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ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ " * l m. QEisT ft sons. Pnbii?her?. | <1 ^Bittilg jfcrcspgtr: jfor *1" jjrotnoiion of the folitical, gotial, ^gricnllural, and Comtneijtial Infests of the ftojU. | TER*8iNo,i?ooiY!oraDTOANCg' ~ -ESTABLISHED 1855. | YORK VILLE,"s. C? WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1902. : NO. 104. THERE] . By Rev. Chai Author of "In His Steps," "Ri Copyright, 1901, by Charles M. Sheldon SYNOPSIS OP PRECEDING CHAPTERS. John Gordon, heir to riches, refuses a position ip his father's bank and leaves^Rome, father and sister to work for the peopfe of "the slums. Sordid money getting and a life of frivolity are revolting" to him. Gordon's society sweethe/?.L*., 'Luella Marsh, refuses to share 'his life at Hope House, "an oasis of refuge and strength" among tenements, saloons and vaudlville halls. Th#?v nart. Gordon goes to Hope House and meets its head, Miss Grace Andrews. IV decides to Join the slum settlemen* .is friend, David Barton, a success! . \ ellow" journalist with a bad cough, Vis him to conduct a reform page inv*he Daily News, edited by one Ham v' Gordon considers the ofTer. The ai&r tempts Gordon, but he scores "y^low" journalism. Editor Harris o\ Shears the conversation, but gives no Vsm when he Joins Gordon and Bartoih Harris offers Gordon $500 a month fft edit a slum reform page. Barton's cough grows worse. Gordon refuses Harris* offer because he thinks Harris wants the page for sensational, not reform, purposes. Gordon finds that his father and Luella's own the worst tenements in the slums. Gordon asks his father to destroy his illegal, insanitary tenements, but is repulsed. Luella's father, who owns the worst dumb-bell tenement, visits it in company with Gordon. They also visit a disreputable vaudlville house near by. CHAPTER V. /BHt' KIM^^Ik^ I BUM t HE moment Gordon j I and Mr. Marsb bad | I* "' taken tbelr seats In I I fKo lioll o man nrlth Uiiic uua u uiuu m uu a white apron came up and, standing directly in front of jthem, said, "What *11 you have?" "Cigars for three," said the officer. And as the man slowly moved away after giving the three visitors a sharp look the officer said in answer to the question from Mr. Marsh: "Oh, the show's free. So's the lunch. But everybody is expected to take something. The saloons ain't doing this for their health nor for the love of the people, not if they know it" "What if we refused to buy either rigars or beer?" Gordon asked, for be had never entered one of the vaudeville halls but once before and had then gone in to hunt for one of the young men who had been attending the night classes at Hope House. His knowledge of the character of the entertainment was gained from Ford, the university resident The officer shrugged his shoulders. "They'd make it mighty uncomfortable for you before you got out or got In again. The saloon may be a social necessity to the poor devils in the double deckers, but it don't furnish social amusements without getting mighty well paid for it. It's free, but it's expensive," said Officer Roberts. As he finished speaking, the bartender came back with the cigars and a tray loaded with beer and whisky. The liquor was uistributed around on little tables at which the boys and men in the audience were mostly seated. As the curtain went up to the music of the orchestr. there were about 150 in the room and a stream of newcomers noisily enter tig. Before the first song Vas finished. the halJ was filled to suffocation. As the entertainment, if it could be called such, went on, John Gordon's soul was stirred dee,, with ? red blidtd Indignation. After the first two or three vulgar songs, which wem^rT lowed by some suggestivM-^V^ sat there practicallji--*^*1^^ nut* see" ing nothing^' *ita?c- T1,e autlieneeJn*a?