Decatur Democrat, Volume 50, Number 50, Decatur, Adams County, 14 February 1907 — Page 6

••••••••••••••••••••••••a* • • • How 1 Became a Detective j • • •••••••••••••••••••••••••• [OrlctaaL] I was born and brought up in the country. When I came to be twentyone I held a consultation with myself and decided that I would cast my lot with city people. Haring sufficient funds to keep me while hunting for a situation, I packed my traps, took a train for Chicago, found a boarding place and began my hunt One day when I came to my room in the evening I found an envelope that had been left for me by the postman— I had left my address with the post-master-containing a simple advertising card. I was about to throw both Into the wastebasket when I noticed •omething written in lead pencil on the card. Taking it to the light, I read: 4 - 22 - 1054 N -342 H 6th. It seemed to me that some one had been figuring on the card, and again I started to throw it into the wastebasket. But, having an hour before dinner, with nothing to do but brood over my failure to obtain a situation, I sat down with it and amused myself trying to puzzle out what the writer had been figuring. Having nothing to guide me, I failed to make even a start When I went down to dinner I left the card on the table. On returning to my room while debating whether I would put in the evening among the gay crowds on the principal thoroughfares or in my room I took up the advertising card and began to puzzle over the writing on it After considerable study I made up my mind that it concealed a message. Suddenly a possible interpretation of the 4 —22 occurred to me. The day was April 20th. April was the fourth month, and the 22d would be the day after tomorrow. The next possible interpretation I reached was 842% 6th, which I decided meant 342% Sixth street or avenue. With these two links I was not long in deciding that 10% N meant half past 10 o’clock at night If this was a correct deciphering something was to happen on the 22d of April at half past 10 in the •venlng at 342% Sixth street or. avenue. There was no Sixth avenue in the city, so it must be Sixth street I was so curious in the matter' that I went out at once to visit 342% Sixth afreet If there was a half number I would suspect my interpretation to be correct. I was astounded to find the half number. I could scarcely believe my eyes. The house was only about twelve feet front, a vtery old brick There no light in it, and Jtjyas locked tight. It occurred to me that if the person tor whom t&j card was ■*nSt get it tbe twheme—lf H was a •chemfc—wogld bfiTSpofied. So tide next Ag J jeturneu it lb* {he poetoffice. I was between two horns of a dliemmi; The first was, Should I go to the psi» J|ce with a story that would almost jCen&inly pfcofS hie a fool? and the second was to watch alone to see If anything happened, i spent two days of wearing indecision, and when thte night of the 22d came on I had come to no conclusion. At lO'to’clock I went to the building in question and waited. It may seem that I should have notified the police, but who except a crack brained fool would have made a case even for suspicion out of such gauzy evidence? At half past 10 exactly a cart came lumbering along the street and stopped in front of 342%. The cartman went to the' door, looked about him—l was concealed behind a tree box—gave two light raps and after a few seconds a third, the door was opened, and he was admitted. I expected to see a light in the building, but did pot Presently two men cardie 1 out carrying a box. One locked the door, and together they carried the box to the cart, put it in and drove away. Oh, why had I not had the courage of conviction to notify the police? I followed at a distance for several miles, when the men drove into a lane running past the rear of a country house, on which was a bath. They took the box into the barn. I went near and, listening, heard them up in the hayloft Then they came down—l getting out of .the way, of course—and, jumping on the cart, they drove back to town. Marking the spot so that I should know it again, 4 lost no time in making my way back .to the city and to police headquarters. I simply told the inspector what I had witnessed, and in ten minutes he, with two policemen and myself, was driving to the barn. Cautiously prying open the door, we entered, went up into the loft and found the box concealed under the hay. Taking it back to headquarters, the Inspector invited me into his private office, where it was opened. It contained gold, bank notes and bonds to the amount of $243,000. . I was enjoined to keep the matter a secret, the barn was watched and the men arrested. They had robbed a bank a long while before and had kept the proceeds in the brick shanty. Being watched by the police, "ftjey dared not communicate openly and’ did so by the use of the advertising card. They chose a name which happened to be mine. Only one of them knew the location of the plunder, and he was to notify the other of the time and place, when he was to bring a cart for Its removal to the barn, from whence they could better carry it away in small lets. I received $20,000 reward for the return of the treasure, and the chief of a detective bureau offered me a lucrative .position. I am now examiner of suspected clews and never go out of the toffice on any business of an official naMORRIS WYNNE.

