University of South Carolina Libraries
ft --v t* * CRUEL ? - 1*^ *X ^ itheIEvej % ,ggggg0i 11 fThft Sficrfit of Dnnraven Castle. * BY ANNIE ASHMORB, Jlxxthor of "Faithful Margaret." Etc., Etc CBA7TEB Z. SLXAT- FA- TOXGKHH, All day long the blast had scourged ths northern seas into a maelstrom of boiling surf; the heavens were eollpsed by leaden olouds which trailed their ragged gprts along the surface of the waters; Bghtnluga streamed from the rent skies nke fire through an open door; thunders tolled?It was a wild day, that! ' i ? Bet la the midst of this elemental 1 (frenzy, a rock-bound Islet stood, black land steadfast; Its basaltlo cliffs were crowned by an anolent square embat[tied tower. A flag streamed from Its turrets, the broad rose-window of its fthapel glimmered amid the wild wrack of Mie norm. The breakers roared around the fool o" the Isle?leaped upon Its rocky walls, Minglng their snowy foam up even to Ine castle parapet, and fell back In a |honsand silvery rills, to crouch and leap Again In endless, Ineffectual fury. IfcWhen the hour of sunset came, a flrfld glare shot from the angry west Across the seething waste, and along that fiery pathway a little ship came fleeing before the storm under bare p fihe was a slight and dainty craft, More fit for the sliver reaches of the Thames than for these fierce Hebrldean Seas. Yet, like Bome high-couraged, beautiful animal running for Its life, she till kept her ravertng pursuers, the Ekves, behind her, and staggered on ununted. f It was Edgar Arden's yacht, the Merganser, which had been blown out of her course, and was now, running head on * V J 1-1. lor VDO 1XUI1-DUUL1U J340 Ml 4BOU ?o u? Wind and current coald drive her. V Edgar Arden and his 8tout-hearted men were otter strangers In these seas; they had made a long and gallant fight for dear life, and hoped even yet to slip by the looming rock and find safe searoom beyond. y Bat as that fierce ray lit the scene, (Blowing distinctly for the first time the form of the foam-swathed rock, a voice lose from among the little company-on jtne laboring bark, a voice like the knell vfdoom: jr ?The Sleat-na-Vreckenl Beware the tileat-na-Vrecken 1" i. The men, clinging each to his place that he might not be swept away by the crowding waves,'turned with one accord to gaze at the utterer of the warnIng. 1 It was the only man among them who knew these waters, an old Highlander Whom they had picked up about Tona lor pilot Vain r* a'nfna nn ivo >> (? ovar h?fnrA VA 9UiUVf UV VJV Vfw* ?een old Kenmore moved; his spirit was lard as his country's granite, and not easily daunted, but he was daunted now. Elevated above them all and hanging on to the bare mast, with his long white locks drifting on the gale, he gazed upon the approaching isle in pale dismay. > "The Sleat-na-Vreckenl" echoed Edgar Arden quickly, "where have I heard that wild Norse name? Or is it only a xeminiscence of some old sea legend? Btrange! It rings familiar in my ear. But what particular peril are we in from that black rock? Eh, Kenmore. ' He was a fine fellow, Arden; the beau Ideal of a gallant, brave patrician; no sleepy languor or lily fingers with him, . Jie was all life and fire, yet with that < look in his flashing eyes which women love men for. i "Tender and true," as "Douglas* of ( 11 art woo A nHnn nf Tnr?K. cape; and if he had not yet discovered . the lady who was destined to win his loyal heart, it was through no coldness ?f temperament or predominance of 1 elf-conceit ' t Edgar Arden had not been very long promoted to the acknowledged heirship ] ?f a noble English house; he was the orphan son of the nearest of kin to the Earl 1 of Inchcape; and when that nobleman 1 lost hie beantiful young wife abroad five years before, having no issue save a daughter by his first wife, he brought his hair-at law home to Inchcape Fosse, ( and formally ratified his rights. Edgfur was already a gentleman in , character and breeding, and he entered that desolate house like a blessing to the ' embittered Inchcape, upon whom a ' crashing calamity had recently fallen. ' He had always heard so much of Inch- < cape's fine career, his philanthroplo Ejects, hi* political power, that when < first came to the Fosse and found his 1 sman a broken, brooding man, with ' atnhlA asniratlons all forcottan. and * powers unheeded, bis ardent yonng i keart was touched, and he loved him < with so commas Jove. \ Lord Inchcapt gradually awoke to 1 the comforting sweetness of this unex- ' pected affection. He marked the youth and began to thank God that, since he was denied a son of his own body, this 1 ,true man was to stand in that relation to bim. Thus it was that Edgar became 1 ?he beloved of Inchcape, master and people. . He was denied nothing that he set his Heart upon?his will wad law. ' He craved a yacht; the earl presented him witn a nonpareil in yachts?the Meigauser. He wanted a crew; the due complement of men was culled from the flower of Lord Inchcape's tenantry. Apd well tbey loved their gallant young aiptain; they wbuld