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A MIDSUMMER SERMON.
Bab Interpolates Some Striking Anec
dotes About Children.
Liberality in Religion, and the Few
People Who Know What It Really
Signifies You and I and “Our
Views”—-A Manly Little Chap, Hon
est From the Word Go—A Lesson to
Be Learned From the Sports of the
Youngsters.
Mount Washington, Md.,Sept. I.—Why
Is it that there are people in this world
who believe that there is no way of going
to heaven except on the paths chosen
specially by them? And why is it these
people invariably go about the world pro
mulgating this narrow doctrine? Nobody
knows where it first emanated from.
Certainly not from the lips of the God-
Man. He very distinctly said that "in
His Father’s house were many mansions.”
If there are many mansions there must be
many roads leading to them. Therefore, .
who can say which is the right and which
is the wrong? My friend, the fanatic, be
lieves that all of us who were born before
the Divine Son, all of us who never heard
of Him, will boil forever in oil as hot as
her temper.
My friend, the attitudinarian, thinks
that if you and [choose to say a prayer
silently instead of kneeling and calling it
out loud in the synagogue, >so that all
men may hear, that God will refuse to
listen to the quiet petition.
My friend, the platitudinarian, is more
than certain that because you and I de
cline to listen to the monotonous opinions
of a newly graduated clergyman over
flowing 1 with his own greatness and elect
to read some dear old book of sermons,
the seed of good words is lost upon us,
and we can hope for nothing.
THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE.
My friend, the latitudinarian, considers
himself broad, and yet he thinks that
when you and I would give a bit of hope
to every sinner that we have gone quite
beyond the line, and that our broadness
has become liberality. How little he
knows that in that very word of liberal
ity is comprised all that is of all re
ligions, for it means giving to every think
ing human being the right to choose his
own method of worship and to live up to
it. It has been a word much misused,
and yet, in its best sense, it is like the
faith of little children, which is the one
that we are told is the best of all.
Speaking of children, and one is forced
to speak of them very often during the
summer time. lam reminded that the
best doctor I had during a week of illness
when all the world seemed miserable
and even the sun didn’t shine, was a
little child. Every day, or rather every
night, he came to pay me a visit, and
being a manly little chap his visits
cheered me up, and it did seem that
there might be some gold in life except
that caught in his curls. He was not a
seraph, nor a cherub, nor anything abnor
mal ; he was a beautiful, bright, frank
boy with a manliness that best expressed
itself in his giving another boy a thrash
ing because he spoke of his sister. This
gallant champion was 5 years old, but we
all congratulated him on his victory.
A CHAMPION OF THE TROLLEY.
I asked him not long ago if he would re
member me when we were far away from
each other, and he said: “Well, I might
for a little while, but I am pretty sure if
I did not see you I might forget you.”
The fact that there were some sweets in
my hand couldn’t bring this boy to tell
what wasn’t true. At present, his ambi
tion is to be a motorman on a trolley car.
But, surely, with the good common sense
that he already displays, he will be put
some place where he can be a teacher of
men. That Is what we want—among our
public men—among our preachers, legisla
tors. lawyers, and all those whose
word counts for something in the
history of the state. We want
the honest frankness of a little
child. Children are naturally honest
politicians are not. Watch children when
they are playing. In the beginning things
are divided equally; it is true that in the
course of the game or through the wheed
ling power of one boy the marbles, or the
sweets, may in greater numbers belong to
him, still they started out square enough,
and they are generally more than anxious
to stick close to the rules of the game.
How many people do that in life? How
many politicians do it?
• The rules of the game are ignored and
the starting out square isn’t even allowed.
The rules of the game, whatever that
may be, whether it be life, the old one of
politics,
THE FASCINATING ONE OF LOVE,
or that equally fascinating one played
with the picture cards, loses its interest
when the rules are forgotten. Who cares
if the game is won. if cheating counted
as little or nothing? How can one care
much for the girl who gained her lover
bv false tricks and underhand ways? I
How can one be interested in the poli- ;
tlcian who sells his power, and he thinks
only of tilling his pockets? Or, what
is there in that long game of life unless,
day in and day out, the laws are thought
of and adhered to, and so one is certain
that it is being played carefully, with due
thought, and with a hope that at the end
one will be declared honestly the winner?
