7 "
HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher. NIL DESPEKANDUM. Two Dollars per Annum.
VOL VL : ' RIDGWAY, ELICCQUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 187G. NO. 44.
THE, STEWARDESS' STORY.
A CHJUSTMAb STORY.
It was Christmas eve. I was spend
g it not in the sweet circle round the
ome Ureeide, but in the saloon of a
Southward bound steamer, where there
was noming to remind one ol the bless
ed season of peace and good will save a
solitary cross of evergreen which one
assenger had fastened over her state-
oom. door. It was a wild night. We
were lust off Cane Hattoras. and lh
vessel was rolling like a plaything in
the hands of the btorruy tea. A violent
snowstorm was rngiiig, and on deck the
scene was dreary and arctic. Snow and
ice covered everything, and the muffled
forms of the Bailors passing to and fro
tinder the glare of the lanterns appeared
like the weird ghosts of dead arctio voy
agers. I was glad to seek the warm
saloon and gather myself into a corner
oi a lounge. To watch the movements
or th passengers was amusement
enough, ana served to prevent me from
thinking too tenderly of the home circle
where I wa3 missed frt m t ;e festivities
of Guristmns eve.
The usnal crowd was collected which
one always sees on a steamer Southward
bound in the winter time. Here around
a table were gathered a group of men.
probably sugar merchants, striving, in
spite ol the motion of the shin, to play
a quiet game of euchre. Stretched on
the sofas were ladies in all the stages of
seasickness. A few children not yet
put to bed were crouching on the floor
with their nurses, and in a warm corner
near the heater lay a poor consumptive
girl, carefully watched over by her
mother and brother. She was going to
die under the orange trees. Only the
old story repeated over and over again
every winter.
Moving round among all those who
were sick was the trim, plump figure of
llie old stewardess, foho was carrying
bowls of broth, tumblers of chopped
ice, and all those little delicacies so
welcome to a sufferer from seasickness.
The quiet, placid fate of the old lady
interested me, and in thoso few days al
ready passed since leaving port we had
become firm friends.' With the quick
instinct of a woman who had had to do
with all kinds of people, she felt that I
liked her company, and she ha J already
formed tho habit of coming for a qnet
chat with me tho last thing at night
i after all ner seasick charges wore safely
tacked in their berths and her duties for
the day over.
i I was impatient to-night for her
leisure hour to arrive, ios I saw a strange
imdomoiu m t.ne old laay n face, and
felt sure that the nonson was aruumngrj
old memories in her heartwhich ver-
haps I could induce her to tell me. So
when at last 6he came and sat down on
line end of the lounge whero I was ly
Jmg, I said, trying to lead tho conversa
tion to what I felt was uppermost in her
Iniind : " It's a rough night for Christ
Imas eve."
"Yes, ma'am," she replied, smooth
ing the folds of the kerchief across her
breast; " but I've seen many a rougher
night at sea in my day, and" thought-,
fully " sadder Christmas eves, too." i
" Have you r-peut many years on t
ocean ?" I esked. t
"Yes, ma'am, but not iu this wav I
used to have my own little cabin iy lay
husband's el ip a cozy little place,
where I used to be always at 1 side,
and never felt afraid of sto1 Br
wind."
Tell me about it," I sid "Surely
a life like yours has ninch o.lute'est n
1 ""Well, ma'am. I've bethinking it
all over to-tight, and if y4 don't mind,
t-ii i.ii .i..iiinoB n nil.vi'
J. 11 ICI1 J'UU -O.UC VI UlPfB""
rife Has to pass tliroiy ' uuu "ow "
eart gets wrutig very sometimes.
" i ii.rtn't much knius" "ose
things when I marrisl Charlie, for I
' was a slip of a girl tf and knew no
more of the sea tb oue learns in
watching the vessel,"?1,1 out of and into
a quiet land bound flrVor' . So when
Charlie asked me4 D0 Iw wife and go
to sea with him-9r although Le was
young, he had a yP of his own I .aid
yes with all m- fceart, for 1 loved tho
honest hearted jF'or ma'am, ever since
we were little $JLea, together. I only
thought then" 1 the strange sunny
lands Chailiad tola me abont, and to
go to see t!1 witu l,im was to take a
trip to parfse ol' we ere mar
ried just for? I16 to stiu t on a
irnnm i frazil. I mind me so well
of that 8e ma'am, just as if it all j
' it- , t . .... 'It 7 I -.t
xiim,i hen we started, and right here
1 ras we had a terrible gale. I
l ightened when the wind howled
filled through tho rigging, and
wished myself back in tho old
w l.-itli mnHiut y.- T 1... ,3 .1
then, God bless her memory 1"
old lady's voice broke, and she
1 to wipe away the tears which
vn her cheeks.
t when the wind blew the wild
arlie only laughed, and at last I
ryself to sleep in his arms like a
tened child.
