The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on August 24, 1892 · Page 6
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

Publication:
Location:
Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, August 24, 1892
Page:
Page 6
Start Free Trial
Cancel

WttBft-t>£8 MOIMKS* ALftONA. IOWA, WEDNESDAY, MADCAP; -OB- STORY OF A SIN, *T HELEN B. HATHEBS. "Xou will make her your wife;" and she took one of his hands between both her own; "and we will love you, he and I, better than ever." "You knpw not what you ask, Mad- Cap," he said sadly; "it is impossible— women do not understand about such things." Somehow as she looked at him then, fihe realized that a man may truly love a woman, yet have another side t"o his character, of which she knows nothing; and his likeness changed in her eyes as she looked, and grew hateful to her— some jealousy perhaps, mingled with her Bcorn, as she cried— "No! they can only suffer; God does not let them die; and man will not let them understand; and so you have been bad all through—a coward and a traitor to both her and me. If you had a grain of manliness in you, you would nave told me the truth before her, and not given me half an hour of such agony as a lifetime of happiness could never tvash away the memory of I" "Half an hour," he said; "it is a long time; yet some miseries last a lifetime." "As hers must," she said, with a scorn that showed how the stone was rolled away from her heart, and the spirit elastic, and unbruised as ever, within her. ''But at least I will go to her; I will tell her that I did not wrong her, as she thought; perhaps she will forgive me then." "She bade me tell you that she would not see you," said Frank slowly. "It will be unwise in you to make any such attempt." "Are you my keeper?" she said, her eyes flashing; then trembled, thinking of how near this woman and she had been to each other an hour ago; and, passing Frank by as if he had been her lackey, went proudly away, till pride gave place to sorrow, and that in its turn to joy; so that unconsciously to herself she danced along the last few steps of the coppice like a maiden hurrying to the tryst. "She did not suffer long," said Frank aloud, when the last white fold of her gown had vanished; "it was quickly over; and I will take care of the rest." ' CHAPTER X. My thoughtless youth was wing-'J with vain dcfilrcs. My manhood oft misled by wandering flroa. Early on the Friday morning Mr. Eyre's father had another seizure, and his death was hourly expected throughout the day. Mr. Eyre nevertheless concluded his letter to Madcap, and posted it himself, after which he returned to take his place by his father's side—a.place which the be-ribboned one had yielded since she had realised that it would not be in the old man's power, even if he had the will, to confer any further benefits upon her. Death! Mr. Eyre had faced it often, and had no fear of it—but he had never been compelled to watch tlie slow tightening of the grisly hand on its prey, and he turned from the sight impatiently, as he would have done from that of a boa constrictor swallowing a rabbit—a •disagreeable sight, however necessary. Probably there is no sight on earth more painful than the death of an old, unloved, depraved person. The very incapacity to feel sorrow makes the onlooker's heart but the bitterer and .harder; while tho death of a little child, ' : ihat is too young oven to lisp out its -mother's name, may lift that same heart • to an agony of pain that will teach it ' the divinost lesson it shall ever learn. There it lies—at once our pain, our : punishment, and our joy; all that we might have been, all that we can never be, we seem to seo in the little llioker- i'ng life before us; in that tiny hand lie "possibilities that were cmco our own, and that one by one wo have missed or flung away, and between him and us • 'come a .thousand subtle, vivid sugges- • tions that never pass betwixt us and -other faces that we love. \V~e cannot ••see God's hand, but a hushed, yearning 'fear is upon us, and wo dare not rail ;against Him, or cry aloud as we hold tipon our knees the little shape that lias never sinned nor struggled, never vexed our hearts, or needed to beg onr forgiveness. As the cry rises involuntarily that we may bo permitted to give our own life for the child, midway the answer silences it. "Yours is little—His BO niuchl" and the prayer changes on our lips to one for ourselves, we being so much more in need of prayer than he. And so ho remains to us all our lives long the might-have-been of our tears—the little snowy sail set to tho