Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 16, 1899, Page 6

‘Th e Arnewood Mystery | BY MAURICE H. HERVEY.> ; Author of “Dead Man’s Court,’’ ‘‘Somerville’s Crime,”’ “Dartmoor,” ‘‘Maravin’s Money,’’ etc., etc. o oe ry PROLOGUE Continued, Half an hour passed, but still the smoked and thought, and still wat his comrade lay the hut. “Hell do, safe enough” muttered Nat, at length, “if he gets the chance, And that, to me, means the utter ruin all my plans; and, quite possibly, age with Ruby! The fool, the blundering feol! To boast of and prospects to Ine, upon eve of my intended departure! his hope the It would seem, almost, aS though Fate had marked him down for destruction, for, by thunder! the world is too small for us both—now!” He went to his prostrate mate and Bhook him roughly; more a test of his real condition than with any ex- pectation of arousing him. Neither move vor sound in response. He next unbuttoned his shirt, and, from an in- pocket, sewn on to the flannel, ex- small bundle of letters wrap- 1 oiled silk. As he did so, he no- some tattooing upon his vietim’s ft “That's odd!” he muttered. “Long as we've been together I never noticed it before, though I’ve seen the L, A. on his arm dozens of times. Looks like Rh. N. upon a log of wood. I'll just nike a copy of it.” Phis he did skilfully enough in pen- eil y in cnyelope. He then searched him ¢ ly for any further proof of his identity, but in vain. lie pulled aside the canvas screen hut did duty for a door, and stepped into the open air. It was a chilly . but fine and bright with moon- All the better!” he growled to him- self. “It'll make the job easi and Ti strike Cooktown by 4d eak.” fie re-entered the hut, and, after some hesitation s lowed yet another drain of brandy. fy nerves are not what I thought they were,” he muttered, “or I wouldn’t need priming with that cursed stuff to do the trick. Now for at!” He was a strongly-built man, but the task he had set himself taxed his pow- ers to the utmost. Seizing Arnott by the wrists, he balanced him upon his bent back, in much the same way as a lumper carries a sack of coal; and, thus burthened, he made his way, for abcut a furlong, down a very rough, uneven, ill-defined sort of pathway. A emall mound of mullock, surmountea by a rudely-constructed windlass, indi- cated the position of the shaft, and, with a final eff Nat Rainsforth sue- ceeded in depositing his unconscious load upon the very edge of the yawn- ing cavity. “A nan might easily slip just here, he muttered, steadying himself by the windlass; “and if he had no mate handy to lower the rope and bucket, he would stand a poor show of ever get- ing out again, even if the shaft were and he broke no bones in the fall. As it is, well, they say drowning is a paini of p: ng in one’s che s too dead drunk to feel much, 2 5 Still he hesitated to finish the ghastly work. The moon shone full upon the unconscious man’s upturned face, and Rainsworth, callous though he 8, shucde at the thought of that f. lying livid and swollen in the flood-wa- at had inundated the shaft. As upon the slope of the mullock- ground, one good push was all that needed to send’him to destruction. Twice Rainsforth’s sinewy hands grasped his shoulders, but each time he recoiled from the one brief effort of strength that would stain his soul with a foul murder. Indeed, for a time, it seemed that whatever there was of good in the man’s nature would triumph over the diabolical im- Bt that had hitherto swayed him. ut, as usually happens, the prompt- Ings of evil prevailed in the end, and avith a savage imprecation on his own weakness of purpose, he once more gripped his victim and jerked him vio- lently. forward. A hollow, faintly- borne splashing sound, as the falling body struck the water at the bottom of the shaft; and Nat Rainsforth knew that no interference with his schemes would ever again come from Luke Arnewood, alias Loo Arnott. (End of Prologue.) CHAPTER I. Drink and a Fog. A raw,, bleak night in November; a combination of drizzling rain, fog, and east wind happily rare even during a London winter. A night unfit for the proverbial dog to be out in, yet not inclement enough te empty the streets | in the densely populated Soho district, forasmuch as it was but twenty-five minutes past midnight, and the bril- | liantly-iluminated public houses were still doing a roaring trade. Shutlling along, with hurried, uneven steps,, a poorly-clad man was making his way through Wardour street, to- wards Shaftsbury avenue. In the near distance the lights of a flaming gin-palace shone brightly into the gloomy street. a “Must be precious near closing-time,” he muttered, breaking into the nearest approach to a run of which he was capable. He was only just in time, for, even as he passed through the heavy swing-door, the voice