SECOND PART. THE L ED From the Ruthless Grasp of the Father of. Waters Will More Than PAY FOR IMPROVEMENTS. Maps Which Show the Exact Situa tion in a Striking Manner. THE CHANGES IN THE CHANNEL. One Short Cat Which Exerted a Great Influence on the Torrent AREA OF TflC SOIL TO BE DECLAIMED PAPEK so. 5. Very few of our people conceive the im portance of the Mississippi river. To most of them, especially to those who live re moved from it, the Mississippi is a geo graphical expression, hazy in a mist ot old tales of adventnre, glinting now and again with a humorous story, a background for certain statistics occasionally reprinted, the occasion for a few head lines suming up in ten syllables the misfortunes and miseries of a people, far away, scenes, which, though vitally affecting the lives and property of millionsofour fellow men, are never brought home to the realizing senses of the whole people. They must be made to know and feel. The monstrous wrong and s-orrow and loss of the yearly overflows are not real to our people, or they would as one man demand I 'J PiOTO-,1K CO that such things be ended. The brooding horror of disease is never thought of by those whose heirts and hands stretch out to help and save everywhere but here. The vast wealth to be won by improving these rivers and making tbem serviceable commercial waterways is not appreciated, or the people would cry out that such possibil ities must be realized without further loss of time. The vast areas now swamps and lagoon, yielding a living only to the stray hunter, are mere fog banks to the people at large. Let them once realize that lauds of surpass ing richness lie but a few feetor inches below the present river levels that to lower the Mississippi a few feet would drain and reclaim lands that would make nearly a million homesteads that the means are at hand to drain these lands at a cost of $2 or ?3 per acre, and the practical common sense of the people would see the work inaugu rated without delay and pushed steadily forward to completion. Marsh lands, lagoons and other ill drained area, now worse than waste, but easy to drain and convert into the most fer tile farms imaginable, border the Missis sippi and its tributaries in the vast alluvial plains. ad ra MTBSpV,R "(l.tO GRAPHICAL COMPARISON OF SWAMP LAND IN THE MISSISSIPPI VAL LEY WITH THE FARM ACREAGE OF THE FERTILE STATES. Total Acreage of Swamp Land In lho Mississippi Valley, 30,955,000 Acres. Swamp Land in the Lower Mississippi Valley, Farm Acreage of Maine, N. Hampshire, Vermont, Mass., Rhode Id., Connecticut and N. Jersey SHBBHBHHHHHHaHB 22,560,000 Acres. Farm Acreage of New York State, 22,190,810 Acres. Farm Acreage of Ohio. 21,712,420 Acres. iS The swamp lands bordering the Gulf, 4,000,000 acres in extent, will be considered later. Those bordering the river are swampy because the river is too hich; nnd all of such lands above Baton Ilongc, or even a little nearer theGuli lands, 30,000,000 acres in area, can be drained and reclaimed by lowering the river bed, as set forth in the preceeding article. The effect ol lowering the river bed upon tho drainage ol the ad jacent country will be shown by the follow ing extract from a report ol the Mississippi Iiiver Commission: "The event which had more to do with the alteration of the level, and consequently the rrueral appearance ot this region, than any other phenomenon that has occurred lti rtceut times, not excepting the earthquakes of tiic early part of the century, was the Devil's Elbow Cut-off, which happened in 1&76, with the general history of which the commission is familiar. The writer hereof was at Shawnee Village, distant about 10 or 12 miles from the point where the cut off was made, in an air line, and he distinctly felt the shock and heard the roar of the mighty mass of water 4s the river cut its wuv through the narrow neck of land that li.id hitherto restrained it, and plunged at one leap down the descent which it bad for merly crawled 23 miles to make. The im mediate result ot this cut-off was to check the rise in the river for 100 miles up stream. At Osceola the river fell 22 inches in a -few hours, and that, too, on a rapidly swelling stream. It drained Golden Lake and the bottoms between it and Frenchman's Bayou, and lowered the level of Young's and Carson's Lakes and Tyronza from four U& six feet. , The deep bottom between -imwnee village and Frenchman's Bayou was drained almost completely, and where there were formerly impassible sloughs is now dry land. The drainage of Golden's Lake was- more thorough than that of any other portion of the county. "Where