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, % . if^ SEMI-WEEKL^ i. m grists s0n8, PnbLi.h.r.7] ? Rami's fetcsgager: <Jfor the promotion of the political. Social. Agricultural and (Commercial Interests of the feojie. | JLi?VAIM * * ESTABLISHED 1855. ~ YORKYILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1909. NO. 89. T . THE BIR1 By ETTA \ . CHAPTER XXIII?Continued. W "Ah, I see," she said, bitterly, "you have been talking with Hilda. I will not answer you." He looked unutterably pained and dismayed. "Would you, then, have me believe you feigned that illness to escape me, Paulette?" "Yee," she answered, "for I did." "And that you were out In these grounds till long after midnight?" "Yes," again. He sat looklrig at her with grieved, asiumsucu ujca. "A forced confldence," he said, "is none at all. No, I will ask nothing more. Heaven forbid that so small a matter should come between us for a single moment! It Is all right, I know. Some time you will tell me of your own will?till then I can wait." ^ She arose from her seat. "Arthur," she cried, "I can never marry you!" He started up also and stood facing her. The peacock spread its gaudy plumes in the walk beside them. The bright sun slanted on their pale faces. An oriole sat singing, mad with joy, in the boughs overhead. "Paulette," cried Arthur Guilte, "are you beside yourself? Do you know what you say?" "Perfectly; from this moment you are free." f He grew raging red. "How good of you! But suppose I obiect to such freedom? Why can you not marry me?" "I have no reason to give," she answered. "And you think," he said, slowly, "1 can be content without one?" "You must!" she replied. "Something has happened, and all is changed." "What has happened?" he demanded, wringing her hands in his own till she was ready to cry out. "Have you ceased to love me, Paulette?" A spasm contracted her mouth. "Ceased to love you!" she echoed, in a voice of anguish, and, as if the truth was torn from her against her will, "oh, great God! No!" He looked intensely relieved. "Then, in the name of all that's mysterious. Paulette, what caprice has got possession of you? This is hardly a -w subject for trifling, and yet you cannot A be in earnest." "Oh, so terribly in earnest,- Arthur!" Then she drew his ring from her hand. "Take it!" she cried, wildly; "hate me ?forget me?do anything but love me! Oh, that I had never seen you? Take your ring?why do you not take it?" With a face as colorless as her own, he stood motionless. WJ "Because you have just admitted that ^ you still love me, and so long as you can say that, you are mine?my very own! You are angry because I listener -ed to Hilda?because my jealousy prompted me to question you about your movements last night, and you choose this way to punish me. Paulette, Paulette, say that it is so!" va,fa- v%<\a kia iavo cftomph ffl her so 11CVC1 luvu <uo IW?V ?? precious as at this moment, when she must yield It forever; never had she so deeply felt its fervor and strength. "No," she answered, hearing her voice like a sound far off. "You are quite wrong. It Is no caprice. Don't torture me with questions. I cannot answer. I must forget you?you must forget me. ^ Arthur?Arthur, take your ring!" Her great distress moved him to obey. He dropped the golden band Into his pocket. "Is this parting to be for a day or a year, Paulette?" "Neither," she answered; "but for all time." "And the general?have you thought of him?" She wrung her small, childish hands. "Oh, so much?oh, so remorsefully!" '"Paulette, you love him long before you loved me?you are immeasurably dear to him. Since I seem to have no claim to your confidence, will you open f your heart to him?will you tell him what this great obstacle is which has suddenly risen between us?" "No, no!" she shivered. "Oh, no!" The pain and perplexity in his face deepened. He walked a few steps down the path, then came slowly back. ? She could have fallen at his feet as she looked at him. "At least," he Implored, "do not break the news to him yet. I may, perhaps, find some means to soften his disappointment. As for myself, I feel like a 'man in a nightmare. Yesterday you loved me?today you annul our engagers ment; you give me no clue to th? mystery of this sudden change. Paulette, what am I to believe? Have you no pity for me?do you not see that I suffer?" Yes, she cared. Her ashy face, her ? big, woeful eyes told him that. "More, Arthur, infinitely more than for myself," she said. "But I have told you all I can tell; we are parted forever, and I can never, never be your wife." "Yet. you say you love me." She answered only with a gesture. Her proud head had fallen on her breast. He approached her with a grand, overmastering air. "Give you up in thi* way," cnea ne, "for reasons of which I know nothing, I shall not! Words only can never ' part us?I love you too well! What has come over you? I cannot even guess?some evil