A ————
a ald
Demi an
Bellefonte, Pa., June 3, 1898.
TROUBLE BORROWERS.
There's many a trouble
Would break like a bubble,
And into the waters of Lethe would depart,
Did we not rehearse it,
And tenderly nurse it,
And give it a permanent place in the heart.
There’s many a sorrow
Would vanish to-morrow,
Were we but willing to furnish the wings;
So sadly intruding
And quietly brooding,
It hatches out all sorts of horrible things!
How welcome seeming
Of looks that are beaming,
Whether one’s wealthy or whether one’s poor!
Eyes bright as a berry—
Cheeks red as a cherry—
The groan and the curse and the heartache can
cure.
Resolve to be merry,
All worry to ferry
Across the famed waters that bid us forget,
And, no longer fearful,
Be happy and cheerful—
We feel life has much that’s worth living for yet.
— Waverly Magazine.
THOSE OLD LOVE LETTERS.
“What luck Dory ?”’
“Can’t you tell, mother ?”’ he answered,
“by looking at my face. She says she
daren’t marry me as long as her father is
against me.”’
“I s’pose because you work at the round
house he thinks you aren’t her equal,’’ said
Mrs. Fair, who understood perfectly the
laws of caste in the town.
“I guess so,” Theodore answered de-
spondently.
For a time they ate in silence. It was
the light lunch of Sunday evening. Theo-
dore sat opposite his mother ; he was
dressed in his new suit, and his hair
brushed up from his forehead, fell like a
wave over the smooth crown. Mrs. Fair
had covered the glories of her black silk
with a long white apron, for she was a fru-
gal soul. As she looked at her son, hand-
some and heavy-eyed, she wondered how
Rose Turner could resist his suit.
“Did you ever ask Rose to run away with
you ?”’ she questioned eagerly, leaning her
elbow on the table as she taught her son
not to do.
Theodore flushed. ‘‘Yes—I’ve proposed
it a dozen times,’’ he said, annoyed at his
mother’s persistence. There was an inci-
sive curve in her chin which he lacked, al-
though Mrs. Fair had the name or being a
mild woman. '
“Thirty years ago Bruce Turner was just
dead in love with your Aunt Martha,’’ she
said musingly. ‘‘He used to write to her
all the time—silly letters as you ever read.
A lot of ’em are upstairs now in an old
trunk—when Martha went to Colorado she
left them with a lot of other traps.”
“I guess I'll go down town for a while,”’
Theodore said, not particularly interested
in the stale love affairs of Rose’s father.
After he had gone Mrs. Fair sat a long
time at the table, filling her cup and sip-
ping her tea with abstracted eyes.
The next morning she went about her
work with the same fixed look, as if she
had been hypnotized by her own thoughts.
She started in surprise when she heard the
roundhouse whistle blow at twelve o’clock
—half her clothes were not rinsed, and she
commonly had her wash on the line at
11:30.
‘‘Are you sick, mother?’ Theodore
asked when he came in and found her still
in the suds and no dinner on the stove.
Mrs. Fair smiled. ‘‘No Dory—only get-
ting luny, I guess. Can you put up with
a cold lunch ?”’
Theodore was wont to take life as it
came, so he uncomplainingly ate and went
back to his work.
Mrs. Fair ate a slice of pie when he had
finished and went up stairs to her chamber.
The rapt look of the morning had given
place to one of stern-lipped decision. She
came down in her bonnet, her dolman,
and with a small packet in her hand. She
locked her door and walked down Main
street to where Bruce Turner’s sign, ‘‘Real
Estate and Loans,”” hung over the side-
walk.
A young German, jubilant at having
paid off his mortgage, brushed past her at
the door. The office tucked in between
two stores, was divided by a counter sur-
mounted by a miniature picket fence. The
man behind looked as if he were in prison.
‘“‘Howdy do, Mrs. Fair?’ he said, in a
tone of joy not re-enforced by his face.
“Can I see youalone ?"’ she asked, with-
out preliminaries.
“Certainly—certainly. Come into my
back office.” He opened the gate at the
end of the counter and held it for her to
pass through.
The back office was decorated with fly-
specked lithographs of ocean steamers plow-
ing their way through a pea green sea.
‘It’s an unexpected pleasure, seeing you,
Mrs. Fair,’’” Turner said, rubbing his hands
together with a sound like the rustle of
silk. “I came to see why you won’t let
Rose marry my hoy,’’ she answered.
“Ah, Mrs. Fair, nobody likes Theodore
better than I do, but—?"’
‘‘He works at the roundhouse,’’ she in-
terposed. ‘‘Because he is a good mechanic
instead of a shyster lawyer or a third-rate
doctor, you think your girl’s above him.
