Wednesday of last week. His death was caused in a similar manner. Conductor Orr met his death last summer on this train, and it is a fact that the “hoodooed” train met with five accidents on five consecutive days about a year ago.

The report comes from Tacoma that the cuticle of Tom Blanck, a desperado who was killed a few days ago, will be tanned and made into pocketbooks. While in jail in Seattle Blanck made a wooden imitation of a pistol, with which he held up the janitor and escaped. He was followed by the jailor and a posse and killed, as he would not surrender. Exactly how the pocketbooks will be disposed of is not stated, but judging from the results of several enterprises of this kind in the past, the owners of Blanck’s skin will have no difficulty in disposing of their manufactured stock. One of the inhuman practices brought to light by the investigation set on foot by General Benjamin F. Butler into the affairs of the Tewkesbury (Mass.) poorhouse was the skinning of dead patients and the making of souvenirs of various kings of the skins, for which the keepers or others in the scheme found a ready market. The same state of affairs is said to have existed at the Ohio State Prison, in Columbus, fifteen years ago. Prisoners were knocked in the head or shot on the slightest provocation by the keepers and guards, who were all banded together for the traffic in human skin souvenirs. These outrages finally became so flagrant that an investigation was held, which resulted in the turning out of all the keepers and guards in the prison. None of the men were ever prosecuted, as it was impossible to get tangible evidence. There must have been money in this human skin traffic or the men engaged in it would not have taken such chances. There are many persons whose morbid tastes make them delight in the possession of just such grewsome souvenirs and it is not infrequent that some man of a reckless, roving disposition and a checkered past is seen proudly displaying a tobacco pouch, purse or other “pocket novelty” made from the skin of a human being.

A reporter for the Sun some time ago made the acquaintance of a gentleman in Livingston County, who is himself a living illustration of the carelessness with which an excited mob of men are accustomed to fool with a man’s life if they once get him into their clutches. The gentleman alluded to is now in the city, en route with his family to Texas, which State he will make his future home, and from him permission was obtained to make use of the following facts:

The most of our readers are familiar with the details of the murder of Marks, the Evansville commercial traveler, at a point between the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers, known as “The Narrows,” several years ago. The name of the murderer was Sullivant, and he was a merchant at the point named and was in the habit of buying goods of the firm for which Marks was traveling. Marks, on his rounds, called on him as usual. Sullivant invited him to spend the night with himself in the store. That was the last ever seen of the unfortunate “drummer” alive. His mutilated remains were subsequently exhumed from a grave near by, where they had been placed by Sullivant, who undoubtedly slew him for the purpose of robbery.

But with the strange fatality which so often pursues the perpetrator of a great crime, the criminal makes some blunder, which almost invariably makes his detection easy. In this case Sullivant sent a forged receipt for moneys paid and a receipted order for more goods. The firm, knowing that the documents were not in the handwriting of their agent, retained them. And when it was ascertained that he had disappeared, in the hands of detectives they at once furnished the clew which, in the end, secured the capture and conviction of the real criminal.

This is simply as a preface to the story of Mr. George W. McGee.

While the officers were searching for a clue to the whereabouts of Marks, some one, whose name McGee, to this day, does not know, artfully threw suspicioins on Mr. McGee. This suspicion was fanned and kept alive by Sullivant. The result was that McGee was one night taken from his bed by a mob of armed men, a rope attached to his neck, the other end of which was attached to the pommel of a saddle, and away he went. Arriving at a lonely spot in the woods–and one who has ever traveled the country “between the rivers,” as it is called, knows that there are many places in that locality peculiarly adapted to deeds of violence–the rope was detached from the saddle, and while these midnight marauders gathered around by the light of a lantern illuminated by the faint glare of one sickly candle, the line was thrown over the low-hanging branches of a tree, made taut, and McGee at the same time informed that he had better speedily make his peace with God, as he had but a few moments to live. He was urged by the leader to tell the whereabouts of Marks’ remains and, if any, his accomplices in the “taking off.” As McGee was entirely innocent of any knowledge of the dark deed, of course he could only answer that he knew nothing about it. His assertion, “So help me God, gentlemen, I never saw or heard of the man before in my life,” was answered by the remark from Sullivant himself, “George that is too thin!” Mr. McGee says that he distinctly saw the lantern wave twice in the air. He was lifted bodily from the ground into the air; he knew that he was being drawn up over the limb by the rope. There was no pain as long as he was ascending. When he settled back, however, with a slight jerk, his suffering was excruciating. He could feel his eyes turn suddenly into balls of fire and protrude from their sockets. He tried to scream, but no sound issued from his throat. His arms were unpinioned and he endeavored to raise his hands, so as to grasp the rope above his head, that he might relieve that terrible shortening of his breath, which seemed, at each muscular attempt at respiration, as if the air would escape from his lungs and force itself out through the pores of the skin on his breast and back. The muscles of the arm refused to obey his will. His joints experienced a sensation similar to that one would imagine the piercing of red-hot needles would produce. The knees twitched and jerked convulsively. All this in apparently a minute of time. Then a delicious sensation of “cool numbness,” to use his own words, commencing at his extremities, stole gradually over him. He lost all desire to save himself–he preferred to die where he was. Almost every act of his life–no matter how trivial–flashed through his mind with the rapidity of lightning. A distant roar, as of a faraway cataract, grew gradually more and more distinct, until the fearful noise was almost deafening, then changed with the rapidity of thought itself into the most delicious music he had ever heard. Everything became as light as midday (although he could distinguish nothing of his surrounding), and finally unconsciousness. “It was not absolute unconsciousness, either,” said Mr. McGee. “I cannot describe it intelligibly. I do not know of any words that would convey to you a correct idea of the sensation–I was myself, and I was not myself. I seemed to be sailing away through space, as you have seen a large bird float through the atmosphere, without the apparent motion of a wing or feather. Another thing that is indelibly impressed upon my mind, was the terrible, oppressive, horrible silence–worse than silence–stillness, that existed above, below and about me. Still I floated on and on, perfectly contented, asking for nothing, thinking of nothing, hoping for nothing; ever, and with increasing rapidity, moving on and upward.”

