Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 August 1899 — Page 6

Worth he by the Duchess. Winning.

By The Ducbess.

B CHAPTER I. fc Below, a great broad stretch of ocean, j calm aa death, slumbering placidly bei aeath the sun’s hot rays; above, a sky of - palest azure, flecked here and there by ! dainty masses of soft, fleecy clouds;‘and, tar inland, a background of high hills, clothed with a tender foliage, a very baby I leafdom, Just bursting into the fuller life. Toward the west the trees give way a little, letting a road be seen, that like a ; Straight pale ribbon runs between the greenery for the space of quite a mile or so, and then reaches the small fishing yillage where the simple folk of Glowring | Destley toil from one year's end to the other, some in careless joy, some in ceaseless labor, some, alas! in cruel weeping, because of those "who will never come back to the town.” jg! Along the white road, that gleams | thirstily in the burning sunshine of this | hot midday in June, a carriage is crawling with quite an aggravating slowness—- . an antiquated vehicle of a type now almost unknown, but which once l>eyond doubt "cost money.” The carriage, being an open one, enables the people as it passes through the village to see without undue trouble that the occupants of it are two girls; both very young, both singularly alike, though in distinctly different

styles. “It is charming!” says the younger girl, with a little quick motion of the hand toward the sweeping bay, and the awakening trees, and the other glories of the landscape. “All charming, far better than I ever dared hope for; and yet my mind misgives me, Vera.” She turns a brilliant glance on her sister, full of terrible insinuations, and then laughs a little. Thus animated, she is a very pretty girl, half child, half woman, as fresh as the morning, and with eyes like stars. She lifts one slender blackgloved hand, and placing It beneath her sigjer’s chin, turns her face gently to her. Such a beautiful face! Very like the riante one beside it, yet unlike, too. There is a touch of sadness round the lovely Ups, a mournful curve; indeed, a thoughtfulness too great for her years is stamped bn every feature. A tender, loving, yet Strong soul shines through the earnest •yes, and when she smiles it is reluctantly, as if smiles all her life had been forbidden to her. “Oh! that reminds me,” said Miss Dysart. “I quite forgot to tell you of it, but the day before we left Nice, Nell Stewart said that this cousin you speak of, if .he does exist at all, at all events does not do it here.” “Which means?” “That either he won’t, or can’t, life with his father. Can’t, Nell rather led me to believe.” “Can’t It is, you may be sure,” says the younger girl, restlessly. “Fancy a father whose son can’t live with him! And yet, after all, virtuous astonishment on that score is rather out of place with us. I can imagine just such a father.” “Well, never mind that,” says Miss Dysart, hastily. “Yes. Very good; let us then go from sire to uncle,” says her sister with a little shrug. “Do you think we shall gain much by the change? This old relative of ours is, perhaps, as delightful as we could wish him, and yet I wish father had not left us to his tender mercies.” “Do not dwell on that,” says Vera, with nervous haste; “do not seek for faults in the inevitable. He is all that is left us. You know the sudden decision •rose out of a letter received by father from Uncle Gregory about a year ago. When father, was—was—dying ” She pauses abruptly, and a tremor shakes her last words. The younger girl turns quickly to look at her. There is infinite love and compassion in her glance, but perhaps a little contempt, and certainly a little impatience. “Do you know,” she says, “it may seem heartless—positively coarse, if you will—but I do not think our father was a man to excite respect, much less love or regret, or ” “Oh! it is better not to speak like that,” interrupts Miss Dysart, in a low, shocked tone. “Don’t do it, darling. I know what you mean, but ” “And I know that I shall never forgive or forget The life he led you,” says Griselda, with a certain angry excitement. “Well, that is over!” says Miss Dysart, With a quick sigh, heavily indrawn. . “What was this vendetta, this terrible lifelong quarrel that was kept up between him and father with such monotonous persistency?” “That had to do with our grandfather’s * will. Papa was the eldest son, yet the property was left to Uncle Gregory; and that for no reason at all. Naturally, papa was very angry about it, and accused Gregory of using undue influence." “Just so, and of course there is a good deal behind that you don't know. There always is; nobody ever tells quite everything. And besides— Oh! Oh, Vera! Oh! what has happened?” Griselda clutches In ah agonized fashion at the leather side of the crazy old chariot, which has toppled over to the left side and stands in a decidedly dissipated position. The ancient driver, presumably asleep, had let the horses wander at their own sweet will, and they being old and sleepy, too, the result was that they had dragged two of the wheels up bn a steep bank and nearly capsized the carriage. “Oh, thank you,” says Miss Dysart, leaning forward and addressing with earnest glance and heightened color the young man who had risen—descended, perhaps, soonda pleasanter and more orthodoxdike a good angel from somewhere—the wood on their right, no doubt. A fishing rod, lying on the road where he had flung It when preparing for his ignoble battle with those poor old horses, proclaims the fact that be has been whipping the stream that gtenms and Jhere* brilliantly “Oh, no,” sajThe/hfting his'hlt “you

