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f THE n0W ^S COLLECTION VOLUME XLW—NUMBER, NINE. Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending May 12, 1906. 50c PER YEAR-SINGLE COPY 5c. 0:-0:-9:-0:-0:-9-*0-^0.*0:.0.*0*.0..0... 0~-0:-9 — 0:-0~.0:-0:.0:.0:.0:.0.+ 0..0*. 0»-0:.0-—0-~0:-0~.0...0.*0:-0:-0.~0:-0.* 0■•■ 0-.-0:-0-.-0-.-0:-0-.-0.-0-.-0-.-0-.-0-~0-~0:0:-0~-0:.0^t ♦-••••••••••••I ■ • e • I Virginia Hares Land, Rich in Romantic Legends c American History 0:-0:-0:-0:-0-*9-*0-*9.+ 9-»9-+0.*0*.0.* 0-.-0-: 0:-0... 9-.-9-, • 0:-9—-0.-0:-0 0:-0:.0:-0 —0:-0 0..., 0:-0...0..0:-0:-9; • ••• • I By HILTON CASTLE. Written for The SUNNY SOUTH. PRIMARILY. Roanoke is land Is noted as a history spot. To the visitor versed in historic lore, there is a subtle attraction about the tear.v green islo on which the first English settlement in the new world was made. Here, too. was the birthplace of Virginia Dare, the first Anglo-American. History tells us not whether this mysterious-fated woodland born babe, was brow T n-eyed or blue; merry-faced; or wonder-eyed, more befit ting one familiar with the Red Man's whoop, crooned to sleep by the song of the sea, a playmate of forest creatures. Weired lot was thine, Virginia Dare. On Roanoke island was baptized Manteo, the kindly Indian chief whom "Good Q'itebn Bess" ennobled "Lord of the Isle of Roanoke," the first baptism of an Indian by the English in the new world. The two names, Virginia Dare and Po cahontas, give the fits* touches of soft ness to the early pages of American history. Roanoke and Jamestown, form, as it were, to English speaking people, the gateway to the new world. RALEIGH’S VISIT. Four expeditions were sent out by Sir Walter Raleigh with the view of coloni zation. entailing an expense of two hun dred thousand dollar^ which was ad judged a goodly sum in those days. The slim green isle, some twelve miles long, and three and a half broad, lying off t:ie coast of North Carolina—then a part of Virginia—whlcll the Indians called "Roanoke," gave kindly greeting to Sir Walter’s explorers, who carried back to ® *•* *•- • •« the English land glowing accounts or Its beauty. Hear what they say; "The 2nd of July we found shoal wa ter, where we smelted so sweet and so throng a smell as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden abounding with all kin”s of odiferous flotvers. by which we were assured that the land could not be far distant. It is the good liest anl most pleasing territory of the world, and very well peopled and town- e.l, though savagely, and the climate so wholesome that we had not one sick since we touched the land here. To con clude, if Virginia had but horses and kino in some reasonable proportion l dare assure myself, being inhabited wltn English, no realm in Christendom were comparable to it. All the kingdoms anu states of Christendom, their commodities joined in one together, do not yield more good or plentiful whatsoever for public use is nee*3ful or pleasing for delight." The explorers found the native kindly, the waters abounding in fish, game plentiful and luscious grapes, a great plenty. A pilgrimage to Roanoke island Is worth while, especially If the time chosen be the season of green things. The is land may be reached by way of the Nor folk and Southern railway, which meets the excellent steamer "Neuse," of the Old Dominion line at Elizabeth City, „\. C. A good oyster and fish supper may be enjoyed on the boat. LOVELY VISTAS. Roanoke Island is a part of dare coun ty. and has a population of some 1,700 souls. Manteo is its .-nief town. There are beautiful drives through forests of pine, interspersed with holly and red cedar, juniper, myrtle and sassafras trees. Everywhere are attractive vistas of the sea- The particular spot of interest is the site of Fort Raleigh, which is at the northern end of the island. The Roanoke Colony Memorial Association has built p round tills relic a rail fence, and in about the center erected a granite slab, upon one side of which these words are engraved: “On this site, in July-August, 1585 (O. S.), colonists sent out from England by Sir YValter Raleigh, built a fort called by them the New Fort in Virginia. These colonists were the first settlers of the English race in America. They re turn'd to England in July, 1586, with Sir Francis prake. Near this place was born, on the IStii day of August, 1587, Virginia Dare, tiie first child of English parents born in America, of Ananias Dare and Eleanor White, hia wife, members of another band of colonists sent out by Walter Raleigh in 1587. On Sunday, August 20, 1587, Virginia Dare was baptised. Manteo, the friendly chief of tiie Ilatteras Indians, had been baptized on the Sunday preceding. These baptisms are tiie first known celebrations of a Christian sacrament in the territory of the thirteen original United States." On the other side may be read these lines: "In memory of our first president, Ed ward Graham Daves. Erected by the Roanoke Colony Memorial Association, November 24, 1896.” The moat is distinctly visible, and in some places the parapet is over two feet in height. This is one of the most attractive parts of the island. Near here Virginia Dare was born. Near here stood the tree upon which was carved the word Croatan, the last message to the world of Sir Walter Raleigh's lost colony. The tradition that they went to live with the Croatan In dians, and in time intermarried with them, is given but little credence. BURNSIDE’S HOUSE. Another drive, interesting from a his toric point of view, is to the house In which General Burnside had his head quarters during the civil war. The island was captured by this federal general, witli 15,000 men under him, in 1862. A force of confederates, under Colonel Henry M. Shaw, of the Eighth North Carolina regiment, garrisoned the island. Its fall gave the federate the key to North Carolina. But enough of bloodshed! Let us to the sand hills of Roanoke island, where, in the waters near by, fishing boats lie peacefully basking, and fishing nets and seins are objects scattered about. These sand hills, built by the billowy waves and the winds, are from forty to sixty fatt in height Across the water, seen dimly through tiie haze of the morning, is Nag's Head, a popular summer resort. There is a story connected with this spot which is worth a moment’s attention. The story goes, that the ship upon which the gifted Theodosia, daughter of Aaron Burr, em barked at Charleston, was cast ashore a. this point, being decoyed by wreckers who were wont to tie about the neck of a lame horse a lighten lantern, and then send the animal <a-wandering on tiie beach, to deceive souls at sea. The wreck ers. runs the story, made the fair Theo dosia "walk the plank." In one of their cabins, years ago, a picture was found which is said to be a good likeness of thp poor lady. This picture is the cher ishes possession of a citizen of Norlh Carolina. Fishing- is the leading industry on Roan oke island, and farming is its close sec ond; while hunting is the principal em ployment of many visitors to the island. Ducks and wild geese are a drawing caid. many gunners coming down here from the north, and making 'pilgrimages to the near -haunts of the birds from the Tran quil house, at Manteo. Of fish, mullets are the principal ones caught until No vember. when numbers of rock, perch and other fish aro caught, and shipped to northern markets. Blue fish a.re also plen tiful, and shad and herring are caught in large numbers in the winter. THE TWO SOUNDS. Manteo is a place barren of beauty, but it is pleasant to look out upon tiie wa- • 0:-0:.0.»,0..,0., ■•■0'*0+-0f0:.0:-0:.0:-0:.0...0:.0...0., Si &/>e Man in the Loft E looked fearfully behind him, then drew a long panting breath, and scur ried across the open cor ner of the hayfieid. to ward a wooden shed capped by a loft, which his hunted eyes espied in an angle of the farm yard. Not a soul in sight. With luck he might reach it in safety. The door of the loft stood open, a lad der reared itself against the shed. He climbed it nimbly despite his bleeding hands and bruised feet, wel coming the sweet-scented gliont of the loft, half-lfull of fragrant hay, fresh from the fields. He flung himself down gasping, then hid himself in a thuck bundle of hay in the darkest corner. Surely they would not look for him here—even if his es cape had been found out so soon. He would wait till the summer darkness set in. then he must push on to the coast. Only within sight of the sea could he feel safe. A ship would take him to another country, where he might hide securely. Presently he breathed more ‘freely—his heart ceased to throb with such violent -pain, his eyes closed, and the escaped prisoner slept s-oundiy. He 'Woke suddenly, conscious of the hum of voices near him. Peering oau- tiously from out of his lair, he saw sit ting just inside the loft, with their backs turned to him, a man and a girl. "It's too hot to run any morel" the girl was saying, with a soft little sigh; "I wonder if children ever -get really tired!” “Never," asserted the man with a laugh. “Let them have a search for us. They won’t think of looking here for a bit, anyway.” The man hidden in the gloom behind them saw the love-light in their eyes, and understood, -perhaps. He shuddered silently. Such looks as those had once passed between him and a woman— how long ago? Long before disgrace banished him from her side and hid him away out of sight in a prison. "Do you think they are still hunting for us?" asked the girl, hurriedly, in the little pause that followed. "Yes. i hear them calling. I wonder if <we ought to go down?” “I'll run down -and see that they don’t get into mi%ohief, if you'll wait here for me. Will you. Daphne?" The next moment she was cSexv. and the man well on his way to find the children. It was In that foment that she turned her rharming head, and saw the man looking out at her from amongst the hay. She went quickly toward him. and said: "Who are you? And what are you doing there?" He could hide no longer—that was evi dent—so lie came boldlv out. “I'm hiding." said the man. shortly. If I can do that till nightfall. I can get away. Are you going to give me up?" His sfiiteeh was refined, his manner that of a gentleman. The pity glowed on her face. "No," she said at last. "I wouldn't do that You—you’ve escaped from prison, then?” •*•#••• • ••• ... 