University of South Carolina Libraries
il^,J jl^jl ^ jjj^J * lewis m. gbist, proprietor. J Sin Jndrpcndcnt .Jamil]] ^wrapper: J|or; the fjromotion of tin? political, Social, llgricultural and (jfommcrtial Jntcrcsts of the jsoutft. | TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. * VOL. 39. YOBKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 1893. NO. 4. 4 BY F. A. MITCH Copyright, 1892, by A SYNOPSIS. Private Mark Maynard is sent by Gen eral Thomas from the Union camps ir central Tennessee scouting toward Chat (anooga and barely escapes capture bj the Confederates through the cunning o a native girl?Souri Slack. IIc gets a sui of citizen's clothes at Slack's and Jakej ? Slackj a lad of thirteen, goes with him t< oexp disguise am cuaracici. ouuu tnn Mark a silk handkerchief as a parting memento. Mark and the boy beg suppei and lodging at the house of Mrs. Fain, i southern woman.married to a northen man who is absent in the Union lines Captain Fitz Hugh, C. S. A., a suitor o Laura Fain's, drops in and suspects tha the strangers may be Union spies, bui Laura wards off investigation, and th< travelers resume their journey undisturbed. Mark reaches Chattanooga, is captured and condemned as a spy. Jakey sends Souri's silk handkerchief home by friendly negroes and Souri takes a hint, hastens to Chattanooga and helps Mark to escape jail. Mark-reaches the Faina' house and is protected byXaCfra. CHAPTER XIV. mark's keeper. She was standing on the ladder with the tray In her hand. Mark stood for a moment looking about him. There were dormer windows, which let in the moonlight so that he could distinctly see everything in the, room. Some trunks were piled in one corner, and in another some furniture. Among the latter he noticed a lounge with threadbare upholstery, and taking it in his arms, carried it, treading softly, to one of the windows at the front of the house. The room was very hot, and he raised the sash, moving it with great care, so as not to make any sound. Then he sat down on the lounge, and looking! out of the window began to meditate: cm his situation. While thus engaged be heard a light tap at the trap door. Opening it he aw a bundle extended by the fair hand of his preserver. He took it, and letting down the trap?Miss Fain did not utter a word?he unrolled it. There were complete-suits of under and outer garments, the property of Miss Fain's brother. nff a# I* to i^omn crarmprifQ 1UQ gciuug UU VI uw uuu.|/ and donning snow white linen was a grateful sensation to Mark. Having put on what he needed for the night he laid himself down on the lounge. From his window he could see the Tennessee rolling in the moonlight half a mile away. He thought how much more comfortable he wag in his dry clothes than he had been floating in the water. Then he heard the bark of hounds. They were on the water's edge, and he knew by the sounds that they were endeavoring to pick ap the scent of his tracks. "Bark on," he said. "When I leave this ni take with me something to die with. Til not be taken alive, and if 1 meet yon some of you shall roll over." Then there came . an inexpressible gratitude. He felt thankful to Souri, thankful to Jakey, thankful to Laura * Fain, thankful to his God. There was something especially engaging in Miss Fain's efforts on his behalf, inasmuch as she regarded him an enemy to her country. He thought of Souri in prison waiting for' old Trigcrs to discover her deception. \v hat would ihey do to her? And Jakey? Would they injure a mere boy? He vowed that if he should escape and outlive the war he would find out just what had happened, and if either had been harshlv treated he would have bis revenge. Musing be fell asleep, but he soon awoke: It was past midnight?the day of bis execution. He shuddered. He tried to go to sleep again, but the dreadful fate which would have been his had not Souri saved him, and on the 'very last evening before Ms intended execution, got into his Lead, and he could not drive it out. And now, were not men and hounds hunting him for miles around, to drag him back to Chat tanooga to that dreadful jailyard, the scaffold, the rope, the black cap? And Laura Fain, suppoee she should weaken; suppose she should, after all, consider it her duty to give him up; suppoee a demand should be made to search the house; suppose?a thousand suppositions chased each other through bis excited brain. He lay tossing till just before dawn, when he again fell into a troubled slumber. He was awakened by a squadron of cavalry passing along the road. The sun had not yet risen, but it was light. He could look right down on them, iQOugn iney couiu uui bvv nuii. j. uvy trotted along slowly, ftll looking worn and sleepy. They were evidently the men who had passed the night before, and were going back from an unsuccessful hunt. Mark noticed the different positions many of them took in order to rest in their saddles. The sight took him back to his own troop, and he longed to be in the stirrups again with them. There is no time like a wakeful night to magnify distress, and nothing like an unclouded rising sun to drive it away. Mark looked out on the stretch of country to be seen from his window?the Tennessee and the mountains beyond, their tops tinged with yellow light?and was as unreasonably hopeful as he had been despondent. His pleasurable sen sations suddenly received a new check. An officer of the cavalry that had passed, followed by two men, came riding back. Maybe they were coming to the house. They stopped at the gate. One of the men rode forward, dismounted and .opened it. The officer entered and rode tin tn tViP frnnf dnnr Mark's heart seemed to stop beating. He could not see what was going on below so close under his window, but presently heard the officer talking to some one on the veranda. "A Federal spy escaped last night from Chattanooga, madam. He was in the disguise of a negro girl." ftere was something more which was unintelligible. Then Mark heard the word "no" spoken in a voice which he thought was Mrs. Fain's. "He was tracked to the river, which he must have crossed. He probably landed a mile or two below Chattanooga, and we believe he is hiding somewhere within a few miles of this place." "You are welcome to"? Mark could not hear to what the officer was welcome, but he surmised it was to search the house. "What time did you go to bed?" The reply was inaudible. "You saw nothing till then?" "No, sir." "And everything was shut up at ter o'clock." "Yes, sir." "You are good Confederates, I reckon.' "Yes, sirj my son"? Mark could nol hear the rest, except the word "army." "Well, wijh you peraysgon, igadam, RT. fT.ATR U. S. A.) mericau Press Association. I well search"? The rest was lost. In | deed Mark was too terror stricken to 11 listen with due care. He supposed the "T house would be ransacked, f In a moment his terror was turned t to a delicious sense of relief. The officer, T after calling to the men at the gate, rode j 3 around to the negro quarters. r But there was a danger in the search : r which would follow in the cabins. Dan- J iel would remember the negro girl he had let in the night before, and would f surmise that she was the person the men ' were looking for. Would Daniel betray j J him? He thought not. Daniel gave no ' hint, for presently Mark' saw the trio i ride away to join the troop. Laura Fain had spent a night no more { comfortable than Mark. The responsibility of a human life weighed upon her . __ heavily. Afc nmmmf chft wnnlri? picture Mark's face, pale, haggard, despairing, as he would be dragged from his hiding place. The next 6he was conscience stricken at the part she was playing in shielding an enemy of her cause?the cause of her brother and her' lover. She heard the dogs as Mark had Lam iLn Lr?v*lr on/1 latr iwtuu tuoiu uu tlio 11IC1 uauA, auu in; shivering till the baying died away in ' the