formerly there was a sheet of water nearly 4,000 acres in area, and of a depth of 8 to 10 leet, there are now only a few isolated water holes of limited area, the balance of what was once the bed of the lake being now a prairie-like open ing, covered with rank grasses and vegeta tion of all sorts. A portion, it not all, of this old lake bed has been homesteaded, and it will soon be in cultivation." This isolated instance shows how greatly the adjacent country would be benefited by lowering the river bed. In this case lower ing the river bed four to six feet drained ponds, sloughs and marshes thousands of acres in area, and thus increased the agricul tural capabilities ot the immediate region. What was done on a small scale by accident in this instance it is proposed to extend by design to the whole Mississippi Valley, and thereby to reclaim millions of acres of the richest imaginable soil and add to our wealth a value several times greater than the sum spent to permanently improve the river, make navigation safe thereon, protect the land from overflow and greatly benefit the health of the inhabitants. Any person who has lived in the southern country in a location adjacent to or but little removed from ill-drained or marshy lands is too familiar with chills and fevers, dengue and other malarial diseases to need, argument to convince him that good drainage of the surrounding lands would more than double his efficiency as a producer ot wealth. Multiplv the inhabitants of the bottom lands by five, multiply the value of the annual productions of each man by five, and we will possibly reach an approximate estimate of the annual increase of wealth which would flow from the good drainage to be obtained trom lowering the bed of the river. This good drainage it is impossible to obtain so long as the river bed is high enough to make levees necessary to restrain the flood waters. To obtain good drainage the river must be lowered so that no levees will be needed. The stupendous proportions of this measure preclude its accomplishment by an agency less mighty than the river itselt. If it were possible to apply the hydraulic Map ro show rhe Alluvia! Basin of rhe MississipfS and the area if would covtiy if placed m rheSranj df i ' ' 1 I I Pennsylvania K5 w,"" o?&-lrt';:j'3l Z2SL -Stall svstem so successful in Holland, at a cost of 5 cents per cubic yard, the total outlav would be 5680,000,000. There seems to be no other way than that proposed in the fourth paper, in which method suitable ap pliances and sufficient "power skillfully directed and constantly in adjustment to the varying conditions of theTiver, control and guide the mighty forces of nature. That permanent jetties or contraction works alone will not suffice, is proved by ex perience. Jetties are the proper and econom ical means of deepening and regulating channels having a uniform discharge or one varying within moderate limits. In all such streams jetties cannot fail if properly applied. But in a stream whose whole dis charge varies from 156,000 to 1,603,000 cubic feet per second, permanent contraction works are well nigh impossible to design correctly or apply successfully. Permanent contraction works successful at high water are useless when the river falls; and works efficient at low stages are worse than useless at flood times, even if not destroyed. It is evident that none of the standard old methods will apply to Amenca's vast problem.. America must bring forth new methods suited to the un exampled magnitude and changing nature of our rivers. "What has bv iid concern ing jetties and contraction .. applies with tenfold force to levees. The leyee can be excused only as a temporary expedient. 22,076,000 Acres. designed to avert destruction for a season. Money spent on levees must be reckoned as money invested in the crops of a lew years only. If the crops are of sufficient value to pay for the levees in five or ten years, the expense is justified; not other wise. The levee or dike has a legitimate use in protecting lands below tide-level lands below the limits of natural drainage. But as applied on the Mississippi above ihe tidal reach the levee is a violation of natural law, and its continued use will bring the punishment which nature inevitably in flicts on those who offend her. The" levee falls to justify its existence by protecting life and property; it prevents good and natnral drainage, so injuring the people in health; and in the largest sense it is an obstruction to commerce and the cause of obstructions to navigation. The levee has been tested for upward of 100 years, and the river is to-day in worse condition than it was when the first levee was built The levee is necessarily built at a considerable distance from the immediate banks of the river, therefore the river at floodwater tends to assume a cross section bounded by the levees ind of just sufficient depth to carry off the volume oi its waters. Thus the first effect Is to scour away the ancient banks of the river, widen it to make the new banks coincident with the levees and raise the bottom of the river bed to a considerable amount, so that the new cross section will have the same carrying capacity omr o : -':- ' Y ?