Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 03, 1906, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

4 i . , ;-;y - i -... .. ISSUED SEMX-WISEKL^^ Ti" grist's soHsrPabii.her..^ S Tamils fnwjMjtr^J[irtt< fromotion o( th< |olitiiml, focial, ^gri^Hnpl and (Bomnni|tial Jnttrwte ojf tht |(opl^ | TgK"tN0^?^"?vioiS^"cg' ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C, FRIDAY, AIJ?T 1ST 3, 190B. ~ NO. 62. : ' ? M^^^MMMmM_i_i_i_Lirjj_i_L_^__ ; Ll-___^[_ THE J? A Siory of the Time* Alexander BY JERE CHAPTER XV. "Strange partings hath this world; and yet Stranger meetings." During the period referred to In the last chapter, one evening as Colonel Burr was about closing his office to re? *? Dtnhmnnrl pair lO (lis rroiucnwc ?* ?... Hill, he was acSosted by a shabbilydressed man, who inquired if his name was Burr. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, he said that he had called to see him on business of urgent importance, and asked permission to close the door. "I never attend to business at this hour," replied Colonel Burr. "It is the time at which I always return to my family. You must call again tomorrow." "I may not be able to call tomorrow, and my mission must be discharged now." At the same time he raised a broad slouched hat from his head, and exhibited a strongly-marked countenance, rendered still more striking by a deep scar from the left eye to the right cheek. "Do you know me?" he asked, after allowing Colonel Burr a short time 'to peruse his features. "Yours Is not a face to be easily forgotten" was the reply, "even 11 i had less cause to remember It. Your name Is Jenkins; and it was at your cabin in the Highlands, that I was sheltered in times less peaceful than these." "Your memory Is a good one?almost as good as if you had some cause to hate me. Do you reoollect also the man who brought you there?" "Alexis Durand?my preserver? Assuredly I do." "Ah! I see he knew you better than J did. I thought you were like the world iq general, and In your prosperity would forget, or scorn to recognize, two poor Tories who had helped you at a pinch. He said no. He was right and I was wrong." "Did he send you here?" "He did; and here Is a token that he said you would remember," replied Jenkins, at the same time extending - * ? -I? *Mklak /XvUnnl Di!..r Hie mnje seal iihs " !??-?? vwiuuvi had presented to Durand when they parted in 1779. "He is in trouble." continued Jenkins, "and it is on his business that 1 wish to talk with you." "This must be attended to," said Burr, after assuring himself that the ring was the same. "Sit down and wait a minute." Colonel Burr walked to the door and soon returned with a messenger, to whom he delivered a hasty note to his wife; then, locking the door, he said briefly? "Now, Mr. Jenkins, what can I do for Durand?" "He wants to see you himself." "Then why did he not come with you?" "Because he is locked up between four stone walls, with a pair of iron bracelets on his w-rists, and another on his ankles." "In prison! For what?" "For what he Is as Innocent of as you are. For murder." "For murder! How do you know he Is innocent, Jenkins? It was said, In days gone by, that he valued human life at a cheap rate, and those who remember him then will believe the present charge on slender proof." "That Is the worst of It, sir. No one can deny that his hand is redder than It is prudent to talk about now, and though he has been pardoned for that, the men who are to try him may hang him upon the old account, when he is innocent of the new offense; for he is innocent, sir; though you must learn the rest from him. I can tell you no more." "Let us ?ro to him then. I must see him at once." "I am sorry to let you go alone, colonel. but It is not safe for me to be seen too often near the city prison. I risked it once today on Durand's account. but I do not care to risk it again. The fact is, I am not on the best terms with the officers of the law, and do not care to encounter them unnecessarily." "I understand; but I may need you, and I wish to know where you are to be found." "That is uncertain. I will come to your house tomorrow night at 10 o'clock, if that will suit you; and it you think then that you will have any further business with me, I will leave an address which will enable you to find me at pleasure." After a moment's thought, Burr replied: "That will do. Here," he continued. extending a handful of gold tc Jenkins, "take this and provide yourself with a better suit of clothes." Jenkins took the money reluctantly, saying. "Necessity, colonel, knows nc law. I ought not to take this money but I cannot serve you as you will expect unless I do; and, besides, as it will be necessary for me to keep very quiet for a time I may need it foi bread." "Keep it. man, without scruple. Th< shelter of your roof was once worth more