distance. Then in the morning 6he saw the cavalry go by; the officer come np and talk with her mother, whom he asked the negroes to call from her bed that he might question her about the presence of the spy. Laura got up her- j self and stood at the landing, listening breathless while they talked. When the man rode awav she muttered a fervent "Thank God!" As the morning brightened and it was ; time to rise, her fears were less intense, I and she began to think of how she should keep her prisoner concealed from j the rest of the household. How should she feed him? When her maid came , np she told her that she would take her breakfast in her room, but surprised the girl by the large quantity of food she wanted brought to her. When the i breakfast came, Laura was up and i dressed. She directed the girl .to set it j on a table and then sent her to the stable j with a message to Daniel about her ridi ing pony. Her maid having gone, Laura took up the breakfast and carried it to the trap. In another moment she was standing on the ladder with the tray in her hand, half her body below and half in the attic, regardiug a handsome fellow looking very much like a gentleman in her brother's clothes. He in turn was re garding what he considered a very pretty picture in the half exposed figure of a young girl Tiolding a tray in her hands on which he knew full well was a breakfast he was hungry for. Then he took the tray and laid it on the lounge. It was the first time that Laura had seen Mark dressed becomingly. This was the man she had been instrumental in saving, the man she was protecting, the man she must exercise her wits to give an opportunity to get away to a land of safety from the halter. It was pleasant to see that he was good to look upon. What a fine brow, what a resolute mouthl Those locks are golden and fitted for a'woman's head. The eyes are heavenly blue. And all this beauty holds a soul capable of plunging into the most frightful of dangers. And this being, so dazzling to a young girl scarcely twenty, was in her power. Could she not at a word give him over to an ignominious death? And could she not by care almost certainly insure his freedom? He was her slave, bound to to her far more securely than Alice, her maid, who had been given her by her father. She could order him to crawl on the floor before her, and he would have to do so. She had once seen a ?A, c _ i:? ?:a woman enter a cage ui a nuu ?uu umj a slender whip in her hand, and the huge beast had obeyed her slightest motion. Mark was her lion, and she felt inclined to give him jnst one touch of the whip to see what he would do. She stepped into the room and let down the trap. "Miss Fain," Mark said, "you cannot have any conception of the fervor of my gratitude. You stand between me and death?not the death of a soldier, but j of a felon. And here," pointing to the breakfast, "you are ministering to my wants with ydur own hauds." "And yet I told you not to come here." "1 did not understand you so." Mark was hurt. His heart was full of gratitude. He could not understand j how, after doing and risking so much for him, she could blame him for throw- i ing himself on her generosity. "I am sorry that you regret your kindness," he added, with almost a tremble in his voice. "1 did not say that I regretted it." "But you remind me that it is not j ! agreeable to you." "How can it be? You are a Yankee? | a spy?and on a mission to discover the i movements of our troops." "Why, then, do you not give me up?" She shrugged 'ier shoulders. "Can I turn executioner?" "I see. I am indebted for my present ; safety to the fact that you do not care | ; to do an unwomanly act." "You must draw your own infer- j j ence." "But I should like to be grateful. ' How can I when you tell me.that you ! do all this for me that your white hands , may not have a stain upon them?" "It is not necessary that you should j feel grateful." Mark studied her face for a moment ; I earnestly. Then his manner changed. "Miss Fain," he said, pointing, "take j away the breakfast." \\r ccTio Qclrp/1 cfarflArl. "I will not be under any further obli- ! gation to one who acts from pride rather than sweet charity. You have saved me j from the hounds and from the gallows, j I Were it not for you I should now be ' i either about to mount the scaffold or j I have passed by this time into that land i ! where the only human attribute I can 1 ' imagine as fitted to be there is charity. 1 1 Whether the danger is now passed from , this neighborhood I don't know, but I : I am going to risk it. I am going down I stairs and out from under this roof." "You will do no such thing!" "I will!" And had she not placed her- j self between him and the trap he would have carried out his intention. "Stay where you are!" she said in a voice in which there was something commanding. "By what authority do you assume to direct me?" "Your life belongs to me." "True." He bowed his head, j "You understand me." She spoke with even more authority than before. "I j own you. I own your life. You are my slave in a stronger sense tlian my ! colored girl." "It is that ownership of human beings, j Miss Fain, coming down to you from past generations, that has given you the ; spirit to fyrannize over me now." "I tyrannize?" I There was a surprise that was not , ! feigned. She did not realize what she was doing. ' i "Yes, never have I been so trodden ' upon as by you." There was a submission in the young soldier's tone that satisfied the imperious girl. She was ready to heal the cuts she had given, but she waited for him to speak again. 1 | "What do you wish me to do?" he i asked. , "Remain where you are till I regard it safe for you to go." ' "Then you have a desire for my i safety?" he asked, looking up at her i quicldy. - ... I "You came here unbidden and placed ' 1 yourself in my hands. Do you think it 1 proper to come and go at your pleasure?" j Mark approached her, and bending j * low took hey* hand and kissed it. There j ( was something in the act to remind her * of the lion?after the training. 1 CHAPTER XV. 1 SOURI AND JAK.EY. j { >S"". VS>V-- B "What do you think 1 ought to do with your" 1 i] It was scarcely more than fifteen min- j f utes after Souri had bid Mark god- o SDeed when old Triggs re-entered the ii prison grounds, and mounting the flight o of steps leading to the second story went t into the jail. No one seemed to be about the place. He entered his bed- i fc room and found his wife dozing in her ' " chair by the window. He asked for the i ii colored girl, and his wife told him that 1 C she had not yet returned with the medi- j cine. He waited, expecting every minute that 6he would come in. Had he not j p noticed an absence of the groans to j which the supposed invalid had been j treating him all the evening he might ! p have waited for Souri without a move- j s ment much longer than he did. As it ; a was, it occurred to him that perhaps the j prisoner might be dead. I f Taking up a tallow dip he went to the J t room where Mark was supposed to be confined. A figure was lying in the j y corner. The jailer went to it, and by ' means of the candle saw what he sup- j p posed to be the prisoner. The face was ' to the wall, and he did not at first dis- a cover the deception. ; ji "Yank," he said, "air y1 dead?" No answer. , m He took hold of the figure's shoulder and shook it. Still no reply. _ Turning Souri over he at once recognized the face of the "mulatto girl." In an instant he saw through the ruse j A that had been practiced. Without stepping to interrogate her, he rushed from , the room past the sentinel at the door and out to the guardhouse. There he j gave the alarm, and in a moment the ' whole guard was in motion. : It Souri hoped that the sentinel at the i 7' door would join in the chase, in which d event she intended to go to Jakey's room, I b get him out and