of the barman was raised in preliminary warning. “Time, gents! Hurry up, if you please!” “Half-pint of rum, Joe!” pleaded the neweomer, breathlessly, as he pro- duced a battered old flask and a shil- ling. The barman glanced doubtfully at the clock, but, apparently recognizing the belated applicant as a regular enseless as a log in | greedily and passed out into the night | i | ! being accepted, and now SS the or oe customer, nodded and supplied rum, “Time, geuts, please.” ‘ ‘The late arrival elutched the flask with the cther customers, whom the barman was expelling with great show of zeal and respect for the licensing act. Befcre he reached Shaftsbury aven- ue, the ficsk had twice found its way to his lips. Then, with a great effort l-nigh forgotten will-power, it »wed up and vonsigned to the t pocket ofthe threabare frock . Which seemed but a pitiful pro- tection against the biting east wind. ‘There was something in the action sug- gestive of a mission yet to be fulfilled, before he could safely indulge in any more sips of the fiery liquor; and, from the course he was following, his destination appeared to lie in the direc- tion of Fleet street. Orward he slouched through the raw, foggy mist, as forlorn-looking an object as could well have been found, even in the Lon- don streets, that night. “Halloa, Webb! Is that you?” The voice had a cheerful, hearty ring, and a friendly grip upon his arm brought the wretched wayfarer to a standstill. “Yes,” replied the latter, irritably. “Can’t you see it is?” “Well, not over-clearly in this con: founded fog,” was the good-natured re- joinder. “Whither bound? ‘Morning Ex office, eh?” either. “Come along, then; I'll see you that It isn’t much out of my way.” Why go out of your way at all?” was the short retort. “I haven't asked you to accompany me.” The stranger released his sulky ac- ce’s arm, and seemed about to quit him in sheer disgust; but, sup pressing the momentary feeling of irri- tation, he walked along by his side. “Why ge out of my way for you, Tom?” he repeated. “Well, because I don’t like to see an old schoolfellow, who once called me his friend, going to the dogs at the pace you seem to have set for yourself.” “Especially if the old schoolfellow happens to have a sister you’re sweet upon, ech, Ralph Weston?” sneered the other. “Quite so,” assented Weston. “That, of course, adds very considerably to the interest I feel in your welfare. And —as a matter of fact—l am under pro to serve you. I wish you would make it easier for me to keep that promise, Tom. I do, indeed!” “What do you mean?” “Oh, you know well enough. Knock off nine-tenths of the drink you are now wallowing in, and be your old self again. I tell you, Tom, when I re- mémber that, less than two years ago, yout. came up to London with good and no time to waste about it, | ise to your sister to do my utmost | Press introductions, an excellent edu- } y abil- cation, and acknowledged liters ity to back you up, it just brings a lump in my throat to see you now; a seedy, broken-down tout for half-crown paregraphs, with neither wish thought in the world save to satisfy your morbid craving for drink. For aven’s sake, Tom, be a man, and “Give it up?” echoed the drunkard, bitterly. “hat is rather a hard order for a fellow who (as you truly remarky” has nothing else in the world to wish for, isn’t it?” “I don’t mean that you need neces- sarily give it up altogether,” urged his adviser. “I’m no teetotaler myself, as you know. All I ask of you is to avoid excess.” “That is sheer nonsense!” was the vagabond’s comment. “See here, West- on, I believe you mean me well, and I daresay you are a very okever fellow in your own line. But you evidently know nothing of drunkards and their ways. I do. I have had a wide expe- rience of both. And you make take it from me that no drunkard ever yet retrograded to moderate drinking. He may (for some cause unintelligible to me) give up drink altogether. But par- tially? Never!” Z , Ralph Weston shrugged his shoulders despondently, and nothihg more was said until Webb had taken his scrappy reports of district items into the office of the “Morning Express.” He was known to the sub-editors as being ac- curate in such odds and ends of report- ing as he did manage to put together, and, possibly, they sometimes strained a point in his favor. At all events, he could usually count upon his “stuff” D felt secure that 7s 6d would be paid to him on de- mand by the cashier in the morning. Rum and the minor necessaries of life were, therefore, reasonably safe for the next twenty-four hours; beyond which limited period his foresight rare- ly extended. Upon emerging into the mist. he was seized with.a short but ominous fit of coughing. “Nasty cough you've got.” remarked Weston, surveying his shivering com- panion under the office