Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 09, 1893, Image 1
lewis m. (jbist, proprietor, i gin Judrpcndeut jiamihj ^nrspaprr: Jan; the fromotion of thij political, Social, Agricultural and Gjommercial Jutrrcsts of the ?o?th. | TERMS?^2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE.
vat, sq YOEKVILLE; S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 9, 1893. NO. 32.
Waring;
BY CAPT. CHAR]
[Copyright, lWtJ by J. B. Lippim-ott A* Cc
111
Ic was one of Sam Waring's oddities
that, like the hero of "Happy
Thoughts," other people's belongings
seemed to suit him so much better
than his own. The most immaculately
dressed man in the regiment, he was
never satisfied with the result of the I
efforts of the New York artists whom
he favored with his custom and his j
criticism. tie would wear xnree or
lour times a new coat just received
from that metropolis, and spend not a
little time, whec not on duty or in
uniform, in studying critically its cut
and fit in the various mirrors that I
hung about his bachelor den, gayly
humming some operatic air as he conducted
the survey, and generally winding
up with a wholesale denunciation
of the cutter and an order to Ananias
to go over and get some other fellow's
coat, that he might try the effect of
that. These were liberties he took J
only with his chums and intimates, to
be sure, but they were liberties all the
same, and it was delicious to hear the
laugh with which he would tell how J
Pierce had to dress in uniform when he
went up to the opera Thursday night,
or how, after he had worn Ferry's
stylish morning suit to make a
round of calls in town and that young
gentleman later on went up to see a
pretty girl in whom he felt a growing
interest, her hateful little sister had
come in and commented on his "borrowing
Mr. Waring's clothes." No man i
in the battery would ever think
of refusing Sam the use of any- ,
thing he possessed, and there were
half a dozen young fellows in J
the infantry who were just as
ready to pay tribute to his whims.
Nor was it among the men alone that
he found such indulgence. Mrs. Cram
had not known him a fortnight when,
with twinkling eyes and a betraying '
twitch about the corners of his mouth,
he appeared one morning to say he
had invited some friends down to
luncheon at the officers' mess and the
mess had no suitable china, therefore
he would thanic her to sena over ners,
also some table cloths and napkins, and
forks and spoons. When the Fortysixth
infantry were on their way to
Texas and the officers' families were
entertained over night at the barracks
and his rooms.were to be occupied by
the wife, sister and daughters of Capt.
Craney, Waring sent the battery team |
and spring wagon to t jwn with a note
to Mrs. Converse, of the staff, telling
her the ladies had s'*id so much about
the lovely way h? r sparerooms were
furnished that he had decided to draw
on her for wash bowls, pitchers, mosquito
frames, nets and coverlets,
blankets, pillows, slips, shams, and
anything else she might think of. And
Mrs. Converse loaded up the wagon accordingly.
This was the more remark- !
able in her case because she was one
of the women with whom he had never
yet danced, which was tantamount to
saying that in the opinion of tnis social
bashaw Mrs. Converse was not consid- '
ered a good partner, and, as the lady
entertained very different views on
that subject and was passionately fond
of dancing, she had resented not a
little the line thus drawn to her detriment.
She not only loaned, however,
all he asked for, but begged to be informed
if there were not something
pore she could do to help entertain
his visitors. Waring sent her some
lovely flowers the next week, but
failed to take her out even once at the
staff german. Mrs. Cram was alternatelv
aghast and delighted at what
she perhaps justly called his incomparable
impudence. They were
coming1 out of church together one
lovely morning during the winter., j
There was a crowd in the vestibule.
Street dresses were then worn looped,
yet there was a sudden sound of rip,
rent and tear, and a portly woman
gathered up the trailing skirt of a
costly silken gown and whirled with,
annihilation in her eyes upon the owfier
of the offending foot.
"That is far too elegant a skirt to be
worn unlooped, madam," said Mrs.
Cram's imperturbable escort, in his
most suave and dulcet tones, lifting a
glossy silk hat and bowing profoundly.
And Mrs. Cram laughed all the way
back to the barracks at the recollection
of the utter discomfiture in the
woman's face.
These are mere specimen bricks from
the fabric which Waring had builded
in his few months of artillery service.
The limits of the story are all too contracted
to admit of extended detail.
So, without further expansion, it may
be said that when he drove up to town
on this eventful April day in Cram's
wagon and Larkin's hat and Ferry's
Hatfield clothes, with Pierce's precious
London umbrella by his side and Merton's
watch in his pocket, he was as
J
auu picacubauAC a ACAivn
ever issued from a battery barrack,
and Jeffers, Cram's English groom,
mutely approved the general appearance
of his prime favorite among the
officers at the post, at most of whom he
opened his eyes in cockney amaze,
and critically noted the skill with
which Mr. Waring tooled the spirited
baj's along the level road.
^ Nearly a mile above the barracks, |
midway between the long embankment
to their left and the tall white picket
fence surmounted by the olive-green
foliage of magnolias and orange trees
on the other hand, they had come upon
a series of deep mud-holes in the way,
where the seepage water from the rapidly
rising flood was turning the roadway
into a pond. Stuck helplessly in
the mud, an old-fashioned cabriolet
was halted. Its driver was out and up
to his knees thrashing vainly at his
straining, staggering horse. The tortuous
roadway was blocked, but Waring
had been up and down the river
bank too many times both day and
night to be daunted by a matter so
trivial, lie simply cautioned Jeffers
to lean well over the inner wheel,
guided his team obliquely up the
slope of the levee, and drove quietly
along its level top until abreast the
scene of the wreck. One glance into
the interior of the cab caused him suddenly
to stop, to pass the reins back to
Jeffers, to spring down the slope until
he stood at the edge of the sea of mud.
Here he raised his hat and cried:
"Mme. Lascelles! madame! this is
indeed lucky?for me. Let me get you
out."
At his call a slender, graceful woman
who was gazing in anxiety and dismay
from the opposite side of the cab, and
pleading with the driver not to beat
his horse, turned suddenly, and a pair
of lovely dark eyes lighted up at sight
of his face. Her pallor, too, gave in-4
* A
bUliit w a natrn uuon, ax pvvwj'
child at her side clapped her little hands
and screamed with delight:
"Maman! maman! C'cst M'sieu' Vayreeng;
c'est Sa-am."
"Oh, M. M'areeng! I'm so glad
you've come! Do speak to that man!
It is horrible the way he beat that poor
horse?Mais non, Nin Nin!" she cried,
reproving the child, now stretching
forth her little arms to her friend and
striving to rise and leap to him.
"I'd like to know how in h?1 I'm to
get this cab out of such a hole as this
if I don't beat him," exclaimed the
driver, roughly. Then once more:
"Dash blank dash your infernal hide!
I'll learn j'ou to balk with me again!"
Then down came more furious lashes
on the quivering hide, and the poor
tortured brute began to back, thereby
placing the frail four-wheeler in imminent
danger of being upset.
"Steady there! Hold your hand, sir!
Don't strike that horse again. Just
s Peril.
~
LES KING, U. S. A.
and published by special arrangement.]
stand at his head a moment and keep j
quiet till I get these ladies out," called
Waring, in tone quiet yet commanding. |
"I'll get 'em out mj*self in my own 1
way, 11 iney 11 oniy stop ineir inierum
yelliu'," was the coarse reply.
"Oh, M. Wareeng," exclaimed the
lady in undertone, "the man has been
drinking1, I am sure. lie has been so
rude in his language."
Waring waited for no more words.
