Evening Star Newspaper, June 25, 1898, Page 16

se) seh se. high within the arctic circle, and only a little south of the 80th parallel, six men were sitting—much as they had sat, evening after evening, for months. They had a clock, and by it they In & one-roomed hut, divided the hours into day and night. As a matter of fact, it was always night. But the clock said 8:30, and they called the time evening. The hut was built of logs, with an inner skin-of rough match-boarding, daubed with pitch. It measured seventeen feet by four- teen} but opposite the door four bunks— two above and two below—took a yard off the length, and this made the interior ex- actly square. Each of these bunks had two doors, with brass latches on the Inner side; so that the owner, if he chose, could shut himself up and go to sleep in a sort of cupboard. But, as a rule, he closed one of them only—that by his feet. The other swung back, with its brass latch showing. The men kept these latches in a.high state of polish. Across the angle of the wail, to the left of the door, and behind it when it opened, three hammocks were slung, one above another. No one slept in the uppermost. But the feature of the hut was its fire- place; and this was merely a square hearth- stone, raised slightly above the floor, in the middle of the room. Upon this, a growing mountain of soft gray ash, the fire burned always. It had no chimney, and so the men lost none of its warmth. The smoke ascended steadily, and spread itself under the blackened beams and roof-boards in dense blue layers. But about elghteen inches below the spring of the roof “there Fan a line of small trapdoors with sliding panels, to admit the cold air, and below these the room was almost clear of smoke. A newcomer’s eyes might have smarted, but these men stitched their clothes and read in comfort. To keep the up-draft steady they had plugged every chink and crevice in the match-boarding below the trapdoors with moss, and paved the seams with pitch. The fire they fed from a stack of drift and wreck wood piled to the right of the door, and fuel for the fetching Strewed the frozen beach outside—whole trees notched into lengths by lumberers’ axes, and washed thither from they knew not what continent. But the wreck wood came from their own ship, the J. R. Mac- Neill, which had brought them from Dun- jee. They were Alexander Williamson of Dundee, better known as the Gaffer; David Faed, also of Dundee; George Lashman of Cardiff, Long Ede of Hayle, in Cornwall; Charles Silchester, otherwise the Snipe, of Ratcliffe highway or thereabouts, and Daniel Cooney, shipped at Tromsoe six weeks before the wreck, an Irish-American by birth, and of no known address. The Gaffer reclined in his bunk, reading by the light of a smoky and evilsmelling lamp. He had been mate of the J. R. Mac- Neill, and was now captain as well as patriarch of the party. He possessed three books—the Bible, Milton's “Paradise Lost” and an odd volume of “The Turkish Spy. Just now he was reading “The Turkish Spy." The lamplight glinted on the rim of his spectacles and on the silvery hairs in his beard, the slack of which he had tuck- ed under the edge of his blanket. His lips moved as he read, and now and then he broke off to glance mildly at Faed and the Snipe, who were busy beside the fire with @ greasy pack of cards, or to listen to the peevish grumbling of Lashman in the bunk 8! low him. Lashman had taken to his bed weeks before with scurvy, and com- plained incessantly, and, though they hard- ly knew it, these complaints were wearing his comrades’ nerves to fiddle strings—do- ing the mischief that cold and bitter hard work and the cruel loneliness had failed to do. Long Ede lay stretched by the fire, in @ bundle of skins, reading in his only book, the Bible, open now at the Song of Sol mon. Cooney had finished patching a pair of trousers, and rolled himself in his ham- mock, whence he stared at the roof and the moonlight streaming up there through the little trap doors and chivying the lay- ers of smoke. Whenever Lashman broke out into fresh quaverings of self pity, Coo- ney'’s hands opened and shut again, till the nails dug hard into the palm. He groaned at length, exasperated beyond endurance. "O stow it, George! D—n it all, man'!