| A Cowan's Epima. |
GE? ¢ @P CITTITED © GEESE GIIERTTED CERI © GEERT CD § aD
The ship struck the rocks at two
bells in the middle watch. Half an
hour later she went down. Into that
half-hour were compressed a few
deeds of heroism, many of rank cow-
ardice. Some lives were saved, more
were lost. Over the liner and -the
great majority of her passengers the
sea closed in, hiding heroes and cow-
ards alike.
The wreck of the Casparia did not
make pleasant reading in thie news-
papers... Men read the tale of that
disgraceful panic with loathing the
deeper because they lopked within
their own souls and shuddered to
think that in similar circumstances
they might have shared it.
A few of the officers had done theiy
best, but the passengers had stam-
peded like frightened sheep, huddling
about the boats; and the crew, a
scraping of the scum of all the ports
of Europe, had got among them, knife
in hand, and had fought for their
own safety, regardless of the women
and children.
Mr. @ranville, the first officer, had
managed tc keep some order around
his boat. Grim and resolute, he
swept the muzzle of his revolver
around a circle of angry faces, and
kept back the men while he assisted
the half-clad women to enter. Ar-
thur Railsford, who had been aroused
in his berth by the long grinding
crash of the vessel's side against the
rocks, had hurried from ‘his cabin,
sick with fear, not on his own ac-
count, but for the sake of Lillian
Waters, the girl he loved best in the
world.
He met her at the foot of the
cabin companion, and without a word
of explanation, put his arm about
her, and carried her up the stairs on
to the deck. He saw the crowd about
Granville’s boat, and pushing his way
violently through it, came out in the
open space within, to find himself
face to face within the muzzle of the
mate's pistol.
“Stand back!”
sharply. “One, two
“Not for myself,” he gasped,
her—for this lady.”
“Pass her in,’ answered the mate,
“and stand back. No men go in this
boat except those who have to man
her.”
The ship gave a heavy list to port,
and the crowd, who had been kept in
check by the mate's pistol, were flung
violently forward in the seething
mass against the boat’s side. The
mate's pistol rang out sharply, once,
twice, but without effect. Fear and
the chance of safety had converted
sane men into lunatics.
Desperately Arthur strove to lift
the girl into the boat. He had al-
most succeeded when a young man
leaped up on the gunwale, pushing
her aside in his frenzy, and clgmber-
ing in himself. The girl gave a cry,
and stretched out her hands for help,
clutching the edge.
The young man turned, and Arthur
could see his face, livid with fear,
great beads of sweat moistening the
long lock of dark hair that hung
above his forehead. With an oath
the creature turned upon the. girl,
beating her hands down; and as she
still struggled he snatched up an oar
and struck her across the face.
Railsford uttered a curse, Dut,
hampered as he wag, he could do no
more. He turned his attention to
Lillian. But the mate had marked
the action and had swung his weapon
round savagely. There was a flash,
a choking cry, and the lad who had
fought so desperately to save him-
self flung up hie arms, spun round
and fell, a stream of blood pouring
from his throat.
The end came with terrible swift-
ness. The ship heeled over and.
plunged. Railsford gripped the girl
and took a long breath. He was a
strong swimmer; but the frightful
suction of the sea tore her from his
grasp as if he had been a child:
He was dragged under and lost
consciousness. When he awoke he
found © himself in a boat among
friends. He looked about him for
the girl. She was not there. He
faltered a question. They only shook
their heads.
* * * * * * *
The boat! with its few survivors
was picked up by a cargo steamer
bound for Liverpool; and in due
course Arthur found himself once
more on lana. He cared little. He
was a changed man, mcody and
silent.
There was before him a definite
purpose which seized upon him with
the strength of an obsession. He
had seen no more after the blow
which the lad had struck at Lillian’s
face. Even his anger had given way
before the necessity of comforting the
girl, and he had devoted the whole
of his attention to her.
He had not seen the mate's shot,
he had forgotten, if he had seen, the
youth, spinning round with the blood
pouring from his throat, he did not
know that he was dead.
As the days passed the thought
that that boy must be alive grew into
the wish. Surely he must be alive;
and, if so, he, Arthur Railsford, must
find him—find him and deal out the
death which he deserved with every
circumstance of cruelty his mind
could invent.
