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©he prison JMirror.
Vol. 5. No. 30. Stillwater, Minn.,Thursday, March3,lß92. Five Gents. THE OCEAN TRAMP. Seven men from all the world back to docks again. Rolling down the Ratcliffe road drunk and raising Cain; Give the girls another drink ’fore we sign away— We that took the Bolivar out across the Bay! We put out from Sunderland loaded down with rails; We put back to Sunderland ’cause our cargo shifted; We put out from Sunderland, met the wintef gales. Seven days and seven nights to the Start we drifted, Racketing her rivets loose, smokestack white as snow, All the coals adrift a-deck, half the rails be low; Leaking like a lobster pot, steering like a dray: Out we took the Bolivar, out across the Bay! One by one the Lights came up, winked and let us by; Mile by mile we waddled on, coal and fo’c’sle short; Met a blow that laid us down, heard a bulkhead fly; Left the Wolf behind us with a two-foot list to port. Trailing like a wounded duck working out her soul; Clanging like a smithy-shop after every roll; Just a funnel and a mast lurching through the spray. So we thrashed the Bolivar out across the Bay! Felt her hog and felt her sag, better when she’d break: Wondered every time she raced if she’d stand the shock; 'Heard the seas like drunken men pounding at her strake; Hoped the Lord ’ud keep His thumb on the plummerblock. Banged against the Iron decks, bilges choked with coal; Flayed and frozen foot and hand, sick of heart and soul: ’Last we prayed she’d buck herself into Judgment Day: HI! we cursed the Bolivar knocking round the Bay! Oh! her nose flung to the sky, groaning to be still, Up and down and back we went, never time for breath; Then the money paid at Lloyd’s caught her in the keel. And the stars ran round and round dancin’ at our death. Aching for an hour’s sleep, dozing off be tween; Heard the rotten rivets draw when she took it green; Watched the compass chase its tail like a cat at play: That was on the Bolivar,' south across the Bay. Once we saw between the squalls, lyin’ head to swell. Mad with work and weariness, wishin’ they was we, Some damned liner’s lights go by like a grand hotel; ■Cheered her from the Bolivar, swamping in the sea. Then a grayback cleared us out, then the skipper laughed: "Boys, the wheel has gone to hell, rig the winches aft! Yoke the kicking tiller head, get her under way!” So we steered her, pully haul, out across the Bay! Just a pack o’ rotten plates puttied up with tar, In we came, an’ time enough ’cross Bilbao Bar. Overloaded, undermanned, meant to found er, we Euchred God Almighty's storm, bluffed the eternal sea. Seven men from all the world, back to town again. Bolling down the Katcliffe road, drunk and raising Cain; Seven men from out of hell. Ain’t the owners guy. ’Cause we took the Bolivar safe across the Bay? —Rudyard Kipling. Death of Michael Dunn. There died in Brooklyn, N. T., on Feb. 22, one of the most remarkable men of the criminal class known in America and per haps in the world. He has been frequently spoken of in this paper as a friend to pris oners. The World (N. Y.) has the follow ing to say of his career: Michael Dunn, the reformed convict, died early yesterday morning at the Home of Industry, corner of Hoyt and Livingston streets, Brooklyn, of which he was the founder and manager. He was sixty-six years old and had been ill only a week. Dunn was addressing a meeting in the parlor of the Home on Sunday evening a ■week ago when he was stricken with con gestion of the brain. He was carried to his room and Dr. Stewart, of .No. 157 State “ IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.” street, called, but before he arrived paraly sis set in and no hope was entertained for Dunn’s recovery. He was carefully nursed by John Connors, another reformed con vict, who came to this city with Dunn trom Philadelphia and was his assistant at the Home of Industry, Mrs. C. Howe, his con fidential adviser, who aided him in estab lishing similar houses in Chicago, Mew York, San Francisco and other cities, and Dr. La Lecheur, of Brooklyn, who had been his warm friend. The end came quietly. Michael Dunn was born in a cellar in Manchester, England, in 1826, of criminal parents. He received no education and was twenty- five years old before he had learned the alphabet. Born of crime and with none but criminals for his associates, of course he became a thief. In 1834, when eight years old, he was arrested for robbing a till and sentenced to be publicly flogged and confined in the Old Bailey at Manchester for two months. He continued stealing as soon as released, and after a brief liberty was again behind the bars. He served in quick succession sentences of three and six months. Dunn next fell in with two counter feiters named Kelly.and Harris, and trav eled with them through England and Ire land. On returning to England he was caught stealing and again received six months. Kelly and Harris met Dunn the day of his discharge, and with them he be came a fan-light thief. The three were arrested for robbing a jewelry store in Manchester, but the evidence was found insufficient to secure a conviction. On the day of the robbery Dunn was just twelve years old. In Cheshire they robbed another jewelry store, were arrested and convicted. Kelly and Harris were transported for life, while Dunn was sent with them to Yan Diemen’s’ Land tor seven years. Dunn was then known under the alias of Peter Feather stone. He escaped twice, but was each time captured and put on the treadmill. At the