-^cconje the absorbing study . -ttsfmva. The people! There they were! His choice! To serve and to love! But was it worth while? The majority of the company was composed of young men between eighteen and iwenty-five years of age. They were as a type pale, listless and astonishingly duil of expression. John Gordon was irresistibly drawn to imagine the exact appearance of the rooms that these young men probably called home. He then began to raise a host of questions concerning their parentage, their occupations, their wages, the amount they probably spent on the , saloon and the places they went to on Sunday. The absolute absence of any-t In thpir thing Interesting or eievuuu6 lives impressed him with tremendous reality. All the churches in the city were on the fine streets miles away There was not a religious institution with the possible exception of Hopi mi *es Sheldon. }bei rdy's Seven Days," etc. i. rt0tnat bad any Influence In the i liv< Hjese apathetic, coarsened, dis| young men. The vaudeville [ an^ialoou touched their lives, but thelch never did. Yet It was the ' Billlmt Jesus came to save. Was ' tbe realizing her responsibility ; to 11 t this awful swarm of youth that [ ike disease In the tenement, and ed God and died in the Impure ^sphere of these polluted wall o<l have mercy-on them! Are they gfaned against than sinning? Can ? or g^-j grow up pure In tene menu? these we have here in this greed ten city? And the one social institi that comes forward to minister e social Instincts is the saloon! iyg to the tired workingman who Id place worthy to be called a honi lome, enjoy a social glass in a hai well lighted, cheerful room!' ays to the men whose appetite is f satisfied with ill prepared food: ^ enjoy a free lunch! Only of corn <u Wiii want beer or whisky to wasl a>wn." And without saying this to I nan, only to Itself, the saloon, cevilish foresight, reckons on gett back by means of the free lunch 1 er cent in the actual sale of drinks. uiy oflicer Roberts is right when hfg, "it's free, but it's expensive." , It saj> the young man who has no healfcutlet for physical life because M boru without playgrounds and wit; borne pleasures: "Come! lu tbe levllle I will amuse you. The sou] id the dances will be suggestive, the young women who furnish timusement are fallen, but vice Is \a jessity to civilization, and we stancady .to furnish what ts$ church^ a other religious organlsau tious w 11 er give you!" "Sure John Gordon meditated, "the 8ai><) n its day and generation is wise n the children of light The devlj st dance In glee over the sight or t tenement and slum districts ln,Ucity as he sees his finest agents Vetoing the field of social pandereru i human necessity, while the soleri, eppty stone edifices called the HgruP^b doors ok or twice a week to retelvc proud nie and women, clothed in purple and. he linen, who fare sumptuously ever day, who enjoy their fell gion. but do not enjoy practicing 11 among siners? at least not among sinners Ik those who are born In ten emeuts an get their nourishment in saloon andvauderille. Surely the va loon is livic the churches pointers or bow to reth the masses. Will &( churches tae the broad hint and act on It or wl they still allow the s* loon to pre-irpt the corner lots an< under the hpocritlcal guise of cater Ing to u 6ocW saving dumn with phy? leal and moal damnation lives tha have never u#wn any other gospe but the gosp< cf beer and free lunche us long as he; are able to pay to them?" His medltaiai was going deeper and he was ie^nning to phllosophiz not bitterly, ht with genuine sadnesr when he so* Mr. Marsh suddenl; arise and clutfc his arm hard. "I can't bea any more of this," h said as Gordo glanced up at hlir "I'm going ot Ifa too Kwoltlnj I've seen all I are to." "And when ou've seen one of 'ec you've seen a. of 'em," said Office Roberts with ashrug. Gordon looke toward the stae. A dance that wa simply revoltinj in its indecency wa being performe. A mar of bruta laughter rose lom the audience. I was like a plcfcre tak? from som scene of the "Inerno." Gordon's spiri flamed up In hoy wratf at the sigh of it, but be got ip and jyent out wit Marsh and the oilcer. Once outsfde, ?ven U the taintec beer poisoned ah that loated out o the saloon, all three of theneu breathe* easier. Officer Roberts liked towar* Gordon with an air of relation. "Does your frieud wish^ continue I may be allowed to saytbe show i the same one place as aether?earn songs, same dances"? "No more for me," Mr. |arsh inter rupted quickly. "Gordon,Vm simp! sick of it all. Let us go hick House. I should like tonMtbought drews before goinEji^^perV" she would y?u t0*e Bowen "Ye5^-"night: J08* ^ or three ^rtJc^s!aud I'll not ask any,ore." "Very well." Mr- Marsh quctantly consented. He was evident laboring under great stress of feeling Hl8 sensitive nature bad suffered in^ys that were very unusual. i "It won't be necesaary for^u to go along, Jlobertft" Gordon sa a8 the I officer stood waiting.^ ^ - "Much obligeu, ,u, ?rM( au. swered with a look of relief.