Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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i ^ ^ ^ ^^" ~ t. m. GRIST & SONS, Publishers. I % ^amilg Jteuspper: dor the promotion of the political, Social, .agricultural, and Commercial interests of the people. | mmS?o?e2opt!'f15e cents*1*"' ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. P., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1899. NO. lOl. 1 - I ?? w-? |.u_ ?p THE FARM II A TALE OF By FLOREN Copyright, 1899, by Florence Warden. Synopsis ok Previous Installments In order that new readers of The En quirek may begin with the following installment ot this story, and understand it just the same as though they had read it all from the beginning, we here give a * x* Af St u'Ki/th hou synopsis UI luat |AUM?u VI .1/ nulv.. already been published: The Rev. Granville Masson, who is traveling in Wales, writes his brother, l)r. Reginald Masson that he Is about to go on an excursion in the hills with a wild, uncouth, redheaded guide. After this nothing is heard of the clergyman. Dr. Masson goes to Wales, tlnds the inn from which his brother started and learns that he was going to the house of Mr. Tregaron, owner of Monachlog farm, some six miles distant, under the guidance of a man nicknamed Coch Tal. Reginald starts in i he afternoon, and, in his haste, without a guide, to make his way in face of a snowstorm to Monachlog farm. Peieeiving a tlgure ahead ol him, Reginald liistensaud comes up with a large, redheaded man, who on seeing the doctor. shows signs of great terror and darts ahead. Reginald follows, feeling sure that the man is Coch Tal, and, overtaking him. calls him by that name; but the man again eludes him. lie pursues the fugitive down a ravine till he arrives at the edge of a cliff". from the bottom of which comes a groan. Above him he hears a voice calling ana, retracing his steps, comes upon a farmer, who conducts him to his house. The man's daughter is ill,and Reginald agrees to attend her. On the farmer's linger Reginald sees a riug that had belonged to his brother. Th house and the people in it are mysterious. There are an old woman, the farmer's young son. Tom, and a farmhand called Myrick. ti?i?u ?i,o nyi ,, <it the sick eirl. x\cgiuaiu iv imv . x? . v , Gwyn, and, upon seeing hlin, she Is struck with horror. Reginald sleeps in the kitchen In a chair before the fire. During the night lie awakens to find that some one lias entered the room and has evidently tried to rob him, suspicion pointing to the farmhand Myrlck, who turns out to be Coch Tal, and the farmer turns out to be Mr. Tregaron and the place Monachlogfarm. Tregaron tells Reginuid that he found the ring on a hillside near by. Reginald watches at Gwyn's bedside, and she warns him to leave the place before morning. Everything and everybody about t lie placets mysterious. The old woman never speaks ; but appears to be spying ; Coch Tal is moody, while Gwyn is in constant tt rror. Reginald, seeing Coch Tal climbing a ladder to a loft, follows him, corners him in his bedroom and questions him about his missing brother. Coch Tal admits that he was Granville Masson's guide and says that Masson insisted on climbing where it was not safe. He disappeared, and Coch Tal never saw him afterward. Gwyn recovers and urges Reginald to depart. A heavy fall ot'snow prevents, and lie believes that he will never get out of the place alive. While lie is with Gwyn, Coch Tal coines to tlie door. Reginald goes out to him, and Coch Tal shows plainly that he Is in love with Gwyn und Je ilous of Reginald and threatens him in case he does not depart at once. Reginald pacifies hi in and returns to Gwyn, who discloses that she hates Coch Tal; but evidently fears him. Reginald feels that she possesses t lie secret of ills brother's disappearance. Reginald discovers a pit on the place and. while exan tiling it, see the old womans watching him. She gives a satisfied chuckle. Gwyn relapses and acts strangely. Reginald, while watching witli her. falls asleep. He awakes to find himself bound, a cfotli over ids head, and hears Gwyn pleading for liiin. She is telling some one, "lie loves ine, and I love him, and he is going to inurry me." Then Reginald is left alone with her. Gwyn does not explain the mystery, hut the next day declares that the attack upon him was a trick to frighten him. She does not explain why she said that she and Reginald were to be married, but declares that such must be the understanding until she can secure his departure, when lie will be free. Tregaron congratulates lteginaId. Reginald determines to sleep in the loft witli Coch Tal. He awakens to find Coch Tal bending over him