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These told her how the Reprisal,
dodging the British sloops of war, had
landed Benjamin Franklin safely at
Nantes, of his meeting there with Beau-
marchais and of his reception in Paris
at the little hotel in the Rue Vieille du
Temple, where a mercantile sign of
“Roderique Hortalez & Co.” hid a pleas-
ant conspiracy whose object was the
furnishing of war supplies to the Amer-
ican colonists, and whose silent part-
ners were a prime minister and a king.
Somewhere, she thought, there in his
own land perhaps Armand was safe,
not believing in her, but free and un-
condemned.
The sound of war came nearer when
Howe's fleet sailed into the Chesapeake
and when Henry, summoned in haste
from Hanover, called out the militia.
She watched them march through Wil-
liamsburg, sixty-four companies strong,
but the fleet and the army it carried
sailed on to beat back Washington at
Brandywine, to enter Philadelphia and
turn the grave town into an orgy of
Tory rejoicing.
So the monthg passed in alternate
hope and despair. Spring unfurled,
summer dropped its blogs, autumn
singed glebe and copse, snow fell and
purified the earth stains. And at last
Virginia knew that Burgoyne had been
entrapped in the northern forests; that
Philadelphia had been evacuated; that
the cord which was to encircle the
throat of the rebellion had snapped;
that France had recognized independ-
ence and made a treaty of alliance with
the United States.
There followed a closer campaign
when Lord Germaine, the king’s war
minister, having failed to strangle the
monster, attacked its extremities, when
the redcoats swept into the southern
harbors, when Savannah and Augusta
fell, when Lincoln’s army was caught
at Charlestown and Gates routed at
Camden, and these were the south’s
darkest days.
It knew there was no hope from the
army in the north—meager, ill clothed,
half starved, without magazines, ar-
senals or credit. Washington lay
watching like a hawk Clinton’s 10,000
men at New York, hoping for an ef-
fective force from France, waiting with
the sublime patience which more than
all else made him a great soldier.
Virginia bore her burdens uncom-
plainingly, giving of her substance to
the struggle, while the slaves which
Cornwallis sent scampering from burn-
ed lower plantations trailed through
her borders, sowing insurrection among
the faithful blacks.
“John the Baptist,” demanded Anne
- sternly one day after Groam had re
ported that scarce fifty slaves remained
in the quarters, “an the British come
here, are you going to run away too?’
“Mis’ Anne,” he complained appeal
ingly, “don’ yo’ know no ’spectable nig-
ger gwine ter list'n ter dem shif’less
trash whut go ramshacklin’ erroun’
widout no homes? Dee ain’ no ’count.
Yo’ couldn’ swap ’em off fo’ shucks.
Yo knows I ain’ nuvver gwine leabe
de plantation whar I wuz drug up. Dat
Cornwallis! Huh! Dis nigger smell de
brimstone whut's huntin’ fo’ him.”
‘When the sky looked blackest came
General Nathanael Greene into the
south, young, light hearted and eager.
And what did he not accomplish? He
welded anew the scattered remnants
of Gates’ army, fanned North Caroli-
nian Whiggery into a blaze, beat Tarle-
ton, sent Cornwallis back, breathing
hard, to the seacoast. It was the end
of the second campaign.
“What will King George do now?"
Anne asked Henry jubilantly.
His face was very grave as he an-
swered: “There is only one thing left.
"is a stroke at the heart of the rebel-
lion. And that heart is here in Vir
ginia.” He guessed truly.
There were hasty preparations for
flight throughout the lower peninsula
on that snow shod day when the traitor
Arnold's fifty ships came to anchor off
Jamestown island. The sky was a ceil-
ing of translucent gray. The stubby
cedars trailed sweeping boughs of crys-
taled beryl, and every shrub was cased
in argent armor. Fleet horsemen had
ridden from Williamsburg in all direc-
tions rousing the frozen countryside.
