Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 July 1903 — Page 2

WHO WAS GUILTY

A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE

CHAPTER Xll.—(Continued.) “Now. sir,” said the inspector to me, you tell ua what shape this money Mr “l can," I replied. “There were fire hundred sovereigns, and four thousand ity* hundred pounds in Bank of England ■kiicM. The numbers of the notes may he written down somewhere on these ***ft*waa during this search that I made discovery. “tpU will is goneT* I cried. “The will ?” said the inspector. “Sty uncle's will. I saw it the night before last.” “Did yon read it. sir?” “I did not, but I know its purport." “Any objection to say what it was, htef* “None at all. It made me bis heir." “But what would be the use of the will lie the murderer?” asked the inspector, morn of himself than of us. “Loave that to me.” It was the detective who spoke, for the first time. T should like to have a little private conversation with your servants, sir.” “My entire household is at your disposal. For heaven’s sake sift this dreadful affair to the bottom. I Will reward jyou well." » “I do not think there will be much {difficulty,” said the detective, with uninsual modesty in one of his class. “There wre three clews—four, I may say.” “Four?" “Four. First, the money. The sovereigns may be spent; not so easy with ithe bank notes. We shall trace their Cumbers. Second, the ring. The murnarer holds it, and will keep it. They jhevar have the pluek to throw such (things away. I shouldn’t wonder," he luld, contemplatively, “if he sometimes puts it on his finger. There’s a fascination In diamonds, sir. Third, the cord rwith which the deceased was strangled. IThat’s a trifle, you’ll say. Not at all. iKeep it about 'you, and it may be found. ,'Bnrn it, and the act may excite attenttion. Throw it away, and it may be ipicked up. Throw it into the water, and lit will float. It must be a strong piece M cord with which that”—pointing to Kha body—“was done. It must be a thin piece. Conclusion—whipcord. Fourth, Bamuel Fleetwood. He has disappeared. (Even if he were to come on a sudden ■among us, he wouldn’t be allowed to go away again. It’s of no use stopping here any longer. I shall feel obliged if you •will write down on this piece of paper •the names of every person in the house, •and the positions they occupy. I propose ito say a word or two to them." While I wrote down the names of all (the persons in my house the officer put <he papers back in the dispatch box and •lucked it Then, but not ip,my presence, j*very person connected with my establishment had a short interview with the •officers. Even my wife and daughter rwere not spared. After that the detective and the inspector took their depart!«ra, leaving the policeman in charge of «h» rooms. Thoroughly exhausted and worn out, I •want into the sitting room, where the ladles of the house, dressed now in mournItog, were assembled. The Clanronalds, to whose ears the news of the tragedy *had already traveled, were with them, «nd shook hands with me, in mute sympathy for the trouble that had fallen Mpon ua. Mr. Clanrouald drew me aside, ■end we exchanged a few words in hushlad toner.

“Harry told me,” said Mr. Clanron"that your unhappy uncle did not seem to regard him with favor. When you and I first spoke together about our children's affection I was not acquainted with your uncle’s name, and if you feed mentioned it I should doubtless have looked upon it as a coincidence. But after hearing what Harry had to say, I could come to no other conclusion than that your poor uncle and I knew one another in the past, very, very many years Ago, and that it was through me that he 41d not receive Harry with favor. We loved the same woman, Harry’s mother, And she chose me. That was the cause of onr difference, and he could never fesve forgiven me. I hoped to-day that As and I would become reconciled. 1 am truly, truly grieved.” It was a simple explanation, and perfectly natural; and I saw no reason for Helling Mr. Clanronald what Mr. Wil■»ot had said with reference to him. It would only have pained him, and would serve uo good end. I thought of what my uncle had said, that he had only loved one woman, his sister, and I set the statement down to wounded pride. "Richard,” said my wife, “you are tired out. fio to your room and lie down for an houfT If anything occurs I will call you.”

