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The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 11, 1892, Image 6

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fHE EAHT UPON THE SOOT.
BY 1RTHTR E. SMITH.
Oh 1 I lore, upon the roof, to near the patter of
the rain,
And the music, when it daeheE swift against the
window pane,
Then 1 love to sit and watch the wheat bending
onto the breeze,
And the drippinR of the rain-drops from the
arching linden trees,
For I know the storm will vanish soon and
bright the sun will shine,
A T Isvm mnrA CTTfiflt. "Will rftifi#
their love-lit eyes to mine.
Bow I love to watch the leaden clouds sail swiftly
overhead.
And to hear the distant thunder's roar, and the
Storm's heavy tread!
Tnere is grandeur vrhen the great clouds roll
across the western sky.
And the grey mists sweep in splendor down the
wooded hillsides nigh,
While in sheets, before the wiDd, tie rain drives
o'er the parched plain,
And the proud pines sway and bend before the
strength of the hurricane.
Bat I like the storms of life, because they make
the heart more strong;
When the storms of sin sweep down, the heart
grows stronger 'gainst the wrong;
As the oak upon the hillside, wrenched by ev'ry
passing gale,
Ever takes a deeper, firmer root within the
strength'ning soil;
So the heart, when wrenched bv storms of sin,
for strength looks to the Lord,
And takes deeper, firmer hold in the precious
glories ol his word.
Oh 1 I love, upon the roof, to hear the patter of
th? rain.
And the music, when it dashes twift against the
window pane.
For there's hours of solid contort when the
skies are ovcrcast,
And Dame Nature, fresher, fairer will seem
when the storm is past.
As the san shines brighter after the dark clouds
have rolled away,
Eo the soul, after fierce trials, will upon its
pilgrim way.
APPtETON, Wlfc
. The Piccadilly Puzzle.
THE STORY OF 1 TERRIBLE EPISODI
III THE LIFE OF A\ ENGLISH
NOBLEMAN.
By F. W. HUMEL
CHAPTER XIII?Continued.
"I wish to know," said Dowker, "if you
ere aware that jour wife called at Lord
Oalliston's chambers on the eight of the
murder?"
"Who says so?" asked Balscombe,
harshly.
"No*one," replied the detective, "but
' did she?"
"I oannot tell you," 6aid Sir Rupert;
and he gave the same account of his
movements on the night in question as
he had done to Norwood.
"Oh," said Dowker, stroking his chin;
"so you were in town after all on that
night?"
Sir Rupert looked uncomfortable under
the steady gaze of the* detective, and
nnt nnmpvhat confnsedlv. that
he was.
"And you,K questioned Dowker, taming
to Norwood, "think it was Lady Balseombe
that Desmond saw?"
"Yes; because he said he eonld not get
permission to speak except from the lady
on board the Seamew, and the lady we
know is Sir Rupert's wife."
"But Lady Balscombe did not leave
this house till after 12 o'clock, and as the
woman saw Mr. Desmond before that
time it could not have possibly been
Lady Balscombe."
"How do you know my wife did not
Wave till after 12?" demanded Balscombe.
"From the evidence of her maid, Anne
Lifford."
"Yes, she told me the same thing," in*
terpoeed May, "and if that is bo,
veil * she looked at the other three in
helpless confusion.
"As Mr. Desmond refuses to give ue
any information," said Dowker, the onlj
thing to be done is to wait and find out
* -the truth from Lady Balscombe herself.1
"What could she know about thie
woman's death?" asked Sir Bupert.
"She might not know much," replied
Dowker, significantly, "but enough te
show in what way her sister met her
death."
"Her sister!" echoed the others in sur
prise.
Yes, I have ascertained Lena Sar?
chine to have been the sister of Lad;
Balscombe."
"Are you mad?" said the baronet, anfrily.
"Do yon know who my wife was?"
"I do. The daughter of Captain
Michael Dicksfall, of Folkestone?he
had two daughters, twins; one, Miss
Helena Dicksfall, ran away with Lord
Calliston three years ago and became
Lena Ssrschine, the other, Miss Amelia
Dicksfall, married Sir Rupert Balscombe."
The baronet sank into his seat looking
pale and haggard.
"My God," ne muttered, "this is worse
and worse. I knew Amelia had a twin
sister, but understood she was dead."
"Dead as Helen Dicksfall, not as Lena
Sarschine."
At this moment a servant entered with
telegram which he handed to Sir Ru
pert. ~ Tearing it open the baronet
glanced hastily over it and then sprung
to bis feet.
"Now -we will know the truth," he said,
triumphantly.
"What do you mean?" a6ked May,
trembling in every limb.
"Simply this," said her guardian,
crushing up the telegram in his hand,
"the Seamew is on her way to England."
CHAPTER XIV.
A STARTLING DISCOVERT.
