BE A VES
A
sooo gfonfon
Hearts
o
HALLIE 111
By... ERMINIE
EE
She turned ner eyes an instant tc
him and saw his face deadly pale, his
eyes terrible, staring at her.
“He is,” she answered in a secgree
audible tone.
“You received this paper from the
hands of an officer in the British serv-
ice? And recognize the signature as
that of this man?”
“Yes.” The questions were pitiless.
Her limbs were failing her, and she
caught at the jamb of the door.
If she only dared look at him! Would
they never let her 20? Ine uypucriny
in those rounded, smooth syllables!
Were they framing thanks? “For her
loyalty,” “her courage,” “at a moment
when a matter of great import trem-
bled in the balance!”
“Enough!” The sharp, strained tone
of Dickinson was a relief. “The lady
is fatigued.”
Then the cooler air of the outer hall
smote her face, and the falling curtain
shut away from her that dreadful
room, the torturing voice,” the dufile-
gray men and among them all that si-
RIVES
5 gages
a Lourageous
S % 2
6 Copyright, 1902, by THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY
Grid db ddd ddd ddd ddd yd Brifedededs
BRP PRR R RRR RRR REE ERR A ge
lent, accusing face, those eyes suddenly
sunken, round with pain— Armand,
whom she loved and had betrayed!
As the door closed behind her Ar-
mand dropped into a chair and buried
his face in his hands.
“And now, gentlemen,” finished Gal- |
loway, turning again into the room,
“will you let this unspeakable villain
pass those doors now ?” <
“Sir,” protested Pliarne, appealing to
Dickinson—*sir, gentlemen, a monstrous
error is being made. A coil of circum-
stance has been cunningly wove, to ex-
plain which there is no time; nor, may-
hap now, would you creditit. But as an
officer of the French army, as a cheva-
lier, as a French gentleman, I lay my
oath upon the integrity of this mission
and of this man.”
But he knew as he spoke that what
he said was futile.
Joseph Galloway had crossed the
room behind Armand’s chair and now,
with a quick movement, reaching from
behind, thrust his hand into the young
man’s breast and drew forth the forged
parchment.
“Document number two,” he said,
tossing it upon the table. Armand had
sprung to his feet, his head thrown
high, a tiger gleam in his eyes.
“Canaille!” cried Pliarne.
Dickinson’s eye overran the writing.
“Send for the guards!” he said in a
choked voice. *A file to seize him!” And
Joseph Galloway went out in haste.
At the word a fury of passion seem-
ed to capture Armand. Those near him
fell back. His dress sword flashed out
and drew a burnished ring about him.
“Stand back!” he hurled between his
teeth. “You shall not stop me! Back,
I say! Messenger I am, and my mes-
sage I will deliver!’
“Madman! Will he cut his way in?”
cried Dickinson.
Armand, dragging the curtain from
its hooks, had gained the hall. He
sprang at the great doors and struck
them frenziedly with his sword. But
with the first blow the light steel rat-
tled to the floor broken half way to the
hilt.
When Anne had issued from the ante-
room a few moments before, she had
emerged into the main corridor. She
was dizzy, sick, and the last words of
her questioner were in her ears. She
found herself saying them over dully.
“A matter of great import.” “Trem-
bling in the balance.”
An old doorkeeper in a blue coat with
faded lace sat near by on a wooden
chair, but the day was warm, and he
was dozing. His mouth was open. and
he had not stirred when she came out.
She could hear ,the muffled voices
clashing upon one another, coming
from the main room where the dele-
gates sat. The door at one end of the
corridor opening on the green was
ajar, and she was vaguely aware, as a
background, of the murmurous, multi-
keyed noises that hang above an order-
ly assemblage of many people.
And. standing leaning against the
wall, a swift knowledge came to her.
The waiting crowd outside; her guide’s
haste as he hurried her through the
streets from the Red Lion tavern. A
matter “of great import.” The Dec-
laration!
They were considering it, hesitating.
Armand’s message might have decided,
and she had betrayed him—stay! She
had the packet. It was there in her
cloak. She must find Dr. Franklin. Ah,
he must be in there at that moment!
She had sworn to give it into his very
hands. He must read it at once—at
once. With the thought her eager fin-
gers dragged it out.
She glanced at the old watchman.