^.m a( your service of course ^lssndrew? gave special orders to me to any help to you that 1 cau" "It will not be necessary,j,berta Much obliged. W^l simp walh through the street and not atti^ nDj inside work tonight." "All right, sir." Ihe office^^ back to Hope House |laygroun^hlcb he had overseen evej since itij be. come an important institutli nnd ' (Jordon, taking Ml Marsh'aru^ i walked down Bowej street ftjjre r blocks, then turned flid came ^ Q1] . the oi)iK)site sidewul'. , If the street had ben full dui e day, it was ruuni? over at^ht ? i The stoops were literally packed with people. The child of the tenements, with her little sister in her arms, was there, bending over the armful, sitting on the steps In various degrees of discomfort and unconscious misery, but cheerful, resigned and apparently born to her task. The night was breathless, and yet out on the wide boulevard it was not stifling. Down here, however, not a single sigh of fresh air came. The garbage boxes rotted visibly. On the covers of those few boxes that still re-' tained covers were lying men and boys, trying In the midst of the unnatural, feverish noises peculiar to tenement districts to get a little rest On the stones and mud and offal of the street itself scores of people were lylug, some on a few rags thrown down to soak up the liquid filth, others with no covering between their horrible clothing and the foul street Twice they had to stop and pick their way between the figures that lay In the street panting for a breath of air, wearily, but with the indifference of years of accustomed discomfort, counting the time when the dark sleeping rooms Inside should become a little less unbearable. During the entire walk neither Gordon nor Marsh said anything but once, when Mr. Marsh asked a question: "Some of these children seem far better dressed and cleaner, more attractive than others. Are these some of the Dope House converts?" "No," replied John Gordon dryly. "Those are saloon keeper's children." Mr. Marsh did not ask any more questions until they were going into Hope House entrance. Then he turned to his companion and said: "I have seen things today I never could believe if I had been told. It is all too horrible, too horrible. I shall dream of it tonight Why have you made me look at it?" They' paused a moment under the arcnway. "Would God, Mr. Marsh, that every business man in this city could see what you have seen, and what you have seen is nothing compared with the horrors you will never even dream about." "It has sickened me," Mr. Marsh repeated irritably, and John Gordon could see by his manner that he was nervously affected by the day's experience. Before he could say anything Miss Andrews came in through the archway. \ "I understand you have been looking \bout today. Come Into the library had tell me about It" tehe had greeted Gordon in her usual qdet, calm but delightful manner as bejntroduced Mr. Marsh. \^en they were seated at the great center table, Gordon briefly recited the malAincidenta of the day'ELexperlence. Gradually Mr. Marsh lost his irritation. There was something profoundly impre^ive in the face and manner of this w<nan. She was the first woman he had ever met who made him feel t that 8lu was deeply and exactly ln; formed <\ city life. He had met other - women w?0 were brilliant, witty, well i educated, ultured, but never one who evidently k*ew humanity like this one. i In five minites she seemed to be in i full possessin of all the facts of Mr. t Marsh's ownrship of the property and r bis exact atttude In every particular 1 toward the senes he had witnessed. > The talk had not proceeded ten mlni utes before si* said with the utmost t frankness: il "Mr. Marsh, lam sure you will tear s down No. 91 andput up the right kind r of a building ln\ts place. Of course you are eonvlnceo now that the struc t ture Is a mistake li every particular." e "I?I?don't knov. I certainly did i, not know what sot of a building it y was?It would proveto be." Mr. Marsh stammered, e "Then of course yair Judgment and i. humanity together wll prompt you to r. put up a safe, sanltiry, comfortable building," Miss Andrews continued calmly. t "I?I?will have to erk-e the matter? d ah ? considerable consideration," Mr. s Marsh replied, with caution. "It will s be very expensive to tear It down." il "It costs lives. Are they not of more ,t value, Mr. Marsh, than money'?" e She said it calmly, but the repressed t passion of a lifetime of patient