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r> .. ' . . .. - . v."., YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. ISSUED SEMI-WEEKLT. v i. m. obist's sons, PubUihtn. j % Jtwsjajtr: c#or the promotion of the political, JSoeial, ^gritnltural, and (Bommttitial Jnlirists of the Jtoflle. )TKRJ1^ .**c' ESTABLISHED 1855. WYORKVILLE, S. NC., FRIDAY, MARCH 24, 1905. NO, 24." t. ... THE WORK ... M By Will I* [Cbpywrlght, 1H00, by A. J CHAPTER XIX. The next stroke, two days later, silenced Jade Fanshaw's tongue forever. It fell at dawn, just as a Big red rooster under the house crowed and flapped his wings. Dave came upstairs and shook bis brother, who bad fallen asleep only about an hour before. "Well," he said, Mthe old man has handed in his checks. Geewhilikins, c Ron, I'm beginnin' to think I've run my blasted bead into a secret of ma an* pa's that they've kept from us fur over a quarter of a century. All night long, no' up to the time he tuck his last suck 'Ks mars iolLrarl nf nnfltln' else but you?you?you, an' some dead soldier." "He seems to imagine?" Ronald began, but Dave interrupted him. "Imagine a dog's bind foot I" he blurted out. "Thar's some'n behind all them hints an' threats that have been passin' betwixt ma an' pa aence I was knee high to a bow-legged duck, an' 1 have, at this late day, jest got my fust whiff of a dead mouse. You don't have to knock me down with a load o' mill rocks as a general thing; 1 can see a inch 'fore my eyes, ef 1 am cross-eyed. The old man kept runnin' on last night about a baby an' its dead daddy; an' ma kept tryin' to keep me from understandin' till she fell asleep out o' pure weariness of the brain an' then the truth begun to creep into my noggin. Ron, I never did think you was a bit like the rest of us, an' now I'm sure you don't belong to this litter." Ronald sat up on the edge of his bed, as white as death could have made nim. "Are you in earnest, Dave?" he questioned. "If ever I was in my life." "Did you find out anything?positive?" the last word came out with a jerk. "No, but you can, Ron; ma is all broke up. She knows you saved the insurance, an' she would answer any question you ask. I'd go to *er, after the buryin', an' demand to know it ail. She'll tell you." At this juncture the voice of Mrs. ^ v Fanshaw came up to them as she shook the l9tch of Ann Josephine's door: "Wake up. Josie," she said, "yore pa's been dead a goo-j half hour, an' thar ain't nobody to cook breakiast: Ronald began to dress himself. . "Dave," he said, "your suspicion has taken me completely by surprise; 1 have suspected for a good many years v that they did not feel towards me as they did to the rest, but X cannot yet believe 1 am not really?a Fanshaw." "Wait till you talk to ma," counseled David. "Be shore you come at 'er exactly right. Make 'er feel shore you won't give 'er a speck o* trouble an' she'll let the cat out the bag." The next day when Jade Fansbaw's unpainted box was lowered into the grave near the meeting house, half a mile over the hills, the snow was falling so fast that the faces of the few mourners and neighbors who stood around could hardly be recognized. The mound bad scarcely received its shape when it was robed in white. It was as if Nature had spread an emblem of forgiveness over Jade Fansbaw's last resting I place. Ronald rode home in the wagon con*" taining Mrs. Fanshaw, Dave, the two girls and Bud Tarbell. Arriving at home the girls went into the bouse and Mrs. hansbaw bustled about on toe hack perch, opening the window blinds j which she had closed that no one might ' , gain access to her house during the absence of the family. There Ronald found her, still in her boDnet and heavy shawl. Her eyes fell before the hun gry stare of his own. "I want to see you in private." he said, excited in spite of a strong effort at calmness. She moved as if to pass bitn J and go into the house, and then she paused before him, a dogged expression in her unsteady glance. "Dave's been blabbin' to you, Ron," she said; "I wouldn't pay no attention ^ to that boy." "You've been keeping something from me?something concerning myself, all my life," he heard himself saying in deliberate tones. She caught her breath, and then looked through the hall at Bud Tarbell, who was turning his wagon away from Ibe gate. "Dave tol' me back thar at the grave jest now," she faltered, "that you said v you never would give me no trouble about anything. If I knowed that you would not bring me to court, an' that you would let us have the insurance money to buy land in Texas, Ron, I'd not keep