For weeks he sought industriously
the survivors of the disaster and
questioned them. Those he saw could
afford him no information, and he
said Granville,
“for
turned from them in hitter disap-
pointment. :
At last he got wind of a sailor who
had been on a boat of which ht had
previously heard nothing. He trav-
eled to Hull to see him, learned
there that he had started to tramp
to Newcastle, where he had relatives,
and set out on foot in search of him.
He walked doggedly, inquiring of
such folk as he met whether the
man had passed that way. Evening
fell apace, and found him on a long
stretch of lonely road, conscious for
the first time in all that day of the
distance he had traveled, and the
weariness which was weighing him
down. i
He was footsore, and he limped~a
good deal, aware of a blister on his
left keel. To go on for any distance
was impossible. He must find shel-
ter—an inn, if possible; if not, the
first ‘dwelling place he could find.
Half a mile further along the road
the lights of a small cottage shone
out from a plantation. They glowed
cheerfully, inviting him to rest ' He
paused irresolutely at the: gate, then
threw it open, and went up the path.
Raising the kfiocker of the door he
rapped slowly three times; and await-
ed an answer from the inmates.
There was an appreciable pause,
and then steps became audible in the
passage. The .door opened, and an
elderly man appeared, holding a lamp
high above his head, and looking out
curiously. .
Railsford noticed that the some-
what severe cast of his host's coun-
tenance was deeply graven with lines
of suffering, and that his hair and
pointed beard were grey. He no-
ticed something further also; for a
second man had looked out with a
strange air of cagerness, which had
in it something of fear. The expres-
sion lasted but a moment, and then
vanished, giving place to one of cour-
teous interrogation.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said
Railsford, ‘but I have walked far
and am lame, and I can see no sign
of an inn. I saw your lights and
wondered whether ycu would give
me shelter.”
The man looked at him gravely.
“God forbid that we should turn
any one from our doors,” he said,
“but I fear we shall be a somewhat
cheerless company for you. You
come to a house of mourning.”
“The better—if I do not intrude
upon you,” replied Railsford, grimly.
“1, too, have cause for grief.”
“Come in, sir, come in,” said the
man. He stood aside to permit his
visitor to enter, and ushered him into
a room which opened from the right
of the passage.
Railsford looked about him. The
place was simply but comfortably
furnished. The large table in the
centre was covered with crimson
cloth, and a lamp standing upon it
shed its soft radiance about the walls.
Two large horsehair chairs flanked
the fire. One of them had been
pushed back, as though his host had
risen from it.
Close beside the lamp sat a gentle,
refined looking woman with scanty
silver hair. She was knitting indus-
triously, and the ceaseless clicking of
her needles paused but.for a moment
at his entrance, and then went on
again. In that moment she had
glanced at him with the same air
of half fearful expectancy which he
had observed in her husband. Then
she glanced at an open Bible which
lay before her on the table, sighed,
and continued her work.
“My dear,” said her husband,
“here is a stranger who has walked
far and who asks our hospitality.”
He turned to Railsford. ‘‘Let me
intrcduce you to my wife, Mrs. Fos-
ter. I am Captain Foster, at your
service.”
“My name is Railsferd,” replied
Arthur; “I must apologize for my in-
trusion, but I really cannot go fur-
ther to-night.”
‘The woman put down her
and rose.
“We are glad to be of service to
you,” she said gently. "If you will
excuse me, I will see that you have
some food.” Ser
His host indicated a chair; the
woman left the room, and returned
in a few moments with cold meat,
bread, and a jug of beer. She set
these before him on the table. Rails-
ford was too hungry to make fur-
ther apologies. He set to work upon
the victuals, and soon began to feel
more satisfied. All the time he was
busy with the meal the elderly couple
watched him in silence, the woman
knitting nervously, the man, leaning
back in his armchair apparently lost
in thought. The silence began to
oppress Railsford, and he spoke.
“I do not wish to be intrusive,” he
work
said, ‘but I imagined as I came in
that you had
one.”
Husband and wife exchanged a
quick glance. Then the man averted
his eyesand the woman dropped hers
to her knitting.
“I am sorry if I have said anything
calculated to hurt you,” said Rails-
ford, puzzled. ‘The fact is,”” he con-
tinued apologeticeily, “I fear I am
not as tactful as I used to be. 1 have
recently passed through a.great dan-
ger and a great sorrow and it has
rendered me careless.”
‘“A great danger and a great sor-
row ?’’ said the man, looking up slow-
ly.
heen expecting some
‘and pallid.
| pression knocked at his heart, and
“Yes,” replied Railsford. “I war
shipwrecked. I was on the Casparia.
