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:MUST BB '0‘} 15! BO!“ an, that t5. :0 Gawain: Dan? “n . 1, 9n Frat)! CKEL‘ HNIE. ILAN. ea Sets. H A M . (In! in court Med â€"\'vv‘ “a“‘ b EVEIâ€" been able to soive so far. I’ve give it. upâ€"so’s everyone. else. Mebbe you’ll have better luck.” "But What. is this mystery ?” “The mystery,” sand Mr. Bentley. dramatically, "the. mystery ieâ€"Younzg Si. he’s the myetery. Last .Spring, just chap suddenly appeared at the. Point. -he appeared. From what corner of the globe nobody ha'm’t. ever been able. to find out. He bought a boat and a shanty down at my shore and went into a sort of mackerel partnerehip with Snuffy Curtisâ€"Snuffy suppiying the experience and this young feilow the cash, I reckon. Snuffy’s as cor .as Job’s turkey; it was a wmdfafll or hnm --and thar he’s fished aim summer.” “But his nameâ€"Young 81?”. "Well, of course, that Isn't. his name. He _did give himself out as *Brown, “Yes, a mvsteryâ€"a mystery,” peateud Mr. Bentley, solemnly. “and analysts}? Athat‘ aoony hafm’t ever wâ€"‘wu- wk.) r queuess, as: they can it. As for "char- acter” I reckon you’ll find all you want of that among the pointers any- way; never seed such critters as they are. “7119:: you get tired of paintin’. mebbe you can amuse yourself tryin’-to gefnyo the bottom (If our mvstnrv " ”Sh-h,” said Mr. Bentley, warning- ly, as Ethel Lennox came in With her Mrs. Bentley sent a telegraphic mes- sage of admiration across the table to her husband who was helping the cold tongue and feeling his way to a con- versation. ' “You’ll fine it quiet here, Miss Len- nox. VVe’re plain folks, and there ain't much going and coming. Mebbe you don’t mind that, though?” "I like it. “men one has been teach- ing school all the year, in an-ILOIS)’ city, quiet. seems the one thing to be de- sired. Besidee I like to fancy myself something of an artist. I paint and sketch a little, when I have time, amd Miss Courtland. who was here last sum- mer. said I sould not findw» a more suitable .8 0t. 80 I came because I knew tha mackerel fishing was car- ried on along the shore, and I would have a chance to study character among the fishermen." ; _ "Well. the shore ain’t far away and' it Is retty-â€"though, mebbe us folks here on’t appreciate it rightly, being as we’re so used to it. Strangers are always going crazy over its pictures- queness, as they call it. As for "char- acter” I reckon you’ll find. all you John ?” she confid d to her husband. "1 never saw such a face-and that hair, too. “70qu you have believed a. zed-haired girl‘coqld pe so handsome? _ _ --... _-v u‘- u new; W.JV, ‘V u'llU Mrs. Beifle y hustled away to bring in tea and set a goblet of damask roses on the tame. good woman was thinking, “Oh, if my Agnes could only look like that,” but aloud she only said, "You must be real tired , Miss Lennox, it’s along drive from the train down here. Agnes take M iss Lennox up to her room and tea ’1] be ready when you come down.” Agnes came forward With the shy grace that always won her friends, and the two girls went slowly up the Road. old-fashioned staircase, while Her complexion was of that waxy, perfect whiteness which is never found licately chiselled features wore what might have been a somewhat too de- parted, in a slow, charming smile, as Mrs. Bentley came forward with her kindly welcome. In her heart the The girl herself was tall, and gown- ed in some siniple white material that tell m graceful folds about her. She wore acluster of pink roses at her belt, and a. big, picturesque white hat drooped over her face and the glossy clinging masses of her red hairâ€"hair that was neither auburn nor chestnut nor golden, but simply red. Nor would anyone have wished it otherwise, hav- muss, with all its wonderful possibili- ties of rippling luxuriance. her mother's shouilder withâ€"unenvious paused on the stone steps, just where the big chestnut at the door cast flick- ering shadows and fantastic gleams of sunshine over her dress and shining “Laws, ain’t she pretty,” whispered