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ISSUED 9X8KX-WXBKLT. l. m. grist's sons, Pnbu?her?. } % Ifamitg Beitspaper: 4or 'n |romotion of the fotitical, fJoeial. ^rienttnpl and (Commercial Interests of the ?eopte. { ^olecoa,yml ce^an"!' established 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, FEBRUAltY 7. 1908. , NO. 11. By ETTA W ' \ x CHAPTER XXXIV. Bad Tiding*. From Tempest Hall, where she had left Vincent Hawkstone securely bound on the floor of the library, Peg Patton, with the stride of a victor, started back to the Inlet House. At the landing place she found Sampson ready to hoist sail for Whithaven. "Remember, Sampson:- saia j-ck, "either you find Hawkstone, or you telegraph this whole business to him. Help of some sort we must surely have by sunset, man!" "And help I'll bring you, or my name's not Sampson." answered the old * boatnjan, cheerfully. With that he went dancing off across the blue water. Peg stood and watched the catboat for a space, then hurried away over the dunes. Before she had reached the entrance t to the Inlet, a black cloud, with edges of livid purple, arose suddenly and overspread the sun. A terrific squall of wind and rain swooped down upon the Island, and sent the sea flying before it In foamcrests mountain high. Peg was glad to take refuge in the lee , of the "Old Woman," where she wait ed while the rending, roaring lempesi darkened the earth, and shook the tawny woods, and filled her stout heart with mortal fear for the safety of the 1 catboat. In vain her hawk-eyes searched the watery distance. Wild, swirling foam, ' a blur of blinding rain, shut out the view. Well, Sampson was a good sailor?the best on the island. He could be trusted to manage a boat anywhere. 1 With this comforting reflection. Peg 1 trudged on into the woods, in happy ignorance that the catboat had even then 1 capsized in the gale and the old hoat- ' man Sampson would never again bear < tidings, evil or good, from Tempest Is- ' land to the mainland. By the time Peg reached her own door the brief tempest was subsiding. < "She tojd Jetta Ravenel all that had ' transpired at the Hall, and that a messenger had been sent to bring aid from ' the mainland. "I've fixed matters with Vincent Hawkstone," she said, grimly. "He'll ' not be likely to do any more mischief before the master comes. 1 Jetta Ravenel looked up with an un speak a Me dread in her great dark eves. > "And when he comes," she shuddered, I ? a -a j 4-rx 1 "I must see mm?i musi suiuu imc m i face with him?God pity me!" Peg answered nothing. She was more < troubled at heart than she cared to 1 confess. She went about. Intent upon the comfort of her guest, but keeping a sharp lookout on the approaches to the house. i As the afternoon shadows began to ' lengthen, a boat gilded into the creek, and two men brought to the threshold a wooden box, which was carried straightway down the passage to the room where Hawkstone's dead mother ' /ay. In the box was a plain casket, cov- 1 ered with black cloth, and in this. Peg, with gentle, reverent hands, laid the frail, white body. 1 "Now she is ready for her grave," 1 said the brown woman to Jetta Raven^ el. "If Sampson does his errand aright, we will bury her tonight. I have a prayer-book here, and her son will read ine serviw uvcr nc?. Twilight gathered. 'The woods t about the creek were growing dark, when some one came running up the forest path, and burst, pale and frightened. into the Inlet House. It was Sarah. "Mrs Otway sent me to tell you." she gasped, "Sampson's drowned! His boat has drifted in empty. And. oh, dear! oh. dear! Joe Derby?drat him!?went and cut Mr. Vincent's ropes, and let > him loose, and now we're worst off than before, for what did the young upstart do but go out with that dreadful Joe and smash all the island boats but one. and that he took and started for Whithaven?to keep master from coming back to us. we think! He left Joe in charge of Tempest Hall, and you should see how the traitor Is going on?ordering us all right and left, and not letting a soul leave the house. I've been watching a long time to get this chance to slip away to you." Then the girl Hew to Jetta Ravenel, and kissed her hands, and broke into lamentation over the dark days which had fallen on Tempest Island. Peg stood scowling ominously. "Joe Derby let him loose, did he?" she muttered. "I wish I had my hand on Joe's windpipe! He wouldn't play the traitor again in a hurry! Well, go back to Mrs. Otway, Sarah, and tell i ? * *' ohnnt iw I've nrms rifl llui IK null,! QUKUI. V... . . w in the house, and powder and shot, and I'D be bound I can take care of Miss Ravenel for a while!" Sarah went, and Peg Patton closed her shutters, bolted and barred her strong: door, heaped her hearth high with driftwood, lighted her cob-pipe, and sat down with Jetta Ravenel to watch Hour after hour went by. Midnight was at hand. Jetta's shining head had fallen against the Jamb of the fireplace, her eyelids were growing heavy, when suddenly a strange sound came echoing down througn tne wooas to me wi?csome creek, and into the r?