Rensselaer Journal, Volume 10, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1901 — Page 6

fw «*'< mtkt i soldier with only go'd limid. And iwlmd? thinks yon nn; Ere the fine-looking suit by the tailor la made There* much to be done to the matt. Ton ean’t m-Ue a surgeon with kniyes and all that. Ton ean’t males a Judge with just a silk hat. Ton ean’t make a preacher with robe Or era vat, And nobody thinks yon ean.

POLLY CALLENDAR, TORY.

JN 17T4-5. previous to the outbreak of the Revolution, the Calleudars were Royalists, and General Gage’s young British officers, one •f whom was related to the Cullendart, frequently rode out from Boston to call at the hospitable country house. It was Polly Callendar whom they went to see; her beauty and vivacious Wit were the tb£ine of many toasts. And up to the evening of this story Tolly was as disdainful of the “mlnAte men” ns was her mother* At almtit noon of that day Madam Callendar was summoned to the bed* side of Elizabeth Ballard, a kinswoman living near Natick. Slie had left her brick oven full otthe week’s baking, and had set a large brass kettle, filled wi h redwood dye, on the crane in the great fireplace. Madam Callenfiar’s parting directions to Tolly had been not to watch the oven, but an yarn, spun during the previous Numerous skeins and banks of woolton yarn, spun during the previous [winter, were Immersed in It, and the last warning from Pol y's mother was: '•‘Redwood must never be hurried, IPolly. Stir often, lass. Tress the hnitks down hard with your elothesLstick, and then drop in a little of this Bowdercd alum to Bet the scarlet.” f So through the long, foggy afternoon It was Polly Cnllendnr’s homely task to watch the oven and tend the ‘‘scarlet kettle.” But with evening came an unexpected diversion. A knock was heard at the outer door, and when old Ttnstus, the negro servant, had opened It, a tall young man, in provincial garb, Inquired how far It was to Boston, and wdiat was the road. Learning that the distance was still considerable, lie entreated hospitality, saying that having ridden since d°wn he was both tired and wet. Tolly at fit ■st demurred, but In the end. moved by his plight and persuaded somewhat by his respectful manners and handsome face, she sent ’ltastus to stable the horse.

I She spread a plentiful supper before Lftju* wayfarer, and then, because bis Kappearauec pleased her, she brewed ■for ban gome of h r mother's clier■slied tea, and poured It into one of the Bellcnte teacups that had come from the young man ate In silence, these attentions. Hrutb to say. he was 111 at ease. He Baras on his way to Join the minuter men. and he was bringing with him a | hundred pounds that had been contributed by the “patriot committee” of his native tovn. He feared that in some way the redcoats had been given a umt of his mission,—Mounted men bad stafed hard at him that .day, and he hnd thought it wise to avoid a troop patrolllug tue roads. And now, despite the quality of his supper, he paused to listen anxiously whenever ■ horses' hoofs or voices were heard i without. Tolly, noticing his uneasiness nnd marking his blue, colonial ; yme-pun, drew her ow r n Inferences. MUtf a sudden the young man took bote of the kettle and its scarlet conHUmts. ■ •‘That Is a bright dye which you Hive there, mistress,” he remarked. B*Are you fond of so high a color?” ■ “In good truth, sir, and why pot?” Applied Tolly. “Have you any fault to And with It?” A “I woulu be n churl If I did,” nnHwered the guest, gallantly* “since It H, scarcely more pink than the cheeks Hi my fair hostess. H“The redcoats must feel flattered at Hjur preference," he added. H“And Is it not the hue that all Icynl Htbjects should prefer?” queried Holly, demurely. but I will not gainsay you, replied the young man. Hpytd yet,” he added, “It is a color to fade under our American sun.” ■fßut not from the hearts of the loyal subjects,” retorted Tolly, ■fils is no rebel household, sir. My who were here but yesterHftl’. wear the scarlet,' and are the Hiffig's loyal servants." And saying Hills she observed her guest closely Hftd saw that he winced. ■ “Beyond doubt he is one of the paBtefets,” she thought. “But such a youth! Moreover, he is ■Hst courteous, nnd his Voice and BHvs are more geutle and respectful HHm those of Cousin Charles.” for the stranger his heart sank Kfresli. “I will pay for my supper Hpd get on.” he thought. “1 shall be abroad In the darkness than Anil he rose to take leave ns Hently ns he might, but nt that moAneut r the tramp of horses was again |t»enrd, nnd this time they did not pass, Hut pulled up before the house door. kinsmen, It Is very like.” said ■Polly, smiling. “They wear rlinrp Awords, sir.” Then, ns she noted the Hunted look which the young man cast About the room, her light nnd tauntB[)u>anaer changed. “Is It that you net like to meet them, sir?” asked in a low tone, she spoke there entne an ImperaA rup at the outer door, nnd a cry IHKlpen lu the king's name:” HHtf heuveu's sake, mistress, show