Myles had no warmer supporter among
all his friends than Spencer Ellersby,
The young man appeared to be genuinely
sorry that bis evidence about meeting
Desmond in St. James street should
be used against him.
"Hang it!" he said to Marton, as they
were seated at their club, "if I had only
known how it would have been twisted
I'd not have said a word, but that detective
fellow got ii out of me .somehow?
brute of a fellow?killed my dog, you
know, Pickles."
"Well, I hear they'll not be able to
prove the dagger in Desmond's possession
was the' one used," Baid Marton,
"good for poor old Myles?hey!"
"I think it's rubbish, the whole thing,"
retorted Ellersbv, hotly, "what the deuce
_1 1J 1?{1I .v.;a fnr' Sha
DUUUiU OiJlOD A1U iUlo n Viuuu aw* vmw
was nothing to him; more likely CallieUnq
knows more about it."
While this interesting conversation was
going on, Sir Rupert, Dowker. and Nor wood
were all in a first-class carriage on
Iheirwav to Brighton. As Marton had
informed Ellersbj, the Seamew had returned
to England the previous day, ana
now the trio were going down to see if
Lady Balscombe could give them any
information likely to solve the mystery
of the mnrder of Lena Stir-chine.
On the way down Norwood told Dowker
the discovery he had made about the dag.
ger, at which the detective wab much as
tomsnea.
"If, ss you say," he remarked, "She
lodging-house servant can prove the
broken dagger was in the house all the
time, it certainly cannot have been the
weapon used, an 1 yet it corresponds in
every particular with the other weapon I
took from Cleopatr.t Villa. I can quite
understand Miss Barschine taking it and '
the manner in which it came into Desmond's
possession, but if this was not
tlie weapon used, where i6 the weapon
that wasV"
"There are plenty of these daggers,"
suggested Norwood.
"Certainly?but the coincidence in this
ease is that the dag', er found in Mr. DeBmond'i
rooms, which came from the
' - ! ' :
house of the murdered woman, was
poisoned, and Lena Sarschine was killed
by a poisoned instrument."
"There were no other daggers taken
from the house, I suppose?" asked Norwood.
14
"Not that I know of," replied the detective,
"but I am convinced that the
whole secret of this crime lies in the con*""
\TTS/ir-rnnn /I nn n
vers at j on ueiwocu jh, i/vowvuu
Lady Balscombe."
"You do not say my wife is guilty of
Ihis murder?" said Sir Rupert, angrily.
"I say nothing." replied Dowker,
evasively, "till I see Lady Balscombe."
When the trio arrived at Brighton it
was growing late, so they went to the
Ship Hotel and had something to eat.
Finding out from the waiter that the Seamew
was lying a short distance from the
pier they went down, and hiring a boat
rowed to the yacht. When they climbed
ap on to the deck they were accosted by
one of the officers, who wanted to know
their business.
"We want to see Lord Calli6ton," said
Balscombe quietly.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," replied
the officer, "a6 he went up to town to-day
on business."
"Ib there not a lady on board?" asked
Norwood.
"Yes?you mean "
"Never mind telling us her name," said
Balscombe shortly, feeling a horror at
hearing his wife's name mentioned. "Can
we see her?"
1 Will 8bK, ausweruu uio umcer; anu
he went down-staira to the cabin, from
which he soon reascended with the news
that tb?y could go down.
Dowker went first, followed by Norwood
and Sir Rupert, all feeling in a strange
state of excitement at the prospect of the
coining.interview.
The cabin was small, but luxuriously
fitted-up in pale-blue 6ilk, and the walls
paneled in oak, with 6mall medallions
of seascapes around. A lamp hanging
from the ceiling shed a soft, mellow light
over all, and on the table below was a
work-basket and some embroidery.
"She has been working, I 6ee," whispered
Balscombe with a sneer, ne the?
entered into the cabin. No one was preB.
ent, but suddenly they heard the rustle
of a dress, and a curtain at the end of the
cabin parted, admitting a woman?a tall,
fair-faced woman, with shining golden
hair.
At this 6ight, Norwood and Dowkei
turned to look on Sir Rupert, to watch
cue enect 01 me sigui ui wu who uu uiuj,
when they saw he was pale as death and
bad made a step forward.
"Yon wish to see me?" asked the lady,
advancing toward the group.
"You you " cried Sir Rupert ib
a choking voice. "You are not Lad;
Balscombe."
"I!" in surprise. "No!?I am not Ladj
Balscombe."
Dowker and Norwood turned suddenly,
"Who are you?"
"Lena Sarschine!"
CHAPTER XV.
MORE REVELATIONS.
If there were ever three men taken
aback, those three were certainly in the
cabin of the Seamew. As for Miss Sarschine,
she stood looking calmly at them
with an expression of surprise.
"Will ygu kindly tell me what you
want?" she asked quietly. "Is it to see
Lord Calliaton?"
"No." reolied Dowker. who had some
what recovered himself, "we wanted to
Bee you."
