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A TANGLE The President of a B Victim WRITTEN BY CHAPTER IV.?Continued. A large dinner i6 opt to be a 6tupid affair until the dessert is reached. By that time tne pangs 01 nuusrei?n yevple so far lorget themselves as to indulge in such vulgar things?have been satisfied, and the enlivening effects of judiciously chcsen wines begin to be felt. My vis-a-vis seemed to forget all about the peerage until the roast, game, salad, etc.. had disappeared. Then, the conversation having become brisker, she turned to me and asked if I knew the gentleman seated next to Agnes. Bhe referred to our President, and I gave her his name and such other details regarding him as were of interest. "He 6eems very much struck with Miss Upton," remarked the old lady deprecatingly. As our President was nothing more than a cultivated American he did not appear to be an eligible parti in the eyes of the Anglomaniac at mv side. "0, no," I exclaimed thoughtlessly. "He is simply makinc a study of her." "Why, is he an artist?or a doctor?" she asked, in surprise. Her question brought me to my senses. I looked about me and began to feel as though I was a conspirator, a member of a cabal which might well employ the poniard and the drug. To* my eyes the scene took on the colors of romance. "We were seatel in the old Italian banquet hall. was the pride of an ancient Roman house. Her father, a lianchtv lord, had offended the members of our secret council, and, in the guise of friendship, we partook of his hospitality only to work his ruin. When the hour should come one of us would slay the lord, others would seize the girl and before the startled household could recover from its dismay we would be far beyond the wall6 of the Eternal City and riding for our lives. I awoke from my reverie to find that the ladies had left the room. Agnes had been abducted, but in a modern and ceremonius way. Barnes came over to my side of the C^ble and lighted a cigar. "How are you? You look bored." "I am. And you?" ~natner: iseen taiKing w a gin ?mu once had a love affair and wants another. Am worn out." He 6ipped a liqueur, and looked at me languidly. "That was fair," I returned. "The girl was talking to a man who once had a love affair?and wants another. " BarneB smiled. "Pretty pood, old man. If j-ou weren't a member of the club, however, I'd call you out and have a shot at you. I consider you a dangerous rival. You really 6eem to have the inside track." "Nonsense. If you make a girl your friend she will never love you. In this , maiden prize sweepstakes for all ages, my boy, I think I'd put my money on Barnes?'Apollo' Barnes, as he is known to fame." "And lose it. Here comes the winner." Fernshaw joined us. "U ??? BAAme 4-A KG rroHinrr IUC U1U UJU1I DCCUiO WKJ k/\J solid at headquarters," he remarked, puffing a cigarette. Barnes and I followed his gaze and saw that he referred to the President, who was drinking brandy with Mr. Upton. "What do you mean to imply?" I asked, suspiciously. " That the President has lost his moss' covered heart to Agnes." This was too disrepectful to pass unnoticed, and I spoke rather hotly. "You are unjust and undignified, Fernshaw. The President has been your firmest ally from the very start. You owe him a great deal. Your insane jealousy is driving you mad." "Perhaps it is,"' he said, gloomily. "But what are you all here for? Since I made my ra9h confession to the club I have not had the slightest chance to Bee Agnes. First it was Barnes, then you, then Chapman, and to-night the President monopolizes her attention. I really don't think it's tair to me. There are 6tlll four members of the club who have not met the Uptons. "When are they to be introduced?" He moved away, and Barnes and I looked at each other gloomily. "He doesn't know what took place at the last meeting," said Barnes. "Somebody ought to tell him." "Yes?that's so. You have tact. Suppose you break the news to him." "No. He doesn't like me. Do it yourself." "Well, we'll toss up for it. Agreed? Heads?I tell him; tails?you. There it goes, tails. Permit me to wish you luck. Be very gentle with him, Barnes. His temper is not as quiet as it used to be." Barnes frowned, but hai no chance to protest, as