than a hundred times the sum to me. I am still largely in your debt.' When Jenkins departed. Colone Burr locked his office and walked directly to the city prison. It was pasi the usual hour for the admission ol visitors, but the jailer abated his rub in favor of a practitioner of such wel known eminence, and conducted hln to the cell of Alexis Durand. "I am sorry to see you in thi! plight." said Burr taking the mena cled hand of the prisoner. "I hope yoi have done nothing to deserve it." "It is very kind of you. colonel,' replied Durand. inclosing the hand o his visitor in a grasp as hard as thi Iron which fettered his own. "It i: very kind of you to come within thesi gloomy walls to comfort a frlendles: man; but I always said that you ha< the best heart of any who ever serve* In George Washington's army." "Thank you for your good opinion IVALS. s of Aaron Burr and Hamilton. CLEMENS. Jenkins informed me that you were arrested on a charge of murder, of which, he insists, you are miiutcm. In that case I want you to begin at the beginning and tell me everything, omitting nothing because it may seem unimportant to you. I must judge of that, and to judge correctly, I must know the whole." "Well, sir, after I had put you in the Mlddlebrook road, I went back to my comrades and served the king faithfully until the end of the war. I had been too active a foe to hope for speedy forgiveness; and Jenkins was more obnoxious to the victorious Whigs than I was, for he had plundered. burned, and hung without mercy, whereas I had only killed in open fight. Both, however, were in peril, and we agreed to repair to New York, enlist in the British army and go with It to Europe. Unfortunately, we arrived too late. They had been gone three days when we reached here. There was no alternative but to make our way back to the Highlands. where we hid for months, sometimes sleeping in Jenkins's cabin, and sometimes In the hollows and lonely riana with which were acaualnted. D,V""I " * ? Occasionally we would venture down to the houses of known Tories, who lived unmolested In the country because they had not taken up arms during the war, and from them we obtained clothing: and provisions. In this way months went over. Our fears had subsided to some extent, and we lived constantly In the cabin, trusting to its remote situation to escape observation; or, if that failed, to our own watchfulness to guard against surprise. One night we were alarmed by the barking of the dogs, and had barely time to escape to the bushes before the house was surrounded by armed men, who, finding that the inmates had fled, first stripped it of everything it contained and then burned it to the ground. 1 was hid behind the rocks within one Knn/)rA/1 uor/^o nf Iho annt mv rlflp in my hand; their forms were distinctly marked against the blazing fire?and yet I did not shoot. There was a time when all of them would not have left that burning pile alive. It was a sore temptation, but I let them escape, because I had hoped of being permitted to live in peace in the pursuit of some honest calling, and did not wish to incur other disabilities than those that were already hanging over me. I do not know who was the prime mover in the business. though I have latterly suspected the man who will appear as the principal witness against me." "What was his name?" asked Colonel Burr, for the first time interrupting the speaker. "John Roberts. I have no proof against him. and therefore have twice kept Bill Jenkins's knife from his throat. He had been a Tory, but took time by the forelock, and made his peace with General McDougall before the troubles were over." "When was that?" "About the last of 1780. He was a Westchester man." "I remember him. Go on." "He knew that Jenkins and I had both saved some money. He knew that we would not keep it in the cabin, or in any other place where it could be easily found. He pretended great friendship for us, and several times sold us provisions. If we were captured, he probably thought he could obtain our secret from us, pocket the money, and leave us to hang. This though, is suspicion only. I have no proof, as I said before." Colonel Burr made a memorandum in his pocket-book and again, requested Durand to proceed. "We remained in the mountains two days, then dug up our money and walked to this city, where we had few acquaintances, and where we thought we would be lost in the crowd of strangers who were flocking here. We took lodgings in a cheap boardinghouse close to the water's edge, and i n f ha aniircc. r\t a mnnfh T hon trh t o %iiv vvutuv vi a uivil ill & v u wherry and began the trade of a waterman. Jenkins at first worked with me, and we did very well. At last he became acquainted with a gang of desperate men, and took to worse courses. He changed his boardingi house, and left me. I continued at the ' business, saving a little each month, and gradually growing contented with my lot. In the mean time I had ob, tained a pardon for the part I had taken in the war, and had no cause for uneasiness, except on Jenkins's account. His murdered wife was my sis? ter, and from that fatal hour I had clung to him as brother rarely cleaves to brother. I hunted him up, and tried , to drag him from the dens of infamy , he frequented. He would not hear , me. I then learned that John Rob. erts had also come to New York, and : was one of his associates, though Bill - seemed to have an instinctive hatred . of the man. I don't know what made him suspect him, but he came to me ; one day and said that Roberts was the i man who brought upon us the party i who burned our cabin, and that he in tended to kill him for it. It took long I and urgent persuasion to induce him . to abandon his intention. At another t time he came to me and said that r Roberts must not live. Again I interj posed and saved him. This brings me 1 down to the time of the murder: and ? here I suppose you wish me to be more particular." 3 "Tell it exactly in your own way, - and give me your observations precisely i as they occurred to you at the time and since, omit nothing." "I lodged in the house of a Gerf man. whose name was Franz Klink. i It was a two-story house fronting the s water, with two rooms below and two e above. In the front room below he s sold vegetables and groceries of the 1 various kinds used by sailors. The 1 back room was his eating-room, and back of that again was a shed-room, l used as a kitchen. He slept in the front room up stairs, and I In the rear. The woman who cooked for us always went home to sleep. There was no other person about the house, which was seldom kept open later than nine o'clock at nighc. When It was necessary for me to be out later than that hour, he gave me the key of the shed-room, and I entered through the back yard, which was also used as a lumber yard. Just one week ago John Roberts came to see me. It was not dark, though I was lying down, for I had been hard at work, and was very tired. He told me that a man had been knocked down and robbed the night before; that Bill Jen kins was suspected, and that, In consequence, he was lying hid In a house he mentioned In another part of the city. He said that Bill had sent for me, and mentioned ten o'clock as the hour at which he would expect me. Before I had time to question him further. Franz came up with a light, and, saying that supper was ready, invited Roberts to Join us. He declined, and added that he would wait there until I had finished my meal. When I came back, he was lying carelessly across the foot of my bed. I suggested to him that it was unnecessary to wait until ten o'clock, and proposed that we should go and see Jenkins together. He replied that he had some business which he must attend to before that hour; moreover, that It would be useless to go sooner, because there would be a number of loungers about the premises, and the landlord would not admit me to the private part of the house. Then, giving me a password, and directions how to find the house, he took his hat to go. I went down stairs with him, and, having still several hours on my hands, I took a seat on the counter and entered into conversation with Franz. Customers were coming in, making small purchases, and going out. Some of these I knew, and talked to them about the news of the day and other indifferent matters. Toward ten o'clock, I told Franz that I was going out, and, borrowing a stout club that he usually kept behind the counter, I took the key of the back shed and left the house. As I did so, a man with the collar of his coat turned up, and buttoned close about his ears, , walked quickly by me. From his form and gait, I took him to be Roberts and called him by name. He did not answer, and, supposing that I was mis- , taken, I walked on. It took me some time, wandering about in a filthy, suspicious locality, to find the house to which I had been directed. Upon ] knocking at the door, and giving the password, I was admitted to a room in which there were four or five men and as many women, evidently of the worst description, some of whom were smoking: and others drinking ale. Not perceiving Jenkins among them, I took the landlord aside and inquired where he was. He replied that he had gone out about an hour before, and left word that if any one called for him, he must wait until his return. When this reply was made, I knew that the man was lying, or that Roberts had lied. One or the other was certain, for I could not be persuaded that Bill Jenkins would leave the house, after sending for me, before I , came. Nevertheless, as I did not know what else to do, I concluded to wait, and calling for a cracker and a mug of ale, I made myself apparently at