Evening Star Newspaper, July 3, 1897, Page 15

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 3, 1897-24 PAGES. 15 (I THE PISTOL'S PONT geet BY F. W. HORNING. > --— « E. W. Horniny Written Star. The betls were ringing for even- song, croaking across the snow with short, harsh strokes, though the frost had to the metal and made it hoarac. it . the scene had all the cheery sparkle, all the peaceful glamor of an old- fashioned Christmas ‘There was the snow Village, there the church spire coated all down one side, the chancel windows standing out like off paintings, the silver sickle of a moon, the ideal thatched cottage, with a warm, red light bre. as overed pa from the open door, and the peace of heaven seemingly pervading and enveloping ali. Yet on earth we know that this peace {s not; and the door of the ideal cottage had been opened, and was shut by a crush- €d woman, whose husband had but now re- her pennies for the plate with a h followed her Into the snow. And the olor prevailing beneath the thatch- f was one of hot brandy and water, sled with the fumes of some rank to- Old Fitch was over sixty years of age, the woman on her way to church was is thir ; she had borne him no chitd, Fitch son or daughter living who 31d set foot inside his house. He was a lar old man, selfish and sly and di not greatly disliked beyond his or, and withal a miracle of health nergy for his yea drank to his Was never drunk, er known to lese of Monday’s bar; ler, cornfs gee of half him the trade he and s white as the snow outsi ceased, and for a moment there rund in the cottage but t tle on the hob. z he s h ming bumper. As he hed_ the sugar dissolve, a few notes n the organ re and the old man smiled eynicaily a smacked his lips.” At hi and the weekly newspaper wer h the th bottle, and he joym Over the pap h had asieep after a but he most them ‘There unning to se into pura- nt pipe Fi particularly th: found old man’s m ned to leave was not the frowne dow was cooling in heard them sing ureh hard b: saw ef paragr iy FROM PORTLAND. Another Wounded, But a Third Gets Clean Away. “The st excitem was caused at morning on the re- con- the of outdoor plan on the p in one of the n their ion of and was kK fog which Was raised, and r the neighborhood long 0 a late hour his rec as the nd ery to scq dark, but vu man who was » for the mekeeper, : but who a nefit of the do: a wad which gun. In spite of hen made on his be- authorities at Port- mole as a most daring and one who is only too likely nger to the community as remains at large.” upidly at the qwords for | after he had fead them | the last sentence which | into fucus with his seeing | ttermole at How | the } morni esterday then, and this was aud that made nearly er. Ancther questi 1 man's mind. i prison— rustics of his generation, old no spare knowledge of geog- knew his own country side and on, but was all. ¥ to be on side tbe lon might be felt in his shuddering | king bones, th ror far, Ww or no snow, Heury Cattermole er recaptured or else on his way ottaxe at that mome 1 the blood from the . even is lps drain- had fille ned back In i t It sounded stran; age; he loo! “Silly Old Foo! ned gun above the c e¢ him loaded but s dence, got up and began topped in the middle of a He * he said aloud, “they should | ha’ him and the: never should a’ been held like this. That'll be a good | job if they take an’ hang him now, for | I far feel afraid, I do, as long as Har- | ry Cattermole’s alive.” Old Fitch opened the door a moment, faw the thin moon shining on the snow. but no living soul abroad, and for once | h® was in want of a companion; how- ever, the voices of the choir sounded | nearer than ever in the frosty air, and | heartened him a ttle as he shut the dcor | again, turned the heavy key, and shot both bolts weil home. He was stil! stoop- ing over the bottom one, when his eyes fell upon a ragged trouser leg and a stout Stocking planted close behind him. It was | ing to break into neo h. | murder me! fin the instantly jcined by another ragged leg and another stout stocking. Neither made a sound, for there were no shoes to the cat- like feet; and the stockings were remark- able for a most conspicuous stripe. Then old Fitch knew that his enemy had found him out, and he could not stir. He was waiting for a knife to plunge into the center of his broad, round back, and, when a hand slapped him there instead, he thought for a moment he was stabbed in- deed. When he knew that he was not, he turned round, still stooping, in a pitiable attftude, and a new shock grested him. Cculd this be Henry Cattermole? The poacher had been stout and thick- set; the convict was gaunt and lean. The one had been florid and youthful; the other was yellow as parchment, end the stubble on the cropped head and on the fleshless Jaw was of a leaden gray. That—that ain't Harry Cattermole?” the old man whimpered. “No, that ain't, but ‘twas once, and means to be again! Lead the way in be- side the fire. I wish you'd sometimes use that front parlor of yours; I've had it to myself this half hour, and that's cold.” Old Fitch led the way without a werd, walked innocently up to the fire and sud- denly sprang for his gun. He never reach- ed it. The barrel of a revolver, screwed round in his ear, drove him reeling across the floor. “Silly old fool!” hissed Cattermole. “Did you think I'd come to you unarmed? Sit down on that chair before I blow your brains out. Fitch obeyed. “LL GIVE You again the eyes of the two-men met; and those of the elder gleamed with a cunning curiosity. “How—how dtd you know?” he asked, lowering his voice and leaning forward as he spoke. : “Two and two,” was the reply. “I put ‘em together as soon as ever I saw you in the box.” “That'll never be beHeved—got like this.”” “Will it not? Wait a bit; you’ve not done yet. ‘As a proof of what I say’—do you hear me?