My own father,”” she added, proudly,
‘‘was a judge, but I was poor after
Mr. Fair died, and Theodore liked
machinery, so I let him do what he wanted
to. He’s a mechanic, but a better looking
man doesn’t walk these streets.’’
‘‘He is handsome,’’ Turner said, admir-
ingly. That was the worst of the man—
he would not argue.
‘‘You must let them marry,’’ Mrs. Fair
said, strenuously. ‘If I was Rose I'd do
it without your consent, but she’s afraid
to.
‘‘Rose generally does as I say,’ he put
in, complacently. ‘‘Now, with Amanda I
have more trouble.”’
“Then I wish Dory had taken a liking
to Amanda,’’ she retorted. She now shift-
ed her ground. ‘‘I expect you remember
Martha 2”?
‘Oh, yes—of course,’’ Turner answered.
“‘You used to think a good deal of her.”’
‘‘I suppose I did in a boy’s way,’’ he re-
plied, uneasily. = ‘‘She’s well, I hope ?”’
‘‘Yes, she’s well.”” Mrs. Fair laid the
packet on her lap and her lips set in a cold
smile. ‘‘You used to write letters to her
when you were a man grown. When she
hegan to go with Tom Fulton you wrote
some wild words.”
“Did I?’ said Turner, looking as em-
barrassed as a middle-aged man will when
confronted with the follies of his youth.
‘‘But all that was past long ago—I have
buried a wife since then, Mrs. Fair.”
She held the packet between her finger
and thumb ‘‘I have some of your letters
here—Martha left them at my house. She
read ’em to me when they came—I
wouldn’t touch em now if you had treated
Dory right.”
Turner reddened to the edge of his scant
hair. He made an instinctive clutch at
the packet, then relaxed in his chair.
“This is blackmail !”” he exclaimed, an-
grily.
. “I don’t care,’” Mrs. Fair retorted, un-
tying the string and taking a sheet from
its envelope. ‘‘Here is one: ‘Every day
seems a year since you are gone. Nobody
will ever love you as I do. Dearest won’t
you promise n
“Stop !"’ Turner cried, driven beyond
endurance by the level cadence of his tor-
mentor’s voice. ‘I never wrote that
stuff I’?
“I guess you did for your name’s at the
end—some of ‘em are a good deal sillier
than this one.”’
“I don’t believe it.”’
“Then I can read them to vou,’’ she
said, quietly.
“I have a mind to take them away from
you !”’ he cried, rising from his chair.
“I have more at home,”’ she replied,
without starting.
‘What is it you want of me, then ?’’ he
asked, d sperately.
“I want you to let Rose and Theodore
get married. If you won’t I will read these
letters in every house in the town and
make you the laughing stock of the place.”
‘You wouldn’t dare,” he said.
“Wouldn’t I? Wait and see. Well, I
must be going.’”” She put the packet in
her pocket, and stood up, shaking out the
back breadths of her skirt.
“Wait. I’ll agree to let the young folks
marry if you’ll promise to give me every
one of those letters,’ he said, reluctantly.
, “I'll give them to you as soon as they
are really married,” she answered, going
toward the door.
“How do I know you will?” he in-
quired.
‘{Because I'm a woman of my word—
did you ever know me to be two faced ?”’
Mis. Fair asked scornfully as she opened
the door. Once in the street, her feet
seemed winged and she felt a curious exal-
tation. She fancied a rogue might feel
thus after a successful bit of wickedness.
That evening she told Theodore to dress
himself and go to see Rose. “I saw her
father this afternoon,’’ she said, ‘‘and it’s
all fixed. He won’t make any more
trouble.’’
‘What did you say ?”’ Theodore asked,
staring at his mother—a red spot burned
in each cheek and his eyes flamed.
“I’Il never tell even you, Dory. I
brought to his tind some of the words of
his youth and they softened him—that is
all I can tell you.”
# * * *
Immediately after the wedding lunch
Rose and Theodore were driven to the sta-
tion. Mrs. Fair stayed to help Amanda
clear away the wreck of the feast. Turner
changed his business sack and was waiting
to walk home with her when she came in-
to the hall—it was growing dusk.
They were rather silent on their way.
“Will you give me those letters now ?’’ he
asked when they had reached her doorstep.
“Yes ; they are ready,’’ she answered,
unlocking the door and proceeding her es-
cort into the house. She hurried upstairs
and came down with a package in her
hand. She gave it to Turner.
‘‘Are you sure they are all here ?’’ he in-
quired, anxiously.
‘Yes they are all there—35. They have
always peen in the same trunk. Those I
took out I put right back—I don’t expect
Martha will care if I do give them to you.
It was the first time Martha’s claims had
occurred to her, but she had no regrets,
even now. She followed him to the door.
