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j . ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ." _ .. ^ ^ / ;_ ^.- . : , ^ ... .- ." ' l. v. grist & sons. Blither*. | % .Jittmlj |M(|aS<r: 4or firomotloit of (he political, Social, ^jrirulfural, and Cotntnetjcial Interests of the feopte. {Tg8*^ff^!L4Jl^ii!^*14ilcg j ' ....." .^ ' I. i i ~. r_ i ~ I . ., ^ i . ' _ i I^.i i _ '*1*1.' '. '_ T . .' .'.','i ?? ?i~ _ ?(. ''"I".?* ESTABLISHED Us. % TORKVILLE, 8. O., SATURDAY, J^.lSrUA.RY 3,1903. NO. 1. ?-= ^ I I ' : _ - - - -, . . ; y . I--;;- . fffll By Ro; Charli 7 I I Antlor of "In Bis St*," "feol Copyrigljt, 1901, by Charles jSheldon. SYNOPSp OF PRECEDING CjPTBRS. < John Gordon, heir to rich# refuses a posititn in his father's Ink and leaves h^r.e, father and slstelo work for the people of the slumL Sordid money getting and a life offrlvollty are revoltlig to him. Gordo# society . sweetheart, Luellk Marsh, fuses to share tfli life at Hone Hose, "an oasis of 'itfuge and strengtl among tenements, Baioona and vaudi^le halls. They pdrl Gordon goes o Hope House andlmeets Its head, Mis Grace Andrews.! He decides to joinhe slum settlement., His friend, Davi* Barton, a succesdfu "yellow" journal^ with a bad coug^i.asks him to condit a reform page In the Daily New edited by one Hairis. Gordon consl era the offer. Tie i offer tempts Gor in, but he scores yellow" journalisi Editor Harris yerhears the conv rsatlon, but gives n sign when he jofts Gordon and Baton. Harris offer^Qordon $500 a monh to edit a slun reform page. Barbn's cough grows worse. Gordon refses Harris' offer >ecauso he thinks fcrris wants the ] ige for sensational, ^ot reform, purpos s. Gordon finds tht his father and ^uella's own the woit tenements In tl slums. Gordon askihis father to del roy his illegal, inssltary tenements but is repulsed, nella's father, w > owns the worst dpib-bell tenement, rislts it in companywith Gordon. T ey also visit a disputable vaudivlll house near by. lie Indecency sh< ks Mr. Marsh. Hetoromises to do & nething about the < tmbbell * tenemen Barton's coughs worse. OA! CER V?Continui l>. The usnty cynical voice ctually broke with sob that cut Johi Gordon deep, atthorb in that tense loment which had ome on so swift there was a flprn Inr at the (Vinfoa Inn "hla friend ha^lade. He bent o>r and pot a band in Barton's. and ley sat tbns silent for a gracious mcbent It was si) ilflcant that neitherif them had said i word abont Bartons physical condii on and his bopelessfuture, so far as hyslcal life was coterned. The stll less In the room wj suddenly Intern ited by a clang out i the street. Gordon wqt over to the window and looked out i f - -i": "The depiment is making a line run," he sai^riefly to Barton.| It wag latUnd the avenue was al- 1 most empty-kJraffic. A touart* pore white horsejtyjl the engine which pre ceded the >ipi and ladder "wagons plunged foTHori with a desperate but glad abandon tit struck fire from the pavement and girled the engine along with a mad bj glorious energy that made human bjod run fasterand kept the pulses beat% with sympathy. The ^ driver and hii assistant leaned forward. their bdi heads tossing their i free hahr behid; the whole scene > <*: flashed by In t* night like a bit torn out of a Bom* chariot race of the dead past trasformed by chance to the modern mujclpallty, whose streets are lighted wit! electricity, and whose buildings loom up in tbe''smoky air like crags besid the prairie lea. The whlrlinggronp swepturound the corner at'the bd of the lext block, slacking speed Just enough to avoid turning over, bhn Gordon came back to David's side "Where is tli fire?" "I didn't notifc the alarm. Must have been a still onf* "Have you efer thought what would happefi, John. I a fire ever got a good chance around3ope House?" "Have I? 1 hink of ltievery time 1 go Into the ddble decker. They are simply {raps. It a fire eier started in the hflnement It Na 91. it WOUld be a miracle ltanybdy got out alive." "flow about lope Houst itself Y' The queatttu showd uneasiness. "Hope fcous Is a dry ?ld shell Inside. It wouL go like tiller." "The fire tdlght Is not down that way?" "No; the tams turned up Pavell street" "Is Na 91 tfy worse thai other numbers?" "No; it's letter in some, ways. But there's a bafcry in the basanent They fry greasy ?ughnuts ovet a cracked stove. One drop of greaie catching fire in the pace might sw*ep a score of children Ito eternity." "They'd bebetter off in eternity than in the tenemot wouldn't tley? Maybe the best thin (you could do vould be to pray for No. 01 to catch on fire when the wind's Jvlt right." John Gordcp made no agswer, and Bartou askeddrowjily: > "How aboutMr. Marsh? Y|u dropped me a line abdit the probability of his having an Intrrest in helping Miss Andrews flnanciilly." "Mr. Marsh is tie landed of Na ' 91." . "BOO! lot uoo i any 'iae vuiw was awake fgai*. "Then (he amount of bis contrlbutitu o social settlements Is not yet m?de"p?jblic?" ; "Mr. Marst b* been with te through the district today. He saw his own tenement fox the first time."