The Blue and The Gray

In 1865 a further attempt was made, and after 1,200 miles had been laid, the cable broke again. So grand an undertaking was not to be given up lightly. Mr. Field's perseverance was unconquerable. A strong, flexible cable was shipped on board the "Great Eastern," and on the 13th of July, 1866, this gigantic boat started from Valentia, Ireland, and two weeks later it "glided calmly into Heart's Content, Newfoundland, dropping her anchor in front of the telegraph house, having trailed behind her a chain of 2,000 miles, to bind the Old World to the New." It then went back to the mid-Atlantic, grappled the end of the broken cable of 1865, a splice was made, and the line was continued to Newfoundland by the side of the other. These lines have never failed to work. The cable having thus become a fact, the world was astonished and gratified. Mr. Field had worked heroically, and by our own land, by England and by France he was enthusiastically praised. The first message which passed over this line was a worthy one—the announcement of the treaty of peace between Prussia and Austria.

The charges for telegraphing were formerly very high, twenty pounds for a short message being asked, but as rival companies began to spring up, competition reduced the price considerably.

Marine cables have multiplied so fast that where there was originally but one or two, there are now eight, owned and operated at a vast benefit to the entire world with which we are in communication. The events occurring in the most distant climes are brought to our doors through this medium so perfect is the system. Cyrus W. Field received a gold medal from Congress in recognition of his services, and the gratitude of the world, as well.

ALASKA

Few can realize the magnitude of this far Northwest territory. To most boys and girls it seems a cold, barren, desolate country, a perpetual scene of ice-bound rivers and frost and snow the whole year round, with nothing growing. When Secretary Seward accomplished the purchase of this vast tract of land from Russia, he showed great wisdom and foresight. No wonder that, in view of its immense size and valuable resources, he declared the conclusion of this affair the crowning triumph of his life.

Russia had been anxious to sell for a long time, but many feared that she had drained all the value from the territory, and wanted to get rid of it. There was bitter opposition in the United States to the plan of buying what every one considered would prove but "a field of ice and a sea of mountains."

We want to tell the young folks how great a mistake these sort of reasoners labored under, and how we came to be the fortunate buyers of this vast stretch of land.

Many years ago a party of American explorers conceived the idea of establishing a telegraph between our country and Asia, and they went to Alaska for this purpose. Fancy their surprise when they saw what they had supposed was a desert waste, producing the largest pine and cedar trees in the whole world, and the most extensive seal-fisheries, with here and there a town, with its churches and buildings. They at once saw how rich it was in natural advantages, and they became very anxious that our government should confer with Russia as to its purchase. They presented good reasons for this desire to Congress, and Secretary Seward saw at once what an acquisition it would be to us, in many ways. So in March, 1867, the treaty between our country and Russia looking to its sale was ratified. It had at that time a native population of 60,000, and since we have come into possession of it, the United States Commissioner of Education has started schools and appointed teachers to care for the education of the young. There are now twenty-four of these schools in the different settlements, two of them in Sitka and a manual training school has been organized here also, where they receive instruction in the various trades. This school must be very popular, for it has a large attendance for a small city like Sitka, it numbering over 200 pupils on its list.

The chief city, or capital, is Sitka, very romantically situated on the shore, while high mountains rise behind it, forming a beautiful background for the streets and dwellings. It is an old-fashioned, quiet place, when compared with bustling American towns, but it boasts a lively weekly paper, and the Russo-Greek church has a good edifice there, showing that the religious education of its people has not been forgotten. The harbor is very beautiful, being deep, and affording safe shelter for vessels.

The purchase of this territory has extended our northern boundary from the 49th to the 71st parallel, and added to our growth westward by sixty degrees of longitude. It can boast of the highest mountain in America, Mt. St. Elias, which rises 14,000 feet above the sea. The magnificent Yukon river runs through the territory, and steamers of light draft can sail on its waters for 1,500 miles. We have gained 600,000 square miles, and this vast area really cost our government the trifling sum of two cents an acre, the sum paid Russia being $7,200,000. It would require thirteen of our States to equal its extent. As a writer jovially remarked, "It is a gilt-edged real estate investment."