0 < “Yes. I've been running and slinking over the country since before daybreak. I'm parched rwith thirst. I saw the (pond down below, but I was afraid to stop there on my way. Heavens! what I’d give for a gallon of water!" “I can give you that at any rate," said the girl. "Hide yourself -for a few minutes." She 'leaned out of the door and called loudly, "Harry! Harry!” and the man. who had but lately left her came hur rying back. "What's the matter?” he asked, lamgh- ing. “I’ve run the chicks to eartn. They are all right.” “Do you think you could get me a drink? I'm horribly thirsty. A big jug of water, please, and a glass.” "Oh. yes; I’ll be back in a minute." Hi? footsteps died away, and the man hiding in the hay drew a long breath of relief. He did not move from his place af Concealment and the girl gave no sign that she was conscious of his pJ'es- ence. They both waited till the man came back, armed with a Jug of new milk, a glass and a large cake. "You may come for me when tea is ready." said Daphne. “Till then I’ll stay here.” His cheerful whistle died away into si lence. Daphne Ward picked up the Jug and the big cake and went toward tiie gloom -behind her. “Perhatrs this will he better than noth ing,” she said, kindly, and then turned away, that he might drink and eat in comfort without ariy watching eyes t« shame his ravenous hunger. "You’ve given me fresh life," he said at length. “I don’t know how to thank you.” “Oh, don't mind that.” she said. “What will you do now?” "Wait till it's dark, then make the best of my way to the sea. I might get away to America and begin a new life out there. It’s my only chance. Rather than go back—or be caught—I'd die. You don’t know what life is like behind those gray walls, where you have nothing but your thoughts and silence to keep you company." “What made you lose your freedom?" she asked, abruptly. "My own 'folly and madness." he said. "I’m not going to tell you what perhaps another man might tell you that I’m inno cent of the crime for which they gave me seven yeai'6 penal servitude, for I'm not. It’s a common storybetting, gam bling. speculating on the stock exchange, in the hope of making a-fortune at tiie ex pense of another man's loss. There was a woman I loved—heaven only knows where site is now—she was poor, unhap py, waiting almost hopelessly for the time when we might be married, and in my desperate impatience 1 did it to give her comforts when she was ill. Heaven knows it was little I thought of. my self.” He stopped s?u7rt as the sound of foot steps came to them from outside, and a cheery whistle. The girl started. “You must hide for a minute,” she said, rapidly; "but don’t despair. I will help’ you presently. Only don’t let your self be seen for the present.” The man hid again behind the fra grant hay, and the girl slipped half way down the ladder, at the bottom of which Harry Spencer was waiting for her with a mischievous light In his eyes, and his tall figure effectually barring her way to the ground. "You must pay toll,” he said, “and my price Is always a high one. It's— Daphne, dearest!—yourself. You know I love you—you must have seen it, and T can't help telling you -of It now. I couldn't wait another minute. Is there a chance for me?" The color rushed into her face. Some- thln«r of her emotion must have been nrirrowed in her eyes, for Harry, with out more ado, stepped up the ladder and took her boldly in his arms. "Oh, I love you!” she whispered. "But arc you sure—" "Am I sure?” he mocked. "Why, darling, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my sweet.” Daphne started and drew herself from his arms. She had suddenly remembered the man in the loft. “Would you really do anything I asked you?” she said, with a smile. “Really and truly. Try me, darling.” "Let me have an old suit of clothes,” she said, suddenly, "if you've got one you don't want very much.” Harry started at her In amazement. But it was clear she was not Joking. "I’ve got an old suit of flannels," he said, "which are at your service; but what do y-ou—” "And you must not ask why I want them, Harry dear," she interrupted him, "you must trust me. It’s a matter of life and death—to some one else. But you mustn’t ask anything. Harry. -Some day, perhaps, I’ll tell you, but I don't want to now, because