they— It is hot, isn’t it?” This last he says hastily, as if ashamed of his animadversion on the age of the sorry cattle in question—their horses, no doubt; and there is something wonderfully charming in the faint apologetic color that springs into his cheeks. As he finishes speaking he looks at Griselda so hard that she feels it incumbent on her to return his glance and to say something. “We thought our last hour had come,” she says, laughing softly, and looking at him a little shyly, but so prettily. “But for you, one cannot say where we should be now.” She bows to him, and so does her sister quite as graciously, and then the horses once more commence their snaillike progress, grinding through the dusty road at the rate of three miles an hour. The little episode is over; the young man settles his soft hat more firmly on his head, picks up his rod, regards it anxiously to see that no harm has come to it, and disappears once more into the shelter of the cool wood. Half an hour later they are at the entrance gate of Greycourt, and practically at their journey’s end. Both girls, with an involuntary movement, crane their necks out of the carriage to get a first glimpse at their future home, and then turn a dismayed glance on each other. Anything more dreary, more unfriendly, yet withal grand in its desolation, could hardly be seen. “How dark it is,” says Griselda, a nervous thrill running through her, as they move onward beneath the shade of the mighty trees that clasp their arms between her and the glorious sky—thus blotting it out. 1 A sudden turn brings them within view of the house. A beautiful old house apparently, of red brick, toned by age to a duller shade, with many gables, and overgrown in parts by trailing ivy, the leaves of which now glisten brightly in the evening sunshine. The coachman, scrambling to the ground, bids them in a surly tone to alight. He is tired and cross, no doubt, by the unusual work of the day. And presently they find themselves on the threshold of the open hall door, hardly knowing what to do next. The shambling figure of a man about seventy, appeared presently from some dusky doorway, he waves to them to enter the room, and, shutting the door again behind them with a sharp haste, leaves them alone with their new relative, Gregory Dysart. CHAPTER 11. Vera, going quickly forward, moves toward an armchair at the upper end of the room in which a figure is seated. She sees an old man, shrunken, enfeebled, with a face that is positively ghastly, because of its excessive pallor; a living corpse, save for two eyes that burn and gleam and glitter with an almost devilish brilliancy. “So you’ve come,” he says, without making any attempt to rise from his chair. "Shut that door, will you? What a vile draught! And don't stand staring like that, it makes'me nervous.” His voice is cold, clear, freezing. It seems to the tired girls standing before him as if a breath of icy air had suddenly fallen into the hot and stifling room. “Vera, I presume,” says Mr. Dysart, holding out his lithe white hand to permit her to press it. "And you are Griselda? I need not ask what lunatic chose your names, as I was well acquainted with your mother many years ago.” "I feel that I must think you at once. Uncle Gregory, for your kindness to us,” says Miss Dysart, gravely, still standing. “Ay, ay. You acknowledge that,” says he, quickly. “I have been your best friend, after all, eh?” “You have given us a home,” continues Miss Dysart, in tones that tremble a little., “But for you ” "Yes, yes—go on.” He thrusts out his old miserly face as if athirst for further words. "But for me you would both have been cast upon the world’s highway, to live or die as chance dictated. To me, to me you are indebted for everything. You owe me much. Each day you live you shall owe me more. I have befrteaded you; I have been the means of saving you from starvation.” If so corpse-like a face could show signs of excitement it shows it now, as he seeks to prove by word and gegture that he is their benefactor to an unlimited extent. The hateful emotion he betrays raises ta Griselda's breast feelifigs of repugnantw and disgust. “I have consented to adopt you,” be goes on presently, his cold voice now cutting like a knife. “But do not expect much from me. It is well to come to a proper understanding at the start, and so save future argument. Honesty has made me poor. You have been, I hear, accustomed to lead a useless, luxurious existence. Your father all his life kept up a most extravagant menage, and, dying, l?ft you paupers.” He almost hisses out the last.cruel word. Griselda starts to her feet. “The honesty of which you boast is not everything,” she says, in a burning tone. “Let me remind you that courtesy, tOB, has its claims upon you.” “Hah! The word pauper is unpleasing, it seems,” says he, unmoved. “Before we quit this point, however, one last word. You are beneath my roof; I shall expect you to conform to my rules. I see no one. I permit no one to enter my doors save my son. I will not have people spying out the nakedness of the land, and speculating over what they are-pleased to call my eccentricities. They will have me rich, but lam poor, poor, I tell you. Always remember that,” Griselda’s features having settled themselves into • rather alarming expression. Miss Dysart hurriedly breaks into the conversation. , . “If yon will permit us,” she says, faintly, “We should like to go to our rooms* to rest * little. It has been a long ■ ‘ Her .uncle turns and touches, the. beß near him, and

