SE
Demure fac,
Bellefonte, Pa., May 13, 1898.
DOING THE BEST.
Spin cheerfully,
Not tearfully,
Though wearily you plod.
Spin carefully,
Spin prayerfully.
But leave the thread to God.
The shuttles of his purpose move
To carry out his own design,
Seek not too soon to disapprove
His work, nor yet assign.
Dark motives, when with silent dread
You view each somber fold ;
For lo, within each darker thread,
There shines a thread of gold.
Spin cheerfully,
Not tearfully,
He knows the way you plod ;
Spin carefully,
Spin prayerfully.
But leave the thread with God.
—New York Tribune.
MISS PENELOPE'S EXPERIMENT.
BY E. L. CARY.
Miss Penelope was an artist—an artist in
homes. She knew homes not by experience,
but as something to be learned on a basis
of theory by contemplation and diligence.
For example, whenever she made a call she
embraced her opportunity to seize new
ideas in furniture or wall decoration or
floor covering. And she made it a point
never to call at an uninteresting house.
‘When a family moved into the neighbor-
hood and painted their house pale yellow
with dark green shutters and red trimmings,
Miss Penelope declined to be neighborly,
though she lived but three doors away.
‘When, on the other hand, a much plainer
and poorer family bought a pretty little
frame cottage at the end of the block,
painted it delicate buff with white window
casings, hung fish net curtains at all the
front windows. and had the grass-plot
freshly sodded, Miss Penolope put on her
hat in a flutter of eagerness, and made a
long-remembered call upon a sage-green
parlor, enriched by a small rug of soft East-
ern reds and lightened by some open-mesh-
ed drapery of green and white. This atti-
tude of mind in a quiet maiden lady with
few opportunities for self-cultivation is
open to criticism, certainly ; but it is not,
after all, so different from that of the
painter who refuses to go to a second-rate
exhibition, or that of the musician who
runs away from an amateur ‘‘musical.”’
Since her maturity Miss Penelope had
occupied a room in a large caravansary
known as the Doleraday Hotel. It was a
clean, comfortable place, and one tiny
fourth-floor corner of it was as beautiful as
one may imagine Rosamond’s hower to
have been, though perhaps in a different
way. This was Miss Penelope’s room, and
in it she had prepared herself as if a novi-
tiate for the final vows. She had with her
own hands painted the wood-work, the
chairs and table, a pale shadowy green.
She had draped the small window with
gauzy curtains, caught back by a slender
pink silk cord. She had flung pillows on
her couch in all shades of rose and gray and
white, until it was like a bed of hollyhocks.
She had filled a Dutch dish-rack with
charming china, and had cushioned her
rocker with chintz on which rosy morning-
glories climbed overa dove-colored ground-
work. She had puta f.ady Washington
geranium in the window-corner to have one
deep note of color, and she was careful that
that her dusting-cap and apron should be
of gray cambric, and tied with rose-colored
ribbons.
She took a pensive pleasure in all this
perfectness—the sort of pleasure that comes
to those who care for ‘‘things’’ as much as
they care for people ; but, after all, it was
not the real thing. It was ‘‘playing house,”’
and Miss Penelope was starved for home-
keeping on the grand scale. Most women
who habitually exist in boarding-houses
are starving in much the same way, but
they do not always know it. They think
they need change or rest or diet, when all
they need is a home, large or small, plain
or rich to call their own.
Miss Penelope was wise ; she knew not
only her disease, but its remedy. To have
an entire two-story and basement with
plenty of windows, porcelain tubs, and
opportunity to apply all the household re-
finements collected through the patient
years and stored away in memory—how
great would such a satisfaction be! Un-
like many idealists, she kept her goal with-
in her reach. She knew very well her ca-
pacity to meet the more practical problems
of housekeeping. When she had been a
girl in her father’s home, she had taken
womanly pride in her sweet, light bread
and the golden beauty of her ‘‘raised bis-
cuit,” which were as different from ‘*Park-
er House rolls’’ as lemon verbena is differ-
ent from musk, or fine linen from cheap
lace. In the canning time her mother had
always given into her charge the Golden
Drop plums, the beautiful Bartletts, the
peaches for brandying, and other fruit that
specially required a delicate touch and dis-
criminating judgment. In fact, she had
been that rare phenomenon known as ‘‘a
natural cook,’ and the hand of such can
never lose its cunning.
She often said to her friends, ‘‘I mean
some day to take a little house and have a
few nice people live with me,’’ but she had
said it for so many years that no one paid
much attention to it. Many a night, how-
ever, had been for the gentle lady a ‘white
night’’ ; so fervently had she planned her
prospective establishment, arranging and
rearranging blue china on little white ta-
bles, and seeing in imagination dish-tow-
els, snowy white with yellow bars, hang-
ing like a frieze around the spotless kitch-
en, until the gray dawn looked in upon the
soft gray room.