At noon Anne took her place in the
chariot beside Mrs. Tillotson, bound for
Dr. Walker's of Castle Hill, far enough
north to be beyond the reach of the in-
vaders. Her aunt was to fare even
farther, to Berkeley. ?
They waved brave goodbys through
tears to the little group of house ne-
groes whimpering on the porch. Rash-
leigh was to go with the remaining
servants to Brandon, Mammy Evaline
was left in charge of the place, and
John the Baptist, her son, was to care
for the horses and run them off on ap-
proach of the British. The heuse linen
and silver Anne had buried with her
own hands, and the family portraits
had been hidden under the stables.
It was a sad journey, but one per-
formed that day by more than one
household.
Colonel Tillotson rode a part of the
way beside the coach. *’'Twill not be
for long,” he insisted cheeringly. “I
have assurance from Mr. Henry that
Washington will send troops before
spring breaks. He thought it would be
General . Lafayette—the young French
marquis who passed through Williams-
burg, you ‘remember. Would Washing-
ton himself could come!” he added fer-
ventlv.
But his wife was not to be comforted.
“Colonel,” she cried brokenly, “I feel
sure we shall never see Gladden Hall
again.”
More than once before spring came
tiptoeing down the trees Anne looked
out to the north from quiet Castle Hill,
homesick for a sight of Greenway
Court and Baron Fairfax. Weakness
and age had at last sent the old man
to his chair, and he sat through the
long days sorrowfully patient, as his
dncestor, the hero of Naseby fight, sat
at Denton in Yorkshire, waiting the
coming of the victorious banners of the
king.
The beginnings of the struggle had
found him doggedly wrathful.
“Bill of rights,’ aigh?’ he would
shout. “I want no benefit of it. I am
a colonial and loyal.” *
And when his neighbors contended
that what they stood for was the old
issue for which their ancestors broke
pikes at Marston Moor he turned his
back upon them.
In the Old Dominion there was com-
parative tranquillity, but even in the
forest he had heard the first blare of
the king’s armies in Boston and New
York with a hungering fear that drew
his eyes often wistfully toward Mount
Vernon. There sat the lad he had
trained and molded, “the first soldier
in Virginia,” a grave man. They whis-
pered evil things of this man’s loyalty
now, but the baron for long shut his
ears and would not hear.
The time came soon when Tories were
hated, despised, driven by fire from
their homes, their property confiscated.
But this old man alone was not touch-
ed.
“Let the rebels come!” he had roar-
ed, pounding the floor with his thorn
stick. “Let them come! I met the In-
dians here in ’55, and I leave for no
cursed rebels. The king may not be
able to protect, but he will reimburse
me.”
But Tories and Whigs passed by
alike, and not a pound was touched in
his storehouse, not a horse taken from
his stables. When the foragers swept
the valleys his field slaves slunk away
with the rest, but he had not a house
negro who did not stay with him to
the end.
The final chapter was opened at last.
Lafayette was marching southward
with twelve hundred of Washington's
own light infantry. The word had
struek sharper than an adder’s tooth—
the bloody snows of Valley Forge, the
pelting retreat through the Jersies,
want, rout, discouragement and de-
spair! The king must win, and George
‘Washington was gone too far even for
love's forgiveness. Now he sent his
rebels to his own natal colony to hurl
them in a final desperate attack at the
king's throat.
After this news the baron took to his
couch and closed his doors against re-
port. Through all the war Washington
had found time to send gentle and ten-
der letters to his old friend. These my
lord had read, longing for some sign
of sorrow or of turning, but they had
brought none. Now he read no more.
One morning Anne stood at the deep
set window of her room at Castle Hill.
Far away, their dim splendor relieved
by golden gorges of early sunlight,
reared the solitary mountains, hung
with pale green, pale gold and blent
lavender and graylike faded tapestries.