been applying her ear to the keyhole, ■ woman enters. “You are singularly prompt,” he says, with a lowering glance and a sneer. “This is Mrs. Crunch," turning to Vera, “my housekeeper. She will see to your wants. Grunch, Stake these young ladies away. My nerves.” with a shudder, “are all unstrung to the last pitch." Thus unceremoniously dismissed. Miss Dysart follows the housekeeper from rhe room, Griselda having preceded her. Through the huge dark hall and up the wide, moldy staircase they follow tfieir guide, noting as they do so the decay that marks everything around. She flings wide a door for the girls to enter, and then abruptly departs without offering them word or glanee. They are thankful to be thus left alone, and involuntarily stand still and gaze at each other. Vera is very pale, and her breath is coming rather fitfully from between her parted lips. “He looks dying,” she says, at last, speaking with a heavy sigh, and going nearer to Griselda, as if unconsciously seeking a closer companionship. “Did you ever see such a face? Don’t you think he is dying?” “Who can tell?” says Griselda. “I might think it, perhaps, but for his eyes. They”—she shudders—“they look as if they couldn’t die. What terrible eyes they are! and what a vile old man altogether! Good heavens! how did he dare so to insult us! I told you, Vera" —with rising excitement —“I warned you that our coming here would be only for evil." A moment later a knock comes to the door. “Will you be pleased to come down stairs or to have your tea here?” demands the harsh voice of the housekeeper from the threshold. “Here” is on Vera’s lips, but Griselda, the bold, circumvents her. “Down stairs,” she says, coldly, “when we get some hot water, and when you send a maid to help us to unpack our trunks.” “There are no maids in this house," replies Mrs. Grunch, sullenly. “You must either attend to each other or let me help you.” “No maids!” says Griselda. “None,” briefly. “And my room? Oh—is this mine, or Miss Dysart’s?” “Both yours and Miss Dysart’s; sorry if it ain’t big enough,” with a derisive glance round the huge, bare chamber. “You mean, we are to have but one room between us?” “Just that, miss. Neither more nor less. And good enough, too, for those as -” “Leave the room,” says Griselda, with a sudden, sharp intonation, so unexpected, so withering, that the woman, after a surprised stare, turns and withdraws.

CHAPTER 111. A few days later the girls are sitting in the garden. It is a beautiful day. Even through the eternal shadows that encompass the garden, and past the thick yew hedge, the hot beams of the sun are stealing. “A day for gods and goddesses,” cries Griselda, springing suddenly to her feet, and flinging far from her on the greensward the musty volume she had purloined from the mustier library about an hour ago. “Perhaps I’ll never come back. The spirit of adventure is full upon me, and who knows what demons inhabit that unknown wood? So, fare-thee well, sweet, my love! and when you see me, expect me.” She presses a sentimental kiss upon her sister’s brow, averring that a “brow” is the only applicable part of her for such a solemn occasion, and runs lightly down toward the hedge. She runs through one of the openings in the hedge, crosses the graveled path, and, mounting the parapet, looks over to examine the other side of the wall on which she stands, after which she commences her descent. One little foot she slips into a convenient hole in it, and then the other into a hole lower down, and so on and on, until the six feet of wall are conquered and she reaches terra firms, and finds nothing between her and the desired cool of the lovely woods. With a merry heart she plunges into the dark, sweetly scented home of the giapt trees, with a green, soft pathway under her foot, and, though she knows It not, her world before her. It is an entrancing hour. She has stopped short in the middle of a broad, green space encompassed by high hills, though with an opening toward the west, when this uncomfortable conviction grows clear to her that she is lost. She is not of the nervous order, however, and keeping a good heart looks hopefully around her. Far away over there, in the distance, stands a figure lightly lined against the massive trunk of a sycamore, that most unmistakably declares itself to be a man. His back is turned to her, and he is bending over something, and, so far as she can judge thus remote from him, his clothing la considerably the worse for wear. A gamekeeper, perhaps, or a —well, something or other of that sort. At all events the sight ia welcome as the early dear. <To be continued.!