-&: -J:s?l 5 THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH. . o.a.o.o.. t . i.aL!Z a-o.a. L&- o-rea.Lp-oj -oJa lajia.TVTia.- o-iyI-a2'-At. a. a a. (W" ot'Ol ns-no.o.ek.r'et-1-. -JeCiyvh a-'- v:lla.-1Vfc'& aLtva-a, .a. .a. a.a?trrfUr'.. --LT- V Si !- OXeASAiS4!-'.. llv kVVi & s ' Wh 'Map shovyfe cHanfteTn ffie Missel RivFr iff (fejTcifiity oTVfcklW 1 1 -r - acOff of I87B. ) r?m fiag.,,,,,,,,.-, -- rfemVapftCip1 .T.fate4, Corps of Enginefrgr if.S.A. . ;f. M -all 'Note. A critical insDcctiou ot the above from 1 n 4 Va nnnfliAnet tn Via smiihnAot its anef 1IUU1 UD UVI LUCttDb IV uc ouubu fT ou its gaui ui im uauft, iiiui tuvu rt ub w hjc ..! xjv lUaiiivnu uv ft toy uu uuuw mtuiu a .vvu iiuivii it has washed over and destroyed all the land shown on the right hand side of the map, an area exceeding 125 square miles, or 80,000 acres, which, if well drained and safe from destruction and overflow, would cut up into 2,000 farms of 40 acres each, support C0.000 peo ple anaeave a money value oi $o,uuuluuu to ?i,uiu,uuu. xais is oniy one locality. xirery reaca in me river preseufci similar iea-tures.j as the old one. Prom this results the build ing up of a long sand wave commencing at deep water in one bend and reaching its greatest height relative to the grade line of the river immediately above the next lower bend. This long sand wave is dignified with the name of shoal or bar. At the crest of the sand wave commences a sharp decliv ity ot the river bottom into the bend imme diately below. Up the long sand-wave the river crawls, depositing its sediment, build ing ttnj-sand-wave higher, advancing its. V "' "7 a 'Mm ca V itJijnTlJfl fix v crest nearer to the bend below and increas ing the slope of the descent into it. Down the sharp declivity the water rushes into the bend, with a great and ever increasing ve locity, becoming a power of terrible destruc tion and wreaking it most mercilessly. The amount of sediment in the water is that which it conld sustain at its min imum velocity when flowing slowly over the shoal; the river here acquires a maximum velocity, and, there fore, takes up a quantity of sediment suffi cient to saturate the water at the augmented velocity. This sediment is suspended and carried along until the water reduces its velocity in passing over the next shoal, where this 'added iediment is again depos ited, building up that shoal. Thus matters go on from year to year. Each year the shoals become shallower; each year the bends become deeper; each year large tracts of agricultural lands are washed away by the widening of the channel along the reaches; each year the banks in the deep bends are cut farther and farther back. ' Since the deep water is in the bends, the cities and towns are there located; and the caving of the banks in the bends frequently causes destruction of city property devoted to commercial uses and of very great value, Therate of caving is illustrated by the fol lowing extracts from the Mississippi Biver Commission's report: ' "The most noticeable change shown to have taken place in the reach extending from. Mound City Landing to the head of President Island is a heavy caving above Eopefield, extending from Mound City to Hopefield and amounting to a maximum cutting of 1,200 feet in the middle of the bend since, the survey of 1877-78." "Theprincinal caving shown to have taken place in the portion of the river extending from Apperson Plantation to Jones'-Land-ing shows an average cutting of from 400 to PITTSBURG-, SATURDAY, man shows that the river, nrobablv within f left Konl- lvinrr nVtnnt TVfViai-a 4tin W f ,T. T 500 feet, for a distance of 10,000 feet. Cav ing has also taken place immediately above Lake's Landing, averaging 200 feet in widih by one-half mile in length, and trom the mouth of Four-Mile Bayou, upstream, there has beeu an average caving of 150 feet for a distance of a mile." "Between Beeve's and Harris' landing for a distance of 4.000 leet there has been an average cutting of 300 feet; below Fleece's plantation