Mrs. Bentley admiringly, as the girl came slowly up the green slope before the house, “ain’t she, Agnw? I do hope she’s nice. You can generally calc’late on men-boarders, but. them girls is doubtful. Preserve me from a nasty boarder. I’ve had enough of them. I kinder like her looks, though. Come child. let’s go and meet her." Ethel Lennox had reached the door Mr. Bentley had just driven into the front yard with the new summer boarder, and Mrs. Bentley and her daughter were peeping covertly at her from behind the parlor curtains, with the keen interest that theyâ€"shut up as they were in their restricted farm life-â€"always felt in any visitor from the unknown world, lying be- yond their boundary of purple-misted hills. Mrs. Bentley was a plump, rosy- cheeked woman, with a motherly smile. Agnes was a fair, slim, fifteen-year-old achoofgirl, as tall as her mother, with a sweet. face, and a promise of peach- blossom prettiness in the years to come. The arrival of a summer boarder was aiways an event in her quiet life. “Young Si.” C has been teach- ‘, in ap-npisy city, thing to be. de- tt) faIICy myself st. I paint and I have time, and as hqre last sum- â€" - â€" W at v V“ “‘0 ‘3“ouâ€" der. \Vitcb! Witch! How are you, \Vitch? Ah, here’s that glass. Let’s go out and have a look.” "Si’s catching mackerel,” announced Agnes, a few minutes later. after she had scrutinized each boat in turn, “and he won’t be m for-an hour yet. If you like, we have timefor a walk up the shore.” The sun Slipped lower and lewer in the a rough ladder in one corner, leading up to a loft above. The bare, lathed walls were hung with fishing jackets} nets, mackerel lines and other shore ap- j purienences. A little stove bore a; kettle and a frying pan. A low hoard table was strewn with dishes and the: cold remnants of some hasty repastz'; rough benches were placed along the' walls. Afat be~whiskered kitten, look-3 ing as if it might have been out out} of black velvet, was dozing on the Win- , dow sill. . [ “’l'his is Young Si’s cat,” explained; Agnes, pausing in her search after the: sliyglass to pat the creature. It purredi joyously and opened its sleepy green? eyes. "It’s the only thing he cares for,§ I believe. \Vhen he comes up to our: place he elxyeys carries it on his shouI-f ‘7'. --- "That’s Young Si’s place,” said Ag- nes. ”He lives lt‘here night and day. Wouldn’t it make anyone melancholy? No wonder he’s mysterious. I’m going in to get his eyeglass. He told me I might always take it.” She pushed open the door and enter- ed. Etrhel followed, stOOpmog her bright head as she passed the low entrance. The interior was rough but, clean. It was a small room, lighted by one tiny window looking out on the water, with on the long, level beach. To their left the shore curved around in a semicir- cle of dazzling whiteness; at their right stood a. small gray fish-house, Two or three dories floated on the water in front of in . ”Indeed he isâ€"and more! Young Si’s no more like the rest of the shore men thaw-J don’t know what. He’s queer, of cour. I don’t believe he’s happy. It seems to me he’s worrying over something; but I’m sure it’s nothing wrong. Here we are,” she added, as bhey_pa§sed the sand-hills and came out ."T-ha't furthest 6ft ‘boat is Young 81’s,” said Agness. "He always goes to that, particular spot.” "Is :he really all your father says?” qqfe‘stx‘one’d ‘ Miss Lepnox, quiiously. Becyofid tfhe sand-hills stretched the slhmmg expanse of ocean, in tint the famt, bleached bleed hot _ August A- _.~ sea, and stretching out int?) a horizon laned with long trails of pinkâ€" 13h cloud. Numberless fishing boats dot- ted the shimmering reaches. "Winn; 1.