Mr. Upton at that moment the wav to the drawintr-room. The rain poured down in torrents on the night on which the club met, but by 10 o'clock every member was present. Fernshaw, 6iler.t and morose, had come to the conclusion, evidently, that he must looiv after his own interests. There was rebellion in. his eyes, and he hardly deigned to bow to the brethren. Barnes, Chapman and myself eat together in a sympathetic croup. We were rivals, it is true, but were too broad-minded to sulk in each other's presence. And then, we had agreed to abide by the president's decree, and the magnitude of the stake drew us together like sheep who dread the storm. "Whatdid Fernshaw say?'' I whispered to Barnes. "He was very uely at first, but after along argument I convinced him that we had acted as honorable men should. I pointed out to him that it -was natural that we should all fall in love with Miss Upton?that by so doing we com plimented his own good taste. I further argued that he was as much bound to obey the President as we were, and that he stood as good a chance of winning Agnes in this way as though we were all working anainst each other secretly. But lo>k at the President. Did you ever Dee him so pale and nervous?" It was true, our worthy leader waE not himself, and his face had s strangely haggard appearance. As h? seated himself in frout of us and ealleil the meeting to order his voice trembled nnd his hand shook as he toyed with ? ngar. The routine of his dut'es seetne; to quiet him after a time, and it was not until the critical moment, when tht RornRh/iw casfi oftmn iir> in reeular or der, that he again lost control of hit nerves. "Brethren," he said, looking aboul the room as though he longed to escape, "I have a confession to make." We jumped to our fe?-t and rushed around him. "Do you love Agnes 1'pton?" cried Fernshaw. "Stand back," exclaimed Barnes pushing forward. "What do you mean?' "Another Richmond in the field," sug> gested one of the happy four who ha<. aever met Agnes. "Brethren, I regret to eay^" contlnuec 1 OF HEARTS. achelors' Club t alls to Love. E. S. VAN ZILE. the President, inia dignified way, "tl 1 have succumbed to the fascinations Miss Upton.'" There vras a murmur, then a roar protest. "It can't be!" "At your age!" "Hasn't Bne enough admirers as 1 is?" "Good-by to the club! Let its e taph be: 'Perished in its matur through the blighting influence of Agi Upton.' " "Oh, spare me, brethren!" exclain the President "I tried so hard to faithful to my tru6t. But there was escape. I loved her the moment I e her." A sob broke from Fernshaw, who h thrown himself upon a sofa. Barnes looked pale but colleob while Dr. Chapman and I pressed es other's hand6 and moaned in chorus. "What's to be done?" asked one the happy quartette. "Disband the club," cried Fernsha "It is not fair to Agnes that this mat should go further. It is a shame tl her name was ever brought before y all. Oh, I am a wretch. I wish I v dead." He buried his Byronic features in ] hand, and the sofa shook with his sol "Brethren," said the President, ri6i witn an effort and leaning against a t ble, "I feel that it is my duty to sugg< an expedient whereby the club may I ?/vft/vm.A/1 nrts? 4hio tonnlo nf hoorfo i | piCOOiVCU C?uv* unw % raveled. If I were more than morta would magnanimously withdraw fr< the contest and leave the Held to i younger rivals. But, homo sum. Y who love Agnes Upton realize that would now be impossible for me to gi up my hope of winning her. You w know her not are not competent judg In the case.- Now, my proposition this: All other mediation having fail* let us present the matter to Miss Upt herself. You asked me to choose whi of you should attempt to win her han I suggest that each of us make her proposal of marriage, and leave the r< to the dictates of her heart. Four the five must eat the bitter bread of j jection, but I can answer for you that the winner will receive the hea felt congratulations of his rivals. Wh do you think? Shall we lay the matt befoie Agnes?". "Miss Upton, you mean, sir," claimed Fernshaw fiercely. "Mi6s Upton," said the Preside meekly. "I see no other way," I remarke "Under any circumstances she would sure to learn from each of us the fe< ing she has