—‘as a proof of what I say, the gun which the wad will fit, that saved Henry Cattermoie’s life, will be found—’ ” Cattermole waited until the old man had caught him up. “Now,” said he, “you finish the sentence for yourself.” “What?” cried Fitch. “Write where that gun’s to be found— you know—I don’t—and then sign your name!” “But I don't know—” “You do.” “I sold it!” “You wouldn't dare. You've got that somewhere, I see it in your face. Write down where, and then show me the place; and if you've told a lie—” The revolver was within a foot of the old man’s head, which had fallen forward be- tween his hanis. The pen lay blotting the wet paper. Cattermole took the brandy bottle, poured out a stiff dram and pushed it under the other’s nose. “Drink!’" he cried. ‘Then write the truth, arfd sign your name. Maybe they won't hang an old man like you; but, by ONE MINUTE—” I—I can't make out,” he ‘stuitered, ‘why you fare to come to me at all! ‘O" course you can't,” sail Cattermoie, ironical! “If I'd been you I'd but where I was known “You would, would you? Td got out, eh, old ma’ “Just been a-reading paper. I see. I caught a bit o' what you ng to rseif, just as I was thinking it was a safe thing to come out o’ that cold parlor o your > that was anywhere ‘then you knew ebout it in this me you was locking ont, was it? Yet yeu pretend you don’t know why I come! Yo nough. You know--vou know! had seats on the kitchen ta’ and was glaring down on the trembling old nin in the cir He} were a lor and under it some | pitiful rags. The cropped head and the legs swinging in the striped stockiugs were the only incriminatins features, and old Fitch was glancing from the one to the other, wondering why neither had saved him from this horribie interview. Catt: mole read his gleamed. “So you think I've come all the way in these here, do you?” he cried, tapping one shin. “I tell you, L-ve walked and walke till my bare iegs were frozen and then behind a hedge rubbed them to think I got these rot thoughts, and ris eyes | | . ad | ! Where Go you | =n old duds? Off of 2 scarecrow in a field, 1 did' I wasn’t go- uses end leave m But yesterday I tracks all along the line. got a long lift in a goods trzin, or Ij shouldn't be here now; and last night I did crack a crib tor this here overcoat a bit o° supper, and another for the she er. That didn’t so much maiter ther was within twenty mile of you! Of you, old dev lo you hear?” itch nec d with an ashen face. “And now do you know why I’ve come?” Fitch mvistened his biue lips. ‘To—to he whispered, like a dying That rests with you,” said the convict, fondling his weapon. What do you want me to do?” Confes: “Confess what?" whispered Fitch. “That you swore me away at the trial.” The old man had been holding his breath: he now expelled it with a deep sigh, and taking out a huge red handkerchief, wiped the moisture from his face. Meanwhile the convict had descried writing materials on a mer, and placed them on the table ide the brandy bottle and the tobacco ‘Turn your chair round for writing.” Fitch did so. ‘ow take up your per and write what I tell you. Don’t cock your head and look et me! I hear the psalm singing as well as yeu do; they've only just got started, and nobody'll come near us for another hour. Pity yeu didn’t go, too, isn’t it? Now write | what I tell you, word for word, or, so help me, you're a stiff ‘un Fitch dipped his pen in the ink. After all what he was about to write would be written’ under dire intimidation, and no- bedy would attach any importance to state- ments so obtained. He squared his elbows to the task “I. Samuel Fitch,” began Cattermole, ‘do hereby swear and declare before God’ Al- fore God Almighty, have you got that I, Samuel Fitch, did bear ‘S$ against my neighbor, Henry at his trial at Bury assizes, 18s7. It is true that I saw both Henry Cattermole and James Savage, his lordship’s gamekeeper, in the woods at Wolborough on the night of September 0, same year. It is‘true that I wes there by appointment with Savage, as his wife stated in her evidence. It is not true that I heard a shot and heard Savage sing out, “Harry Cattermole!" as I came up and before ever I had a word with him. That statement was a deliberate fabrics tion on my part. The real truth ts'—but hold on! I'm likely going too fast for you— Ive had it in my head that long! How Teuch have you got down, eh?” ation on my part,’ repeated old a trembling voice, as he waited mighty that down Now pull yourself together,” said mole, suddenly cocking his revoly real truth that I, Samuel Fitch, shot James ge with my own hand Fitch threw down his pen. “That’ he gasped. “I never did! The cocked revolver covered hi “Prefer to ale in your chair, eh?’ i give you one minute by your own watch.” Sull covering his man, the convict held out the other hand for the