The June breeze was soft with the first
thrill of summer, blowing across the
shelving fields. Birds were fluting in
the tulip trees, and the dewed odor of
roses lay on the garden, drenchingly
sweet. The place seemed safe folded
from the war that lay, a sullen fiend
in a cloud, far away across the Vir-
ginia hills.
A distant clatter came to her, and
she looked and listened where the east-
ern road bent behind clusters of trees.
Almost before she had guessed the
meaning of the sound a troop of dra-
goons, whose red coats proclaimed them
British, dashed into view and rode at
top speed toward the house.
The British! So far to the westward!
What could it mean? Then, in clutch-
ing apprehension, she fled downstairs
to Mrs. Walker's room, to find that lady
already dressing with speed and trepi-
dation. As she opened the door, the
yard below swarmed with a confusion
of soldiers and shrieking servants.
“Stay where you are,” came Dr.
Walker's voice from the next room. ‘I
am going.”
“No, doctor,” Mrs. Walker opposed.
“I am going myself.” And go she did,
Anne with her.
Aunt Daph’, the cook, having fled
from the kitchen, was crouched, shud-
dering, at the foot of the stair. “Dem’s
de Britishers, missus!” she moaned.
“Dem’s de Britishers!”
“I know it,” answered Mrs. Walker
calmly as a knock thundered at the
door. “Go back to your kitchen.”
The figure on the threshold bowed
till his plumes swept the sill.
“Pardon me, madam—ladies,” he be-
gan, “but I must ask of your hospital-
ity a breakfast for myself and my offi-
cers. I may introduce myself? Colonel
Tarleton of the British legion, at your
service.” ;
Anne caught an astonished breath at
realization that she was standing be-
fore the most dreaded of Cornwallis’
cavalry leaders. Could this red cheek-
ed, petulant lipped lad be the dragoon
of whose cruelty and daring she had
| prayed. .
so often heard? She courtesied slowiy
to his bow.
“I might add,” announced the visitor.
“that no harm shall be done this prop-
erty. We have business farther on.”
Farther on! Anne’s mind leaped to
the thought of Charlottesville, only six
miles away. The Virginia assembly
was in session there. And Henry! She
must gain a little time.
“Let me see to the breakfast, Mrs.
Walker,” she volunteered. Aunt Daph’
is quite distracted.”
Tarleton smiled, bowed again to her
and clanked to the door. Then Anne
caught Mrs. Walker's hand and whis-
pered: “’Tis a raid on the assembly.
We must keep them here as long as
possible. Tell the doctor.”
She had no time to speak further,
for Tarleton re-entered with the oth-
ers.
“I have been obliged to set a guard
about the negro quarters and at the
front and rear entrances of the house,”
he said. “We shall soon relieve you of
this inconvenience. Ah, doctor, good
morning!”
Anne betook herself to the kitchen
and stirred Aunt Daph’ to activity.
While the great fire roared her brain
was busy. She must get through that
cordon of redcoats—must—must!
As the cook piled the irons with frag-
ments of chicken, Anne's eyes, through
the back door and window, took in the
situation. Full a dozen troopers were
grouped there, stretched lazily in the
sun, their horses hobbled and cropping
grass eagerly ic a widening half circle.
The quarters were on the farther side,
out of sight from the kitchen. Seeing,
she bade Aunt Daplh’ lay more of the
chicken on the racks and herself fed
the fire till its heat scorched her cheeks.
“1Clar’ ter goodness, Mi§ Anne, yo
got 'nuff dar fo’ fo'ty, 'stid o’ fo’!”
“Hush!” Anne commanded. “Go and
lay one of the tables in the milk room.”
The negress raised her hands.
“Wid all dem sojers out dar? Honey,
dee jes’ split my haid wide op'n!”
“Do as I tell you,” said Anne. “They
won’t hurt you. Make no noise, and
come back quickly.”
The old woman made her way gin
gerly past the groups across the yard.
