THE RED U M.1CI CRITTENDEN DF.RBT. Close snuggled down ill furry robes, tiiii soapstones' kindly hear, i? f drifts to grandpa's house, our mother's kin to greet. All day our jinking sleigh-bells' tune smote keenly on the air. But long ere noon some small voice pined, "Pa, aren't we almost there?" Jnen to beguile our restlessness our father told once more . How we should know the place afar; the sign, a red barn door. 9 5 ft"? ale we K,1V'y "pe'' Pa,t fannateadj J,, and Krayt And hailed each snowy hamlet as a mile-stone upon our way. No homely roadside object but our eyes were quick to see, And muffled voices chattered fast in childish jubilee. We vied in sighting landmarks which familiar aspect bore, And longingly we looked ahead for grandpa's red barn door. Our mother, from the seat in front, held us in heedful thought, And stayed our rising hunger with the cookies she had brought. Twai she who chose the friendly house where we should stop to rest, And saw us tucked, all warm again, within our sleigh-box nest, one talked of names once common in her girlhood's rustic lore, And knew each twist and turn that came before the red barn door. The reins held laxly in his hand, our father sat serene And hummed quaint melodies that kept his old world memories green. The long miles stretched away, and when the lengthened shadows fell , No thought of cold or cramping limbs our eagerness could quell. We scanned each distant looming crest that reared itself before, ' Till all at once somebody cried, "1 see the red barn door!" Now sometimes when the sleigh-bells ring and roadwavs gleam with snow I feel that flooding joyousness that thrilled me long ago. I see the shining faces in the paling winter light, lhe arms that wait in welcome there, to clasp and hold me tight. And then I pray that heaven's gate such gladness may restore, As when we came to grandpa's house, beside the red barn door. Youth's Companion. !? Ill N AN OPEN BOAT ,.A STORY OUR days and a half In an open dory without food or .water, for two days driven by a terrific gale that threatened to send the frail craft to the bottom, and with a half-crazy companion who. In wild delirium from lack of food and drink and terrible exposure, twice at tempted suicide by jumping out of the little craft into the sea, Is the horrible story brought In recently by Charles Matheson, forty years old, who, with his dory-mate, Fred Hemmcon, eigh teen years old, was picked up by the fishing schooner Flora S. Nickerson Saturday afternoon, off the southwest George's banks, and landed in the Tort t Boston. Lying in a little bunk, his mind still filled with strange scenes, his face nnd body emaciated from lack of -lourlsh-ment, young Heninieon showed pitiful evidence of the tortuous experience through which his usually robust young constitution had passed. With large, r.hiny blue eyes one minute look ing peacefully comprehensive and piti ful and a minute later 6hinlng in the fever of delirium, he tossed nnd rolled on his bunk while a Herald man talked with the sturdy Matheson, who had come through the awful experience With mind and body intact, but with great blisters and swollen hands show ing evidence oil the racking hi? body bad received. "Charley, why don't you give me that water you have hidden away?" pleadingly asked Hemmeon in his de lirious moments; his mind still blurred iwlth the agonizing battle he had made When his cravings for food and drink drove him crazy. As the fishing ves sel rose even with the dock on the rising tide, Hemmeon was vemoved on stretcher and taken to the City Hos pital. It is believed that he will re cover. Matheson and Hemmeon are the last of the crew of the schooner Quonnn powltr, which had an Ill-fated experi ence off Brown's Bank on Tuesday, vhen her entire crew of fishermen, ightecn men, went astray in a fog, and Captain Elbridge Nickerson was left at sea during a severe northeaster jwith only his cook and u spare hand to run the -essel. They started for port, and or. tho way four men from another schooner were taken aboard, and brought the vessel safely Into port, iwhere they were warmly welcomed -by sixteen men of the crew, who had fceen picked up by the schooner Ellen C Burke and landed in this port Wednesday morning. This left Mathe son and Hemmcon to be accounted for, and their terrible experience brought tears to the eyes of their mates. The Bight of Hcisnu-on's emaciated and de lirious face caused Captain Nickerson y shudder, for he 'well knew the ter rible suffering t trough which the men Yad passed. It was nine o'clock Tuesday morning hen the doryman of