“Mind that broken step,’’ she said, warn-
ingly. She watched him down the street,
“I wonder what he’ll do with ’em,’’ she
thought, as she straightened out the door-
mat.
He walked rapidly to his office, opened
the door went inside and lit the gas. He
read the letters one by one, and as he read
he wondered if the writer had not been an-
other man wearing his flesh and using his
name. Strange how foolish he had been !
Yet he felt a shame-faced pride in their
headlong rhetoric—his style had grown
thin and bare since then.
He opened out the sheets and stuffed
them into the cannon stove; then he
turned the damper and applied a match
from under the grate. The paper caught
and in a moment was crinkling and rust-
ling, as if trying to speak. Turner sat
down until the light ceased to show through
the open damper. He opened the door.
little heap of bluish-black tissue, touched
at the edge by the last red sparks, lay at
the bottom of the grate—the words of his
youth would never trouble him more.—
Chicago News.
Mrs. Pullman’s Estate.
Mis. George M. Pullman is determined
to renounce the terms of her husband’s
will and to accept her dower right in the
estate, as permitted by law. This decis-
ion was known to be her inclination from
the beginning. The renunciation papers
have, been drawn up by her attorney
and will be filed without further delay in
the probate court. In renouncing her part
as devised to her by the will and in accept-
ing her dower interest she will secure a
one-third life interest in all the Pullman
realty and one-third of the personal prop-
erty absolutely. Her share of the personal
property alone will, on this basis, amount
to at least $3,000,000, which is much more
than the amount provided for her in the
will. That document gave her the yearly
income from $1,250,000 for life and the
possession of the homestead at Prairie ave-
nue and Eighteenth street. By the terms
of the will she would have no personal
property to dispose of by bequest.
M:s. Pullman’s renunciation of the will
will have no effect on the bequests made
by her husband, except those to the two
sons, Sanger and George, who will get
from three to five millions at their
mother’s death.
A Governor's Old Friend.
Governor Atkinson, of Georgia, tells this
story at his own expense: ‘‘It was during
my recent inspection of the convict camps.
Among other places I visited were the coal
mines, and in order to make a thorough in-
spection it was necessary to go down into
the mines and see the convicts at work.
Two guards accompanied me down into the
mines. They showed me everything of in-
terest, and finally took me where the con-
victs were at work. As we approached
them one of the convicts rushed over to me
crying: ‘Good Lord! Bill Atkinson, as
sure as I live ! I never expected to see you
bere. What on earth, Bill, did they con-
viet you of doing ?’’ I readily recognized
the man as one whom I had known since
my boyhood.”
Failures.
A man marries a lovely creature in white
satin and then lives with a woman who
wears Mother Hubbards and dressing
sacks.
A
CUBA, THE DESOLATE.
Cuba has long been called the Pearl of
the Antilles. The name was first given to
it by Pietro Martire de Anghiera, the his-
torian, in 1493. It has borne in turn the
names of Juana, Fernandina, Santiago,
Maria and Cuba. The old native name was
Cubanacan. It was discovered by Colum-
bus sixteen days after San Salvador. It
may not be known to very many that the
bones and ashes of Columbus repose at Ha-
vaua in the great old cathedral there. A
special permit procured with much difficnl-
ty admits us to the cathedral, and we look
upon the marble slab on the left of the
altar that marks the place in the wall
where, in the recess, repose the sacred
relics. In his death as in his life it seems
he was not to be permitted to rest in peace.
He died in Valladolid, Spain May 20th,
1506. He was not buried where he died,
his remains being deposited in San Fran-
cisco Monastery, in the Alhambra, at Gren-
ada. Seven years later he was removed to
the Chapel of St. Anne at Seville, in the
Carthusian ; Monastery of Las Cuevas;
twenty-three years later removed to
the cathedral at San Domingo, His-
paniola, and 259 years later to the ca-
thedral at Havana. No blood was ever
upon his garments. He was humane,
tender, and righteous—but was accom-
panied and followed by the greed, cruelty,
and inhumanity which has ever character-
ized the Spaniards.
For 300 hundred years the splendid
pearl lay glowing like a gigantic Kohinoor
in the Southern waters, but attracted little
attention from us. It is the struggle for
freedom which lifts a person, a nation, ora
people into the greater notice of a civilized
world. For a hundred years, more and
more we have been interested in Cuba un-
til our attention is now rivited upon it,
while the glorious century plant of freedom
is about to bloom there.
The nearness of Cuba to usis hardly ap-
preciated. It is but three days and nights
on the deep from New York, but sixty
hours from the capitol of our nation, but
nine hours from Key West, eighty-six
miles to the nearest point on the island, but
ninety-three to Havana itself.