watch, and had momentary contact with a cold, damp one s it dropped into his palm. Cattermole ved the watch on the table where both could see the dial. “Your minute begins now,” said he; and all at once the watch was ticking like an eight-day clock. ch rolled his head from stde to side. “Fifteen seconds,” said Cattermole. The old m: brow was white and span- gled like the snow outside. “Half-time,” said Cattermole. Five. ten, fifteen, twenty seconds passed; then Ficch caught up the pen. “Go on, he groaned. “I'll write any line you like; that'll do you no good; no one will believe a word of it.” Yet the persipration was streaming down his face; it splashed upon the paper as he proceeded to write, in trembling characters, at Cattermole’s dic- tatic! The real truth is that I, Samuel Fitch, shot James Savage with my own hand. The circumstances that led to my shooting him I wiil confess and explain hereafter. When he had fallen I heard a shout and some one runing up. I got behind a tree, but I saw Harry Cattermole, the poacher, trip clean over the body. His gun went off in the air, and when he tried to get u again, I saw he couldn't because he’ twisted his ankle. He never saw me; I slipped away ard gave my false evidence, and Harry Cattermole was caught escaping from the wood on his hands and knees, with blood upon his hands and clothes, and an empty gun. I gave evidence against him to stop him giving evidence against me. But this is the whole truth, and noth- ing but the truth, so help me God!” Cattermole paused, Fitch finished writing; G—4, I shan’t think twice about shooting you if you don’t write the truth!” Fitch gulped down the brandy, took up the pen once more, and was near the end of his own death warrant, when the con- vict sprang lightly from the table and stood listening in the center of the room. Fitch saw him, and listened, too. In the chureh they were singing another hymn; the old man saw by his watch, still lying on the table, that it must be the last hymr, and in a few minutes his wife would be back. But that was not all. There was another sound—a nearer sound— the sound of voices outside the door. The handle was turned—the door pushed—but Fitch himself had locked and bolted it. More whispers; then a loud rat-tat. “Who is it?” cried Fitch, trembling with ment. as he started to his feet. he police! Jet us in, or we break in your door! There was no answer.- Cattermole was watching the door; suddenly he turned, and there was Fitch in the act of drop- j Ping his written confession into the fire. The convict seized it before it caught, and with the other hand hurled the old man back into his chair. “Finish it,” he said below his breath, “or you're a dead man! One or the other of us is going to swing! Now, then, under the floor of what room did you hide the gun? Let them hammer, the door is strong. What room was it? Ah, your bed room! Now sign your name.” A deafening crash; the lock had given; y the bolt held firm. ign!’ shricked Cattermole. A cold ring pressed the old man’s temple. He signed his name, and fell forward on the table in a dead faint. Cattermoie blotted the confession, folded it up, strode over to the door and smiling- ly flung it open to his pursuers. ——ee PASSING OF THE DRUM. It Will Scon Disappear in Connection With Army Life. Lieut. Con Marrast Perkins of the United States Marine Corps writes an article en- titled “The Last of the Drums” for St. Nicholas. Licut. Perkins says: I think few know that of all the time- hcnored equipments of war which these days of military progress have left us, the drum is the oldest, but, like the sword and the bayonet, the drum 1s fast disappear- ing. Its companion, the fife, hallowed by traditions of valor even in our own history, frcm Lexington to Gettysburg, is already gene, and ancther decade will still forever the inspiring martial music of the drum. What boy has not felt his pulses thrill and his heart swell with patriotic pride and martial ardor while gazing upon the well- krown picture of the revolution, the “Min- ute Men of '%6," forsaking the ploughshare and flying to take down the old fitntlock | at the tocsin of war—the throbbing of the Grum and the Shrill screaming of the fife, sounded by two scarred veterans, bare- headed, white-haired and in their shirt sieeves, marching through fields and along the roads, calling the patriots to arms! Every New England schoolboy has read the story of Abigail and Elizabeth, the sis- ters of Newburyport, who, during the revo- lution, repelled alone an attack of the British by beating furiously an old drum and blowing a fife. The British troops, who were about to land, hurried back to their ships, thinking a whole army lay in ambush to repulse them! Thus did a fife and drum drive off the eh- emy and save a town from pillage and ruin. The military drum is supposed to have been introduced in Europe by the Moors and Saracens, during the middle ages, and was quickly adopted by armies. The drum of today differs little, and in appearance only, from the earliest form. It consists, as every boy knows, of two pieces of parch- ment, or batter-heads, stretched over the ends of a hollow cylinder, and struck with sticks. For ages this instrument has been known among savage tribes and barbaric nations, who use its weird music to accom- pany their religious rites, as well