In the early days of spring she was in
the habit of stealing secretly away and
haunting neighborhoods where printed
placards ungrammatically announced that
houses were “To Let.” Sometimes she
went so far as to get the keys from the
agent and wander through a succession of
barren, stuffy rooms, planning as she went.
It was long before her ideal was actually
realized ; but one day she came upon a
house in a quiet street that gave her sudden
pause—a small white house, severely plain,
and redolent of neatness. She looked
through the grating into the cellarway, and
was rewarded by a comforting glare of
whitewash.. She peeped through the parlor
windows, and saw that the floors were of
hard wood and the walls were papered in
sage green. She lost no time in getting the
keys, and when she opened the front door
—her own front door, she said to herself,
with rapturous prophecy—she was faint
with an excitement too ardent for her phy-
sical being. But she went firmly through
the rooms in search of disadvantages. She
looked frowningly upon the kitchen range,
one corner of which was rusted, and she
said aloud that she wished the hall had been
painted any other color than terra-cotta.
Then she yielded. She would take the
house. It would accommodate four boarders
on a pinch. Four boarders would pay the
rent, with a margin. And had she not
been saving for nearly twenty years to meet
this one supreme extravagance? The work
of furnishing followed, and this was a gold-
en pleasure. Miss Penelope carried it on
quite furtively. She wanted no one to see
her house before it had blossomed like a
rose. She read William Morris on decora-
tion, and trudged back and forth through
thie sweet April weather, making her pur-
chases, and captivating the clerks weary
with the dull routine of commonplace days.
Miss Penelope’s dearest friends, after
they had been ‘‘let into’’ her secret, made
many suggestions. Of practical turn of
mind, they, with one accord, decided that
the house was to small at best to ‘‘pay for
itself,”’ and urged upon Miss Penelope the
necessity of filling it as soon as possible.
Miss Penelope was quite too wise freely to
give the real reason for her procrastination
in the matter of boarders, but to herself she
plaintively acknowledged that they were
all too ugly. It was very hard. Mrs.
Bogert came, in the kindness of her heart,
to ask for board, because it seemed to her
*‘a cruel shame for Miss Penelope to have
that house on her hands and nothing com-
ing in.’’ Poor Miss Penelope looked at thy
kindly flame-colored face and mustardy
hair, and her heart sank. How could she
see them in her green parlor by lamp-light
every evening? One might as well ask
Mr. Whistler or Mr. Alexander to put great
splotches of vermillion and zine yellow
across one of his delicate symphonies of col-
ors. It was out of the question, and Mrs.
Bogert went away assured that not one of
Miss Penelope’s rooms would suit her, which
was certainly the truth, although she won-
dered not a little about it. When Mrs.
Arthur came the case was worse, yet sim-
pler. Mrs. Arthur was stout and pallid,
with dull drab eyes. She was given to
shirrings in unexpected places, and ‘‘for
best’’ she wore a garnet cashmere trimmed
with a good deal of maroon velvet. With
dressmakers she bore the reputation of be-
ing never stingy about her trimmings. She
wore a ‘‘front’’ which shesaid was Princess
of Wales. Whatever it was, it was cer-
tainly not her own. Miss Penelope gasped
as she thought of her perpetual presence in
the fair little home, and the fact that she
was charitable and generous, with the
sweetest disposition in the world, did not
in the least make up for the garnet cash-
mere and the poor vulgar ‘‘front.”’ Miss
Penelope told her, with a bright, firm man-
ner, that she could give her nothing but
the hall bedroom, in which there was a
very nice feather bed. Mrs. Arthur had
asthma, and wheezed at very sound of the
word feathers, so that settled it.
But Miss Penelope felt a hideous dis-
couragement creeping over her. She
seemed at odds with life, and in danger of
losing her first virtue, the unflinching sin-
cerity that had always characterized her.
She could not make her boarders from the
start, in the mould of her personal fancy,
any more than she could help wanting per-
fection. And just as she had lost heart,
perfection, by a strange caprice of fortune,
came to her—came to the little white door
and rang the white bell and walked into
the sage tinted parlor, a vision of courtly
manhood, such as might have placed the
cloak under the royal foot or smiled as Sid-
ney smiled upon a beggar. His name
most appropriately was Watteau, and he
wanted rooms for himself and wife. Miss
Penelope trusted him at sight, even the
important matter of his wife’s looks, and
she was not disappointed. When he ar-
rived thenext week, he brought with him
a flowerlike white-haired lady, who melted
softly into the leafy tones of the parlor and
sat like a spring anemone before the snowy
table.
