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A.. EDGAR NIX.
The Massachusetts Bureau of Statis¬
tics finds that 126,000 acres of Massa¬
chusetts farms have been abandoned.
“There is no annexation sentiment ir
this country,” protests the New York
Tribune. “On the contrary, if the ques¬
tion came up in any practical form,
there would be a powerful opposition to
it. Aud if Canada begged to be an¬
nexed, it is possible that her request
would be declined with thanks. Evec
the million Canadians now in this coun¬
try are not agitating the question of an¬
nexation. Having annexed themselves,
they are not at all anxious to let others
in.”
Senator HI of Delaware, say
that the whipping-post and the pillory
are still retained in his State, owing tu
the fact that the State lies in the neigh¬
borhood of threegreat cities, and that it
has to adopt unusual means to protect it¬
self from becoming the asylum of crimi¬
nals from these great centres. He is him¬
self opposed to the preservation of these
forms of punishment, states the New
York Tribune, although he concedes that
their preservation has a tendency to make
criminals give the State a wide berth.
The whipping of to-day, adds the Tri¬
bune, is merely nominal and in no way
resembles the brutal punishment of the
past when the eat-o’-nine-tails as a form
of punishment was first established.
There are, according to recent reports,
,135 medical colleges in the United States
•whose diplomas are recognized bv al.
health authorities, entitling their holders
to the right to practice medicine. Chi¬
cago has eight of these institutions, St.
Louis and Cincinnati seven, Louisville
five, Atlanta four, and these institutions
annually graduate 6000 students. The
United States accordingly lrave one medi¬
cal school to every 460,000 inhabitants;
Germany,with her numerous universities,
one for every 2 , 000 , 000 ; Great Britain
one for every 3 , 000 , 000 , and France one
• fox every ^,830,Oho. “It will 'Be'seen
from these presents,” comments the St.
Louis Star-Sayings, “that American col¬
leges, on the quantitative side of their
endeavor, easily distance the institutions
of effete Europe.”
“It is a significant fact,” says the
Congregationalist, “that fifteen ministers
are employed on the daily press of New
York City, writing on religious topics.
It does not indicate missionary zeal on
the part of the newspapers, but it shows
that religion is a matter of growing popu¬
lar interest, and that the constituency
•which is most valuable to the secular
press demands to know what is going on
in the world of religious thought and life.
It is encouraging to note that scandal:
concerning ministers and churches no
longer monopolize the columns devoted
to religious matters. Another remarka¬
ble fact is that the greatest number of
books published last year in this country,
next to works of fiction, were on religious
subjects, while a large proportion of the
novels also were written with religious
aims. No subject occupies so large a
place in current thought as that which
concerns men’s relations with God and
their future destinies, and no other sub¬
ject is so steadily increasing its hold on
attention.”
In its career of more than seven cen¬
turies, the Corporation of London has
had at its head a number of peculiar
men, states the New York Times, but
the present Lord Mayor, Joseph Savory,
seems to be more kinds of an ass than is
usual, even among, city Aldermen. His
exploit in writing a letter to the Czar
about the Hebrews, which was returned
unopened, and his attack upon General
Booth were enough themselves to settle
bis status, even by the feeble intellectual
standards of Mayoralty succession, but
be has been caught now in a thing which
covers him with ridicule. He preached
the sermon to the young men at Poly¬
technic Sunday week, which was print¬
ed in full by a shorthand report in the
course of a few days. It was then dis¬
covered that the sermon was identical
with one preached by Spurgeon in 1864
—No. 652 in his printed series. Savor}
then declared that be had never seen the
sermon in question, whereupon the two
were published in parallel colums, mak¬
ing the plagiarism unmistakable-
YOUTH AND AGE.
In summer the luxuriant foliage made
On window and on roof a pleasant shade;
But darkened half the sky’s etheral blue,
And shut the horizon fr-om my longing view.
In autumn, though the trees are stripped
I and thin.
They let the sun and cheerful daylight in.
Through the bare boughs the heavens are
smiling clear,
And distant views, long lost, draw near.
Youth glances from a shadowed window
pane,
And counts the nearest view sufficient gain,
Age sees through time's frail wrecks and
crumbling bars
The eternal splendor of the sun and stars.
— C. P.Cranch, in Scribner.
PURSER WATKINS.
A PRIZE STORY.