home, paying no attention to the scrutinizing glances with which I was conscious the other inmates of the room were regarding me. "I had no means of ascertaining the exact time, but I am satisfied it was after eleven o'clock when I rose, ana, saying mat 1 couia wan no ioi?ber, paid my score and prepared to depart. The landlord urged me to stay, insisting that Jenkins would certainly* be back in half an hour. I cared nothing for the half hour, and would have waited cheerfully, if I had not been sure he was deceiving me. In such cases it Is always the safest plan to do directly the reverse of what the deceiver wishes. He wanted me to stay for some purpose of his own, and for that reason 1 determined to stay. I had an undefined apprehension that mischief was afoot, and returned rapidly to my lodging. On approaching the house through the back alley, I observed that my window was up. It had no shutter, and was fastened by a large nail driven above It. I remembered to have seen the nail in its place that day at dinner time. Against the shed-room I have described there was a pile of lumber reaching nearly to the roof. Upon that roof my window opened, and by climbing on the lumber it could be easily reached. Thinking that there might be thieves within, I climbed up to the window and listened. Everything was still. At length I heard what I thought was a faint groan in the other room. I entered, and striking a light went Into the bedroom of Franz. He was lying on the floor, in his night clothes, dead. The groan I had heard no doubt was his last gasp. A large stream of blood ran from the body, and was trickling slowly down the stairway. I knelt down by his side to feel nis puise, when I discovered that, besides a deep wound in his side, his skull was broken. To be certain that the murderers were not still concealed in the house, I went to search the lower rooms. I found them in their usual state, except that the money-drawer was broken open and its contents abstracted. I returned to the room where the dead man was lying, and looked around for some trace of the murderer. At this time I heard a knocking at the front door, and, In the agitation of the moment, let the candle fall. I have seen blood shed in many ways. I have slept among the dead upon the battle-field as soundly as a king in his palace, and I would not have believed that these strong nerves could be so shaken by the sight of one pale corpse and one purple stream. It was over In a moment, and I snatched up the candle to relight it. It was too late. The door was broken open and two men with lanterns rushed In. At the same time two more appeared at the open window. To their eager questions of who did the deed, I could only answer I did not know. My statement went for nothing and I was hurried off to prison as the murderer. If I had been, colonel, those four men would never have dragged me ten steps from the door of that house. I could have crushed every bone in all of them; and If I had been guilty, I would have done so. But I knew I was Innocent, and did not choose to make evidence against myself by resistance. "The next day, when I was allowed to tell my story, I was afraid of implicating Jenkins, and said nothing about the cause which took me out, merely relating what occurred after I discovered the window open. I understand that Roberts swore, before the coroner, that he called upon me that night to claim the payment of a sum of money I owed him, and that I put It off, promising' to pay on the morrow. He swore that he met me that night armed with a heavy olub, and having my coat collar turned up so as ta hide my face; that he spoke to me. and I did not answer; that his suspicions were excited, and he followed me cautiously; that he saw me enter the back yard and climb In at the window; that he first supposed I had been out for some purpose which I desired to hide from Franz, and had therefore adopted this mode of entrance; that he was about going away when he heard a blow and a heavy fall; that he then became alarmed and ran off for a watchman, who called two others to his assistance, and they proceeded together to the house; that on observing the light, they divided, Roberts and another going Into the back yard to prevent escape; that I extinguished the light at the first sound of knocking on the front door; that on entering the house, they found Just such a club as he had seen me carrying, lying by the dead man's side all covered with blood; that my knife, bloody from point to hilt, was discovered on the mantle-piece In my room; that my clothes and hands were bloody, and (that there were marks of bloody fingers on the money drawer. Upon searching my person they found the key of the shedroom In my pocket, and In my chest a quantity of small change, such as Franz would be likely to receive from ? J J 1 ~ 0 4ki? nroo