protesting wildly. By the time the flurried pilot saw his error he was fully fifty feet from shore. He reversed the wheels, and tried to push the Southerner back again, but the stiff current, crowding the stern of the old-timer, freed her from the grasp of her assailant, and exposed to the water an unhealthy chasm in her side extending almost to the keel. Rapidly the Southerner settled, until in ten feet of water she touched, and the Captain breathed more freely. He did not foresee the startling climax. The steamer was aground at bow and stern only, and her centre continued to sink. One after another the stanchions bent and snapped, lower and lower sagged the decks; then with a dull report the keel broke, and cabin, texas, pilot-house, and chimneys folded and twisted themselves into a tangled wreckage, like the remains of a telescoped express train. It was as if a mighty hand, sparing the boat's ends, had seized upon her middle, and relentlessly crushed it flat against the river bottom. When the final smash came, Captain Jo was standing well forward. The hurricane deck, breaking away at his feet, left him perched high in air, gazing dizzily through the choking steam into the débris below. He was stunned by the magnitude of the disaster. The spectators on shore saw only the loss of a wornout packet of small value, but the Captain saw the wiping out of his grand hopes and plans, the absolute end of his career. A boat came out quickly and took him off, together with Arthur, who was seated nonchalantly astride a capsized chimney with a spoke of the wheel in each hand. Once ashore, the Captain was hemmed in by a crowd of sympathizers and advisers. One friend suggested a possibility of raising the Southerner. The Captain glanced toward the wreck, then turned away; he could not bear to look at it. By the first train he went back to his farm and tried to forget, but it was no use. His occupation, and his beautiful steamboat-all he had in the world-were gone. All day he smoked on his front porch, wearily watching the river. His neighbors called, but he took no interest in their visits, and after a time they stopped coming. He tried to comfort himself with the St. Louis and Memphis papers. One day he read that the engineers had dynamited the sunken Southerner from her obstructive place in the channel. After that he threw the papers away, unopened. The passing boats saluted him louder than ever, but he no longer had any means of reply. Often, when awakened by a whistle echoing through the valley, he reached hastily for his bell-cord, only to let his hand fall sadly when he remembered that the big bell of which he had been so proud was slowly rusting two hundred miles away. Six months dragged by in this fashion, and then a new chapter was added to the Captain's history. One night he was aroused by a whistle, a weird, jumbled roar, that made him sit bolt upright in bed. He knew that whistle-there was not another like it from St. Paul to New Orleans -the whistle of the Southerner. Some one had raised her, after all. Breathlessly he listened for the pounding of her machinery, but could hear nothing. Then he thought of the item about the dynamiting. "A dream," he remarked, grimly, and lay back on his pillow. He was half asleep when he was again disturbed, this time by the tolling of a familiar bell-the Southerner's-calling for soundings. But he was prepared this time. "I'll wake up in a minute," he commented, and, so soliloquizing, went to sleep. He rose early and began his dressing, pondering the while over his vivid dream. Chancing to glance out, he saw something which caused him to start violently. There was a boat moored at the bank-a wonderful white monster, all glistening in the early morning sun. Above her steel hull mounted tier on tier of fanciful woodwork, terminating in a marvellous pilot-house with a gilded roof. Above her chimneys hung a picturesque haze of light brown smoke. From her restless engines clouds of steam floated lazily up. And on her paddle-boxes, in letters of blue and gold, was painted the name "Southerner." Captain Jo gazed fixedly in admiration. and astonishment. It had not been a dream after all-this was the boat he had heard in the night. What was she doing at his farm, why had she taken his old name, and whence came her bell and whistle? He finished dressing and, breakfastless, ran down the river-path. Boarding the steamer, he climbed the stairs to the boiler deck, and entered the cabin. He stopped, bewildered. Here was a cabin twice as large as the old Southerner's, carpeted the whole length, and furnished with a lavish display of electric lights, mirrors, and colored glass. Parlor for the ladies, smoking-room for the gentlemen-but at this point he was interrupted by the appearance of Arthur Wilson, his former pilot, in a brass buttoned uniform now. Captain Jo viewed him with undisguised amazement. "Who's the Captain of this boat, Arthur?" he asked, weakly. Arthur grinned. "I brought her up, sir. She hasn't a master as yet." Memphis, inclusive, realizing the lack of proper steam-boat facilities since the failure of the St. Louis Company, and the sinking of your own steamer, have decided to enter the packet business. At a recent meeting of the stockholders you were chosen to act as the practical man of the Company. We therefore take pleasure in offering you the Captaincy of the new Southerner, and a half interest in the Southern Line. We sincerely hope you will look favorably on this proposition, as we have taken great pains to persuade you. As a little compliment we have renamed this boat, formerly the Valley Queen, of the St. Louis Company. And in order that you might feel at home on board, we spent a week poking around in the mud at Cairo in search of the old Southerner's bell and whistle. The Southerner is advertised to leave the city on her first trip this afternoon. We trust you will be able to arrange your affairs so as to be on hand for her second trip, a week hence. Cap Together they went out on deck. tain Jo pondered. Some men would have scented charity in this new company, but Captain Jo saw only a good business undertaking. He looked toward the farm house-his foreman was lounging doubtfully out. "I'll write to-morrow," the Captain howled. The foreman stared, open-mouthed. The Captain straightened with a quick return of his old-time dignity, and touched the pilot's arm. "Ask the engineer if he's ready," he said. Arthur took his place at the wheel, and in a few moments announced, "All ready, sir." Captain Jo seized the bell-rope, shook himself to see if he was really awake, then sharply struck the one tap "let go " signal. All ready, Arthur!" he shouted. An engine bell tinkled. All at once the wheels churned the shallow water viciously, and the big steamer, with becoming dignity, backed out toward the channel. Captain Jo Benton was in the trade again with his steamer Southerner, the Memphis Packet. THE OBJECT OF THE FEDERATION ILLUSTRATIONS BY HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY "I JOINED a woman's club in the Federation a little over two years ago," said Mrs. Hardy, "I didn't know what was the object, then; and to tell you the truth, I am no wiser, now." "You know as much as I," was her neighbor's reply, politely given, the neighbor, however, feeling no real interest, at the moment, in anything outside the approaching election of president, and the gossip regarding a possible "dark horse" which was buzzing behind her, between some better informed members of the delegation. The babble of mighty waters is like the noise that filled the theatre. It surged from the plant-bedecked platform (where it might be likened to nothing more resonant than the hum of insects of a summer night) through the auditorium, to the dais under the balconies. The dais was noisy, always, not because its occupants were any more inclined to talk than other women, but because it was the rarest thing in the world for them to hear anyone either on the stage or the floor; and generally, they had to vote by their eyes, watching the advocates of their pet measures; and rising or sitting by their example; hence they solaced themselves with conversation. At this moment, however, the quiet gentlewoman with the gavel, behind the long table, had not lifted her hand; and the upper part of the hall (which being in |