There was a fierce competition on Pu¬
get Sound between two rival lines of
steamers. Fcr a long time one company
had controlled the traffic between Vic¬
toria and Tacoma, but when some enter¬
prising men started an opposition line,
there was a sharp struggle between the
iwo.
I obtained a position as assistant en
gineer on one of these opposition boats.
She was a steamer called the Occident,
brought from San Francisco, where she
had been used about the Bay.
The chief engineer was named George
Starr. He was agrim, elderly man, who
never spoke unless he was addressed, and
then replied in the fewest words possi¬
ble. He was a good mechanic, and kept
the machinery in as good working order
as it was possible to keep it.
The Occident’s engine was probably
the most complicated and untrustworthy
piece the of machinery would afloat, Sometimes
steamer make excellent time,
easily distancing any steamer on the
Sound. At other times she could, only
with the greatest difficulty, be made to
move at the rate of eight miles an hour.
Ordinarily the trip from Victoria to
Tacoma, touching at Port Townsend and
Seattle, occupied about twenty hours;
sometimes we would do it in seventeen,
and again we would be twenty-five or
thirty hours on the trip. Once, to our
great chagrin, we were forty hours on
the way.
Our orders were to make time at all
hazards. The traveling public on Puget
Sound cared little in those days for
safety, and a great deal for arriving at
iheir destination in the shortest possible
time.
The Captain knew every foot of the
Sound by day or night. He never tied
up for storm, fog or darkness, but drove
the Occident to her destination. Years
of exposure to the rains and fog had
given he*Stood him a disease of the lungs. Often
in the pilot-house all night when
he shculd have been in bed, but he had
a family dependent upon him, and must
keep going.
The purser was a young man who had
been educated to the business on the
Columbia River. He was bright, dapper,
energetic, wide-awake, red-haired and
red-moustached. His obliging disposi¬
tion made him a great favorite on the
Sound. He was, too, always looking out
for the interests of his employers.
The steamers of both lines left the
terminal ports, Victoria and Tacoma, at
the same hour, and the boats lay at adja¬
cent docks. Competition had reduced
fares and freights to a very low figure,
and the rush of business was tremend¬
ous. Our lower deck was crowded at
every trip with freight and Chinamen,
while every state room was occupied, and
the saloon floor orten covered with mat¬
tresses.
As the hour for departure approached,
there were crowds shouting, pushing and
struggling ou the docks; freight was be¬
ing rapidly run on board, and carriages
and wagons were in seemingly inextrica¬
ble confusion.
On these occasions Harry Watkins,
our purser, seemed to be everywhere at
once, securing business for his boat by
means that were extraordinary aud often
comical.
One evening we lay at Tacoma, pre
paring for the trip north, The hour of
starting was ten o’clock, and it lacked
but twenty minutes of the time. Our
trip down had been the fastest on record;
we had distanced our competitor by
more than four hours, and taken the
cream of the business at Port Townsend
and Seattle.
I was in good spirits, and even George
Starr’s grim face relaxed a little when he
looked over the machinery, which, after
hard work, we had succeeded in getting
into
“If we don’t beat our own record this
trip,” I said, clambering down'after
making some complicated repairs, “I’m
mistaken very much.”
“Don’t be too sure,” said Starr.
Having a few moments to spare, I
went to the gangway of the boat and
glanced out. It was a cold, dripping
night. The fog was so dense that the
lanterns oil the dock made little points
of yellow light, revealing nothing.
Trucks loaded with freight were com¬
ing down the gang-plank with a crash
and a rattle.
I was just turning away when Harry
Watkins came sliding down the gang¬
plank. In one arm he carried a little
girl, while with his other hand he dragged
a boy about nine years old.
“Hadn’t time to go around by the
passenger gangway,” he said, breath¬
lessly. “Here, Billy,” as he caught
sight of me, “stow these kids about the
engine-room somewhere where it’s warm.
They’re ’most frozen, poor little things!
I’ll take care of ’em when we get under
way.”
Thrusting the little girl into my arms,
he was off like a flash.
The little girl, who was about fouT
years old, was trembling violently from
cold and excitement. I made my way
carefully among the piles of freight and
crowds of Chinamen that blocked the
main deck to the engine-room, through
a narrow passage piled high with freight.
The engine-room was a comfortable
place. There was a broad cushioned
seat across the end.
