yeahs ago," says she, kinder chirkin' up a little, and beginnin' to tat agin. "I made a vow yeahs ago that I would make my deah future companion happy, for I would neveh, neveh fail to meet him with a sweet smile as he came home to me at twilight. I felt that that was all he would requireh to make him happy. Do you think it was a rash vow, Josiah Allen's wife?"

"Oh," says I in a sort of blind way, "I guess it won't do any hurt. But, if a man couldn't have but one of the two, a smile or a supper, as he come home at night, I believe he would take the supper."

"Oh deah," says Betsey, "such cold, practical ideahs are painful to me." "Wall," says I cheerfully but firmly, "if you ever have the opportunity, you try both ways. You jest let your fire go out, and your house and you look like fury, and nothin' to eat, and you stand on the door smilin' like a first class idiot-and then agin you have a first rate supper on the table, stewed oysters, and warm biscuit and honey, or somethin' else first rate, and a bright fire shinin' on a clean hearth, and the tea-kettle a singin', and the tea-table all set out neat as a pink, and you goin' round in a cheerful, sensible way gettin' the supper onto the table, and you jest watch, and see which of the two ways is the most agreeable to him."

Betsey still looked unconvinced, and I proceeded onwards.

"Now I never was any hand to stand and smile at Josiah for two or three hours on a stretch; it would make me feel like a natural born idiot; but I always have a bright fire and a warm supper a waitin' for him when he comes home at night."

"Oh food! food! what is food to the deathless emotions of the soul? What does the aching young heart care for what food it eats-let my deah future companion smile on me, and that is enough."

Says I in reasonable tones: "A man can't smile on an empty stomach, Betsey, not for any length of time. And no man can't eat soggy bread, with little chunks of saleratus in it, and clammy potatoes, and beefsteak burnt and raw in spots, and drink dishwatery tea, and muddy coffee, and smileor they might give one or 2 sickly, deathly smiles, but they wouldn't keep it up, you depend upon it they wouldn't, and it haint in the natur' of a man to, and I say they hadn't ought to. I have seen bread, Betsey Bobbet, that was enough to break down any man's affection for a woman, unless he had firm principle to back it up-and love's young dream has been drounded in thick, muddy coffee more'n once. If there haint anything pleasant in a man's home, how can he keep attached to it? Nobody, man nor woman, can't respect what haint respectable, or love what haint lovable. I believe in bein' cheerful, Betsey; a complainin', fretful woman in the house is worse than a cold, drizzlin' rain comin' right down all the time onto the cook stove. Of course men have to be corrected, I correct Josiah frequently, but I believe in doin' it all up at one time and then have it over with, jest like a smart dash of a thunder shower that clears up the air."

"Oh, how a female woman that is blest with a deah companion can even speak of correcting him is a mystery to me.

But again I spoke, and my tone was as firm and lofty as Bunker Hill monument:

"Men have to be corrected, Betsey; there wouldn't be no livin' with 'em unless you did."

"Well," says she, "you can entertain such views as you will, but for me, I will be clingin' in my nature, I will be respected by men; they do so love to have wimmin clingin', that I will, until I die, carry out this belief that is so sweet to them-until I die I will nevah let go of this speah."

I didn't say nothin', for gratitude tied up my tongue, but as I rose and went upstairs to wind me a little more yarn-I thought I wouldn't bring down the swifts for so little as I wanted to wind-I thought sadly to myself, what a hard, hard time she had had, sense I had known her, a handlin' that spear. We got to talkin' about it the other day, how long she had been a handlin' of it. Says Thomas Jefferson: "She has been brandishin' it for fifty years.

Says I: "Shet up, Thomas J., she haint been born longer ago than that." Says he: "She was born with that spear in her hand."

But as I said she has had a hard and mournful time a tryin' to make a runnin' vine of herself sense I knew her. And Josiah says she was at it for years before I ever see her. She has tried to make a vine of herself to all kinds of trees, straight and crooked, sound and rotten, young and old. Her mind is sot the most now on the Editor of the Augur, but she pays attention to any and every single man that comes in her way. And it seems strange to me that them that preach up the doctrine of woman's only spear don't admire one who carrys it out to its full extent. It seems kinder ungrateful in 'em, to think that when Betsey is so willin' to be a vine, they will not be a tree; but they won't, they seem sot against it.