back a thing." "Your name shall never be mentioned," he promised, now chilled to ^ the center of his heart by what might bvrevealed. "Ihave a right to know it, if I am not your son, and not his. You know you are welcome to the insurance money." "Can't you put it off till after supper, when all the rest is asleep? I am so excited?" "No, I'd rather know now," he said. The wind blew the fine flakes of snow w under the roof of the porch, and they fell and melted on her iron-gray locks. She did not look at him when she began, nor did she give him her eyes steadily once through the whole recital. "You've heerd 'bout yore pa's bushwhackin' days up in Tennessee endurin' of the war," she began. "He was a sort of a head man against 'em all. They tn&de a good deal by It, fust an' last. aWSTWH f. Ilnirben. I. Kellogg Newspaper Co.] He used to tell me all about It 'fore we got ma Tied an' I was sech a foolish young t hing that I thought his conduct was smart, an' that Jade Fanshaw was about the finest ketch in them mountains. They did their biggest business an' made their biggest hauls by capturin' folks that was travelin' heer an' yAn through the mountains to git away from the war, as most of sech folks had money about 'em. They didn't kill often, unless it was through lack of proper jedgment, like, for instance, in threatenin' a man to give up his treasure by drawin' Mm up on a rope an' lettin' Mm hang a mite too long. Whar trnrt winia In vu thli awav." Mrs. Fan ah aw cautiously closed the door leading into the hall and then went on: "A man and bis wife an* a baby about four months old come 'long in a carriage driv* by a nigger man, an' yore pa's crowd was lyin' in wait fur 'em an' helt 'em up in a lonely mountain pass. The men was a young confederate officer, au' the woman was mighty goodlookin' an' dressed as fine as a fiddle. That's one reason the gang thought they had money. They ordered all of 'eip to git out on the ground, an' the officer did so at once, an' tuck the baby from its mother so she could git out. "Well, they say he had no 6ooner put foot to the ground'fore the nigger driver whipped up the bosses like mad an' managed to dodge the shots an' git away. The tale Jake always told me was thfct the officer started off at full speed after the carriage an' got shot accidentally, fallin' with you in his arms. The wust part of it fur the gang was that the man bad no money about him, an' they had a live squallin' baby on hands. Then they drawed lots as to who was to put the baby out o* pain, an' it fell to Jade, an' he fetched you to put the job off on me. I'd been married two yeer an* never had no child, an' as I was by myself in a lone cabin from morning till night an' often all night I begged Jade to let me have you fur company an' as he didn't seem to want to bother more about it, he give in. Nobody but the gang ever kDOwed you ivBKn't mv child an' thev scattered to all part.) of the world after the surrender. Alter that Dave an' the gals was born au' nobody ever suspicioned that you wasn't a Fanshaw." Ronald, pale aDd excited, leaned against the water-shelf. "Do you know the name of the officer?" he asked. "Thar wasn't a thing to show who he was," answered Mrs. Fanshaw. "He didn't have a thing in his pockets except a silver tobacco box. You've seed it a hunderd times; all the children cut their teeth on it; it's in the front room with matches in it." She went into the house and brought it back. "I've told many a lie about this little trick," she ndmitted, with a shrug and a little smile as she gave it to him. _He had seen the box often before, and remembered that words were engraved on it. He held it to the light, making out the following: "From Elizabeth to?" "This does not help me much," he said, "but I shall not rest till 1 know who 1 am. Is any of the old band living now?" "Thar must be some of 'em, but the Lord only knows whar they are; they seemed ashamed of the'r war conduct, an' ain't anxious to keep up old friendships. Now, Ron, remember yore promise!" "I shall do nothing till you are away from here," he said, "and then you shall never be blamed. The one to be blamed is there." He made a gesture toward the grave3-ard over the hills. "I reckon you are right," she sighed; "maybe ef I'd a-had other company when I was growin' up ray end would a-been different." CHAPTER XX. Another summer had come. Ronald wasnov; Redding'slawpartner.and lived ir. town. He had put up no sign, having told his partner that he would not do so till he had found out his rightful name. Dave and his mother and sisters had moved to