“Mis’ Anne,” she said as she came
back, all her teeth gleaming, ‘“one ob
dem Britishers call to me jes’ lak folks.
“Run, you splendid boy! Run!”
‘Hopes yo’ got sumpin’ good fo’ us, too.
auntie,’ he say. Lawd, honey, I reck'n
dee’s pow’ful hongry ter smell dis
yere!”
Anne heaped a great platter high
from the dripping grids and flanked it
with a pyramid of corn bread.
“Now, Aunt Daph’,” she breathed ex-
citedly, “take this. Hold it high and
fall not on the steps. When you come
to the milk room door you are to tell the
soldiers that the colonel in here says
they are all to have their breakfast at
once. Do you understand?”
“Yas’'m. Yas’m. Butdis yere chick’n’s
er heap too good fo' dem low down
nosin’ debbles!”
Anne watched her through the door in
a quiver of apprehension. Would they
go? She prayed frantically that they
would smell that savory odor. She
heard the laugh of the officers in the
next room and above it the tones of the
cook outside, now scornfully belliger-
ent:
“Yore cun’l in dar say yo’ is ter eat
dis yere up mighty quick er yo’ don’
git nuttin’ ’tall.”
There was a murmur among the
troopers. It was a fearful temptation.
Then they succumbed before that deli-
cate aroma, and while Anne held her
breath the last guard had overcome his
scruples and vanished into the milk
room.
She did not wait an instant, but slip-
ped out hatless and was away like a
flash to the outer ring of horses. Her
eye picked the speediest with the un-
erring judgment of the born horsewom-
an. She leaped to his back, took the
yard paling and, flew across the soft
loam field to the highroad.
When Lieutenant Colonel Banistre
Tarleton entered the kitchen smilingly
to see why breakfast delayed he found
the room empty, and sounds from the
outhouse told him the rest. The petu-
lant lipped lad became instantly a rag-
ing demoniac, and the crestfallen men
' tumbled out, mounting with a speed in-
creased by threats and revilings.
A sight of the horseless trooper sent
the leader’s passion leaping to knowl-
edge. “'Tis the girl!” he cried. “The
deuce! She's off to warn them!”
And his curses suddenly mixed them-
selves with steel sharp orders.
Mrs. Walker wrung her hands as the
last trooper galloped off after the rest
on a horse impressed from the stables.
“God grant they don’t catch her!” she
As Anne sped along the curving
stretch of road over the low hill spurs
she leaned to the horse’s mane, crying
to him: “Run, you splendid boy! Run!
"Tis to save the assembly!” And the
great creature, slim, lustrous blood
bay, snorted and settled to action, his
limpid eye catching the terror-white as
if he, stolen from some Virginia stable,
knew what the words meant.
Gallop and gallop; she heard the red
clods patter on the road behind as she
went. One mile—two miles. The wind-
warped trees stretched by in a whirl
ing, drunken race of foliaged dervishes.
Three miles—they must surely know
by now.
She passed two riders and noted their
glance of wonder. One called out to
her, but she did not stop. The terrific
pace made her breath come jaggedly,
and it was only by a supreme effort
that she kept her seat on the pommel-
less saddle.
The last two miles. fung away in a
dulled red roar.
There were groups upon the court-
house steps when she pulled up her
frothing horse, and Henry himself
pushed forward to her side.
“Tarleton,” she panted, “at Castle
Hill—coming to—take the assembly!”
Henry turned and repeated the mes-
sage. It was caught up on all sides
and bandied up and down the corri-
dors. There was a rush for the sheds
and hurried mounting. Then another
cry spread: Jefferson—he was at Mon-
ticello!
“How much time?”
briefly of Anne.
“Ten minutes,” she answered at haz-
ard.
“Too little.
asked Henry
They will be upon him
before this.” He brought his horse and
vaulted into the saddle, ‘Will Tarle-
ton know you have come?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must not stay,” he said
firmly. “You shall ride with me.”