the Quonna powitt rowed away from their craft and started out to haul their trawls, la, heavy ft; was hanging over the water. After the men had hauled theli trawls they waited for tne fog horn Of their vessel. No sound was heard. , Matheson and Hemmeon were to the windward of the uchoocer. They set their trawls again and waited. Night set down ovc- the fishing grounds, but still there was no sense of fear, in the beart of Matheson, who, born and bred to the sea had. fished In gales and fog on all the fishing banks of the At lantic coast for thirty year?. When no sound of a fog horn was fceard the anchor was kept overboard, and the men lay down to sleep, con fident that the morning would find them on board their vessel for break fast. Daylight came, with the fog still dens. , and no sound of a fog born. Matheson determined that they iwere lost, and, giving encouragement to his eighteen-year-old Corymate, they .bauled in their anchor and started io row in the dlrecJcn of the wind. Matheson was confident that by fol lowing the direction of the wind they could make shore, as it was blowing from the northwest' when the fog shut down. After six hours o ' rowing the men began to suffer from lack of food and water. They had COO pounds of fish on hoard and this was pitched Terboai'd. -JtV BARN DOOR. FROM REAL LIFE Wednesday afternoon the wind shift ed suddenly and began to blow with in creasing force. At six o'clock Wednes day night a fresh gale was iu force, rolling up huge seas. Matheson took his post at the stern of the craft and steered with one of the oars, while Hemmeon kept the boat as steady as possible with the two oars. The wind Increased in fury, and with darkness the situation became dc-ner-ate. The strain wr.s telling on Hem meon, who began to rave about the lack of food and water. At ten o'clock that night a huge comber struck their little craft and Hemmeon went over board. The craft was nearly swamped and the tlr.ee oars In the bottom of the boat were lost. Matheson jumped to the side of the craft to save his companion and lost the remaining oar. Hemmeon was pulled into tho dory, which was half filled with water. The northeast gale brought a drop in temperature. Hemmeon had taken so much water that he was half un conscious, and in bailing out the boat and keeping her from upsetting iu the wild seas that threatened every min ute to engulf her, Matheson passed a desperate time until daybreak. Hem meon had been revived, but his mind began to wander. Matheson worked desperately to keep the boat steady by the use of a batter board which ho tore from iihe bottom of the dory. All day Thursday the dory was driv en before the northeast gale which was blowing forty-nine miles an hour, kicking tip a terrific sea. Hemmeon lay in the bottom of the dory at times able to Lai!, at other times mumbling incoherently, his mind wandering. There was little chance of watching for other craft, as the huge seas rolled and tossed the boat so that most of the time it was hidden in th" trough of waves. As night cama on Hemmeon grew more delirious. He bean to talk of his father and mother at their home in Shelbourne and to berate Matheson for keeping food and drink from him. It was nine o'clock Thursday night when Hemmeon got lo his feet and said: "Matheson, you have kept me here as long as you can. You can't keep me here any longef without food or water. I am going home. Good by." With this the young man leaped into the raging sea. Matheson caught the end of his no'wester as the fc'.low dis appeared. With the strength of des peration he pulled him aboard. Hemmeon lay as if dead. After Matheson had steadied tie boat and got its head up to the eeas he worked over Hemmeon until he got a faint murmur that showed that the boy was still alive. The gale wore on and Matheson put in the lest of the night balling water, and keeping he craft steady. Matheson knew that he was being driven in a southwesterly di rection, and that his only hope of suc cor lay in being, picked up by a pass ing craft He also knew thr.t every hour be was being driven farther out to sea, and that bis chances of being rescued were lessening. It w:s shortly before noon that his hopes were lifted, when, as the little craft rose on the crest of a wave, he sighted the topmast of a coastwise or a fishing vessel, lie e tripped off his oilskin, mounted it on a pitchfork and waved it. At firtt he thought the vessel bad seen bis signal a id was bearing down upon him. His shouts of joy revived Hemmeon .to the first sign of sanity that be had shown for twenty -four hours. The boy, his cheeks pink with fever, s.