aroused." "You might try a round-robin on hei suggested one of the flippant outside: *WaII m orlrn^ Pomoc TC Vin rr TT Cll) IVUiUlAVU A/WlUVOj ?MV IT perfectly cool. "I for one, am very an ious that the existence of the club not destroyed by this strange traged Of course, none of the five is willing abandon the contest -without putting 1 chances to the te6t. But whoever ca tures the hand of AgneB Upton, let It understood,that his defeated rivals 6hi still maintain toward each other th< present fraternal relations." "Of course," we chorused in a breat "Let me ask," broke in Dr. Chapma "how the situation as it now stands to be conveyed to Miss Upton? Wou it not be well for each of us to write her?" "No, no," exclaimed the Presidei "I never propose to a girl in writing, personal interview is much more effec lve." "But don't you 6ee, Mr. Presidei that effectiveness is just what is n desired in this case?" asked somebod "That's so?you're right," return the president, moodily. "Whatshalli do?" "I don't care what you do," almc Rhonted Fernshaw. "I'm coins to ta my own course. I loved her first anc 6hall be the first to propose. If she i jects me, there will then be a chance 1 somebody else." With these rash and boastful words rushed from the room, and we saw hi no more that night "I shall write to her," said Dr. Cha man, calmly. "I shall call on her to-morrow," r marked the President, with a suspicii of pomposity. "I shall approach Mr. Upton firs' said Barnes, looking wise. "I'll wait," I added; and a few m ments later we parted for the night. CHAPTER V. It was with a feeling of gloom tha' awoke the following morning, inee citing scene of the previous evening h thrown an agitating influence over i sleep, and I had dreamed of duels, d aster, and destruction. After I had dressed, I gazed at mysi In the mirror. Did I stand any chan in this wild matrimonia' scramble 1 the hand of Agnes Upton? Perhaps t I thought, as I stroked uy mustache a noticed with satisfaction that my coi plexion was not quite a i sallow as usu The storm had cleared away durii the night, and the sun was shini brightly. 1 sauntered forth in betl spirits than had dominated my bei when I awoke. There was a sprighi look to the avenue as I hurried alo toward Delmonico's, anxious to get lover's breakfast of toast and coiT< It is a striking fact that the man who in love and the roysterer who dra too much champa^n'e the night bef( always eat a very light meal in 1 morning. In the present instance played both roles, and the result w tliat when my coffee and toast reach me I could not touch them. I sat looking out upon Broadway a thinking of Agnes Upton. Should propose to her at once or wait until i | rivals had had an opportunity to pres< their claims? It was a hard quest] to answer. If I went to her imuie ately I might gain an advantage by 1 , priority of my suit. The tale of Loch var came into my mind, and I preferi * -- Wl*-, 4knr* fKot r\9 "IKa 1 a rtttt IU JJ1V U19 pui i inau buai/ vi iuu JU^^I 1 in love." (Jn the other hacd, I felt that, a | had told the club I would wait, I was , honor bound to defer my proposal ur my rivals had done their worst A1 } fair in love, they say, but the assert ) is barbarous and should have no wei| ! with a member of such a club as our s a club based upon the highest ideal man's duty to his brother. 1 For several days I was tortured these conflicting thoughts, 1 was r< J less and unfit for work. I spent a gr deal of time in my rooms, reading, m ing, smoking. I saw no one, did call on Agnes, and took a kind of ir Ki/I .Inlitrht in TTitt.li in If mvsfilf thorou I l/.v. O ? I ! ly miserable. Two weeks went by, and, after din ; | one evening,I determined to put an j to my suspense. I trembled whei " reached this decision and nervoi 1 lighted a perl'ecto. I realized that wooing had been what might have b 1 meaner, an 1 I feared that Agnes wc I be bo surprised at my proposal that she would be inclined to laugh at rte. Sur. prise, philosophers say, is the most es! sential 1 actor in the creation of rnerrii ment. I did not want to be ridiculed, ' i onH oc T etrr?l 1 tnwnr/l tho I;ntAno' : house, I almost regretted my impetuI osity. It would have been belter, per- ] a ; haps, to have 'waited another weex. i rang the oell, sent in my card, and Wu6 pleased to find the drawing-room (iest-ned. A mo r.ent later Agnes entered the room. She was dressed in a low-cut evening costume of black and looked radiantly beautiful. I took her hand in silence and knew that I displaced agitation by my constrained bat manner. 