Looking quickly about him, he saw a
plank lying on the levee slope. This ,
he seized, thrust one end across the
muddy hole until it rested in the cab,
stepped lightly across, took the child
in his arms, bore her to the embankment
and sat her down, then sprang
back for her young mother, who,
trembling slightly, rose and took his ,
outstretched hand just as another lash
fell on the horse's back and another
lurch followed. Waring caught at the
cab-rail with one hand, threw the |
other arm about her slender waist,
and, fairly lifting the little madame j
over the wheel, sprang with her to the !
shore, and in an instant more had carried
her, speechless and somewhat agi- j
tated, to the top of the levee.
"Now," said he, "let me drive you i
and Nin Nin wherever you were going.
Is it to market or to church?"
"Mais non?to bonne maman's, of
whom it is the fete," cried the eager
little one, despite her mother's stern
orders of silence. "Look!" she exclaimed,
showing her dainty little legs !
and feet in creamy silken hose and kid. j
It was "bonne maman," explained ;
madame, who had ordered the cab from
town for them, never dreaming of the j
condition of the river road or suspect- j
Ing that of the driver.
"So much the happier for me," laugh- ;
ed Waring. "Take the front seat,
Jeffers. Now Nin Nin, ma fleurette,
.up with you!" And the delighted child
;was lifted to her perch in the stylish
itrap she had so often admired. "Now,
madame," he continued, extending his
hand.
But"madame hung back, hesitant and
V?liic^mrv
"Oh, M. Wareeng, I cannot, I must
not. Is it not that some one shall
extricate the cab?"
"No one from this party, at least," |
laughed Waring, mischievously,making
the most of her idiomatic query. "Your J
driver is more cochon than cocher, and |
if he drowns in that mud 'twill only '
serve him right. Like your famous
compatriot, he'll have a chance to say, '
'I will drown,and no one shall help me,'
for all I care. The brute! Allons! I
will drive you to bonne maman's of
whom it is the fete. Hless that baby
daughter! And Mme. d'FIervilly shall I
bless Nin Nin's tout devoue Sam."
And Mme. Lascelles found further
remonstrance useless. She was lifted ;
into the seat, by which time the driver, j
drunken and truculent, had waded
after them.
"Who's to pay for this?" was his
surly question.
"You, I fancy, as soon as your em- I
ployer learns of your driving into that j
hole," was Waring's cool reply.
"Well, by God, I want five dollars j
for ray fare and trouble, and I want it [
right off." And, whip in hand, the i
burly, mud-covered fellow came lurch- 1
ing up the bank. Across the boggy I
street beyond the white picket fence I
the green blinds of a chamber window j
in an old-fashioned southern house j
were thrown open, and two feminine
faces peered forth, interested specta- j
tors of the scene.
"Here, my man!" said Waring, in low
tone, "you have earned no five dollars,
and you know it. Get your cab out,
come to Mme. d'nervilly's, where you I
were called, and whatever is your due
will be paid you; but no more of this
swearing or threatening?not another I
j -? :i.
vvuru u i ib.
"I want my money, I say, and I mean
to have it. I'm not talking- to you;
I'm talking- to the lady that hired me."
"But I have not the monej'. It is
for my mother?Mme d'Hervilly?to
pay. You will come there."
"I want it now, I say. I've got to
hire teams to get my cab out. I got I
stalled here carrying you and your
child, and I mean to have .my pay
right bow, or I'll know the reason
why. Your swell friend's got the j
money. It's none of ray business how |
you pay him."
But that ended the colloquy. Waring's
fist landed with resounding i
whack under the cabman's jaw, and
sent him rolling down into the mud
below. He was up, r floundering and
furious, in less than a minute, cursing
horribly and groping in the pocket of
his overcoat.
"It's a pistol, lieutenant. Look out!"
cried Jeffers.
There was a flash, a sharp report, a j
stifled cry from the cab, a scream of
terror from the child. But Waring
had leaped lightly aside, and before
the half-drunken brute could, cock his i
weapon for a second shot he was felled
like a dog, and the pistol wrested !
from his hand and hurled across the
levee. Another blow crashed full in
his face as he strove to find his feet,
and this time his muddled senses
warned him it were best to lie still.
Two minutes more, when he lifted
his battered head and strove to stanch
the blood streaming- from his nostrils,
he saw the team driving- briskly away
up the crest of the levee; and, overcome
by maudlin contemplation of his
foeman's triumph and his own wretched
plight, the cabman sat him down and
wept aloud.
And to his succor presently there
came ministering angels from across
the muddy way. one with a brogue, the
other in a bandanna, and between the
two he was escorted across a dry path
to the magnolia-fringed inelosure,
comforted with soothing applications
without and within, and encouraged to
tell his tale of woe. That he should
wind it up with vehement expression
of his ability to thrash a thousand
swells like the one who had abused i
him and a piratical prophecy that he'd
drink his heart's blood within the
week was due not so much to confi- J
dcnce in his own powers, perhaps, as
to the strength of the whisky with j
which he had been liberally supplied.
Then the lady of the house addressed
her Ethiop maid of all work:
"Go you over to Anatole's now, 'Louctte.
Tell him if any of the byes are
there I want 'um. If Dawson is there,
from the adjutant's office, I wahnt him
quick. Tell him it's Mrs. Doyle, ancl
never mind if he's been dhrinkin'; he
shall have another dhrop here."
And at her beck there presently appeared
three or four besotted-looking
specimciAi in the coarse undress uniform
of the day, poor devils absent
1 A!. l !*/?{? Iwilrttv
WiUlUUb ilMVU UKJllA wivti j/vov mv?vm
and hoping' only to be able to beg or
steal whisky enough to stupefy them
before the patrol should come and
drag them away to the guardhouse.
Promise of liberal reward in shape
of liquor was sufficient to induce three
of their number to go out with the
fuming cabman and help rescue his
wretched brute and trap. The moment
they were outside the gate she
turned on the fourth, a pallid, sickly
man, whose features were delicate,
whose hands were white and slender,
and whose whole appearance, despite
glassy eyes and tremulous mouth and
limbs, told the pathetic story of better
days.
"You're off ag'in, are you? Sure I
heerd so, and you're mad for a dhrink
now. Can ye write, Dawson, or must I
brace you up first?"
An imploring look, an unsteady
gesture, alone answered. 1
"Here, thin, wait! It's absinthe ye ' <
need, my buck, Go you into that room I <
now and wash yourself, and I'll bring
it and whin the others come back for
their whisky I'll tell 'urn you've gone.
You're to do what I say, now, and
Doyle wul see you t rougn, 11 not, it.!
back to that hell in the guardhouse
you'll go, my word on it."
"Oh, for God's sake, Mrs. Doyle?"
began the poor wretch, imploringly,
but the woman shut him off.
"In there wid you! the others are
coming."' And, unbarring the front
door, she presently admitted the trio
returning to claim the fruits of their
honest labor.
"Is he gone? Did he tell you what
happened?"
"lie's gone, yes," answered one; "he's
gone to get square with the lieutenant
and his cockney dog-robber. He says
they both jumped on him and kicked
his face in when he was down and unarmed
and helpless. Was he lyin?" j
"Oh, they bate him cruel. Hut did
he tell vouof the lady?who it was they
took from him?"
