University of South Carolina Libraries
. ?;?: i ! ._ V _ \ ^ ISSUED ^_9. t. x grists SONS, Pobu?her?. } % <J[amili> Jfe?rsp|}er: Jfor the promotion of the political, Social, gfgricaltncat and ?ommei[ciat Interests of the people. {TEIce^VAKCE| ESTABLISHED 1855. TORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, JANUARY 7,1908. NO, 2. ^???wgm* t DOWN WITH Interesting S Isth * HOME HAN TEL Sights That Are to Be S< Conditions?Remarkab Make the Dirt Fly. Oorreipondence of the Vorkrille Enauirer. I ^ EMPIRE, Isthmus of Panama, Canal Zone, December 18. 1 "To the Isthmian life are lights and shadows."?Dr. Canfleld. Undoubtedly it is on the Isthmus of Panama that one, whether prying into ^ the secrecies of the reclusive jungles or viewing the valleys of greenest green from some equally green hilltop, is convinced that here, as 'tis written, "day unto day uttereth speech and night unto night showeth knowledge." Here, where the flowers blossom and fade in beauty away untouched by the blight Jfc of frost; where folks never wear furs and where so many have lived and died ^ v without having seen snow, or crossed a frozen stream; where so often and at all times of the year the shouts and W songs of plcknlckers are heard, but never. through all the years, the jingle of sleigh bells?one may spend a part of his /Iffe pleasantly and profitably if he but watch as he walks and works. Such as know not the tropics are taught many things they could not learn elsewhere; and sigrht-seers are never sight-seekers, for there are always things which, for the mere be holding, satisfy the hungry eyes of man. There are, on the Isthmus, things and persons pathetic; things and perf sons amusing; things and persons beautiful; things and persons delight ful, as well as things and persons disagreeable, and even disgusting. One would probably not be contradicted should he make the assertion that folks come, an interesting thronff, "from y Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strand;" and one can see here turbaned Turks and Hindoos as well as ^ those who have spent a great part of \ , their lives in lands where it "freezes ? and blows over the drifting snows." Of these some have been lured here by v ? exaggerated stories of the delights of this country and of the money that may T be earned. Some have just happened along?cast up as wreckage and driftwood from"the seas of life?and some, bold with the Impulse of adventure, have merely stopped for a look and a lesson and then passed on to other lands unseen and unknown to them, while oth ts who are here have scarce? ly seen b yond the green hills that encircle thtlr humble homes. Here, in the shadow of these great hills, they, as babes, have listened to the cradle song; and here, as men and women, they, "* A * tkmr q witnout aesire iu ue uuici man w-j ' are or to have other than they have, shall pass away. The Weather. What sorts o* wether have we here? Wal, we reckon that we git our share O' all that comes an' goes, 'Cept wintry blasts an' whirlin' snows. Truly the days here are days of sunshine and shadow; and one is very soon convinced that the weather here when it is good is very, very good, but when it is bad, it is horrid. Often it is jv delightful and just as often it is dis~ agreeable. One hour one may be walkk ing along with little puffs of dust A spurting out from beneath his feet as he walks, and the next hour he may ^ retrace his steps and find mud of the gluey sort clinging to his shoes and pulling heavily at each foot-step. No matter how cloudless the skies may be when a man leaves home he will, if he is a wise fellow, carry his umbrella along, for once it is the smile of sunshine and again the frown of clouds. It is said that though a man have the gift of prophecy, and understand all * mysteries and all knowledge and carry not an umbrella that he should be looked upon as a thoughtless or foolish I fellow.' There are rainings without and k dampness within: and often shoes hecome covered with a greenish mould in a single night. A man may pay a boot-black five cents to have the mud removed from his shoes as he goes to bed at night and even though his shoes may " shine in a way to suit the most fastidious dude as he puts them aside, he will find on the morning that the shoes need a further brushing before he puts them on again. It is the same with books and with other articles of clothing. Though clothes be of the finest wool or books of the most beau| * tlful binding they will, unless put out in the sun at least three times a week, become gruesome wrecks of beauty and w usefulness. Because of the rain, the * dampness: because of the dumpness, the mould; because of the mould, vexation and the trouble of brushing. The hottest part of the day are the hours from eleven o'clock till two. The noon-time, save when the winds blow. Is often sultry; an<l not only man. but even the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air seem to feel the effects. Then it Is that the huge, ugly lizards, of which there are not a few, lie panting in the shade as the vultures circle high above earth where, feeling the ^ strength of the rushing winds, the heat of the sun is not felt. It is in the calm of the noon-time, when the shades and shadows are so enticing, that Panama may be said to be the land "languorous with tropical inertia." But often, however. the cool winds make the noonings enjoyable. The fogs here are not only disagreeable, but even furious in their denseness and foulness. Fog prevaileth at break of day and. in robbing the morning