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Rode a Cyclone for Three Quarters of a Mile and Lived to Tell the Tel
W P CRANE.
WAIT •» minute an I I'll tell you all
about It." said Mr. Crane, as
ho deftly picked off a half
<lo2«n bananas from a pendent
arrant • foiegio i
"for an Kngiit-h family named Shepherd.
In l>um» «\n;nty. cuitinc down trees. It
w"»* .■• •! t Jik*' tho deuce and 1 w.i«
uatHiinjr Mr. Shepherd, who nun some
distance away, to f i>n If ho want going
to «jult and run for coxer. l*was anxious
Jo please him and didn't want to quit till
\if did. Well, pretty soon 1 *cc him on
hiteh his horses and start for the h<*rn.
and so I laid down my ax. Neither one
<>f us was afraid of anything 'ccpt gettln'
w#t- We wa'm drcasiln' of anything like
"But weren't you [n the cyclone belt?"
1 queried, with «cnf idea tb*t they were
an everyday occurrence in Wisconsin.
"Waal, y'u know cyclones don" go by
reg'lar routes. they pay y'u a visit once
In a lifetime maybe, and that's enough.
••Waal, as 1 Itarted for the. house, übout
a mile away, I pot out 5n the clearing and
1 ncitin.l the top* .»f the tr«-.s all a-sway
ir.g toward the direction of the cyclone—
— * hi* — |~ 4idn't — U^h*\^ — i* vm^ n cydmit'-thm.
«;uess It must a bftn the suction of the
thine that mads th«-m bond that way. ana
I thought it »-a« <iv«« r. because I couldn't
:•■! .i bit of a current of air. and 1 fig
pered !t out that sf>mtthln^r new was
coin* to happ«n. with still air on the
cround and a *trong current only fifty
or sixty feet itltovo me. There was- a kind
f a .iietant roar that I didn't know what
:<• m:ik«- of. too. 1 turned around, and
when I looked toward the north I mw
what looked like a pr.-at bun«h of rain
!"'w«. all runnin" perpendicular and com
in' toward tne pretty fast.
"Atid :hon the rain began to pour: In
fcutl of raJnln*. just come down In bar
rrls fu!!, and made me tißht for my breath
lik- 1 »v« dronnlng. In a minute I was
aked to tho skin, and then i didn't
hurry. J.r;« U se 1 kr.ew I couldn't Ret any
witter, and that w;i* all I wr-«. afralo f
1 :«"d there lockir.R at that bunch of
taicbowe and 1 notlc<*d It coming closer
snd the trot* swaying more violently
While 1 was uondcrin'. 1 f«>)t *omcihln'
Guilty or Not Guilty?
3>\)enty years in San Quentm and Death at
<£ast for a Survivor of the famous
f"pfH*: other, dny nn old man died in
th" Stare prison at San Quanta,
j It was n<»t an iinucunl event— lt was
i| nbt Attended with any unusual cere-
A r.umv. The remains wore placed In
* plain r«'<lwoo.l box. The lx>v was hoisted
Into a h« avy pr'.smi wason: then the con
■ lei <Irl\f: and* his convict assistants, un
«Jor tbeVsuncrvtsfonipf a prison oftU.-l.il.
hastened <-\<-r ti.i« Intervening half mile of
I'.'iri" i; wksic to the prison burial ground,
wher^ the convict laborer whose duty It
«.iv to «!ic uravc* had made ready the al-
V-ttrd h\\ f««-t of earth.
The wa^'in followed a devious path
through • the jutting headstones. The
nones ueie simple nnd many were
marked with the eloquent inscription.
••Difd <>X gunshot wounds.*" the epitaph of
those who had matte a fatal attempt to
<-«apo. Tho wagon was unburdened, the
t.ux v.ns lowered and the few simple
•.-.,:.:- of the prison chaplain, with the
drone of the brief orthodox prayer, con
cluded the Incident. .
Th<* man whs* 66 yearn old.
Twenty of these years he had ."'in on
the. barren ;>1.u..! within prison walls. In
expiation of a crime which with hi* dying
breath !ie swore he did not commit.