No doubt you have seen an account
of the disaster in the papers.”
His remark was received in dead
silené¢e. Looking up, he found that
the couple were staffing at him. Their
faces, in the lamplight, were gray
Something in their ex-
in the stillness he could hear the
ticking of the clock.
“My son was on that boat,” said
the man after a pause.
Railsford could make no answer;
he was looking at the woman. Tears
hgd gathered in her eyes, and one
trickled dewn her left cheek.
‘“‘He is dead,” the man ‘continued
in the same level tone. “We have
read the lists of tke survivirs, but his
name was not among them. And yet,
we hope; we know that he is dead,
vet we cannot help hoping. When
your knock came—but no "matter,
You could not know it, but you gave
that he used to do.”
The poor woman broke out into
lamentations and buried her face in
her hands.
‘“My boy!” she sobbed. ‘My beau-
tiful brave boy! He is dead. He is
lying out in the cold- sea to-night,
and I shall never see him any more
—never any more!”
The man stood up fiercely.
: “And to think,” he cried, ‘“‘that so
many lives were lost that could have
been saved. I read the accounts in
the papers, and it made my blood
boil. To think that I should have
lived to be ashamed of my profession.
Yes, sir, I have followed the sea, but
never have I known such a thing.
Cowards! Cowards all! The brave
are dead.” He turned upon Rails-
ford with quick suspicion. ‘“You have
eaten my bread,” he cried. ‘‘Swear
that you did what lay in your power.
This house is a seaman’s house, and
that food was earned upon the sea.
If you have played the coward I think
it would have choked you.”
Railsford stood up and looked his
host in the eyes.
“I was picked out of the sea,” he
said, simply. “I did what I could.
Would to God that others had done
the same.”
His host returned his gaze, and
read truth in it. He held out his
hand.
“I knew it,” he said. “I could not
think that I was harboring one of
those cowards. Cod would not have
permitted it. You are welcome.”
“Yes, you are welcome,’ cried the
woman, ‘for the sake of my brave
boy who is dead. He, too, did his
duty. He has come to me since in
dreams, and he has told me so. 1
have seen him—almost every night
and always the same. There was a
boat near him and he would not enx
ter it. He would not enter it be-
cause of the women and children.
My boy! My brave boy! He thought
always of others. Oh, why did he
not think of me? Why did he not
save himself—if only: for my sake?”
“Hush!” said the man sternly, ‘‘if
he had done as you have said and
have come here starving I would
have spat upon him and turned him
from the door.”
“What matter ?’’ retorted the moth.
er with a fierceness strangely at var-
iance with her usual gentleness.
“What matter—when I could have
gone with him?”
Her husband went over to her and
patted her hand with a little move-
ment of affection that was very
touching.
“The boy has died as he should
have done,” he said. ‘‘Let us take
our comfort in that.”
‘“‘He was such a handsome lad,”
she said, schbing. “Did you kncw
him, sir? His name was Foster—
Cyril Foster. Perhaps you met him
on the ship.”
“No,” said Railsford slowly.
do not know the name.”
“Perhaps you knew him by sight?”
she persisted. “There is a photo-
graph there on the mantelpiece. Will
you look at it?”
Railsford turned in the direction
indicated and took the photograph
in his hands. He bent over it in or=
der to permit the lamplight to illumi-
nate its surface. :
For a moment his heart stood still.
He knew the face. He recognized
the sharp features and the long dark
hair that hung across the forehead.
His fingers tightened on the frame
and he kept his face obstinately low-
ered, lest the black hatred which
boiled within his heart should show
itself on his face.
It was all coming back to him; the
scéhie around the boat, the agonized
girl, the cruel blow which had de-
prived her of her chance of life—and
ves, the sound of the pistol shot and
the thought, nay ihe certainty that
the scoundrel was dead.
With that conviction a part ¢éf his
life seemed torn away. Vengeance
was gone from him, and existence
seemed utterly empty.
After all, what did it matter? Lil-
lian was dead, and the iad who had
struck her was dead also.
* Let the dead bury their dead. His
business was with the living, whose
salt he had eaten, who were clinging
to such shreds of comfort as. they
could find. :
Could he take it from them? He
looked up with a set face to #nd
their eves upon him. Ther he lied.