lamp. “And what on earth made you venture out of doors in this sort of weather without ‘ your overcoat?” “What the dickens is it to you what I wear?’ was the indignant rejoinder. “However, if you must know the full measure of my depravity, I pawned my overcoat this afternoon, in order to buy rum. With the help of a little jluck (say a_ sensational murder, or even a good fire in my neighborhood) I shall get it back in a day or two. Is your curicsity satisfied now?” “Why will you persist in misjudging me, Tom?’ asked Weston, earnestly. “You have allowed” yourself to run down to a very low ebb, both as re- gards your health and in other ways. Reject my advice in other ways, if you will; but let me, at all events, help you to pull round.” 7 “I want neither advice nor help,” nor | ‘ * < liquor at your place and choose to offer me a drink, I'll take it.” “Ralph Weston hesitated. ‘To supply aman like Webb with drink seemed an act of cruelkindness, if not downright folly, especially as he seemed but half- sober, Yet, the unfortunate man was evidently chilled to the bone, and a stimulant might, under the circum- staices, do him thore good than harm. What ought he todo? “Come along, Tom,” he said. “You shall have your drink, if you think you can carry it.” “Carry it!’ repeated Webb, with a grim laugh. “I can carry a fair skin- ful, especially in weather like this. After all, youre a good chap, West- on.” So saying he disappeared in the fog, followed by his impromptu host. He knew his way well to the latter’s rooms in the Adelphi, and he wanted a few yards sturt. Drunkards are as cun- ning as other more fully-deyeloped madmen, His idea was to provide an opportunity for swallowing the remain- ing contents of his flash, which he trusted to have replenished subsequent- ly. He had to sveak across the road- way to accomplish his object, for West- on was strong and fleet of foot. But he maraged it. and, breaking into a shuffling run, overtook his host near Somerset House. “Better take my arm, or I yours. in this fog,” remarked Weston. “Why, what's the matter, Tom?’ What, with the hasty swallowing of raw rum and the scutry through the foggy air, Tom Webb was incapable of intelligent speech. So he adroitly put a soiled handkerchief across his mouth and grunted asthmatically. This (as was intended) aroused his companion’s unquestioning concern, and they ar- rived at the Adelphi arm-in-arm. A somewhat steep climb up three flights of stairs brought them to the modest but withal cosy couple of rooms which Weston (in grandiloquent moments) sometimes referred to as his “cham-. bers.” A well banked fire loomed red in the grate, and a large lamp, prompt- ly turned up to full power, revealed as comfortably furnished a little sitting room as any reasonable bachelor need desire. thing that had not been so marked be- neath the fog-bedimmed street-lights. It revealed the startling contrast be- tween the two men. * Tem Webb, from his unkempt, gri: zled hair and dirty, crumpled colla his frayed trouser ends aad down-at heel shoes, appeared to be an exceed- ingly disreputable vagabond of forty five or fifty. In reality, he was bar thirty years of age. His host was just a well-set-up man of twenty-eight, who scarcely looked shis age. Neatly, if somewhat plainly, dressed, but remarkably well groomed and blessed with more than an averagé share of good looks, Ralph Weston stood forth in the lamp-light as a very good sample, indeed, of a healthy, man- ly young Englishman. A look of sor- riw and pity that he could not sup- press came over his face as he marked the ravages which drink and neglect had wrought in his former schoolfel- low’s appearance. Then, taking him with friendly force by the shoulders, he pressed him into an arm-chair by the fire, and bestirred himself on hos- pitable thoughts intent. “Which shall it be, Tom?” he quer.e], opening a cellaret. “Beer or whisky? Not much variety of choice, I must Say.” Whisky will do all right,” was the reply, “if: you don’t happen to have any rum.” ‘an’t endure even the smell of the stuff,” rejoined Weston; the whisky. you've had no supper y et, I'll see what “but here's | And, as I’m pretty sure | I can discover in the way of eatables. . I feel as if I could manage a snack my- | self.” Now, considering that Tom Webb had broken his fast that day upon nothing more substantial than a baked potato, purchased in the street, he might have been expected to rejoice at the prospect of a supper of any sort. Not he. ‘The money borrowed upon his overcoat had been spent solely upon rum. And the uppermost thought upon his mind now was to secure the oppor- tunity of replenishing his flask, with his host's whisky. Ralph’s brief ab- sence to the larder gave him his chance, and he was quick to seize it. A slip of paper was hastily -trans- formed into an