BEHIND THE CUTEER MAN.

You esn’t make a monarch with only a throne, And not z A y ♦’•ink* you enn; Ere the actor may •way in a realm of his own There's much to be done to the man. Ton can’t make a gentleman out of an r**. Or a boor who ia bravert in front of his g-aas, By fii’ling his pockets with pelf bat a'as! There’s peop’e who think you can! *”S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Times-Uerald.

By Margaret Fenderson.

me some way out,” cried the stranger. “It is lees that I fear their swords, but lam on-a mission of importance.” ‘‘Open, madam! Open Polly! It ia I, your Cousin Charles, and they say there Is a rascally rebel here!” cried the voice outside. “But we have the house surrounded.” Tolly had turned toward a rear door, but hearing these last words, darted to the centre of the room again. Tor an instant she was at a loss. Then her eyes fell on the door of her mother’s storeroom, a closet beside the large chimney, which It was Madam Callendar’s practice always to keep locked, but in the haste of departing that day she had forgotten to take the key. “Here, sir,” Tolly whispered. “Quick, be quick!” and she unlocked the door, half pushed the man within nnd hastily turning the key again put It In her pocket. “Open! Open!” cried the voice outside. “Open In the king’s name!” and the raps were repeated, “Coming, good sirs, coming!” cried Polly. Then her eye fell on the young patriot’s great-cont lying across a back of the chair. If seen that would betray all. She snatched it up and plunged It Into the great kettle of scarlet dye. Then, throwing the door open and courtesying low, ns was the custom of those days, she cried: “Good evening, Cous n Charles. Welcome, good gentlemen. My mother has gone to Natick for the day. No’tlieless you are tight welcome.” “Ay!” grumbled the young officer. “After my knuckles are skinned ( with knocking. But prithee, Tolly have you seen naught of this Insolent knave?” “Indeed, Cousin Charles, this Is but a sorry jest!” exclaimed Tolly Callendar. “Since when has my family been aught but loyal to the king?” “True,” assented the Briton. “Yet the rascal may be lurking about.” “Enter, then, and see for yourselves,” cried Tolly. “My mother would earnestly desire you to purge her house of rebels!” They came noisily In —while the young patriot's heart beat fast—they peered Into nooks and corners, and presently ascended to the attic. “Do not forget the cellar!” cried Tolly, gaily, opening the door and handing her cousin a lighted candle. “Perchance the knave Is hiding in some bln or box.”