With her next boarder she was almost as
fortunate. Sherented her front hall room,
the red room, to a girl whose breezy name
was March whose hair blew back in dark
curls from her forehead, and whose eyes
and mouth were rich in color as the brown
and crimson maple leaves that tint au-
tumnal boughs Then Fortune turned her
back on Miss Penelope for a time, and one
room of the little house stood empty for
weeks. The boarders were not exacting,
and Miss Penelope’s satisfaction in them
would have compensated for many of the
usual sorrows of a boarding-house keeper.
When she met them in the morning, her-
self clad in a woolen gown of creamy white,
the little shock of esthetic pleasure was mu-
tual, and the day started on the righ basis.
Nevertheless, she began to realize that she
could not keep up to her standard on the
income from three boarders, when four had
seemed a meagre allowance. She made up
her mind to advertise for an art student.
reasoning, with deep ignorance of the
changing fashion in art students, that such
at least were inclined to the picturesque.
She would not have minded a very plain
old lady, if she were only subdued enough,
but ‘‘he that will not have when he
may, when he will. he shall have nay ;*
and no plain old lady or picturesque art
student presented herself.
It was well into. mid-summer when the
applicant for the fourth room appeared.
His name, when he gave it, was familiar to
Miss Penelope. She knew him for a painter
and had seen his pictures at a ‘‘one-man
exhibition. She had, in fact, greatly
longed to own a tiny green and violet ma-
rine to hang over the parlor mantel. And
now that she saw him face to face, she
was obliged to admit that his appearance
was not up to his pictures. He was a large
brown man with rugged features, but Miss
Penelope had not the same prejudice against
him that she had felt against Mrs. Bogert
and Mrs. Arthur. She had told herself
that too much beauty was as bad as too
much vanilla. Her household absolutely
needed a stroke of rough ugliness to bring
out its finer qualities. And she cheerfully
assigned him the yellow room, with which
he appeared quite satisfied, although he
was obviously more impressed by the
springs of the bed and the open fireplace
than by the nasturtium wall-paper and
golden rug.
When he was finally installed and took
his place at the table Miss Penelope suffer-
ed a gentle agitation. He took up a great
deal of room, and looked like a big brown
genre of the Munich school hung by mis-
take among some decorations by Puvis de
Chavannes. He was subject to moods, and
‘when the mood chanced to be a playful one
he drew interesting but horrible mussy de-
signs on the clean table-cloth with his
thumb-nail. He disagreed with everyone
on every possible subject, and explained
his own point of view with so much logic
and good humor that it was impossible to
prevail against him. He took a hearty in-
terest in showing Mr. Watteau, who was
daintily punctilious in all ways, how
wrong, how especially stupid he was in
preferring a dress-suit to a flannel outing
shirt for evening wear. He tenderly en-
lightened Mrs. Watteau as to the foolishness
and hypocrisy of church fairs in which she
was deeply interested, and he undertook to
show them all how scientifically to play a
game of whist, in which, as no one but
Miss Penelope had a shadow of capacity
for any kind of game, the temper of pupils
and teacher
strain.
Then, too,
was under a considerable
the yellow room was fre-
and hedroom, which soon blurred its fresh
appearance. It was trying to find the fine
little towels, each hem-stitched by hand,
much the worse for violent application to
brush handles, and to step on soft blotches
of paint in crossing the floor; but Miss
Penelope had difficulty in keeping up the
fires of her natural indignation. The
painter had given her, after awhile, a very
charming marine, even more green and
violet than the one she had coveted, and he
lost no opportunity for doing little practi-
cal kindnesses for her. If, on one hand he
spoiled her pretty matting, on the other
hand he filled her lamps and her water-
pitchers, cheerfully answered the bell when
the one maid was occupied, mended
broken window cords, and tacked the
shades on the rollers almost as fast as he
pulled them off. In fact, Miss Penelope
experienced to the full the delights of ‘‘hav-
ing a man in the house,”” and when she
heard him whistling gayly over a happily
inspired scumble of atmospheric effect, she
sighed with indulgence, *‘Poor fellow ! if I
could do what he can do I shouldn’t care
anything more about towels and matting
than he dces!’ She pitied him, too, he-
cause his work was unpopular, in which
she was like all the rest of her sex, old and
new.