impromptu funnel, and half the contents of a bottle of whisky were hastily transferred to the bat- tered old flask. It never oceurred to him that he was doing anything wrong or mean in thus surreptitiously helping himself. ‘Fhe whisky he must and would have, and.it would probably be refused to him were he to ask for it. His scruples went no further. Weston noted with renewed concern that although his wayward guest did but seanty justice to the little suppes set before him, he contrived to replen- ish his glass several times before he rose to depart, and that he was thicker of speech and unsteadier of limb than before. He even proposed to him to camp for the night upon the sofa; but to this suggestion Webb would not list- en at all. “Well, Tom.” he remarked, at lengtn, “you are your own master, and must have your own way, I suppose. But I havea spare overcoat, and I absolute- ly insist upon your getting inside it be- fore T’ll let you go.” To this Webb consented, donning the proffered garment, contrived to help himself to yet a final dram, and started toward Soho through a fog that seemed denser than ever. “I'm half sorry I let him go,” mut- tered Ralph to himself, as he regained his sitting room. “But, as he says, he knows the way well enough to reach his place in the dark, and he’s as near- ly sober as he ever seems to be nowa- days—poor chap.” % Mearwhile, ‘Tom Webb, feeling eom- paratively warm in his borrowed over- coat, shuffled along in his usual uneven manter, stopping at increasingly f quent intervals to make sure of his whereabouts. Everybody who has been abroad in a real thick London fog knows how disconcerting it is to the wayfarer, however familiar he may be with the district; and certainly Webb's addled brains were incapable of much discrimination. The streets, too, seemed quite deserted; not even a policeman could he come across. And, in sheer disgust, he proceeded to do the most irrational thing he could possibly have devised under the circumstances: he applied himself once more to the flask. was the reply. “But if youv’e got any { A few miuntes more of onward grop- ple of minutes. It revealed something more, some- | ‘ ing; then more hesitation, and more drink. “Can't be far off now,” he muttered, brokenly. “Round here to the left—it ought to be.” And, accordingly, rouna to the left he staggered, feeling pretty sure that if he did not speedily strike he street he sought, brain and feet would alike fail him and leave him hefpless in the gutter. No matter how drunk a man may be, he generally knows when he is upon the brink of collapse, “Come, hold up, can’t yer?” The warning was gruffly spoken, and came all too late to save Webb from sudden and violent contact with an ad- vancing pedestrian. He reeled back, and would certainly have fallen had not the newcomer seized his arm in a powerful grip. Nothing was distinct. They were as two shadowy figures in the mist. Webb was too much dazed by the shock and liquor to make any reply. He stood there swaying about in the other man’s supporting grasp. “Pretty far gene, I reckon,” remarked the latter. “You looks like pitchin’ on yer head as soon as I let go of yer, ana I've a bigger job on hand than to play leanin’ pest for a boozey cove like you.” “Where—am 1?’ hiccoughed Webb. “Lost m'way.” 5 “No wonder, what with the fog and the booze,” was the reply. “Well, you are in Greek street.” “Good!” gasped Webb, trying hard to stand unaided. “I live—No, 18 Cato street.” “No. 18 Cato street, eh?” repeated the stranger, with interest in his tone. “Why, that’s close by. But how’ll you get in at this time of night?” “Latch-key—bed room, ground floor,” was Webb’s disjointed, ‘but still intel- lible explanation. If, by means of his latch-key, he could still reach his room, he would be safe. But he was obvious- ly incapable of walking, even a short distance, without assistance. The stranger hesitated, as though rapidly revolying’ some fresh plan ot action, in his mind. “See here, my fest- ive cuss,” he said, at length, “I'll see yer as far as yer crib, if you'll just sit Gown on that eurb stone for a cou- I've a mate waiting for me a bit down the street, and I want to tell im wots up. See?” Webb assented, and sat down as bid- den. The stranger uttered a peculiar sort of cat-call, which was answered in | the distance, and walked swiftly down the street. Within a few minutes he returned, according to promise, and, be- ing a man of obviously vast personal strength, he easily raised and support- ed his drunken protege to Cato street, which, despite the still dense fog, he arparently had no difficylty in finding. Twice he paused, as though to listen, and it was evident from the sounds, that a vehicle was following in the roadway close behind. 