there has been a cutting of 200 feet to 400 feet,&iistance of 3,600 feet, and" at the lead of the old Cnw Islands the caving has been from 200 to 600 leet in width by a mile in length. The varying velocities in the river, due to the building up of the shoals and cutting out of the bends, causes the bends to wash fnrtherand further back and to lengthen the river and decrease its capacitv for carrying I off the flood waters. Thus- the curves be come deeper and deeper, the river crookeder and crookeder until there comes a climax the river breaks through and makes a cut off Some city like Vicksburg, which, was in the morning an important maritime, town, is left high and dry, its trade de stroyed and its inhabitants impoverished. See accompanying map. Since 1722 15 cut-ofi3 are historical events. In addition to these 19 cut-offs have oc curred within comparatively recent times, but not historic in the regions affected. Five or more cut-offs are now threatened. We are sure that the cut-offs of quite recent times exceed 30 in number and bid fair to soon equal 40. These things must be remedied once for all, regardless of cost. We must uot swerve from the proper'course, even if cities must be moved. The. end will justify the first cost, however great It may be. By means ot the movable caisson jetties and such other expedients as have been proved good, or may be deemed suitable, the river most be made to excavate its channel, with as few and as long bends as possible, with such a contour as to insure uniform velocity in all its parts and to a depth sufficient to in sure good drainage to the adjacent lands and preserve them from overflow, even in the greatest floods. , This project may appear of colossal pro portions, and Its cost may seem to be greater than the people can afford to pay. A little re flection, however, will show that the in creased value of tbe lands now occupied in DECEMBER 27, 1890. 200 year?, flowed in nearlv a straight line T? a 1 1 tn c. d nrwrr to arA Vtnf vvifllltl Miant ftmoc the valley, together with the value of the lands which will be made fit for occupation will pay the cost of the improvement several times over. A tract of land larger than all the New England States, with the exception of the State of Maine, or halt as large as the State of New York, and with agricultural possi bilities of the very highest order will be added to the area of the farming lands of the United states. With this increase ot rHllabteTalffasTrlircOtrie corresponding in crease of population,, of manufactures and ol commerce. This it is not possible to ob tain, by the use of levees. We will quote again, "The writer hereof was at Shawnee village, distance about 10 or 12 miles from the point where the cut-off was made, in an air line, and he distinctly felt the shock and heard the roar of the mighty mass of water as the river cut its way through the narrow neck of laud which had hitherto restrained it." This is a good description of a crevasse, where the river breaks through a crumbling levee and inundates thousands of acres of cultivated lands, destroys farms, buildings and implements, and drowns the stock and such of the inhabitants as have not time or means to make their escape. , People cannot live in comfort under such a threat as this. Lands so menaced cannot have a high value proportionate to their productiveness. People will not make good and permanent improvements or work their land under a good system where their lives and property are constantly in danger. No enlightened agriculture is possible or will be practiced in the Lower Mississippi bottom lands until the river bed is lowered and such things are rendered forever im possible. It is the opinion of engineers and geo graphers that the Mississippi river has meandered over the entire surface of the flat lands between Cairo and the Gulf.. These lands are in some places 80 miles wide, in some as narrow as 20. What-the river has done it is doing its best to do again. The time occupied is long, measured by the memory of an individual, but very short if measured by historical epochs. The following selection of maps repro duced from the report , of the Mississippi Biver Commission will give some idea of the Continued on Tenth Page. oS, & V"t ww "' t &w I " j ?