-.t up in the boat and yelled with all his might Wave after wave brought the frail little craft up to where the signal of distress could be seen, but after fif teen minutes Matbesou saw that the vessel was bearing off to the eastward and that his signals had not been seen. The day wore on and two more pass ing craft were sighted. Each time the vessel appeared to be making toward the dory, and then, as Matheson became excited with hope, the craft seemed to fade away. During the long hours of the day Hemmeon was partly rational and aid ed somewhat in bailing. A steamer was sighted, but It was a mile away, and the signal was not seen. After sundown on Friday night, when the men hid been eighty-two hours with out food or drink, the delirium of nemmcon began to take on the pray ings of n maniac. He accused bis dory mate of having food aud water hidden from him. At times his tuind wan dered to his seaside home at Shel bourne, and he talked affectionately ol his father and mother. He pleaded with them to take hlra from the clutches of the man who would not give him fotd or drink. He snatched up the pitchfork aud made a savage lunge at Matheson. Twice be cam near striking the man who twice bad rescued his from drowning. The dory swayed aud came near swamping at Matheson grasped the fork and got il away from his wild dory-mate. "Yon can't keep mo here. I'm going home," yelled Hemmeon, and with s wild leap he cleared the dory a second time. Fortune seemed to play with the youth, for he came to the surface close by the dory. Matheson was barely able to grab the boy by the balr and pull III in abroad as he was losing his strength. Hemmeon lay unconscious in the bottom of the dory. This exciting episode had just been completed when Matheson made out the lights of a steamer, which appeared to be not more than a quarter of a mile away. With all the strength of his parched and aching throat be yelled for help. His shouts were apparently heard, for the steamer slowed down. For fifteen minutes be yelled. The parched throat and unuourlshed sys tem could muster but a faiut sound, which, as the minutes of desperation wore on, grew fainter and fainter. Then the lights of the steamer began to trow dim and it passed out of sight. During the night Hemmeon, whom his companion had given up for dead, again revived, aud with brief moments of consciousness, sang and .alked with his parents, who appeared in bis de lirium. Saturday morning came clear and fair. The sea had moderated to a regular swell. During the forenoon three sailing vessels and two steamers were sighted, and to each Matheson rose In his dory and waved with all his strength his oilskin perched on the top of the fork. Sometimes it seemed that his signal had been seen and that rescue was at hand, but each time the craft kept on their way. Matheson had high hopes of rescue, tr. he knew that he w.-s still in the course of ocean traffic. It waa at 2.20 o'clock Saturday afternoon that Mathe son sighted a sail directly to leeward, and in tho course in which be was drifting. After half an hour he was able to make out the forms 'jf dory, men, and he knew that his signal of distress had been seen at last. Wild with Joy, he tried to stir his uncon scious companion, but without suc cess. It was 3.15 o'cloel. when Cap tain Gothro Nickerson of the cebooner Flora Nickerscn drew his craft alongside the dory. Matheson, who lipped the scaUs at 200 pounds when ho let; ou the flsh ing trip. -,v: s still game. When he got aboard, he : sked for water, and with out stopping drai'k jno nnd a half i.uarts. Later, he joined in the best spread the fishing schooler afforded, eating his first morsel ir 102 hours. After a long sleep, Hemmeon wa revived, nnd giveu n little Jamaica ginger. He was still delirious, and said he would not haul another trawl and was going home. Even in thd cabin of the Nlckersou, on his way to port, he fought feebly with the men, saying .they had ill-treated him. Say urday night the Flora Nickerson set all sail and started for this port. So near as Matheson can figure, he was driven 200 miles by the gale of Wednesday, Thursday, aud Friday. Tho Brown's fishing banks are off the Nova Scotia coast, and the men were picked up on the southwest pnrt of Georges banks, 150 miles southeast of Cape Cod. Though nemmeon is but eighteen years old, be has been a fisherman for three years. He comes from Shel bourne, N. S., where bis parents, broth ers, and 6isters live. Matheson was born in Sweden, and came to this couutry when 'ten years old. He has been a fisherman most of his