3 By the time they reached No. 18, Webb was in a state of barely semi- consciousness. His conductor extract- ed the latch-key from his pocket, open- ed the hall door carefully, and fairly carried him into the hall. “Which is your bed room?’ he de- manded, quietly lighting a taper. By a final effort, Webb managed. to indicate a door at the extrem#ty of the hall, and then went off into a drunken stupor upon the stranger’s shoulder. Very gently the latter carried him into the bed room, and deposited, him, just ?) as he was, upon the bed. Then, after a hurried glance around at the position of the furniture, he extinguished the taper and retraced his steps, omitting, however, to close the hall door behind him. Upon the opposite side of the street a hansom cab loomed vaguely in the dense mist, with a tall man’s figure standing at the horse’s head. Well?” queried the tall man, impa- tently, “Can you manage it without isk?” can manage it right enough, sir,”. was the reply, “and rare luck I call it to tumble across such a chance. As for the risk, well, there’s risk to be run, anyhow, in a job like this; but less this way, I reckon, than any oth- er. Wot you’ve got to do, sir, is to lead the ’orse quietly on until I over- takes yer, and if yer happens to spot a copper, keep ’im in chat for a minute or two. That’s just the cone thing I’m afeared of, stumbling against a copper; and the odds is ag’in it. Sc bere goes!” Standing upon the footboard of the eab, the speaker stretched forth his powerful arms and stepped into the roadway, bearing a motionless figure enveloped in a long naval cloak. There was something in the man’s every ac- tion suggestive of coolness and self-re- liance, and these qualities were strongly in evidence upon the present occasion. With no greater apparent effort than though he had been carry- ing a sick child, and as calmly as though No. 18 were his own residence, he re-entered the house and noiselessly went into Webb's bed room. The heavy, stertorous breathing of its drunken inmate was sufficient proof that he would not regain consciousness for many hours to come; but the in- truder did not deem it prudent to haz- ard striking a light. He had, from memory, an exact knowledge of the room, and had no difficulty,in deposit- ing his burthen npon a sofa that stood near the fire place. Lastly, he placed the Iateh-key upon the floor, as though it had been dropped by its drunken owner, and once more went forth into the: street, closing the door behind him. For a moment he stared hard into the still dense fog, as though half- expecting to discover the form of a prowling constable. But he could see naught in the brown mist save the fee- ble radiance of the nearest street lamp, and, with a grunt of satisfaction, he set off to overtake the departed han- som * * 9% . * * The ways of drunkards are erratic. In an ordinary way, Tom Webb woulda sleep for ten or twelve hours after a debauch. Yet; an hour before the ear- liest of Soho nmilknien had! started upsn his rounds, he awoke to a dazed sort of semi-consciousness. His throat and _mouth seemed to be dried up, as though | by fire, and his animal instincts almost mechanically urged him to seek for water, He knew, vaguely,-that he was in the room which him represented home, and that there should be water upon the washstand, if he could but find it in the dark. So he rolled off the bed and staggered across the room in search of the jug. He found it, drank eagerly of the contents, and seed return to bed. He mistook his bear. ings, however, and stumbled agains’ the sofa instead. . To be Continued.) | administration WITH THE PEOPLE OF MINNESOTA BY THE LIND ADMINISTRATION. The First Annual, Report of the Grain Department by Chief Inspector Rel- shus—In Spite of Efforts to Hamper Reform, a Good Showing Is Made. Echoes of Republican Polloles and Administration—Up With the Trusts and Down With the Farmers—Points From the Message and From Secretary Gouge—Our English “Relations”—The 16 to 1 San Minnesota’s Grand State Fair Record. ‘d in Use by the Boers. Note and Comment of the Week. Reform Press Bureau. Sr, PAvL, Dec. 11, 1899. The chief event of the week in state’ administration has been the annual re- port of the grain inspection department made by Chief Inspector E. 8. Reishus, who succeeded A. C. Clausen four months aso. The report has been quite widely given to the state. press, and too much attention cannot be given it by the people. It shows a very material increase in the volume of business, nearly 60,000 carloads of grain having been unloaded at the four terminal points, more than during the previous year. The enormous quantity of 217,924 carloads of wheat were recéiyed during the year, all but about 1,000 cars being Northwestern spring wheat. The department collected during the year $188,926.30, an increase in the re- ceipts over the previous year of $85,412. The