attempt to escape. But ; v the 6oldier only went as far as the door i v at the head of the long staircase. Then, ! S remembering that he would doubtless be j s] punished for letting one prisoner escape, ; If and that there were several negroes in J the "black hole" for him to guard, he h went no farther. tl In five minutes Souri heard the bark- v ing of hounds without. Q No word was sent to headquarters re- a garding Mark's escape till the hounds \ had followed the scent to the river and there lost it. Then one of the guards w was sent in to report the whole affair, b Being an infantryman, he was obliged to t< walk, which took time. Cavalry was h the only arm of the service capable of g following the escaped man with a chance a: of success, ^ind cavalry must be ferried f( across the nver or ordered from Dallas, j; on the other side, ten miles above. The 0 latter course was chosen, and two squad- n rons were directed to proceed at once, jt the one to throw a chain guard across | the neck of Moccasin point', the other to ' ? scour the river bank for a distance of jg several miles below. Had there been I s"| any cavalry nearer, Mark would have j tj had a very slender chance to get away, i j As it was, he barely escaped one of the j squadrons. | About noon of the day after Mark's jr escape the military authorities began : ., to relax their efforts to recapture him, ; jj as they had other matters of importance to attend to, but they induced the coun- 0 try people, by hope of a reward, to con- I tinue the search within a radius of ten j " or fifteen miles from Chattanooga. The j* provost marshal sent for Souri and Jakey with a view to gaining from them j whatever he might concerning Mark's & identity and his mission. Souri, whose only clothing was that j left her by Mark, begged Mrs. Triggs to I " get her more suitable apparel before s< being taken out of the jail. Had the r< old woman any excuse, indeed had it j ^ not been for the presence of the guard ! Cl at the door, there is no telling what she v might have done to Souri. To have Cl been thus duped put her in a towering n passion. She went into Souri's cell and o berated her with her tongue and shook g her fist in her face, but refrained from It touching her. When Souri asked for a g woman's dress she at first flatly refused, j li but fearing she would incur the dis- n pleasure of the provost marshal still I o further than she had if she should send . I a girl to him not properly dressed she j selected an old calico frock of her own v and trave it to her. J n Souri and Jakey were led to the mar- i c shal's office, followed by a crowd of f< carious people, who were aware that | 0 they had been the means of the escape ' ti of a spy, but when they arrived the ti crowd were left outside. b Never was a man more puzzled what n to do with prisoners than the marshal in a the case of Souri and Jakey. He saw a t simple, modest, poor white country girl, s apparently not out of her "teens," and a a stupid looking boy, who was not very }, far into them. 1 e "Who are you?" he asked of Souri not ^ unkindly. | s "Missouri Slack." , j, "Where do yon live?" ! 0 "On the Anderson road, not far from | v aaycj. , ^ "And this boy?" | _ "He's my brother." j ^ "When did you come from home?" A ' "Three days ago." I t "What brought you, or how did you ' know that the prisoner was here and in jAii?" "Jakey sent me word." "This boy?" "Yes." "How?" i v "He sent me a silk liankercher what I ^ give t'other un." "How did you send it, boy?" "Niggers." "Urn." I J "Well, you two are pretty young to be engaged in such mischief." 11 The officer looked at them with inter- v est and vexation mingled. He had lost a prisoner for whom he was responsible, c but he could not but wonder at such a K dull looking boy achieving so difficult a ' task as sending the communication, and * could not but admire the sacrifice made by the girl. f "What do you think I ought to do with ' you?" i < ' Reckon y' mought gimme back my ' gun," said Jakey. t The officer could not repress a smile. < "What gun?" t "Th' one yer tuk t'other day." t "Go and get the boy's gun, orderly," l he said to a soldier on duty at the door. ( The gun was not to bo found then, j t but was recovered later, and Jakey was j ( happy in receiving it. i t "Do you know what you've been do- ! < ing?" the officer resumed, addressing t Souri. "You've lielpecf a spy to escape j ' / svlio will doubtless carry Information to :he enemies of your country." Souri made no reply. She stood lookng at the officer with her big black jyes. Fortunately for her, he had a laughter about her age. Meanwhile some Tennesseeans who lailed from Jasper had been sent for, ind they came in to have a look at the )risoners. Several of them recognized x)th Souri and Jakey, and told the marthai that they were what they pretended. ; This and their youth, together with j he fact that the provost marshal was lot a harsh man, saved them from punshment. There was a great deal of feeing against "renegade" east Tennesseeins. and had they been men they would iav?i been taken back to the "black lole" at the jail and kept there till it vas found necessary to move them from he approaching enemy. As it was, the narshal directed that they be taken into mother room till ho could hear from teadquarters regarding them. He knew he Triggs and the "black hole," and eared to let them go back to them. The officers at headquarters were too > ?usy to meddle with such a case. The i irovost marshal's communication was : eturned with the following imlmvprnfint: j J\Mpcctfully_ referred back to tbo provost mrsnal wltnaothorlly to do with these pris- i ners as he thinks for the best interests of the ervice. The spy having escaped it does not [ ppcar that there is any reason to hold them. The brother and sister were brought ' a again to hear what was to be their ate. Souri was aware of the enormity j f her offense and expected a severe pun- i shment. She had determined to beg the fficer to send Jakey back to his parents, j hen he might punish her as he liked. "Suppose 1 let you and your little ; irother go home," said the marshal, ! 'will you go there and keep out of any nterference in matters that concern the Confederacy hereafter?" "I'll go home," said Souri. "Well, i reckon you'd better go," relied the officer. Then to the guard: "Send the corporal here." "Take these children," he said to that i erson. when he arrived, "to the other j ide of the river and turn them adrift, j - - - - J ? -i_ ^ it : nd see that they don't get Daca nere. Souri's heart jumped into her throat j or joy. Turning her expressive eyes on he officer, she said, "Thank you." "Mr. Ossifer," said Jakey, "1 thank ' fur gimmen me back my gun." A smile broke over the faces of those resent. The next day the brother and sister rrived at home, and great was the reoicing in the Slack family. [to bk continued next week.] iWisfcUancous grading. I MR. MOODY'S STORY. THRILLING DESCRIPTION OF DAN- ! GERS ON THE ATLANTIC. One of the most perilous voyages of ie past season was made by the [earner Spree, which sailed from Engind on the 22nd of November, with 00 passengers on board. When three j ays out from the land th6 steamer i roke a shaft, tearing a big hole in the : essel's side, causing it to fill rapidly ! ith water and begin to sink. The pree seemed to be kept afloat by a peeial providence, as she drifted help- ' ;ssly a thousand miles from land, | .1 Huron nrnirl^H hv ' IltilJ llie atcaujgi xauaxsu, ?j , er signals of distress, that flamed all j irough the nights, found the helpless essel and towed her into the port of ueenstown. The passengers took nother vessel and landed in New 'ork on the 10th of December. Among those on board the Spree as Mr. Dwight L. Moody, the celerated evangelist, who went directly > his home in Northfield, Mass., upon is arrival in this country. He was