And when we oame down into the
11 tropio seas I was so happy watch-
i scuooiM ot nying usn and the
floating fields of gulf weed: and
.ght, when the sea was shinim? and
i ship seemed passing throneh a lake
silver, all ray dreams of tiaradise were
alized.
"Then came the foreigu land, with
isnge, swarthy faces, and words I
L n't know, and odd fruits, and oil
ujaer oi queer inings. linariio was
ver tired of bringing me new and cn-
trinnets, and I made iny little
fancy as a Chinese toyshop.
n we came nome from that voy-
ui.no wiuuio wuh uorn. Due
blue eyed baby, and
so amious for her
rrsuaded me to Rtav f. h
mother, and he went on t.hn ht
age alone.
'Itutl couldn't hear it-
une home again, I begged him to let
iego back to mv home in th littu
3
1
' vbin. He had found it desolate enough
Without me, so he 6aid, and we went
again together.
' "This voyage we lav along time in
the Brasiliau port, and before we sailed
for home, another baby was in my
arms. We called her Pepita, after our
dear old ship, and it was hard to say
which the sailors petted the most, the
fcbip or the baby.
"All went well with ns until we were
within three days' shil of New York, and
then a terrible sloi a ckme on. It was
in the winter, ur.d f.n eight long days
we tossed at the mercy of the tempest.
It was an awful time, ma'am. Charlie
didn't laugh then; and although he
tried to speak cheerful words, I could
see he was almost wild with anxiety. I'll
never forget that time, when I sat day
and night on the cabin ft or, with Min
nie clinging to my dress and poor little
Pepita in my arms, listening to the
waves crashing against the ship as if
every moment mu . t be our last. The
sailors would come down now and then
for a drop of hot coffee and to warm
their frozen fingers, for everything on
deck was covere 1 with ice. They hadn't
the heart, poor fellows, to speak to the
children, and I saw more than one tear
on their rough cheeks when they looked
at them, and Pepita would smile and
stretch out her little hands in her nn
conscious baby way.
" But Ood saved us after all. In the
evening of the eighth day the wind
changed, and we drifted into calmer
waters. If it hadn't been for the east
wind blowing, we might just as well
have drifted the other way, for the
ship was almost helpless. It was about
two in the morning when Choi lie rushed
into the cabin and almost carried me in
his arms to the door. There I saw,
gleaming through the fog, two great
chining lights. They were like angels'
eyes looking from heaven to me. I've
passod those Highland lights many a
time since, ma'am. I've seen them in
soft summer evenings and clear spring
mornings, but I never see them without
my whole heart going out in thanksgiv
ing and praise. No one to whom they
have not shone as they did to me that
night can know what they really mean,
standing there on the headland and
pointing to heaven.
" Well, wo saw the lights from other
vessels all around us, and at daybreak a
tug was alongside taking our forlorn,
nearly wrecked ship up the harbor, and
before night I laid Pepita in my moth
er's arms.
" After that, Charlie wouldn't hear to
my going to sea again. He said he conld
bear anything if the children were not
suffering too; so, for the sake of my
little ones, I consented to stay behind.
Charlie bought a little cottage on the
Jersey coast, where I could overlook
the tea, and I settled down quietly to
take care of the children whilo he went
his voyages.
"He kept on going to Brazil and
back for a long time. Twice I left the
children wh motIwr for he hat
to ifin tih as" in the cottage and went
with hi n,. for it hurt me to uass all mv
life awiy from Charlie's side. So every
thing vent well with us. We owned onr
cottage and a bit of a garden, where
mother and Minnie ustd to pass long
summer days weeding and wateriusr and
i tending the beds of poppies and mari
golds and asters old fashioned flowers
fOcIi as mother loved. Pepiti was her
father's own girl. She loved the sea,
and would leave Minnie to take care of
the garden, and go and sit for hours on
tho beach watching the waves tumble in
among the stones and beat against the
foot of the cliff. When Charlie came
home she was alwavs the first to see
him far down the road, and I'll never
forget how her pretty face used to look
as she woul 1 come dancing up the gar
den path pulling him with bnth her
hands, and he laughing anil calling her
ail manner of tender names.
"Those wero snuuy days, ma'am,
and I'm sure there never was a happier
family than the one gathered round our
little tablo while Charlie was ut home.
" o had saved a good bit of money,
too, for Charlio wasn't like Eonio sail
ors, who throw everything about when
they are on shore. Every penny we
could spare he laid by for tho little
girls; for they were always little girls to
him, and always will be.
" But our day oi ansiety was to come.
An opportunity was offered Charlio to
go on a long voyage to the East Indies.