endurit' ance for the love of the people pulsed h through every syllable. A voice of tendcrest eloquence could not have 1, been more definitely emphatic, f "I shall have to consider it," the man d murmured uneasily, d The events of the strange day had produced a curious result in him. He ? was not certain that he could trust^f s impulses. At the same tiipe-^*^ e moved to action ofsp^degan to talk Miss Andre\5y**""^ohn Gordon, who .. of soui?J>i<rtrer the table, intensely injJjurcifedln what he supposed was go> Ing to be an appeal on Miss Andrews' ; part, gradually relaxed his attitude into one of disappointed surprise. Miss i Andrews was still talking easily, and i Mr. Marsh was listening intently, when one of the residents came in and called '. John Gordon out to answer a summons at the telephone. Gordou came back mod and said his : friend Barton had s?t for him, and that he might not return that night. , Mr. Marsh rose ani said, "I'll go i along with you, Gordon, as far as you . go my way." ^ He said good night to' Miss Andrews : and the two passed out from under the i archway, and when lie and Gordon ' parted uptown Mr. Marsh said with a short laugh: "Miss Andrews cans near making : me a convert But it vould kill me to ' Vive there and see thoie things every flay. I don't see how ihe stands such I a life." i Gordon did not reply. He had spoken hardly a word all fce way. The 1 weight of all the miserythat lay on the people bore him down. In the press ence of this overseustive, cultured, i wealthy man who had it in bis power to right the wrongs tha; were connecti ed with his own possessions, Gordon felt a repulsion that he Itured would break out iu word or manner. Would Mr. Marsh do auything? Would be rebuild the tenement? Would he correct any of the abuses? Why did Miss Andrews cease so suddenly to talk about it? Why did she not plead with him? She seemed on the point of doing so. In a moment of Impulse he spoke, as Mr. Marsh was moving away. "Mr. Marsh, you have it in your power to save the lives of those children If Louie dies in that hole, before God, I believe you will be held part guilty in the sight of God. Are you going to do anything?" "I'll do something," Mr. Marsh replied feebly. "Then in God's name do it quick, won't you?" "I'll consider It; fres, I'll consider It" r?nrrinn let him iro with that and with the weariness of the day bearing down on bis spirit be hastened to Barton's rooms, fearing bad news, for Barton bad telephoned himself, asking his friend to come at once. He foond Barton lying on the conch in the second room. "Come in, old man!" he said feebly, but cheerfully. "Excuse me for send ing for you, but my cough got so wild this evening abopt 7 o'clock that I thought you would like to see the show. It's a rattling good perform,, I She stood a mopient silently uazing. ance. Three rings and. a drove of elephants and a trained automobile don't ' i??? t < John Gordon looted mournfully at the recumbent figure. The truth was very apparent to him. The great eyes that glowed in the face stamped by death's trademark burned like wasting fires. It was evident that the time was sboit now. But after all It came as a shock to John Gordon. He bad not really been expecting It "What have you been doing? Amuse me with it I went down to tne omce this morning, but Harris sent me back. I tell you, he's not half bad. And?oh? there's a matter I want to explain. Have you seen the evening edition? No? There's a copy on the table. Don't blame me. I kept the business out as long as I could. Might never have got in if I hadn't been off duty. Miss Andrews used her influence and actually went to see Harris herself. She did miracles in keeping matters out of all the papers for more than a week. But Harris got word that the Review was going to run in a story, and I suppose he couldn't stand it? so?don't blame me, John. I'm sorry? but I'm not"? He sat up so that his knees touched bis chin and began coughing so terribly that John Gordon, on bis knees by the side of the couch, feared that the end would come then and there. But the spell did not last as long as he feared, and Barton said as soon as be was able to speak: ~aii? nf crtionllne or one a {CCH.1M& o something. That epurt she made at 7:30 winded her. There! Let nie down again. And give me that stuff in the bottle. It's no particular good, only** I keeps the cough from thinkiDg of all the time, the stuff's so a a ^Gordongave him the