and asking him to wake up and help him control his desire to kill him. Coch Tal ""'Oovvk ihnt his enmltv is on account of Gwyn. but finally nobly admits thut he desires Qwyns happiness even at the expense of his own. Reginald asks Gwyn to be his wife, but she resists the temptation to marry above her station. They suspect that their conversation has been overheard by an eavesdropper. Reginald leaves the farm in company with Tregaron, who t ikes him to the edge of a high cliff, then advances upon him menacingly, when they hear Gwyn calling: "Father! Father!" Gwyn sinks down exhausted, the savage look leaves her father's face, and they carry Gwyn back to the house. Gywn tries to make Reginald swear that he will never velum or make further inquiries as to his brother's disap, earance. He r? fuses, and she pushes him out and locks the door. CHAPTER XXIII. corn tal's warning. The oppression of the silence and of the gathering darkness was awful, and Reginald Masson felt that he wanted to cry aloud, to do anything to break the mournful spell of dead, solemn stillness which hung over mountains and valley alike. lie knew that it was useless to go back to the farmhouse, from the door of which he had just been ejected so unceremoniously. And. honoriug and trusting CJwyu Tregaron as lie did. he could not but feel that lliis action on her part, strange though it was. had i ? r?i, (t jw, Ul't'll villk'lllilini. lll.il oik- III. .. IV tlu? best course to pursue to insure his safety. On the other hand, it was true that tier attitude, when he refused to promise not to investigate further into his brother's fate, had been one of deti "Can you ijive me shelter lor the niyht?" asked Masson. ance. that she had turned him out intc the dangers of night upon the mountains without 11 word of kindness or of farewell. But even this action on her part fail ed to convince him that she was as hard as her words. As he made his waj with difficulty down the hillside in tilt darkness he decided that he would fol low the advice she had given liiiu_at N THE HILLS. ^ MYSTERY. CE WARDEN. the beginning of tfieir conversation and find the other farmhouse of which she had spoken. If he could get shelter for the night he would start on his way hack to Treeoed early on the following morning. He turned to the left, therefore. * ~ * 1 ^ aC fhn hill wnen ne reucueu iuc uun-um iuE u... and saw a light on the high ground above him on the left. After a long and toilsome struggle, in the course of which he was plunged knee deep Into drifts at every other step, ne got to the toot of the hill, and from this spot found the ascent easy | enough, as a path down the slope had ' been cut by the Inhabitants of tin? farmhouse. He knocked, and a little active woman, with sharp black eyes, opened it and looked at him in surprise. 1 "Can you give tne shelter for the night V" asked Masson, conscious of difficulties In his story. "I lost my way on the tirst day of the snow and have ' been staying at Monachlog farm ever since. Starting touight on my way back to Trecoed. 1 have lost my way again, and so have uo choice but to beg a lodging for the night." Before he laid finished his speech the good woman had opened the door wide to him and was nodding a cheerful assent. "Dear, dear!" cried she in the sharp Welsh accent with which he was now growing so familiar. "It's a bad business to lose one's way among the hills at this time of year! And you may be thankful, sir. as you ever found your way to a shelter alive at all! And to be sure you're welcome to such poor fare as we've got, and to such a bed as we # Masson tried again to act some opinion on the nut tier of his brother's fate. can give you! I (lou t say it'll be what you're used to, but it'll be better than a snowdrift anyway! And we can give you a hearty welcome!" The family was assembling for supper. aud each member, on entering, greeted the newcomer, the men with a touch of the forelock, the women with a courtesy. There was the farmer himself, the husband of the woman !?.?