time of his discharge he shipped on the bark Washington, an American whaler. He had not then reached his twentieth year. He spent eighteen months as a seaman, finally landing at New Bed ford and coming to New York, where he fell in with a gang of English thieves. After a year as a burglar Dunn enlisted in the army, and subsequently deserted at Wheeling, W. Va., making his way to Cleveland. He met new companions in crime there and with them plundered stores in Buffalo, Albany and Rochester, securing valuable booty, which was divided in Albany. There Dunn left the gang and returned to New York. A naval career next caught Dunn’s fancy. He enlisted as an ordinary seaman, and was sent on board the receiving ship North Carolina at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. John McGrau, ex champion light weight pugilist of England, who kept a sporting house on Division street, had been a friend of Dunn’s father, and induced the young man to at tempt to desert the ship. A suit of clothes was smuggled on board and Dunn attempt ed to leave as one of a party of visitors. While getting into the boat he was recog nized by a seaman and brought back. Dunn assaulted the sailor who had betrayed him and was flogged, placed in irons and re moved to the Saranac. He escaped on the night his irous were removed and found his way to McGrau’s place, where he was clothed, furnished with money and again started out as a thief. A sailor on the North Carolina, who knew that Dunn was about to desert, gave him a message to a sweetheart who lived in Cherry street. Dunn delivered the message, fell in love with the girl and, after a three days’ courtship, married her. This woman turned out to be an habitual drunkard. Six weeks after the marriage, Dunn was ar rested for burglary and sent to Blackwell’s Island. He escaped by swimming to the Long Island shore. In 1851 Dunn took his wife to Liverpool. He decided to try to lead an honest life and opened a restaurant in Manchester. Domes tic troubles, however, drove him out of business and started him afresh on a career of crime. He sent his wife back to Amer ica, where she died. Garroting came into fashion about that time, and Dunn worked at it for months, until arrested. He was sentenced to ten years, serving fifteen months in solitary confinement at the Model Jail, Northampton. There he learn ed the alphabet, and subsequently to read and write. Next he was sent to Portland Prison for a year, and then to Western Australia to heip build roads. He served another year there and received a ticket-of - leave. After various other crimes and imprison ment in Bombay, Gibraltar, Philadelphia, Sing Sing and Montreal, Dunn started a fence in New York and got another four years in Sing Sing. This was Dunn’s last crime. He had frequently attempted to reform, but with out success. During his final term in Sing Sing he became acquainted with Mr. Cut ter, of the New York Prison Association, and others. He opened a mission on Water street on March 18. 1878. After having spent thirty five years of his life behind prison bars Dunn, at the age of fifty two, not only became a sincere penitent, but an earnest worker for the reformation of con victs. He did much good in various cities. When stricken with illness Dunn bad just leased a house at No. 70 Willoughby street for a larger convicts’ home. His death is sincerely mourned by those who had learned to know him and his many good qualities, despite the terrible life he had led. Peary’s Artie Expedition. In a small frame house on the south side of McCormick Bay, an indentation on the west coast of Greenland, eight hundred and fifty-two statute miles from the north pole, R. E. Peary. C.E,, U.S.N., his wife, and five stalwart young men are passing the winter night. Behind the house basaltic cliffs rise steeply to a height of two thou sand two hundred feet, and when members of the party clambered to the top in July last they found Peary’s own prophecies realized. The inland ice, presenting a smooth, gently rolling, marble surface, without a crevasse or a gully, extended in land as far as the eye could reach. ‘‘l long for the time,” wrote Peary to his mother, “when I shall be stretching out across it on my way to the northern terminus.” The purpose of this little expedition is two-fold: First, to use the inland ice as a highway on which to reach and map the still unattained north coast of Greenland; and second, to make a scientific study of the Arctic Highbinders, about one hundred and fifty in number, who are the most northern inhabitants of the world. The second purpose may not be difficult of achievement. The handful of people are scattered along over a hundred miles of the coast, north and south of Peary’s camp. Within a few miles of his house are two settlements of Eskimos. When traveling along the coast is practicable the natives often visit one another’s villages. The Peary party will likely see most of them and its leader hopes to take many photo graphs and to make as thorough a study of this isolated people as Lieutenant Holm made of the east coast natives a few years ago. Peary’s foremost aim however is to add to the maps a surveyed coast line of north Greenland. If he succeeds, the mystery of Greenland’s northern limits, which Peter mann thought might extend to or beyond the pole, will be solved. If he succeeds, and if Ryder, now on the east coast, makes his proposed survey of the shore line be tween 66° and 70° north latitude, the out lines of the great island practically will be revealed. Peary is striving for a prize