-AJ iw- ! -"'' "YA A", "7 .' I y .mi-id ik shot int c ian(e i w?;i. In Ihe :hann ! ol t ie V " Jt2l MISSI SIPP RIVER -A? and ii srrotrlo iof lai it " S" i ;ineeli28 7 ilfeplW '0H r,.. A J n tfv 1 tw 't tu m f ay 1 wz ' ' ' ' ' ' PREACHING EEF0BMS . .i .I,. Local Ministers Object to Giving Ont Free Advertising BY ANNOUNCING ENTERTAINMENTS It Eequires Too Much Time and Diverts the Hind From the Sermon. PLANS ADOPTED IN OTHER CITIES The pastors of some of the largest churches in Pittsburg have recently abolished the custom of making announcements trom the pulpit on Sunday of entertainments, fes tivals etc. Other ministers who preside over congre gations equally large, continue to read nearly all announcements that come to tbem from either secular or church sources. Among the laity of the religious people of Pittsburg and Allegheny this as aroused a controversy as to what is church etiquette on tbe subject. Some interesting points are brought out on both sides of the question by interviews had with leading clergymen. On last Sunday Eev. W. H. Pearce, D. D., of the Butler Street M. E. Church, Law renceville, in a little statement before the congregation, discouraged the practice. For his flock he prints a miniature newspaper called the Church Ttdingt, and into this he crowds all the announcements possible. It is only monthly, however, and he told the congregation it would be an excellent thing to print a slip of paper, or card, for every Sunday, bearing all acceptable announce ments. He said that all the principal churches in the country are ceasing to be the means ot free advertising. Bev. Dr. Pearce, when interviewed, gave bis views more in detail. Said he: VIEWS OJT, KEV. DE. TEAECE. "A preacher in Baltimore not long since told his congregation that if there was any time left after making the usual pulpit an nouncements he would preach a sermon. I think he strucK the keynote of the objection to this once popular church custom. To ask a pastor to make a long string of announce ments, many of which he is expected to amplify with complimentary remarks, is to hamper him. It takes his mind, to a greater or lesser extent, off the line ot thought to which be wishes to confine himself for the efletiveness of his discourse. To leave the pastor free to devote himself exclusively to making the devotional exercises and the sermon a success, some other plan should be contrived for the announcement of social events. This matter of announcements has grown to large proportions. The number of our church so cieties has multiplied of late years, and their gatherings for social and religious purposes are numerous. But, in addition to these, a minister receives all sorts of secular announcements. They are about lectures, and the like. "The neighboring churches send in re quests to announce tneir fairs, festivals and bazaars. If you announce one you must open wide the way and announce all. They are usually pay entertainments, so that an announcement is equivalent to a free adver tisement I reject a great many of these, and I try to limit all announcements to tbe societies connected with our own church, or to some outside cause in which the public generally is interested, such as the Y. M. C. A. work, when it does not conflict with dates for meetings in my own church. THE -WEEKLY BUIAETET PLAN. "A couple of years ago I tried the week ly bulletin plan, and itis eminently success ful where -come provision is. made for the cost of printing it When that plan is adopted all notices should be in by Satur day morning so they may be printed. That reminds me of another evil of the pres ent system. Probably two-thirds of the announcements in every church are placed on the pulpit Sabbath morning, or carried to him by the ushers during serv ice. He has no time to determine their merit, and runs the risk of thus hurriedly announcing something that, had he time to look into, he would reject as questionable." Bev. Dr. Purvis, of theFirstPresbvteriau Church, said: "I am opposed to using the pulpit for advertising purposes. The news papers are for that. I guard, very strictly all the announcements made in my church. I receive dozens of notices weekly of lectures, concerts, fairs, bazaars and social entertainments which I promptly reject. It would consume valuable time in the pulpit to read them and fulfill no useful object Now and then I have to make an exception to this rnle, where something is of such common interest to the community as to demand its recognition. These may be of a pitriotio or charitable character. Bat as a usual thing I refuse to announce any pay entertainments. Such requests are usually accompanied by a couple of admission tickets. These I throw into the waste basket You remember the Newsboys House Asso ciation gave a dinner or festival in the chapel of my church. I am connected with the association, yet I, did not announce the affair from the pulpit." STANDS THE ANNOYANCE. Eev. Dr. Cowan, of the Third Presbyter ian Church, said: "Oh, I announce pretty much all that comes to me. True, it is annoying sometimes to find a lot of announcements heaped up on the pulpit Sabbath morning, but usually they all pertain to events out 01 which some good may come. It does not take me very long to read them. Those I know nothing about, I simply read. Those 1 am familiar with or which are connected with our own church, I olten emphasize with some remarks. You see there is a way of boiling down an nouncements so that they will not taKe up much time. Yon can't suppress entertain ments by refusing to announce them any more than you can muzzle the press.