have followed hint round tho world at his bid; nobody was so great or so good in their eyes as * "Arden of Inchcape." i Edgar had been alono in the world since his infancy, when he lost both his ! parents. A guardian had then taken < cold care of him according to the letter ' of his instructions, sending him to d first-class academy, and tbon to Eaton; < but small was the borne happiness until 1 Lord Inchcape took him home to the Fossa Edgar had enjoyed his usual luck in his trip in the Merganser until he took Kenmoro aboard liko a second Jonah. Ho had never shown tile least devotion %d his young captain; ho had boon cold -*nd formal In what brief Intercourse ho jhad deigned to bold with him, and a stern and silent man among his mates on board the Merganser. r He was a man of giant stature, straight and massive as a tower, with snow-white locks and pate-blue, piercing northern eyes. An expression of hauteur redeemed bis rough-hewn features from vulgarity, and he had weU-earned the respect of master and mates bv hia nautical ski11 ana tne scrupulous failffDment of Lis duties. As Edgar Arden demanded the nature of the peril which threatened them, the old man answered sternly: ~ "Aianj a brave shlD has laid her boneh I .. . . . .. ,. ifeiiSCMi *4" * at the root or yon wacfc~rockr There's'a current that runs like a mill raco toilto rock?it has got a grip of oxir keel by now, and we're but a leaf In the storm. The boding words Btruck heavily on the hearts of the men; eye sought eye blankly; they were weary and fatab from the toll of the day. But Arden's cheery voice rang out again ' While there's life there's hope," cried he. "My stout men know no fear, and we're all brave swimmers. I see an inhabited fort on the rock, and ir oar ship must go to pieces the people will doubtless be on the lookout for the poor castaways. * The half-drowned tailors burst out with ftrowlBg kurrahl Hope returned when Araen spoke, bis gallant spirit infused Itself into every breast. But Kenmoi'e turned away with a look of chill unbelief, and fixed his eyes upon the isle, which was swiftly looming nearer. Gradually his stern features softened, and his keen eye filled with gentle emotion. "Farewell \ farewell I unhappy Dunraven," Edgar heard him muttering: "I've seen the ourse fall upon you, but I'll never see It lifted. Farewell, fail1 Injured lady! ye will tarry long for leal Kenmore, as ye've tarried for deliverance; they will not come! Farewell to you, proud Oolava. child of. sorrow! In vain do your starry e'en shine oer th lonely main, till a strong band opan your cage ye canna win out! And wbafr pe'er comes to lady and child, I shanna be there to see; for old Kenmore will come affaln no more! no more!" Arden listened to this weird outburst with indescribable amaze, a strange look on his face. It was not only that he was astonished at the revelation of a passionately loyal nature in this unbend* ing old salt, or at the pure and poetical language which he used, enhanced as it was by that plaintive, musical Intonation which is only to be heard north of Inverness. He listened to the wild lament, and watched the scant and bitter tears of old age that started to the old man's eyes; and in spite of the peril of the moment, a sudden hery curiosity possessed him; he felt as if he could not die until he had fathomed this amazing mystery. When Kenmore had ceased to speak and was1 sinking into mournful reverie, Edgar abruptly addressed him, "What do you know of SleatrnaVrecken?" Kenmore started and met his eyes sternly. "I was born upon Sleat-na-Vrecken? ay, and It looks as if I wad e'en die at Its foot!" replied he. "Than you know all about it?" said the young captain, eagerly; "you know 4k- Ua 4a wueblior IfUU IUTTCI U^UU lia OUUiUllU 19 not called 'Dunraven Tower,' eh?" Kenmore's stern face grew fierce, hl9 beetling brows met over his flashing eyes in a sodden black scowl. "Who spake of Dunraven?" growled he. "Ah! I remember now!" cried Edgar in great agitation; "my lord's chart of his domains?the little islet In the northern seas, I saw It in print, but I never heard it pronounced before, and'the name of the town was Dunraven!" Bis hurrying thoughts went on in silence; an incredible revelation was opening to him; he was stunned by it. He had conned over the great chart of Inchcape's possessions with the earl for Instructor; and there he had seen the tiny islet Sleat-na-Vrecken crowned by Dunraven Tower. / "A wild place that!" he had said, laughingly; "how do you pronounce It?" And my lord had moodily passed it by unpronounced, and his voice had sounded unnatural when next h* spoke, upon a far different subject. And now thte Kenmore was lamenting the fates of an injured lady who would look in vain for her leal Kenmore, and of proud Oolava, a child of sorrow, whoso cage door would never be opened to set her free until some strong hand came from afarl And "Arden of Inchcane" thought of the beautiful bride who had died abroad five years ago, to the utter spoiling of his kinsman's life; ana of Lord