worth winning. Can he succeed? He has found the inland ice cap above his camp favorable, as far as can be seen, for his sledge journey. With a single com rade, in 1886 Peary made a sledge journey of two hundred miles on the inland ice in north latitude 69° 30'. From his own ex perience and the records of Arctic sledge travel he believes a snowshoe party on the inland ice can make eighteen to twenty miles a day. From the known trend of the west and east coasts he infers that the northern terminus of Greenland is not north of the 85th parallel, and that the ice cap is practicaliy co extensive with the land. If this is so a round trip of about thirteen hundred miles will take him to the northern terminus and back to his camp. At the rate of eighteen miles a day the journey would require seventy-two days. Starting with two sledges, only one of them would make the entire journey, the other establishing depots of supplies at nunataks, or points of land above the ice level. Deep, soft snow seems to have no terrors for Peary. Snowshoes are of the first import- ance in his enterprise. “I regard this deep, soft snow,” he wrote last winter, “not as the bete noir but as the perfection of roads.” But the inland ice may not extend to the northern coast. General Greely is of the opinion that the ice cap does not extend above the 81st or 82nd parallels. In this case Peary will not be able to reach the north coast by the inland route for without sledging he cannot carry his provisions. If the ice cap ends south of the north terminus he will try to follow its edge to the east coast. Whether or not he succeeds it may be said that the scheme of reaching the north coast which he originated has com mended itself to some of the most compe tent authorities. In their little cabin the party are now spending about one hundred and twenty days of darkness or twilight. If no calam ity has befallen them it is believed they are living in comparative comfort. Their sci entific observations, skeer or snowsboe practice, and other duties occupy much of their time. They will hail with joy the rising sun which will usher in their season of hard work. About May 1, if all goes well, the sledges will start. Mrs. Peary and the colored servant Henson will be left at the house. Four and perhaps five men will man the sledges and one crew will return in thirty or forty days. It may be that only two men, the strongest of the lot, will form the advance party. It is hoped that the leader himself will be one of them. The accident by which Mr. Peary broke his leg on the journey north last summer was most de plorable; but there is no reason to believe that it long disabled him or will retard or thwart bis chief purpose. In a letter he wrote from his present camp to the writer of this article, he said: The accident will interfere with my proposed work of survey this fall, but it will not interfere with the principal objects of the expedition, namely, the determination of the northern ter minus and the study of the Whale Sound natives. Whether or not Peary is completely suc cessful he can hardly fail to achieve inter esting results, and if he is able to make a long sledge journey he will probably add considerably to our knowledge of Green land’s geography. He will very likely be able to learn the extent of the great fiords which penetrate far into the land from the west coast and of whose inner limits we have little knowledge. He may give us a better idea than we now possess of the Humboldt glacier, which is believed to be the largest in the arctic regions; and if be reaches the north end of the great island he will have solved one of the most important and interesting problems that can now re ward the quest of arctic travelers. The Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia will send an expedition to bring the party home next summer. We may hope they will all return safely and with a record of good work done. —The Chautauquan for March. Barrels and casks are now successfully turned out direct from the tree—that is, without the wood having to be cut up into numerous staves. By this method, which is known as the Oncken system, the tree stem is first sawn into lengths to suit that of the cask to be made, and these lengths are boiled for about three hours in a closed vessel, which renders the wood soft, a cur rent of electricity being also passed through the water during the boiling process. The log is taken from the boiler to the cutting machine —in which it is fixed as in a lathe, and brought up against a long, broad cut ting blade—the log is revolved, the knife automatically approaches it, and the sheet of wood passes out to the rear of the ma chine through an opening in the frame just at the edge of the blade, as in a plane. The sheet of wood is drawn from the machine on to a table, where it is cut into lengths suitable for the diameter of the barrel; the lengths are taken to a grooving machine, and grooved near the edges for receiving the head and bottom of the cask; the wood is now put into another machine, which cuts long, narrow, V-pieces, or gussets, out of the edges at intervals, which give the necessary double taper to the cask. The sheets of wood are finally formed up into a cylinder, and the first two hoops driven on by the machine, there being thus only one stave in the cask, and, consequently, only one joint. The sheets of wood can receive any degree of thinness. —N. Y. Sun. It is the man at the “little end of the horn” who does the work that blares out elsewhere to the admiration of the crowd. — Puck.