The rules mav be Hoyle's, or Schenck’s,
or whoever you may elect; but be sure
that, they are good ones. See how your
hand works in with them, and occasion
ally, if it is necessary, make a bold play;
or. if there is need be secretly, do a good
bluff. But never make these out-of-the
way plays, unless your hand is so poor
that you must make the laws suit it,
rather than it suit the laws.
LIFE AND CARDS.
You may start out in life, and your
hrJ may show inherited drunkenness—a
bad card, my friend—you may show a
quick temper, poverty, generosity and
bravery. You can draw two cards: at
least, it seems best to do so. Throw aside
the drunkenness and the temper and see
If you can’t draw self-control and wis
dom. The poverty you can use being a
man very well; you can bluff with it, or,
as the three you held are heart c rds,
the two to come may be the same < or,
and the hand that was poor, sud U uly
becomes good through your careful ma
nipulation. I known it is hard to come
into the world with a bad band; to know
that one’s opponent deals the cards, and
that he is ever ready with a taunt and
a sneer to laugh at the mistakes one
makes, or to be gay and joyous over one’s
loss and his gain. Just remember it is a
game, this one of life, and
LEARN TO PLAY IT QUIETLY
and with skill.
You seldom succeed in anything if you
make much noise about it. And those
people who are best up in the rules of the
game know that the heedless player, or >
the one who doesn’t make the best out of
the least, is the one who, if he does not
lose entirely, will t ome out of the battle
so weakened and so scared and so alto
gether miserable, that it will be hardly
worth while to count it a victory.
I look at my little neighbor as 1 am
thinking about this—that manly little
boy who has been my friend. He is
starting out with good cards—superb (
health, great beauty, affectionate man- ,
ners and honesty and frankness. What
is it ail going to mean to him? Dear 1
little child! All 1 can say is that I hope
he will be like the mariner who though
he may be tern pest-tossed will have to co i
through many storms, still will come into
port gallantly at last, oiienng a clean
bill.
ART WORK AND BABY JACKETS.
We are getting up a fair. At present
it seems most likely that on sale there
will be ice cream and cake, doll babies,
baby jackets and art work. lam not
very well up in art work, and when
somebody shows me a piece of bright cot
ton stuff, and with queer, straggling
stitches done in yellow silk, and asks me
what it means, I hesitate (for I have
learned wisdom) and say: "From na
ture?” and then I am told that it is the
goldenrod copied direct from the flower.
It might be anything, but its closest like
ness is to the figures on Cleopatra’s
Needle. The lady who is going
to attend the ice cream
has resigned, because she said
she felt she couldn’t be just; that she
knew that she would give some children
more than others, and, of of course, that
wouldn’t be real justice. Several irate
mothers immediately accepted her resig
nation, and I believe she is now going to
sell bananas. She can’t very well be un
just then, as every child will pick out its
own. There is to be a procession of baby
carriages headed by a mouth organ—l
decline to believe that any human being
could be back of it. There are also to be
"living pictures;” so far, the only one
absolutely arranged is
"UNCLE TOM AND LITTLE EVA”
and my beautiful boy, with his hair
parted in the middle, is to be "Eva,”
while Uncle John, a colored man, who at
tends the chickens and wears spectacles,
is to be “Uncle Tom.” We are much en
thused about this, for the electric light is
to be thrown upon it, and as the entire
picture comes irom our household it will
undoubtedly receive the most applause.
Then there is to be singing and tea. And
with the tea we can have a cup and sau
cer to take home.
Isn’t it queer how like small children
we are all of us on the subject of taking
something home? When I used to be
braided until my head ached, and then
gowned in white and blue sash ribbons,
and started for a child’s party, I took no
interest in anything until I saw the white
paper bags, each tied with a bright rib
bon, that every visitor was to carry home
with her. None of us get out of this.
When we go out shopping, or visiting, or
off on a trip, there is always a desire to
.bring something home to talk about and
to illustrate exactly what the pleasure
was. Sometimes I think we don’t always
BRING THE RIGHT THINGS HOME.
Sometimes we bring the cross word and
the ugly temper, and all the vexations
that come from being tired instead of the
bright things that are so easy to carry.
Somebody says: “But I was tired and
worn out, and I got all right after awhile,”
but alter awhile isn’t the time; it is right
now. It would have been possible for
you to have gone to your room and rested
awhile before you saw anybody. I
think men are guiltier of bringing
home what they ought not to than
are women. They come home in the even
ing and the irritation that couldn’t be
given to their business partners, the cross
words that would be undignified to speak
to a clerk, and the ugly temper that it
would not have been proper to vent in
words before strangers, are all brought
home, and wives and children have to en
dure them, and sometimes one of the little
people tells the truth when he says: “I
will be
GLAD WHEN PAPA HAS GONE
down-town again.”