On one side as the months elapsed, a de-
cided change was noticeable. He grew
particular, in a very relative sense of the
word. His hair was smoother, and he rare-
ly came to the table without diffusing a
pungent odor of turpentine, showing that
precious time had been spent in removing
paint spots from sleeve and cuff. Miss
Penelope, having made her little observa-
tions in the world, thought she knew what
this presaged. And she was not pleased.
Miss March was certainly very attractive,
but she was not what Miss Penelope called
‘a thoroughbred,”’ and she has about as
much artistic instinct as belongs to the
average American lass native to boarding
houses. Miss Penelope herself was ordin-
arily a humble woman, but even in her
own mind she rose superior to Miss March.
She quite resented the painter’s dullness
in not recognizing that the girl was com-
monplace and heavy in spite of her beauti-
ful coloring. One day, to her great sur-
prise, the painter asked her to come and
criticise one of his pictures for him.
“I know something is wrong with it,”
he said, ‘‘and I have an idea, Miss Pene-
lope, that you would put your finger on
the weak place at once. At any rate, I
should like to put you to the test.’’
Miss Penelope was perfectly certain that
she could never stand any test of man’s de-
vising, for she was so far old-fashioned as
to believe in masculine superiority ; but
she went very happily to his studio a
block away.
When the painter had got her there by the
way of many stairs, and had seated her on
a Florentine bench before a landscape on
which he was working, she lapsed into a
shy silence.
“I don’t believe I can criticise it, Mr.
White,’ she said at length.
“Don’t you?’ he replied carelessly.
Well, never mind ; I am not very particu-
lar about that. Do you know what I real-
ly ask you to come here for ?’’
“‘No,’’ said Miss Penelope, with height-
ened color. It was coming then! She dis-
tinctly did not like it.
“I want to tell you about the woman I
shall marry if she will have me.’”” Miss
Penelope’s lips framed Miss March’s name,
but no audible sound escaped them. ‘‘She
is an artist.”’ Miss Penelope opened her
eyes ; it was not Miss March, after all. ‘‘An
artist of the first order. She is very dif-
ferent from anyone else. She is sensitive
and delicate and kind and modest. I sup-
pose there have been other women as beau-
tiful, but to me she is lovely as—as the
clove-pinks that grew in my mother’s gar-
den.”” His voice was trembling, and Miss
Penelope felt curiously tense.
“I hope she cares for you,’”’ she said
gently.
“I hope she does,”” he responded with
fervor, ‘‘for I never loved anyone so much
before.’
“I am glad, then, that she is a nice
girl,”’said Miss Penelope, painfully laying
tiny pleats in her handkerchief.
The painter flushed all over his honest
face. ‘‘She is not a girl,’’ he said, slowly.
Do you rzamember Lowell’s poem ?”’
“She is a woman ; one in whom
The spring-time of her childish years
Hath never lost its fresh perfume,
Though knowing well that life hath room
For many blights and many tears.”
“This is very beautiful,’’ said Miss Pene-
lope,» and very true,’’ she added, thought-
ully.
‘“Would you like to see her ?’’ asked the
painter.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Penelope, an accent of
loneliness in her voice. ‘‘I should like
very much to see her.”’
For answer the painter stepped to an
easel that stood in the corner of the room,
and drew aside a piece of drapery that fell
over the picture standing on it. Miss Pene-
lope rose suddenly with a little cry, half
of fright and half of pleasure. She was
looking at a portrait of herself. It was
tenderly painted. The fair hair, graying
slightly on the temples, was lying in soft
bright waves on the fine forehead. The
eyes looked out with wistful inquiry from
under the straight brows, in which a little
trouble lurked. The mouth was deep-
cornered and sensitive. The painter had
not been untrue to his art, for the face,
with all its loveliness, had about it the
suggestion of fading bloom and the patient
strength that nothing but years can bring.
The delicate austerity of the drawing, the
reserve and refinement of the color, were
in exquisite accord with the subject. Miss
Penelope looked long and eagerly. Then
she turned to the painter, who put out his
hands in supplication.
“My dear, my dear!’ she said, with
joyous comprehension. Am I like that to
you ?”?
When the spring came again the little
house stood desolate, cobwebs in the corner
and the sign ‘“To Let’’ upon the door.
—Haurper's Bazar.
Dandelion Wine.
Dandelion wine is a beverage both whole-
some and acceptable. An excellent rule
for its evolution calls for four quarts of
dandelion flowers, a gallon of boiling water
one lemon, three oranges, three pounds of
sugar and three tablespoonfuls of yeast.
To make it, put the blossoms in a jar,
pour the boiling water over them, and let
them stand three days. Then take the
juice and grate yellow peel of oranges and
lemon and simmer 15 minutes with the
liquid and blossoms. Strain, pour over
three pounds of sugar, let it stand until
lukewarm, add the yeast, and again set
away covered for eight or ten days. At
the end of that time strain and bottle.
