Chapter II: Part 2

THE NEEDLE OF THE COMPASS DOES _NOT_ POINT TO THE NORTH POLE

It points to the Magnetic Pole which is 1,500 miles west of the true North Pole.

* * *

THE SHORTEST DISTANCE BETWEEN TWO POINTS IS _NOT_ A STRAIGHT LINE

Lindbergh proved that when he flew from New York to Paris. Lindy flew what is known as “an arc of the great circle.”

* * *

NAPOLEON--LIKE MOSES--CROSSED THE RED SEA ON DRY LAND

Please accept Napoleon’s own word that he crossed the Red Sea “_à pieds secs_” (on dry foot). He says so in volume 1, page 2, of his _Mémorial de St. Hélène_.

The Miracle of Moses and the hosts of Israel passing over the Red Sea is a non-religious possibility. The point of crossing is near the town of Suez called Bahr es Kolzum (the Sea of Drowning)--Yam Suph in the Bible--and is only a mile wide and naturally shallow, due to sand bars.

The rise and fall of the tide is from five to seven feet. A strong wind blows northwest for nine months of the year, and often has a tremendous influence upon an ebb tide, causing it to vary three feet and more. (It is significant that both the Bible and Napoleon mention a strong prevailing wind.)

A combination of the above facts: wind, tide, sand bars and the narrowness of the Gulf of Suez would indicate that Napoleon told the truth. Besides, a number of Bible critics, both worldly and ecclesiastical, bear out his statement. I refer you to: _Biblical Encyclopedia_ ... under Red Sea; _Egypt_, by Bishop Charles Seymour Robinson, page 85, volume 1, and many others.

I have seen the point of passing myself. It is now about the same distance in width, but has been dredged out in a channel to a depth of thirty-five feet.

FOR SALE
“Urbi et Orbi”
Praetorian G.

GAUL MACEDONIA

NUMIDIA CARTHAGE DESERT

THE WORLD
WAS SOLD TO
THE HIGHEST BIDDER!

DIDIUS JULIANUS BOUGHT THE ENTIRE ROMAN WORLD
FROM THE PRÆTORIAN GUARD FOR $5,000,000

MARCH 28, 193]

SELLING THE WORLD

After the death of Pertinax the Roman World was offered for sale at auction by the all-powerful Prætorian Guard. Didius Salvius Julianus Marcus, a wealthy Roman merchant, outbid all others, and the world was knocked down to him after he paid the equivalent of $5,000,000 in gold on March 28, 193 A.D. The Roman Senate took the oath of loyalty to him.

When the Roman Legions stationed in Great Britain learned of the disgraceful deal they rose in indignation and, under the leadership of General Septimus Severus, hurried to Rome, where Didius was seized, deposed, and beheaded on June 2nd, 193 A.D.

Septimus thereupon became Imperator of Rome.

_See any Roman History or Encyclopedia Britannica under “Didius.”_

* * *

THE GOLDEN MAN

“El Dorado.”

How often have we heard that phrase. It means “the Golden,” and was originally written “El Hombre Dorado”--the Golden Man.

And there is a Golden Man!

Immediately after Columbus discovered the new world a horde of adventurers streamed across the Atlantic to seek their fortunes. Columbus and his men had told wild tales about the lands that they had found and the wild army of Conquistadores that followed them expected to gather wealth with ease. These valiant old Spaniards came with no altruistic motives. They may have carried a cross in one hand but they held a sword in the other, and their motive was more a lust for gold than the love of God.

Among the first tales told them as they reached the Spanish Main, was the story of El Hombre Dorado--the Man of Gold. They were told by the Islanders of the Caribbean that there was a man of pure gold who lived in wondrous splendor somewhere to the south.

These Spaniards were told this story for several reasons ... the most important of which was the impatient desire of the natives to be rid of these strange white men.

The simplest method of ridding themselves of the troublesome white men was to tell them about gold. Gold to the natives of new America meant nothing. Gold had no pecuniary value. To the natives of the new world gold was simply an ornament and they thought the Spanish crazy because this bright metal held such a lure for them.

It was a fetish, they thought, (and they were right) so whenever the bearded white men came down upon them they only pointed southward and hinted about the “Golden Man.” They continually described El Dorado as easy to be reached and situated at no considerable distance. It was like a phantom that seemed to fly before the Spaniards and to call on them unceasingly. It is in the nature of man, wandering on the earth, to figure himself happiness beyond the region which he knows. The shining lure of gold glowed brightly in the darkness of this unknown land. A will o’ the wisp.

But they were not altogether wrong.

There was a Golden Man! “El Hombre Dorado” did exist--and he doubtless exists to this day. The Guatavita Indians near Quito had a religious ceremony in which their King gilded himself with gold dust and went into a lake amid the mountains. Every morning before he made his sacrifice this ruler caused powder of gold to be dusted on over a coating of grease which made him shine in the sun like a true “Hombre Dorado.”

* * *

THE WALKING HALF-MOONS

Around and around, in and out, but always upward goes the ferrocarril of Peru. Soon the river in the Tambo valley comes into view--a strip of Eden amidst Sahara; a long brush-stroke of green on a barren canvas; a vivid testimony to the fatal fact that all Peru needs is a drink of water to make her domain a Paradise.

Upward and onward we go among the burning mountains, which have not tasted a drop of rain in a thousand years, until the highland desert of La Joya comes into view. Looking backward we can sometimes see the silvery sheen of the Pacific glistening in the descending sun some sixty miles away.

TRUE AS AN HOUR-GLASS

Spreading before us are the famous walking half-moons of La Joya. They are crescent-shaped sand dunes ranging from about 100 feet in width to 15 feet in height, and of such exact shape that no human agency could make them mathematically more perfect than the constant winds of this plateau. This unfailing wind is the true explanation of why the dunes creep across the desert in a true northerly course at an even rate of fifty to sixty feet a year.