■totoMMSMtMridM-v- st— •» v - «■» • ' o : A Woman Collector • • • ••••••••••••••••••••••••so [Oricinal] “The firm name was Shirts A Shinn,”, said the retired hardware dealer, “and we didn’t get on from the start I bad a good trade and was obliged to be on the road most of the time. This left the buying to my partner. The trouble was that he wasn’t any kind of a buyer. If a salesman came along with a cock and bull story about a sick wife and a dozen or.so starving children Shinn would buy a bill of goods of him whether we wanted them or not The consequence was that every time I came in I found the stock growing in spite of my efforts to reduce it “Well, the result of it all was that weeping drummers finally succeeded in turning the store into a junk shop, and we had to quit Shinn, as he should have done, offered to stand the loss, giving up all the capital he’d put in, acknowledging that the outcome had been entirely his fault If I could have closed up at once his money would have been just enough to square us, with no loss to me, but the very day we closed along comes a one leg-ged-commercial traveler he called himself—consumptive, wheezing through one lung, and Shinn had to order a SSOO bill of him. We closed the order out at about 60 cents on the dollar, making a deficiency of $187.42. z This Shinn agreed to pay as soon he was able. - “Shinn was a bachelor and removed from his rooms in an apartment house to a little shanty. I sent a man around to collect his Indebtedness, but he came back empty handed. I sent another with orders to be more persistent, and he came back, reporting that the door had been slammed in his face. I used to see Shinn occasionally on the street He looked morose and shabby. One day I saw him give a quarter to a beggar. That made me mad. If he had money to give such nuisances he had it to pay his honest debts. I hired a regular fighting collector and sent hinj round to Shinn’s shanty. He came back with his head bandaged up, a black eye and a swelled lip, to say nothing of the loss of a suit of clothes. “I hired several men in succession to go and get into the house and stay there till Shinn came down with the funds. The first one that came back reported he’d been thrown out, the second shared the same fate and the third and the fourth and so on likewise. ’Then it occurred to me that I’d send a woman. You see, a man can’t fight a and there never was a woman yet that couidn’t get the better of a man If she .wanted to. There was no woman’s collecting agency in the town, so f told several friends of mine that I’d gtve Jia!i debt to any woman irfio’d collect it, ' , “About a month after making the announcement a young, good looking woman came to see me and said she’d heard I wanted a debt collected of Percy Shinn. She didn’t look like a business woman at all, but I concluded to try her. So I gave her an order for the money and started, her out “It was 3 o’clock when she left me, and I waited with a good deal of anxiety to learn how Shinn would meet this new enemy. I expected her back in about an hour. Four o’clock came, but no collector —5, 6,7, and she didn’t show up. In fact, she didn’t show up that nfght nor the next day nor the next nor the next A week passed, and I began to think Shinn had murdered her. Funny, wasn’t it? Every man I’d sent had come back after having been thrown out; the only woman I’d sent didn’t come back at all. “Then I fancied maybe the woman had collected the money or a part of it and gone off with it. At the same time ■lt occurred to me that I had stupidly ■ omitted to take her address. 1 I concluded to-notify the police and started out to do so, but thought I’d take a look on the way a£ Shinn’s house. So I went a roundabout way and brought up opposite the shanty. Somehow it didn’t look so tumbledown as before. There were white holland shades in the windows and a few flowers in the yard in front. j “A woman came out of a house near whbre I was standing, and I asked her who lived in the house opposite. She jgaid, ’Mr. Shinn.’ ‘Any one with him?’ ‘His wife.’ ‘I didn’t know he was ’ married.’ ‘He wasn’t a short time ago. There’s a story connected with it. Mr. Shinn owed some old curmudgeon some, money and sent a young woman, to collect it. She was real smart. She told him she was to get half the amount collected; that she was the only support of a widowed mother and seven brothers and sisters. She' gave such a pitiful picture that Shinn, who had been a long while starving himself to pay the debt and had just saved the last penny, went and got it and gave it to her, . You see somebody had told her what kind of a man Shinn was. She was so cut up by his lovable manner that she told him to keep the money for all her, and he said' he would keep It till his creditor came for it himself. It was one of the quickest matches I ever heard of. They only knew each other a week before they were married.’ “This was the story given out. Years after I heard the true one. The woman was an old sweetheart of Shinn’s , who had refused him. On hearing of his condition she had gone, disguised, ostensibly to* collect the money. Knowing his soft spot, she had made > up the yarn. Then she threw off her disguise, and there was a circus. s “Yes, I got the money—every cent • due. I went for it myself.” HERBERT DOUSMAN.

