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My Well and What
Came Out of It.
A CHRISTMAS T(3LE.
BY FRANK STOCKTON.
COPYRIGHT 1803.
Early in my married life I bought a
small country estate which my wife and
I looked upon at. a paradise. After etijoy
iTigits delights for a little more than a
year our souls were saddened by the and is-
I'overy that our Eden contained a serpent.
This was an insufficient water supply.
ft bad been a rainy season when we
first went there and for a long time our
cisterns gave us full aqueous satisfaction,
but early this year a drouth had set in
and we were obliged to be very careful of
our water supply.
It was quite natural that the scarcity
of water for domestic purposes should af
fect my wife much more than it did me,
and perceiving the discontent which was
crowing in her mind, the serpent came
and whispered in her ear. Very soon af
terward she offered me an apple; and I
took it and ate thereof, and my eyes being
thereby opened I determined to dig a well.
As this well was to be made entirely for
the sake of my wife, it should he called
her well, it should really belong to her.
Happy thought! I would make her a
Christmas present of it 1 It was true that
it was then early in the autumn, and the
rift would be ready to present some time
before the holiday season, but I knew my
wife would not object to that. It would
be such a rare gift! 1 did not believe
that anybody ever before gave his wife a
Christmas presentof a well.
The very next day after I had eaten of
the apple I began to look for a well-dig
ger. Such an individual was not easy to
TUT WELL DIGGER AND HIS DIVINING ROD.
find, for in the region in which I lived
welis had become unfashionable, but I
determined to persevere in my search,
and in about a week I found a well-digger.
He was a man of somewhat rough
exterior, but of an ingratiating turn of
mind. It was easy to see that it was his
earnest desire to serve me.
"And now then,” said he, when we had
had a little conversation about terms,
“the first thing to do is to find out where
there is water. Have you a iieaeh tree
on the place* 1 ’ We tfraHfgd to such a tree
and ho cut therefrom a forked twig.
"I thought,” said I, ‘‘that divining rods
were always of hazel wood.”
"A peach twig will do quite as well.”
said he, and I have since found that lie
was right Divining rods of peach will
turn and find water quite as well as those
of hazel or any other wood.
He took an end of the twig in each
hand and with the point projecting in
front of him. he slowly walked along over
the grass in m.y little orchard. Presently
the point of the twig seemed to bend it
self downward toward the ground.
There," said he, stopping, “you will
find water here.”
"I do not want a well here.” said I:
“this is at the bottom of a hill and my
barnyard is at the top; besides, it is too
far from the house.
"Very good," said he, "we will try
somewhere else.”
His rod turned at several other places,
but I had objections to all of them. A
sanitary engineer had once visited me
and he had given me a great deal of ad
vice about drainage, and I knew what to
avoid.
We crossed the ridge of the hill into
the low ground on its other side. Here
were no buildings, nothing which would
interfere with the purity of a well. My
well-digger walked slowly over the
“I CpNSPLTED SPECIALISTS.”
rround with his divining rod. Very soon
h® exclaimed:
Here is water," and picking up a
•tick, he sharpened one end of it and
drove it into the ground. Then he took
1 string from bis~ pocket and making a
ienp in one end he put it over the stick.
What are you going to do?” I asked.
lam going to make a circle four feet in
d'ameter ”he said. “We have to dig the
n ril as wide, as that, you know.”
"But T don'V want a well there,” said
1 “It is too close to the wall. I could
not build a house over it. It would not do
all.”
He stood up and looked at me. “Well.
* J r,” said he, “will you tell me where you
would line to have a well?"
"Yes,” said l. . I would like to have it
over there in the corner of the hedge. It
"oulrl be near enough to the house. It
would have a warm exposure, which will
be desirable in winter, ami ■ the little
bouse which I intend to build over it
"ould look better there than anywhere
else.” .
He took his divininy rod and went t o
: ue spot I had indicated.
"Is this the place’" he asked, wishing
l ° ij e sure he understood me.
Yes.” 1 replied, and ho put his twig in
Position, and in a few seconds it turned in
''e direction of the ground. 'Then he
”v>ve down a stick, marked out a circle
nd the next day he came with two men
dr >d a derrick and began to dig my well.