Daily familiarity had made such coun-
cile hackneyed to him. With eyes upon
him stic stole to the door, in the center.
She turned the knob softly and tried it.
It was locked. Smitten with her im-
potency, she leaned against it and rat-
tled the knob.
All at once she felt it giving. A key
had been turned from the inside. She
heard the roused doorkeeper shuffling
toward her, heard his protestant whis-
per and tugged with all her strength.
A buzz of talk that the stout panels
had deadened clamored loud in her
ears. She saw nothing but a broad
aisle, above whose center hung an enor-
mous, many prismed chandelier, glanc-
ing back the sunlight. ~~ .. .
Tears burned her eyes to mist, and
her throat was choking. Out of the
mist as she stopped the crowded body
of the hall stupefied her with people.
The sound of voices rising as she had
entered stilled in an instant to a silence,
broken by an exclamation and the taut
blow of a gavel. She was dimly con-
scious of men—bewigged, dressed most-
ly in black and snuff color, with white
neckcloths—one or two on their feet.
Her fingers under her cloak clasped
tight the precious packet—so tight she
could feel its ridges cut into her flesh—
and a clammy faintness was upon her.
Suddenly this left her, and the jar-
ring walls drew into place.
‘She was standing in the center of a
square room, plain walled, with three
tall barred windows at each side hung
with green Venetian blinds. In front
of her was a raised, square rostrum
between great empty fireplaces, and,
leaning over its desk, an elderly man
gazing down, Surprise seemed carved
upon +his features, and, looking, she
felt a dreadful hysterical desire to
laugh.
Below on the floor and facing her
stood a short, stout old man, with a
bald head and a fringe of white hair.
His kindly eyes, behind great iron
: rimmed spectacles, gave her confidence.
: It came to her in a flash that this was
the great Dr. Franklin.
Quivering, she stood before him and
courtesied low. Then she raised her
hand and gave him the packet.
Everything clouded after that, and
the ground was swaying. She saw
him break the seal to unfold the paper
and start as he bent his eyes upon it.
Through the buzz of whispered curios-
ity she felt a familiar voice strike,
speaking her name, and saw the sharp
features and foxy hair of Mr. Jeffer-
son. His hand was drawing her to-
ward the entrance. She heard Dr.
Franklin’s voice, like a great clear
organ note, “I will lift up mine eyes
unto the hills from whence cometh my
help.”
Then, as they reached the doors, a
clamor on the other side—the sound of
metal striking against the wood.
The hinges swung outward. She had
2 momentary glimpse of Armand
standing in the corridor, white, di-
sheveled, a broken sword in his hand—
saw him starting back, and, as the
doors closed heavily behind her, she
felt herself sinking into blackness.
“Louis! Louis!” She thrust the faint
ness back with a wail. “I could not
help it!”
His eyes were sharp spears through
her heart, his voice like twisted agony.
He sprang at the great doors.
“Betrayed! Denounced to the congress!
Oh, God, and by you! My honor—my
love—my trust—all ended!”
Galloway entered from the perch with
two soldiers in the Continental uni-
form. “In the name of the congress!”
said Dickinson, pointing to Armand.
“Sauve—toi!” Pliarne’s warning vi-
brated with anxiety. He stumbled
awkwardly with the cry, pitching in
front of the soldiers and as though to
save himself the fall grasped each by
an ankle.
Before they could recover from the
surprise Armand, turning like a flash,
had darted by them to the anteroom,
gained the door and disappeared.
“Quick!” gasped Anne as the discom-
fited soldiers bolted after him. “He
must not escape!”
“Are you not satisfied, mistress?”
demanded Pliarne, turning on her bit-
terly.
She staggered through the torn cur-
tain to the table at this and held out
to him his lordship’s pledge, with a
hand shaking like a wave ripple.
He started uncontrollably as he read
it and made a gesture of despair. “Le
bon Dieu!” he cried, his eyes filling
with tears. “Unfortunate that I am!
I have helped him to die!”
Then she drooped forward into Pli-
arne’s arms.
“Clang!” The great bell in the dome
above spoke suddenly. Dickinson, with
an exclamation, went out hastily, the
other delegates with him. The single
remaining spectator approached the
¥
got upon his feet with such a look in
his face that Joseph Galloway, his head
bent down, went out slinkingly and
with speed, like a whipped cur.