of sunshine and morning star, also makes the early morning hours rather uncomfortable, and at times, oppres* sive. The afternoons are the most beautiful and the most enjoyable part of the day, for the sun. shining over the green hills, made dim in the distance by mists of smoke, gives to earth a touch of the Indian summer days in THE BIG BIT ketches of Con imian Canal Z LS STORY FOR t ;en Without Hunting-?Strar le Improvement in Healtl [Carolina; and one, forgetting; for a mo- t Iment his surroundings, feels as though o he were not far away from the 9igh- n lng pines and fields of cotton and corn, s The dry season, which begins about E December first and lasts till some time F in March, is, as the little boy said d about Xmas. "the bestest time o' all tl the year" to many of the people here, ti For then the empty functions of so- fl ciety are hindered not, and public a events, such as baseball, racings, ten-* n nis testings, and picnics are seldom n hurried to a finish or marred by the s< sounds of thunder and flash of light- h nings that declare that all, no matter c how interested they may be in a game, si must hurriedly find shelter or suffer a s drenching. There is seldom more than d a passing shower during the whole of tl the dry season, but during the wet sea- b son it rains nearly every day and s< sometimes all day. u All outdoor work on tne canai is mn- r dered to a great extent during the wet fl season, for laborers, knowing the dls- g comfort as well as the danger of get- ii ting wet here, quickly seek shelter, a Many of those who work with pick and c shovel, carry their umbrellas with them morning, noon and night, and it is not fs an uncommon sight to look out along ti the line of the canal and see scores of tl umbrellas open and hundreds of men e: crouching for shelter against huge g rocks or under dump cars and steam a shovels. People not infrequently suf- c; fer sickness from getting wet in the ti tropical rains; so far the comfort as w well as the safety they afford, utnbrel- w las are much in demand. t< "Since the more fair and crystal is the tl sky, tl The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly." SI Travel. n Speaking simply, there are many k ways of getting along on the Isthmus besides the use of one's feet. One sees S1 the little brown donkeys that stagger ? along under the weight of their bur- j, dens as well as the weight of their n masters; the faithful and trusty little w pack-horses; the honking automobiles a with their smell of gasoline, and the a passenger trains with their burdens of g( human freight. It is often more amusing than interesting to see how folks ^ "git along and keep movln'," as the Q song goes. The masses, however, go a on the trains that are run by the Pan- 0 ama railroad. Every day the cars are 0 literally packed with almost every type g of humanity, and on Sundays as one t( sees folks clinging to the railings and w standing in every attainable place ne 0 wonders if there is room for just one w more. tl On the passenger trains here, there s are no "Jim Crow" cars, and any ne- n gro who pays first-class fare is ac- j, corded the privilege and pleasure of tj riding "right along wld de white fo'ks," even though he be a beggar clad In a p beggar's garb. Even though the Pana- c ma railroad charges five cents a mile g fare on its road, it makes no effort to ? improve its service. In none of the v cars is a smoker found, and those who ? find tobacco smoke unpleasant have to c "grin and bear it" till the journey is t( over, even though there be a score of ^ negroes smoking the foul cigarettes ^ that are sold here. c Perhaps the best reason that can be p given why the passenger trains are al- j, ways so crowded that many are forced e to stand as they ride, is that by rail is the only way to get from one town to 0 another unless one takes out the weary c miles in walking; for it is, as a whole, j. utterly impossible to go from one town 0 to another by private conveyance?as f the country is too hilly for traveling by ^ carriage even if there were any road- ^ ways. Save where, in a few places, the Isthmian Canal Commission has built , roadways, there is no place for the wheel of carriage to go, and It is chief- 11 ly in Panama and Cristobal that any a buggies or bicycles or automobiles are seen. But in these, the chief cities of s the Isthmus, it is no rare sight to see ^ I | a native jogging along on his donkey 1 among1 the numerous cabs and often t giving his poor little beast of burden 1 a severe kick In the ribs in order to ^ urge it out of the way of the reckless ^ cab-drivers or an auto that goes pant- 1 ing by. c On the Isthmus there is, as in other s exceedingly hilly countries, much *= horseback riding, and there are among e the horses here, all of which are very * small, some excellent saddlers as well * as some skillful riders among their 2 owners. Many, even from the little ^ dark-eyed Spanish girls of S and 10 ( years old, even to the American offi- * cials seem to iind much delight in v "miles of cantering over winding, hilly 8 roads." 