An ocean voyage, however brief, is al-
ways interesting to me, and troublesome
to the limit of the awful mal de mer. that
mystery of sickness on the sea. I inva-
riably, in a very short time, cast my bread
upon the waters, never expecting to get it
back again. I know little of the meaning
of the expression ‘‘throwing up the sponge’’
but I think if I had ever swallowed one I
could throw it up on an ocean voyage.
From Key West to Havana is nine hours
going over and only six returning. The
early dawn brings the island in view, and
soon as the bright light of the day steals
upon us the frowning guns of forts and bat-
teries are clearly seen. With Morro, the
Cubanas, and the two adjoining forts, and
the twelve great batteries mounted with
latest patterns of Krupp guns, with the
narrow channel to the bay, and land-lock-
ed harbor, each planted with torpedoes and
mines, Havana is not to he easily taken.
To besiege it and starve it out may be
done with comparatively little trouble, a
month or two being sufficient, doubtless,
to exhaust all food supplies there.
As we pass into the harbor our boat
glides along within 300 yards of the wreck
of the Maine. Our heart is throbbing, and
the tears may not easily be suppressed in
the presence of this sad and suggestive
scene.
Cuba is another world to us. There
seems nothing like what we are accustomed
to at home. Everything is strange. new to
us. The narrow streets, the low houses,
and ancient and venerable appearance of the
city strikes us with wonder. The absence
of glass for the windows in both buildings
and railway cars, no fire-places, no stoves,
and no fire ever but the charcoal fires for
cooking, strike us again peculiarly. The
fruiv stands are objects of amazement to
the visitor—the varieties of fruit simply
without number. Later I learn that there
are a dozen varieties of the pineapple and
more than a hundred kinds of bananas.
Who that has tasted them will ever forget
the delicious pineapples and the still more
delicious peach banana? Peaches, apples,
and pears, however, do not grow on the
island. But it would seem every other
possible variety of fruit is there. The rich-
ness of Cuba is beyond all compute. Neith-
er the gold treasures of California nor of
Alaska can compare with it. It is worth
all the gold mines in the world. So richis
the soil that the sweet potatoes and the
sugar cane will grow without replanting
for from five to seven years, and crops of
various kinds may he harvested twice, and
even thrice a year. The climate never re-
veals cold greater than forty ahove or heat
greater than about ninty. The rich black
soil, red, and mulatto, adapted respectively
specially to sugar cane, tobacco and coffee,
is not excelled in the world. There are
13,000,000 acres of untouched forests of the
finest hard woods—imahogany, cedar, rose-
wood, granadilla, and other varieties. No
one could ever forget the glorious waving
palms. There are thirty varieties of palms
alone. The royal palm seems everywhere.
It rises with symmetrical trunk, on an
average, to the the height of 100 feet, limb-
less to the fern-like top that resembles in
the distance the beauty of colossal ostrich
feathers. And the date palm and the cocoa-
nut palm, rich with their fruitage, and the
roof palm with its beauty and wealth of
leaves, and the great, imposing, splendid
avenues of the royal palms stretching for
miles through the country leaves to the
mind vistas and views that seem like thrill-
ing dreams. The mountains rise in almost
continuous range from west to east, from
2,500 feet to 8,000 feet, towering at last
most sublimely and majestically in the
heavens. It is a land of great magni-
tude.
The island, somewhat in the form of a
crescent, is 760 miles long, and varies from
28 miles, the narrowest place, to 135 miles
in width. Imagine it converted into a
huge blanket, and it would easily cover all
England, leaving out Wales; it would
shield the entire state of Pennsylvania, and
almost hide New York, and one-fourth of
Spain itself would disappear under its
ample folds. There are 7,500 miles of sea-
coast, including all the bays and indenta-
tions. The scenery is a marvel to every
visitor. From the heights of Matanzas, or
near by the city, I looked one day upon a
vision of beauty and grandeur scarcely
equaled in the world. Travelers from all
over the globe have looked with surprise
and unstinted admiration upon the scene.
In front of you is the beautiful and ample
bay of Matanzas, far on the rolling, tinted
ocean, in the distance the lofty mountains,
and in your rear the Pride of Matanzas.
splendid mountain of the providence. To
your right is the sweet, dear vale of the
Jumeri River, and to your left the broad
fertile, and charming vale of the San Juan.
It is a scene to enrapture and thrill.
But I am sure it is of other things
you wait to hear, and in which you have
yet far more interest. From the height
here I can see with the glass the floating
flag of the insurgents. It is but ten miles
away. While I was at Matanzas 3,500
surgents there, and were utterly unable to
doso, being repulsed in every instance with
heavy losses. Why is that flag floating there?
dispute with the flag of Spain? The rea-
sons are varied and, taken together, con-
stitute tremendous cause. Spain’s inhu-
manity is one reason. She has never had
any mercy or tenderness for the island.
