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By SIR WALTER BESANT CHAPTER IX. —(Continued.) “What was his accident?” “He fell from his pony coming home at night. Some say he was in drink; but then ho was always a sober man. Mr. George Sidcote it was that found him lying in the road. He was insensible for three days. When he came to lie couldn’t remember nor tell anybody how the acci dent happened; but he said he’d been robbed, though his pocket was full of money, and Ins watch and chain hadn’t been taken. Papers they were, he said, that he was robbed of. But there's many thinks ho must have put those papers somewhere, and forgotten because of the knock on his head.” “OhI” the stranger rubbed his hands. “I’m better now,” he said; “I am much better. Out in Australia I caught a fever, and it gives me a shock now and again. Much better now. So—Old Dan Leighan fell from his pony—he had an accident and he fell —from his pony—on his head—and was senseless for three days—and was robbed of papers? Now, who could have robbed him of papers? W ore they valuable papers?” ell, that I cannot say.” Did you ever see a man in an hys terica] fit? It is pretty bad to look at a woman laughing and crying with uncon trolled and uncontrollable passion, but it is far worse to see a man. This strong, rugged man, seized with an hysterical fit, rolled about upon the bench, rolling his shoulders and crying at the same lime, but his laugh was uot mirthful and his crying was a scream, and he staggered ns he laughed. Then he steadied him self with one hand on the table; he caught at another man’s shoulder with the other hand; and all the time, while the villagers looked on open-mouthed, he laughed and cried, and laughed again, without reason apparent, without re straint, without mirth, without grief, while the tears coursed down his cheeks. Some of the men held him by force; but they could not stop the strong sobtn ig or the hiccoughing laugh or the shaking of his limbs. At last, the lit spent, ne lay back on the settee, propped against the corner, exhausted, but outwardly calm and composed again. “Are you better now?” asked the land lady. “I’ve been ill,” he said, “and something shook me. Seems as if I’ve had a kind of a (it, and talked foolish, likely. What did I say—what did I talk about?” “You were asking after Mr. Leighan. Who are you? What do you want to know about Mr. Leighan? You asked about his, health ami his accident. And then you had a lit of hysterics. I never saw a man —nor a woman, neither—in such hysterics. You’d best go home and get to bod. Where are you going to sleep? Whore are you going to?” “Where’s your husband, Mrs. Exon? Where’s Joseph?” he asked, unexpected ly. Mrs. Exon started and gasped. “Jo seph’s gone to Bovey with the cart. Ho ought to have been home an hour ago. But who are you?” "V\ illiam Shears” —ho turned to one of the men—"you don’t seem to remember me?” “Why, no,” William replied with a jump, because it is terrifying to bo rec ognized by a stranger who has fits and talks about live men’s ghosts. “No; I can’t rightly say I do.” “Grandfather Derges”—he applied to the ohlets inhabitant, who is generally found to have just outlived his memory, though if you had asked him a week or two ago he could have told the most wonderful things—“ Grandfather Dorgos, don’t yon remember me?” “No, 1 don’t. Seems as if I he oid enough to remember everybody. But my memory isn’t what it was. No, I don’t remember you. Y'et I should say, now. as you might belong to these parts, because you seem to know my name.” “I remember you, Grandfather, when you used to cane the boys in church.” “Ay, ay.” said the old man. “So I did, so I did. Did 1 ever cane you, mas ter? Y'ou must have a wonderful mem ory. now, to remember that.” “Don’t you remember me, William Clampit?” he asked a third man. “No. I don’t,” replied William, short ly. as if ho did not wish to tax his mem ory about a mau so ragged. “1 vp been away a good many years,” he said, “and I’ve come back pretty well ns poor as when I left and a sight more ragged. I didn’t think that a beard and rags would alter me so that nobody should know me. Why, Mrs. Exon, does a man leave the parish every week for Australia, that 1 should be so soon for gotten?” He did not speak in the least like one of themselves. His manner of speech was not refined, it is true; but there are shades, so to speak, which differentiate the talk of the masters from the talk of the rustics. “I have come back without anything except a little money in ray pocket. v ow. Mrs. Exon,, give me some bread and cheese for supper; I’ve had no dinner. Being ill, you- see. and shaken more than a bit. 1 didn’t want any dinner. Then I’ll have a pipe, and you shall tell me the news and all that has happened. Perhaps by that time you will find out who 1 am.” When he had eaten his bread and cheese he began to smoke, showing no trace at all of his late fit. He talked about the parish, and showed that he know everybody in it: he asked who had married and who wore dead: he in quired into the position and prospects of nil the farms; he showed the most in timate acquaintance with everybody and the greatest interest in the affairs of all the families. Yet no one could remem ber who he was. A . out 0 :.->0 o clock the door was open ed again, this time to admit Harry Rab jahns. the blacksmith, wno had been fin ishing the choir practice. He stepped in —a big. strong man. with broad shoul ders and a brown beam. His eyes fell on the stranger. “Why!” he cried, “it’s Mr. David Leighan come back again, and him in mgs!” “So it is—it's Mr. David,” cried Mrs. Exon, clapping her hands. “To think that none of us knew him at first sight! And that you should come to my house, of all the houses in the -parish, first, and tue not to know you! and you in this con dition! But you’ll soon change all that: and I'll make up the bed for you—and your uncle and Miss Mary will be down right glad to see you. Mr. David! To think of my not knowing Mr. David!” CHAPTER X. It was exactly 12 o’clock Sunday morn ing when Mr. Leighan was suddenly startled by a man’s step. He knew the step somehow, but could not at the mo ment remember to whom it belonged. The man, whoever he was, knew his way about the place, because he came from the back and walked straight, treading heavily, to the room where Mr. Leighan was sitting and opened the door. It was David coming to call upon his uncle on his return. There was some improve ment in his appearance. Joseph Exon had lent him certain garments in place of those he had worn the day before; the canvas trousers, for instance, had gone, and the terrible felt hat with the hole in the crown. His dress was now of a nondescript and incongruous kind, the sailor’s jacket ill assorting with the rustic corduroy trousers and waistcoat. He threw open the door and stood con fronting the man whom he had last seen dead, as he thought, killed by his own hand. He tried to face him brazenly, but broke down and stood before him with hanging head and guilty eyes. “So,” said Daniel Leighan, “it is Da vid come back again. We thought you were dead.” \ou hoped I was dead; say it out,” said David, with a ropy voice. Dead or alive, it makes no difference to me. Stay; you were in my debt when you went away. Have you come to set tle that long-outstanding account?” David stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “ion have got something to say to me first,” he said in a husky voice. “Have it out now, and get it over. Something you’ve kept dark, eh?” “What do you mean?” “Outside they knew nothing about it. That was uell done. No occasion to make a family scandal —and me gone away and all—was there? Come, let us have it out, old man. Who robbed me of my land?” His words were defiant, but his eyes were uneasy and suspicious. “Say, rather, who fooled away his in heritance with drink and neglect?” “Robbed me, I say!” "If had not bought your land some one else would. If you’ve come home in this disposition, David, you had better go away again as soon as you please. Don’t waste my time with foolish talk.” “ ‘David’s gone,’ you said. ‘When he comes back, we’ll have it out. We won’t have a family scandal.’ Well, I am back. I thought you were dead.” “I am not dead, as you see.” “W ell, go on. Say what you’ve got to say. I’ll sit and listen. Come; we owe you so much. Pay it out, then.” “David,” said his uncle, quietly, “drink has evidently driven you off your head. Family scandal? What was there to hide? Good heavens! do you suppose that the whole of your family, with its profligacy and drunkenness, was not known to all the countryside? Why, your history is one long scandal. Things to hide? Why, the whole parish was so ashamed of you that it rejoiced when you went away. That is all I have to say to you, David. What are you staring like a black pig for?” ‘•Oh!” cried David. “Is it possible? What docs he mean? Come, old mau, don’t bottle up. You can’t do anything to me now, and 1 might do a great deal for you; I might, if you didn’t bottle up and bear malice. Come—you and me know —let’s have it out.” “What do we two know? All I know is that you have been away for six years, and you come back in rags, that yon had a lit of some kind last night up at Joseph Exon’s. Have you got any account to give of yourself?” “Don’t bottle up.” David said, feebly. “There’s nobody here but you and me. I’ll own up. And then I can help you as nobody else can—if you don’t bottle up. If you do—but why should you? What’s the good? There’s nobody here but you and me. What is the good of pretending that there’s nothing? Did you ever forgive anybody in your life? Do you think I believe you are going to forgive me—you of all men in the world ?” “Leave off this nonsense about hiding and pretending and inferring. One would think you had been murdering some body.” David sat down, staring with the blankest astonishment. lie had by this time succeeded in impressing upon his brain the fixed conviction that his uncle kept his murderous assault a secret out of regard for the family name, and he came prepared to be submissive, to ex press contrition, and to offer, in return for the secret being still kept, to give hack to his uncle the long-lost box full of papers. And now, this conviction de stroyed. he knew not what to think or what to say. "It can’t be!” he said, “it can’t be! Uncle, you are playing some deep game with mo. You are like a cat with a mouse. You are old. but you are foxy; you’ve got a game of your own to play, and you think you’ll play that game low down. Come.” he made one more effort to ascertain if the impossible really had happened—“come. It's like a game of bluff, ain’t it? But let’s drop it, and play with the cards on the table. ' See. now, here’s my hand—l heard last night that you were alive and hearty, though I had every reason to think you were dead. 1 was quite sure you were dead— I knew you were dead. You know why I knew. Every night I was assured by yourself that you were dead. Come, now. Well, when I heard that you were alive and hearty. I said to myself. ’To-morrow I’ll so and have it out with him when ail the people are at church and there's nobody to listen;’ because they told me you could not remember —you know what.” “Couldn’t remember? I’d have you to know, sir. that my memory is as good as ever it was.” “OhI” said David, “then you do re member everything?” “Of course I do.” “Then, uncle, have it out. Let us talk open. I’ve never forgotten it. I have said to myself over and over again. T'm sorry I done it.’ I wished I hadn’t done it, especially at night when your ghost came; who ever heard of a live man’s ghost?” CHAPTER XL “The man’s stark, staring mad!” cried Daniel Leighan. “Come, now. Either say, ‘David, I forgive you, because there was not much harm done after all; I forgive you if you’ll help me in the way that you only can help me;’ or else say, ’David, I’ll bear malice all the days of my life.’ Then we shall know where we are.” ”1 don’t understand one word you say. Stay!” A thought suddenly struck him. “Stay! The last time I set eyes on you it was on the morning you left Challa eombe, and on the same day that I met with an accident. The last time I set eyes on you was in this room. You cursed and swore at me. Y'ou went on your knees and prayed the Lord in a most disrespectful manner to revenge you, as you put it. Do you wish me to forgive those idle words? Mau alive! you might as well ask me to forgive the last night’s thunder. Reproach yourself as much as you please—l’m glad you’ve got such a tender conscience—but don’t think I am going out of my way to bear malice because you got into a temper six years ago!” “Then you do remember, uncle,” said David, with a sigh of infinite satisfac tion. “Well, I thought you would re member, and bear malice. It was the last you saw of me, you see—and the last I saw of you.” David laughed, not the hysterical laugh of last night, but a low laugh, of sweet satisfaction and secret enjoyment. “Well, uncle, since you don’t bear mal ice, there’s no harm done. And now we can be friends again, I suppose? And if it comes to foxiness, perhaps it will be my turn to play fox.” “Play away, David—play away.” “I’ve come home, you see”—David planted his feet more firmly and leaned forward, one hand on each knee —"I’ve come home.” “In rags.” “In poverty and rags. I’ve got noth ing but two or three pounds. When they are gone, perhaps before, I shall want more money. The world is everywhere full of rogues—quite full of rogue? —be- sides land thieves like yourself, and there isn’t enough work to go around. Mostly they live like you, by plundering and robbing.” “Find work. then. In this country if you don’t work you won’t get any money. Do you think you are the more likely to get money out of me by calling names?” “Well, you see. uncle, \ think I shall find a way to get some money out of you.” “Not one penny—not one penny, Da vid, will you get.” There was a world of determination in Mr. Leighan when it came to refusing money. “It’s natural that you should say so to begin with.” His manner had now quite changed. He began by being con fused, hesitating and shamefaced; he was now assured, and even braggart. “I ex pected as much. You would rather see your nephew starve than give him a penny. You’ve robbed him of his land; you’ve driven him out of his house; and when he comes back in rags, you tell him he may go aud starve.” ”V\ ords don’t hurt, David,” his uncle replied, quietly. “I am too old to be moved by words. Now, if you have noth ing more to say, go.” (To be continued.) DOWN ON TNE RIO GRANDE. Contractor Telia of an Exciting Ex perience in Crossing Stream. “To give you an idea of what sort of river the Rio Grande is I’ll tell an ex perience that I had in getting across it with a derrick,” said Raymond Mc- Dougall, a mining man from New Mexico. “I was a contractor in rock work from the east side of the river to the Magdalenas. The derrick was on four wagon wheels and four mules were hauling it. I had my two help ers along aud one of them drove the mules. He was an old-timer, which was lucky, and if I had trusted to my own judgment I might have made a mistake that would have cost me my mules and derrick, if not my life. “We reached the Rio Grande an hour before sundown and I saw a wide river bed, but no water —only dry sand from one bank to the other. It was a new' kind of river to me, but my driver said that it was all right—that it was a way the Rio Grande had. The water was there, only it was flowing through the sands under the channel instead of in it. I being a tenderfoot was for camping on the nearer bank where thy grass was good, but McCartney, the driver, said that would never do un less I was willing to take my chances of staying there a week or two; that water sometimes came down the chan nel, a good deal of it, and it would be well to get across while we were sure that we could. “We started across over the dry sands and I was thinking what an easy way it was of fording a river when of a sudden the two lead mules were floundering in a quicksand and the whole outfit came near being drawn in. We got the two leaders clear of the harness and the other two mules drew them out, one at a time. We hitched them up again and by making a long circuit got past thj quicksand and to the other bank. “By that time it was 10 o’clock and the moon had risen. The mules had. just begun to climb the bank when we heard a roaring noise up the chan nel. It came from a wall of water that stretched from bank to bank and was traveling toward ns fast. I{ looked in the moonlight to be four feef high, and there was high water behind sending it on. We didn’t need to holler to the mules. They heard what was coming and clawed up the bank like cats. “We got out all right, derrick and all —and there were not three minutes to spare. Before we had finished our supper the river bed was full, bank high, with a torrent that eddied and roared as it rushed past our camping place as if it had been sorry to miss us and would like to get up where w wore. There was not a cloud in the sky or a sign of rain anywhere and the flood may have come from a cloud burst in Colorado 200 miles away. But it came near getting us. “I had learned one lesson, and that was in traveling by wagon always to camp on the farther side of a stream. And I had learned to put no trust ir. the Rio Grande.” —Milwaukee Free Press. Helpful. Mrs. Nexdore —My daughter had hex first opportunity last night to play the new piano we bought for her. Did you hear her? Mrs. Pepprey—Yes. and we had company last night; we were de lighted. Mrs. Nexdore —Er-really? Mrs. Pepprey—Yes. we didn’t like our callers at all and were glad they left early.—Philadelphia Press. The remains of some sand that had been carted from Lytle Creek into San Bernardino, Cal., for building purposes yielded sls worth of gold to a pros pector whose experienced eye had not ed the metal’s glitter as he was pass ing it. Don’t be surprised if love that feeds on beauty should die of starvation. Free The spirit of the ancient Vikings, who, care-free, enterprising and inde pendent, carried the sword west and south, discovered new lands, conquer ing peoples, and finally bringing the new faith—Christianity—into their pagan temples, has once more asserted itself in Norway, ever the home of romance and the garden aivl the idyl lic. Always impatient under a yoke, however light, these Northmen have dissolved the act of union by which some ninety years ago they were un- VIEW OF MUNDAL. willingly forced to be bound by Swe den. Although they were forced to unite with Sweden, the Norwegians never at any time relinquished their rights they enjoyed under their Constitution. Yet there were other rights, they claimed, and the history of Norway for the last nine decades is a story of quiet, firm contention for those consti tutional rights, until they have every one, save only the demand for a sep arate consular service, been granted. It was the refusal of the King to agree to the law passed by the Stor thing, demanded a separate consular service, which has threatened the act of union. Norway is a small country—about the size of New Mexico—and one third of it lies within the Arctic Circle. It has a population of 2,240,000, or about a quarter million less than Paris. In spite of its limited extent and its small population, Norway has a navy twice the size of Portugal’s, and an array of 20,000 men, or about the size of that of the United States prior to the Spanish-American war. The present-day Norwegian is just as much of a Viking as were those who lived and fought and conquered in the days of romance; every man in Norway must be a sailor at one per iod in his life, for Norway is a mari time country, and is quite as much de pendent upon the seas for sustenance as is England. Consequently to sail the seas is, for the Norwegian, a na tional necessity. “On land,” said a noted visitor to Norway a few years ago, “the Norwegians are not special ly graceful, but put them into their boats, and they use the oar as the fish uses its fins; a centaur is sarcely more a part of the horse than the Norse boy or girl Is part of the boat.” Still Canning in Seacraft. With a coastline, including the shores of the fjords, of 12.00 b *llllO3, it is not remarkable that the Norsemen THE NAEBODAL VALLEY. of to-day have retained the cunning of seacraft possessed by their ances tors. On nearly every ship that plows the waves on the bosoms of the Seven Seas will be found among officers or in the forecastle Norwegians. Like the old Vikings, they roam over the world wherever ship may take them, and like these ancient mariners, too, they have brought home word of what the world is doing. After the Chino-Japanese war. Japan was visited by hosts of tonrists, who warned otheds who had not seen the land of the Rising Sun to hasten ere the nation had put on its new dress. Norway, without a war. however, has awakened, too. Rapidly is the old home of the Vikings losing its pictur esqueness. Ever since Bjornson. some thirty years ago, became an influence of modernity in Norway, the little country has advanced at a rate that would be considered tremendous had there not been in the same period more wonderful progress shown in the East The primitive is fast disappearing from the Land of the Midnight Sun. Norwegians who cling to the past will tell you that It is “the Americans and English who nave ruined Norway.” And, in a mef.sure, it is due to the sumer tourist, who usually hails from America or England, that the pictur esque garb of the people in the in terior has been replaced by clothing similar to that of “the speckled tour ist.” as he was once called by these people. The Arcadian simplicity of the rustic Norwegian is r.imost a thing of the past The farmers, like those In Switzerland, have found that inn- keeping far more profitable than working hard to garner a puny har vest of grain, although, as yet, the Norse fanner has not allowed summer guests with long purses to swerve him from his regular pursuit. While historians may still dispute whether the Vinland discovered by Lief Erickson was really a part of America, there is a popular notion among Norwegians—not the really educated classes, of course—that America was discovered and populated by Norsemen. The peasants have a notion that, until about half a century ago, America was principally in the keeping of the red men and buffaloes. Then there was considerable emigra tion from Norway, and the impression prevails that it is the descendants of these Norwegians who return to visit the home of their ancestors and to enjoy the magic of the midnight sun and the quiet mystery of the deep, still Norweigain fjords. The original Inhabitants of Norway are believed to have migrated from the Black Sea, but when this passage took place, or rather when it began and when it ended, cannot be even approximately given. Remains of the stone ago, bronze age and iron age have been discovered in the penin sula, and only serve to prove the an tiquity of this Germanic people, and indicate that Norway was populated between 4,000 and 5,000 years ago. .- j : - ~zj**ssM&&, : 'jr WATERFALL OF LOTEF OS AND ESPELANDFOS. Like that of all ancient countries, the genuine history of Norw ay cannot be separated from that which is myth ical. and its recorded history practi cally begins in the ninth century. Be fore that time, in lieu of history, we have the romance of the Sagas and Eddas, or tales and songs, which deal in a most picturesque manner with mythological times. Rise of tlie Vikings. With the rise of the Vikings in w’hat has been called the later iron age in Norway, or about the jear SOO, real history is made in the land of fjords. They were distinctly unlike their fore fathers, who were peaceable so far as their relations with the outside world were concerned. They were the per sonification of the mythical Valkyria— the bloodthirsty sea maidens of the god Odin—they were adventurous, courageous and worthy conquerors. They raided the North Sea, discovered new lauds and founded new' kingdoms in the British Isles without breaking off intercourse with their native coun try. The Vikings -were the progressives of the Scandinavian peninsula, and to their efforts was due the union of the tribes which in a feudal manner ruled over Norway. Before this time Nor way was divided among a number of mutually independent tribes, under chieftains or jarls (earls), who directed the worship of gods and took chief command in war. In all the tribes the people’s liberty was carried to the farthest extent. The free men settled their legal disputes and passed laws, and outside the community and the laws stood the unfree men, the thralls, or slaves. It will be recognized that we are in debted for many' things to the old EXTENT OF NEW JAPAN COMPARED WITH THE UNITED STATES. Northmen, and it is not unlikely that they had a colony on the American coast at the end of the tenth century —that ‘Vlnlhnd the Good” of which there “was much talk at Brattahild.” About 905 Eric the Red discovered Greenland, and there was talk, accord ing to a Norse account, about the oth er country which had been found, and which was called Vinland. An expe dition of 160 men set out to find and explore It They found a country where “no snow came in winter,” and ‘ where the inhabitants carried shields and used skin canoes.” This has al ways been considered to point to America, but the location of Vinland the Good has not yet been indisput ably settled. About the time Greenland was dis covered King Olav Trygvesson, a de scendant of Harald the Fair-Haired, who had distinguished himself in his youth as a leader of the Viking army that had ravished Britain, introduced Christianity, a faith he had embraced in Britain, into Norway. King Haakon subsequently had the people revert to heathenism, but for a brief period only. Soon the new faith conquered, having been introduced into the Nor wegian colonies. From the days of the Vikings Nor way has had its representative gov ernment, the ancient form having been in a manner very similar to that of the United States. Although the Northmen have had their kings, they have insisted upon having a hand in making their laws and in dispensing justice. In almost everything but name it is to-day a democracy. For the last eighty years no titles have been created, and there are no aristo cratic classes such as there are in Sweden. It Sounded Plausible. “That horse dealer down to Cross town is a queer lot,” remarked old Jared Billings, as he sunned himself on the horse-block and watched his neighbor mend a picket fence. “What’s the matter with him?” in quired the other, as he drove a nail home without hitting his thumb. “What’s the matter? Why, he’s a sharper, he is; you’ve got to look alive or he'll cheat the very eyes out of you! I’ll just tell you what he did to me last week. “I had occasion to get a rig from him—just had to have it that very day to go to town on that court business— and that horse dealer, he said he didn’t know me, and he'd lost a lot, letting things to strangers, and unless I’d leave the worth o’ the rig with him then and there he wouldn't hear to my taking it. “Well, it just so happened I had the money by me—wasn’t much of a turn out, by the way—and I put it up with him, and when I came back he handed over the price and I give up the rig. “Well, now, what do you suppose that fellow called after me as I was putting off home? ‘Hold on!’ he hol lered. ‘You’ve forgot to pay for the hire.’ “ ‘Hire?’ I said. ‘Hire? I’d like to know if I wasn’t driving my own rig all the afternoon!’ “Did you ever hear the like o’ that for graspingness? Y'es, sir, I tell you, that horse dealer’s a sharper!” Lead a Regular Life. Very few persons understand the value of regularity of habits. Meals and sleeping hours should be fixed ones, for only harm can result from retiring one night at 10 and another at 12 o’clock, unless the rising varies, too. Eight hours’ sleep one night and six the next is not the way in which to woo and keep health, and if a similar habit of taking nourishment is encour aged there is little hope of reaching old age in a creditable condition. If ever you are tempted to prove or dis prove these statements, try going to bed at 9 o’clock every night for three months, and rising at 5 and eating at 6. 12 and 0 again, with never a break in the routine. The result will sur prise you.—Minneapolis Tribune. Perhaps one reason why a poor man lives longer than a rich one is that the doctors don’t take so much interest in him. WALLACE ANGERS THE PRESIDENT. ROOSEVELT COES NOT THINK EN GINEER SHOULD HAVE QUIT PANAMA WORK. Offer of Big Salary Too Much for Wal lace—No Successor Is Chosen. Oyster Bay. June 29.—The resigna tion of Chief Engineer Wallace of th isthmian canal commission has been ac cepted. Mr. Wallace received while in Pana ma an offer of a position with a great corporation, the name of which is with hold, at a salary of SOO,OOO per annum. His salary with the Panama canal com-* mission and as chief engineer of the t canal was $25,000 a year. When ho told' Secretary Taft that he desired to accept the offer which had been tendered to him the secretary expressed to Mr. Wal-i lace his feeling in the matter, but he ac-* cepted his resignation after a conference with the President, to take effect inline-- diateiy. Engineer Wallace suggested to Secre tary Taft that he would remaiu with thei commission two months longer, but after] considering the matter President Roose velt directed Secretary Taft to accept the resignation at once. There is no concealment by the admin istration of its feeling regarding Mr. VS allace’s tender at this time of his resig-; nation. It is felt that he has not acted: fairly to the government in accepting, comparatively recently, the responsibility of directing the canal construction and now offering his resignation at a time which is regarded as crucial in the work of the canal. It is said that he not only accepted the position as chief engineer but sought it and expressed his entire satisfaction with' the salary given to him by the govern-’ ment. It has not been definitely decided who Air. Wallace’s successor will be. The: President and Secretary Taft have made) a tender of the place to a distinguished constructing engineer, but his name is, withheld. NINE NEW DIRECTORS. Equitable Life Changes Completed as Suggested at Cleveland, O’Brien and Westinghouse. New York, June 29.—Nine new direct ors of the Equitable Life Assurance so ciety, every one representing the inter ests of the policy holders, were elected at the regular monthly meeting of tho board to till vacancies occasioned by res ignations. The new' directors were sug gested by the trustees of the Thomas F. Ryan stock —Grover Cleveland, Justice Morgan .7. O’Brien and George Westing house. They are: E. B. Thomas of New York, president of the Lehigh Valley railroad; F. G. Bourne of New York, president of the Singer Manu facturing company; William Whitman of Boston; John J. Albright of Buffalo; F. W. Roebling of Trenton, N. J.; J. D. Schmid lapp of Cincinnati, 0., president of the Union Savings Bank and Trust company; E. W. Robertson of Columbia, S. C.; Joseph Bryan of Richmond. Va., and E. W. Bloom lugdale of New York. The resignations of twenty-one old di rectors, nearly half the board, w'ere ac cepted. Included in the twenty-one resig nations which were accepted w’ere three new' ones, which came to the hands of Chairman Paul Morton shortly before the board meeting. They are from George H. Squire, who w r as named in the Hendricks report as one of the James H. Hyde and associates under writers; James J. Hill and Alfred G. Vanderbilt. The new directors are all big policy holders. Gov. Haywood of South Caro lina asked Cleveland what be might say to the South Carolina policy holders from him. “Tell them,” Cleveland replied, “they needn’t w’orx-y any longer.” SAY FRANCE WILL AGREE Germany Receives Another Note from Paris Concerning Moroccan Affair. Berlin, June 29.—Ambassador Bi hourd. who was received by Chancellor Von Buelow today, made a further com munication from France, which is re garded by the foreign office as another step toward an adjustment of the differ ences between the two governments. The official opinion continues that France w’ill agree to the Moroccan con ference The newspapers generally re fer to the crisis as being over. MME. BERNHARDT COMING. Great Actress Signed for American Tour of Thirty Weeks to Begin in November. London, June 29.—Shubert Brothers have signed a contract with Mme. Sarah Bernhardt f.or an American tour of thirty weeks to begin at the Lyric the ater, New Y'ork, November 5 next. Mme. Bernhardt will take her entire company from the Theater Sarah Bernhardt at l aris, and will he seen in her revival of Victor Hugo’s “Angelo,” and also in her own production of “Adrienne Lecou vreur,” now’ running here. WHISKY FEEDS FLAMES. Big Distillery at Terre Haute Is Burning and Loss Will Reach $250,000. Torre Haute, Ind., June 29.—The Mer chants’ distillery is in flames. All of the fir* apparatus in the city has been called out. The plant i's owned by Fred B. Smith of this city. The loss is esti mated at $250,000. GIANTS’ SKELETONS FOUND. Remains of Prehistoric Race Discovered Near Baltimore. Baltimore, Md. f June 29.—A number of gigantic skeletons of pre-historic In dians, nearly eight feel tall are reported to have been discovered along the banks of the Choptank river, in thus state by employes of the Maryland academy of sciences and are now at the academy’s buildings, where they are being articu lated and restored. The collection com prises eight skeletons, of which some are those of women and children. BOYCOTT IS SPREADING. Chinese on Malay Peninsula Won’t Buy American Goods. Selanger, Malay Peninsula, June 29. The Chinese C amber of commerce wiil meet July 2 to consider the question of joining in the boycott of American mer chandise until the Chinese exclusion act is repealed. The feeling here is high and it is considered probable that the local Chinese will join in the movement MRS. EDWARDS MUST DIE. Pennsylvania Board of Pardons Will Not Save Her Neck. Harrisburg, Pa., June 29.—The Penn sylvania board of pardons has refused to change the sentence of Mrs. Kate Ed wards from death to life imprisonment. The execution will take place within the next sixty days. Mutual Asks Publicity. New York, June 29.—At the request of President Richard A. McCurdy of the Mutual Life Insurance company the state department of insurance now is making a thorough investigation of th condition of that institution.