it might bring you botheration.” "All right. I’ll cut Into the house and get the suit if you’ll wait here for me.” He vanished and Daphne went back to the loft. In a few words she told the man what her plan was. We was to change Ills clothes, get into the suit of flannels which Harry would bring him, and then, later in the day, she would drive him back toward the sea In her pony cart, which was to take her and her little niece home after the hay party. “You're an angel of goodness,” said the man, brokenly; "some day I hope I'll bo able to thank you properly. I'd like to know your name. If I may, so that I can think of you in the future.” "My name Is Dapline Ward," she saiu, simply; "may I know yours?” “Richard Enderby,” he said; “I was proud of the name—once.” “-~nd you will be again in the future. Remember It’s a new life you're going to —you must leave the past behind you. Blot it all out, and start on a clean page.” "I will," said the man; “It's a prom ise I’l keep." Half an hour later the man stood re dressed in a suit of gray flannels and a soft cap pulled well down over his shorn head. He slipped down and found his way out of the yard into a lane which ran Into a distant high road. Down this he slowly paced until the smartly trotting feet of a sturdy pony behind him brought him to a standstill. A governess cart. In which were seated Daphne and a small girl with curly hair, di'o-w up behind him. "How are. you, Mr. Enderby?" said the girl, brightly. “Let me give you a lift, won’t you? It is so hot. That's right; make room for Mr. Enderby near you, darling. New, Taffy, on with you, or we shall -be late home.- It was all part of the plan con cocted by Daphne, and it worked ad- - mirably. The drive was over far too soon, but the salt sea stung his face before Miss Ward pullefl up and pointed with her whip the way to the little seaport town, where he could get waay to France and from thence make his way to America. She held out her hand frankly to him in farewell, and with an odd lump in his throat Richard Enderby took it and held it for a minute. "Goodby—and good luck," said the girl. "No. don't you promise." "I will always remember it—and you," said Richard Enderby. "'Mail’s late," said someone, and Rich ard Enderby nodded. He was not par ticularly interested in the mail; it held no attractions for him, for very little news canto to hint from the bid coun try, besides which tonight he had all his attention fixed on someTrttng else. it was a table at tiie other end of the club- room, at which two men were sitting playing cards. They had been at it for a couple of hours or more, and as the night wan'd and dawn drew near tiie eagerness and feverish anxiety of the younger man became jpiore and more marked. His adversary—an older and a cooler hand—also, as Enderby knew well, a more, upscrupulous player—was quite calm and self-possessed, and won steadily —by fair means or foul. Enderby was interested, seeing in tills youngster a man as he himself had been once, be fore Turn and disgrace came upon him. Presently Enderby got up lazily from his seat and sauntered over to tiie tables as if to glance at the game. Somehow tiie boy's voice struck a familiar chord in his memory. Where ha<» ne heard it be fore? He could not think, for lie only knew him very slightly, as a young man of some promise, whw had but lately come out from England, jo take up a good billet In the neighborhood. His face was flushed now, partly with the wine lie had taken and party with excitement. Enderby knew the signs well, and he drew nearer tiie table, lie had been all through it liimself, and he foresaw the ending. The springing up from the table—cards and money scat tered over the floor—the accusation of “Cheat!" hurled at the snarper by the boy—the scuffle and collision. But En derby had a strong arm, and a persona lity not to he despised. It all ended in the cheat slinking away, and the boy- lie seemed only sucli to Enderby's forty- odd years—going out gasping into the cooler air with his new-found friend. “You'd better draw «i your horns, my young friend," said Enderby, grimly "or you’ll find yourself in . worse plight. ' "You're a good sort,” said the young mail; “you got me out of that.” "Look here, Spencer, come in with me; I know it's late, or rather early morning —but you don’t feel like bed 1 sup pose?" “No, I’d like to come.". When, later, tho two men were sit ting with their pipes In the cool little room. Enderby looked across at his new acquaintance. "Take my advice, and drop that sort of thing," he said, gravely; "card playing, gambling of any kind, is bound to lead you, sooner or later, to—well, worse. And if you've got anything of a future to look forward to it won’t help that hope." Harry Spencer nodded. "I’ve got a future to look to.” he said, after a short pause. “I—I hope to bring my wife out here soon. We hope to be married next