The chance, es wo looked at it, was too
good to be thrown awav: so he sold the
Pepita, which was getting to be an old
ship, aud went off as half owner of an
other bark, the Arago. It was hard to
let him go for so long a time. South
America seemed like home, but the
East Indies was an nnknown world. Ho
was so full of hope that he tried to go
off in his usual jolly way, kissing Min
nie and telling her she would be a little
woman when ho came back sho was
fourteen then and promising Pepita no
end oi curious things from the foreign
lands; but there was a great heaviness
ia my heart, and when he came and put
uis arm around me and said : ' Jieep up
your courage, Moggie; I'll soon bo
baek,' I coulun t look at him. I hid mv
l.. 1 T I 1 . ...
lacu in wy uauus ana sooDea UKe a
baby.
"After he was gone we settled back
into the old ways; the children went to
school, ond mother and I kept the house
tidy. But I was uneasy; I didn't dare
to say anything to trouble the girls,
but I never lay down at night without
dreaming of shipwreck, and when the
time came round when we could expect
news from Charlie, it seemed as if my
heart would burst with anxiety. The
news never came. Day after day we
wait d, and little by little a sad silence
settled down on our cottage. When
word would oome of the arrival of ships
which sailed long after Charlie's did, we
would look in each other's faces and
never speak a word, but each knew what
torrow was in the other's heart Only
little Pepita never gave up. My father
will come back; my father will come
back, she used to say, until I couldn't
bear to hear her, because I couldn't be
lieve it; and when she used to stand for
hours, sLading her eyes with her hand
and gazing off over the water, it drove
me almost wild, because I knew what
she was watching for.
" A summer and winter and another
summer had passed since Charlie went
away, and when Christmas came round
again I laid my poor mother in the
churchyard, and oame back alone with
my children to the cottage.
'How I got through the next year,
ma am, I can never tell. As I lookback
it appears like an awfnl dream, but I do
remember the Christmas eve, the third
without Charlie. Minnie, Pepita and I
sat huddled round the fire talking in low
tones about our lost; for we could bear
now to speak of him sometimes, and it
soothed mo to hear the children talk and
to see how much they loved him. Pepita
tried that night to sing one of the sailor
Bongs he had taught her, but she
ooulJn't do that. Her voice broke
down, and we couldn't one of ui speak
another word.
"Itwai a sad Christmas eve, ma'am
the first one when all hope had really
gone out, and when I lay down to sleep
that night I felt that, except I must live
for the children's sake, it would be such
a blessing to die.
" Christmas morning was very clear,
aud I remember how the sunlight
danced in onr little kitchen. It fell
like a blessing on Minnie's pretty hair,
making it sparkle like gold, and reflect
ed on the picture of Charlie's ship not
the lost one, but the dear old Pepita
which hung on the wall.
"The table was spread, and we sat
down to our sad repast. Minnie folded
her hands to say grace, when oh,
ma'am, I can hardly tell you about it,
even after all these years Pepita
screamed like one mad with joy. I
sptnng to my feet. I couldn't toll what
had happened to me. I saw looking in
at the window Charlie Charlie alive
and well !
" I don't know how it all was; I know
I couldn't move. I saw as in a dream
Charlie in tho room and Pepita 's arms
around his neck; then I fell on his
shoulder like one dead.
"There are no words to tell you,
ma'am, of the joy and happiness we
knew in onr little cottage that Christ
mas day. We couldn't realize it our
selves. I didn't dare to take my eyes
from Ch arlie for a moment, lest I should
look back and find him gone. Minnio
and Pepita both sat clinging to him.
He had a long story to tell us of ship
wreck upon shipwreck, of long waiting
upon lonely islands, watching month
alter month for sails which seemed
nover to come adventures through
which many a poor sailor has passed,
and from which many a one has never
como back to tell the story as Charlie
did.
"That night, sitting by the fire after
the ohildren had left ns alone, I made
Charlie promise me that he would never
leave me again, but would give np the
sea and stay with us in the cottage.
" I didn't realize till long afterward
how hard it had been for him to promise
me that. I had come to have such a
terror of the sea that I couldn't realize
how a sailor's heart delighted in it.
When years had passed, and Minnie
and Pepita had both married and left
us alone, I began to feel how hungry
CHroillu nur -tho llfo to had lJVed BO
' much. Ho nsod to spend his time wan
dering about the docks and going on
board the ships in from foreign ports ;
and sometimes he would sit on the cliff
for hours with his spyglass, watching
the passing vessels, and more than onco
I heard him sigh as if his heart was
bursting ; but I would never listen
when he spoke of going to sea again,
until at last his health began to fail,
and it seemed there wasnotliing for him
but to return to his old life or die. But
I couldn't bear to let him go al ine, and
he couldn't bear to leave me behind.
We were both too old to begin life over
in the long trading voyages ; and as
Charlie had the offer of tho place of first
mate on this ship the captain is an old
friend of bis, ma'am I got the situation
ajs stewardess, and for three years Char
lie and I hive been traveling baek and
forth together, and wo will continue to
do it as long as God gives us health and
strength to bear the journey."