Texas and purchased a good farm from the sale of their own place and the insurance money. One morning in July Redding bustled into the office as our hero sat reading at his desk. The old man wore a look of suppressed excitement and looked as if he were dying to have Ronald ask him what had happened. But our hero only fjave him n hurried good mornlDg and went on with his reading. Redding sat down at his own desk and threw up the roller top with a great siatter. "Well," he began, "you don't have the least curiosity In the world about anything. Why haven't you axed a feller whar he's been all mornin'?" Ronald smiled as he looked up from his book. "I thought you might be ill. I was going to send round to see about you." "You couldn't guess, to save yore life. The truih is, old llasbrooke eent forme just as I was leaving the breakfast table, an' I went right out to the plantation. What he wanted, an' what I dropped on to while I was thar, would fill a wonder book. He's laid up with a sprained ankle, or he would have come in to talk over the. matter with us." The old lawyer pinched his nose several times and winked slyly into Roni'.d's expectant face. "You had a fool notion, young man, that I was doin' a sort of charity act in takin' you in with me, but I knowed which side my bread was buttered on. I knowed you'd draw busines?, and plenty of It. Well, the colonel opened up lby sayin' that he'd always felt a big interest in youran' sence you've made such a rep' with yore speech on the Lester robbery cnse he's made up his mind to he'p push you along." Ronald's face bad fallen. There was something in the idea of Col. Hasbrooke's patronage that offended his pride. "I am sure I have never expected aid from him in any way, and it depends on the nature of his proposition as to whether I shall?" "Don't fly off the handle," grinned Redding; "it's only business for the firm. He said his affairs had never been managed satisfactorily by Lee and West (it seems they got to thinkin' they owned aboui all the old man had). He said it had got so he had to go in to see 'em two or three times 'fore they would atten' to what he wanted, an' they was paid a lump sum by the year. lie has jest offered us the job, an' I accepted it before he could bat his eyes. 1 call it the fattest thing I ever run across, an' L owe you for my half of it." , "He is certainly very kind," answered Ronald, his brow ruffled with a frown; "for your sake, at any rate, I shall raise no objection, but he and I?" "Ah!" broke in Reddiug, leaning forward in hit chair, "I kinder thought be acted quar about it; he kept axin' ef I knowed for sure if you'd object, an* said maybe I ort to see you first before takin' up the proposition, but I knowed a good thing, an' didn't want no chance o' let tin* it go, so I tol' 'im you'd be tickled to death. Well, even ef you an' him have been at outs, he's showed a willingness to patch it up, an' you ought to let by-gones be by-gones." "Oh, it will be all right," said our hero. "I shall write him a note of appreciation." HE CAME TO THE WALK TO MEET HIM. . "But I hain't told you all yet," Redding's face took on a serious look, "an' I know you will want to kick me for meddlin' in yore private affairs, but the truth is, I got my foot in It before J T thought. He was axin' about yore [ mother on' the cnuaern?x mean xne Fanshaws?an' fomehow I felt ao good over what he hod done that I up an* , let yore cat out o' the bag. I confided to him every blame thing you've told me about your family mystery, an' the search you'd made up in Tennessee for the grave. Well, sir, the old man looked like he was goln* to faint. I never seed abody act like lie did; he jumped up on his sore foot an' began to yell half the time in pain an' tlip other half to Miss Evelyn, who was in the j'inin' room with Mrs. Lancaster. She got hecr yesterday. They come to the door just as he got tbnr, an' they all went iuto the room an* fell to jabberin' like rips. After awhile i heerd '1m yell for camphor an' water, an' I lowed somebody was dead. It turned out that theold lady keeled over in a dead swoon. I set thar for half an hour wonderin' what on earth to do, till Hasbrooke finally come in lookin' as peculiar out o' the eyes as ef he'd been ketched stealin' a sheep, lie apologized for keepin' me waitin', but said he stayed to have a talk with Mrs. Lancaster after she come to. He said be was sorry he didn't feel at liberty to make a full explanation, but that theold lady wanted me to ride to town an' send you out thar as fast as you could travel. He followed me to the fsont