Buchanan’s Journal of Man, Volume 1, Number 9, by Joseph Rodes Buchanan. Published October 1887.

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(Recently posted to Project Gutenberg.)

Mayhem, the man of many bodies, had been given some weird assignments in his time, but saving The Glory of the Galaxy wasn’t difficult–it was downright impossible!

The SOS crackled and hummed through subspace at a speed which left laggard light far behind. Since subspace distances do not coincide with normal space distances, the SOS was first picked up by a Fomalhautian freighter bound for Capella although it had been issued from a point in normal space midway between the orbit of Mercury and the sun’s corona in the solar system.

The terrible weapon blasted death and carnage through the ship.

The radioman of the Fomalhautian freighter gave the distress signal to the Deck Officer, who looked at it, blinked, and bolted ‘bove decks to the captain’s cabin. His face was very white when he reached the door and his heart pounded with excitement. As the Deck Officer crossed an electronic beam before the door a metallic voice said: “The Captain is asleep and will be disturbed for nothing but emergency priority.”

Nodding, the Deck officer stuck his thumb in the whorl-lock of the door and entered the cabin. “Begging your pardon, sir,” he cried, “but we just received an SOS from–”

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The Arena, Volume 4, Issue 5, edited by B. O. Flower. Published October 1891.

Thanks to Richard J. Shiffer for post-processing this project!

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On the broad, brown salt meadows that skirt the Housatonic river just above its mouth is a vast colony of marsh wrens. In the acres of tangled tules and cat-tails they have built nests innumerable, prettily woven affairs of reed and cat-tail leaves. The nests, which are as large as one’s head, are so compactly constructed and so thoroughly thatched as to be entirely weather-tight. As a rule, the thrifty little chattering wrens prefer not to occupy a last year’s nest, so there are eery season hundreds of empty ones. They are not allowed to remain vacant long, however, for there are too many creatures seeking just such snug shelters.

One species of field or meadow mice, take possession of a great many of them, and the old mice can be seen at all times of the day nimbly running up and down the reeds, coming to an going from their cosy homes. Like most squatters, they are not the most desirable settlers, and, sad to say, frequently repay their open-hearted landlords by eating all the pink eggs in the near-by wrens’ nests. If caught in the act, a dozen of the excited birds will organize a vigilance committee, trail the thief to his home and drive him and his family from the nest, tearing it to pieces to prevent any return.

Big spiders, too, love to nest in the abandoned basket-like abodes, and live for many seasons in them.

The most desirable tenants of all are the big black and white hornets. By fare the greater number of the old nests are inhabited by these fiery fellows, and, odd to relate, they are best of friends with the landlords. As if by agreement with the wrens, they keep a perpetual guard over the new nests, as well as those where they live. Let a dog, an unconscious rail or snipe shooter, a bird’s-egging boy, or any creature whatever approach the nests within a few yards, and, suddenly, without warning, a cohort of winged warriors will fall on the intruder, and flight is the only safe course. To fight would mean death, for the hornets would soon be reinforced by other nestfuls until they would cover the victim and sting him to death.

The wrens seem fully conscious of the value of such sentinels, for they take care to build their new nests always very near the old. The birds are themselves very defenseless, and, their nests being easily located on account of size and the noise made by the wrens, they have been in some localities entirely wiped out by egg-collectors. The boys have learned to give this colony a wide berth, however, and the Housatonic marsh-wrens are fast increasing in numbers, and, unless the hornets shift their quarters, are likely to sing happily there in the reeds and raise many a brood of young in years to come.

Information: In Turkestan, on the right bank of the Amou Diara, in a chain of rocky hills, near the Bokharan town of Karaki, are a number of large caves which, upon examination, were found to lead to an underground city, built apparently long before the Christian era. According to effigies, inscriptions and designs upon the gold and sliver money unearthed from among the ruins, the existence of the town dates back to some two centuries before the birth of Christ.

The underground Bokharan city is about two versts long and is composed of an enormous labyrinth of corridors, streets and squares, surrounded by houses and other buildings two or three stories high. The edifices contain all kinds of domestic utensils, pots, urns, vases and so forth. In some of the streets falls of earth and rock have obstructed the passages, but generally the visitor can walk about freely without lowering his head. The high degree of civilization attained by the inhabitants of the city is shown by the fact that they built in several stories, by the symmetry of the streets and square, and by the beauty of the clay and metal utensils and of the ornaments and coins.

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.

The following account of a rather peculiar incident will interest our readers. It is taken from one of last Saturday’s Detroit dailies:

Ann Arbor, Mich., Oct. 12.–A letter received by a student from Denver, Col., states that the late Robert C. Greiner made a curious bequest to the U. of M. Greiner is a native of Jackson, Mich., and was killed two months ago in the boiler explosion at the Gumry hotel. His wife died with him.

The will was written by Greiner himself. He gives everything to his wife, with reversion to his or her parents, should they survive, the final legatee being the sisters of mercy, who are to use the estate for orphans and poor children.

But the last clause concerns the U. of M. It directs that, after his death, his right foot shall be amputated above the ankle and presented to the Ann Arbor medical school. It is to be mounted as a skeleton prepattion [sic] and labeled: “Bob’s game foot.”

Mr. Greiner had a peculiarly deformed ankle and dislocated toe, which had been a great source of trouble to him, but such a puzzle to physicians that he came to take great pride in it. Hence his desire to perpetuate the abnormality.

As the will is not witnessed, it is void and cannot be carried out, except in the disposal of his personal property. If the dead body is personal property, the toes go to Ann Arbor. If not, the U. of M. cannot receive her bequest.

His wife’s heirs, who live in Jackson, Mich., have begun suit, claiming that he died first, so that his estate vested in her, and on her death in them. His heirs, who also live in Jackson, contest this; and as the estate, realty and all is probably worth much more than $100,000, there will be an interesting litigation.

University authorities have heard nothing of the peculiar bequest, and it is not known whether he ever was treated here for any of the difficulties arising from his deformity.

H. C. Dodge, reported in Buchanan’s Journal of Man, October 1887