“Clang!”
‘The sound rang out again, and with
its music mixed a vast roar of voices
that penetrated from the streets.
“Clang!” Another brazen throat took it
up, and “They sign! They sign!” came
in a shout that shook the building.
“Clash! Clang!”’ :
All the steeples in Philadelphia were
shouting to one another now. The great
sundering was accomplished. That
hour a nation was born—out of the
clamor of bells, out of the hearts of
men.
But in the statehouse under the
cupola, where the big bell that first
pealed liberty cracked its throat for
joy, Anne lay sobbing:
“Louis! Listen, Louis! Listen to the
bells! It was yours—your message that
I gave them! Independence! It is
come at last, and you have gone to die
because I betrayed you. But it was to
save you, dear! Will you ever under-
stand? Can you hear them, Louis?
The bells! Come back! Come back to
me—only to hear them ring! Only to
understand!”
* * * * ® s *
Genesgl Lord Howe sat one evening
a month later aboard the Duchess of
Gordon, anchored below Staten Island,
playing at draughts. His late surrender
of Boston to General Washington had
ruffled his equanimity. But now Clin-
ton had joined him, haggard from the
trouncing Moultrie had given him in
South Carolina, and his Ilordship’s
brother, Admiral Lord Howe, had hove
to in the harbor with a prodigious new
army in a fleet of 120 sail. My lord,
therefore, felt very comfortable again.
The general’s opponent at the table,
Lord Chetwynde, wore lace in his
sleeves and smoked a foreign cigarette,
from which he flicked the white ash
daintily with his little finger. As he
sat, one felt his eyes, a kind of cold,
keen, speculative humor in them. An-
other officer, Sir Evelyn Clarke, sat
with legs wide apart near by. The
glazed sconces were brilliantly lighted,
and the room rocked pleasantly as the
ship rose and fell to the wash.
An aid, pausing at the cabin door,
saluted.
“Well?” asked Lord Howe.
one else for me?”
“No, sir; for Lord Chetwynde. He
brings a personal communication to his
lordship.”
“Very well; bring him down; with
your permission, of course, my lord.”
And his lordship turned to the game
again.
“I would the admiral might haste
with his olive branch,” he yawned,
studying the draughtboard through
lazy eyelids. ‘“’Tis most uncommon
dull here. ‘Hell, Hull and Halifax’—
egad! I'd as lief be a prison governor
at any one of them.”
“Less room for your cursed experi
ments, I suppose, Charles. You were
always fond of them at Halifax,” gom-
mented the single spectator in an Irish
brogue. “Why, my lord, I remember
just before he sailed (may you never
run another jail, Charles) he let a ras-
cal out on a secret service and took
his promise in writing to come back to
him in a month to the noose. I hope
you'll invite me to meet him when he
returns. Eh? What! May I bet the
devil my head, but there he is now!”
The pair at the table looked at the
face of the man who had entered and
“Any
~—.
~ ‘
is.
= Reo li
. ran 2 Ya
“My obligation is at an end?’
at his dress of purple velvet frayed
with travel, and Lord Chetwynde start-
ed to sudden incisiveness.
“Louis Armand!’
The newcomer bowed and stood si-
lent, waiting.
“You refurn in accordance with our
contract, I presume?”
“Yes, your lordship.”
“You are a day late.”
“I was not aware of your lordship’s
transference.”
“Burn me, but he’s been to Halifax!”
exclaimed Lord Chetwynde under his
breath. ;
' He sat a moment nursing his chin.
Then he seized. a paper, wrote a line
and added his signature. “I am al-
ready informed of your attempt,” he
said, “and of your failure. Egad, these
petticoat patriots are everywhere!
However, that was not your fault. I
regard only the honesty of your pur-
pose. Here is your release from the
penalty. Consider yourself at liberty.”
Armand read the paper and then
handed it back. “I cannot accept it,
your lordship,” he said.
sage given me to the congress. Had I
been admitted I should have delivered
a very different one.”
“May I bet the devil my head!” ejac-
ulated Sir Evelyn.
Lord Chetwynde flung away his cig-
arette, his keen eyes on Armand’s, and
tore up the paper slowly. ‘That alters
the case,” he said. “My lord, I sup-
pose I shall have to trouble you to
hang this honest renegade for me.”