medicine, and Barton lay back exhausted. After a moment be^^ Rn}. M you w*4" t0- BQt, ^^rare going t olr* ?r anything Tut the close ant help, ask Williams to go out into the hall. Give him n dollar, and he'll pitch Into Harris and the News as long as you want" John Gordon picked up the paper and went over by the table. He seldom saw the News, and he never read it His whole retined nature rebelled in disgust at the monstrosity of yellow journalism, but bis curiosity was strong enough to make him read wkat Barton seemed so genuinely sorrow flu*. The headlines were bold and obtrusive: "Quarrels With His Father! Join Gordon, Son of Rufus Gordon, the Banker and Stock Manipulator, G<bs to Live at Hope House. A Rich Slunmer. Breaks With His Fiancee, Miss Luella Marsh. A Stormy Intervhw. Miss Marsh Refuses to Go With Hbn. All the Parties Prominent In Business and Social Circles. Mr. Gordon Repudiates His Son. Miss Marsh Refuses to Talk. Does Not Deny Interview With Her Former Lover. John Goidon ' to Make a Special Study of Teneaent 1 House Conditions In Bowen Street" The whole "story" occupied two col- ! umns, and directly under the liendlhee, j which covered two columns in wiitb, -h were two cuts, one of John Gordon lud i the other of Luella Marsh. The Jtle 1 under these cuts read, "Cupid Balki at Social Sacrifice." j John Gordon read the headlines ind glared at the pictures. Then' he drusbed the paper between his and flung it on the floor. 2 "Ring tbe bell for Williams, John. 1 think he's in tbe pantry. You need his help to do It Justice. Sorry I don't feel able to chip In with you." For a moment John Gordon stood still by the table; then he came over and sat dowu by his friend. "I don't care for myself, but Luella! David. It's a horrible invasion of all one's sacred private affairs. I have never understood bow you could believe in that sort of Journalism." David Barton looked lovingly at John Gordon. His cynical, whimsical, reckless manner disappeared for a moment "I don't believe in it Never did, John. It's purely business with me. I'm awfully sorry for you. What do I believe anyway? My wbole lire has contradicted my creed. But maybe there's hope for me yet What do you think? Am I too bad to repent and be saved?" John Gordon stared at bis friend, and in a moment his own deep, abiding, religious experience reminded him that here was a soul groping after light "David," he exclaimed softly, "no one Is too bad to repent and be saved. Oh, David, Christ makes all life worth while." "1 believe that" the reply came In a whisper. "I've never said mnch, John, but I've tried to"? TO BE CONTINUED. piSttHanmisi Reading. RELIEF FROM THE DOGS. CltlBeiM of York County Request Legislation on the Subject. To the General Assembly of South Carolina: We the undersigned citizens of York county, respectfully urge such legislation as will promise mitigation of what Is coming to be generally recognized as the dog nuisance. It gives us pleasure to say that in his place the dog is a useful animal, always a source of pleasure to his UWIICI, ?111 u DUUICllllICO a Duutcc VI. paw fit, and, therefore, we would not be understood as asking anything like a general proscription, or the enactment of anti-dog laws that would be either unnecessarily harsh or unjust. However, there are too many dogs in the country and too little responsibility for their ownership, and we think that for the common benefit, the ownership of the dog should be subject to certain wholesome restrictions. We would, therefore, beg to suggest the advisability of an .act providing that all dogs In the state must wear collars to be furnished by the respective counties, at a certain proper price per annum, to be fixed by the general assemblyttthat the revenue thus derived, over frit- dOOVl1 eXTTTTrtFF TO gu ?nil public road or public school fund, and that the respective counties pay bounties, to be fixed by the general assembly, for the heads of all dogs found without collars, in accordance with the requirements of law to be made and nrovided. Note?The foregclng is published at the suggestion of a citizen who is interested in this important subject. It is the idea to ha^e it signed as extensively as possible, and to that end we will be pleased to append the signatures of all qualfied voters who desire to be understood as endorsing the proposition. Nanus should be handed ed into this (fflce without delay by means of postil cards, letters and otherwise in suflcient