*! Moeenn U'alftAmD flnil W liU UUU uiaviu .uaoovu iictwiuv, mmv there were three short, broad, sturdy sous and two shorter and equally sturdy daughters. To Massou's delight the conversation turned us soon as they were all seated at the table on the family at Mouachlog. "And how's the lass?" asked Mr. Thomas us he helped his family from a huge dish of ham and eggs. "I did hear as Tregaron was troubled about her. She'd caught cold out in the rain one day looking after the sheep for her father." "She's been very ill," answered Massou. "I was lucky in being able to be of some little service to them, for I'm a doctor, and Mr. Tregaron had been unable to get one to come and see his daughter." Everybody looked interested. "And 1 hope they treated you well, sir, up there?" said Thomas in an inquiring tone. "I had nothing to complain of." answered Masson. "But why do you ask? 1 thought you had all a great uatne for hospitality up here among the hills?" "Well, sir, 1 hope we have. But. you know, sir. different folks has different ways." "lie means, sir." broke in his more talkative and less cautious wife, "that the Tregarons are uot like other folks; leastwavs thev haven't been since Mrs. Tregaron died five years back and more. And my good man thought you'd maybe noticed it yourself, sir." "And how do you account for that?" asked Massou. "Well. sir. David Tregaron was always an odd sort of a man. but his wife was a good one and helped things along. And since she went he's took life in a loose sort of a way. so we've wondered time and again how they've managed to get along at all. You want to put your best foot foremost to serape a living up here, you know. sir. and we've often wondered how they make shift to get butter for their bread, letting things go as Tregaron does." "It's his man Merrick that they call Coch Tal that keeps hint from going to pieces altogether," said Thomas. ' "He's a capable sort, he Is. nnd he wouldn't be wasting his time there if it wasn't for the lass." "The old woman Is a strange creature." said Masson. "I never heard I her open her lips the whole time I was ' there." f There was a look of surprise on the face of every one at the table at these L words. "She used to be talkative enough," said Mrs. Thomas. "The difficulty was to get her to stop." Thomas shook his head. "It's Just one more sign of something wrong up there if old Mrs. Tregaron's lost the gift of the gab." said he. Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then the farmer turned the conversation. "And might one ask, sir, what brought you to these wild parts just as the bad weather was coming on?" said he. "1 came to try to find some trace of my brother." replied Masson, "who Utile fko Kn wus* ium aiiiuu^ til toe uiiio ii4 iuv- wvginning of October." "Dear, dear! And have you been successful. sir?" "Yes. And no. I have found that this Merrick, or Coch Tal, accompanied him Into this valley, and that he went up to Monachlog to see the ruins. They tell me he went on by himself, but 1 can find no further trace." The farmer and his wife exchanged a stealthy look. And with one accord they started fresh subjects of conversation and refused to make any suggestion or any hint which could either throw Masson off or ou the scent he was pursuing. When the younger members of the family had gone to bed. Masson tried again to get from the farmer or his wife some opinion, some suggestion ou the matter of Ills brother's fate. BuV nothing he could say. no persuasion or entreaty, or even affected doubt, could draw them from their determined reticence. He slept soundly In a bed in tne room with the farmer's sons, and in the early morning, when the lads got up, he started on Ills way to Trecoed, accompanied down the slope by the eldest lad. Just at the foot they found Coch Tal. wearing a gloomy expression of face and speaking in a short, hard manner. "Sir." said he to Masson. "I've come to tell you there's more snow coming down. And you'd better stay up here and not try to get back to Trecoed for a day or two." "Snow coming!" cried Masson in surprise. "I shouldn't have thought it by the look of the sky!" Coch Tal remained stolid. "Miss Tregaron told me to come and tell you so," said he. with a gathering frown. And without another word he turned and began to plow his way back to Monachlog through the snow. "What would you have thought?" asked Masson. turning to the young man beside him. "That there was more snow coming down or not?" Young Thomas, without looking at his questioner, stared at the retreating figure of Coch Tal. "If I'd been advised to stay, sir, by yon." and he nodded in the direction of the redheaded peasant. "I'd stay." But Masson was obstinate. He was weary of the mysteries and dangers. So he shook his head in answer to the lad's warning remark. "1 must go." said he. "It's early. I have the day before me. The snow has melted a good deal. I can reach Trecoed before night. I'm pretty sure." The lad looked at him askance. "This Is a nasty place, sir, for travelers." said he in a courteous tone of protest. "It don't seem so very far i from here to Treeoed, but there's four yV V * % / The next moment the firmer dipped, and fell down the side of the hill. travelers, strangers to the place, have been lost?altogether lost?hereabouts within the Inst few years!" Musson looked at him steadily. "Were