life, aud for many years sailed out of Gloucester on Graud Bankers. He said this morning: "It was cer tainly a tough experience. Yes, I have got a good constitution, bet that does little good when a fellow is without money. I probably have lost thirty pounds during the last five days. It Is the first time I was ever lost from a vessel any length of time, and I hope it is the last" Matheson is a very modest fellow, and his experience appears to him to be only one of the many things through which a fisherman must pass in his dangerous work. He lives at No. 322 Hanover street, and is unmarried. Boston Herald. New Fields Foi" Chlnatnen. Chinamen in New; York are con stantly broadening the field of their activities. Already many of them are employed as household servants and valets and a few days ago one of them opened up uu American tailor ship. Not a few have gone into the station ery and tobacco business in a small way. The first Chinese tailor to open an atelier In New York is Yum-Chuun. originally of Fu-Cbau and latterly of San Francisco. "I like not that Pa cific so much as that Atlantic," he said confidentially to the Oriental trav eler who met him in Chinatown the other day. "They no like Chinaman In Cala. no matter if he high or low caste. I meet one rich Joss man. him bishop you call, and be say come along New York with roc; you no like this place. So I come by me by." An Old Turtle Dies. About the time the Galapagos Isl ands were discovered a young turtle! was born there. He died the other1 day in the Zoological Garden. Londouj Eng. He was at least 350 years old When be was feeling well be would eat as muiu grass an as average coirj flight prorp tye NE of the ablest diplo matists, and at the same time one of the handsomest members of the Interna tional Peace Conference at The Hague in 18!)9, was Noory Boy, the second Turkish dele gate to that conference. The Sublime Porte has many able men In her ser vice, but I doubt that Sultan Abdul Hamid and tho Ottoman Empire have an abler and more devoted servant than Noory Bey, or rather (now after his well-merited advancement) Noory Pnshii. What Lord Sanderson was to the- British Foreign Olllee. that was and is still Noory Tasini to the Turkish ministry of foreign affairs. He is a peculiar typo of Turk; indeed. 'he is on original and most interesting mix ture of Frenchman and Old Turk. I remember always with true delight hours which we spent together on a balcony of a certain hotel at Therepin. watching the glorious Illumination of the mountains of Auadolln by the set ting sun. discussing Oriental poetry and philosophy, the great historical events of the Ottoman Empire, nnd the uncertainty of all human things of empires as well as of Individuals. I was not surprised to hear from his youngest daughter, the sapphire-eyed Miliriiu. tliat sh and all her sisters adore their father, and would consider It the greatest happiness In life to die for him, If by their death they could Increase his happiness. And jet. the newspapers were in forming us these hist few days that two of Noory Pasha's daughters have secretly left their father's "Knoak" t Booyookdore, and as fugitives tried to reach Europe against his will! From friends in Constantinople, and from ladles who visited the two sisters In Belgrade. I obtained information which not only places this Incident in Its true light, but reveals to us a little of that greater of great enigmas the soul of a Turkish woman. The jealous guarding against all out side influence, the absence of almost every distraction, often concentrates the affections of tho young Turkish woman, deepens and intensifies them. Behind the barred doors In the high walls surrounding a Turkish house, behind the latticed windows and thick curtains there is much more romance In Turkish family life, than is dreamt of by us unromantic Gynoors. The de votion of Turkish children to their parents Is very great and very tender, but the devotion of the sisters and brothers to each other can hardly find Its equal anywhere among the Chris tians. Noory Pasha's daughters fur nish a beautiful illustration of that fact. Zeynclln Hanum, the eldest daughter of Noory Pasha, is a delicate and pretty young woman of twenty-two or twenty-three. After her marriage her health began rapidly to deteriorate. The Turkish "Hakims" knew only so much: that she is dying slowly, and that they cannot help It! Zeynella Ha aum herself, as a good Turkish woman, seems to have reconciled herself to her fate. After all, what is the harem but a sort of grave, with silk and vel vet tapestries and soft sofas and