— He -ked himself sharp and short, rv pentant and rebuked by the silence of the others. They were good seamen all, and tender dealing with a sick shipmate was part of their code. Lashman’s voice. more querulous than ever, cut into the silence like a knife: “Thi: 2 ard now y along. I St an incurnbrance, and the sconer you're shut of me the better, says You needn't to fret. I'll be scon out ut of it—out there alongside of “Easy there, matey.” The Snipe glanced over his shoulder and laid his cards face downward. “Here, let me give the bed a shake up. It'll ease yer.” “It'll make me quiet, you mean. Plucky deal you care about easin’ me, any of yer!” “Get out with yer nonsense. Dan didn't mean it.” The Snipe slipped an arm under the invalid’s head and rearranged the pil- low of skins and gunny bags. “He didn’t, didn’t he? Let him say it, then.” The Gaffer read on, his lips moving si- lently. Heaven knows how he had ac- quired this strayed end stained and filthy little demi-octave with the.arms of Saum- @rez on its bookplate: “The Sixth Votme of Letters Writ by a Turkish Spy, Who Lived Five and Forty Years Undiscovered at Paris: Giving an Impartial Account to the Divan at Constantinople of the Most Remarkable Transactions of Europe, and Discovering Several Intrigues and Secrets of the Christian Courts (¢ ally of that of France),” ete., ete. “Written originally in Arabick. Translated into Italian, and from thence into English of the first volume. The eleventh editior London: Printed for G. s rahan, Be lard”—and a score of booksellers— MDCC- XLL” Heaven knows why he read it: since he understood about one-half and ad- mired less than one-tenth. The oriental reflections struck him as mainly bi: phemous. But the Gaffer's religious b. lief merked down nine-t hs of mankind for perdition, which perhaps made him tol- erant. At any rate, he read on gravely be- tween the puffs of his short clay— “On the 19th of this Moon, tHe king and the whole Court were present at a Ballet, Tepresenting the grandeur of the French Monarchy. About the Middle of the Enter- tainment, there was an Antique Dance per- form'd by twelve Masqueraders, in the sup- pos'd form of Daemons. But before they had advanc'd far in their Dance, they found an Interloper amongst "em, who by by the translator Ee NOWONCONCO WO WOO MOE Ae THE SEVENTH MAN, —--+———_ WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY “Q” ——.- —_ (Copyright, 1898, by H. T. Quiller Couch.) | enough. ercreasing the Number to thirteen, put them quite out of their Measure: For they Practise every Step and Motion beforehand, till they are perfect. Being abash’d there— fore at the unavoidable Blunders the thir- teenth Antique made ‘em commit, they Stood still like Fools, gazing at one an- other: None daring to unmask, or speak a Word; for that would have put all the Spectators into a Disorder and Confusion. Cardinal Mazarini (who was the chief Con- triver of these Entertainments, to divert the king from more serious Thoughts) stood close by the young Monarch, with the Scheme of the Ballet in his Hand. Knowing therefore that this Dance was to consist but of twelve Antiques, and taking notice that there were actually thir- teen, at first imputed it to some Mistake. But, afterwards, when he perceived thi Corfusion of the Dancers, he made a mo: narrow Enquiry into the Cause of this Di: order. To be brief, they convinced the Cardinal that it could be no Error of theirs, by a kind of Demonstration, in that they had but Twelve Antique Dresses of that Sort, which were made on purpose for this particular Ballet. That which made it seem the greater Mystery was, that when they came behind the Scenes to uncase, and examine the Matter, they found but twelve Antiques, whereas on the Stage there were thirteen...” “Let him say it. Let him say he didn’t ‘mean it, the rotten Irishman!” Cooney flung a leg wearily over the side of his hammock, jerked himself out, and sbuffied ucross to the sick man’s berth. “aw coorse I didn’t mane it. It just took me, ye see, lyin’ up yondher and huggin’ me thoughts in this—wilderness. I swear to ye, George; and ye'll just wet your throat to show there’s no bad blood, and ae” aor a THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 1898—24 PAGES. - that ye belave me.” He took up a pannikin from the floor beside the bunk, pulled a hot iron from the fire and stirred the frozen drink. The invalid tufned his shoulder pet- tishly. “I didn’t mane it,” Cooney repeat- ed. He set down the pannikin and shuffied wearily back to his hammock. The Gaffer biew a long cloud and stared at the fire; at the smoke mounting and the gray ash dropping—dropping; at David Faed dealing the cards and licking his thumb between each. . Long Ede shifted from one cramped. elbow to another and Pushed his Bible nearer the blaze, mur- muring, “Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil our vines.” “Full hand,” the Snipe announced. “Ay.” David Faed rolled the quid in his cheek. The cards were so thumbed and tat- tered that by the backs of them each play- er guessed pretty shrewdly what the other held. Yet they went on playing night after night; the Snipe shrilly blessing or cursing his luck, the Scotsman phlegmatic as a bolster. “Play away, man. What ails ye?” he asked. The Snipe had dropped both hands to his thighs and sat up, stiff and listening. “Whist! Outside the door. * * ** All listened. “I hear nothing,” said