• A Deep Laid Scheme • • • •••••••••••••••••••••«•••• [Original.] Since this story hinges on a name, 1 may as well begin by saying that the name it hinges on is Francis Randolph Forbes. Now, the letter F written is simply an incomplete H, and I have often had my letters go to some H. R. Forbes or H. R. Horbes or some such name, and I have received such persons’ letters myself. One evening upon calling for my mail at my club i was banned a note addressed in a woman’s familiar hand. Five years before Maud Twining had refused me, and I was sure this was to reopen the case. I tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents with a trembling hand. Nothing but a blank sheet of notepaper. This was cruel. Maud was not the girl to treat me thus. But, wait a bit Might she not with maidenly modesty intend to simply commence a reopening of a matter which she herself had closed? Might not this blank paper contain a message from her if I could find it out? I scrutinized it, held it before a strong light, put a magnifying glass to it, but could see no evidence of a communication. While holding it very close to a gas jet I noticed pale brown marks coming out on it. Holding it still closer, they deepened, and I read in letters apparently written with a match or a toothpick probably in lemon juice: April 6 B— Square Fountain 10:05 p. m. HESTER. I was bitterly disappointed. Hester was not the name of the lady I had in mind. I examined the superscription on the envelope and decided that it might be either F. R. Forbes or F. R. (possibly F. B.) Harker. I took the note the next day to the postoffice and was informed that F. B. Harker had asked for a letter and on being informed there was nothing for him made a great ado about the delinquencies of the office. The clerk looked in the directory for F. B. Harker, but no such name was given there. Consequently there was no way of finding him. After thinking the matter over I concluded that I would go to the rendezvous and inform the lady that her letter of appointment had miscarried. On April 6 at 10 o’clock in the evening I was in the park and soon after saw a veiled lady approach the fountain. I, too, went to the fountain and after a feW moments of dally asked her if she was Hester. She started, but did not reply. Then I told her the story of the miscarriage of her note. Women are naturally confiding, and there was something perhaps in my manner that induced this, one to give me her confidence. She told me that she was a widow. Her husband’s brother was trying to defraud her of the estate her husband had left her. One who was in league with the broth-er-in-law b.ad agreed to play false to him and for a consideration turn ever to her certain papers that would make valid her claim on the inheritance. The transfer must be made without the knowledge of the brother-in-law, and she had designated the place for the purposS,, r “May I not act for you, madam FAh said. “I only wish you would,” she replied. “I will give you an order for the papers if you will consent to bring them to me.” “That I did not mean. I would not permit you to thus place your interests in the hands of a stranger. Give me the name and address of the person you were to meet here, and I will make a new appointment for you.” This only strengthened her confidence in me. She invited me to accompany her home, and I did so. As soon as we entered she unveiled and revealed the features of a woman of fortytwo or forty-three. While explaining how I came to consider her note as intended for me I referred to the similarity of her handwriting to that of a former acquaintance of mine. She.told me that the address was not hers; that the whole plan of receiving the papers clandestinely had beefi concocted by her niece, who had addressed the missive. ■ • '■* ‘ ' “And your niece is’ —I asked. . “Maud Twining.”- -..y. ■I jumped as if I had been shot “Maud Twining; .1 w>s sure I saw again her familiar handwriting, though she evidently tried ’ to disguise it Where is she?” “Do you know her?” "Yes.” "She is living here with me. I’ll call her. I’ll not tell her whom she is to meet” , She went out of the room and returned with the only girl I had ever loved. Something told me when I Aw her start on seeing me that her surprise was feigned. Had her aunt told her whom she was to meet? She came forward with confusion in every line of her countenance. There was none of that honest, kindly bearing she had shown when we parted. Indeed, she looked shamefaced. The affair thus reopened came to a rapid conclusion. I forgot the aunt’s affair in my own happiness and altogether lost track of it. For years I told the story to intimate friends how an accident had united me with the girl I had married. Suddenly I stopped telling it. My wife had confessed. While addressing her aunt’s note she had noticed how she might make the name appear to be mine. With a faint hope in her heart that her message of love would go to me she made the changes. I believe there was some necessity for a clandestine transfer of the papers, but I have surmised that a reopening of our love affair was at the bottom of the whole scheme. ARTHUR D. BERWICK.