To a Poet.

To learn poetry “for repetition" !• doubtless a means of cultivating a knowledge of literature, but schoolboys sometimes regard the authors of poems learned as taskmasters and personal enemies. This view Is amusingly expressed in a letter which was found among the papers of the venerable German poet Gelbel. It was written to him by some schoolboys of Lubeck, find is signed “Karl Beckmann, 11. tOaase.” The letter is printed in Literature. After stating that two boys bad been flogged because they could pot learn Herr Gelbel's “Hope of Spring,” the letter reads as follows: We suppose you did not think of such things when you wrote the poem. The Herr Lehrer says it is a very beautiful poem, but there are so many very beautiful poems and we are obliged to team them. Therefore we beg and entreat you, esteemed Herr Geibel, make no more beautiful poems. And to make it worse we have to learn the biography of every poet, what year he was born in, and what year he died In. We write to you because you are the only poet still living, and we wish you a very long W ’’ t T : ' i; " *“• ’ ‘ riCiSwu. nt* Senator Mark Hanna wean aa i watch charm a gold nugget which 1$ worth Ohio.

POLITICS OF THE DAY

NOT A ONE-IDEA MAN. The notion that William J. Bryan is a man of one idea has been industriously propagated. But nothing is farther from the facts. Mr. Bryan is certainly the most eloquent advocate of bimetallism before the country. Bnt it should not be forgotten that he first attracted the attention of the American people by his great free-trade speech in Congress. This remarkable speech, says an exchange, delivered shortly after he became a member of the House of Representatives, gave him a national reputation. Mr. Bryan has as firm a grasp of the question of monopolies and trusts, of taxation, and of militarism and imperialism as be has of that of free coinage. He is to-day. in his speeches and writings, discussing these questions with as much ability, vigor and lucidity as he ever exhibited in the discussion of the silver question. The pretense that Mr. Bryan represents nothing but 16 to 1 is ridiculous. He stands in the broadest sense for all the fundamental doctrines of Democracy—for self-government, home rule and equal. taxation, and against militarism and imperialism. The advocacy of free coinage at 16 to 1 is merely an Incident In Mr. Bryan’s career. The people, whether Democrats or Republicans, who insist that “there is nothing to Bryan but 16 to 1,” not only do the Democratic leader a great Injustice, but they discredit their own intelligence. The author of the greatest anti-protection speech delivered in Congress during the last quarter of a century and of so many powerful expositions of the evils of militarism and imperialism, is not to be classed as a one-idea man.—Mishawaka Democrat.

Democratic Creed. When Rev. Sam Small was contemplating starting a Democratic paper in Washington, which he did not start, he asked me to give in the fewest words possible an answer to the question, “Why I am a Democrat,” which I did as follows: . “I am a Democrat because: “The principles of Democracy constitute the essence of government of the people, by the people, and for the people; “Democracy is the only hope of constitutional government on this continent and throughout the world; “Democracy means the least quantity of government compatible with the maintenance, well being and progress wf society; "Democracy means a return to the simplicity of the fathers in official station; “Democracy is the only firm and consistent foe of paternalism, anarchy aud class legislation; “Democracy means the political equality of all men and that ope set of our citizens shall not be enriched by legislation to the impoverishment of all others; “Democracy means perfect honesty and strict economy in the public service—less taxes and more money—to the end that the condition of the toilers of the land may be bettered; •Democracy means Jefferson’s wise and successful foreign policy—peace, commerce and honest friendship with all entangling alliances with none; “Democracy means a restoration of the American flag to the rich empire of the high seas, from which It has been banished by the greed, stupidity and maladministration of the enemies of Democracy; "Democracy means freedom of conscience, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and freedom of the ballot, and holds as among the highest crimes any interference with or coercement of the suffrages of the people; "Democracy means an enlargement and enforcement of the Monroe doctrine until It shall become an irresistible power among all the nations of the earth; “Democracy means that all governments must respect our flag and the Inviolability of our citizens, wherever they may sojourn or withersoever they may travel until the sentence, T am an American,’ shall become a safer passport than was the far-famed ‘Romanns Sum.’ ’’ —Champ Clark. Some Defense of Trust*. Because thieves sometimes steal from each other is no excuse for outlawry. Because cut-throats sometimes kill each other affords no palliation for murder. And It is no defense of trusts that they sometimes come to grief through the operation of natural causes. It is rather evidence of their error. And when trusts fortify themselves against the operations of natural law, and guard with shrewd devices •gainst the possibilities of an nnlncky chance, the law should be invoked •gainst them. Competition should be free and trade should be fair.—Portland Oregonian. . !. T“ Protection late on Defensive. The weakness of the Republican tariff system can be proved by a careful investigation of the causes of Mr. Gage's announced deficit of nearly SM,OOOyOO6. It will be shown that tbe Dingley law is not a revenue producer. It-win be shown that tbe Dingley tariff to a prohibitive tax on Imports. It will be airown that •• oar porta are closed to goods of foreign manufacturers by the apseattonil of high pctothctlon the opportunity has beenutfltoed by aggro-