The crime with which the people of the
Slate of California charged Frank Calmel
wan that of murder, and the verdict thai
the Jury found was "guilty." The degree
r.au: fixed !irst d^srrc and the Fentence for
life imprisonment. That was In the year
Frank ■ Mom had a comfortable little
home «>n the banks of Fish Creek. In
Kern County, near his prosperous char
• > :. I claim, which he hud located during
the period he was engaged In charcoal
minim? for Senator Jones, bo had sent
him there in IK*.
On the fourth day of July he went
hunting^ and, returning with his Run, ob
<!-.<■! a man in the act of leaving his
house. Frank Calmel had a store of good
whisky In hl« cabin, and the motive of
the- intruder he Immediately ascribed to
Hv rushed up the doorsteps, dragging
h«s gun after him. The man. who had
darted back Into the DOOM, reappeared In
the doorway, and cm he did M there was
a !ou<J explosion and the intruder dropped
rlra<l. The law raid Frank Calmel shot
In the Center of the Storrr).
brftin to pelt me— it was the hail. Without
exaggeration, them hailstones war as big
an goose-eggs, and some of 'em bigger.
They didn't come very thick, tho'. and
when I had two hit me on the ami I
knew enough to realize that If one hit
me on the top of the head it would a
been ill off. so I put my arm." over my
head, and re tooner had I done so than
a hailstone hit one of my hand*, which I
held over my temple, and it broke one of
my fingers, split It wide open and broke
the bone— thar's the ■car."
And so It Was—■ long ugly white mark
nearly the length of the Index finger.
"Waal, n x' thing I knew, it come. Tl.fj
rainbows turned Into a mass of dirt and
boards, and waK&in-wheel-. and things
and I got a free ride of three-quarters of
a mile. It must a' took some time, but I
was only conscious of being picked up
like a feather, and violently thrown down
again. I couldn' see anything, because I
had my eyej shet—had to for the dirt
and the nex' thing I knew I hit the
ground, and went right down into It
(or ■ tronder l tirou my ,t -and rislit
In a slush-so there want much darra,:*
done to me I Just went down Into the
mud up to my knees—and ttopped— not
much the worse for my little aeronautical
ascent. I was kind of surnrlsed, and
stunned. 1 think. When I knew enough to
look around. 1 see a great change. The
cyclone was tearing up a great fuss way
down the country, makln* that terrible
roar, and there want a house In sight.
Everything was swep* away as clean as
a whistle, 'cept the big barn, standln' out
there alone-It had been built strong, a.id
the lone just took the roof off of lt,
only the shingles: It left the rafter work,
and It was very singular to note the
substltoot it supplied. There was ■ big
haystack near there, and the haystack
was lifted bodily and put on In place of
the shingles, as even and nice as ■ bru«h
W lal. I Made for thai barn, and wh.n
i pawed hy what had been the hon-c It
piU- of rnlns-and a very small pii.
hi that. 1 »v half craxy. and 1 relied
Frank Calmel said th" gun was exploded
by an accidental touching of his foot
against the hammer of the gun which ho
had dragged behind him.
The verdict of the law was enforced and
the accused was sentenced to Imprison
ment for 50 many yearn as he should live.
The number chanced to be twenty.
The otiur nlxty years of Frank Cal
mel's life were replete with historic ad
ventures. He was a Frenchman, and .it
the age of 11 went Into the French revo
lution an a drummer-boy. In the. days of
Charles X The delight of his after years
was to relate his boyish adventures In
the French army.
At the age of 24 he came to America
and followed the business of trading with
the Indians, among whom he was well
known and very popular. The tall, en
ergetic young Frenchman gathered about
him a number of companions and organ
ized a company for the purpose of driv
ing bull teams to Mexico In the interest
of traffic In the wild, gay life of the
frontiersman anil cowboy ('almel pros
pered and became a leader among his fel
lows. John C. Fremont. who was then
at the head of an exploring party in Mex
ico, met him and prevailed upon him to
join the expedition. They became fai»t
friends, and when, on the famous 13th of
August. 1646, General Fremont, with Com
modore Stockton, captured Monterey.
• "almel was among the foremost in the
company. He remained with Fremont
until the startling discovery of IS4B In
fused the fever of gold-hunting In his
veins. Then he went forttim -«♦ in
the foothills of the Sierra*- Into the
placer digging* of Mariposa County.
