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SUNDAY MORNING.
THE WAYFARER..
By THE LADY ARABELLA R.OMILLY,
RS. MILVAIN sat spinning
X -■ K at her cottage door one
2 jVI 8 pvp ning in early summer.
* f Now and again sbe looked
with sad eyes on her gar
den bloom, for flowers were almost all
of sweetness and Joy In life left to her
now.
Her life had been sorrow all through;
now, when she began to hope she might
be within a measurable dlstanee of the
end. an acquiescence and a pence Imd
come to her unknowu hitherto In her
stormy life. Something akin to pleas
ure she felt nt the growing and the
thriving of her flowers, watching the
small shoots working through the
ground and the gradual unfolding of
leaf and hud to flower. Each plant was
a nursling, each separate plot the re
sult of work and economy. And Sylvia
Mllrnin often thanked God that,
though nearly all of earth's goods
hod been taken from her, still enough
had been left to make one little garden
beautiful. Her cottage, too, expressed
herself; she had only three rooms, hut
these were delicate and dainty, though
her sitting room was but a cottage
kitchen and the walls of lier little tied
chamber were whitewashed.
Still, a woman must have something
to love, and Sylvia, .who had had
riches with sorrow, now accepted pov
erty with peace.
A man walked through the woods
which surrounded the tiny cottage,
and came straight up to the wooden
gate, and looked down the flagged path
between Its candytuft and Ivy leafed
geranium, to where the fair woman sat
nt lier spinning wheel. For fair she
was, though youth had long left her,
but age had forgotten her, being merci
ful to some: for age has Its favorites,
and Sylvia was one. She was dressed
like a Quakeress rather than a peusant,
In a plain, straight, gray gown; a
white flehn, folded, showed a white
round neck. Her face was absolutely
white, except for her mouth, which
hud not lost the red of her girlhood,
and the eyes were calm and largo and
gray, with eyelashes curling up to
ward the level brows.
All this llio man noted ns he stood
■with hla Lund on file Intel), and the
elendernesg of her figure mid of her
anno nnd wrists, )is slie paused In her
spinning to look at- him. He waited
for her to speak, nnd she, being a lone
ly woman in a cottage, perhaps had
some momentary thrill of fear at his
approach.
Hut he was old, she thought, nnd she
saw that he was tired, and It was a
long way to the nearest village, so Mrs.
Milvain spoke.
“l)o you want to find Westford Fees?
It is nearly n mile from here.”
“I am very tired,” he said simply,
and leaned with his arms on the gar
den gate.
He seemed to oreathe in the sweet
ness and beauty of the garden, and
Mrs. Milvain waited, wondering wheth
er to bid him come in nnd rest, for
ihe was a very tired nnd worn way
farer, and she saw on his seamed
brown face the marks of ranch toll nnd
many Sorrows. While Sylvia Milvain
looked ns If she could never grow old,
the wayfarer looked ns If he had never
been young.
"Will you come nnd rest here?" she
said, and went herself to open her
gate, and he followed as in a dream.
She, going on before, could not see
the expression of his face surprise
succeeding rapture, and rapture anx
iety. Hut he said nothing till they
were Inside her cottage a little
passage, with a primitive wooden
staircase on one side of her open
kitchen door. For it was really a
kitchen, with stone floor and red brick
fireplace and oven, and a brick hearth,
beside which a Persian kitten lay
coiled up on a sheepskin rug. In con
trast to the dresser with its willow
pattern dishes, its pewter plates and
mugs, the tall clock, the old straight
backed chairs, were tlie embroidery
frame, a gold thimble, a rosewood
Work box lined with blue satin, a pair
of silver bandied scissors. On the
plain, unvarnished oak table stood a
bowl of flowers, and at tlie widely
opened lattice windows short linen cur
tains, worked in crewels, and wide
window seats cushioned like sofas.
Hlie bade him rest In one while she
prepared the lea. Stic realized at once
that he was not a common wayfarer;
Ills speech was as tier own. Each rec
ognized the true position of the other,
though she lived in a cottage kitchen,
and lie was a tired, shabby wanderer
of the roads and fields. She saw his
eyes turn to her bookcase beside the
fireplace over her table and within
reach of her hand when she sat In
her straight-hacked armchair.
“Ah. that Keats—you " He stopped
at her look of surprise.
Sylvia saw him turning over the
leaves of a little first edition of Keats'
poems, given her years ago by her
first love. She sighed; he heard the
sigh and echoed It as lie replaced tlie
little volume
“Do you live all alone here?" lie
asked.
Strange to say. she did not resent
his familiarity.