Inchcape's fair daughter who was supposed to be still &t ber education on the Continent; and It struck him like the lightning's flash tbat he had found them?that tbey were In yonder Tower of Dunraven! "Tell me," he said, imperiously, laying bis band upon the pilot's shoulder, uwho ilwells in Dunraven Tower?" Kenmore was mate; he gazed in the poung man's face with fierce curiosity. "I see the flatr flying from the turret," cried Edgar, "so I know that a member Df the family is there. Who is It, man? I command yon to tell me?I have a right to know." Kenmore looked at the Imperious young gcjtleman from head to foot, and his smile was grim as death. ' "Maybe It's the lord himself." he vouchsafed to say at last "No! no! Tou know it is not," exclaimed Edgar. "Why should you like ; to deceive me?" "Honored sir," quoth Kenmore, dryly. "If ye wad excuse the freedom I wad 1 submit that ye had better be saying your prayers, 'gin we a' gang to the bottom, than peering into matter* that concern j pe not!" "That's all you know! I may have a ieep Interest in this matter. Come, opeu ; pour stubborn mouth, and tell me what I ( want to hear." "May my tongue rot in my stubborn ; mouth before I speak the words!" ex claimed the old man fiercelv. "There's some strange mystery here," tald Edgar, falling back from before the i (rile blaze of hate that shot from those pale-blue eyes: "Well, well, It is scarcely ; the time to pursue a clew when my life ' may Just be ending. Yet who can say? < Perhaps I may be carried within those : tower walls before the day Is done, dead , or alive." This he muttered to himself, bat Ken- \ more, who was listening closely, retorted 8 bitterly: "Foul fall the day that sees a false ; Lowland face enter yonder walls! Bather wad I see these waves your windingsheet and the foot of Sleat-na-Vrecken your grave!" . Arocn had no time to express his at ; tonishment at this heathenish remark. J for at this moment a loud cry from the Bailors recalled hi9 attention to their i present danger. The island was now so near that the very seaweed oz the rocks could be distinctly seen, as it rose from i time to time out of the boiling surf. i A landing stage ran out from the base of the cliff, but It was half the time i drowned by the waves; no soul stood upon It i Suddenly a blaze streamed up from the top of the tower, and a deep-toned bell began to clang; the Mergauser was Been, and the people of the tower were signaling her. < Arden cheeied his men with new hopes of rescue, and Rave them careful Instructions how to fight for their lives after the vessel struck. He then spoke a'lew quie*; heartfelt words to his mate, an i^SwlUrent youne man who was much attached to film; no was giving Dim a message of farewell for Lord Inchcape in case of htB own death. "Tell him I did my beat to preserve his heir," said he, with a rueful laugh. He then turned to Keomore, who wa9 once more wrapped In his own thoughts, saying heartily:-\ "You don't like me because I'm an : Englishman, but then you don't know me, and It doesn't matter now. You are a Ipyal follow, and I honor you. J I There, let us die at peace wirn one another, if die we must." He extended bis band to the old Highlander, but even then Kenmore shook his head with a look of utter aversion. "Lithe and mellow was the tongua that brought ruin upon Dunraven!muttered he, "and that tongue was English. I canna forget! I canna forget!" Edgar turned from him more in wonder than anger; a 6trango impatience came upon him, it seemed hard that he might die just when his foot was upon the verge of this undreamed of mystery. And now the Mergauser was under the Isle?entering its shadow?surrounded by Its breakers. Suddenly a man appeared upon the landinir Rtacrn?another and another?a swarm 01 rescuers covered the wave*, washed platform; and the small figure that clung to the face of the cliff above them, assigning to each his place with a wave of the hand?was a woman. Ardcn could see her as distinctly as ii she stood beside him, a darkly beautiful creature. In the earliest bloom of youth, clad In dark blue, with a glimmer of gold at forehead and throat, and a wild, white, inspired face turned toward the doomed yacht. "It is Oolava herself!" shouted Kenmore in ecstasy. "Saw you ever her peer among your whimpering dames?" "So that Is 'Oolava,' that fiery sea princess!" thought Edgar, with a leap of the heart, "that is Lord Dunraven's daughter!" He could see the Jetty curves of her hair and the panting of her breast. He met her deep, dark, flashing eyea; they pierced him to the very heart; when, with a shivering shock, the Mergauser struck?remained wedged as If In a vise; the pursuing waves caught up at last, lifted themselves up like a mountain, and descended with a crash upon the pretty toy, which went to pieces instantly. ^ ?1IAPT1SR U. "DO THS ITS AD AND THE LOST com SACK?