exactions of this system of concentration have grown more oppressive upon labor and production. It will be shown that though there has been a slight increase in the wage scale of the country labor has not been benefited, because the opportunities of labor have been narrowed by the increase of trusts, and that there are actually more idle men in the country to-day than a year ago when the wage rate was lower. The protectionists will be on the defensive from the opening to the close of the Fifty-sixth Congress, and they are going to have a hard time explaining away a multitude of hard, stubborn facts.—Hamilton (Ohio) Democrat. Income Tax Neccwary. The war brought into bold relief the necessity for an Income tax, so that we may reasonably expect popular support in our effort to secure an amendment to the constitution specifically authorizing such tax. The money question is neither dead nor sleeping. Can the gold standard be regarded as satisfactory when a Republican President sends a commission to Europe to secure aid in getting rid of it? In a letter written to Lord Aldenhen, Nov. 25, 1898, two years after the presidential election, and two weeks after the last congressional election, Secretary Hay declared that the President and a majority of the cabinet still believed in the great desirability of an international agreement. Every argument made in favor of an international agreement is a condemnation of the gold standard. The failure of the commission to secure foreign aid in the restoration of bimetallism is conclusive proof that we must act alone if we expect relief from monometallism, while our opponents refuse to suggest any other ratio in which bimetallism is possible. If our opponents say that the increased production of gold has made better, they admit the correctness of the quantitive theory of money, whereas in 1896 they denied It. If a little more gold unexpectedly discovered in the Klondike has made conditions better, how much greater would be the advantage if silver from our mountains was allowed to flow through the mints into the arteries of trade?—William J. Bryan.

None and Face Retaliation. The Executive Department at Washington seriously proposes to flue the American people $18,000,000 a year for an offense committed by the Brazilian government. This is the way of it: We consume 60,000,000 pounds of coffee a year. More than ten-elevenths of it—or practically all—comes from Brazil. But Brazil imposes import duties—not .nearly so heavy,' it is true, as our own average—upon many articles which we sell to that country. Our government complains of this and lias asked Brazil to to quit it, in order that our people may sell more of our products to Brazilians. Brazil needs revenue and hesitates to yield to this demand. Our government therefore threatens—under a provision of law which permits the President to legislate in such cases—to levy a retaliatory duty of 3 cents a pound on all tbe Brazilian coffee we use. That Is to say, it proposes to make everybody in the United States pay 3 cents a pound more than now for every pound of coffee used. With our enormous Dingley tariff duties in force, why should we complain that Brazil imposes much lower Import dues for tbe sake of revenue? And why should the American people be required to suffer for Brazil’s offense?—New York World.

Tin Plate Greed. With a protective tariff of S3O a ton on tin the tin plate trust has no fear of foreign competition. Absolutely protected in a gigantic monopoly, this combine robs the public with unrestrained rapacity and endeavors to keep the wages of its employes down to the starvation limit Forced by the workmen in its employ to give a slight advance in wages, the tin trust looked about for the means of making a good thing out of the situation. With the consumers at its mercy, the trust immediatel.v raised the price of it«s commodity 50 cents a box, which gave them a premium of about 45 cents on the deal. In less than a year the price of tin plate has been raised from $2.65 to $4.37 a box, and the people who are compelled to use this article have no way of evading this outrageous and oppressive tax. Nobody gets any good outof this trust except its managers. The government gets no revenue, for the duty fts prohibitive. The workmen get no benefit, for the trust is supreme. The people get no consideration, for they must pay the prices demanded or go without the commodity. The duty on tin plate should be reduced. Then the government would secure revenue, the people would be benefited and the rapacity of the trust checked. But no relief will come while the Republican party Is In power. Trusts are here to stay until Democracy obtains control of national legislation. / Pisreirnrded Mt Washington. Reports from the Philippines as to the hardships of some of our soldiers, due to excessive floods, will not be comforting news to the friends of the brave men who are thus in defense of their flag undergoing privations that threaten life and health In addition to the ordinary (Dangers from a treacherous enemy.—Philadelphia Call. >

NEWS FROM THE COLONIES.