disbursements for the season were $218,764, showing a ‘net loss for the year, nine months of which was con- ducted by Mr. Reishus’ predecessor, of $24,888.24, This reduces the net sur- plus of former years to a little more than $21,000, being all that was left of asurplus of $123,268.54 Nov. 30, 1896, when the inspecticn and weighing ‘fees were reduced from 25 cents acar to 15 cents. Thus, as Inspector Reishus states, on Aug. 31 last, when he had been in office one month, he found that the surplus had shrunk $102,082.44 in 32 months. In other words, during that length of time of the administra- tion of Mr, Clausen, the finances of the department, with a 15-cent fee en- forced, ran behind $100,000, This makes clear the necessity for the in- crease of the fee recently made, and in addition, there had been the establish- ment of the board of grain appeals, calling forthe further expenditure of about $20,000 per year. The law requiring that the depart- ment shall be self-supporting and that grain inspection shall be borne by the shippers of grain without any addi- tional burden upon the general tax payers, Inspector Reishus says: *‘There- ‘Sore, the business-like administration of the department, indeed, the mainten- ance of the entire state grain and ware- house system, not to mention the sup- port of the new” Board of Grain Ap- peals, demanded the restoration of the éees for inspection and’ weighing.” An important reform affected has been the turning of samples of grain taken by state inspectors at the Minne- apolis and Ddluth terminals back to the state by selling and placing the pro- ceeds to the credit of the grain inspec- tion fund, This makes a saving of $8,000 per year, or enough to- pay the rental expenses of the Minneapolis and Duluth departments. ‘ The old practice was for the inspect- ing officials to gobble the samples. It is estimated that in the 14 years of the department this steal may have reached he sui of $75,000. Inspector Reishus rightly denounces the system as wrong and demoralizing. The grain thus taken, of course, is the property of the shippers, but it being impracticable to return it to the owners, the next best thing to do is to sell it and~place the proceeds in the fund from which the expense of inspection comes, thus in- directly returning it to the owners, since they pay the inspection expense. Inspector Reishus was besought most urgently, especially in Dulutn, to de- vote the grain*toa public charity, but he found himself unable to do so, since, ashe says: ‘‘As a public official the law gave me no authority to devote the money orproperty of the department to private uses or charity.” Inspector Reishus explode the hum- bug that only long years can fit men for service in the department. Two or three months’ experience, he shows, is ample, for men otherwise qualified. “It requires,” says. the inspector, ‘‘im- mensely more experience and judgment’ te grow 50-cent wheat at a profit than to name the grade of the wheat after it is dumped into the elevator or car,” and this he gives after 30 years ex- perience in the handling and growing of grain. .The present season’s crop 1s more difficult than usual to grade, by reason of the heavy fall rains which affected a large part of the crop, and the rust and plight in different sections. The In- spector has no fear, however, that the outcome will not be satisfactory, for, he says: ‘Growers and handlers of grain are, as a rule, reasonable and fair-minded men, atid will appreciate an honest and industrious effort to give just grades.” ; > t The policy that shall govern the de- partment is thus outline aim to establish uniformity and stabil- ity of grades, to give to the producer and dealer, the miller and Eastern pur- chaser the same uniform grade and at all stages of the market and seasons of the‘year; to give the same ie in the fall, when the grain is in the hands of the producer, asin the winter and spring, when it gely in the hands of the dealers, miller and elevators; to give the same grade when wheat is de- _as well as when wheat is boomed high; to give the producer a grade as high as the character “It is they and con- the grain demands.” Thus is another department of the n keeping full faith with the people. - to learn that itis a matter of o} cago that five men in that city con nected with the transportation com- bines,daily fix the price of wheat! Such man, one of the five. to force manufactures up. This is the system brought upon the country by Republican legislation. Secretary. Gouge points tothe large treasury: balance, but fails to remark that it is what we have left after bor- rowing $z00.000,000 a year ago. and paying in over $273,000,000 in war taxes in one year. Imperialism and British financiering come high but we must have them. ‘ Speaking of farm and trust prices, a