The quest there proved as fruitless as In the chambers, but on emerging one of the party noted the closed door by the chimney and tried it. “Why locked?’’ he exclaimed. “The key, fair mistress!” “For that you will do well to ask my mother,”» replied Polly, Carelessly. “The closet is my mother’s keepingroom, and it is ever her custom to carry the key in her pocket.” “True,” remarked her cousin, who knew the ways of the household. “The rogue will hardly have got into madam’s keeping-room. Doubtless he has slipped away.” “If ever he were here,” flashed back Polly. “But beyond doubt, good cousin and gentlemen, you must be hungry after your hard ride. Will you not partake of our cheer?” Nothing loath the young redcoats gathered about the supper table, where for an hour or more Polly maintained the reputation of the house for loyalty and good entertainment In truth the soldiers were slow to depart and would haru.y have gone by nine o’clock had not Polly adroitly reminded her kinsman that the “knave” they were pursuing would surely get clear away. Thereupon they took leave and rode off with much laughter. But fearful lest tliey might return Tolly waited long listening, and not until old ’ltastus had come in to bar the outer door for the night and close the shutters would she release her prisoner. “Come forth, sir,” she at last commanded, with assumed austerity. “What have we here? A rebel, I fear me, from all I am told.” “But one proiov.ndly grateful to his preserver,” replied the young man, and to old ’Rastus’s great astonishment, he took Misa-ess Polly's hand an l gallantly kissad the tips of her fingers, albeit they were scarlet from her dye. “Melhinks, s’r, it but ill becomes me to accept such thanks from one who eonfvsses his disloyalty to 'King ueorge,” Tolly replied, still with seeming severity, “and whose name I do not even know. But since yon are here, prithee take seat before the fire. For of necessity, sir, I have made a gord Royalist of you, so far as your gnat coat covers you. See!” And with the clothes-stick she lifted the coat out of the kettle. “Not Cousin Charles's own is a brighter scarlet!” The stranger burst into a hearty laugh.“Cood faith, I had not thou yht to wear a scarlet coat!” he exclain ed. “Yet, sir, it may stand you it good stead, as you ride luto Boston to-mor-row.” replied Tolly. “It wat of that I thought as 1 dipped it. And now let

ns powder a little alum in the more to set the hue. I would not hive thy loyalty wash out, sir. In the first shower that falls on you.” As a consequence, our young patriot found himself powdering alum to dye his own coat scarlet. And midnight came nnd ns he and Polly sat In front of the great brass kettle and old ’Rnsfus nodded in the corner. Beyond doubt they became better acquainted in this time nnd Polly certainly learned the stranger’s name, for os the tall old clock in the corner struck one she said. “It is now time to wring thy coat, John Fenderson.” When wrung it had still to be dried, and Tolly put It for an hour into the warm brick oven. Somewhat puckered from the dye the garment still required pressing out, and to heat a sad-iron and accomplish this occupied yet another hour. The old clock struck three. “Truly, John Fenderson, making a king's man of thee has been a long task!” exclaimed Polly, as she held up the scarlet coat for Inspection. “Don it, sir? I would even desire to mark the effect.” And what John Fenderson would not have done at the king’s command he appears now to have done without hesitation at Tolly Callendar’s request. For between these two young people the grievous differences of Tory and Patriot had already been dispelled—in the dyeing of a coat before a fireplace. “Good luea, John Fenderson, In thy brave coai,” said Polly at four ns the young man took leave, after! she hnd given him breakfast. “May 1 the color hold,” she added. “But If It fades •” “I shall come back to you,” said John. “Ah, but It will grieve me when I hear that thou art to be hanged for a rebel!” cried Toily from the door. “Nay, Mistress Tolly, I should have| to send for thee to teach me how to dye!” replied John Fendefsori. So he rode away, and had cause to be thankful for the disguise the coat offered him, for while riding through Newton a little before noon be was hailed by three redcoats, two of whom raised their muskets, but the third held them back, saying, “Nay, by his coat he most be one of our men.” There is much reason to believe that Mistress Tolly’s loyalty to King George was ever afterward open to question. At any rate, the records of John Fenderson’s native town show that he married In 1779, and that the bride’s name was Polly Callendar.— Youth’s Companion.

The Oklahoma Race.

Another reason why Oklahoma piques the interest, says Helen Churchill Candce, in the Atlantic, Is that almost every one remembers the unique way In which It sprang into beiug as a land for civilized men, and yet only those who actually took part in the Run remember Its excitement and Its injustices. First the land was bought from the Indians and surveyed in a plaid of mile-square sections with stones or blazed trees to mark the corners. Then the militia swept the country of every unofficial being, and the Government having duly advertised the date of this gTend gift distribution, somebody fired a pistol into the air at the time selected, and nearly one hundred thousand desperate, greedy folk burst through the boundaries and ran for prizes. They had come from distances near and far, and had camped for days near the border with a saddle horse, a buggy, or a farm wagon and team, for hours before the signal, had stood in line restrained by the militia. In that mad race, brute strength, selfishness and blind disregard of others were what won. If a racer’s horse fell, others rode over him; If a neighbor lost a wheel, so much the better; if women or the aged were not strong enough to keep the pace, then there were fewer In the race.