-..41. _ _.L ‘Y I et my hat." Vhen she came out the two irls startgd, and presently found themse ves walking down a, grassy, deep-rutted lane, that ran through mown hay fields, green with their rich after-growth, and sheets of pale ripening carts and golden-green wheaxt, until it lost itself in therolling sand-hills at the foot of t-‘hg slope. . Ethel sprang up as she saw ,A‘gnes. “I had no idea. you would be magiy p0 goqnf’ she 9aid__brigh~tly. “Just wan; t1]! -“B\;t'how preritjrwsâ€"heis,” she thought, elaultmgly. “Won’t the folks around hc’re stare at her? They always do at qur boarders, but we’ve never had (me hke her." ‘ « ' '"O 1185, as she céfn'e Hown the will}; tree avgyue,_ a. little later. Tfhe smile faded out of the fair face, and the sweet mouth drooped wistful- !y. There was a sad far-away look In the vxolet eyes. The face was not that of {a" happy girl. So_thought Ag~ ”A- Ethel Lennox sauntered out into the orchard to wait until Agnes would be ready to gm Sthe sat down under an apple tree and began to read, but soon the book slipped from her hands and.the beautiful red head leaned back agamst: £133 graxcrilnkled trunk of the old tree. V- ~_" _J~vw ions prince in disguise,” she s ggest- ed. "It all sounds very romantic.” . "I’ll take you to the shore after tea, If you’d dike,” said Agnes eagerly. Si’s just splendid,” she continued in a confidential aside, as they rose from the table. Pa doesn’t half like him, be- cause he thinks there’s something queer- ahout him. but I do. He’s a gentle- man, as ma says. I don’t care, 1 don’t believe he’s done anything wrong. You just wait till you see him.” Ethel Lennox was interested. . A mel- ancholy, mysterious hero, in a setting of Silver-rimmed sand hills, and wide blue sweeps of ocean was something {biz}. ought to lend piquancy ’to her vaâ€" 03-1011. - "1 WIW'JHI? “3.86? this myster- n--- Mâ€" stand it. You’ ré not a Pointer‘~ Point- ers can stand‘am mgthinâ€"g, but 1t I] kill you ” He. laughe one of $th bitter laughs_ of . Ses he, “’Its no diff- rence if it does. Nbbody’d keer," and off he walks, Bulky like. There’s something about Youny Si 1 can’t un- derstjfand concluded 1‘. Bentley, D¢L I "He ain’t. wasting his life,” returned her husband; “he’s making money, Young Si is. Though he don’t seem to keer about that a mite. This has been a b' year for mackerel, and he's smart. I he didn't know much when be begun he’s ahead of Smuffy now. And as for workâ€"I never saw his beat. He seems possessed. Up afore sunrise every blessed- morning, and never in bed tiil‘i midnight; and just tearing awa all between time. I said to him ’tot r day, "Young Si,” see 1, "you’ll have to let up on this sort 0! tiling and take a rest. You can’t man. No one '11 ever convince methat Young Si ’5 done anything to be as- hamed of, whatever is his reason for whisting his life down there at that 5 re.” “No, I never will,” mid Mrs. Bent- ley, firmly. “Young Si comes here near every day for milk or butter, and he’s a perfegj; gentl‘gmanâ€"a perfect gentle- a sort of runawayâ€"got into some scrape or other, mebbe, and skmlk'mg around here to keep out of gaol; but wifg. hege won’t give in to__that.” Doesn’t seem to mind it. He’s a moody, keepâ€"toâ€"himseif sort of chap-â€" nothing can be got out of him. Yet he ain’t on-pop'lar along the shore, I believe. Snuffy was telling me they all like him real well, if he is unso- cmble. Anyway he’s as handsome a chap as ever I eeed-â€"a.nd well eddicated He ain’t none of your ordinary fish- ermen. Some of us as kinder think he’s but nobody believes that is itâ€"sounds onnatteral here. He bought his estab- lishment from old 81. who usedvto fish down there and was a mysterious old creetur in his way, too. So when this young fellow stepped in from good- ness knows what. some of them Point- ers christened him Young Si, for a Joke, end he never gets onyth'gg else. "To see her here, of all places, he muttered. "the last spot in the world I should have expected her to come to. And as unforgiving as everâ€"she has not softened any. Her manner show- ed that, all too plainly. Not a. word of feeling, not a look. after all this long heart-break. \Vell, I can 'be proud. too.