cushl'-ns. and what Is the grave but for i y a woman a better sort of the liuivm? But the youngest sister, Nooriya Ha num, loved her elder sister with n more intense love than Zeynella loved her own life. She insisted tin her father letting Zeynella bo examined by the best European doctors in Con stantinople. It was not difficult to persuade Noory Pasha to do so. The European docicrs saw Zeynella, and saw that she was suffering from con sumption In the first stage. They thought that the only chance of saving her life Mild be to place her In one of the modern sanatoria for consump tives in Germany or France. But to send a young Turkish woman to n modern sanatorium in the cursed Gyaoor-land, that implied a far greater reform than the great Powers have ever dared to demand. If Noory Pasha had been a private Effendi, he might have done it; but he, the Musteshar of the Foreign Office of the Sublime Porte, a pillar of the Yildiz Kiosk he could never do it! It would have been the practical proof of the extremest lib eralism; it would have been an inno vation upon which even the boldest member of Young Turkey would not have dared to venture. , The husband of Zeynella Hanum, her father, and she-herself took it for granted that it was the inscrutable will of Allah that she should die slow ly on the shores of the Bosphorus. But the young Nooriya loved her sister too much to accept such a death with out a challenge. She determined to fight the giant of the Oriental fatalism, the "Kismet." She determined to take her sister to that strange country of infidels, but where science can save people from the clutches of death. Of course, they would have to leave the mansion of their father unknown to him. She begged her Invalid elder sis ter to trust to her love and her cour age. Not thut her own plucky heart did not fail her sometimes when con templating the long jonrney through the terra incognita to on equally un known country. Fortunately, she and her sister were good friends with a young French lady. Mademoiselle Mar celle de Yeyssen. Nooriya bad full con fidence In Mademoiselle Marcelle, told her of her burning desire to try to save the life of her sister by taking her to the best doctors In Europe and to the best place for her recovery. She appealed to the young French girl to help her. Mademoiselle Marcelle, with the chivalrous spirit of ber nation. mi agreed to once to place herself entirely at the service of Nooriya. As the Turkish frontier at Mustapha Pasha could not be passed without a passport, the most Important task for the young ladles was how to get a pass. After some difficulty and delay Mademoiselle Marcelle induced an elderly French Indy to cede them her own pass. But then there was another difficulty. The true proprietress of the pass was described as a gray-haired lady of llfty-two, traveling with her two grown-up daughters. For Nooriya that was a difficulty only for a mo ment. She decided that she would be the gray-haired lady of fifty-two, and Zeynella and Marcelle were to be her two grown-up daughters. She pow dered her hair to look gray, nnd she painted her face to look as old as it could through a thick veil. And she played her role admirably throughout the journey from Constantinople to Belgrade. At Mustapha Pasha, the frontier railway station, she moved with such dignity and spoke so caress ingly io the Turkish Inspectors of passports, Imploring them not to dis turb her two Invalid dnughters, wbd were just then quietly sleeping, that the poor Turks salaamed most respeca fnlly nnd let them pass on. Meanwhile Noory Pasha had been In formed that two of his dnughters had not relumed from a drive to Ther npla. Messengers were sent at once to all relatives and friends to ask if the young women had not been re tained by some of them. As they bad been the night before at Ylldlz Kiosk, where a concert had been given for the amusement of the ladles of the Im perial Harem and their friends, Noory Pasha went himself to the Imperial residence to Inquire if his daughters had not been kept there to another en tertainment. But, no! The inquiries nt the station revealed the fact that a middle oged, gray-haired lady, with two daughters, took n special compart ment In the direct carrlare for Vienna. Telegramu were sent at once by the Grand Viz:cr to Fethl Tasha, Turkish minister nt Belgrade, to stop the train and send the two sisters back to Con staiitinnrlp. The Servian Government; was ready to obligo the Grand Vizier and Noory Pasha as much as they, could; but. met by the determined re fusal of the young women either to return or