Waste in Making Artificial Light.

Under the best conditions obtaining at present, out of every 100 tons of coal delivered at gas works or electriclight stations, something like nlnetyplght tons are, as far as the production of light is concerned, absolutely wasted, and go to produce useless heat When one considers the enormous quantity of coal used annually for the production of artificial Illumination, the absolute waste of ninetyeight per cent of it seems little uhort of criminal. Will the problem ever be solved 7 It must be confessed that nt present the prospects are far from bright Some means must be found of •exciting ether vibrations between the visible limits only, and of eliminating the slow, radiant heat waves. Whatever method may be eventually employed, it is interesting to note that already, on a small scale, the problem has been solved by the firefly, the most delicate measurements having failed to detect any radiant heat in the light emitted-by this little creature. Surely this ought to be an Interesting subject for investigation by the physiological chemist, who, working in conjunction with the physicist, might enable us to get nearer the- solution of this important question.—Cassier's.

Thoroughly Businesslike.

An excellent red-tape story cornea from Kimberley. A patrol was sent out breakfastless at 4 a. m. At nocn tbe sergeant went Into a small shop and bought food for his men to the amount of 2s. Gd. In due course the shopkeeper sent in liis bill. Six weeks elapsed, and then the money was given him, together with the eight foolscap •pages of reports made by fifteen colonial and imperial officers. And what is more, officers would have stiil been writing reports If the commanding officer had not put his foot down. There is nothing like doing things in a thor nughly busiuess-liks way.—London Llobe.

THE CURING OE MEAT.

Colossal Smokehouses at Chicago / Stockyards.

/ Chicago Letter. If China Is partitioned, the Boers conquered and the Filipinos pacified the smoke of battle may blow away, but the smoke that cures meats at the Union) stockyards will continue to wend/Its way out of the big ovens. The pig packing concerns send out to all pbints of the globe an Immense amoubt of this meat. One firm ships approximately 1,000,000 pounds a month. Every one who was born in the Country and every city boy who has/Visited a farm remembers the little ol<Hashloned smokehouse. A grim, suffocating place, where the juvenile adventurer with a-record for destruction found his Waterloo. A few chunks of meat within, attached by stout cord to the roof of the house, and enough holes in the top to allow the smoke to creep slowly out —these the boy remembers. And this was the prototype of “houses” that are used to prepare meat for the world. Smoked for Boron Days, When beef Is brought out of the pickling cellars it is taken to the “soakrooms.” In the one plant there

MEAT BEING CUT FOR SAUSAGES.

are 106 hogsheads ready for the meat. The meat is allowed to soak in fresh water until all the salt is out of It. The casks are then emptied, filled once more with fresh water and the meat given another soaking. From the same room Iron doors lead into the brick smokehouses, where the meat Is cured. There are sixteen of these houses. Each has a capacity of 125 barrels of meat There are from twen-ty-two to twenty-six pieces to the barrel. The temperature of the houses when the meat is hung up is 130 degrees. The smoke surges up In great smothering waves from the kilns below. It takes seven days to place a lot of meat in one of the houses, smoke It and get It out

There are three methods of putting up the smoked meat—canning, barreling and burlapping. Most of it is canned. The principal packing firms have large departments devoted to this. The meat Is sliced and packed by girls, seventy-five being employed In each room. An average of 30,000 cans are sent out a day by each firm. Recently the various plants have been experimenting with glass cans. They afford the customer a view of what he buys and In that way command a better price, but they have not as yet

CASING MEAT IN BURLAP.