* Edgar Arden had gone down in the seething depths at the foot of grim Sieatna-Vrecken; when he next looked up the scene had mightily changed. He lay in a noble apartment, simply and delicately furnished with pearly hues sparingly flecked with dead gold; lofty walls with dark polished panels finely carved; tall narrow windows heavily draped with gray velvets threaded with tarnished gold; an ancient room as any in Holyrood. The bed he lay on was canopied and draped in antique fashion, its curtains had been swept apart at the foot, to allow the clear soft light of a waxen taper to fall upon his face. This taper was held in the hand of a lady who wa* watching him with rapt attention; for a few moments he gazed full in her face before she seemed to believe him awak* and in his rlsrht mind. The pleasant crackle of a lire in a distant part of the room was all the sound ne nearo. What a strange, sad, brooding face hers was! So wan, so transparent, thai he felt a shock almost as if he bad sees a spirit It was very evident that she had a history; storms had passed over that face, her eyes hurned with the con* suming Are of an ever living pain. She had been very beautiful, of a graceful, splrituelle type, with the refined sentiment and elegant graces of gentle birth; but the glory ot her day was past; her noble form was wasted, a deep melancholy darkened her expression. Her dress was severely simple, no faintest attempt at decoration relieved l.t, and yet she wore it with such a grace, the lines of ner rorm were so flowing, that she tent a majesty to the dresi which no splendor could have given. As his fainting faculties returned to him, Edgar contemplated this woman as if she had been a vision; but the spell was broken when she moved to bend over him with anxious solicitude. Full recollection returned to Edgar, and with it the darting consciousness that here stood Lady Inchcape, his kins- ! man's lost wife. Lovely as he had heard her called, sorrowful, pining us under a crushing and ever present affliction. Surely this was Engelonde Inchcape, for whose sake Lord Incheape had renounced the world, and burled his noble powers aud ambitions in brooding solitude in the meridian of his days. In sudden overpowering excitement Edgar sprang up, stretched out his hands to the lady and made a gasping attempt to utter her name, but he fell back inBtailtly, pressed down by the heavy hand of weakness and pain and could only lie white and panting, with a yearning look fastened upon her. Startled by his abrupt movement, the lady flew to his side and took his hand in her own small, burning ones. "Are you In pain? I am so sorry," said she sweetly. "What can I do for you?" He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed It fervently, and still he could not command his voice to speak. "You are very weak, and must not exBrt yoarse.f," said she, soothingly. "You have been dreadfully hurt, though not motally; and no bones are broken. I am Blad to have such good news to tell you." She smiled gently, and seating herself by his pillow, began to fan him vrith a soft plumy scented fan, talking still in low, friendly tones that stole about the heart of her unknown kinsmaa with a strange power. "You want to hear the fate of your crew; be at'peace, they were all saved, every one. A few fractures and contusions, that Is the worst; bat they are all made comfortable and are asleep in the cots of th? Highland nsbermen flown by tie shora.! Does that relieve you?" He nodded mute assent; h!s mind was In such confusion that hi could do nothing but lie and regard her with his soul in his eyes. Sweet lady, is this your fate? Chained to this sterile rock in the midst of the ;eas, consigned to your gnawing grief unhelped and uncomforted, while your bright beauty wastes in its summer prime. Alasl beautiful Engelonde Inchcape, what had you done to deserve this? "You are trying to recall whether you have ever seen me before," said sho, shrinking uneasily under his unconscious gaza "No, no; we are utter strangers to ea?h other. You are in Dunraven Tower, and my simple Highland folk call me their lady, because I am the wife of their absent chief. How should you have met a recluse like me? No, no, no; our paths in life lie far apart " Her voice died away, she brooded mournfully over the thoughts Buzgested by her own words. Eds:ar &hook off the preoccupation which had hitherto held him dumb; he bad resolved upon his course. If b? had indeed lound Lord incncape's vamsnoa wire and daughter Tn this seclusion, he had by chance stumbled upon a secret which the earl had never chosen to confide to him. It waa< clear that as yet Lady Inchcape did najK suspect that he was her husband's hgjnj nor had be any right to complicate "t?f^ Bltuation by enlightening her. S? might not long be obliged to intrude here?ho determined to make an effory to maintain his incognito,-,' sFi^ast uij? til he had confessed JUifinvolunfoiiJ/fn. trusion to Lord Inchcape. Therefore he p.nswered Lady Inch:ape's last w^-ds by the statement, meant to reinsure her evident anxiety lest he miefcr. have recognized her fact: "No. madam, I am sure I have never met you Anywhere before, far as I have I should never have forgftttfitt