8 In Ancon. Panama and Cristobal are ' tome beautiful driveways; but in most 1 of the other towns a buggy or carriage ' of any sort is an unpossessed thing. In * Empire, the town that, in poetry, Is * called "the little city of a thousand 8 hills." there are steps to climb or steps i to descend if one go north, south, east 1 or west, for Empire, which is one of ' the ehiefest and prettiest towns of the 1 Isthmus, is built on a cluster of hills; * and this cluster of hills is encircled ? with hills. If one walks much here it is tiresome; but if one but saddle his horse and ride over the hills afar and 1 across the valleys green, his heart has a "touch of the woodland time," and he feels that there's many a joy for those * who ride. ' i Farming. When one who has been to the Isth- i mus returns home, he is frequently t asked if there is any farming down on ( the Isthmus. , Here no "whoa-haw" and "gee" of < 'CH DIGGERS ditions in the one 10ME READERS ige and Unusual Weather h Conditions?Americans ho farmer Is heard, no waving fields f wheat or rustling corn Is seen, and lone of the furrows "sweet wl* the , mell o' gude brown earth," as Robert lurns used to sing, are ever ploughed, "or there is practically no farming one on the Isthmus. In going across he Isthmus from Colon on the Atlantic o Panama on the Pacific, a distance of j fty-nine miles, one could hardly see place where even an attempt was tade at farming. Occasionally one ( lay see a "patch" of corn planted in , ome cranny of a hill-side and which , as heen so iemorantlv and thriftlessly , ultivated that nothing- but a few crawny, worm-wasted nubbings on the lender stalks. However, in the garens of the natives, a few watermelons, he quality of which is so poor as to reed fever, are raised together with quashes and onions and the coarse, npalatable potatoes that are so keenly plished by the natives. Cucumbers ourish and some other plants that row in the Carolinas are found growlg here. Among these is that subtle nd dreaded enemy of the farmers? , rab grass. , Even if the soil here was suitable for inning, it would be impossible to cul- , ivate but very little of It?because of tie hills and woods. Most of the for- ' sts here are so dense and the under- < rowth of tangled vines, scrubby trees nd tall grasses is so rank and intriate as to make them almost impene- , rable. The best as well as the only , ay to go through them, unless one t ishes to get bruised and scratched, is | -> follow the little winding foot-paths , tiat lead up and across the hillsides to , tie thatched huts of the natives. j In the forests here, where one very j eldom sees a tall tree, are such ani- | ials as wild hogs, deer, wild cat, mon- , eys. and last and chiefest, perhaps, lose old friends of Dixie?"Brer Posiim," wearing on his face the old faliliar grin, and "Brer Rabbit," blinlcig his beautiful, eyes or, when a foe is ear, crouching low in the same old 'ay known to southerners. Rabbits nd 'possums are numerous, but deer nd wild cat are few in number and eldom seen. But often, if one walks 1 the woods, rabbits spring up and ound away, and now and again an possum leaves his den in the wilds nd goes for a peep among the haunts f men. Not so long ago a gentleman, n returning to his room, found as a uest of welcome an opossum which, i say the least, he greeted quite armly and dealt with quite treacherusly. And only last week an employee , as going from his office home about :ie hour of dusk and he saw hurriedly , hambling across the street of Ancon one other than a big. fat 'possum? ( jst like some he had caught back in tie south! On the Isthmus are some excellent asture lands, and herds of long-horned attie, some of the scrubbiest and some ood-looking, are seen feeding on the reen hillside or wading knee deep In ater and mud where the taller grasses ' row. There are no real fancy milk ows here, even though milk and buter are zealously sought for products. 1 lilk sells at a dollar per gallon, and utter, the very cheapest, sells at forty ents a pound. Rut even at these rices, which would seem exorbitant n the states, the demand is far greatr than the supply. A much sought for man in the city f Panama is a Spanish dairyman, who wns a herd of about thirty milk cows. le neither has to seek for customers r to be at any expense in advertising, or the gallons of milk he sells at one Pilar a gallon are much fewer in numier than those who seek to buy of him. The Sabbath. Though the work of digging the calal is seldom carried on on Sundays, nd though during the day there is teard but seldom the sound of hissing team or of toil down in the great litch, one has but to look around him n other places to have thrust upon him he proof that the great mass of people lere give very little heed and no obelience to the fourth commandment, rhe early hours of Sunday are always leaceful, and mingled with the songs if the birds is that "sound of gentle tillness" everywhere. But as the day prows old and one hears the stir and xpectant bustle of those "on pleasures >ent," he is convinced that by nineenths of the people it is spent more as l day of revelry than as a day of rest. Some go to ttie baseball games that af*e arried on with much enthusiasm. Jome take the morning train for that vicked city called Panama and gamble it the Panama lottery, or drink the day iway in going the rounds of the saoons. Others gun in hand, are off to he hills, while still others go to glory n the blood and excitement and bruality of the bull fights that are always ndled off with a great deal of betting ind no little carousing. On nearly very Saturday during the dry season, josters with the announcement that a aseball game is to be played at cer ain hours on Sunday are tacked up in junspicuous places, and on Sundays it s a very usual thing to hear the cracks >f the bats and the wild, delirious shouts of the "rooters" and the cheerng of the crowds as the game goes on. Hut, notwithstanding this, religious services are held regularly on Sundays it practically every town in the Canal 2one. The Isthmian Canal Commission naintains a corps of chaplains whose iuties are to hold their services, to nake daily visits to commission hospials and to perform such other duties mnnected with their calling as may be equested. There are at present eleven ;htfplains on duty; and besides these there are others whose interest in church work is enthusiastic and earnest. In addition to preaching: services, Sunday schools. Christian Endeavor societies and Bible Study classes have been organized and hold weekly meeting^. And for the benefit of the grreat number of Spaniards on the Isthmus, sermons are preached in Spanish as well as in English. The Roman Catholic church has been established on the Isthmus since its first discovery, and practically all of the native population are of that faith. There are numerous churches in the city of Panama, where mass is said every Sunday, and the bishop of the diocese resides there. In the above mnnHnno/l nlfv* eomfl nf fhf?GP nhllTrhPS are hundreds of years old and some have fallen to decay, and the ruins are now crumbling in silence away as day by day the mosses cling to the broken ! walls and cover with green the mass J and mixture of tumbled stones and brick and mortar. Once where the J candles were ever burning and where once those who have long ago passed away knelt to pray, the squeaking mouse has its den and the great black spiders spin their webs. But near the ruins of the fallen church others have been builded and still the deep-toned bells chitne out nnd the echoes, beautiful with solemn sweetness, mingle with the roar of the surf. To one used to the quiet Sundays back in the States, Sunday in Panama, the Sodom and Gomorrah of the Isthmus, is appalling. Every store, with the exception of the few owned by Americans, is open all day, and the < business done by them is greater than t m the other days of the week. If one ? mres to walk down main street, where | the sidewalks in places are so narrow < that two persons cannot walk abreast, ? be will see every few yards and often i at every door a saloon. Here, night j and day, thousands come and spend s the money that should go to buy bread < and clothes for the liquid poison that ( slowly and with a death-like sureness f wastes their lives away. 1 The saloon lights?they beckon all along the way, And the clinking glasses call to men by day; And though little children hunger in squalid homes apart, There's tno.ney spent for rum; and whisky for a breaking heart. The pen of poet or the eloquence of i Demosthenes could hardly picture the awful squalor of the homes one sees along the main street of Panama. Here before the doors of these squalid homes where the dust of the unswept streets, foul with the filth of the streets, are blown in on the worn floors one can but pause a moment and wonder if such poverty, such misery, such filth can be used in connection with that sweetness of words?home. Many of these places are barrooms and homes combined: and one may look in at the door as he passes and see on one side of the room a, crude cradle in which a baby sleeps and beside which a mother sits in rags and sews on a tiny garment. Nearby, an an upturned box, can be seen empty beer bottles around which swarms of flies are buzzing and clinging, while on the other side of the room is the bar before which half-drunken men stand and behind which the barkeeper, even the father of the child in the cradle, stands and deals out the drinks as the cursing of the men drown in noise the rocking of the cradle upon the floor. Then as one passes on and comes to other places of the same kind, the picture, pathetic in its awful wretchedness and filth, comes back, and he cannot help believing that should Christ come to earth again and look out over the city of Panama from some vicinal hill as He looked out over the city of Jerusalem that He would weep over Pan- s a ma even as He wept over the city f outside whose grates He died. t The Canal. i The one thing of greatest importance t and interest here is, as all may readily i imagine, the Canal, which is so often thought about, talked about, written ! about, and read about. The Canal Is i what has brought thousands of people < here to work. But even with a knowl- l edge of this, there still lingers in the ( minds of some the question as to < whether the canal is really being dug. 1 A very brief visit here would convince i them that the great work of digging 1 the Panama canal is being carried on i .. oullafnfitnrv U'flV AnH SOIlie i who are certainly in a position to know have made the surprising- and as many believe, the exaggerated assertion that in only five years the work will be brought to a triumphant finish and that where in 1907 men are hsindling pick and shovel in 1914 the mighty steamers will pass through on the bosom of the waters. When one looks out along the line of the canal and realizes the immensity of the task he does not wonder that such an assertion Is doubted and often he does not hesitate to say that so great a work cannot be accomplished in so short a time. But none, once they have seen what is being done, can truthfully assert that no progress is being made. One. skeptical in the extreme, needs but to feel the very earth tremble beneath his feet as the blasting is done, and to see the huge masses of shattered rock and the great upheavals of earth to be unchangeably convinced that in the "big ditch" dirt as well as rock and other things are flying. There seems to be an earnestness in the very whir and pounding of the steam