CHAPTER XIII. It ws* not rest that I required, but solitude; and aorely did I feel the need •f It It was vitally necessary that I should immediately decide whether to veraal everything or preserve silence and mllow events to take their course. To dsbsts this with myself I must be alone. I entered my bedchamber and locked the 4oor. It was my usual habit when I was mentally troubled to walk slowly this way and that; the phyaicif action assisted throught; but on this occasion 1 sscofnlsed the necessity of keeping still. After arguing with myself for some time finally arrived at the conclusion that tkere was no course open to me but that «f absolute secrecy with respect to the slag. Just then my eyes fell upon the plsca of thin whipcord hanging from beMath the pillow of the couch on which S had slept Tremblingly I drew It forth and exam%aed It There were marks on it which, sea tbs light of what had occurred, prov*4 the fall purpose to which It had been ispplled. It was just such a cord, and, Indeed, It could hardly be doubted that It was the cord, with which my uncle bad frsea strangled. Then 1 knew that I was *i deadly peril. What the detective had said with ref usacca to it recurred to me word for tvstdt "Third, the cord with which de —seed was strangled. That’s a trifle, ‘•*•’11 say. Not at all. Keep it about ysu, and it may be found. Burn it, and

the act may excite attention. Throw It away, and it may b« picked up. Throw It into the water, and it will float. It must be a strong piece of cord with which it was done. It must be a thin piece. Conclusion —whipcord.” In the silence I reemed to hear the appalling words. And the fatal cord itself was in my hands, and I dared not rid myself of it I thrust the cord hastily into my pocket and ahuddered with the terror of a man who la being hunted to deathi Thera was but one sanctuary for me —secrecy. There was but one escape for me—that Samuel Fleetwood should be arrested and proved guilty of the crime. One comforting suggestion presented Itself—the missing money. I had it not, and knew not where it was. I determined to convince myself that I had not unoonacionaly secreted it in my room. Careful and laborious was the search I made. I left not a drawer unopened; I looked In every possible nook and corner; I examined every article of furniture; and I breathed a prayer of thankfulness that I searched in vain. Then I finally decided upon my course of action. I would keep the ring and the cord about me; not even to my wife would I utter one word concerning them. When Samuel Fleetwood was caught I should be safe. Until then I must play my part and pursue my usual way, with a dead weight of terror in my heart. Making everything straight in the room, I rejoined my family. Upon the events of the few following days I need not dwell at length. An inquest was held, at which I and all in my house were examined. The jury returned a verdict of Willful murder against Samuel Fleetwood —against the man I would have trusted not only with untold gold, but with my honor and the honor of those most dear to me. Sad were the days. There was no talk of the marriage of Euuice and Harry. Mr. Mortlock left my house, but remained in the neighborhood. The police hunted in vain for Samuel Fleetwood. In conversation with my wife we strove to discover a moth-e for his crime. He was a man whom we had always thought absolutely careless, almost scornful, of money. I owed him, indeed, a sum of more than fifty pounds for wages, which he had begged me to retain until he had use for it. He had no one dependent upon him. Sfe bore no grudge against the murdered man. What, then, could have been his motive? A word about my uncle’s will. None being found, It was for me, as next of kin, to take out letters of administration. But I delayed to do so, and my wife approved of the delay. We both considered that any sign of haste would be indecent. Meanwhile I offered a large reward for the apprehension of Samuel Fleetwood, and the bills were posted throughout the country. So things went on until a fatal day arrived.

It was Thursday. It had happened that on the very day on which my uncle met his death my half-yearly allowance was due, and his London lawyers had sent it to my bank on the previous night. Thus there was to my credit a considerable sum. But I was also largely in debt. The expenses attendant upon my uncle’s visit and the charges for the funeral remained undefrayed. The accounts for all these had come in. and I resolved to discharge them on Friday. It had ever been a habit of mine to pay what I owed in cash instead of by check. The bills amounted to a sum of between five and six hundred pounds, and on Thursday I drew out of the bank one thousand pounds. Part of the extra money I intended to give my wife toward Eunice’s wedding trousseau. Since the day of my uncle’s death I had not been outside the boundary of my grounds except to attend the inquest and the funeral, and had, therefore, not mixed as usual with the townspeople. On my way I exchanged salutations with one and another, and it struck me that there was a lack of cordiality iu their greetings; in some of my acquaintances, indeed, there seemed to be a certain avoidance. This impression followed me to the bank, with the manager of which I generally spent a few moments ni pleasant conversation when I had transacted my business there. I wrote out my check for one thousand pounds, and passed it across the counter to the cashier, who took it into the manager's room. I was not surprised at this deviation from ordinary custom, the check being the largest I had ever drawn. The caibhier returned, asked how I would tnke/Lhe money, and paid it to me. I inquired if the manager was in, and was Informed that he was. As he did not come oijt to shake hands with me 1 concluded 'that he was too busy to see me; but when I left the bank I was not quite pleased. I may mention that I elected to receive payment for my check in sovereigns. The reason for this was that I thought it would please my wife if I gave her the money for Eunice's trousseau in gold. I did not intend to give it to her on this day, but on Friday or Saturday. On my road home, with the money in iny pocket, I met Mr. Mortlock; he tcowled at me and passed on. This did not surprise me, but before reaching my house—to which 1 did not go direct, having something to say to a tradesman— I saw him again, and this time in the company of the detective who had come to my house on the morning of the murder. Turning when I had gone a few steps farther, 1 saw both of these men looking after me. My fears awoke; the ring and the fatal cord were In my pocket; they had never left my possession.

