against a department of the administration, on the ground of an alleged insufficiency in some of the supplies of ammunition for military service. Many a Government would have professed to think little of such a defeat, would have treated it only as a mere question of departmental detail, and would have gone on as if nothing had happened. But Lord Rosebery refused to take things so coolly and so carelessly. Probably he was growing tired of his position under the peculiar circumstances. Perhaps he thought the most manly course he could take was to give the constituencies the opportunity of saying whether they were satisfied with his administration or were not. The Government appealed to the country. Parliament was dissolved, and a general election followed. Then was seen the full force of the reaction which had begun to set in against the Gladstone policy of peace, moderation, and justice. The Conservatives came into power by a large majority. Lord Rosebery was now merely the leader of the Liberal party in opposition. Even this position he did not long retain. Some of the most brilliant speeches he ever made in the House of Lords were made during this time, but somehow people began to think that his heart was not in the leadership, and before long it was made known to the public that he had ceased to be the Liberal commander-inchief.

Everybody, of course, was ready with an explanation as to this sudden act, and perhaps, as sometimes happens in such cases, the less a man really knew about the matter the more prompt he was with his explanation. Two reasons, however, were given by observers who appeared likely to know something of the real facts. One was that Lord Rosebery did not see his way to go as far as some of his colleagues would have gone in arousing the country to decided action against the Ottoman Government because of the manner in which it was allowing its Christian subjects to be treated. The other was that Lord Rosebery was too Imperialistic in spirit for such men as Sir William Harcourt and Mr. John Morley. No one could impugn Lord Rosebery's motives in either case. He might well have thought that too forward a movement against Turkey might only bring on a great European war or

leave England isolated to carry out her policy at her own risk, and in the other case he may have thought that the policy bequeathed by Mr. Gladstone was tending to weaken the supremacy of England in South Africa.

Lord Rosebery then ceased to lead a government or a party, and became for the time merely a member of the House of Lords. I do not suppose his leisure hung very heavy on his hands. I cannot imagine Lord Rosebery finding any difficulty in passing his day. The only difficuity I should think such a man must have is how to find time to give a fair chance to all the pursuits that are dear to him. Lord Rosebery spent some part of his leisure in yachting, and gave his usual attention to the turf, and was to be seen at picture galleries, and occasionally addressed great public meetings on important questions, and was a frequent visitor to the House of Commons during each session of Parliament. The peers have a space in the galleries of the House of Commons set apart for their own convenience, and, although that space can hold but a small number of the peers, yet on ordinary nights its benches are seldom fully occupied. But when some great debate is coming on, then the peers make a rush for the gallery space in the House of Commons, and those who do not arrive in time to get a seat have to wait and take their chance, each in his turn, of any vacancy which may possibly occur. I am not a great admirer of the House of Lords as a legislative institution, and I must say that it has sometimes soothed the rancor of my jealous feelings as a humbler Commoner to see a string of peers extending across the lobby of the House of Commons, each waiting for his chance of filling some sudden vacancy in the peers' gallery.

Lord Rosebery continued to attend the debates when he had ceased to be Prime Minister and leader of the Liberal party just as he had done before. His fine, clearly cut, closely shaven face, with features that a lady novelist of a past age would have called chiseled, and the eyes lighted with an animation that seemed to have perpetual youth in it, were often objects of deep interest to the members of the House, and to the visitors in the stranger galleries, and no doubt in the ladies' gallery as well. The appearance

of Lord Rosebery in the peers' gallery was sure to excite some talk among the members of the House of Commons on the green benches below. We were always ready to indulge in expectation and conjecture as to what Lord Rosebery was likely to do next, for there seemed to be a general consent of opinion that he was the last man in the world who could sit down and do nothing. But what was there left for him to do? He had held various administrative offices; he had twice been Foreign Secretary; he had twice been Chairman of the London County Council; he had been Prime Minister; he had been leader of the Liberal party; he had been president of all manner of great institutions; he had been President of the Social Science Congress; he had been Lord Rector of two great Universities; he had twice won the Derby. What was there left for him to do which human ambition in our times and in the dominions of Queen Victoria could care to accomplish? Yet the general impression seemed to be that Lord Rosebery had not yet accomplished his appointed work, and that impression has grown deeper and stronger with recent

events.

Since the day when Lord Rosebery withdrew from the leadership of the Liberal party the division in that party has been growing wider and deeper. The war in South Africa has done much to broaden the gulf of separation. Lord Rosebery is an Imperialist, Sir William Harcourt and Mr. John Morley are not Imperialists. The opponents of Sir William Harcourt and Mr. Morley call them Little Englanders. The opponents of Lord Rosebery and those who think with him would no doubt call them Jingoes. The Imperialist, or, as his opponents prefer to call him, the Jingo, accepts as the ruling principle of his faith the right and the duty of England to spread her civilization and her supremacy as far as she can over all those parts of the world which are still lying in disorganization and in darkness. The Little Englander, as his opponents delight to describe him, believes that England's noblest work for a long time to come will be found in the endeavor to spread peace, education, and happiness among the peoples who already acknowledge her supremacy. I am not going to

enter into any argument as to the relative claims of the two political schools. It has been said that a man is born either of the school of Aristotle or of the school of Plato. Perhaps an Englishman of modern times is born a Jingo or a Little Englander. I am not an Englishman, and therefore am not called upon to rank myself on either side of the controversy, but I know full well which way my instincts and sympathies would lead me if I were called upon to choose. I could not, therefore, account myself a political follower of Lord Rosebery; and, indeed, on the one great question which concerns me most as a member of the House of Commons, that of Irish Home Rule, Lord Rosebery is not quite so emphatic as I should wish him to be. I am therefore writing the eulogy, not of Lord Rosebery the politician, but of Lord Rosebery the orator, the scholar, the man of letters and arts and varied culture, the man who has done so much for public life in so many ways, the helpful, kindly, generous friend.