steps, an'then he said: 'Tell Mr. Fanshaw that she can tell him all about his parentage? tell him to make haste!" " For a moment both men atared Into each other's eyes. "Perhaps Mrs. Lancaster knew my parents," Ronald said finally. "Mr. Redding, you can understand that this is of the greatest importance to me. I shall go out at once." "That's right," agreed Redding. "I left my boss hitched at the door. Go ahead; I believp you are on the right track to a solution of that matter." CHAPTER XXI. Arriving at Carnleigh half an hour later, for be had ridden hard, Ronald found the colonel hobbling about near the tennis court, a big stick in his hand. Seeing the new arrival, he came to the walk to meet him, his whole body work ing witli agitation. "Coinc right in," he said, giving Ronald his hand. "She's dying with impatience. She wanted to drive out to meet you on the road, but I made her wait. Did you ever hear of the like?" Ronald wanted to say that he was still in the dTk, but his host was loudly calling to a groom and waving his hand towards the horse. Just then our hero saw Mrs. Lancaster standing in the doorway and wildly motioning him to approach. Leaving the lame man to get up the steps as best he could, Ronald ascended to the woman, who stood both hands outstretched, her distended eyes boring into his own. "Oh, don't you know yet?" she questioned, as she read bis blank face, "can't you gneiss the truth?" She wrung his hand and stepped backward to the door of the drawing-room aalf to draw him away from all eyea save her own. *'Mr. Redding told me," be began, "that you might be able to give me some information?" "fton't you ?ee," she broke In, with warm tenderness. "Don't you feel the truth? I am your mother!" He found himself unable to articulate a word. Something seemed to bear down on his brain; for a moment there was a blur before his sight. As if in a dream he felt her leading him across the drawing-room to a sofa. < "I am your mother," she said, as she drew him down to a seat beside her, "and I thank God for allowing me to find it out before my death. I have loved you in a strange, unaccountable way ever since l met you. wnen 1 heard you were in prison It almost drove me wild. Evelyn wrote me about your arrest, and then it was a week before I learned of jour release. My name is Elizabeth; I gave your father that silver tobacco-box; and, moreover, I lost you exactly where you were taken during the war. I am so happy! I am actually afraid my joy will kill me." She began to cry silently, and in his desire to comfort her he found himself clasping her hand and stroking back the white hair from her brow. "And I am glad you are my mother," he said, simply. "You have been my ideal woman ever since that day you came to see me." They sat together for an hour, making plans for the future. "Evelyn and I are going to spend next year abroad," she told him, "and you arc going with us. Col. Hasbrooke says he is too old for the journey and we shall need a man." His face clouded for the first time during the interview. "But Col. Hasbrooke?" "He is simply wild to call you sonin-law," Mrs. Lancaster broke in, with a laugh. "Evelyn has been almost dead with sorrow since he separated you. I really believe he was coming round anyway. Yesterday he said a great deal about your nobility of character and talent. He, alwaya listens to me, and I told him there was nothing to be done but to let you have her. But that reminds me; she is wailing to see you. Poor, dear child 1 I never was so selfish?so thoughtless. I'm going to send her to you." She rose and he nervously held her a flvhi lnnk on his face. "Are you sure," he faltered, "that I have the right to?" Hit mother drew herself up to her full height. "You are a Lancaster," she said, proudly. When she had passed through the heavy curtains obscuring a room in the rear, he sat for several minutes fairly dazed by what had taken place. Ills reverie was disturbed by the coming of Evelyn. A. flush was on her slightly attenuated face, and her eyes were red and sparkled as if she had been crying, but she came to him with a Arm, confident step, and put both her hands in his. "It is all so wonderful," she said, simply. "I am actually too choked up to speak. I've been laughing, crying, and doubting the truth of it by turns ever since Mr. Redding went away." "It seems like a dream to me," he made answer. "I am afraid I shall wake and find myself back in my little room over there on the farm." "Mrs. Lancaster told me just now," said Evelyn, "that she had forgotten to tell you your given name. She