“Too pleased!” said Howe. “The first
thing in the morning, Charles. Take
him on deck and come and finish the
game.”
“My obligation is at an end?’ asked
Armand.
“Of course, of course,” acquiesced
his lordship. “Excuse me, my lord;
T’ll be back presently. Precede me, if
you please.”
He opened the door, «nd his prisoner
passed before him to the star lighted
deck. The next instant Armand had
leaped to the bulwarks and thrown
himself into the sea.
There was strident confusion, a run-
ning forward of marines and a turning
of lanterns on to the water. “Better
lower a boat,” advised Lord Chet-
wynde,
“No time for that.” Sir Evelyn's
voice was at his. elbow. “A hundred
yards and you'll never find him. Guard,
send your surest marksman here to
pick him off.”
“There he is!” bawled a voice as the
sharpshooter came forward. “I see
his head.”
“I think,” said Lord Chetwynde, “lay-
ing a hand on the weapon, “that I'll
have a shot myself.” Taking it from
the man’s hand, he laid the long bar-
rel on the rail and drew a slow and
careful sight.
“Better be quick, sir,” counseled the
guard anxiously. “He's a strong swim-
mer. He'll be out of range presently.”
“Sir Evelyn,” spoke his lordship test-
ily, “a little farther from my elbow,
please. There, I’ve lost sight of him!
Eh? Where? Oh, yes.” He sighted
again with deliberation and fired.
“Missed, by Harry!” he cried in a
tone of chagrin.
The stars rocked dimly in the tide.
“Too bad, sir!” said the captain of the
marines. “No use to lower a boat now.
Tis too dark to find a whale. He'll
be ashore in twenty minutes.”
“Another of your blasted experi-
ments, Charles,” said Sir Evelyn.
CHAPTER XVII.
I T was a gloomy Virginia to
which Anne returned that anx-
ious fall—a Virginia whose
heart beat with the north,
where Howe was weaving his famous
cord to encircle the throat of the mon-
ster rebellion. Pastoral life had ended
abruptly; the golden age had become
one of iron. “And all the women that
were wise hearted did spin with their
hands.”
Gladden Hall suffered with the rest.
Colonel Tillotson was much away on
affairs of the committee of safety or at
Williamsburg conferring with his ex-
cellency Governor Henry, and the
looms which wove at all turned out
cloth for Continental uniforms. Across
the plant rows, where the negroes hoed,
Groam, the overseer, with cowhide un-
der his arm and his old FFontenoy bell-
mouth tower musket strapped on his
back, still walked his horse, with fer-
ret eyes under his broad brimmed hat.
But there was little leaf raised, and the
wharfs at the foot of the lawn were
overgrown with weeds.
Inside the great house there were the
same candle lighted dining room, the
high backed chairs, the tall, cumbrous
clock, the portraits, the polished side-
board reflecting the slender stemmed
glasses. But the meals were silent.
Anne's trouble, hung over the house-
hold in a shadow that was not lighten-
ed by the presence of vaster ones near
at hand. She had sorrowed with that
festering sorrow that is self accusatory.
And to know that never so few, aware
of her part in that Philadelphia scene,
believed her to have done a heroic
thing was like an added death to her.
For a time she had fled for refuge to
her old passion for the cause. But the
effort failed.
One day early in the new year, when
the world was dusted with delicate
frost like seed pearl, Colonel Tillotson
brought to Gladden Hall the news of
how “the old fox of Mount Vernon,” by
a wily double across the icy Delaware,
had taken the Hessians at Trenton.
Anne heard it apathetically. To her
despair, victory and defeat spelled the
same.
When the door closed upon her, the
colonel looked at his wife silently.
“And she still believes in him!”
“As she believes in us,” replied the
lady softly. “Colonel,” she said keenly,
‘you have heard news.”
“Aye,” he answered after a pause,
“I have. A reply came to Mr. Henry's
confidential inquiries today. There is
no doubt that Armand is the same
prisoner who escaped from the Duch-
ess of Gordon off Amboy last August.”
“Thank God!’ breathed Mrs, Tillot-
son fervently. “I am glad. I can’t help
it.”
“Anne had better not know.
do her no possible good.” .