ocean of eternity, that has reached alone an anchorage that tlie most eager of us may never nope to win, and the spot in our heart that baby baud has touched remains ever vital, while that memory may hold us back from sin, and influence us for good to our dying day. But by tho death-bed of such an one as Mr. Eyre wo feel scant impulse to pray, His deeds have gone before, and our words follow in mockery—hero are no potentialities for good, but realities of accomplished evil, and we shrink from importuning 1 God for this man, who never dreamed of importuning Him for himself. But to his son this ghastly, unconscious face was more pregnant of meaning than that of any child could have been, for here was that unmistakable might-have-been to which his own life had pointed till Madcap had come to him to prove how Muii nuiy riso on slopping stones, Oi' Ihiilr'duud uulvos to lilkhur tilings, for to this, or a violent death standing, was the end to which most of the Eyres came. It seemed their lot to live a via orat/euse, and die before the cup of life was drunk to the last dregs; while with Byrou might each of them have exclaimed, "1 will work tho mine of my youth to the last vein of the ore, and then—good night—I have lived, and 1 am content." Haughty, brilliant, with a dark peculiar beauty as coveted by men as it was dangerous to women, the Eyres for the last hundred years had been an enigma to the world, and perhaps to themselves; yet though their deeds were eccentric to tlie verge of madness, none could point to a single instance of insanity in the family, and as time went on, the world gave up wondering, and accepted the Eyres as a^race of beings too distinct from ordinary human beings to be judged by the canons that ruled .mankind. There had been a time when they differed in no way from their neighbors, by whom they were respected as folks po.t two p.lever to make other look foolish, nor yet too virtuous to grudge a pleasant vice or two to those who could afford them; but with the advent of a certain Lady Sara Villiers in the family, both the fortunes and character of the Eyre family underwent a striking change. Her sons grew up wild and turbulent as young hawks reared in a dove's nest, perplexing their quiet father by their lawless ways; but when it was discovered that their eccentricity at home took the shape of extraordinary mental ability at school and college, their mother gloried in them and their successes more than ever, and would tell her husband how this marked increase of intellectual power in the Eyre family had come to it solely through herself. And then it is said he would shake his head, and tell her signiOcantly that the line that divides the man of genius from the madman is thin as a hair, and he would whisper something in her ear at which she would turn pale, and later on unlock from a secret drawer a letter that she knew by heart. ;'' Her portrait hangs in the west gallery, of the Hall—a brilliant gypsy face with dark mocking eyes, and a little scarlet mouth in which pride and determination lurk; and so vividly was her dark beauty reproduced in her sons and their children after them, that in the county the resemblance of father to son in the Eyre family gradually passed into a proverb. There was, too, a strong similarity of character henceforth in the whole race; it was as though the force, whether for good or evil, that manifested itself in them wrote itself as indelibly on their minds as on their faces, so that what the father had been it was safe to foretell tho son would be; and up to the present time, with one exception only, this had invariably proved to be the case. .; Lady Sara lived to weep bitter tears of shame, and see her pride laid in the dust, and a portrait of him who laid it there hangs beside her on the wall—a slim young fellow, whoso dark-face is a masculine copy of her own, -but with more hearfin the eyes, and something of the keen intellectual glance that distinguished Madcap's husband, the present master of the Hall. • He was Lady Sara's favorite grandson, and his successes at college had been so brilliant as to cause a certain great man to single him out for his especial consideration, and even to express an intention of bringing him forward in public life at the earliest possible opportunity. Brandon, covered with honors and excited by his hopes, retired in company with half a dozen,.of his friends to the Hall, there to indulge in those amusements that, with the Eyres, invariably alternated with periods of absorbing study andintensest application. On this occasion a great deal of high play and