With the rest of the old "forty-niners"
he made and lost fortunes, sought for the
precious gold dust, and with his findings
paid for flour at $50 per sack, participated
In the swift-dealing of early lynchlng
bee Justice, and dropped into obscurity
when the fever had subsided and the gold
fame of California had given place to an
active appreciation of Its fertility in
He went Into the charcoal dippings of
Kern County and settled down to dally
labor and quiet thinking. He was some
what reticent and kept to himself, but
there were none who could bear witness
out, 'Fcr God's sake, is there any of viz
alive?" For answer, 1 paw some heads
itlckln* out of the barn window, and there
Wai Mr. RCd Mrs. Shepherd, safe an.l
sound, but the school-marm who was
boardin' at the house was mlMtn*. \v«
didn't know where she was blowed to,
and didn't nevci expect to see her alive
again, but pretty soon, while we was all
EtandJn' there dazed we heard a voice
coming* from a pile of pickets that
the cyclone had stacked up for us. and
there she was. not hurt a mite, but need
right in between the rails, and rails piled
up all around her. It was simply miracu
lous the way she was fenced In there, and
nothin* the matter 'cept a sprained ankle
trom ' wdown she pot from the
cyclone. <Ye «!uk her <mt. and she i •:
m< " a ' 'runk
f<ir '». • I afterwards (bund m>ih.- r in*
Iron bindings of her trunk, and some of
t> rs. but that
m I, bo I nev« r n>>\. the tifty ■
A Letter From General Fremont.
to a single act of unkindnes? or cruelty
on his part. He was known as
"Frenchy." and was held In high respect
by those win' knew him.
Then the misfortune of unhappy cir
cumstances came to him. His life among
the oaks of Kern was changed for that
of the monotonous prison yard, and his
comfortable rural garb for that of hid-
BOIIS convict strliu'.x. " > V
Th» years drained on until he had been
an Inmate of San Quentin for eleven
year?; then one day a letter came to
him and the heart of the prisoner was
buoyed up with hope, for It was from his
old friend, General Fremont, who had
only then heard of his misfortune. The
letter brought a promise of help, and
coming from so influential a source bore
a strong hope to the" saddened and un
Hut circumstances once more played a
- troua part In the affairs of Frank
Calmet. The letter was dated early In
July. IF9O, and on July IS, 1830. General
Fremont died, and with his death van
ished all hope for the unfortunate Calmel.
That was nine years ago. and no doubt
they have dragged a very weary length
for Frank Calmel. A stroke of paralysis
brought the final release and he now rests
In his allotted space In the criminals'
cemetery on tho lone island which has
been his home fur the last twenty years.
A short time' before the old Frenchman
died he was asked If he would like to
leave the prison. His reply was: "No,
why should I? I have plenty to cat, com
fortable bed, clean clothes every week,
all 1 want to smoke and read and kind
treatment. 11 1 were set free- to-day what
THE SUNDAY CALL.
The letters and things were out In the
woods, alongside of a neighbor's washin'
"It took us quite a while to realize we
wore a'.ivc— and when I got to a neigh
h..r's who had escaped, an" looked Into the
mirror I found myself almost gray— ln
three months my hair was as white aa it
lf> now. I was only nineteen, and I am
thirty-f ; j*;!t now. and I have pot no ri*cht
to sech a head of hair aa this. Y'u can
Me for yourself!"
His hat came off with a *weep. dl!«clo»
:ni; :i closely cropped but almost perfectly
uli!t<» hiad of hair.
"It was the nervous strain. I suppe-so,"
he eaid, "but there Is one thing about
belrT in peril like that— one Is nev*r
afraid of gettln' killed; but you are aw
fully afraid of gettln' hurt. I never
thought about rettin' killed, but I was
skeered to death o1o 1 gettln' hurt and liv-
"There wan *a •■ ;it many sliiKui.ir
things happened In that roundup, i se«>
where several milk pans from a neigh
bor's dairy had •" iI;i I; flung against :;cn.<«
trees so hurd as to Batten them out an.l
lap them right around the tree* vounK
■aplln' fruit trees— so that tlf; pans cir
<-!*-<l -. l^rir arournl tht ■>■-- --, ■■-. r-mta^
met. The young sapltn' trees, you k::o>v.
stayed In the ground, while tne big oaks
were • irn i away roots and all.