-The age for that has gone by. The free ticket nuisance does not bother me. They are usually sent as a compliment to the pastor and not believing that he actually will care to use them; I prefer my church to be sisterly, and for that reason I announce nearly all the entertainments of neighbor ing churches when they are sent me. It en courages friendship." Bev. T. J. Leak, D. D of North Avenue M. E. Church, said: "I make an nouncements freely, though I try to dis criminate between them. Although I have sometimes been embarrassed in the pulpit by the large number of .notices that find their way there, and the wordy recommen dation some of them ask at my lips, I always try" to read them all. IT TAKES UP TIME. "I prerer to err on the generous side. It is true this often does take up considerable time, bnt audiences are for the time inter ested in hearing them. If there are many they can't rememberall,-so no harm is done. I do reject announcements which conflict with the dates of religious meetings in my own church. On this score I have rejected Y. M. C. A. announcements sometimes." In all the above "churches the reading of announcements takes np from 5 to 15 min utes each service, except in the First Pres byterian, where Dr. Purvis disposes of them in less than two minutes. At Emory M. E. Cburcb, in the East, Bev. Dr. Wilson has the printed slip plan. In a church at Scranton the clergyman is relieved of making announcements. An official member of the church makes the announcements. At Akron, O., Lewis Miller's celebrated M. E. Church has a bulletin board in the vestibule, over which, these words are written: "no secular a nouncements made in this church." mw P"Alr lire In the magnificent dining-room of the wealthy banker's residence sat the host and a large number of gnests, feasting. The dishes were excellent, the wine delicious, and conversation was naturally brisk and animated. Discussion was on the topic of capital punishment whether it was more befitting humanity to inflict ihe sentence of death or imprisonment for life. As there were lawyers, physicians, bankers, journal ists, in fact, representatives of most of the casses of society present, the respective opinions were widely different "I cannot agree with him," said the host to one of his guests, who declared the death sentence as cruel, and wholly unfit for our cultivated age and Christain government "I certainly have no experience in either, bnt if a man may judge by opinion, I should call death more deirable, morally and sensibly preferable to the slow killing of life-long imprisonment" "I think both are equally cruel. In both cases the law takes something that, once taken, can never be restored again the life of a human being; and, whether it is literal or moral death, in both cases the same result and tbe same cruelty." "Surely you will not say that the-law should let criminals go free? How will you protect the innocent if you do not remove the guilty, and how will you prevent crime if yon do not punish it when detected?" "The question was on the cruelty and not on the necessity, which is quite a different point I think the question has to remain an open one, because it depends on individ ual feeling. There are men who had rather die at once than give up their liberty for ever so short a time, and there are some who could live in chains and yet cling to life." "I, for one," said a young lawyer, not yet 25 years of age, "prefer life to death in any circumstances. If I should be compelled to choose between the two punishments,, I wonld assuredly try the imprisonment Life, however dreary, is better than death." "Yon speak as youth and inex perience generally do, and will, no doubt, speak differently soon," said the banker; "I would willingly lay a wager of two millions that, after only five years of. solitary imprisonment, yon would come to look on death as a kind liberator and be sorry for not having chosen him in time." "And I am quite certain I would