As the day waned my perturbation Increased; I could not shake off a phesage of coming evil. Locking the door of my study. I endeavored to cheat the gloom which oppressed me by arranging the accounts to be .paid on the following day. I did not succeed; throughout my task dread posaibititiea presented themselves in threatening shape; my nerves were strung to a high pitch of tension; with a torturing fear that it needed an extraordinary effort to meet wtih calmness a hidden danger, all my teases were abnormally awake, and it was due ta this condition of mind that I was enabled to detect what otherwise would hare escaped my attention —the presence of

some person outside the door of my study. With a catlike motion I slid noiselessly to the door, swiftly unlocked it, and threw it suddenly open. I saw no one but Mile. Rosalie, who must just have passed. She turned her head and slightly bowed. I nodded and locked myself again in my room. There I remained till evening, when my wife knocked at the door and called to me in a voice.of extreme agitation. “It is clothing,” I thought, with set teeth, as I admitted her. Her face was white, her hands trembled, her voice shook as she spoke. “The detective wishes to see yon. “Richard!” cried my wife, laying her hand upon my arm. “What is the matter?” “Nothing—nothing,” I stammered. “What should be the matter? Let the officer come In.” In point of fact he was already in the passage; I beard his footsteps there. Involuntarily my hand wandered toward the pocket which contained the ring and the cord. “I took the liberty of following your wife, sir,” said the detective, poshing open the door, “the business being pressing.” “Leave ns,” I said to my wife. She obeyed, with a long, solicitous look at me. I turned to the detective. “Well?” “An important matter, sir," said the detective. “Samuel Fleetwood is caught.”