But gradually, continued Mr. McGee, this perfectly contented, devil-may-care feeling commenced to disappear. He became conscious of bodily pain again. It seemed as if iron bands had been tightened with screws about his head and chest. He consciously grasped for breath. He heard voices–the words undistinguishable at first; then one or two, here and there, he understood. At last, fully restored to consciousness, he heard his captors quarreling fiercely as to whether he should be strung up again or carried to the Smithland Jail. He was lying on the ground his throat bleeding from the cruel rope, which still encircled his neck. Water was brought from a creek near by and dashed over him. And at last he was mounted upon a horse, and still in a half dazed condition moved away.

He arrived at Smithland about daylight, was locked up in the Jail, where he remained three days and was then released, Sullivant taking his place. The latter is now serving out a life sentence at Frankfort.

“And,” asked the reporter, “you think, then, you came near starting up the golden stairs, Mr. McGee?”

“Starting,” answered that gentleman, “I was already halfway up. They needn’t tell me, sir, there is no hereafter–no next world! I believe I have been nearer to it than any man alive. I do not know what kind of a world it is, but of life after death I am satisfied. You know that all the while I was floating upward my body was dangling by a rope to the limb of a tree, practically, sir, practically, as dead–as dead as a door-nail.”–Paducah (Ky.) Sun

George Sheppard of McKeesport, Pa., is again able to talk. He waked up the night of June 27th with a stinging sensation in his neck and found himself deaf and dumb. Doctors were baffled by the case. July 9th his hearing was suddenly restored. Still Sheppard’s only means of communicating with persons was a pencil and pad. Saturday night he walked into the barroom of the National Hotel at McKeesport and wrote on his tablet that he wanted a drink of whisky and some pepper. This was supplied by the bartender. The Sheppard sat down at a table and began to cry. In a few minutes he excitedly jumped up and began making peculiar noises with his mouth. Finally he could form words and in a few minutes was talking. Sheppard talked for two hours as fast as he could, saying he was afraid to stop for fear he would lose his speech again. He threw his pad an pencil in a corner and joined with his friends in celebrating his good fortune. Sheppard’s case has attracted great attention from physicians, but none has been able to satisfactorily explain it.

The quaint little town of St. Nicholas, in East Flanders, boasts the possession of two children of such extraordinary abnormal growth as to put completely in the shade all similar infant prodigies of the past or present. These veritable Brobdignagian youngsters are boy and girl. The leder, Master Clement Smedst, is 15 years of age and weighs no less than 420 pounds (30 stone); the circumference of his body is 6 feet 6 inches; he measures 36 inches around the leg and 28 inches around the arm. His sister Bertha, is 8 years old, and turns the scale at 224 pounds (16 stone). In spite of their enormous dimensions their activity is remarkable, for they trip and skip about with all the agility of other children their age. It is an astonishing sight to see these infant mountains of humanity romping about in country lanes with other children of the village. One would imagine them to be the offspring of a race of giants, so high do they tower over the heads of their little playfellows. Their appearance is decidedly interesting, both having extremely handsome and regular features. Bertha, like other girls of tender years, delights in nursing a doll, which seems ludicrously out of place and proportion in the arms of the young giantess. The couple are attracting the attention of the country around, and on fine days crowds of people flock into the quiet little town in order to catch a glimpse of these colossal children.

It is stated that at Niagara Falls, during a recent storm, the strong easterly gale sent the waters of Lake Erie westward, leaving the Niagara River and tributaries lower than were ever known before. Buffalo Creek was so low that all the vessels in it were grounded, and Niagara Falls was a rivulet compared with its native grandeur. The bed of the American branch was so denuded that you could travel in its rocky bed without wetting your feet, and mysteries that were never before revealed came to light on that day. Rocks that were heretofore invisible appeared in their full grown deformity upon the surface, and great was the consternation among the finny tribes. The Three Sisters were accessible to foot-passengers, and many traversed where human foot had never trod, with perfect impunity and dry feet. Below the falls was the wonder of wonders. The water was full twenty feet lower than usual, and the oldest inhabitants gazed in wonder at the transformation. Near Suspension Bridge the celebrated rock at Witmer’s mill, upon which a drowning man caught and was rescued several years ago, which barely projects it head above the water, was laid bare 20 feet above the surface. Suffice it to say the wind subsided that evening, the waters returned to their wonted haunts, the fish breathed freer, the rocks again hid their diminished heads, and the roar of the cateract [sic] resumed its ancient tone, and the waters rushed onward to the sea. Niagara was herself again.