“Yes,” ‘he said slowly, “I Eknew
him. I saw him at the last. He died
as a brave man should.”’—Manches-
ter Chronicle. . g rn
“1
A Class Too Numerous.
There are too many men who ex-
pect an editor to slave in defense of
their pet notions and hobbies, advo-
cate their views against the strong-
est opposition and then coolly with-
hold the business support by which
alone a small newspaper can live,-—
East Hartford Gazette.
RANK GRAFT
Raffles Are an Easy Way to
Gather Coin ::
a — Ta TTS
By ¥. G.
HARTNETT.
One of the most annoying of small
crafts is the raffle, as conducted for
gain. It is bad enough to be held up
twenty-five cents or fifty cents for a
ticket which entitles you to a chance
on a rug or a clock when you reason-
ably are sure that the proceeds will
ga to charity, but no man likes to be
fooled out of his small change by a
cheap grafter, even if the grafter hap-
pens to need the money.
A story is told of two printers who
lived for a month on a cheap silver
watch which they raffled off almost
daily, until they had ‘‘worked’” nearly
all the printing offices of any size in
town. Those typographical grafters
are unworthy of the noble craft to
which they belong. They pretended
to be jobless on account of last year’s
strike, and unable to live with their
families on the money furnished by
the union. ;
During the noon hour, or about
closing or opening time, one of the
men would saunter into a composing
room and put up a hard luck story.
He had an old silverine watch that he
wanted to raffle off if he could sell
twenty tickets at twenty-five cents
each. He usually managed to sell the
tickets.
About the time the drawing was to
take place the confederate entered
and cheerfully took a chance and won
the watch without any difficulty.
Thus they had the watch and the $5
also. They would split the money,
and on the first convenient occasion
the raffle would be repeated at anoth-
er place, and by some trick known
only to themselves the drawing was
manipulated so that the confederate
always won the watch.
A south side woman recently had
500 raffle tickets printed, to be sold
at ten cents each, the drawing to be
on Thanksgiving Day for a ‘‘grand
parlor clock,” the proceeds to be for
the benefit of a “poor widow.” As
the woman herself happens to be a
poor grass widow, and as the place of
the drawing could not be learned,
neither could there be obtained a
sight of tke clock, it is not difficult to
guess the final destination of $50 for
which the tickets will be sold.
At many saloons and cigar stores
there is a continuous raffle in pro-
gress for a '‘fine gold watch.” It is
well for those who buy chances to in-
spect the timepiece with a critical
eye. One of these watches was sub-
mitted to a jeweler by the man who
won it. “It’s what we call an auction
watch,” said the expert. ‘It is worth
about eighty-seven cents wholesale.
The case is gilded, and the works are
of less value ‘than the movement of a
sixty-nine-cent alarm clock. It may
keep time until the brass begins to
show through the plate, and it may
not.” .
One of the most attractive forms
of the raffle ticket game is valuing
the ticket at from one cent up to as
high as desired. The man who buys
a chance draws a little envelope con-
taining his number. If he is lucky
and secures a small number he is en-
couraged to try again. This is a sort
of double gamble, and many men can
not resist the temptation to speculate
upon the chances simply in order to
have the fun of drawing the little en-
velopes.
Of course, many of the raffles are
for cases of genuine charity, and it is
an easy way to raise funds for some
worthy object. Many a person who
would not accept an outright gift,
even in case of sickness or death, will
permit friends to raffle off a piano or
a bicycle for a good round price in or-
der to obtain a fund to tide him over
an emergency. To buy tickets for
this kind of a raffle is praiseworthy.
But sharpers are not above getting
money by the same means. If a
strange man, or a doubtful looking
woman, wants to sell you a chance for
the benefit of ‘‘an old soldier,” or a
‘little orphan girl,” or a “striker out
of work,” it might pay you to inves-
tigate.
But here is where the easy noney
comes in for the sharper. It is too
much trouble to investigate, and the
tender hearted person would sooner
give up the ten, twenty-five or fifty
cents to an unworthy grafter than to
take chances of refusing to aid a case
of genuine need.
Then, too, there is what might be
called a legitimate raffle business. Of
course, the raffle is a lottery under
the law, and, therefore, is a criminal
transaction. But in many cases goods
of known value but slow sales are
disposed of through rafiles, and the
drawings conducted honestly. A
north side man disposed of an auto-
mobile in this way. It had been a
good ‘“wagon’ in its day, although
the type was old. He wanted to get
a new one, and as the makers would
not allow him anything in exchange
for the old, he sold raffle tickets to
the amount of $500, and the winner
got a real bargain—the losers paying
the bill.