spell, surely, and I must trust to time and sober thought to exercise it. Mind. I do not give you up; I shall never give you up so long as we walk the earth together. I do not even consider the bond between us broken; I simply leave you to yourself a little while." He gathered her suddenly, irreslstiX bly, to his heart, pressed back her white, shuddering face and kissed her; then turned on his heel and walked swiftly, blindly away. Prone on the garden seat, in a silent, motionless heap, lay Paulette, tasting in that moment the very bitterness of death. It was the ringing of the breakfast bell that aroused her at last There FH-MftRR V. PIERCE. was nothing for her to do but put on her every-day air, and face Hilda and the general and assume before them her usual demeanor toward Arthur Guilte. "Polly!" cries her guardian, as she takes hor usual seat at his right hand, "you look like the moon in her last quarter. It's plain, dissipation doesn't agree with you. Are you quite well this morning, my dear?" "Quite well," she answers, smiling assurance on him with her beautiful, desolate eyes. At this Hilda darts a significant glance at Arthur Ouilte, who sits beside her unusually grave and silent. "You see," she whispers, "what a hypocrite she Is! and the general is as readily duped as a child!" He transfixes her with a look. "I forbid you," he answers back, "to say anything of what you saw last night Do you hear?" "Oh, Indeed! I am expected to lend myself to Her deceits, tnen : "You are expected neither to watch her movements nor gossip of her affairs." Blessings brighten as they take their flight. Hazel Hall has never seemed to Paulette such an earthly paradise as on this day. The general is kinder, even, than his wont, and talks mercilessly to her of his dear boy. She wanders through the house like one taking an adieu of familiar things. She lingers longest in the old dining room, where she first met Arthur Guilte? where his boyish portrait hangs on the wall. She sits down at the piano in the corner and goes over one of Mozart's masses and a German love-song as sad as a dirge The room is dark and still. Her blurred eyes cannot see the notes. Her fingers falter on the keys, ahe sinks forward, and the first tears she has shed break forward in a torrent At this, some one who has been listening to her music in the deep window behind her, starts and steps out into the room. She hears him and lifts her wet face. He stands voiceless, silent, and stretches out his arms to her with unspeakable yearning. A bitter cry breaks from her lips; she shrinks away. "Oh, Arthur!" she sobs, "I cannot? I cannot!" He turns with a deep sigh. The door closes on him, and she is alone. He does not appear at dinner. "Hilda," says the general, in the midst of that meal, "what the deuce is Trent doing at the north? 1 saw one of his letters in your mall this morning." "And of course you read the postmark," she answers. "I am not In Mr. Trent's confidence." "Which is no fault of yours," mutters he. "Well, we'll ask him down to the wedding, hey, little Polly? Don't turn white like that." She watches the night drop down as a condemned man might the dawn of his death-day. Hilda looks in on her curiously. "Are you not lonesome? Shall I not sit with you?" she asks, with unwonted solicitude. "No, thanks," Paulette answers, stoutly, and listens as her tormentor goes off along the corridor. The house is still. Only her curtain rustles in the night wind; an owl hoots in the oaks by the bay. She has dressed herself in dark colors. She now puts on a black shawl and a round hat. In the deep dusk she steps out on the verandah, descends the flight of stairs, un.^eelng and unseen, and hurries away toward the pavilion. Still as death it seems as she enters. <rront hn la not hPTA' 99 qHp prays, inwardly, then hears a smart rustle, sees the vines part before her, and into the trysting place steps St. John. The light is just sufficient for them to discern each other. "Glad to find you so punctual," he says, in a cautious voice. "Rather dark, is it not? Shall I light the lamp again?" She made a dissenting movement. "No. Some one may be watching. I was seen last night." He started. His face under his broad southern hat looked less amiable than ever. "Ah! who saw you?" "An enemy whom I have here:" He held out his hand. She did not touch it. "Come, come," he grumbled, "is not this hard treatment. Paulette?" "I would sooner stand and cry my story to the whole world than endure so much as the weight of your fingers!" she burst out in high passion. He shrugged his shoulders. "Pshaw! You have not yet dropped your stage airs, I see. Kiss me once, Paulette, for our old love's sake!" She warned him back with a gesture. "There never was any love between us." she answered. "You were but a boy and I years younger; neither of us knew the meaning of the word." "Speak for yourself. I loved you then. I love you still, devoutly; and