"To see me?" she said with surprise.
"Or, at least, Lady Balscombe."
Miss Sarschine smiled contemptuously.
"I understand what you mean," she
said, coolly. "You thought that Lord
Calliston had eloped with Lady Balscombe?60
he intended to have done,
but I changed his plans and eloped instead."
"And where did you leave Lady Baiscombe
on the night you visited her?"
asked Norwood.
"I do not snswer that question till I
know who you are," 6he said boldly,
frowning at him.
"I will tell you," said 8ir Rupert, who
had hitherto kept silent. "This gentleman
is Mr. Norwood, a solicitor; this
Mr. Dowker, of Scotland Yard; and I am
Sir Rupert Balscombe."
"You?you Sir Rupert Balscombe?''
Ehe said quickly,
"Your sister's husband."
"How do you know Lady Balscombe
was mv sister?"
"I found it out," interposed Dowker,
'from your father, Captain Dicksfall."
"My father," she murmured, turning
pale. "You have seen him?"
"Yes."
"Well," she said coldly, "now you have
Tound out my relationship with Lady
Balscombe, what do you want to see me
about?"
"Her murder," said Dowker, in a deep
roice.
She sprang forward with a 6udden cry.
"Her murder?her?what do you mean?"
"I mean that the victim of the Jermyn
street tnurder, whom we thought to be
you. turns out to be "Lady Balscombe."
' "My wife?" said Sir Rupert, with a
omsn hnrvinc hi? face in his hands.
"God!?it's too horrible," cried Lena,
and sank down into a chair. "Amelia
dead?murdered?by whom?"
"That's what we want to find out," said
Norwood, coldly.
" What enemies had Bhe?" muttered Miss
Sarschine half to herself. "None that
would desire her death. I cannot understand?I
cannot." Then suddenly struck
bv a thought she asked. "Why did you
think that the dead woman was me?"
"Because she was dressed in youi
clothes."
"Yes! yes!" she said, feverishly. "1
can understand now?I can understand."
M Wl. nAA V 1 o 4 9" OpVa/1
TT LIOIO U1U >UU DOO UCi iboi, ODACV
Norwood.
"At her own house in Park Lane."
"Did you leave her there?"
"No! 6he left me.'1
"Oh!" cried Dowker, a light breaking
in on him, "now I understand?you
changed clothes there, and she left 'the
housa first."
"She did?to go to Calliston's rooms/
"I thought so, said Norwood, with a cry
of triumph; "it was Lady Balscombe Desmond
6aw."
} "Desmond! Desmond!" Bhe echoed,
f What has he to do with this?"
I "Simply this?he is now in prison
on a charge of murdering Lena SarEchine."
"I see you mistook my sister for me ?
but murder?I can't understand?I can't
undeistand." And she pressed her hand
nnrnoo Vt
Sir Rupert looked up.
"Listen to me," he said, sternly; "a
man's life hangs on your evidence, so tell
us all that happened between you and my
wife on that night."
There was a carafe of water on the
table, and filling a glass from it Lena
drank it up quickly, and then turned
with ashen face to the three men, who
tat cold and silent before her.
"I will tell you all,"she Baid, in aBhaky
#oice, "and you can form your own conclusions."
THe three settled themselves to listen,
and she began to speak in a trembling
voice, which gradually became steadier,
the following story:
"I need not tell you my early history,
as you already know it. When I left
Folkestone I went abroad with Lord Calli6ton.
and when we returned he took the
house Tor me in St. John's "Wood. I
stayed with him because I loved him, and
he promised to marry me?a promise he
has Bince fulfilled. When my sister be
came known in London as Lady Balscombe,
I soon found it out from Calliston,
and then implored him to make me his
wife. He laughed, and Baid he would.
Then my sister fell in love with him?not
he with her, I swear, for he loves no one
but me?nnd in the end Bhe persuaded
him to elope with her. I discovered the
fact from my maid, who learned it from
Lody Balscombe's muid. Anne Lifford.
v ' ' ' \v ' - ^ ' i
1 ?
and in despair I went 'to see Calliston
and implore Jbim to give np the mad idea
Blinded with rage and despair, I took s
dagger from the wall of my drawing*
room, intending to kill Calliston if he did
not agree to give up my sister. Soundi
melodramatic, I know, but look what ]
had at stake! Calliston was not in, ane
I only saw Mr. Desmond, who tried to
persuade me to go home again. He tried
to Ret the dagger from me, and I flung if
across the room. By accident he pat his
foot on it and broke it. So, seeing it was
useless, I made no further attempt to gel
it, and he put tia pieces in his pocket
Then I went home in despair, but conic
uot rest. I went out with the intentioz
of catching an early train to Shoreham
concealing myself on board the yacht
and then confront my sister when she ar.
rived.