"I noticed a funny thlnu about thn
waggln wheels, too. On one side <f tho
waggln the wheels appeared to have the
spokes twisted off right at the til all
around, and th* hub was perfeckly un
harmed, and the wheels on the other side
COUld I do? I have no home to go to and
I have not a friend or relative throughout
the whole world. I am SO years of age
and helpless. Life outside would offer mo
no opportunities. 1 am happy and eon*
He paused as he finished speaking, then
bunting into tears exclaimed: "No, I am
not, and I never will be until the world
knows me to he Innocent. If you write
about me say that I swear by all I hold
snored that I am Innocent. If I thought
that my Innocence was established 1 could
The old man whs led away— friendless
and old and 111. In the bent frame or the
Iged convict creeping about the dreary
prison grou/ids there was little to suggest
the tall, sinewy cowboy of pioneer days—
the robust miner of '49— or the daring
scout of the famous Fremont party: re
signed to an inevitable fate he was tran
quilly awaiting the coming of death—
he had not long to wait.
A few days later, while t!io sentries
were going their rounds, they saw the
old man cluing, thinking, in the sunshine,
his long: white hair over his shoulders,
and ■ little later they found him lying In
sensible on the hard floor. It wa3 a
stroke of paralysis, and with the coming
of another tun the troubled soul had fled.
That was the way the life of the last
survivor of the famous Fremont expedi
tion was ended— in loneliness, friendless
ness and disgrace. The other members
of the expedition have long slnco been
laid to rest and their graves are marked
with costly stones of more or less elab
orateness of Inscription, but the burial
place of Frank CaJmel Is within prison.
of the waggln had the spoked twisted of!
at '••■ hub ;ind the tiro end of the spok-;
was no: disturbed.
"Where I had been werk'.n" I had left
heaps of brush, high as this ceillh',
around li: different places, rind every one
<>f them "cept one was carried away bod-
Jly. and that one was left In .« very rvJ?*r
shape. It looked lust like a circus rinij
thc cyclone just took and made It Into a
perfeck circle and left it.
"The ol" musket that wo u>t to' keep
hangin' up on the forked dears' horns
over the mantel-board, well, thai was car
ried off and we found tt driven Into a
bank, about ji hundred yards from the
house — driven in stick drat, clean up to
the hammer and pointin' straight toward
"We had a lot ob oes too. and there
was a lively time with them hoes. I toil
you. A hive of them was set down on t
t lie lloor of the ■ettln' room, and had full
possession- -the floor of the house was left,
you kii'»w— only just the sides and roof
was carried off.
"There was another man on the plat
and he was saved tn ■ peculiar way He
was a awful kind-hearted feller and he
was safe In th« mi. hen he spied two
little Limbs a little ways off. lie run out
and grabbed them, and the next thing he
knowed, h«> sa». the cyclone was past,
and him a hangln' onto a post set in the
ground, with one arm round the post nnd
one of the lamb* in the other. The other
lamb went to kingdom come, I reckon
He Mid th.it when the cyclone struck him
It Jest whipped him up and down that
post and everlastln'ly whalloped him. but
the post stuck fast and saved his bacon.
"I noticed, too*, afterward, that some of
the soft preen shingles that come off th«>
new roof of the barn had been driven
into the bard, old seasoned rails of the
fence, nearly through th« rails. The
soft wood had been hurled with sech
forre ayajnsl the hard wood that it
didn't pl:a.«e It at all. but drove It right In.
"There was a lot of swallows thet ust
to build their nests under the eaves of our
barn, and I guess the cyclone must a-hlt
a flock of 'em because we found a whole
bunch of 'em layln' together on the
"We also found a new barn down In
the end of our field, all set up In Rood
•nape, but we returned it to ■ neighbor
th«»t lived two miles up the road. The
cyclone bad carried it all the way without
damaKln' it a particle.
"No; none of us was killed, hut there
was plenty killed all around US, That
cyclone was a terror— it tore up the coun
try for ■ space .if two miles wide In some
places, but averaged about a mile— and It
never stopped still It struck Lake Michi
gan and lost Itself out In the water
"You needn't be 'fraid of exaueratln',
no matter how much you drawed on your
Imagination In wrltln" about a cyclone—
you can't describe it too vivid— anything
thet you can Imagine Is apt to happen In
a cyclone. Maybe It wouldn't be be
lieved, but I actually saw one house
where the whole thing had been lifted up
and taken away and there was nothin'
left 'cept the cellar and sacks of potatoes
and thing? had been carried out. but
the milk pans was undisturbed and
the cream rlsin' as nice and tranquil as
could be, not even a ripple of disturbance
over the whole surface of the pans.