what I said to you last night I say again. I cannot?will not give you up!" Her breath came hoarse, and shot through her parted lips. "You are, then, determined to claim me, unwilling as I am?" "Exactly. I have thought of nothing but this matter since last night. Have you seen Arthur Guilte?" "Yes." "What have you told him?" he demanded, in a hard, cruel voice. '"That we must separate?nothing more." "You will naturally find life beneath the same roof with him somewhat embarrassing after this. Knowing, as I do, that you lcve him?that he loves you?do you think I will consent to leave you here longer? I should be a fool?a great scoundrel?if I did!" She saw the justice of his words, and seemed quite unable to answer. "I ask you," he urged, "after this, can you continue on here as before?" "No," she answered. "Then, consider. You have left the stage. What refuge have you but with me? Do you dread an explanation with these Guiltes? None Is needed. I have a carriage waiting for you near by. Walk out of their gates with me tonight?tomorrow send whatever message you please to the general. He has been .kind to you?yes, has spent much money on you, no doubt; but I am not penniless. The death of a relative at Havana has put me in possession of a comfortable sum. I will repay him dollar for dollar. You shall be relieved from all obligations toward him. You shall also find In me a willing slave. I will live henceforth for you only; our miserable past shall be wiped out. It Is not possible you have quite forgotten that marriage night at Cambridge? Paulette, my wife! If you cannot love me, at least try once more to regard me kindly?cease to hate me, for the love of God!" The aversion in her look?in her attitude?seemed to increase rather than diminish at this appeal. "I do try!" she cried, in despair, "and I cannot, Guy! You talk of repaying the general. What a mockery of words! And you ask me to leave him now like a thief in the night?never!" He set his teeth in his keen disappointment "The devil is in you, Paulette! What will you do, then?" "You can have no part in my future," she answered, "whatever it is. I will go from here, but not with you. The world is wide enough to hide me. I will go back to it?to the stage, anywhere; but I will never, of my own will, look on your face again." "Have a care, Paulette!" "I abhor you! There is small need for you to tell me that you have gone from bad to worse In these three years; I feel It Instinctively. Your presence only would kill me. This Is what I came to tell you tonight?this Is all I can or will do!" She faced him defiantly. Her slight figure seemed to grow taller. "You throw me over completely, then?" he said. "Call It what you will. I will never live with you or acknowledge any claim you may make upon me." He stood as If at an utter loss. There was a dead, portentous silence, then he cast himself prostrate at her feet. "Paulette, can nothing move your hard heart? Yes, you are a woman, and you must pity me. I have crossed you now in your dearest purpose?have snatched your lover from you; but you must?you will forget this all in time. Do you blame me because I could not die, ungenerous girl? Do you\hate me because I came to claim my o\Vn? Will not a love that can so humble Itself touch you? Paulette, Paulette, pity pity me!" His voice was full of pain and passion, but her dull ears would not thrill. Her heart lay lumpish as lead within her. She snatched her dress from his noia. "Pity!" she echoed, contemptuously; "and what is pity worth? No! I have not even that to give you. I seem breathing in a pestilence as I stand here. I can bear it no longer; let me go!" "And is this your final, your unchangeable answer, Paulette?" "Yes?yes!" He leaped to his feet with an oath. Under cover of his cloak his cunning hands had been at work. "Then, my dear wife, since pleading will not do, something else must! said he, and, seizing her in a violent embrace, he bent back her shuddering face, pressing down upon it breathlessly a handkerchief reek'ng with some deadly, sickening odor. One smothered scream struggled through her lips. "Help!" Then, gasping in his hold, she felt herself clasped close, kissed passionately, lifted off her feet. At the same moment a hurried step sounded on the walk without, and a man stepped through into the pavilion. It was Arthur Gullte! The darkness there seemed at first to baffle him. "Paulette!" he called, in a ringing voice, "where are you, Paulette?" Quick as lightning, St. John's arms fell away from his prisoner. She dropped to the floor. With a bound, he dashed through the tangled curtains of vines and disappeared?a black, in-, distinguishable object, melting away into the blacker night. Arthur Gullte bent over Paulette and snatched her up. "Speak to me?look at me!" he cried, wildly. She opened her eyes with a shudder. "Oh, is it you?" she groaned, and her face went down into her trembling