>om where the two women kept dreary vigil. It was the tolling of a hell! Peg's pipe dropped from her mouth. She started and listened. Separate, slow, solemn?stroke followed stroke with heavy insistence. "Heaven above!" cried the brown woman; "that's the bell of the church! It never tolls but for some disaster to the Hawkstones!" Jetta sprang up. with her hand on her heart. "Disaster to the Hawkstones!" she echoed, with whitening lips, and she ran and opened the nearest shutter. The moonlight poured through in a pale flood, and that sinister knelling came with it, louder than before. Some 7. PIERCE. thing dreadful had occurred at Tempest Hell, but what? "Come away from the window, miss," entreated Peg. "You must not stand there. Some one outside may see you," and she drew Jetta hastily back. "Hark! I hear a step!" There was a sound of hurrying feet in the dead leaves; then a voice cried at the barred door. "Open! Oh, Peg Patton, do open, for the love of God!" "It's Sarah again!" said Peg, and she drew back bolt and bar, and lo! the faithful nursemaid sprang into the room, with little Bee Hawkstone clasped tight in her arms. Sarah was wild and white with terror. "You've killed him, miss!" she said to Jetta Ravenel. "He came back from Whithaven, bringing Miss Bee, and when I told him you had married Vincent Hawkstone, he dropped dead inside his own door! Do you hear that bell? It's for him?it's for Mr. Basil that it's a-tolling. He's dead, and Vincent Hawkstone is master now of Tempest Island, as he always swore he'd be!" With a scream of mingled grief and job. Bee threw herself into Jetta Ravenel's open arms. Peg seized Sarah, and shaking her vigorously, cried: "What mad thing are you saying? Compose yourself, girl! Strong men. like Basil Hawkstone, are not killed by bad news of any sort?even the unexpected marriage of a sweetheart! Tell your story straight, Sarah?tell it straight." " "Twas the shock of her marriage that snuffed him out like a candle!" persisted Sarah, wringing her hands. "A doctor from the mainland happened to be at Harris' cottage. He examined master, and said, "'twas heartflisease fast enough, aggravated by a violent mental shock, or something like that.'" "No Hawkstone ever died of heart[Jisease." declared Peg, sternly: "It's a lie!" "I saw him die!" groaned Sarah; "I saw him laid out cold and stiff in the library?that's no lie, more's the pity! Mrs. Otway told me to take little Bee, and bring her to you?told me to ask you to hide the child, for the love of Rod! Her life isn't safe at Tempest Hall, now that Mr. Vincent Is in possession. Therms no telling what ho may do, and nobody's left to protect the poor little thing." "I'll take care of her," said Peg, decisively: "you did well to fetch her to the Inlet." "Let me stay, too!" prayed Sarah; "you see I don't dare to go back after what I've done?he'll kill me as quick as not. Oh. what's to become of any of us, with Mr. Basil dead?" "That's what I'd like to know," said" Peg. thoughtfully. "Stay with us, girl, If you like?the house is large enough. But we must prepare for trouble. Vincent Hawkstone will burn the roof over iur heads, maybe?he has promised as much." In blank horror Jetta Ravenel stood staring: at her two companions. Frightened by the look on her face. Peg rushed to her and cried out. sharply: "Hold up, miss! It never could have been your marriage that killed him?I don't believe it!?I don't believe it!" And she tried to suatain the girl in her own powerful arms. Jetta Ravenel uttered a shriek so full of heart-break that it might have stirred even the pale corpse in the room beyond. "Dead! Oh. Basil, mv love, my love! Dead!" She slipped from Peg's hold down to the door, with poor Ree in her arms. And the two women, awed by the presence of a grief which they could not measure, drew instinctively back, and left her, motionless, voiceless there, with her white face prone in the dust. CHAPTER XXXV. The New Master. In the library at Tempest Hall lay the tsland lord?he who had been called Prince Lucifer?stricken suddenly and mysteriously, like a strong tree by a thunderbolt, indifferent now to "Hands of man or kiss of woman." Scarcely had the ' sheet been drawn over his still, pale face, when Vincent Hawkstone appeared before the weeping household servants, his handsome, wicked eyes blazing with excitement, his joy disguised by no attempt at propriety. "My day has come!" he cried. "Prince Lucifer is dead, and I am sovereign here. As soon as the burial is over I mean to discharge you all." Mrs. Otway answered with dignity from the chair where she sat helpless. "I am sure that few of the old famo?. oon'onte eii* will wish to remain in your employ." He flushed a glance over the group, and noticed at once the absence of Sarah and little Bee. "Where is that nursegirl?" he demanded; and then, sharply, suspiciously: "Where Is Beatrice Hawkstone?" "I would rather not tell you." said Mrs. Otwav. "It is best you should not know.""What!" he cried. In a passion. "You have dared to send the child away? dared to assume control of her, without my knowledge? You thought I might be tempted to kill her, maybe?" "You are no fit guardian for Miss Bee." answered the old housekeeper, resolutely. "She begged to go?she was afraid of you. Basil Hawkstone's daughter has rights to this Island that you ought to respect, sir." "Plague take you for an impudent meddler! I only have rights on this island?the circus-rider's cripple has none!" He let fall an oath. "Fortunately I know where she has sought shelter. Here. Joe Derby!"