0j ""lou are quite a stranger," 6he remarked, seating herself. "I began to 0j think you had forgotten us." There was something cruel in the word "us," and my heart throbbed painfully. "Forgotten you?" I cried. "Ind?ed, you ao me an injustice, j. nave passed pj. tbe last week thinking of you. Day ,fty and night you have been in my thoughts, lee Even in iny dreams your face was before me. Oh, it has been a fearful led ^eek." j-q "That last remark is very complino menlary," she said, coquettishly. ".But aw why <fo you talk in this way? You are maKing fun of me, and i thought we were such good friends." ia(* "Friend6r That cannot be. I love . "y?u? Agnes. I have loved you from ' the first moment of our acquaintance." tctl She turned rather pale for an in. 6tant. and a peculi&r smile crossed her face, but 6he did not spea'.c. "Answer .me." I Baid, seizing her hand. "Do you, can you love me? * Will you be my wife.'" , "Yes," she returned, frankly, looking ou at me calmly. ras I could hardly trust my ears. Accepted by Agnes Upton! What would the lis club say.' I, the least attractive of the Js. Qve lovers, had captured the prize withng out an effort. It was hard to believe; a- but there lay her cold, white, slender est hand in mine, and she was gazing up at be. me smilingly. I bent to kiss her. She in-; released her hand and 6aid: 1 I "Please don't?now. This is all so >m,' 6udden that I wish to be left alone, ny; Come to me to-morrow, but go away ou I now. I wish to think." itl Obediently I arose, a protest in my ve! heart and an acquiescent smilB on my ho | lips. '?8! "As you please, Agnes. The task you set me 16 a hard one, but my reward i6 *d,i great. Good night, my liancce." ?jj{ I kissed her hand and hurried from ' the room. The night air revived me, and ray fevered brain grew quieter. Ecgaged to Agnes! 1 was walking on air, }8?l and listening to the songs of Paradise. ?': I turned my head and looked back at :e" j the Upton house. A man stood in the J ! doorway, and I tried to make out who it rt"! was. Before I could identify him, how ever, he had entered the hall. For a er: moment I felt annoyed, but soon real. ized that I had no right to De disturbed ; by the fact that a stranger had called at ; the house I had ju6t left. It might be >nt| somebody to see Mrs. Upton or her I : husband. As I hastened down the avenue, the be; thought struck me that this was club 9l-. night. Should I go to the meeting? nl Why not? It was only fair to my rivals r?"' that, they should learn of my engagers. ment from my own lips. I looked at my as, watch, retraced my steps, and soon x-i reached Dr. Chapman's residence, the t>et' place of the meeting. ly. i As I entered the room in which my to I Brethren were gather* d, I wa6 surprised "si to find an air of cheerfulness radiating P-i from the assemblage. Fernshaw wts ^e" not present, but Chapman looked joll.v, Barne6 was laughing and talking in a light-hearted way, while the President appeared younger and handsomer than I had ever seen him. I}'' I did not have the cruelty to dash *s I heir merriment by the announcement ^ of my Buccess. Of course they would 10 ' feel hurt to learn that I had been ac cepted, while they had all been cast it. into outer darkness. I could not exA: plain their apparent happiness, how!t ever. Perhaps the relief caused by the destruction of their hopes had brought it,, them peace of mind. At all events, inot stead of finding a dismal crowd, as I ly. had expected to, I joined as jovial a set i ed? as the city that night held. Champagne. ' cigars, good stories an 1 a song now ' and then reminded us of what the club had been a few weeks before, ere the i ? blighting influence of Agnes Upton had | 1 fallen upon our organization. je" Reluctantly, the President called us f or to order about 11 o'clock, and the work j of the meeting was begun. I felt that Pe I was in an unpleasant position. "The lm Fernshaw Case, "as the affair