“Colonel,” said the lady decisively,
“in this I must have my way. I am
going to tell her just as fast as I ean.”
She rose, laid aside her knitting, took
up a candle and left him standing dubi-
ously before the fire.
The light came back to Anne like the
spring sun. The great horror was gone,
and in spite of the war’s gloom Glad-
den Hall grew more cheerful again.
She devoured the columns of the Ga-
zettes and read eagerly letters which
came to Henry from abroad.
*Twili
( Continued next week.)
——Subseribe for the WATCEMAN.
lA LL
Heart-Breakhing Scenes in the City as News of the
Accident Spread. Details of the Burning of the
lll-Fated Steamer.
In the last issue the WATCHMAN pub-
lished the Srst account of the terrible loss
of life in New York harbor through the
burning of the excursion boat Gen. Sloc-
um. Like the Iroquois theatre fire disaster
in Chicago during the holidays, awfal as
were the first reports they did not begin
to depict the horror in all of its dreadful
and heart-breaking phases.
‘With unceasing effort search is still
going on for the bodies of those who per-
ished on the General Slocum. What the
list of victims will total scarce one dare
venture to guess, but whatever the num-
ber may be, there is hardly a parallel in
the history of disasters where death came
to so many in =o brief a period of time.
All day long, from suorise until dark-
ness shut off even the melancholy satisfac-
tion of watching for the dead, anxious
searchers keep up their eternal vigilance,
and at dusk there has been recovered 725
bodies, for the greater part women and
children—mothers who weeks ago had plan-
ned that fatal outing for their children;
listle ones who had longed for the coming
of the happy day. .
Streets leading to the morgue were block
ed, aud only with difficulty could the po-
lise keep clear the passages leading to the
long rows of coffins for those who came to
search for the missing. .
Up the sound, where the General Slocum
lies submerged, showing only a paddle box,
scores of small craft aided the suge in grap-
pling for the victims. Divers went down
time and time again and when their work
ended for the day they declared there were
no more bodies in the wreck. A score of
times a diver reappeared after his plunge,
with the body of a woman or child. Two
of them them coming to the surface togeth-
er on one occasion, had in their arms two
litle girls, sisters, clasped in each other’s
embrace, and their mother, it was thought;
whose dead hand tightly clenched the
skirt of one of them.
As far as it was within their power, the
divers searched the wreck from stem to
stern, but there were masses of broken tim-
bers, through which it was almost impossi-
ble to explore, and it may be that some
may find a grave, under those sunken tim-
bers until the hulk is raised or the waters
of the sound wash away the last trace of the
wreckage.
At this point the water is deep and the
currents are swift, and beyond a donbt
many have been horn along with the tides,
to be given up on a later day at some dis-
tant point.
There are a number of places where the
living may have landed, and it is believed
that many that are now reported missing
are safe, and eventually will be heard from
by the officials who have the rescue work
in hand. Indeed, a surprising number of
persons reported to these officials that they
had been saved, thus cutting the list of
missing down considerably, as well as the
probable mortality list.
Many persons were injured in the panic
on the breaking out of the flames on the
General Slocam. At least 200 persons
were taken to the hospitals. Not a death
has occurred so far among ‘hese, and many
of them have already been discharged.
Perhaps the most remarkable case in the
many appalling experiences of those who
were on the Slocum was that of Miss Clara
Hartman, who was picked up for dead,
towed behind a boat for several miles,
wrapped in a tarpaulin and tagged as dead,
and then recovered consciousness at the
Alexander avenue police station. It is now
believed she will recover.
Although many of the bodies taken to
the morgue were badly mutillated and the
clothing in many places almost entirely
burned off, valuables have been taken from
them and are in the keeping of city officials
to the extent of $200,000 or more. Several
of the men and women had the savings of
a lifetime on them when they perished.
Much jewelery, it is reported to the police,
bas been lost, but an explanation may be
found in the fact that it was destroyed by
fire rather than stolen.
Mayor McClellan,after receiving messages
of condolence from many sources, visit-
ed North Brother Island and later visited
the morgue. He issued a proclamation to
the citizens of New York, and appointed a
relief committee of prominent men and re-
lief will be sadly needed in that little East
Side territory, which the vast majority of
those who perished were accustomed to call
home.