Before she could answer a horseman
came clattering in from a bridle path.
It was Colonel Carter, and he took in
the preparations at a glance.
“Good!” he shouted. ‘Lose no time,
gentlemen. Captain Jougtt has warn-
ed Monticello. The assembly stands
dissolved, to meet at Staunton three
days hence.”
About noon hoofs rang behind them
in the flinty road, and Henry and Anne
reined their horses into the brush. Two
more riders galloped by, to wheel and
come back at Henry’s halloo. They
were Mr. John Tyler and Colonel Har-
rison. Fatigued and hungry as they
were, both essayed to smile.
“Is Jefferson safe?’ cried Henry.
“Aye,” Colonel Harrison assured him.
“The family are gone to Colonel Car-
ter's, and all of the gentlemen who
were at Monticello are in the moun-
tains. ’Twas a narrow squeak.”
“Whither think you we had best
ride?” Colonel Harrison asked as they
started.
“Lafayette is nigh the Rapid-Ann,”
said Henry. “I’ faith”—with a smile
at the girl beside him—‘“the man who
named it should have seen you ride!
Best to reach our own lines for the
night, and tomofrow we will off for
Staunton. Ely’s house should be near
our troops, and Mistress Tillotson can
get safe escort to Fredericksburg.”
At midafternoon they stopped at a
small hut in a gorge and asked for
something to eat.
After the meal and rest the four rode
some hours through shaggy ravines
strewn with wrack of storm, where the
green veins of every growing thing ran
tlush with frenzied sap, then to the low
valleys of the Rapid-Ann. And here
at last spirals of smoke showed them
where Lafayette lay encamped, wait
ing a junction with Wayne to march
against Cornwallis.
The first challenge they met came
from a detachment of Virginia rifle
men, and, finding an old friend in their
commander, Major Call, Colonel Har-
rison and Mr. Tyler elected to go nc
farther. Ely’s house, Henry learned,
was but a few miles beyond the picket
lines, and as to the morrow’s escort
for Anne the major sent a lieutenant
with them a mile down the river tc
“headquarters to ask it.
It was a picturesque encampment
through which they passed. There
were few tents—mere wigwams of fresh
cut boughs to shed the dew. Here and
there fires of blazing fence rails glowed
yellowly in the gathering twilight.
The tent of the acting colonel of the
Virginia Continental regiment was
pitched apart on a patch :of beaten
grass. Stools and a light folding table
holding pen and paper sat just outside
the open flaps, from whose angle a lan-
tern hung, already winking in the dusk.
Benches were on one side, and here.
while their horses were cared for, Hen.
ry and Anne seated themselves to wait.
Near by the dusty silver of sycamores
swayed against the shredded carnation
of the sky, and from the distance
through the warm evening came the
hum of the camp, noises of mess pre
paring and the tramp and neigh of
horses.
They sat awhile silent, Anne's every
nerve tired. Henry watched her, How
softly white her cheeks, how deep the
longing in her eyes!
“Twas a quick plan and a splendid
ride,” he said at length. “A brave act,
as are all of yours!”
She cringed suddenly. “I hate that
word so!” she implored, and he knew
of what she was thinking.
All at once she locked at him, speak-
ing earnestly: “Do you believe I shall
ever see him? Oh, if he could but
know—but know that I was not false
to him in my heart! At first I thought
I would be content to know he was
alive, even if I never saw him again—
if he hated me! But now—now, I
would give my life to hear him say
that he forgave me!”
It was as if all the pent up longing
of the past time burst out in a flood.
Her voice had sunk very low with the
last words, for the lieutenant had ap-
proached again
( Continued next week.)
President Announces Names of Men
Chosen as His New Advisers.
Moody in Knox's Place. Strong Words of Praise
for Labors of the Attorney General.