as for War purposes. The tom-tom of the Sioux Indian is a good example of a primitive drum. In civilized warfare the drum has ever been connected with deeds of martial valor, and its voice is dear to the heart of the soldier who has followed its pulsing into the deadly fire of battle, or even in reviews and military parades, when rank upon rank sweep up a street keeping perfect alignment and step to the drum’s inspiring beat. It has found a place in history through the daring bravery of more than one beardless boy who has sounded at the tical moment the pas de charge or ‘rally just in time to turn the tide of battle. Johnny Clem, the “drummer boy of Shiloh,” who beat the rally without orders when his regiment had broken, panic- stricken, and thus helped to save the day, was made an officer for his heroism, and is now a major in the United States army. In fable, song and story the drum has ever kept pace with the most valiant deeds of men. Rudyard Kipling’s pathetic little story of “The Drums of the Fore and Aft,” two courageous drummer boys, who, at the’ cost of their own lives, led the charge and saved the honor of their regiment when routed by the Afghans, tells of a deed such as is to be found in history as well in fiction. More than once has the drum claimed a place in the front rank of storm- ing battalions, or led despérate charges in the van of a victorious army. What wonder, then, that we look sorrow- fully into the future, when battling will no’ longer be inspired by the “war-drum’: throb,” for we know that the advancé 0} military science, with all its death-dealing machine-guns, magazine rifles and its smokeless powder, will surely sound the knell of the drum. Not in It Now, From Puck. ee —‘She used to be an old flame of yours, did she not?" Arthur—“Yes; but that was when I had money to burn. ‘Ibe festal board is made brilliant Etat wise ita Undo ‘Sas g(Obeg ¥ cut on the genuine, i TO CIVILIZE “AFRICA —+1— The Introduction of Electricity Far in the Inferior. POWER FROM THE ZAMBEST RIVER Will Be Transmitted From Victoria Falls to Buluwayo. AN IMMENSE UNDERTAKING Written for The Evening Star. T= ESTABLISH- ment of an immense electric transmission system which will Practically encom- pass the whole southeastern section of Africa is to be un- dertaken by English capitalists. The plan is to harness the magnificent Vic- iy toria Falls on the di / Zambesi river in the’! manner of our own Niagara and distribute the accumulated force in every direction, taking in the mines of Mashonaland, Matabeleland, the Rand, and supplying power to whosoever wants it and for whatsoever purpose throughout Rhodesia, the Transvaal. and other stages roundabout. The scheme has been declared perfectly feasible by the eminent electrician, Professor George Forbes, who went over the ground in South Africa for the purpose of estimating its practicability. Some of the mines to be supplied are hundreds of miles from the falls. This will, however, make but little difference, as the general plan includes transmission 400 miles in length. A scheme is also proposed whereby the rapids of the Nile may be harnessed. At Assouan there is a waterfall forty-nine feet high which might be used to generate power for oper- ating some cotton mills in Cairo, nearly seventeen miles distant. Still ‘another scheme is the harnessing of the rapids which come down from Lake Nyassa, in Central Africa. The last two projects ‘are simply in contemplation, but the utilization of the Victoria Falls will shortly be an assured fact. WHI Overshadow Niagara. The harnessing of Victoria Falls will, as an engineering feat, overshadow the Niagara plant, for the reason that the power be utilized at such a great dis- tance from the falls, Niagara, for a long time to come, at least, will transmit its power for comparatively ‘short distances. As long as the company controlling it can dispose of its total output within a few miles of the falls they will do so, because while from an engineering point of view it is possible to transmit turreftt all the way around the earth, yet 4rom a commercial standpoint the schemié logs value be- cause of the rapid increasé the cost the further you go from the plant. At Vic- toria Falls, however, the tratsmission will all be over one hundréd miles in length, through stretches of wHd céuntry forests which will be opened for the first time, over level plateaus where Ldbengula car- ried on his savage wéffareff through ra- vines as wild and gran@ ‘as any in our own western country, to minés tanfalizingly full of mineral ‘vealth which has‘been, except in a small way, almost impossible to get out because of the insufficient power at | hand. 3 It is also likely that the transmission machinery will be mere powerful than Niagara, for the reason tht the power heuse can be located ata greater distance below the upper river. The Victoria Falls are over 1,000 yards’ wide, ami the river at tkis point drops sheer ‘tnto a huge fissure in the earth's surface nearly: 400 feet | | j had been to South Africa be encountered on the way. At the point of distribution—let us say at Buluwayo, 150 miles from the falls—the transmitted cur- rent will be passed through another, or ‘stepdown,” transformer, to the usable quantity cf 10,000 volts or less. It will then be made to operate the motors, which, in their