iven a joyous reception by his friends nd neighbors, and on Sunday morning )llowing the night of his arrival at 'orthfield, Mr. Moody told the story f the disaster and rescue of the Spree, laking a jirofound impression upon the j irge congregation. * | "My last day in London," said he, I was a pleasant one, a day of prom;e it might have been called, for the i in shone out brightly after weeks of : lose dark, foggy days so common in lOudon. A company of friends gatheri at the station to see me off, and I sug- j ested that they sing my favorite song, ! rheu shall my heart keep singing,' j ut they said that they did not feel ke singing that just then ! I was the ! nly one in the little group who seem- i d to feel like singing. I couldn't sing 'ith my voice, but deep down in my 1 eart I pang, for I was going home, ome to meet my loved ones. "You land people have not perhaps very clear idea of what those great .tlantic steamers are like. I embarkd on the Spree, a vessel about four undred and ninety feet long, with j 3ven hundred passengers on board, presenting Great Britain, Germany, lUstria, Russia, Hungary and other ountries, besides our own. There ere many from all parts of our own ountry returning from trips of busiess and pleasure ; there were persons f all ages and both sexes?old fathers 1 oing over to America to spend their ( ist days with their sons who had 1 one before to build up homes in this md of promise?men and women in J liddlc life, and many children, some f the brightest and most beautiful have ever seen. "When about three days out on our oyage, I remember, I was lying on ly couch?as I generally do at sea? ongratulating myself on my good jrtune and feeling very grateful to tod. I considered myself a very foriinate man, for in aH my extensive ravels by land and sea I had never een in any accidents of a serious ntnre. I thought of how my wife nd children had escaped cholera and lie quarantine at New York. The teaiuer that had sailed before theirs, nd the one that followed after, both ad cholera aboard and were detaind in quarantine, while the one that ore my loved ones, being a swifter ailer, reached New York and landed er passengers before either of the ther two had arrived. "While engaged with these grateful houghts I was startled by a terrible rash and shock as if the vessel had ecu driven on a rock. I did not at irst feel much anxiety?perhaps I was oo ill to think much about it. Hut ny son jumped from his berth and ushed on deck, lie was hack again 11 a few moments, exclaiming that the haft was broken and the vessel sinkng. I did not at first believe it could ?e so had, hut concluded to dress and ;o on deck. The report was only too rue. The captain told the affrighted inssengers, who had rushed on deck, hat there was no danger, and sonic of he second cabin pasengers returned o their berths, only to he driven out igain by the inrushing water, leaving iverything behind them. "The officers and crew did all they ,'ould to save the vessel. Hut it was oon found that the pumps were useess, for the water poured into the hip too rapidly to he controlled, fliere was nothing more in the power >f man to do. We were utterly, absoutely helpless. We could only stand >11 the poor, drifting, sinking ship, and ook into our watery graves. At this iine, unknown to the passengers, the )Ulcers were making preparations for he last resort. The life-boats were ill put in readiness, provisions prepared, life-preservers in hand, the olli crs armed with revolvers to enfoee heir orders, and the question was evilently being debated in their minds vhether to launch the boats at once )r wait. The sea was so heavy that lie boats could have hardly lived in it. rwo of the passengers had loaded re ' vol vers ready to blow out their brains ! if the vessel should go down, peferring i death by bullets to death by drown! ing! At noon the captain told us he ; thought he had the water under way, and was in hopes of drifting in the way of some passing vessel. The ship's bow was now in high air, while the stern seemed to settle more and more. The sea became very rough, and the ship rolled from side to side with fearful lurches. If she had piched violently but once, the bulkheads must have burst, and the end come. The captain tried to keep up hope by telling us we would probably drift in the way of a ship by 3 o'clock that Saturday afternoon, but the night closed upon us without sign of a sail. "That was an awful night, the darkest in our lives. Seven hundred men, women and childred waiting for the doom which was settling upon us. No one dared to sleep. We were all together in the saloon of the first cabin ?Jews, Protestants, Catholics, and skeptics?although I doubt if nt that 11II1U llJCIC C1C ailj OAV|>ViVO UUIVUg us. The aconv and suspense were great ior words. VLxt?\jflUehed fo^es and trembling heartsnrr-pjisSehgers looked at each other, as if trying to read what no one dared to speak. Rockets flamed into the sky, but there was no answer. We were drifting out of the track of the great steamers. Every hour seemed to increase the danger of our situation. "Sunday morning dawned, without help or hope. Up to that time no suggestion of religious services had been made. To have done that would almost certainly have produced a panic. In the awful suspense and dread that prevailed, a word about religion would have suggested the most terrible things to the poor soids. It was necessary to divert their minds, if possible, or they would break down under the strain. But as that second night came on, we held prayer-meeting with the concurrence of the captain. Everybody attended, and I think everybody prayed, skeptics and all. Surely the cries of dear little children were heard in heaven. With one arm clasping a pillar to steady myself on the reeling vessel, I tried to read the ninety-first Psalm, and we prayed that God would still the ragiug of the sea and bring us to our desired haven. It was a new psalm to me from that hour. The eleventh verse touched me very deeply. It was like a voice of divine assurance, ' and it seemed a very real thing, as I read: "He shall give his angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways.' Surely he did it! I ?.ier? i-ooft frnm the nne hundred and seventh Psalm, verses 20 to 31. One lady thought those words must have been written for the occasion, and afterwards asked to see the book for herself. "I was passing through a new experience. I had thought myself superior to the fear of death. I had often preached on the subject and urged Christians to realize this victory of faith. During the civil war I had been under fire without fear. I was in Chicago during the great cholera epidemic, and went around with the doctors, visiting the sick and dying. Where they could go to look after the bodies of men, I said I could go to look after their souls. I remember a case of small-pox, where the flesh had literally dropped from the backbone, yet I went to the bedside of that poor sufferer again and again with Bible and prayer for Jesus's sake. In aH'this I had no fear of death. "But on the sinking ship it was different. There was no cloud between my soul and my saviour. I knew my ' ' * :< t sins nau Deen put mvuv, uuu u j. uicu there it would be only to wake up in heaven. That was all settled long ago. But as my thoughts went out to my loved ones at home?my wife and children, anxiously waiting my coming ?my friends on both sides of the sea? the schools and all the interests so dear to me?and realized that perhaps the next hour would separate me forever from all these, so far as this world was concerned. I confess it almost broke me down. It was the darkest hour of my life. I could not endure it. I must have relief, and relief came in prayer. God heard my cry and enabled me to say from the depth of my soul; 'Thy will be done.' It was all settled. Sweet peace came to my heart. Let it be Northfield or heaven ! It made no difference now ! I went to bed and almost immediately fell asleep, and never slept more soundly in my life. Out of the depths I cried unto the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. I can no more doubt that God gave answer to my prayer for relief, than I can doubt my own existence. "About 3 o'clock at night I was aroused from my sound sleep by the voice of my son. 