Milwaukee paper examines a year of McKinley’s “best” prosperity, taking wheat, barley, oats and corn, and iron piping, sucker rods, rope, twine, nails and lumber for comparison. For the same days of November, ’98 and ’99, Wheat is 5 cents lower, barley 34¢ cents lower, oat$ 1 46 cents lower, and corn 444 cents lower. But the iron piping has risen from 51¢ to’ 25 cents, sucker rods from 7g to 111g, rope and twine from 8 to 17 cents, nails from $1.85 to $3.40, and lumber from $12 to $18. That. is, a year ago it took three bushels of wheat to buy 100 pounds of nails, and now five and one-half bush- els; last year, four bushels of barley to’ pay for the keg of nails, and now seven bushels; last year seven bushels of oats for the keg of nails, now 14. For a thousand feet of lumber it takes 10 bushels more of wheat, 15 more of bar- ley, 28 more of oats and 18 more of corn to pay for it than-a year ago. “How do you like it, Mr. Farmer?” asks the Milwaukee Advance. ‘And don’t you know that it was your vote that did it? Don’t you know thaé you voted for prosperity—for the trusts?” And the small dealer, the ordinary | merchant, gets it the same way —in the neck, We have just seen the notice of the plug tobacco trust to its customers, notifying them arbitrarily of the dis- continuance of their chief margin of ‘profit, 10 per cent on sales. From Dee. lon, all that each dealer can possibly make is 2 per cent, on cash purchases. All unfilled orders are cancelled and everything subject to change without notice. A student notes in Burke’s speech at the trial of Warren Hastings the fol- lowing complete definition of the Mc- Kinley ‘“‘benevolent assimilation:” “Conquest may cover its baldness with its own laurels, and the ambitions of the conqueror may be hid in the secrets of his own heart, under a veil of benevolence, 'and make him imagine he is bringing temporary desolation upon.a country only to promote its ultimate advantage and his own’ glory.’’ “There never was a man,” said Burke, ‘‘who thought he had no Jaw but his own will, who did not soon find he had no end but his own profit.” And still more directly applicable, Burke said, against coercing America: “America, gentlemen say, is a noble object. It isan object well worth fight- ing for. Certainly it is, if fighting a peo- ple is the best way of gaining them.” And that was the English ‘‘traitor,” Edmund Burke. McKinley subscribed himself to the trusts, in his message, as the blushing, yielding maiden closed her letter, “Your friend and more.” It should be a matter of pride to See- retary Randall and officials of the agri- cultural society that inthe number and variety of exhibits, in attendance and in receipts the Minnesota State Fair ranked first in the United States this year. Not only is this a matter of pride to our citizens, but the knowledge of so great a success is valuable to the state in many ways, It has made the securing of the National Hereford ex- hibition and sale for 1900 an aecom- phshed fact, and has caused the spread | of the conviction among live stock men, farmers and others of the country that Minnesota is a good state, and that her people are imbued with a spirit of en- terprise, energy and progress. Congress is at it, and the recognition of Minnesota’s. distinguished delegation to date,1s to make Tawney a British “whip,” Morris a judge of polygamy in the Roberts case, to permit McCleary to read the financial bill, and a *“men- tion” of Fletcher. A question before the congressional house is, will Congressman Heatwole open his mouth. this session, enough to disclose his nationality to a wondering nation, \ There seems a good deal of 16 to 1, in the South African campaign—16 Brit- ish killed to 1 Boer, and the Boers ap- prove the standard! Hon. Charles A. Towne is in Wash- ington, where he may remain until after the opening of the new year. It is already certain that there will be the j closest eo-operation of the party of which be is the official head, with the Democratic and Peoples party organ- izations. When the same is extended. as it willsurely be, to the powerfal allies of the American anti-imperialists and anti-trusters, the whole will make an invincible army, and their vote is ‘morally certain to be thrown for the down will go the Republican imperial- ists and monopolists. A apolis Journal And how it must delight the farmers” record that proof was offered the inter-_ state industrial investigation, at Chi-— testimony was given by Mr. Country Combines to keep grain down. Trusis_ " “Mr, McKinley,” remarks the Minne-_ correspondent, “has now burned the bridge behind him on t i . \ s = 1 | ! | a2 Ps same candidate next November. Then ~ the financial question, and can no This is not news, but fact, All bu '| the dullest found it out a ‘ : aa longer pose in the role of a bi-metallist."\ *