Da- vid, after ten seconds. “Hush, man—iisten! There, again. * * They heard now. Cooney slipped down from his hammock, stole to the door and “THE DOOR SHOOK; ALL STARTED, here tonight. I can’t sleep. It's Bill, I tell yer. See his poor hammock up there shak- ing * * Cooney tumbled out with an oath and a thud. “Hush it, you white-livered swine! Hush it, or by—’ His hand went behind him to his knife sheath. “Dan Cooney’’—the Gaffer closed his book and leaned out—“go back to your bed.” Not unless—” back. “Flesh and blood. “Go back.” And for the third time that night Cooney went back. The Guffer leaned a little further over the Jedge, and addressed the sick man. “George, I went to Bill's grave not six hours . The snow on it wasn’t even disturbed. Neither beast nor man, but only God, can break up the hard earth he lies under. I tell you that, and you may lay to it. Now go to sleep.” . . . . . . Long” Ede crouched on the frozen ridge of the hut, with his feet in the sleeping bag, his knees drawn up and the two guns laid across them. The creature, whatever its name, that had tried the door, was no- where to be seen; but he decided to wait a few minutes on the chance of a shot; that is, until the cold should drive below. For the moment the clear, tingling air was do- ing him good. The truth was Long Ede had begun to be afraid of himself, and the way his mind had been running for the last forty-eight hours upon green fields and visions of spring. As he put it to himself, something inside his head was melting. Biblical texts chattered within him like running brooks, and as they fleeted he could almost smell the blown meadow scent. “Take us the foxes, the little foxes * * © for our vines have tender grapes. * * * A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters and streams from Lebanon. « * * Awake, O north wind. and come thou south * * * blow upon my garden that the spices thereof may fiow out + * * He was light-headed and he knew it. He must hold out. They were all going mad; were, in fact, three parts crazed al- ready, all except the Gaffer. And the Gaff- er relied on him as his right-hand man. One glimpse of the returning sun—a glimpse only—might save them yet. S He gazed out over the frozen hills and northward across the ice pack. <A few streaks of pale violet—the ghost of the Aurora—fronted the mocn. He could see AND SAW THE LATCH MOVE UP.” listened, crouching, with his ear close to the jamb. The sound resembled breathing —or so he thought fer a moment. Then it seemed rather as if some creature were softly feeling about the door—softly fum- bling its coating of ice and frozen snow. Cooney listened. They all listened. Usu- ally, as scon as they stirred from the scorching circle of the fire their breath came from them in clouds. It trickled from them now in thin wisps of vapor. They could almost hear the soft gray ash dropping on the nearth. A log sputtered. Then the invalffi's voice claitered in: 2s “It's the bears—the bears! They've come after Bill, and next it'll be my turn. I warned you—I told you he wasn’t deep O. Lord, have mercy * * * mer- cy * * *! He pattered off into a prayer, his voice and teeth chattering. “Hush!” commanded the Gaffer gently, and Lashman choked on a sob. “It ain't bears,” Cooney reported, still with his ear to the door. “Leastwise ** * we've had bears before. The foxes, may- be * * * let me listen.” Long Ede murmured: “Take us the foxes, the little foxes * * © “I believe you're right,” the Gaffer an- nounced cheerfully. “A bear would sniff louder—though there's no telling. The snow was falling an hour back. and I dessay ‘tis Pretty thick outside. If ‘tis a bear, we don’t want him fooling on the roof, and I misdoubt the drift by the north corner is pretty tail by this time. Is he there still?” “I felt something then * * * through the chink, here * * * like a warm breath. It's gone now. Come here, Snipe, and listen.” “Breath, eh? Did it smell like beer?” “I don't know. * * * I didn’t smell nothing, to notice. Here, put your - head down close.” The Snipe bent his head. And at that moment the door shook gently. All stared, and saw the latch move up, up, * * * and falteringly descend on the staple. They heard the click of it. The door was secured within by two stout bars. Against these there had been no pressure. The men waited in a silence that ached. But the latch was not lifted again. The Snipe, kneeling, looked up at Cooney. Cooney shivered and looked at David Fae. Long Ede, with his back to the fire, softiy shook his feet free of the rugs. His eyes searched for the Gaffer’s face, but the old man had drawn back into the gloom of his bunk and the lamplight shone only on a gray fringe of beard. He saw Long Ede’s | look, though, and answered it quietly as ever. 3 2 “Take a brace of guns aloft, and fetch us a look round. Wait, if there’s a