This is an awful home bringing. To
make your little child wish that you
would go away. I can’t believe that rflen
do this wilfully. I am forced to believe
that it is one of the evils that is brought
by want of thought. But still it does ex
ist. and if that is the sort of thing that
you would bring home, my man,
instead of the cheering words and the
interested looks that you should have
for your boys and girls. I shouldn’t
like to be in your place. You know that
there is a home-going for you at the last
day, when that day comes, worse than
the words that you have said to strangers,
blacker than the ill-tern per you have
shown to the outside world, more crimi
nal than your selfishness, will stand you
the unkiind deeds and acts you have
brought home to little ones.
Bab.
BALD HEADED MEN.
They Are Not as Strong as the Ones
With Thick Hair.
From the St. Louis Republic.
It is commonly believed that the ab
sence of hair outside a skull indicates the
presence of intellect within. Perhaps no
one would go so far as to say that every
bald headed man is clever; but most peo
ple certainly think that clever ana learned
men are often bald. Evidence of this be
lief abounds in art and literature, and in
the converse of everyday life.
The typical savant is represented with
a cranium like a billiard ball, save for a
graceful fringe of snowy hair disposed
all around at the level of the ears, or
thereabouts, w’hile the man of action, the
hero, the warrior, is allowed, by waj r of
contrast, to keep his hair on as long as he
pleases, both in time and space. The
ulterior causes of baldness are obscure,
but the immediate process is no doubt a
degeneration of the hair bulbs, which is
due to failure of nutrition, and implies
impaired vitality or a loss of vigor. The
point needs no argument, though plenty
of medical evidence could be brought to
support it if necessary. It is universally
recognized that an abundance of hair
gives a look of youth and vigor, baldness
one of age and decay.
This single feature will make a man of
70 appear stronger than many a man of 50.
Every one will admit that with respect
to physical vigor, but not of mental. Yet
the two necessarily go together to a great
extent and this is where the popular
mistake comes in. What is vigor? It
does not lie in muscular strength, as
many suppose, but in a sound condition
of the whole machine and its several
parts, and more particularly of the
nervous centers in the brain. which move,
control and regulate all the rest. Loss of
vigor means a corresponding impairment
of brain power, and though the higher
centers, the seat of intellect, may not
suffer obviously at first, they eventually
do so.
Other things being equal, the sounder
a man is all through the better instru
ment he makes for the performance of
mental no less than physical work: and
when bis hair begins to go it is a sign
that he is not so sound as he used to be
or might be. True, he may have gained
in knowledge and experience, and may so
far be a better man intellectually than he
was before, but he is not so good a man
as he would be if he had kept his vigor
while acquiring his knowledge.
Os two men. equal in mental ability,
the one who retains the more vigor pos
sesses in a corresponding measure the
greater intellectual potency, whether it
takes the form of superior energy in the
present or a more prolonged period of
activity- that is to say, a green old age.
This seems to be the correct view on
physiological grounds; and surely it is
borne out by experience.
Kentucky Esprit de Corps.
The esprit de corps of Kentuckians has be
come proverbial. Among themselves no
state compares with their own in general ex
cellence in material, spiritual and educa
tional advantages. A Chicago man, discus
sing this peculiarity, is reported bv the Inter
Ocean ot that city to have told of being in
Lexington soon after Garfield's death. Tiie.v
were talking of the i ungling of the sur
geons. one of the loungers in the hotel remon
strating against the terrible treatment and
Its results.
"Well, a Kentucky surgeon would have
done no t-etter.” said the Chicagoan.
"You are right, sah." replied the other.
"Kentucky surgeons know nothing about
treating wounds in the back, sah.”
THE WEEKLY NEWS (TWO-TIMES-A-WEEK:) MONDAY, SEPT E V BER 3 1894.
HUME OF FAST HORSES.
Hamlin's Village Farm and Ils Great
Racers.
All Offspring of Great Sires—Records
of Robert J, 2:05 3-4; Fantasy, 2:08
3-4, and Others.
Copyright.