WASHINGTON, June 24.—A sweeping
change in the cabinet of President Roose-
velt was announced officially at the White
House today. The announcement came in
the form of a brief typewritten statement
issued by Secretary Loeb, as follows :
‘“The following cabinet appointments are
announced :
‘William H. Moody, of Massachusetts,
Attorney General.
‘‘Paul Morton, of Illinois, Secretary of
the Navy. \
‘“Victor H. Metcalf, of California, Secre-
tary of Commerce and Labor.
“The resignations of Secretary Cortelyou |
and Attorney General Knox have been ac-
cepted, to take effect July 1st.”’
Juss before Secretary Cortelyou left for
Chicago last Wednesday he placed in the
hands of the President his letter of resig-
nation from the Department of Commerce
and Labor. It was understood between
the President and him that the resignation
was t0 be accepted to take effect at the end
of the present fiscal year, June 30th, in-
clusive. The taking effect of his resig-
nation at that time would afford him an
opportunity to complete work in the de-
partment which he had initiated and
which it was important he should carry to
a conclusion.
MORTON A FRIEND OF PRESIDENT.
One week ago Attorney General Knox
formally announced that he would retire
from the Department of Justice, probably
at the end of the fiscal year. It was under-
stood at the same time that Secretary
Moody would succeed Mr. Knox as Attor-
ney General.
In pursuit of his purpose to secure the
services of a thoroughly able and congenial
man. President Roosevelt tendered the
appointment of Secretary of the Navy to
Paul Morton, first Vice President of the
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad.
Mr. Morton is a personal friend of the Pres-
ident of many years’ standing. He is a
son of J. Sterling Morton, of Nebraska,
Secretary of Agriculturein President Cleve-
land’s last administration. Mr. Morton
has had experience in Washington, baving
been here with his father.
Since President Roosevelt has been in the
White House he has made more than one
effort to induce Mr. Morton to accept a
position in his administration. Feeling
that his life work in the railroad business,
in which he has achieved success, might be
impeded by his acceptance of an official
position in the government, he has declined
all such proffers.
YIELDED TO STONG PERSUASION.
In consonance with this feeling, he de-
clined the proffer of the portfolio of the
Navy. He wae requested by the President
to consider his declination. Last night he
took dinner at the White House and the
whole subject was considered, after Mr.
Morton had consulted with his personal
and business friends and associates. A$
the conclusion of the conference Mr. Mor-
ton told the President he wonld accept.
It is expected that further changes will
take place in the cabinets next winter.
Postmaster General Payne probably will re-
tire from the cabinet after the campaign.
He will he succeeded by National Chair-
man Cortelyoun, Secretary Moody will con-
tinue as a member of the cabinet only
until the end of the present administration
March 4th, when he will retire to enter
upon the practice of law in Boston. It is
quite likely that other changes will take
place even if Mr. Roosevelt should be elect-
ed President.
»
Viadivostok Ships Sink 1,000 Japs.
Shkrydloff’s Squadron Returns From Another Success-
ful Southern Raid.
ST. PETERSBURG, June 16.—The Vladi-
vostok squadron has returned to Vladi-
vostok.
Tok10, June 16.—All doubt as to the
sinking of the transports Hitachi and Sado
by the Russians has been removed. Three
bundred and ninety-seven survivors of the
Hitachi bave arrived at Moji and 153 sor-
vivors of the Sado have arrived at Kokura.
The survivors report that Sado and
Hitachi were sunk by torpedoes.
Is is reported that the transports car-
ried only 1,400 men. If this is true, the
loss in lives is probably less than 1,000.
The transports, however, had many horses
and large quantities of supples on board.
Details show that the Hitachi and the
Sado met three Russian warships near Iki
island at 10 o’clock Wednesday morning.
The Russians fired on the Japanese ships
and stopped them and soon afterward they
torpedoed and sunk the helpless transports.