year.” “Ah! Then let that thought keep you Continued on Fifth Page. ter and U » ^ surface; i, . th , ate wort!' lies t boa rd wh i "The spor j ,. rated ■ f spe tat p j i is, t nan' craft that toss upon its beautiful drives about ial mention. The island rt of the Atlantic sea- use a trite expression, oaradise " It is sepu- aiea roi'-. . , , . ,, , -t the natnland bv Croatan sound, am s . ., , , ,, j touche by the waters of Pam. ico at j bemar. sounds. Near it is -oun,; v. h the famous islets— >£ arnatt r sportsmen. I f Ron: ik,; island is well >i truck farming, and the grow- y. fruits, especially, it would le culture of grapes, which is g attention to a large extent. North Carolina. Amadas and th,, account of their first voy- s and write: I Currituck tlie jesort The so' adapted f< ing of st, seem, for t common sir In eastern Barlow, In age to the e * ’ ?d the land about. us, being where we f , , , . ’ “ , , , ust lander, very sandv and low toward .. . „ he water side, but so full of grapes as . , , . , the very beating and surge of the sea ove , , - , , , , , <.'ioweu them, of which we found suen p! places else, b< green soil, on as well on ev climbing towarc that 1 think in abundance is not Tty as well there as in all h on the sand and on the •he hills as In the plains, ■y little shrub as also the tops of high cedars, all the world the like to be found." The scuppernong Isabella are the grown in eastern N is extensively wine j ginia Dare" has the j wine products and th haha,” the “Hiawatha . .. , , .. ana the escup- pernong, the Indian w grape, put up by GaTrett famous vineyard on th center of which stands scuppernong vine, transplE says, from the mainland 1 Barlow In 1584. T t si; fusion of fruit. THEY FOUND TOBi But grapes, of which v from the early explore-s, only luxury discovered h the Catawba and the tree native* varieties rth Carolina, which oducing. The "Vir- f tiest name of the the "Minne- y of spelling the '■&. Co. There is a island, in the •le "mother” ed, trad tIon unadas ami « ars a pro- >cco n i<’h was no, lie tern on Roa noke island. They learned from :he red man the use of tobacco. It was Roanoke tobacco that Sir Walter Raleigh was smoking when his frightened servant deluged him with water. Interesting to all Americans are the drawings in the British museum of the tombs and villages of the Indians as seen by the first colonists. They are the work of John White, artist, grandfather of Virginia Dare, who came over the second . time to the island as its governor. An excellent map is also the work of his hand. In the story of "Virginia Dare." the pretty legend of the "White Doe" must not be forgotten—a legend that has lived i(Vir some three hundred years. At the beginning of tlm seventeenth century, runs the story, some Indians noticed among a herd of deer on Roin- oke island, a beautiful m5*k-white doe. a' sad-faced creature, whose eyes seemed ever turned toward the cast. The most skilful archers succeeded not in killing the lovely creature, and a rumor soon gained current that the milk-white doe was the bearer of a chamied life. At last the Indian chiefs, among them the good Manteo and Wan-ches-e. who vis ited England iwith Sir Waiter’s explorers, gathered together and determined to make a last effort to rapture her. The appointed day arrived at last, and tiie different chiefs stationed themselves along the routes that the doe was in the habit of taking. All were unsuccess ful in their efforts to kill her save Wan- ches-e, who, .when he had visited Eng land. been given a silver arrowhead by the English queen, who told him that it,would have fata! effect upon the bearer of a charmed life. When Wan- ches-e let fly his arrow, then, indeed, the beautiful doe fail, pierced to the heart. Site turned her sorrowful eyes upon him. and uttered the name “Virginia Dare," a name written also upon her •breast. On her back were written let ters that spelled the word “Croatan." 0:.0.*Q:.0:.0:.0:.0:*V -••"V 0...0:-9-.-9 — 0 • ••• • O « | Jude Carson, Esq., Rogue j ELL. upon nr word " ev- B“W 1 claimed the Hon. Itupert * « Algernon Strongbow 'av. f k glancing through a otter from Mr. Carson whi^h h ; s secretary had Just handed to him. "For unparalleled and shameless effrontery this transcends—this Effu sion of Mr. Carson tran scends—trenscends every thing, Wilson, that .has ever come within the ra ige of my own experience" And in his indignant wrath he inflic ed a resounding slap upon the unoffending dispatch box at his elbow. The Hon. Rupert might have expressed himself with greater force in very much simpler language, but his own dignity -<u rather, his own sense of his own ignity —demanded that he should only use full- toned and sonorous phrases to express the simplest thoughts, for he had lately becom 0 a cabinet minister. Wilson murmured his entire assent to the views of his chief, and the Hon. Ru- port proceeded: "On the