Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 26, 1902)
BULLION ON BULLION ROW Btrroj Boxes of Precioni Metal Bafely Cartod Around Wall 8tret CROOKS GIVE THE BOODLE A FROST The Meats- Tfirkaa and His nml. ess Fartaaea la the Parkrla af Maaseaater Seewee la the Cola District. Jut( Inside the railing of the Mills build ing, dawn to Broad street, says the New Tera Boa. and only few yards away from j where the throng of outside brokers Jostle and shunt la the roadway hangs a slate with j a pencil attached by a string. Once la a I while a clerk will hurry to the corner, take ; a look around, aad then. If not finding the j persca ha seeks,- will scribble something a this slate. At Intervals a big, heavy man strolls ever and takes a look at It. If there la anything written upon It he will probably Hire an order to the driver of a two-horse truck which has stood for most of the day at the corner, the blankets will be taken off tha horse aad maa and truck will set off down the street ohvlously on business In tent. Tea ara likely to meet this or similar tracks with the name of the same owner ttpoa them two or three tlmea In the course of a day la aad about Wall street. Some times the truek contains a few boxes or barrels, no different at a casual glance from any other boxes or barrels, or maybe thera will be upon It a number of brick of whit metal, la appearance not unlike older. la either caae there are likely to be twa r three roughly dressed men seated with . the driver or on the rear of the truck, and twa or three more better clad men, whom aaybody versed la the ways of the financial district will know at once for bank clerks or bank messengers, swinging their legs from tha tailboard or walking beside the vehicle. There la nothing about the outfit likely to attract particular attention from any body. A cloa obaerver may tee that the boxea or kegs sre strongly Ironed, locked aad sealed, and he may wonder that mature bank clerks, who do not look as If they were Inclined to frivolity, have time to apare for a ride on a truck which proceed - at a bar walking pace or evea slower. But tha usual passerby will never bestow a second glance upon the crawling vehicle. ' It doesn't look different from a truck carrying any old kind of freight, but for all that the load It carries Is often worth more than a great many of the buildings it passes. That load would set up a score of ordinary men with fortunes Urge enough to keep them In luxury without doing a atroke of work for tha rest of their lives. Bars of aolla Gold. The barrels contain bars of solid gold, tha boxes are stuffed full of gold coin, and the whit metal I bullion silver going from safe depoalt vault to aubtreaaury, or. If the load la gold coin, from bank to bank. The truck la Berkley', the money truckman', the slate, hung on the fence I Berkley's office, and the big man who consults it from tins to time and might be a retired police man a well-to-do grocer 1 Berkley him self. All Wall atreet know thla and know what tha tfuek contains whan It passe with Its load. But Wall street Is not interested. It I a sight so aid that It baa become commonplace. Ia the fact that a shabby old truck with a million or two upon It crawl aafely through the most crowded s treat, In Jb .city with only a guard of twa or three truckmen and a bank eterk or twa to watch over It nobody sees aaythlng out af tb ordinary. That new of the shipment Is written on a alata which hangs on a fence In reach of every passerby Is no less a matter of eoursa. Gold ha been transferred safely la that .way for years and there I no rea aoa why It should not always be. Aa a matter of fact t would be harder to ateal that gold thaa anything else In tb city. In tha first place, there I a guard f from four to six men with vry load f II la tba second place, the gold I usually la bars weighing from ten to twenty-live pound apiece and la packed In kega locked and aealed, with from three to a dosen bara la a keg. The gold coin I In strong boxe equally heavy. Tha silver, which Is carried bare in the bottom of the truck, 1 In Ingots, and a atngla Ingot would be a good load for a powerful man. Then the transfer usually takes place In crowded streets and In the crowd there I aafety. It would be a bolder gang of crook thaa over held up a train that would aver try to rob the money truck. Aa to the rest of It, Fred Berkley, the money truckman, ha been In the business all hi life. Ho ha a monopoly of the money carrying in thla city and bis father bad It before him for more years thaa any body Dow la Wall street remembers. He la a conservative person. As his father did business, so does he. Nothing aver went wrong wltb either, and the bank a and 'the people whoao business It Is to handle million have accepted the meth od a ef both wltb perfect satisfaction. They ars bow a part of the dally routine and the atreet sees nothing wonderful about them. Aa Ordlaary Baalaraa. "Why," said the shipping clerk of one of tha largest exchange houaes In Wall atreet, when tha Sun reporter sought Information about gold transfers, "you can't write any thing about that. It's ths most ordinary everyday tranaactloa dowa here. "You Just pack u: the gold and seal it aad aead tor Berkley ana ho carts It away to wherever It haa t go. There Isn't any thing also to It. "Nothtag ever goes wrong and there really Isn't anything Interesting about It. Is there, now?" , Tha reporter thought there was. But the money truckman was of the same opinion aa tha money exchange clerk. Said he: "Thing have beea printed In the paper yeara ago about thla bus'r., but father dtda't hold with them or give the Informs Ilea the paper got. Aad I won't. There ala't anything about It to make a story about anyway. We Just move the stuff. Nothing ever bsppens 10 It." ' The meaey truckman la big six feet tall at least aad as broad and solid as he Is (atl. Hla face Is aa set and bra as his frame I solid. . Jf maa could look Ilka a ton wall that soaa would ba Barkley. Anybody who looked at blm twice would trust him with a million. It wouldn't trouble him. lie would Just sit on the million till the owner cam bark to claim It, and before Safe and effective GORHAM Silver Polish This novel preparation produces aa Immediate brilliancy, but does not Injure the surface of the finest silver ftLTrsT.'p -rw that nobody cautd get blm to forget hla watch oa It any more thaa aaybody could Indue a good bulldog to drop a particularly Juicy boae. He was superintending the transfer of a truckload of silver wbea the reporter tried to find out things about the bullion-carrying from him. He checked off each Ingot four limes, not If be wa doubtful about the total, but a a matter of duty. Tbea he watched one of hi mea atamp hi firm dgn upon each Ingot with a steel die punched by a heavy hammer, gave his receipt for the cargo and moved away with It down Wall atreet aa unemotional a any lab of silver In the load. The Rear Gaartl. With him was a smaller, mora active looking maa with a dash of tha west ap parent In his black mustache and shabby brown sombrero. If the build of the bos truckmsa plsinly showed that be could frit any U.-intentloned crook with one blow of bla big fat. the other maa looked as though he would surely have a revolver in bis hip pocket and would know how ta use it. Besides the pslr there were on the truck with the driver a couple of stalwart men who bad assisted In loading the ailver when it came up on the little sidewalk ele vator from the safe deposit vaulta beneath. Just a few paaseraby recognised the value of the freight a It was carried out to the truck, and commented on It. "Gee!" remarked a weak-chinned, over dressed young man whose trousers were turned up to gladden beholder with a view of hi gorgeous hose. "Wouldn't that make you sick?" "Yer coulda't get nona of It," responded the hatchet-faced youth who accompanied him, "and If yer could, yer couldn't get away wltb It. If yer could, no more ledger fer me." Sometime there Is a million dollar' worth la one of those truck loads. Some times there la more, but not much. A million In gold with It accompanying packing caaea will weigh nearly three ton; a million in silver more than a doiea tlmea a much again. Wall strtet haa at time moved aa much aa 121,000,000 or 1)0,000,000, all of this huge sum In bullion. In a day from different points in the district to other points or out of It. A single bank or firm of money brokers haa transferred $5,000,000 or .0Q0, 000 In a single shipment abroad. The money tfuckman carrlea all this and he baa never lost a single cargo, however small the amount. Once there was a hulla baloo about a missing slab of silver, but It turned up In very short order, though the cry was raised that it had been stolen. He carries tba gold which. Is shipped abroad to tba vessel which, baa to carry It and brings back to Wall street the Im ported bullion. . It I lucrative business and he and his family have had a monopoly of It since It began. They are likely to keep it. No good end I aerved by taking chance with a aw firm in such a business, and tha eoneerva I'sm of Barkley suits Wall street well. Bullion Is perhaps the safest kind of commodity to transfer In this city. It Is In transferring other kinds of money that the banks take chances. It waa not tor the sake of the gold carted through the atreet that the dead line for crook waa established at Fulton street. Meaaenarera aad Thele Rolls. The bank messenger coming from the Clearing bouse after tba day'a balance has been struck will often carry back to bla bank from 11.000,000 to $5,000,000 In cash In hi leather pouch or In hi trousers pocket; that la. In bills of large denomlna tlons, usually $10,000 notes. A bank's balance at tha Clearing house will rang from $1,000,000 to $5,000,000, or even more. The biggest bank, the City National, will often 'have at tha close of business from $3,000,000 to $5,000,000 to It credit. Tb messenger takea back to tba bank that amount In bllla. He does not ga alone. Usually It la a party of three that escort the millions. There la the messenger with the money la his pocket, a clerk and the bank's detective or bouncer, whose physique and quickness have usually earned for him bla Job. The detective la armed. So, though a bank messenger's millions are la shape to be carried eft. It would practically ba Impossible ta get them at any coat. They ara not carried where a lucky grab would maka them evea tem porarily change ownership. The most valuable bundle of wealth taken through the atreets la thla city, bow- ever, Is not moved la tha financial district at all. It passes between the comptroller's office in the Btewart building and tha city hall, and Eddie, who ha been tha comp troller' mecnger from time Immemorial, carries It. x It consists of newly, signed city bonds. Whsrever an Issue of these bonds has been made, after having beea filled out la the comptroller's office, they must be signed by the msyor. They are not then regls tered, but with the mayor'a signature upoa them they aeem and might possibly be ac cepted la practice as negotiable. . Eddie carries the bonds, a few million at a time, to the mayor'a office, and when signed carries them back agala. How many millions he has carried In a single trip only he knows and, Ilka the money truck man. he Isn't telling his business. But the amount has certainly reached $30,000,000 oa occasion. . .. Na crook has ever bad the nerve to tackle Eddie aod really none would think It worth while. The hue and cry which would be raised over such a theft would la all probability at once bar the bonds as ne gotiable securities, even In the world of graft. And no thief would gel far wun in plunder. The city ee to that. But the sight of the messenger with mil lions in bonds, the little posses of three or more bearing millions la real cash through the financial quarter to the banks, the bare silver in the money truck, the kegs of gold bar and the strong boxea full of gold coin must sometimes make aoma evil . minds dream dreams such as made Superintendent Byrnea long ago establish that dead line above the streets of temptation. till Urea ! la "During a period of poor health some time sgo I go a trial bottle of DeWitt's Little Esrly Risers," says Justice of tke Peace Adam Shook at New Lisbon, lad. 'I took them and they did me so muck good I have used theia ever since." Sate, reliable and gentle, DeWitt's Little Early Risers neither gripe nor distress, but stimulate the liver and promote regular and easy actloa cf the bowels. The Wrcalasr Wlllaw. Tha weeping willow tree cam to America through , the medium of . Alexander Pope, the poet, wha planted a willow twig ca the banks of ths Thames at his Twicken ham villa. The twig came to blm la a bna of Cga sent from Smyrna by a friend who bed lest sll ta tha South Sea bubble aad bad gona to that distant land to recoup his fortune. Harper' Eneyelopedlae tell the story of the willow's arrival ia Amer ica. A young British officer wbe came to Hostoa with ths army ta crush the rebel lioa of the Americas colonies, brought with blm a twig from Pope'a saw beautiful willow tree. Intending t pleat it la America whea h should comfortably aettla dowa aa the landa confiscated from the conquered Amt-ricaae.' Tba young afflcer, dlsappolatsd ia thee expectailoas, save hi willow twig rapped la oil silk, ta Jcha Parke Cwstla, Mrs. Waahlaitsa'a eoa. wha plaited It oa hi Abingdoa estate, la Virginia-. It thrived aad became, the progenitor of all our willow trcsa. t THE OMAHA DAILY TIEHi FIUDAY. DECEMHEK 2fl, 1005. STRANDED. By Henry Seton nerriman. (Copyright 1902 by Henry Seton Merrlraan.) "Aucun chemln de fleurs n conduit a la glolre." It was nearly balf-paat eight when Grand haven ran into a fog-bank, and the second officer sent a message to the captain' teward who was waiting at that great ! man's dinner table In the saloon. ' The captain's steward wa a discreet man. Ha gave the message la a whisper as hs swept the crumbs from ths table with . a Jerk of hla napkin. The second officer j could not, of course, reduce speed oa his I own responsibility. Orandhaven bad been running through fog-banks ever since It left Plymouth In the gray of a November afternoon. Every Atlantic traveler knows Orand- haven. It was so well known that every berth was engaged despite the lateness of ' the season. It was considered a privilege to sail with Captain Dixon, the most popu- ! lar man on the wide seas. A few million- ! aire considered themselves honored by bis 1 friendship. One of thera called him Tom on shore. He was an Englishman, though i Grandhaven was technically an American ship. His enemies Bald that he owed his success In life to his manners, which cer tainly were excellent. Not too familiar with anyone at sea, but unerringly discrim inating between man and man, between a real position and an Imaginary one. For In the greatest republic the world has yet seen mea are keenly aliv to social dis tinctions. On tha other band bis friends pointed to his record. Captain Dixon had never made a mistake In seamanship. He wss a handsome man with a trim brown beard cut to a point In the naval style, gay blue eyea and a bluff way of carrying hla bead. Tha womea passengers Invariably fell into the habit of describing blm aa a splendid man, and the word seemed to fit him like a glove. Nature had certainly designed him to be shown somewhere In the front of life, to be placed upon a dais and looked up to and admired by the multitude. She had written suc cess upon bis sunburnt face. He bsd thousands of friends. Every seat at his table was Booked two voyages ahead and be knew the value of popularity. He was never carried oft' his feet, but enjoyed It simply and heartily. He had fallen in lova one aummer voyage with a tall and oft-mannered Canadian girl, a Hebe, with tbe face of a Madonna; with thoughtful, waiting blue eyes. She was only 19, and, of course. Captain Dixon carried everything before him. Tbe girl was astonished at her good fortune. For thla wooer was a king on his own great decks. No princes eould be good enough for blm had prln ceraes been in the habit of crossing tbe Atlantic. Captain Dixon bad now been married aoma yeara. Hla marriage bad made a perceptible change In the personnel of hi Intimate. A bsehelor captain appeal to a different world. H wa etlll a great favorite with men. Although Grandhaven had been only one night at sea, the captain's ta'ule had no vacant seata. These were all old travelers and there bad been' libations poured to tbe gods now made manifest by empty bottles and not a little empty laughter. Dixon. however, waa steady enough. He had re luctantly accepted one glass of cbtmDirni from tha bottle of a aenator, powerful in shipping circles. He and his officers made a point of drinking water at- table. The modern Bailor ia ana of the atartllng pro ducts of these odd times. He dresses tor dinnsr, and when off duty may be found Bitting on the saloon stairs discussing with a lady passenger the respective merits of Wagner and Chopin as set forth by the ship' band when he ought to be asleep In bed in preparation for the middle watch. Tha captain received the message with a curt nod. But he did not rise from the table. Ha knew that a hundred eyes were fixed upon him, watching hla every glance. If ha bad Jumped up and hurried from the table the night's rest of half a hundred anxious ladle -vould Inevitably suffer. Ha took his watch from his pocket and rose laughing at some sally made by a neighbor. As he passed down the length of the saloon be paused to greet one and exchange a laughing word with another. He waa a very gracious monarch. On deck It was wet and cold. A keen wind from the northwest seemed to prom ise a heavy sea and a dirty night when the Llsard should be passed and the pro tection of the high Devon moorland loft behind. Tha captaln'a cabin waa at the head of tbe saloon stairs. Captain Dixon lost no time In changing his smart ness Jacket for a thicker cos. Oilskins and a souwester transformed him again to the seaman that he was, and he climbed tbe narrow Iron ladder Into the howling dark ness of tbe upper bridge with a brisk readiness to meet any situation. Tha fog bank was a tblck one. It was like a sheet of thin and very wet cotton wool laid upon the troubled breast of tbe sea. The lights at tbe forward end of the huge steamer were barely visible. There was no glare aloft where the maat light stared unwinking Into the plt. Dixon exchanged a few words with the second officer, who stood, rather restless, by tbe engine room telegraph. Tbey spoke In monosyllables. The dlsl showed "fun speed ahead." Captain Dixon stood chew ing the end of bis golden mustache, which he had drawn In between his teet'u. He looked forward and aft and up aloft in three quick movements of the head. Then be laid bis two bands on the engine room telegraph and reduced the pace to halt speed. There were a hundred people on board who would take note of It with a throb of uneasiness at their hearts, but that could not be helped. The second officer stepped sldewaya into tha chartroom, reluctant to turn his eyes elsewhere thsa dead ahead Into the wind and mist, to mske a note In twa books that lay open on tha table under the shaded electric lamp. It wa twenty minute to 9. Grandhaven wa a quick ship, but It wss also a safe one. Tbe captain had laid a course close under tbe Lizard lights. He Intended to alter It, but not yet. Tbe mUt might lift. There waa plsnty of time; for by dead reckoning they eould scarcely hope ta sight the twin lights before 11 o'clock. The captala turned and aald a alogle word to hi second officer and a moment later tha great fog horn above them In tha darkness coughed out its deafening not of warnlag. A dead silence followed. Captala Dixon nodded his head with a curt grunt of aatlsfactlon. Thare waa nothing near them. Tbey eould carry oa, playiag their game of blindman'B buff with fate, open-eyed, ateady, watchful. Thera was aa music tonight, though tha band bad played the cheeriest items of Its repertoire outside the saloon door during dinner. Many af tbe passengers were lo their cabins al ready; for Grandhaven was relltag gently oa tha shoulder of the At lantic swell. Tha aea wss heavy, but not so heavy aa tbey would certainly eaeoun ter west of the Land's End. Presently Graadhavea crept out late a clear apace, leaving tha fog bank In rolling cloud Ilk caaaoa smoke behind her. "Ah!" aaid Captala Dixoa. with a sigh af relief. He had aever beea really aas ion. Tha face of tha second officer, ruddy aad glistening with wet, lighted up sud denly aad sundry lines arouad bis ys wet wiped away aa ha eteoped itw lb binnacle. Almost at once his face clouded again. "There Is another right ahead," ba mut tered. "Hang them!" The captain gave a short laugh to reas sure his subordinate, whom be knew to be an anxious, careful man on his promo tion. Captain Dixon waa always self-confident. Thst glass of champagne from the senator's hospitable bottle made him feel doubly capable tonight to take hla ship out Into the open Atlantic; and then to bed with that easy heart which a skipper only knows on the high sess. Suddenly he turned to look sharply at his companion, whose eyes were fixed on the fog bank, which was now looming high above the bows. There were stars above them, but no moon would be up for another three hours. Dixon seemed about to say something, but changed his mind. He raised bis bands to tbe ear flap of hla sou'wester, and loosening the string under his chin, pushed the flannel lappets up within the cap. The second officer wore the ordinary seafaring cap, known aa a cheese cutter. He wss much too anxious a man to cover up his ears even la clear weather, and said with his nervous laugh that the color did not coma out of his hair If anyone euggested that the warmer head gear would protect him from rain and spray. Dixon stepped nearer to his companion and they stood side by side looking Into tha fog bank which was now upon them. "Any dogs on board?" he asked casually. "No why do you ask?" "Thought I heard a little bell; eucb a thing aa a lady' lapdog wear round it neck on a ribbon." The second officer turned and glanced sharply up at the captain, who, however, made no further comment, and aeemed to be thinking of something else. "Couldn't have been a bell-buoy, I sup pose?" he suggested with a tenta'.lvo lahgb as he pushed hla cap upwards, away from his ears. "No bell-buoys out here." replied tha captain rather sharply with his usual self, confidence. ' They stood side by aide in silence for five minutes or more. The mist was a little thinner now and Captain Dixon looked up wards to the sky, hoping to see tbe stars. He wss looking up when the steamer struck and the shock threw him against the after rail of the bridge. The second officer was thrown down and struggled for an Instant before getting to hie feet again. "God Almighty!" he said, and that waa all. Captain Dixon waa already at the engine room .telegraph wrenching the pointer round to full speed ahead. The quarter master on watch was at his side In a mo ment and several men in shining oilskins swarmed up tbe ladder to the bridge for their orders. Grandhaven was quite still now, but trembling like a horse that had stumbled badly and recovered Itself with dripping knees. Already the aeas were beating the bluff side of the great vessel, throwing pyramid of spray high above the funnels. Captain Dixon grabbed the nearest man by the arm. "The boats!" he shouted In his ear. Tell Mr. Stoke to take charge. Tell him It's the Manacles." There seemed to be "bo danger for the ship was quite steady! with level decks. Turning to another quartermaster Dixon gave further orders clearly and concisely. "Keep it at that," he said to the second officer. Indicating the''dlal of' the engine room. . .i. . . hn - "Stay where you are?' he aheuted ta the two steersmen who were preparing to quit the wheelhouse. If Captain Dixon bad never made a mis take In seamanship he must have thought the possibilities of this mistake out In all their bearings. For the situation was quite clear and compact In his mind. The orders he gave came In their proper se quence and were given to the right man. From the deck beneath arose a confused murmur like the stirring of bees In an overturned hive. Then a sharp order In one voice, clear and strong, followed by a dead silence. "Good," said the captain; "Stoke has got 'em In band." He broke off and looked sharply fore and aft and up above him at tbe towering fun nel. "She's heeling," he said. "Martin, she's heeling. The ship wss slowly turning on Its side, like some huge and stricken dumb animal laying Itself down to die. "Yes," ssld the csptaln, with a bitter laugh to the two steersmen who had como a second time to the threshold of the wheelhouse. "Yes, you can go." He turned to the engine room telegraph and rang the "Stand by," but there was no answer. The engineers had come on deck. "She's got to go," said Martin, the sec ond officer, deliberately. "You had better follow them," replied the captain, with a Jerk of the head toward the ladder down which the two steersmen ' had disappeared. "Go, be d d," said Martin. "My place Is here." There was no nervousness about the man now. The murmur on the deck had suddenly risen to shrieks and angry shouts. Somo were getting ready to die in a most un seemly manner. .They were fighting for I the boats. Tbe clear, strong voice had ceased giving orders. It afterward trans pired that the chief officer, Stokea, waa engaged at this time on the sloping decks In tying life belts round the women and throwing them overboard, despite their shrieks and struggles. The coastguards found these women strewn along the beach like wreckage below St. Keverne aome that nigtt, aome at dawn and only two were dead. The captain snapped bis finger and thumb, a gesture of annoyance which was habitual to him. Martin knew the mean ing of the sound, which be heard through the shouting and tbe roar of the wind and the hissing of a cloud of steam. He placed bla hand on the deck of the bridge as If to feel It. He had only to stretch out his arm to touch tbe timbers, for the vessel was lying over farther now. There was no vibration beneath hla hand; the engines bad ceased to work. "Yes." said Dixon, who was holding to the rati In front of blm with both hands. "Yes she haa got to go." And ii 1' spoke Grandhaven slid slowly backward and ldewy Into tbe deep water. Tb shrieks wer suddenly in creased and then died away In a contuaed gurgle. Martin slid down on to tbe cap tain and together they ahot Into the aea. They sank through a stratum of struggling limbs. Tbe village of 8t- Keverne He nearly two miles from the sea, high above It on the bare tableland that Juts out tea miles to the Lizard llghta. It Is a rural village far from railway or harbor. It men are agriculturalists, following tb plow and knowing but little cf tbe aea, which la so tar below them that they rarely descend ta the beach, and they do no business la the great waters. But their churrhysrd It full of drowned folk. Thera are 104 in one grave. 110 ia another and log in a third Aa old 8t. Keverne maa will slowly nam thirty ships aad steamers wrecked la Bight of the church ateepia la the range of bis memory. A o,ulck-eard cal guatd heard lb sound of tha escape el steam, which waa almost Instantly silenced. The he beard nothing mora. He went back to the sta tion aad made hla report. He was so aura of his owa ears that he took a lantern and went dowa to tha beach. There be found nothing. He stumbled on toward Cadgwlth along the unbroken beach. At timea be covered bla lantern and peered out to sea. At last something white caught hla eye. It wa half afloat amid tbe breakers. He went kaea deep and dragged a woman to the shore. She wss quite dead. He held his - lantern above his head and stared out to sea. The face of the water was flecked with dark shadows and white patcbea. He waa alone, two mites frtra held, up a steep combe and through muddy Isnes, and as he turned to trudge toward the cliffa hla heart auddenly leaped to his throat. Thera was someone approaching him across the shingle. A strong, deep vote called to blm, with command and a deadly resolution In Its tones. "You a coast guard?" It asked. "Yes." The man came up to him and gave htm orders to go to the nearest village for help, for lanterns and carts. "What ship?" asked the coast guard. "Grandhaven, London, New Orleans." was the answer. "Hurry, and bring aa many men as you can. Got a boat about here?" "There Is one oa tha beach balf a mile along to the aouth'ard. But you cannot launch her through this." "Oh, ye w can." The coast guard glanced at the man with a sudden interest. "Who are you?" he asked. "Stoke first mate." waa the reply. The rest of the story of the wreck ha been told by abler pena. In tbe dally news paper. How forty-aeven people were aved; how the lifeboat from Cadgwlth picked up sprue, floating Insensible oa the ebbing tide with lifebuoys tied securely round them; how some mea proved them selves great and aome womea greater; how a few proved themselves very contemptible, indeed; how the quiet chief officer. Stoke, obeyed his captaln'a orders to take charge of tbe passengers are not these things told by the newspapers? Soma of them, es pecially the halfpenny ones, went further, and explained to a waiting world how tt had all come about, and how easily it might have been avoided. Tbey, moreover, dealt out blame and praise with a liberal hand, and condemned the owner or ex onerated the captain with that sublime wis dom which cometh out from Fleet street only. One and all agreed that because the captain waa drowned he was not to blame; a very common and washy sentiment which appealed powerfully to the majority of their readers. Some of the newspapers, while agreeing that the first officer having saved many lives by his great exertions during the night and perfect organization tor relief and help the next day, had made for him self an Immortal name, hinted darkly that tbe captain's waa the better part, and that they preferred to hear in such case that all the officer had perished. Stoke dispatched the surviving rassen gera by trala from Hclston back to Lon don. They were not enthusisstic about him, neither did they subscribe to present him with a service of plate. They thought him stern and unsympathetic. But before they had realized quite what bad happened they were back at their homes or with their friends. Many of the dead were re covered and went to awell tha heavy crop of God' a seed sown in St. Keverne church yard. It was qtoke who organized these, quiet burials and took a careful note of each name. It was he to whom tbe friends of the dead made their complaint o took their tearful reminiscences, to both of which alike he gave an attentive hearing, emphasised by the steady gaze of a pair of gray blue eyea which many remembered afterward without knowing why. "It Is all right," aald the director of the great steamship company la London. "Stoke ia there." And they sent him money and left him In charge at St. Keverne. The newspaper correspondents hurried th'ther and several of tbem described tbe wrong man aa Stoke, while others having mentioned him weighed blm and found him wanting in a proper sens of their importance. Ther Waa an "copy" In him, they aald. He bad aa eoa ceptlon of tha majeaty ef the press. At length the survivors were all seat home and the dead thrown up by tba sea were burled, Martin, the second officer waa among these. Tbey found the cap taln'a pilot Jacket on the beach. He must have made a fight for his life and thrown aside bis Jacket for greater ease In swim ming. Twenty-nine of the crew, eleven passengers and a stewardess were never found. The sea would never give them up now until that day when she shall relin quish her hostages mostly Spaniard and English to come :rom the deep at that trumpet call. 8toke finished his business at St. Ke verne and took tha train to London. Never an expansive man, he waa shut up now as tbe strong are abut up by a Borrow, The loss of Grandhaven left a aear on hla heart which time could not heal. It had come to his csre from the builder's yarda. It had never known another husband. He waa free now free to turn to tho hardest portion of bla task. He bad al ways sailed with Dixon, his life-long friend. They had been boyB together, had forced their way up the ladder together, had understood each other all through. HI friend's wife, by virtue of her office, per haps had come nearer to this man's grim and lonely heart than any other woman. He had never defined this feeling; he bad not even gone back to Its source as a woman would have done, or he might have discov ered that tha gentle air of queatlon or of waiting In her eye which wa not always there, but only when he looked for tt, had been ther long ago on a summer voysge before she wa Captala Dlxon'a wife at all. All through his long swim to shore, all through the horrors of that November Bight and the long-drawa pain of the suc ceeding daya be had done his duty with a steady Impasslveness which was la keep ing with tbe square Jaw, tha resolute eyea, the firm aad merciful Hps ef tha man; but he had only thought of Mary Dixon. Hla one thought waa that thla must break ber heart. It wa thla thought that mad him hard and Impassive. In the great office la Lon doa ha waa received gravely. With a dull surprise he noted a quiver In the Up ef. the managing director whea ba abook bands. The great business man looked older aad smaller and thinner In this abort time; for It ia a terrible thing to have te deal la humaa Uvea, evea If yon ara paid heavily for doing ao. "There will be an official Inquiry you will have te face It, Stoke." "Yes," be answered almost Indifferently. "And there ia Dixon's wife. You will have to go aad aea her. I have been. She stays at home and takea her punishment quietly uullk. aome of them." And two houra later ha waa waiting for Mary Dixon Id the little drawing room of the house In a Kentish village which he had helped Dlxoa to furnish for ber. She did not keep him long; aad whea she came Into tbe room he drew a sharp breath; but be had nothing to aay ta her. She waa tall and atrongly made, wltb fair hair aad dell cate coloring. She bad no children, though she had beea married sis years, and na ture aeemed te have designed ber to be the mother of large, strong, gentle mea. Bloke looked Into her eyea aad imme diately the expectant look earn late laom. Ther wa aomethlBg els behind them a sort of veiled light. "It wa kind ef you to come eo soon." she said, taking a chair by tha fireside. There was only one lamp In the room and it light scarcely reached her fare. But for all the good he did In coming It would seem that he might as well hsve stayed away, for he had no comfort to effer her. He drew forward a cbalr and eat down with that square slowness of move meat which Is natural to the limbs ef men who deal exclusively with nature and ac tion, and he looked Into the fire without saying a word. Agsln It wss she who spoke and ber words surprised the man who bad only dealt with women at sea, where women are not seen at their best. "I de not want you to grieve for me," she aald quietly. "You have enough trouble of your owa without thinking of me. You have lost your friend and your ship." He made a little movement of the lips and glsnced at her slowly. He held his Hp between hla teeth, as he wss wont to Lold, It during the moments of suspense be fore letting go the anchors In a crowded roadstead as be stood at hla poet on the forecastle head awaiting the captaln'a sig nal. She wa tbe first to divine what the ship bad beea to blm. Her eyea were wait ing for hla. They were alight with a gen tle glow, which he took to be pity. She spoke ealmly and her voice was always low and quiet. But ha was quit sure that her heart waa broken and the thought must have been conveyed to her by the silent messenger that pssses to and fro be tween kindred minds, for she Immediately took up his thought. "It Is not," she said, rather hurriedly, "as if it would break my heart. Long ago I used to thlak it would. I waa very proud of him and of bis popularity. But" And she aaid no more, but sat with dreaming eyes looking Into the fire. After a long pause she spoke again. "So you must not grieve for me," she said, returning persistently to her point. She waa quite simple snd honest. Hers waa that rare wisdom which Is given only to the pure la heart, for tbey see through Into the soul of man and sift out the honest from among the . false. It seemed, that ah had gained her object, for Stoke wa visibly relieved. He told her many thing which he bad withheld from other Inquirers. He cleared Dixon's good name from anything but that liability to error which ta only human, snd spoke of the captain's splendid nerve and steadiness In the hour of danger. Insensibly they lspaed into a low-voiced discus lion of Dixon as of the character of a lost friend equally dear to them both. Then he rose to take his leave before It waa really necessary to go In order to catch his train. Impatient to meet her eyea which were waiting for his for a mo ment as they said good-bye; as tbe man who is the slave of a habit walta impa tiently for the time when he can give way to it. He went home to tbe room he always oc cupied near his club In London. There he found a number of letters which bsd beea sent on from the steamship company's office. The first' he opened bore the post mark of St. Just In Cornwall. It waa from tbe coast guard captain of that remote western station, and It had been originally posted to St. Kerverne. "Dear sir," be wrote. "One ef your crew or passengers has turned up here on foot. He must have been wandering about for nearly a week and Is destitute. At times his mind la unhinged. He began to write a letter but could not finish It and gives no name. Please come over and Identify htm. Meanwhile I will take good care of him." Stoke opened the folded paper which had dropped from the envelope. "Dear Jack," It began. One or two sentence followed, but ther wa no se quence or sense In them. The writing waa that of Captain Dixon without Its characteristic firmness or cohesion. Stoke glanced at bis watcb and took up his bag a new bag burrlendly bought In Falmouth stuffed full of .a few necessities pressed upon blm by kind persons at St. Keverne when he stood among them In tha clothea In which be bad swum ashore, which had dried upon him during a long November Bight. There waa Just Matte ta catch the alght mail to Feasance. Hsevea wat kind te blm and gave blm bo time te thlak. The coach leavea Penzance at t In tbe morning for a two-hours' climb over bare moorland to St. Just a little gray, remote town on the western sea. The loneliness of tbe hill I emphasised here aad there by the ruin of an abandoned mine. St. Just Itself, the very acme of remoteness Is yearly diminishing ia Importance and pop ulation, sending forth ber burrowing sons to those places In the world where sliver and copper and gold ara found. The coast-gusrd csptaln was awaiting Stoke'a arrival in the little deserted square where the Penzance omnibus deposits its passengers. - The two men shook bands with that subtle and silent fellowship which ' draws together seamen of all classes and all nations. They walked away together on matters of their daily business. "He doesn't pick up at all," said the coast-guard captain at length; "Just sits mum all day. My wife looka after blm, but she can't stir him up. It anybody could she could." And the man walked on looking straight la front of blm with a patient eye. He spoke with unconscious feeling. "He Is a gentleman despite the clothes be came ashore la. Getting across to the southern state under a cloud a likely aa not," be said presently. "Some bank manager perhaps. He must have changed clothe with some forecastle band. Tbey were seamen's clothes and he had been sleeping or biding In a ditch." He led the way te his house, standing apart ia the well-kept garden of the sta tion. He opened tha door of the simply- furnished drawing room. 'Here '4a a friend come to see you," be ssld, and standing aside he lavlted Stok by a silent gesture of the head to pass In. A man waa sitting in front of the fire with bis back toward tbe door. He did almost a liberal education in thenuelvea. On long winter evening it will mean something to yon to have at your command a aerie of ar ticle of interest to yourself, your wife and tha children. SOME Or THEM. VMilin W PmVk Br . BaaJtaWa A4rrt, LLX., CtaaevTUr at a tHrfxntty ml tkaoMk. "Bo4 fc U fm." Sr l. (.mp I. KnUu Tim. af t Svm I Tk Iiim Mtf HU Mood." Br B. O. Artwnk, Tr Calonaa tto C iSlf. CanlTanrtllil'llmll lr HW.I.C. bnW.U-lSan tjpo. . txowWM orUk I aakuSUa. "Tlx Uatm Mu tn ' Mr !. W. K. !Ur,WUilaKlwliMlMcl rU!c iMlracttos. "W fcf -m ftrnm't la. MteMa Bv H.Cww B. Sll. mttmttrf MiMrt Sum aoif Arrtcijrut. "Civ. S fcrf I-Arm Boy." By CortUs Cm. Iin ,giUtmw. U AfT-mUmml Cf. Write aaw sad let n sand yea s Free Seas pie Capy of this grt pepalaiisef si Scia Ha Aaricaltwa, Pries XJ year, listed weekly. TWENTIETH CENTURY FARMER, J10S FaaxuM Stbkbt, Omaha, Kk. . SaeotaJ ft ) evt ovary paatotfloa In tbe OAcmtry, aot move or turn bla bead. Stoke closed the door behind him as bu entered the room and went slowly toward the fireplace Dixon turned and looked at blm wltt shrinking eyes, like the eyes of a dog thai j bss been beaten. i "Let us get nn to the cllns," he said la ' a whisper. "We cannot talk here." He waa clean shaven and his hair was grizzled at the temples, ills face looked oddly weak, for he had a rather lrreaoluto fbln, hitherto hidden by bla amsrt beard. Few would have recognised him. By way of reply 6toke went back toward tha door. "Come on, then," he ssld. rsther curtly. They did not speak until they had passed out beyond the town toward tbe bare ta bleland that leads to the sea. "Couldn't face It. Jack that'e the truthi" said tbe captain at last, "and It you or an- others trv to make me I'll shoot my self. How many waa it? Tell me quickly, man!" "Over 190." replied Stoke. They walked out on the bare tableland aod eat down on a crumbling wall. "And what do the papers say? I bate not dared to ask for one." Stoke shrugged his square shoulders. "What doea It matter what they say)" answered the man, who had never aeou his owa name In the newspapers. Perhaps he failed to understand Dixon's point of view. "Have you seen Mary?" asked the cap tain. "Yes." Then they sat In silence for some min utes. There wss a heavy sea running and tbe rocks round the Land's End were black In a bed of pure white. Tha Long ship's lighthouse stood up, a gray shadow ia a gray scene. "Come," said Stoke, "be a man end face It." There waa no answer rnd the speaker sat staring across the lashed water to the west, hla square chin thrust forward, his resolute lips close pressed, bis eyea Impassive. There wsi obviously only one course through life for this seaman the atralght one. "If It is only for Mary's sake." he added at length. "Keeping the Gull lightship ESE and having the South Foreland V by N, you should find six fathoms of water at a neap tide." muttered Captain Dixon In a low monotone. He waa unconscious of hla companion's presence and spoke like one talking in his dreams. , Stoke sat motionless by blm while be took his steamer in Imagination through the Downs and round the North Foreland. But what he said was mostly nonsense and he mixed up tbe bearings of the inner snd outer channel Into a hopeless Jumble. Then he sat huddled upon the wall and lapsed again Into a eilcnt dream with eyj fixed on the western sea. Stoke took him by the arm and led him back to the town, thla harmless, soft-speaking creature who had once been a brilliant man nnd had made but one mistake at sea. Stoke wrote a long letter to Mary Dixon that afternoon. He took lodgings In a cot tage outside St. Juat, oa the tableland that overlooks the sea. He told the captain of the coat guards that he had been able to Identify this man and had written to his people In London. Dixon recognized her when she came, but he aoon lapsed again Into his dreamy atato of Incoherence, and that which made blm lose hi grip on his reason was again the terror of having to face the world as the captain of the lost Grandhaven. To humor blm they left St. Just and went to Lon don. They changed Ihelr nemo to that which Mary bad borne before their mar riage, a French-Canadian name. Balllere. A great London specialist held out a dim hope of ultimate recovery. "It was brought on by aome great shock' be suggested. "Yes," answered 6toke, "by a great shock." "A bereavement?" "Yes," answered Stoke alowly. It is yeara since tho loss of Grandhaven and its atory waa long ago superseded and forgotten. And the London specialist was wrong. The Balllerea live now In the cottage westward of St. Just toward the sea, where Stake took lodgings. It was the cspuln's wlah to return to this remote spot. When ever Captala Stake returns to Cngland he spends his brief leave ef absence In Jour neying te the forgotten mining town. Ball lere passes his daya In his garden or sit ting on the low wall, looking with vacant eyea across the sea, whereon his name waa once a household word. Hla secret Is still safe. The world still exonerates him be cause he was Crowned. ''He sits and dream a all day," Is the re port that 'Mary always gives to Stoke wben she meets him in the town square, where the Penzance omnibus, the only link with the outer world, deposit It rare passen gers. "And you?" Stoke once asked ber In a moment of unusual expansion, bis deep voice half muffled with suppressed - sus pense. She glanced at him with that waltlug look which he knewa to be there, but never meets. For he Is a bard man hard to her, harder to himaelt. And who shall gauge a woman's dream Reflections of Bachelor. New York Press: There la no way of getting out of a love affair that ever suc ceed like not getting In. The way to praise anything a woman wears Is to tell her how pretty she looks In It. The fun that a woman get out of an argument la the chance to cry, and a man to get mad. Wben a woman confesses ber age she thinks to let you know how much younger she is than ber younger sister. A woman can stand being kissed against her will all right, but it make ber very indignant if you don't pretend to uao force. Health sW "mail Caae. A few doses of Dr. King' New Life Pill will clean, ton sqd Invigorate ths whole system. Try them. Only J5c. For aal by Kuba Co. : I Talk) By Greoct Educators. Through tha kindly assistance of aoma of tho ableat educator in tho Went, we pre- Bent a list of tpecial article which will be