asked me to inform you, but I hate to pronounce it. I shall never call you anything but Ronald. Will that 6uit you, sir?" They were seated side by side on the sofa. "I shull never want you to call me anything else," he smiled; "but I must own up to a little curiosity as to what I am legally entitled to." "Chailes Ersklne," answered Evelyn. "Mrs. Lancaster was a Miss Erskine. How do you like it?" "T+'_ ?? V.n . ?n?is 11 o uvv uau, UU iBuguwu, ( haps I may grow up to it in time." Just then Hasbrooke looked in at the door and limped towards them, on I almost boyish, look of embarrassment on his face. "I am going to beg your forgiveness for what I said the last time you were here," he said. "I did not blame you, Col. Hasbrooke," waB the reply. "But I blame you," Evelyn turned on Ronald, suddenly. "If I had known your stupid reasons for giving me up I should never have consented?neverl I thought it was because?because you thought me too greet a responsibility, and a burden." "Well, settle it between you," smiled her father. And when he had quitted the room they did. THE END. INFORMATION WANTED. Dispensary Committee Advertises for Proof to Convict. The dispensary investigating committee Is sending out the following for publication in me newspapers: "All persons in this or any other state are requested to send any Information In their possession relating: to the affairs of the South Carolina dispensary, which is the cause of any complaint. They are also requested to state fully any facts that they have as to irregularities, management, or corruption therein, or of any one connected therewith, with suggestions as to how the truth of the same may be properly ascertained. "No communication will be considered unless signed by the parties sending It, but the name of the sender will not be given to the public if such be desired. Communications should be sent to either of the undersigned: "J. T. Hay. Camden, "Cole L. Blease, Newbery, "Niels Christensen, Jr., Beaufort, "A. L. Gaston, Chester, "T. B. Fraser, Sumter, "D. A. Spivey, Conway, "J. Fraser Lyons, Abbeville." tv' They who walk with God do nt?t walk away from men. .?r He can bear a great trust who can bear little trials. Jftiscfltoneous Seadini). CONDEMNED TO DEATH. Ssvsn Murderer* Awaiting the Hangman In South Carolina. Juries In criminal caaea in this state, says a Columbia special to the Augusta Chronicle, have been notoriously lax for the past quarter of a century with the result that murders and other forms of violence have increased steadily and the state has gotten an unenviable reputation abroad. But owing to the good work of pulpit and press there has been substantial evidence recently of the pendulum swinging the other way, not only In those counties which have always had an Iaoma nurviVvAit A# KaiTiIaMa U 11U0UO.II jr large 1IUIIII/CI V4 liviiitwiwv cases, but throughout the state generally. Spasmodic change of sentiment has manifested Itself In this matter through juries In particular sections? In Pickens, Greenville, Oconee and Spartanburg counties, for Instance?a number of times. But a general change of mind throughout the state has Just begun to show Itself. There are Just now seven men under sentence of death In this state with the strong probability that four of these will be hanged within the next few months. Pour out of the seven are white men, and two of these are men of means and Influence. The first hanging will be that of Marlon Parr, the cotton mill operative of" this city, who, while his case was about to be taken to the supreme court, confessed freely to his preacher, acknowledging that he was guilty of murder, and saying he deserved to and was ready to die. Parr is to be executed here on the 14th of next month, and It will be the first legal execution of a white man this county has seen In forty years. R. A. Adams, the Colleton white man who escaped Jail after the supreme court refused his appeal for a new trial, but who was recaptured after the governor offered a reward of $1,000, Is to be resentenced at Walterboro next week. He Is an Ignorant but rather Influential and well connected man In his county. He killed Jacques In a rage after looking him up to quarrel with him about a piece of property. Adams will hardly get a commutation. There are two hangings set for May 5 at Florence, and It Is not unlikely that both of these will take place, although the supreme court has not ? ~ ~ tkn fata nf tha nrhlto mftTl ptlBSCU VII IIIC iUiv vt Mtv| *. ... ? convicted there a few days ag:o of the murder of a negro. The time in which he had to perfect hla appeal having expired, it is presumed that nothing will be done to-save him. Sam Marks, the negro who had to be brought here pending his appeal to the supreme court to prevent him being lynched, is to be hung at Florence on May 6 for the murder of the white man. Hill Langston. The most important case Is that out of Oconee county, where the noted Hoyt Hayes case, whose commutation created so much feeling there against the governor, originated. Earl Rochester, a leading Oconee farmer of that section, and considered a fine citizen. Is under sentence of death for doing a i.eighbor to death with a shot gun. He and this neighbor quarreled about the neighbor's cattle getting in Rochester's crops, and matters went from bad to worse until Rochester met Mm !n front of his (Rochester's) home and waited for him with a shotgun. The matter is now pending in the supreme court. It is said that on the morning of the trial as Special Judge J. A. McCullough of Greenville, who presided at the trial was making his way to the court room after the verdict had been rendered against Rochester he met and stopped to caress a beautiful child playing' Joyously with light heart In 'front of the court house. He Is very fond of children and a pained and shocked look eame into his* caressful eyes when he asked her who her father was and she lisped, "Mr. Earle Rochester." The night before he passed sentence he did not close his eyes, and it is said that he voluntarily promised to assist the attorneys for the defense before the supreme court or the governor or both. The case against the two desperate blind tiger negroes, who killed Magistrate Cox when he went out to arrest them from Fountain Inn last May as they were hauling a load of liquor in a buggy and who have been In the penitentiary for safekeeping is still hung up in the supreme court. The appeal came near being abandoned for want cft funds, but In the eleventh hour a negro preacher scraped up enough to base a promise of more upon and the negroes have a good lawyer. The appeal Is to come up for a hearing at the April term and the decision will therefore not be out until sometime next summer. The negroes have small chance of escaping the gallows. Told of Ex-President Cleveland. When President Cleveland was at 1 Weldqn, N. C., during his first term, a srreat crowd shook hands with him. : In the middle of the line was a long, itonk countryman, who took the greatest Interest In the scene. At length he /reached the president, and grasped !hSm warmly by the hand. ~Well," said he, "so you are the | president!" ""Yes," replied Mr. Cleveland. "I am the president." "Well," continued the old fellow, rthaMng Mr. Cleveland's hand like a pumi?-handle, "I've voted for many a president In my time, but I never seed one before." He paused a moment, and, looking the president up and down from one side to the other, he exclaimed: "Well, you are a whopper!" The president smiled and the crowd j laughed. At another time Mr. Cleveland was receiving a delegation of teachers at the White House. "Dr. Lucky of Pittsburg." said the introducer, as a gentleman stepped forward to shake hands. It had been Intended that the other teachers should follow in turn, but somehow a dilapidated looking old tramp had slipped into the line just behind Dr. Lucky. As he shuffled up to the president there was a pause. Nobody knew his name, and even the scamp seemed to feel embarrassed. The president mended the difficulty. He extended his hand, and with more than his usual cordiality he said, in an encouraging tone: now are you, my ineuu; ivui name Is Dr. Unlucky, I presume." The old tramp's face relaxed Into a smile. 8T0RIE8 OF WOLCOTT. Lste 8enator From Colorado Was a Man of Narva. The late Edward O. Wolcott, former senator from Colorado, Is said to have been one of the coolest of men when engaged hi a game of poker. In describing his play to a reporter of the Washington Star Albert Watson of Denver said: * , "The senator once found himself In a game of poker where three of the other players were playing a 'sure game.' They were professionals and were after a big bundle of money Wolcott had In his possession as well as looking for that which a fifth player, a mining operator named Durkln, was known to have. "Wolcott knew In twenty minutes after the first hand was dealt that the Intention was to rob him and wearied his wits in trying to find a way to get out of the game without making trouble, but he could not do It At last he was dealt a pat flush of diamonds, made up of the live, seven, eight nine and jack. He skinned the cards over and did a mighty piece of thinking. He felt in his bones that a flush would be of no account In the world when It came to a showdown, but he chipped In to draw cards. "He pondered a long while between discarding the five spot or the picture and at last tossed away the jack and I called for a card. The dealer looked astonished at his wanting any, but gave a card. "Wolcott picked it up and found that he had got the six spot of diamonds. He never turned a hair. The betting began, and he nursed his sequence along, letting the other fellows do the raising. At last It got down to Wolcott and one of the profssslonais. "Finally there was a call, and the other man showed four queens. Wolcott laid down the five, six, seven, eight, and nine of diamonds and swept in the money. The game stopped right there. I reckon that was the greatest piece 6f luck any man ever had In poker. On one occasion Mr. Wolcott was on a stagecoach when It was "held up" k? fhroa hiatiwovmpn In a western state, says the Cleveland Plain Dealer. They were armed with Winchesters, and the driver and passengers capitulated at once?all except Wolcott. He snatched a revolver from the ground, where one of his frightened fellowtravelers had thrown it, dodged behind a bowlder and drove the gang off after wounding two out of the three. There was $78,700 in the Wells Fargo safe, and his action saved this as well as all the personal valuables of the passengers. Another time he drove out from Denver twelve miles to a ranch where a crazy Swede had killed his wife and children and held a posse at bay for twenty-four hours and captured the man. He rode quietly up to the house, while the Swede kept firing through a window at him, smashed in the door with an axe, hit the lunatic over the shins with the same implement and then "roped" him while he was helpless with pain. Latar he defended the same man against a mob who wanted to lynch him, shielding him with his own body, and saw him safely lodged in jail. All the while Mr. Wolcott was a leader In the Republican party In private life he was a John Fox, seeking excitement and amusement, says the New York Evening World. He did not gamble for any remunerative gain, but for the pure inspiration of the moment. Before he was elected to the senate a story got abroad that he had lost $22,000 at a game of faro. His p< .itlcal advisers besought him to It mlcrht deny me story, icunug umi hurt his prospects. He laughed at them and admitted publicly that he had lost the money. He explained, however, that he first won It on a horse race and that the fun of losing it had not cost him a cent. This story was repeated in every corner of Colorado and Instead of losing him any supporters won him undying fame as a "good sport." So It was all his life. Wherever he was found good spirits prevailed and yellow money poured forth In a princely flood. His charities were without number and his beneficence at times eccentric. On one occasion he asked a waiter In a restaurant if he would like to take a trip abroad. The waiter assented with eagerness, and the senator from Colorado took him in his suite and gave the garcon the time of his life. 1 When he left the senate his presence was sorely missed. He was the only 1 left ha.nded member, and the whole house would watch him write as he) turned almost completely around in his ' chair to give sweep to his left hand. k Mr. Wolcott was one of the best ' read men in public life. He was also a 1 collector of old books, queer books, cu1 rious books, most of them out of print f and forgotten. How he found time to cultivate his literary taste was another source of amwtement to his friends. 1 , . . ts" Faith cannot feed on fireworks. WORLD'8 SUPPLY OF FUR*, Whire 8kins Com* From and What They Ara Worth. Very few people, except thoae connected with the fur trade or who have had their attention directed to it, have any notion of the enormoua deati notion of anlmai life which takes p'ace each year among fur-bearing animals or of the very extraordinary way in which inr ?upi?i> ui incnc Hninuu* appears to keep up. There are only a few species which seem to be verging toward extinction; such are the sea otter, the beaver e ver large tracts of country, certain sorts of fur seals and-a West African monkey. Northern Asia and northern NonJi America still produce vast quantities of fur, and will long continue to do so, says Forest and Stream. Perhaps the most valuable fur In the world is that of the sea otter, formerly abundant on the shores of the Pacific Ocean in northern Asia and North America, but now in