"Then I thought I would call and im.
plore her to give up my lover. She had
gone to a ball, but I waited for her, and
when she came into the room revealed
myself. We had a stormy scene?she
refused to give Calliston up, and, at
length, the only thing I could obtain from
her was this, that she would go to Callis*
ton's chambers, ask him if his love wai
for her or me, and when she got his answer
return to me at Park Lane. I agreed
to this, but proposed, aB she would com
promise herielf in going to a bachelor'!
rooms at that hoar of toe eight, that shi
should pat on my clothes, and, as we
were very like one another, she could
Sass herself off for me in the event oi
isoovery. We changed clothes, and she
vent away while I remained and locked
myself in her room. I waited nearly all
night for her retnrn, bnt as she did not
come I left the house about 4 o'clock in
the morning, and went to London Bridge
station, where I caught the 5:45 train to
Shorehim. I was dressed in Lady Balscombe's
clothes, and went straight on
board the yacht without awaking suspicion,
as they were expecting my sister. I
went into my cabin and fell asleep, worn
out with tho events of the night. When
I woke, about 10 o'clock, I found we were
on our way, and that Lord Calliston was
on board. Being told that Lady Balsrnmbft
wan on board asleep. he did not
trouble himself to see me, or else he
would have discovered the truth, but said
I was not to be disturbed, and gave orders
for the yacht to start. When he did
see me I need hardly tell you hi6 surprise.
I told him all, and we bad a terrible
battle over things. He wanted to
go back again to England, but I swore I'd
throw myself overboard if he did, so he
yielded, and in the end we made it up.
We started for the Azores, but the yacht
became disabled in a storm, and pat into
a French port, where we were married by
the English Consul. Then we started
back for England, and arrived yesterday.
Lord Calliston went up to town on business,
and I remained here; so that is all
I know of the affair."
"Then you are now Lady Calliston?"
said Sir Eupert.
"Yes, he has done me that justice at
last."
"Thon T V>nn? Tnn'll have a harmier
life and end than your Bister," said the
baronet, bitterly; "but even what you
have told ui does not solve the mystery
of her death."
"It solves a good many things, however,"
said Dowker, cheerfolly; "it proves
the truth of Mr. Desmond's statement
about the dagger, and shows us how it
was Lady Balscombe went to Lord Calliston's
chambers, instead of Miss Sarschine
?I beg pardon. Lady Calliston?but tell
me, maaame, did your husband know of
the murder before he left England?"
"No, how could he?" she said, in surprise.
"He came down to Shoreham by
an early train and the yacht left at once.
"Butfhe would be sure to see about it
in the morning papers?" suggested Norwood.
"He would only see the announcement,
but no details," said Dowker, "and think
ing Lady Balscombe was on board th<
yacht and Miss Sarschine at home he
would never think one of them was tn<
victim."
"Well, gentlemen," said Sir Rupert,
fnrninp hifl hacrpard face toward them
"now we have discovered the dead woman
to have been my wife, what is the next
thing to be done?"
"See Lord Calliston," answered Dow.
ker, promptly, "I want to know all his
movements on that night."
"\ou dou't suspect him?" said Lena,
turning on him like a tiger.
"I never said I did," he replied, quietly.
"I merely want to find out hi6 movements,
and I daresay he'll have no hesitation
in giving an account of them."
"Of course he won't," she replied,
wearily. "And now, as I've told you all,
you'll permit me to retire. I'm quite worn
out."
She bowed to the three men, then left
the cabin slowly. When she disappeared,
Dowker shook himself briskly.
"Well, gentlemen, we must go back to
town at ouce and see Lord Calliston. I
want an account of all his movements on
?' - 3 T - 1 J? L T V. ~
tnai nigai, hqu a aixouuy jtuuw Wiiertj uu
was at 9 o'clock."
"Where?" asked Norwood, curiously.
"At the ' Pink 'Un,' Soho, to see a boxing
match; afterward I don't know where
he went, but I must have a satisfactory
explanation."
Butyou don't think he murdered Lady
Balscombe?" said the baronet.
Dowker looked wise.
"No," he replied, significantiy. "1
don't think he murdered Lady Baiscombe,
but he might haye murdered Lena
Sarschine."
"You mean he might have mistook my
wife for her?"
"Exactly."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
Tmr Ran Franrisco Examiner haa
hit upon a noyel plan to interest the
young people of the Pacific coast in
the World's Fair and also in their
school work. The Examiner proposes
to send twenty of the brightest
school-children that can be found in
California to the World's Fair, and
beer all the expenses of the trip to
and from Chicago. The excursionists
are to be selected by ballot and
by examination. The contest is open
to children in the grammar grade in
cities, and to those not over 15 in the
country schools. The pupils in the
schools arc to sslect by ballot one
pupil who 6hall enter the examination,
which will be conducted by th?