'Come on deck, father,' he said. I followed him, and he pointed to a faroff light rising and sinking on the sea. It was a messenger of deliverance to to us. It proved to be the light of the steamer Lake Huron, whose lookout had seen our flaming signals of distress, and supposed it was a vessel in flames. Oh, the.joy of that moment, when those 700 despairing passengers beheld the approaching ship ! ?" :t v ?' UU L'illl i'VCl JUijjvk *v . "But now the question is, can this small steamer tow the helpless Spree a thousand miles to Qucenstown ? Every movement was watched with intenscst, anxiety and prayer. It was a brave and perilous undertaking. The two vessels were at last connected by two great cables. If a storm arose these would snap like thread and we must he left to our fate. But I had no fear. God would finish the work he had begun. The waves were calmed?the cables held?the steamer moved in the wake of the Huron. There were storms all around us, but they j came not nigh our broken ship. Seven days after the accident, by the good hand of God upon us, we were able to hold a joyous thanksgiving service in the harbor of Quecnstown?just one week ago to-day, as I stand hero among the friends and neighbors I I love so well. The rescuing ship, that God sent to us in our distress, had just sutlicicut power to tow our vessel, and just enough coal to take her into port! There was nothing to spare! Less would have been insufficient. Her captain is also a man of prayer, and besought God's help to enable them to accomplish their danmid difficult task, (iod an swered the united prayers of the distressed voyagers and brought them to their desired haven. "The nervous strain of those eight days and nights of suspense was something fearful. It was more than any one could long endure without help. The minds of several passengers gave way under the strain, and they had to be put under restraint. A young Austrian who hud left his betrothed in Vienna, leaped overboard in despair, and was drowned before our eyes in spite of all we could do. It was a most pathetic sight to see a young mother, with two beautiful children, sitting in dumb anguish during the first fortyeight hours, never taking her eyes oil the little ones, and if the ship had gone down, 1 have no doubt she would have gathered them to her bosom and gone down with them in her arms. I There was a Russian Jew who had taken passage without the knowledge of his relatives at home. It was pitiful to see his distress as he confessed his j sin, beat his breast, and denounced j himself as the Jonah of the company, j Kneeling upon the deck, with tears j streaming down his cheeks, lie cried to \ / Jehovah not to visit the punishment of his sin upon all those unfortunate people." In the course of his narrative Mr. Moody related a number of interesting j incidents to show how they had to try j to divert the overstrained minds of the 1 people from the one brooding thought that oppressed them. He said he told | them about all the stories he knew during those long days and nights, and, 1 strange as it my seem, laughter and merriment were often heard around i Jiis table. It was a hard thing to do, but one must learn to bear the burdens I of others on such occasions. One lady, to whom Mr. Moody used to read the scriptures, always wanted to have something about Paul's shipwreck, and, however he might divert her I mind for a while, she always swung ; back again to the shipwreck. At the conclusion of his thrilling ! story, Mr. Moody read the two Pslams referred to, with new and deeper apj prehension of their preeiousness and : power. This unique Sunday's service, 1 shared by Mr. Moody's friends and ! neighbors, and about seven hundred I u^hers of his schools, 1 Observer. I THE SAPPHIRE RING. During the two years I spent in j London I walked to Hyde Park every morning for the benefit of my health, and in one of the narrow streets through which I was passing there was a tempting little curiosity shop which almost every day arrested my footj steps. It was more like one of those j shops which you see in Portsmouth, except that it contained articles of i greater value than are generally disj played in a seaport town. The ring that seemed to keep its place persistantly in the window, and i which seemed to stand out above the others to ray longing eyes, contained a large sapphire, surrounded by diaj monds. The stones were perfect; the I settings evidently foreign. I meant to nave mai ring. I hesitated, haggled and bargained until I walked out of the shop with the ring on my linger and forty pounds ; less in my purse! i I took off my glove when I sat down on a bench in the park and gazed at the ring, but the longer I looked the i more there came over me an uncomj fortable, indefinable feeling. I shrank I from the ring. I did not like it. { I was determined to cha/ige the ring, hut why I could not tell. I could only ! say to the shopkeeper: "I have taken j an extraordinary dislike to this ring. I feel I can neither wear nor keep it. Will you be so obliging as to exchange it?perhaps for that pearl hoop, though I know you ask fifty pounds for it?" I Nothing easier for me to say, because I was putting ten pounds more into his pocket. But I was reckoning withI out my host. He was civil but at the j same time most decided. I "I am always," he said "very anx! ious to oblige my customers, and if I | could do it in this case I would with I pleasure; but as tor again taning mat | ring, it is a thing I can't do, ma'am, and what's more, I won't." "I can only infer," said I, with an air of hauteur, "that you have come by that ring in some way which you have since found was not straightforward, and you fear to be implicated in something unpleasant." "You are wrong, ma'am," he replied, "and since you must know, the lady of whom I bought that ring sold it for less than half its value ; and a lady who bought it of me brought it back, just as you have done, within an hour or two after she had put it on her finger. She said what you have said, that before she had gone the length of the Brompton Road she couldn't rest, and ! she came back in such a way that, not : wanting to have a scene in a shop like ! mine, I gave her back her money, and 1 * ' 11 - U ~ ?1- Irt tin' nrl nir ! 