chance of a shot. The trap works. I tried it this afternoon with the cold chisel.” Long Ede lit his pipe, tied down the ear- pieces of his cap, lifted a light ladder off its staples and set it against a roof beam; then, with the guns under his arm, quietly mounted. His head and shoulders wavered and grew vague to sight in the smoke wreaths. “Heard anything more?” he ask- ed. “Nothing since,” answered the Snipe. With his shoulder Long Ede pushed up the trap. They saw his head framed in a panel of moonlight with one frosty star above it. He was wriggling through. “Fitch him up a sleeping bag, somebody,” the Gaffer or- dered, and Cooney ran with one. “Thank ‘ee, mate,” said Long Ede and closed the trap. They heard his feet stealthtly crunching the frozen stuff across the roof. He was working toward the eaves overlapping the door. Their breath tightened. They wail- ed for the explosion of, his gun. None came. The crunching began again; it was heard down by the very edge of the eaves. It mounted to the blunt ridge overhead, then it ceased. “He will not have seen aught,” David Faed muttered. “Listen, you. Listen by the door again,” They talked in whispers; there was noth- ing to be heard. They crept back to the fire and stood there, warming themselves, keeping their eyes on the latch. It did not move. After a while Cooney slipped off to his hammock; Faed to his bunk, alongside Lashman’s. The Gaffer had picked up his book again. The Snipe id a couple of logs on the blaze and remained beside it, cowering, with his arms stretched out, as if to embrace it. His shapeless shadow wavered up and down on the bunks behind him,-and, across the fire, he still stared at the latch. x Suddenly the sick man’s voice quavered out— “It’s not him they want—it's Bill! They're after Bill out there! That was Bill trying to get in. * © © Why didn't yer open? It was Bill, I tell yer!” At the first word the had wheeled right-about-face and si now pointing @ man with the oT and love of like “Matey * * * for the “I won't hush. There's something wrong for miles. Bear or fox, no living creature was in sight. But who could tell what might be hiding behind any one of a thou- sand hummocks? He listened. He heard the slow grinding of the ice pack off the beach; only that. “Take us the foxes, the little foxes * ¢ *”" This would never do. He must climb down and walk briskly or return to the hut. Maybe there was a bear, after all, behind one of the hummocks, and a shot or the chance of one, would scatter his head clear of these tom-fooling notions. He would have a search round. What was that, moving * * * on a hummock not 500 yards away? He leaned forward at gaze. Nothing now; but he had seen something. He lowered himself to the eaves by the north corner and from the eaves to the drift piled there. The drift was frozen solid, but for a treacherous crust of fresh snow. His foot slipped upon this and down he slid of a heap. Luckily he had been careful to sling the guns tightly at his back. He picked him- self up and, unstrapping one, took a step into the bright moonlight to examine the mipplems took two steps, and stood stock still. There before him on the frozen coat of snow was a footprint. No; two, three, four—many footprints; prints of a naked human foot; right foot, left foot, both naked, and blood in each print—a little smear. It had come, then. He was mad for cer- tain. He saw them; he put his fingers in them, touched the frozen blood. The snow before the door was trodden thick with them—some going, some returning. “The latch * * * lifted ***" Suddenly he recalled the figure he had seen moving upon the hummock, and with a groan he turned and gave chase. Oh, he was mad for cer- tain. He ran like a madman—floundering, slipping, plunging in his clumsy moccasins. “Take us the foxes, the little foxes *** my beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him. I charge you, oh, daughters of Jeru- salem * * * I charge you * * * I charge * * *” He ran thus for 300 yards maybe, and then stopped as suddenly as he had started. His mates—they must not see these foot- prints or they would go mad, too; mad as he. No, he must cover them up, all within sight of the hut. And tomorrow he would “They Must Not See These Foot- Print: come alone and cover those fartfler afield. Slowly he retraced his steps. The foot- prints—those which pointed toward the hut and those which pointed away from {t—lay clese together, and he knelt before each . . Within the hut the sick man cried softly to himself. Faed, the Snipe, and Cooney slept uneasily and muttered in their dreams. The Gaffer lay awake, 2 After Bill, George Lashman, ‘and after * * © who next? And who would be. the last—the unburied one? The men were’ weakening fast; their wits and courage the last with a rush. -Faed only two to be de- The. Gaffer elect, or might be if ‘interceded for. The Gaffer began to intercede for him silently, but experience had taught him that such “wrestlings” to be_effective must be noisy, = he dropped ongeo sleep with a sense of failure. = " The Snipe Hed himself, yawned and awoke. it 7 & the morning; time to Prepare a cu of t#s. He tossed an armful logs on tNe fing. and the noise awoke the Gaffer, who at onee inquired for Long Ede. He had-nat returned. “Go up to the Foof. The lad mugy be frozen.” The Snipe climbed the laddef, pushed cepen the trap and came baek, ting that Long Ede was nowh = te seen. The old man slipped a jumper o¥r his suits of clothing— Tet already thi moved to th thing warm “The kettle ¥ the Snipe advised. five minutes bolling.” But the Ganér p up the heavy boits and dragged Whe door open. “Losh me! ra hand, lads!” ‘one before the thresh- hold, his outstretched hands almost touch- ing it, his moccasins covéred out of sight by the powdery snow which ran and trickled incessantly—trickled between his long, disheveled locks and over the back of his gloves, and ran in a thin stream past the Gaffer’s feet. ~They carried him in and taid him on a heap of skins by the :fire.: They forced rum between his clenched teeth and beat his hands and feet, and kneaded and rub- ‘bed_him:_A gigh fluttered on his lips; some- thing between a sigh and smile, half seen, half heard. His eyes opened, and they saw that it was really a smile. “Wot cheer, mate?”. It was the Snipe who asked. + “II seen * * # ‘The voice broke off, but he was smiling still. What had he seen? Not the sun, surely! By the Gaffer’s kening the sun would not be due for week or two yet; how many weeks he jcould, not say precisely, and sometimes he was glad enough thai he did net know. . i They forced him to drink a couple of spconfuls of rum, and wrapped him up warmly. Every ‘man contributed some of his own beddings..Then the Gaffer called to morning prayers,- and the three sound men dropped on their knees with him. Now, whether by reason of their joy’ at Leng Ede’s recovery, or because the old man was in splendid voice, they felt their hearts uplifted: that morning with a cheer- filness they had ‘not known for months. Long Ede lay and listened dreamily while the passion of the “Gaffer’s thanksgiving shook the hut. His gaze wandered over their bowed forms, “The Gaffer, David Faed, Dan Cooney, the Snipe and, George Lashman in his bunk, of course—and me.” But, then, who- was the seventh? He ba- gan to count. “There’s myself—Lashman, in his bunk—David Faed, the Gaffer, the. Snipe, Dan Cooney. * * * One, two, three,- four—well, but that made seven. Then who was the seventh? Was it George, who had crawled out of bed and was kneeling there? Decidedly there were five kneeling. No; there was George, plain enough, in hls berth, and not able to move. Then who was the stranger? Wrong again; there was no stranger. He knew all these men—they were his mates. Was it—Bill? No, Bill was dead and buried; none of these was Bill, or like Bill. Try again—One, two, three, four, five—and us two sick men—seven. The Gaffer, David Faed, Dan Cooney—ha’ I counted Dan twice? No, that’s Dan yot dev to the right, and’only one of him. Five men kneeling and two on their backs; that makes seven evéry time. Dear God—sup- pose The Gaffer ceased, and in the act of ris- ing from his knees caught sight of Long Ede’s face. While th others fetched their breakfast cans he stepped over ard bent and whisps . Ye've seen what?" Long dg echoed. “Ay, seen witat? ‘Speak low—waseit the Dg he s—.” ,But this time the echo died on his lips, ang his, fate grew full of awe preomprehendfig. Jt frightened the Ga‘ “Ye'll be thesbetter of a snatch of sleep,” said he, and wee tugning to go, when Long Ede stirred a jpandjunder the edge of his ‘UBS. B “Seven—coudt," "he whispere “Lord have merc¥ upon us!” the Gaffer muttered to hig beagd as he moved away. “Long Ede gone crazed.” . And yet, thoygh af hour or two ago this was the ‘worst that’ could” have befallen, the Gaffer fer®>inustally “cheerful.” As for the others, theg wef like different men all that day and through the three days that followed. Even Laghman ceased to,com-{ plain, and, unjess their eyes played them a_trick, had taken a, turn for. the better. “I declare, if ont teat like pitehing to sing!” the 'Sripe“antrodinced on the second evening, us much tochis own wender as to theirs, “Then why. inythunder don’t: you strike up?” answered Dan . Cooney, and fetched bis concertina..The Snipe. struck up then and there, ‘“Villikins and His Di- reh.” What is more, the Gaffer looked up from his “Paradise Lost” ‘and joined in tne chorus. E By the end of the second day Long Ede was up and about again. He went about with a dazed look in his eyes. He was counting, counting to himself, always countin The Gaffer watched him fur- tively. Since his recovery, though his lips moved frequently, Long Ede had scarcely uttered a word. But toward noon on the fourta day he said an extraordinary thing. “There's that sleeping bag I took with me the other night. 