I ; •••••••••••••••••••••••••• ;: Found His Anchor : •••••••••••••••••••••••••a [Original.] A young man trudged with a sprlght--1 ly step along a dusty road. A farmer 1 passed him and looked back. The 1 stranger was not of the cut that was usually seen walking in those parts, | such persons preferring an automobile or a carriage. Not that his clothes were especially fine; It was something • in the general appearance of the young > man himself. Climbing a stone wall, he entered a wood, mounted a slight rise in the 1 ground, then descended to a small artificial lake and crossed a rustic bridge. While leaning over a guard rail looking at some water lilies he heard a woman’s voice' coming from behind him: “Strangers are not admitted to these , grounds, sir.” The man turned and saw a very pretty sgirl shading her eyes with a red parasol from the autumn sun. Raising his hat, he replied: “I saw no prohibition notice as I entered.” “If you had entered by the gateway, you would have seen one.” “But I didn’t enter by the gate.” “For that reason I have spoken to you. Persons coming in here socially or on business don’t climb the wall.” “I’m sorry to have trespassed. By your speech I judge that you own the place.” “My father rents it.” “That makes him and his family owners so far as occupying it exclusively for themselves is concerned. Don’t you think it a bit selfish in you to begrudge a poor traveler the pleasure of resting in the cool shade?” “Should we do so we would be overrun. Besides, they pull things to pieces. We are especially anxious to keep it in good order just now, for our lease is about to expire, and we wish to turn it over to the owner in first class shape.” “A very exacting person, I presume?” “Oh, no; it is we who are particular. Mr. ,Chichester concerns himself very little about it” “Chichester? What Chichester F • “Robert, I believe.” “You don’t mean it? Bob Chichester! I know him well.” The girl cast a suspicious glance at the stranger. “You think lam imposing on you. I will describe Chichester and prove to you that I -really know him.” ’That wouldn’t avail any tiling, for I never saw him myself.” “You know that he has been a student at Oxford, England F “Yes, I know that,” "Well, we both, being Americana, knew each other. But I didn’t fancy him,” The girl’s eyes Hashed. “Unluckily he IB hot here to return the compliment?’ “Oh, I can that for him. His opinion of me is my opinion of. him.” - “Superior persons are usually disliked by their inferiors.” “Bob Chichester isn’t my superior,” he said, with remarkably good nature. “We’re two of a kind—a pair of knaves.” “Knaves always consider other persons knaves. Perhaps that’s the reason of your opinion of Mr. Chichester.” “And the reason of his opinion of me.” “I have only your word for that, and since you confess yourself a knave I glwe that for it.” She snapped her fingers viciously. “May I ask a reason for this defense of a man you have never seen?" The girl hesitated. She knew the folly of chatting thus confidentially with a stranger, but being Interested in defending the landlord she threw caution to the winds. “Since renting this place my father has had nothing but misfortune and is unable to pay the whole of a year’s rent due. He wrote, or, rather, I wrote for him, a full statement of the matter to Mr. Chichester, who replied with unbounded generosity, inclosing a receipt for the amount” “Oh, you Were the writer of that letter?”' “Mr. Chichester must be a confiding person to have shown it to”— “A- knave. Certainly. Didn’t I tell you we were both-knaves? You . see, Chichester and I are a sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It was I who prompted him to write that letter.” “Well, I declare!” . “Fact Bob declared he wouldn’t dp it; 'vowed he’d sue the account, although you said such a course would bring down a multitude of creditors on ' your father.' I shook my fist at him 1 and told him”— “Stop!” She stood looking at him 1 like a fury. “Leave these grounds.” ! “I decline to be ordered off my own prpperty.” “Your own property?” ,r “Yes, I own this place, and when I ■ | received that letter I resolved that I ■ would come home and do my best to } become the owner of the woman who could -write such a letter.” She stood staring at him In a sort of dazed wonder. He advanced and put -, out his hand. She made no move, and ! he went on, rapidly feeling for hers at • the same time: ' | “You see that I have given you a ! correct picture of myself; mean Inch- ; nations and noble aspirations; bad one day, good the next. All I need is a 1 sheet anchor to hold me to the good. 1 When I read your letter I knew I had | found the anchor. It only remains for |me to secure It.” F. A. MITCHEL.