turn, operate the machinery in the mines. In fact, as Engineer Shaw points out, enuugh energy can be transmitted from Victoria Falls to Buluwayo to run all the machinery required in the gold mines for the next twenty years. It Will Civilixe Africa, The civilizing element in this systcm consists In the fact that power can be transmitted and utilized in the depths of the wilderness with as much economy as though it were in New York, London or Paris. The line may be tapped at any point en route, and branch lines can be extended out in any direction and for any distance. At the end of the branch line, even though it be on the top of the highest mountain or in the middle of the densest swamp, thousands of horse power will be at the disposal of the persons at the head of such an enterprise. It will mean ‘hat the immense forests of Africa can be cut Gown with the most improved machinery, which under the old system could not have been removed from the heart of the manufac- turing center. It will mean that machin- ery can be taken into the wilderness and made to prepare its produe?s for civiliza- tion, irrespective of the fact whether coal be $1 or $50 a ton. It may be that in the course of a comparatively few years Africa will not be such a general point of destina- tion for the products of the civilized world. She may not only be able to manufaccure and prepare for the narket her own pro- ducts, but may be able to manufacture for her own use those which she must now import from other quarters of the globe. Had the United States possessed in its in- fancy such a civilizing factor, its growth as a nation would have been even more rapid than it has been. The most remarkable feature of the Whole project is that -vhen Prof. George Forbes received a letter from a man in Johannesburg asking whether it would be worth while considering the question of utilizing the Victoria Falls for working the mines in Mashonaland and Matabeleland, he simpiy laughed at the idea, and eat down to write an answer which would effectually point out the absurdity of the scheme of his rather progressive corres- pondent. He jotted down some rough figures to show the writer of <he letter the absurdity of the idea, and in so doing some new economics occurred to him, and a cheaper means of transit presented itself, end he came to the conclusion that the project was really quite business-like. This was made all the more tain afier he nd reviewed the situation at close quarte: From that time he had no fear of the long-distance transmission for certain purposes, such as gold mining, where in many cases cther power is costly, and especially as gi mines require power for twenty-four hcurs. Long-Distance Transmission. As a matter of fact, however, the pro- Jectors of the scheme have numerous ex- amples to point to in the big transmission systems of the United States and Europe. For instance, Niagara !s generating 29,4W) horse power and transmitting it 21 miles away. Sacramento, Cal., is receiving 11,- 0” horse power from a waterfall 24 miles away. The big plant at Ogden produces 11,000 horse power, and the distance of transmission is 36 miles. The big Cotton- wood plant has a capacity of 7.000 horse power, and the distance of transmission ts 14 iniles. The Fresno, Cal., plant produces 2,300 horse power, and the distance of trans- mission is 35 miles. These are sume of the newer American plants, but all over the Rocky mountains may be found plants, silver mines which are operated by elec- trie power, generated by waterfalls, situ- ated miles away. Abroad, the movement has been underiaken quite as seriously. Switzerland teems with successful instal- lations, and Germany and France have al- most as many. It is proposed to light St. Petersburg with power developed by the waterfalls of Finland. Deptford, gland, has a 10,000-volt plant which transmits cur- rent 11 miles to London. The ancient aque- ducts of the Romans at Tivoli, I have been refitted and the water drives powerful turbines, from which an electric plant jets its force to transmit the current to Rome, 19 miles away. The river Suze, Switzer- land, transmits electric current over 19 miles of mountainous country. In Mexico-| there is an 18-mile transmission plant at Guadalajara. Kioto, Japan, has a 4-mile transmission plant, and Lima, Peru, has a VICTORIA FALLS TRANSMITTING CURRENT. deep. If the general plan of the Niagara plant is adopted, the power house would be located on a level with the lower end of the falls. he tunnel carry- ing the water from the cpper river would supply the immerse turbines at a greatly accelerated pressure. The turbines, in or- der to take care of this pressure at its full power, would necersarily have to be very large, and if the electric generators to be run in their turn by the turbines are as large in proportion, the electric power it would be pessible to obtain would aggregate many faousands of volts. The Power of Water. The Zambesi, or Riv& of Signs, ranks with the €ongo, ard {8 th& only means of communication with:the fgterior. It is nearly 1,600 miles lorg, and has been the most important factor in the development of South Africa. It rises in the marshy country west of Bangweolor and passes through Lake Dilolo at the extreme south- western point of the Congo Free State. It receives many tributaries om its way to rthe