was called, ( was certain to come up, and I realized ( P* that it wa6 my duty to make a full con- < fession regarding my success With \ e" Agnes. i on I noticed that the high spirits of J , Chapman. Barnes aud the President j t," had descrteu them, and that they seemed nervous an 1 uneasy. io- At length, after delaying the matter by various parliamentary devices, the President, turning very red, announced: "The Fernshaw case." t j At that instant Fernshaw burst into )X_ the room. His face was ghastly white, a(j his dress disordered, and his heavy ny breathing indicated a long run in the [8. niiiht air. He tried to speak, gasped painfully, seized a glass of champagne, ejf drained it eagerly, and ttien sans upon ce a chair. or "What's the matter, Fernshaw?" we JO cried. nd ro- "u. Agnes: Agnes!" ne answered wildly. Qg My conscience troubled me. I felt n8 that Fernshaw would accuse me of ter treachery, and I prepared for h scene. D(f Chapman, Barnes and the President all tly looked alarmed. nK "You moan Miss Upton," said the lata ter, rising hurriedly. "Well, what about her?" 1 Is "She's eloped," cried Fernshaw, burstQk ing into tears. "Eloped with an Italian re ' count." he "It can't be," I returne d 1 I "It's false. Fernshaw," said the Pres 'as ident angrily. "She's engaged to me. ied Sheg;ive me her promise yesterday." "Absurd," cried Dr. Chapman, waving 2 nd a letter in the air. "I got this from her < [ I this r >rning. She has promised to be j my my wife." j ;nt You are all wrong," exclaimed ion Barnes. "She accepted ine this afterdi noon. :he "And mo this evening," I put in". in- Fernshaw, recovering somewhat, 1 ed stood up: ird "She a false-hearted woman. She told me she love?love?loved mo two si weeks ago to-night?after the meeting." , in Again his sobs came over him. itil "But how do you know she has 1 is eloped?" asked one of the lucky outInn oirlprS. tjht "I just came from there," explainer! b? Feinshaw. "Her father is nearly frnnof tic. She ioft a note for him, saying she 1 wanted to be u countess and liked the by romance of a runaway match. 0, it's st- horrible." ( eat Barnes, who was the coolest man In us- *he room, had been quietly filling the not wine glasses. ior- "I have a toast to propose, brethren," gh- he said. "Let us drink to the welfare of our club, and may tho brethren long | ner remain bachelors." end We pledged the sentiment with n 3 j I shout 01 acciaim, jwiu xjwi, uuu jsiy ' drank that toast has again disturbed the my peace of our club by a confession ot'love. i nnri lTnE EMD ' 11 Copyright, 189 A mid I I FOR YOUTHFUL FIGURES. | i A STYLISH WAIST THAT IS EXCEED- 1 INCLY BECOMING. 1 It In Made of Batiste With Insertion of Cream Lare ami Lacc Kdpinp; to Match ?Great Variety of New Ties and Girdle* for the Stylish Summer G1rl. Batiste of the plain, sheer, silkv quality with insertion of cream lace ind lace edging to match, was selected ;or this stylish waist that May Manton >ays will prove exceedingly becoming :o youthful figures. A glove-fitted ining that reaches to the waist line supports the material: The back is jeamles8, the additional fulness at the waist line being drawn well to the :ec tre, while the fronts droop in slight blouse effect over a girdle of Liberty satin. The fronts separate, showing i smooth vest or plastron composed of jatiste decorated by bands of inser;ion, the whole arranged over petuniajolored glace silk. The ueck is shaped n low, rounding outline, presenting he guimpe effect that is exhibited in nany of the newer gowns. The collar s of the crush order with the usual rill of lace above. The sleeves are of he mousquetaire variety and are slose-fitting with the exception of the ittle puff at the top that is surmounted >y a full short epaulette that some- c vhat consoles one for the loss of the 1 additional material that one gloried in as); season. The outside Beams of e ileeves show tuck shirringe through r rhich cords can be inserted to regulate f he fulness, and the wrists have a soft c LADIES' 8] ~e ' rlinrr uroll OTPr the 1 nil Ul ItiCO CAIOUUjlu^ nvM V lands. The mode is adaptable to all 1 leasonable fabrics including batiste, i ianvas -weaves, organdy, barege, grenadine, etc., that can be made over 1 solored linings of silk or "near silk" 1 )rhich is an excellent substitute of ] the genuine article, as its name impl ies, ( ind can be had in all the new shades. r t ladies' guimpe waist. 