CHAPTER XIV. “Caught!” I echoed, my voice scarcely rising above a whisper. At that moment I felt my fate was hanging in the balance. “Not exactly caught, sir,” said the detective, in a tone of vexation, as thongh not the matter but the manner of the incident displeased him. “He has given himself up.” “How did It happen?” “I was in the police station with the inspector when a man came in, or rather staggered in. We had to catch him to prevent him from falling. His face was like the face of a ghost, and worn to a skeleton. When he could speak he said, in a voice we could hardly hear, it was so faint: ‘My name is Samuel Fleetwood. I have come to give myself up for the murder of Mr. Wilmot, at Boseombe Lodge.’ With that he swooned, and we called in the doctor, who gave it as his opinion that the man was dying. We restored him to his senses, and the inspector asked him if he knew what he had said. ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘L murdered Mr. Wilmot.* ‘Be careful,’ said the inspector, ‘whatever you say may be brought in evidence against you.’ ‘I am aware of it,’ said Fleetwood, and repeated, ‘I murdered him.’ He tried to say more, but he hadn’t the strength; so, acting upon the doctor’s advice, we removed him to a room, where he could be attended to. Tfiere he signed his bare statement, which the inspector had taken down, and then we left him to the doctor.” “How long ago did this occur?” I asked, drawing a deep breath of relief, feeling that I was now safe from suspicion. “Two hours by my watch as I left the station to come to you.” “Did the uhhappy man_Bend for me?” “No, sir; it was my own idea. You see, there’s that reward you offered ” He paused. “It shall be paid,” I said, “sltbQiijj'ji the criminal gave himself up of his own free will instead of being apprehended.?* "Spoken like a gentleman—begging your pardon, sir.” "When I saw you this morning with Mr. Mortlock,” I said—and then I also paused in the middle of a speech; the question I was about to ask was injudicious. “Well, sir,” said the detective, taking cue, “I don’t mind admitting that I was then on another track.” “Prompted by Mr. Mortlock?” “In a manner of speaking, sir. He first put the idea into vny head. You would never guess it, and I mustn’t say what it was.” But I had guessed it. Mr. Mortlock, hating me and mine, would have incriminated me; it was he whose malignant whisperings had caused me to be received as I had been on that morning. But the danger was now removed. In the light of Samuel Fleetwood’s admission, he was powerless to work out his wicked spite agaiust me. “How was Fleetwood,” I asked, “when you left the station? Better?” “Worse, sir. Sinking fast. Very little time to live, the doctor said. A clergyman was called in, and was with him when I left.” “And you thought I might like to see him?” “I thought as much, sir, though I don’t know whether the inspector will allow It.” “I am obliged to you. I should wish to see the unhappy man; he might confess to me the motive for liis crime.” * “It’s my opinion, sir, he's confessing to the clergyman. Thank you, sis.” I had slipped a couple of sovereigns into his hand. “There’s something that ought to be got at. If the man is really dying. The money, sir, the five thousand pounds that was taken out of the box. He was asked about it, and all the answer he gave was a strange smile. He could hardly have rpent It in the time.” “Was there none found on him?” “There wasn’t a brass farthing foond on him; and, what is more,, his clothes were In rags, and the doctor said that he must have been without food for more than two days.” “It Is Indeed strsnge!” I remarked. “I will go with you to the station.” I saw my wife before I left the house. I told her what I had learned from the detective of the condition of Samuel Fleetwood; and she whispered that it would be merciful if he were to die before his trial, and that she hoped and prsyed he would die repentant. I did not share her hope that Fleetwood would die lu prison. It was my wish that be should be brought to trial and found guilty; after that I should be content that he should die before the just sentence of the law was carried out. But at the prison my Inexorable wish melted into thin air; it was destroyed by a higher than a human judge—Samuel Fleetwood was dead! “He died quite peacefully, sir,” said the Inspector, “with a smile upon his tips. He must have been in a queer state oL mind after what he did, to say, almost with his last breath, *1 go to join my beloved wife!”* “Did he make no farther confession T’ l asked, confounded by the news. “I believe he did, sir,” replied the Inspector; “the clergyman will produce it at the Inquest, which must, pf course, be held on him. When he left the pris-

on I understand he was going to your house.” “We did not meet him,” I said, looking helplessly around; “we came straight here.” “It’s no use worrying, sir,” said the inspector! “With Fleetwood’s confession nnd death there is an end of the affair*-* Nodding, I retraced my steps, and on the lawn in front of my house I was accosted by Mile. Rosalie. (To be continued.)

THE HURRY HABIT.

National Characteristic that Retards Instead of Assisting Progress. If there is one lesson more than another that Americans, and especially American women, need to learn, and at once, it is. to make haste slowly. Hurry is the most destructive of our national habits. It is the chief cause of our national disease, nervous prostration, and one of the principal allies of the undertaker. Hurry and worry always go together. In differentiating between haste and hurry a noted alienist cites the numerous quick-lunch restaurants which have sprung up during the last decade In all American cities. The sign Itself, “quick lunch” or “a meal In a minute,” is enough to set one to hurrying. Xl\ e sight of the spry waiters rushing about apparently half frantic from having twice as much to do as they should, the rattling of the dishes, the spectacle of his neighbor bolting his food without sufficient chewing, the very element of hurry that seems to be In the atmosphere about one, all have their effect upon the impressionable patron of the modern lightning express restaurant. The consequence Is imperfect mastication, dyspepsia and nervous prostration. Hurry destroys thoroughness. The person who hurries cannot nave his heart in his work. Thinking constantly of what is to be done next, the task of the present is slighted by borrowing unnecessarily from the future. Paradoxical as It may sound, hurry Is the subterfuge of the lazy. A man or woman who is lazy at heart often hurries to make a pretensd of working and detract attention from real Idleness. Little time Is required to compute the results achieved by the person who bustles breathlessly about with nerves unstrung and putting everyone within hearing in the same condition. Hurry and haste are not synonymous. A puffing, blowing, whistling tug hurries; an ocean steamship makes haste. A little less steam at the whistle and a little more at the piston rod would add immensely to the national health without spoiling the speed of our progress.—Housekeeper.

Lilly’s Mother’s House.

Street-car conductors are sometimes impertinent and disobliging, but when one considers the annoyances they have to endure their patience and courtesy are remarkable. More often than is generally known, their temper is tried by such an incident as is reported in this story from the New York Times.