Indian ocean and drains during its course over half a mijiion square miles of territery. iy It has many cataracts, narrows and rapids, and navigati is anly possible on stretches of 100 20Q miles. The Victoria Falls are 900 files from the sea. They were discovered Dg Livingston In 1855. After plungt: agen into the chasm, which is formq by..an immense crack in the basaltic {fock,-and which, by the way, is-at righfsangies to the for- mer course of the river, the stream is carried along in a narrow channel for nearly 30 miles, between steep basaltic rocks, which at’ some points are scarce- ly 100 feet apart. The power of this swift- ly running water can easily be imagined, and the electrical horse power into which it can be converted is great enough to be- come in course of time°one of the most civilizing factors that Africa will probably encounter, 4 ‘The method of transmitting the power will be the same as is followed in all the big transmission systems of America and Europe. The current obtained from the dyanmos, at a voltage of, say, 10,000,will be passed through enormtous transformers, which will, as they say in electrical cir- cles, ‘step it up” to an average of probably 100,000. This enormous power will then be transmitted by pole line across country, the force and nature of the alternating current easily overcoming al. resistance which may 5-mile plant. Even Ceylon has a plant which utilizes the waters of the Kotma- laegauga, and transmits current overland for some distance. It is the largest plant in India. —__-_ The Partners of Poverty FI: Frank Putnam in Chicago Times-Herald, ‘There was Molly, who started with me ‘On a capital sheckingly small; Helen came, we divided by three, And by four with the coiing of Paul. We have hop:s, as what mortal bas not? Of delights to be finally wou; We're expecting to “better our lot,” As so many a mortal Las done. We have* youth, of all riches the best; We have love. and are grateful for that; ‘Yet we're humanly hoping to test Something finer than Poverty flat. ‘If we were not, the sense of the age Would accuse us of lagging bebiad; 80 I'm writing this whimsical page ‘To assure you we bear it in mind: ‘Yea, we're trying—though oft we forget To remember the duty of man : Is to train with the dressiest set And to catch every dollar ke can, But withal, when the day’s in the bud, And the cdor of Spring's in the air, ‘There's a spirit of bliss in the blood, And our world is exceedingly fair. In the street it is restful and still Ere the rattle of traffic begins; "Tis the time when the masterful will Is asleep and at peace with its sins, From the view in the highway I tan To the sight of my babies asleep; ‘They have many a lesson to learn, y have many a duty to Keep. Better Than He Expected. From Puck. “The question is,” said the Turkish min- ister, “how much indemnity Greece will Ns that it?” asked Abdul Hamid, cheer- folly. “I thought the question was how much indemnity Greece would owe.” LIKE SCHOOL BOYS Sailors in Uncle Sam’s Navy Are Di- vided Into Classes. AND THEY LIKE If NOT AT ALL Whicheis One Cause for the Many Desertions of Late. TOO SEVERE ON THE MEN —_+_— RECENT DIS- patch from the navy yard at Mere Isiand, Cal., announced the prevalence of a sin- gular mania for de- serting the naval Service among the seamen and appven- tices attached to the ships of the Pacific squadron. Over 1ifty bluejackets, most of them apprentices, quit a single cruiser without waiting for their discharges with- in the space of a month, and the heavy weather men serving on several others of the men-of-war of the Pacific fleet were said, In the same dispatch, to be “going over the side like rats.” Confirmation of the essential facts contained in this dis- patch is found at the Navy Department. Many naval officers of high rank do not hesitate to express the opinion that the antiquated conduct class list system of the havy as applied to enlisted men is responsi- ble for a great majority of the desertions. The advisability of thoroughly overhaal- ing, if not completely abolishing, this queer cenduct class Ist system is a matter that has been under contemplation by the Navy Department for some time. In speaking of the em the other day to a Star reporter, a well-known officer of said: stem is generally recognized as being out of date, useless for the purpose for which it was devised—the punishment of regulation breakers—and altogether inap- Plicabie to the enlisted personnel of the modern navy. Commanding officers of men- of-war have frequently reported to the de- partment in recent years that the system Puts a premium on mediocrity, and inilicts alwgether too severe punishments apon bluejackets and marines whose lapses are only of an occasional sort. They have pointed out the injustice of ‘quarantining aboard ship for three months, a man whose conduct is of the most exemplary and straightforward character in the per- formance of his duty, but who, when he goes ashore, succumbs to the delights of the shore to un extent that causes him to ‘break his liberty’ for a day or so. We have all time and again suggested that there are other and better means of pun- ishing such minor infractions of discip!ine. Considered Obsolete. “The conduct class list system as it stands at present is practically the same as it was when the United States navy was composed of frigates and sloops-of-war. it sull bears with equal weight upon the best, if occasionally the most tumultuous, men in the ser and still maintains an impossible standard of goody-goodiness for the nardy men who mar the cou fighting ships that is no more near attain- ment today than it ever was. The men chafe under the system, which not only de- prives them of their shore liberty for unre scnable periods of time, but prohibits them from drawing money ‘due them, for the smallest infractions of discipline; and it would be difficult to estimate the number of desertions the class list scheme has caused.”” ‘The enlisted men, bluejackets and marires on board an American man-of-war are di- vided into five conduct ci and the re- cording of the men’s respective standing in these classes is about the most Gifficult and invelved werk performed by a ship's writer. Men who went to school about a quarter of a century ago will remember the little slips which their teachers gave them to take hore to their parents at the end of each month, on which were writ- ten their markings for “conduct” and “ap- plication” for that period. The figure 1 stood for “very good;” 2, “good;” 3, “fair,” and 4, “bad.” When a boy got the figure 4 inscribed cn his slip the chance was about ore in ten thousand that his parents ever saw it. Not unlike this old-time school system is that of the navy in recording the conduct of men with lye-plackened nails and backs bent with the toil of the sea, many of whom have ranged the world for almost a generation. ‘The enlisted man whose name ts inscribed on the ‘special first class” is privileged to draw all the money due him when mcnthly money is served out. and he may go asore every day while his ship is in port. The “first class’ man also gets all of his money each month, but is only allowed shore leave every other day. When a man gets his name on the “second class” he has to stay aboard his ship for a month before he is permitted to “hit the beach,” as the bluejackets call going ashore, end is only given one-half of his month's pay when monthly money is served out. The “third class” man stays aboard two months be- fore he is allowed to go ov. his ship's side, and gets a third of his pay, while the “fourth class” man, who Is in hardest care of all, enjoys the spectacle of his ship- mates oe droves in the steam launch for the beach for three months he- fore he can do likewise, and is permitied to draw only a quarter of is pay from zhe paymaster. If All Goes Well. It requires a month’s time for a man whose name appears in one of the in- ferior classes to advance a step. For in- stance, the fourth-class man, after he has served his three months in that class, ad- vances to the third class at the end of the next month, and at the close of still an- other month, if all goes well, he is enrolled among the men of the second class, and so on up to the special first class. But it is a very rare thing that “all goes well” enough for him to attain the top class list once he has fallen to the bottom. At the end of his three months he goes ashore, and there is so much of wrath stored up in his soul over his enforced continement aboard his ship for so long a period that he goes ashore with the deliberate intention of “breaking his liberty” down to the very limit. A navy sailor is declared a deserter after he has remained ashore longer than ten days. It not uncommonly happens that a fourth-class man, rendered reckless by a consideration of his three months’ of drudgery aboard ship and no play or pay to speak of, remains ashore, once he gets there, for nine days and twenty-three hours, and then has himself hauled over the side by a shore boatman; and quite of- ten he brings with him an interesting case of delirium tremens for the surgeon to han- die. Such a man “goes to the mast” (that is, confronts the commanding officer) and gets another three months’ dose of fourth class, ané thus it is that some of the most useful enlisted men in the navy, including a great number of chief petty officers, go through an entire cruise of three years on the fourth-class list, not making more than a dozen or.so of liberiies—but these good and long—during the entire period. “Liberty breaking” is the cause of most of the men getting their names on the in- ferior conduct class I'sts, and liberty breaking is a thing that is liable to con- tinue among the sailormen of all navies until the world’s peace congress has ac- complished its mission of disarming the earth. In nine cases out of ten it is not intentional. It, of course, stands to reason that no sailor whose name is on the special first-class conduct list, and who has enough brains to count his fingers, will deliberately remain ashore after his leave has expired, thus bringing upon himself a score of in- conveniences and annoyances, if he is pos- sibly able to navigate back to his ship. It is just this “if,” however, that generally catches him. Good Intentions. He starts off from his ship at 5 o'clock in the evening, say, with a full money bag underneath his mustering skirt, and a ca- pacity for shore enjoyment such as is only possessed by the man who passes his life cooped up under rigid discipline on a man- of-war. As like as not he sets his teeth SS down hard as he goes over the gangway, end swears to himself that he is not