?Joe advanced reluctantly from the shadow of a door?"go down to Peg Patton's Inlet House and bring back the girl Sarah and Beatrice Hawkstone!" With an inward groan Joe departed on his most unwelcome mission. Basil Hawkstone's death had quite upset the man. He was awed and frightened by the sudden visitation. His conscience pricked him sorely, too. And now, the thought of approaching Peg Patton, after his treachery of the morning, made his blood run cold in his veins. All the way across the dunes Prlnca Lucifer's ghost seemed pursuing him. Again and again he looked wildly over his shoulder, expecting to see something supernatural there. The moan of the tide, the shadows made by the clouds racing across the moon, even the rustling of the dry salt grass, set him trembling with terror. Goaded forward, however, by a wholesome fear of Vincent Hawkstone, he entered the wood. As he tramped along under the trees, wondering how he was to face Peg, the solid earth suddenly gave way beneath his feet. His heels flew up and his head down, and Joe found himself sprawling In a deep hole, to which his own dimensions fitted with appalling correctness. It was an open grave. He gave a yell that made the forest ring, and pierced even to the livingroom of the Inlet House. "Peg! Peg! By the great horn spoon, she's dug It for me!?she's going to bury me alive, the old witch! Help me out!" as the loose dirt rattled Into his eyes and ears. "I'm nowise fit for the grave as yet?I haven't repented of my sins!" "Then you'd better be about It!" plundered a voice, and he lifted his ^ dlrt-dlmmed eyes and recognized Peg herself standing on the brink above e him with vengeance written on her dark, frowning face. "Joe Derby, what ^ made you go for to tempt Providence by showing yourself at this creek to- w night?" a "Lor', I didn't come of my own accord." faltered Joe. "Mr. Vincent sent n me to bring back Sarah and the little 11 girl." He got upon his feet and scrambled u lout of the grave. "Now, Peg, old lass," he began, In an 0 apologetic tone, "don't you glare at me h In that rampageous way, seeing there's no call! All I wont Is them young c folks. Too many of the household a seems bent on flying to you at pres . 11.. H. AM nVxianta W Bill. .Mil mil}, mi, rinvi.111 vujw>?. He's bound to have some of 'em back. u Now hold on, my beauty! By my soul, I had to out his ropes this morning"? w Without a word she dashed at him, like Nemesis, daughter of Nox. He n left his sentence unfinished, and took to his heels. Before he had gone a a half-dozen rods, she had him by the w nape of the neck. "You want little Bee, do you?" she b hissed. "And you have the hardihood to come to the Inlet for her? Ho! ho! u TJ you're hand and glove with that scoun- 11 drel Vincent?he sends you on errands 1T to me, eh?" ' ,4, a For a few moments the firmament seemed falling on Mr. Derby's head. ^ He was thumped and beaten with mer- b ciless vigor. Down he went on his ? knees to the terrible Amazon, whim- b pering, abjectly: 0 "Lor', lor', you be a curious female and no mistake, Peg! Hope I may die 11 if I ever go contrariwise to you again. I tell yon I didn't want to cut his ropes, s but he made me! Easy now! Don't v go a-bringlng down my gray hairs in ^ sorrer to any more open sepulchres. I didn't know you was a-turnlng this " place into graveyard, old girl. Let me ai off, and deuce take me if I ever come S1 a-nigh you again!" 0 In answer. Nemesis whirled him to p his feet and pitched him straight into ?> the muddy, ice-cold creek. 17 "If you can swim, you're all right!" s' she cried, derisively; "if you can't, you h must drown." ^ Then she turned and walked away C( through the wood. Unfortunately. Mr. Derby could not l< swim. He struggled and gasped, neck- c' deep in mud and water, roaring vainly n for the dark Amazon to return and help c' him. To his great relief, he found t' the tide was ebbing out of the creek, u and the overhanging bough of a tree * offered him support. He dragged him- ' self to dry land at last, and In a pitiable plight sneaked home to his own <1 cottage, changed his clothes, and went v up to the hall to report his mishaps c to the new master. n He found Vincent Hawkstone seated by the drawing-room fire, moodily 5 emptying a bottle of wine. He laughed unpleasantly when he heard Joe's h story. "In the morning, I'll visit that she- c fox's den myself," he said, dryly, "and " see what I can unearth there. Now I s want your help in another matter, ^ Derby. Basil Hawkstone probably died a intestate?heart disease doesn't wait for men to arrange money matters? but search must be made at once for a Dossible will. Come with me to the library?we shall have to intrude there ? foe st una op. for if he has left a will, it ? will be found, of course, amonp his v private papers." r They took up a lamp and crossed the hall to the room where lay the dead ^ island lord, his grand, imposing shape s mournfully outlined beneath a sheet. ^ At the sight Vincent made a step back- a ward and changed color. a What were the thoughts of his heart ^ at that moment? How did he feel, standing there in that dimly lighted c room, staring down at the dead? How _ does the murderer ever feel in the r mute, accusing presence of the mur- r dered? Vincent Hawkstone knew only too well that no heart-disease had kill- t ed his cousin. He shook with sudden, c guilty fear. \ "Great G<>d! How tall he Is!" he c muttered, using the words of Henry t III. when he beheld the slain Guise. I "And how terrible he looks, Derby!" s "Oh, lor', sir, you haven't seen him," t answered Derby, reassuringly. "His t face Is as calm as a May morning?not ( a bit terrible?seems exactly as i though he was asleep. Just take a 1 glance, sir," and he moved significantly i toward the sheeted shape. 1 "If you dare to uncover him I'll t knock you on the head!" cried Vincent. 