“1 live alone, except for my little
servant: but I wait for my son.”
“Your son?”
“Yes. lie is away; but lie is on his
way home."
"Where has he been?"
"Where do all mothers' sons go now,”
she said, “aud, alas! often stay? My
son, thank God. is coming home. He
has done well.”
“That.” said the stranger gravely.
“I can believe.''
“Why?” she asked.
The soft blush on her face made her
appear almost a girl again. He did
not answer, but rose abruptly.
“May I look about your room? Y'ou
have beautiful things. Somehow It
seems to me you are living here for a
whim."
“Oh. not a whim! Stern necessity.
But I have kept a few treasures from
my girl days. These books—ah! that
Keats you were looking nt was given
to me by the friend of my youth so
long ago; he used to read it to me.
Do you ever read poetry? Do you
know tfiat poem hegiunlng, Tn a drear
nigbted December?'"
She set the tea on the oak table. It
was all set out daintily; the old Eng
lish ware, the lacquer ten tray, the cut
glass Jug of milk, the old. curved
handled knives, the yellow butter tn
Its glass dish, the uncut loaf, the
honeycomb. The evening sun came
through the unshaded window, and lit
up her pretty cottage room. She rose
and drew the curtain, so that the light
should not dazzle his tired eyes.
All the while he watched her eagerly
and wondering; aud she poured out the
tea. and waited on him in her beautiful
unconventionnllty. “He was a stranger,
aud she took him In”—that was enough
for her.
“May I rest here for a while?” he
said, when the shadows lengthened
and the little maid came In and set the
room In order.
“Oh, yes," she said, unfalteringly,
for a strange fancy had risen in her
heart and drew her to the stranger.
"Will yon go on spinning? It Is a
rest to me to watch you. So few
women spin now.”
“It was my grandmother's spinning
wheel. She taught me to spin when I
was a child. Have you no home?” she
asked.
"None. I am a wanderer on the faee
of the earth; but not like Cain, through
crime, but because early In my life I
lost nil hope of a home; the woman 1
loved married.”
Mrs. Mllvaln’s eyelashes quivered,
but she did not look tip from her
spinning.
“Could you not find another woman
to make a home?”
“I am one of those natures so con
stituted that they only love once, never
again, and for always.”
He spoke very quietly and emphatic
ally. Little Margaret, the maid, com
ing in, Sylvia bade lier take her sew
ing to the poreli.
Margaret may have wondered at her
mistress choosing to sit alone with a
wayfaring man; but, ns she expressed
It to her mother afterward, “He looked
like one of the gentlefolk dressed up
for a play." By which she meant some
tableaux given nt (lie castle the pre
vious Christmas—tableaux In which the
beautiful and mysterious Mrs. Milvain
had been urged to take a part. The
part chosen for her bnd been Evan
geline, meeting after long years llic
dying lover of her youth.
am too old and 100 sad to net In
tableaux," she had said, "and perhaps
my womanly vanity resents the part
of Evangeline In her later days."
This she told the wayfarer.
“Evangeline—ah, that wait Long
fellow's poem! I remember I admired
it In the past—the long past. 1 sup
pose we all have our Ideals; Evangeline
was my Ideal of the beautiful l’urllan
maiden.”
A little sketch of the girl's bead In
water colors was hanging between the
windows, her loose, ash brown, wavy
hair parted on her forehead tinder a
Puritan cap, tier grave, gracious eyes
looking out with a steadfast wistful
ness under the level brows. In one
corner was written "Sylvia,” and a
date of thirty years ago.
Sylvia saw the wayfarer's eyes
glance from the picture to herself.
“I wonder If you would have recog
nized it," she said, "If you had known
me all those years ago?"
“You are very little changed,” he
said; and then, after a pause, “from
that picture.”
“Thirty years must make some differ
ence," Mrs. Milvain answered, but
without coquetry—merely as staling a
melancholy but Inevitable fact.
“Time has Its favorites—lts spoiled
children,” lie answered quietly.
And still her delicate fingers held the
spinning thread, and her foot trod
the spinning pedal, and he, lying hack
against a cushion. Wondered whether
earth would ever again show him
so fair and restful a picture.
The daylight faded, and she became
a shadowy figure against tin* window.
The last sunbeam had lit lier hair with
a good night kiss. Margaret came tn
and threw logs on the tire, and still
tile wayfarer lingered, and still Sylvia
gave him no hint that she was weary
of him. And a great silence fell. Per
haps she thought he slept.
The clock struck, and still he sat
there, and she spun In the twilight.
At. last she rose and came near to
him.
He was asleep.