his customers a goou uetu ui ui? naa true and was corroborated by others. All that was true I could easily explain, but I had no proof to sustain my statement. The money was mine. It had been paid to me for boat fare, and was therefore mostly In small change. The club I had dropped In the pool of blood when I knelt down by the body to ascertain If life was extinct. My hands and clothes were bloodied at the same time. In examining the drawer to see what had been taken out, I had no doubt left the prints of my fingers upon It. The knife was a large hunting-knife I had worn during the war, and had i i?t"? nnnn the mantle uccn i>ui6 i??v.v piece for months." TO BE OONTINUED. CLOSE STUDY OF TILLMAN. Rev. John A. Bruneon'a First View of the Senator. [From the News and Courier.] To the Editor of the News and Courier: When Senator Tiliman came to Elloree and spoke, July 14, I saw and heard him for the first time. It was an opportunity I had long desired. My estimate of him hitherto had been based upon fragmentary and unsatisfactory reports of his political work, and I was anxious to see him face to face, watch him in action, and hear from him a viva voce deliverance that that I might be aided in reaching a more just conception of his character. The conclusions I have reached are embodied in the following criticism. They may be right. They may be wrong. They are only the opinions of one observer. Mr. Tillman possesses but little depth and originality of thought, and small genius for far-seeing constructive statesmanship. He has a wealth of common sense. He is strong, alert, active. He is bold, blunt and boastful. nf discernment riC liao iai v ? - and is quick to catch the current of popular opinion, and ride upon it to the goal of his ambition. He is in sympathetic touch with the masses of the common people, and embodies their thought and ideals, in vigorous, popular language which is sure to evoke applause and to command a large and enthusiastic following. He leads the people not by instructing and enlightening them, thereby enlarging and elevating their notions of the sacredly responsible duties of citizenship, but rather by pandering to their tastes. Emerson's criticism of Napoleon is applicable to him. Says Emerson: "If Napoleon is France, if Napoleon Is Europe, it Is because the people whom he sways are little Napoleons." So if Mr. Tillman is the Democracy of South Carolina it is because the Democrats whom he sways are little Till mans. Their likes and dislikes, their prejudices and passions, their desires hopes and aims, ail find expression in Mr. Tillman's words and conduct. He is their mouthpiece, their oracle. H>e is the Incarnation of the common people of the state. He was moulded of common clay and differs from the common man in quantity rather than quality. He feels more intensely, sees farther and says more than the common man. but what he feels, sees and says Is all of a piece with that which the common man feels, sees and says. Or quoting Emerson again: "He Is the Idol of the common men, because he has in transcendent degree the qualities and powers of common men." Therefore, he Is a leader, but not a teacher. Mr. Tillman's success in the field of politics lias been remarkable, but it Is not tiie success which is achieved by unswerving devotion to high and holy ideals. It lies almost entirely in the low plane of materialism, rather than In the higher sphere of mind and morals. A generation of his leadership would accomplish among the common people little more than the strengthening of their desire for party domination. I have yet to see anything from him that Is suited to inculcate a genuine love of the light for right's own sake or to awaken a desire for noble living. It Is true that he boasts of a rugged honesty, and poses as the chief apostle of fair play. But after all his claim of fair play Is based more upon the fearlessness and rancor with which he assails the public career of his contemporaries and exposes their misdoings. than in the consistent exhibition of the virtue that he so lustily extols. He is bellicose and is at his best when the tight Is hottest. Such men usually are not over-scrupulous in the choice of the weapons they employ to defeat an antagonist. Mr. Tillman is no exception to the rule. He is a hard fighter, and his words are often rough clubs which bring bruises and blood, but they do not always measure up to his own self-erected standard of fair play and accuracy. In short, Mr. Tillman's strength lies in his sympathy with the masses. He has made common cause with the people. and has agreed to Tight their battles for them and to give them what they demand rather than what they need, and when he dies Tillmanism will be dead. John A. Brunson, Baptist Parsonage, Elloree, S. C. July 23. 