1 "Here, hold the lamp and let me look 1 through these drawers and cabinets, i He had a great deal of money to leave 1 to somebody?It's a pity that lame t brat should have it all." t Derby held the lamp while his new i master opened an old Venetian cabinet f full of odd little drawers?forcibly t breaking such as he found locked, and scattering their contents over the floor. It was a continuation of that work of f the morning which Peg Patton had in- , H. H. ROGERS. errupted; but, search as lie would, 'incent could find no will. Prince Lucifer's body had been placd near the old window scratched with tie names of Rochambeau's officers, 'o one had thought to draw the curlin, and the autumn moonlight slanted weirdly in upon the ancient wainscot nd across the rigid figure of the island >rd, who could utter no protest now? o accusation, in the presence of his raitorous kinsman. Presently a slight noise at this same indow attracted the attention of Joe >erby. He turned, then gave a bellow f fright, and dropped the lamp from is paralyzed hand. "'Look, sir! for God's sake, look!" he ried, and Vincent Hawkstone looked, nd saw. flattened against the glass of le window, and staring in upon him ith stony eyes, a human face, as hite as the cloth over Prince Lucifer -an awful, rigid, ghastly face, set in lid. wind-blown hair. Joe rushed blindly for the door; his laster followed. They tumbled into le hull together. There they stood, nd stared at each other, and which as the paler no man could have told. " 'Twas a ghost, sir!" said Joe Dery. with chattering teeth. "Stuff! Go back, you fool, and pick p the papers, and bring out the lamp." le gave him a kick to hasten his lovements. "I promise you I shall be severe master. Derby?far harder tan, Prifce Lucifer ever was! No oubt the'whole island will wish him ack from his grave before a week Is ver: but"?with a laugh?"you may e sure he Will not come! Now step utside and see who's prowling about le house at this hour?and if you find le ghost, bring It to me." Joe went outside, but not to look for hosts. His shins ached with Vincent's igorous kick. He was dejected?disusted. "I'll do no more of his errands!" he luttered. "My stomach's Just turned gin him tonight! Ry the great horn poon, he was more frightened than I, r he'd have seen 'twas Miss Ravenel eering into the window to catch a limpse of her dead sweetheart. She lust have felt powerful bad to take iieh a risk?poor lass! I knew her, if e didn't, but I wasn't a-going to tell." nd Joe shuffled drearily off to his own ottage. As for Vincent Hawkstone, his desire > find his cousin's will had suddenly ooled. It was now past midnight. He rnunted the shallow stair to the cedar hamber, and threw himself down upon Pe four-posted bed. Like one raked p in red-hot embers, he tossed from ide to side for a while, then sank ito an uneasy slumber. Presently the wan figure of the longead Philip Hawkstone, slain in that ery room, appeared at the foot of the ouch, and spoke to him in the darkess and silence: "Have you killed and taken possesion?" he said Vincent's tongue clove to the roof of is mouth He answered nothing. "You will never be master here," ontlnued the dead Philip, sorrowfully. Remember, not you, but Basil Hawk* ? --.*11 IhUaiiU r. at* V* I IYt ' " I lone S win iiuinu auci ? ?. 'hen the share dissolved in thin air, nd was gone. To be Continued. A Lincoln Anecdote. It was in the early Illinois days, I'hen the old French town of Vandalia ras the state capital. The legislature ras in session, and Mr. Lincoln was a nember. One day a measure to which the Vhigs were especially opposed was uddenly sprung by the Democrats, f'he latter had the requisite majority, tnd unless something could be done it once the objectionnble hill would iccome a law. The quick thought of Mr. Lincoln ame to the rescue. He counted heads ?there was a bare quorum; with one nember less, the measure could not >ass. However, the speaker had also taken he situation into account. He at once irdered the doors to be locked, and invardly congratulating himself on his lever management, proceeded to take he vote on the bill. Meantime Mr. Jncoln had carelessly vacated his ieat, strolling leisurely to a window, md his movement attracted no attenion. For a moment he measured the llstance; the building was a prlmatlve iffair, and although the sessions were leld in the upper story, it was not a leck-breaklng leap to the street beow. But of this no one else had hought. His diclsion once reached, Vtr. Lincoln's movements ceased to be eisurely; up went the window, and in in instant the athletic rail-splltter, his lands on the windows!]), had dropped o the sidewalk below. The house was vithout a quorum, and its members igape with astonishment. The chagrin if the speaker and his supporters can cadily be Imagined. "Steam ox" and "steam camel" ire the names given to automobiles by he natives of German Southwest Africa. iWiscrllancow.s grading. STRANGE 8TORY OF LEAP YEAR. All Sorts of Queer Things Done to February. The way in which the months which form our year have been shaken up and juggled around, pared down here and padded out there makes a mighty interesting story. The first European division of the year that we know anything about had only ten months and 304 days. This was the invention of Romulus, who must have had a lovely time patching up things so as to come out even. They evidently dJd get into a pretty bad mess, for Numa Pompilius, the second king of Rome, had to add two whole months, January and February. January, named after Janus. the eod who Dreslded over the be ginning of the year, was made the first of the twelve months. February, from a Latin word meaning to expiate, was clapped on to the end, that being considered the appropriate