drinking .went forward, till tlie young host, proverbially unlucky at games of chance, had lost a larger sum of money than he could possibly repay to Musgrave, a man unpopular with the rest for more reason than one; and on a certain night Musgrave won more heavily than usual, his pocket-book scarcely containing the banknotes, he crammed into it;' together with an IO U from Brandon for a thousand pounds. The poor lad-^he was but little more —on passing Musgrave's room- that night, and hearing himself called, paused to exchange a few words with his guest, who in his presence put the notes away in an escritoire near his bed, and Brandon noted with unconscious accuracy that it was the fourth drawer, arid also the shape of the handle, which was different to that of the others; and so, brooding heavily on his losses,, he went his way. Next morning, as they, sat at breakfast, Musgrave, as if by accident, pulled out his pocket-book, then made a sudden exclamation that drew all eyes upon him. "Good God!" he cried,. "I am robbed. The notes are gone!" "Impossible," said Brandon, rousing himseff. "Why, man, I saw, you with my own eyes place them in tho escritoire last night—the fourth drawer, I think. I remember noticing the handle.."* ''Did IV" said Musgrave, affecting to look pu/zled. "I really forget. If you remember the drawer and I don't,. wHl you do mo the kindness, my dear fellow, to fetcli them for me: 1 " "To be sure," said Brandon, t9o preoccupied by his anxieties to think of the oddness of the request; and lie loft tlie room at once, closing the door behind him. "That's a cool thing," said one of the men, "to send your host on a lackey's errand. I supposed you thought that, being your host, he could not well refuse'! 1 " But Musgrave said not a word, only sat watching the shut door, and counting the seconds to Brandon's return. He had not long to wait. Brandon came in wearily and sat down empty- handed. "You gave me a wild-goose chase, Musgravo," he said; "the drawer was empty—you must have changed them to some other place. Besides—I remember now—the notes were in the pocketbook when you put them away." "Then I must abide by the loss of my money," said Musgrave, in so strange a tone that all present looked at him in wonder. "Prove your loss," said Brandon, haughtily. "This is the first time a guest's money has been missing or stolen in this house, and if the notes are not found I pledge my honor their value shall bo restored to you. Gentlemen, will you come with me and help mo to conduct the search?" He turned about lightly, and they all followed him; but though they ransacked every nook and corner in Musgrave's room from the chimney downward, tho money was not found; and tho strange look on Musgrave's face became more marked as, himself idle, he looked on at the useless toil of the searcners. His expression was not lost upon Brandon, and as soon as the search svas abandoned, he said: "•Gentlemen, tho next room to be searched will bo my own." But at this, Musgrave sprang forward, and seized Brandon by the arm to hold him back. "No!" he cried, "the matter shall-go no further; it was a hoax, a stupid practical joke of my own." "Your jest was a -sorry one," said Brandon, coldly, as ho shook himself free, while from tho men burst forth expressions of contempt, anger, and disgust: "but, such as it is, I shall not consider it complete without a sight of the notes that have given us so much useless trouble, and you so much amusement at our expense." "The notes are my own," said Musgrave, sullenly. '-I decline for more reasons than one"—and a meaning glance at Brandon shot from his eyes, —"to produce thum." "You have them on your persoui"' said Brandon, quietly. "No." "Then, gentlemen," said Brandon, "we will continue the search;" and he Musgrave to himself, as he followed, and, standing in the doorway, heard a low groan escape one of the searchers who stood as though turned to stone, looking at a bundle of notes he held in his hand. They had all gathered round him in a moment, and it Was Brandon's hand that had took the notes and his own I 0 U from his friend, and held them up to Musgrave, who stood beyond. "Is this the other half of your cursed practical joke';"' he said, between his teeth. "Before God, if you were not my. guest, I would strike you across the mouth for the dog that you are; as it is 1 bid you begone with your gains, and never again darken my doors!" ; As he spoke he crushed the notes together into a ball, and flung it at Musgrave, who • let it lie, only a bad black look gathered about his lips and eyes, as he said, slowly—"If