"Why, sure, the wife of that old 1
Frenchman, Lascelles, that lives below, i
?her the lieutenant's been sparlrin' j 1
this three months." <
"The very wan, mind ye!" replied the . 1
lady of the house, with significant cm- '
phasis and glance from her bleary i
eyes; "the very wan," she finished, with 1
slow nodding accompaniment of the 1
frowzy head. "And that's the kind of <
gintlemen that rindertakes to hold np ^
their heads over soldiers like Doyle. 1
Here, boys, drink now, but be off 1
ag'inst his coming. He'll be here any ( 1
minute. Take this to comfort j*e, but i 1
kape still about this till ye see ine 1
ag'in?or Doyle. Now run." And
with scant ceremony the dreary party
was hustled out through a paved courtyard
to a gateway opening on a side <
street. Houses were few and scattering )
so far below the heart of the city. The
narrow strip of land between the great <
river and the swamp was cut up into 1
walled inclosures, as a rule?abandoned
warehouses and cotton presses, 1
moss-grown one-storied frame stmc- 1
tures, standing in the midst of desolate 1
fields and decrepit fences. Only among ?
the peaceful shades of the Ursuline 1
convent and the warlike flanking tow- ?
ers at the barracks was there aught <
that spoke of anything but demoraliza- 1
tion and decay. Back from the levee a '
block or two the double lines of strap- 1
iron stretched over a wooden cause- 1
way between parallel wet ditches gave <
evidence of some kind of a railway, on <
which, at rare intervals, jogged a i
sleepy mule with a sleepier driver and J
a musty old rattletrap of a car?a car i
butting up against the animal's lazy i
hocks and rousing him occasionally to <
ringing and retaliatory kicks. Around , <
the barracks the buildings were closer, ?
mainly in the way of saloons; then <
came a mile-long northward stretch of J
track, with wet fields on either side, '
fringed along the river by solid struc- '
tures and walled inclosures that told of | 1
days more prosperous than those which j i
so closely followed the war. It was : 1
to one of these graceless drinking- , 1
shops and into the hands of a rascally 1
"dago" known as Anatole that Mrs. <
Doyle commended her trio of allies, j ?
and being rid of them she turned back f
to her prisoner, tneir crstwnue companion.
Absinthe wrought its work
on his meek and pliunt spirit, and the i
shaking hand was nerved to do the I
woman's work. At her dictation, with
such corrections as his better education
suggested, two letters were
draughted, and with these in her hand
she went aloft. In fifteen minutes she
returned, placed one of these letters in
an envelope already addressed to M.
Armand Lascellcs, No. ? Hue Royale,
the other she handed to Dawson. It
was addressed in neat and delicate
feminine hand to Col. Ilraxton, Jackson
JJarracks.
"Now, Dawson, ye can't see her this
day, and she don't want ye till you can
come over here sober. Off wid ye now
to barracks. They're all out at inspection
yet. and will be tor an hour. Lay
this with the colonel's mail on his desk,
and thin go you to your own. Come to
me this aftliernoon for more dhrink if
ye can tell me what he said and did
when he read it. No! no more liquor
now. That'll brace ye till dinner-time,
and more would make 3-e dhrunk."
Miserably he plodded away down the
levee, while she, his ruler, throwing
on a huge, dirty white sun-bonnet, followed
presently in his tracks, and
shadowed him until she saw him safely
reach the portals of the barracks after
one or two fruitless scouts into wayside
bars in hope of finding some one
to treat or trust him to a drink. Then,
retracing her steps a few blocks, she
rang sharply at the lattice gate opening
into a cool and shaded inclosure,
beyond which could be seen the whitepillared
veranda of a long, low, southern
homestead. A grinning negro boy
answered the summons.
i o if A 1 rvli oncnO Tc unilf
mistress at home?" <
"No; gone town?chez Mine, d'Hervilly."
"Mine. Devillcase, is it? Very well;
you skip to town wid that note and get
it in your master's hands before the
cathedral clock strikes twelve, or j'e'll
suffer. There's a car in t'rec minutes."
And then, well content with her
morning's work, the consort of the
senior first lieutenant of Light llattery
"X" (a dame whose credentials were
too clouded to admit of her reception
or recognition within the limits of a
regular garrison, where, indeed, to do
him justice, Mr. Doj'le never wished to
see her, or, for that matter, anywhere
else) betook herself to the magnolia- 1
shaded cottage where she dwelt beyond
the pale of military interference,
and some hours later sent 'Louette to
say to Doyle she wanted him, and 1
Doyle obeyed. In his relief at finding
the colonel had probably forgotten
the peccadillo for which
he expected punishment, in blissful
possession of Mr. Waring's 1
sitting-room and supplies now that |
Waring was absent, the big Irishman |
was preparing to spend the time in
drinking his junior's health and whisky
and discoursing upon the enormity of
his misconduct with all comers, when
Ananias entered and informed him
there was a lady below who wished to
see him?"lady" being the euphemism
of the lately enfranchised for the
females of their race. It was 'Louette
*j......i,?. ?
\> liii liiu aiaiiuuvu iiwui nv i jiur?m.on, u,
mandate lie dared not disregard.
"Say I'll be along in a minute," was
liis reply, but he sighed and swore 1
heavily, us he slowly reaseended the
stair. "Give me another dhrink,
smut," he ordered Ananias, disregard- i
ing Ferry's suggestion: "Jlettcr drink
no more till after dark." Then, swal- !
lowing his potion, he went lurching
down the steps without another word.
Ferrv and Pierce stepped to the gal- |
lery and gazed silently after him as he i
veered around to the gate leading to ;
the old war hospital inclosure where
the battery was quartered. Already |
his walk was perceptibly unsteady.
"Keeps bis head pretty well, even
after his legs are gone," said Ferry.
"Knows too much to go by the sally- j
port. lie's sneaking out through the
back gate."
"Why, what does he go out there for, j
when he has the run of Waring's side- j
board?"
"Oh, didn't you hear? She sent for
him."
"That's it, is it? Sometimes I won- :
der which one of those two will kill j
the other."
1 "Oh, he wouldn't dare. That fellow j
is an abject coward in the dark. He |
believes in ghosts, spooks, banshees j
and wraiths?everything uncanny?
and she'd haunt hiin if he laid his
hands on Iter t here s ?mr. ??.ic < .u.i.; !
that he'd be more afraid of titan !
anly been here a montu or so, and
everybody in garrison knows all about
her, and these doughboys don't make
my bones about ehafHng us on our
lady friends."
"Well, everybody supposed he had
*ot rid of her years ago. lie shook her
tvhen he was made first sergeant, just
before the war. Why, I've heard some
}f the old stagers say there wasn't a
Einer looking soldier in all the reginent
than Jim Doyle when he married
that specimen at Ilrownsvillc. Doyle,
too, supposed she was dead until after
be got his commission, then she reappeared
and laid claim to him. It would
:iave been an easy enough matter fivo
rears ago to prove she had forfeited
ill rights, but now he can't. Then
3he's got some confounded hold on
liim, I don't know what, but it's killing
the poor beggar. Good thing for
the regiment, though; so let it go."
"Oh, I don't care a rap how soon
sve're rid of him or her?the sooner tho
better; only I hate to hear these fellows
laughing and Bncering about Mrs.
Doyle." And here the young fellow
hesitated. "Ferry, you know I'm as
Fond of Sam Waring as any of you. I
lilted him better than any man in his
;lass when we wore the gray. When
they were yearlings we were plebcs,
md devilled and tormented by them
most unmercifully day and night. I
took to him then for his kindly, jolly
ways. No one ever knew him to say
ar do a cross or brutal thing. I liked
him more every year, and missed him
when he was graduated. I rejoiced
when he got his transfer to us. It's
because I like him so much that I hate
to hear these fellows making their little
flings now;"
"What flings?" said Ferry.
"Well, you know as much as I do.
i'ou've heard as much, too, I haven't a
ioubt."
"Nobody's said anything about Sam
iVaring in my hearing that reflected
>n him in any way worth speaking of,"
.aid Ferry, yet not very stoutly.