to wait In the Turkish Lega tion until the arrival of their father they only succeeded in inducing then to Interrupt their journey nnd to res! a day or two iu tho most comfortable! hotel In Belgrade. Noory Pasha was immediately In formed where his dnughters were. Ho applied to the Sultan for permission to go to fetch his daughters. It is said that Abdul Hamid old hlin: "Go and bring them baclc! Without them do not return at all!" On his arrival in Belgrade Noory Fnsha had to be in' formed that his daughters had mys teriously disappeared. Fethl Pasha believes that they have found a secret refuge with some Servian girl friends, daughters of Servian diplomatists who served In Constantinople. But tho po lice agents declare that they have evaded the watching of the detectives by lenving the hotel dressed In men's clothes, and that they are now prob-. ably in Vienna. Anyhow, Nooriya nannm has shown not only the depths of a sister's love, but that a Turkish girl can exhibit a wonderful strength of will and cour age. May she succeed In her mission to reclaim her sister from death to life. Loudon Tribune. I Florid Language. In tho far east language has always been more florid and ambiguous than In the west. The King of Ava, in Bur ma, called himself tho "regulator of the seasons, the absolute master of the; ebb and flow of the sea. brother of the sun and lord of the fcur and twenty, umbrellas." The King of Arracan, lower Burma, was "possessor of the white elephant and the two earrings," as well as "lord of the twelve kings who placed their, heads under bis feet." In the Mozambique-Zambesi re gion of Africa the King of Monomtopa was not on'y "lord of the sun and moon," but "great magician and treat thief." A ntomoblllonsness. "Automoblllousness," says the Medi cal Visitor, "is a comparatively new disease, due to the bacillus financll, although some observers insist that the germ gettbereus is the chief causa tive factor. A French medical writer reports a case, killed by an irate farm er, whose brain was filled with blood clots, but it is uncertain whether this post-mortem condition is to be at tributed to the effects of the disease or tho farmer's club. "Automobillousness has been mis taken for delirium tremens, but In the latter disease, however.' it la snakes that the patient usually sees about him and feels that he must kill, while in automobillousness it is only men, women and children." Octopus Living Torpede. An oyster lugger, the Jean Baptiste, with four men aboard, was recently blown to atoms in Terre Bonne Bay. Louisiana, by a shell which bad been dropped overboard from one of Ad miral Sampson's ships seven years ago. The shell had been swallowed by a big fish or carried by a giant octopus nearly 1000 miles, and the sea mon ster's collision with the lugger caused tho explosion. Fragments of a mon ster octopus were found clinging to th rlgglug after the vessel sank. He needs to wear wading bcts who takes short cuts to success. THeprairie fires of Early flags -4-0-0-0- By Clement. L. Webster. V.V.V.W.V.V.V.V.V.W.V.V. 0M1'AK.VT1VIC1A' few per haps of thoso who may J ren llls nave l)ersona"y $3 experienced the dangers KiblQIGtfaj and often fearful destruc tion wrouglit by the prairie fires of earlier days in the West, and which even now frequently sweep the vast prairies west of tho Missouri and tho rivers of the north. From earliest childhood to manhood I was familiar with tills demon of the prairies, and no recollection of pioneer experiences sinnds out so clearly as those counccted with these fiery trials. From the earliest settlement of this region down to perhaps 1870 or later, destructive prairie fires annually vis ited us iu northern Iowa, and they ,were especially severe during the falls of 1802 and 1807. Nono of the old plo neers will ever forget those terrible fires. During the earlier years the fires were, of course, fiercer and wilder. but not so destructive for the reason that the country then was so sparsely settled. Houses, grain and haystacks, and sometimes stock and people, were destroyed by these wild fires. Every fall, and perhaps spring, the vnst pral rle9 would be swept by the fires, and they kept the settlers in constant fear and dread. More than once did we come near being burned out, or having much property destroyed. After the first one or two hard frosts in the fall, and even up until the snow came, the settler looked for and expected these visitations. All the long weeks during the fall the air would be hazy with smoke from the prairie fires ei ther nearby or far away, and always accompanied by that