a practical joke has been perpetrated, you should know more of it than I." "By Heaven!" thundered' out the young fellow, "I'll get to the bottom of this; and, if you won't speak out here before, these men, I'll force you to speak elsewhere at the sword's point.?' • To which Musgrave said sullenly. "You have drawn your fate down on your head. With my own eyes I saw you take these notes from my room and place them in the drawer, from which Sefton, in the presence of us all, took them.". "You lie!" cried Brandon, his beautiful face ablaze with scorn and anger. "From the moment I saw you put the pocket-book away last night to that in which Seftoii found them here, I have never set eyes on, or touched your cursed money. When we Eyres play practical jokes we are not in the habit of doing so with our guests' gold." "You came into my room at daybreak," said Musgrave, quite unmoved; "I saw you take the notes from the pocket-book, which yon replaced in the drawer, and I got up and followed you to your own room, where you put the notes awiiy, I watching you from the door. I drew back as you shut and locked it; across that threshold, 1 take my oath. I have never stepped. I was already m the dining-room when you came down to breakfast; my reason for asking you to fetch them was that you might have the opportunity of replacing them." "You lie!" said Brandon again; but this time his voice was strange even in his OWH ears. He looked at the faces of those who stood around, and! at what he saw there his own grew pale 1 as that of the de^d. "Gentlemen," he said, pointing to Musgrave, "do you believe him or me?" But they answered him not a word— only Sefton came to his friend* and stood beside him. •'Then," said Brandon, and swift as thought, before any could hinder him, snatched from the wall one of the loaded' pistols that always hung there, "since- you believe it to be so;, here perishes the first—the last thief of. the house of Eyre!" A report rang out— he made a step forward, shivered all over from head to heel, then fell at their feet—dead! In the public inquiry that was held on his death the whole story became known, and the black flag or disgrace was unfurled above the house of Eyre forever; but Lady Sara raved and wept, and swore that it could all be explained; only the- explanation never came, and to thiS'day Brandon Eyre remains in the eyes, of the world the first, last thief of th& house of Eyre. After this, there came a harder devilry into their deeds; as their pride increased, their self-respect diminished, and the women of the family being permitted little or no influence over their fiery husbands and sons, the latter went on their way unchecked—at war with God, their own hearts, and the world. Alike lovely and unhappy (for no Eyre thought a woman worth the winning who was not unsurpassable of her kind, and whether she loved him or no,, it \yas all one—his passions once lit carried all before him, and marry him she should, iftonly to repent at her leisure), these women lived simple, anxious lives, only too thankful if open scandal were avoided,.and their dead brought home ^o them toi receive decent burial at their hands. And tl>8' old squire had been wildi and lawjess even beyond the common: wont of the Eyres, and had trained, up his scms to walk in his steps, so that as mere lads they had bid fair to' outdo their father in his deviltry and misdeeds. "At sixteen a youth cannot help-himself, nor at fayenty, nor perhaps at thirty," says Taine; and at thirty-five years of age Barrington Eyre assuredly could not help himself, nor to all appearance could his brother, since some of their worst follies were perpetrated after that age. But between the two men layadifferr enco as of alien blood; while Barrington was born to become the slave of habit, his brother was made to be its master, by a single effort of will shaking himself as free of the chains that bound him as if they had been reeds that in sport he had permitted to be twined about him. Abruptly as with tho stroke of a sword his marriage had cut his life sharply in twain—the one hall! he threw behind him, wasting neither thought nor regret oil what waa irrevocable; the other, honorable and of good repute, he lived in the eyes of all men, devoting himself in his early middle age to those quiet persistent joys and duties that his youth had been spent in defiance of. The mad reckless era of the Eyres had gone by, and a new honorable one begun, said his neighbors, as years passed, and no breath of scandal attached itself to Mr. Eyre, who exerted an ascendency over all with whom ho came