"Not on him so much, perhaps, as
die world looks at this sort of thing,
;)ut on her. She's .young, pretty,
married to a man years her senior, a
snuffy, frowzy old Frenchman. She's
Gone with her child and one or two
servants from early morning till late
jvening, and with that weazened little
nonkey of a man the rest of the time.
The only society she sees is the one or
;wo gossipy old women of both sexes
,vho live along the levee here. The
inly enjoyment she has is when she
;an get to her mother's up in town, or
un up to the opera when she can get
Lascellcs to take her. That old mumny
cares nothing for music and less
'or the dance; she loves both, and so
loos Waring. Monsieur le Mari goes
jut into the foyer between the acts to
>moke his cigarette and gossip with
jther relics like himself. Waring has
lever missed a night she happened to
je there for the last six weeks. I adnit
he is there many a time when she
s not, but after he's had a few
vords with the ladies in the general's
30x, what becomes of him? I don't
enow, because I'm seldom there, but
Dryden and Taggart and Jack Merton,
if the infantry, can tell you. He is
iitting by her in the D'llervilly logo
jrillee and going over the last act with
ler and rhapsodizing about Verdi,
Bellini, Mozart, or Gounod?Gounod
^specially and the garden scene from
Faust."'
"Isn't her mother with her, and, beng
in mourning, doesn't she havo to
itay in her latticed logc instead of
promenading in the foyer and drinkng
that two-headaches-for-a-picayune
junch?" queried Ferry, eager for a diversion.
"Suppose she Is," answered Pierce,
stoutly. "I'm a crank?straight-laced,
f you like. It's the fault of my bringng
up. But I know, and you know,
ihat that little woman, in her loneliless
and in her natural longing for
?ome congenial spirit to commune
vith, is simply falling madly in love
,vith Sam Warinc. and there will bo
;ragedy here before we can stop it."
"See here Pierce," asked Feny, "do
r*ou suppose Mrs. Cram would be so
.oyal a friend to Waring' if she thought
ihere was anything wrong in his at;entions
to Mine. Lascellcs? Do you
suppose Cram himself wouldn't speak?"
"lie has spoken."
"lie has? To whom?"
"To me, three days ago; said I had
xnown Waring longest and best, perlaps
was his most intimate friend, and
tie though I ought to warn him of what
people were say ing."
"What have you done?"
"Nothing yet; simply because I know
Sam Waring so well that I know just
what he'd do?go and pull the nose of
the man who gossiped about him and
her. Then we'd have a fight on our
hands."
"Well, we can fight, I suppose, can't
we?"
"Not without involving a woman's
name."
"Oh, good Lord, Pierce, was there
sver a row without a woman au fond?"
"That's a worm-eaten witticism,
Ferry, and you're too decent a fellow,
is a rule, to be cynical. I've got to
speak to Waring, and I don't know how
to do it I want your advice."
"Well, my advice is Punch's: 'Don't'
Qcllol here's Drydcn. Thought you
were on court duty up at headquarters
to-day, old man. Come in and have a
wet?" Mr. Ferry had seen some happy
lays at Fortress Monroe when the
ships of her majesty's navy lay off tho
dygeia and tho gallants of England
lay to at the bar, and Ferry rejoiced in
the vernacular of the united service, so
far as he could learn it, as practiced
abroad.
"Thanks. Just had one over at Morton's.
Hear you've been having review
and all that sort of thing down here,"
said the infantryman, as lie lolled back
in aq easj'-chair and planted his boov
heels on the gallery rail. "Glad I got
out of it. Court met and adjourned at
ten, so I came home. How'd Waring
get off?"
Bridget Doyle living, and that would
be Bridget Doyle dead."
"Why can't he get rid of her? What
hold has she on him? This thing's an I
infernal scandal us it stands. She's i
"Iluh!?Cram's wagon," laughed
Ferry, rather uncomfortably, however,
"Oh, Lord, yes, I know that. Didn't
I see him driving Mine. Lascelles up
Itampart street as I came down in the
mule car?"
And then Pierce and Ferry looked at
each other, startled.
That evening, therefore, it was a comfort
to both when Sam came tooling
the stylish turnout through the sallyport
and his battery chums caught
sight of the Allertons. Pierce w as just
returning from stables and Ferry was
smoking a pipe of perique on the
broad gallery, and both hastened to
don their best jackets and dolf their
best caps to these interesting and interested
callers. Cram himse'f had
gone out for a ride and a think, lie
always declared his ideas were clearer
after a gallop. The band played charmingly.
The ladies came out and made
a picturesque croquet party on .tie
green carpet of the parade. The oflicers
clustered about and offered
laughing wagers on the game. A
dozen romping children were playing
joyously around the tall flagstaff. The
air was rich with the fragrance of the
magnolia and Cape jasmine, and glad
with music and soft and merry voices.
Then the stirring bugles rang out their
lively summons to the battery men beyond
the wall, The drums of the infantry
rolled and rattled their echoing
clamor. The guard sprang into rank,
and their muskets, glistening in the
slanting beams of the setting sun,
clashed in simultaneous 'present" to
the red-sashed officer of the day, and
4i,..? /-.ftii.i'il t'iiisuwl his nlnmed hat to
the lieutenant with the lovely ^irl
l>y his side and the smiling- elders on
the back seat as the team once more
made the cireuit of the post on the
back trip to town, and Miss Flora Allcrton
clasped her hands and looked
enthusiastically up into her escort's
face.
"Oh," she cried, "isn't it all jasttoo
lovely for anything'! Why, I think
| your life here must be like a dream." !
Hut Miss Allcrton, as Mrs. Cram had
said, sometimes gushed, and life at
Jackson barracks was no such dream i
as it appe ared. ,
The sun went down red and angry far I
! across the tawny flood of the rushing
river. The night lights were set at the J
distant bend below. The stars camo !
V ? oU5/f{?rp
peeping IIIIUU(JII u. ...mj
The big trees on the levee and
, about the flanking towers began
j to whisper and complain and creak,
and the rising wind sent long wisps i
i of straggly cloud racing across the i
6ky. The moon rose pallid and wan,
hung for awhile over the dense black
mass of moss-grown cypress in the
eastward swamp, then hid her face be- j
hind a heavy bank of clouds, as though
I reluctant to look upon the wrath to !
; come, for a storm was rising fast and 1
I furious to break upon and deluge old
1 Jackson barracks.
[TO UK CON TIN l- KD NKXT WKKK.] j
pisfdianrous parting,
i THE MONEY PROBLEM
REV. THOMAS DIXON, JR., ON COMMUNISM
AND SOCIALISM.
i
A Problem That Can Only He Settled by
the Organization of Society L'pon Some- !
thing That Approximate* It* True Chrlxtlan
Haaln.
Cape Charles, Va., Aug. 0.?Rev.
j Thomas Dixon, Jr., continued at Cobb's ,
island the series of sermons on "The Financial
Problem," tho subject of today's
discourse being "Communism and Socialism."
Tiio text chosen was Matthew ,
xxv. 15. "And unto one ho gave fivo j
talents, to another two, to another one; I
to each according to his several ability." |
Standing before the great problem of 1
money, wo ask ourselves the question.
! What will be its ultimate solution?
It is not a question that can be settled '
by a manipulation of a gold standard or
silver standard or a greenback standard
of the mechanism of exchange. The
mechanism of exchange is a very small :
part of the commercial problem. The '
commercial problem is a larger question !
than the mechanism of exchange. The j
commercial problem is the problem of j
the organization of human society. It is !
a problem that can never be settled until |
the question of the organization of so- ;
ciety is settled upon something that ap- I
proximates its true Christian basis.