She hent over him and scanned his
worn features with a sort of tender
scrutiny, hut her expression was enig
matical. Then she lifted the lock of
gray hair lying loosely across his forte
liead, and saw a soar about the size
of her own little linger; then she sighed
and smiled. .
And presently lie woke with a start.
"1 beg your forgiveness," he said,
courteously, “for having slept in your
presence.”
"1 forgive," slie answered. “Mean
while, you will stay and have supper
with me? Best here."
He was surprised nt anew friendli
ness and alacrity in her manner. Her
almost haughty graclousuess had al
tered during his sleep. When she had
left him and bade Margaret prepare the
supper.his hand stole furtively to the
little volume of Keats in the bookcase
by his chair. In the beginning was
written, "Sylvia from Stephen.” The
date was thirty years ago. Below it
was written “Sylvia Milvain.” Tbey
spoke very littleat supper: eaeh seemed
to be silently watching the other. Af
terward, as she prepared some coffee,
he asked abruptly:
“Where is your husband?”
“He died long ago." she answered,
with some reserve of manner, "very
long ago. Aud you—where is your
wife?"
"I have no wife. I have never mar
ried."
“Ah!"
“But you married, and had a son?”
“Y’cs. hilt 1 had to marry, because—
well. I suppose you know the old story
of Robiu Gray?"
“I have read it." he said, "but was
you.' husband a Bobin Gray;"
"He was not." slie said. "But—he
Is dead."
“And did Jamie never eoiue back?”
Her face was turned away from hiui.
aud as a burning log fell with a clatter j
on the hearth he could not guess if she
had heard his question.
He looked at her slender waist, the
delicately set head, and the coil of
soft, ash brown hair. Her fair, slight
hands were busy at her household
work, but they were white, and over
her wedding ring shone a little gold
serpent ring, whose diamond eyes
sparkled 1n the firelight.
He did not repeat Ids question just
then.
“Shall I tell you,” he said, “why I
became a wanderer on the face of the
earth?”
She sat down quietly opposite him,
her folded hands on her lap. The night
ingale sang loudly and passionately;
the moonlight flooded the little room
through the still open window.
“When I was n boy—a wild, head
strong boy, if you will, but with a
strong, loving heart—l loved one of
the sweetest women who ever walked
the earth. She was scarcely a woman
—a girl, almost a child—an angel.”
Sylvia smiled.
“And she loved me, or said she did;
and then, and then Why revive
these old memories?”
"Perhaps,” she said, softly, “it is bet
ter to revive them. There may have
been some Injustice done, in thought,
to someone, which might nt last be
righted.”
“It could never be righted now,” he
said. “It is so long ago—nearly thirty
years.”
“What Is thirty years in eternity?”
she said. “An uneonsklered moment.”
“She, the woman—or shall I call her
the ehild?—l loved, ruined my life
without an explanation, without even
a warning. I had gone to London to
look for work. I had almost the prom
ise of a situation in an office, a salary
on which we might, have married—for
she was always, even then, thrifty and
housewifely in her sweet ways—when
I heard from her just these words:
“ ‘Forgive me. For reasons I can
never explain we can never marry.
I am going to marry (here slie gave the
name) next week.' ”
Sylvia's voice sounded small and very
faint as she Raid:
“Was that all? Didn't she even send
her love? Didn't she (ell you that sliej
should always remember your love for
her and hers for you?”
"She did," he said. “How well you
understa ml women!”
“Not all women, but perhaps this
one.”
“There was nothing for me to do,”
lie said. “All was inevitable. I went
away. She would not see me. She
gave no explanation—none. My father
died suddenly. Her father had urged
her to marry. My mother was dead.
What was left for me? I went away.
I could not forget her; I shall never
forget her. When I aui dead, if my
body were opened, her name would be
found written on my heart.”
“Was she so beautiful?” Sylvia
asked, and in the agitation of that mo
ment the femininity of the question
passed unheeded.
“She was—herself,” he said, “the
woman fiod had made for me, aud she
rejected me.”'
“You do not know all,” she said.
“Perhaps if you knew all, you would
be merciful.”
"1 was never less than merciful to
her, God bless her!”
“Perhaps you have never heard that
her father forged a man's name for a
great sum, and that the man refrained
from prosecution on condition of the
daughter marrying him."
The wayfarer started from his chair.
"M as that the reason? Oh, my God!
And did she think so poorly of her
lover?”
“She thought of her father's and her
mother’s name,” Sylvia said quietly,'
though her white face flushed a rosy
red and her hands grasped the arms of
her chair. “She knew that, great as
love is, honor is greater. Therefore,'
she knew that she must save lier fath
er's name and lose her own. She knew
that she must lose the whole world,
which was her love, to save her soul, 1
her honor, to save her father’s. She
knew that she must let the man she
loved, the man whom she had loved all
her life, whom she had played with
and quarrelled with since they were
both hnliles, look on her all the rest
of lier life as a vile coquette and a
jilt. She must send him forth with
Ids faith In womanhood ruined, to seek
such comfort ns she could never give, 1
ruined by her father; married to a man
old In sin, and who only desired her
for lier youth ami wlint men called
beauty; aud ho despised by the man
she loved, and lie silent for honor's
sake.”
Sylvia’s tears ran over her cheeks
and still the wayfarer never spoke.
“Stic accepted her lot. The man sho
loved went away, she does not know
whore, believing lier false; and the man
she married made her life a tragedy
she dares not let herself think of. And
then came ruin. She was glad vf hen
ruin came. She could work with her
own hands for the little son; she loved
the child. And the man—he lost every
thing—health. strength, and all worldly
goods, and she nursed him till he died.
She knew the price he had paid for
her. and she would fiulfll the bargain
to tlie uttermost farthing—aud It was
the uttermost farthing.”
There was deep silence iu the little
room.
Very gently the wayfarer rose from
his chair, aud he stood before Sylvia,
looking at the lovely face—lovely still,
though the sorrows of many years
shadowed the eyes and hollowed the
delicate cheeks.
“And now he knows all,” he said.
Sylvia rose and put her hands intq
his.
“Did you know at once?” she asked.
“At ouee, my love, at once. And
you?”
Sylvia smiled.
“Even now 1 can keep secrets."
Ami so her wayfarer came to stay
and the latter years of tlielr lives were
better than the beginning.—The Lady's
Realm.
Harvest Aina** Seine Gathered.
Crops are beitig harvested somewhere
in the world during every month in
the year. South Africa and Peru har
vest in November, and Bengal, Bur
mah and New South Wales in Decern.,
bcr.
•litinaicH May (Jrow Cotton.
Jamaica is talking of introducing the
cultivation of cotton to make up for
the decline in sugar. Cotton is being
grown in Montserrat, iu Santa Lucia
aud iu severs! of the Leeward Islands.
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
The Moslems Pray Always
©©© © ® ®
Religion Colors Social Customs—The Tradi
tions of the Prophet Rule the Faithful From
the Time They Get Up In the Morning Until
They Go to Bed at Night.
■JTIELIGION plays a great part
* in the workaday lives of
T3 the children of the faith,
that is, with their dressing
beginning with their toilet,
and bathing and the comb
ing of their hair and the cutting of
their nails.
A pious Moslem, before wearing any
new article of clothing, performs his
ablutions and prostrates himself twice
In prayer. A man of less devout, but a
more superstitious, trend of mind con
tents himself with consulting the tagh
vlm or the estekhareh, muttering to
himself ere he dons the garment, “In
the name of God the merciful and
element!” His friends on seeing the
new apparel cry out, “May it he aus
picious!” The rewards of a man who
says his prayers before putting on a
new suit of clothes will be in proportion
to the number of threads in the cloth.
Hence It lias come to be a practice to
preserve the material from the blight
of the evil eye by besprinkling It with
pure water over which a prescribed
passage of the Koran has been read.
The laity must be seated when dress
ing, whereas the priests must stand up
and put on their turbans.
It Is unlucky for a Moslem to sit
down before taking off his shoes. When
drawing them on It is equally unlucky
for him to stand up. The custom, In
the first instance, is to rise, doffing first
the left shoe and then the light one.
The procedure must he reversed in
every particular when putting them on.
The application of tile juice of the
marshmallow as an emolient for the
hair is strongly recommended by the
saints. Their object In bequeathing
this advice to the consideration of their
flock was not to inculcate vanity. They
had a higher aim than that. Their de
sire was to stave off starvation from
♦he fold, for that, in their opinion,
would be the result of using the lotion
on an ordinary day of the week; while
rubbing tlie head vigorously with the
precious juice on the Moslem Sabbath
would be certain to preserve the skin
from leprosy and the mind from mad
ness. To the use of a decoction of the
leaves of the lote tree a divine relief Is
attributed. The smell of it on the hair
of the most unregeuerate has on Satan
an effect so disheartening tnat ne will
cease from leading them Into tempta
tion for no less than seventy days.
A respite of forty days from the
snares of the devil is granted to the
pious Moslem who can find leisure to
comb his beard four score times and
ten between sunrise and sunset. The
pressure of the grave will also be mlti
■gated by a skillful and untiring appli
cation of the comb In this life. The
first blessing of tlie comb was revealed
to Imam Jafar, the second to Mo
hammed the Prophet. Women are not
excluded from the benefits above men
tioned. _ But, remember, the combing
of the ha!r must not he done tn a
frivolous, much less a perfunctory
fashion. Far from It. A prayer must
be said ere the comb can be touched,
after which the hair may be reduced
to order, though car# must be taken
to comb the middle first, and then to
the right side and last of all the left.
On no account whatever must the hair
he neglected, for the simple reason that
Satan is attracted by disheveled locks.
A mullah's beard Is an object of ven
eration to his flock. He may trim it
lest It should grow as wild as a Jew’s,
but he is forbidden by tradition to
shave it. Even tlie scissors must be
plied sparingly and to the accompani
ment of prayer. Perhaps the orthodox
length of this almost divine appendage
of the true Moslem is the length of the
wearer’s hand from the point of the
chin downward. This Is known as a
gliabzeh or handful.
The soul of the believer is In danger
every time he forgets to cut Ills sharib,
that Is, the lower part of his mustache,
which should be reduced to bristles
ouee a week. Satan will he distracted
if he fulfill the tradition on the day
of the congregation. If the finger nails
he cut, beginning with the thumb and
then the fingers of the left hand, on
the same holy day, the fingers will suf
fer no pain forever more.
If a Moslem gaze Into n looking-glass
before saying bis prayers, he will be
guilty of worshiping his own likeness,
however unsightly It may appear In
his eyes. The hand must be drawn
across the forehead, ere the hair or
the beard be adjusted, or the mirror
will reflect a mind given over to van
ity, which is a grievous, If universal
sin. The new moon must be seen “on
the faee” of a friend, on the copy of
tlie Koran, or on a turquoise stone.
Unless one of these conditions be ob
served there is no telling what evil
might happen.
SENSE OP HEARING.
As the sense of sight gives rise to
devotional exercises, so also does the
sense of hearing. The holy Moslem
must bend a prayerful eur to the cries
of the muezzin during the first two
sentences, aud when the summons to
prayer Is over he must rub his eyes
with Ills fingers. The true believer
whenever he hears the Sureh Sujdeh
read in the Koran, must prostrate him
self and repeat the words after the
reader. He must also recite a given
prayer on hearing the chirping of cer
tain birds or the cries of certain ani
mals. If he hear a Moslem sneeze he
must say. “Feace be with thee!” If
the sneeze be repeated, he must ex
claim. “Mayest tliou be cured!” If he
sueoze himself he must read a few
verses of the Koran; but. if a Kafir
sneeze, the response must be expressed
in the wish to see him tread "the
straight path.”
Imam Hussein has laid down twelve
rules to be observed at meal times.
The first four are essential to the
salvation of all true Moslems. They
must not forget to say “Blsmillnh” be
fore tasting each dish: they must re
frain from eating of the forbidden vi
ands; they must end by returning
thanks to God, and they should assure
themselves that the food laid before
them has been bought with money ob-
tained from a legal source. This com
mandment is often broken both by the
host and by the guests. The second
four, though not generally followed,
are admitted by all to be “good form,”
and consist of washing the hands be
fore meat, in sitting down Inclined to
the left, in eating with the thumb and
the first two fingers of the right hand,
which must be kept specially clean for
the purpose. The last four rules deal
with matters of social etiquette. They
are kept by most Mohammedans in
pojite society and run as follows: Ono
must not stretch across the tablecloth
but should partake only of such dishes
as are within one's reach; one should
not overload one’s mouth, nor forget
to masticate the food thoroughly; and
one should keep the eyes downcast and
the tongue silent.
It is a tradition that washing the
hands before meals will materially
help the true Moslem to grow rich and
be the means of delivering him from all
diseases. If he rubs his eyes immedi
ately after the ablution they will never
be sore. The left hand must not be
used in eating unless the right be dis
abled. When drinking water he must
sit down and take three draughts.
Most of the Mohammedans use odd
shaped drinking vessels made of baked
clay, which have two orifices; the one
at the top is called the “mouth,” and
the other, which runs through a pro
jected tube at the side, is known as
the “neck.” The drinker must be care
ful not to lay his lips to the “mouth,”
which is the dwelling place of the
young deves or Mohammedan giants.
THE TOOTHPICK.
All true Moslems when eating must
begin with salt and finish with vinegar
If they begin with salt they will escape
the contagion of seventy diseases. If
they finish with vinegar their worldly
prosperity will continue to increase.
The host is in etiquette bound to be the
first to ’start eating and the last to
leave off. Toothpicking is considered
an act of grace in the true Moslem,
for Gabriel is reported to have brought
a toothpick from heaven for the
prophet after every meal. The priests
recite certain passages of the Koran
before and after lunch and dinner and
also before drinking water at any hour
of the day.
The pious believer, before going to
bed, must perform his ablutions and
say his prayers.
Prayers are also said against mos
quitoes and other insects. This cleanses
the conscience of the true Moslem, if
it fail in preserving the skin. Thfe
Eastern peoples in general and the
Mohammedans in particular are early
risers. Sleep after morning prayers,
which are said before sunrise, is sure
to cause folly; sleep in the middle of
the day is regarded as necessary and
suitable to work; and sleep before even
ing prayers has the same effect as that
after the devotions of the early morn
ing. The Mohammedans believe that
the prophets slept on their backs, so
as to be able to converse with the
angels at any hour of the night; that
the faithful should sleep on their right
sides, and the Kafirs on their left, and
that the deves take their rest on their
stomachs.
Bow Rothschild Board of Waterloo.
Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, in hi*
speech as Chairman of the Newspaper
Press Fund dinner In London the other
day, demolished the tradition about the'
way in which his grandfather obtained
advance news of the victory at Water
loo. According to the current story,
which even the Encyclopaedia Brltan
nlca repeats, Nathan Mayer Rothschild
was present at the battle, and hurried
back to London as soon as he saw it
was decided, getting there some hours
before the news became known, and
ranking enormous profits by buying up
stocks.
His grandson told the newspaper men
that “the accurate story would.appeal
to them as journalists, viz., that the
news came through the medium of a
small Dutch newspaper. The news
was published In a single line—‘Great
victory of the English at Amsterdam.’
His grandfather, who was the owner of
some ships, told his captains that!
whenever they went anywhere they
were always to bring him the latest
newspapers. One of these trusted cap
tains arrived with a paper announcing
the great victory. His grandfather,
who believed, as they all did how, in
the accuracy of all newspapers, imme
diately took the news to the Treasury
and gave the information to Lord Liv
erpool. He did not tell him how he
knew it. and his news was scouted be
cause the intelligence had arrived of
the defeat of the English troops on the
previous day."
Heligoland Disappearing.
As it was reported from Heligoland
that considerable masses of land had
fallen into the sea during the winter
storms the Kaiser visited the island a
few weeks ago to see for himself what
effect this was likely to have on the
fortifications. His Majesty evidently
regarded the situation seriously, for
shortly afterward a number of Govern
ment officials crossed over to make a
thorough investigation. It now trans
pires that these gentlemen have given
up the island for lost. It is particularly
the western side of the island where
the famous grottos are situated that is
being rapidly disintegrated.
Eight hundred years ago the island
was five times its present size, and as
the crumbling away of the rock is duo
solely to geological causes, it is ad
mitted that human skill and power can
do nothing to avert its complete disap
pearance. The rock of which the isl
and is composed contains a large per
centage of salt which nothing can pro
tect from dissolution by the North Sea.
Germans are now more than ever
confirmed In their opinion that Bis
marck made an extremely bad bargain
when he made an exchange with Eng
land taking over Heligoland.—London
Chronicle,
Naval Gun Disasters
Three Recent Acciden'e Have Caused
Loss of Life-History of the lowa’s
Rifle-Was Ono of Victors of Santiago,
and Had Been Fired 128 Times Before
It Exploded-
SAFEGUARDS FOR WAR SHIPS
P— mw*ASHINGTON, D. C. - In
taplrt succession a number
Wof accidents, involving loss
of life directly traceable Id
the weapons in use, have
occurred iii the United
States Navy. Workmen were killed
and injured on lona Island while un
loading an eight-inch shell; the crew of
the eight-inch gun turret of the battle
ship Massachusetts was annihilated by
the premature explosion of an ex
plosive shell and three men were killed
and four wounded by the destruction
of a twelve-inch gun on the battleship
lowa. Though fortunately not attend
ed with such terrible consequences, a
thirteen-inch gun on the battleship
Kearsarge and a thirteen-inch gun on
the battleship Indiana Were injured
through the premature explosion of
shells and had to be replaced.
These occurrences have naturally
aroused the anxiety of the authorities,
who have begun a most searching in
vestigation, and the more the probe is
moved about the greater becomes the
certainty that so far as the equipment
itself is concerned the ordnance of the
Navy is as reasonably safe as may be
expected. The guns, with the excep
tion of that on the lowa, subjected to
accidents, have not been ruined.
The lowa’s twelve-inch gun is one
of the oldest guns of that calibre now
in service, four of them being on this
battleship, four on the monitor Puri
tan, two on the monitor Monterey and
two on the second - class battleship
Texas. The gun on the lowa which
caused such damage had been fired at
least thirty-five rounds more than any
other of the same date of construction,
so that the authorities are satisfied
that the others are in no danger of
causing a similar catastrophe. At the
same time they will be closely watched
and upon the slightest evidence of
strain they will probably be taken out
of the ship.
THE LIFE OF A 810 GUN.
The life of a gun has never been
definitely ascertained, and this i9 a
point which many naval experts think
worthy of special study by the Navy
Department. Before installation on
board each gun is tested at the In
dian Head Proving Grounds, five
rounds at high pressure being fired.
Sometimes a gun is retained at the
proving grounds for use in firing pro
jectiles submitted for acceptance or for
trial of inventions, one of which caused
the destruction of a twelve-inch gun
several years ago. Subsequently the
gun is issued to the service.
Before it gave way the lowa's gun
had been fired 125 tiroes, but no signs
of stress had been reported. The fact
that the barrel of the gun broke off
about twenty feet from the muzzle is
an indication, however, that there it
was weakest, and an examination of
the plans shouts that at this point the
gun had not the reinforcement given to
the part in its rear.
The extent of the strain a twelve
inch gun suffers will be appreciated
when it is known that every square
inch, upon the occasion of explosion
of a full charge, is required to with
stand force of from fifteen to seven
teen tons; in other words, It experi
ences the shock of receiving this
weight if dropped a distance of one
foot. Usually when a gun deteriorates
evidence of the fact is shown by dam
age to the rifling, stress of the metal or
even slight ruptures, but none of these
signs appeared in the case of the lowa.
THE PRECAUTIONS TAKEN.
“The first indication of the weaken
ing of a gun,” Rear-Admiral O’Neil,
Chief of the Ordnance in the Navy,
said, “is usually the wearing out of
the lining, when it becomes necessary
to reline the gun. In other words, we
fire a gun indefinitely until it shows
enlargement of the bore .r some other
defect. We have small guns that have
been fired more than 100 times and
we will continue to fire them until the
lining is worn out. Ail the later guns
are reinforced to the muzzle.
“The Court of Inquiry which investi
gated the accident on board the Massa
chusetts reported that the ordnance
equipment was entirely satisfactory.
Before a gun is assembled at the gun
factory, the castings are purchased by
contract. These are of steel, which
have been oil-tempered. All strains
are supposed to be removed by anneal
ing; that is, the tube of the gun is
heated slowly and allowed to cool slow
ly. No one can say that all strains
have been removed from the tube be
cause it is impossible to take specimens
except from the ends, and while the
metal is supposed to be uniform, this
cannot be stated definitely. At the same
time, every precaution which human
care and ingenuity can devise is taken
to make the gun as safe fi • the men
who handle it as possible. When a gun
is assembled, it is sent to the Indian
Head IToving Grounds, where it is
tired five times with pressures reaching
as high as twenty tons. The maximum
pressure to which the gun will be sub
jected in service is seventeen tons;
ONE OF THE VICTORS OF SANTIAGO.
“Frequently, on board of the lowa,
the members of the crew of the gun
that burst were to be seen brightening
it and holding their hands upon it af
fectionately, and in every way showing
their faith in the piece. It was one of
the guns that brought victory at Santi
ago and it was not to be spoken of save
In reverent tones. The natural effect
of the several accidents is to weaken
the faith of the men in their guns,
when this is not justified. It is a fact
that every gun in the service of the
United States is equal if not superior
in strength to a gun of the same calibre
in any foreign service. In fact, the
safety of the men is one of the first
regards of the Ordnance Department
in planning the weapons.”
This was one of the considerations
entertained by Rear-Admiral O’Neil
when he designed the latest models of
guns, all of which produce higher ve
locities and therefore greater accuracy
and destructive energy than the old
pieces. The twelve-inch gun which
will be placed on battleships under
construction will fire a projectile with
a velocity 1000 feet per second greater
than the 6ld twelve-inch gun. But of
equal importation is the fact that the
new piece has a dotftflS steel tube and
is re-enforced to the muzzle, while the
lowa’s guns have single tubes tUly and
are not so well re-enforced.
No change has occurred in years in
the material or method of manufacture
of navy guns. Those in nse in the
latest ships are practically of the same
type as those first installed on the
Atlanta, Boston and Chicago, laid
down twenty-two years ago. The es
seutial difference is due to modifica
tions of the gun iu the way of improve
ineiit Of breech mechanisms, the de
velopment Of better powder
use of larger powder charges. Thus
greater power, greater range, gre
accuracy and greater rapidity fit
have been obtained. Roar-Admir.'u,
O’Neil says that to these qualities must
be added greater safety for the
handling tiie weapons.
PROJECTILES OF THE NAVY.
There are four classes of projectiles
in the United States Navy—armor
piercing projectiles, for use agaiCJt
armor; common shell, for use against,,
unarmored, or very thinly armored,
parts; shrapnels, for service against,
exposed detachments of men a consid
erable distance away, and canister,
which is employed against detach
ments of men, lacking protection, with
in close range.
“Shells are accepted in lots of 100,”’
says Rear-Admiral O’Neil. “It Is ob
viously Impossible to test every shell,
so three are selected from each lot.
One of these is fired over the range.
Another is fired through a plate the
thickness of which is equal to one-half
the calibre of the shell, and the third
is burst in an explosion chamber, to
ascertain if it breaks properly. In ad
dition all shells are subjected to water
pressure, and are Inspected to deter
mine if they are free front strains, of
proper measurement and weight And
are otherwise perfect. !
“Nowadays the Navy has a target
practice every quarter, which is almost
equivalent to going into battle. More
work is, put on the guns 1n this prac
tice than during the war, and they,
have stood the strain excellently.”—
Philadelphia Record
LOST AND FOUND STORIES.
Strange Ways In Which Some Missing:
Things Were Recovered.
A governess in an English family
was one day walking in the kitchen
garden with the two children under her
charge. In pulling at her hands as she
walked between them the children
loosened a ring on her finger, and It fell
off and disappeared. . They all looked
for it long and carefully, but it could
not be found. Tile governess -went
home for her holiday a month later,
and took with her a basket of garden
vegetables as a present for her mother
from the parents of her pupils. One of
the first things take out of the basket
was a fine head of cabbage, -with a
close green heart, among the curled
leaves of which was discovered the lost
ring.
...
A young woman took off her rings at
the bathroom washstaud one night,|
washed her hands with soap and some
oatmeal and went to bed, forgetting
her rings. The next morning one of
the rings was missing. She searched
everywhere for it, but without finding
it. Two or three years afterward the
wainscoting and fixtures of the bath
room were torn a-way for the purpose,
of putting in improvements, and in the
wall was found the skeleton of a
mouse, with the lost ring around its
neck. Tiie mouse had evidently gone
to the wasbstand for the oatmeal, and
had accidentally run its head into the
ring, from which it could not afterward
free itself.
An English officer in India bought n
fine diamond from a Sepoy, and had it
set in a ring. Several years later, when
he was in London on leave, lie missed
the diamond; it had fallen out of its
setting and was gone, he had no idea
where. He found it a week afterward
lying in one corner of a partly-dark
hallway at Ills club. Three years after
that lie was again on leave, and was
shooting in Scotland. Having come
upon some grouse he was raising his
gun to shoot when he suddenly noticed
that the diamond was again missing
from his ving. As he had tramped over;
miles of moor that day the case seemed
hopeless, and he gave the stone up as
lost for good this time. Suddenly, for
a reason that he could never give, he
thought the diamond might be in his
gun, and having drawn the charge he
found the stone with the powder.
...
When a certain old house in West
Philadelphia was torn down last year
to make room for anew one the work
men found in one of the chimneys a
skeleton cat with a skeleton rat in its
mouth.
* *
The writer of this article once had a
small pin set with pearls and a dia
mond—all of which, unfortunately,
were quite small. One day, while wear
ing the pin in his scarf, he was walking
on the street, and as he stepped across
a cellar grating he felt something strike
the top of his foot, and looked dOwn in
time to see the pin bound from his foot
across the grating to the flagging. It
had dropped from his scarf just when
he was over the grating, and if it had
not struck his foot it would have gone
down through the grating and been
lost. Two years after that he lost the
pin in some way wholly unknown, and
had given up all search for It; he had
even forgotten it, when one day the
old negro gardener brought it to him
with particles of dirt clinging all over
it. The old man was putting the gar
den walks in order with spade and hoe,
and whll§ at this work he found the
pin, where it had lain for about two
years.
Government Control of Aerograms.
A French Presidential decree reserves
to the Department of Posts and Tele
graphs the sole right of establishing
and working wireless telegraph sta
tions, with the exception of the public
services for official business, and indi
viduals for private messages, on cer
tain conditions, and by authorization of
the Minister for Commerce and Indus
try.
A Costly Break.
When a woman starts to break into
society her husband is due to break
through his bank account—New Yorij
Press, - ' * ,