Year: 1877




At an early hour one morning last
week William Paxton, City Marshal,
who had just retired, was aroused by a
wild, haggard looking man, hatless, coat
less, bootless, with hair dishevelled and
eyes rolling in mad frenzy. He was
armed with revolver, aud said that
party of four men aud two women had
driven to his house in wagon and had
attempted to rob him. and that in self
defence he killed one of the men. when
the others tumbled the dead body into
the wagon and rapidly drove away. His
objec. was, he said to give himself up to
the authorities for the killing. Paxton
soon discovered that the unfortunate
man was in the mental storm, aud suffer-
ing the full torments OF the most ter
ribe of all diseases. the delirium tre-
mens, and to paclfy him went with him
to the scene of the conflict to see the
tracks left by the wagon. II is slmo
needless to say that the said tracks were
in the red-hot Imagination Of the horror
racked man, and of course the City Mar
shall failed to see them.


Paxton then went home, and soon the
man had another paroxysm and went
oareering down Main street, shouting
"Murder" at every leap and rushed in
to Bill James meat market in mortal
fear, with the unseen foe close at his
heels. Bob Handy, who was attending
shop, seeing the crazsd condition of the
man, very cooly and properly disarmed
him to prevent his doing harm. The
little cabin where this man lived, and
whence he emerged during bis delirium.
had contained two others, also in the
agonies OF mania-a- potu. The last seen
OF one OF these he was running down
the valley road, bare-footed and hair on
end, the night previous. yelling like q
demon, with pack Of grinning, hissing
blue devils close at his wake. A man
galloping past on horse was hailed by
the afflicted one, who requested to be al
lowed the privilege OF grasping the
horses tail, saying that he could not
travel fast enough to get out Of the way
of the pursuing fiends. He is no doubt
lying dead somewhere down the valley,
if he did not find watery grave in the
Boise.


Whilst hell was holding back its lurid
curtain to give these two fitfui glimpses
of its horrid panorama, the third and
last remaining man in the house, toe
weak to escape tho frigbtful picture by
flight. struggled against the imaginary
pandemonium as be lay between the
blankets of his humble couch; and as the
candle fickered out in its socket at abou.
6 o'clock yesterday morning, so, too
went his life; for in one Of the many
fearful commissions with which be hat
wrestled during the night he died-diec
victim to an uncomfortable appetite
for alcohol. And he died most hor
rible death. Meeting him in the stree
about ten days ago, We asked him how
long, should he persist in his presen
course, he expected to live. He replied
that it mattered not when the end CAM
that hs had no desire to live. We whis
pered words OF cheer and hope; but b.
was lost. utterly lost. in the depths o
black despair; lost beyond reformation
on this earth. Thus persisted one wh
possessed the warmest and most gener
ous of hearts, and who. but for the on
thing, was useful and respected mem
Der Of society.


Since writing the above we are IL
formed that the dead body Of Michat
Murray, who was last seen runnin
down the valley for dear life. has bee
found In Paystte valley.