in contact, which proved him to possess that conjuring or masterful quality of the human mind that Goethe in one brief word sums up as "dns Dumonische," and that never permits its possessor to remain in tho background of events, but sets him in the van of every battle, a born leader whom man will follow blindly into tho very jaws of death itself. And this force within him working since his marriage in the direction of good, not evil, Mr. Eyre came to bo possessed of perhaps, the truest riches that earthcan afford— the unonforced respect in those amonc whom he dwelt; and upon his look ant word men waited,—of what lie did nothing was lost, or viewed with the indifference often accorded to bettor deed- than liis, and in very truth was to those around him— Tho tons'iiu of the trump to them u'. For tho fame that in quite early youtl ho had won in tho world of letters he felt and expressed a most profound con tempt. Now and again, at long intervals, he would put forth from his retreat some rare bit of work that drew all cultured eyes upon him, but to all entreaties that ho would boldly enter that arena in. which his splendid abilities might pit him successfully against t.hA fm'rttvmStt', m(»ll flf )liQ Hmo hn im»r»arl mediately about mm. "inings 03:«it!fill, terrible, p.ithelic, or witty, write themselves on my mind.' he said: 'I do not sit down to write them for others. My senses are perfect; I feel what another man only describes, and if nothing visible is "wruusrht by my hand, be sure my •impressions endure longer than those written down ones that are imagined, not known." And Madcap, the cause, of all—Ma-t- ca'p, who had been to the powers of good lying dormant within him as the air and light that had freed them from their prison, and who knew it not. yet working faith's sweet miriacle. had made and kept him what she believed him to be—Madcap was to the world one of those women who are principal- AloneFrom Alaska. San Frftncisco leter: Alone at sea In a 12-ton schooner for 20 days is the report made by Capt. Tehling when he arrived in New York the other morning. During tho 20 days he was at sea the jrallaut captain sailed a distance of over 2.OOO iniles-from Ivatim, Alaska, to San Francisco. Capt. :Vehling had no intention of making such a trip when he left Kodiak on the morning of Juno 30 for Cook's Inlet. Ho was compelled to mnko tho voyage by i'oivi- of circumstances, find he is not at all likely to repeat-It. Tho liitlo craft siiid her crew of cm- ihiin ly known by the attitude of their hus- j won? vory fortunate to accomplish, such b'ands toward Evre was yard them, and throuzh Mr. a Y0 va"-e in safi'fy, as the northern sens invested with a preciousness ' f f „ . SW ppt'by storms of terrible violence, and only the strongest vessel decide that, had they been lawfully loved in such fashion, it would have been an easy matter to be as pure as she. Mr. Eyre's soul was with her, then, if his body sat at his father's side. One by one he had stransled those scorpions of memory evoked "by the ghastly face before hiin; thev were old and fansless. lacking the venom that, projected into Ids present lift-, must have poisoned it to the core. Exultantly he said to himself that no past sin of his could harm Madcap now; his misdeeds were all buried fathoms deep, beyond the power of God or man to resuscitate. It is so easy to forget the sin that leaves no trace, the hurt that inflicts no abiding scar, as it is in their consequences to those we love that we most forcibly behold our misdeeds; and there was no Eidolon to steal forth from the curtained recesses of Mr. Eyre's soul, and confront him with ghastly presentment of evil as he looked forward, not back, long years of honor stretching before him with Madcap as love and conscience at his side. Even the thought of his treachery to Frank-gave him no twinge: one or other of the men who loved lief must suffer, and why not Frank? Her happiness was the "first consideration; everything and everybody must be made to give way to that. All his life through he had' carried things before him by sheer power of will—and so it would'"be to the end, said this man who, with Joubert thought that "force and right are tlie governors of the world; force till right is ready." What was she doing ROW. he wondered; reading his love-letter, or writing him one;; or kissing those boys, who, after all,, were his own: 1 or in thought standing-beside him in this chambeir r as in spirit he had left it to seek her? Self-controlled as he-was, the blood rose to his temules, and his heart thrilled with a'nearer and more vivid