State Superintendent of Education,
and the twenty are to be chosen bj
examination. It is a plan which
does credit not only to the enterprise
of the Examiner but also to its
patriotism and its consideration foi
the schools of the State, for it will
be an honor to the l-eacher as well as
to the pupil to have one chosen from
his or her school. It will also excite
an interest in tho fair among the
school-children, and if the young
people are not well informed regarding
America and its history, it will
be because they are unable to get the
books that will give them the information
they seek.
As a rule people are good enough
except in the little things of life. So
many of tham lack the ability to be
agreeable; 60 many of them are bores
on/1 V* o vn fAnlieK n/?f inna that. Q T1
hour's study might rid them of. A
man who never steals may he very
impolite and very tiresome. A man
who is never guilty of murder may be
unfair and have contemptible ways, i
/
DEEP SEA SEALOGT
HOW THIS INDUSTRY IS CAIt
BIED ON.
On the Track of the Seal HerdsAnimals
Murdered Wholesale?
Xifles for "White Men and
Spears for Indians.
>.
^ the temporary
li&S' agreement for pron?sj
j tecting the seals of
Alaska, known as
. . |mB the "modus vivendi,"
were not reMl
kg-' newed, the whole
IUh) piratical fleet of
" _ Ml' sealers would enter
i/j/l'? Bering Sea in July
^P? out
one seas0D the entire
Pribylovherd, i
*$MMIHR ?Ktr0S?!ilseai
?ii t, ,-m- jjjg juuustrjr ju
those waters forever.
To make this understood, writes Rene
Bache in the Boston Transcript, it is only
necessary to explain the astonishing scientific
system of slaughter adopted by the
pelagic (that is, open sea) sealers. Suppose
that there were a single great herd of
one million valuable fur-bearing beasts
which traveled continually over a kiteshaped
track, many thousands of miles
in circuit, on the great plains of the
"West. Imagine that these animals devoted
eight months in every year to j
A a1-!- rrnvrinrr frr\m
traversing ?uis rouic, uc?ci nuj.u6 .wu.
it, so that their entire company was always
sure to be at a given point on the
road at a certain date, though halting
together in an isolated spot for four
months annually, to breed and rear their
young. How long would it be before
the greedy huDters would have wiped
them all out. If the latter were permitted
to surround them at the breedingplace,
a single season would suffice for
their extermination.
f ? ? I. ' -
CHEEPING IN BETWEEN A SEA-1
That is precisely the situation of the
seals. The herd?there is only one?
leaves the Pribylov Islands about November
10 each year, to spend the winter
in warmer waters. Passing southward
through the Aleutian chain and out
of Bering Sea, the animals swim in a
southeasterly direction, toward Santa
Barbara, about 400 miles south of San
Francisco, on the Pacific coast. There
they turn and go northward?nearly a
million strong?bugging the coast, past
Oregon and Washington, and along the
southern shore of Alaska into Bering
Sea, reaching the Pribylov Islands again
by July 10. Upon those lonely rocks
they breed and nurse their young for four
months, at the end of which time the pups
are weaned and big enough to accompany,
the annual migration. The track they
follow is never varied I rone, ana eacn
week in the year finds ttiem at the same
stage of their route, so that no difficulty
in discovering the herd is experienced
by the hunters, who pursue the poor
beasts relentlessly month after month,
killing, killing, killing?until they get
back into Bering Sea again and nre safe
for a while. No present project for
putting a stop to this is entertained. The
modus vivendi and the seizures of vessels
have mere'y related to the exclusion of
the. pelagic sealers from Bering Sea
itself, where they are anxious to go and
wipe out the whole breeding herd while
it is assembled on two small islands,thus
making an end of the species at once
and "for good."
Some very interesting points may be
\ '
A KILLING VA.1
mentioned respecting the extraordinary
business of pelagic sealing. For the pursuit
of this industry small schooners of
from forty to sixty tons are equipped.
Each such vessel starts out on a voyage
with three or four months' provisions, a
quantity of salt, a supply of repeating
rifles,and fifteen or twenty men. Usually
the crew includes a few Indians Irom
Vancouver's Island and Neeah Bay,
Washington. The schooner sails out into
the path of the herd of seals. She has
ao trouble in discovering when the right
point is reached, by the popping up on
all aides in the water of the animals'
heads. Then 6he lies too, unles9 the
weather is too rough, and lowers into
the sea a number of small dories.
Each boat is occupied by two men.
One of them sits in the bow, with a Win "
- r 1! :
cnester nne or iowuug-pieue wnucu
with buckshot across his ]ap, while the
other rows. The effort is to extend
from the vessel a line of from seven to
ten dories, which shall be within hail of
each other, so that they can find their
W3y back in case of a fog or storm.
Having taken their positions, they wait
for the chance of a seals head popping
up within range. The animals, while
traveling, only appear on the surface at
the intervals necessary for breathing,
taking a quick and cautious look around,
and immediately diving aijain to swim
and fish. They do all their swimming
and fishing under water.