been perfected so that the meat keep 3 as well as In the tin. Demand fur Barreled Meat. A considerable portion of the product Is shipped in barrels. There will always be a demand, for more or less meat put up In this way. The burlapping method of preparing the meat is fast going out of style. “It Is a fading industry,” said one of the superintendents Jto the writer. “The demand for canned goods is carrying everything before it Since I have been with this company the amount put up In this way has shrunk until

there is but a small fraction of the meat sewed up in cloth in comparison with the quanUty that was done up that way five years ago.” It was late in the day and most of the employes had gone. Over In a corner sat a comely young woman finishing her day's work. Her strong hands plied the needle with the practiced skill of many years’ acquirement It was admirable work, but to the trade there was something pathetic about it. Less and less of that skill required with every month—the canning process steadily decreasing the ranks —the stockyards Fenimore Cooper may see his chance and the public may soon be reading “The Last of the Burlappers.” Under the smokehouses are the furnaces, one for each house. The wood burned in them is hickory and maple. They are the same size as the smokerooms. “Twenty years from now,” said the foreman, “that wood will be worth 125 a cord.” Ton* of Bsa<*s* Daily. One concern handles from 20,000 to 30,000 pounds of sausage a day. When

the meat for this division arrives it is weighed and trimmed. Fat and sinews are cut off. It is then poured Into a hopper and ground to a fineness which appears to the visitor sufficient. But this is only beginning. The meat is next subjected to the "rocker” and there seasoned and mixed with the proper percentage of other varieties. These rockers are among the most Interesting machines in Packingtown The sausage stuff Is thoroughly mixed and cut by the time It emerges from the kneading of the long curved knives. After being chilled In a temperature of degrees the sausage comes back to the department and is taken care of by the hand stutters. Next it goes to the drying room. Here the temperature must be kept even. Huge fans help to drive away any dampness which might damage the stock. It Is kept here three or four days. Part of it is tied by strings for export trade. It then goes down to a smokehouse and Is subjected to the curing process for thirty-five hours. Big quantities of sage are used in curing the sausage. The aroma of this plant pervades the canning room. It Is another whiff of the country. It suggests the landscape about the oldfashioned smokehouse.

King Oscar's Good Health.

The remarkable health and vigor of King Oscar of Sweden Is the wonder of all his people. He has lately given new proof of his great activity, ii spite of his seventy years. The great review of the troops which took place July 10 to 20, in Ostergotland, was visited by the monarch. On a Monday evening he left Stockholm, and arrived on the field Tuesday. At 6 o’clock in the morning he was in the saddle, and spent nearly the whole morning on horseback, and personally directed the sham battle. After the exercises he criticised the movements, made a speech of thanks to the troops and went to lunch. In the afternoon he reviewed the soldiers, and in the evening went to dine at the governor’s castle In Linkoping. He left the castle at 11 p. m., and did not retire until lase. The next morning found him at his desk in Stockholm palace, dispatching official business, and later holding a council of state until late in the afternoon.

Good American Came Along.

Little Mary, aged 5 years, was greatly interested in the story of the good Samaritan, as related by her Sunday school teacher. Upon her return home she gave her mother a vivid account of the selfishness of the priest and the Levite. “But,” added she, “by and by a good American came by and helped the poor man!”—Western School Journal. *

THE OLD OFFICE INKSTAND.

Upon the office table there It’* ato- ' for many a year; An inky t \e lias ebbed and flowed O’er all its dark career. The care’rss drins from ha«ty pens Have mired with du*t and dried, A"d farmed a dingy, crusty coat On top and every aide. The o’d brass rack on which It stands And where my pen has perched, Is twisted no w and out of shane— It* pristine brightness smirched. The thirsty pens of quill or steel That from it drew their drink Ilave dronned into the dnskv past. And lost their taste for ink. From it have passed in blackest drops Sweet thoughts of purest white; And then acain in paler tint Flowed others dark as night. It takes me back to when I first Began to learn the ropes— When sometimes I, the otHce boy, Directed envelopes. But with the spirit of the times I’ve kept a live’v pace— In consequence of wh'ch— I own The inkstand and the n'ace. New York Clipper.

HUMOR OF THE DAY.

**l pride myself on being nn excellent driver.” "Horse or golf/”—ln■linnapolls News. He—“lf I nsked yonr sister to mnrry me, do you think she would sny yes or no?” She—“l should say yes.”— Yonkers Statesman. Crown—“Do you ever talk la yonr ileep?” Town—“ Not that 1 know of, [ have sometimes talked In other people’s sleep.”—Boston Transcript. Wlgg—“lsn’t It strange how often nn Ignorant man will amass wealth?” Wagg—“Yes; many a man who can’t wen write his name makes his mark.”