peculiar odor of burned wild grass. There was a sense of wlldness and danger about all this, that In spite of the anxiety and dread which each one shared, lent a charm to the scene. The settler would break a few furrows around his home, hay and grain stacks, and then a second line of furrows five or ten rods from the first one, nnd then during a quiet day would set fire to the wild grass between these two strips and burn it off. This was his lire break. But often the fire would come sweeping along nt a race-horse gait, jump the fire-break as easily as though it was only an Indian trull, and de stroy everything In its path. Tho fire gathered wind, and when the grass was heavy and tall, ns It was on the lower ground in early days, it was terrible, and nothing could stand be fore It. The fire always burned nnd ad vanced in a brond V-shaped form, broadening and widening as it ad vanced, aud would sometimes jump twenty to forty rods, catch, and con tinue on. .1 greut prairie fire would sometimes advance with the mad rush of the wind for miles and miles over the country, when the wind would suddenly shift and blow from a con trary direction, compelling it to back tire or burn against the wind. This was watched day and night by the settlers, as they knew only too well that any moment the wind might change and the fire come on again iu its mad rush. Well do I remember how night after night wo would watch the distant fires ready at a moment's notice with bundles of hazen brush, mops and wet rags to begin back-lirlug to save ours or another's property; and dis tinctly do I recall what Uerco times we would have fighting the flames, some times all day long and far Into the night. The flames would momentarily become less tierce as the wind died down, and then breeze up again, and only too often the fire would spread with renewed fury over the ground we had gained, and we would all he compelled to run and await our chance to fight it again. Inch by inch we would gain upon it, only to be over whelmed by it and compelled to re treat again. The men, women nnd children had to fight for dear life. Sometimes we would conquer, some times not. All were nearly roasted and blistered by the fierce heat and black ened by the I'ensc smoke. But home nnd all we held' dear depended upon it and all must fight and wo did. Be yond the prairie were black and dead, covered with ashes of the burned grass, and whirlwinds passed hither and thither, carrying great black columns of ashes far up into the sky. The roar and crackling of the flames as they rushed through the tall grass and the heavy billows of smoke were indeed appalling, and only by those accus tomed to such wild scenes of danger and destruction could they be faced. In spite of all efforts, sometimes the settler's bore and all he possessed on earth would be swept away, and all he would have left wouid be the few smoulderirg ruins on tho prairie. One day, about tho middle of Octo ber, 1859, one of our neighbors, a Mr. Whitney, had observed a prairie fire a few miles awsy to the southeast, and had anxiously watched it, but as the wind was in the opposite I'.retiou and it was backing against the wind, they did not apprehend much dauger from it for a few hours, so the "anilly sat down to eat While they were at the meal smohe began to pour into the room, and on looking out they found they were surrounded by the prairie fire and tho east part of their beuse was all ablaze. The wind bad sud denly veered to tho southeast without their noticing it, and the fire had come down on them with terrible speed. They were forced to break tho win dows and climb out of thorn to save their lives. Everything was destroyed, together with a pen of hogs' r.nd hay and grain sfcks stnu.'l&g near. These fires would often burn for wseks Id the sloughs where the fist was more or less dry, and was thus a steading menace to the settler, ready at any moment to break ont again, providing there was yet more grass to burn. A prairie fire at night was a wild and grind sight, and one watching it at a distance of a mile or two could easily Imagine he saw scores of In- uiuus moving rapiuiy aiong tne line an illusion caused by the swiftly changing height of the flames. Every spring and rail the evening sky. would lie lit up by the lurid glow of innumerable prairie fires all around, and the sir would be loaded with their smoke. The fires would be started ii various ways. Sometimes people out of pure cussedness and the desire to see it burn would start then, while sometimes they would be started by getting away from the settler as he was