1 1 rbe waist here illustrated closes inrisibly at the left side. To make this waist for a lady in the medium size will require three and f ane-fourth yards of forty-four-inch " material, and three-fourth yards of f twenty-two-inch goods for the guiinpe. j Tulle In tile Khcp. f The prominence of tnlle istiaesensa- I 1 tion of the season. Everything French ( is trimmed with tulle, and colored ( tulle is as fashionable ns white. A f bat was seen wreathed i:u bunches of tulle, green and brown, in tbe midst ( of which were perched a couple of iridescent plumaged birds, as if among leaves, and outside of ;hem, on ^ the rim of the hat, a wreath of ivy. But tulle is not only worn on hats. There are tulle collars, worn with r. * bow and a paste buckle. And tnlle * bodice strings instead of a sash. Tnlle belongs by right to the young . and pretty. A white sailor hat, with two immense tulle rosettes and an Dblong paste buckle and a black and white aigrette between, is designed for i the fairest of the fair. , I New Tic* and GIriUes. { This season there is a greater variety J of belts and girdles ths.n has been t offered the summer girl in many years, f ... , . 'r Belts and girdles are of five principal sorts. Very popular is the narrow selt of lizard skin or other fancy eather fastened by a simple slide of slain gold. The belt of plain white tid is of similar cut and is the only child's dress. lorrect one to wear with suits of white men and duck. The Scotch belt is the prettiest nov:lty this year. It is of medium width ibbon, of Scotch plaid design, and astened by an exquisite little buckle >f plaided enamel. The dark ribbon ^ I LiEEYES. Delt of a color to match the costume is 'astened as usual with the large ornanental buckle of gold or silver. For those who are tired of the leather selts the girdle of silver, set with imitation jewels, is the favorite. This is particularly pretty when worn with jowns of thin texture. Ties this year are of many varieties, rhe narrow string tie, the soft ribbon bow, the four-in-hand and the asco! ire all popular. The number of the aew collars is legion and the summer ;irl who cannot hud a style that is becoming to her is to be reckoned unfortunate.?New York Journal. Large WnlstH Fashionable. Large waists are said to be coming n fashion again; but, curiously ;nough, it seems to be the aim of all Iressmakers and tailors to give the ong, slender lines and us small a waist is it is possible with any breathing power, and the lines of braid on some >f the new jackets are most cleverly irranged to taper in at the waist and aroaden out over the shoulders. To oe tightly screwed into a waist a jacket does not make the figure any smaller, a fact it would be well for all women to know, ancl a good nt, wmcn nakes any one look smart, always jives plenty of room over the bast md is only tight at and below the ;rue waist line. White Gloves Again. Naught completes the diaphanous rammer toilet so well as white gloves ?really white, of course. Nothing ipoils a summer costume so quickly tnd effectually as a dingy glove. But j ;hen it is so easy to clean white gloves, and they look so well when j ,hey are cleaned, that there is no ex- j use for the woman who puts on a lirty glove. There is the d ?ad white jlove, the cream and the ivory glove. Vll these are beautiful, and all are cleaned without difficulty. Petitions are circulating in Austria o request the government to stop the vholesale slaughter of birds, useful md ornamental. In the market places ard-high piles of these poor creatures ire sold daily, and unless the governuent interferes none will be left to kill n a few years. William Schenck, of Pine Grove, vVis., who has been town treasurer for lineteen years, has recently made the irst mistake in his books, and even his one. is of very little importance, ie is eighty-three years old and the ownsmen intend to keep him in office or the rest of his life. I -m :z: ' ;v "BOOM" TOWN OF TENTS. PICTURESQUE SCENES IN THE INDIAN TERRITORY. Great Increase In Hayden's Population When the Ex-Slave* of the Cherokee Tribe