"Mr. ('handler, a neighbor of ourn, told
me thai when he saw the cyclone coming
he hustled the folks all Into the cellar, and
lust as he was goin" down himself the
whole top of the house went off with a
whirl. He hed Jest helped his mother-in
law, who was crippled, down through the
trap-door, and was goln' down hlsself;
he looked out through the undtr-pinnin"
under the house, between the floor and the
ground, and be see his big, heavy wood
waggln. that he had Jest piled full of
heavy green rails, itandln' still In the yard
one minute and the next it was lifted
off'en the earth and went up In the air
like a kite, th. whole thing together.
walls and b«ar.« only his name, his num
ber and the date of his death.
It has oeen said that it Is better that
a hundred guilty should remain iinpun
lnhed than that one innocent man should
suffer; but It has also been said br *iao
commentators or: the dignity of the law
"We fowl our hupcie* nni? wnsritu
scattered all through the- w«..><Js. ;tn«l •.»
one of the buggies the whlpple-trces was
mlssln*. and the loose thine* :il>«»;t !>,.•
vehicle were ail there— the whipp!»--tr» -.
you know, are bolted faat.
"And the btd#tead:«: Waal, you i.--t
ought to have saw ihrm! The bedsteads
we had In them dayt want nc» flfmij :if
fair?— they was made outVn heavy] h.tr.l
hickory wood, and put together In !-^*l» ;i
way that nothin' short of a ■team enjlr
could a-pulJe»l 'cm apart. Itut when wo
found tho.«e bedstead* out In the woodi
they was all to pieces, and at thr> Joint *
Of the piece? they was twitted off *<> that
the ends of the piece* looked lik«- l>ru*!i. «
—the splinters of the wood wai aj lit., a ;
the hairs of a clothes brush. Y'u h. .1
Jest aJmut as soon tsiko your chancr* In a
buzz-^aw as In a cyclone. I not off with
a broken finger and thin head «»f hair, but
it was a miracle, and I ain't flcKcrin' on
fcoln' through tny more sech c.xperlencts
If 1 can help, nnd don't you tfrglt It!"
The single drawhnrk to the complete en
joyment of an evening spent on thn ve
randa In warm weather Is apt to J>e tho
presence of ringing and biting insect*.
well but not favorably known as mosqui
toes. They need not have It in their pow
er to drive you Indoors if the bOUSfI mis
tress has provided a Rood supply of Chi
nese punk. These fragrant stems of In
cense cost only a few pennies for an en
tire bundlo at the *hops wh»ro Chlntso
and Japanese Joss sticks are sold.
Each member of the group of family
and guest* on the porch la provided with
a Joss stick. All can he lit. at a candle op
with" one match. By moving the shnder
Mick about your head or simply wavlnj-
It about Ib on hand, you will !■•• abta to
drive the most Industrious mosquito aw.iy.
Tin scene of the burning inert!.**: .
scarcely noticeable out of door*, and It U
quite pleasant when it makes Its pungenc/
noticed. The Joss ■Ucka do not seem to b«
extinguished In a high wind. Thvy will
burn about three-quarte rs of an hour If
you Juggle tin continuously, and mu> h.
longer If they are nimply held In th-j
hand. It Is a pretty sight to watch th»>
Joss sticks in motion. describing ct/rl> >.
original curves and waves of light in th«ir
The holders of the sticks are themselves
Invisible, only to be located by the wound
of their •.•■!■ or the presence of lumin
ous lines of light. It reminds you of the
pictures of the starry heavens!
Of 12.000.000 American families the In
come of -Ukio.Ouo of these families is l»* +
than 1400 each per year, and the inronti *
of nearly N» per rent <>f tin; entir»- number
are less ».han fIOOO each ptr year.
that it Is better that the hundred pulity
should be punished, evcn.th"ush an inno
cent man be made to «ufT« r . uujust«y.
They would offer the martyr n tnc attar
Of ju<li. ! .us government. I'crhaps th*y
arc rlsht— it least they arc crrtain— for
it la the law. NAN ISYXBEfcL