Hence the tremendous agitation of the
last decade in the social theories of the
1 world.
There have arisen various schools of
| Bocial reform through the past century
| which have felt and felt fully the seriI
ous import of this problem. The French
{ and German socialists of the last century
have laid the foundations for tho j
deepest thinking upon this problem, and
that thinking is bearing fruit loday in j
the active organization of society.
There aro two schools of reformers who :
1 claim the field?the one destructive, the
! other constructive. The word socialist
has grown to havo u dangerous meaning
to the conservative members of society
because of the wild lunatics who are in
reality anarchists and who have masi
queraded as socialists.
A socialist is simply one who believes
I in a better social order than the present;
who believes in the reorganization of soi
ciety upon a basis of fraternal co-operaj
tion rather than the present basis of cold
I blooded war. ...
Socialism has also been confused with
; certain theories of communism that were j
: proclaimed within the past 50 years and |
j that today have loud mouthed advocates i
i in every country. This school of com- j
j munisin is in reality a school of anarch,
ists, who have caused a reaction from j
truo 6ocial reform that has been most ;
1 lamentable and has set back the prog- j
j ress of the race practically a generation. (
| Christianity is a system of socialism, i
Jesus Christ was the first great socialist :
I of tho world. The work of Christianity !
is the construction of a new kingdom on j
1 the remains of the old. It is the build- J
j ing of a new heaven and a new earth.
It is this constructive socialism that
must give to human society the truo an- !
swer for its present ills.
The communism which demands a division
of property on a per cupita basis j
is in reality t. scheme of madmen and :
anarchists and has nothing to do with I
* PUMcfi'utitfv Vina :
i II UU Dl'l'lUl 1U1U1 m. viuiouumv; ..I.w |
nothing in common with the ideal of
dead equality in the distribution of propj
erty. Such a scheme enforced would be
| the destruction of society, not its construction.
And its destruction is not
the aim of Christianity save as the prep- j
aration for construction. Our text hns j
given us the true principle of Christian j
socialism as contrasted with the spurious 1
ideal of an equal communistic division
of property. It is equal ability and re- !
sponsibility, and reward in proportion to
ability.
The ideal of pure communism enforced
i could only result in the destruction to
humanity?
First?Because it is immoral.
It is contrary to God's law. The Bible
j support of communism is apparent, not
real. The New Testament gives us accounts
of co-operative communities of
Christians. Each man did not claim his !
possessions as sacred to his own use. Ho
put his property in common, subject to I
the use of his necessitous brother. The j
right and title of his property he always i
maintained. The Bible condemnation of <
a dead level communism is real, full, i
overwhelming. We have the parable of
the talents. God distinctly declares to 1
i us that one man lias five talents, another ,
1 two, another one. To ono man is given
so many pounds, to another so muny, to
another so many, and each man is rei
quired to give an account of the talent j
he has possessed; to account for them in
proportion to his possession. The judgment
pronounced by the Bible is this
judgment in proportion to man's deserts.
Those who are guilty of much are
punished with many stripes; those who
are guilty of little arc punished with few.
There are the greatest and the lowest
i even in the kingdom of heaven. In the ,
organization of this ideal world, around
. the very throne of God, there is reeog|
nized the inequality of the individual,
an inequality that arises from unequal
I distribution of powers. Each man is
! equally responsible?that is to say, each
man is responsible to the full limitofhis
talent.
Second?Pure communism is unnat- j
ural.
It is contrary to the decree of nature,
which is but another expression of tho j
voice of God. Nature ubliors universal
equality. Men are not equal. They
were not born equal. There is nothing
in nature that leads us to believe that nature
would permit equality in her crea'
tions. There are no two waves just
j equal in force, in chnr.'icter. The flowers
have their character, their dissimilarity.
Every stream has its individuality,
j every leaf its own character. No two i
leaves are alike. No two human faces
are alike. No two human bodies are
alike. No two human minds are alike,
i There are no two mountains just alike in j
the world. No two mountains are just
equal in height. There are hills, there j
are valleys, there are higher hills, there
are grand mountain ranges, there are J
smaller mountains.
In leaf and flower, in bud and blossom,
in bird and fish, in mountain and j
sea and plain?in every voice of nature j
she has proclaimed the eternal truth of
the unequal distribution of talent, of ;
dissimilarity in individuals and of the j
right of every individuality to have per- j
; sonality developed to its highest powers,
j Individuality is one of the highest laws
of nature.
The communism which seeks to de- '
, #troy individuality is an attempt to re- !
construct nature itself. The very joy of i
' nature is in its variety. The differences '
of men constitute one of the harmonies
of life?their differences physical and
mental. Some are tall, some are short,
some are lean, some are fat. If all were
alike, it would he a most monotonous
world.
We would tire of the human race.
They would be so many little toy figures
cut out of flesh and blood, as we cut
toys out of wood. There would be no
such thing as beauty, becanse the sense |
of comparison would bo ultimately lost. |
The differences in women are equally of
if.:. ,1 ~ c a. mi .1: !
iius uecrcu ui uiiiure. Aiiey uuier in
temperament. Tliey differ mentally and
physically, and wo differ in opinions
about the same individuals. If we were
all of the same opinion and our ideal of
beauty were the same, the world would
again be reduced to n hopeless monotony.
And if all men in the world were given
ono mind about the same girl, there
would be a most calamitous climax, i
We have different minds; we have dif- [
ferent points of view. Communism is a
reversion to elemental bnrbarism because
it is a reversion to an original
type. As wo advance we advance by the :
evolution of individualities.
Nature rewards in proportion to man's j
exertion, not to each alike.
There are two fields of the same soil.
They receive the same sun, the same air,
the same rain. Ono produces a glorious
harvest, the other tangled woods and
grass. The difference is, one received
the toil of the farmer; the other received :
the tracks of the listless loafer.
Whenever it comes to pass in any
council of society that the loafer and the
beggar can eat the rewards of industry
and virtue nature has been fundamentally
violated.
Any scheme of reorganization of society
which makes it possible for the
worthless and the vicious to live at the
expense of the industrious and the vir- :
tuous and tho good is a dream of a mad- i
man or a devil. It is a blow at nature?
a blow in her very face.
Third?Such a communism is not only !
immoral and unnatural, but it is eminently
unjust.
Justice is the one original, universal,
eternal reality which man must recog- j
nize in his relations to his fellow man. j
Justice is the basis of any successful society.
Justice must be the basis of any
commercial scheme which has in it any
hope for man. Any system that seizes
the-fruits of one man's labor and divides i
it among others that do not work is unjust.
This is a proposition which cuts
the present social order at many point"
as well as denies tho basis of puro com- j
munisra.
Inherited wealth, for instance, is a j
seizure of the fruits of one man's labor i
and a division of it among those who did
not work to produce it. A robber is a !
man who seizes the fruit of another j
man's industry without working for it. j
There is a commercial brigandage of to- I
day which stands in the same relation. |
That idleness and vice eat with industry 1
and virtue is unjust. Nature and nature's
God voice the eternal decree of
industry. By work man shall live. Na- j
tnre proclaims it in a thousand ways?in I
the storms that howl in winter and remind
man of his frailty, of tho hunger j
that pinches, of the cold that cuts, of tho
storms that beat upon his head. In a
thousand startling voices he is reminded
of this eternal truth.
Nuture also teaches that idleness and j
vice have their reward.
A company of communists recently j
gave an excursion to a beer garden.
They carried mottoes in their procession I
after their wild speeches. One of thee ;
mottoes was, "Our children cry for j
bread!" They knocked the bungs out of |
500 beer kegs that day. In tho music of '
thut gurgling beer could be found tho j
answer to their complaint, and those 500 I
empty barrels gave in specific terms the ;
reason why their children cried for j
biead. There are some people who are :
poor and who always will be poor becauso
they are worthless. They refuse
to work. A man of this description looks
with envy upon the possessions of his in- j
dustrious neighbor. And any scheme of '
society that proposes to house and clothe
? ? *?' e Li- j !
tftis rascal at tne expense 01 ms muustrious
neighbor is fundamentally unjust.
And it can never be embodied in human
law in any form and endure.
What men need is justice, and justice
applied to the present society must solve ;
its every problem. All the poor need is
justice?not pity, not charity?justice, j
the right to work. Give to the laboring
world, the underworld, the right to :
work and a just return for that work, i
and all the poverty save the poverty of i
vice must disappear, and the poverty of ;
vice mu6t be treated by the strong arm
of the penal law.
What the social reformer needs to in- i
sist on today is not a distribution of
bread on a charitable basis. It is that
he insist upon the distribution of abstract
justice between man and man, between
employer and employee, between |
merchant and customer, between man
and man.
It is unjust to apply the material ;
standard of measurement to an immor- |
tal being. A pure communistic basis of j
equal distribution of property would, as
Carlyle says, reduce the world to a great
pig6ty, with a little pig wash for each.
It would be unjust for the skilled and '
the unskilled to be paid alike.
It would bo unjust for brains and
brute to share on equal terms.
To each man according to his ability
should be his responsibility. And each i
man should have his needs supplied?
each man who is worthy?and his need
will be fully met in giving justice.
A man in a horse car in Boston was
informed that a little man who sat at
the other end of-the car was Dr. Oliver ]
Wendell Holmes. Ho was greatly
amazed at his diminutive stature. So
completo was his astonishment that ho J
asked the doctor if he would allow him
to see his hat. The doctor smilingly
complied, and the man examined the hat
minutely and exclaimed in further surprise
that the hat was not as large as
his. He had supposed that a man like
Dr. Holmes would measure around the
skull so many inches. We have here the
difficulty in adjusting on your commu?aunlfu
iif wnrlf r?f
1113 I IU UU313 111U ICOUIbU \s*. v*.v> i. w. a. w
the architect and the hod carrier. Tho
hod carrier labors on the house. The
architect conceives the ideas. The other
does the work which a machine or a
brute under some conditions could be
trained to perform. A system that rewards
each alike for an hour's labor is a
system fundamentally unjust.
The richest elements of life are those
that elude such a material standard of
measurement.
We could not estimate the poet's labor
by the same tick of the clock as we estimate
the man who paves the streets.
The poet that wrought his immortal
song that thrilled a thousand hearts anil
gave them courage to do tho tasks of tho
world; that made tho anvil ring in a
thousand workshops; that gave inspiration
to millions of hearts?we cannot
pay for that poem in tho same terms and
by the samo standard as we pay the
printer who has set up the type and gave
it to tho world.
The artist cannot be remunerated upon
the basis of the house painter. The artist
whose creation inspired a thousand other
hearts cannot be equalized, cannot be
brought down to the level by any mechanical
process of the painter who
paints the exterior of tho house by the
day and the hour.
The musician whose masterpiece thrills
the hearts of the ages cannot have his
work estimated by the square inch. To
bring the race down to the dead level of
tho communistic idea is to eliminate the
heroics of life. Shall there be no individuality?
If we are just, there must
be. Justice demands that each shall be
rewarded according to his deserts.
Against the scheme of communism,
as a scheme for the present social disorder,
I would protest in the name of
God's word, in the name of nature, her
law of individuality, her law of brotherhood,
fatherhood, sisterhood and motherhood,
of all her forces that differen
tiate us into separate beings, with sep- I
urate duties and several characters. In
the name of the spiritual and the divine j
of man and of the elements that constitute
his higher life, I would impeach
such a scheme.
Communism can give no answer, therefore,
to the social problem of this ago.
To each man we must Tive simple justice,
and justice is the antithesis of the
communistic ideal.
If you answer in reply that the evil
play of antagonistic forces as at present
we have them in socioty must then be
the only solution, and that the fittest
will survive in this free play of bruto
force, I ask the simple question: Do the
fittest actually survive in your preseut .
society? Are not those who are most ile- j
serving crushed? Do not the unworthy j
succeed? Does not wrong triumph foi
the time and injustice reign? The an j
swer is not far to seek. We know these :
are facts.
While communism holds no answer
to the problem, so long as we believe in ;
Christianity, so long will we hold that
there is an answer, full, rich, complete.
FAMOUS LONG HIDES.
Soldier* and Scouts who llodc On Imperii- '
tlve Orders.
The recent cowboy race from Chad- I
ron, Nebraska, to Chicago, and the ex- 1
ccllent condition of the horses used by
the riders at the conclusion of the trip,
which goes to prove the stamina and '
enduring qualities of the Western ]
bred horses, and was one of the mar- ;
vels of the race, calling forth, as it did, \
the admiration of rough riders everywhere,
and securing from the agents of j
the humane society a certificate that, I
with few exceptions, the horses were
in good health when they reached
Chicago, recalls to The Inter-Ocean |
some famous long distance rides by !
scouts, soldiers, and dispatch carriers ;
on the Western plains. These riders ;
performed feats with their horses that
brought forth encomiums from gen- j
erals in the army, and in the light of |
recent events lire well worth the relat- j
ing. All these trips were in the face j
of danger not met with on the Chadron
race; every man was riding in
the performance of duty, and pluck
and endurance were displayed by both
men and horses.
From the nature of things, there
have been few long races under conditions
similar to those of the cowboy
contest, but there have been many
splendid examples of endurance on the
part of American soldiers and plainsmen
riding American horses.
A story is current in the Southwest ;
that a frontiersman named F. X. Au- I
brey, years ago, galloped lrom Santa
Fe to Independence, Mo., in a few
hours less than seven days. The distance
was 840 miles, and he had four
changes of horses. He won a wager
of $1,000, but was so exhausted
that he had to be lifted from his horse
at the end of journey.
tiencral Phil Sheridan has left a record
in his autobiography of a ride by
Colonel W. F. Cody ("Buffalo Bill")
while carrying dispatches in Kansas iu
18(58, then an unsettled country with
hostile Indians. It was in the winter,
but "Buffalo Bill" rode 350 miles in
less than sixty hours. He had several
changts of horses. While a pony express
rider, Colonel Cody covered his
own division and that of another
rider, who had been killed the night
before by Indians. The round trip of
324 miles was made without a stop except
for meals and two changes of
horses, and Buell's "History of the
Plains," which contains the records,
says the riders were scheduled to average
fifteen miles per hour.
On June 8, 18(50, James A. Moore
received an important government dispatch
at Midway Station, in Western
Nebraska. He carried it to Julesburg,
Colo., one hundred and forty miles,
and met another government message
coming Fast. The rider who should
have carried it had been killed by Indians
the day before, and Moore started
on the return trip after resting only
seven minutes. He made the round
trip of two hundred and eighty miles
in fourteen hours and forty-six minutes,
perhaps the most remarkable speed
ever made. The west-hound dispatch
which relieved Johnstone from the
command of the army on the coast,
was carried from St. Joseph to Sacramento,
over nineteen hundred miles, in
eight days nine hours and forty miuutes.
On the pony express there were
riders at intervals of seventy-five to
one hundred and fifty miles, and they
Brtaaii nr fvuotif v
CllitllgCU 11UI 3C.1 t V Ui J 1IKI.VI1 u> v.,
five miles. The distance from St.
Joseph to San Francisco was nineteen
hundred and ninety-six miles. The
first trip was made in ten days, the
second in fourteen, and the third and
many others in nine days. The trip '
from St. Joseph to Denver, a distance !
of six hundred and twenty-five miles, j
was made in two days and twenty-one j
hours.
During the late Indian war at Pine j
Ridge Agency, Colonel Guy Henry's \
command rode one hundred and two
miles and fought two skirmishes in J
thirty and one-half hours. The actual j
time in the saddle was twenty-two j
hours. These cavalrymen carried extra
ammunition and blankets weighing
twenty-five pounds.
During the Indian troubles in 1879, ;
that resulted in the Meeker massacre, i
Sergeant Murphy rode 170 miles in a j
little less than twenty-four hours, to
secure relief of Colonel Thornburg's |
command, which had been surrounded
by Indians. The record is not explic- |
it, but the presumption is that Murphy 1
could not break through the Indian
line with more than one horse. At
any ' ate, considering the mountainous i
country, poor roads, and the night
riding, it was a phenomenal perforin- !
ance.
During the Indian troubles in 187G
Colonel Stanton rode with important j
dispatches from Fort Laramie, in Wyoming,
to Fort Robinson, in Nebraska,
a distance of 100 miles, in the twelve
hours between noon and midnight,
lie used hut one horse.
In 1870 four men of Company H, j
" ' ?i :?i. I
i* irst l uvuiry, rune huu uiopui/vuvu
from Fort Harney to Fort Warner, 140
miles, the last twenty in sand, in
twenty-four hours. The actual march|
ing time was eighteen and one-half |
' hours.
General Miles has a record of ISO
miles in thirteen hours, stopping only
long enough to change horses. This
was made in New Mexico in 1885.
In 1877 Captain Fzra 11. Fuller made
a scout after Chief Joseph in the mountainous
country of Montana, and covered
850 miles in live days. A part of
his command continued the scout, and '
rode (500 miles in twelve days.
In 1882 Lieutenant Hell, of the Seventh
Cavalry, rode 105 miles in North !
Dakota in twelve hours, with one
change of horses.
A scout attached to Colonel Lawton's
command once traveled 450miles J
in the Sierra Madra mountains on one j
horse in seven days and nights.
" ~ "
fifeS"' There is one great fault with the i
growing generation. The young men
want to get rich too fast. With wealth ;
going to waste nil around thein they
; cannot find it in their souls to be pa- I
tient. They are not content to plod
along as their fathers did before them 1
! and slowly lay up a fortune. They
I must have it now, today, tins instant.
When they go into an enterprise they
want capital, and lots of it. They
j want to begin on a big scale and elecLtrify
the world. It is not the age of >
' saving, but of spending. Speculation,
! in the opinion of the New York Tri!
of I be hour. Kvcrv I
mere are many persons in our guvcrment
who advocate an exclusive gold
standard. Others believe in the free
coinage of both metals. The gold men
would demonetize silver and place it
on the list with iron, lead and other
common metals. The silver men want j
the two metals to stand on the same 1
footing.
Both have been used as currency !
from the curliest records of history. :
Gold has always been the moro valua- j
ble. From 1G78 to the end of the 18th
century, the relative value.was about 1
to 15; the extremes being 14.14 in i
17(50, and 15.74 in 1799. From 1800 to \
to 1878 the relative values were uni- I
form, the average being 1 to 15J; the j
extremes being 10.25 in 1813 and* 15.19 I
in 1859. The bimetallic system of
France kept these values steady. In
1805 the French system was adopted
by Belgium, Switzerland, Italy and
Greece. This was known as the Latin
Union. Spain had the same system
but did not join the union.
At the close of the Franco-Prussian
war, Germany reorganized her monetary
system and adopted the gold I
standard. Her silver was melted up
into bars and rushed off to silver-using
countries. This action on the part of j
Germany caused a sudden rise in gold j
as comparred with silver. In 1873
the ratio was 15.92. In 1889 it was
20.09. Since that time it has gone as
high as 23.
Norway, Sweden and Denmark followed
Germany and demonetized sil- j
ver. In 1870 Russia suspended the
coinage of white metal. In the United
States it was demonetized by the act
of February 12, 1S73. This year, j
India, which is ruled by England, j
adopted the gold standard. The only j
countries now open to the free coinage
of silver are Japan, Mexico and some
of the South American States.
The annual product of silver in 1873
was G4,2(57,000 ounces ; coining value
$81,800,000. In 1891 it was 143,550,- !
000 ounces; coining value $185,600,000.
With this large increase in the silver
production, it is believed that if the
Latin Union had remained open to free
coinage and Germany had continued
the use of silver, that the relative value
of the two metals would not have
been disturbed.
In 1878 the Bland silver bill was passed
which allowed the coinage of two to
four million silver dollars annually.
The actual amount coined was about
twenty-nine millions a year. During
this period silver did not rally but continued
to depreciate. Then in 1890
came the Sherman act, which authorized
the government to purchase 4,500,000
ounces of silver each month at the
market price and pay for the same in
silver certificates. This has brought
trouble aud a demand for the repeal of
the Sherman law.
Now what will congress do with
silver? There is a demand for more
currency but the people want a sound
one. Whether they have gold, paper,
silver or all three, they want a dollar
that is good everywhere and for all
time. They also want a flexible currency,
so that in case of stringency,
the pressure may be relieved, confidence
restored and capitalists induced
to bring their money from its hiding
places and put it in the channels of trade
If silver is demonetized, millions of
dollars will be drawn from circulation.
The government does not own the
gold to replace it.
Then thousands and tens of thousands
of laborers will be thrown out of
employment, for if the United States
gives up silver, the work in the mines
will cease, for there is au abundance
on hand for the arts.
Congress has no easy job on its hands.
Never has there been greater need of
clear headed, far seeing statesmen than
at the present day. The legislation of
the next two years will be the most im- j
portant since the days of reconstruction.
The small men, the accidents
of the hour, the drift-wood that has j
floated to the surface of the muddy
political waters, will be in the way. I
They know nothing higher than the
scheming that will insure their re-elec- 1
tion. They care nothing for the commonwealth
so they can keep on top. J
Great questions are forced on us and I
we want great and good men to discuss
and settle them. !
'",,n MtlOLI Alt Til L* W4II> r II
lttft M lift AI r A1113 ur iiiCi iiunui/.
The first great International Exposi- i
tion was held in London in 1851. It
lasted 144 days. The buildings and
grounds covered twenty-one acres, and
there were 17,000 exhibitors and 6,030,19")
visitors, 41,933 daily. The .
receipts were ?2,530,000, and the expenses
$1,400,000.
In 1855 the second World's Fair was
held at Paris. It continued 200 days,
and covered twenty-four and a half
acres. There were 21,779 exhibitors ,
and 6,162,330 visitors, 25,811 a day. :
The cost is conjecturally stated at $1,700,000
; the receipts were $1,280,000. j
The third Exposition was held in
Loudon in 1862. It continued 171
days, and covered twenty-three and a
half acres of ground. There were
2S,653 exhibitors and 6,211,103 visitors,
a daily average of 36,325. It
cost $2,300,000, and the receipts were
$2,040,000.
The fourth was in Paris in 1867. It
covered thirty-seven acres and continued
217 days. The exhibitors numbered
50,236, and the visitors 10,200,- j
000?47,470. daily. The cost was
$4,000,000: the receipts were $2,100,- |
000.
The fifth great World's Fair was in
Vienna in 1873. The buildings covered
forty acres, aud were occupied !
by 42,000 exhibitors. There were 7,254,687
admissions during 186 days,
an average of 39,003 per day. The j
cost was $11,000,000 ; the receipts were
$1,030,000.
The Philadelphia Exposition of 1876
was the sixth great display. The
buildings covered sixty acres: there
were 60,000 exhibitors, and 0,!)lo,!)!)(>
admissions, a daily average of 62,323.
The cost is stated at $8,500,000: the
receipts are said to have been $3,800,000.
The seventh International Fair was ,
in Paris in 1878. The buildings covered
sixty acres and the exhibitors j
numbered 32,000. There were 13,000,000
admissions during the 194 days, a j
daily average of 67.000. The official
report makes no mention of cost or
pvnpnsps. thouch it is believed the en
terprisc did not pay.
The eighth fair was at I'aris in 1889. |
The buildings covered seventy-five
acres, and were occupied by (50.000
exhibitors. The Exposition remained j
open 180 days, and was attended by
the astounding number of 02,3">4,111, a !
daily average of 181,170. The cost
was $11,000,000; the receipts were :
$8,080,000. I
man wants to make more than he can
earn by the sweat of his brow. He
must double his money in a night, and
quadruple it the next day. It is an altogether
artificial existence. Content- ,
ment is not sought nowadays. All the
men want is excitement.
- ? ? THE
SILVER QUESTION.
Spuriaiilaiiv Spartan.
Our government has reached the
business stage of its existence. Sentiment
and the spread eagle have to j
give way to the multiplication tabic.
For several decades legislation and
elections will concentrate around great i
economic questions. Our people will
not willingly give millions for the de
fense of any abstraction.
At the present session of congress j
tlie reconstruction of onr financial
legislation will be the chief cousidera- |
tion. Silver will occupy a prominent
place in all of their deliberations. ;
THE HEIUHT HE MEN.
A French statisician has been studying
the average heights of men at different
periods of the world's history,
and has reached some alarming conclusions.
The recorded facts extend over nearly
three centuries. It is found that in
1010 the average height of men in
Europe was nearly five feet six inches.
In 1790 it was five feet six inches.
In 1820 it was five feet five inches and
a fraction. At the present time it is
five feet three and three-fourth inches.
It is easy to deduct from these figures
a rate of regular and gradual decline
in human stature, and then apply this,
working backward and forward, to the
past and to the future.
By this calculation it is determined
that the stature of the first men attained
the surprising average of sixteen
teen feet nine inches. The race had
already deteriorated in the days of Og
and Goliath, an was quite a degenerated
offspring of the giants.
Coming down to later times, we find
that, at the beginning of our era, the
average height of a man was nine feet,
and in the time of Charlemagne it was
~:~i.a. r..~i ?1.* : i.
ui^m itsut ui^ut luiiiua.
But the most astonishing result of
this man's study comes, from the application
of the same law of diminution.
It is conclusively shown that in
4,000 A. 1)., the height of the average
man will he hut fifteen inches, and in
a few thousand years more the end of the
world will come, for men will grow so
short that there will be nothing left of
them.
This is altogether the most comfortable
solution of the end-of-the-world
problem that has been presented, remarks
the Buffalo Express. It will be
so much more pleasant for the coming
man to diminish out of existence than
to ho burned olfthe earth.
Courageous Business Men Wanted.?["Moral
Courage" was printed in
large letters as the heading of the following
items, and placed in a conspicuous
place on the door of a systematic
merchant in New York, for constant
reference, and furnished by him for
publication.]
Have the courage to discharge a
debt while you have the money in
your pocket.
Have the courage to speak to a friend
in a shabby coat, even though you are
in company with a rich one, and richly
attired.
Have the courage to speak your
ruind when it is necessary that you
should do so, and hold your tongue
when it is prudent that you should do
so.
Have the courage to tell a man why
you refuse to credit him.
Have the courage to cut the most
agreeable acquaintances you have when
you are convinced that he lacks principle?a
friend should bear with a
friend's infirmities, but not with his
vices.
Have the courage to show your respect
for honesty, in whatever guize it
appears, and your contempt for dishonesty
and duplicity, by whomsoever
exhibited.
Have the courage to wear old clothes
until you can pay for new ones.
Have the courage to acknowledge
your ignorance, rather than seek for
knowledge under false pretences.?
Progress.
What is Pluck ??A British newspaper
offered a prize for the best definition
of pluck. This is the one to
which the prize was awarded : "Fighting
with the scabbard when the sword
is broken."
The following are some of the best
definitions sent in:
Moral backbone.
The power a man has to say "no"
when he knows his wife wants him to
say "yes."
Fearlessness free from foolhardin
ess.
The chivalry of nature's knight- ,
i?i
11UUU.
That which enables one, when fighting
against adverse circumstances and
knock down, to rise and try another
round.
The heart of a lion in the body of a
man.
The best remedy for despair.
The force which converts an ordinary
man into a hero.
Honest daring without caring.
The absence of fear in the presence
of danger.
The courage to do the right thing
at the right moment.
Irrerepressible stoutheartedness.
That which keeps a man up when
he's down.
The offspring of courage and the
mother of success.
Moral grit.
f6T A novel method of burglarizing
a house was adopted by a New York
sneak thief the other day. While the
woman of the house was out, he appropriated
all the valuables in the place,
cut open a feather bed, put the booty
into the matress, and carried it off.
On the way down stairs the thief met
the woman on her way back. ,4Does
Mrs. Smith live here?" he asked her.
"No," she replied. "Well," said the
thief, "I've carried this matress up
and down the steps of nearly every
house in the block, and I'm-getting
tired of it. I didn't know there were
so few Smiths in New York." The
woman laughed, and ten minutes later
found that the man had run away
with all of the portable articles of any
value in that flat.
Bar Statistics show that murders are
rapidly on the increase, while legal
hangings and lyncbings arc small in
proportion. Murders in 1S87 amounted
to 2,335; in 18S9 there were 3,567; 4,230
in 1S90; 5,906 in 1891, and 6,792
in 1892. The number of legal hangings
in 1891 was 123, or one to fortyeight
murders; in 1892 there were 107
legal hangings or one to sixty-three
murders. On the other hand, hanging
outside of the law or in defiance of the
law, has been on an increase. There
were 195 lyncbings in 1891 and 236 in
1892.
BaT" A statistician who has been looking
into the matter of divorce has
found that the proportion of divorces to
population is least in Ireland?only one
divorce to every 400,090 inhabitants.
In the I'nited States the proportion of
divorces is ominously large, 88.71 to
every 100,000 population, the largest
known, in fact, save Japan, the figures
r\f tli.it lint\nv oi>inir(> hoillir 008.45 di
VM UIUV ??I'IV f" ~ O ~"
vorces to every 100,000 population.
S&T There is considerable philosophy
in the remark of a regular Britisher,
who said the other day: "You may
call us confirmed grumblers, hut I tell
you our grumbling pays. When
things go wrong with you Americans
you make fun of it and laugh at it and
endure it. When things go wrong
with us we keep on grumbling until
they are set straight. If you would
grumble more and joke less you would
be a hit better off.''
Some sharpers of New York
have resurrected the old scheme of advertising
I'tiele Sam's stamps as fine
steel engravings, and reports from rural
New England show that they are
finding plenty of victims. A man
living in Spencer, Mass., saw an advertisement
that on receipt of one dollar,
nil elegant engraving of the "Landing
of Columbus" would be sent. He forwarded
that amount and received in
return one of the Columbian two-cent
stamps.