I say if men insist on makin' runnin' vines of wimmin, they ought to provide trees for 'em to run up on, it haint nothin' more'n justice that they should, but they won't and don't. Now ten years ago the Methodist minister before Elder Wesley Minkly came was a widower of some twenty odd years, and he was sorely stricken with years and rheumatiz. But Betsey showed plainly her willin'ness and desire to be a vine, if he would be a tree. But he would not be a tree-he acted real obstinate about it, considerin' his belief. For he was awful opposed to wimmin's havin' any rights only the right to marry. He preached a beautiful sermon about woman's holy mission, and how awful it was in her to have any ambition outside of her own home. And how sweet it was to see her in her confidin' weakness and gentleness clingin' to man's manly strength. There wasn't a dry eye in the house only mine. Betsey wept aloud, she was so affected by it. And it was beautiful, I don't deny it; I always respected clingers. But I love to see folks use reason. And I say again, how can a woman cling when she haint got nothin' to cling to? That day I put it fair and square to our old minister, he went home with us to supper, and he began on me about wimmin's rights, for he knew I believe in wimmin's havin' a right. Says he: "It is flyin' in the face of the Bible for a woman not to marry.'

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Says I: "Elder, how can any lady make brick without straw or sand-how can a woman marry without a man is forthcomin'?" says I, "wimmen's will may be good, but there is some things she cannot do, and this is one of 'em."

Says I: "as our laws are at present no woman can marry unless she has a man to marry to. And if the man is obstinate and hangs back what is she to do ?"

He begun to look a little sheepish and tried to kinder turn off the subject onto religion.

But no steamboat ever sailed onward under the power of biled water steam more grandly than did Samantha Allen's words under the steam of bilein' principle. I fixed my eyes upon him with seemin❜ly an arrow in each one of 'em, and says I :

"Which had you rather do, Elder, let Betsey Bobbet vote, or cling to you? She is fairly achin' to make a runnin' vine of herself," and says I, in slow, deep, awful tones, "are you willin' to be a tree?"

Again he weakly murmured somethin' on the subject of religion, but I asked him again in slower, awfuler tones:

"Are you willin' to be a tree?"

He turned to Josiah, and says he: "I guess I will go out to the barn and bring in my saddle bags." He had come to stay all night. And that man went to the barn smit and conscience struck, and haint opened his head to me sense about wimmin's not havin' a right.

Adolphus Washington Greely.

BORN in Newburyport, Mass., 1844.

THE DEATH OF A HERO.

[Three Years of Arctic Service. 1886.]

EAR midnight of April 6th, Sergeant Rice and Private Frederick started southward to Baird Inlet. They went to attempt the recovery of the hundred pounds of English beef which had been abandoned in November, 1883. Such abandonment, it will be remembered, was necessary to save the life of Sergeant Elison, then dangerously frost-bitten. The journey had been proposed by the two men about the middle of March, but I had persistently objected to it, foreseeing the great chances of a fatal result. The men, however, represented to me the desperate straits to which we were reduced, the value of the meat if obtained, their confidence in their ability to find the cache, and the certainty of their strength being sufficient for the journey. They asked but one favor, that they be permitted to make the attempt on the same ration as that issued to the general party-four ounces of meat and four ounces of bread daily. In such case they said no injury could result to the party in the event of failure. The provisions might be increased, they could not be diminished.

At first I refused to countenance the attempt, but as the days passed and the strength of the party waned, and death to some seemed imminent, I felt

the necessity of yielding. I accordingly decided on the trip, and fixed April 1st as the day of departure, provided the weather was good and our prospects not improved. The success of our hunters, Long and Jens, in obtaining birds, on March 27th, awakened hopes that the journey would not be necessary, and the departure was consequently postponed. Early April brought no relief, and game again failed. Christiansen's death decided me. I no longer hesitated, but gave the final orders. The orders were verbal. Detailed instructions to such men on such an errand would have been unwise, if not culpable. Rice was regarded naturally as the leader of the forlorn hope, and to him the orders were given simply to go and do the best he could. I, however, cautioned him particularly against over-exertion, knowing his great ambition and fearing for his strength. He had not been well on Thursday, and I had asked him to be fair and candid, so that I might not send a sick and unfit man on so trying and dangerous a journey. I told him that Sergeant Brainard, ever willing and anxious to serve us all, had expressed more than willingness to go in his stead. He on Sunday noon came into my sleeping-bag, and had a long talk over the situation. Rice declared that he had recovered entirely from his indisposition, insisted that he was as strong as Brainard, and that the duty should come to him, not only as the originator, but on account of his knowledge of the locality and his familiarity with the appearance of the ice as gained from two trips to Isabella.

In order to avoid the long detour through Rice Strait, he decided to go direct across Bedford Pim Island.

The sledge, loaded in the morning, was hauled during the day to the crest of the island by Lieutenant Kislingbury, Brainard, Ellis, and Whisler. They returned about 6 P. M., thoroughly exhausted by their labors. Whisler was much bruised from frequent falls on the glacier by which they had descended.

After a final consultation with me, Rice, in default of other sleeping-place, his bag being with the sledge, crept in with his comrade, Lynn, who had just died. He slept for a short time with the dead, unconscious that in a few hours he, too, would pass away.

When Rice and Frederick started, our hearts were almost too full for utterance, but we managed to send after them a feeble cheer, that they might know our prayers and Godspeed were with them on their perilous journey. Their outfit, though our best, was simple: A rough, common sledge (the one brought back by the rescuing squadron), a two-man sleeping-bag, a rifle, an axe, an alcohol-lamp, and a small cooking-pot. No tent was available; nor had there been, would their enfeebled condition have permitted them to haul it. For food, very much against their inclination, I increased the daily ration to six ounces of bread and six of pemmican, with a small allowance of tea. A cooking-ration of five ounces daily of alcohol was granted, and for medicinal purposes, if needed, a small quantity of rum and spirits of ammonia and a few pills were added.

The details of the journey, told us in simple, touching words by Frederick on his return, were substantially as follows:

The temperature was -8 (-22.2° C.) when they started. On reaching

the summit of the island, where the sledge awaited them, a heavy gale was experienced. The descent into Rosse Bay was made through much deep snow, and the enfeebled men frequently pitched headlong into a drift, from which they always emerged breathless and exhausted. At last the ice in the bay was reached; but, contrary to their hopes, the wind increased and drifting snow filled the air. Struggling on as long as they could, they were finally compelled, about 8 A. M. of the 7th, to camp.

The high wind and blinding snow rendered the lighting of the lamp for tea impossible, and so, without drink of any kind, they stretched their sleeping-bag on the ice, and, taking a few ounces of frozen pemmican, crawled into it for rest. They were confined to the bag for twenty-two hours by a violent storm, which buried them completely with snow. About 6 A. M. of the 8th they got out of their bag, but were too cold to cook until they had travelled an hour. A warm meal, with tea, refreshed them very much, as they had been nearly thirty-six hours without drink. About 7 P. M. that evening dark and blustering weather drove them to camp. Their sledge was drawn up between a large iceberg and the face of Alfred Newton glacier. The morning of April 9th broke calm and clear, and an hour's travel brought them to our old camp at Eskimo Point. Being within six miles of the place where the meat had been cached, they decided to drop their sleeping-bag and a portion of their rations, expecting, with their lightened sledge, to reach the meat and return in one march.

Frequently open pools of water around the grounded icebergs caused long detours. At times the tidal overflow wet their feet, and their foot-gear froze solid the instant they touched the dry ice. To add to their misfortunes, about 11 A. M. a strong northwest gale sprang up, with drifting snow, which tended to chill and exhaust them. In a short time they were unable to see any considerable distance. Struggling on, by 3 P. M. they had reached the place where the meat had been abandoned; but, notwithstanding a very careful and extended search, they were unable to find any traces of it. No signs of their old sledge-tracks could be seen, and from the appearance of the place they inclined to the conclusion that the ice had broken up and moved out since their last trip the preceding autumn. Frederick at this juncture proposed that they return to their sleeping-bag, and resume the search on the morrow. Rice favored remaining, hoping it would soon clear and that the meat would be found. About 4 P. M. Frederick noticed indications of weakness in Rice, and reminded him of their mutual agreement to give timely warning of approaching exhaustion so as to avert disaster. Rice said that if they travelled a little slowly he would soon be rested, but in a short time he showed such signs of exhaustion that Frederick called a halt, and gave him a quantity of spirits of ammonia in rum until some tea could be cooked. After warm food and drink, Frederick in vain urged him to start to avoid freezing. His condition had now become alarming. He was too weak to stand up, and his mind continually reverted to home, relatives, and friends, and to the pleasures of the table in which he intended to indulge on his return. At the same time he appeared to realize his critical condition, and gave detailed instructions regarding his manuscripts and personal effects.