numbers to give J the general a?sembly an idea of what our people ttfnk about the matter. Ed Enquirer. | president op the senate. An Ofllce' Who In Onr System of Government Comes to Higher Place. A politcal personage who under the machiney of American govo-nment gets very high is the president, 0r president protempore of the senaU.I who is the acting vice-president whenever tiere is a vacancy in the presidential rfflce, or when there has been a vacsicy in the office of the vice-president There is a president pro tempore nov, Senator William P. Frye, of Maine, the last of a very long line'of which John Langdon, of New Htmpyilre was the first and Richard H?nry I^e, of Virginia the second. Tfw-ocegident of the senate is a member of thaTTJoj^who presides over ts deliberations in uTg"-4q^ence of tie vice president, wno takeBlhe vicepresident's place when it becomes w cant, and who formerly stood next h line of succession to the presidency From 1867 to 1869 Benjamin F. Wade of Ohio was president of the senate anf Andrew Johnson, the former vice-president, having come to the presidencj through the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, Wade would have been president of the United States had the impeachment proceedings against Pres-i ident Johnson succeeded instead .of i failing, as they did, by a sina-'e vote in the senate. From 1875 to 1879 Thomas W. Ferry of Michigan was president of the sen at and during the early portDn 01 inui period Henry Wilson, the vice president of the United States having died, he stood next in succession to the presidency during the second term of Gen. Grant. Allen G. Thurman presided over the United States senate for two years, but when a candidate for vicepresident in 1888 was defeated, John Sherman and John J. Ingalls at different times acted as presidents of the senate, but there is no historical Instance of a president of the senate succeeding to the presidency, though many of the incumbents of the former years came near it thro thV^ death of either the presidp^ vice-president. Ze9 G Senator Frye succeeded^ iatter Blaine In the senate \vj^the ,atter , became secretary of str tS- An iron has been cut by ' he Brush comPany which is 1 !37 feet lop^^ "IN THE NAME OF JOSEPHINE." Story of a Remarkable Philanthropist of New Orleans. There died the other day In New Orleans a man who was in some respects the most notable character In that city, Alexander C. Hutchinson, president of Morgan's Louisiana and Texas Railroad and Steamship company. He was one of the most successful captains of industry in the south. He was generally regarded as a cold, austere and even parsimonious man, and yet it turns out that there was no man in New Orleans whose heart was fuller of sympathy for his fellows, of sentiment, of love of the beautiful, and whose hand was more generous in charity. Indeed, in the extent of his giving be seems to have been the first of the city's philanthropists. What V? la nkllonfhpAnv niUDl UlOblllgUIOIIVU mo Vf/J was his systematic effort to keep it secret. It was his habit gruffly to repel those who applied to him for charity and Immediately to cause a quiet investigation of their cases. If they were found to be deserving of aid It was promptly and generously given them; but secretly and in no other name than that of "Josephine." He was passionately fond of flowers and embowered his, home in them. He was devoted to art, his residence being filled with the rarest pictures, statues and books, while his taste for music made him the leading spirit in maintaining French opera in New Orleans. The death of his beloved wife, who had shared his tastes, left him desolate, expect for the comfort he found in alleviating want in her name. So live, dear friend, all through your life, That be It short or long, Though others may not know your name, They'll not forget your song. It was thus he lived. The Picayune says that "he would send a message of cheer and help Into some darkened home, and the recipient knew not whence it came. No one ever suspected him. How could they? He was so gruff, so stolid, so determined to keep up the appearance of snow and sleet lvinir above his heart of gold. If you would have barely hinted that it was A. C. Hutchinson who was finding1 out the hidden sorrow of tear-laden hearts and seeking to alleviate them, no one would have believed you." For many years no one knew who "Josephine" was, In whose name so much good was being