Buffalo, Sept. I.—The man who owns
the most remarkable collection of race
horses in tho world is undoubtedly Cicero
J. Hamlin, the millionaire grape sugar
manufacturer, who lives in Buffalo, and
is proprietor of the Village stock farm at
East Aurora. That farm is now the
home of such great trotting sires as
Chimes, Mambrino King, Almont, Jr.,
and others of almost equal merit. Two of
the flyers owned by Mr. Hamlin are con
fidently expected to bring the world’s
mile record down to two minutes. These
two are Robert J., pacer. 2:05%, and Fan
tasy, trotter, 2:08%. Another star repre
sentative of the farm is Nightingale,
who holds the three-mile world’s record
Ff Im
\)
Fantasy, 2:08%.
of 6:55%. Fantasy holds the three-year- ;
old race record of 2:08%, and in addition, I
there are two other world’s records held
by Village Farm. One is the double team
record of 2:12, made by Belle Hamlin and
Globe; the other is the triplicate team
record of 2:14, made by Belle Hamlin,
Globe and Justina.
Mr. Hamlin established the Village
Farm as long ago as 1855, and
he was 36 years old then. He
passed the threescore and ten limit
before he reached the bight of his
ambition in making his stables the
most famous in the country for breeding
harness racers and high class roadsters.
In 1836, when he was 20. he began his
business career by keeping a general
store at East Aurora. He went to Buf
falo ten years later and made a fortune in
the dry goods business.
HE LOVES HIB HORSES.
Now he is one of the grape sugar kings
* Uiuk
WxJ iM|
Robert J.
of the country, and is the employer of
3,000 men. He carries his 75 years as
lightly as if they were only half as many,
and he loves horse flesh more than a
miser loves gold. His beautiful home on
Delaware avenue, in this city, contains
what is said to be one of the most valua
ble libraries of horse literature in the
world. The Hamlin brain, however, is
apparently stored with more horse lore
than all the stud books in the Hamlin
library.
A friend of his asserts that Mr. Ham
lin would sit down and chat with Mephisto
himself if he thought the Prince of Dark
ness knew anything about horses and
breeding.
The simple basis of his theory is that
the greatest sons of the greatest sires
among race horses can be depended on to
produce the greatest results. He has
been working on this theory for more
than a quarter of a century, and is
wSjiSm _ - f
W w ~
Nightingale (2:10%, Holder of the Three Mile Trotting Record, Owned by C. J.
Hamlin.
now so confident of the outcome that he
has no hesitation in making predictions.
HE IS A PROPHET, TOO.
He says: “While my prediction of
1891, ‘That there were then on Village
Farm youngsters that would score lower
marks in contested races than had hereto
fore been made by any trotter, living or
dead,’ has been verified already, I believe
at this time it will bear repeating, and
that its intent may be transferred to the
present period, for I believe now. as I did
then, that there are youngsters at Vil
lage Farm who will set opposite their
names the lowest marks ever made in
contested races.” The consequence of
Mr. Hamlin’s wisdom in breeding has
been that his Village Farm stock has im
proved step by step from generation to
generation, and the average of improve
ment has been so rapid as to astonish
horsemen.
THREE NOBLE SIRES.
The greatest sires of Village Farm are
Mambrino King, Chimes and Almont, Jr.
Os these, Chimes stands pre-eminent as
the only trotting sire who, at the age of
nine years, has had nine 2:20 performers
to his credit. Mambrino King, acknowl
edged to be the handsomest horse in the
world, and whose only rival as a stallion
is Chimes, has a greater number of his
offspring in the 2:30 list than the other
three best sons of Mambrino Patchen
combined. Re added seven new members
to his family of 2:30 performers last year.
He has sired two winners of the Charter
Oak SIO,OOO stakes. Almont, Jr., like
wise overshadows all other sires of
the great Almont family, his 2:30 list
numbering twenty-seven performers,
eleven of which have records of 2:20 or
better. The most notable of them is
Belle Hamlin, 2:12%. The Wilkes family
is also represented by the most promising
member of the line. He is Americus,
who made a mile at Lexington. Ky., in
2:15% when 2 years old. His owner re-
S
a /Mpf
I”
2:08%.
i cently said of hipi, with pious hope: “I
I shall intermingle his blood with that of
Chimes, Mambrino King and Almout, Jr.,
and trust Providerce for the results.”