none of them ever found?" he asked abruptly. "Oue was. sir. two years and more rTf? 1 - -* ??? I'/Miti/l hntu'nnn twn ago. HIS UUMJ MU3 IUIIU.. >'V>..VVU V, rocks. And the water had washed nwa.v most of his clothes, and it was as much as they could do to swear it was him." "Was foul play suspectedV" "N-n-o. sir. not as 1 know of. This Is a nasty place to get lost in." The lad seemed to be infected with the reticence his parents had shown. He was evidently anxious to getaway and to avoid further cross examination. Masson smiled grimly to himself. "Well." said be. "I shall risk it. Many thanks for the advice, though. I know it is good advice, though I'm too impatient to take it. CJoodby." lie held ont his hand, and the lad took it. Masson had an odd fancy, which pursued mm as ne pioweu nis way down the valley through the snow, that the lad as he bade him goodby gave up all hope of ever seeing him again and even of his ever reaching Trecoed alive. CHAPTER XXIV. A NARROW ESCAI'E FROM DEATH. The morning light was growing stronger every minute as Masson, after bidding young Thor?as goodby. started on his walk back to Trecoed. Presently he became conscious of a feeling that he was being followed. He turned abruptly, but he had Just rounded a bare bowlder, and be could see no more. The fancy was so strong upon him, however, that he retraced bis steps and looked round the protruding rock at the path he had traversed. There were footmarks which he had not previously noticed ascending the path to the top of the rock, but still he saw no one. There descended upon his spirits with irresistible force a belief that he had not escaped from the mysterious dangers of Monachlog after all. Go which way he would, he could not get beyond the malign influence which he felt to emanate from that uncanny household. He was shadowed, even now that he bad left the house, by an evil Influence, impalable, but unmistakable, which seemed to hang like a veil over him, shutting him in, closing him in. He began to feel a dreadful doubt whether he ever should get out of this valley; whether he should not share the mysterious, unknown fate which had overtaken his unhappy brother. With eyes and ears on the alert, with his teeth fast set, with a savage desperation at his heart, he pressed forward, bent on reaching once more the open ground in the valley below, where at least no ambush could be laid for him. The path which he was following, on the other hand, now turned to the right, and if he pursued it he would have to take a winding course, with more fatigue and loss of time, for he could see that it reappeared on the hill nnnnsite tn him. the verv hill on which the old monastery stood. He felt that he did not want to go so near the place again. In spite of his tenderness for Gwyn the sight of the ruined gray walls filled him with a very definite horror and sense of danger. He resolved, therefore, to attempt the difficult task of leaving the path at this point and scrambling down the rugged hillside, which was at this point both rough and precipitous, into the valley below. He had scarcely taken the first step downward, however, when he heard a low, suppressed ciy of warning from above, and looking up saw the head of Coch Tal looking at him from behind a jutting point of rock. "Take care." said the peasant, "take care." He bad hardly uttered these words when Masson, who had already discovered the need of great caution, as he found himself slipping down the snowy surface with a rapidity he had not calculated upon, saw that Coch Tal was not looking down at him, but that he had got his eyes fixed intently upon a figure on the side of the opposite bill. In his desperate situation, for he was slipping every moment faster down the mil, Masson tiaa no cuance or ratling u very accurate survey. But he had an unpleasant sense of being surrounded, hemmed In by enemies, which was considerably Increased when his descent was suddenly stopped by a jutting piece of rock, by his perceiving that the figure which had attracted Coch Tal's attention was that of old Mrs. Tregaron, who In her ?ap and shawl was crouching on the side of the opposite hill on the outskirts of a small patch of firs and leafless bushes. She was watching him furtively, with her leau neck outstretched, and one skinny, dark hand pointing to some spot a little way behind her. Massou had scarcely had time to recognize her and to wonder what connection her appearance had with that of Coch Tal. when lie heard the report of a gun. saw a flash from out of the trees behind the old woman and heard a bullet whistle past him. The next instant the old woman sprang up with a cry. and another figure rushed out from among the trees. It was David Tregaron, gun in hand. What followed happened so rapidly that it was like a confused dream. It was not until he thought it all over afterward tiiat Masson understood the exact sequence of events. Then he knew that the gun was lev1 eled once more; that the old woman met her son; that the weapon went off, discharging itself harmlessly In the air, and that the next moment the fanner slipped and. with a cry, fell, gun in hand, down the side of the hill out of Masson's sight into the cleft below between the hills. ADU Hie Uiu uuuiuu viuaijcu "?