drills; a grim determination in the grumniing and smoinereu ki<?v?hhR of the steam shovels?the machines so efficient in excavating; a "go-a-head- : a-tive-ness" in the peppery sounds of 1 the hammers and picks; a dogged per- 1 sistence in the dull thud that comes ' from the powerful strokes of the grim 1 pile-drivers; and above all the din ' there seems to be a note of triumph in < the screaming and shrieking of scores ; of whistles all through the clamorous 1 day. ! But it is an interesting and almost inspiring sight at evening when, at the first sound of the "work-no-more" whistle, picks and shovels are placed away and the grumbling of the steam shovels cease as everywhere is heard the sound of homeward hurrying feet ?some to the dirty hovels, some to the thatched huts on the mountain side where at night the tiny candles flicker. and others to the inviting homes builded by the commission, where the electric lights glow. Another thing of special interest inside the canal prism is th? machinery with which the work of excavating is carried on. On Sundays folks with 1a '^ i/v'' J. P. MORGAN. ;amera in hand are seen going out to :he canal to photograph the steam ihovels that day by day eat away so avenously at the embankments of ;arth and rock beside which even a steam shovel seems small. It is remarkable and. it might be said, astonshing to see the huge rocks these jteam shovels can lift to the dump :ars that they may be hauled off and lumped outside the canal prism. A rteam shovel will easily and deftly landle rock weighing 21,000 pounds, or 189 cubic feet (taking weight of rock at >nly 3,000 pounds to the cubic yard, vhich is very low). Most of the blastng done In the "big ditch" is where hese steam shovels grumble and spurt md growl out, as It seems, wordless nenuce against the embankment that jeems so slow in crumbling away. One nay get some conception of the great imount of blasting that is done when le is told that for an output of 850,000 :ubic yards of dirt and rock it takes on m average about 265,000 pounds of exslosives. Thp r^onrd of excavation for Novem ier, place measurement, shows the trarid total of 1,838,486 cubic yards. Dt the 1,838,486 cubic yards, 1,816,439 :ubic yards were taken from the canal irism; and 1,033,719 cubic yards by the iteam shovels; also, 732,720 cubic fards by dredges. So truly it may be laid that without the dredges no digring, and without the steam shovels no iccomplishment. At present there are 36,000 workmen [6,000 of whom are Americans) emaioyed on the canal, and all are regarded as performing excellent service mder the division of authority that is ;flfective and time saving. And so some, knowing this, have enthuslastijally predicted that the Panama canal :an be completed In five years time at i cost of $100,000,000 less than the 1230,000,000 sought. With this predic:ion comes, also, the assertion that 11leral financial support will be forth:oming to that end. The members of :he appropriations committee of concress after a recent visit here, returned professing themselves pleased with he progress made on the great ditch, satisfied with the methods in vogue, ind pledging that a half decade will see he canal an accomplished fact. The nen now in control ai-e saying but Utile, but they are performing remarkible work. Sanitary conditions here are prolounced perfect, and as a result a new nade grave is scarcely ever seen out in Monkey Hill, where thousands of he world's unknown, wos toiled and lied here, lie sleeping in the silence of voiceless death. In the days and years tvhen the French worked here, the -ecords and the graves show that on nany mornings in succession the sun vould shine upon a plot of green grass n the cemetery on Monkey Hill and at light the stars of heaven would look lown on the same spot and, as it teemed, beat in emotion over the ten (raves, fresh and flowerless, where on :hat day men who had died of yellow 'ever had been covered in that last vakeless sleep. Rut now it is different. A case of yellow fever is practically jnknown. The water supply is splenlid and the health of the workers is jit ;he top notch. But even with this the voice of veeping and the voice of agony go up tlong the line of the canal, for in a liiro fhlu hinmr> one must suffer ind some must die. Some who have :ome here in ail the beauty of physical manhood have left as cripples with twisted limbs. Some who, strong of muscles and sound of limb, have gone out to work at morning have been carried back at night crushed and helpless is babes. Others, bent in toil, when hey thought not of danger, have given their lives when they wished for life. Rut. as 'tis said, all these must needs oe that the canal may be finished: and though hundreds toil and suffer and die 'glory will stand beside our grief", and triumph shall bo the end of it all. And in those days, the days of years now unknown, when the world looks upon the Panama canal as one of the grandest accomplishments of the centuries, all these things will have passed away. Rut so long as men cling to life and so long as men shrink from rleath, these tolls, these tears, these sufferings and these deaths will be honored by those who have known struggles or gloried in triumphs. ROBERT CJ. LEE. Ispahan. Persia, is known as the "city of roses," but a traveler says that the streets "are only alleys between two high walls, without a single window or opening to be seen? merely here and there a low, narrow doorway, always impenetrably closed. The ground is thickly coated with dust, the streets are rarely straight and never have they got any name. The sense of ruin is everywhere?here a wall is falling down, there a palace is in ruins, a little further a deserted mosque is skirted. Such is Ispahan, which from having at one time a poplation of 1,000,000, is now reduced to barely 100,000 Inhabitants. Jy u t/ J By ETTA "W i CHAPTER XX. Jetta Speaks Again. September Is reddening the islund woods. Nearly three weeks have passed since the night of Hawkstone's return, and lo! a wonderful change has come to Tempest Island. An army of Invaders is in full possession of everything here?stlylsh. well-dressed Invaders, of the best possible manners. They came down upon us "like the wolf on the fold." Our quiet is gone, our peace broken. "There ,was never anything like It in my time." says Mrs. Otway. "I rejoice that Mr. Hawkstone can find It in his heart to gather these people about him?to look the ivorld In the face again." The long-closed guest-chambers are tlung wide open. Yachts ride in the roadstead. Beautiful society belles and elegant gentlemen lounge In the stone porch and flirt on the terraces. There are gypsy teas and clam-bakes on the shore, long rides across the island moors on Hawkstone's blooded horses, hunting in the Island woods, which abound in game, and dinners of great magnificence. Indeed, life has become one merry-go-round at Tempest Island. But not for Jetta Ravenel, the governess. I am In the midst of this grand company, but not of them. Bee and I keep mostly to the schoolroom. mi on/1 m Q/1p 1 tie UIIIU, ilium uy Iiaiuiv, auu ...? more so by her infirmity, shuns her father's guests, almost as much as I do. Vincent Hawkstone is here, thrusting himself upon my notice whenever the opportunity offers, which is not often, for I avoid him studiously. Vincent has brought friends with him from Whithaven?among them, a Colonel Latimer, who wears an eyeglass and diamond pin, and has won glory in the tented field, and a blonde young man named Dudley, Vincent's partner in law. Yachtsmen are here, and fashionable matrons with fair young charges, a governor, some traveled people, whom Hawkstone met on the Nile, a Whithaven Judge with two stylish daughters, a dashing brunette widow from Gotham, named Mrs. Van Dorn, and I know not how many more. Dally Mrs. Otway tells me of new ar- 1 rivals, but as these people are nothing to me, I find it difficult to remember their names. In the midst of all the festive confusion. J seek only to be left alone with little Bee. Our schoolroom has old-fashioned windows, with deep, cushioned seats. Yesterday, as I sat with my pupil in one of these comfortable nooks, watching the sun sinking behind a headland, the child said: "Miss Ravenel, a sick gentleman came over in a yacht from Newport last night, with a valet and a young lady. The servants brought him up to the house. He is a particular friend of papa's, and some dreadful thing has lately happened to him?I heard Mrs. Otway say so." "You should not listen to conversation that is not intended for your ears, Bee," i saiu. My pupil paid no heed to this oft repeated rehuke, but continued, unabashed: "The sick gentleman does not leave his room?he must be very bad; but I saw the young lady walking in the porch with papa this morning. She is tall and fair and she loves dogs. Her name Is Doris Rokewood. She was telling papa something, and she was very pale, and she said: 'I felt sure it would be better for Mr. Sutton to come here?at least, it will divert his thoughts from that dreadful matter. Oh, Mr. Hawkstone, he is determined to let justice take its course'? Then papa saw that I was listening, and he sent me away." Before I could reply, the schoolroom door opened, and Basil Hawkstone entered. "You have turned hermitess since my guests came, Miss Ravenel," he said, towering grand and tall in the low room. "I am simply trying to keep out of the way of so many awe-inspiring people." I answered. He approached our window with an unwonted gentleness in his cold, stern face. "On close acquaintance you would probably find my guests anything but awe-inspiring. How depressed you look! Has anybody dared to annoy you?" I felt the blood leap to my face. "No; I am anxious about my?I mean a near relative?that is all." "Your brother?" "How do you know that?" "You have no living relative but a brother. My mother made me acquainted with your history long ago." I looked him full in his gray eyes. "Bee has just been telling me that you have a Miss Rokewood among your guests. Is this the lady to whom my brother is engaged?" He seemed ill at ease. "Yes. She is here with her guardian; but the engagement is off." My heart sank. "And is Gabriel still secretary to Mr. Sutton?" I faltered. "No," replied Hawkstone, very gravely. I leaned involuntarily against the window seat. "It is even as I feared." I murmured. "My poor, foolish boy! Oh, Mr. Hawkstone, can you tell me where he now is?" "I cannot!" he answered, in evident embarrassment. "You are no longer In direct communication with him. then?" I shook my head in a forlorn way. "Oh. no! Gabriel has not written to me for a long time!" "My poor child, do not break your heart over him," he began, and then paused abruptly, and changed the conversation. "Miss Ravenel, will you do me the favor to come down to the ' drawing-room tonight and play for my guests? I sometimes find it difficult 7. PIERCE, to amuse such a company, particularly! as I am not a society man." 1 was his servant. He had the right to command my time and talents, so I answered, "Certainly!" and he thanked me and went away. I took tea with Bee in Mrs. Otway's room. Then I saw the child safely in bed. and having dressed myself in plain black, with no ornament save a cluster of tea-roses in my corsage, I descended to the drawing-room. It was full of people, laughing and talking like magpies. A little hush fell as I entered. Vincent Hawkstone was lounging near the piano, also a dark, elegant man with an eyeglass? Colonel Latimer. Vincent gave me a long, devouring look, and presently came forward with a blonde girl in a dinner-dress of blue brocade. "Miss Ravenel," he said, wickedly, "here is a lady whom you ought to know. Doubtless you have heard her name before?Doris Rokewood." Miss Rokewood recoiled a step and bowed without a word. She was as white as a sheet. Gabriel's former betrothed seemed in nowise gratified to meet Gabriel's sister. Fortunately at that moment Hawkstone advanced and led me to the piano. A song was put before me?"Auld Robin Gray." I sang It through. Music has always been my particular passion, and I did my best upon this occasion. The room became perfectly still, even in the furthest corners; but around the piano a crowd gathered, and all eyes were fixed on me curiously. "Ah. Latimer," said the Whithaven Judge to the colonel with the eyeglass, "that's tne sort or music 10 mane uiu fellows like you and me young again!" Others songs followed. Compliments poured upon me from every side?queer whispers, also, reached my ears In the pauses. "Where the deuce did Hawkstone find such a handsome creature?" "Why hasn't he shown her before, sly dog?" "She's no end of a beauty." "And Vincent's off his head about her!" "Wonder If we shall lie allowed to have her down here often?" As I arose, at last, from the piano, I found Doris Rokewood standing at my shoulder. Her blonde face had grown gentle and gracious. I fancied there were tears In her eyee. "You sing like an angel. Miss Ravenel," she said. "Let me thank you for the pleasure you have given me," And then she turned, as though she could not trust herself to say more, and vanished In the crowd. Wednesday.?I descended to the garden this morning to gather a few flowers for the schoolroom. In a sheltered walk leading down the' terraces to the old sea-wall, I heard the rumble of light wheels, and a thin, rasping voice saying: "Go back to the house, Parker, and get another wrap?I feel a chill." "And leave you alone, sir?" "Yes, yes. Make haste! Would you have me get my death In this damp sea-air?" Footsteps went away up the path. I looked, and saw, a few yards from the spot where I stood, an Invalid chair, and in it a small man in a velvet skullcap, with a worn, sickly face as yellow as parchment. Hawkstone's dogs were frisking around the chair, and one, a huge English mastiff, jostled It' so violently that it began to roll down the walk. "Hi. there!" cried the sick man, as he espied my dress in the shrubbery. "Jane, Sarah, Maggie!?whatever your ? ? v,o lonH mp a hand here. name ma. j wv , ?vuv? ? ? ??? will you?" I flew to him, seized the chair and held it firmly. He stared at me in a blank way. , "Beg pardon, young lady," he muttered; "I saw only your dress, and mistook you for a servant." "You were not very far wrong sir," I answered, cheerfully, "for I am little Bee Hawkstone's governess." His cadaverous face put on a look that appalled me. I thought he was about to have a fit. "Gabriel Ravenel's sister?" he roared. "Don't come near me! Take your hands off my chair! Take yourself out of my sight!" "If I do that," I answered, "you will roll down the walk and come to harm. Permit me to stay by you till your attendant returns. I fear you are very, very angry with poor Gabriel!" His curious yellow face was convulsed. "Poor Gabriel!" he sneered. "How dare you mention his name in my presence. Girl, do you really love that unspeakable scoundrel?" "Do I love my one, only brother?" I answered, indignantly. "Yes, sir, wicn all my heart!" "Then, by my soul. I pity you! yes, I pity you"? The sentence was not finished, for just then Parker, the colored valet, appeared in the walk, and Miss Rokewood with him. As the latter espied me by her guardian's chair, she darted forward in lively alarm. "Guardy! dear guardy," she implored, "for my sake be careful what you say!" "I have said nothing, Doris," he answered, grimly. "Give me the wrap, Parker, and move on." The valet obeyed. To my surprise, Miss Rokewood caught me in her arms and kissed me. vnu must not mind Mr. Sutton," she said, in a hysterical way. "He is not the ogre that he appears. Under all his harshness he carries a kind heart. I am glad, Miss Ravenel, that you have found a safe shelter here at Tempest Island, and a powerful friend In Basil Hawkstone." She went on after the wheeled chair, leaving me puzzled and miserable. Plainly, Gabriel is in the deepest disgrace with his kinsman and former friend, Mr. Sutton. I wonder If his Infatuation for Mademoiselle Zephyr is his only sin, or has he committed others of which I have not been told? With a heavy heart I set about my daily task. From the schoolroom window I saw Basil Hawkstone riding out through the horseshoe gate with Miss Rokewood, both superbly mounted, and followed by a half-score of dogs. He looked up and lifted his hat to me, grand as Sir Lancelot riding down to towered Camelot. The sunlight poured on his kingly head, his bronzed, scarred cheek, his magnificent figure. Then he went 9J1, and a few moments after I heard the swish of soft garments, the click of French heels, and that pretty brunette widow, Mrs. Van Dorn, came flashing into my schoolroom. "Have I discovered your den at last?" she laughed?she has beautiful white teeth, and she laughs continually. "I fell desperately in love with you last night in the drawing-room, ray dear. So did everybody. As for the gentlemen, individually and collectively, you have quite turned their heads. Why do you hide yourself here?"?glancing contemptuously around my little kingdom. "Beauty like yours was never t>orn to be wasted on the desert air of such a rookery as this." Bee was in the midst of a lesson. As politely as possible I trie^ to explain to Mrs. Van Dorn that I did not receive callers in school-hours, bu: she laughed at me. "I have not tolled up two flights of jtaJrs to be lightly driven away," she said, as she shook out the ribbons and* lace of her rose-colored morning-gown. You poor thing! I know that the life of a governess is far from gay. I had a half-dozen of your kind when I was growing up, and I give you my word I made things uncommonly lively for all of them. Did you see Mr. Hawkstone ridinsr off with Doris Rokewood? You would not be a woman If you did not look through these windows sometimes. We are bosom friends?Doris and I? a female Damon and Pythias; but real- ' ly, she amazes me. Hearts are caught in the rebound, it is said. Doris is but just over one love affair, and already she Is flirting with Hawkatone in a' scandalous way. He admires blondes?his wife was of that type? you and I. unluckily, are brunettes." Bee was listening, eager, round-eyed, to every word. "I beg you will allow me to proceed with my lesson, 'Mrs Van Dorn," I began, but she waved her bejeweled hand, and went on, undaunted: "Every marriageable female in the house seems to be cherishing designs against Hawkstone. I call it outrageous Has tjiat little pitcher big ears? I hope she will not tell her papa what I say." "She certainly will," I answered. "How awkward!" laughed Mrs. Van Dorn. "I find Tempest Island lovely. Life here has a forelgr. flavor. Prince Lucifer is like an English baron, lording it over land and tenants. He is unique, superb?the most fascinating man that I have met for ages! Miss Ravenel, I heard an odd thing last night after you left the drawing-room. Somebody said that you were onoe selected to be Hawkstone's wife?that ^ * you were brought from the south for that very fate. You snould have seen oil fho ioHl?? mw when IIUIT JCOIUUD Mil VI*V *? ? ? * a. . .. they heard that!" She gave me a look so shrewd and penetrating that I felt my clyeks burn. "Mrs. Van Dorn, you must not speak of such matters before my pupil," I said. "It Is true, then?" she cried, triumphantly. "Yes, 1 see. You lost the post of Island lady, and so accepted the humbler one of governess? Well, that was sensible. Of course everybody expects Hawkstone to make an ambitious marriage the next time. No man can afford a second mistake of that sort. The pretty, dreadful circus-rider was enough"? I started for the door, drawing Bee with me. Mrs. Van Dorn arose. "Nous verrons!" she yawned. "Since I make you so uncomfortable, Miss Ravenel, I will leave you. I am going out sailing with our island lord when he returns from his gallop. He professes to admire a good sailor, and I am that. You see, he is the sun round which we all revolve at present?the Are at which more than one little moth seems determined to singe her foolish wing*." And then she went away. An hour or two later I saw Hawkstone return from his ride with Doris Rokewood?saw him lift her from the saddle, she blushing and laughing at something he said?saw Mrs. Van Dorn sweep down the garden walk to meet him, with hands full of autumn asters ?saw her white teeth flashing, her black eyes shining; but I did not want to look longer. I turned from the window, and hurried back to my books and Bee. The afternoon shadows were stretching long In the garden when Mrs. Otway brought to the schoolroom an invitation for Bee and her governess to Join a gypsy tea-party on the rocks. "Mr. Hawkstone bade me say, 'Will you do him the favor to come, Miss Ravenel,'" she said. "He Is waiting for you in the porch." My heart leaped into my throat, and then sank back like lead. "I have a headache, Mrs. Otway," I answered. "Bee may go, but I cannot." And Bee went, in the care of Doris Rokewood, and I remained alone in the schoolroom till twilight began to gath"" T /4oa/>an/1ari f n thp rlpuprtpfi CI t 11ICII X uvovviimvv. w ? . ? garden, and sat down by the ancient dials. As I did go a man opened the horseshoe gate under the pear-tree, and stood by my side. It was Vincent Hawkstone. To be Continued. *5* Members of parliament and officials of the house of commons are gratuitously supplied with snuff, J1,000 a year being set apart for its purchase. The snuffbox is kept at the entrance to the house, and all are free to replenish their private store. For merly snuff was described in the estimates as such, but to ward oft the objection aroused by improving habits the charge of $1,000 was mixed up or covered in the estimates as "lamp oil." ?9* Minnesota derives an annual Income of more than $1,000,000 from its ore leases, which will increase rapidly as time passes. The money goes into a school fund, of which only the interest is available, but all that goes to help support the public educational institutions In the state, from the kindergartens to the university. The fund now amounts to about $9,000,000. The royalties run as high as 75 cents a ton and as low as 30 cents. Some of the leases extend perpetually, but most of them are for 30 years. w*