Receive 8800,000 From the Government?Riche* of the Osage Nation. The most interesting town in the Indian Territory and one of the wonders of the year, writes a correspondent of the Chicago Record, is Hayden, where the Government has been paying off the Cherokee freedmen. A few weeks ago it was only a postoffice, with one store and a blacksmith shop. In a few days it became a busy towh of 4000 people, mainly colored. The one intent of the population was to receive checks from the Government of which they are the beneficiaries. When the Cherokee Nation liberated its slaves during the Civil War a I i % s a HA YD EN BEFORI treaty was arranged between them and the Government that the freedmen should be received into that Nation as citizens and hold land in common with the Cherokees. When the Cherokee strip was sold the Indians forgot the provisions of the treaty and wanted all the money, but the Court of Claims gave $800,000 to the freedmen and it was the distribution of this large sum that brought the people together. ' Hayden is twelve miles from the railroad and the gathering was all housed in tents, for there was no time to make permanent dwellings if there had been an intention. The Indians /nnn/1 m a*-> ttt nr a n V?t7 q f>li \x Xi^^ujLucu n vio nuvviu^/(?uivv? wj M TYPES OF THE CAMP. large number of fakirs, who had the most enticing devices, for the money to be paid out. They put up a "Midway Plaisance," where all sorts of games were in progress. Then, to swell the crowd, there were hundreds of business men who have been selling goods to the freedmen for months on credit, trusting in the coming of this auspicious time for their pay. The total number of freedmen on the rolls was over 4500, and each share was worth $188.74. The payment was made by family, and on account of the tangled relationship of a race that was so lately slavfes, the making of the rolls proved to be a tremendous task; The identification of the members of the families was no less onerous, tor j HA YD EN LURINC they all look alike to the stranger. The public school is one of the unknown factors of Indian life in this section and there are few who can read and write. The camp has been the most orderly 4>io Viiotnrtr ni +.Vif> Tmlian Territory payments. In former oases there has been always a larger attendance of the tough element which has made the nights hideous. Here the nights become wild about the midnight hour and then the "fellows" who want to cut a dash are in their element. Then it is that the Alkali Ikes are ready to go out and shoot a few holes in the atmosphere without warning. Girls with red ribbons in their hair are here and they "do" the town of tents in the most approved fashion, while the old folks are having a shouting prayer meeting, after the manner of the col ored folks of the South. The brethren from Oklahoma are numerous and they are usually of the sort that has the money-making craze well developed. There is an attempt to keep gambling off the grounds, but with small success. Ove in the Osage portion of the territory ever member of the tribe is wealthy. The men are handsome and the squaws are not bad-looking. They are few in number and are decreasing every year. Now there are only 345 voters in the tribe and they are the recipients of the bounty that might well make a prince happy. The tribe has 1,000,000 acres of land and about 39,000,000 in the United States Treasury, on which the interest is ?400,000 a year. This is paid every three months and it amounts then to 35-t fo* each man, women and child in the tribe. O1' $100,000 one-tenth is H set aside for education and the clHKH dren are all sent to school. They^KHfl to Catholic boarding schools anda^EM not allowed to get the apportionment they are not in school. The IndiansT^H too, have a large amount of rent from ^ their land, which they lease to the 1 cattlemen for cash. | Frequently the leading men go East \ on a visit and travel in Pullman cars. as do other luxurious Westerners. They take their families to Europe and 1 have for their servants -white men and women -who are tempted by the prince* ly -wages to forget that they are th superior race. While fullbloods weaJ in the council chamber, and sometime* on the street, the full robes