done. According to The Picayune: "In the name of Josephine I send these gifts:" that was the way the legend ran for many and many a day, coming like a flash of sunlight into an aria garret. Ihto an Bjrmn alio orphanage, into the homes for the sorrowful outcast, and everywhere bringing new life, new purpose. With the simple, rough scrap of paper came offerings of coal, of groceries, of wood, of clothing, of money?substantial gifts that lifted the clouds at the darkest moment. "In the name of Josephine;" that was all, and nothing more. And so after awhile people began to ask: "Who is Josephine, whose the memory that is so dear that such royal deeds are done in her name, such unexpected blessings fall across the pathways of the miserable and for saken?" A little over a year ago the city was taken by surprise that a generous friend had donated the sum of $50,000 to the Charity Hospital of this city for the erection of a home for the Training School for Nurses. One day last November The Marine Journal, of New York published an article saying that it had leaked out that A. C. Hutchinson was the giver of the beautiful home. Then The Picayune published the story of "Josephine," and It was the first real glimpse that the world had into the real character of Mr, Hutchinson, It was a story that was copied far and wide, and seemed in its entirety more like an echo from the ages faith and charity than a living, br<Athing product of this prosaic age. "In the name of Josephine" this rich and powerful man left a nobler monument amor^ his people than the great irunspuri.itnuit system which he naa builded up, and >^e made a better disposition of his forujne than if he .had hoarded it, to be fought over by rola? tives, devisees and law>org. Wlint Kill* Trade Several years ago the large bicycle companies of the United States formed a combination?or trust?and all the leading cycle companies were broi?6nt under a single management. One of the first apparent results ~as the cessation of the large ipAVidtwl advertising campaigns wh*-n marked the progress of the ind'^dual companies. The trust use- very little advertising and merev endeavored to popularize the -inies of its leading machines. o^.ie time ago this great concern, uxe American Bicycle company, went into the hands of a receiver. i Col. A. A. Pope, who was the pioneer advertiser in the cycle field and whose Columbia wheels were for years t><^ standard of perfection in bicycle,.*1"0rlimKnn woo rpr>ontlv nskerl ah^dt the outlook for the company in J*? future. After saying that the ryfumbia factory at Hartford wmrsoon resume operations he added^ "The cessation/*" advertising killed the bicycle by^38' and the way to revive it is/* re8UTne that same important may"' You can see how 1 'eel in th/ atter when I tell you that I $500,000 in one year in that sort , ^publicity, and that it is my idea for the future?to advertise." When the trust was organized the j wiseacres said: i "We are spending our earnings for j advertising?l^f we combine all the lead- ] Ing companies we need only do as I much advertising for all as one com- ] pany is now doing." This policy was followed and the re- i * . / suit has been a decline In what has been called the bicycle fad?the trust is in the hands of a receiver and the Industry paralyzed. The cracker trust, the tobacco trust and others have been notable successes?the bicycle trust a notable failure. The first have been liberal?nay, prodigal, advertisers. They have been constantly placing new names before the public and almost without exception achieving Individual successes. The bicycle people endeavored to advertise half a dozen or more wheels In a general way?there was nothing specific in the announcements?with failure as the final result.?New York Advisor. y DIPLOMACY. In Future Diplomatists Will Be Concerned With Commercial Affairs. It was Henry Wotton who, in 1612, set down in a friend's autograph book the following merry definition, as he called It: "An ambassador is an honest man sent to He abroad for the commonwealth." But times have changed suite men* XL is uy luiigci iicwcooai y for a diplomatist to do violence to his conscience. He is now almost entirely an ornamental personage. His principal duties are?to appear at formal functions, to be affable, to make graceful after dinner speeches, to pay the right sort of compliments, to unveil monuments, to accept honorary degrees from foreign universities, and to spend more than