1 put lilt; ring uucn in nic nuiuu II again. No, ma'am, I'm not going to I take it back." i Should I put it away and never | look at it agaiu ? Consign forty pounds | to oblivion? No; I would not do that. It was very beautiful?so beautiful that on my finger it was sure to i attract notice. It was just within the bounds of possibility that I should sell i it if I wore it. I decided to wear it, and to see what happened. Comparative peace was restpred to my mind, and I waited for the first dinner party to show my treasure. Within two months the opportunity came, and I i went to a dinner party, radiant. I My escort began talking about the j London season, and he ran on into i the seasons of other countries. In fact, his conversation carried me so completely away that I forgot all about | my ring, when suddenly he came to , a full stop, and I glanced at him to see what was the matter. "Madam," he at last said, "you wear a very beautiful ring." "Not only a beautiful ring," he continued, "but a very remarkable one, madam. In point of fact, I never but once in my life saw a ring like it, and the resemblance is so striking, so startling, that you would confer a very great obligation if you would tell me its history, and when and where you became possessed of it." I had no alternative but to tell him the plain truth. I had seen it in a pawnbroker's window, and had bought j it. tit tf?ii )' cmiil Iwi "smil if von -x liuiim jUM, will intrust it to me n few days, I think I shall be able to tell you something very interesting about it. I feel convinced it is the same ring ; if so, it dates from the days of Catherine de Medicis; but what I want to know is, how did it come into possession of this pawnbroker?" In a few days my friend called at my home, bringing the ring with him. "I am disappointed," said he, "for I have been very unsuccessful. I have only traced the ring back to three persons. The first was a lady, who j sold it to this pawnbroker; she was a foreigner; the second was the pur| chaser who would not keep it; and the third, madam, was yourself." "Might I ask one question ?" I said, j "Why do you think my ring is of the days of Catherine de Medicis?" "Because," he answered, emphatically, "it is no common ring. I believe it to have been one of those poisoned weapons once in possession of the famous Bene, the queen's perfumer. His instruments of death were numerous. The poison which made the leaves of a hook adhere together killed Charles IX and his dog?so history tells us. He had poisoned gloves ready if required, and scented apples, and, of course, a ring, otherwise why should this one be so constructed as to be capable of containing as well as emitting poison? "Surely you wish to hear how it came into niv possession ? I will tell you. It is seven years ago since I was traveling with some friends through Switzerland on my way to Italy. Our road lay through one of those famous passes which are fir hound as high you can see, and below the edge of the road was a precipice full of young firs and verdure. It was in the worst part of the Spulgeu Pass, called the Via Mala, when in a sharp turn of the road we suddenly came upon what was evidently a frightful accident. "For me and niv companion to spring out of our vehicle, and rush to the rescue and assistance of these eighteen or twenty people, was the work of a moment. One man I discovered hanging fifty yards down the precipice, where his bones might now be whitening had he not worn twisted J round his neck u red silk handkerchief. which caught my eye, and I swung myself down by the bushes and red firs until I reached him. "He seemed to be suffocating, and I ] untied the red handkerchief, and drop- , ped a little brandy on his lips. Then ! lie struggled convulsively to reach a ; < ' black cord suspended round his throat, j | Upon that cord, madam, hung your i ring. , "My story is finished. The dying man held the ring toward me, and \ gasping the one word 'Battista,' he fell back dead. Madam, it took me four , years to find Battista, but I found her ] \ at last, a widow, living in poverty. ] ; She told me it had been a heirloom in ] j in her husband's family, and had been | ! ctnlnn frnm hpr .fnnp vpnra nr^vinilQlv i . This tallied with the date of the accident, and, convinced of the truth of her story, I restored to her the ring, j I can only account for its being again j on sale by thinking she must have fal| len into extreme penury and sold it. Madam," continued my friend solemnly, "will you permit me to wear the ring until I return ?" I granted his request, and I never again saw the man nor the ring, but I er is now in prison,"amflBaTl6e~ring is in another pawnshop. ACTS OP THE LEGISLATURE. ! The following acts of general interest I to the people were passed at the recent ! session of the general assembly of ] South Carolina: ! LIMITING WORK IN FACTORIES. Section 1. Be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in general assembly, and by the authority of the same, that eleven hours shall constitute a day's work,'or sixty-six hours a week's work, i in all the cotton and woolen manufac! turing establishments in the State of j South Carolina for all operatives and ! employees'except engineers, firemen, watchmen, mechanics, teamsters, yard ; i employees and clerical force; Provid- ! j ed, that nothing herein contained shall ' j i be construed to prevent any of the j I employees in the aforesaid manufac- i taring establishments from engaging ! * j to work, or working, such time in ad- > ^ I dition, not to exceed seventy hours [ j per annum, as may be necessary to | make up for lost time caused by acci- j ' dents or other unavoidable circumstan- | j I ces ; or to prevent all such employees j i working such additional time as may i j i be necessary to clean up and make ; j I necessary repairs of or changes in the j s ! machinery. i j Sec. 2. That the words "manufactur- i ing establishments" where occurring j ! in this act shall be construed to mean j ( any buildings in which labor is em- j ( I ployed to fabricate or produce goods, ! j I including yarns, cloth, hosiery and j I other merchandise. j Sec. 3. All contracts made for a ; j : longer day's work than eleven hours, j ^ or a week's work longer than sixty- j t ! six hours, in said manufacturing estab- j i lishments shall be, and the same are j hereby declared to be absolutely null j j and void and contrary to law, and j ( any person making and enforcing such ! ] | contract with an employee in said es- ; tablishments, shall be deemed to be j guilty of a misdemeanor, and on con- I j vietion in a court of competent juris- I < diction shall be fined in each case a j . I sum of money not less than fifty nor ! more than one hundred dollars, togethj er with the costs of the proceedings. ] Sec. 4. This act shall go into effect i | on the first day of April, A. D. 1893. i APPORTIONING THE SCHOOL FUND. Section 1. Be it enacted by the sen- ( j ate and house of representatives of , i the State of South Carolina, now met , ! and sitting in general assembly, and by j the authority of the same, that section . 1,002 of the general statutes of the j State, relating to the apportionment of j I the free public school fund, be, and the ( i same is hereby, amended by striking , out the word "average" after the words "in proportion to the" in the third line . j of said section, so as to make said sec- j ! tion conform to the provisions of the | ' constitution of the State. So that j said section, when amended, shall read ! as follows: I Section 1,002. He shall annually, on j i the first day of February, or as soon as \ I practicable thereafter, apportion the i income of the county school fund among the several school districts dur- : I nrnnnrl i 11 or Qptinfll VPftP. of his ! Illfc J.I ^V?.i.b . J , __ ! county in proportion to the number of j pupils attending the free public schools j in each district, and he shall certify such apportionment to the county treasurer. He shall, at the same time, ! when deemed advisable by the county i board of examiners, apportion from the j i income of the two mill tax on proper- ; ! ty a sum not exceeding $200, to de- > fray the expenses of teachers' institutes conducted .under regulations j prescribed by the State superintendent of education, which sum shall be drawn on his warrant upon the county treasurer, approved by the other . two member of the county board of examiners. He shall take duplicate vouchers for such expenditures and I file the same, with an itemized statement, with the State superintendent of education. Sec. 2. That all acts and parts of acts inconsistent wun tins aci ou, anu [ the same are hereby, repealed. Sec. 3. That the provisions of this act shall not apply to the counties of Abbeville, Charleston, Beaufort, Berkeley, Sumter, Kichlaud, Aiken, Barnwell, Georgetown, Colleton, Hampton, Williamsburg and Clarendon. MARKINC AM) DISKICfHINt; ANIMALS. Section 1. Be it enacted by the senate and house of representatives of the ' State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in