The coroner’s inquest to fix the responsi-
bility of the disaster will begin on Monday
next. The federal authorities, as well as
the district attorney, also, will hold an in-
vestigation and the Society for the Preven-
tion of Cruelty to Children has signified its
intention to push the inquiry to its ut-
most.
Fathers, frantic with grief. representing
over two score of Brooklyn homes, spent
Friday searching the morgue and hospitals
in Manhattan for wives and children, who
had attended the excursion and have not
since been heard from.
In a number of instances Brooklyn fami-
lies were almost entirely wiped out. These
included the family of William O. Oellrich,
which consisted of father, mother, two sons,
Henry, 11 years old, Frederick, 8 years,
and three daughters, Minnie, 7; Lizzie, 5,
and Helen, 2 years of age. Mr. Oellrich
bad intended going on the excursion but
was obliged so serve as a juror. His son
Henry was found in a hospital, suffering
from burns about the head and the sorrow-
ing father could obtain no trace of the oth-
ers.
Other residents of Brooklyn known to
bave perished are Mrs. Anna Buchmiller
and Mrs. Charles E. Pfifer, wife of a police-
man. ;
Mrs. Charles Beck, with her two chil-
dren, Grace and May, were also reported
missing. Mrs. Beck was found in the Lin-
coln hospital. She said that in the panic
she was separated from her children and
unable to find them again. She herself
was thrown into the water, from where she
was rescued. :
As the iron steamboat company’s three-
deck excursion boat Sirus went up the
sound this morning with all of its bunting
flying and the general hubhub of a large
excursion party, as many of the two shou-
sand women and children on board as could
crowded to the rail and viewed the wreck of
the General Slocum, but with bared and
bowed heads.
The steamboat Cignins passed a few
minutes later, the same scene being en-
acted and .the band on board playing a
hymn. There were 1,500 women and chil-
dren on board.
Still another excursion boat sailed by
the wreck during the morning. It was on
the barge Levy, and numbered about 600
women and children.
Henry Heintz, 12 years of age, who lost
his mother, his aunt, Hannah Ludermann,
and his sister, Louise, is dumb because of
SP BBDEBEM PI PIPIEIPEIDSISIEI EDIE BPP $apppeppaep | SPOt Where Pliarne kuelt chafing Anne's | Why not?’ demanded Lord Howe in [Over 725 Dead is the Record of] the ordeal be went through. He and his
24 foefoofrofecfsofoofoofertoofecortorficfooeaforforfofors sock one er Petits hands. astonishment. : New York's Horror. brother. George were saved. They stood
RR RRR RS SR SRR EE % 4 The Frenchman said no word, but he | “I did not intend to deliver the mes- We on the middle deck until it became too hot
when they jumped into the water. Henry
held on to the paddle wheel and was rescn-
ed by men in a tng. When he recovered
from the first great shock he could not
speak. George declarts his mother’s and
aunt’s bodies were robbed of diamonds and
jewelry. He said his mother had a valu-
able diamond brooch and his aunt two dia-
mond rings, all of which were missing
after their bodies were found.
Rev. Dr. Hass, who was at first com-
pletely prostrated by shock, rallied to-
night and was reported to be convalescing
rapidly. The tidings of his wife’s death
and the uncertainty as to his daughter's
fate, of which he had been kept in ignor-
ance, were tenderly broken to Dr. Haas by
his brother, Dr. J. A. W. Haas.
The stricken pastor hore the blow with
stoical resignation, and in spite of his ex-
treme weakness did not break down, as his
physician had feared.
The crowd around the morgue and the
department of charities pier, in east Twen-
ty-sixth street, Thursday evening was
much greater than the next night. By 8
o’clock the line of people waiting to be al-
lowed to enter and look upon the rows of
bodies ranged within extended for many
blocks. About 200 were allowed to enter
at a time and they thinned out, some with
their fears turned to terrible certainty as
they had come face to face with the cold
forms of their loved ones, and others roused
to faint Lopes by their failure to find what
they dreaded, they were generally shown
out into the street and another party ad-
mitted to undergo the heart-rending ordeal.
At one time at least 1,500 people were in
the long line awaiting admitsance, besides
the hundreds of morbidly curious persons
who lined the adjacent streets.
