Evening Star Newspaper, November 28, 1891, Page 7

IN THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. TIP EN D OF LAND. Life at the Southernmost Town on the Globe. ACONVICT COLONY’S GROWTH In the Straits of Magellan—Good-Bye to the Andes—How Panta Arenas Was Started, Its Struggles and Its Development—A Half and “aif Island. #row the Star's Travelling Commissioner. Punta, Anenas, PaTAGONTA. WV BES WE KOUNDED CAPE FROWARD— which, as every school boy knows, is the southernmost pomt of the western hemis- phere, Cape Horn being on a tiny island, two bundred miles further south—the usual snow storm prevailed, for we are months too early in these waters for a pleasure trip, which ‘auld only be made during their brief sum- : time, in December, January or February. « the right gleamed « stupendous blue- reen glacier, snowy mountain ful craggy peak: shining like glass between m the left a line of wonder- snow-crestedall, looked like stucco work against the wintry sky, or a series of gigantic images done in plaster. Just ahead & dark mass of rock loomed up from the water's edge to a height of twelve hundred feet, joined to the range by a low strip of land; and that black mass is Cape Froward, the tip end of the southern continent, a place familiar enough inschool-day annals, but which few of us expected to behold with our mortal eyes, “irectly south of it Mount Sarmiento—the st striking island mountain of the whole .chipelago—rears its almost perfect .000 feet into the blue. ward is Mount I famous, and south of bo’ Darwin, & runs yramid A little farther east- as lofty if not so Darwin sound, on whose southern shore, in an English mission station, a few striving (but without ebristianize the would change during the night so mountains wonld devoted men and women are ronounced success) to Denighted Terradel Fuegoans. ‘THE LAST OF THE ANDES. At dinner that day the captain happened to remark that this was our very last evening within sight of the Andes, for the ship's course longer be that those ble. We felt as if he had said that some old-time friends re about to bid usa final adieu, and though snow was falling anda bitter wind coating -ything with ice I stole out alone from the | il warmed cabin, where others were waltzing tothe music of zither and guitar, for a last half hour with those glorious heights, which for two years have been ever present companions— a perpetual denght and inspiration and an un- failing solace when dangers of homesickness assailed. From sailing due southward we had turned to the northeast, so that the sun appeared to ve sunk in our wake, while a halo of crimson wigold jet lingered on the distant Andes— ynstigured mountains now, no lo sad ie, but clothed in rosy tints “land of the sky.” 0 time than it takes to tell it the br: But not for lo r barren ike a true In nt colors faded and they became mere ghosts of moun- tains, shadowy and pale, wrapped in misty shrouds. seemed to be kee: In the deepenin; ping tryst wi twilight they one who loved them well, standing on tip-toe and peering one over the shoulders of another to return my ‘meate farewell—till darkness hid them from view. | hides @nd furs to sell to passing vessels. In this way the desolate sand spit began to be known asa trading post and certain ships anchored regularly in the little harbor—the English and French being particularly anxious to secure supplies of celery and mushrooms, for which they paid good prices. From time to time other prisoners were added, and though the new arrivals were not always agree- ble companions there is in numbers not only strength, but increased opportunities. Gold was discovered in paying quantities and in due time the convicts organized themeelves into a town which they named Punta Arenas, under certain rules and regulations. Later on’alarge qwantity of coal was found, and that discovery marked a new era in the life of the lonesome WOMEN OF TERRA DEI. FUEGO, ‘THAN USUAL. tolony. They lost no time in communicating the important fact to passing vessels—their only way of advertising. Some Peruvian war ships were the first to purchase the commodity, and before long Punta Arenas became known toall European and American vessels in these waters as a convenient place to obtain supplies. DEVELOPMENT OF THE CoLony. Asthe condition of the colony grew better and better the land east of the town, fora distance of several miles, was divided into farms for the raising of cattle, horses, poultry and such vegetables as will grow in this lati- tude. Wheat will not mature, but hardy grasses were introduced from Germany, and the cattle of the section became noted as among the finest in the world, fat, round and sleek, with peculiarly soft, velvety hair. A church was built costing three thousand hard- earned dollars, followed by a school house commodious enough to hold all the children. By this time Chile began to feel proud of her distant colony and to pay it so much unwel- come attention that the liberty of the exiles was more and more restricted. A rather hand- some government building was erected by order of the president, also a new cuartel or and the settiement was put under military control with forty additional soldiers in uni- ETTER DRESSED less | form, ostensibly to do police duty and be ready for attacks from the long-friendly Indians, At length, in 1877, the injudicious severity of a federal governor of that day provoked revolt among the convicts, whose numbers had been so many times augmented by reinforcements of all classes of criminals from every prison in Chile that the respectable pioneers, to whom belonged all the credit of ‘unconsidered minority. ers overcame their kcepers, set fire to the houses and forced all the officials 61 peaceable inhabitants to fly to the foresta. “Sor a time pandemonium prevailed, until, by some fortu- nate accident, a Chilian war vessel reached Sandy Point while disorder was at ite height, when the insurgents were speedily overpowered and the ringleaders executed. It happened that the weather continued unusually mild for FAMILY OF TERRA DEL FUEGO INDIANE ‘The following morning we found ourselves at anchor off the const of the nineteenth province of Chile, opposite Punta Arenas, the southern- most city on the face of the earth; the home of the penguin, the sea lion and the guanaco, where wind and storm and cold prevail during the greater portion of the year. And here we disembark, armed and equipped with sundry letters of introduction to the consul, the gov- ext #1 ernor and other persons in authority, purpos- to spend three or four weeks (until the mer of the line comes along and picks 4s up) in exploring what we can of southern and the Islands of Terra del Fuego. ‘THE SOUTHERNMOsT CITT. The site of Punta Arenas, which is Spanish for “Sandy Point,” was*certainly not chosen for its beauty. It oceupie long spit extend- ‘ing out into the strait. backed by mossy fields and low