The captain of the Sado and several
other men were captured. More than 100
men escaped in the boats and landed at
Kikura. ”
A message has been received here from
Hagi saying that the survivors of the
Hitachi bad drifted north to Shimonoseki
and been saved. The transport Izumi is
still missing.
Increasing in Popularity.
The fact that a good thing is never wast-
ed on the public is strikingly illustrated
by the increasing popularity of ‘‘The Phil-
adelphia Record.’” True merit is always
appreciated if backed by enterprise, wheth-
er it be a cake of soap or in a newspaper.
The spurious article, or the one that is not
up to a competitive standard is soon left
behind in the race for popular favor.
There are older newspapers than ‘‘The
Record,” and papers that have shot upward
like skyrockets, with a flash of ephemeral
brilliancy, only to come down again like
charred sticks, But ‘‘The Record’ has
advanced steadily and irresistibly year by
year since 27 years ago it set the pace as the
pioneer one cent paper of America. Since
then it has never retrograded; it has never
even stood still, and to-day its circulation
exceeds that of any other newspaper pub-
lished in the State of Pennsylvania, with
an influence that is felt all over the
country.
Continued success is never accidental.
It is possible to stumble into luck as one
stumbles into a hornet’s nest, with just
about as much chance of winning out in
the end. But luck has never entered into
the success of ‘‘The Record.’ That suc-
cess has been due to a keen insight directed
toward the public mind, an ability to see
at a glance what the public wanted in the
way of a newspaper, and then to supply
that want. ‘‘The Record’’ has never at-
tempted to force down the public’s throat
a style of journalism that was inherently
distastful to it.
We congratulate the management of
“The Record’’ on its adherence to these
principals that bave marked the paper's
entire career, as well as upon the excellent
business methods that have won the con-
WHERE GOD STILL REIGNS.
Come to the woods, 0 weary one,
For Faith and Hope are there $
Under the leaves God’s will is done
His glory fills the air 3 :
There is joy in the piping from the pond
There is triumph in the velvet frond, :
Come to the woods, O doubting heart,
And learn that earth “s fair }
The city and heaven are far apart,
But God is near, out there
Where all is obedient to his will— 3
The woods are His, as He made them, still,
—8. F. Kiser;
Se —
Bandit Raisult Finally Wilts.
Releases lon Perdicaris and Crom
He Held for Ransom. well Variey Whom
TANGIER, June 25.—12:55 a. m.—Ion
Perdicaris and Cromwell Varley, who were
captured by the Bandit Raisuli, have just
arrived here. Perdicaris is very much fa-
tigued after bis long ride, but says he is
glad to get back. He is greatly pleased
with the reception accorded him by the
townsmen who met him in great numbers,
in the bands of Raisuli, although he sa
he does not think that these ee the fault
of the bandit chief, and that he had every
comfort possible under the circumstances.
Much credit is due to the two shereefs of
Wazan, Malai Ali and Mulai Kamet, who
bave devoted much time in their efforts to
secure the negotiations. Mulai Ali re-
mained at Raisuli’s camp continuously,
thus ensuring the safety of the lives of the
captives, while Mulai Kamet travelled
back and forth between Tangier and Benai-
108.
Mulai Kamet says that he arrived at
the camp of Zelal, governor of the Beni
M’Sara tribe, at 3 o’clock on June 23rd,
but that the captives did not arrive until
the morning of June 24th. :
The delay in turning over the prisoners
was apparently merely a mistake as to
the date set for their release.
bright as if he bad just returned from a
picnic.
Both Perdicaris and Varley are much
thinner, especially the former, who has
aged considerably.
Perdicaris was received at his town house
by the authorities, the admirals of the
fleets and numerous personal friends. His
Moorish servants made a great demonstra-
tion of joy, kissing their master’s hands
and clotbes.