Despite the many curious ones, the crowd
was a reverent one. Often as the groups
standing in Twenty-sixth street stood talk-
ing in low tones of the catastrophe, from
the interior of the pier there wonld come a
despairing cry which told that some one
else in the silent rows of hodies had been
identified.
‘Another one,”’ the crowd would maur-
mur, and there would be speculations
among the subdued groups as to whether it
was father or mother, daughter or son.
Information was received at the district
attornoy’s office Thursday afternoon that
engineer Conklin who was said to have
perished in the disaster is alive and in hid-
ing. County detectives under the direc-
tion of assistant district attorney Garvan
are now looking from him. It was thought
that he had gone to his home in Catskill.
FOURTH DAY AFTER FIRE BRINGS 41 DEAD
TO LIGHT.
NEW YORK, June 19.—Sunday’s bar-
vest of dead from the steamer General
Slocum numbered 41, bringing the total
number of bodies so far recovered up to
624. Of these, 559 have been identified,
while 31 of the victims now lying at the
morgue have not been claimed by friends
or relatives.
While the list of missing has been cut
down somewhat by the identifications
made to-day, 11 new names were added to
that roll, thus leaving the total of missing
as it was on Saturday,—something over
300.
The funerals of nearly a hundred vie-
tims of the disaster were held today. In
many instances two caskets were carried
in the same hearse, and in some cases two
and even three hearses bore away the dead
of a single family.
Department officials, for the purpose of
obtaining evidence, to-day went over the
the exact course taked by the General
Slocum on Wednesday last, the day of
the disaster, on the police hoat Patrol.
Among the officials on board were Cor-
oners O'Gorman and Berry. Coroner
Berry said that he was entirely satisfied
with the results of the trip. He explained
that Captain Van Schaick and chief pilot
Van Wert were both too ill to be taken
along. Coroner Berry said also that he
had issued an order for the detention of
the captain, pilots, engineers and crew of
the Slocum. i
Secretary Cortelyou, of the Department
of Commerce and Labor, visited the scene
of the disaster. Mr. Cortelyou left for
Washington to-night and will consult with
assistant Secretary Murray, to-morrow.
Mr. Murray will then come to this city to
‘be present at the investigation to be made
by the steamhoat inspectors.
(Continued on page 4.)
Big Fair's Fate in Balance.
Owing to the small attendance thus far
at the St. Louis exposition, treasury officials
are much interested in knowing the amount
of the first payment on the government
loan of $4,000,000 which is expected to be
made on Friday. To-day the fair officials
will begin counting up various moneys re-
ceived from concessions and a$ the gates.
Of the total the government is to receive
40 per cent. Private estimates put the
first payment at $150,000. :
Much curiosity is evinced as to the exact
figures, as they can be used as a basis for
estimating whether the payments of $500,-
000 monthly on and after July 15th, which
are mandatory will be forthcoming or
whether Secretary Shaw will be forced to
carry out his threat and become a nominal
receiver for the big show.
——The polar bear is the only wild ani-
mal that likes a trip on the water, accord-
ing to a French scientist who has studied
its behavior at sea. He is quite jolly when
aboard ship, but all other animals violens-
ly resent such a voyage and vociferously
give vent to their feelings until seasickness
brings silence. The tiger suffers most of
all. He whines pitifully, his eyes water
continually and he rubs his stomach with
his terrible paws. Horses are bad sailors
and often perish on a sea voyage. Oxen
are heroic in their attempts not to give way
to sickness. Elephants do not like the sea,
but they are amenable to medical treat-
ment.
———Thomas E. Edison offers this in ex-
planation of his ability to do the enormous
amount of work he performs : “I eat just
about a pound of food per day—three meals,
but just enough to nourish the body. My
diet consists of meat, vegetables, eggs or
anything else that I want, but in small
quantities. People eat and drink far too
much. Indeed, I know of men and women
who are food drunk all the time. I hardly
ever take any outdoor recreation, bus I live
ahstemiously, as my father did before me.
If people would diet themseives and drop
drugs many common ailments would dis-
appear.”
——*‘“Are yom going to the World's
fair ?’’ inquired the young lady. ‘‘What’s
the use?’’ responded young Flatterwell ;
‘you are fair enough for me.’’” And the
cards were out the very next week,—Hous-
ton Chronicle, ?
i—