Fantasy, the famous Chimes filly, is 4
years old and has achieved a reputation
unequaled by any filly of her years. She
is probably the most favored by nature of
the Village Farm 4-year-olds, for she has
a superb physique and an excellent con
stitution. This big daughter of Chimes
won her record of 2:08% as a 3-year-old
at Nashville, Tenn., last October, break
ing the existing records for 3-year-olds at
'either gait, pacing or trotting.
She trotted a mile on the Hamilton,
Ont., track on July 2 of this year in 2:10,
and at Saginaw, Mich., on July 13 she
trotted another exhibition mile in 2:09.
She was laid up at Detroit and Cleve
land and had little to do in Buffalo. She
is being saved for the southern tracks.
Fantasy is working carefully, and her
cleverness in turning a half mile on the
Buffalo track the other day in 1:02% in
dicates the form she is in.
Hal Pointer (2:04%) and Robert J.
(2:05%) are the star pacers of the Ham
lin stables. The first named is
having a rest this season, but his
successor is loading the Village Farm
with honors. He won his record as a
I three-year-old at Lexington, Ky., last
fall and has been beating everything but
1 nis own record so far this summer. He
made short work of Mascot (2.04) in a
match race the first week of the Buffalo
meeting, and there is every probability
that he will lay the world’s pacing record
at Mr. Hamlin’s feet this fall.
BORN OF NOBLE BLOOD.
Fantasy is a daughter of Chimes, and
Nigntingale was sired by Mambrino
King. Fantasy’s dam was Homora by
Almonarch (2:24%), second dam Sophia
by Almont, Jr., sire of Belle Hamlin
(2:12%). Nightingale’s dam was Minnequa
Maid by Wood’s Hambletonian. Robert
J. is by Hartford, dam Geraldine by Jay
Gould. Ed Easton, one of the fastest
4-year-olds in the Grand Circuit this sea
son, was bred at Village Farms. He is a
beautiful bay gliding by Chimes out of a
dam by Mambrino King.
Sixty-six (2:15%) is another scion of the
Chimes nobility. His dam was Jd>sey
Lily by Hambletonian Downing, and he
is regarded as a coming sensational per
former. Beattie Chimes, one of the hand
somest fillies that ever wore a trotting
plate; Chide, a bay filly by Chimes, dam
Maud by Bourbon Wilkes; Charming
Chimes, a black colt by Chimes, dam
Charmer by Chimes, are all figuring in
the grand circuit of 1894.
These are only a few of the well-bred
youngsters of both sexes which have first
seen the light of day at Village Farm.
THE GREAT NIGHTINGALE.
Nightingale is one of the greatest trot
ters living. She is nine years old. and
her turf career dates from 1889, when, as
a 3-year-old, she won a record of 2:32% —
not very low for the daughter of a royal
sire—but she was destined for a more
brilliant career later on. She lowered her
mark to 2:29% when four years old and
trotted a mile the following year in
2-25%. In 1891 she won a lonsr list of vic
tories. including the-§IO,OOO Charter Oak
stakes at Hartford, Conn. That race was
won only after a nine heat battle, in
which Nightingale proved herself to be
one of the gamest race horsesj living be
sides gaining the honor of being the first
mare io win the stakes.
In 1892 she was driven to beat the two
mile record of 4:43, held by Fanny With
erspoon since 1885, and she succeeded,
lowering the mark to 4:33%. At Nash
ville, Tenn., last fall she was sent to
reduce the three-mile record of 7:21%,
held by Huntress for 20 years. • Nightin
gale clipped off nearly half a minute, low
ering the record to 6:55%. She lost her
two-mile record to the Indiana stallion
Greenlander last fall, but she still holds
the three-mile record. She is a lion
hearted beast and fights out a race of
many heats with wonderful patience and
endurance.
A BLUE BLOODED 400.
Village Farm has grown steadily until
it now includes more than 400 acres, and
the index of its stock includes the names
of very nearly 400 members of the horse
flesh aristocracy. The list of 2:30 per
formers bred there or now owned there
numbers sixty-four, and the list is now
complete. Os this list thirty-two had
made records of 2:30 or under before the
present racing season began.
The dams are bred and the foals
are cared for at the farm. When they
are old enough to enter the kindergarten
the yearlings are transferred to the
stables and covered track at the Buffalo
Driving park, the site of which Mr. Ham
lin bought in 1868, and which he still
owns. There they are trained with the
utmost care. The muscles of a prize
fighter in training for the championship
of the world are not developed with more
pains and caution. The training depart
ment is under the supervision of
Ed. F. Geers, “the silent man,” as
he is known all over the country.
John Splann, the famous driver, says of
Geers and his employer: “I would rather
work against any other combination of
horsemen in the world, for what one does
not know about every race horse and
every driver in the country, the other
does.” Splann believes that both Robert
J and Fantasy will travel very close to
the 2:00 mark before they return to
Buffalo, and he appears to have equal
faith with Mr. Hamlin in the filly’s abil
ity ultimately to reach that coveted fig
ure with its transcendant honors.
A floridaTexperiment.
Raising Rice and Sugarcane in the
Land of Flowers.
From the Charleston News and Courier.
Messss. J. E. Heyl and R. H. Harleston
arrived in Charleston yesterday from
Florida, where they have been looking
after the plantations of the Disston Land
Company, in which they are considerably
interested, about six miles from Kis
simmee, in the center of the peninsula,
and in the heretofore considered waste
lands. This is the first year that rice has
actually been given a fair trial, and these
gentlemen are enthusiastic over the re
sult.
“While some of our rice has not had a
drop of water and some of our pumping
stations failed on account of the drought
which has prevailed in Florida,” said Mr.
Harleston. “the result shows conclusively
that the experiment is a success, and
that Florida rice will be a commodity in
the markets of the world at no distant
day. The crop is tully two weeks earlier
than Carolina rice, and our harvest is
nearly over now. We have shipped two
carloads of rough rice to the West Point
mills here, and expect this will be
pounded in a few days. In fact, it was
partly to see about the milling that I
came to Charleston. We had this season
about three hundred acres in rice, and
the yield, as so far estimated, is about
forty-eight bushels to the acre. By next
season we will have the land thoroughly
ditched, and we expect a larger and bet
ter crop.”
Mr. Heyl, who is bound for Philadel
phia, spoke more particularly of the sugar
cane. “Raising sugar cane is not a new
industry in Florida,” he said, in answer
to an interrogation. “The Floridians
raised cane and manufactured sugar be
fore the war, it seems, and some pic
tures taken by tourists and others show
the ruins of some large sugar making
plants. The cane has been raised, how
ever, in small fields and at considerably
remote points, and the industry had
pretty much died out when we began op
erations. We have this year four or five
hundred acres of splendid cane. Some of
it is nine feet high, and the season is not
near over. Last year we harvested a good
big crop, but this December we will start
on a much larger one.
“Cane is cultivated much the same as
corn, consequently the two or three hun
dred colored ueople sene us by Miss Clara
Barton from the Carolina sea islands last
fall made very good cane hands, while
knowing nothing of cane. It grows easily
and does not require much attention, but
when the harvesting begins then every
body ‘hustles.’ The cane cutin the morn
ing must be sugar in twenty-four hours,
or the juice is likely to ferment. Some
days last season we had cut and hauled to
the mill 350 tons, a pretty bin stack of
cane, I assure you. The crop last year
was about 12,000 tons of cane, but that
does not include the seed cane. You
know the canes are planted in rows and
sprout from the eyes ar each joint.
“We have one of the largest and finest
sugar plants in the south, and on sugar
aljo we expect soon to be well known in
the world’s markets.”
SOHRIVER’S GOOD CATOH.
He Holds a Ball Dropped From the
Washington Monument.
From the Philadelphia Record.
Washington, Aug. 25.—William Schri
ver, one of the catchers of the Chicago
basebail club, smashed to smithereens
yesterday a tradition of long standing
that no baseballist could catch a regula
tion ball tossed to him from one of the
windows in the top of the Washington
monument, 500 feet above the ground.
It has been held that no man could hold
fast to a ball dropped 500 feet in sheer
space. First, because the height was too
great for a man to see the ball, and,
secondly, because the impetus it would
receive would break every finger in the
outstretched hand of the mortal who thus
tempted fate. Capt. Anson has always
maintained the contrary, and vowed that
the feat could be done. It was all in vain
that he had pointed out to him how fast
a falling body went in the first second it
journeyed downward, and how much
faster its speed was for every succeeding
second.
No trial was made until yesterday.
Schiiver was consulted and expressed
his willingness to undertake the task. A
party consisting of Messrs. Griffith, Par
rott, Decker, Stratton and Hutchinson of
the Chicagos; Frank Bennett, H. P Bur
ney and Col. Debaun, accompanied
Schriver to the monument. The
weight of opinion was against Schriver s
ability to succeed, and there was nobody
in the absence of Anson to brace him up,
so no wonder the poor fellow’s heart was
faint. After Griffith and Hutchinson had
got to the top and the former had tossed
the ball from a north window, Schriver’s
nerve forsook him, and he made
no effort to catch it. But
instead of boring a hole ten feet
deep in mother earth, the leather bounded
up about as high as it would from an
average hard strike. This encourged
Schriver. and he resolved that the catch
was no great shakes after all. The sig
nal was given, and again the ball was
pitched, Schriver catching it fair and
square amid the applause of the specta
tors. By this time the monument cop got
onto tbe game and was highly indignant
that such an affair had occurred. He
talked of arrest, but was finally talked
into a more amiable temper, and the party
came up town joyously with Billy
Schriver a hero.
A COLUMBUSJCHAPEL?
“A Story in Stone” in a New Smyrna
(Fla.) Potato Field.
The Old Ruin Has Been Known as the
Remains of a Sugar Mill, but There
Are Evidences That It Was Once an
Ecclesiastical Building.
William Frederick Dix, in tne Churchman.
Surrounded by the thick, luxuriant
palmetto “hammock” of Northeastern
Florida, in the center of a potato-field, is
a dismantled mass of ruins, over which
grow trailing vines and southern mosses
that deck the crumbling walls with pic
turesque embellish'ment and bestow upon
them the element of romance. Near the
central square chimney a large tree is
growing, which shows their an
tiquity, and surrounding it are rem
nants of large halls. Tn a rugged
wall of well-hewn blocks of brown
stone, forming the side of one enclosure,
is a series of three large, Roman-arched
windows; in the end wall are two more.
Opposite this are the remains of a stately
doorway, leading to a hall still lai ger.
The contour of these walls shows that over
the first hall was a pointed gable roof, and
one aged remainder in the form of a
cypress beam betokens the material used.
The indentations at the top of the wail of
the other inclosure show that the roof was
nearly flat. Behind this a series of stone
piers or low foundations seems to tell us
that long ago something like an arcade or
cloister once stood here. Beyond these
relics low foundation walls extend in all
directions into the potato field, but so
broken are they that they do not give
more than a suggestion of what originally
was reared upon them. At the edge of
the field, on the border of the palmetto
forest, a long, high stone wall of well
squared and carved stones attests at once
the former size of these buildings and the
thrift and iconoclasm of some pioneer
farmer, whose bones now lie probably
somewhere under the potatoes, and whose
cabin chimney, of the same brown stone
as the ruins, stands not far away.
These ruins, until recently called “the
old sugar-mill,” are situated two miles
back of the little town of New Smyrna,in
Volusia county, Florida, just where the
waters oflthe Halifax river meet the Mos
quito Lagoon. Hither, in the early days
of Florida settlement came one Turnbull,
with a colony of peasants recruited from
the island of Minorca in the Mediterran
ean ; and even now traditions of his cruelty
to these people are rife in the vicinity. He
oppressed them till they became almost
slaves, and a long canal dug for miles
through solid rock, for the purpose of
floating loads of materials in from the
vessels of the lagoon, is but one of many
signs of the hard labor wrung from these
deluded Minorcans. One of the industries
carried on by Turnbull was the making
of sugar; and in recent times the
stone ruins in the hammock near
by, as remains of sugarmaking ma
chinery are found among them,
have always been supposed to be the re
mains of what was originally a sugar
mill, built by the Minorcans under him.
His power finally collapsed; his victims
were scattered throughout the state, so
that even now one frequently meets a na
tive with the black hair and olive skin
of an alien race; and thick pads of green
moss and cool fefns overhang the
rock walls of the silent and deserted
water-way.
During the winter of 1898-94, a new in
terest has settled upon the supposed
sugarmill, and some inquiring mindshave
wondered how it was that so dignified a
structure, with Roman arches and other
unmistakable signs of ecclesiastical archi
tecture, could have been needed in a
sugarmill. Detailed examination showed
that around the iron machin
ery used in the mill were many
additions to the stone and plaster,
of a much newer appearance than that of
the original walls. Partitions had been
added, arched windows filled in with
fnodern brick and inferior plaster, and
other signs were discovered which proved
that the original walls were centuries
older than these newer additions; but all
had been so overgrown with vines that
this discrepancy in the sugar mill theory
was easy to be overlooked.
When I visited the ruins in March last,
it appeared to me, upon examination, that
the first of the two halls described might
have been a chapel, with gable roof, and
with three arched windows on each side,
two at one end, and an entrance door at
the other, leading in from the adjoining
hall, which was perhaps a refectory.
Along the side was an arcade which
formed a cloister; and the razed walls
all about it—what were they? And
why should so small a chapel have
so many windows? Why should
its only entrance come from another
inclosure, and why was it surrounded by
signs of encompassing walls? These
questions seem to answer themselves, if
we can find any traces of very early ex
plorers who might have established a
fort and garrison here, which included a
chapel and a monastery with cloisters
and refectory. This would explain the
large windows, which would have been
darkened by outer buildings, the adjoin
ing hall and the remains of an arcade or
outer gallery. >
One of the traditions of Florida, which
spread through Europe after the first
voyage of Columbus in 1492, was that
somewhere in its flowery wilderness bub
bled a wonderful spring, that would be
stow upon anyone who quaffed its waters
the miraculous gift of eternal youth.
Ponce de Leon, we are told, had- heard of
it, and in 1512 he made an exploration of
the state, in futile search of it. A study
of his movements seems to show that his
was no mere idle wandering, but the exe
cution of a carefully arranged plan. In
deed, it would seem that he not only had
word of the fountain’s existence, out of
its location. Whence came this informa
tion?
Twenty miles exactly west of New
Smyrna is located the “Blue Spring,” a
lovely pool, overhung with dripping rock
and with cold and wondefully refreshing
waters. It is held by many that the
native Indians of Florida, who were
often poetical in their appellations, re
garded this as the spring of eternal
youth, and this was what Ponce de Leon
sought. Had he been given an accurate
account of its location, in latitude and
longitude, he could not have gone
straighter—with one exception. He made
a mistake of one degree in his calcula
tions, and landed a little north of New
Smyrna instead of landing at the spot
where New Smyrna now stands. Thus
he never found the spring; which gradu
ally lessened in fame and was partially
forgotten.
Columbus, we remember, made a second
voyage of discovery in 1496, and of this
we have almost no record, save that he
landed in Central America, and two of his
ships sailed northward. The theory has
been advanced, by those who have looked
into this question, that these unac
counted-for portions of his expedition
penetrated into, and were the real dis
coverers of, Florida; and that they made
a settlement at New Smyrna, and erected
these venerable walls as a refuge from
the savages and as a monastery for the
monks who were undoubtedly with them.
If this be true, and if. afterward, they
were perhaps driven back, leaving behind
them their story in stone, which has been
so long mute, the knowledge that Ponce
de Leon had is no longer a mystery.
Strange as all this may seem, it is not
impossible that it may be true; and the
hypothesis of a chapel or monastery has
been strengthened by the discovery, last
winter, of two large candlesticks, of un
mistakable ecclesiastical pattern, which
were excavated at thb base of one of the
walls. It is expected that further search
will be made, and the explorers are san
guine that they will be able to prove be
yond question that this vine-clad ruin in
the Florida hammock is a veritable Co
lumbus chapel, and the oldest Christian
structure of any kind in America.
Depew and McAllister in London—A
Contrast.
Ward McAllister’s London notes are in
tensely amusing to people “in the know,”
says the New York Press. He professes to
be hobnobbing with Lord Blank and Lady
Dash, and relates with gusto what his lord
ship observed and how her ladyship rallied.
The fact is that Mr. McAllister would be only
too happy to print names—if he were in posi
tion to print them. Mr. Depew has had a
busy time of it. and has been entertained by
the prime minister, and acout everybody of
importance in London has been asked to
meet him. McAllister has been ignored.
Only a year or so ago I recall that Mr. Mc-
Allister had the impudence to write patroniz
ingly of the social position of Dr. Depew.
As the doctor then put it, laughingly: “If
Mac says I’m not in it, I sunpose I’m not.”
Os course, Depew wont think of it. but Mc-
Allister’s essentially vulgar mind will be
greviously torn by the contemptuous indif
ference with which London society has re
c eived him.
lam certain McAllister is no better placed
in London to-day than when he was turned
out of the Windsor kitchen by the queen’s
butler.
MEDICAL
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111 . 1111 11 1111 "S
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7