The climate is quite endurable. The winters in the northern portion are excessively severe, but on the southwest coast it is warmer at that season than either Maine or Dakota.

The salmon are very plentiful, as well as mackerel, cod and herring. The streams are full of them. The salmon rival those of the Columbia and Fraser rivers, and immense canneries are daily in operation in the summer, preparing them for the markets of the world. The Chinese do this work principally, and they are brought up from San Francisco for this purpose and taken back there in the Fall. Fish are mostly caught in fish traps and nets, but the natives spear them.

The largest stamp-mill on this continent for reducing gold-bearing quartz is in operation near the town of Juneau.

Agriculture does not flourish on account of the shortness of the summers. Gardening on a small scale goes on, and plenty can be raised for home use. The region so long remaining almost unknown, has suddenly become the desired bourne for men and women of all classes. It has always been known that its mineral resources were fine, and gold has been found there in small quantities, but the hardships endured in getting it from the soil were too great in proportion to the amount, but a new impetus to the labors of the gold seeker has been given by the discovery of the precious metal in such large quantities that thousands have rushed to this field eager to dig for the yellow ore. Steamers are leaving Pacific ports weekly, laden with those who are willing to brave the terrors of the Chilkoot Pass. If the tales are true, it is surely a land of' untold riches, as the entire region is gold-bearing, and for some years to come, that metal will be found by some, in paying quantities. One authority, Dr. Becker, states that the beach sand all along the Alaskan coast contains enormous quantities of gold. But even though there was not an ounce of it in the whole territory, Alaska has paid back to our commerce its price several times over.

CENTENNIAL EXPOSITION

The United States, now in the midst of prosperity concluded to hold one of the most notable fairs any land has ever enjoyed. The first one was held in commemoration of the one hundredth birthday of our nation, and was projected on broad lines, and carried out in the same manner. It was opened May 10, 1876, and continued 159 days. It was a general invitation to all the world to bring their productions to our shores for admiration and instruction, and caused a unity and sympathy between the severed parts of our country such as no other event could have succeeded in doing. People flocked to Philadelphia from every land, and the North and South met in a friendly rivalry as to which section should be most fully represented. Over 61,000 visitors attended each day of the Fair, and at the close of the Fair the receipts were, in admissions, concessions and royalties, in round numbers, $4,307,749.75.

It had been the desire of many patriotic people for ten years to make a showing of our resources, and to invite, as it were, the whole world to see us at home. The hope had never met with favor, but by repeated representations as to the importance of the idea, the people of the United States were at last aroused, and worked so faithfully and rapidly to carry it out, as to surprise the world.

President Grant, on behalf of the United States, asked the nations to take part in our rejoicing, and they responded promptly, by sending commissioners to attend to the details. Congress appropriated large sums, and all the States entered into the undertaking with hearty good-will.

City governments and private individuals also contributed freely. A site was chosen, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, one of the most charming locations which could have been found. Five large buildings were constructed, covering an area of twenty acres.

Each State erected a building, as did many foreign nations, within which to exhibit the products and manufactures of that particular State.

The exposition was opened by President Grant, with Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, and his empress, by his side. Theodore Thomas' orchestra furnished the music, playing eighteen airs at the opening, the last of which, Hail Columbia, met with tumultuous applause. A cantata came next, a prayer by Bishop Simpson, and a hymn followed written by Whittier, the Quaker poet. General Hawley presented the buildings and their contents to the President, who accepted them in a few words, announcing that the exhibition was open. The two ponderous Corliss engines which were to put the whole machinery going, were set in motion by the President and the Emperor.

The exhibition was formally closed November 10, 1876, after a season of unexampled prosperity, in the simplest manner. Addresses were made by General Hawley and several others, the entire audience sang "America," and President Grant declared the International Exhibition closed. But it had taught foreign powers a lesson of respect for our republic, and caused wider intercourse between the Old World and the New.

EDISON, THE GENIUS OF THE AGE

To-day the old system of illumination is giving way to the splendors of electric glow. With man's progress came the much needed question of artificial light.

Electric lights not only adorn the streets of our cities, but grace our parlors, furnishing a stronger, a cleaner and more healthful light than any other known. To Thomas A. Edison, who was born in Milan, Ohio, in 1847, belongs the glory of bringing electricity for lighting purposes to a successful basis.

Other scientists before him had experimented, but to Edison remained the work of removing the final difficulties. Electricity is to-day furnishing the motive power for street cars, railroads, engines, etc., and it is predicted that before the dawn of a new century more wonderful still will be the achievements of this untutored and remarkable man.

With no less possibilities in scientific research comes the Kinetoscope, his latest invention, which by a thousand instantaneous pictures one is enabled to see the lifelike motions of "a child at play," "a distant battle," or the varied scenes of a "County Fair."

CHICAGO FIRE

The terror which fire excites exceeds all other causes for fear. It is a subtle power that the average person cannot cope with. Its exhibitions are so terrible, so changeable, and so unmanageable, that it temporarily unnerves or unbalances the calmest brain. Great conflagrations have raged in many lands, and in all ages, doing exceeding great damage, but it is yet to be recorded that a fire ever swept over so wide a territory, and swallowed up so large an amount of wealth and products, sacrificing so much life as did the great Chicago Fire.

The history of the prominent events of the times would be incomplete were not the attention of the boys and girls of to-day directed to an occurrence so startling as to arouse the sympathies of the entire world.

The fire started on the night of October 8, 1871. The previous summer had been especially dry and hot, and was prolific of fires, many cities and towns having suffered in this respect, and the lumber districts of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and the forests of New York State, having been visited by the destroying element. Many causes have been assigned for this fire, but its origin will probably remain forever unknown. It burned with unabated fierceness for two days, and three-fourths of the city were literally reduced to ashes.

On the evening of Saturday, the 7th, a fire had broken out in a portion of the West Division of the city, and consumed property to the value of a million of dollars. This was thought a terrible fire, and was heralded in all the Sabbath morning papers; thousands visited the spot on that day, and commented on and shuddered at the loss. Little did they apprehend that the same evening, Sunday, October 8, a fire would take place which would do the most deadly work, ruining business, licking up homes and property, destroying human life, and almost wiping out a whole city, whose prosperity and energy had become famous.

Nothing escaped. Private homes, public buildings, churches, banks, theaters, the postoffice, courthouse, newspaper edifices, hotels, all fell before it, and not until General Sheridan ordered the blowing up of buildings, was its progress stayed.

At half-past three in the morning, while a strong southwest wind was blowing, the anxious citizens were informed that the North Side was attacked by the fire fiend, and one of the first victims to its wrath was the engine house of the waterworks, thus cutting off the supply of water for use in fighting the flames, and driving the terrified people to despair. From here it leaped northward, taking in the elevators on the river banks, with their millions of bushels of grain, setting fire to vessels lying at anchor, then to the cemetery nearest the city, and to the beautiful park known as Lincoln, in short, to every conceivable object which could furnish food for the monster of destruction.

The tramp of hundreds of people fleeing from the fire, the shrieks of terror, the noise of the engines, the hoarse shouts and calls of those who searched in vain for their dear ones separated from them in the mad chase for life, the thunderous fall of stately structures, the roaring, crackling, howling flames, made a wild scene that Pandemonium was silence compared with. The fire burned the North Side until there was no trace of a building left standing save one, the residence of Mahlon D. Ogden, which stood in a large plat of ground, entirely detached. On the site of this house has since been erected a fine building of stone, devoted to a public library, and called the Newberry. The northern city limits and the lake were the only barriers to the further encroachments of the fire.

Blazing brands were seen sailing through the air, and, falling in some spot as yet untouched, they would kindle a new fire. The heat was intense, the very air one breathed almost scorched the throat. One vast sea of flame melted marble and stone till it crumbled and fell. But oh, blessed relief! The thousands who camped out on the prairie that night welcomed the torrents of rain that fell, even though it chilled them through. People went nearly mad with terror on that dreadful night. Robbers and thieves were busy plying their trade, taking everything they could carry away. Some of these perished with their ill-gotten gains. The lake was a welcome refuge, and hundreds waded out as far into its waters as they dared, to escape the heat that lay behind them. It was said that many were drowned through their temerity.

The 10th of October rose upon a waste, whose dwellers were clothed in the apathy of despair. For eight days after the fire, the city was without water, and the dread of a second outbreak hung like a pall over them. The city came under military rule, citizens patroled the streets, and every stranger was looked upon with suspicion, lest he be an incendiary. General Sheridan, by virtue of the fact that he was commander of the Military Division of the Missouri, took charge of the city, to protect it from the thieves and incendiaries who were at work. He ordered two companies of regulars from Omaha, three from Fort Leavenworth, and one from Fort Scott, here. General Halleck also furnished him with four companies from Kentucky.

A hundred men were put to work on the engines of the waterworks, and in a week the mains were filled by pumping water into them from the river. Some sickness resulted from drinking this water. But eight days' labor resulted in forcing water from the pure lake into the pipes, and once more Chicago could drink its fill. Meanwhile peddlers had dipped water from the lake and sold it from house to house at a shilling a pail. Mayor R. B. Mason, on the 10th, forbade any fires kindled for cooking, and "cold victuals," and in many cases no victuals at all, for a day or so, until the Relief Committee could distribute the stores pouring into the desolated city, were the order of the day.

And then the great heart of the world beat with noble generosity. From every city, and town, and village, and from foreign lands, the beneficent gifts flowed in, and food and clothing. From New York, Boston, Cincinnati, St. Louis, London, England, and all over the world, generous contributions of money were poured into Chicago, to feed the starving—not the "starving poor," but the starving people, for all were made beggars by the calamity. Banks were destroyed, local fire insurance companies were wiped out of existence, and for months our fair city was kept alive by the noble and unstinted liberality of the world.

The loss in property was over $290,000,000, at the lowest estimate. How many lives were laid down no statistics have ever been positively given, as there was such a large floating population, of whom no account could be made, but accepting the lowest computation, at least 250 people perished on that fearful night, and over 100,000 were left homeless, and without a shelter.

A writer, speaking of the great loss of the fire of 1871 says that $1,000,000 of property was consumed every five minutes, and 125 acres of buildings every hour.

THE TELEPHONE AND PHONOGRAPH

No invention of modern times equals in interest the Telephone. It has remained for an American to solve the problem of communication between persons at a distance from each other. Scientists, by means of electricity and sound, have devised an apparatus for transmitting the voice to a distance of hundreds of miles. To Alexander Graham Bell, of Massachusetts, and to Elisha P. Gray, of Chicago, is due the honor of originating this wonderful invention.

Closely following the telephone is the Phonograph, an invention based on the same principle of science, but brought about by different means. The phonograph is made to talk and sing, thus enabling one to read by the ear instead of the eye.

THE JOHNSTOWN FLOOD

Fly for your lives! The dam is going!" Such was the warning the inhabitants of the towns received from the lips of a man who rode madly through the valley, warning every one he saw, on that sad afternoon of May 31, 1889. It was five in the afternoon. The people were beginning to think of leaving their work and going to their peaceful homes, when this dread news broke upon their ears. They could not credit it, and as they heard the news, they looked doubtingly at each other. To most of them, it seemed impossible. The dam was away up in the mountains, on private grounds, and few had ever seen it or dreamed how vast it was. Besides, they reasoned, it had broken once or twice before, and no great harm was done. All these causes served to lull their fears. But even when they were warned, it was too late, so impetuous was its course. Nothing could have stayed the mad waters in their descent into the doomed valley.

The Johnstown flood followed a long rain storm in the Alleghanies—a storm of several days' duration. All the rivers running east were swollen, and the immense dam of the huge Conemaugh valley burst with a thunderous report. The reservoir was a large one, four miles long by one broad, and over seventy feet deep. This vast body of water swept a wave twenty feet high at the rate of twenty miles an hour, right down into the narrow and deep valley, where were eight villages boasting a population of 58,000. Johnstown, Pennsylvania, the largest of the towns in the valley, lay at the junction of Stony Creek and the Conemaugh river, and had extensive iron works, banks, and many business houses. This and all the villages were swept out of being in two hours, so rapid and vehement was the coming of the torrent. Thousands were drowned, and nearly two thousand people were burned to death by means of a mass of wreckage which was caught and held at a new bridge near the town. The houses were all made of wood, timber had floated down the current and stacked up, and hundreds of trees were piled up at this bridge for a space of sixty acres. It is presumed that some furnaces set fire to this mass, and the poor creatures whose helpless forms had been entangled in the débris, met an awful death by fire. There was no chance for escape; the raging torrent was ready to engulf them, while the fierce flames were eager to lap up all that the waters spared.

Railroad tracks were swept away, telegraph poles leveled, and though Philadelphia and other cities sent help and food at once, it was impossible to reach the helpless victims for forty-eight hours, and when at last soldiers and navvies on rescue trains reached the scene, there was nothing to be done but to feed the living and bury the dead.

Nearly 10,000 perished, and all who had escaped with their lives tried to succor the sufferers, save a few Hungarian Slavs and Italians, who plundered the dead, but who were shot at once as a reward for their greediness.

It is not possible to picture the condition of the Valley after the waters receded. In many places the whole town was swept as bare as though a gigantic broom had passed over it, nothing but sand and gravel being left. Where a house chanced to be left standing, it was filled with mud and slime to the third story, while trees, broken timbers and debris was piled up to the second story. Not a house was fit for occupancy. Dead bodies were found in cellars, and in some dwellings horses had been forced into the rooms by the rushing waters, and lay there putrefying. They all fared alike. A few citizens were held prisoners in their frame houses, and floated over two miles to a place of safety, but these fortunate ones were the exception.

Medicines, clothing, money and food were liberally poured into the unfortunate region. Men and women from all over the country offered their services to care for the living and the dead.

The dam whose bursting caused this awful loss of life was very carelessly constructed, and had no stone work in its makeup. Indeed, it might well be called a vast embankment of earth.

EARTHQUAKE AT CHARLESTON

Charleston, South Carolina, seems to have more than her share of misfortunes.

This thought occurred to me when the papers all over the country on the morning of September 1st, 1886, gave to the world an account of that dreaded convulsion known as an earthquake, which had taken place the night previous, just as the hour for retiring had come. The first intimation that the Signal Service Bureau at Washington city had of this catastrophe was only a surmise. They knew that something was wrong, for communication was not to be had. All the telegraph wires were suddenly cut off. Without a moment's warning the city had been shocked and rent to its very foundation. Hardly a building escaped injury and almost a third of the city was in half or total ruins. The whole Atlantic coast was more or less affected, and for leagues from the shore the ocean was thrown in a turmoil.

People fled from the tottering houses to the parks and public squares, where they erected tents and remained for weeks, afraid to return to their own homes. It was soon discovered that these shocks were only the dying away of great convulsions and that further alarm was unnecessary, so they returned home.

With true American energy the debris was in a few months cleared away, business was resumed and to-day were it not for a few cracks and fissures in buildings we would never know that anything had happened there to disturb their peace.