The wind, always blowing from one direction, blows the ashen colored sand up the convex side of the crescent from whence it drifts down into the hollow side in such perfect and regular fashion that the entire dune seems to creep across the plateau without a single variation in size or shape, and with a movement that marks the years with the same accuracy that an hour-glass marks the hours.

One has to look back but half a mile to see where a dune was fifty years ago when this railroad was built; and if you will look back five miles you can see where it was when the Inca sent messages to his people that strange white men with hair on their faces were coming up from the sea.

I am traveling the same road that Pizarro trod when these very dunes were miles back. How I admire that villainous old fellow! What a man he must have been and what audacious courage he must have had!

The Spanish government had dispatched two vessels to the little island of Gallo, off the coast of Ecuador, where Pizarro and his expedition had stranded, with implicit instructions to bring back every Spaniard they should find still living in that dreary abode. However, Pizarro was not looking for succor--but success! Drawing his sword, he traced a line with it on the sand from east to west. He turned to the south and said, “Friends and comrades, on that side are toil, hunger, nakedness, storm, desertion, and death; on this side, ease and pleasure. There lies Peru with its riches; here, home and poverty. Choose, each man, what best becomes a brave Castilian. For my part, I go to the south!”

So saying, he stepped across the line.

Thirteen followed him.

The boat sailed away, leaving this handful of men, without food, without clothing, almost without arms, without knowledge of the land to which they were bound, without a vessel to transport them to the mainland; here on a lonely rock in the ocean they remained with nothing but their avowed purpose of carrying on a crusade against the great empire of the Incas!

The glistening crescents of sand have traveled many miles since the days of Pizarro and his valiant crew--and they will travel many miles before we see their like again.

Thus Pizarro came down to Peru and robbed the Incas.

They were never satisfied--they always craved more. They starved, struggled, and suffered in their mad scramble, but in the end were no richer than before. Only one in five ever left Peru alive. Pizarro’s share of the Atahuallpa ransom was 57,222 pesos of gold, but he was murdered before he returned to Spain.

A cavalryman named Leguizano was awarded as his share of the booty the Inca image of the sun, a huge plate of burnished gold. This rich prize was lost in gambling before morning; whence it came to be a famous Spanish proverb:

“Juega el Sol antes que amanezca.” (He plays away the sun before sunrise.)

THE RANSOM OF THE INCA

Let me tell you about the ransom of the Inca Atahuallpa. It is as famous as it is fabulous.

From the hour that Pizarro landed on Peruvian soil and began climbing the Andes, the hand of friendship had been extended him by the natives, who regarded the Spaniards as superhuman. Pizarro repaid the Inca’s kindness by inviting him to dine and then making him prisoner.

The INCA ATAHUALLPA
HAD EARS 15 INCHES LONG

[signature]

drawn in CUZCO--PERU
“The City of the Sun”

THE FISHERMEN OF THE EL GRAN CHACO USE A PICK AND SHOVEL.
The Ophio-cephalous species of fish bury themselves in the mud
and the natives dig them out ... Brazil.]

Atahuallpa was not long in discovering that gold was the object of Pizarro’s visit to his land and in hope of gaining his freedom offered to fill the room in which he was confined with gold, as high as he could reach; and standing on tiptoe, he stretched out his hand against the wall. Pizarro drew a line along the wall at the height which the Inca had indicated and called upon him to make good his word.

The room was 17 feet wide, by 22 feet long, and the line was 9 feet from the floor. In one month this vast space was filled! The temples and palaces of Cuzco had been stripped of their glittering golden decorations. The wealth of this ransom has been estimated at twenty millions of dollars!

And then, instead of freeing Atahuallpa as he had promised, Pizarro ordered him burned alive in the public square of Caxamalca!

COMMODUS FOUGHT AND WON 1031 BATTLES

Commodus Lucius Aelius Aurelius, Emperor of Rome (161-192), was so proud of his records in the gladiatorial arena that he commanded the world to worship him as Hercules. He eventually met his death at the hands of a wrestler by the name of Narcissus who strangled him.

“LINDBERGH ... _Was the 67th Man to Make A Non-Stop Flight Over the Atlantic Ocean_”

When I printed this statement in one of my “Believe It or Not” pictures in the newspapers not long ago, I was surprised at the reaction: almost immediately I was besieged with telegrams, phone calls, and letters--about 3,000 of them. Practically all of the doubting ones thought that “Lindy” was the first to make a non-stop flight over the Atlantic Ocean; and the few who did remember (strange, how few they were) that Alcock and Brown flew over, could not imagine who the other 64 could be.

They forgot two dirigibles!

Sir John Alcock and Sir A. Whitton Brown made the first non-stop flight over the Atlantic in 1919. (Newfoundland to Ireland.)

Later, the same year, the English dirigible, R 34, with thirty-one men aboard, crossed from Scotland to America, and returned.

In 1924, the German ZR 3 (now the “Los Angeles”) flew from Friedrichshafen, Germany, to Lakehurst, New Jersey, with a crew of thirty-three men.

Lindbergh was the sixty-seventh.

PRESENT--BUT NOT VOTING

Though dead for nearly 100 years, the dressed-up skeleton of Jeremy Bentham, with his head between his feet, sits in uncanny silence at the head of the hospital board around which the trustees of the University College Hospital in London gather. Jeremy Bentham founded this hospital in 1827 and presided at the first meetings of the Board of Trustees--and he still does to this day, although he died in 1832. Each meeting of the board has found his weird figure at the table. His gaunt form is erect, his sightless eyes stare outright, and his broad-brimmed beaver hat is never removed from the long locks that dangle down on his shoulders, nor is his gloved hand ever taken from the cane that it has rested upon for over 100 years. And as the various important bits of business come before the board, old Jeremy is consulted--and when no answer comes from his grinning teeth--he is recorded as:

“PRESENT--BUT NOT VOTING”

This dressed-up bag of bones and dust of what was Jeremy Bentham sits at this board because the living Jeremy Bentham willed it so.