LONDON, June 25.—The Times, this
morning in a lengthy editorial on the re-
lease by the bandit Raisuli of Messis, Per-
dicaris and Varley, calls attention to the
B. Harris, was captured by the same bri-
gand who, emboldened by the success of
that venture, seized Mr. Perdicarie, who
on account of the high position held by
that gentleman at Tangier, fulfilled all the
conditions which would enable Raisuli to
drive a bargain such as no other brigand
has ever dared to. pe
As the result of the Sultan acceding to
the demand of Raisuli says The Times, the
world perceives the impotence of the Mo-
roccan ruler to discharge the most elemen-
tary duties of government.
. The Standard also publishes an editorial,
in which it concludes that Morocco must
now cease to remain under a reign of an’
archy and that France must avert stch
perilous complications in the future.
The Standard credits ‘‘Secretary Hay’s
vigorous diplomacy’’ with the speedy clos-
‘ing ‘‘of the most remarkable incident
which has troubled contemporary history
inMorocco.
30 Black Cats and Hoohoo House Burned
ST. Louis, June 24.—Fire, which threat-
ened for a time to destroy many buildings
at the World’s Fair, today comsumed
the House of Hooboo, rendering the build-
ing and contents a total loss.
So quickly did the flames spread that
the five occupants of the building, all on
the second floor, had difficulty in escaping
with their lives, being compelled to climb
down a tree.
The loss on the building and contents
is estimated at $60,000. The fire is sup-
posed to have started from an electric light
wire.
The alarm was answered by the entire
World’s Fair fire department and by eight
engine companies of the city department.
All efforts were directed toward saving the
Texas, German, Oregon and Mines and
Mitallurgy Buildings. All were saved
without loss or damage.
But ten minutes before the alarm from
the House of Hoohoo, the World’s Fire fire
from the Pike. The loss there was insig-
nificant, but there was a wild stampede
among the elephants and camels.
The House of Hoohoo was built by lum-
bermen throughout the country, under the
supervision of the Hoohoo Society, which
is composed of lumbermen.
There were thirty black cats in the build-
ing at the time of the fire, and these are
believed to have perished.
Fearing the Texas Building would be
heroically to save precious relices of early
history. Nothing but the fact that the
wind was not blowing toward the Texas
building saved it.
Planting Milllons of Lobsters.
&
BooTHBAY, Me., June 25.—Uncle Sam
is planting little lobsters by the million
in Maine waters, being evidently bound to
keep up the supply of that shellfish. Last
Monday 1,200,000 fry from the Glouces-
ter, Mass., hatchery were deposited in
Casco Bay, and a like number will be
placed in shose waters every few days from
pow until the middle of July.
A new hatchery is being erected at
| Boothbay, where many millions of lobster
fry will be produced every winter and sent
out for distribution in the spring and early
summer.
Dish Rags on Bushes.
Times, which are famed for their remarkas
ble floral productions, are growing dish
rogs, real genuine dish rags that would de-
light the heart of every housewife. Mr.
Richardson has heretofore raised many
wonderful plants never before introduced
to American soil, but this year he has ex-
ceeded all previous agricultural triumphs
by rising an immense orop of dish rags,
enough to supply his family for several
consecutive generations. These dish rags,
or vegetable sponges, as they are sometimes
called, are indigenous to Africa. Now it
has been demonstrated that they will
become a popular production, since not
only for home consumption but for com-
mercial purposes they can be raised with
profit. The graceful, well-foliaged vines
are not only ornamental, but they bear in
great. profusion a fibrous sponge that is
fidence and esteem of its great advertising
patronage.
well as for scouring pans and kettles.
Varley appears to be as cheerful and“
fact that The Zimes correspondent, Walter =
department had answered a still alari de
eminently useful for bathing purposes, as
Ed
WIR
EN
ai
¥
«ie
3d
Perdicaris suffered many bardships while
“A
ww DAY
destroyed, women of tbat State worked ~~
In the garden of ¢ Charles Richardson, in.
Pasadena, Cal., says the Los Angeles:
thrive in this country, they are bound to ~*~