period for repentance. It stayed th*re for 200 years before it finally gol itself promoted to second place. And It has somehow always been Febrtiary whfch was tackled first if anj b^dy wanted to do anything to the calonthtr. I! van,- with Xuma's twelve months the ylear had only 354 days. The trouble was that the ancients had a very great regard for the moon and were trying to make the months follow exactly the moon's revolutions. The result Was that the year was eleven days:too short and the seasons were climbing over themselves in the most confusing fashion. fcwnelhlng had to be done, and of couflje February was chosen as the motv^i to be tinkered with. The cha>|jge was so clumsy that one wonders Aow anybody could manage dates at flH under such a system. Etffery alternate year a whole month was donated to the year, but for some reason instead of putting it between two months it was thrust squarely into tjebruary, between the 24th and the 25th of that long suffering month. The length of this intercalary morjth, as it was called, was Itself alternated every alternate year, and so the Jength of the year was made pretty r >arly correct. It was now one day too long, howeve! Instead of being ten days too shoi so that still another clumsy device had to be arranged for correcting this. The year was of different leo^hs at different times, but once In tweifty-four years It came around to the ^-ight point and then started all oveit again. That is, it would have come around all??ht if it had been let alone. But the management of the calendar was I04I&* hands of the priests, who I could alter the length of the Intercalary month?poor February again!? to suit themselves. These shrewd gentlemen, therefore, used to spin out the month when they wanted to hang on to an office for themselves or friends, or would cut it short if they were in a hurry for the annual elections. As may well'be believed, the common people had no comprehension of the right way of running their complicated calendar. They didn't know whether the priests were doing the thing properly or not; so it was confusion worse confounded as time went on, until in Julius Caesar's time the year was hopelessly muddled up. The winter months were in the autumn, the autumn months in the summer, and so on. Something had to be done again, and Caesar was equal to the occasion. He planked in two extra months between November and December, in addition to the intercalary month in February; so that the year contained fifteen months and 4 4 5 days. This was 46 B. C. and is known as the year of confusion. It really was the last year of confusion. It cancelled all past errors, and the next thing was to make subsequent years the proper length. Fortunately there was a philosopher of Alexandria, named Sosigenes, who had the thing all worked out. Caesar adopted his plan, and the re suit Is our modern year, even to our occasional leap year. But poor old February still had to come In for some tinkering:. Caesar decreed that the months of the year should be of thirty and thirty-one days alternately, except February, which In ordinary years was to have twenty-eight days, with an extra day every four years. The only foolish thing about this arrangement was that the extra day was not placed nt the end of the mouth, as at present, but between the twenty-fourth and twenty-flfth, where the Intercalary month had been. It was Caesar therefore who Introduced leap year. In order that the name of Julius Caesar might forever be associated wltn tnis new caienimr , the month In which his birthday occurred was named after him. It is our July, formerly known as Quintllis. This was a very proper recognition of Julius Caesar's services, but It contained the seed of more trouble for February. When Julius died and Augustus succeeded him. the latter was rather jealous because of that month which perpetuated the first Caesar's name. He decided to have one named after him too, so when his army won some victories in the month following July he picked that one out to be called Augustus. That was all right as far as it went, but there was one serious drawback. Augustus had only thirty days, while Julius had thirty-one. Horrid thought! Augustus was not the man to put up with a smaller month than anybody else, so he calmly tacked another day on to August. The wonder Is that he did not tack on I wo so as to be not merely equal to but ahead of July. He made trouble enough as it was. The length of each of the last four months had to be changed so that they would alternate in their number of days. And as he had added a day to the year one had to be lopped off somewhere. Needless to say, It came off February. The year was now of the right length except for a fraction of an hour; I but this slight error, only 11 minutes and 10 seconds a year, was allowed to grow until in 1582 It amounted to ten days. In that year Gregory XIII. decreed that October 5 should be October 15, thus catching up those ten lost days. Some countries, however, stuck to the old dates. Russia still holds to the old style, and in some places in Great Britain certain terms are regulated 1 by It, although the new style was I adopted in England in the eighteenth century. ( The British people thought they i were being robbed of something when i the change was made, and crowds of *.hem paraded with the demand:"Glve us back our eleven days!" For by that time the difference had increased another day. 1 Having corrected past errors, i Gregory decided to keep things straight In future, so he decreed that only those century years