The common impression everywhere is that the Government of Lord Salisbury, as it is now constituted, cannot last very long. The sands of the present Parliament are running out; the next general election may be postponed for some time yet, but it cannot be very far off. Are the Liberals to come back to power with Lord Rosebery at their head? Liberal party become so thoroughly reunited again, Jingoes and Little Englanders, as to make the formation of a Liberal Government a possible event so soon? Or is it possible, as many observers believe, that Lord Rosebery may find himself at the head of an administration composed of Imperialist Liberals and the more enlightened and generally respected members of the present Government? I shall not venture upon any prediction, having seen the unexpected too often happen in politics to have much faith in political proph ecy. I note it as an evidence of the position Lord Rosebery has won for himself that, although he became Prime Minister only to be defeated, and leader of the Liberal party only to resign, he is at this moment the one public man in England about whom people are asking one another whether the time for him to take his real position has not come at last.

which grows everywhere almost from the water's edge back through the hills and ravines. It is called tundra, and is three feet thick in some places and exceedingly tough..

The gold-washing district extends along the base and sides of a range of hills or promontories that skirts the southern side. of Cape Nome, and also for miles up and down the sandy beach. It is this latter that has made Nome famous throughout the world. In the experience of all the old-time gold-miners nothing like it has ever before been discovered.

Before entering into a detailed description, it may be of interest to learn how the presence of the precious metal at Cape Nome became known. Many different stories have been told, but that generally accepted is as follows:

In the early part of 1898 certain rumors began to circulate around Council City and other mining camps. These rumors, principally from Indians, were vague, but they began to take shape in time, and finally a Swedish-American missionary named Hultberg learned from a native convert that gold in plenty could be found in the Cape Nome region.

Hultberg immediately organized a party and started on a prospecting tour up the Chinook River. This was in January, but, notwithstanding the rigorous season, a stay sufficiently long to discover promising indications of gold was made. In September of the same year an old prospector, H. L. Blake, heard of the new diggings, and decided to make a secret investigation. He communicated with several friends and organized another party. Snake River, a stream entering the ocean near the present site of Nome City, was ascended, and the bordering gravel was panned at hundreds of places. On Anvil Creek, a small tributary of Snake River, gold running almost five dollars to the pan was found.

By this time fall had given place to winter, and the growing cold weather sent the members

of the inadequately prepared party back to their former town. Each promised to keep the secret of their wonderful find, but the tidings leaked out, and several men, headed by a missionary named Anderson, fought their way over the snow and ice to Nome.

Despite the severity of the climate, the new party went energetically to work, and staked out a number of paying claims. After panning out $1,600 in gold, Anderson and his friends returned to Council City to wait for spring. The news of their success spread like wild-fire, and in a few weeks the word Nome was in the mouths of miners and speculators throughout the country.

Attracted by the wonderful stories told of the place, hundreds of prospectors set out for the Cape without loss of time. It was a stampede through blinding blizzards, across miles of ice, and in the face of a temperature reaching fifty degrees

below zero. During January, 1899, fully five hundred men reached Cape Nome. They carried tents and other equipage, and built the nucleus of the present prosperous mining camp.

The hardships they endured for the purpose of being first on the ground are beyond description. With insufficient food, thin canvas shelters, and an enforced idle ness, they spent a miserable four months before spring brought relief. Some of the experiences related by these early pioneers to the Cape Nome fields read like romance. One party of three, old fellows at that, had tramped to the new diggings from a camp two hundred miles distant. It was in the dead of the Arctic winter, and each man carried packs of blankets and camp utensils in addition to his share of the food supply. They slept in snow with the thermometer at fifty-eight below, and at times were compelled to travel the livelong day without a bite of food. There were no means of conveyance, no houses, no roads, nothing save a dreary, blizzardswept stretch of ice and snow and an interminable tramp, tramp, with death for those who faltered, and little prospect of relief at the journey's end.

During the long wait very little gold was panned-just enough to keep hope burning in the breasts of those who were braving the cruel winter. The frozen ground repelled even the pick's sharp

point, and it was necessary to remove the tundra to the depth of several feet before the ruby gold-bearing sand could be reached.

With the coming of spring and the opening of navigation miners began to flock into the district. Almost in a day the scene changed from one of desolate, dreary monotony to the utmost bustle and activity. From inland along the Yukon, and from Saint Michael's and the south, parties bearing tents and supplies gathered in the growing settlement. By June the village of tents had assumed some proportions, and when the chill October winds of last year began to sweep down from the north, Nome City boasted of several busy streets.

To-day the town extends a mile or so along the beach. There are no piers, and everything and everybody arriving by ship must be landed in lighters. In appearance the place is like the average mining camp. The winding, lane-like thoroughfares are flanked by rude and hastily constructed buildings of rough pine boards, canvas houses, dirty weather-beaten tents, and cabins built in the most primitive way, with rusty, battered stove-pipes sticking at all angles through side walls and roof. A score of cheap saloons, half as many gambling-hells, five or six danceplaces, and a very crude apology for a hotel, constitute the principal buildings.