When they had done down twenty-five
“et they had found watet, and when
'hey had progressed a few feet deeper
:,e J’ began to be afraid et drowning (
thought they ought to go deeper, but the
well-digger said that as they could not
dig without first taking out the water,
and that as the water came in as fast as
they bailed it out, he asked me to put it
to myself and to tell him how they could
dig it deeper. I put the question to my
self. but could find no answer. 1 also laid
the matter before some specialists and it
was generally agreed that if water came
in as fast as it was taken out.
nothing more could be desired. The well
was. therefore, pronounced deep enough.
It was lined with great tiles, nearly a
yard in diameter, and my well-digger,
after congratulating me on finding water
so easily, bade me good-by and departed
with his meu and his derrick.
While ho had been speaking to me I had
thought I heard a smile, and turned my
head quickly, but saw no one. It is true
that people cannot hear smiles, but what
1 heard was something of a hissing
nature, which, while it could not have
bpen a laugh, had in it a suspicion of de
rision. It might have been the creaking
of the departing derrick.
On the other side of the wall which
bounded my grounds, and near which my
well had been dug. there ran a country
lane, leading nowhere in particular and
which seemed to be there for the purpose
of allowing people to pass my house who
might otherwise be obliged to stop.
Along this lane my neighbors would
pass and often strangers drove by. and as
my well could easily be seen over the low
stone wall, its making had excited a great
deal of interest. Some of the people who
drove by were summer folks from the
city, and I am sure, from remarks I over
heard. that it was thought a very queer
thing to dig for water. Of course they
must have known that people used to do
this in the olden times, even so far back
as the time of Jacob and Rebecca, but the
expression of some of their faces indicated
that they remembered that this was the
nineteenth century.
My neighbors, however, were all rural
people, and much more intelligent in re
gard to water supplies. One of them,
Phineas Colwell by name, took a more
lively interest in my operations than did
any one else. He was a man of about
fifty years of age who had been a soldier.
This fact was kept alive in the minds of
liis associates by his dress, a part of
which was always military. If he did not
wear an old fatigue jacket with brass
buttons, he wore his blue trousers, or
perhaps a waistcoat that belouged to liis
uniform, and if he wore none of these his
military hat would appear upon his head.
1 think he must also have been a sailor,
judging from the little gold rings in his
ears. But when I first knew him he was
a carpenter who did mason work when
ever any of the neighbors had any jobs of
the sort. Ke also worked in gardens by
the day and had told me that he under
stood the care of horses, and was a very
good driver. He sometimes worked on
farms, especially at harvest time, and I
know lie could paint, for he had once
showed me a fence which he said lie had
painted. I frequently saw him, because
ho always seemed to be either going to
his work or coming from it. In fact, he
-
THINEAS IS WILLING TO DO ANYTH ING ON
EARTn.
appeared to consider his actual labor in
the light of a bad habit which he wished
to conceal, and which he was continually
endeavoring to reform.
Phineas walked along our lane at least
once a day, and whenever he saw me be
told me something about the well. He
did not approve of the place T had se
lected for it. If he had been digging a
well he would have put it in a very dif
ferent place. When t had talked with
him for some time and explained why I
had chosen this spot, he would say that
perhaps 1 was right and begin to talk of
something else. But tiie next time I saw
him he would again assert that if he had
been digging that well he would not have
put it there. ‘
About a quarter of a mile from my
house, at a turn of the lane, lived Mrs.
Betty Perch. She was a widow with
about twelve children. A few of these
were her own, and the others she had in
herited from two sisters who had mar
ried and died, and whose husbands, hav
ing proved their disloyalty by marrying
again, were not allowed by the indignant
Mrs Perch to resume possession of
their offspring. The. casual observer
might have supposed the number of these
children to be very great, fffteen or per
haps even twenty, for if he happened to
see a group of them on the doorstep, he
would see a lot more if he looked into the
little garden, and under some cedar trees
at the back of the house there were al
ways some of them on fine days. But per
haps they sought to increase their appar
ent number aud ran from one place to
another to be ready to meet observation,
as the famous clown. Grimaldi, who used
to go through his performances at one
London theater and then dash off in his
paint and motley to another, so that a per
ambulating theater going man might im
agine that there were two greatest clowns
in the world.