[Original.] Mr. Melancthon Peter—hiz name should have been Peter Melancthon, tout it wasn’t—bad:balled on the morn-1 ing of hla wedding for a final word with his fiancee in order to make sure that nothing had been forgotten. They were to be married at high noon, and it was now 11 o’clock. But the groom was in costume, even to the boutonniere, and the bride needed only to put a few finishing touches to her toilet After giving and receiving a few final reminders Mr. ■Peter, accompanied by Miss Blossom, his bride to be, went into the hall and through the front door, backing himself out in order to keep up his instructions and his eyes on his fiancee till the last moment. He descended the steps in this reverse order, then turned, and the’ door closed at the same momety. Now, in anticipation of a coal strike Miss Blossom’s father was getting in fils annual supply of fuel. A coal wagon had just driven away, and the heaver had forgotten to replace the lid on the coal hole. The consequence was that as Mr. Peter turned and took a step forward he felt himself sink, and in another moment he was knee deep in a coal heap. The only injury he suffered was scraping the skin off his left arm. He looked up and saw that he could almost reach the round opening above him, but to do so would require a jump. To jump on a heap of coal is like jumping on a quicksand. When he was thinking what to do suddenly the lid was clapped on the coal hole. Some one passing had seen the opening in the sidewalk and, supposing he was doing a kindly act, put on the lid. Mr. Peter cried oiit, but too late. The benefactor—to some one else than Mr. Peter—passed on. From an anticipated wedding ceremony in a fashionable church, in the presence of a fashionable assembly, to a coal hole even with the lid off and sunlight is not a pleasant transition, but with a closure and darkness Mr. Peter found it harrowing, especially as he might not get out in time for the wedding. It is singular what thoughts will pass through the brain at such a time. Many a person upon learning of some calamity has had an absurdity thrast Itself into his brain. Mr. Peter was a college, bred man and, being impressed with the readiness with which he had reached his present position, remembered an adage of the ancients, “Easy is the descent to helL” This he kept repeating—or, rather it kept repeating. Itself Without asking his permission—till he was reminded that be had be.tter be devising some method'of escape." ■ — ■ But there was no escape. The only egress was a shute for the coal, but this was not practicable for Mr. Peter, because it must be opened from the outside, In fifty minutes his wedding would be due. He saw the people assembling, the bride and her attendants going to the church, then waiting for him in the vestibule; ushers going to the doors and looking up the street for him, anxious faces; the bride troubled and finally in tears. This is what Mr. Peter saw In the coal hole, and It was what occurred. He took no note of time till a clock in a church tower near by struck the hour of 12. Then he knew that the wedding party was waiting that period of suspense which must lead to he knew not what had begun. At the last stroke of the clock he heard a step in the adjoining apart-ment-doubtless the cellar. Only a board partition separated him from it. He cried out. There was an interval of silence, then a voice: “What is it? Who is it?” Mr. Peter, dreading lest the person would take to flight, cried lustily for help. After some delay the coal shute, which fortunately was above the partially filled bin, was opened by a servant, and Mr. Peter stepped out. The first thing he did was to look at his watch. It was five minutes past 12. Dashing up the stairs, he gained the bathroom, and a glance in a mirror showed him a dusky face. Plunging it and his hands into a basin of water, he buttoned his coat as high as possible over his smudged collar and, descending with lightning speed to the street, ran toward the church. On the way he passed an empty cab, which he hailed, and a few minutes later dashed up to the church. Three ushers were straining their eyes up and down for him. Mr. Peter was hustled inside, where he was greeted by the bride to be with a mingling of Anger, tears and sighs of relief. There was no time for explanations, since the guests had already been kept too long waiting. Mr. Peter took his proper position, with his supports, on the opposite side of the vestibule, there was a creaking of the organ bellows, and the divided wedding party, uniting in the center aisle, advanced to the strains of a- wedding ■ march. Mr. Peter’s coat being black and his ' trousers dark gray, his shirt collar be- . ing largely covered and his sleeves pulled down, over his cuffs, shewed no marks of his residence in a coal bin. But Mr. Peter was badly rattled. He I made the responses wrong, fumbled in his pocket for the ring and when he found it dropped it. Coming out an extreme nervousness induced him to throw open' his coat. As he passed down the aisle the assembly tittered. His entire front—collar, neck, scarf, light buff waistcoat— worc._ smudged from top to bottom with coe.l dust. “What in thunder docs tthis mean?” asked his best man when they reached the vestibule. “Fell in a coal hole,” was the laconic reply. TURNER C. HOYLE.