Tho old lady stopped ard looked
hesitatingly at me and at some other
passengers who had gathered near to
listen, as if she feared we were wearied
iy ner long family history.
I hastened to reassure her by tbanks
for the pleasant way she had entertained
us during the long Christmas eve at sea.
"And so Charlie is really on board
with you V I said.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," she replied, smil
ing. "I would not be here without
him. Did you mind the man who was
speaking to me at the cabin door to
night the tall, fetout man witn a gray
beard 1 Yes, you saw him, did you ?
That was Charlie."
AViuter Furs aud Their Trice.
The most splendid and costly furs are
Russian sable, sea otter and black and
silver fox. The Russian sable is the
finest of all the martens, and, since it is
not very prolific, its skins are costly.
tue uesc and uarKest are obtained in
Yakootek, Eumtschatka and Russian
Lapland.
A muff of " crown Russian sable " is
now worth iu New York from $1,100
down to $300. Sets (by which is meant
a muff and boa) of sables not of the very
highest quality cost $500 to 8550. Sets
of sea otter are valued at $150 to $250,
and sets of black and silver fox at $100
to $250. These high priced furs are
bought only by the rich, and are not
generally fashionable.
A chinchilla muff and a boa cost from
Sou to
New York and Canada minks are the
which once were sold for $125 to $150,
can now be bought for $100. The fur
of the skunk, described by trade as the
Alaska sable and suddenly popularized
a few years ago, is still in fashion aud
sells at from $20 to $25 the set.
The most beautiful sealskin 6aoks
(though perhaps not tho most durable),
made of " pup Shetland' " skins, sell
for $300. The best Alaska sacks bring
$125 to $250. Seal sicks, American
dyed, can be bonght for $80, $90 and
$100.
Sicilienne sacks and dolmans are lined
with the skins of Siberian squirrels,
whose beautiful gray backs and lighter
colored bellies make a pretty shifting
jvintrfuifc. Rnp.li a1ra with Kwa. r.t
squirrel edging, are set off by fanoy oxi
dized clasps, and are fixed at $125 to
$160.
A vnnncr man in 11ni1iimt rinnn
O -q ,', WUU
pulled back so hard, when his oompan-
mni linnlal him nn ij Vm V.aw 4a JhJ.X
that one of his arms was broken. The
truth of the story ia vouched for by the
jjriugepon uawtipapers.
THE WOUST OF CALAMITIES.
Threfl Hundred Pieniara Ncfkm llarard
Altve-The Itorrara at lh Barnlna ml
the llrMklrn Thcntrr.
By the fire in the Brooklyn Theater
the sacrifice of life was terrible. Three
hundred people miserably perished in
the smoke and flames. The large ma
jority of them wore young men and
boys; only a few women and children
suffered death so far as known. Most
of those lost wereocenpants of the gal
lery, or third tier of the theater. In de
scending the stairway they were met on
the second landing or second tier of the
theater by a blinding and suffocating
volume of smoke, and fell in heaps on
the stairway. This was broken down
under their accumulated weight, and
they were precipitated upon the lobby
on the first floor of the building. The
flooring of the lobby in turn gave way,
and the entire body of men thus en
trapped by the smoke in their pathway
to the street, strangled and blinded, fell
victims to the flames. Of those who oc
cupied the dress circle (ground floor)
and the family circle (second tier), only
a few appear to have been lost. Two
actors were burned alive, three scene
shifters and other assistants were seri
ously if not fatally injured, and several
supernumeraries on duty behind the
scenes perished. The Brooklyn morgue
was early overtaxed in affording space
for the corpses, and one of the unoccu
pied market places was converted into a
temporary morgue. The scenes at both
these places were heartrending; at the
place of the disaster itself the excitement
was intense. i
The play at the theater was the " Two
Orphans," presented by the Union
Square Theater company, of New York,
and fully twelve hundred peoplo had
gathered to witness it. The last act was
being played, when the fire was discov
ered, and the sceno of excitement among
actors first, and through them given to
the audience was terrible. In less than
a minute tho passages were choked up,
the theater was filled with shouts of
maddened men and the piteous and fran
tic screams ot women. Men forgot that
they were trampling on their fellows,
and, indifferent to all but their own
safety, sorambled upward and outward.
Husband became separated from wife
or child and friend from friend. The
parquet was quickly emptied of all save
those few who must have been trampled
down and suffocated near the lobby.
The fire had spread with astonishing
rapidity from the prosoenium to the
eiling of the dome, .and the black
smoke, drawn by a draft like a steady
wind, rolled in npon the galleries and
added another terror to the gasping men
and women who, still free from the jam
on the stairway, dropped to the parquet
floor to perish in the heat and smoke.