As I came in, the Captain was leaning
over one of the half-doors that opened
into the side passages, talking with the
chief-engineer; He was on his way to
the pilot-house to spend the long, cold,
wet night there. No one else on board
was capable of running the Occident in
such a fog as this. His glistening eyes,
hollow cheeks and harsh, hacking cough
told plainly enough that he should have
been in his bed rather than in the pilot¬
house.
I placed the little girl in one corner of
the cushioned seat, and told the boy to
climb up beside her, and keep perfectly
quiet.
Starr growled a little at having the
engine-room “littered up with passen¬
“Oh, we can’t be particular these
times,” said the Captain. “There’s no
part of the boat where Watkins wouldn’t
stow people for the sake of getting busi¬
ness. I hope we’ll make as good time
as we did coming down.”
‘ ‘There’s no depending on that ma¬
chine,” saicT Starr.
“She looks pretty well now,” said the
Captain.
“Yes, Billy has polished her up pretty
bright.” But he shook his head as he
spoke.
“Well, do your best, boys, to get her
through on time,” said the Captain,
walking slowly away, coughing as he
weut.
Promptly at the hour the start was
made. The complicated old engine
creaked and strained as its many parts
were put in motion. Starr handled the
engine. I stood by ready to give assist¬
ance.
When we were off, I never saw the
Occident engine work more smoothly.
With a good pressure of steam, the vari¬
ous parts click-clacked merrily, and the
boat moved ahead at a good rate.
I stood the first watch. Before Starr
retired, he wept to look for the Naviga¬
tion Company’s boat, but returned and
said that .he could not seen ten feet from
the guarji.
About half an hour afterward I sat
down upon the broad, cushioned seat
beside the boy, keeping my eye upon the
engine. There were not many moments
during the whole trip when either Starr
or myself was not watchiug that engine.
“Please, sir, how soon before we get
there?” /
The little girl was fast asleep, but the
boy was sitting bolt upright. They were
healthy-looking children, poorly but
neatly dressed—the little girl very pret¬
ty, with a tangle of brown curls about
her flushed face as she lay asleep in the
corner.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To Seattle, and we want to get there
awful quick, if you please, sir.”
“What’s your hurry?’! asked, amused
at the boy’s earnestness.
“Mother hasn’t seen Ally and me for
more than four months!” said he, con
dently.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Why, you see, father and mother
moved up to Seattle and left us with
grandma till they got settled. We were
going by the other line.”
“Were you, indeed! And what
changed your minds?”
“Oh, the purser met grandma on the
dock, and said he’d take care of us, and
he just kind of run us on this boat. It’s
a good boat, isn’t it?”
I smiled, knowing Harry Watkins’s
way of picking up passengers. in Seattle?”
“And who’s to meet you
“Oh, mother. She’s expecting us, and
won’t be far off, I guess. She said in
her last letter she was ’most crazy to
see me and Ally. My father he’s got a
job at fishing on the Sound. He’s a
great fisherman. He’s caught salmon so
boy stretched out his arms to
their utmost extent.
Just then Harry Watkins looked in
over the half-dcor.
“Of all the nights I ever saw on the
Sound,” he said, “this is the worst. I
thought Columbia River fog couldn’t be
beaten, but it’s nothing to this. Hullol
How are the children getting along?
You ought to have seen how I got those
two passengers! Their grandmother Navigation was
bound to send them by the
boat; but I rushed her over to our ticket
office, and became personally responsible
for the safe delivery cf those young
ones.”
He eyed them solemnly as he spoke.
“Hey! but we’re stepping off lively to¬
night, eh? Navigation boat away be¬
hind.”
“Yes, she’s doing pretty well to¬
night,” I said, “but there’s no telling
how long it will last. She’s very uncer¬
tain.”
“Well, I’ll relieve you of these chil¬
dren now, Billy; and much obliged for
taking care of ’em. But what I’m to do
with the voungstars I don’t know.
They’ve second-class tickets, only. I
don’t like to turn them in with that
crowd.”
“Leave them here,” I said. “I’ll be
on duty till we get to Seattle. It's a pity
to disturb the little girl, and there’s room
enough for the boy to sleep on the seat.
They won’t be in my way.”
“All right,” said he, “I’ll just make
a pillow for the little girl, and settle the
boy right.”
He opened the door and came in. In
a few minutes he had arranged a very
comfortable bed for both.
“Oh, I’m used to it,” ho said. “I’m
the oldest 'of a family of nine. This is
the most comfortable place in the boat.”