hills covered with charred timber, and bebind these rises range of loftier hills cov- ered with perpetual snow, though their alti- tude is barely one thousand feet. Looking on a map of the world you will see that the town is considerably near to the south pole than any other on the globe—nearer even ‘than the Cape of Good Hope or any inhabited island—altogether too near for any sort of com- fort, for when itis not snowing in the strait itis always raining, high winds never cease their howling aud a raging surf in the shallow bay prevents boats irom landing about five days out of seven. The captain's log book says that squalls off the land are so very strong here gonian name of williwauas. Soon as the local- ity is approached sails are closely reefed and all light gear made secure, for the “williwauas” usually come on without the slightest warning | and for the moment blow with the fury of a “ane. How did it happen that a town ever grew in so distant and desolate a spot? Nearly half a century ernment, o (in 1343, 1 think) the Chilean gov- | okies around for the most forsaken | and cheerless place where human beings could possibly exist, to which they might banish cer- tain political offenders, chose this remote cor- ner of Patagonia, because from it there seemed uo way of escape but in speedy death: and im- mediately afterward the penal colony of Port Famine, which had long occupied site of San Felipe, the old Spanish town which Sar- miento founded, was removed to this point. When the prisoners, most of whom were men of intelligence and education, were driven from their northern homes, a thor asand miles away, left behind all traces of civiization as = well as all hopes of return. Here they had no neighbors but the wild and warlike tribes of Patagonia and the savages of Terra dei Fuego, while on the west and soqth the dre of the Facitic stretched away baif ary wastes the width of world, on the north great untrodden wil- derness, and on the east an impassable wall of snow-clad mountain EARLY HARDSHIPS AND sTAUGGLES. The history of their early hardships and struggles for existence will never be known. Nobody dreamed that they would survive gen- eration after generation, much less that they could elbow their way through such « sea of discouragements and by and by compel the gother country to acknowledge her castaways ‘as valued citizens. Naturally their first care was to coustruet homes of some sort, for many of them had been accompanied into exile b; tet families, their tenderly reared wives and cept for the lack of tools they had no great dif- ficuity in buildi houses from the trees of the surrounding forest. Shell fish are abundant Dereabouts, and they found the finest celery sad Wushrooms growing spontaneously. experimenting they soon sscert tain vegetabies—notably ‘By that cer- reptabiy grown during the short summertime if given very careful attention. this climate, so that the houseless refugees. among whom were many women and young children, suffered less than might have been expected while new homes were being con- structed. 0 LONGER A CONVICT TOWN, After this no more convicts were sent to Punta Arenus. Now that the mail steamers plying between Europe and the west coast of South America had adopted this route through the Strait of Magellan, bringing @ rapid in- crease of traffic, the paternal government recognized its importance as @ station of call and supply. In 1568 it made liberal grants of land to immigrants, and sent outa new gov- ernor, with J00 settlers. ‘Timber for buildi purposes was taken along, and plenty of sup- plies to last until the immigrants could clear and cultivate farms for themselves. During the war with Peru, when Chile found herself in need of all the soldiers she could muster, the military guard was withdrawn from the old convict station, all the prisoners who would consent to fight the Peruvians got an honor- able discharge and ticket of leave and marched gaily away with their late keepers to cut the throats of their neighbors. In 1868 the popu- lation of Punta Arenas washardiy 200; in 1888 it was 2,000, and now it is little more than half the latter number. In 1883 the district was organized into a province of Chile (its nine- teenth), and now it is no disgrace, though somewhat inconvenient, to be a Punta Arenian. WHY THE TOWN 18 INTERESTINC. A well-known Washington newspaper man, who lately visited Sandy Point, says of it: “The town is interesting because it is the only settle- ment in Patagonia, and of course the only one in the strait. It is about 4, miles from the southernmost town on the west coast of South America to the first port on the eastern coast— a voyage which ordinarily requires fifteen days —and as Punta Arenas is about midway of course it possesses some attractions. ‘There are a few decent people here—ship agen traders, who came for business reasons, sul or two, and among them an Irish pi Dr. Fenton, who is the host and oracle soug! for by every stranger who arrives. Occasion- ally some yachting party stops here on its voyage around the world, or a man-ot- cruising from one ocean to the other, steamers bound from Europe to the Pacitie rts pass every day or two, so that communi- cation is kept up with the rest of the universe, nd the people who live at this antipodes, here the sun isseen in the north and the Fourth July comes in the depth of winter, are pretty well informed as to affairs at the other end of the globe. The emotions that come with the con- templation that you are about as far from any- where as you can possibly go are novel, but in the midst of them you are comforted by the other fact that the world is not so large as it looks to be, for here is a man who used to live here you came from, and another who once worked in the office where you are employed. re is a news standin Pynta Arenas where yYoucan purchase New York and London papers, often three or four months old, but still fresh to the long voyager, and shops in which Paris confectionery and other luxuries of life can be had at Patagopian prices.” * Wow THE PLACE LooKs. How does the place look? Well, there is sandy beach in front of a high ridge of with some rising ground intervening. rope simply because they est possible to the south pole. The Ee ee ng | come here in broad daylight. THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C. SATURDAY, N number of vessels are always anchored—coal barges, Argentine and Chilean gun boats, French, German and Italian ships and perhaps ‘ great English steamer or tch boat. before remarked, it is always either snowing or raining at Punta Arenas, mud or slush is al- ways ankle and might search the Sold. over toasnomen drumy, Geokii end said that an int tor ‘modern lan- guage of the may be Certainly a more lot community was never gotten ther. th the place belongs to Chile, lish is the most generally an are inamen, Germans, Poles, FS Pe ese, primeval Indians, Tonbeoe—bumen dotesin ald ‘ ing all sorts and conditions of men- re 7 would not be illing to tell you where they came from, what their true names were insome other part of the world, and most of whom would not remain another minute if they could help it. There are a few good women in the settlement, but asfor most of the females here— poor things! drinking, fighting, swearing crea- tures of every nationality—the least sai them the better. A HALY-AND-HALF ISLAND. Directly opposite Punta Arenas, just across the narrow strait, is the largest island of the Terra del Fuego group, two-thirds of which (on the western side) now belongs to Chile, while the Argentine government claims the remainder. Only on the Australian coast could one find a settlement so completely isolated from neighbors. On the Chilean side the near- est permanent inhabitants are on the Island of Chiloe, fully 700 miles distant in a straight line and a good deal farther by the only practicable route. On the Argentine side there is a miser- able little settlement at the mouth of the Santa Cruz river, where the government of that big republic has thought best to hoist their pretty blue-and-white banner in order to assert its sovereignty over the worthless wastes of south- eastern Patagonie. It contains only half a dozen wooden sheds, where a few disconsolate soldiers pass their weary days in longing for the more genial climato of Buenos Ayres. It is 400 miles “between that place and this and no communication is kept up between them. ‘Therefo: racticable purposes, the i hbors to the lonesome Punta Arenians are the English colonists on the Falkiand Islands, where, in spite of the inhos- pitable soil and’ climate, a number of thrifty Britons have somehow managed to attain to tolerable prosperity, chiefly by sheep farming. But, with an interval between of five hundred mules of the stormiest ocean on the globe, mu- tual intercourse iy neither frequent nor easy. Faxste B. Warp. ———_+0- ——_ LOCK PICKING AS A SCIENCE, An Expert Says That His Key is in Every Man's Watch. From the Post-Express. High up in the Wilder building, in a little corner room prettily furnished with rich car- pets and hangings, more like a lady's boudoir than the office of a wide-awake business man. a reporter found James Sargent, the lock man- ufacturer. “I suppose,” the reporter began, “that you know all about Alfred C. Hobbs, the famous lock picker, who died a short time ago.” “ said Mr. Sargent, “I knew of him. In fact, at one time every one had heard of him. In 1848 he opened the safe in the merchants’ exchange in New York in less than an hour, although $500 was offered to any one who could do it within thirty days. Then he went to England and picked ‘the lock in tho vault door of Brown, Shipley & Co. It was supposed tobe the strongest lock in England, but he worked with his back turned and his hands behind him. He picked a number of other famous locks, ard the British Institution of Civil Engineers gave him the Telford medal, its highest honorary award. But you must member that Mr. Hobbs was seventy-nine years old when he died, and lock picking was a much easier accomplishment forty years ago than now.” + “It is not a very profitabl pose, for an honest man? business, I sup- the reporter in- , that depends,” said Mr. Sargent. Now and then a man will offera thousand dollars to any one who can pick his lock, another will offer £750 and another £500. Then sometimes I make a bet that I can open a lock within acertain time, and if I suc of course there is more money. Oh, honesty is a very good thing after all. I suppose I have earned upward of #6,000 in direct cash pay- ments by opening locks.” “Do you ever tail?” jo, sir! clare tell whether or not I can pick a lock and never try or put onedoubiful case. ‘Thavebroueh inte mort ef ‘ongest vafes in the country, including the vault of the Treasury Department at W. ington. ThatI did inside of an hour, to the utter horror of the ofticials. “Once I went outto Des Moines. There isa bank out there that has some eighteen smaller country banks dependent on it. Once a month the presidents of these country banks all meet in the president's office of the mother bank, and at that time its safe is filled with thous: ands of dollars. I found out the day of the meeting, and when they had all assembled en- tered the room as a stranger and said: ‘Gen- tlemen, do you know that you have thous- ands of dollars locked up here in a safe that a burglar could easily break in in a night? He could take your money, change the combination on the fock so that when you came down in the morning you could not get into the safe, so that you would have to send to the east for the maker, and by the time he had got all the way out here and opened the doors and you had discovered the loss of the money the burglar would be sailing over the ocean to Europe. Now, gentlemen, I have You may go to your safe and put on # different combina- tion, and when you get ready I will go ‘to it and m it to prove that what I have said is true.’ They were very much impressed by my statement, but having perfect confidence in their safe’ were quite willing that I should make the trial. “he com- bination was changed, I set to work, and bw returned to their room. Presently the loc! was picked. Inside the money was piled high in bags of gold. I took one of the bags and went into the president's room. Holding it up Lusked if that belonged tohim. He and the TIME. ‘Winfield 8. Moody, Jr., in Harper's Bazar. ‘YBODY SAID IT WAS THE MOST wonderful summer ever known in ail the hill country. The reproach laid by scoffers of Harmony. The turning the year was an or- derly procession in that simple place, and the winters came when they were due jtist as the darkness came down regularly, and all the people went to sleep in it, like the birds, leav- ing the moon to govern the night without watching. Things went along pretty peacefully in Harmony, and there were few surprises and no shocks. So when this particular summer came and continued and ran clear past ite proper bounds till October was still heavy with midsummer heat there was much speculation about it. Al- most everybody in town was weather wise and had his own ides of how it had come about and whit it Doded., ‘The only thing agreed upon was that something uncommon would come of it. ‘The farmers in Harmony got in their lato crops with loins girded, watching each day for the expected change and reasonably thank- ful for every mow of hay or grain safely housed. The minister had made a notable preachment early in September upon the weather, likening the mprel of the endaring summer to divine }htience with the impenitent, and it was called a master-good discourse. But as that month stretched out and still the sun shone July warm, certain lij inded ones said it was clear that there must be some very hard- ened sinners in Harmony to keop the season jong. And this talk came to the minis- rs, and forthwith he proached a sermon to scoffers, which did him good to deliver and probably did somebody good to hear. Amid all this wonder and questioning somebody met the professor one day and asked bim what he thought of thelong warm spell, and he said, quite simply, that he thought the world wasa very good place ir summer time and that his flowers seemed to keep on blossoming just from pleasure in being alive in so kind an air, and 60 he was glad of the warmth without troubling to reason it out. And he who had asked the question turned away smiling becauso the professor talked so much like a child. Ho was very like child, too, in many ways— this gentle, simple, wise old man. For mi Others were dumbfounded. He made a grab at it, and then they all rushed out to view safe. ‘There it stood with doors wide open.” ~What is the hardest lock that you ever tried ick?” “It was out in Cincinnati, but the trial was hardly a fair one. ‘The makers tried to play a trick on me, and manufactured a lock which I doubt if they could pick themselves. ‘The trial took place about eighteen years ago, and made a great stir in the papers at the time. ‘The safe was put ona truck drawn by four horses, and taken to the place where I was to make the trial. ‘The conditions were that I was to open the safe inside of 100 hours or forfeit $500, which i had deposited with the committee appointed to see that everything was square. For every hour that I worked over 100 1 was to pay $5. Well, sir, that safe was open in daring the day, and by night had got the seeret of the combination. ‘hen 1 weat with some friends to tue theater. fhey tried to dissuade me from trying further. “Yow li kill yourself, Sargent,’ they said; ‘there is no uze ‘ying; the safe cannot be opeued.’ 1 ke mum, and the next morning seu: Lor the co: mittee and the lock makers. ‘ihere was a great crowd in attendance, and of oourse all the ne paper reporters were on haud. ‘Gentlemen,’ { said, ‘Lam getting tired aud feel indisposed to make further etorts. Yousee that the sauce is ut- terly uninjured, according to our contract.’ As I suid this [ tarhed tue combination this way and that, as though to show them its periect condition. Then 1 gave the knob a jer, the bolts flew aside and the great door opened. ‘The excitement was enormous and we had a big dinner at the hotel that evening.” “Have you particular method of working, twenty-eight hours. I worked pretty hard | Mr. Sargent? “Yes, Lhave devoted great many years of study to this subject, and am more or less fa- mailiar with all the locks made. ‘Lhe secret is one that I have never told, but I do not mind saying that you have, in your wateb, a key to all the locks that I have picked.” instances the; the old habit. Another class those afilicted with a sort of species of insanity. ‘They are usually intellectually brilliant, or have been, but there is scarcely enough bramn left to build upon in an effort to change mode of life. A third class ig the though: y Fears Professor Churchill had occupied the chair of English language and literature in Harmony College. ‘That chair was not an im- posing one, nor was the college itself a very ancient foundation, but among its faculty were some men of gentle scholarship, not bitten with the new learning nor fond of noisy enter- prise. Notable among these was Professor Churchill, who stood, frank and unconscious, for simple culture and unworldly wisdom. ‘Truly this is a delightful kind of man to be friends with, and one who is a monument of the “happier age of gold,” but such aman is often’ heediees of ‘passing years and of new fashions in thought and action. And so it was with the little professor. He had no knowledge of the New Criticism. He had never discovered that to. be original one must needs be aboriginal or that imagination isa vain thing. He never even suspected that strong romantic fiction is not literature, and he kept up a cordial friendship with Herrick and Ben Johnson, while the writers of ‘teacup verse” were not even names to him. He was not at all up te date. He would not even have understood the phrase, it is likely. When he had learned the language people had said “ip to the times,’ and entertained some dread of being in advance of them. So Progress, inevitable and in fine new clothes, came and sat down in the scat of the scornful, opposite the professor. And one day he became couscious that there was some- thing raw and unfamiliar in the air he was breathing, as if the east wind bad suddenl: blown into the chambers of his sensitive soul. And, following the forewarning, the hard thing came, and he understood, when the president called upon hirr one day in his shabby little house, and told him elaborately that the col- lego remembered his long years of work grate- fully, and feared that he would find the burden too heavy to carry longer, and that they beg- ged he would’ accept the title of pro- fessor emeritus, and deliver an annual lecture to the graduating class, and permit the gollege to print it, and to keep the manuscript in the college library. ‘The first words brought a flush to the withered face, and bis old arm- chair rocked @ little Uke#-ship on troubled water, because it had never crossed his mind that his work and his way were not just as good and acceptable now us they had been thirty years before. He had kept company only with the saints in literature, and the saints are always the same. But on that day when he was formally sa- luted as professor emeritus, anda big parchmen: was given to him, with wax seals on it, and ches were made, and the young man from <ford sat in his chair, he stood up straight as a soldier and as proudly, too, and at the end of the speech-making he saluted the president and all the others with the old-fashioned awkward bow which the students knew so well, and said, in his simple childlike way, that they did him too high an honor. He niade little of his own work and magnified the office of his successor, and at the last he turned to the students and said, just as he had always done at the end of every lecture he delivered, that he begged leave to thank the gentlemen for their courteous at- tention and wished them 2 good morning. ‘The students cheered Prof. Churchill again and again and again, until the president fidgeted a little in his chair and coughed and adjusted his cap, and the little professor came from his corner once more and bowed low and lower with his own little jerky gestures of deprecation, while his eyes filled with teare. it made no difference to the students then that they had been wont to think and speak with a laughing indulgenco of the little man and to raice all manner of mild disturbance in his lecture room. The professor had never vecn it, nor would he have believed that any wilful disrespect had ever been shown to him or to his offce. Aud the same boy who had oftenest made sport of the professor cheered longest, and finally subsided into half audible remarks to the effect that it was some sort >f shame—he didn’t speak very distinctly. ‘And so Prof. Churchill went home that day and sat down for a while in his old-fashioned chair among his old-fashioned books and thought it all over. He explained it carefully to himself, as to another child, until he was | quite sure he understood it. And he had the cheering to remember, and the affectionate | good will. which had beamed out upon him from all the boys’ faces, so he comforted him- self. Aud nearly all the boys came to wish him good-bye before going home for the long vacation, insomuch that the dour of the smull brown house on the hill side was kept swinging all day long. ‘The professor felt very proud of this. "He had always been glad to believe that the boys had liked to listen to his lectures, but so strong u showing of personal regard touched hum very much. He walked out through the garden to the gato with every one of his guests and made each of them a formal little speech of farewell. And when the last of them had come and gone ho went wandering among his roses, half consoled in thinking that now he wonid have all the more time to care for them and to be among them. ‘They stood to him for wife and children— these “flowers of his. ‘They had been Mra. Churehiil’s loving care at the firs many years ago, she had been borne 0} cottage with her own white roses on Ler breast the childless man hud.come back to find his deazest comfort in the taces of the roses she had loved. Fy Fi E rE i fy [ i ue Hi Ht Hatt along chasing her feet. Densiow was moved to gather his ribbon and, lo! with it came Lucy Ruggles. wasa fine ae, for those days and these two went and the plans that come with both. But than a year the old house received her again, still a slip of a woman, but now gowned in black and going heavily enough for one who had fled away so blithely. The judge died after a Years and still she lived on in the old house and moved about the big rooms and kept the circu- lation of the old place healthy. There was a goodish patch of lawn land sloping slightly from the road to the river, and old-fashioned flowers. There were of phiox and verbonas and marigold slippersand a whole army of tiger lillies pre- senting arms slong the walks. And she, too, had great clumps of rose bushes, and stepped about among them with an ‘animated face and the high manner of a princess playing soubrette. There was a wonderful vivacity nd touch of youth abont her, and even in these later days, when she wore little gray gowns and dainty white caps, she wore them with an uir and didn’t look in the least like other little old ladies, howsoever lovely they fight be. | Her black hair was now softiy gray, but her eyes were as bright as of old, her Wrists were still rounded and her hands were white and firm. It was the 15th day of November in this year of summer when Mrs Denslow looked out upon her shady lawn and over the sunshiny old hills, and was minded to go out to the edge of the town and see if she could spy the end of the summer coming up over the ridge. ‘The sky over the hill country was so deeply blue that if one watched it for s while the great cup seemed to darken, and then keep turning in- side out like a moving slide in a magic lantern, only it was always blue and deeper blue. In ordinary years a grayer shade would have crept into the sky long before the middle of November, but so far it had not come. The leaves hung on bravely, though they were gurmented with dust, for no showers had fallen for two weeks. ‘The air had no suggestion of sharpness in it, but as Mrs. Denslow stepped away down the street she noticed a certain fresh motion among the leaves and found that the breeze was cooler than before. A little crooked road turned out of the main street near her house and weut straggling up the hill to run along the ridge for some distance, and then turned back to join tho turnpike again. Mrs. Denslow went lightly along the path, for the slope was gradual. She stopped every little while to peer out between the trees and listen to the soft noises inside the woods. She was on terms of intimacy with a lot of chip- munks that used to scamper to and fro across the road before her when she went that way. Moreover, she had some distant acquaintance With a pair of gray squirrels whoinhabiteda big maple tree that stood well back in a fine park of elder bushes. She had never spoken to these gray squirrels, but the chipmunks and she were gossips. And then she had a saluting friend- ship with an old and reverend woodchuck, to whom passing years and the despite of man had left only three legs and a fraction. ‘This patriarch lived among the rocks ina sugar camp nearly at the top of the hill, and when- ever Mrs. Denslow passed his demesne she was pretty apt to see him sitting gravely around thinking about the weather. He w gressive or neighborly, but he had al there and Mrs. Denslow was pleased to see him still above ground und thinking. It was late in the afternoon when Mrs. Dens- low stood on the crown of the ridge and looked eastward ucross the deeper valley. he slope was rich with many soft greens, and the rocky pasture land was warm in the sunshine. ‘The colors were so sottened and shaded together that the grass looked graylike the ledges where they cropped out into the sunlight, and then again reddish-brown to match the few cattle straying slowly along the slope. The bottom of the valley was already in shadow, and down in the midst of the mass of darkest green stood 8 maple tree, which waved toward her a single yellow bough. Mrs. Denslow observed this manifestation of change with honest regret, tom; with @ sudden complacency in that she was the first person in Harmony to see the signal of the end of the long summer. If it had to come, she reflected, it was worth something té have seen it, and ‘not merely to have heard about it from anybody. And so she took a last look at the sweep of woodland and passed along the ridge, then turned into the main road again and down toward tho village. The sun bad dropped low, and the level beams came boldly into her shining eyes and made her raise her little black silk parasol. Mr. Abbey would have been very glad had he seen her beside the broad white road in her little gray gown and black lace shawl, her tiny feet condescending always a little lower as she came down the hill Bat Prof. Churchill looked up and saw her from his garden, where he stood by the rose trees. His face’ lighted up, for be had just conceived a new idea. He came outand stood by the road with hand outstretched to weleome her, and she came floating down to him as graciously as a fairy princess and as fine. Some such thought sprang into his mind, for he made her one of his profoandest bows and said: “Is this Mrs. Denslow or the good goddess of the long summer come to smile upon a rose garden?” “Why, Prof Churchill,” said the little lady, “did you ever see a goddees with an umbrell, Besides, Iam not fit to pose as goddess of sum- mer, for I have come us the voice erying in the woods before the north wind. Tho leaves are beginning to turn in the valley, professor.” “Oh, I am sorry,” said he anxiously, *be- cause i had hoped to seo a wonderful thing. here are wo many little buds on my largest red rose tree, and { believe that they will all come along ‘in about two weeks if the cold does not kill them. And then, Mra. Densiow, Ishould be ablo to walk here in my garden and seo roses bloqning on Thanksgiving day. “What a delighitul thing to think of! Do let me come in and see them,” said Mrs. Dens- low, “Your spells musthave been more potent than usual this year, professor. I really be- jeve it is you who have delayed the cold days, t that Your roses might outdo themselves. jat you must keep the sunshine here, en- chanier, or your roses will fall apart into hand- fuls of leaves, like the magic money.” A queer litile look of lonelinesss fell on the eager, thin face. “But I am not enchanter enough to hold the sunshine,” he said; “it only visits me now and then.” Mra. Denslow gave a ewift, startled glance at the professor. “Lut the sunshine plays sad tricks with nature's ways,” she said, “when i brings the red roses of the year's youth into its fading days.” Something new had come into the professor's face—somethiyy which she had never seen there before. It was flashed like one of his own red roses, and full of strange eloquence. He took one step nearer to her. “Are they tricks,” he asked, ‘when they are nature's ngs? Does not nature know her lessons, now sho is grown so old? If the roses—and the red roses—-bloom in November, who shall say that it is not a manifestation not of nature's ttick Sti. but of her own sweet self, so rarely seen: le rs. Densiow’s eyes wer cast down like that fa frightened child. She was startled out of composure. And Prof. Churchill stood be- fore her for an instant mnte after his sudden outburst:and then. while she played nervously with her parasol, he made another grave bow, with the old quick gesture of deprecation, and stood aside. Sue went swi nantities ? : Gi j i i i i a E bf i back of the house were famous gardens full of | she brok 4 af “te uf ue stl ii / it i Hi Evie Fide i E i i E i Al srE ait E [ é ji | if B fr bs Es Fs i 5 FE i E i E i i i i! 3 i z re 4 S ss waway, and the clear light fell on every- once more. Mrs. Denslow determined to ral. -way down the lawn she met a man who did odd jobs here and there in the village. stopped and saluted her, and hand letter. It was addressed ‘to her in the haud- writing of Prof. Churchill. With serene face fe the wax. The letter was _very short: “The roses are in bloom. Shall I send them or may I bring them?” Mrs. Denslow turned back to her desk and the messenger took a note to Prof. Churchill. And that late November day was notable in Harmony above all the other days of the long summer, for then did the see the little professor walking swiftly dowa the hill toward the village, bearing in his hand a branch of a Tose tree, whereon clustered great crimson cones whose fregrance filled the air, and he went straight down the street to the old house where the front door stood wide open to wel- come him, and Mra. Densiow waited in the pore! —— UNCLE NAT’S COON HUNT. m it | hauled Why He Determiued That He Would Carry ® Gun Next Time. From the New York Post. “I useter be the coon fighter of Kittle Creek,” said Uncle Nat, as he leaned back in his chair, “an’ in my day I've seed mo’ ups an’ downs then Jeff Davis an’ all his legions. I had the masterest coon dog what ever broke up a settin’ hen, an’ you mought jes’ bet yer sweet soul when that ar dog opened hit wer’ no col’ trail. “The coons got so bad roun’ my place that I jest wer’ mos’ afeared to ventur’ out o' nights *thout my dog an’ gun, an’, in fac’, it wer’ almos’ onpossible to git away f'om that ar dog. He'd lay roun’ the do’ steps with his eyes ha'f shet, an’ 'ud hardly git up to eat his sop an’ tater, but you jest let me put on acoon look an’ whistle, an’ ol’ Ruler wer’ up an’ agwine in less time 'n’ you could bat your eyes. a walkin’ the foot log ‘cross the run, not more'n a quarter f'om the house, an’, jest as I nighed the othereen’, abig bar coon ris up, with his ha’r all turned wrong sid’ out'ards. Iseed right thar that the insig- nificant ol’ cuss wer’ up fur a fight, an’ says 1: 10" feller, ef yer want anything out'n me you kin git it, an that durned quick. quick. “I retched roun’ fur a stick, but the log wer, slippery, an’ I couldn't turn roun’ to git to the bank, an’ ther’ wan't nothin’ in han’ retchin’ of me, an’I jest made up my min’ to take it out in kie! With that I sidied up tell I wer’ shore of gittin’ in my work, an’ I fetched a heave at "1m wid my foot: but I furgot that I had a hole in the toe, an’ that blasted ol’ wretch grabbed me by the necked flesh an’ jist sot his teeth. The other foot slipped, an’ kersouse I went into the run, with that cussed coon a-chawin’ my toe, an’ me a-cussin’ an’ him '. An’ when I riz he riz, an’ es I crawled out on one bank he crawled out on *tother: an’ he give me sich a look of reven- gunce, an’ shuck “is head so hbatefully that hit seem lack he wer’ a-sayin’, you, you hain’t made nothin’ an’ I jest dare you to try it ag'in! “TI up wid a lightered knot an’ flung it at ‘im; but he dodged it an’ kin’ er bowed up his back and says, ‘A. ” I wer’ so allfired mad I wn’ I jest intermined right then an’ there to fix that varmunt. “Wren I got to the house hit wor’ sunper time; but I wer’ too mad to eat much, An" jest es soon es Ruler had et a bite I called him, an’ grabbed up the ax an’ a torch o' fat splinters, ax.’ started to the creck. I knowed dat sullen ol’ scounderl couldn't 'a’ got fur, beca’se he wer’ busy a huntin’ crawfish "long the run, “I pmted Ruler to the spot where he sot wien I flung the chunk at him. Ruler seemed to ketch on, an’ went off ina lope down the thicket, an’ I went out to the high land to cut me a better torch. Isplit the splinters lon; an’ keerfully, so's to have a good light wen fotch that ole coon to bay. “A’ter a good long while I hearn Ruler open 'way down the run, an’ I knowed he'd got 4 fresh trail, an’ I knowed it warn't noth’n else but the same ole cuss of a coon. 1 picked up my light an’ fetched a whoop to encourage the dog, way I went down the creek. I wer’ in a bigger hurry than common, for I wer’ atear'd Kuler’d ketch up wid the coon an’ the fight *ud all be over afore Icould git in a lie “But I calkilated too shore. The dog kep’ a yelpin’ and a yelpin’ tell he'd run fully a mile, and then I hearn him openin’ in a cont: di- rection, an’ I knowed ths coon wer’ a doublin’ onus. Ikep’ up as nigh as possible, but the dog kep’ a twistin’ and a turnin’, fast one way, then t'other, an’ up an’ down an’ back ards for'ards, till I wer’ a puffiin’ and a snort "na ballused hoss. At last the barkin’ tuck ight c'ove way up to'ards the swamp, an’ Lknowed fom the way ho wer’ a barkin’ that the trail wer’ gittin’ hotter. “““Cllgit you now, blame you,’ I thonght. ‘You're « gittin’ tired nowan’ you'll take a tree presently. “I walked an’ run an’ stumbled over the logs tell I'd gone near "bout two mile, when I heard Ruler # barkin’ fierce, lack he'd treed. I whooped to ‘im to hol’ fas’, and then I struck out through the swamp to ‘whar he wer’, an’ every step I tuck I cussed that coon fur leadin’ me sich 8 worrisome rackit. Bimyeby I busted intoa slash and waded across, an’ thar sot Raler at the foot of a stoopin’ bla’ gum a lookin’ up an’ a barkin’ every now an’ then to keep me posted as to his wiarabouts, ‘*‘Ab, you dinged, inferna! ol’ corn eater, T'll git you now,’ says I, and I begun to pro- re. PenRuler jumped up an’ down wid excitement, whilst I walked slowly "round the tree a tryin to shine the varmint's eyes. “At Inst I located "em in a thick bunch 0 moss an’ leaves, jest whar the tree bent over, ‘an’,’ thinks I, ‘them’s the masterest goou's eyes dat ever Eshined in all my borned ys. “The gum wer’ a big un, an’ you know they’s the toughest trees that ever growed, an’ I dread to tackle that’ere tree. I thought p'r'aps the thing mougitt be holler; sv I laid my light keerfully on a little tusvick behint me, and I hauled off wid the ax an’ bit the tree a jarrin’ lick. “‘Swish—sh! Sump'n breshed my head, an’ knocked my hat off, an’ strack the hight kerdab, an’ squinched it like a flash; an’ the nex’ minit I felt sump'n rake me down the Jo-ru-sa-inm! Ruler j'ined in the row.” The varmint fout. I fout. Ruler fout. Y gougl an'I fat iftee i A 325 a itl | | back, an’,great | th ‘7 —— HE WENT ONE BETTER, ‘The Policeman Was Given « Pointer Which Explained All From the Detroit Free Press. People in the waiting room of the Detroit, Grand Haven and Milwaukee depot were more or less interested, the other afternoon, in the conduct of a middle-aged couple who were evidently very much in love. As they sat to- gether on a seat the man had hi her waist and she leaned confidently on his shoulder. Tho depot policeman might have looked at them rather sharply as he passed through the room, for soon thereafter the man came outside and queried: “Do you remember, me?” “Can't say that I do,” replied the officer, after careful scrutiny. “T was in here last summer on an ‘excur- “Yes.” “Had a girl wit i 3 ae ith me—girl with long curls and io “She was a widow's daughter, and had forty seres of land in her own name.” “That was the best Icould do at the time, but that’s the widow and mother inside and she owns the rest of the farm and all the stock. I've gone one better, and do you blame me fur Kinder squeezing around, éven if folks do laugh at us?” ¢ ofticer assurred him it was all right, and according to Hoyle, and he returned to busi- ness much relieved and encouraged. —— 99 Politences Meets dressed the remark to ® young lady whom he saw standing near him. She took the seat without the slightest glance at Cyrus, but thatmade no difference. Being a suburbanite and accustomed to travel on crowded trains be was used to that sort of ‘oung woman,” he mused, resting inst the end of a seat and looking contemplatively out of the window at a flyin In@iscape consisting chietly of street crossings, coal sheds and freight cars, “is prob: twenty-five years younger than I am, and as well able to’ stand ‘as anybody in the car, but she's a woman and Iam a gentleman. | Not Shactly @ young gentleman, itis true,” and he shifted his weight on the leg that was not quite sorheumatic asthe other one, “but Ldon't show my age, and if there is one thing 1 won do it is to keep my seat in car while—ouch !” The conductor in passing through the car had stepped on Cyrus toes and goneon his way without expressing any sense of obligation or evincing auy emotion whatever, but being a regular traveler on that line Cyrus was ac- customed to that sort of thing also, and, bastily shitting his weight on the rheumatic leg again, he went on communing with himseli in that well-known exaltation of spirit that accompa- nies the performance of a good deed. “Rather than see any woman, young or old, stand in acrowded car and keep my seat, as these ill-mennered animals all about me are doing,” he said to himself, “i would stand up from Archer avenue to 92d street. Twenty-five or thirty years hence,” he continued, with a Tush of generous feeling warming him all over, when I have begun to— The soft, musical voice of a matronly woman @ few fect away broke in upon his reflections: “Tommy, my son, Iam ashamed of you! Get up and give that nice old gentleman your seat !” ee The Mean Old Thi: From London Thoughts. Husband (kindly)—“ My dear, you have noth- ing decent to wear, have you?” Wife (with alacrity)—~ No, indeed, I haven't ; nota thing. I'd be ashamed to be seen any- vening dress has been worn three ‘es; that's just what I told Bifkins when he offered me two tickets for the theater for tonight. 1 knew if I took them they'd only be wasted, so I just got one. You won't mind if I hurry’ off? ———~+e.___ Would Be a Ten Times Jacob. “Do you love me as dearly as men have ever loved women?” said Mabel, finding an easy anchorage for her check about the latitude of his upper vest pocket and the longitude of his left shoulder. “More,” said George, with waning enthu- siasmn, for this Ze sbost the twenth-fourth encore to whic! responded si o'clock. “More, far more, deary. Ob! #0 much more !"* “Would you,” she went on, and there wasa tremulous impressivencss in her voice, “would joubewilling to work and wait for me, as jacob waited for Rachel at the well, seven long years?” “Seven !” s " he cried, ina burst of genuine de- votion. ! Aye, gladly! Yes, aud more! Even until seven times seven! Let's make it seventy, and prove my devotion Somehow or other he was alone when he left the parior a few mingtes later, and it looks now as though he would have to wait 700 years be- fore he saves fuel by toasting his tocs at the grate in that parlor again. ——$§or- ‘Written for The Evening Star. Charity: His eye was dim and his ‘body bent With the burden of many years; ‘His clothes were odd and shabby and rent And the subject of mirth ana Jeers, My heart went out to this good old man, Decrepit, forlorn and dismayed, ‘With comfort ending where age began, And I stopped to offer him aid. “A pleasant day,” quoth I with anod: But his mind seemed wand'ring away. Theeded not his behavior odd, But repeated, “A pleasant day.” ‘He looked at me with a mournful stare, Yevanswered me never a word. ‘Methought he was deaf and unaware Of the music that others heard. Temiled and bowed and pointed o'erhead Abd shouted, “A pleasant day!” “Well, who said it wasn’t?” is all he sald As he turned and trotted away. —Cuirrop Howarp. | 4° Washington, November 26, 101. ——_e2 Profit in Clam Operations. From the Lewiston Evening Journal. In Oldtown is aman who is making money fast out of clams, though he is at present foed- ing the clams to his pigs. He keeps a hotel, and has bonded a clam flat down around Mount Desert. His clamsarrive each day. He keeps them two weeks, feeding them on celery meal and Indian meal. They laugh and grow fat. Then he boils them, a bushel ata time. He puts in a quart of water and takes out eight quarts. The water is strained and set aside for a day in a refrigerator. Then it is heated, seasoned with salt and pepper, and sold for centsa glass. He has a big trade. A bushel of clams delivered costs 60 cents. He feeds em 40 cents’ worth. He gives a four-ounce drink. There are thirty-two drinks in agallon, and sixty-four drinks are secured from a bushel of clams. Net profit on abushel of clams €2.20, and he sells on some days six gallons. Many Ary to imitate him. but 20 one knows how to AS iw moreover. — 5 | fa is i it fe | i ! J ands man's j arm ‘around | TOLD BY AN OLD RAILROADER, Kindly Acts, Like Chickens and Evil Deeda Come Home to Roost From the Arern:ine Reputilie. “Idon't believe a good action goes unre warded,” said an old railroad man the other day to the writer. “About twonty years ago I was shoveling black diamonds to boil the water in. locome tive on the Webash railway between Lafayette, Ind, and Denville, I Near Attics, Ind. there was an overbrad wagon bridgy across the track ‘that bad killed no less than five brakemen a five yenrs, and one dark, stormy night, in com- ing down the bill, I happened to remember that we had a green brakeman ahead, who was un- acquainted with the road. I «poke to the engineer about it, but he said: ‘Oh, let him go; he's all right’ But I didn't feel like letting » fell take any such chances and the train, crawling from ees, and CAME near an it was ble and old No. was fh per hour down t ap the +inck of ith ueatuess and dispatch, | While the whcels mage a regular torcblight pro- | cession along the rails. He wa when he tiret du 1 ong the running board, A ae the ace of spaces from mids. sit down!” Tcried, so loud that gined the whist! d down he sat I almost for Attica; that bi . i» lamp seemed it disclosed those heavy i He came near f my hand, and we sat is on t k of the o ot ie word, but as the gost 0 Fears afterward Iwas in F. Ind .at the Wabash dep: | most thave a watep up to fice that enough to set a poor’ I bad began to think that all my fri J been conven- dently translated bod: when @ tail, bandso lamp and ‘gold-banded cay and inquired + “Dida rth to heaven, with a milver approached ime gine about five years Wabarh?” 1 thought his face began to assume the angelic. “ Well, 1 will refresh your memory. Do you . stormy t tran to ware 1 brakeman about # dangerous overhead below Attica’ “You bet 1 dk man?” 0, sir! No more Billy in mine: it's Will —sweet Will_conductor on the through pas- senger,’ and he broke out into a musical laugh that nearly rattled the dishes on the lunch counter. “The tears came to my eyes in spite of me, for Iwas weak, weary and heartsick. Heno- ticed them, and, clasping my band, said in the Sweetest words that ever fell on mortal ears: ‘Come, come! Shut her off and oil the valves,’ and he led me toa stool at the junch counter and said “Now, you sit here and fill up. Let afew biscuits hit the chair and you will be all right ain.” “He stepped into the dispatcher's office to get his orders, while I poured down coffve that Would discount the nectar of the gods. He ap- minutes and said: “All took ine by the arm and then stepped back to recollect of risking your life night in crawling ever a fr agr But you're not Billy the led me to a coach, and the piatiorm and waved bis moss agate at the engineer. Lcurled up in the seat when the train started to hide the tears that kept welling Up in my eyes, and for the first time in twenty Jong years I could have cried like a baby. believe in a special providence since that ter- nible night aud the morning I was heartbroken, Aud Bill as still pulling a beil cord in the var= nished cars on the old Wabash.” — Peculiarly a Chicago Incident, From the Chicazo Sunday Tritmne. Itisatthe Union depot, Chicago. A train has just pulled in. Outside the great iron gates is a hurrying throng. One woman, who passes westward, attracts attention. She the remains of patrician beauty. Hier silken gown, covered with cut jet, glitters like black mail Liamonds flash at her throat. There is rouge on ber cheek, Her insoieut eyesare artistically darkened. . “Robert!” The ery is wrung from her. A man with hair prematurely gray bas just descended the broad steps. He holds of six by the band. She is damtily dremsed in suowy mull. A gress shirred white hat makes « background for the smiling little face, the innocent. blue eyes, the golden curls. Tho mau tries to pass. “Only this once!” the woman pleads. “You may speak to her.” He steps aside, the child in joyful confidence as the stranger leans down, “to meet mamma.” ‘The woman pales under her paint, “Not my own mamma, you know,” explanation. Nh od loug ag: low and fiercely, “ in sweet member ‘A little. She was like you! But she had not such @ shining brovch oF such pink eke. e Woman shrinks as if from a blow. ‘Do you love this —this mamma’” he is good, but she wants me te, with wistiul sincerity, “1 do love my own mamma best.” ‘There is @ vibration of the rails. A shriek. The train thunders in, The woman leans to kiss the rose lips of the child. She draws back suddenly. 1: would be sacrilege. May nod God's angel record this moment as one of maguiticent expiation? The train dis- gorges. The man tukes the child's hand. She looks back at the lovely lady. iood-bye,” she cries, laughingly. The eyes follow ber are wet and tender. Why is she crying, papa, and why are her gently. ‘The woman by the stairway sees it all. ‘Then they go home. ———e2-—___ Getting the Stuffing Ready. From Harper's Bazar. “What's that you've got there?” asked the doorkeeper at the parquet entrance of a man who held by its legs a live turkey in one hand preyed he proffered an admittance ticket with ot “That the gallinaceous a turkey, my friend. A specimen of wi known to orni “Well. that's all right, but you can’t take him into the theatre with you.” ~ This is a wiastrel show, isn't it 7” “it is, and you can just take that turkey people waiting. formance was to be Youare keeping alot of Understood the minstrel os a 's the very reason E “Take itaway. It im’t a poultry exhibition, Stand aside, vs “Bat I want to take it in.” Quart do 1.” know Thankagiving ie “Yeu, and I know that bon: thirty behind you want to Jove away, now “As Laid before at ‘and it is my intention to eat this turkey on “Well, take it home. What bringing ithere fort” See oe. ym the mas with the tarkey out to the street. ——+e- Arithmetic and Dresses. ‘From Good News.