strength. Wilson, of the slen derest acquaintance, the flimsy pretext of having been at the same college at Ox ford with me—which may or may not lie true, for I have no recollection of the fel low—he has the hNrdihood to apply to me to exert my influence to secure for him some snug appointment—some sinecure post in the government service. He asks if I don't myself require a secretary with nothing to do but draw his pay? The sug. gestion is an insult. I'll see him, and nip this preposterous notion in the bud. I will not be plagued a second time with such an outrageous application. Tell him to come and see me tomorrow at 12 o'clock." And the - dispatch box received another loud and angry slap. Wilson ventured to remind the Hon. Rupert that lie had fixed 12:15 next day far his reception of a deputation of bank ers. "So much the better." snapped the lat ter—“so much the better. I shad get rid of this presumptuous person the sooner. Go and write the letter, Wilson, and fix the interview for 12." The letter was duly written and the ap pointment made. II. Mr. Carson had shaken the extreme tips of the Hon. Rupert's fingers, and been bidden to take a seat. Then the Hon. Rupert, standing astride on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, launched out at hitn in his most grandilo quent manner. "Mr. Carson, I wish to make it per fectly clear to you in as few words as 1 can employ that I am unable .to en tertain your proposal for a moment. My time is strictly limited. I have to meet an important deputation of gentlemen en gaged in high finance in—er—in about ten minutes, so that I have consented to see you at some inconvenience. Now, I put it to you. In what respect do you con sider you are qualified to assist in guid ing the destinies of this great country in even the least important branch of the public service ?" The Hon. Rupert was extremely pleas ed with this last phrase, and after re peating it with deliberate emphasis on each separate word, paused for a reply. “I amagine, Mr. Carson, you must have preferred your amazing request to me in a moment of temporary mental aberra tion. That is the view I take of your conduct; that I consider the kindest view to take of it. From your silence I must assume that you have not made a study of any one great public question, or even attempted to follow the trend of the thought of the day. "Have you studied? Have you in quired? Have you undertaken tho ardu ous research work that would entitle you to an opiniaon on any solitary sub ject of national interest? I trow not, sir—I trow not.” And he pointed a de- nunciatlng and accusing forefinger at his crushed and conscience-stricken visitor. The Hon. Rupert, having flattered his own vanity, and pulverized Mr. Carson in this easy fashion, felt, naturally enough, more leniently disposed to him. He moderated his tone, and adopted a more oollhquial manner. He remembered, in fact, that he was addressing an indi vidual and not a public meeting. “Now, my dear fellow, ask yourself what possible use you could be to me in tiie capacity of private secretary." he went on in a tone of genial arrogance, “for I leave out of consideration your request for a sinecure, as merely evi dencing a condition of colossal ignorance. There are no sinecures nowadays. What possible use do you think I could make of you as my private secretary? Answer me that.” Mr. Corson shook his head forlornly. This speechless helplessness exactly suited the minister's humor, and he pro ceeded to drive his victory home, still retaining his more genial and colloquial manner. "Now. let me just run over to you some few of the complex problems which we, we who are the responsible advisers of the crown, are dealing with and en deavoring to find solutions for at this moment. Take Morocco, now. Think of Morocco, think of the conflicting inter ests of France and Germany, and imag ine, if you can, the high, the supreme, the superlative statesmanship which will be required to reconcile them.” Mr. Carson looked positively fright ened. "But enough. I have said enough to convince you of your unwisdom in mak ing the application to me which—er—er —which you have made to me. I hope I have not expressed myself with undue vigor. But 1 feel very strongly on this matter. We ministers—I hold that we ministers are the recipients of a sacred • trust, and for my own part I will never recommend any man to any place of emolument under government—any man whose appointment 1 am not absolutely assured would tend to the advantage of the public service. “Are you there, Wilson? Very well, I will come now. You will do me the justice; Mr. Carson, to acquit me of ail personal feeling in this matter. If you have political aspirations, study, read, write, think, travel, sift, examine and explore—that is the best advice I can give you. I venture to hope we may be come better acquainted, and if I can Continued on Fourth Page.