his salary on entertaining. In the case of our repre sentatives it is necessary further to endure the agony of appearing in evening dress In the daytime. A curious piece of testimony to the change that has come about in international relations was furnished the other day by Sir Edmund Monson, the British ambassador to the French republic. Speaking at a dinner in Paris he said that when he entered the service he realized that the old doctrine that it was base to lie for one's self, venial to lie for one's friend, but a duty under some circumstances to lie for one's country had been exploded. At that time, however, he still bebelievod that ambassadors were in the possession of a knowledge of real mysteries and had an influence on events to an extent that was unsuspected by people at large. By degrees he came to the conclusion that this must be regarded as a Action. The ambassador was important In the old days when there was a scantiness ot means of information about foreign countries. But the railroad, the telegraph, and, above all, the newspaper correspondent, had changed all that. Political secrets are no longer to be . picked up in high society. The ambassador who sent mrormation to his ~government found that it had been forestalled by those whose business It was to collect the news and convey it to the world at large through their newspapers. To the "accuracy and dispatch" of these correspondents King Edward's ambassador paid a warm tribute. "Yes," said he, "it is to the gentlemen 'of the press that a serious change in the character of diplomacy is, by no means in a slight degree, due. We cannot compete with them in the dally transmission of local and special intelligence. Many of these able men have still further Invaded the Aeld of our functions, and transmit by telerrr.Qr.Vi tfl tho PTflflt 1011 T?T) A.1 fl Which thCY represent their own enlightened comments upon current political events or official utterances and actions." Sir Edmund Monson is of the opinion that In the future diplomatists will be more and more like commercial agents, questions of trade being the principal cause of difficulty. Under such circumstances what is called the "new" or "American diplomacy" should have a free field for making itself felt. ?New York Evening Sun. WONDERFUL CUBA. Fltshagh Lee Says It la the Richest Spot on Earth. Gen. Fltzhugh Lee addressed the members of the Patrica club, in New York, last Friday night on "The United States and Cuba." He said in part: "Cuba was never so weUj&x*med by Spain as sheJs__u???yt^^ongTess we? jjed_^e-ffl6~wars in Cuba and pawefl rea>^ olutions recognizing the ligerency of the Then came the war. / , . t "I want that 1 reP?rted to Pregjjj^-^lev^Iand the exact condition nt ?bat existed there. I report ed tb' rebelHon with an its Druuiuncs p-d horrors, and told him that it would continue for several generations if not brought to a speedy end. Mr. Cleveland gave no attention to my reports, and it was not until that great man now sleeping his last sleep in Canton, O., took charge of affairs in Washington that these atrocious conditions were brought to an end. "Cuba is well worthy of the attention of the American people. .It is the richest spot on God's green earth. No country can ever rival Cuba in its products- It has been awaiting for halt a century for American energy ajxl enterprise. If we had not sacri 'deed wisdom for sentiment, we would own Cuba today. When we did have Cuba we should have held on to it, but some of the people wanted to show the world that they were acting for humanity's sake, and not for the possession of territory. "Prior to the war with Spain, when I was consul general to Cuba, there were repeated attempts to assassinate me. Wherever I went I had to sit with my back to the wall and my hand on my six-shooter. I received twenty and thirtv letters a day in which I was threatened with all manner of deaths. Some threatened to waylay and strangle me; others to string me up to the nearest lamp post, and still others to tie me to a horse's tail and drag me around the streets of Havana. Five Spanish women called at my office one afternoon and handed me a letter from some Spanish officers In which they threatened to come to my office, tie me hand and foot, put me aboard the Maine and drive^ttie out of the harbor. [ received reports^that even the Cubans wanted to kill me because they believed that by so Siloing war with the^^M United States woulu surely