The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, January 23, 1895, Image 6
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