yoa And n6w thatT'owe myHfe'to your goodness, 1 trust the day may come when I may prove my gratitude. Allow me to give you my name?Edgar; Z am an Englishman." < He could not look at her, or speak to her In the Impersonal conventional fashion warranted by their brief acquaintance, with all that he knew of her in his heart; and she felt the peculiar magnetism 01 nis manner; ene was attracted strangely, every word he spoke entered her heart as genuine. "I make you welcome to my lonely home, Mr. Edgar," said she with her pensive smile; "although your visit was involuntary and we have the tempest to thank for our introduction to each other.None enter here from the outer world save the wretched and the lost"? the pathetic voice paused here and she seemed to follow the thought suggested by her last words a Uttle way, her two brilliant eyes fixed on vacancy, but soon she roused herself and went on; "so that we have little to tempt us to watch the i ocean, and we had almost let you perish before your yacht was discovered in the Minding drift, we nave Me-savlng apparatus In readiness, and the fishermen are accomplished aurfmen; but in the absence of their leader Eenmore (your pilot) they were not so vigilant perhaps as u3ual, and no one observed the little vessel In distress until my bright-eyed daughter saw It from the turret, where she was enjoying the storm. She It was who lit the beacqn-fire and rang the alarm; and she who flew to the shore in time to organize the men, and thus save even' life. She is her father's child, my brave Ulva!" Lady Ulva Inchcape, only daughter of the earl, whom the world supposed abroad in some pension at her education I The Oolava of the old Kenmore's lament, the Child of Sorrowl Strange, sod fate for one so young, if wis DieaK rocs was an ner wor.u, auu the gray seas her horizon! "Ihon I and my faithful crew owe our lives to your stepdaughter!" cried Edgar, with sparkling eyes. "How can you guess that she is only my stepdaughter?" inauiredshe. looking earnestly at him. "I could not havft" said that?1 never call her that; she li too dear to me"? she broke off in agl tation, her eyes searching his niteoosly. "Perhaps Eenmore has beentaimng about this family?" asked she, a burning flush gradually mantling her pure, pale face, and her eyes sinking before his in deep and painful embarrassment. Els heart bled for her. She shrank in anguished shame from the very idea of being recognized; yet he could have staked his life upon her Innocence of j the faintest wrong. Ken more bad | called her an "injured lady"?yes, she ; was that, Edgar was convinced of it. "Dear Lady Dunraven, Kenmore distinctively refused to utter one word concerning the isle which we expected to send us to the bottom," said he, lightly; "I think he held me as deliberately guilty of being born an Englishman, and would not waste good language upon T +A11 T7An T lrmAT*? UO Ui UliJiC. iuoj X row juu UV/T7 x au^n i that Lady Ulva was not your own child? | I saw her standing on the cliff just before we went down." "But you were in the very laws of death: how coald you notice what she was like?" asked Lady Dnnraven with a faint smile, and a keener look at him. (to be cohtutobd.) TEMPEEINCE, KT NEIGHBOR. Ha lives jnst over Ihe line In the valley of "ne'er-do-well." HJb clothes, once flne, have a sickly ihlnt, Like moonbeams in frozen dell. His locks are faded nnd thin, His oyes hare a hungry stare ; The ''might have been" ho failed to win Seems mocking him everywhere. His poor old shouldars are bent? .They carry s grievous load Of strange Ills blent through long year* spent ' On a darksotne downhill road. I Unsteady his step and slow, As if he had journeyed far, And the sun were low, with never a glow From hope's fair beaming star. My neighbor has naught in stor? For lima or eternity's needs, Though straight before to the evermore His piteous pathway leads. < I His record? Nay let it pass-* But link to his soul's unrest The social glass ! Alas, alas! For a life that has missed its best I ?Hanna A Foster, in the Voice. A PU8T. The man who first brewed beer wa6 a pest for Germany. I have survived the end of 'genuine beer, for it hns now become small ibeer in every sense; and I have prayed to God that He might destroy the whole beer brewing business. There is enough barlev i ideetroyed in the breweries to feed all Ger- i TM?Ua. wnijj jiiuuu jLiUi iici WH7 k BOY WITNESS WAS ASQBY. The boy Peter Columbus preached a whole temperauc" sermon in the district court. In ' cross-examining him in a liquor case Judge Richardson said: ' You are made with defendant, aren't you?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy. "What for?" asked his honor. "Because he sells liquor to my mother and father." was the prompt reply. As a general thing, the proof of the illfeeling of a witness against a defendant helps tne latter's case; but this rule was reversed on the oooasion in question, and he was fined and imprisoned.?Salem (Mas.