A group of young men who wanted
to build themselves a little clubhouse
in the Fox Lake region resorted to a
raffle that was almost a downright
steal. They had the printer make
them tickets and each one went
among his friends and organized a
“suit club,” selling chances for a $30
tailor-made suit. Of course those
who invested understood that the suit
probably would be worth about $18,
but they were satisfied to help build
the clubhouse on that basis, and be-
sides they thought they had a fair
chance to get the suit. :
It was learned afterward by acci-
dent that there were twenty ‘series’
of tickets sold by these young men,
and instead of each series standing
for a suit, only one drawing was held
and only a single suit made for the
entire twenty series of tickets. In
other words, they sold $500 worth
of tickets for a $30 suit of .ciothes.
They built their clubhouse, however,
and laughed at the man who kicked
because he thought he did not get a
square deal for the half dozen tickets
he bought. They thought it was a
good joke.—Michigan Tradesman.
SOME QUEER SCHOOLS.
For Policemen, Nursemaids, Grave
Diggers, Judges and Croupiers.
There are some very strange edu-
cational establishments open at the
present day. A school for cash boys
was opened some time ago, says the
Boston Transcript.
According to a prospectus pupils,
who must not be under fourteen
vears of age, are taught arithmetic in
every day use, bookkeeping, penman-
ship and the quick handling and
ccunting of money. Many of the
boys who have attended the school
are earning good wages as cashiers
in some of the largest stores in New
York and Chicago.
It is proposed to open in London a
school for nursemaids, where girls
over sixteen years of age may be giv-
en lessons in the management of in-
fants, preparing of children’s food,
plain sewing and laundry work and
the kindergarten system of educa-
tion.
Such an institution aireagéy cxists
in Berlin. It was founded two
ago by a clergyman and is in connec
tion with a foundling hospital. The
growing girls of this establishment
are taught to become competent
housemaids, and positions are found
for them in the houses of the best
families in Germany.
Russia possesses a schogl for po-
liccmen, where young rien are
irained for the force. The school is
situated in St. Petersburg, and in a
museum connected thereto the pupils
make themselves familiar with jim-
mies, drills, chisels and other tools
used by proiessional thieves. A par-
ticular branch cf the school is the
Russian passport system, which every
budding policeman has to study in de-
tail.
A remarkable cducational estab-
lishment is the school for Judges
opened recently in Paris. Here make
believe trials are held by pupils un-
der ihe supervizion of well known at-
torneys. The whole procedure, from
the issuing of » warrant for arrest to
J the summing up and the Judge's ver-
dict, is carried through in a busitess
like manner.
At Monte Carlo there is a school
of croupiers. It is held during the
siz summer morths in the ¢lyb room
of the Tir aux Pigeons and thé Salle
§'Freripe~ in the larino hijld Ug,
Here are tables similar to those in
the Casino gaming room, and each
pupil in turn takes the role of croi-
pier, while others personate nlayers
and stake money over a table. AT a
given signal the croupier must be
ready to calculate and pay out the
winning stakes.
There are usually between forty
and fifty pupils in this school, and a
six months’ course is generally sufli-
cient to turn them into finished crou-
piers.
A very odd educational establish-
ment is thz school for grave diggers
in Belgivm. 1t was founded by the
directors of the Great Evere Ceme-
tery, and all candidates for posts as
sextons in Belgium nust. undergo
training“in the school and pass an ex-
amination.
There are several schcols of house-
wifery in England, the principal of
which is connected with the National
Training School of Cookery in Lon-
don. Every branch ‘of household
management-is taught at this school,
the keeping of accounts, the princi-
ples of domestic sanitation and a cer-
tain amourt of sick training being in-
cluded.
Let Everybedy Plant Trees.
If every land owner would plant
in every available place such trees
as wouid not only give present beau-
ty but also insure a future supply
cf valuable timber, it would so sup-
plement the larger work of a Govern-
ment forest” reserve that reforesta-
tion and the preservation of an ade-
quate supply of good timber would
be much simplied.
The precious and almost indispen-
sable white oak is naturally only a
forest tree, but the black walnut,
which intrinsically is even more val-
uable, will grow almost anywhere and
in a much shorter time, and it will
pay for icself from the time it begins
to bear. The same is true of the
chestnut.