going to break his liberty, and also, as like 2s not, he thereby illustrates the brittiensss of human resolutions. The chances aro pretty good that he will remain all night—for a man-of-w to Waste good shore time } it up “s man hates going to bed he remairs up all night he is pretty likely to be in a state of exceeding great mental happiness by che time the east becomes in- flamed with orange, and when the realiza- tion comes home to him that he is duc back aboard his ship at 7 o'clock In the morning he ponders over it. while he takes a drink or two. In nine cases out of ten he arrives at the conclusion that the navy can get along without him for a few hours, and goes on making himself happy. If he becomes worn out by pure excess of Joy somewhere around midnight and does &0 to bed, in bed he is very Ikely to be in when the sun is circling high heavens, unless some of his sbipm up and dump him out on to th ail fours. But even ff he is alc broad awake in bed, he often enoaga covers that his weariness is such that he can't possibly get up, and that settles him. When the roll of his ship's company is called at quarters on that morning, he ts reported “absent without leav ship's writer, who has the Iist of a in his hand, and he is done for so f: his first class is concerned. When a bi Jacket discovers that he has broken his erty he generally remains ashore as jong he wanis to, for he knows that he Is | it when he goes aboard his ship anyhow. This is a somewhat shortsich however, for If he only overs a few hours he is on the urn cn and f. by the ond class: for an ov of 3 on the third class, and “breaking it” for more than a gets him down to the fourth class. bluejacket geherally picks the fourth as the particular class which he purposes joining under such cire cumstances. A fourth-class bluejacket engaged in the act of breaking his liberty is an interest- ing study. He generally goes broke after a day or so, but that does not bother him at all, He goes to the landing where his ship's steam launch pulls up, being cau- tious that no arking officers clap their by the cox’un of the sends off to some of his for more mone it to him on the retu for they have all been there themselve: While he is waiting for the return of the launch the Nberty-breaking Jack stands on i and contemplates his ship out in stream with a grin. He knows that he runs no danger whatever of being hunted while he is in a home port. But in the ports on a foreign station he must enjoy his deep-seated satisfaction over being foot-loose In the quiet of some friendly saloon, or elsewhither, and even then he runs a first-class chanc of being gathered in by the master-at-arms of his ship. The “Jimmy Le of an Americ shi man-of-war is always s¢ hore in @ foreign port to look up derelicts who have overstayed their leaves for more than a day, and he rarely fails to get them, no matter how elaborate the precautions they make to evade him. He has b nad Met himself and knows the ropes. There is not a corner of Shanghai or Liverpool or T: gier that the average master-at-arms of a United States war ves does net know that is likely to afford a hiding place for a_liberty-breaking bluejacke He hauls them from their lairs, gives them a drink or two to straighten them out on the way to the steam launch’s landing, and before they know ft they are over the cangway of their ship, practically led thither by the ear like truant boys. Required by the Regulat 1 of “It does not take a v long service on a man. officer quoted at ariicle, “to disc men of the ship, seamanship and experience, down in one of the inferior chaps who contrive to stick at the first clas through an entire cruise the words of a famous fighting a: recently died, ‘long-eared skulke take to the bilges at the first sh enemy.’ This may have been forcible way of putting it, bu per! naval this said the beginning of hat the best enl trained worker the ar a the mains that the special first conduct men are generally a pretty spiritless « who do not contribute any Very vast amount to the brains or the working ability of their ship's enlisted force. Many com- manders appre this fact, but the r-gu- lations require them to inflict the ‘quara tining’ punishments, and they can do pot ing about it. “If an enlisted man breaks his tibe commits any other infraction of discipl for which he is now marked down on cue of the ‘quarantining’ classes, the best wa. of dealing with him is to give him a co of the ‘brig’ in proportion to his offense. No navy sailor is fond of finding hin in double irons, and that sort of wv: ment would have a much moi effect than ‘quarantining’ him and with- holding his money from him. This sort of thing only embitters him and causes him to form the determination to stay the beach just as long as he ev chooses, once he gets there. M ‘quarantine’ a bluejacket or n three months is unjust end in contraven- tion of the laws of nature. It is a menace to a full-grown m 's health to keep him tied up on shipboard for three-month pe- riods, year in and year out. class list system shou! Th be done aw: conduct with altogether, and I think it will be before very long.” es She—“Before we were married you used to say I was an angel. “Dad used to tell me there were three celebrated lars in our town; that my brother was one, and I the other two." Life. ————+oe—____