When Mrs. Perch had time she sewed
for the neighbors, and whether she had
time or not she was always ready to sup
ply them with news. From the moment
she heard I was going to dig a well, she
took a vital interest in it. Her own
water supply was unsatisfactory, as she
depended u|xin a little spring which some
times dried up in summer, and should m.v
well turn out to be a good one. she knevr
I would not object to her sending the chil
dren for pails of water on occasions.
••It will be fun for them,” sue said,
“and if your water really is good it will
often eoine in very well for me. Mr. Col
well tells me." she continued, “that you
put your well in the wrong place. He is
a practical man and knows all about
wells, and I do hope that for your sake he
may be wrong.”
M.v neighbors were generally pessi
mists. Country people are proverbially
prudent, and pessimism is prudence. We
feel safe when we doubt the success of
another because, if lie should succeed,
we can say we are glad we were mis
taken. and so step from a position of good
judgment to one of generous disposition
without feeling that we have changed
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. DECEMBER 17. 1803.
our plane of merit. But the optimist
often gets himself into trrible scrapes,
for if ’e Is Wrong we cannot sav he is
glad of it
But whatever else he may be. a pessi
mist. is depressing, and it was, therefore,
a great pleasure te me to have a friend
who was an out and out optimist. In
fart, he might be called a working opti
mist He lived about six miles from m.v
bouse and had a hobnv, which was
natural phenomena. He was always
on the look out for that sort of
thing. aud at hen he found it he
would study its nature and effect
He was a man in the maturity of
youth and if the estate on which
he lived had not belonged to his mother
he would have spent much time and
: money in investigating into natural phe
nomena. He often drove over to see me
and always told me how glad he would
be if he had an opportunity of digging a
well.
"I have the wildest desire,” lie said,
“to know what is in the earth under our
place, and if it should so hapi>on ip the
course of time that the limits of earthly
existence should be reached by—l mean
if the estate should come into my hands.
I would go down, down, down until I
had found out all that could be discov
ered. To own a plug of earth 4.000 miles
long and only Know what is on the sur
face of the upper end of it is unmanly, we
might as well be grazing beasts.”
He was sorry that I was digging only
for water, because water is a very com
mon-place thing, but he was quite sure I
would get it, and when my well was fin
ished he was one of the first to congratu
late me.
“But if I had been in you place,” said
he, "with full right to do as I pleased, I
would not have let those men go away. I
would have set them to work in some
place where there would be no dancer of
getting water—at least, for a long time —
and then you would have found out what
are the deeper treasures of your land.”
Having finished my well, 1 now set
Jr
PHINEAS COLWELL TALKS IT OVER WITH
BETTY PERCH.
about eetting the water into m.v resi
dence nearby. 1 built a house over the
well and put in it a little engine, and by
means of a system of pipes, like the ar
teries and veins of the human body, I pro
posed to distribute tlie water to the va
rious desirable points in my House. The
engine was the heart which should start
the circulation, which should keep it go
ing. which should send throbbing through
every pipe, the water, which, if it were
not our life, was very necessary to it.
When all was ready we started the en
gine. and in a very short time we discov
ered that something was wrong. For fif
teen or twenty minutes water flowed into
the tank at the top of the house w ith a
sound that was grander in the ears of my
wife and myself than the roar of Niagara,
and then it stopped. Investigation proved
that the flow had stopped because there
was no more w atey in the well.
it is needless to detail the examination*.
I investigations and the multitude of oouu
: sels and opinions with which our minds
1 were filled for the next few days. It was
plain to see that, although this well was
fully able to meet the demands of a hand
pump or of bailing buckets, the water did
not flow into it as fast as it could be
pumped out by an engine. Therefore for
the purposes of supplying the circulation
of m.v domestic water system, the well
was declared a failure.
When this sentence had been pronounc
ed. and i was walking slowly toward the
house. I thought I heard that same deri
sive hiss which I had noticed once before.