attempting to burn a fire-break around his cablu, hay and grain stacks, and again the Indians would start them. Forest nnd Stream. Memphis the Largest Hirer Port. Memphis Is the largest river port, having boats enrolled exclusively in the river trade, in the United States, both in number of boats engaged ln trade that make this the home port and In tonnage. This is shown by the' report of the Commissioner of Naviga tion of the United States. Memphis has eighty-four boats en- . rolled here as the home port, with a total tonnage of 12,313 tons. St. Louis comes next, with seventy-five boats. showing n total tonnage of 22,820 tons. This large tonnage is shown by reason of the fact that many barges of large tonnage are making St. Louis the borne port tli at are not entitled to be named among boats that are registered as traffic bonts. Taking them off it would give Memphis a much larger tonnage, and would also increase the number of boats in excess of those at St Louis, Cincinnati has sixty-eight boats, witb a total tonnage of 14,232 tons. Many of these are also barges, and should not properly be named. ' Wheeling, W. Va., is next to St Louis in number of boats, but the ton nage is only 81SS. The total number of boats is seventy-three. Evansvllle has seventy-one, with a total tonnage of 6500. New Orleans has thirty boats engaged In the river trade, and a total tonnage of 474S. Paducah has thirty, with a total tonnage of 5542, while Louisville has thirty-eight boats, with a total tonnage of 7030. Cairo has only . eleven boats that use it as a home port, with u total tonnage of 23C8.-Memphh Commercial-Appeal. Caste and the Army. At Fort Sheridan, near Chicago, six ' non-commissioned officers have beea reduced to tho ranks for running what is technically known as "a bind pig," or "unlawful canteen. When the men grumbled that they were doing no more than the commissioned officers did. Colonel Whitehall, it seems, dis closed with some emphasis that what t was meet for officers in the post club house was not necessarily proper for privates in quarters. The papers say that he said: "To put the private on the same footiug as the commissioned officer would be ruinous to discipline. We must have cacte In the army just as there is caste iu outside society. We have the same class distinctions, and without them we could havei--4 discipline." Colonel Whitehall's sentiments are sound enough, but if be was quoted ac curately, he was not fortunate in bis method of expressing them. Military law gives officers privileges which, pri vates do not share. It creates an ar tificial caste for military purposes, though whether it formally gives offi cers larger liquor privileges than it gives to privates is arguable. But io outside society American law recog nizes no caste and no class distinctions. Harper's .Weekly, A Professor VFho Talks Against Surgery Professor Ernst Schweninger, lead ing physician of the great district hos pital of Gross Llchtenfelde, near Ber lin, refers in bis annual report to the subject of modern surgery in a man ner which has created a sensation. . He says that, in his opinion, recourse is had to operations far too frequently nowadays. It is a surgical craze which has seized on the profession, to be re membered hereafter in its record with amazement Cutting out the splees and the vermiform appendix because nothing is known of their functions-' an expedient so frequent in modern practice ho looks on as the top notch of professional frenzy. The professoi deplores the existing system of spe cialization in medical studies, and doe not think that the practitioner whe studies the pathology, of only a single organ can have a proper knowledge ol the others which go to make up the human constitution. "The msn," be says, "who devotes all his power of work, all bis knowledge nnd capabili ties, to the treatment of only the' eyes nose, ears, skin, nerves, or other or gans runs a risk of losing feeling, and hence the power to treat human beings He ceases to be a physician and be comes a virtuoso." . ' A ton Will Never Be Sorry. For doing your level best For being kind to the poor. For bearing before judging. For thinking before speaking. For standing by your principles. For stopping your ears to gossip. For being generous to an enemy. For being courteous to all. For nsktng pardon when in error. For being honest in business deal ings. For vlng an unfortunate person lift ' For promptness In keeping your promises. For putting the best. meaning on the- acts of others. Sundey-Scbsel AAve sate.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers