,
0
. .
r - - -
I
i . Th liedemptiotl i
--j S . . . . ' . EL avtd . OfSOft
" : ' t' , ' ;
" By CHARLES FREDERIC I ' G OSS
I J
, . .
Copyrieht , 1900. ( ) ( by Th ! : IJoxvcn-Merrill ; Comiiany. All Rights Reserved
_ . A
. . . -no.
. . . . .
- - - -
" ' "
. . . . . .
. CHAPTER XV.
I , . * .vDuring ! several months of loneliness
fend sorrow a great change had been
I _ staking place in the mind of Pepeeta , of
+ , which she was only vaguely conscious.
The strain which she had been under-
9 I t going began at last to exhaust her
' , ' ' '
physically. - .
Her vital force became depleted , her
step grew feeble , the light died out
of her eyes , she drooped and crept
1
feebly about her room. Tlje determl-
- . . ( nation which she had so resolutely
maintained to live apart slowly ebbed
away. She was , after all , a woman ,
"net a disembodied spirit , and her wom-
un'sf heart yearned unquenchably for
the touch of her lover's hand , for the
kisses of his lips , for the comfort of
3i/s presence.
This longing- increased with every
passing hour. Fatigue , weariness ,
t r loneliness steadily , undermined her
still struggling resistance-to : those hun-
tterings which never left her , till at
last , when the failing resources of her
nature were at their lowest point , all
} her remaining strength was concen-
' trated , into a single passionate desire
t to look once more upon the face which
glowed forever before her inner eye , or
at least to discover what had befallen
in his sin and wretchedness.
It was a long and tedious journey
1
from New Orleans to Cincinnati in
those days , and it told terribly upon
t
the weaked constitution of the way-
farer. Her heart beat too violently In
, her bosom ; ' a fierce fever began to
-burn in her veins ; ; she trembled with
terror lest her strength fail her before
she reached her journey's end. It was
not of Death himself that she was
afraid ; but that he should overtake
iier before she had seen her lover !
Husbanding her strength as ship-
.
wrecked sailors save their bread and
I water , she counted the days and the
miles to the journey's end , and hav-
ing arrived at the wharf of the Queen
City , the pale young traveler who had
excited the compassion of the passen-
gers , "but who would neither comuni-
cate the secret of her sorrow nor ac
cept of any aid , took her little bundle
In her thin hand and started off on
the last stage of her weary pilgrimage.
It was "the hardest of all , for her mon-
ey was exhausted and there was noth-
ing for her to do but walk.
It was a cold December day. Gray
clouds lowered , wintry winds began to
moan , and she had-proceeded but a lit-
tel way when light flakes of snow be-
. ' 'gan to ' fall. ) The chill penetrated Tier
thin clothing and shook her fragile
" orm. : She moved more like a wraith
than a living woman. Her tired feet
left such slight impressions In the
,
snow that , the feathery flakes obliter-
ated one almost before she had made
. , another , and she was haunted by the
, . . . .
'
thought that every trace of her' pas
t. sage through life was thus to disap-
pear ! -
\
Ignorant of the distance or the exact
direction , and stopping occasionally to '
Inquire the way , she plodded on , the
exhaustion of hunger and weariness
becoming more and more unendurable.
" All , that she did now was done by the
, sheer force of will ; but yield she
. would not. She would die cheerfully
when she had attained her object , but
not before. The winds became more
wild and"boisterous ; they loosened and
tossed her black hair about. her wan
face ; they beat against her person and
drove her back. Every step 'seemed
the last one possible ; but suddenly ,
just as she descended the slope of ' a
steep hill , she saw the twinkling lights
, of the village and the feeble rays shot
nejv courage into her heart. Under
this accession of power she pushed
forward and made her way toward the
* old Quaker homestead.
The night had now deepened around
. her ; but every foot of the landscape
had been Indelibly impressed upon her
.
-memory , and even In the gathering ;
,
' .gloom she chose the road unerringly.
There were only a few steps more ' , ,
and reeling toward the door yard fence
she felt her way to the gate , opened
, it , staggered forward up the path in
the rays of light that struggled out
Into the darkness , and with one final
effort fell fainting upon the threshold.
The scene within the house present-
! d a striking contrast to that without.
In a great open fireplace the flames of
" the beech logs were wavering up the
chimney. Seated fin the radiance of
their light , on a low stool , was a young
. boy with his elbows upon his knees
and his cheeks in the palms of his
(
hands. His mother sat by his side
stroking his hair and gazing at him
. In fond , brooding love. The father was
bending over a , Bible lying open on
the table , and had just articulated In
slow and reverent tones the words of
.
Jesus , "I was a'stranger and ye took
me in , " when they heard a sound at
D ' . the .door.
i Father , mother and son sprang to
. .heir feet and , hurrying towards the
'
. . , Jjdor , flung it open and beheld a wom-
- an's limp form lyingon the threshold.
_ It was but a child's weight to the
stalwart Quaker who picked it up in
,
his great arms and carried it into the
f . radiance of the great fireplace , and in
an instant he and Dorothea his wife
were pushing forward the work of
restoration. The little boy stood gaz-
- ing wonderingly at her from a dis-
tance. The calm features of the Qua-1
_ ker were agitated with emoti n. His
y
wife knelt by th'e side of the pale
( sleeper , and her tears dropped silently
on the hand which she pressed to her
, , . . hs. . . g ' m , L' . . .
. For many days Pepeeta's life hung
in the balance , her spirit hovering un-
certainly along the border land of be-
ing , and it was only love that wooed
It-vback to life.
When at length , through careful
. " . . Murelng , * b . really regained . , htr em * \
ssx .
JL * -
_ _ - . ,
, . . . - ,
e
\ 4 * % * * ; r
; : : ; ; ;
sciousness and came , up from those
unfathomable . abysses where she had
been wandering , she opened her eyes
upon the walls of a little chamber tha
looked out through an alcove into the
living room of the Quaker house.
The silence was suddenly broken by
a voice feeble and tremulous , but very
musical and sweet. It was Per eta ,
who gazed around her in bewil } er-
ment and asked in vague alarm ,
"Where am I ? "
Dorothea was by her side in an in-
t
stant , and taking the thin fingers in
her strong hands , replied : "Thee is
among friends. "
Pepeeta looked long into the calm
face above her gatl/ere'cl
, and reassur-
* ance ; but her memory did not at once
return.
"Have , I ever been in this place be -
fore ? Have I ever seen your face ? !
Has something dread ( dl happened ?
Tell me , " she entreated , gaving with
agitation into the calm eyes that look-
ed down into hers.
"I cannot tell thee whether thee has : ;
ever seen us before , but we haye seen
thee so much for a few days that we
feel like old friends , " said Dorothea . ,
pressing the hand she held , and smil ,
ing.
Pepeeta's eyes wandered about the
room restlessly for a moment , and
then some dim remembrance of the
past came back.
"Did I come here in a great storm ? "
she asked.
"Thee did , indeed. The night was
wild and cold. " . . \
"Did I fall on the threshold ? "
"Upon the very threshold , and let us
thank God for that , because if thee
had fallen at the gate or "in the path
we should never have heard thee. "
Pepeeta struggled to a sitting pos- '
ture as her memory clarified , fixed her
wide open eyes upon Dorothea and
asked , pathetically , "Where is he ? "
"I do not know who thee means , "
said Dorothea , laying her hand on the
invalid's shoulders and trying gently
-to push her back upon her pillow.
"Da Yid ! " -she- exclaimed , "David. Tell
me if you ; know , for it seems ' - to' me I
shall die if I do not hear. "
' "I do not know , my love. It is a
long time since we have heard from
David. But thee must lie do vn. Thee
is not strong enough to talk.
"Are we alone ? "
"Yes , all alone. "
"Well , thenI I will begin , " Pepeeta
said , and in a voice choked with emo-
tion , the poor sufferer breathed out
the tale of her sin and her sorrow.
She told all. She did not shield her-
self , and everywhere she could she
softened the wrong done by David. It
was a long story , and wrfs interrupted
only by the ticking of the great clock
in the hall-way , telling off the mo-
ments with as little concern as when
three , years before it had listened to
the story told to David by his mother.
When the confession was ended the
tender-hearted woman kissed the 'quiv-
ering lips.
"Have you forgiven me ? " Pepeeta
asked , seizing the face in her thin
hands and looking almo"st despairingly
into the great blue eyes.
"As I hope to be forgiven , " Dorothea
answered , kissing her again and again.
A look of almost perfect happiness
diffused Itself over the pale counten-
ance.
"It is too much-too much. How
can it be ? It was such a great wrong ! "
she exclaimed.
"Yes , it was a great wrong. Thee
has sinned much , but much shall be
forgiven if thee is penitent , and I think
thee is. No love nor pardon should
be withheld from those who mourn
their sins. Our God is love ! And so
we are Ignorant and frail It is a
sad story , as thee says , but it is bet-
ter to be led astray by our good pas-
sions that by our bad. I have noticed
that it is sometimes by our holiest in-
stincts that we are betrayed into our
darkest sins ! It was heaven's bright
est light-the light of ' love-that led
thee astray , my child , and even love
may not be followed with , closed eyes !
But thee does not need to be preached
to. "
Astonished at such an almost divine
insight and compassion , Pepeeta ex
claimed , "How came you to know so
much of the tragedy' human life , so
much of the soul's weakness and guilt ;
you who have lived so quietly in this '
happy home ? "
"By consulting my own heart , dear.
We do not differ in ourselves so much1
as in our cxperiencesand temptations.
But thee has talked enough about thy
troubles. , Tell me thy name ? What
shall we call thee ? "
"My name is Pepeeta. "
"And mine is Dorothea. "
"Oh ! Dorothea , " Pepeeta exclaimed
"do you think we shall ever see him
again ? "
"I cannot tell. , We had made many
inquiries and given up in despair. And
now when we least expected news , thee
has come ! We will cherish hope
again. We were discouraged too eas-
ily. " -
"Oh ! how strong you are-how com-
forting. Yes , we will cherish ' hope ,
and when I am well I will start out ,
and search for him everywhere. I shall
find him. My : heart tells me so. " .
: 'But thee is not well enough , yet , "
Dorothea said , with a kind smile , "and
until thee is , thee must be at rest in
thy soul and , abiding here with us ,
await the revelation . of the divine
will. "
- "Oh , may I stay a little while ? It
is so quiet and restful here. I feel like
a tired bird that has found a refuge
from a storm. JBut what will your
husband say , when he hears thi .
story ? "
.
"Thee need not be troubled about
tba , Hi * dosr ana btart ar * vw
.
. .
i .
.
, "
.
" .J , ' , " - . r" " . . . ' . I "I. . . . .
,
#
I open to those , * who labor " and are heavy
laden. The , GiratRhas ; : found a faith' :
ful follower in him , Pcpeeta. It wu . .
he who first-divined thy story. " ,
,
"Then you knew me ? "
"We had conjectured. " -
"Then I wiU I stay , oh I will stay a
little while , and "perhaps , - perhaps
who knows ? " she clasped her hands ,
her soul looked out of her eyes , and . . a i
smile of genuine / happiness lit up n ' > r i
sad face.
. . .
" 'Yes , who knows ? " said Dorothea ,
gently , rearranging the pillows anc
bidding the invalid fall , asleep again.
CHAPTER XVI.
In due time the vessel upon whicl
David had embarked arrived at her
destination , the city of New York , and
the lonely traveler stepped forth un
noticed and unknown into the metropo-
lis of the New World.
With an instinct'common to all ad-
venturers , he made his way to the
Bowery. Amid its perpetual excite
ments and boundless , opportunities.foi
adventure , David resumed the habits
'
formed during that period of life upoi
which the doors had now clos ( _ . His
reputation had followed him , and the
new scenes , the physical restoration
during the long voyage , the necessity
of maintaining his fame , all conspired
to ' help him take a place in the front
rank of the devotees of the gambling
rooms.
He did his best to enter into this
new life with enthusiasm , but it had 3
no power to banish or even to allay
his grief. He therefore spent most ol
his time in wandering about among
the wonders of the swiftly-growing
city , observing her busy streets , hei
crowded wharfs , her libraries , mu-
seums and parks. This moving pano-
rama temporarily diverted his thoughts
from that channel into which they
ever returned , and which they were
constantly wearing deeper and deeper , ,
and so helped him to accomplish the
one aim of his wretched life , which
was to become even for a single mo-
ment unconscious of himself and ol
his misery.
Among the many acquaintances he
had made in that realm of life to
which his vices and his crimes had
\
consigned him , a single person had < < l
awakened in his bosom emotions of In-
terest and ; -regard. There was in that
circle of silent , terrible , remorseless
parasites of society , a young man
whose classical face , exquisite man-
ners and varied accomplishments set
him apart from all the others. He
moved among them like a ghost - mys -
terious , uncommunicative , and unap-
proachable.
From the time of their first meeting
he had treated David in an exception-
al manner. In unobserved ways he
had done him little kindnesses , and
proffered many delicate advances of
friendship , and not many months pass-
ed before the two lone , suspicious and
ostracized men united their fortunes
in a sort of informal partnership and
were living in common apartments.
There was in Foster Mantel a sort
of sardonic humor into which he was
always withdrawing himself. In one
of their infrequent conversations the
two companions had grownunusually
confidential and found themselves
drifting a little too near .that most
dangerous of all shoals in the lives of
such men * - the past.
( To be continued. )
LET THE WEAKLINGS DIE ?
Theory of an English Socialist Seem-
ingly Indorsed by Flgrures.
G. C. Hill , an English "sociologist , '
Announces : that it is mathematically a '
mistake to suppose that human life is I'
lengthening. He thinks that in the
British islands at least it can be
proved mathematically that everything
done to prevent sickly children from
dying soon , cuts down the length ol
the "average lifetime" after 40. Writ
Ing in the Sociological Review he
shows that in thirty years from 1870 ,
the death rate among male infants . .
under 5 years , was cut down from 75
to 58 in the thousand. The rate was
cut down in one degree or another " so
tSat there were , fewer deaths 'at all
ages under 35. At 35 there was al.
most no change , in thirty years. ; At
from 45 to 55 he ' shows the British
death rate going up from 19.6 to 20.8
in - { he thousand. Between 55 , and 65
years it rose from 33. & to 38.9.
His argument agrees with that oj
a considerable school of "sociologists , "
who agree with the . sociology of the
American Indians. By putting theii
babies In the cold water of the nearest
stream , the Indians learned easily
which were too weak to make a suc
cess in , life as fighters and hunters.
On the other hand , the biographies of
men who have done most to civilize
the world by great discoveries and in
ventions show that as children they
were often so weak that they were
kept alive only by the greatest and '
"most loving pains.
Others who have minds as mathe- -
matical as that of Mr. Hill are now
working out calculations showing that
as the people of Europe get more to
eat from the United States and South
America they are growing taller and
living longer for the same reason that
natives of Missouri , Kansas and Texas
measure : : half a foot taller than natives
of Japan and China. Until a genera.
tion ago , sociologists of the highest
Chinese education took the view taken
now by Mr. Hill in England. They
applied it chiefly against girl , babies.
It was a Chinese sociological custom
to leave , the undersized , superfluous
girl exposed in the open air to . starvi
to death. .
.
Unprejudiced.
Mike McGinnis was being examined
for jury duty in a murder trial.
" Mr. McGinnis , " asked the judge ,
"have you .formed or expresed -an
opinion as to the guilt or , Innocenci '
of the prisoner at the oar ? "
"No , sir , " replied Mike. .
"Have you any conscientious scru.I I
pIes against capital punishment ? " II I I
"Not in this case , your honor , " Mlkf j
replied. - - Suceca , I
. w -q r .
. . .
-
- - - - - - - - - - -
J I '
- . . , ,
I. THE PRICE OF ' coAL.'J 'I
, . .
: . .
'J .r < ( , . ' , " , - , ' - t
- , ' . .
IS , /
\
it I ! / ; ; "
II . . .
" _
q IIII II , J 1 . ' .
" - ' ' "
i11111U1 - " '
'
. , ,
. " , "
. l ( " . : :
' . ; , "
+ if + tl - \ , , "
; " - . . "
. . .
"
' - :
. . ,
_ _ _ ;
- ' .
c- - - t :
1
-
-
-
-
-
' Chicago Record Herald.
I
EDITOR OF CENTURY IS DEAD.
R. W. Gilder , Surrounded by Mem-
bers of Family , Conscious at End.
Richard Watson Gilder , poet , lectur-
er and editor-in-chief of the Century
Magazine , died shortly before 6 o'clock
Thursday night. The famous editor ,
who for more than a1 : quarter of a cen-
tury has been regarded as an author-
ity on literature , passed , away at the
home of a friend , Mrs. Schuyler ; Van
. ,
: BURIAL OF THOSE WHO ATTEMPTED RESCUE. .
. : , . rn !
1 . : : : . : : v . . . ; r : , a. o 7
iYv , : . , '
. : , . . . . . : . . : . _ . ' , .i + 4
4
. x. q' . . 4
: rY
. . : . , . 'r sy ? : . : . 'oYa : y ? : i < i : l _ y.o r. r ta Yr , .
r. : ; 'wxgy. } ; 4Y. < k2:4,4 , . .yft 'x't : ? i S > } t rsw t
; t ! ' x
'
, " ; r :
t
: : : ; : k I ; - '
y
> s s
1 > ' : v : ' '
!
i3:5 : ; : .4.hu. ; ,
fyfS : : . . . , . . . . . .
: : : : : : : : Y. : : : : : t v µ YY , '
o + a : : o ' ' . . : . > : ! ' : 'r : : . / ' .
a : ; + , c . q Sk2 ! . . > . : , . : : : , . . . . . , , . . : : . N k : . :
: } : ? ! ; ! ; : } : . : rx + : : ? : :
t 4Yr : : > , ; . . ; : . . . . : : : > : ; R. , , : : y
i . . . . . , , , . : . . } ; „ ,
: C q +
o
. , . . .
! , , . . . ! .M"i
a.Z . . . .r. " , . .r. , : : . . .9.f.1' ! ' % r . > y
: ; : ' : c .a.xro fA n. ; ? 3" ' iN : ; ; ; ! , . . : ? , n ) ' N ; .
C
:
F , : > . . .t. } . : . : f. v iY r : : ' : < . ; . ; : : . , : . . } . . FSY ; : . n : : : - - . : . . . / , ' . . . - . ' . . : . : . . , . . . ; ; - ' _ ' : : . 4
. , . .r , : . . + . : . ; . . , t . .v. : . . , :4. : : , ! .
"MIN1fl.SWXfH. ! . 'BA1te.V H.eADSTA.1eHrN'G 'YfNS12.At ' : .
OF ' : M. . rJ417I ; e'dI22. .
. .
- . ' 1 ,
Rensselaer , 9 West 10th street , New
York. He succumbed to an attack of
angina pectoris. He was surrounded
by his wife and children.
Mr. Gilder had been slightly indis-
posed for two weeks , but death came ,
with unexpected quickness. He was I
seemingly in better health Thursday
morning when Mrs. Gilder left the ,
house for a short time , but an hour
after noon he was stricken with heart
trouble. He retained control of his
faculties until the end , and bade fare-
well to the members of his family.
THIS BOY BAD WHEN HE SLEEPS
,
*
Order Reverse in Case of Kansas
City Lad - Would Kill Parents.
What strange impulse leads Walter
Schoonover , 11 years old , who is de
voted to his parents in his waking
hours , to try to murder them when
darkness falls ? For months his par-
ents , who live at Kansas City , Kan. , .
have attempted to answer this ques-
tion. Failing , they have appealed to
Judge Van B. Prather to help them
solve the mystery. Several times the
boy's father and step-mother have
awakened to find the youth stooping
over them with a hammer , ready to
kill them. When awakened he jeturns
to bed in a peaceful frame of . mind.
The boy asserts that he does not know
why he has such , homicidal impulses.
The court ordered him sent to a sani-
arium. :
TRADE AND INDUSTRY.
H. Rockwell , an Iowa strawberry en-
: husiast , after twelve years' effort and
experimenting , claims to have pro-
duced an ever-bearing strawberry.
St. Paul officials declare that no ad-
vance in freight rates ' is contemplated
in the Northwest , whatever may be
the plans of railroads in other parts
of the country.
Michael Ryan , president of the
American Packers' Association , at a
convention In Chicago , said that un-
less a great many more cattle were
raised in America , this country would
soon need to be importing meat. No
hope of permanently lower prices for
meat is held out by the ' association.
James J. Hill will distribute $2,500 in
gold as prizes at the Omaha corn ex-
hibit for the best grain grown in Mon-
tana within twenty - : ive miles of the
Great Northern. Montana : will have
on display products which will demon.-
itrate that the State of former mining :
tod cattle-raisin fame is now in the
Kl'uultsl'a1. , cTu . ii . . I' ! , Ii
.
. . . . , /
- . . - - - r
.
NOTES OF THE MINE DISASTER. I
A woman attacked the guard at the
main shaft and demanded that the
seals be broken.
State Factory Inspector Davies
found that - , a number of boys under 16
\
years of : age were employed , in the
mine.
The children of the town flocked to
the Congregational Church Wednes-
day , where they were fed by represen
- - - _ . . _ . .
tatives of the Congregational Home
Missionary Society.
Agitators harangued the miners and
urged them to seize the .works by force
tear the seals off the shafts and rescue
the entombed miners.
Scores of families are suffering from
the cold , many of the sorrowing wid-
ows and orphans being found huddled i
'
together in unheated houses.
Two companies of militia arrived in
Cherry Wednesday , but remained in
cars on outskirts of town until night
in ordernot , to arouse the miners. : :
Malcolm McDonald , State President
WIDOWS AND OBPHANS AT CHERRY. \ . . . ; , Ii
. . . . ' 'I '
' s't4 : : : / : i i. : 7
% fY ' ir :
.
- - ' : L _ , - : .r .
my _ _ % - i
'ri
rN I
* _ _ _ _ _ _ : - , ' ) I
_ _ . , _ _ Ii i
' ,
_ _ 1. " % v'ryX i : r + ) ii : ! - I '
I'
of the United Mine workers , declared
that the presence of the troops in- '
creased rather than lessened the grav
ity of the situation.
Relief work is well organized and a
regular system of relieving cases of
distress has been put in operation.
Many pitiable cases of suffering are
brought to the attention of the Red
Creu Y :
, , -
.
.
\
\ , . '
- .
,
CHARLES N. CBITTENTON 'DEAD-
Founder of Many Rescue Homes
Pneumonia Victim.
,
Charles N. Crittenton of New York ,
76 years old , known as the millionaire .
founder of seventy-three rescue homea a .
for girls in America and several in
Japan and China , which he named in , I. .
memory of his daughter , Florence ; '
died in San Francisco .Tuesday night
of pneumonia , after a short illness.
Mr. Crittenton was visiting the homes
throughout the country and arrived in
San Francisco ten days before. HQ be
'
came ill within a few days after his i > ,
arrival. He was senior member : of the
firm of Charles N. Crittenton & Co. , . -
wholesale druggists New York. Mr. :
Crittenton became converted in 1883 , , ,
the day after the burial of his daugh- , _
ter , who died at the age of 6. He had ,
become wealthy' by hard work , having
started with a capital of , $60 , and de '
cided to spend a part of his money ;
and time in philanthropy. In April .
1883 , the first Florence Crittenton-
home was established. The object of
the new movement was' the reclamaI I
tion of unfortunate women. , l
DRIVEN FROM HOMES BY : FLOOD
.
Suffering * Is Caused , in Eastern Kan .
sas by High Water and Cold. t- "
Many rivers and smaller streams '
in eastern Kansas are higher than .
ever before at this season of the year :
,
because of torrents of rain during
three days. The small towns of
Frankfort , Centralia . Vliets and Ver-
million are flooded and many resi- - , . ' . .
.
dents sought'shelter on the high lands
Monday , night. The weather was cold
and raw , causing much suffering
among the people driven from their
homes. At Lawrence the Kansas river
is higher than it has ever been at
this time of the year , and in the low- . ,
.
.
lands near there many persons have .
- f
' oeen forced to leave their homes. At
3alina Manhattan and Junction
, , City . .
the unusual rains are causing anxiety.
'
At Salina the Western Star mill dam ,
across the Smoky Hill river Is threat-
ened. The Smoky Hill and Republi-
can rivers are unusually high and . still ,
rising. , ,
, -
. <
, . .
'
Die of Hydrophobia on Train.
Paul Wesley Collins , /4 years old , .
died of hydrophobia on a Big Four , i
train due in Indianapolis. The child '
had l ' -en bitten by a dog at Delaware , . ! . . . . , . '
'
Ohio , and was being taken home from
. ,
.t'j .
Chicago , where he had received treat- . _ ' ;
.
M *
ment. . '
Blmira City Hall Burned.
The City Hall in _ ElmIra , X. . y. . . ,
was burned to the ground when a fire . '
which started in the engineer's room
spread so quickly that the firemen .
could not check the flames. The struc :
I ture was built ten years ag * at a cost .
, cf ' 1OOO9O. (
. . - . . . . . . . . , . . - - - . . . : .t " . .
1
. .