Three million of the natives—original in-
habitants—living in a golden state, their
doors never closed by day or night, hospit-
able, honest, kind, gentie, dainty
form and pure in life, worshiping God
without altar or priest, to whom murder,
revenge and hatred were unknown, were
obliterated from the face of the earth by the
greed and cruelty of the Spaniards. At the
beginning even of the seventeenth century
no one lived in whose veins flowed one
drop of the old native blood. Spain was
little less cruel to her own. In time she
so oppressed, so taxed, and so maltreated
the colonies that for a hundred years it has
heen past peaceful endurance. Again in
1762 the British captured Havana, and the
island was for one year under British rule.
Americans helped to win this victory. And
the lily of liberty was about to bloom on
American soil with a purity and beauty
the world had never witnessed before. The
island in that one brief year caught the
spirit of freedom. And thereafter Cubans
visited our lands, and many children of the
planters and well-to-do Cubans have heen
educated here. The air of Cuban life is
rife with the American love of liberty
caught at the altars of our own country.
And yet again, the Cubans are very unlike
the Spaniards. This is a fact we are slow
to recognize. There are 1,800,000 people
on the island. Of these 259,000 are Span-
ish born. Almost all offices of the island
are held by Spaniards; the office-holders
and ex-officeholders and their families
make up this number. There is not to ex-
ceed 100,000 native-horn Cubans that sym-
pathize with Spain. We have then 1,450,-
000 who are clearly Cuban in spirit and
life. The proportion of colored population
is much less than we have presumed.
There is not to exceed 400,000 in all with
any colored blood. The percentage is less
than in the capital of our nation, where
thirty-three per cent. are colored. The
colored people of this island have half of
them been free until 1878, and all free since
then. There remain 1,000,000 who are
pure white Cuban blood. They are not
l#ke the Spaniards. I repeat it, for it is of
the utmost importance for us to grasp this
fact. For 400 years the Cubans have been
drifting away from Spain and Spanish ways
and spirit. Take, for instance, the popu-
lar national sport of Spain—the bull fight—
which, you must remember, takes place al-
ways upon the Sabbath day. The unwrit-
ten law, as rigidly as if written, requires
the Kings of Spain to attend a bull fight.
The masses worship it, and more than any
other thing shows us the spirit of the
Spaniard. But a bull fight cannot, and
never has taken place on the island of Cuba
where the Cubans have control. It is an
an old saying that ‘‘Spanish bulls cannot he
bred in Cuba.”” Take the actions of the
insurgents and their spirit in the war that
now, for three years, they have maintained.
All the laws of civilized warfare have been
respected by them. When and where have
they butchered women and children ? With
may Spanish families at their mercy, and
with great provocation in the destruction
by Weyler of the rural homes and starva-
tion of the population they still never
stooped to butcheries. General Campos
owes his life to-day to the fact that they
are not like the Spaniards. Pretending to
be wounded, he was placed upon a stretch-
er at the battle of Bayamo, where he was
so fearfully defeated, and carried unharmed
from the field. They have ever respected
the wounded and returned the prisoners.
In my careful study of the average popula-
tion of the island Iam fully convinced that
they have not the bloodthirsty spirit of the
Spaniard, and are as different from them
almost as we are ourselves.
One of my interesting experiences while
on the island was passing some days in Cu-
ban villages. It was at great personal
risk. The feeling against the American is
bitter on the part of the Spaniard on the
island. At Havana, in broad daylight, one
could not walk a block without most pro-
voking insults being inflicted upon him.
At night he is hissed from every side as he
passes civilly along. The peril that over-
shadowed the Americans on the island can-
not be exaggerated and never has been.
At the town of Colon, on my way from
Matanzas to Sagua le Grande, I took pur-
posely the wrong train, haviug to change
cars and depots, and was of course put off
at the next station to await the first train
going my way. Cervantes, the village
where I was put off, has a population of
3,000.
While in this village I studied the
schools, the church, the reconcentradoes,
the soldiers, the trocha, the voting on the
memorial voting day, and many other en-
tertaining features of the Cuban life. The
schools hardly merit the name. Not a
hundred pupils are enrolled—not sixty
were in attendance in all the town. The
teachers are Spanish, employed for life.
Twenty-five years is a life-term, and then
they are retired on half-pay. Their ambi-
tion seems, in almost every instance, to
merely to fill out the term and retire to the
lazy, idolent, and worthless life of a do-
nothing in southern Spain.
There is one little church house in Cer-
vantes, another in a village eight miles
away ! Two little churches and one priest
for 5,000 people. The priest is indolent,
intemperate, unchaste, and, while there
are doubtless exceptions, the average priest
is seen in him. The people pay little or
no attention to the church. It is Catholic,
of course. No other has ever been permit-
ted on theisland. A few missions have at-
tempted establishment on the island, with
illest success as a rule. A field whiter for
the harvest, and where hunger for the true
religion more widely prevails, I cannot im-
agine. The people are temperate and so-
ber, industrious, hospitable, kind, and the
standard of morals is higher than you
would suppose with the disadvantages that
have surrounded them. To be drunken is
a great disgrace among the native Cubans.