Not long ago a smartly dressed young woman with a small white dog hugged ,tightly under her arm boarded an Eighth avenue car. As she sank back on the seat she said languidly to the conductor, “Please stop at Eighty-first street.” “

The car rumbled along for a mile or two, and past Eightieth street. Midway of the block the conductor called, “Eighty-first street.”

The young woman unheedingly continued to whisper to her dog, and again the conductor called out the street number. By this time the car had come to a full stop.

“Madam,” shouted the conductor, “did you wish to get off at Eighty-first street?”

The girl started and, firmly grasping her poodle, stepped out on the platform. Without leaving the car, she lifted the pup high in the air and pointed Its nose toward a large appartment house. JShe then made several mysterious pantomime motions with the dog, and turned back Into the car and resumed her seat. The conductor, with his hand still on the bell-rope, again shouted: “Madam, this Is Eighty-first street! Don’t you want to get off here?” “Oh, no, thank you,” sweetly returned the young woman. “I only wanted to show Lily where her mother lives."

The Intelligent Juror.

It Is a common and natural practice of lawyers In addressing a jury to single out one member who seems to them the most Intelligent, and to; deliver their appeals to him. They usually feel that if they can Impress him, his Influence will he valuable in Its effect upon the other members. If they make a mistake they rarely discover It, says the New York Sun. But the stenographer of one division of the Supreme Court tells an Incident of a mistake that was found out. All the testimony in a case had been taken, the lawyers for both sides had summed up and the judge had charged the Jury, when up rose the intelligent juror whom h|Oth counsel had singled out as the recipient of their lmpasslonod appeals. He wanted the court to give him some Information. “I have been bothered a good deal,” said the Juror, “about two worda the lawyers use here all the time.** “What are they?” asked the court, expecting to be called upon to expound res Inter alios acta or a fortiori, or some other dead terms. “Why, *plalnlifT and ‘defendant.’** said the Juror. “I don’t know what they mean.”

In Another World.

John W. Oates says the anto Is Jnst the thing to put new life Into a tired man. We should say It depended npoa what bis career had been In this world. -Post-Intelligencer.

POLITICAL COMMENT.

Osins All on One Side. The millers of St. Paul and Minneapolis favor reciprocity so they can get their wheat cheaper, and we presume other Interests affected would favor, reciprocity for the same reason. While declaring that they wish reciprocity because it would he an advantage to this country, the fact Is they want It because it would benefit themselves. Do they pretend that this cheaper Canadian wheat, if admitted free, would benefit the American wheat grower as well as tjie Minnesota millers? They have not the faqe to make such a declaration because they know it would be laughed at. They are often cheapwheat, not dearer, and cheaper Canadian wheat means cheap American wheat. This is also true of oats, barley, potatoes, poultry, eggs, .cheese, butter, hogs, cattle, sheep, wool, vegetables and fruits. They are all much cheaper In Canada than In the United States, and their free entry into this country would most assuredly cut down prices now paid American farmers for those staples. Let us look at the situation as it really is. The Canadians are trying by every means In their power to build up their country and develop Its resources. This is right and proper, nnd altogether commendable. But they find that to attract people to the great Northwestern territory extending from the western shores of Lake Superior to the Pacific, markets must be as-

UNCLE SAM STANDS PAT IN THE WORLD’S GAME.