sensation of her presence as his father's ses- vant approached bearing-a. telegram— from her, of course—a little message to- keep him froai growing too-hungry before he .could receive her letter, lie tore it open,and without needing to loot from whom it came, read the context: To be Continued. • A. Little 1'e.it.. At irregular, intervals of ten. or. fifteen years,, a mighty army appears. in parts of Northern Europe,., such as Lap-j fast- land, Norway and Sweden, csm stand tlio storms. Vehling sailed from Kodiak to Cook's inlet to look after some coal interests ho lias there, after which lie intended going on a trading trip along the coast. For tin's pin-pose the little schooner was loaded with a good supply of provisions and such articles as would be needed in trading Avitti the Indians. He engaged a man to go with him, but at tiie last moment tho fellow backed out, and Vehling sailed his craft to Katlna, where he tried to ship a man. but sailors were scarce, and ho could get no one to go with him. That night while Yehling was ashore it came on to blow, and soon tho little craft was pitching bows under. The light anchor failed to hold her in the pale, and she began to drift. The schooner Frances Alice was lying in tlie harbor, and' a couple of her men went on board the Kussleit' nncl lot go the other anchor, and when A r ehling went on board tne two mon assisted him in getting under way anrl setting sail. VoL'ling intended' taking Ill's schooner to a safer anchorage, lint the little vessel was blown offihto Shcllikoif Straits, and in spite of all ho could do the wind and tide rapidly can-led him out into open water. Tlie coast of Alaska Is ono of tho most dangerous in tlie world and the captain did not care about inviting shipwreck by cruising- around near the Islands, so ho headed' the schooner for the broad Pacific, intending to lay of)' and on until the weather moderated and then return to Kodiak. But the fates were against him, and the gnlo continued several days, and when It broke lie was a long way from K'odTak. Knowing that ho could not bent 1 the vessel bade single-lianrtbfl', Yohling concluded to do tho next lipst thing anil Iiendecl for Coos Bay. Tlio solitary sailor had very little chance 1 to sleep, as he Iiad to be'011 tlio alert day and night. When there was little or no wind' he lowered the foresail and" made tho tiller ami managed" to catch' a few in tho little cabin, but If ents, and ,in fact, Is the most cent of all nature's wonders. This the gulf stream. The name < stream was first suggested by jaruin Franklin, because It comes the Gulf of Mexico, While it is a tion of the grand scheme of ocean cl culation, and the Gulf of Mexico in reality only a stopping pi ace as u were.for Its waters, the name is SM orally applied to the cuirent when It reaches the straits of Florida, north of Cuba. In the large funnel-shapeil open lug toward the Gulf of Mexico the cur! rent at first is variable in direction tiiiii velocity, but by the time Havana is reached It has become a regular and steady flow. As. it rounds the curve of the Florida shore the stratus contract and the water then practically fills tho banks from shore to shore, and reach-' es almost to the bottom, which is at this point about 3,000 feet deep. As It leaves the straits of Florida its coming so.i hours' sleep mysteriously that it is regarded as hav-j tlioro was any wind at all ho hail to ing rained from the clouds.. It consists- of vast hord.es of little, dark, mouse- like animals, that travel in.a strait line,, atacldng any enemy in their path, crossing lakes and rivers, and. turning aside only for a smooth perpendicular wall, or rock. They devour vogetation generally, utterly devastating., the country over which they pass. These creatures arc loniniiugs, which, have increased to enormous numbers* until, seemr- Ingly made desperate by hunger, they leave their usual haunts^ and, preyed; upon by bird, beast and.fish, with conr stantly thinning ranks, make melr k- reslstable march across, the land, to end usually in almost total annihilation in the sua. The lemming is scarcely six inches long, yet even in its forest lome it fiercely disputes: the passage of man or of dog. It belongs to the same sub-family of rodents as the vole; or short tailed 'field-mouse, which has. 3aused great destruction, in Scotland, during the present year, and which is said to exist in greater numbers-• than my other mamcl In. Europe, Asia and America. Wit find Wisdom. Wisdom never lucks at the iroa walls fc can't bring down. Tho best method for handling, bees, for an amateur, is by proxy.—Anieri- an Farmer. Tho girl who Avill not chow gum has some gum-shun about heir.—Boston Transcript. A woman's idea of riches, is not to own much, but to own more than any one olso she knows.—Atchison Globo. Tho poot who Avrotc: "Man wants but little here below," had ovideutlj never seen tho advertising columns of an. American newspaper;.—Puck. "I don't seo how a gii'l can marry a man she's known only two weeks." "And I don't seo how she can many one she's known longer."—Life. A man told his daughter that if she learned to work he would give her a surprise. She learned the art and he surprised her by discharging the servant girl. 'Worked His Way Up—"How on earth did Coko, the anthracite baron, over got into society?" "Through the coal hole."—Truth. It is said that the Idea of putting a woman's head on one side of our coins, originated from saying that "money talks." It Is a great shock to a young married women to realize that whou her husband comes home it is not to tell her how much ho thinks of her, but to get something to eat.—Chicago Times. tocp ftwnko for fear the-schooner wouIJ 'all 'nto -the trougli of tlie SC,M and' bn :: m pert. Ho iniide his ralculati'ons with n clock, that lie had nothing to -<h:>'v Hm tho as he Iiad no chronometer, and his tig- proved pretty correct, considering- or strengths of the currents, lie got near Cbo.-s Bay the wfnil shifted, and he had to lioav to in or- :ler to prevent the sclio mer from going :i shore, and the attempt to enter Coos Bay had to be given up. He then hoadecl' for San Francisco, and aided by a strong, fair wind, he came down the coast at a| Iholy rate. Capt. Vehliug said" he felt so lonely he would have given anything for even a cat or a flog, but lie could not gvt them, so lie turned his attention to whistling, and managed to become quite an expert at It. . His food he managed to cook while steering and keeping a lookout, and thr> days passed pleasantly enougli, but it was not so easy to beguile away tho long nights, and many were the devices with which the lonely sailor tried to pass the hours away. In order to save himself from washing overboard while working on deck, lifo lines were stretched on both sides, and by their aid Vohling was enabled to move with more freedom. The greatest number of miles sailed in one clay was about one hundred and sixty-five, but this could havo been greatly increased if tho captain .had had some one to assist him. The Kussilon is a schoonor-rlgged craft 40 foot long and about 12 foot beam. She was originally a steam launch and tho engines liro still on board. Tho vessel was built hove in San Francisco and was sent north to bo used around tho canneries, but was driven ashore in a gale and a hole knocked in lior bottom. is about north, but It gradually changes its direction, folowing approximate!* the curve of 100 fathoms deep until it roaches Cape Hattcriis. From this point It starts on Its course to Europe It has lost something In velocity as Avell as in temperature, and as it jour- noys to the eastward it gradually dim- luisTies ln t both, until It becomes a genie flow as it approaches Europe. People think tho Mississippi river a grand stream, and it is so in truth, as or as land rivers go;but great as It a it would require 2,000 such rivers t<v nalce one gulf stream. The great >cean liver in an Irrcslstablc Hood of vater, running all the time, winter and umuieiv and year after year. It Is as lifflcult for the mind to grasp Its ini- nonslty as It is to realize the distance if the nearest stare. At its narrowest )art in the Strait of Florida It is thirty. lino miles wide, has an average depth )f 2,000 foot, «nd a velocity at the axis —tho point of fastest flow— of from hrce to more than live miles per houi 1 . • .'o say that the volume in one hour's- flow past Clipc Florida is 00,000,000, X)0 tons in' weight does not convey much to tho mind. If we could evap- rate this one- hour's flow of water, nd distribute- the remaining salt to- he inhabitants 1 of the United States, 3very man womitn and child would 're- ioivo nearly sixty pounds. It is curious' to- note in the history of he gulf stream how great its influence las boon on the- fortunes of the new world. Before tlie discovery of Ameri- strange woods and fruits were frequently found on the shores of Europe ind offlying 'Mantis. Some of these were seen and examined by Columhus, incl to his thoughtful mind they were- conflrmijng evidence that strange lands vere not far to the westward. These voods were carried by the gulf stream ind by the prevailing- winds from tlie American continent, so that iu part 1 he gulf stream is responsible for the Jiscovery of tlie 1 now world. Ponce le Leon, while on his famous search 'or the Fountain' of Youth, made the liscovery of this more practically bene- icial phenomenon-. Tho whalers fairly iccuratc knowledge of these limits of he current between America and Eu- •ope, by following the haunts of the whales, which were found north of one line and' south of another, but never between tho two. This, they •easonccl, was the gulf stream current Benjamin Franklin received this information from the whalers, and pub-- islied it on charts for the benefit oi tlie mail packets plying between Eng- and and the colonies. The chart was first Issued about 1770, but was not accepted by the English captains. Before It came to bo generally known ind tho trouble between England and ho colonies- began, and Franklin, knowing the advantage tho knowledge would be to tho British naval officers, suppressed It all ho could until hostilities ceased. the foremost men of his time he turned a deaf ear. Accused of idleness, he led thein straight to his own room. onc ? remarked that his Intellect waa u His fate be on, Mao vra head,," said « for Ws own ejviovmeut an<} thpse im- Ifftturo of An Oath. Judge Durfy—Do you know tho ua- turc of an path? Moso Snowball—I reckon I does, jodge. You swar to tell do truf, all do truf do laAvyor'll let ye, an' no mo' lies dan out! yor kin help ter squeesem' Parchment used for banjos, etc., is made from the skins of asses, calves or wolves, those of wolves being cou- sWerea the best. I'lli- fiillf Stream. The currents of the ocean arc tho groat transporters of tho sun's heyt from the toricl zone to temper the ell mate of tlie polar regions. It is argiv by soino that such a stupendous change as that which occured in Europe ant America at the tluo of tho glacia period -was caused simply by a donee tion in the currents in' the northeri hemisphere, whereby its share of trop leal heat was partly diverted toward tho south. In the three great oceans tho Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian there is to be found a similar circuH tion-a generally westerly movmnen in the tropics, a flow toward tho poles- along tho eastern shores of the contl nents, an easterly sot in the temperate zones, and n current toward tho oqim tor along tho western shores. Thir system thus becomes a grand circuit- movement, some parts being very slow but still quite constant, and other parti very swift. There arc offshoots lion and there, duo to local causes, and nor haps hi the slowly moving cum there may bo a temporary lnto H , tion; but taken as a whole, tho move ment is continuous. The part of this circulation flowing * eftstern C0£ ^ 0* the United the greatest of all these cur In n \nt Shell, The islanders of the south Pacific boll eve that the world is a cocoauut shell of enormous dimensions, at tlio top of wliich Is a single aparture communicating with tho upper air where-human beings dwell. At In 3 very bottom of this imaginary shell is a stem gradually tapering to a point, which '.cproseits the beginning- of all things. This point is ,1 spirit or demon without human ; form whosenmno iw "Koot of nil existence." By him tlio onii:'3 fa bl ' ic ' of creation is sustained, in tho inti-iior of tho cocoanut shell, at Its u-ry bottom, lives a female denim So narrow is tho space into which she Is crowd"! that she Is obliged to sit forever witli, knees and chin touching. Hor muuo is "The Very Beginning," au.l from her are sprung numerous spirits. Tbo islanders regarding thorns MOW as ™> only real men and womo:.i, Wt)t'« formerly accustomed to regai'l strati-id's as evil spirits hi the guise of umwuiitj'.. •\\hom they killed when they coili offorlny thorn as sacriiices. to Sad J'rotlliniment, "Whore are my suspenders shrieked a Jefferson avenue belle her mother across tho upstairs hall "Your father 'borrowed them I mended his," was tho answer. "I can't find my four-in-hand tie Your brother Tom wore It last You will find it in his room." "But maw, whore's my silk shirt?" "Algy wore it to the regatta." There was a brief silence. Then t" B voice wailod across the hall again"Maw, I can't find my riding tw»-. s-o-r-s." , "Cluu-los has them on." was the & spouse. k' Then a tired looking young man vw had boon waiting unannounced W * ball bolow rose up and softly sw awy. f i "She might want my boots ne» said wearily, and no one that engagement is off. Ships wore not copper bottomed 3788.

What members have found on this page

Get access to Newspapers.com

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free