His heart was a moated castle. But that did not work at all. For she was a eirl ath’ete, And she neatly scaled the wall. —Chicago Record. “Do you expect to live forever?” asked the exasperated Chicago wife. “Not with you, dear,” was the amiable husband’s reply.—Yonkers States* man. Nell—“ She says she Is poor, but proud." Belle—“ Proud of what?” Nell —“Proud of the fact that her husband didn’t marry her for money, I suppose.” Sea Captain—“ Look, gentlemen! There’s a whale!” Forty Male Tasteugers—“Looks like the fish that got iway from me last summer.”—New York Weekly. “My mother found my little brother putting his stockings on wrong side put tills morning.” “Yes? What did She do?” “Turned the hose on him.” —Harvard Lampoon. “How do you suppose she manages to have the reputation of being so good-natured?” “Easy enough. She never cultivates any opinions of her own.”—Brooklyn Life. They told me I was out of date, My hopes no more to earth are dashed, On me the horse’ess wagons wait To be hauled home when they get smashed. —Washington Star. Cleverton—“l find nowadays that If a man wants to marry n girl, he has to work till be gets her.” Dasliaway —“But If It’s the right girl he doesn't have to wont afterwards.”—Brooklyn Life. Mistress—“ Bridget, 1 do not like the Idea of your entertaining policemen in the kitchen.” Bridget—“ Sure, ma’am, they’d be embarrassed t’ death if I tuk thim lnty th’ parlor.”—Syracuse Herald. * Little Willie —“Mamma, do you buy matches from the angels?” Mamma—“No, child; why do you ask?” Little Willie—“W T hy, i heard Mr. Staylate tell sister last night that matches are made in heaven.” He—“l’m the bearer of a charmed life.” She (sarcastically)—“lndeedl What great dangers have you ever escaped?” He—“ None. But I have looked Into your eyes and heard tlie sound of your voice."—Chicago TimesHerald. First Parrot—“ Say, that girl has been to England since she was here.” Second Parrot—“ What makes you think so?” First Parrot—“ Why, she used to say. Tolly, want a cracker?’ and now she says, ‘Polly, want a biscuit?* ”• • —lndianapolis Journal. Miss Jones—“ Professor, do yon dare to look me In the face and say that I originally sprang from a monkey?" Professor (a little taken aback, but equal to the occasion)—“Well, really, It must have been a very charming monkey.”—Stray Stories.

Do Your Eyebrows Meet ?

It Is sometimes said that If one’s eyebrows meet It Indicates deceit. Charles Kingsley indorses this belief, but Tennyson bas otber Ideas, and poetically speaks of “married brows.” In Turkey meeting eyebrows are greatly admired, and tbe women use artificial means to bring tbe brows to this condition. Tbe Creeks admired brows which almost met, and tbe fashionable inhabitants of Koine not only approved of them, but resorted to paint to rnaka up tbe lack which sortietimes existed. Some proverbs state that the person whose eyibrows meet will always have good luck, wnile others slate ex* nctly tbe reverse. Some of the earth's greatest and noblest men and women have these meeting eyebrows. Some beauties are so proud of theirs that they wouid not have them removed or “Improved” for anything.

New Code For Duels.

The new French duel code, which Is the work of I’rince Bibesco, prorides that in the future no duel can end without the shedding of blood and no account of the proceedings shall be published if the insult causing the due] was not made public.

TALES OF PLUCK AND ADVENTURE.

School Girl's Story of Galveston. MISS MAUD HALL, of Dallas. Texas, who was spending her school vacation In Galveston, and who passed through the atom, has written the following account of her experiences to her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Emory Hall: “Dear Papa and Mamma—l suppose before this you will have received my telegram and know I am safe. This has been a terrible experience. I hope I will be spared any more such. lam Juat a nervous wreck—fever blisters over my mouth, eyes with hollows under them, and shaking all over. When 1 close my eyes I can’t see anything hut piles of naked dead and wild-eyed men and women. “I suppose I had better begin at the but I don’t know if I can write with any sense. Batu*day, about eleven o’clock, it began raining, and the wind rose a little. Sidney Spann and two young lady boarders could not get home to dinner. After the dinner the men left, and we sat around in dressing aacques watching the. storm. “All at once Birdie Duff (Mrs. Spann’s married daughter) said, 'Look at the water in the street; It must be the Gulf.’ There was water from curb to curb. It rose rapidly as we watched it, and Mrs. Spann sent us all to dress. It rose to the sidewalk, and the men began to come home.