1 wonder if ‘tis on the roof still. It will be froze pretty stiff by this. You might nip up and see, Snipe, and” — he paused—“if you find it, stow it up yonder or_Bill’s hammock.” The Gaffer opened his mouth, but shut it again without speaking. The Snipe went up the ladder. ~ A minute passed, and then they heard a ery from the roof—a cry that fetched them all trembling, choking, weeping, cheering to the foot of the ladder. “Boys! boys!—the ‘Sunt . . . * . . . Months later—it ‘Was June, and even George Lashman had recovered his strength —the Snipe came rubning with news of the whaling fleet. Antf'on the beach, as they watched the vessels coming to anchor, Long Ede told the Gaffer his story. “It was a hall—a_hallu—what <d'ye call it, I reckon. I was crazed, eh?” ‘The Gaffer’s eyes wan- dered from a bramBling hopping about the lichen-covered boulders and away to the sea fowl wheeling above the ships, and then came into his mind a tale he had read once in the Turkish Spy. “I wouldn't say just that,” he answered, slowly. “Any way,” said Long Ede, '“I believe the Lord sent a miracle to us to’ save us all.” “I wouldn’t say just that, either,” the Gaffer objected. “I doubt it was meant just for you and me. and the rest were presairved, as you say; | inceedently.”” (THE. END.) ———>____ TIME TO THINK. How Long it Really Takes to Per- form the Operation, From the St. Louls Glbe-Democrat. Professor Richet says that it takes a man about one-eleventh of a second to think out each yote of a musical scale. He explains the practice that people will often follow of bending their heads in order to catch each minute sound by the fact that the smallest '{Intervats of sound can be much better distinguished with one ear than with both, Thus the separateness of the clicks of; a revolving toothed wheel were noted by!ene éeserver when they did net exceed ‘sixty tothe second, but using both ears he ° ot distinguish them when they oftener than fifteen times a seconds. Among the various ways in which Proféssor JRichet tried to arrive at conclusions! as 6 the amount of time necessary for any physical sensa, tions or ment sion was the touch- ing of the skin fe ly with light blows from a small . The fact that tne blows are it and not continuous pressure can ifstinguished when they follow one anéfher"as frequently as 1,000 a second. The shar% sound of the electric spark from an? i ction coll was distin= guished with: One efit, when the-rate was as high as 5003to aig necond. The sight is much less keel: WHbn revolved at a speed no faster thanctwerty-four times a second, a disk half white and™haif black will ap- pear gray. We ~ hear than we can coun! second, we can count four with twenty to the.second we only two of them... “ON THE MARCH IN CUBA.” FOR MOUNTAIN WORK Light Batteries Will Play an Import- ant Part in the War. CAN MOVE FASTER THAN THE ARMY Are Particularly Effective Against a Guerrilla Foe. ADAPTED TO USE IN CUBA F THE CUBAN campaign is carried out according to the original plans none of the men engaged in it will see any more interesting ser- vice than that which is likely to fail to the lot of the Nght batterles such as the one organized and equipped by Colonel J. J. Astor. Cuba is especially adapted to the work of such companies, especially in the mountainous eastern district about San- | tlago. The mission of such a battery is to seek out and destroy, at close range And piece- meal, an enemy whose forte is a protracted | and unceasing system, of guerrilla warfare, that is extremely harassing and discour- aging to troops accustomed to a “fair field and no fator,” even though they be sea- soned and well-tried veterans. The duty is a perilous and often lonely one. The mules and their guides must penetrate into spots perfectly inaccessible to large bodies. of troops, and where self-reliance is the only incentive to victory. The brunt and vigor of the conflict must be borne by the dar- ing gunners, and swollen rivers and untrod- den defiles must not be allowed to. inter- fere with the unrelenting advance toward the hostile territory. As its name implies, the mountain bat- tery is designed mainly for operating in well known, his magnificent army was almost decimated in carrying out the tre- mendors undertaking. Of all the obstacles which presented themselves, the transpor- tation of the field guns which accompanied the expedition was the most formidable: it is related that the combined exertion of an entire battalion was necessary to move a single piece, wiih its proper supply of ammunition; while the other half of the yegiment found a sufficieat burden in car- rying the double lead of knapsacks, fire- locks, camp