When the hunter sees a head pop up,
if he is quick enough he may have time
to aim and lire before the seal hn<: taken
, - .- v-V ; y:v7;>
an instantaneous surrey of him and
dived. Usually, when the animal comes
up close alongside the boat, its fright is
so great that it disappears too suddenly
for a shot; but, if it pops up at a distance
of fifty or 100 yards, perhaps it
may p&use two or three seconds and afford
an opportunity to the marksmen.
A POACHER SHOOTING SEALS.
At best the aim is necessarily very uncertain,
inasmuch as both boat and seal
are tossing about in the lumpy water.
No matter whether it is hit or not,the
seal disappears instantly. If killed outright,
it sinks; but, if the marksman, by
keeping his eye on the spot where the
carcass went under, can so direct the
boat as to pet there ouicklv enough.
he maybe able to see the body of the animal
going down in the crystal-clear
water. In that case he whips oat his
gaff-pole and fishes it up. To succeed
in this, however, he must arrive in time
at the exact point where the game sank,
since it is only from just above that it
will be visib'e through the choppy
waves, which show not a bubble for a
guide. A dead seal will sink from six
to ten feet while a skiff is rowed fifty
yards. There is more skill in finding the
prey after it is hit than in shooting it.
Supposing that the seal is slightly or
mortally wounded, it dives and swims
away, in most cases to perish later. If
merely stunned, it flounders about on
the surface and is easily taken; but that
seldom occurs. From this brief description
some notion can be formed of the
enormous waste of life in this kind of
hunting, which, according to the testi
*
^^TyS,IOX
HERD AND THE WATER.
mony of the sealers themselves, destroy!
fifteen animals for every one secured.
After a few d&va the herd thus inter
cepted by the schooner will have passed
by. This is discovered from the fact
that no more beads of seals are seen
popping up in the water, Have the unfortunate
beasts at length made their escape
from this predatory vessel? By no
means. She simply spreads her canvas
to the breeze, sails for sixty or 100 miles,
overhauls the animals and droceeds &i
before. So it continues week after week,
month after month, until they have beet
pursued to Bering. Sea, into which some
bold poachers follow them, lying off the
Pribylov Islands in the fog which hardlj
ever lifts, and shooting the breeding
mothers that venture out into the ocean.
In 1886, there were seven vessels engaged
in the sealing industry on the
northwest coast. There were twentytwo
in 1887, thirty-three in 1889, fortyfive
in 1890, and one hundred and ten
last summer. This year there will be
about one hundred and twenty*five
schooners in the business. All of these
craft and more than 2000 Canadian,
American, Japanese, and Indian hunters
are devoted to the indiscriminate slaugh
ter of this herd of valuable creatures,
which are to-day almost ninety per cent,
lemaies.
By July 10th the entire herd will be
on two islands in Bering Sea, breeding
and nursing their young. The pups are
all born by July 20th,and up to November
10th the mother seals are constantly
goiog out to the ocean fishing banks^for
*G AT WORK.
food. They nurse their offspring at intervals
of from one to four days, and
travel in search of fish fifty to 300 miles
away from the islands. The fleet, entering
Bering Sea in July, would draw a
cordon around the islands, practical!]
annihilate all the mothers before th<
ADULT SEA LION AND YOUNG.
helpless young are weaned in November,
and leave the infaBt seals to starve bj
myriads on the rocks. While not liter'
aliy exterminating the species, the result
t-:- ?-?m Vio tn Hoctmu the sealing
U1 ILI13 nvuiu u\, >U uwuv.
industry forever. True, the pe!agi<
sealers would ruin their own business,
but they belong to a class of people whe
care only for to-day and do not look forward
to the morrow.
The Indian hunters carried by the sail
ing vessels take an important part in the
chase. They are turned loose on days
wheu calm weather has succceded a
storm. At such times the seals, which
have been so tossed about in the water
as to have had no sleep for a considerable
period, indulge in the luxury of
sound naps on the ocean billows, lying
on their backs at the surface with only
their noses and "heels" showing. Thus
rocked in the cradle of the deep, they
peacefully repose, doubtless enjoying
pleasant dreams, -while the savage in hi*
canoe approaches silently from the le?i
ward. When within striking distance,
the hunter drives a toggle-headed spear
into the unconscious animal, drags the
prey up to the boat, and knocks it on
the head. This method of slaughter,
though not less indiscriminate than that
adopted by the white men, has the ad
vantage that do seal that is struck is lost.
Frank Leslie's Illustrated also gives a
page of pictures, from which the two
double-column cuts are taken, showing
the methods employed in catching the
seals on King's Island, in Bering Sen.
A Store on the Congo.
This is a picture of a sort of building
that is very common at all the missionary
stations along the Congo River. It represents
the store at Banza Manteke, one
STOKE AT BAKZA HANTEKE, CONGO.
of the largest stations ot tbe American
Baptist Missionary Union on the Congo.