“ His face hardened, “She need not fear Ishall annoy her by my presence, or seek to force an interview on her is .. where it stings, I thought that in the rough life, amid all these rough assocnates, awhere nothing could remind me of her, ‘I might. forget her. And. . Young Si rowed steadily out over the dark water. An' eastern breeze was blowing up and bringing in a damp sea-fog, that blurred darkly across the outlines of horizon and shore. The young fisherman found himself alone in a world of water and gray mist. He sfopped rowing and leaned forward on hls oars. "Fer the land salke!" he ejaculated. ”ef that don’t beat all. I wonder ef Si is in his right senses. He’s been act- in’ quar right along, an’ now ter start off, Lord knows Whar. at this hour of the night. I reely don’t b’leeve it’s safe ter stay her ealone with him.” He shgpk hismunkempt‘heed dubiousl-y. _ ' Youfig Si had got into the dory and untied 1t. He made us answer. but rowed out from the shore. Snuffy star- ed at. the dory blan'kly, until it was lost in the gloom. "Good day’s work,” {he mut- tered,” but lbardIâ€"I’m dead beat out. 'Low I’ll go ter bed. In the name 0’ goodneSS, Si: Whal‘ be yog agoiqfi ter? as if she moughrt hev stepped out of a picter frame, dan’t She?” “We’ve up time to waste, Curtis,” said Young S], harshly, “with all these fish to cleam before bed-time. Step talking and get to work." . Snuffy shrugged his shoulders and obeyed in silence. Young Si was not a person to be trifled with. The catch was large and it was late before they finished. Snuffy surveyed the full bar- re ls" complapently. . _ ., some girl, Si?” he aSked: ‘1azily. “One 9‘ the Bentlefs‘bognders, I hear. Lopks set and expressionlesa A dull Cred burned in each bronzed cheek. He threw out the mackerel mechanical] , but his hands trembled. Snuffy stro- led over to the boat. "See that hall’- Young Si speedily recovered himself and s'tq-otped to his work. His face was .“She didn’t seem much interested in mm,” answered Agnes, disappo-intedly. “She wasn’t talking to him. I sup- pose he doesn't seem Wâ€"Wel], as much out of the common run to her as he does to us, ma. She didn’t say much about him.” When they gotâ€"home Miss Lennqx excused herself, an the plea of wean- ness. and went straight to her room. "What did Miss Lemnax think of Young Si?” asked Mrs. Bentley, anx- lowly. __. -vvâ€" vâ€"v-wvv-v-vâ€" “He seems to be Qdite a superior'fish- eljmar}, as far as I could see, in tlhe dun hght. Its very dusky them, you ly. Let us walk a little faster. My sihoes are quite wet." “Oh, yes! I forgot, Did you see Young Si? and what do you think of him?! ‘ Ethel turned hertaee away and an- swegled with a studied carelessness. edu'It is very damp hereâ€"I feel chill- "Dear, dear!” exclaimed Agnes, penl- tently. "I ought to‘ have told you to bring a shawlâ€"it’s always damp on the shore aflter sunset. Here, Snuffy, give me my mackerel. ’lihamk you. I’m ready, Miss Lennox.” Tlhey had reached the lane before Agnes remem- bered to ask the question Ethel dread- ‘I steadily. "It is very mt] 3' Ethel Lennox turned abruptly and si- lently, and walked swiftly across the sand. Agnes felt her arm touched and turned to see Ethel stamdimg, white and eregt, beside her. . 'the boats. She still-wore her white dress and her hat had slipped back from her face. The men stared at her m open-mouthed amazement, as she passe ed them and walked out on the plat; form belhiznd Young Si. She meant to be discreetly careless of his presence and to steal a look at him, herself un- noticed. ,'1‘ihere was no one near them. The others were all assembled around Snuffy's boat. Young Si was throwing out the mackerel with marvellous rapidity, but, at the sound of a footste-p behind him, he turned and straightened up his tall form. They stood face to face. O'Miiles!" “Ethel!” . The exclamations were simultaneous. Young Si had staggered back against the mast, letting two silvery bloaters slip out at his hands into the water. His handsome sun-burned face was very white. . a busy figure was (aiscernible ina large boat. "That’s him with his bad! to us 3n the creamâ€"colored boat. He’s count- mg out mackerel. If you go over t0 that platform behimd him you’ll get a good look at him when he turns around. I’m going to