“I wouldn’t like to have anything
happen to these children,” said the purser,
seriously, pausing at the door. ’ “ I don’t
know what makes me feel so, but I’ll
never take the responsibility of doing
anything like this again. It’s all right
for people who voluntarily take their
chances with us, but to force children,
with no one in particular to look after
them, on board this boat, is another
thing.”
Watkins went away, glancing back at
the children.
In a short time the boat settled down
into comparative quiet. The chattering
of the Chinamen ceased, the thumping
causod by the men moving the freight
was stilled and nothing was heard but
the hissing of the steam, the clucking of
the engine and the paddles beating the
water, as the Occident rushed rapidly
along through the fog.
We were about three hours out from
Tacoma when I heard a commotion
among the men forward. Presently the
bell sounded to go at half speed.
Soon I learned that the Captain had
been taken suddenly ill, bleeding from
the lungs, and had been carried to his
room in an unconscious condition.
The mate had taken charge, but was
not at all sure where he was going, for
the night was thick and black.
This news made me very anxious, for
I knew that no man on board was
capable of taking the Occident to Seattle
on such a night as this except the Cap¬
tain.
Soon the gong sounded the signal to
stop the engine. We lay quiet, except
for the slight rocking of the steamer
caused by the swell.
As I stopped the engine, I noticed
that something had gone wrong with the
machinery. Just what it was I could
not at the moment make out, but I was
sure, from the jar I felt, that some part
of the complicated machinery had got out
of order, as it often did just as sud¬
denly.
I ran hastily over the engine, but
could find nothing broken. I concluded
that it must be in some of the many hid¬
den parts.
Expecting every moment to hear the
signal to go ahead, I stepped to the
speaking-tube which connected the en¬
gine-room with the room of the chief
engineer, intending to call Starr. The
speaking-tube was near the door, through
which I could see out of the gangway
over the guard, aft of the paddle-box.
As I paused a moment at the door aud
glanced out, I was startled to hear a pe¬
culiar roar, which I knew did not come
from any part of our steamer. Almost
at the same moment, right on our port
quarter aft, there appeared a great lumi¬
nous glare through tho fog. At the
same time the blast of a steam whistle
sounded, and following it, a scream of
terror on our boat, and a muffled shout
out of the fog.
Before I had time to use the speaking
tube, the quick, sharp clang of the gong
sounded, giving the signal to go ahead,
followed immediately by the full-speed
bell.
I sprang to the starting bar, but my
heart sank like lead as I went. In a
moment my worst fears were realized;
the engine would not move. Frantically
I strove to start it, but without avail.
Again and again came the sharp, impa¬
tient clang of the gong, aud I heard
once more the scream of terror.
I knew that if that engine could be
started a collision would probably be
prevented, but in spite of all my efforts,
it remained immovable.
Just then Starr, aroused by the stop¬
ping of the engine and the commotion,
rushed half-dressed into the engine
room. I saw him seize a large wrench,
and run forward among the works, and I
never saw him again.
The next moment came a grinding
crash. The Occident hecleld sharply over
to the starboard. The bow of the Naviga¬
tion Company's steamer, which had over¬
hauled us while we were running at half¬
speed, struck us on the port-quarter aft
of the paddle-box, and cut through the
guard deep into the hull of the Occi¬
dent.
Amid the crashing timbers, and the
clouds of steam escapiug from a broken
pipe, Harry Watkins came bounding into
the room.
“Billy,” he shouted, “I must look
after these children* I promised to!” had
He snatched up the little girl, who
awakened and was crying loudly.
The Occident would probably sink in
a few minutes, for there was a hole in
her side through which the water was
rushing with frightful speed. It had al¬
ready reached the furnace fires.
Some life-preservers hung in the en¬
gine room. These I seized, and throw¬
ing two to Watkins, buckled one, upon
myself and another on the boy.
I looked around for Starr, but could
not see him. He died at his post.
Seeing that I could be of no further
use in the engine room, I followed Wat¬
kins, who, carrying the girl and leading
the boy, was stumbling to the starboard
gangway. meantime the mates and
In the crew
were occupied in getting out the boats,
which were few and almost useless.
The frightened Chinamen were quiet
after the first shook, and patiently sub¬
mitted to bo driven back from the
boats.