“The wind and rain rose to a furious whirlwind, and all the time the Water crept higher and higher. We all crowded Into the hall, and the house, a big two-story one, rocked like a cradle. About six o’clock the roof was gene, all the blinds were torn off and all tbe windows blown in. Glass was flying in all directions and the water had risen to a level with the gallery. Then the men told us we would have to leave and go to a house across the street at the end of the block, a big one. Mrs. Spann was wild about her daughter Sidney, who had not been home, and the telephone wires were down. “The men told us we must not wear heavy skirts, and could only take a few things in a little bundle. I took my watch and ticket and what money 1 bad and pinned them in my corset; took off everything from my waist down but an underskirt and my linen skirt; no shoes and stockings. I put what clothes I could find in my trunk and locked it up. Tell Lillian the last thing I put in was he- gray skirt, for I thought if the trunk floated and It was on top It might not be Injured. “It took two men to each woman to pet her across the street and down to the end of the block. Trees thicker than any In our yard were whirled down the street; pine logs, boxes and driftwood of all sorts swept past, and the water looked like a whirlpool Birdie and I went across on the second trip. The wind and rain cut like a knife, and the water was Icy cold. It was like going down iLio the grave, and I was never so near death unless It was once before since I have been here.

“I came near drowning with another girl. It was dark by this time, and the men put their arms around us and down Into the water we went Birdie was crying about her baby that she had to leave behind until the next trip, and I was begging Mr. Mitchell and the other man not to turn me loose. Mrs. Spann came last The water was over her chin. It was up tp my shoulders when I went over. ) “One man brought a bundle of clothing, such as he could find for us to put on. wrapped up In his mackintosh, lie had to swim over. I spent the night—such a horrible one!—wet from shoulder to my waist and from my knees down barefoot Nobody had any shoes and stockings. Mrs. Spann did not have anything but a thin lawn dress and blanket wrapped around her, from her waist down. Nellie had a lawn wrapper and blnnket and Fannie had a skirt and winter Jacket Mr. Mitchell had a pair of trousers and a light shirt and was barefooted.

“The house was packed with people Just like us. The house had a basement. and was of stone. The windows were blown out, and it rocked from top to bottom, and the water came into the first floor. “Of course, no one slept About three o’clock in the morulug the wind had changed and blew the water hack to the Gulf—as we stood at the windows watching the water fall, we saw two men and two girls wading up the street and heard Sidney calling for her mother. “She and the young lady with her had spent the night crowded into an office with nine men In total darkness, sitting on boxes with their feet up off the floor. It was an Immense brick building, four stories high. They were on the second floor. The roof and one story was blown away, and the water came up to the second floor. It was down toward the wharf. “As soon as we could we waded home. Such a home! The water bad risen three feet in the bouse, and the roof being gone, the rain poured la. I hnd not a dry rag bat a dirty white skirt, hanging in the wardrobe, and an underskirt with it. My truuk had floated, and everything In it was stained except the gray skirt. We had not had anything to eat since noon the day before. All we bad all day Sunday were crackers at fifty cents a small box. We were all so wet we I new we could not get any more so.