general assembly, and by authority of the same, that section 2,503 of the general statutes be and the same ! is hereby amended so as to read as follows: Whoever shall be lawfully convicted ; of willfully and knowingly marking, i branding or disfiguring any horse, marc, gelding, filly, ass, mule, bull, cow, steer, ox or calf of, or belonging to any other person, shall for each ; and every horse, mare, gelding, colt, filly, ass, mule, bull, cow, steer, ox or calf which he shall or may be convicted of marking, branding or disfiguring as , aforesaid, he subjected to a penalty of one hundred dollars or to imprisonment for a term not exceeding six months, or both, in the discretion of the court; and in case said offender shall afterwards repeat or commit a like offense, on conviction therof he shall be liable to a fine of two hundred dollars, or imprisonment for a term not excelling one year, or both, in the discretion of the court, for each and every horse, mare, gelding, colt, filly, ass, mule, tiun. cow, steer, ox or calf l?y him so marked, branded or disfigured. Sec. 2. That section 2,">()4 of the general statutes be, and the same is hereby, amended so as to read as follows: Whoever shall he lawfully convicted of willfully and knowingly marking, branding or disfiguring any sheep, goat, or hog of, or belonging to any other person, shall, for each and every sheep, goat or hog which he shall or may be convicted of marking, branding or disfiguring, as aforesaid, be subject to a penalty of twenty-five dollars or imprisonment for a term not exceeding twenty days ; and in case the said offender shall afterwards repeat or commit a like offense, on conviction there- ! . of lie shall be liable to a line of fifty dollars or to imprisonment Ibr a term not exceeding thirty days for each and every ?>r ling, by him so j marked, branded of*tf isfigured. | / "NUTS" IN UNITED STATES HISTORY. The East river flowing between New York and Brooklyn, is not a river, but a sea strait connecting Long Island 3ound and the ocean. Manhattan is not the Indian name of New York Island, but is directly traceable to a Spanish original?monas, 'drunkennesssmonadus, manadus, manatoes, "the place of drunkenness." Manhattan is but the Indian form of the word. The Declaration of Independence was not signed on July 4th by the representatives whose names have become historic. It was given to the world on Monday, the 8th of July, 1776, with out two signatures: John Hancock, president of the congress, and Charles Thomson, secretary. The signatures of porty-five delegates were affixed to a ropy of the original paper on Tuesday, ;he 2nd of August, 1776. There was not a bearded face imong all the signers of the declara,ion. "All the signers," say the record, 'had smooth faces." The word "God" does not appear in j ;he constitution of the United States, i ior is there any reference to creed or J Three delegates to the convention ttaiiid not sign the constitution. These ivere Elbridge Gerry, of Massacbuietts; George Mason and Edward J. Randolph, of Virginia. Gerry feared i civil war, Mason a monarchy, and Randolph objected to the powers conferred on the president. Benedict Arnold was not the first or >nly traitor during the Revolution. Sis predecessor in that "Judas" office ,vas Dr. Benjamin Church, of Reyn1am, Mass., arrested, tried and imjrisoned at Cambridge, Mass., in 1775. Se had been an active member of the )rovincial congress, and was trusted i is an ardent patriot. He was released : rom prison in 1776 because of failing | lealth, embarked for the West Indies, ind he and the vessel in which he sail- 1 :d were never afterward heard of. The following States have not a j Stotp mnft/i Indiana. MississiDDi. New , Hampshire, New Jersey, North Caroina and Texas. The dollar sign ($) is not a monogram of "U. S.," but dates from the ' lays when the transfer was made J rom Spanish to American dollars, and ; iccounts were kept equally in dollars | ind reals. Thus : One dollar || eight ; eals, (American and Spanish paral- 1 el accounts.) Later the eight was i placed between the cancellation ) narks [8], then the perpendicular ; ine crossed the 8, and finally the 8 j shaded into an S, and combined with ' he cancellation line evolved the pres- I mtsign ($). Friday is not an "unlucky" day for ; ;he United States ; at least forty great j jvents in United States history fell on j Friday. The American Indian is not a "vanshing race". There is very nearly as j urge an Indian population in the | United States today as at the time of ' ^nltimhnc Wplppfpd w ? ----- IN THE ROLE OP JONAH. Appropos to the incident related in last Friday's Republic of the death of Zipp, the elephant at Barboo, Wis., from having swallowed a chain weighing ninety pounds, a reminder was called up and related by Dr. Hume, of Denver, who recently registered at the Lindell. "Just prior to the demise of the much lamented Phineas T. Barnum, I was touring in Connecticut and called upon the great showman at Bridgeport, who invited me to see the circus animals in winter quarters. Ou arriving at the great caravansary where the wonders that tour the country year after year are stored, the illustrious owner was informed that Beta, the prize trick elephant, was ailing. All the symptoms of the poor beast pointed to the fact that she was suffering from acute gas- j tralgia, and means had beeu tried to ! relieve her without avail. "It was finally discovered that Beta ; had by some means wrenched off an I iron bar from her stall, and as it could | not be found, it was surmised that she * ' ?I* tnUink nonAlinforl I IlUll 9WU11UWCU11, Uliu muui avvvuui^u . for the gastric irritation of the valua- j ble pachderm. Mr. Barnum saw that poor Beta must soon succumb to the inflammation caused by such a large foreign body, and with ready wit resolved on a unique plan to remove it. Attached to his large winter hotel was a small ! colored boy who went by the name of j Nigger Joe. He was but little larger i than a full grown 'possum, and P. T. sent for him and explained that he must take a rubber tube in his mouth j to breathe through, and with a rope round his waist, must go down into the ' elephant's stomach and get out that j bar of iron. "Joe rolled his eyes and demurred, but he knew his employer too well to refuse. Accordingly Joe was anointed j with a pound of vaseline and Beta ! being safely, gagged he was gently pushed down the oesophagus head i first, a smooth stick well oiled landing j him at the bottom. According to in- j structions the boy soon gave three tugs at the rope to be pulled off again, and sure enough, tightly clasped in Joe's hand was the offending and indigesti ble iron bar. It is needless to say that Beta's life was saved and that Nigger Joe was handsomely rewarded for his cure of the valuable elephant's indi- I gestion.?St. Louis Republic. Feared Beinu Buried Alive.? i The most peculiar and eccentric character that ever lived in Alabama was : Thomas Banks, who died at Montgom- ' ery sometime during the year 1880. | Physicians say that he would have | lived years longer than he did had it ! not been for the fact that lie was con- i tinually brooding over the danger of being buried alive, lie was a man of considerable property, being rated at about $200,000, but to his way of looking at the matter money could not } provide against the horrors of a premature burial. Away back in the '70's he had a mausoleum built in the j Montgomery cemetery, and directed that he and his only brother should j be laid there together after death. In 1880 the brother died and was carefully and tenderly laid away in one of , the niches of the mausoleum. After this solemn event Thomas had his bedroom furniture moved to the tomb, and ever after regularly made his toilet there. As mentioned above Thomas also died in 1800, and now the two