which are divisible by 400 should be leap years. For Instance, 1600 and 2000 would be leap years, but 1700, 1800 and 1900 would not be. That makes things come out so exactly that now there will be a difference of only one day In 3,900 years. It Is proposed, therefore, to make the year 4 000, which would be a leap year, a common year, and then we will be all right again for another 4000 years.. Just why leap year received that name Is not quite clear. That It dates I back a long way Is certain, for It Is found to have been In vogue In the Middle Ages. Some authorities say that It Is because the days following February 29 leap a day beyond where they would have been had the year been an ordinary one. For Instance, If March 1 would have come on Tuesday leap year puts It on Wednesday Instead. Another reason Is that In England formerly the 29th and 28th of February were one In the eye of the law. The 28th, as the regular day, was considered that one; and the 29th, though civilly held as a day, was not nno 1 ocrn 1 lir fin that thn lpir.nl vpnr flirt really leap that day. One name for It Is bissextile year, a name which goes back to old Roman times for Its origin. At that time the days were counted backward from the beginning of the next month. February 2Gth was the. sixth day before the kalends of March ?sextus ad Kalendas Martlas. The additional day that Caesar put In between the 24th and 25th was called blssextum, and so the year came to be known as the bissextile year.?Xew York Hun. FOR THE WOMAN'S HAT. How the Popular "Ostrich Plumea" Are Made Now. TJiere is an unprecedented demand for wings and featjiers this winter, and with few excej>t!dtl8 every hat is decorated with plumes which wave and flutter In the slightest breeze. Composite plumes are the most fashionable, and wings are of such remarkable size and hue that it is obvious that no bird could have supplied the plumage. In consequence, the Ingenuity of Paris, Vienna and London manufacturers has been taxed to the utmost to meet the need. It will Interest those who have humanitarian scruples to know that the gayest plumage nowadays comes from the humble barnyard, the poulterer's shop, and sportsmen's guns. The feathery products from these sources are dyed In magnificent colors, conjured into the vast erections that decorate the newest shapes, and are softened to the needs of the picture hat. "We have agents all over the world," a feather manufacturer said, "who buy up poultry and game feathers, and send them to the great centres, where they are distributed for manufacture. Here Is an excellent instance: These 'military* feathers, that are the most fashionable, are contributed by the farm yard chanticleer. They are dyed to almost every color, and then mounted by hand. "This," and the manufacturer held up some exquisite plumage, "Is hand made entirely, and Is from the neck feathers of the duck. Turkey feathers are used In the same way and dyed the required color. Pheasant tails are preferred In their natural color, while other game plumage Is made entirely by hand on mounts, each feather being attached by adhesive gum. Some times, indeed, plumage rrom six auferent birds Is used to secure a desired effect. "Here again," and a beautiful, fluttering feather was shown somewhat resembling seaweed. "This is made from the least valuable parts of the ostrich feather, twisted and mounted. "Many devices are used, too, to secure unique color effects. This"?and a rare feather was lifted for inspection ?"has had the color extracted, while these"?and a vivid box of plumes was opened?"show the latest triumph in artistic dyeing. "There is no need for cruelty or extermination. The birds that grace our tables can supply the plumage, the dyer the necessary color, and the nimble fingers of English and French workglrls will weave them Into deft shapes. "While ladies demand exotic plum- j [age, the manufacturers must supply it. ? It is Impossible to Imitate the natural beauties of the osprey or the bird of i paradise, or of any of the exquisite lit- i tie birds that come from purely tropical climates. Birds, however, are not < fashionable this year, but a stock must I always be kept in hand. j "The popularity of the ostrich feathers grows each season, and there is no cruelty used in securing this plumage. The output from the South African farms this year is enormous, upward pf a million plumes being exported. These are now used in their natural state, as well as curled, and are. of course, dyed nearly every color. It would be impossible to find a more graceful feather than the ostrich, and Its trimming possibilities far outshine the beauty of Oriental plumage."? London Chronicle. f'~-~ The earliest mention of forks was in "Crudities," a singular book of travels by Coryates, published in 1611. "The Italians, and most strangers that are cormorant in Itally, do always, at their meals, use a lit,tle fork when they cut their meat." Queen Elizabeth one, and her court condemned the fad was the first English sovereign to use as a silly affectation. I LIVE IN THE FURTHE8T NORTH. Impressions of a Year Spent Among Esquimaux. Knud Rasmussen, whose mother was an Esquimau woman of Danish Greenland, whose father was a Dane and who has lived most of his twenty-seven years in his native land, has written a book on his life for a year in the huts of the Smith Sound natives, the most northern people of the world. The book has been translated from Danish into German and is attracting much attention because it has great literary merit, and as the story of a primitive