There is no question that cabinet
woods will always be in demand, for
no other material can possibly take
the place of wood in the making of
furniture.—Craftsman.
Thomas King was ined in a Lon-
don police court for taking his baby
to a pawnshop and trying to,pawn it
for fifty cent, wherewith to buy gie.
Inventor Edison, in, his
year, says he is ‘ready to begin p
ng.
n v7,
Maine has 650,000 tons of new
storage.
ice
In
The flounder
eggs a year.
lays 7,000,000,000
It is said” that 20,000 tramps win-
ter in Chicago.
Whistling has a very beneficial ef-
fect on the lungs.
vulture can
miles away.
It is said that the
scent its food forty
England buys more Cuban cigars
than does the United States.
An Arab proverb run, ‘the wife is
the keeper of her husband's soul.”
has a fifty-four-mile
It is the longest in
Argentine
horse railway.
the world.
The amount of money paid an-
mually to the world's rulers amounts
to $80,000,000.
In the Franco-German War Ger-
many mobilized an army of 500,000
men in a fortnight.
An English manufacturing firm has
had texts from the Bible pi cd on
the sides of its railway cars.
Canada received
grants last year—a
pared with 1905) of
cent.
215912 -immi-
gain (as coms-
almost fifty per
The coronation robe of the Em-
press of Russia is of fur and weighs
but sixteen ounces. It is valued at
$5000.
A toothpick factory near Paris
turns aut 20,000,900 quills annually.
It is the largest plant of the kind in
the world.
DERIVATION OF A NAME
»
Stuart, the Name of the Royal Fams=
ily, Came From Stewart.
Stuart, the name of the former
royal family of Scotland and England
‘(sometimes spelled Stewart) was de-
rived from the important ofiice of
stewart of the royal household of
Scotland. The foundation of the
house seems to have been a Norman
baron named Alan; a follower of Wil-
liam the Conqueror, who obtained
the lands and the Castle of Oswestry
in Shropshire. His second son, Wal-
ter, entered the service of David I. of
Scotland, by whom he was appoint-
ed dapsfer, that is, meatbearer, or
steward, of the royal household. The
steward obtained from David the
lands of Renfrew, Paisley, Pollock,
Cathcart and others in that district.
He founded the Abbey of Paisley in
1160, and died 1177. His grandson,
Walter, had in addition to the office
of steward that of justiciary of Scot-
land. He died 1246. His eldest son,
Alexander, the fourth steward,
seized the island of Bute and Arran
in the right of his wife Jean, heiress
of James, the fifth Stewart, and John,
known in history as that of Sir John
Stewart of Bonkyl, or Bonkill, who
was killed at the battle of Falkirk,
July 1298. The eldest of Sir
John's sons, Alexander, was the an-
cestor of the Stewart-carls of Angus;
the second Algn of the Stewart-earls
and dukes of Lennox; the third Wal-
ter of the earls of Galioway; the
fourth of the earls of Athol and
Buchan and the Lerds Lorn and In-
nermeath. James, the eldest broth-
er of Sir John, succeeds fifth Stewart
fn 1283. Three years later, on the
death of Alexander IIL, he wa= chos-
en one of the regents of the kingdom.
He fought bravely under Wallace for
some time, but submitted to Edward
I. in 1297; he died in the service of
Bruce in 1309. His son, Walter, the
sixth Stewart, married Marjory,
daughter of King Robert, which
brought the crown of Scotland and
Great Britain into his family. His
son, Robert, seventh Stewart, suc-
ceeded him. On the death of David
without issue, Robert Stewart sucs
ceeded to the crown as Robert 1);
1375.
90
Ly
Sailing at Cape May.
Senator Penrose discussing
Philadelphia’s need of a deeper chan-
nel in the Delaware for ships.
“You know,’ he said, ‘‘how often
ships get stuck in the mud of the
Delaware now. Actually, to traverse
that difficult stream with impunity
you need as light a draught as they
require on the Cape May thorough-
fares.
“Amazed at the way we skimmed
through creeks but an inch or two
deep, I said to a Cape May skipper
one day:
“1 suppose, captain, that you
think nothing of sailing across the
meadows when there's been a heavy
fall of dew?’
* ‘Right you are,” said the captain,
‘though occasionally we have to send
a man ahead with a watering-can.””
—Providence Journal
was