and Miss Decker and 1 went duwS about ten o'clock. * “It was awful. Dead animals every* where and the streets filled whh falleq telegraph pole* and brick store* blowq over. Hundreds of women and ehlU dren and men sitting on steps erring for lost ones, and nearly half of them Injured. Wild-eyed, ghastly-looking men hurried-by and told of whale Hies killed. “I could not stand any more, and made them bring me borne, and fell on tbe bed with hysterics. They poured stimulants down me.but tbe on< ly effect It bad was to make my head< ache worse. 1 had about gotten straight ened out when a girl and a woman came to the bouse—re’atlres of Mm Spann—who bad lost tbelr mother and friend's mother and house and all they hail. They had hysterics, and everybody orled, and I bad another spelL “All day wagon after wagon paasetfc filled with dead, most of them without a thing on them, and men with stretchers with dead bodies with just a sheet thrown over them, some of them little children. We waited every minute, expecting to have tbe two bodies brought here. But they have not been found up to now, and all hope la lost There Is a little boy In tbe house that spent the night In the watet; clinging to a log, and his father and mother and four sisters were drowned. He Is all alone. “Last night Mr. Mitchell took Mtss Decker and me to another boarding house to find a dry bed. with nothing nnder us but a rug and a sheet, and I had to borrow sime'hlng dry to sleep in. The husband of the lady wbo lost her mother b"s from l*"nston. lie walked and swam all way. He is nearly wild, and she is jnst screaming. I cannot write any more. Am coming home soon ns I can. \ “MAUD."

To* Soon lltflrM. In the early days of Illinois life an old settler, named Jones, determined one morning that the family must have some venison. The rest of the story Is thus told by h!s son. In “Forty Years of Adventure:” He started on a little pony-built horse for a brush-patch about a mils away, a favorite resort for deer at that season. He dismounted, fastened his horse and walked softly throught the tall grass outside the brush. Them to his surprise, be found, lying In tb« herbage, a buck with an enormous set of antlers. In an Instant the old-fashioned squirrel rifle was brought to his shoulder, and the flint fell with a crash; but tbs piece did not go off. nor did the buck more. He was either trying to “play possum” or he was asleep. The hunter poured some powder Into the pan, took aim again and fired. The old flint-lock responded now, but still the animal lay motionless. Mr. Jones walked up and kicked him. with no effect Then be found the ball had struck the animal In tbe neck, and as he had, by chance, no bunting* knife, he could not take the extra! precaution of dispatching him ore* again. So he tied a knot In his horse’s bushy tall, fastened one end of the rope halter about the buck's boros, and tho other around the knot in the tall. Then he mounted and trotted briskly away, dragging the deer. Suddenly, when about half the distance was accomplished, he looked back and saw, to his horror, that the deer was attempting to rise; but as often ns he got on his feet the horse would jerk him down again. Apparently the ball had only grazed tbs cervical vertebrae, and the muscles had been temporarily paralyzed. The friction caused by dragging tbs animal over the rough ground had partially restored his circulation, and tnTwas rapidly getting into hi# normal state. The hunter began to “whip up" and his frightened horse flew over tbs trail with the double burden. It was Impossible to slacken speed for a moment, ns tbe deer was rapidly galulng strength, and if be had an Instant'g chance, would probably throw big huge antlers about, impaling both horse and rider. Meanwhile the wife, getting breakfast at home, saw her husband approaching at a terrible pace. Bbt heard his voice ring through tbe opening, although be was still a quarter oC a mile away: “The butcher-knlfel The butcher-knife! Tbe deer’s alive!” As be came nearer, he cried again} “The axel The axel The deer's alive!” Mrs. Jones snatched the great knlfs* from Its accustomed place.and reached the gate Just as the pony arrived there, dashing against tbe fence In bis excitement. The hunter seized the knlft in rushing by. but the pace of th« horse had slackened a little, and tbe deer was on bis feet. Close by stood a heavy farm wagon, loaded with wood, and round this Mr. Jones whipped the pony, and in dolnf It jerked one of the deer's horns Into the hind wheel and threw the animal on his side. In an Instant the a heavy woman, was upon the animal, and held him down while her husband jumped off the pony, came round cut his throat.

Fickleness of the Chinese Character.

An admirable mission may have b°en carried on In a city for twenty years. Its hospital may have relieved thousands incurable by native doctor* Its agents may have bollt up a successful church. And yet some day a flercs antl-forelgn patriarch come*, along and whispers his stories In greedy ears. A great mob gathers, the houses of th« converts are sacked, the mission sta* tloo Is stormed, and those t»ol locks enough t.. slip off sre tortured am| cut In a hundred pieces. Next day tbg mob is very sorry for what It has doney and perhaps turns on the inMtijee*^