hands. He tried to lift it?to look into it. His agitation seemed even greater than hers. "Paulette, did you cry for help?" She was silent. "Who was that man? What was he doing here?" Still no reply. "Merciful God! Don't drive me wild! Answer me! Was it a man or a shad o\v? I Wiil believe anything1 but ill of you!" Not a syllable! His face grew stern and white. "Paulette!" he cried, pulling her hands from her face, "you have been holding tryst with him, then?" "Yes!" she answered at last. He staggered back, stood staring down upon her, stony and stark, for one terrible moment, then flung her from him, turned on his heel and without another word walked out of the pavilion. [To be Continued.] All If tki* Ancuu<>p?A vrmnc English suffragette tells of a funny incident that happened at a^ meeting in the Scotch Highlands. "Speeches had been made to a large crowd. Questions had been replied to amid applause. Im- j becile young men making remarks' about minding babies and mending socks had been silenced. Then, just as there, was a temporary lull before the putting of a resolution, a great bucolic Scotch voice from the back of the crowd rasped slowly in with the inquiry, obviously the result of prolonged rumination. 'Wha made a mess Adam?'."?Rochester Union and Advertiser. tv' At the railroad: "Will you think of me very often when you are away, dearest John?" "But, Emily, you know that this Is to be a pleasure trip!" {The Conquest 1 By Dr. Frederick a. coo:: J Copyright. 1909, by the New York , Herald Company, Registered In ! Canada In Accordance With Copy- 1 right Act. Copyright In Mex. < J ico Under Laws of the Republic ( t of Naxico. All Rights Reserved % During the first hour of April 'a backs were turned to the pole and to the sun. Our exploring ambition had been thoroughly satisfied. There were few glances backward. The eagerness to solve the mystery had served Its purpose, and the memory of the adventure for a time reAPRl I N.tATfTUOC89*46jd.Jk W.LQHUTUOe 9+lfJLfAPf. \gU-?? CO/>V*'GHK /9 09 &yTW?A/.y.rte/ DE. COOK'S ROUTE TO A malned as a reminder of reckless dar- | lng. As we now moved along the feel- ( lng of elation slowly subsided with the realization of the prospective difficulties of the return. Though the mercury was still frozen and the sun's ; ^ perpetual flush was lost in a frigid j blue, the time was at hand in lower ( latitudes for the Ice to break and drift , southward. With correct reasoning all former expeditions had planned to return to t land and secure a line of retreat by , May 1. We could not bope to do so I until early In June. It seemed, therefore, probable that the ice along the outskirts of the polar sea would be much disrupted and that open water, small ice and rapid drifts would seriously interfere with our return to a sure footing on the shores of Nansen sound. All of this and many other possibilities were carefully considered before, but the conquest of the pole was not possible without risks. Famine and Frost. We started earlier than all other polar aspirants, and no time bad been lost en route. If misfortune came to us It could not be because of wasted energies or unnecessary delay. In the < last days of the onward rush to success there was neither time nor oppor- 1 tunity to ponder over the bitters of subsequent remorse, but now facing ...... ~ I THE FOLDING C southern sEles under which were home | and all for which we lived, the hack | i trail seemed indescribably long. In cold sober thought, freed of the Intoxication of polar enthusiasm, the difficulties darkened in color. We now saw that the crucial stage of the campaign was not the taking of the pole. The test of our titness ns boreal conquerors was to be measured by the outcome of a tlnal buttle for life gainst famine and frost. The tlrst days, nowever. passed rapidly. With fair weather and favorable ice long marches were made. We aimed to return along the one 1 hundredth meridian. There were three c Imn.^tnnt Ahlontu tf\ Im irninnH hv n f IlllJiUI IUIII UUjVV IU ?V uv v- ? route somewhat west of the north > ward march The Increasing easterly a drift would thus be counterbalanced. 1 We hoped to get near euough- to the i new lands to explore n part of the ^ coast, and a wider belt would be swept c out of the unknown a tea. t The pack drift proved quite active, f of the Pole { The Return Begun. | Pack Drift Active?Nev- * er Changing Sameness, t T riendliness of the Dogs. t " - I [ELEVENTH ARTICLE] 4 I and we were quickly carried eastward beyond our dally drift allowances. On April 30 the pedometer registered 121 miles, and by our system of dead reckonlng, which was usually correct, we should have been at latitude 87.66, longitude 100. The nautical observations gave latitude 88.1. longitude 97.42. We were therefore drifting eastward with Increasing speed, and to counterL2L ATTHE POLE Sfefce, I^<e: *ant iw ^ C: jSgjr GASTEf So^nrD ?ALL> CO. ALL f/GS/TJ A?J?AV?0, lND FEOM THE POLE. salance this a still more westerly xrarse was set At this time the never changing lameness of the dally routine was igaln felt. The novelty of success and the passion of the home run were no onger operative. The scenes of shlv;rlng blue wearied the eye. and there was no Inspiration In the moving sea sf Ice to gladden the heart. The thermometer rose and fell between 80 and 10 below zero F.. with a ceaseless wind. It was still very cold. The first 3f May was at band. bringing to mind the blossoms and smiles of a kindly world, but here all nature was narrowed to lines of Ice. The sun circled the skies In lines of glaring, but Its heat was a sham and Its light a torment. With weary nerve and compass In hand my lonely march ahead of the sleds was continued. Progress was satisfactory. We had passed the eighty-ninth and eighty-eighth parallels. The eighty-seventh and the eightyBlxth would soon be under foot, and the sight of the new lands should compel action. These hard fought times were days long to be remembered, but only the marks of the pencil now remain to tell the story of a suppressed existence. Fellow Feeling For Doge. Thp Ions strain or tne marcn naa ANVAS BOAT. ?lven a brotherly sympathy to the trio of human strugglers. Under the same strain was made the desont to canine levels. The dogs, though still possessing the savage ferocity of the wolf, bad taken us Into their community. 5Ve now moved among them without bearing a grunt of discord, and their sympathetic eyes followed until we were made comfortable on the cheer less snows. If our dogs happened to oe placed near enough they edged up tnd encircled us. giving the benefit of [heir animal flres. To remind us of heir preseuee frost covered noses were requently pushed under the bag. aud ccasionally u cold snout touched mr warm skin with a rude awakening, i\e loved the creatures, however, and idmlred their superb brute strength. Their adaptability was a frequent topc of conversation. With a pelt that vas a guarantee ugnlnst all weather londitlons they threw themselves down :o the sweep of winds?In open detlince of death dealing storms. They DANISH TOBPBDO BOAT JBBJOKNKN WBIr COMING DB. COOK AT 8KAOEN. willingly did a prodigious amount of wcrk each uay, and then as bedfellows they offered their fur as shelter and bones as head rests to their two footed companions. We had learned to appreciate the advantage of their beating ao>o HlVi /v_H/vri a# onlmnl t oil aw ship had drawn tighter and tighter in a long run o. successive adventures. And now there was a stronger reason than ever to appreciate power, for together we were seeking an escape from a world which was never Intended for creatures with thumping hearts. Much very heavy Ice was crossed near the eigjity-clgbtb, but the endless unbroken fields of the northward trails were not again seen. The weather changed considerably. The light cutting winds trom the west Increased in force, and the spasmodic squalls came at shorter intervals. The clear purple and blue of the seas were gradually changed to light gray, and a rush of . frosty needles came over the pack for several hours each day. Could Brook No Delay. The Inducement to seek shelter in cemented walls of snow and wait for better weather was very great. But such delay forestalled certain starvation. Under fair conditions there was barely food enough to roach land, while even short delays might easily Jeopardize our return. We could not therefore, do otherwise than to force ourselves against the wind and drift with all possible speed, closing the eye to unavoidable suffering. With no alternative, we tried to persuade ourselves that conditions might be worse. The eighty-seventh was crossed, the eighty-sixth was neared. but there came a time when both miuil and body wearied of the whole problem of forced resolution. The hard work of Igloo building was now a thing of the past?only one had been built since leaving the pole, and In It a precious day was lost?while the atmospheric fury changed the face of the endless expanse of desolation. The little silk tent now boused us sufficiently from the Icy airs. There were still 60 degrees of frost, but with hardened skins and Insensible nerve filaments the torture was not so keenly felt The steady diet of pemmlcan and tea and biscuits was now entirely satisfactory. We longed for enough to give a real filling sense, but the ration was slightly reduced rather than increased. The change In life from winter to summer, which should take place at about this time of the year, was In our case marked only by a change In shelter, from the snow house to the tent, and our bed was moved from the soft snow shelf of the i Igloo to the hard, wind swept crust. I Long Delays by Open * + Water ? Drifting on f t n_._ n.w. f iiucg?a/uga oairuiccu and Sleds Abandoned ? [TWELFTH ARTICLE] I ' * * * * + + + * + + ?f. + IN my wakeful watches to get a peep of