Xiiero was great peri;"tmd loss oi life on
the lobby stairs leading to the dress cir
cle. The stream of people flowed on
swiftly, crushing some, carrying others
out on shoulders from the dress circle.
until a stout lady caught her foot at the
landing in the stair rail and fell. The
vay was blocked. Crushed and maimed
men wero piled one above the other.
Three policemen, one of them stripping
off his coat, extricated the lady and
opened the way again. Thoso who
could extricate themselves ran over a
mass of prostrate beings to the door.
At about three o'clock in the morning
the fire had been nearly extinguished,
and the major part of the throng of
sightseers had gone to their homes,
ignorant cf the fatal oonsequences of
the conflagration.
The flames had subsided sufficiently to
permit the firemen to make an investi
gation near the main entrance of the
theater. Chief Nevins passed over the
trembling floor of the hallway toward
the inner doorway. Inside the doors
the flooring had fallen in, leaving a deep
pit of tire and flame, from which a dense
smoke and steam ascended. Here a
sickening spectacle met his horrified
gaze. Close up to the flaming furnace,
aud clinging to the splintered verge of
the demolished flooring, was tho body of
a woman, burned to a crisp. Her hands
clapped the framework of the door in a
desperate 'grasp. She had fought hard
for life. Evidently she would have es
caped had not the flooring given way
beneath her. All the clothing wa3 burn
ed off, and the features were so black
ened that she vms unrecognizable, and
the body was removed to the morgue,
where it awaits identification.
At four o'clock in the morning the
flames were put out, and the heap of
debris was black and cold. From the
vestibule platform the firemen saw a
most horrible sreotacle. The mound
that had at first appeared to be simply
a heap of ashes proved to be almost
wholly composed" of human bodies.
Headu, arms, legs, shoulders, shoes,
and here and there entire human re
mains protruded through the; surface
of the mound. Policemen and firemen
hesitated for a moment before leaping
down upon the sickening heap. An in
clined plane of plain deal boards was
hastily constructed to reach from the
teuder vestibule platform to the pit, and
upon this a ladder was rested. Upon
the ladder tho men went to and fro.
Upon the plane, coffins were hauled up
and down. At first the firemen lifted
the bodies from the debris, after having
carefully dug around them and loosened
them, and ten minutes was consumed in
exbauming each body. But as it became
apparent that there were scores and
scores of human remains, and that a
day, and perhaps a night, would end be
fore the last corpse was taken out, less
tender means were used in the opera
tion, and the work assumed a more
earnest and energetic character. In
stead of five men, ten men set at work
among the ruins, while on the vestibule
platform a dozen sturdy firemen manned
the short ropes by which the coffins,
laden with human remains, were drawn
up aud dragged to the sidewalk. All the
bodios were bont into horrid shapes, as
sumed in the struggles of death by suf
focation and by burning. Nine out of
ten of; the corpses had an arm upraised
and bent to shield the fuoo. Something
was missing from every one. This one
lacked a head and a foot, this a ncse, an
ear, or a hand, another its Angers or the
crown of the skull. Very many broken
limbs and protruding bones were found,
and there were gashes in the upturned
faces or fractures in the smooth burned
skulls, so that each corpse aa it was
dragged into the light was a new revels,.
tion of ghastliness. A few lusty pulls
disengaged each body. lVo or three
men seized its stiffened limbs and
pressed them into a coffin, a pair of
sharp pointed tongs clutched the coflla,
and the firemen overhead dragged it
even with tbe street, where a cloth was
thrown over tho coffin, and it was
dragged to the dead wagons, which
kept coming and going all day long.
At nine o'clock in the evening two
hundred and thirty bodies had been
removed from the mins, and seventy
more were in plain sight.
SUFFOCATING BY HCNrnKKS.
Samuel W. Hastings, who had charge
of the upper gallery, testified before the
a A1. TAi.f1 i - 1 ..i.
lire uiurbiiHi; x iiiiuk. mere were nuuui
fonr hundred people there; I lefi Officer
Lott and his son at the gallery door and
went .own stairs with the tickets; I
went out for a moment and then return
ed and then went into the parquet by
the footlights; the audience rose in ex
citement and then I saw fire dropping
from the flies; the aotors first told the
audience to keep their seats, and then to
pass out quietly; I opened the door, so
they could get out, and then went out to
the gallery, but could not get more than
eight or ten steps up the stairs on ac
count of tho smoke; occasionally a per
son came down the stairs, but not over a
dozen or fifteen in all; I could hear cries
for help up tho stairs, but could not
hear what was said ; the lights were all
out, then, and those in the gallery weie
in darkness and enveloped in smoke; the
cries of the people in the gallery stopped
long before I left the stairs; they were
undoubtedly suffocated; I think they
were piled on top of oacu other fifteen
feet high, and weie suffocated before
they could get out; the gallery stairs
were about eight feet wide from top to
bottom, and people could pass down
three abreast with ease; it does not take
more than five or eight minutes to
empty the gallery; there was no hose or
other apparatus iu the gallery for extin
guising fire; there were, I think, three
windows opening on Flood's alley, bat
no stairs or other means of egress in
that direction; there were no fire escapes
on the building that 1 know of; if there
had been other stairs from the gallery
more people could hive got out, but I
think they wonld have been blocked,
especially if there were any jogs, as in
the stairs used; I say again that the
reason the people did not get off the
gallery was because they tumbled on top
of each other, blocked np the passage
way and were suffocated; no wall, floor
or stairs fell while I was there. -
IDENTIFYING TUB DEAD.