If the system is fortified by Hood’s Sars-
aparilla, which makes rich, red blood,
there is little danger of sickness.
THE BIG BATTLE OF MANILA BAY.
quently obliged to do duty both as studio |
HOW COMMODORE DEWEY SUNK SPAIN'S STRONG FLEET IN A HOT,
SWIFT FIGHT.
Not One of the Enemy’s Ships Afloat and Free at the
Finish.
Latest Estimates Put the Spanish Losses at Twelve Hundred—Not an American
Dead—Only Eight of Our Sailors Hurt by a Small Explosion on the
Baltimore—None of Them Badly Injured.
© HoxNG KoNG, May 8—The dispatch boat
Hugh McCulloch, of Commodore Dewey’s
squadron, arrived yesterday from Manila,
bringing the details of the glorious victory
won by the American fleet over the Span-
ish ships and batteries on Sunday, May 1st.
A summary of the result is that the whole
Spanish squadron of nine warships was
destroyed or captured ; that it suffered the
loss of more than 200 dead and from 500 to
700 wounded, and that only eight Ameri-
cans were wounded, and those slightly.
The great battle is described as follows by
the correspondent who was aboard the flag-
ship Olympia :
Commodore Dewey arrived off Manila
bay Saturday night, April 30th, and de-
cided to enter the bay at once. With all
its lights out the squadron steamed into
Bocagrande with crews at the guns. This
was the order of the squadron, which was
kept during the whole time of the first bat-
tle. The flagship, the Olympia, the Balti-
more, the Raleigh, the Petrel, the Concord,
the Boston.
It was just 8 o’clock, a bright moonlight
night. But the flagship passed Correigidor
island without a sign being given that the
Spaniards were aware of its approach. Not
until the flagship was a mile beyond Cor-
regidor island was a gun fired ; then one
heavy shot went screaming over the Raleigh
and the Olympia, followed by a second,
which fell further astern. The Raleigh,
the Concord and the Boston replied, the
Concord’s shells exploding apparently ex-
actly inside the shore battery, which fired
no more. Our squadron slowed down to
barely steerage way and the men were al-
lowed to sleep alongside their guns. Com-
modore Dewey had timed our arrival so
that we were within five miles of the city
of Manila at daybreak.
We then sighted the Spanish squadron,
Rear Admiral Montejo, commanding, off
Cavite. Here the Spaniards had a well-
equipped navy yard called Cavite arsenal.
Admiral Montejo’s flagship was the 3,500-
ton protected cruiser Reina Christina ; the
protected cruiser Castilla, of 3,200 tons,
was moored ahead, and astern to the port:
battery and to seaward were the cruisers
Don Juan de Austria, Don Antonio de
Ulloa, Isle de Cuba, Islede Luzon, Quiros,
Marquis del Ducro and General Lezon.
These ships and the flagship remained un-
der way during most of the action. With
the American flag flying at all their mast
heads, our ships moved to the attack in
line ahead with a speed of eight knots, first
passing in front of Manila, where the ac-
tion was begun by three batteries mount-
ing guns powerful enough to send a shell
over us at a distance of five miles. The
Concord’s guns boomed out a reply to these
batteries with two shots. No more were
fired, because Commodore Dewey could not
engage with these batteries without send-
ing death and destruction into the crowded
city. As we neared Cavite two very pow-
erful submarine mines were exploded ahead
of the flagship. This was six minutes past
5 o'clock.
The Spaniards evidently had misjudged
our position. Immense volumes of water
were thrown high in the air by these des-
troyers, but no harm was done to our ships.
Commodore Dewey had fought with Far-
ragut at New Orleans and Mobile bay,
where he had his first experience with
torpedoes. Not knowing how many more
mines there might be ahead, he still kept
on without faltering. No other mines ex-
ploded, however, and it is believed that
the Spaniards had only these two in place.
Protected by their shore batteries and
made safe from close attack by shallow
water, the Spaniards were in a strong posi-
tion.
They put up a gallant ficht. The Span-
ish ships were sailing back and forth be-
hind the Castilla. and their fire was hot.
One shot struck the Baltimore and went
clean through her, fortunately hitting no
one. Another ripped up her main deck,
disabled a six-inch gun and exploded a box
of three-pounder ammunition, wounding
eight men. The Olympia was struck
abreast the gun in the ward room by a
shell which burst outside, doing little
damage. The signal halyards were cut
from Lieut. Brambay’sstand on the after
bridge. ‘ A shell entered the Boston’s port
quarter and burst in Ensign Dodridge’s
state room, starting a hot fire, and fire was
also caused by a shell which burst in the
port hammock netting.
were quickly put out.
Another shell passed through the Boston’s
foremast, just in front of Capt. Wildes on
the bridge. After having made four runs
along the Spanish line, finding the chart
Both these fires
incorrect, Lieut. Calkins, the Olympia’s |
er similar action to-morrow morning. The
navigator, told the commodore he believed
he could take the ship nearer the enemy,
with lead going to watch the depth of
water. The flagship started over the course
for the fifth time, running within 2000
yards of the Spanish vessels. At this range
even six-pounders were effective, and the
storm of shells poured upon the unfortu-
nate Spanish began to show marked results.
Three of the enemy’s vessels were seen
burning, and their fire slackened. On
finishing this run Commodore Dewey de-
cided to give the men beakfast, as they
had been at the guns two hours with only
one cup of coffee to sustain them. Action
ceased temporarily at 35 minutes past 7
o’clock, the other ships passing the flag-
ship and cheering lustily. Our ships re-
mained beyond range of the enemy’s guns
until 10 minutes past 11 o’clock, when the
signal for close action again went up. The
Baltimore had the place of honor in the
lead, with the flagship following and the
other ships as before.
The Baltimore began firing at the Span-
ish ships and batteries at 16 mifutes past
11 o’clock, making a series of hists as if at
target practice. The Spaniards replied
very slowly and the commodore signaled
the Raleigh, the Boston, the Concord and
the Petrel to go into the harbor and destroy
all the enemy’s ships. By her light draft
the little Petrel was enabled to move with-
in 1,000 yards. Her firing swiftly, but
accurately, she commanded everything still
flying the Spanish flag.
Only a few minutes later the shore bat-
tery in Cavite point sent over the flagship
a shot that nearly hit the battery in Ma-
nila, but soon the guns got a better range
and the shells began to strike near us or
burst close aboard from hoth the batteries
and the Spanish vessels. The heat was in-
tense and men stripped off all clothingexcept
their trousers. As the Olympia came nearer
all was as silent on board as if the ship had
been empty except for the whirr of blowers
and the throb of engines.
The Olympia was now ready to renew
the fight. Commodore Dewey, his chief
staff commander, Lamberton, and aide and
myself, with Executive Officer Lieutenant
Rees and Navigator Lieutenant Calkins,
who coned the ship most admirably, were
on the forward bridge. Capt. Gridley was
in the conning tower, as it was thought
unsafe to risk loosing all the senior officers
by one shell. ‘You may fire when ready,
Gridley,’ said the commodore at 41 min-
utes past 5 o'clock. At a distance of 5,500
yards the starboard 8-inch gun in the for-
ward turret roared forth a compliment to
the Spanish forts. Presently similar guns
from the Baltimore and the Boston sent
250 pound shells hurling toward the Cas-
tilla and the Reina Christina for acuracy.
The Spaniards seemed encouraged to fire
faster, knowing exactly our distance, while
we had to guess theirs.
Their ship and shore guns were making
things hot for us. The piercing scream shot
was heard often by the bursting of time fuse
shells, fragments of which would lash the
water like shrapnel or cut our hull and
rigging.
One large shell that was coming straight
at the Olympia’s forward bridge fortu-
nately fell withing less than 100 feet away.
One fragment cut the rigging exactly over
the heads of Lamberton, Rees and myself.
Another struck the bridge gratings in line
with it. A third passed just under Com-
modore Dewey and gouged a hole in the
deck. Still the flagship stood in the cenger
of the Spanish line, and, as other ships
were astern, the Olympia received most of
the Spaniards’ fire. Owing to her deep
draught Commodore Dewey felt constrain-
ed to change his course ata distance of
4,000 vardsand run paralled to the Spanish
column.
“Open with all gun,’”’ he said, and the
ship brought her port broadside bearing.
The roar of all the ship’s five-inch rapid
guns was followed by a deep diapason of
her turret eight-inchers. Soon our other
vessels were equally hard at work, and we
could see that our shells were making
Cavite harbor hotter for the Spaniards than
they had made the approach for us.
Other ships were also doing their whole
duty, and soon not one red and yellow
ensign remained aloft, except on a battery
up the coast. The Spanish flagship and
the Castilla had long been burning fiercely
and the last vessel to be abandoned was the
Don Antonio de Alloa, which lurched over
and sank. Then the Spanish flag on the
arsenal staff was hauled down and at half-
past 12 o'clock a white flag was hoisted
there. Signal was made to the Petrel to
destroy all vesselsin the inner harbor, and
Lieut. Hughes, with an armed boat crew,
set fire to the Don Juan de Austria, Mar-
quis Duero, the Isla de Cubaand the Cor-
reo. The large transport Manila and the
many tug boats and small craft fell into
our hands.