not," said tbe young man; "where there is life there is hope also, and if your proposition was meant in earnest, I shall take your wager, that I shall stand npt onry'five, but mteen years 01 single imprisonment, ana come out and enjoy life and you millions afterward." "I accept I'll stake two millions, you your life, or, what I believe the same, your liberty for fifteen years. But I tell yon young man, think twice beiore you ventnrel You know it is easy for me to lose two millions. I hazard as much or more every day in busi ness. But it is a different thing with you. You hazard the best years of your life with the certainty of loss. You cannot stand it You will suffer, perhaps, for a year or two, perhaps 3 little longer, and then will beglad to escape and forfeit tbe wager. You must consider, also, that voluntary imprisonment is harder than that which is compulsory, and the knowledge that von are free to go at wilt must be an eternal torment" "Well, I think differently, and stick to tbe bet, if you are not afraid to hold to it." All interfered, or tried ta do so, but in vain, and this wild" wager was concluded and made into a contract, witnessed by all pres ent. On the following day, according to this contract, tho young lawyer took up his abode in a side wing of the banker's palace. In this side wing he was to remain for 15 years without ever crossing its threshold. He would receive no visitors, no letters. He would see no human being, hear no hu man voice, speak to no one, never read a newspaper. He should be allowed to play on one instrument, should get books to read, write letters; and receive wine, cigars in tact, everytning that was necessary to his personal comfort He should not see his attendants, but he could, when necessary, communicate his wishes to them by writing and putting the paper out through a little window in the door, tbrongb which he would also get his meals. The stipulations were minutely clear, and as this was noon Of November 14, 1870, he must stay in his prison until November 14, ,1885, at noon. If he should leave two minutes be fore his time expired, he should forfeit the wager and have do claim whatever. The door was locked, seals put on tbe ontside, and the imprisonment began. During tbe hrst year, the prisoner was in cessantly writing letters, and the sonnd of the piano was heard night and day. He seemed to suffer very much from loneliness and tedium, and gave up wine and cigars, because, as he wrote, the former created de sires; and desires are the prisoner's heaviest torment, while the latter spoiled the air in the room. He wanted only lively books, euch as comedies, fantastical love stories and such worEs. During the second year the piano was. mute, and the prisoner asked for Shakes peare and Byron, tin the third, he gave himself to the study of Boman law and na tional economy. In tbe fourth year, he asked for Shakespeare and Byron again, and also for Homer, Voltaire and Goethe. In the fifth, the piano sounded again, and the prisoner asked for wine. Those who watched him through the little window no ticed that, in this year, he resigned himself almost entirely to idleness. He ate, drank, yawned, and was often heard angrily talk ing to himself, and even weeping. Books he did not want, and sometimes he goj up i PAGES 9 TO 12. at night, wrote something, and (ore it np again; and more than once they heard pain ful sobbing. In the sixth year, he began with the study of languages, philosophy, his tory, and continued so for four years, during which time he read more than 600 volumes. At the end of this time, the banker re ceived the following letter from his prisoner: My Dear. Keeper I write this letter in six different lanena:es; show It to experts, -and if they find no fault In it, giro me a sign by firing a pistol in the garden. I will know then that my studies have not been in vain, and my soul shall take delizhtiDthe thought that the genlns of so many centuries and so many conn tries is known and understood by me. Oh! if you conld share the happiness I f eel! The banker did as the prisoner wished. He showed the letters, and,as they were per fect, he went into tbe garden' and fired twice. After the tenth year, the prisoner became dull again. He gave up reading, with the exception of one book, the Bible. For a whole year he read that one volume, and, after that, ha began church history and other reli gious books. In the last two years he was 3gain continually asking for books, bnt bis reading was irregular. Now be would ask for some scientific work, and then again for poetry. Then he would send ont a list com bining works on philosophy, chemistry, medicine and anatomical science. It seemed as if be would fight dullness as a drowning man the waves, and the last books be read were Tolstoi's "Beligious Confessions" and Cervante's "Don Quixote." " i "" The banker was feverishly pacing the polished fbor of his private room. He was no longer tbe young, dar ing man who had held out that evil bet to the young lawyer. The last 15 years had left their marks on him, outside and in. His hazardous speculations bad, of late, become less happy than before; in fact, of the many millions he once possessed, there was hardly more than the two he bad to give up to-morrow at noon to his victorious prisoner. This was the night of the 14th of November, 1885, and to-morrow at noon the prisoner will de mand his liberty and two millions. Ob, what a fool he, the backer, had been! Why, that man was hardly 40 yetl He would, come out a millionaire, wonld enjoy life and wealth, marry, have a wile and children, become famous, gain a high position, while he, the banker, would be left a beggar, look ing with envy on this man's happiness. Yes, and smile and be thankful, if this creature of his will should sav: "You I have to thank for the foundation of my fortunejlet me show you my gratitude by helping you as mnch as possible!" Not he could stand anything bnt that; and yet, what was he to do? He had to give up the money without delay, without question, and there was noth ing to prevent his rnin. There were bnt two ways for him. A resolute jump from the precipice he stood on, or, in plain language, a ball through his heart, and there would be an end of everythintr.-'or he must look forward to bankruptcy and dis grace. Holdl yes there was a third that man could die! w ny did he not die before? Why should he, the once penniless nobody, live to rob him of bis wealth and position, when they were more to him than life itself? Yes, he must he shall die! At first a thrill of horror went through the breast of the banker, as1 he contemplated this fear ful conception,yet it came again andagain;it shaped itself into thought, it worked into a terrible determination, to be carried out this night at once! It was 3 o'clock. Everybody in the house, except the master, was asleep. He unlocked his fireproof sale and took out tbe key which had not been used for 15 years tbe key to the prisoner's room. He care fully put on his overcoat, and slowlv and ' noiselessly le'ftthe house, and let himself out into the garden. The night was chill, the rain was dripping, and it was so dark that it was only by a general knowledge of the locality that he conld find his way to the side wing. At the onter door, he) called twice for the porter in charge, but received no answer;, evidently tbe man had retired somewhere, into the kitchen or the house, and had fallen asleep. "Now, if I only have courage enough to carry it through, suspicion will, in the first place, fall on the keeper in charge," the banker thought, as he carefully felt bis Way to the stairs, and, ascending, opened the door which led into the corridor. Here he lighted a match and looked around. Nobody was there. A bed stood there, bnt withont pil lows; in a corner was an iron stove, and, on aboard, there stood among old books an enormous stuffed eagle. The seals on tho prisoner s door were untouched yet, and at the flames of the match died away, tha banker, shaken by agitation and fluttering of the heart, drew close to the little window and looked into the room. There was a feeble lamp light within, and the prisoner sat at the table, with his back against the door and seemingly absorbed in deep study. On the table, the chairs, and tbe carpets, lay a heap of open books. About five minntes passed without a single move ment a solitary, life had evidently taught the prisoner quietude. The banker tapped twice on the window with his finger, bnt the . man seemed to take no notice of it at an v rate, he did not turn. Slowly the banker ripped on the seats ana piacea tne Key la the keyhole. The rusty lock gave a harsh click, and the banker thought that, u noon as the door wonld be opened, the uris- : oner-would jump up, and cry ont How- ever, nothing of the kind happened, and as"; tbe banker stepped in, tne man sat there, immovable as before. "The man," I have said; bnt thai human being who sat there at that1 table hardly reseraoiea man la fact, seemed hardly to belong to mankind 1b ,J general. A skeleton it was.witn a long, tfim back, skin of waxen, almost ashy, palwtMjj ' y' ( ' Qrx & i -1: i a 1 r -. I v r . rj;-Jll
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers