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.