coax a mackerel out of Snuffyaâ€"if I can; he’s as symgy as I don't know what.” She tripped off 311d Etfhel walked slowly over ‘to pea nudgéd {her companionj‘Ther‘é. If you want to see Young 51," she wigmpergd, pointingto thq §k1§18, vyhere T‘hey hurried back acr0$ the dampâ€" ening sand as the sun disapxgeared, lea- eninp; sand as the sun . disappeared, leavmg a fiery Spot behind h1m. The shore was no longer quiet. or deserted. The little spot where the fishing houses stood, had suddenly started into life, Roughly clad boys were_ runnlng hither and thither, carrying fish or wa- ter. The boats were hauled up 0‘11 the skids. A couple of shaggy old tars, who had strolled over from the Point to hear about Young Si’s catch, ’were smoking their pipes at the corner of his shanty. A’ mellow after llght was shining over sea and shorq. The Whole scene delighted Ethel’s artist 839% Ag- “They’ll mostly all go arqund to the point," explained Agnes, w1th a conâ€" temntuous sweep of ‘her hand towards a- long headland running out before them. “They belong there and they’re a. rough crowd. You. don’t catch Young Li assgciating -\_v1t'h the .Pomfi- ers. ‘Therw he’s getting up his sail We'll just about gegt back by the time he’s in if we turn now ” ed and dipped afar out and tiny sand- peeps flitbed along the beach. . Just as the red rim of the sun dlpped 1n the pur lizng sea the boats began to come iznmgomut'he fishing: ground. It us go home,” said the latter un- III. -v v~o ' That’s easy to find out. la number of paper field pieces. for the 53le i) th 1 tt If he I: use of the German infantry. Their cal- . 1111 ‘e aer. maesa- - a . ~ . ’, iber is a little less than two Inches, and fuss he 18" t the former. the pieces are so light taat oge soldier ‘ A , . can easiy carry one. at t e resist- HIS LIBER-TY‘ apee is greater than that of a field Convict.â€"-â€"I'm in here for having five‘ piece of steel of the same calilfir. Those Wives. ‘ . 1 paper guns are intended for use in sit- Visitnrâ€"How are you enjoying your ; nations where the movement of {field liberty? - ' 3, artillery ,would be impracticable. That fellow puzzles me, I can’t make gut]. whether he’s a philosopher or a 00 Tha’ts easy to find out. How? ~ Ca‘ll him, the latter. If he makes a fuss he isn’t the former. llow Captain Whistler of the “ Tacoma ‘ Became Possessed of llis 'Mueh-Prizeci Albert Medal. Though brave deeds are~ every day ' performed by. merchant seamen, they do not always find their way to light. The ocean is nowadays so covered with shipping that acts of heroism, qruiet performances, full of manly spirit and devotion, must prove numerous among the many mariners afloat under the red ensign. The merchant sailor as a gen- eral rule has no chronicler. Publicity has happily been accorded to one re- markable example of a sailorly courage, and as a result Captain Thomas Aver- .ett Whistler, of the Northern Pacific steamship Tacoma, treasures as one of , his most prized possessions the Albert medal of the first class, with which badge of honorable distinction Her Ma- jesty the Queen, was pleased to recog- nize an act of bravery performed by him a few years ago while chief mate of the ship Ennerdale of Liverpool. The incid- dent which the medal commemorates transpired on a bitterly cold night in mid-December, while the homeward bound Ennerdale was passing through the most inhospitable, melancholy, dis-_ mal tract of water in the worldâ€"off Cape Horn. The hour was 5.30 a.m., called at sea three bells in the second dog-watch, when Duncan McCallum, a young apprentice who was aloft upon some job, fell, struck the rigging and rebounded on board. An able seaman named Pochin witnessed the fall of. the lad and without a moment’s hesitation sprang after him, but before he could reach -McCallum the poor fellow sank, By this time the ship had been brought to the wind, and Pochin, fearing the cramp might seize him, hailed the ship ' for a life buoy. It was at this moment, 1 and while “all hands were engaged in lowering a boat to the rescue, that