I saw but one drunken man while in Cuba,
drunk enough to reel in his walking, and
he was a Spaniard.
Voting day is Sunday, and a more colos-
sal fraud to be called voting never trans-
pired in this world surely. I visited the
polls, I watched carefully, Iinquired wide-
ly, and I am sure [ am correct when I say
that not one legitimate vote was polled in
the entire town of Cervantes. Yet the
next day the report went in from the judges
of election, the full vote of the village three
to one for autonomy.
But what of the suffering on the island ?
No human tongue can portray the condi-
tion. Language is vain, words seem to
have lost their meaning. After all I had
read, all I had learned, after conversations
with a number who had been there, after
seeing the photographs of the starving and
dying people, yet all, all never prepared
me for what I was to see with my
own eyes, I could not sleep at night
Why has any other standard risen here to |
in |
: : | : : a]
Spanish troops tried to dislodge the 350 in- | for the horrible pictures that remained |
| from the day’s scenes. It seems now like
| a nightmare, a terrible dream—only that I
know it'is true and shudder as I compre-
hend the fact. When General Weyler
came to Cuba he wore a military cap . with
a white plnme. That plume was the only
white about him. His beard, complexion,
eyes, suit of clothes, and heart were black.
And yet he represents Spain and her spirit
perfectly. Neither Campos nor Blanco is
Spain. But Weyler 4s Spain. He came to
| carry out the will oI the masses and the
spirit of Spain. He issues an edict that
drives in 800,000 country people, rural
population. He saw as none had yet seen
| that the rural pecple were really keeping
up the rebellion. There was nothing but
peace for them. They bad no arms, no
equipment, nc means to fight with. They
could help on the struggle for freedom by
helping on the insurgents. To destroy the
base of supplies of the insurgents Weyler
drives them 1n, leaving them to starve to
death.
The story of all this each one must have
read. But what it means no one has com-
prehended. Into the fortified towns and
cities on the railroads these people were
driven, many of them getting no longer
notice than twenty-four homs. Without
food, extra clothing, or shelter of
any kind, by the thousands, tens of thous-
ands, men, women, and children were herd-
| ed into the inclosures, around which was a
ditch, a wire fence, and a series of forts
where soldiers guarded with orders to
shoot any who tried to pass cout. The
homes were all burned and destroyed and
all animals slain. Thousands died on the
way to the villages and towns, thousands
were killed, thousands starved. The low-
est estimate I heard from any quarter of
the number who have perished of the re-
concentradoes in the two years since the
edict of Weyler is 300,000. It is more
likely that 400,000 have perished, and yet
must 50,000 to 100,000 die from the effects
of starvation.
At Cervantes I was presented with a Cu-
ban machete. I have no doubt I owe my
life to-day to the new-made friends who
gave me this relic. They protected me
while in the village. They would not per-
mit me to return to the hotel. Dined in
their homes I was admitted by night toa
house where prearranged signals granted us
entrance, and was there guarded in my
rest. Of all things I desired to carry from
Cuba an insurgent’s sword. The machete
with which I was presented saw long ser-
vice in the Cuban war for freedom. It was
the property of Lieutenant Colonel Ahu-
mada, who was killed in the battle of the
Bird’s Tongue, the 19th of last September.
A column of 1,000 Spaniards was waylaid
by 700 insurgents, and in the battle which
ensued 200 wounded. Eighteen of the in-
surgents were killed and twenty-four
wounded. This is about the usual propor-
tion in all the fighting on the island. The
Cubans are real soldiers—men drilled and
powerful. The Spanish forces are the mer-
est boys, generally, and never knew a drill
and cannot fight to any advantage.
One night I saw the Southern Cross hang-
ing low and sweet over Cuba. God has set
the stars there to glow in his mighty sym-
hol of truth. At midnight that won-
drous starry cross stands erect. Then
it begins to bend and the Cuban say-
ing is, at that hour: ‘‘The cross bends
and the morning dawns.” The morning
dawns, the cross bends, God has not
forgotten. It is enough. The day will
soon be here and Cuba will be free.—Rev.
Eugene May, in Epworth Herald.
Sons of Somebodies.