brothers lie within handy reach of fresh air should either wake from his dreamless sleep. The Banks brothers were natives of North Carolina, and went to Montgomery sometime about the year 1850. SnooTixu Stars.?The space be1 tween the planets of our system, which to us appears to be empty, is supposed to be tilled with a vast number of small bodies, moving about with unconceivable rapidity. Occasionally one of these bodies comes into the atmosphere of the earth, and then we have a meteor or shooting star. In the nirless regions of space there is Homing to interfere with their rapid motion ; but when they enter the earth's atmosphere, their flight is checked. The 1 nearer they come to the earth, the denser is the air. The resistance to their progress heats them red-hot, then white-hot, then the small meteors vanish in vapor and the large ones plunge Into the earth. If these meteors could reach the , earth unobstructed, our lives would he in constant danger, but the air acts as I a cushion, which absorbs the great I mass of them before they reach us, and robs the others of much of their destructive force. When we go out in the evening and see the stars shooting in the sky, we may know that the earth is visited by wandering messengers, perhaps from some other planet. Possibly they have been traveling about the great central sun all the ages since ''the earth was without form and void," and the heavenly bodies, as we now see them, were formed out of chaos by the word of God. He Trusts his Wife with the Razor.?"There is a society woman in this city who shavep her husband three times a week," said a smoothfaced man at a desk in the corner of the office. "It is so and I know it. I ought to know it, for I'm the man. The way of it ip this: Last summer we lived in the country, and in the evening, three times a week, I used to come into town to get shaved. Of course I would meet somebody I knew * ' *3 - - 1 1 _ A ana oicen wouiu go aume mi??suwctimes, I confess, in a rather 'frazzledout' condition. Madam didn't say anything, but she no doubt kept up a "Dear, I hate to have you go to town to get shaved; it keeps you up late and gives you such headaches. Bring me out a razor and I'll wager I can shave you.' "Of course, I hooted at the idea, but she persisted and claimed that she was far more intelligent than the average barber, beside being equally talkative, so I finally humored her by getting a nice case of razors. Well, sir, she shaved me like an expert. Did you ever see a cleauer face than mine? I pay her a fancy price, of course, but she promises to take me to Europe some day on her barber shops perquisites." ' "Pooh!" said the book-keeper with the haystack beard. "I'd be afraid to trust my wife that near me with a razor in her hand." "Well," retorted the smootn-iacea man, "if I was mean to my wife, I would be, too." And the balance of sympathetic laughter was with the man whose wife shaves him.?Chicago Times. The Tireless Stormy Petrel.? During a recent trip across the Atlantic the passengers on a steamer had a vivid illustration of the endurance of the stormy petrel. Shortly after the ship left the Irish coast, two or three of these birds were sighted at the stern of the ship. One had been caught at some previous time, and its captor tied a bit of red flannel or ribbon around its neck and let it go. The bit of red made the bird very conspicuous, and it could be easily identified. That bird, with others that could not be so easily distinguished, followed the ship clear across the ocean. Rarely, during the daytime at least, was it out of sight, and if for an hour or two was lost to view while feeding on the refuse cast overboard, it soon reappeared, and the last seen of it was within a few miles of Sandy Hook, when it disappeared, perhaps to follow some outward bound steamer back to Ireland. When the fact is considered that the ship, day and night went an average speed of nearly twenty miles an hour, the feat performed by the daring ocean traveler can better be appreciated. When or how it rested is inexplicable. Who Told the Birds ??Most sailors believe that "rats desert a sinking ship"?that is, refuse to go upon the last voyage which a vessel makes. Sailors suppose that the rats know instinctively when a disaster is about to occur, and they are induced with great difficulty to ship on a vessel which has no rats aboard. A curious story comes from Hamburg to the effect that a few days before the receut cholera epidemic broke out all the birds took flight from the city. It was then recalled that in 1884, when the cholera was raging in Marseilles and Toulon, all the birds de- ^ serted those cities and took refuge Ilyres, which remained entirely ftee from cholera during the whole summer of 1884. All the sparrows in Prezemsyl, a town of Galicia, suddenly departed two days before the appear- \ ance of the pest, and not a bird re- ? turned until the end of November, 2 when the cholera had disappeared. "A little bird told me" is a com- 1% mon expression, but the important %, question seems to be, "Who told the birds?" The St. Gothard Tunnel Dethroned.?The great St. Gothard tunnel, which was begun October 1, inmn 3 1 QOA 5? lO/Z, UUU liUlSUCU 1U iOUU, 10 lllliu uuu one-half miles in length and cost $196.40 per foot throughout. At present it is the Titan of all the world's tunnels. * "These cannot last forever," however, and by the end of 1895 St. Gothard will be dethroned, the great Simplon . tunnel, now in course of construction, coming in with the title of "largest and longest tunnel in the world." This new claimant for Titanic honors, is being built to supercede the famous "Route ef the Simplon," a road over the mountains which was constructed by the first Napoleon. The Simplon tunnel will be almost one-fourth longer than the now celebrated St. Gothard, its total length from opening to opening being, accordiug to expert calculations, twelve and one-half miles. In short it almost exactly three miles longer than St. Gothard. The old "Route of the Simplon," which will be practically abandoned when the tunnel is completed, is about thirty-eight miles in length. At present it takes twelve long hours to cross the Simplon route. When the tunnel is finished less than a half hour will be consumed in making the trip. Truthful and Sensible.?Selfishness will kill a town. Liberality and public spirit will build it up. When men serve their ends without regard to the interests of the town, they strike a blow at its progress. Between a town with money and another with enterprise we would choose the latter. Moneyed men are of little benefit to a town unless they are of the right kind?unselfish, generous and public spirited. Money alone will not make a town or cause business to grow and ? thrive. Behind it must be willing, wide awake, energetic men with push. A Bit; Tree Story.?An Elmer (Ore.) paper publishes this remarkable story: "A citizen of this place has just finished working up a fir tree which grew on his place. He received $1*2 for the bark ; built a frame house 14x20, IS feet high, with shed kitchen S feet high, S feet wide and 20 feet long; built a woodshed 14x20 feet: made 034 railroad ties, and got ? * ' ? " 1 O a lli corns OI WUUIl o nil IUU|^ uim ? feet high, all from that one tree and still has a part of the tree left.'' fifcaTThe number of murders that marked the annals of 1892 has alarmed the social economists of the country. They see clearly that there must he some prompt and efficient measures of reform inaugurated by our legislators and law administrators to put an end to the epidemic. The murders during 185)2 in the Tinted States were 0,792, against 5,900 in 1891,4,290 iu 1890 and 3,507 in 1889. Afflictions, by (Jod's grace, make us all-round men, developing every spiritual faculty, and they are our helpers, and should be welcomed with. I "all joy."?Spurgeon.