‘Capture or destroy Spanish squadron,’’
were Dewey’s orders. Never were instruc-
tions more effectually carried out. With-
in seven hours after arriving on the scene
of action nothing remained to be done.
On the day he sailed from Mirs bay to go
in search of the enemy, Commodore Dewey
remarked to the officers grouped around
him that he proposed to fight the Spaniards
on the very first day he could get at them,
and this he believed would be the following
Sunday. When we arrived off Subig bay,
not very far north of Manila, Saturday af-
ternoon, April 30th, all the commanding
officers of the ships were called together on
the flagship and every detail of the plan of
attack was outlined to them by the com-
modore. The complete precision with
which the plan was executed reflects equal
credit upon Commodore Dewey and his
captains.
As I have already started, after the des-
truction of tne enemy’s ships and fortifica-
tions and the battle was over, Commodore
Dewey anchored the fleet off the city of
Manila and sent word to Gov. Gen. Augusti
that the port of Manila was not blockaded.
With this notice went the plainly worded
warning that if a single shot were fired at
any ship of the American fleet from Manila
the city would be laid in ashes.
Never in the history of battles on sea or
land has there been a more complete clear-
ing out of an enemy of equal or superior
force achieved with so little harm to the
victors. Not one American was killed.
Every American ship is ready to fight anoth-
complete victory was the product of fore-
thought, cool, well-balanced judgment,
discipline and bravery, The position taken
by the Spaniards, coupled with their heavy
guns mounted on shore, gave them an enor-
mous advantage. Only our good luck or
the bad aim of the Spanish gunners saved
us from a terrible loss of life.
When every vessel in the American fleet
proved itself so efficient I cannot draw dis-
tinctions, but when the ships passed each
other close aboard after the action was over
the heartiest cheers heard after those for
the commodore were given to the little gun
boat Petrel. During the first hour of the
fight, a Spanish torpedo boat was seen
sneaking along shore ahead of the Olympia.
Suddenly this torpedo boat turned and
made a quick and plucky dart at the flag-
ship. The commander of the Spanish craft
must have been ignorant of the power ot
modern guns or utterly indifferent to death.
Not until she had been twice hit by shots
from the Olympia’s secondary battery did
the daring little boat turn back. She
reached the beach just in time to save her
crew from drowning. The other two
Spanish torpedo boats made more cautious
attempts to come out into the harbor to at-
tack us, but one was immediately sunk by
our fire and the other quickly abandoned
the attack.
As Gov. Gen. Augusti failed to comply
with Commodore Dewey’s demand for the
use of the cable to Hong Kong after Sun-
day’s battle, the Commodore was obliged
to cut the cable on Monday. Documents
captured in the arsenel at Cavite show
that the Spanish naval council of war had
decided to make their fight against the
American ships at Subig bay, a place hav-
much stronger natural advantages for de-
fense than are found at Manila bay. Com-
modore Dewey’s promptness in bringing
over his fleet from Mirs bay prevented
them from moving to this position.
I find that in my previous dispatches I
underestimated the losses of the Spaniards
in Sunday’s battle. The surgeon of the
Castilla tells me that Admiral Montejo was
wounded. The captain, chaplain and 90
others were killed and six were wounded
on the Castilla. One hundred and fifty
were killed and 90 wounded on the Reina
Christina, Admiral Montejo’s flagship. Five
were killed and 29 wounded on the Don
Juan de Austria. Four were killed and 50
wounded on the Don Antonio de Ulloa.
The situation in the city of Manila is
very critical. The British consul reports
that the city has been entirely cut off from
outside communication, both by sea and
land, and has only enough provisions left
to last a few days. It isimpossible to open
communication between the shore and the
fleet. Therefore, news about events ashore
is very scarce on board the American ves-
sels. The little that has leaked through
indicates the probability that the insur-
gents will soon attack the city. Spanish
residents of Manila are very bitter against
the governor general, and are threatening
to depose him.
Here is a summary of Commodore Dew-
ey’s work up to date :
Monday, April 25—Received news of the
declaration of war. Quitted British waters.
Wednesday—Sailed for Manila at the
fastest speed that could be made with the
coal supply of the ships.
Saturday night—Passed the batteries at
the entrance of Manila bay.
Sunday—Sank, burned or captured all
the ships of the Spanish squadron. Silenc-
ed and destroyed three batteries.
Monday—Occupied navy yard. Blew up
six batteries at the entrance to the bay.