When Bentham died he left his whole fortune to the University College Hospital, but on the condition that his skeleton be preserved and placed in the President’s chair at every board meeting. This unusual testament has been faithfully obeyed by the generations of trustees that have followed; and Jeremy still sits in the President’s chair, and probably will never leave it until stones and bones have turned to dust.

Jeremy Bentham was a child prodigy. He could speak Latin, Greek, French and English at the age of five. Matriculating at Queens College, Oxford, when only thirteen, he won his B.A. two years later, and set out upon an eventful career that was to bring him fame and fortune as a writer, scientist, and philosopher.

His first work was entitled “Fragments on Government,” which was acclaimed as a masterly attack upon Blackstone’s eulogies of the British Government system.

Fame followed fast and the young scholar was soon taken up by the _intelligentsia_ of his day and his works commanded attention not only in England, but on the Continent, and in America.

Although he traveled widely and led an eventful life, it seems that melancholy overtook him in the twilight of his life--he was alone and without a family--and it was then, evidently, that the idea of self-perpetuation came upon him, and the idea of always being present at the meetings of the College that he founded took definite course in his will.

It was in accordance with this last weird flare of his genius that his testament demanded that his head be severed from his body in the presence of his friends and placed in a separate glass case which now rests between his ankles, while a mask, a life-like replica of his living face, be placed upon his shoulders instead.

And so he has sat for nearly a hundred years--always present--but not voting.

* * *

PAIN? You don’t know what pain is!

If you think that you have suffered some, just read about Mr. Henry B. Smythe, of Maplewood, Mo., who has undergone 148 major operations! The game Mr. Smythe has suffered constant and painful invalidship for 37 of his 47 years. He has spent more than 200 hours on the operating table and is still smiling.

Moreover, he is a successful broker and manufacturer’s agent, and lives happily with his wife. He walks briskly, works hard, and eats normally. Horseback riding and dancing are his hobbies.

Although there is a likelihood of many more operations, Mr. Smythe is undaunted. He will no doubt be glad to answer personally anything that you may wish to ask him.

* * *

I was traveling in Mexico a few years ago when I received the following letter. I print it just as it came to me.

Dear Gentleman:

You make wonderful pictures. I am wonderful. I like to meet you
please. I am

GUYAL VACA SEGUAL
The World’s renown Insensible
FIRE EATER

I bathes, eats, and plays in fire. I eat fire, play with lead in my
mouth. I take bath in gasoline and set myself in fire. I step in red
hot oven and roast pound of meat in same to convince you and imerge
as cool as ice.

I am King of Fire, the whip of fire.

I have been recognized by some doctors having not found any Chemical
Substances in my body for I do not use them.

I am the only man that drinks hot lead.

I drink gasoline and light it in my mouth so that you can see the
flames of fire shooting from within me, and I feel though I had only
partaken of some cool refreshing drink.

I present myself as the only one can control fire. The man possessed
of equal control of heat is yet to come.

I can also roll myself in red-hot coal fire. I will come to the hotel
tomorrow.

MEXICAN GUYAL VACA SEGUAL.

I am the only fire eater Guyal Vaca Segual so don’t confuse me with
many performers doing the same work I do.

* * *

_Famous Japanese_ ... Can Swallow His Nose]

[signature]

A MURDER AT MIDNIGHT--IF
EVERYONE WHO WAS TOLD ABOUT IT
TOLD 2 OTHER PEOPLE WITHIN 12 MINUTES,
EVERYBODY ON EARTH WOULD KNOW IT BEFORE MORNING]

THE MURDER AT MIDNIGHT

* * *

THE HORNED KAFFIR

Horned men have raised the devil everywhere. The satanical and animal-like appearance of men with horns growing out of their foreheads have excited the emotions of the curious for generations.

François Trovillow, the Horned Man of Mezières, is famous to this day, although he died in 1698.

In Lhassa, Tibet, there is a man with a horn growing from his forehead to the extent of thirteen inches. The reflected glory of the golden sun bounces off K2 and Mount Everest on this curious promontory each morning as its bearer makes his obeisance to Gatama while turning a prayer-wheel.

The Horned Kaffir of Africa, like the Horned One of the Himalayas, is still alive. I saw him in London several years ago. He seemed self-centered and satisfied, although black and a Christian.

Medical science is lacking in positive knowledge as to the exciting causes of horns on humans. It is a rarity that may be classed as a dermatological oddity. It is a skin disease called Cornu Cutaneum, a true horny cutaneous outgrowth varying in size and shape.

Although resembling animal horns closely, their anatomic structure differs in not containing bone and in having a cutaneous attachment. The Cornu Cutaneum shows preference for the hairy scalp and for the face, occurring occasionally elsewhere--as on the trunk, cheeks, glands, extremities, and even the eyelids! No part of the body is exempt.

I refer you to Rodriguez’s extraordinary case, quoted by Croker, in which horns grew on the side of the head to the extent of twelve inches, and were fourteen inches around the base.

(_Diseases of the Skin, by Stelwagon._)

* * *

THE SQUARE PALINDROME

R O T A S
O P E R A
T E N E T
A R E P O
S A T O R

This is the most famous of all palindromes--the famous Square Palindrome of the fourth power that has mystified scholars for hundreds of years. It is also an anagram of PATER NOSTER A O.

The famous Square Palindrome is found on the pavement of the sacristy of the Pieve Terzagni Church at Tremona, and is duplicated at St. Peter’s Church near Capestrano, the Church of the Mother in Magliano, the Church of the Augustins in Verona, and several ancient churches in England and in France.

Its meaning has never been exactly determined. The medieval scholar, Panza of Italy, suggested that it may have been intended to express what wind and wheel convey to the reader of the Holy Scriptures, namely, eternity and infinity.

The latest of a long line of interpreters of this curiosity is a certain Mr. Williams of England, who succeeded several years ago in arranging the letters in a symmetrical way with the theory that the solution is:

“ORO TE PATER ORO TE PATER SANAS.”

“We pray to Thee, Father; We pray to Thee, Father; Thou healest.”

_The literature on this subject reaches back 700 years._

* * *

IF ALL THE CHINESE IN THE WORLD WERE TO MARCH--4 ABREAST--PAST A GIVEN POINT THEY WOULD NEVER FINISH PASSING THOUGH THEY MARCHED FOREVER AND EVER

(Based on U.S. Army marching regulations)]

DAMNED CLEVER, THESE CHINESE

How did I get this one? How do I know that all the Chinese in the world--marching four abreast past a given point--would never finish passing, although they marched for ever and ever?

“Such stuff as dreams are made on.”

Recently I dined in New York’s Chinatown with Paul Fung, the Chinese artist. Much food and much talk. A real Chinese dinner has from twenty to thirty courses and lasts five hours.

It was late when I arrived home. Robert Warwick, who lives next door, yawned dramatically. “Hi! Ho! I’ll be glad to turn in,” he said.

And so to bed.

“Hi! Ho!” The words remained. And like the sixty-fold echo of Simonetta, they sounded again and again, until I was dreaming of the marching Chinese of Tsingtao whom I had seen so often trotting with their bundles on the Bund and chanting their invariable sing-song:

Hi! Ho! Hi! Ho! Hi! Ho!

Hi! Ho! HI-I-I!

They marched on endlessly in my dreams. They would never stop, it seemed, and did not--until the crack of dawn sent them all scampering off.

So I took a pencil and paper and figured it out, and drew the picture that you see opposite, which has astounded a lot of people.

This is how:

Although there is no definite information on the population of China, as a census has not been taken since 1403, let us take the reasonable estimate of 600,000,000 as the number of Chinese on earth. (This includes Mongolia, Manchuria, China, Tibet, Malaysia, South Seas, North and South America, etc.)

Following the conduct of marches as ordered by the U. S. Army Field Service Regulations, the Chinese--marching four abreast, or platoon-squads formation, at the rate of three miles an hour for the average fifteen miles per day--will require 22 years, 302 days to pass a given point. A generation! There will be 26,280,000 passing each year.

Assuming that the birth-rate of the Chinese is ten per cent. (same as that of the Jews), and that half of these children die before they are able to walk, there will still be 30,000,000 new Chinese coming on each year to take the place of the 26,280,000 that have passed the given point.

And so they could march on forever.

_In 1402 and 1403, the Emperor of China--using the death penalty
as a threat--gathered the only reliable statistics ever taken on
the Chinese population. The census of 1402 showed a population of
56,301,026, and the 1403 census 66,598,337. This shows an increase of
nineteen per cent. in one year._

_The Chinese death rate has been officially determined only for the
city of Peking, and amounts to two and a half per cent._

_Ref.: “The Numerical Relation of the Population of China,” by Prof.
T. Sacharoff._

* * *

METHUSELAH ... _Oldest Man in the Bible_ Died Before His Father

The explanation of this is simple; Methuselah was the son of Enoch, of whom it is written:

“By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and he was not found, because God translated him.” Heb. 11.5.

* * *

COGHLAN’S COFFIN

HE DIED IN 1899 AND WAS BURIED IN GALVESTON WHEN THE TRAGIC FLOOD CAME HIS COFFIN WAS WASHED OUT TO SEA--AND THE GULF STREAM CARRIED HIM AROUND FLORIDA AND UP THE COAST TO PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND--2000 MILES DISTANT--WHERE HE LIVED

[signature]]

RIPLEY’S DRAWING OF C. F. COGHLAN’S CASKET AS CARRIED FROM GALVESTON
FLOOD TO PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND STIRS ACTOR’S DAUGHTER TO SEARCH

_By Charles Burney Ward_

A West Indian hurricane, as the world still remembers, swept Galveston, Tex., September 8, 1900. As an incident of its tragic havoc it swept out to sea the coffin of the late Charles Francis Coghlan, famous actor.

Ever since that fateful day Coghlan’s daughter, Mrs. Gertrude Coghlan Pitou, now of Bayside, L. I., has searched for her father’s coffin. She and her husband, Augustus Pitou, who was once the late Mr. Coghlan’s manager, have hired men by the year and spent thousands of dollars on the twenty-seven-year-long search. They received never a hint until--

Mrs. Pitou was reading the _Evening Post_ of September 15. She turned to the sports pages. There, Robert L. Ripley’s cartoon caught her eye.

“Believe It or not,” she read. “Charles Coghlan Comes Home! He died in 1899 and was buried in Galveston. When the tragic flood came his coffin was washed out to sea and the Gulf Stream carried him around Florida and up the coast to Prince Edward Island--2,000 miles distant--where he was born.”

This was news to Mrs. Pitou!

She showed the cartoon to her husband. Mr. Pitou, who is now booking manager of the A. L. Erlanger Theatrical Enterprises, read the cartoonist’s inscription. Could such a thing really be possible? Mr. Pitou could not be sure. Neither could Mrs. Pitou.

CONSULTS CARTOONIST

Yet this was the first definite hint in all these years that either had ever had which would indicate the possible final resting place of Mr. Coghlan’s coffin. “Hope springs eternal”--they would actively resume the search. They telephoned the _Evening Post_.

“What we would like to know,” said Mr. Pitou, “is where Mr. Ripley got that information. We have never once heard that suggestion. I believe it’s impossible that the Gulf Stream could carry the coffin all around Florida and up to Canada.”

“Find out where Mr. Ripley got that,” Mr. Pitou asked.

“Where did I get it?” Mr. Ripley replied to the reporter’s question. “Why, two of the late Mr. Coghlan’s closest associates have set down the incident in their published books. They are none other than Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson and Mrs. Lily Langtry. As for the possibility of the Gulf Stream’s carrying the coffin to Prince Edward Island, I checked up with a capable sea captain and several authorities on ocean currents, who say it’s quite possible.”

Ripley then cited Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson’s book, “A Player Under Three Reigns.” In telling how he took the late Mr. Coghlan from his home on Prince Edward Island to play Mercutio in “Romeo and Juliet” in London, Sir Johnston writes (pages 165-6):

“In about a year, I think, he died at Galveston. Shortly after his burial there was a great storm came up from the Gulf which swept his coffin, with others, into the sea. The Gulf Stream bore him around Florida, up the coast, about 1,500 miles to Prince Edward Island and he came ashore not far from his home.”

LONDON IS QUERIED

A like report of the curious incident is given in “The Days I Knew,” by Lily Langtry, who appeared in several plays with the late Mr. Coghlan.

These sources of the report’s origin were given to Mr. Pitou.

“It’s strange,” he said, admitting that both Sir Johnston and Mrs. Langtry had been good friends of his father-in-law. “But I’d like to know where they got it. Please,” he asked, “find out Forbes-Robertson’s source of information. This is not just a newspaper story to us. It’s a very serious matter. If we thought there could be any truth in it we would start a search of Prince Edward Island.”

The _Evening Post_ sent a cablegram to its London office, instructing the representative there to get the facts from Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson. The reply came by radiogram to the _Evening Post_:

“Forbes-Robertson writes, ‘I distinctly remember it was given me by one in whom I had confidence. Indeed, I think two people told me the story. I take it that his daughter has consulted George Tyler, who was Coghlan’s manager for some time.’”

OTHER REPORTS TRACED

George C. Tyler, theatrical producer, whose office, incidentally, is in the same building with that of Mr. Pitou, at 214 West Forty-second Street, said Mrs. Pitou had not consulted him, and added:

“I have heard that story of Charles Coghlan’s coffin not once but a number of times. I was once his manager, and close friends of his have told me since of his coffin having been found on Prince Edward Island. It was washed ashore, as I heard it, at Fortune Bridge. I remember once, years ago, when I spoke of its having been found on the beach at Galveston, somebody corrected me--I forget who it was--and told me it had been carried in the Gulf Stream to the Canadian island. It has been told to me by several persons in whom I have confidence.”

Charles Francis Coghlan was an Irish actor, born in 1841. He first appeared on the stage in London, in 1860, and came to America in 1876. He was leading man in a number of plays with his sister, Rose Coghlan, who was as famous in the profession as he. He also was leading man in companies with Mrs. Fiske and Lily Langtry. He died in Galveston, November 27, 1899, and his body was placed in a granite vault in a cemetery there.

GULF STREAM GOES NORTHWARD

How that coffin might have been carried by the Gulf Stream to Prince Edward Island is a question which probably could long be debated.

Prince Edward Island, a Province of the Dominion of Canada, lies in a semicircular bay of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Fossil plants, abundant there, and beds of peat, dune of drifted sand, alluvial clays and mussel mud, occurring in and near its creeks and bays, show evidence, many say, that they have been washed there from the Gulf shore of Texas.

The Gulf Stream, as oceanographers point out, flows northward from the Gulf of Mexico and follows the eastern coast of the United States to a point east of the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. It is narrow and deep, with a current that travels approximately eighty miles a day. It is joined by a current which comes from the West Indies and follows the same course.

MIGHT HAVE CARRIED OFF COFFIN

In this connection, Cartoonist Ripley tentatively points out that, since the Galveston flood came from the West Indies, there might have been a backwash after the hurricane toward the West Indies. This possibly could have carried such a thing as a coffin out through the Gulf to the point where the West Indian current joins the Gulf Stream.

The Gulf Stream, when it passes a point between the Bermudas and the coast of the Carolinas, divides into several small ocean streams. And one of these streams, whose definite courses have not been traced positively, might well have carried Charles Coghlan’s coffin to Prince Edward Island. Especially might this have been a destination for a derelict in the Gulf Stream, since, as is well known, derelicts in the stream rarely are carried to Europe.

THE HUMAN PIN CUSHION

This Hindoo ascetic, of Singapore, walked three miles in the blazing sun with fifty spears (each fitted with a very sharp point) embedded in his flesh. Imagine the excruciating agony that every footstep meant.

Why did he do it?

No difference. There is no sense in a Hindoo religious fanatic anyway. But the fact that he did it is interesting enough, and it all goes to prove how much torment the human body can stand under certain mental conditions.

* * *

THE LUCKIEST MAN ALIVE

Surely he is Captain J. H. Hedley, of Chicago, who fell out of a plane nearly three miles in the air and then fell back into it again! Here is the account from Hedley’s log-book and authenticated by Lieutenant R. C. Purvis, Recording Officer of Twentieth Squadron, R.F.C.

“_January 6, 1918. Mach. No. 7255. Height, 15,000 ft. Lieutenant
Makepeace, M.C., reports Captain J. H. Hedley accidentally thrown
into air, afterwards alighted on tail same machine and rescued._”

Lieut. Makepeace was a Canadian flying officer and Capt. Hedley was an observer in his plane when they were attacked over the German lines. In the running fight that ensued Hedley was dislodged from the plane when making a sudden vertical dive, and fell several hundred feet in a direct line with the machine--probably suction or a vacuum had something to do with it--alighted on the tail, and was brought safely to earth from a height of some 10,000 feet.

* * *

SILENT FOR 30 YEARS.

Reb Frommer did not speak a word or utter a sound for thirty years. This remarkable penance was self-imposed. It seems that Frommer, in an outburst of temper, cursed his newly-wedded wife who soon after met with a violent death which Frommer feared was brought about by his abuse.

He was a celebrated local character of Czortków, Poland, and when he died in 1928, the newspapers of Germany and Poland repeated again the story of his life and of the strange vow that he never broke.

* * *

“3,675 FEET AND 9 INCHES”

This is a Sabbath Day Journey, the longest distance a Jew may walk on his Sabbath Day as prescribed by the Talmud Berachoth.

Orthodox Hebrews observe this Rabbinical rule to the present day. It is the Hebrew “T’hum Sabbath” meaning the limit of Sabbath.

Exodus XVI. 29; Acts 1:12.

* * *

THE SUN THAT RISES IN THE PACIFIC AND SETS IN THE ATLANTIC

If you would like to see the sun rise in the Pacific Ocean and set in the Atlantic Ocean you must go to Panama. Only there can you have this unusual viewpoint--and anyway, even though you never see the sun at all, you will see Panama, which, I assure you, is worth the trip anytime.

The way to Panama takes you across one of the most adventurous path-ways of the deep. A wonderful and picturesque procession of ships and men wended their devious ways among the islands and open waters of the blue Caribbean.

Santo Domingo was the birthplace of the Buccaneers. The island of Tortuga was the birthplace of the word “buccaneers.” The true meaning of the word is not worthy of the men who wore it. At that time on Tortuga the principle article of food was the smoke-dried flesh of wild pigs--a product peculiar to the neighboring islands and known by the Carib name of “bucan,” or what we call bacon.

As a result the inhabitants soon became known as “buccaneers”--in other words, “baconeers.”

Among these islands, and not so far away, is Porto Rico, which is an American possession; and a little farther on is another of our islands--St. Thomas, where bay rum comes from. Near there is an island most famed of all, yet nobody knows it. It is the little cay called “The Dead Man’s Chest.” Of course, you know it:--

“_Fifteen men on a Dead Man’s Chest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!_”

But that was a long time ago--before prohibition.

Criss-crossing these limpid waters careened the “low, rakish craft” of the blood-thirsty free-booters--Morgan, Lolonais, Brasiliano, Portugues and Red Legs--and Captain Kidd who, by the way, was not a pirate at all but suffered the rightful penalty of one, while the murderous Morgan received the order of knighthood.

These wolves of the water hid in land-locked coves and preyed upon passing ships and Caribbean cities. They were not all low, rakish craft either. Morgan at one time commanded a fleet of thirty-seven ships--all mounted with guns--and with two thousand fighting fiends exclusive of the sailors. A tough egg in a hard-boiled world.

But all are gone.

All that remains is the chests of buried treasure which any one may find if he looks long enough. Many years ago William Phipps Salem, one-time governor of Massachusetts, found nearly two millions of dollars on Puerto Plata, which had been pirate property.

ONLY PIRATES NOW ARE AT HOME

The islands about and the lazy sea are now content to bask in the warm tropical sun and dream of the past.

The only pirates we have nowadays are in our own country--working as chauffeurs and hat-check boys.

But if you wish to see the sun rise in the Pacific and set in the Atlantic I suggest that you visit the Century Club in Panama. This club offers you an ideal view and a view of ideals, as it is situated exactly on the dividing line between two nations--the United States and the Republic of Panama. The Canal Zone is a strip of land five miles wide on each side of the Canal and running across the Republic of Panama. The Canal Zone is American territory and, of course, under the influence of Volstead. Panama, on the contrary, is under the influence of Bacchus.

The Century Club, which is situated as I have said, on a line between the two extremes, is divided on the question of prohibition also. The front door, which is in the Canal Zone--or United States territory, is dry; and the back door, which is in the Republic of Panama, is wet. Choose the entrance dearest to you--and walk, don’t run!

But I really started out to tell you about the unusual rising and setting of the sun. In order to understand why the sun rises in the Pacific and sets in the Atlantic at Panama it is necessary to know the geography of the Canal. As you will note from the map, the Canal does not run east and west but from northwest to southeast; and the Pacific entrance to the Canal--Balboa, is farther east than the Atlantic entrance--Cristobal.

And as you sit on the veranda in the cool of the day--sipping your glass of this or that, you see toward the west a blood-red sun drop precipitately behind the verdant Cordillera--into the Atlantic Ocean! And if you should sit there long enough--until the gentle hand of dawn draws back the warm velvety curtains of the tropical night--you will see the glowing face of the sun rise suddenly up in the east--out of the Pacific Ocean!

WHAT GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER

The construction of the Canal is the greatest modern engineering achievement of mankind, but it was an old idea. Modern man is so full of the thoughts of his own achievements that he is inclined to forget that there is nothing really new under the sun.

Plans were made over 400 years ago for a sea level canal across the Isthmus of Darien. At that time Spain was by far the wealthiest and most powerful country on earth, and Indian labor was available by the millions for the cost of feeding them. The canal would have doubtless become a fact four centuries ago had not the Archbishop of Madrid advised King Phillip II. that:

“What God hath joined together, let no man tear asunder.”

* * *

The two cities at the Atlantic entrance of the Canal, Cristobal and Colon, are the true names of Columbus. He never signed his name any other way than “Cristobal Colon.”

* * *

BOOTLEGGING HUMAN HEADS

This sketch was drawn from a human head that I bought for a little less than a hundred dollars from a bootlegger of human heads in Panama City. The head itself is now about the size of a baseball and the hair is 19 inches long.

A few years ago this head was an animated thing of normal size with a pleasant smile and sparkling eyes that sat atop the shoulders of a Jivaro warrior in the tropical forests of Peru. This happy warrior was careless enough to lose his life--and also his head which his conqueror cut off and bore proudly home where he proceeded to shrink it down to its present size.

Since head-hunting and head-selling is against the law, this shrinking violet disposed of his handiwork to a bootlegger who smuggled the grisly thing into the City of Panama where I was able to buy it.

The taking and shrinking of human heads is an ancient rite with the Jivaros, and one which has not vanished with modern times. It has, rather, been stimulated by the demand of tourists for specimens of the head-hunter’s skill as souvenirs and all the laws against the practice that have been passed by the South American Republics are of no avail.

While there are traders to pay a price, and tourists to buy, the bootlegging of human heads will probably continue just as the bootlegging of hooch will continue in our own land.

The method of reducing and shrinking the heads remained a secret for many years and it is comparatively recently that anyone has witnessed the actual process. Friends of mine in Quito told me of a German scientist who ventured into the unexplored Pongo de Seriche--the land of the Jivaros--in hopes of learning their secret, and six months later a shrunken and mummified head with a red beard and light hair was offered for sale in the city.

The method used differs somewhat from tribe to tribe, but they generally proceed as follows.

As soon as a Jivaro has killed an enemy, he hacks off the head as close to the body as possible, and carries it away to a place of safety where he goes through an appropriate ceremony, and slits the scalp from the crown downward to the nape of the neck. Through this opening he flays out the skull, removing the flesh and skin of the face and scalp as carefully as possible. Throwing away the skull, he stretches the skin over a handle made of wood and then thrusts it for a time into a vessel of hot water which causes it to contract a little. Next a ring fashioned from a vine is sewed in the opening at the neck to hold it open after which hot stones are dropped inside. Magic rites are intermingled with each new process as the shrinking is begun by filling the head with hot sand and keeping it constantly in motion in order that it may act on all parts of the head uniformly. As the sand cools off, it is reheated and placed back in the head which is scraped each time with a headman’s knife to remove the burnt tissues. Gradually, as the head dries and grows smaller, the Indian constantly works the features with his hands, pinching and moulding the face so that it will retain its natural appearance--and even its natural expression when reduced several times in size.

* * *

The Jivaros sometimes reduce and mummify the entire human body--but it does not seem to be commonly done. I have seen three. There are two in the Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation of New York, and the other was shown to me by Señor Juan Krateil, of Lima, who owns a doll-like travesty of Kurruba, a “Heroe Peruano,” a quarter the size of the living man.

One of the two dequantitated figures in the New York Museum is a white man--a Spanish officer. This unfortunate old “conquistador” was searching for “El Hombre Dorado,” the golden man, when he was captured by the Jivaros who reduced him from a living man of five feet, ten inches in height to a shrunken mummy thirty-one inches tall.

“~Be Fruitful, and Multiply, and Replenish the Earth~”

_Gen. 1, 28._

Large families have always attracted particular interest among all peoples. In many lands the parents of prodigious progeny are rewarded by the state. Nations decimated by severe wars have used compulsory methods of marriage to gain children. The Orient is dotted with ribbon-bedecked shrines where childless wives pray for conception. There are savage tribes still existing who indulge in phallic worship.

Napoleon, when asked what France needed most, replied: “mothers.” And a baby’s crib once stood inside the door of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris.

Roosevelt emphasized parenthood and especially honored the parents of large families. President Coolidge also receives with marked distinction the large family groups that call on him.

The largest family to call at the White House was that of Mr. and Mrs. Harrison and their 37 children. This healthy brood of young Americans seems very small, however, when compared with the multinominal households of the warmer and freer lands, where wives are plentiful and can be had for the keeping.

* * *

MULAI ISMAIL THE FATHER OF 888 CHILDREN

Mulai Ismail, the culminating glory of the Sharifian Emperors, is the prize “daddy” of all time. He was a real father of his country if there ever was one. Mulai ruled Morocco for fifty-seven years with his capital at Tafilat. He had many wives as is the royal and Mohammedan custom of Morocco, and when he died in 1727, the stalwart old patriarch left living 548 boys and 340 girls.

* * *

Rameses II, the famous Pharaoh, was the father of 162 children--111 boys and 51 girls.

* * *

Rama V, or King Chulalongkorn of Siam, who died in 1910 had 3,000 wives and 370 children--134 sons and 236 daughters.

The nine-year-old mother]

THE NINE-YEAR-OLD MOTHER

Following is a true translation of the French Protocol as given by Dr. Cabanes in his book “Le Sixième Sens”:

“After the sensation which the news of a nine-year-old child,
seven months pregnant, caused in Paris and at the Royal Court,
the personal Surgeon-Obstetrician to Madame la Dauphine (the
French Crown Princess) consulted with the Masters of the Medical
Faculty and then decided to take into his house, Rue Mazarin, one
Magdelaine-Charlotte-Jacquette-Renaud, daughter of Louis Renaud
and Magdelaine Laflèche, who on the 30th day of June, 1756, at
3.30 in the morning, was happily delivered of a male child through
an incision made in her left side, and survived, thanks to the
particular mercy of Providence. The newlyborn is well and in every
respect like the child of a normal mother. He was baptized in the
Holy Faith at the Parish of St. André-des-Arcs and received the name
of Jean-Louis. A pension of 1500 francs per annum has been assigned
to the mother, payable during her lifetime, and she will be placed in
a Convent after her recovery.

“The unfortunate Garçon Marchand, who has abused the innocence and
weakness of this young child died on June 9th, or he would have been
amenable to the severity of the law.

“The permission to reprint and to publish is given. Paris, July 4th,
1756, Berrier, Minister of Police and Royal Notary.”

* * *

THE EIGHT-YEAR-OLD MOTHER

Clementine Aimée Pernon, of Puis Clos, France, 8 years old, gave birth to a perfectly developed child on June 3rd, 1866. _Annales de Gipsicologie, page 729, by Dr. Robert Gache._

* * *

THE NINETY-YEAR-OLD MOTHER

In the “Chronique Publique dans la Revue Retrospective sous le Règne de Louis XV” (1742-1743) there appears an account of La Belle Paule Fieschi, of Rue de la Perle, Paris, who became a mother at the age of ninety. The child, a boy, was born on December 1, 1742.

* * *

Jean Baptiste Tavernier, the celebrated traveler of the 17th century, tells in his book “Travels in India,” of seeing a Bhutan woman in northern India who had borne a child at the age of 82.

THE GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER!

Ah-Kwei, of Kansu, China, saw his descendants down to the tenth generation. He was presented to the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of the son of his son! Ah-Kwei lived in the Golden Age of Happiness. And when the Emperor of China was searching for the happiest man in his Empire, the Kansu patriarch was brought before him.

Ah-Kwei had 130 living great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren in 1790.

_Ref.: “A China Jubilee,” by Robt. K. Douglas._

* * *

THE OLDEST PARENTS IN THE WORLD

Margaret Krasiowna, of the village of Konin, Poland, died in 1763, aged 108. The following extraordinary circumstances are stated by Eaton as connected with the life of this woman:

“At the age of 94 she married her third husband, Kasper Raycol, age
105, of the village of Czywuszyn. During the 14 years they lived
together she bore him 2 boys and a girl.

“The three children from their very birth, bore evident marks of
the old age of their parents--their hair being grey, and a vacuity
appearing in their gums, like that which is occasioned by the loss
of teeth, though they never had any. They had not strength enough,
even as they grew up, to chew solid food, but lived on bread and
vegetables. They were of the proper size for their age, but their
backs were bent, their complexions sallow, with all the other
external symptoms of decrepitude.”

“Though most of these particulars,” adds Eaton, “may appear fabulous, they are certified by the parish registers. The village of Czywuszyn is in the district of Stenck in the palatinate of Sandomierz.”

Kasper Raycol, the father, died soon after, aged 119.

* * *

THE GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER!

Speaking of descendants let me quote a verse on the tombstone of the famous Lady of the Dalburg Family who saw her descendants to the sixth generation. She was a great-great-great-great-grandmother.

“The Mother to her daughter spake:
‘Daughter,’ said she, ‘Arise!
Thy daughter to her daughter take,
Whose daughter’s daughter cries.’”

* * *

THREE CHILDREN IN THREE CENTURIES

Pierre Defournel, of Barjac Vivarais, was the father of three children each born in a different century! The first boy was born in 1699, the second son was born in 1738, and the third was born in 1801. Each child was a boy, and each was born of a different wife. Defournel married his third wife when he was 120 years old and she was only 19. He died in 1809 at the robust old age of 129. The “Magasin Pittoresque,” May 1877, has a reprint of the original birth certificates of the three children.

* * *

THE MOTHER OF 69 CHILDREN

Mrs. Bernard Scheinberg died at the age of 56 after giving birth to 69 children. This remarkable mother lived near the German border of Austria and passed away about 20 years ago.

Not one was a single birth. Mrs. Scheinberg had quadruplets 4 times, triplets 7 times, and twins 16 times.

Mr. Bernard Scheinberg is still alive and married again, and what is more, he has had 18 children by his second wife who is also still alive. Scheinberg is hale and hearty and 77 years old and has 67 children living around him. He was the father of 87 sons and daughters.

* * *

The wife of Matthew Bauer, a farmer living near Nagykikinda, Jugoslavia, has given birth to a child each year for the last 28 years. All the children are alive and healthy. Twelve are married and 16 are still under the paternal roof.

* * *

BUSINESS FOR THE PIED PIPER

In the quaint old town of Hameln, famous for the legend of the Pied Piper who enticed away all the children, there is an old house bearing a tablet telling of one Anna Roemer who made a lot of trouble for him.

It records that:

ANNA ROEMER
GAVE BIRTH HERE
TO
7
CHILDREN
2 BOYS AND 5 GIRLS
ON JANUARY 9, 1600

* * *

The largest family on record was that of Lukas Tchaffen, of Arlberg, Germany, (1612-1679) who left 1,091 direct descendants when he died. Herr Tchaffen had 5 children, 87 grandchildren, 446 great-grandchildren, 553 great-great-grandchildren.

* * *

The family of Thomas B. Parker of New York City who died at the age of ninety leaving a family of 658 relatives, is noteworthy. Mrs. Margaret Sanger, the birth-control advocate, cites the huge family of descendants of Jukes, who had 1,200. Among them, according to Mrs. Sanger, were 130 paupers, 50 prostitutes, 60 thieves, 130 felons, and 7 murderers. _Nize babies!_

* * *

THE PROGRESSIVE MOTHER

Madame de Maldemeure (Maldemeusre) gave birth to one child the first year, twins the second year, triplets the third year, quadruplets the fourth year, quintuplets the fifth year, and the sixth year the good woman bore six children. A total of 21 children in 6 years. She died as a result of her last confinement.

Madame de Maldemeure was the wife of Pierre-Roger, Squire of Maldemeure, a little village in the parish of Seaux near Chambelay, France. The first of their 21 children, Sieur de Maldemeure, afterwards became a notorious swashbuckler, courtier, and henchman of King Henry IV.

Dr. Ambroise Paré, the Father of Modern Surgery, is the authority for the above statements. He was the obstetrician at the birth of the sextuplets having been called into service by no less a personage than King Henry II, who had become interested in Mme. de Maldemeure’s ever-increasing family.

_Ref.: “Des Monstres,” by Ambroise Paré, volume XXV of his “Oeuvres,”
chapter 5, and “Maldemeure,” by Jean Cassaque._

* * *