Army Appointments Classified According to their
Respective “Pulls.”. :
Sons oF FATHERS,
Name Rank Father
Fred M. Alger......... Captain......Sec’y. of War
R. B. Harrison. Maj Benj. Harrison
James G. Blain g James G. Blaine
John A. Logan Gen. J. A Logan
Fitzhugh Lee, | rst Lo en. Fitzhugh Lee
J. B. Foraker, Jr...Captain ......Sen. J. B. Foraker
Ed. Murphy, 2d......Captain ......Sen, E. Murphy
A. C. Gray* ..Lt. Col.......Senator Gray
Wn. J. Sewall........ Captain...... Senator Sewell
T. C. Catchings, Jr.Captain...... Rep T. C. catchings
John A. Hull ..Lt. Col Rep. Hull
H. H. Gordon Ex-Sen. Gordon
S. M. Brice Ex-Sen. Brice
H. E. Mitch Ex-Sen. Mitchell
John Earle... aptain ......Late Sen. Earle
S. M. Milliken...... Captain ...... Late Rep. Milliken
R. W. Thompson, Jr.Captain......Ex-Sec. Thompson
Britton Davis.........Captain ......Ex-Gov, E. J Davis
C. L. Woodbur, Ex-Gov. Woodbury
ven. W. Rochester
Ex-Con. Gen. New
Ex-Mayor Strong
Ex-Mayor Hewitt
....Clem’t. A. Griscom
of: W. H. English
GRANDSONS,
Name. Rank. Grandfather.
Alg. Sartoris First Lt...General Grant
Jay Cooke, : aptain ay Cooke
C. E. MeMich ayton McMichaels
Name Uncle.
George S. Hobart...Major...The Vice President
W, B. Allison.........Captain....Senator Allison
S. Gambrill, Jr....... Captain...Senator Gorman
SON-IN-LAW.
Name. Rank. Father-in-law
Beverly A. Read..... Captain...Senator Mooney
CHILDREN OF THE S0(IAL PULL.
Name. Rank
Larz Anderson Captain
ptain
Wm. A. Harpe
W. A. Chanler Cay
John Jacob Astor... Lt. Colonel
Morton J. Henry....Captain
G. Creighton........... Web. Major
EX-GOVERNORS.
John G. Evans........ Captain
OFFICERS OF EXPERIENCE IN THE ABOVE LIST.
Seth M. Milliken, graduate of West
Point ; P. Bradlee Strong, J. J. Astor and
George S. Hobart, militia officers. No
others.
*Declined
Evening Post.
appointment. — New York
Salaries to Fighters.
All Officers Are Paid Well for Their Services.
Uncle Sam has always been accused of
being parsimonious in dealing with his sol-
diers, and while there is nothing in the pay
of a private to tempt anyone to throw up a
good job, yet the commissioned officers are
pretty well paid, except for the time they
are actually being shot at. In the time of
war all persons connected with the army
have their salaries increased 20 per cent.
and hence in the figures given the increase
has been added. Following are the an-
nual salaries of the commissioned officers :
3,750 00
23,125 00
Captain, mounted....... 2,500 00
Captain, not mounted. 2,250 00
Regimental ad jutant....... 2,250 00
Regimental quartermaster. 2,250 00
First lieutenant. moun ted.. 2,000 00
First lieutenant, not moun! 1,875 00
Second lientenant, mounted..... 1,875 00
Second lieutenant, not mounted... 1,750 00
Regimental chaplain................ ...1,875 00
Regimental surgeon... oo e3,125 00
Assistant SUrgeon.......eeeeeieniiiiinnn Resvareviiin ,000 00
A private soldier receives $15.50 a month ;
ordnance sergeants, $42.50, hospital stew-
ards, $56,25 and aiding hospital stewards,
$31,25.
——Ohio has the largest number of col-
lege students, 24,000, one-third of whom
are women,
Disease Raging in Cuba,
| The Terrible Rainy Season has Begun.—Malaria Prev-
| alent in Havana and the Death Rate is Generally
Believed to be on the Increase.
KEY West, Fla., May 28.—The rainy
| season in Cuba began more than a week
| ago, and it is not unlikely that Havana
is a perfect pest-hole, but Admiral Samp-
| son’s quarantine is so effective that not a
| single disease germ can leave. An old
| resident of Havana said to-day : ‘‘Havana
| has malarial fever and smallpox the year
| around, hut they are not epidemic except
| in the rainy season. Within a week after
| rains begin the death rate shows a large in-
| crease, and the situation grows worse as
| the season advances, but a few days are
| enough to scatter disease. :
“When the war broke out there were
150,000 persons in Havana who had not
sufiicient means of support for one week.
What must be their condition now, after
five weeks of the blockade? The men who
| has money will live longer than the man
who has none. The latter will starve to
death unless disease hastens the end.
Hunger soon puts a person in a condition
in which pestilence can readily seize hin.