Cut the cable. Established blockade of
Manila. Drove the Spanish forces out of
Cavite.
Tuesday and Wednesday—Swept the
lower bay and entrance for torpedoes. Gave
crews well-earned rest. Prepared official
dispatches.
The losses of the Spaniards ginclude 10
warships, several torpedo boats, two trans-
ports, navy yard and nine batteries. In-
cluding the losses ashore, about 1,200
Spaniards were killed or wounded. The
estimated value of the Spanish property
destroyed or captured is $6,000,000. On
the American side the total loss is eight
men wounded and $5,000 damage to the
ships.
The British gunboat Linnet entered the
bay on Monday, but, some of her men hav-
the plague, she did not come near our
ships. The French armored cruiser Bruix
entered the bay to-day. The British cruis-
er Immortalite is understood to be on her
way to Manila.
The more I recall the events of the bat-
tle, the more miraculous it seems that no
American lost his life. The shell that en-
tered the Boston’s wardroom was going
straight for Paymaster Martin when it ex-
ploded within five feet of him, yet he was
not touched. Aboard the Olympia the sur-
geon’s operating table was placed in the
wardroom. Chaplain Fraizer, who was as-
sisting the surgeon, had his head out of one
of the six pounder gun ports, when a shell
struck the ship’sside less than a yard away.
The chaplain pull his head in just in time
to escape having it blown off as the shell
instantly burst. Three fragments of one
shell struck the Olympia within a radius of
15 feet from Commodore Dewey. The ar-
mor piercing projectile that exploded the
box of three pounder ammunition on board
the Baltimore passed between two groups
of men so close to both that it is difficult
to see how all escaped. If the Spaniards
had properly prepared for our coming they
would have killed many of our men, but
they had not intended to make their fight
at Cavite.
Among other official papers captured in
Admiral Montejo’s office was his acknowl-
edgement of the receipt of the decision of
the council of war officers to mass his guns
and ships at Subig bay, where much better
conditions for defense existed. This was
prevented only by Commodore Dewey’s
prompt action. A few days would have
suffered to remove all their guns and ships
to Subig bay, where there is a narrow en-
trance and the water is shoal, and a plung-
ing fire from the shore would have made
victory very difficult for us to attain.
Early in the morning of Monday, the
day after the battle in Manila bay, Com-
mander Lamberton and myself were order-
ed to go to the Cavite arsenal and take pos-
session. The Petrel took us within 500
yards of the landing, when we were sur-
prised to see that the arsenal was still oc-
cupied by about 800 seamen armed with
Mauser magazine rifles.
As a white flag had been hoisted on the
arsenal the day before, Commander Lamb-"
erton could not understand what the Span-
iards intended todo, and before leaving the
Petrel he ordered Commander Wood to
keep his men at the guns, with directions
that if we were not back in one hour he
should open fire on the arsenal. On land-
we were met by Capt. Sostoa, of the Span-
ish navy, next in rank to Admiral Montejo,
who had been wounded and conveyed to
Manila. Commander Lamberton, Lieut.
Wood, of the Petrel, and myself went with
Capt. Sostoa to the arsenal headquarters,
which was at once surrounded by an armed
guard. Commander Lamberton told Capt.
Sostoa that he was surprised to see his men
under arms after they had surrendered the
day before.
Capt. Sostoa replied that they had not
surrendered, but had merely hoisted the
white flag in order to enable them to re-
move women and children to places of safe-
ty. Commander Lamberton said that when
the Spanish flag came down aud the white
flag went up no other interpretation could
be put upon it than that it was an uncon-
ditional surrender, and the women and
children ought not to have been there any-
how. Capt. Sostoa remarked that we came
so early in the day they had not time to re-
move them. If we had not begun the fight
so soon the women would have been out of
the way. Commander Lamberton remined
him that the Spaniards had fired the first
shot. However, he added, he was not
there to discuss past events. He had come
as Commodore Dewey’s representative to
take possession of the arsenal. All Span-
iards there, he said, must surrender their
arms and persons as prisoners of war, oth-
erwise our ships would open fire on them.
Then Capt. Sostoasaid he could do noth-
ing, not being in command, and would
have to consult his superiors. Commander
Lamberton refused to recognize anyone but
the senior officer actually presented, who,
he said, must comply with Commodore
Dewey’s conditions. Capt. Sostoa asked
to have the terms of surrender put down in
writing, which was done, these being the
conditions :
“Without further delay all Spanish of-
ficers and men must be withdrawn and no
buildings or stores must be injured. As
Commodore Dewey does not wish further
hostility with the Spanish naval forces, the
Concluded on page 8.