As friends and relatives Vent through
the morgue looking for the last re
mains of lost ones, they moved between
the rows of dead examining the charred
clothing and auy other things that might
be recognized ; but when they found
the objects of their search and satisfied
themselves of the correctness of the
identification, their calmness ended.
Outbreaks of horror and grief, following
these recognitions, were so frequent
that at scarcely any time was there a
cessation of outcries lasting many
minutes. Pale men and women went
from body to body in regular order,
peering into what had been faces, lift
ing what remained of clothing, and do
ing tho duty with systematio thorough
ness. Others went here and there
irregularly, now spellbound by what
they saw, and now distracted by sorrow,
so that they made no certain progress,
aud found their dead ones only by
chance. Often a knife, a button, a ring
or a shred of clothing was tho only
thiug by which they could identify the
missing.
End of a Family of BWgautls.
One of the blackest of all crimes is
known as the Bender tragedy of Kansas.
The Bender family was resident in
Montgomery county, Kansas ; the
family consieted of "Old Man-' Ben
der, his wife, his daughter Kate and his
son, a yonng man who is to some con
siderable extent acquitted in tho publio
mind of much that is charged without
distinction to his father, mother and
sister. The crime of the crowd con
sisted of murdering from mercenary
motives, and burying npon their way
side premises not fewer than nine per
sons, all of them travelers, and some of
them citizens of at least local promin
ence. Though a number of sudden dis
appearances had occurred in Mont
gomery county, suspicion had not set
tled on the Benders until after Dr.
York, brother of A. M. York, the ex
poser of ex-Senator Pomeroy, had sud
denly "come up miesing," and when
suspicion had finally fallen upon the
family every member of the same sin.
ultaneously disappeared. Sinoe their
disappearance no trace of them has ever
been found, notwithstanding the most
diligent search and the most intricate
plans and plottings of detective bureaus
the country over. All of this, un il
within a few days, has been accepted as
the essential eubstauoo of what conld be
discovered or explained relative to the
preoedure.
Very lately, however, an unexpected
solution of the matter has been offered,
though as yet it must not be aoeepted
as conclusive. Facts have oome to light
which point very strongly to the sup
position that a vigilance committee went
to the Benders' house, placed them in
their own wagon, drawn by their own
horses, and conveyed them to a soeluded
spot not far off, on the edge of a largo
pond, aud there extorted a full confes
sion from them of all their crimes, down
to the smallest details. After this the
Benders were never beard of, and it is
more than probable that their bodies
were carefully concealed. It will be re
membered that a few days after this a
wagon was discovered near this point,
to which a pair of horses were tied,
which was known to be Bender's prop
erty. This was soon followed by the
announcement that the home of the
Benders had been deserted.
It ia said that Oov. Oiborn was so
retly apprised of all these facts, which
will account for the fact 'that, on the
part of the Kansas authorities, no sys
tematio effort has ever been made to an-
prehend the Benders, andstoriesof their
capture elsewhere have only excited an
incredulous smile at the State capital.
Heaven heln the nnnr: the rinh
yisit their relatives. '
HIS HEART WAS BR0KEX.
Tbe Suicide al a. Caavlet Wbaaa Wife Had
Applied far a Dlvarc.
The Hartford Timet says : The quiet
of the Connecticut Stato prison, at
Wethersfield, was broken one morning
recently by the discovery that one of the
best liked and most exemplary of the
convicts had hanged himself. In the
cell of Johu Lee Powell the officers dis
covered his dead but not entirely cold
body, hanging by a rope that was fas
tened to a spike near the ceiling, that
was mod to fasten up the bed against
the wall in the daytime. One end of
tbe rope had been made into a running
noose, and this was around his neck.
The height of the spike was not suffi
cient to suspend him clear of the' floor
if he stood upright, and he had bent up
his knees to make sure work of it. He
was promptly cut down, but life could
not be restored.
John Lee Powell was in his thirty
ninth year. He came of a good family
in the town of Trumbull, in Fairfield
county, his father having been a memb.r
of the Legislature and a prominent and
esteemed citizen. He lived at Stepney
Depot.
He was said to have been not a bad
man at heart, and was led into the com
mission of the crime for which he was
sentenced (placing a tie across the track
of the Housatonio railroad) by the
bantering wager of some companions,
when iutoxicated. The act resulted in
no accident, but the offense is a serious
one, and the conviction of Powell, on
the twenty -seventh of August, 1875, was
immediately followed by his sentence to
Erison for a term of twenty years. He
ad a wife, ten years yonnger than him
self, and two children; and he fondly
loved his family. During his imprison
ment his wife more than once visited the
prison, and assured him of her fidelity.
Two months ago Powell's father died,
and the news saddened the son in his
lonely imprisonment.
A few weeks ago a legal document, in
the shape of his wife's petition for a di
vorce, came to Powell in prison from the
Fairfield county superior court. This
formal notice, in which the blanks in
the printed form wero filled out with the
names of himself, his wife and his two
children, was wholly unexpected by the
prisoner and utterly overwhelmed him.
He grew daily more and more dejected,
and reaohed a condition which compelled
him to give up work. He bad been a
carriage miker and was an expert work
man; and with the contractors who ob
tained his work in prison he was a fa
vorite, as he was with Warden Hewes
and the officers, none of whom had
ever occasion to use a harsh word to
him.
In his pocket was found the legal
form of the wife's divorce petition, which
had been served on him as a legal for
mality. Between the open printed lines
he had written in a clear hand in pencil
these farewell messages to his wife and
family :
" Oh, my dear wife t Is this the way
you treat your poor Lee? I certainly
can't tell what this is for. I tell yon
truly, for the last time, that I love you
with all my heart. You are too cruel.
I die for you. Good-bye forever.
Good-bye, little Irvie. Poor papa will
never see you again on earth. Good
bye, Charlie, Katie and mother. Don't
thirik me too rash, for I can't live and
have Letitia leave me. Charlie, come
and get me and take me home, and lay
me by the side of my poor father. Tell
father and mother Burr and Henry good
bye for me.
"It seems hard; it is terrible ven
geance she has taken, for what I used to
do I would never do so again. You
look at the bad side. fiTe have had lots
and lots of good times together, and
my hopes have been that we would
again but my hopes you have blasted
forever. For all you have done this, I
love you with all my heart. Whatever
I have written to you, I havo done it
thoughtlessly ; I would not have done it
for all of this world if I had thought
this ever of you, my deav wife. Leti
tia, never think of mo. Don't think
that you ever have done wrong with me,
but enjoy yourself as much as you can.
Good bye.
" As wicked as I have been, I never
could serve you in this way. I thought
it was hard to be shut up here, but that
is nothing to this. You are too cruel.
How many good times we have had to
gether. I always knew your heart was
hard, but I never thought it was as hard
as it is now. You was untrue to me in
the first, and now the last."
How the Main Building was Sold.
" Now," said Mr. Ellis, the auctioneer
who sold the Centennial buildings,
"let us begin with the Main building.
It cost Sl,600,000. Who bids $1,000,
000 1 $753,100? $500,000! $100,000?
$300,C0Jt What is bid i ' Along,
silent pause, but no bid. " What ore we
gokgtodo." At last there came a bid
one ol $-0U,p., from a. J. Dobbins,
who erected the building 4 $200,000 we
have; two-o hun-nndred thou-u-sand
dollars; going at two-o Ah I We
have another bid. What is it I $250,
000 we have; $250,000; going at $250,
000; going, going, going; are you all
done ! $250,000, once; $250,000, twioe;
$250,000, three times. Is there no other
bid t Tarns to Mr. John Welsh, with
an interrogation point in his eye.
Going once; going twice; going
three times gone I" Down went the
hammer aud up stepped Mr. John S.
Mo: ton, who gave the name of the In
ternational Exhibition Company as the
purchaser. This building is therefore
not to be removed, being intended to
contain the proposed Permanent Exhi
bition. The Bible.
A missionary, writing from the island
of Mangoia, South Pacific, reports that
tho island is now a land of Bibles. Not
only the heads of every household are
in possession of a copy, but nearly every
child upon the island has one. He tells
of the case of a poor old native who
was indefatigable iu his endeavors to se
cure a copy for each member of his
household. He brought the missionary
all the money he had, then he tried te
rn ike np the price in ooooanut oil, and
lastly, rather than fall short, he sold the
only ypuD cow be bad to pay for them,
ROMANCE OF A BOOT HEEL.
Aa Old Uallrander'a Thrllllnc HtorTTha
Perlla or Fro la the Track.
While two men, employees of the
Ohio and Mississippi railroad company, -wero
on their way to their work in the
car shops of the company at Aurora,
Ind., their attention was attracted by a
boot heel, freshly torn off, sticking in
the "frog" of tho railroad track, a
short distance from the shops. They
stopped a moment to examine it, and
found that the heel wi.s so securely fast
ened in the "frog" that it required a
smart blow with a crntcb (one of the
men had lost a leg) to remove it. Long
nails protruded from the heel, and all
the evidenco went to ehow that it had
taken a considerable effort to tear it
from the boot. "It appears to mo,"
said one of the men, " that some fellow
has had a narrow escape from beiDg run
down by a traii or else he has been
badly frightened and wrenched his boot
heel off when there was no occasion for
it." "It reminds mo," replied his
companion, in a low tone, "of a little ad
venture that happened to me several
years ago np on the Pan Handle road.
I was then a young man, but it im't
likely that I'll ever forget it," and he
cast a rueful glance at the empty leg of
his pants. " The story is soon told,"
he went on, turning the boot heel over
in his hand as if to find inscribed upon
it a story similar to his own. " I was
walking on the track r.ear Cadiz Junc
tion, in Ohio. It was one dark aud
blustry night in Ftrbruary, and a heavy
snowstorm was prevailing at the time.
The snow and wind beating into my
face was almost sufficient to have blind
ed one had it been broad daylight. I
was walking briskly ulong, not dream
ing of any harm in fact, sir, I was then
returning from a visit to my sweetheart,
who had that evening promised to be my
wife when suddenly I found my foot
fastened between two rails where a side
track joined the main track, just as this
heel was fastened in the frog here at our
feet. At that moment I heard the shrill
whistle of a locomotive, and looking np
tho track I saw, through the blindiug
snow, a light bearing down upon me. I
had passed the depot a few minutes pre- .
vious and had noticed several persons
standing on the platform. The persons
were waiting for a train, and here was
one coming t It was an unusual hour
for a train, and the idea of meeting one
had not occurred to me before, but now
the awful truth flashed upon me. I
made a desperate effort to release my
foot, and the horror of my situation
was increased a hundred fold when I
found that it was seenrely fastened be
tween the rails. The light was so close
that its reflection upon the new fallen
snow blinded me. As a man will in a
like situation, I thought of a thousand
things in an instant. I thought of my
aged parents, of events of my past life,
of m promised bride; and the thought
that I should be torn from her, or what
was worse, to be maimed for life, was
in finitely more dreadful than the thought
of death. But I'll not trouble you with
these painful details. What I supposed
to be the headlight of a locomotive was
blazing right in my face. It was this
leg that was fastened, "he said, swinging
his stump back and forth, " and I just
threwmyself " " Yes, yes," interrupted
his companion, with blanched cheeks,
" you threw yourself to one sido and th
engine severed yovr leg from your
body!"
"Not exactly," returned the story
teller, smiling blandly upon his victim
" The truth is, sir, I am almost ashamed
to say that the light did not proceed
from a locomotive, but from tho lantern
of a watchman who happened to becom
ing down the track."
"And the .brill whistle that you
heard?"
" That, I presume, came from a cme
horse sawmill not far off."
"But your leg how did you lose
that ?"
"As many another brave men has lost
his," came tho answer, accompanied by
a heavy sigh, and a far-away look as ii
to recall the scene, of some field of bat
tle; " I fell under a mowing machine
and had it chopped off. "
" Well, all I have to say," replied his
companion, somewhat disgusted at the
turn the romance had taken against him,
" all I have to say is that I hope your
girl went back on you and married an ax
handle maker or some one else who
could make her happy."
"She stuck to mo," said the ro
mancer, " stuck to me through good and
evil report, and married me married
me one rapturous evening in the merry
month of May, aud now," and his voice
grew husky with emotion, " aud now I'd
give the top of this bald and beetling
pate if she hadn't I"
A Brutal Scoundrel.
Au infant three .or four days old was
deposited on tho steps o' tho orphans'
home, Indianapolis. A card attached
to it stated that it was named " Miss
Centennial." As the child wa? crying
vigorously when found the matron of
the home examined it, and found it
had been branded with a hot iron on
both shoulders, probibly to facilitate
future identification. The polios are
looking for the scoundrel who was seen
to leave the child.
Railway tickets were originated by a
station master at Clapham, England,
about forty years ago. From that time
the printing of these tickets bos remain
ed in the hands of the same family, who
have pursued it with an amount of pei
severanoe and ingenuity perfectly mar
velous; and it is a curious foot to know
that in one long low building in a su
burban street of a provincial torn the
tickets for the whole world, exoept
North America, are made.
A Planter A strauger said in New
Orleans : "I learn that Mecars. Wells
and Anderson of the returning board
are planters. I did not know about the
o'hers. Is Mr. Casenave a planter!"
"Yes," said the gentleman addressed,
"you can call him a planter, but what
he plants never comes up. He ia more
plainly speaking an undertaker."
It is a singular fact that when men
bet hats on the election the winner al
ways understands that it was a $9 sil.
hat, while the loser is equally oon&den
that a $2 felt bat was Implied.
J-