# "That's a good itory; tell' me about it" The voice was again drowsy. "It's too late, Divid," Gordon remonstrated "No; it isnt TP g#ng to Meep here. I often do. It staffs tie cough if I get up again. Pin comfortable. You'll stay all night? Fou know your room. Do, that's a goc*3 fell?w. I may want you to help me &rnt>3 up the cough In the morning." j "Yes; I'll ttaj'tf Jbu want me to. Are you comfort hie |iere?' "Very much & oldjnan. Go ahead with Mr. Marsh' Gordon had lit talked five minutes before Barton aleep, an unnatural slumber^ pre Ike death than r i 'DRIER. 98 M. Sheldon. ert Hardy's Seven Days," Etc. healthy refreshing of wearied power*. His whole attitude was that of com* plete exhaustion. The seal of death was upon him. John Gordon stopped talking, and the tears rolled down hi* cheeks. David Barton was the dearest friend be had. The two were ten years apart in age, but from the time when they first met they had been instantly drawn together and had began to love each other. * It was after 11 o'clock, and yet Gordon hesitated to go to bed. He almost feared that Barton would never wake up, tbe pallor of his face, the attitude of the body, were so suggestive of the great change He was still sitting there, his cheeks still wet with the tears that he did not try to repress, when Williams came in softly on tiptoe. 'There's a .queer old lady outside, Mr. Gordon, says she wants to see Mr. Barton, if It ain't too late: She's a mighty queer {looking specimen. She won't go away, and 1 thought maybe you'd go and see her." "Barton is asleep now. He can't be wakened. Ask the lady to come into the halL" \ Gordon went out, drawing the curtains between the; first room and tbe wide hallway, an&met In the hall tbe visitor, who was promptly ushered In by Williams. She was dressed In a remarkably old fashioned style that struck John Gmv don as exceedingly Interesting rather than grotesque. She was very old, at least ninety, but straight and vigorous.. Her keen blue eyes looked searchIngly at John Gordon, and she spoke in a sharp but remarkably clear voice. "Are you Mr. Barton?" "No, madam. 1 am his friend, Mr. Gordon. Mr.' Barton is asleeD and not well. What can I do for you? Will you be seated?" "In a moment, sir." She placed upon the floor a faded old carpetbag, took a handkerchief out of her pocket, carefully dusted one of the ball seats and then sat down. As she took out the handkerchief a. delicate aroma was wafted, to John Gordon. It reminded him of the fragrance be remembered once while visiting the East India Marine museum at Salem, Mass., wheu the atteudaut opened an old sea chest, lined with cedar and packed with silk shawls. John Gordon was now thoroughly awake. The sharp eyes looked at him kindly. "1 am exceedingly sorry to hear that Mr. Barton is 111. I very much wished to Bee him. First I must be pardoned for calling at this unseasonable hour. But I bad the uddress and saw the light and knew that newspaper men kept queer hours. I have called at the office of the paper and was told Mr. Barton was at his apartments. I must go on my journey tonight"? John Gordon had not the remotest Inlrllnc an tn the nld lndv's errand. Rhe was evidently a person of great refinement and culture. "How much of a friend are you to Mr. Barton?" The question was so direct and frank that Gordon smiled. "I am his dearest friend." "Man or woman V the old lady asked, with a twinkle of the eyes that made John Gordon smile again. "My friend has never had any love affair. He Is a confirmed bachelor." "Ah, don't deceive yourself, young man. I am old enough to be your grandmother, your great-grandmother almost, and 1 have seen a great deal of the world. But, pardon me; 1 must tell you what I came for." She put her hand Into a little bag that hung from a silk cord tied about her wrist As she opened the bag the same delicate aroma penetrated the hall again. She handed a card to Gordon. He took It and read: "Mrs. Captain George Effingham, Salem." - weur uoraon saia. "I am Captain Effingham's widow. My great-grandson was born on the day Captain Effingham died. His name was Clark