*.) Gazette. DANGEBS OF MODEEATE DBINKrXG. Sir William Gull, the late famous physician to the Queen, gave this warning word . mere is a gooa aeai 01 injury aone to health by the habitual use of wines and alcohols in its various shapes, even In so-called moderate quantities. People are injured by drink without being drunkards. There is a point short of drunkardness In which a man may injure his constitution considerably by means of alcohol. A man may drink day by day, and almost kill himself with drink, and even his friends not .know it. I hardly know^ *3 any more potent oause of disease than al&< & cohol. There is disease of the liver, whMipjj J Is of very common occurrence, and ' from disease of the liver we pet dlsocdfipel^ K conditions of the b!ood, and conseqij<ji&Jljj?:. on that we get diseased kidneys, ;.v, diseased nervous system, we * we get a diseased heart." for "home balo**"?:#' The Christian League lnrorporation headed by siHEwitevMVSishop Fallows and the Rev. WHSlirefK. ?Tarke, is about to uadertake ao trnHBHeTthat will be worth watching,j??>Rj^ffiy5> The league proawJjtomyMbflsb as an oft- ( shoot of the PeogiMflBUt^ a number of "home saloonj^ffS^g^^tyup with as much elegauce asjAHH^^Hson and provided < with newsoflMK^^H^ooms and bounti- < iul free best of temperance j ^r'n^9 five cents p. glass. Th&jMan^t|Mons why such a project ' >ho\48^i@j(6ieficril benefit nre apparent to ( stop to think of the posi- j unfortunate men who are ^ liaBiiiu'ioor to have anv home at all or Eiramped and desolate quarters 1 ag to get out and seek compan- \ le situation is hit off in a pointed t cartoon in the current issue of lorn, showing a thin clad man a chilly night, midway between ci a saloon. The church is dark and its doors are shut. The saloon if brightly lighted and abundantly adorned with Cavitations to enter. Where can the man go? Certainly for those who have not alreadj gained the appetite for alcohol the proposec home saloons offers a "poor man's dub' which might be made useful in materlaJlj lessening the attractions of the saloon where liquor 1b Bold. The experiment of the Chris- , tian League will be watched with Interest.? ' Chicago E.ecord. w f V . v ' 4 !-\y, ' A SUGAR MILL OLD AND NEW PROCESSES IN LOUISIANA. Grinding the Cane In the Roller i Mill?Boiling the Extracted Juice?The Modern Way of Making Sugar. IF a Michigan chemist realizes his expectations, says the Chicago Reoord, the sawmills in the North will become active competitors of theLoaisiana sugar plantations. This A FIELD OF SUGARCANE. audacious scientist declares that he can make granulated sugar out of sawdust, and in support of the claim he e:thibits a substance which looks, smells and tastes like gl acoae. He says that he first converts the sawdust into starch and then turns the starch into * ? * * * - i-11? sugar, wnicn, ne aeciares, crjeiauizea into as pretty granulated sugar as -was ever turned out of a Bngar trust refinery. But his most asbonishing claim is that when he has perfected hi^ process he will have no use for a tariff or bounty, for he will make sugar cheaper than Cuba, China, Germany [or any other country can possibly produce it. While he has been working on his sawmill sugar the beet-sugar makers of Nebraska and California have been endeavoring to cheapen their processes, and the farmers have been learning how to develop and improve the sugar beet so as to secure not only larger beets and more to the acre, but a greater per cent, of sugar in the beets. The reason for all tlds activity and enterprise is found in the fact that Louisiana sugar planters produce only about one-sixth of all the sugar that is consumed in the United States, and as the area of the sugarcane-growing section is limited the sugar producer rjust look to sugar beets and "early amber" corn to make up the other five-sixths of the sugar. As it is, the beets of Nebraska and California only produced one twenty-fifth as much sngar as was raised in Louisiana last year, or only l-150th of the total amount consumed in this country in 1893. In the an gar mills of Louisiana machinery has taken the place of the hands who used to (prow sleek and fat during the sugar season, for the oldfashioned open-pan batteries with the fires under the kettles have given way to steam pipes and vacuum pans and pumps, and steam siphons have replaced the hand buckets and dippers which used to transfer the jaice and eyrup from one kettle to another. On some of the smaller plantations, however, the old order of things prevails, Bind the sugar house is as picturesque and interesting as it was when slaves whistled and sung at their work, for the sugar-making season then was a feast of sweets and a succession of jollities. The sugarcane is ready for the harvest in the first days of October. The tall cane, with its "arrow" shooting np to the plume, has been growing and secreting its sweet jnice all summer, and when some of it has been run through a little handmill and the juice shows about fifteen per cent, of sugar the planter gives the word and the hands sharpen their broad cane knives. They first strip the