-? hands and, breaking the hideous, awful sileuee which followed with the accents of her quavering, shrill voice, cried, with a thankfulness which made Masson shudder: "Thank God! It's over! Thank God! Oh, thank God!" CIIAPTER, XXV. "there's nothing to eear here." Masson was In a strange position. His feet had touched a jutting piece ol rock which held him firm. But the point was so small and the side of the hill was so steep that he did not dare to move, but remained in this perilous plight, unable to go backward or forward or even to lean far enough to the right to see what had happened to David Tregaron when he fell Into the cleft between the two hills. Meanwhile the old woman had relapsed into silence and stood looking down at some object below with the blank, staring gaze which had seemed tso uncanny to Massou throughout bis acquaintance with her. The voice of Coeb Tal from the path above him now called Masson's attention back to the peasant "l'on i you move. sir. uou i you move. You're a dead man if you do." "All right." answered the doctor, not very steadily. He did not quite realize from which quarter he was now threatened, whether by Coch Tal himself or by the farmer's gun, or by his own situation on the side of the hill. The pause which succeeded seemed unending. There he remained. with his feet close together, against the point of rock, his clothing saturated by the thawing snow at his back and the now risen sun porring upon him across the mountains on the left. At the end of what seemed a very long period of waiting, during which the old woman had disappeared and the whole valley seemed to be steeped In a solemn, awful stllluess, he heard the voice of Coch Tal above his head once more. 'Tut the rope around you. sir, and come up carefully. You're wanted." Masson saw by this time that a strong rope, with a noose at the end. was being lowered to him from above. He made himself fast to It and, with the help of Coch Tal and Tom, regained the path with some difficulty. He found Coch Tal looking very grave and the lad Tom in a panic of strange fear, trembliug from bead to foot, and unable to speak. No soouer was the doctor on his feet than Coch Tal drew him rapidly along the path to a point where there was an easy descent Into the valley below. "I told you, sir, that you were want ed," said he In a grave voice, "but I don't know as I was right. Look!" He pointed to a spot below them, where, jammed between two sharp rocks, there lay something Indistinguishable, dark, motionless, at sight of which Masson started and turned toward his companions. His startled, questioning look was answered by their faces. Ti. *1 11 WHS .UHSSUU nuu UUIIICVl lUl oaiu and who attempted the vain task of withdrawing the body from its horrible position. Tregaron had fallen into the cleft between the hills at a point where two jagged rocks, rising up from the bed of a little mountain stream, formed a narrow and fatal cradle. Into which nobody could fall without being horribly mangled and crushed by the terrible contact. Into this ghastly deathbed David Tregaron bad fallen, and the first glance which Masson gave when be got. with some difficulty, close to the spot showed him that death must have been instantaneous. The broken gun lay in pieces within a few feet of the body. With much difficulty, since Tom, at the first suggestion that he should lend his aid. ran away up the path at full speed and disappeared. Masson and Merrick extricated the bruised body from its position and carried it up the path. Although the farmer had been a short, spare man. the position In which his body had been found and the steepness of the ascent made the journey a long and tedious one. When at last they got on the little tableland on which the farmhouse stood, Masson was seized with a strange sensation of sick horror on finding himself once more brought to the place which he had hoped never to ooft nivo In Ott U^Ullii The thought of seeing Gwyn again in these shocking circumstances made him stop and hesitate and look at Cocb Tal with such an expression of distress that the peasant broke the silence in which they had done their work. "You'd better come in, sir," said he, with an apt appreciation of the doctor's mood. "You'd better by far hear all about It, now you've come so far!" At that moment the lad Tom, still In the same state of nervous excitement as before, opened the farmhouse door and came out. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying, and the expression of his whole face, instead of being sullen and downcast as usual, was wild and disturbed. He came toward them hurriedly, with a sidelong, shambling walk, as if he was anxious to reach the two live men without coming near the dead man tliey bore. "Come round the back way," said he. "through the outhouse." Massou and Coch Tal, with their burden, followed him to the south side of the farmhouse, making their way with difficulty over the bits of ruined masonry with which this part of the premises was especially Incumbered. Tom opened a little rough wooden door which had been inserted in the massive old wall whicli had once been that of the north aisle of the church. This admitted them into the outhouse, where a rough trestle had been already put up for the reception of the body. The'y placed the remains of the farmer upon this resting place, and then Masson and Coch Tal, still in silence, turned toward the kitchen door, which Tom held open for them. But on the threshold Masson hesi tated. Standing still within the gloom of the outhouse, of which he had already such uncanny recollections, he felt a dread seizing him of the story that he should have to hear. He was oppressed by the knowledge that the key to the mystery of Monachlog would within a few minutes be in bis keeping. Before him. sitting by the kitchen fire, sat Gwyn Tregaron, with her head back agaiust her high chair, her eyes closed and an expression of intense agony on her pallid face. On the opposite side of the hearth stood the old woman, leaning upon her stick and pointing with a lean finger to the door of the outhouse. Tom. who was standing just inside the kitchen door, made a gesture to Masson of encouragement, of invitation to enter, and as he did so he uttered in a hoarse whisper these significant words: "Come in. sir; come in. There's nothing to fear here: nothing now." TO UK CONCLUDED NEXT SATURDAY. fi?* Salt thrown on a coal fire which is low will revive il. ifjtusMituicous tsramnj). INTERNATIONAL ALLIANCES. How the United States Has Keen and Ma; lie Mixed Up With Other Nations. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. The recent war with Spain, result ing in American occupation of tlx Philippines, and the questions growing out of these developments, have uwakened more or less interest in a mattei which is, to many readers of The En quirek. an entirely new phase of oui national life. I refer especially to lh< mutter of diplomatic relations between I lif United State* anil fol'eimi tfOVet'U men(h, which is the general subject o ihis article, intended to assist thost who do not know any more about the matter than I do myself. The greul majority of the people whe reud this will be people who do noi really need a line of it. They are peo pie who have read and studied enough uud who have common sense euougl to know that as it is with individuals in every day intercourse, business anc sociul, so it is with natiuus, only ou i larger scale. They ure more or iesi familiar with the diplomatic history o this country, aud they will not find ii this article a single item of informatioi that they did not already po&sess With due apologies theu for ocupyinj space which might have been utilize) to the better advantage of these read ers, I will give, us my only excuse, lh? fact that I am persuaded that then are a great many people to whom this subject is entirely new, and who ma\ gather some ideas even from whul J may he able to tell them. For instance, I have heard peoph say, "What business have we got fool iug with foreign nations. We havt enough to do to utteud to our own af fairs, without mixing up with the af fairs of other countries." This sam? sentiment is expressed frequently and l?y as good people as we have iu I hi: country. I do not mean by as wel informed people; hut by good substau tial men who produce their shure o the general wealth, who obey the laws who pay their debts, and who contrib ule as liberally as any of their fellows to the support of all our best institu lions. Aud senti Dentally, the obser vat ion, if not exactly right, has sorat capital backing. For instance, so grea a statesman as Thomas Jefferson onc< said thut he was almost tempted U wish thut an ocean of fire rolled be tween the new world and the old, bj that meuning that he would desin