people it is unique. He had rare advantages ror writing * such a narrative, because he is an \ educated man, trained as an ethnologist and partly of the same blood as the tribe that opene'd their doors and hearts to him. He went among them * as a brother, they awakened his sym- f pathy and affection, and their idiom 4 differs so little from his own that he was one of them from the day they first saw him. 1 They told him everything, and when 1 he left them for Denmark he wrote i the first book that has ever been de- J voted wholly to these natives. The ^ German edition Is entitled "Neue Men- * schen" and It hpis been published In 1 Bern, Switzerland. ' The purpose here is simply to give a few incidents of Rasmussen's life 1 among these people and some of his f Impressions of them. He was their comrade in the merrymakings with 1 which they brighten the sunless win- ^ ter, and he joined them in the hunts * for bear, walrus, reindeer and seals, * and In the spring killing of the birds 1 which they pack away for winter use. * They liked him and wished him to ^ live with them always. They would be 1 happy if ?nly he would marry one of ? the native girls and settle down. So me winter evening when the hut was ' crowded with people old Sorkrark ' irose impressively and made a little j jpeech: "Are not our maidens good enough 0 for you?" he said. "See, there are [sigaltsork and Aniimlk: Isigaitsork las the longer hair if that will please ' irou and she has a brand new fox skin. c "Now we must tell you that It does tot do for a young, unmarried man :o be traveling around our country. Fou will ruin our good opinion of you ind make yourself a laughing stock. , rhere is only one young bachelor imong us and he Is a babbling Idiot.", [This is a fact. Ho has been mention;d by explorers.] "Among all things a man should lossess, the chief is a wife. The first ^ hing he gets is a woman and next :omes his dogs and then a canoe and ast, and most difficult to get, is a c run. B "You have all these things except i wife. Who will keep your things In ^ >rder and your hut warm and go along :o help you when you travel? The wife t ilways goes with her man on his Jourieys if possible and If not, be borrows lomebody else's wife. Rasmus8en does not inform us what 'esponse he made to this appeal. Old " Jorkrark is known as the greatest bear lunter among his people, but he did lot shine on this occasion as a matri- ^ nonlal agent. The people said he must h ell Rasmussen the story of some of lis big hunting exploits, but he long a efused. g "When I go out with my dogs after i bear," he said, "it is not long before ^ lis meat is in the cooking pot. That s all I have to say." t( One day, however, he yielded to per- ^ tuasion and Rasmussen heard the first j, md last story he would tell. ^ "It was on a winter night and very g :oid," he said, "and I knew that bears vould be watching around the holes jj n the ice where the seals come up to a ireathe. I went out with my dogs and t] toon I dimly saw a bear through the ;wi light. "I gave chase and my dogs were t) iverhauling him when he dissappeared p vithin a cave in the ice. When I came lp I sent the leader of my dog team nto the cave, for a bear in this way e nay often be driven out from his rereat without injury to the dog. But c n a moment I heard a cry and my log staggered out and died at my . "I said to myself that I was going ^ o get mat Dear, 1 couia not use my ipear in the small cave, so I put my tnife between my teeth and went in >n my hands and knees. It was very iark and I could see nothing, but I :ould hear the breathing of the bear. ^ hugged the ground and made no f loise as I crept forward, inch by inch. "At last I felt the animal's warm ireath in my face. My blade was long ( ind I drew back and made a mighty ^ unge. At the same tinte a terrible y )low fell on my body and I lost my lenses. "I do not know how long I lay there n the cave, but when I came to my- e lelf my first thought was of my dead 9 log. Then I felt around, thinking I lad killed the bear, but he was not in M he cave. "I was very sore, but managed to P irawl outside, and a few rods away n [ saw my bear sitting on the ice and leard his moans and knew he was in n rouble. I grasped my spear and crept p oward him and came near enough to a ?ee that his breast was covered with fi jlood and that I had driven my knife straight through his snout and it was ttill in the wound. c "My right arm was not hurt, and I li rot up on my feet and drove my snear hrough his heart." I It is the custom in Danish West t 3reenland, where Rasmussen was " 3orn, for the young native women to f rather around a newcomer and help him nff with hl? nuprnlnthlne He for- t ?ot that the Smith Sound natives a might no be acquainted with this act r if courtesy and hospitality, and when o be first reached them on his sledge he a held out his feet to a young woman expecting that she would pull off his v boots. She dropped her eyes and blushed, but made no move to perform o the expected service. v "What is your name?" he asked f the girl. "The people here will tell you my name," she answered, and her gaze ,, wandered off over the ice while all the j men and women laughed. c A woman came to the girl and told v her to do what the stranger asked her 0 and then she pulled off his boots. He s says he was impressed with her mod- ^ ?8ty. The woman said to him: ( "That is my daughter. Don't you t think she is beautiful?" r Rasmussen says that these Polar Esquimaux are always waging: so hard i fight with nature, that they think rery little of anything except the prac:lcal side of life. They carelessly live :heir lives as long as meat is plentiful, rhey do not count the days nor reckon ime. But the boys from the time they can :alk, play at hunting and the ambition >f their lives is to become good huners. All the thought of the men Is the lunt, the collection of meat. Their nental horizon does not embrace nuch beyond tlielr mission as food jroviders. "What are you thinking of?" he isked an Esqulmaiix who seemed to >e buried in thought. The man laughed at the Idea. "It Is only white men," he said. 