cane of its leaves with the dull side of the knife and then the tops are cut off tis far down as the experienced cane cutter believes the maturity of the cano will permit, for, while the sugar planter wants every inch of cane which will i field up sugar, he does not want to grind and handle an inch more than i is necessary. As sood as - the first cane knife slashes the field his mill i runs day and night and everything counts. When the top has been cut off the knife is buried in the stalk as Dear the ground as possible, and the i nana is tossed to one side, where it i WORK ON A SUGJ waits for the wagon gang to haul it J: away to the cane shed. J The field haDds begin work at 5 or i >.30 o'clock in the morning, and cut 1 enough cane during the day to keep ;he mill supplied while they are cut- ] ling, and ut the same time to pile up 1 enough cane in the cane shed to feed i :he mill all night. The cane is first; ] weighed while on the wagon on plat-! i Form scales, and it is then dumped in 11 ;he cane shed, which is an open, heav- i Jy built wing of the sugar house. The < ;ane whioh is to be ground at once is I lumped near a traveling platform or ^ jonveyor, which carries the cane to < Ihe roller mill, where it is crushed, s rhe cane shed is usually in possession 1 jf the colored women, who take up y ;he cane by the armful and spread it ? >n the moving slats of the conveyor, 11 vhich is inclined at an angle of about J1 ihirty degrees so that the cane is t Drought directly over the sugar mill, t fhe cane ia not dumoed on the carrier f T' without regard-to an even distribution, but is placed on so that it is fed between the rollers in an even thickness. If too much cane were placed on one side and too little on the other the expensive, all-important rollers might be broken because of the uneven pressure. The wagons follow each other rapidly, and while one gang of women is attending to the carrier another gang is cording up the surplus cane for the night shift. The roller mill is a ponderous piece of machinery, massive in all of its parts, for sugarcane has a tough, hard skin and cannot be crushed by tender methoda Two mills, one of three and lltA r\f f TTTA WaIIaVCI /IAT\D+i +V? A vuo v/vuci vi w?fw AWiiviO) wuomvuvo uuo five-roller system, and nine rollers are need in some mills. The cane, carried to the first mill on the conveyor, first passes between three rollers, two of them over one. As soon as the sugarcane is crashed or ground by this mill it becomes "bagasse," and, by another horizontal conveyor, is taken to the mill which has two rollers, one over the other, where it is squeezed again. The "bagasse" is now almost dry and is carried to the boiler-room, where it is used as fuel under the boilers. It is also used as a fertilizer. When the cane and bagasse are BOILING THE crashed the juice rune do* n, a greenish, sticky liquid, through a strainer to a well or vat, from which it is pumped to the clariflers. Here milk of lime is stirred in and heat is applied. The lime neutralizes the acids in the juice, fox the moment the cane is cut a chemical change begins in the juice, part of it fermenting and becoming acid. The thick scum which rises when the lime is stirred into the juice is removed and the clarified juice is drawn off into the first kettle, where the old method of making sugar is need. On some plantations the juice is bleached by fumes of burning sulphur before it is taken to the "battery." This is done in an open box, in which the juice drips through the sulphurous fumes. The large open kettles, four or five of them, in which the juice is boiled to a sirup and then to sugar, stand in a row close to one another. In the firot kettle the juice is boiled to a certain density, which is determined by a glass affair that looks like a large bulbed thermometer, called a sacchrameter. This is placed in the liquid and floats in a perpendicular position. The more sugar there is in the liquid the higher above the level of the liquid the tube will rise. The tube is divided into degrees so that the sugar maker by simply placing the sacchiameter in the juice can tell when it has reached the proper density or thickness. The juice is constantly skimmed of the impurities which rise to the top in the form of soum, and this scum is f?o/inanl1v marlo intnwim TllO inino 4UUUU AUVV AUIMI AMV J M*VV becomes a sirup in the second kettle, and as it grow3 thicker and thicker it is transferred from one kettle to the other, the workmen dipping it out in long handled buckets. The last kettle is called the "strike pan," and here the sirup is cooked until the man attending it, by pinching some of the thick, clear sirup between his thumb and finger, can draw the sirup out in a candied string, which is exactly the test that is used at a candy pulling party. When the grain is felt and the sacchrameter shows that the proper density has been reached the heavy sirup is bailed out into cooling vats made of wood. As the sirup cools the sugar crystallizes, but it is mixed with the molasses which will not crystallize, so it ?h scooped out of the cooling vat into large hogsheads made of cypress wood, which have a large number of holes bored in the bottom. Pieces of sugarcane plug these holes loosely, allowing the molasses to drip down jf p>lR plantation. into the molasses tank. The sugar made in this way is not pure white and it is soft grained, but it is taken to the refinery, where it is granulated. This is the old method, rapidly passing out of use, for, compared to the modern way of making sugar, it is expensive and wasteful. Its one redeeming feature is its pioturesqueless. But the hard-headed, coldblooded, unsympathetic Northern men vho have gone to Louisiana and built istensive sugar mills, with all that is ? ? ? _ ?j j jrogressive, scieuuuo uuu uiuuuu, rith their chemists and polariscopes, leliuate sacchrameters and other intruments, electrio lights and tiny ocomotives for hauling cane, Corli*6salved engines and huge pumps, regard pioturesqueness aB so much lost notion and therefore a waste. They lave arranged their machinery so that t he sequence of manufacture is un- i irofeen, and the juice and sirup go t jom tha mills fn fho nlorifioro onrl nn c '' . f _ - if' to the finished product untouched by hand. Steam coils take the place of open ; fires, deep rectangular pans hare been: substituted for the kettles and rapidly revolving centrifugal machines do in a minute wnat tne nogsneaa strainers did in a week. After the juice has been treated with lime and sulphur it, is pumped into the first clarifier, which has a steam coil in the bottom.j From one to the other of four clarifiers the sirup goes, skimmed con- j stantly all the time, for when it is pumped into the vacuum pan no skim-; mer can get at it Sacchrameter tests; are made at every pan, and when thej proper density has been secured in thai last clarifier the sirup is pumped into' a settling tank, and from there it goes to the vacuum pan. 1 The vacuum pan is described by its; name. It is an inclosed'spherical vessel with copper steam coils in the bottom^ and can be made air-tight. An air-j pump and condenser remove the air,] thus making a vacuum. Sightholea are provided and a lamp throwB ita light through thiok glass upon tha sirup so that the concentration can] be watched closely. In a vacuum liquids boils at a much lower temperturethani 212 degrees, the boiling point in open air, and as there is no atmos-. 1 i . i// ! CANE JUICE. ? r vjpi pherio weight on the liquid the heat v- *: causes the liqaid to boil' furiously,?# with great jets shooting above the tnrbalent surface, as though a tremendous agitation were going on, yet; the heat is nearly 100 degrees below boiling point. By using the vacuum ' pan the sugar maker avoids burning, any sugar in the sirup and thus keeps his sirup from becoming brown. In . , this curious inclosed airless kettle the -> sirup is boiled down under a slight i heat until cyrstallization is effected* j and then the valve at the bottom is j opened and the whole charge is I dumped into the mixer directly be- J neath the vacuum pan. A The mixer is a troughlike arrange- i 1 ment in which an agitator revolves?a V loug shaft with steel arms, whioh in re- fl volving mixes the sugar, so that the H crystallization progresses uniformly.; WheD the grain is of the right size (H the mushy sugar mixed with its mo- JH lasses is shoveled into the centrifugal machine. This is a kettle-shaped vessel which revolves 1200 times a min- ^ ute. Its sides are perforated so that jjgljgj molasses in the sugar caught up by the ??? ?? THE CABBIES. > centrifugal force flies through the per- . forations, leaving the sugar dry and ^ enow white. The sugar is then dumped to the granulator and placed in barrels. This sugar, although of higher grade than the sugar made bj the open kettle process, is not as large ' grained nor as glazed as the sugar made in the refineries. Here the crude sugar is made into sirup, again strained through bone black filters, . ' bleached, reclarified, put through vacuum pans, granulators and centifugals, until the grain is large and the crystals well formed and glazed. j The refining is a process apart from the sugar plantation and sngar house, and requires machinery which is too expensive and occupies too much space metho^j but the diffusioi process used by beet sugar makers i altogether different. A Tragic Tra^edy-l'lay. A tragic occurrence is reported fron Przemyel, the Galician fortress town. A theatrical entertainment by ama teurs took place in which a spy wa stabbed by a patriotic I'ole. Whei H the patriot had to 6tab the spy he ac cidentally thrust the dagger right intt H| the heart of his fellow-actor, who fel dead on the spot.?New York Post. aS Kieliard >V. Thompson. * Richard W. Thompson, Secretary oJ B the Navy under President Hayes, is B still alive at the age of eighty-five. Ht g has personally met every President 01 S I B. V. ?i PS he United States except two. He m ecently published a book of recollec- H ions that has attracted considerable A kUATtflAT) BB I