eutire isolation. But this same Tnom ?s Jefferson recognized the impruclica bility of his wish, he was templed t< make, and realized that wheu we can not get things as we wish them, we mus take them as they ure. He even laic down for the future guidance of hi: countrymen a proposition like this: "0 all foreign nations, we should most as siduously cultivate Greut Britain, for with us, she can do us the most good and against us, the most harm." I d< not quote exact words, not at this timi having them before me. There is stil much force in what Jefferson sail ihen ; but, of course, it does not ueces surily follow that this advice holdi good after a hundred years. Never theless, since that ocean of fire does uo exist; hut on the contrary, since at old world nation can now cross it wit! a casus belli in one second, and witl a fleet of wurships in one week, tha most felicitous state of attending t< our own business while we leave othe nations to attend to theirs, is mucl further from realizatiou than it wai in the day of Jefferson. But this matter of foreign alliance presents nothing uew. The independ ence of the United States was the off spring of an alliance with Frauci against Great Britain. Without sucl an alliance there is no probability tha the status of the world would huvt been anything like what it is today From the day our independence wa: acknowledged by Great Britain, am the United States began to send um bassadors to foreign countries, we hav< been attending to the business of othei nations as much as other nations hav< been attending to our business. Tin same condition must necessarily exis for all time to come. The peerlest Jefferson told us to avoid "entangling' alliances with foreign nations. Be tween "alliance" and "entangling alii unce" there is an important distinction Illuslruling, the arrangement whereby France, in the furtherance of her owt ends, gave her assistance against Great Britain, was a simple "alliance.' An arrangement whereby we woulc agiee to help any foreign nation it any of its quarrels on condition that ii would help us in any of our quarrels would be an "entangling alliunce" ir the sense the term was used by Jeffer son. In his recent message President McKinley quoted Jefferson's doctrim as to entangling alliances; but threw down the burs by adding, "in mutter: not or our direct concern. as u whether JeH'erson would endorse thai proposition under changed condition.is a matter in which there is room foi a difference of opinion. Many people huve suspected for sev eral years past that this country ha.an "entangling alliance" with Great Britain. It has only heen a short whih since the executive departments of tin two goverments negotiated a remarka hie treaty. There was nothing in tlx treaty that even suggested an otfeu.-iv< and defensive alliance. But, after all that is whut it reully meant. Uudei the constitution such treaties have t< he ratified by the senate before thej are of binding etfcct. This one tin senate refused to ratify, and coustitu tionally the proposition died then ant there. Whether, however, the treati is iIhhiI is not definitelv knnu i lo the public. Under certain circutn stances a tacit understanding of suci mailers is as good as a written iustru raent. There is reason to helieve tha this treuty is virtually of full force anr effect. For instance, revert hack t< the Spanish war. The interference o IIIW UIIIICM OiaiC? Willi III C UUIU^O Ul Spain in Culia, riled lo the very quick : almost every monarchy of Europe. It is no longer a secret that practically all of them except Great Britain agreed r to a combination baviug for its object armed intervention in behalf of Spain. Had Great Britain gone into the ar. rangemeut also, or even promised to , remain hands off', the Uuited Slates , would have suffered extreme bumilia. tion. The combined navies of Europe r would have been too much for us. . But Great Britain gave it to be uuder. stood (very likely in compliance with } a previous agreement) that if the com! binalion should undertake to interfere, . she would be on the side of the United f States. From a naval standpoint, . Great Britain and the Uuited States , would have been entirely too much for the combination, and that is why there , was no interference. Just exactly ( what price our admiuistratiou agreed to pay in return courtesies for Great Britain's good offices in this matter, is not known. ? It will be remembered that a few I weeks back an Associated Press diei patch from London announced the consummation of some kind of alliance 1 hetweeu Great Britain, Germany aud i the Uuiled Slates. The details were i given iu a general way, unofficially, . leaving the public in more or less I doubt. Each couulry has reasous for I not officially acknowledging the exist* ence of such u treaty. But tuke a look f at the poiulers which seem to verily t the report. It is to the iuterest of Great Britain, of course, for her euetnies to kuow that she is uot friendless. I Iu a recent speech, Mr. Chamberlain, the British colo'uial secretary, said "uu officially" but almost specifically, thut - such an agreement has been perfected. It is not to the iuterest of the admiuis (ration at Washington to have such things discussed iu this country for various reasons. Amoug other things, I the Republican parly is not & uuit in its sanction of the Trausvaal war, or 1 even upou the desirability of such an alliance. Agaiu, while such alliances I involve risks, they are generally based , upon contingencies which are not lia ble to develop, aud, therefore, the adi ministration which negotiates them prefer to avoid uuuecessary discussion and criticism. So, following Chamber ? Iain's open urn unomciai avowai 01 me I alliauce, we fiud President MeKinley, ' in ins otiicial message, without deuy> iug anything, giving the British u rap for their unjustifiable aggression, and f at the same liuie saying some very ? nice things about Germany, with which country we were a short time ago thought to be on the verge of war. ) We note, also, that the German uews papers, especially the official orgaus, I which, not a greut while back, were 1 scorching us black aud blue, are uow 3 saying only the nicest and pleasantest I things about us. Aud not the least - significant fact about the whole mutter , is the circumstance that all of the Lou, don papers seem to have appreciated j (he luolive of the president's thrust at f Great Britain, for uot oue of them has 1 tried to burl it hack at him. On the 1 contrary, all of them seem just as well satisfied as if the president bad said to s Russia and France, UI. am backing England iu this thing; touch her if you t dare." J And what are the terms of the bar1 gaiu by which these thing were 1 brought about? The only people who ' cau uuswer this quesliou are the exec J ulivea of the powers 10 me comoiue. 1 So far as tbe United States is con1 cerned, it is not impossible that she is B paying back tbe obligation she owes Great Britain on account of Cuba. * As to Germuuy, it will be remembered that she and Great Britain have been for several years quarreliug over e Samoa, and two or three times it has looked as if they were about to fight. 1 Since tbe report of tbe alliance refer" red to has become public, it has also ; become public that Great Britain has ? voluntarily turned her interest iu Samoa over to Germany. Of course, ibis is uot tbe whole of it. There are ' undoubtedly other considerations of I which the public has no kuowledge. As to the practical utility of such II au alliance to Great Britain, I am only 1 able to touch tbe surface. For in* stance, Great Britain and Russia are notorious rivals in the matter of extension of empire. Iu several places Brit" ish territory shuts Russia off from the sea at a reasonably convenient port in ' order to be iu position to develop her 1 latent resources to euorinous propor1 tions. The inducements to her are ?reat enough to warraul a war with Englaud, the only meaus uow in sight ' whereby she can hope to accomplish ' her ends. She has little cause, uuder ' present conditions, to fear Great Brit1 ain's navy. She is almost as secure from it as are the Boers. It is the 1 army that she will have to reckon ' with. There is reasou to believe that she has been watching her opportunity for years. Now, while the army is ' busy in the_TraL'svaul appears to be 1 (he lime. France is knowu to oe ner ' ally. Then why does she not act? r Under all the circumstances it would seem that tieimauy, the United Stales and perhaps Japau must be in the way. ' And the United Slates, stauding back 1 of a big bully engaged in wbiping an ' undersized, but plucky antagonist! That looks horribly bumiliatiug doesn't it? If that is the sole situation it is ' humiliating. But suppose our present ' positiou has grown out of some trade > we made on account of the Spanish ' war which pledges us to our present } attitude, the circumstances of which ' were then unforeseen, and that while '* we have uo sympathy whatever with | the cause of this bully, we are honor bound to stand iu the breach in order to preserve the peace of the world, 1 and our own safely as well? I do not ' know this to be the situation ; but it is 1 not at all improbable. Now, must we remain at home, give 1 attention to the ucls of peace, look ' after our own affairs and have foreign > . f (Continued on Fourth Page.)