McReigh’s memory was perfectly normal the following day, and man and wife returned to their home in Boston with plans for a second honeymoon through the West to celebrate the glad occasion. Habit Saved His Life. Habit saved George Lee, of Los Angeles, Cal., forty-five years old, recently, when he plotted against his life. He placed the muzzle of a revolver in his mouth, put his mind in order for the end, and was pulling the trigger, when he heard some one call, “Right!” It was a word used more frequently than any other in his work in a downtown grocery. There Lee was accustomed to carry packages across a long room. Several persons were similarly occupied, and when they would meet, going in opposite directions, the one with a load on his shoulder would always cry, “Right!” The right hand of the other would go up in signal that he would observe the rules of the meeting, for the contents of the boxes were fragile, and any interference might cause a loss that would be deducted from their wages. While his finger was drawing at the trigger, from outside came the clear call, “Right!” voiced by the conversation of passers-by. From habit, Lee’s right hand started to lift in signal, the finger released the trigger, and the shell exploded, but the minor twitch that had come when he heard the word of warning switched the aim, so the bullet left a harmless wound in his cheek. Other persons heard the shot, hastened to the room, and rushed Lee off to the receiving hospital, where his wound was dressed, and his spirits revived by the promise that a job would be given him. Has Relic of One Bald-headed Indian. Bart J. Marrs, of Hailey, Idaho, has in his possession a valued keepsake in the shape of the scalp lock from the head of a forgotten Sioux chieftain. Most relics of the long ago are valued from their intimate relationship to the forbears of their present-day owner. Particularly is this true when the relic symbolizes some event of momentous importance to the original possessor. The trouble with many souvenirs of the misty past is that they may have been made but a few days ago in Chicago or in Connecticut and placed on the market, judiciously, of course, at so much per. With Judge Marrs’ memento, however, is a family tradition which not only proves its authenticity but lends it an added interest. Redskins who have seen the scalp of Oogley Moogley in the judge’s home are perfectly satisfied that it is extremely bad medicine to attempt the rough stuff with members of the Marrs clan. Old Oogley Moogley was at one time taken back East to hold converse with the Great White Father in behalf of his fellow tribesmen. At least, so runs the tradition.