utensils and five days’ rations which the wearisome labor of their com- 1ades imposed upcn them. But now all this is changed. It has become rossible to transport a light artillery train across a difficult region at a rate of progress which the main body of troops cannot hope to attain, and instead of proving a source of Gelay and hindrance, as was formerly *he case, the artiliery of today, in its ad- vanced type of rapid-firing mountain guns, forms a vanguard that insures a speedy and safe advance into the innermost fast- nesses occupied by an unorganized enemy Nor are these portable cannon of a mean or insignificant caliber; they fire shells weighing as much as nine pounds, and, the case of howitzers, even more, so that their moral and actual effect is littl any, inferior to that of the usual tw: pounder field gun. Moreover, they are at all times ready for immediate use; in less than three minutes from the word of com- mand, “Action front!” a round or more from the entire battery can be poured into the foe; whereas a regular field battery on the march could be annihilated before it would have time to effectually use its guns against a sudden attack. France and Italy. It is but little known to the outside world, that both France and Italy have adopted the mountain battery as an integral part of the home defenses. When, in 1887, it be- came certain that Italy had joined the iriple alliance, the then minister of war in France determined that something must be done to defend ihe Alpine boundary from even the possibility of invasion in the event of hostilities by the new coalition. For | that purpose he organized a perfect sys- tem of mountain artillery on the model of the British Indian force, and manned it with specially selected mountaie>rs. Italy, in turn, was compelled to provide a simtlar corps for the defense of her side of the range, and soon the two regiments, begot- ten in haste, began to fraternize and ban- quet one another. The same amicable re lations have existed ever since, and the bat- teries have established a friendly rivalry, that animates both parade and carousal. The United States army for the first time made use of this arm in active warfare in the Mexican war of 1845-48. The light and portable nature of the guns made them ex- tremely valuable in the irregular skir- mishes that took place, but their most im- portant use was found in clearing the Streets from a point of vantage on the “LOADING MULES FOR THE MARCH.” a hilly, roadless country, where the heavy and comparatively cumbrous field piece cannot penetrate. Hence the equipment and trappings of the mountain gun are es- sentially different in many particulars from those of the field 12-pounders. All the rificed to make way for the more desira— lightness and ease of locomotion, which form the three indispensable attributes of the equipment of @ mountain battery. In British India this 2 cope yle of warfare practiced by the of the Himalayas. ee “A Century Ago. ‘When Napoleon, in 1809, daringiy crossed the Alps in his determivation to carry. the war against Austria into the enemy's coun- ‘Were such as would have seemed insuper- able to any but that intrepid spirit; as is” roofs of the flat-topped houses of the City ef Mexico. The ease with which the guns could be carried or slung to the roofs ren- dered them invaiuable in repelling the street attacks, which were of daily occur- rence after General Scott and his heroes had taken possession of the capital. With the Aster Battery. = fulness of the gallant boys who are to de+ fend the newly-acquired Philippine archi- pelago. As has been told in the daily papers, Hotchkiss guns of spécial construc- tion and remarkable rapidity of fire have been issued to the brave company of vol unteers through the patriotic generosity of Col. Astor, LIEUT. R. O. SCALLAN, Late R. A. > CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR NOTES “The Right Use of Time” ts the theme of Christian Endeavor discussion at the meet- ings tomorrow, and on this Rev. A. D. Tnaeler, president of the North Carolina C. E. Unton, writes: “The ancients painted opportunity as a flying figure, long-haired in front, but bald behind. We may seize the passing moment, but reach fn vain after it when past.” Representative Hilborn of Callfornia, chairman of the House naval committee, will deliver his lecture on the United States navy at Mount Vernon Place Church next Thursday evening. The Lutheran Young People’s Union is arranging for a mass. meeting to be held Friday, July 1, at 8 o'clock, in St. Paul's Church, corner of H and 11th stree’ ‘th- west. Miss Hooper's Sunday school class, First Congregational Church, has presented a handsome flag to the church. About $43 was raised at this church on Children’s day for a school in Nebraska. The good literature committee of the Memorial Lutheran Society held a very in- teresting prayer service on the evening of the 17th at engine house No. 9. Miss Mabel Callahan was the leader. Miss Sadie Harbaugh, superintendent of the Junior Society at Mount Vernon Place M. E. Church South, leaves next week for Kansas City, Mo., where she will enter a Bible training school, preparatory to en- tering the mission field. One of the most successful services that has been held by the Christian Endeavor Society of the First Presbyterian Church was that of last Sunday. It was in the na- ture of a memory meeting, and was held in the twilight. Following is a list of the officers chosen at the recent meeting of the Junior Super- intendents’ Unton for the year beginning in September: President, Rev. C. H. Butler, re-elected; vice president, Mrs. C. C. Tuck- er; ling secre’ , Miss Adelia Ran- dolph; treasurer, Mi james Bevans; corre- sponding secretary, continuous office, Miss Gertrude Allison. The union has adjourned over the summer. At the annual election of officers of the C. E. Society of Keller Memorial Lutheran Church, just taken place, the following were chosen, to be installed in September: President, Mr. R. H. Bowdler; vice pi dent, Miss C. M. Norman; secretary, Miss L. K. Bowdler; treasurer, Miss C. B. Chase; corresponding secretary, Mrs. L. A. Kal- bach; organist, Miss Parkinson. The District Christian Endeavor Union are planning to entertain the New Hamp- shire, Vermont and Maine delegations to the Nashville convention, which will arrive in Washington, en route to Nashville, on Saturday, July 2, about noon, and remain in the city until Monday morning. July 4. The delegations of these three states have combined, and while in this city will stop at the Hotel Vendome. Guides will be fur- nished the visitors for sightseeing, a repre- sentative of the union will be stationed at the hotel to answer any inquiries, a special meeting will be arranged for Sunday even- ing, July 3, by the Christian Endeavor So- ciety of the First Presbyterian Church. A trolley riue to Cabin John bridge is being arranged for the visitors for Saturday evening. The Christian Endeavor societies of the District are contributing largely to the army work. Literature in large quantities has been received from many societies, and has been sent to Camp Alger for distribu- tion by the Y. M. C. A. workers there. Re- ports are received daily of some special work among the soldiers done by Christian Endeayorers in the city. Seren ies Louisiann’s Tiger Zouaves. From the Atlanta Constitution. There were occasicns during the war when some of the confederate soldiers were anything but apostles of sweetness and light. Early in the trouble the notorious Louisi- ana Tiger Zouaves came through Atlanta on their way to Virginia. For hours before their arrival telegrams kept the wires hot advising our citizens to keep out of the way. Rumors reached here of the mur- derous assaults made by the zouaves upon people en route, and just before the train was due in the afternoon the women, chil- dren and timid citizens were in a state bordering on hysterics. When the train rolled in the Tigers began jumping off before it stopped under the car- shed. and they at once seattered in every direction looking for Nquor. The sight of their bronzed, foreign-looking fac and bizarre uniforms scared the spectators in fits, and most of the ron-combatant a rush for their homes, where thi their doors and did not again veniure until the next day. The zouaves had a few fights esmong themselves, but they did not bother the inhabitants as much as had been expected, They were so noisy and threatening, how- ever, that the provost guard roun: them up at night and penned them up in the ol] court house yard, where Dr. Ivigney made a speech to them m French, which had the effect of putung them in a good humor. ——__--+ e+ ____ A Plot Against Mr. Gladstone. From the St. James’ Gazette, On one occasion two gentlemen, invited as guests at a table where Mr. Gladstone was expected, made a wager that they would start a conversation on a subject about which even Mr. Gladstone would know nothing. To accomplish this end they read up an ancient magazine article on some unfamiliar subject connected with Chinese manufactures. When the favor- able opportunity came the topic was start- ed, and the two conspirators watched with amusement the growing interest in the subject which Mr. Gladstone's face be- trayed. Finally he joined in the conversa- tion, and their amusement was turned into gnashing of teeth—to speak figuratively— when Mr. Gladstone said, “Ah, gentleme I perceive you have been reading an article I wrote in the "—— Magazine’ some thirty or forty years ago. Evens ve mat shudders at \ the thought jf being torn ,'"/and rended in the jaws of a fero- ‘cious tiger. In every walk of life, from that of the laborer to