Effingham. He ran away to sea when he was sixteen. Since then I have heanr nothing of him until a week ago I had a letter from him dated Colorado Springs. He was consumptive, but is getting better. I am on my way to see him." She paused, and John Gordon, still In the dark as to the object of her call on Barton, said: "Well?' "You said you were Mr. Barton's nearest friend? How much of his real life do you know?" Gordon was thoroughly surprised. For the first time be looked suspiciously and even doubtfully at the old lady. "I know him well. There is not a kinder, purer, truer soul In this city than David Barton." "I believe you," the old lady nodded vigorously. "But I know more about him than you da Listen! One night six months ago a young man, penniless, homeless, alone In this great city, was walking Its streets In a cold, penetrating rain. An east wind blew off the water. The young man was proud. He would not write his relatives for help. He was afraid to let his aristocratic grandmother know that he had drifted off the sea, Into one kind of vagabond life after another, until he was on the verge of starvation and crime hi a great, merciless city. , "Out In the night, that night, this lad gambled against jour friend Hr. Barton. He gave him shelter and food. Then hi sent him out to Colorado before It .was too late. Then"? Gordon was cryiSg. The old lady, had something In her sharp eyes that glittered brighter than the ej%. "Then this lad discovered a secret The Efltnnuns always were quick. He found oot that be was not the only one. Mr. Guidon, do yon know that this friend ofjfours has during the last five years sent a little colony of consumptive people to Colorado and paid all their expenses'there, saving at least a docen lives? This much my grand on has discovered. He was the first one of them to find out his benefactor's name and address. It first came to him through an accident But your friend is?and yon did not know It? 1 want to thank him. I-want to tell him how much my boy owes him. Yon said he was 11L I trust It Is nothing serious?" John Gordon let the tears flow down his face. His friend's Jealously guarded secret was out at laft Now be knew why he had so stiibbonily refused to go to Colorado himself. He knew it was too late and hadv always been. But, knowing It, he had put Ids own life aside and bad thus saved others. And it was too late for him now. The cynical, careless, great hearted friend suddenly grew into an image that would always sit on the throne of his memory In the high place of honor. "He is very ill? Tell me. is it serious?" The old lady for the first time betrayed uneasiness. John Gordon answered gently. "He Is very ill. He has consumption. He cannot live!" "God bless him!" the old lady exclaimed, and her tears fell fast After awhile she said gently: "Do you think I might Bee him? 1 would like to look on his face." For answer John Gordon rose, parted the curtains and beckoned. The old lady followed and soon stood looking at the wasted face. She Btood a moment silently gazing, then she put out a hand, which Gordon had noted before as astonishingly white and beautiful for such an aged person, and softly touched Barton's head. As she straightened up and utenoed back. Gordon saw that she was much agitated. He offered her assistance to walk back Into the halL She accepted with an old fashioned acknowledgment of his politeness that touched him deeply. When they were In the ball she said, "Will you tell him I came to see him?" ' Gordon was thinking It over. Would Barton care to have his secret known? "Yes, I will tell him." "I think It will be better to let him know. Yea, it will be better," the old lady said with approval. "The time will not be long. Will you write me when the end comes for him?" "Yes, madam. I thank you for him that you came." "The pilgrimage Is brief at the longest," she said with a strong gravity that was far from gloom. "But surely your friend has redeemed his time. 1 am glad I saw his face. Yes, glad." Gordon offered to see her to the train, but she firmly refused to be of any trouble to any one. "I am able to go alone. A carriage Is waiting for me. Good night, sir, and God be with you." "Good night, madam," replied, Gordon. Williams appeared and opened the door. Gordon Insisted on seeing her down the steps and Into the carriage. He had shut the door and the driver bad jnst started his horse when the old lady stopped the driver with a word, her fine sharp cut face looking out of the window. "Tell your friend I will write. It will not be long before we shall meet" The carriage went on, and Gordon walked up the steps and Into the hall with a feeling that he had been dreaming. But the perfume of a cedar chest Just opened after a long sea voyage lingered In the hall and followed him into the rooms as he thoughtfully went In again and took a look at Barton before resting. In the morning when Gordon came out of his room he found Barton up and whistling. He noticed his friend's apparently Improved condition. "You had a caller last night after you fell asleep." "That so? Some one from the office?" Barton asked carelessly. "An aH am Vofil Tiuflomon au viu luuj vu uu uaov dated 1785." "I'm too tired to guess. Explain." "Here la ber card." Gordon handed It to B irton. "Mrs. Captain George Effingham, Sulem," Barton read. Then his cheeks showed a color In addition to the unnatural glow there. Gordon went up and put a hand on his arm. "David, 1 know now why?why"? "Say, you aren't going to cry, are you?" "Cry! I've been crying all night To think that you"? "Well, why shouldn't I enjoy trips to Colorado, even if I can't personally conduct them? Tell me about the old lady. Effingham said his grandmother was going on a hundred. Sorry 1 missed seeing her. I expect she Is a picture." "A picture! She is a romance. You would have fallen in love with her at once. She brought Into the room the fragrance of cinnamon and cloves and spice from the Islands of the sea. Don't you detect It now?" "Smells to me like Williams' coffee," replied Barton, sniffing critically. "But tell me about her." Gordon described the visit as vividly as possible. When be had finished, there wns n susniclon of moisture in Barton's eyes. "She wanted me to tell you she would write." "First love letter I'll ever get," sighed Barton whimsically. "I expect she's rich." "No doubt, Joan imagine the square old fashioned bduse she owns In Salem? colonlal iront, tan window arrangement over'jtbe doors andstaircase big enough to drive up a double, team. But, ob, David, why did you not go out the*# yourself before"? "Before it wsa. too late? No gocd. Case Is chronic. Lef s change the subject Tell me Shout Mr. Marsh." "But how many persons are you nipporting in Colorado?" "Dont remember. Quit It or you will bring on my.cough. It always gets me when Inconsiderate friends Insist on talking about it" So Gordon took up the day's experience with Mr. ;Msrsh while Willis ms brought In the edttee and roUa, and Barton seemed unusually cheerful and funny. When Gordon rose to . go, Barton said: "I think maybe I'll get down to tne office next week. But come up as often as yon can, old {nan, won't you?" Gordon promised, with a choking in his throat as be! shook hands, and went off, carrying with him a memory that waa both sad and inspiring. After he had gone out David Barton went over to the couch and, kneeling down, sobbed like a child. He was a gifted man, only forty yean old, and life was very sweet to him. The first thing John Gordon did on reaching Hope House was to confer with Ml88 Andrews. . "Do you think Mr. Marsh will do anything?" she asked. *1 think so?yss." But Gordon's reply was not very strong. "You are in doubt He was deeply impressed. But if i mistake not be lis' the kind of man to delay any?move that means a real financial loss. His horror of the tenement conditions is not equal to his dread of ultimate money less if he tears the double decker down or remodels It" "I'm afraid?ye*" Gordon answered, with a sigh. "But of course," he said after awhile, "you have used your influence with the board of health and the city officials and all other departments." "Yes," Miss Andrews answered quietly. "Rnt mndltiofls km irpttinz worse. wiijr " . "Ask Tommy BandalL" "The political boss?" "Of course yon know he Is the rock on which most of our reforms split." "I have never met him. Of coarse you have been to him personally?" "Often. He's the most dangerous man In the city. He Is utterly devoid of conscience. I jhave never found a single quality in him to which I could appeal. Bat, if he would, he could move the powe^that be to right nearly every wrong in the ward." Gordon was on the point of going on with the Inquiries, for what he had heard of Tommy Randall, the .boss, surrounded that potent force with a certain human fascination, but Miss Andrews was called away, and the talk was not renewed until they met again at dinner. For a week John Gordon continued his special Investigation with Ford, the university student. The work took him into another block. Coming back one evening from the district, he passed by No. 91. and the sight of an unusual commotion there caused him to stop and go In. He thought of his little friend, Louie, and reproached himself for not having gone to see him or make inquiries. But tbe child was only one of hundreds for whom his heart was beginning to bleed as the unending agony of childhood's tragedy In the tenements was beginning to be unfolded to him. He went into the court: and up the staircase and out upon the corridor. Several women there seemed agitated by some recent occurrences. "What Is It?" be asked of one of the women, who- waa crying Into a dirty apron. "Louie's dead," she replied and resumed her crying. John Gordon itepped to the door leading into Mrs. Caylor's. The mother met him there: Her face was hard and tearless. "May I go in?" Gordon asked gently. The woman made no reply, and Gordon went on. Ttfe rooms were lighted with candles. Several women were In the room. A man was standing by a table on which was a rough pine coffin, at which he was looking with disgust or contempt He looked up ai Gordon came In. "Who are yon?" was the man's rough greeting. "My name is John Gordon of Hope House I" The man turned suddenly to one of the women who stood looking on submissively. "Take the thing out," pointing to the coffin, "and tell Abrams to send up something better or he'll hear from me." And this was John Gordon's introduction to Tommy Randall, the political boss of Hope House district Ward 18. TO BE CONTINUED. Napoleon as' a Scientist. The seat In the class of mechanics of the Institute ma4e vacdnt by the flight of Carnot was filled in 1797 by the election of a young artillery officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, Just returned from his Italian campaign covered with glory. The first consul paid much favorable attention to the institute, nil I* /v\nflntlolltn thin dov VDFV mnph as It left his hands in the new constitutlon which be gave It In 1806. He exhibited bis admiration for the pnre sciences and his dislike to the speculative sciences, philosophy and ethics by the expansion of the convention's first class and the entire suppression of the second class, thus creating four classes?sciences physiques et mathematlqueaJa langue et la littera ture francaise^Bistoire et litterature anclennes and ^wx arts, ft was Louis XVIII. who, lHlfi, restored the old names of tbe^Kdemies to the four classes of Nap^Bi. * i - jit*. .-. ?. ^UtSfuwltWuP ^(9utu^? MOROCCO'S RBBELJL.IO.Y. Ma Parpoie to PKveit the Young Sultan . From- Introducing Reform*. The man who heads the present attempt to overthrow the government of the Sultan of. Morocco Is reported to say that he. has not the slightest intention of seising the throne. His mission. he says, is to wage a holy war against Christians, keep Europeans out of Morocco and remove the present sultan from the throne on account of his tendency to listen to European advice and yield --to foreign Influence. Jtie says tnat ae ana nis iojiowers win nominate a. sultan .from some Shereeflan family who will promise to cop-' tinue the war against the Christians., According to the correspondent of the: London Times at Fes, the rebels are very strong in numbers. The rebellion is an expression ot total dissent from and reprobation of the sultan's recent, scheme of reforms. Walter B. Harris, who had many in-; terviews with 'Morocco's young ruler last year, reported that he was wholly unlike other Oriental potentates in thoughts, habits and manner of life. "He Is keenly sensitive to public opinion in Europe, is interested in educational systems abroad and in th^ workings of constitutional government, and is anxious to'keep on good terms with the Powers," Mr. Harris said. . The sultan told Mr. Harris that as soon as his government was- better organized he hoped to travel abroad and J&rn what he could for the benefit of his country. To reform Morocco, to introduce modern and liberal ideas into its system of government, may require genius and strength beyond the powers: of the young ruler. In Dr. Oscar Lens, one of the most acute observers of affairs in Morocco, wrote that though the father of the present sultan had liberal tendencies and was a man of independent and energetic character, as well as an autocrat, he was not in a position to Introduce revolutlohary reforms against the will of the official class. The fanatical party was .too strong both in the country &nd at court to be forced to submit to drastic measures of reform. When the late sultan's son came to the throne in 1894 he was a mere boy of 14. During his minority Sid Ahmed, the Grand Vixler of Morocco, ruled the country with the iron hand of an absolute despot. He held the country together, quelled rebellions and subdued Trfmnst rrm1 ty and at the same time by wholesale confiscation and enormous exactions amassed a great fortune. Two years ago the young sultan reached the age of 20 and just as he assumed control the stern old regent died. The report that the old man left his great fortune to the new sultan is probably incorrect At any rate, it is known that the sultan's finances have been in a bad way, and that since he came into actual power he has raised considerable money by the sale of a part of his Jewels. It is not believed that Ills government has today the monetary resources necessary to equip a force and maintain it in the field for the suppression of a great and detertnine i revon. There are Moors of progressive tendencies, and they have hoped for great things from their sultan! But it is very hard to change the old system. It has been the time-honored practice for government officials, all of whom receive only nominal pay, to prey upon the officials below them till the local sheiks Anally recoup themselves . by preying on the people. "Squeezing" is the main business of the governing class, and these officials do not wish for any change. Added to this policy of corruption is the blind prejudice of ignorance which makes both the powerful and the lowly believe that all foreigners are hereditary foes, who cannot possibly wish them well, and who are most earnestly desired to leave the Moroccans to themselves. With such conditions as flrmlv rooted in the country, the small body of progressive Moors will be most fortunate If the present sul; tan is ever able to bring about a tithe of the reforms which they are expecting at his hands. OLD AFRICAN GOLD MINES. Evidences of Extensive Operations Carried on Many Years Ago. Rhodesia, or British Zambasla, ranks among the chief gold-bearing countries of the world. The ancients mined and carried away enormous quantities of the precious metal, but under the scientific mining systems of the present day their operations will be greatly surpassed. In the recently published work on the "Ancient Ruins of Rhodesia," the authors, Messrs. Hall and Neal, endeavor to discover who the ancients' were and whither the gold went. Perhaps Rhodesia was the ancient land of Ophir, the land of the mysterious "King Solomon's" mines," but the theory is strongly combated by some investigators. The ancient gold workings are the basis of new workings. For every ten square miles of Rhode sla there was one ancient mine, thatl is, there are 75,000 - old holes, which means that a stupendous wealth was dug out of the earth before the days of Cecil Rhodes. Much of this wealth must have gone to the north and east; it was probably wrought into the crown of the Queen of Sheba and filled the coffers of Solomon. The ancient smelting furnaces are still easy to recognize. They are sunk into the floor. The furnace blowpipes are made of the finest granitfr-powder cement, and the nozzles of the blowpipes are covered with splashes of gold. The linings of the holes are covered . V > . . \ * - - - si. with specks of gold. When the -first lining became worn, by the beat, a fresh lining of cement ofan excellent quality, which has outlasted time, was smeared round on top 6t the old lining. One can take an old lining, split off the layers with a knife and find goldTsplashee in abundance. , . Apparently the ancients wasted gold lavishly;. Gold has been found th large quantities in .the form of p&jeta as large aa, buckshot far the vicinity of the furnaces. andr?0?B Uuown aawTiw the debris heaps outside Of the old buildings. ; The tools, of . the ancient > workers which have so far been discovered Include a email soaps tone hammer and burnishing stones at water-worn rock, to which gold still adhere*. Thert are evidences that the ancients carried" on an extensive industry in the"manufacture of gold ornament*, and utensils. Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth of gold ornaments have beentaken in the last live years from the. ruins of Matabeleland alone.?Tooth's Companion. ' . ? . , PLANTS THAT MADH HISTORY. Sugar, Tobacco and Cottoa Have All laSmeaeed History. ,vV'i Bather more, than; sixty years ago, says Stray Stories, a tiny fungus?itself a plant?appeared to Ireland and' fastened itself on "the potato. Fostered by a cheerless summer, the tungna spread until the whole potatocrop, the mainstay of the Irish, was ruiSetf and the resulting famine of 1845 Btandci out in history as a time of worwhsimlngi trouble. Its relief occupied the whole" attention of tiie British ministry , and when the famine was-over a quarter of the whole "population lay slain "by the; fiingus. And the potato disease acted in two distinct ways on history. Tt^hfd an immediate effeot in helping the. repeal of the - corn laws and throwing the! country open 10 nee iraao. In the second place, tt had a great and unforeseen effect on another continent, for there then started a stream of emigrant across the Atlantic which has steadily continued. At the beginning of the seventeenth century . the English and the Dutch were rivals for the possession of a certain little island, Amboyna, In the East- Indies, because of the cloves that grew upon, it At this date the production of cloves was extremely limited, and Anally the Dutch massacred a small English colony established there, This aroused the bitter feeling in England against the Dutch and, as a great Historian tells us, furnished a popular way for two wars. fui tuHpa -turned the heads of the usually placid Dutchmen in the seventeenth century, and the tullpomanla is a well recognized event In Dutch domestic history. It is a time when the desire to possess an uncommon tulip was sufficient to drive men to most extreme lengths of speculation, to cause the ruin of noble houses and to carry whole families to misery. In fact, so acute did the rage become that the Dutch govern ment was ODitgea to step m w?u. a heavy hand and by stringent measures allay this fever of the tulip. The tea plant was the "last straw" which brought about the Independence of the United States, as we all know. - The poppy Involved England in the opium war with China at the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria. Though the war was an unjust one, yet it did ultimate good In opening up China to foreign influence and trade. Sugar, cotton and tobacco have all Influenced history, for these three plants were practically responsible for the slave trade of modern times.? ' Napoleon of Africa.?In 1840, one Senussi, who declared himself of the true blood, of the prophet, established a mosque on the border of the desert at the back of Tripoli. He gained great fame as a worker of .miracles, and his house of prayer became the center of an annual pilgrimage and of a new sect, says Pearson's Weekly. As the number of his followers began to attract attention Senussi moved back slowly Into the desert, marching from oasis to oasis until he reached the unexplored depths of the Jehoub. There he at last established his headquarters and initiated a craft with secret signs and symbols. In 1859 he died, and his son succeeded him, and carried on his work. The latter imported cannon and rifles and ammunition, drilled an army and became the absolute leader of the desert tribes. The Mahdl arose and killed Gordon. When he had established himself in Khartum he called on the Sheik Senussi to become his ally, but the latter, who knew that sooner or later the British would retake the Soudan, refused. When Kitchener came the Khalifa renewed his request. Again Senussi replied in the negative, but he received and took care of the refugees from the Khalifa's defeated army. V Today his power is enormous, undreamed of by any except statesmen. His aim is to drive the white men from Africa, and to found a gigantic Moslem empire with himself as its Napoleon. He has already an army of over 15,000 trained men, and modern rifles come to him by the thousands through a cer* * * * ? ua wlrn tain port in ine pemiiBuia ui uamu, on the Mediterranean. His mokaddem, or prophets, pervade the continent from Morocco to Abyssinia, and if Senussi makes up h|s mind to war, the result will be the greatest struggle that Africa has ever seen. jta~ The Potomac river Is only 500 miles long and In Its lower course Is rather an estuary than a stream. XST A very young child's mouth should be washed out after feeding with a weak solution of boraclc acid. WOOD8 FULL OF BEARS. TkttiMila of Tkea BoMilaf la the Davie Mo.atalM. #f W j. J. Terrell, commissioner of the general land office, of Texas, has forwarded to President Roosevelt an argent Invitation to v|dt Texas next mM J* Sim ta * lenolne be* bunt In the Davis mountains, in, the wrattern part of the ?tate. This personal invitation on the $art of Mr. Tefreil is to be supplement* by a vis-_ it to the president", Ooyernor-elect Lanham and tnem&eri of the congressional delegation all of whom will; set forth in the most alluring language the splendid hunting that exists in the region where it in propoeed the preslVMfc;, ? to believed that the president will accept the invitation Whip the nutter fc laid before him.. The hnntinir ground fi within .forty . miles of Toyah. Tex,the nearest rail toM^int and 4??* deMrable place . for m, enjon^ outln,^ n^ >?J? . found in. the wbo$a country, Mr. Terrell has. Just, returned from a hunting trip In theae monntaiiu. Although he spent but t Up daya there he killed * Mx beare. Four were black and . the ctesn He says that had be arrived there two weeka earlier and hefrae the cold weather set,In. to the mriuntalns he could have* killed a score or more "It In the tnoat.wonderfnl heir range An old^Me ^^^^me^that mountains, anfrTjrtn pSNlSw?d^:'-*** lleve it." ?mth?ued Mr. Terriit "the mountains are easily accessible and the *f, trip la not at fdTfattfuing. J "One evening 4rtafe^ttahdfflir at my camp I 6hanc<to l00k a<ioe. a deep gorge and *. *** eev^.h?ir?r all | tntr r# vol a'ttAMhit vniiM^rflngA ' tbe enthusiasm of any sporiiftigjk. They were some distance off, an$$:did not chance a shot a? them, preferring to follow them up* next day. This I did,, ind I had no difficulty In killing two hears. "The mountainsides are covered, with ... a small b'usb upon which a'most delicious black berry grows In a profusion, of clusters. I do not know the name of these berries, but they, have a good taste, and the bears are passionately fond of feeding on them. They, ripen the latter part of October, and from then on until the middle of November * the bears come Into tlSe mountains by thfi nUJfiufpH fttla iWiPin30fn>Irc ITJ)ki berries. The undergrowth and bushes where the berries grow are so tramped down by the bears that the feeding grounds had the. appearance of a herd of cattle having stampeded there. "If President Roosevelt will go to the Davis mountains next fell I will guarantee that he will see and have ah opportunity of killing more bears than there are to be found In the whole state of Mississippi. There to not a residence within forty miles of the hunting grounds, 'and no guard will have to be posted around hto ucamp to keep a curious erowd from Intruding. In addition to the bears there are plenty of deer and antelope, and, all In all, It to a veritable sportsman's paradise." ?St Louis Globe-Democrat. ? ' OLD-TIME SENATORIAL JOKES. Unearthed From the "Coasreaeienal Globe" of Nearly Fifty Tesre Ago. -.v. v trr- n- j ia i? alexias we lliiu it ill?vi mi uuiwri/ ?a dingy, time-yellowed volume of the long since dead-cmd-gone "Congressional Globe." Gen. Lewis Cass told it to the senate the afternoon of December 21, 1854. The bill up was a bill to create a court of claims, and- 1' '< the Michigan senator had spoken (much more briefly than was his wont) In Its favor. He had asked his brother senators to consider the inevitable effect of the department environment and atmosphere upon which the auditing officer?his confidence in his own In- * fallibility, his resentment should a daring claimant appeal from his decision and superior authority overrule him. "Before I take my seat," said the old general, "I will mention an instance to show the singular operation of the Influence to which I have referred on officers of the treasury department. This wds the Instance: "Toward the close of the year 1813, the army on the northwestern frontier was almost destitute of provisions, the roads were impassable and we did not know what could be done. Among other things proposed to remove the pressure upon us, a seine was directed to be purchased and sent up to Lake Huron?to catch whiteflsh. The quartermaster purchased a seine and the whiteflsh were caught abundantly, which was a matter of vast import- 1 ance to the soldiers. The account was sent on, and what do you think was the decision of it by the accounting officer? It was, that whiteflsh did not run in the month of November, and, therefore, that the United States had been cheated. [Laughter.] The good officer had lived all his life upon the Potomac, and had heard of shad, which run only in April and May, and he thought that no fish could run in November. . [Laughter.]" Mr. Salmon P. Chase rose. "He had heard of the resolutions of 1798?" inquired that Ohio senator. It was appropriate enough for a Salmon to rise, but even after more than half a cenA 4.1 nnAma (snOvoront lury me iuiciiu|/uuuo tmiuo - w.v? and flippant. The veteran who would have been president, If Gen. Taylor had not outrun him In the race turned upon the Interrupter with grave hut placid dignity. "I have nothing to do with the resolutions of 1798 now," he said. "I am merely speaking of fish." Whereat the senate laughed again.?Hartford Coup- . ant\. / ; v . '7 ' ' ' .