Missionaries have found that trading is a
necessary part of their work. The Congo
Free State ihas issued a silver currency
which has holes stamped through it, so
that the natives, who are not blessed
with pockets,can thread the coin on
strings and wear their money around
their necks. They, however, are not
taking, very kindly to the medium of
exchange. They cannot see that the
coins represent any value, and they decline
to receive them in exchange either
> for labor or the products of their little
farms. The missionaries are therefore
compelled to use merchandise as money.
These goods are in considerable va
riety, including unbleached cotton cloth,
red blankets, bandanna handkerchiefs,
second-hand clothing, old red coats from
the British army stores, cheap blue glass
beads, and many other articles. The
goods are sent mostly from Liverpool,
and are packed away in stores like that
shown in the picture. From Matadi, the
head of navigation on the lower Congo,
caravans of men take the goods to
various stations up the river. .
Once every day the missionary opens
his store. In this picture, Mr. 0. E.
Ingham, one of the best known of the
Congo missionaries, is represented as
standing in the door. It is the hour
when the store is open, and Mr. Ingham
is exchanging goods for yams, fowls and
other articles of food. The missionaries
F also use these goods to pay for native
labor in buiding their houses and for
. other purposes.?New York World.
The Useful Elephant.
The normal load for continuous travel
of a fair sized elephant is eight hundred
- pounds, so the animal is equal to eight
ELEPHANT CARRYING L0G8.
ponies, small mules, or asses; to five
stout pack mules or bullocks, and to
three and one-tbird of a camel. Under
such a load the elephant travels at a fair
speed, keeping well up with an ordinary
- army or baggage train, requiring no made
road, few guards, and occupying less
. depth in column than other animals. He
is invaluable in jungle country and all
roadless regions where heavy loads are
to be moved. In Burmab, and on the
east and southeast frontier, elephants are
absolutely necessary for military supply.
When once a good road is made the beast
is, of course, easily beaten by wheeled
carriages.
He shines most as a special Providence
when the cattle of a baggage train or the
horses of a battery are stalled in a bog or
struggling helple-sly at a steep place. An
elephant's tusk and trunk serve at once
as lever, screw-jack, dog-hooks, and
crane, quickly setting overturned carts
and gun-carriages right, lifting them by
main force or dragging them in narrow,
winding defiles, where a long team can
not act; while his head, protected by a
pad, is a racn of immense force and supe
rior handiness.
A born forester, it is in jungle-work
. that the laboring elephant, outside Govi
eminent service, is seen at his best.
The tea planters of Assam and Ceylon
> find him useful in forest clearing and as
r a pack animal. They even yoke him to
i the plow. He is the leading hand in the
teak trade of Burmah?unrivaled in the
, heavy toil of the timber yard, where he
i, piles logs, with wonderful neatness and
quickness. Small timbers are carried on
the tusks, chipped over and held fast by
I the trunk. A log with a thick butt is
[ seized with judicious appreciation of
) balance, while long and heavy balks arc
levered and pushed into place.?"Beast
and Man in India."
A Cariouj Phenomenon.
~~ 1
Johnnie with his mouth open as wide
' as he can get it?(1) for medicine; 0_
for honey Judge.
There are very nearly ten thousaod
steamships in the world, and their aggregate
burden amounts to abou-; ten
million tons.
.. 'i.'-Y
SLEEP. HH9
Rett, my baby and sleep, BR
Winds sinking over the deep, 9^B|
Over tbe coral caves sweep. HHS
Beet, my baby and sleep.
Bail into sJnmberland's dreams,
Sail where in silvery moonbeams, HH
Fairy forms dance in its gleams. HH
Best, my baby and sleep.
Let Hie bark float with the tide, HB
Oct o'er the waters so wide, PmH
Lilies nod over ite side. HS
Best, my baby and sleep. HH
Wake with thy lips angel-kissed,
Thy smile breaking through morning's
List; to my lullaby, list, yWBK
Rest, my baby and sleep. SHj
?Virginia B. Mosby, in N. T. AdvertisGT^HR
PITH AND POINT. I
Edward Emmons, the ossified man,
dead. He died hard.?Boston News. .BH
Han's life is a constant trial and all hilHH
neighbors are on the jury.?Indianapoli^^H
Journal. H
Progress is very well, bat very feW^EH
people rejoice over a new wrinkle.?
Lowell Conner. BHI
The unsuspecting schoolboy is som*flH
timet like municipal revenues?raised b]HH
tacks.?Lowell Courier.
