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,
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iw- !
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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
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ilfeplW '0H r,.. A J
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' ' ' ' ' '
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
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