great danger of extermination, unless it shall soon be efficiently protected. Between 1772 and 1774 about 10,000 stdna of the sea otter were taken in the Aleutian Islands, and the fur was so eagerly sought after that at the end of the eighteenth century 120,000 sldns were taken each year. The results of such destruction could not be doubtful. The number killed soon fell to 16,000 each year, and in 1867, when Alaska was sold to the United Statts, It was 700. Ih 1901 It was 406, while In 1903 Messrs. Lampson 6 Co. of Louion sold 463 skins, but they had none In January, 1904, and none in Octoxr. it Is not unusual for a sea otter skin to sell for $600, while remarkably good skins may -bring, two, three or Hire times that price. The only skin which approaches the sea otter In value is that of the black or sliver fox. It is said that good skins of the black fox have been scld In St. Petersburg from $1,600 to $4,ti0. A pair of silver skins in London sold - - . . . ... ' * ror iz.400, wniie & single sun is saia to have brought $1,000. The arctic foxes, known as white fox and bine fox, are In great demand. In 1903 Lampson ft Co., sold more thiun 20,000 white skins e.nd nearly S,7')0 blue ones. Both these skins seem to be Increasing id value. It Is not long ago since the price of white fox ski<is ranged from $1 to $4. They are now said to be worth from $10 to $S5, wbile the price of the bluo fox skins rails from $S0 to $75. Almost 60,000 wolverine skins were sold In London last year, at prices ranging from $4 to $8 for good skltis. Of Russian sable nearly 90,000 were sold, or three times as many as it,'re sold In all London In 1191. These expensive furs run fretn $1.(0 to OTO In price, but occasionally skins are fotnd which bring from $160 to $$(0 each. The Siberian sable, which Is mttuh more abundant, more than 470,010 skins having been so'd last year, In iin Inexpensive fur. worth only about (0 cents apiece. Mink and marten are cheap furs and bring low prices, but the best pine ? marten bring from S7.K0 to flS.SO. Otter sklAs again are costly, as are beaver, the supply of which, as bits been said, seems to be failing. Passing over a multitude of smaller and less well known skins, It Is to be noted that In the March sals of 190S no less than 40S musk ox skins were sold, as against practically none at previous sales. These ate val untie for robes, but the surprising Increase in the number leadu one to imagine that there is great danger of the extermination of this ancient species. The Alaska seal catch this year was small, only 13,000 skins, against 19,00# last year. The skins taken at the Commander Islands appear to hare been lost by the foundering of the ship that was bringing them. There are a multitude of other pelts used for different purposes, but hardly known to most readers, of which we need not " *? " that 4c at speak iurxner 111n.11 iu oaj u?<. year nearly 1.000,0*0 skunk skins vrers sold at prices ranging from 25 aents to $1.75. ILL-LUCK FOR RUSSIA, Havoc In Rank of Russian Chlofa In the Far fast. The following gives a summary of the fate that has overtaken a large number of Russian commanders both on land and sea and tha whereabouts of those who escaped: Generals?Stoesset, prisoner on parole; Gripenberg, recalled. In disgrace; Orloff, recalled, in disgrace; Truscff, recalled, in disgrace; Keller, killed at Matlenllng; Kondratihenko, killed at Port Arthur; Eserpltsy, killed at Pm* Arthur; Riallnkln, killed at Bhsiis; Smolensky, killed at Shaho; Routkovsky, killed at Llao Tang; Smyrnoff, prisoner In Japan; Rashtallnsky, prisoner In Japan; Pflug; prisoner in Japan; Belli, prisoner in Japan; Gcrbatkovsky, prisoner in Japan; Klkltln, prisoner In Japan; Kondratovltch. wounded, In hospital; Kashtallnsky, wounded, in hospital; Bassulltch, superseded, but resumed command; " ? hut aoaiimtd siaKeioerg, wuuiium, ^ command; Rennenkampff, wounded, but resumed command; Mistchenko, wounded; Llnevltch, reported to hare quarreled with Kurop&tkln. now In command In Manchuria; Blldarling, reported to have quarreled with Ktiro* patkln, Sakharoff, still holds a corn* mand; Kuropatkln, dismissed and disgraced. Admirals?Alexleff, recalled; Starck, recalled; Skrydloff, recalled; BesobrazofT, recalled, Makharoff, killed at Port Arthur; Molas, killed at Port Arthur: Wltgeft, killed at Port Arthur; Ukhtomsky, prisoner in Japan; Wlren, prisoner In Japan; Lostchinsky, prisoner in Japan; Origolevltch, prisoner in Japan; Jessen, commanding at Vladivostok; Rojestvenuky, near Madagascar; Folkersahm, loitering at sea; Botrovsky, loitering at sea.