The steamer with which we had col¬
lided bad drifted away in the fog, but
her shrill whistle could be heard not far
away. rail the
As Watkins reached tho ot
sinking steamer, a boat in charge of the
second mate, full of passengers, was just
pushing off. Watkins!” cried the officer.
“Jump in, children!” said the
“Here, take these
purser.
“Can’t—hardly room for one," said
the'man. While he spoke, the men in
the boat, fearing she would be over¬
loaded, pushed off.
The Occident was sinking rapidly. It
was plain she could float but a few mo¬
ments longer. the and
“We must jump into water,
try to get as far away from the wreck as
possible,” I said. “The boats from the
other steamer may pick us up."
We made our way to the stern, as that
afforded the best chance of clearing the
wreck.
“Here, Watkins, let me take care of
the boy!” said I. “You can't look after
them both.”
“All right, Billy, Don’t lose him.
Their mother is waiting at Seattle for
them, and I promised to see them safe
there.”
I grasped the boy by the hand, and
holding him fast, jumped into the chill¬
ing waters of the Sound. Watkins, hold¬
ing the little girl in his arms, followed
immediately after me. and drifted
We all rose near together, dense
rapidly away from the wreck. So
was the fog that, in a few moments, we
lost sight of everything, although we
could plainly hear the cries and screams
of the drowning people. “Billy,
Presently Watkins exclaimed:
one of the life preservers is gone!”
I saw that the life preserver he had
strapped on the little girl had broken
loose, and was nowhere to be seen. The
preservers would support fairly well the
weight of one person; but I saw that it
would he impossible for the purser to
keep afloat long, and support the child,
too.
“Billy,” said he, “I can’t keep her
above the water this way. I’m going to
put my life preserver on her.”
“But,” said I, “how will that help
you? It won’t support anymore weight
upon her than upon you.”
“No, perhaps not,” he gasped, be¬
tween his breaths, “but she’ll be safer at
any rate. Billy, I don’t want, to die, buf
I’d rather die than let these children
drown. They’d have been safe aboard
the other boat if it hadn’t been for my
meddling. I’ve got to see them through.”
In spite of my remonstrances he took
off his life preserver, and strapped it
upon the child. He could swim but
little, aud it was hard work for him to
make tho change. When it was done,
the child floated buovautly, but his head
was almost under water all the time.
In the meantime we shouted till we
were exhausted. The sounds about us
grew fewer-, the cries fainter; we could
hear the splash of oars, but no boats
came our way.
I felt a numbness creeping over me,
and I saw Watkins's face deathly-white
against the gray water of the Sound, al¬
most overwhelmed. He was struggling
violently to keep afloat, but with his re- ■
maining strength was still assisting the
child.
Then I heard the splash of oars near at
hand, aud a boat suddenly darted out of
the fog. There were shouts, and I felt
a strong hand grasp my collar. Then I
knew no more.
When I recovered consciousness, a few
minutes later, I found myself in a boat
with two men, one of whom was wrap¬
ping the children with his warm, thick
coat. The other was chaffing my hands.
The boy was crying, “Father! father!”
and the little girl was strongly clasped
in the man’s arms.
It was the children’s father, who had
been fishing near the scene of the dis¬
aster. It was not very strange, under
the circumstances, that it was lie who
happened to pick us up.
“Where is Harry Watkins?” I cried,
as soon as I could find my voice.
“That must have been the man who
went down just before we could get hold
of him,” said the fisherman.— Youth's
A Strange Cure.
Speaking of these “literary cusses, ” as
Horace Greely called them, reminds me
of a peculiar story I heard a few days
ago. A certain brilliant woman who
had come into a fortune on the death of
her husband found the bacillus of literary
ambition pervading her system. Lack¬
ing originality she employed her require¬
ments as a lingquist to the task of build¬
ing up a translator’s reputation.
Much to her disgust, all her efforts in
this line were unavailing. Manuscript
after manuscript was rejected by news¬
papers, book publishers and syndicates.
She kept on, however, until her mind
became unbalanced and she was taken to
an insane asylum. Among her papers
the physician in charge of the case found
an English rendition of one of Guy de
Maupassant’s stories. He sent the manu¬
script to a syndicate. It was accepted.
The doctor thereupon presented a printed
copy of her translation to his patient.
The effect was magical. Her old am¬
bition returned, her mind resumed its
normal condition and she has been dis¬
charged from the asylum—cured. good Once
in a while publishers do a deed.—
St. Louis Republic.