sured for the products they would raise. Under present conditions their market is Liverpool, nnd thousands of miles must be traversed by railway before a shipping pert is reached, wh'ch is certainly a great handicap to the settlors who may go there, and has prevented the rapid settlement ofl that big country. Now, if Those settlers could market their grain and live stock across the border in the United States it would be of great advantage to them financially, and settlers would flock there by the thousands. Even as It is, a good many American farmers have moved to that country, nnd thousands more would take advantage of its cheap lands could a market for their products be assured over the border. The cost of transporting their products to markets of Great Britain eats Up all the profits and leaves nothing for the producer. It Is to give the farmers of the Dominion a better chance that reciprocity with the United States is desired by Canadians, not to help American producers. They know quite well that the staples produced In the Canadian provinces are those that can be prdduced in endless quantities in this country. They also know that the cheap lands and virgin soil of the Canadiau Northwest could compete advautageously with the high priced lands in the older States, more or less denuded of their original fertility. Reciprocity, therefore, would simply mean the development of the Canadian Northwest and older provinces at the expense of American producers, and' with that development would’ come the milling industry and competing lines of transportation that would finally rob the Minnesota miller of the advantage he would enjoy for a few years. And he would be aiding all the time in the development of his finally successful competitor. The Canadian Northwest Is so immense a country that if fairly populated it could grow all the grain required by Great Britian and the Importing countries of Europe. It would be suicidal for Americans to aid In putting that country in a position to do so.—Michigan Farmer. The Ohio Idea. 'Xbe Ohio idea is that Republicans phould keen their bands off the best and most Beneficial tariff system ever devised. It Is against taking any chances iu the way of “reform” Just to please somebody who has grown restless .because the country Is too prosperous and because somebody—nearly everybody— Is making too much money. It Is a “stand pat” Idea. It Is to re-elect the famous “stand patter,” Marcus A. Hanna, to the Senate of the United States. It Is to place In the executive chair Myron T. Herrick, one of the ablest and strongest Republicans ever produced in a State famous for hatching out grea£, Republicans. It is sound, safe, aane in its unmitigated Republicanism and Fro

tectlonism. It “opposes all attacks upon this (the Protective) policy,” whatever the pretext, whether It be “reciprocity,” “trusts,”* or any other pretext for relaxing Protection and favoring Free-trade. It admits—what every sensible man admits—that “changing conditions” may some time call for readjustment, and that “possible benefits”—tyirely possible but altogether improbable—of reciprocity may in the dim future justify some alteration of the tariff schedules. It insists, however, first, last and all the time, that “Protection as a principle and policy must be administered by the friends of .American prosperity and must not be sacrificed.” Upon ,the question of the tariff the Ohio Republican State convention of 1903 stands definitely committed by the following declaration: “The protective tariff policy of the Republican party has made the United States the greatest industrial nation, astonished the world with the tremendous development of our boundless resources, added vastly to our foreign commerce, greatly increased the prosperity of Hit farmer and'has advanced American labor to the best scale of living ever 1 attain'd. We oppose all attacks upon this policy, whatever the pretext, as tending to bring back the disastrous days of Democratic tariff revision and free-trade. Changing conditions and the possible benefits of reciprocity may call for timely re-

adj laments of schedules, but protection as a principle and a policy must be administered by the friends of American prosperity and must not be sacrificed.” No “fads,” no “isms,” here. No evasion, no straddle, no trimming to , suit anybody’s theories about “reform- * iug” the tariff. Nothing but plain, old fashioned, common sense Republicauiuin. That is the Ohio idea.—American Economist

Of What Avail? Senator Hanna’s expression of fervid faith in a protective tariff as a means of promoting prosperity seems Ao have jarred upon the nerves of the New York Evening Post. No freetrader likes to hear or read that kind of talk! So the Evening Post sneerIngly says: “With his praise pf air. Roosevelt, he mingled greater praise of the high tariff. It was a miraculously perfect thing. It was the cause of all our prosperity. Of what avail was It for the Creator to give us forests and mines, until the party of protection came along and offered Americans a tariff bounty to work them? To be perfectly frank with our free-trade neighbor, we don’t mind saying that “until the party of protection came along” the people of this' country were not realizing much out of the uncut timber and the unmined ores with which the Creator had so plentifully endowed this favored land. It was after “the party of protection came along,” and not before, that labor and capital began to find work and wealth In our forests and mines. That Is a fact In history.—American Economist.

Reaping the Benefits. Canadian advocates of free-trade or a low tariff tell the farmers of tho Northwest that protection Is a policy Intended solely forthe benefit of th« manufacturers lu tho Eastern provinces. The low tariff advocates of the United States used to tell the same story to the Western farmer*. Thry said there were no manufacturing industries in the Weet and nfcver could ba The protectionists, on the other hand, told the Western farmers that the ultimate effect of protection would be to cause the establishment of factories in the West as well as In the East. The farmers of the Wort gave their support to the party advocating his protection and they are now reaping the benefits of the policy.—lndr.*--tri&l Canada. Export* of Boots and Shoo*. In 1896 our exports of boots and shoes were 822.412 pairs; In 1902 the exports were 3,990,786 pairs, or nearly five times as many. These figures do not show much of a burden from the tariff that exists on certain grades of hides. In fact, hides are practically free when made idto shoes for tha export trade.