'wltn trnnhlo lh?mu>1vM much with hinking. We think only about our 'ood supply and whether It will last hrough the winter. If we have meat inough, then thinking Is unnecessary." One day Rasmussen said to an unlsually intelligent native who had been >ut on the sea Ice with Peary: "What (id you think was the purpose of all 'our hard work out on the ice floe? What did you think when all the land aded from view and you saw nothing iround you excepting the grinding sea ce?" - "Think?" replied the man, "I didn't leed to think. It was the part of Peary o do the thinking." Rasmussen tells the story of the mmlgratton of a number of the more Western Esquimaux about a half oenury ago to the Greenland coast, where ome of them spent the rest of their Ives with the new found frienda They wrought blessings also to the Smith lound natives, for they taught them o make snow huts with a long covertd approach and an entrance from >elow, making them much warmer; ilso to shoot with bow and arrow, to pear fish and to make kajacks or caioes, so that their hunting was no onger confined to the land or the edgo if the ice. He got the story from the ast survivor of the immigrants. But the time came, one spring horning, when the- young man, with (is dogs and sledge was to start south in his journey of hundreds of miles to lis old home. An old woman In whose tut he had eaten often during the lark winter came to him. "You are going home. Are you glad o leave us?" "Oh, no; but I think I had better laVe a change." "Now listen to the last words to you if an old woman. You are like the ting duck. When the bright spring farms the land he comes to us as you lid. He comee from a land that is far .way, a land we do not know. You ame to us like the king duck in the pring and now you are going back to our land and your family. Hark! Tour dogs are howling. Do not wait ny longer for I know you are eager o be off,"?New York Sun. TOM is Visits the Mighty Behemoth That Sweats Blood. Big "Tom" Reed always reminded me hat men are but children grown. His earty laugh could be distinguished ver all the rest. He was a great quiz, s well as satirist. One time he was * landing before the cage containing a are specimen of the blue-nosed manrll. The usual gaping crowd was bout the monkey's cage. In his cusamary nasal, drawling voice he adressed himself to me: "Mr. Hamilton, d Just like to ask you. confidently, how o they hold .the animal down so as to hade him up like that?" "Confidentially," in a rasping voice ke Reed's, 'was quite enough to cause general smile, while the suggestion hat the mandril was merely a painted lonkey was not new. "I'll ask the man who did it," said I, urning to the keeper. The latter relied without hesitation: "Oh, we Just ut a collar around his neck and a trap across his back, kind o' spread agle, see, taking care to put leathers n Mu niuu'a nnH then we Dut on the olor with a brush. It's very simple." "Y-y'ass, I see," said Reed, dellghtd at our ready acceptance of his hulor, while the crowd tittered. "And oes It take long to dry?" "Only a few hours," answered the howman, as gravely as Reed himself. At this point the question was taken p by a highly indignant spectator, nd we wisely escaped the heated conroversy that was sure to follow. But teed chuckled audibly, as we moved way. "And this is the mighty behemoth hat sweats blood," said he, drawing up efore the cage of the hippopotamus, thither several of the crowd had fol>wed us. "No it's a hippopotamus," remarkd a belligerent bystander, "and It don't weat blood any more than you do." Reed looked at the little odd man ,-lth inward a'nuiement. "It's merely a showman's He?to lease fools," added the Irascible little lan. "No such thing in all nature." ftfMilA-Ail " /1??0 ItflO/l "W-fl-l. imic-cu, uianivu &wvvi. .. ow, you know, Mr. Hamilton, I've been alnfully, outrageously deceived. I've Iways been under the Impression?in act, I've seen it in the advertisements -that this animal?" "Well. It's a lie!" interrupted the holerlc gentleman, while the crowd tughed delightedly. "Perhaps it will kindly sweat for Mr. lamilton." suggested Reed with a winkle in his eye that was irresistible. He has doubtless often sweat blood or it." " The keeper, taking the tip, scraped he flank of the monster with a stick, nd showed it over the rope to the culous. The stick was covered with the dd, varnish-like substance which that .nimal exudes. "Blood, by cracky!" declared Reed, I'ith an affectation of relief. The little, old man gave him one look if scorn and sneaked away, amid the infavorable laughter of the crowd.? (aiumorr ?->uii. ct-w The Russian soldier Is probably nore heavily burdened than any other. ^ foot soldier In the army of the czar arrles over sixty-eight pounds. The i'eights borne by the foot soldiers of ther principal European nations are aid to be as follows: French sixty wo pounds; British, sixty-two pounds; Jerman, sixty-one pounds; Swiss, flfy-nlne pounds; Austrian, forty-seven ounds; Italian, forty-three pounds.