| IN 1815 | • ••••••••■•••••••••••••••a* (OriginaL] “Curse these British bounds. They would have taken everything except j. our- aeuls had we not fought them and beaten them, and now they want our bodies on the sea to sail their ships. Talk about the right of search, impressing British seamen and all that; they’re stronger on the water than we, and It’s here they continue to show their serpents’ fangs. Oh, for a Paul Jones to come down on this ship and treat it as he treated the Serapis! "I suppose It would have been more sensible for me to go to work instead of resisting. , Then I wouldn’t be in this cubby hole, a man with a cutlass to watch me. Methinks he's getting sleepy. Drop your head again, old fellow, and catch It spasmodically. A few more nods and you’ll not count foir much as a guard. But what If I could leave this hole? I can’t get out of the ship. One, two, three, four, five, six—six bells. I wish the fellow would go to sleep. I’d just take a turn about the ship to stretch my legs. “Now for It He doesn’t stir. Goodby, my hearty. I’m going to see what one of his majesty’s ships looks like at 8 in the morning. Everybody asleep. That’s a fine sniff of air even If It does come through a porthole. What's In here? A canvas bag on a bunk, with a shot tied to one end. Wonder when they’re going to toss him over. I wish they’d toss me over Instead. I’d rather make a dinner for sharks than work for British tyrants. Wonder If the watch on deck are all awake. Reckon they are. These Britishers are good at discipline. No, I can’t go up there. “Suppose—suppose I could get tossed overboard in place of this dead man. Where would I go to? To the bottom, of course. I couldn’t get out of the bag, and the shot would sink me. I might find a knife to take with ma. But I couldn’t swim ashore. We must be off the Massachusetts coast. Wonder if their lifeboats are fitted with cork side pieces. If I can get enough cork to float me and a knife I’ll try It It's still dark or dusk. Hello, a knife!” “Who’s there F “That follow nearly got me. If tt hadn’t been for hlm l'd have,bean over In the water in another second. But I got the cork. I wish I could have dipped into the boat I might have secured a cork jacket instead. Now, I’ll Meal back *od try to summon nerve to get into the bag. *®here, my man, or, rather, my dead man, you stay under that bunk while I tyke your sleeping- place. I’ll have » bard time relacing the bag. AU right; I reckon that’ll do, though they may notice bad lacing. Now comes.the worst of it the waiting. “Elsht bflls. 1 belj. “Seven bells. I must have dropped asleep. Strange that I could sleep in a dead man’s bag; but now I think of it rve not slept before for two days, not since these rascals took me from the Molly Boyd. "They’re coming. Here they are. The leaving off of that shot eftne pretty near betraying me. They’ve got it tight enough this time. Never mind the burial service. Oh, God, tcelisten to one’s own burial service! That’s what it is, my burial service. I’ll never get out of this alive. What a fool! I could have submitted and lived. • “The Lord have mercy on my soul. Will I never get this cord cut? Down, down! What an awful down! If I don’t do it in another moment the water above will hold me under. Besides, I can’t hold my breath so long. Aha! Goodby, old shot; you may go to the bottom. I’m going up. Whew, that was a long breath stop! Oh, blessed air! Let me get rid of this bag and I’ll breathe easier. Thank heaven it isn’t night. ■ “Odds fish! I didn’t think the ship was so near. I got under the water just in time to miss being seen. It wouldn’t mattered. They’d have thought the shot had slipped off and the dead had arisen. “This is tiresome, and I’m getting hungry. If I -could only have come upon a few herring in the galley before leaving the ship. Let me see, judging from the position of the sun it must be an hour or two past meridian. Not a ship yet sighted. I’m near the coast and should st least see'the sails of Ashers. What’s that on the horizon? It’s a sail, sure enough. “Yes, it’s getting larger all the while. It’s coming straight for me. “ 'Ship ahoy!’ "They hear me. They’re luffing to the wind. That’s the pleasantest sound—that boat coming down from her davits—l’ve heard in a long while. . I’m in luck. This way, you lubbers. What are you steering off two or three points for? Can’t see me for the .rollers? .Well, I am bobbing up and ' down, a good deal, but I’ve got used to it There you are. Now keep that course till you reach me. / ! “Who am I? Never you mind till you get me aboard your ship. Did you bring any rum? Good. Here’s to the stars and stripes! Don’t they look fine after being imprisoned under that British rag? Anything to eat? No. Well, give way, hearty. I can think, but I can’t talk—not till I’ve filled my bread basket. I’ve done thinking enough for a dozen years. All right; t you’ll have to hoist me aboard. “Well, now I’ve eaten and drunkj Til tell you that I’m an American sea-| man Impressed by Britishers and escaped.” WENDELL C. M’LEAN.