Whistler, who had been asleep in his berth below was awakened by the un- usual commotion and ran on deck with- out stopping to dress. instantly tin-‘1 derstanding the matter, he called to,, the boatswain to heave him a lifebuoy, ! - and jumped overboard. His first busi- § ' ness on rising to the surface was tofi‘ seize the lifebuoy with which he swam i ‘ to Pochin. ’l‘he brave sailor was on the , ‘ point of sinking, but the mate withe‘ the aid of the buoy succeeded in keepâ€" 1 ‘ ing him up, even though the water was I '5 freezingly cold, and there was a small ‘ 3. sea running, until the boat came to i the rescue and both were brought safe- ly back to the ship. 1 f1 \U I I r- I ever saw. He ave Albert and myself, the impression oga. man who is not hapâ€" py. and one whom the ubrden of his im- mense power and position weighs heav- ily and painfully. He seldom smiles, and when he does the expression is not a happy one.” is certainly a. very striking man,” she wrote; “still very handsome; his pro- file is beautiful and his manners most dignified and graceful, extremely civil, quite alarmingly so, as he is so full of 'llhe girlish Queen and those about her were greatly. excited by this un- looked-for apparition. Victoria filled 'her diary with wonder-stricken exclamation points each day of his stay, and wrote long letters to her relative, King Leo- pold, of Belgium, detailing her emo- tions during the eventful ten days. "He is oertainlv a verv striking- mnn ” ashao v-V~v v- May, 1844, word came that he was to appear in London in two days’ time. He liked to descend upon people in this abrupt and unexpected way; it was in keeping with h18__ own conception of his character, and produced just. the imâ€" pression of irresponsible omnipotence which it pleased him to create in small matters not less than idlerge affairs. "NJ. A ._ UNCOUNTED MILLIONS of subjects, impress the popular fancy of ms tune. it had been given out that he was to visit England some time in 1845, by} ‘now suddenly at the close of Rf_.g 1 v-uâ€"vâ€" V. “w" ever. They frightened people who met their gaze. Still more did the tales the were told of him, of his colossal ambitions. this wild outbursts of saw- agery, :his ironâ€"handed grip upon the lives and thoughts and very souls of hfim still fascinate the imagination. Taller by half a head than most of his pine. no other man of our century has so looked the part of an autocrat. His face, particularly in profile, was as ex- ceptional in its regularity of beauty, as Napoleon’s albeit of a Wiholly dif- ferent order. This face had a strange peculiarity. Tchle eyelashes were curi- ously undeveloped, and of so pale a colour, that his big, bald, piercing eyes had the effect of no relief what- A Lapse in Their Visits Between the Years 1844 and 1896. children, when she last received the vis- it of. a. Czar. The news that the ter- rible Nicholas was coming, and that only two days hence, produced an extraordinary fluttering in the tame dove~cote of Windsor. For nearly 20 years this Emperor of Russia had been the most striking figure among the Princes of Europe. The accounts of k... mist was. all around, and about creeping, Impalpable, ghostly. The {pokeq‘gegtly in the swell. Fron THE BADGE 0F BRAVERY. CZARS IN EN GLAND. (To be continued.) RISKY. 35’. The dori . From afar pies to the number of 73,000 and Buddâ€" hist priests to the number of 100,000. l ‘ . g l: or every square mile there are an av- ? erage of three temples and four priests, :and for every 540 people there is one i temple, and for every 400 people there is : one priest. Thereis contributed to these -' each year for the support of the priests and ,the mainienance of the temples i yen 22,500,000, or about $12,000,000 Uni- ted States money. These figures appLy to Buddhism alone and do not include i any items of Shintoism or other relig- I There are in all J apan Buddhist. tern» l PAPER ARTILLERY, Krupp. the great German manufac» tnrer of cannons, has lately'completed 10118. The cerebral excitement" of the bapâ€" less