of the Inv dian warrior, for the most part the^ are dressed in the ordinary fashion <M the -whites. One of the wealthiest men, who by the way has twelve chil? J dreli, lives in a house that is the eqtud of any city residence, having cost$10,< j 000. It has all the improvements of plumbing and heating and is as com' '" III J - " x - ^' : THE PAYMENT. fortable as could be desired. The Osage nation is ruled by a conn- ~1 cil of fourteen members -which ifl l chosen once in two years and which iff Jy in continuous session. It meets when- A ever there is anything for it to do. The present council wants to draw from the fund in the national treasury a sum equal to $600 for each member of ; the tribe and spend it in beautifying the lands of the nation, in building roads and in erectxngpubiic buildings. They promise that the money shall b? used to good advantage, but it ie doubtful if it will be allowed. The elections are like those of other states, except that the electors go up to the judges and announce their choice of members of the council. No ballots are used. The lands of the Indian? are separated by a strip of public do< main about a quarter of a mile wide and this cannot be tilled. This tends to keep the Indians from quarreling and makes the courts of the nation comparatively free from business. The ambition of many of the frontier white men to become rich has led them to marry squaws of the Osages. They can do so, if the woman is willing, without any other formality than the paying of $20 for a lioense. This doe* not give them any part of the trustfund distribution, but their children are so entitled and some of the men , thus married are wealthy from the start that they got in this way. The whites of course are in favor of drawing out of the National Treasury the money for improvements, as each member of their family will get a shareT"1^ The fullbloods, on the other had, are B somewhat jealous of the movement, and prefer to let the United States keep the cash and pay them only the interest. This monev came from the sale of the Indians' former home in Kansas, which was in the best part of the j State. They seem to have made 9 good trade when they took the Government's offer and sold out. Instead of being paupers they are among the Nation's richest people, and if they are successful in getting the additional amounts that they are asking they may have it within their means to make great advances in civilization. The fears of many, when the territory was opened to the settlers, that there would be frequent outbreaks of the Indians and consequent scalpings have not been realized. The Indians having sold their lands to the whites , r THE PAYMENT. seem to have made up their minds that they are oil honor to behave themselves and they do so. They keep on theii A reservations and any wrong doing? that are reported are usually of the harmless order. It is plain that they are taking on the customs of the whites, and some Kansans who went down to the territorv to fleece the poor redskin at one of the pay clays, taking with them about $300, had to send home for money to pay return fare. They made up their minds that the Indian is no! quite such an unsophisticated individual as he is purported to be in the pages of Fenimore Cooper. The one thing that they cannot break themselves of is the habit of begging. At all the stations squaws and children sit, waiting for victims. The papooses will be shown for a nickel and for a quarter there will be a circue performance. Sealft and San?l Storms. Yoxi say the sealers on Pribyloft Islands catch the females when thej rrn rmt. t,n spr to feed. That is not so, as they never go out to feed. As foi 3 the pups dying on Tolstoi rookeries' from the loss of their mothers being killed at sea, that is not so; they are I killed by sandstorms. Tolstoi is the I only rookery that is affected by sand- I ctorms. and only one part of it, and afg|fl this particular part is the only plaq^^Sj where dead pups are fonnd. It would be something to the credit^H of the company if they would build a hoard fence, like a snow fence on the plains, for about 500 yards on Tolstoi I ? > ? H j rookerv. It woum niivu luc J1YCO UI n I thousands of pups.?San Fraucisoo Ex- Jfi I aminer. fl