Philippine 1 elands. ’ Filipino women never wear hats. American compositors earn good wages. Sale of liquors on Sunday is strictly forbidden. , ' Freedom hns an editorial calling for the arrest of bicycle “scorchers.” The children of' the peasants usually run nude till they are from 8 to 10 years old. Since the beginning of the war Manila’s foreign population has increased greatly. Natives are rarely seen on the streets of Manila after 7 o’clock. This is owin# to military orders. The number of Spanish now in th« Philippines is less than at any time dun ing the last fifty years. The Filipinos copy after the Spanish and English in the matter of dress, as far as their means will permit. The police are keeping their eyes open for cases of cruelty to animals. A native was fined $lO for driving a horse with a broken leg. The highest mountains of the Philippine Islands are Halcon (Mindora), 8,868 feet; Apo (Mindanao), 8,304 feet; Mayon. active volcano (Luzon). 8,283 feet, and San Cristobal (Luzon), 7,375 feet. The women stick to their Philippine costume, which is quite becoming in its rich colorings and openness. The stockingless feet are slipped into dainty little embroidered velvet shoes with woolen soles. Porto Rico. Baseball is popular. Roads are being built. Engineers are in demand. Hammocks are the usual beds. Coffee sells for five cents a poflud. Ten oranges can be bought for one cent. There are no venomous reptiles on the island. The hotels are distinctly bad, the stores the same. Every traveler says the island’s jreatest need is schools. Spain was the island's market. That has been taken away. The coffee crop is three times as valuable as the sugar crop. There is general satisfaction with the American administration of affairs. With plenty of native hardwood not a stick of furniture is made iu the country.The thermometer rarely reaches above 85 degrees, even in summer. The nights are always comfortable. tuba. Few of the ruined plantations have been restored. Owners of plantations in Cuba refuse to employ Spanish laborers. Only one plantation in the entire province of Havana is in operation. There is talk of erecting an office building in Havana on American lines. The more intelligent residents are anxious for annexation to'tbe United States. Natives near Santiago do a land-office business selling relics from the battlefields. Skilled labor is scarce. Cuban carpenters, plumbers and masons are not skilled. Not one out of ten natives can read and write, and they have no ambition beyond mere existence. Bill posting is a new industry, and Havana is now well plastered with unsightly advertisements. I.ife and property in Havana and Santiago are now said to be as safe as ip any city in the world. Brigandage is scattered and the bandits are renegade Spanish soldiers for the most part—not Cubans. Hawaii. There are no labor unions. Royalty sentiment has died out completely. Taxation is on a basis of 1 per cent of cash value. ‘ It is estimated that $25,000,000 is invested in sugar. Land worth $5 au acre three years ago now sells for SSO. Native markets are poor, and nearly everything eatable has to be imported. Many new plantations are being capitalized for amounts varying from $1,000,000 to $3,000,000. The natives still feast on taro, raw fish, and poi, and are still the careless,'lazy people they have always been. Skilled labor is in good demand, but unskilled labor is a drug, the supply of Japanese and Chinese being large.At the time of its discovery by Captain Cook/the population of the islands was about twice as great as it is to-day. There are just as many physicians, dentists and' lawyers in Honolulu as there are in any city of the same size Id the United States. Alaska. Men working claims at Cape Nome are said to be taking out SIOO a day. All along the Koyukuk river boats are stranded, having been overtaken by ice before reaching the promised land. Complaint is made that the mail contractors do not live up to the provision* of their agreement with the Government. A large majority of disappointed pectors are chopping wood for the steam-wl ship companies to earn their passage home. One of the buildings of the Treadwell mine is as large as was the Manufacture* Building at the World’s Columbian Exposition. The Treadwell mine earns from $2,000,000 to $3,000,000 a year dear profit. Rich finds of gold have been made neai Cape Nome, 150 miles north of St. Mi* ,chael’s. Froin north to south Alaska stretches 1,200 miles or 300 miles further than from the great lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. Its width to greater than from Chicago to London. Recent surveys of the United States Fish CewnissiOn show that Alaska** codfish banks are thousands of square mites greater than all those on the Atlantic eoast put together.