This time it could not have been the
creaking of a derrick, and there was not
wind enough to move the branches of the
trees.
M.v noti-success was much talked about
in the neighborhood, and we received a
great deal of sympathy and condolence.
Phineas Colwell was not surprised at the
outcome of the affair. He had said that
the well had been put in the wrong place,
Mrs. Betty was not only surprised, but
disgusted.
"It is all very well for you,” she said,
•who could afford to buy watef if it
was neecessary. but it is very different
with the widow and the orphan. If I
had not supposed you were going to have
a real well. I would have had my spring
cleaned out and deepened. I could have
had it done in the early summer, but it
is of no use now, the spring has dried
up.”
She told a neighbor that she believed
Cl
“HE DID NOT APPROVE OP THE PLACE I
HAD SELECTED.”
the digging of my well had dried up her
spring, and that that was the way of this
world, where the widow and the orphan
were sure to come out at the little end.
Of course I did not submit to defeat—
at least, without a struggle. I had a well
and if anything could be done to make
that well supply me with water I was
going to do it. I consulted specialists, and
after careful consideration of the matter
they agreed that it would be unadvisable
for me to attempt to deepen my present
well, as there was reason to suppose there
was very little water in the place where
1 had dug it, and that the very
best thing I could do would be
to try a driven well. As 1 had already
excavated about thirty feet, that was so
much gain to me, and if I should have a
6-inch pipe put into my present well and
then driven down and down, until it come
to a place where there was plenty of
water. I would have all I wanted. How
fur down the pipe would have to Ik*
driven, of course, they did not know, but
they all agreed than if I drove down deep
enough I would get all the. water I
wanted. This was the only kind of a
well, they said, which one could sink as
deep as he pleased without being inter
fered with by the water at the bottom.
M.y wife and l then considered the mat
ter and ultimately derided .Vat it would
he a waste of the money which we had
already spent upon the engine, the pipes
and the little house, and as there was
nothing else to be done but to drive a
well we would have a well driven.
Of course we were both very sorry that
the work must be begun again, but I was
especially dissatisfied, for now it would
be impossible for me to make the well a
Christmas present to my wife. The
weather was getting cold, there was al
ready snow upon the ground, and 1 was
told that work could not be carried on in
winter weather. Ilostnotime. however,
in making a contract with a welj-driver
who assured me that as soon as the sea
son should open, which might be very
early in the spring, he would come to my
place and hegm to drive my well.
The season did open and so did the pea
blossoms, and the pods actually began to
fill before I saw that well-driver again.
I had had a good deal of correspondence
with him in the meantime, urging him to
prompt action, hut lie always bad some
good reason for delay. (I found out af
terward that he was bus.\ fulfilling a con
tract made before mine, in which he
promised to drive a well as soon as the
season should open.)
At last—it was early in the summer
lie came with hi# derricks, a steam en
gine. a trip-hammer and a lot of men.
They took off the roof of my honse. re
moved the engine and set to work.
For many a long day aud. I am sorry to
say, for many a longer night, that trip
hammer hammered and bange-i. On the
next day after the night work began, one
of my neighbors came to me to know what
they did that for. I told him they were
anxious to get through.
“Get through what," said he, “the
earth ? If they do that and your
siv-inch pipe comes out in a Cinna
mon’s back yard he will sue you for dam
ages ”
When the pipe had been driven through
the soft stratum under the old wel.. and
began to reach firmer gnfnnd. the pound
ing and shaking of the earth became
worse and worse. M.v wife was obliged
to leave home with our child.
“If he is to do without both water and
sleep,” said she."he cannot long survive."
and I agreed with her.
She departed for a pleasant summer re
sort where her married sister with her
child was staying and, from week to week.
I received very pleasant letters from her,
telling me of the charms of the place, and
dwelling particularly upon the abundance
of cool spring water witli which the liouro
was supplied.
While this terrible pounding was going
on I heard various reports of its effect
upon iny neighbors. One of them, an ag
riculturist, with whom I had always been
on the best of terms, came with a clouded
brow.
"When I first felt those shakes." he
said. “I thought they were the effects of
seismic disturbances and I did not mind,
but when I fouud it was your well 1
thought I ought to come over to speak
about it. Ido not object to the shaking
of my barn, because my man tells me the
continual jolting is thrashing out tlfe oats
and wheat, but I do not like to have all
my apples and pears shaken off my trees.
Aud then,” said he "I have a late brood
of chiekeus, aud they can not walk, be
cause every time they go to make a step
they are jolted into the air about a foot.
And again, we have had to give up having
soil)). We like soup, but we do not care
to have it spout up like a fountain when
ever that hammer comes down."
1 was grieved to trouble this friend, and
I asked him what 1 should do. "Do you
want me to stop the well!” said I.
"Oh. no,” said tie, heartily: “go on
with the work. You must bate water
and we will try to stand tlie bumping, f
dare say it is good for dyspepsia, and the
cows are getting used to having the grass
jammed up against their noses. Go ahead,
we cun stand it in the daytime, but if
you could stop the night work we would
be very glad. Some people may think it
a well-spring of pleasure to be bounced
out of bed. but I don’t."
Mrs. Perch came to me with a face like
a squeezed lemon, and asked me if 1 could
THE PLIGHT OF THE CHICKENS.
lend her five nails. “What sort?” said I.
“The kind you nail clapboards on
with." said she, “there is one of them
been shook entirely off my house by your
well. lam in hopes that before the rest
arc all shook off I shall get in some money
that is owing me. and can afford to buy
nails for myself."
I stopped the night work, but this was
all I could do for these neighbors.
My optimist friend was delighted when
lie heard of my driven well: he lived so
far away that he and his mother were
not disturbed by the jarring of the
ground. Now he was sure that some of
the internal secrets of the earth would be
laid hare, and he rode or drove over every
day to see what we were getting out of
the well. 1 know that he was afraid we
would soon get water, but was too kind
hearted to say so.
One day the pipe refused to go deeper.
No matter how hard it was struck, it
bounced up again. When some of the
substance it had struck was brought up
it looked like French chalk, and my opti
mist eagerly examined it,
"A French chalk mine.” said lie.
“would not be a bad thing, but I hoped
that you had struck a bed of mineral
gutta-percha. That would be a grand
find.
But the chalk bed was at last passed
and we began again to bring up nothing
but common earth.
“I suppose." said my optomist to me
one morning, “that you must soon come
to water, and if you do J hope it will be
hot water."
"Hot water!” I exclaimed, “I do not
want that.”
“Oh, yes. you would if you had thought
about it as much as I have,” he
replied. "I lay awake for hours last
night, thinking what would happen if
you struck hot water, in the first place,
it would be absolutely pure because,
even if it were possible for germs and
bacilli to get down so deep they would be
boiled before you got them, and then you
eould cool that water for drinking
When fresh it would be already heated
for cooking and hot baths. And then—
just think of it!—you could introduce the
hot water system of heating into your
house, and there would be the hot water
always ready. But the great thing
would be your garden Think of the ref
use hot water circulating in pipes up and
down and under ail your beds! That gar
den would bloom in the w inter as others
<lo in the summer. At least, you could be
gin to have lima beans and tomatoes as
soon as the frost was out of the air.”
I laughed. “It would take a lot of
pumping,” 1 said, "to do all that with the
hot water.”
“O. I forgot to say,” be cried, with
sparkling eyes, “that I do not believe you
would ever have an; more pumping to
do. You have now gone down so far that
lam sure whatever you find will force
itself up. It will spout hign into the
air or far through your pipes and run al
ways.”
Phineas Golwell was by when this was
said, and hQ must have gone down to Mrs.
Betty Perch’s bouse and talked it over
with her, for in the afternoon she came to
see me.
“I understand." said she, “that you are
CONTINUED ON PAGE 14.
Shrisimas Sang: In Snsslsis Bloria.
Words by Rev. Wm. Bright, D. D. Music by Ca C ozat Conwrsr
SEMI-CHORUS. Con spirit*.
1. Once a- gain, O bless -ed time. Thank - ful hearts em - brace thee:
2. Thou that once ’mid sta - ble cold, Wast in babe-clothes ly - - im?
” r •* • (T < • * ‘ f .
‘>'= i r '+ Vi J'uilf- I
• rr. wo l° st thy tes - tal chime, What could e’er re - place thee 1
Thou whose tar <m • fold PowY and Life un - dy^^^ ing-
wU! dwk - A*; Ma -ny a b<md dis - .w-
Thou whose life be- stows a worth On each poor en - deav - . or,
J j |
i A
Ma -ny a joy shall pass a- wey, ’ But the “Great .Toy” nev er*
Have Thou joy of this Thy birth In our praise for ev - - eri
—* ’ll I
CHORUS. •*— ** |
-ri -a t in ex - cel - sis! — ln ex • cel sis glo -ri- a!
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vSSSSSSIron and Braaa Poundora and
machlnlata, Ularkenillho at Hollarmakara.
THE SAMSON SUGAR MILLS AND PANS.
DEALERS IN
STEAM ENGINES, INJECTORS, STEAM AND WATER FITTINGSb
CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED—ESTIMATES OIVKM.
**••• 3, 4 and 8 Bay and l, 3,3, 4, 8 and 0 Rlvar Itiejßi
BAVANNAHi OA.
RAILROADS.
City am] SoburDon Roiliror Gompany.
SCHEDULE FOR
isieoi Hooe. Montgomery and All woy stoiions
SUNDAY TIME.
CARS RUN AN FOLLOWS:
Leave Holton street 9:07 a. m.: leave Isle of
Hope 8:17 a. m.; leave Hay street. 10, 11 a. m.,
12 noon, 1,2, 3,4, ft, and, 7 and Bp. m.. running
direct from Hay street to Isle of Hope, and
connecting with the steam cars at Sandfly.
Leave Isle of Hope 11:18 a. m., 13:15. 1:1a,
2:lft, :l: Ift, 4:15. 5:15.15:1 ft, . :Ift. 8:15 and 9p. m.
Cars from Thunderbolt to Isle of Hope every
hour after 2:00 p. m. until 8 p. m.
I,eave Isle of Hope for Thunderbolt at 2:30
and hourly afterwards until 8:30 p. m
CITY AND SUBURBAN R’Y CO.
F. E. Laughton, Supt.
THE BEST 13 THE CHEAPEST !
Your stationery la an Indication of your
manner oi conducting buameaa.
Have everything neat and trlm;Mn good
taafe and on good materia! from the com
plete Printing. Lithographing and Blank
Book manufacturing department of tha
HORNING NEW*,
i RAT First invention of the Typewriter now knowa
111 u ’ • Mtthe Remington Standard. A tew machine*
made by hand during (hi* and the folio win*
yearn,
| RY3 The repealed experinmnte of the invrntorn
lOS J. having somewhat improved upon the flrat
crude attempt*, ft tai brought to the
Remington factory, at Ilion, N. Y.
1 OYI After more than a year of painstaking labor
“• on the part of many able mechanical experta.
the tirat Kemington-raade machine* were
put upon the market.
1 fittO 31 x yeara after, only 1,000 machine* had beea
1 OOU. sold. The public were slow to renliae the
value of the invention.
1882. The number increased to 2,M0 machine*.
< RRC 0.000 machine* were aold thin year. It grew
1 ooJi i n popular favor. In
1 RQA Sales had risen lo 20,000 machines per
10 7V, annum.
Found a production of 100 machine* par day
iam inadequate to supply the still rapidly in
-107/, creasing demand, we have planned exten
sive addition* to our factory, to enable if ta
keep pace with alt demands.
HARDWARE.
hardware!
Bar, Hand and Hoop Iron.
WAGON MATERIAL,
Navaf Stores SuDDfies.
FOR SALK H Y
EDWARD LOVELL’S SONS
156 Broughton and 138- no State Sts.
How are your Office Supplies?-
Want anything for next month
OR IN A HURRY?
If bo, >sn(t your orders for
PRINTING,
LITHO6RAPHING.
and BLANK BOOKS
To MORINS NEtfg,
13