The politician who clamors for "sfrM^M|
interchange of opinion" should attend
sewing-bee.?Columbus Post. |H|
Jagson says he used to think wotne^HH
were easily moved before he had talkt^Hfl
much with diaymen.?Elmira Gazette?^H
uTTaiu rnn antr Tnnm for nnAfrr?"
asked timidly. "Yea," replied the edi-^BH
tor; "the lumber room."?WaahingtOtt^HI
After a young woman gets to be thirtvHE
she stops calling attention to her birta-|^D
days by giving parties.?Somervilla^M
Journal. BH
Humanity is not easily discoorage&i^H
The man -with the cracked voice alwayiflH
insists upon leading the. singing.?Colum-BB
"I see most of your hair is gone," said
Brown to Burton. "Yes," replied Bn&-H|
ton, "it'fl lelt for parts unknown."?Eato^l
Field's Washington.
Merchant?"Was there anybody f&HH
here looking for me while I was outt^HB
Office Boy?"No, sir. What hare yoal
done!"?Yankee Blade. .
Inquiring Friend?"Whafs your idctflfl
of the limit of height in building*FV;^M
Eminent Architect?"The length of
owner's purse."?Chicago Tinus. Miss
Smiiax?"My, what a bounciiut^H
baby that is!" Baby's Brother?"Yes'ata^^H
it ought to bounce. It's jost swallowed |H
a eubber ball."?Boston Courier. flH
Poets hare very little chanc* Bfl
In then degenerate days, U
A good old-fashioned cook book
fi tbe only thing that pays.
-New xorkSon.
He?"Don't you think women oagbt' M
to have the right to propose?" She? ^9
"And give the men the right of refusing!
No, indeed! The ideal"?Indianapolis;
Amy?"I received a proposal on ,a;JB
postal card to-day." Mabel?"TfawB
wasn't one of the seal*} proposals wefH
read about in the newspapers."?DetroitIjH
Free Press. | m
"Is your father* very observing manP II
"Well, I'm not sore; but yesterday, |IE
when ,he suddenly sat down on the side* ;H
walk, he looked four ways at once."? j fl
New Tork Journal. jgp|
Cumso?"SoMrs. Banting is a daugh- 'H
ter of the Revolution, is abet" Mrs. Bl
Cumso?"Yes. Why?" Cumso?"To
me she looks old eaough to be the mother H[
of it!"?Brooklyn Life. fjH
She?"Oh, yes, I quite believe thereVflH
a fool in every family. Don't you?!' E.m
?"Well-er my opinion s rather biased^
Ton see, I'm the only member of our HH
family."?Drake's Magazine.
"It's most decidedly queer to ire," remarked
Chollie's father to that young.'
man', "that in a country where thought
is free, you seem to be utterly unable to^H
get any."?Indianapolis Journal. H
"Ta'as," said Magby. "I was deoced^^B
sorry me father left me everything and
cut me brother aff with nothing. It will
force Tom into twade and tbe name *11
be disgwaced."?New York Sun. Hfl
"So you still insist that men were
more honest in the clden days than
now?" "Sure. You see when a man
was pretty certain of living 150 to 900 flfl
years he could afford to be honest."-* JH
Indianapolis Journal.
T. Cascaknow Jenks (to new valet)?
"And what is your name, my good mant"
The Valet?"Bill,sir." T. C. J.-"WeI!,^
you bad better not come. With such;^R|^|
name I would probably forget to pay- H
you."?New York Herald. / H
Hiss D.?"Angelina, why doc't ;you H
marry Lieutenant X?? ?" Miss A*.? H
"First, bccause he has no brains-/and
he can't ride, dance or play 'tjinnia, ;> (
What could we do with him?" ipss D. H
?"But he swims beautifully." /Miss A. B
?"Oh, yes; but one can't ke?p one's H
husband in an aquariunq, you know."-* H
Life's Calendar. H
Costnme of the Italian Fisherman. 8
Id costume the Italian fisherman ha*
no resemblance to his inland brother. %
He wears a sort of Greek-like tuni<? ;
sleeveless and reaching barely to the
kneee. This is brought closely to his
body with a broad leather belt, in the
inside of which he carries bis rosary, his f
scapular or perhaps some holy relic for
protection at sea. Rude sandals of toogb
fish or goat skm are bcund to his feet J
with tough thongs that ore crossed
arcund the leg to tnc knee. His hair
and beard arc seldom cut ortnmmed. It
often has the wave of a sculptured god's
and as he rarely wears any head covering,save
perhaps a cotton kerchief bound
around his head with the ends floating
in his hair, which is sometimes as blonde
as a Scandinavian's, his whole aspect irresistibly
suggests a primitive Greek o?
the classic loneliness of his own loved
shores.Orleans Picayune.
Sfl<l Fate of Saltan 3Iura<l.
In Turkey the cx-Surtan Murid,.
brother c f the pr^seut Caliph, r under t.
restraint in one of the U-aPt 1 airy-like
palaces that line the shores of the Bosphorous.
He was deposed after a reign
of only six months on the ground of insanity,
and as his recovery would involve
his restoration tvj the throne m the place
of its present occupant, it is probable
that he will remain demented, at any
rate nominally so, until his incarceration
is terminated by death.?2s*w York
Tribune.
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