firemen becomes intense, he feels as if red-lhot needles were piercing his brain; he is seized with faintness, diz- ziness, and anxiety, the nerves twitch. every heart beat resounds with the clamOr of a trip hummer; the pulse becomes irregular, now he is hot as the grate and now just like an ice- berg; before his disordered Vision red devils dance; evaporation from the skin ceases: pores hecometparalyzed; the tortured victim, unable to make the mental or physical exertion necessary to toss one shovelful of coal, rushes :to the deck, and drops himself overboard into rest and oblivion. in some cases the victims of stoker hole insanity, are physically exhaust- ed, fatigued, crazy or sufferers from delirium tremens when they go aboard ship. The horrors of the red-hot dun- geon, stifling with coal dust, with its moist, fetid atmosphere and yawning furnaces, ever hungry for more fuel, have no soothing effect upon a brain already disturbed._ Yet even the coolies succumb. One of the B1111sh steamship Ghazee’s Las- car sLokers rushed at night delirious from the £11 eroom and jumped into the Red Sea. He sought and found his par- adise. Neither buoy, with a torch pat- geomem, nor boat’s crew could find ' 1m. In torrid latitudes the temperature in the stokehole is oiten rising 150 de- grees. The Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company and other lines running to the East alWays employ coolie fishermen, as they are supposed to be inured to heat. will not be fatal to the life and reason of the healthiest of men. This remarkable deduction, however. does not prove that even a. comparative- 1y low temperature in the bowels of a. ship, if. long endmed in combination with a moist atmosphere, and a dark sooty, illy ventilated stokesholedn which the air is 1n commenting'on the; Bogota case the British memcal press arrived at the humane conclusion that no man m good health ever succumbed under the oil‘- cgmstances in “711101) Landor was plac- e . Buchanan forfeited his bail, but Mit- chell stood trial and was sent to Boâ€" tany Bay. The defense produced testi- mony to prove that various people, some accidentauy and Others voluntarily. had for periods as long as twelve minutes endured in ovens and kilns perfectly dry temperatures ranging from 212 to 340 degrees b‘arenh‘en, The steamship Bogota. was bound from Rio de Janeiro to England. Stoker Thomas Lander had refused to do his duty, alleging that he was ill. Twice the Bogola’s thsician examined Landor and twice pronounced :th physically sound. Chief Engineer Buchanan and Se- cond Engineer Mitchell then ordered the fireman tied to a, ladder three feet from the hottest furnace. 1n thirty minutes .Landor’s head drooped. He was earned on deck and in a few mm- utes was dead. Horrors of the Steamship’s Stoke “oleâ€"- foal Passers Formerly Punished by Being Lashed in Front of Red‘llot Fur ! namesâ€"Lander Roasted on the Boga“. S t \ t " Hades is not much- worse than this. hey! Laugh So! Ha! Ha! I see the ago, which drew down upon the perpe- trators the denunciation of the Civilized world and consigned one of the prin- cipal offenders to fifteen years penal servitude. THE BLISTERING HEAT of their hottest furnaces was a com- mon mode of punishment in the Bri- tish merchant marine up to the tune of the Bogoia case, nearly forty years Incredible, as it'seems, Uhe Vlaahing of refractory firemen to ladders and stancheions in of madness and death‘, but they recur and recur, and little effectual effort seems to be made to remedy the evil. So frequent have. cases of insanity due to the injurious surroundings of the steamship furnace-room become that. an English physician has prepar- ed a monograph upon the subject. Stories {have been repeatedly printed of these tragedies of the deepâ€"stories devil’s children all around me éancing.” Poor Hans \Valler! It was Ghlristmu Eve and he was down in the stokehole of the freighter British King with his brain sizzling under the awful furnace heat. WALLER’S AWFUL FATE INCPURE AND STAGNAN T. J APAN’S TEMPLES. in J