the sun at Just the right j moment I was kept awake during much of the resting period, and for pastime my eyes wandered from snorting dogs to snoring men. During one of these Idle moments there came a solution of the utility of the dog's tall, a topic with which I had been at 1 play for several days. It Is quoted here at the risk of censure, because It ' Is a typical phase of our lives which cannot be Illustrated otherwise, seeming trivialities were seized upon as food for thought. Why has the dog a tali at all? The bear, the musk ox, the caribou and the bare each In its ' own way succeeds very well with but a dwarfed stub. Why does nature In thi dog expend its best effort In grow- J lng the finest fur over a seemingly 1 useless line of tall bones? The thing ' is distinctive, and one could hardly cpncelve of the creature without this ] accessory, but nature In the arctic does ' not often waste energy to display beauties and temperament. This tall must ' have an Important use. otherwise It would soon fall under the knife of ' frost and time. Yes! It was Imported Into the arctic by the wolf progenitor 1 of the dog from warmer lands, where Its swing served a useful purpose In fly time. A nose made to breathe warm air requires some protection In 1 the far no.'tb No animal feels this 1 shortcoming as much as man. The dog supplied the need with bis tall. At the time when I made this discovery a cold wind charged with cutting crys- 1 tals brushed the pack. Each dog bad his back arched to the wind and his face veiled with an effective curl of his 1 tall. He vas comfortably shielded 1 from Icy torment by an appendage ' at,anted to that very purpose. I A Heavy Snowstorm. On May 6 we were stopped at 6n. m. i by the coming of the gloom of an unusual gale. The wind had been steady , and strong all night, but we did not | heed its threatening Increase of force < until too late. It came from the west. ] as usual, driving coarse snow with needle points. The ice ubout was old j and hummocky, offering a difficult line | of march, "but some shelter, la the strongest blasts we threw ourselves over the sled behind hummocks and gathered new breath to force a few miles more. Finally, when no longer able to force die dogs through the blinding drift, we sought the lee of an uplifted block of ice. Here suitable snow was found for a snow house, and a few blocks were cut and set, but the wind swept them away like chips. The tent was tried, but it could not be made to stand In the rush of the roaring tumult. In sheer despair we crept Into the tent without erecting the pole. Creeping Into tho ho era wo fhpn allowed the flapping silk to be burled by the drifting snow. Soon tbe noise and discomfort of the storm were lost, and we enjoyed the comfort of an Icy grave. An efficient breathing bole was kept open, and the wind was strong enough to sweep off the weight of a dangerous drift. A new lesson was thus learned in fighting the battle of life which was afterward useful. Several days of icy despair now followed each other in rapid succession. Tbe wind did not rise to the full force of a storm, but It was too strong and too cold to travel. The food supply was noticeably decreasing. Tbe dally advance was reduced. With such weather starvation seemed Inevitable. Camp was moved nearly every day, but ambition sank to tbe lowest ebb. To the atmospheric unrest were added the Instability of broken Ice and the depressing mystery of an unknown poaltinn Fnr mnnv rtflvs nn nhservn. tlons bad been possible, and our location could only be guessed at The maddening struggle was dally forced, while the spirits were pressed to the verge of extinction. Now that the object of our trip had been accomplished much of the Incentive was gone. At times it seemed as If our life's work bad been accomplished and to have lain down for the final sleep would have been easy, but the feeble HOME AGAIN! HE. COOK'S Area of the homing passion kept the eye open. At the Eighty-fourth Parallel. On May 24 the sky cleared long enongh to give us a set of observations. We were on the eighty-fourth parallel, near the ninety-seventh meridian. The new lands were hidden behind a low mist. The ice was much crevassed and drifted eastward. The pack was sufficiently active to give us considerable anxiety, though pressure lines and open water did not then seriously impede our progress. There remained on the sleds scarcely enough food to reach our caches unless we averaged fifteen miles daily. On the return from the pole to here we had only been able to make twelve miles daily. Now our strength, even under fair conditions, did not seem to be equal to more than ten miles. The outlook was far from hopeful to me. though the sight of the cleared sky Infused new courage into Etuklsbuk and Ahwelab. Trying to make the best of our hard lot, a straight course was set for Vi*> mnoif at lands of the inner cross lug. At the eighty-third parallel we found ourselves to the west of a large tract extending southward. The Ice chang ed to small fields. The temperature rose to zero, and a persistent mist obBcured the heavens. With a few lines on paper to register the life of suffering, the food for man and dog was reduced to a threequarter ration, while the difficulties of Ice travel rose to disheartening heights. At the end of a struggle of twenty flays through thick fog the sky cleared, and we found ourselves far down In rirnwn Prinee Gustav sea. with open water and Impossible small ice as a barrier between us and Heiberg Island. With the return to Annootok rendered Impossible by the unfortunate westerly drift, our only alternative was to go south with the ice. We hoped in this course to find game for food and fuel. The Scottish whalers enter Lancaster sound and touch at Port Leopold. The distance to this point was shorter than that to Greenland, | and by this route I hoped that I could j return to Europe during the same year, 1008. Passing through Hassel sound between the Ringnes Lands bears and seals were secured, and slowly we moved southward over Norwegian bay Into Wellington channel. The Ice was small, there was much open water, and progress was slow, but the drift carried us along. At Pioneer bay we were stopped by a Jam of small Ice over which sledding was impossible. unaDie ro wan ror the ice to move because do large game was here secured, we crossed in early July to Jones sound. Here, again, no big game was found. There was much open water, and the folding canvas boat was spread for use. Unable to feed the dogs, they were given the freedom of their wild progenitor8f_the wolves. OBOWD OBUTDfO DB. OOOK Of OO^BB< HAOBf. 11 One sled was left here; the other wa$ taken apart and placed in the boat Then followed a long and perilous adventure by boat and sled, during which our last ammunition was expended In securing birds for food. After that by looped lines and slingshots, birds were still captured. Early in September we were beset on the shores of Baffin bay with neither food, fuel nor ammunition. New Implements were shaped, and we returned westward to Cape Sparbo to seek a place to . pitch a winter camp. An v ... > B .f m^B Bp Immm j jfl ^Pj* mJ^JFw ^khB AHMVAL IN NEW YOBX. underground den was bulli of si ones, bones and turf, and with our primitive weapons we fought the walrus, the bear, the musk ox and other animals. Thus food, fuel and skins were secured, and death by famine was averted. The winter and the night of 1908-9 were spent preparing food and equipment for the return. On Feb. 18. 1909, we started with a remodeled sled and reached our camp at Annootok In the middle of April Here I met Mr. Ha/ry Whitney and told him of our conquest of the pole. Because a ship was to come after Mr. Whitney to take him direct to borne shores, most of my instruments were Intrusted to bis care. Anxious to gain a few months In the return boms, I proceeded by sled over land and sea j southward to Upernavlk and from j there onward to Copenhagen by Dan lsd steamers. THE END. SOME SIBERIAN RE80URCE8. Also Some Drawbacks to Development of Industrial Lif* In order to prevent an overproduction of erraln in Siberia and a crista, it is necessary to take all possible measures for developing the Siberian markets not only for agricultural, but also for Industrial purposes, declares the Consular Report The chief drawback in the development of industrial life in Siberia is the lack of large capital. The book entitled "Useful Minerals of Siberia," by Engineer Reutovsky, gives a full description of the mineral weulth * In the Altai region. According to this work there is no locality in the' world where deposits of coper ore are so richly dispersed by nature; for instance, In the K&rk&rallnskl mountains, where the deposits contain from 22 to 28 per cent of ore. The same mountains abound in silver, lead, iron, manganese and gold deposits. This part of Siberia Is almost uninhabited; from Semipalatlnsk to Serglopol, a distance of almost 200 miles along the road and of 133 miles on each side of the same, there is not a single village. It is to be expected that the building | of the Omsk-Semipalatlnsk railroad line with the Barnaul branch will transform this desert land Into a rich industrial centre. The movement of immigrants who crossed the Urals from January 1 to * * *aao TOO QA1 nor. wovemoer i, nvo, i?u;iicu ?--sons of both sexes, against 656,447 for the same period of 1907, showing an Increase of 31 per cent. The number of persons returning from beyond the Urals during the same period was 36,637 men. In the estimate of the Immigrant department's budget a sum of 15,224,000 I Is Included for loans to be Issued to the Immigrants for their first farming needs in settling on new land. These loans are Issued by the local branches of savings banks. >t?" The police force In England and Wales Includes over 45,000 men.