“Yellow fever attacks a person only
once, and the Cubans generally have the
disease in a mild form during childhood,
and are thence-forth immuned ; but ma-
larial fever has no antitoxine, and is very
contagious, and a person recovering from
an attack that has left him weak may be
seized again and die. The Cuban insur-
gents camping in swamps suffer severely
from malarial fever. It is estimated that
85 per cent. of the Spanish troops have the
yellow fever and are immuned, as all are
the volunteers.
In Sham Battle.
A sham battle at Chickamauga park in
which the three brigades of General Wil-
son’s first army corps participated, is re-
ported to have been one of the most thrill-
ing military spectacles that has been wit-
nessed since the civil war.
A serious casuality occurred during the
progress of the battle. Lieutenant Batty,
of the Sixteenth Pennsylvania, in com-
mand of a squad, was surrounded by com-
pany C, of the First Ohio regiment, and
was ordered to surrender. Instead of sur-
rendering Lieutenant Batty ordered a bay-
onet charge. While at a close range a
member of the Ohio command shot directly
at Lieutenant Batty, the charge striking
him in the face and neck, inflicting pain-
ful and serious injuries. Both eyes were
badly injured and the vision may be des-
troyed. Bad blood was engendered by the
incident and the men rushed together. It
was only by the coolness and presence of
mind of the officers that bloodshed was
avoided.
What a Knot Is.
Probably there is no nautical term more
frequently used during the present naval
war than the word ‘‘knot.”” The word is
synonymous with the nautical mile, or
6,080.27 feet, while, as everyone knows,
the geographical mile is 5,280 feet. This
would make the knot equal to 1 15-100 of
a geographical mile, and, therefore, in or-
der to compare the speed of a boat ex-
pressed in knots with a rail-road train it is
necessary to multiply the speed in knots
by 115-100. Another point to remember
is that speed means a distance traveled in
unit time, so that when one speaks of a
boat having a speed of 20 knots it is not
necessary or proper to add per hour, as the
word itself when employed as a unit of
speed signifies nautical miles per hour. A
cruiser that makes 21 knots travels 24.15
geographical miles per hour. The fastest
speed yet obtained by any boat is said to
have been obtained by the yacht Ellide,
which is known to have a record of one
geographical mile in one minute, 46} sec-
onds, or 38.2 miles an hour. In fact, a
recent article in one of the engineering
journals states that a record of 40 miles an
hour has heen made by this boat. Her
own progressive men in subjection.
Correspondents Exchanged.
The gunboat Woodbury has arrived at
Key West, bringing Hayden Jones and
Charles Thrall, the newspaper correspon-
dents captured by the Spaniards in Cuba
and exchanged for Lieut. Col. Cortijo,
Surgeon Major Julian and two Spanish
servants captured by the United States
fleet on the prize steamer Argonauta.
The Spanish prisoners were taken to
Havana Thursday night, on the gunboat
Maple, where the exchange took place yes-
terday. Jones and Thrall were then trans-
ferred to the Woodbury and brought here.
The Army Soon to Number 278,000 Men.
Abjutant General Corbin has prepared a
statement showing the strength of the mili-
tary forces of the United States when or-
ganized in accordance with the plans now
under way —
Regular Army..............ciniin. ine 62,000
Volunteer from States, First Call 125,000
Cavalry Regiments at Large........... 3,000
Ten Infantry Regiments, United
States Volunteers (immunes),10,000
Engineers at Large..........cceeuueeeenes 3,500
Volunteers, Second Call.............. 75,000
Grand Total.c..ciiecriiiirieene. 278,500
Over 400 Prisoners of War.
Of the 446 persons captured on all the
prizes of war, 444 attached to the Spanish
Navy in various capacities will be held as
prisoners, under instructions from the at-
torney general.
The others will probably be paroled.
All are to be treated with consideration
and given every possible privilege.
The ships held to he legitimate prizes
will be sent North to be sold. !
The Oregon will be entitled to all
the honors as the hest of our battleships.
In the 63 days’ run from San Francisco to
Key West, covering a distance of 13,000
miles, she coaled only four times—at Cal-
lao, Sandy Point in the Straits of Magellan
Rio Janeiro and Barbadoes — reaching
Key West with plenty of coal. The ship
got the news of the Manila victory at Rio
Janeiro, As an illustration of her going
powers the Oregon made 375 miles on the
last day of her run to Barbadoes, a British
port.
Rough Riders off For Florida.
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS, May 29.—The
regiment of rough riders left for Tampa
this evening. The officers expect to reach
Tampa early Wednesday morning. The
soldiers left here in light marching order,
and will be ready to embark for Cuba im-
mediately upon arrival at Tampa.
The Biggest Gun in Am erica.
BETHLEHEM, Pa., May 29.—The Bethle-
hem Iron company has made and shipped
to Watervliet arsenal, New York, the
largest cannon forging ever turned out in
America. It is the first of the 16-inch
group ordered for Sandy Hook.