1906. iRiscfllaitcous Sending. CIVITA8 FIND8 A TICKET. Appreciative Citizen Will Vote For Tillman, Bleaee and Ragtdale. Editor Yorkvllle Enquirer. I don't care, Mr. Editor, who knows how I am going to vote?so here goes! I am for Tillman, of course. He is a i statesman. A statesman?well, a statesman in a statesman; and old Ben is one all right. Calhoun was all i well enough In his way. He had "Roman virtue" and all that sort of thing. He could talk about "my dear and honest state," and make your hair stand on end appealing to posterity; but he was literally "not In It" by the side of old Ben. Sir, what a figure he cuts In the United States senate, rampaging up and down, daring to call even President Roosevelt a liar, and tossing the august, white-haired senators to right, to left, with his deadly pitchfork. Behold him weep over Mrs. Morris, and "cuss out" the trusts In a "blue streak" the next minute. What versatility! What courage| what chivalry! I am sick and tired of heating the old antls say, "Well, what did It amount to? What political doctrines has he expounded? What statecraft has he Illustrated? What has he accomplished?" and shake that old rate bill In our faces and ask. "how did he better that?" Sir, "one blast upon his bugle horn Is worth a thousand men! j one wild wave of his pitchfork Is more than all the political doctrines ever 1 expounded by Calhoun, Haynes, McDuflle, and the whole school of them." " To see him rear and "cuss" Is a "liberal education." But to come home to South Carolina. Here he Is the veritable "father ( of his country." What sage advice he 3 is giving us. What a shining example 5 of purity and prowess he Is setting 1 our young men. How he Is battling 1 for that greatest boon to our state, the dispensary. How he Is making the "frilled patricians" tremble In their boot*; bearding those doughty Hons, * the great dallies, in their dens; calling this man a liar, that man a hypoorite, not afraid to fling his charges 1 right and left, not caring whom they 1 hit. knowing the hit dog will howl. ' O sir, Mr.- Editor, the way that man Is battling for the right of the "wool- 1 hat boys" is something grand, glorious, ' awful, sublime. Sir, he's a prophet; a ' prophet I tell you; he knows a thousand times better than those slick- 1 (tongued preachers what Is good for the people. A dispensary Is as good as a church any day; and I believe ( with old Ben the dispensary Is the cure for ?11 our moral as well as political Ills. So I am for old Ben, the knight of the pitchfork and the bottle, the "great statesman." "the ablest man from the south." "the noblest representative our grand old state hs.s ever had In the [national councils!" ? . I am for Blease for governor. Say what you please, he's the man. He's out and out for the dispensary, and al| ways has been. He Is the only one who really loves this "nursing mother" of us all. The rest would trim, and reform and purify her, but Blease says, "Woodman spare that tree, touch I not a single bough; In youth It sheltered me. and I'll defend It now!" Mr. Editor, I hear that the politl- " clans are trying to trade Blease off for Manning; It Is even whispered that 1 old Ben himself prefers the man from ' Sumter: but of course, that Is an Infamous lie. No, sir, old Ben and the ' true blues know Blease too well for ' that; how he got a grip on old Ben's coattall sixteen years ago, and he nev- 1 er turns loose, however the thunder rolls. You can't "shake him" or "lose | him." Now I call that consistency; I | call that statesmanship. I know of no higher qualifications for the chair of ; Rutledge, Hayne and McDuffle! I am for Ragsdale for attorney gen- | eral. I admire the "old Roman," of , course, but I don't really believe he's running now?Is he? peace to his (po- ! litlcal) ashes! But Ragsdale's the man. Old Ben branded him at Columbia? | "my friend Ragsdale"?and that's i enough for me. I admire Ragdale's | pluck, having said "double pay." he sticks to it to the last pea In the dish, ( regardless of lawyers and courts and | legislatures. He doesn't confound | friend anil foe, and gin "cough drops" to a man who Is telling the family se- < crets of the dlspemary. Lyon knows | too much, and hasn't the common de- | cency to hold his tongue over the prl- i vate affairs of our dear old mother. | Ragsdale knew It all, long before Lyon, but discreetly held his peace. What i was a little graft here or there, thousand dollar bills and beaver hats full ; of the people's money, what was all that to the good name of the dlspensa- , ry? It should never have been breathed; and Ragsdale never, breathed It. | I trust him to cover up things?as they j ought to be covered?and so he's my man. j As to the rest, well they are all good | fellows, and we can hardly make a mistake if we try the toss of a coin on ( them. I'll nose around a bit more, , however, and try to find out old Ben's choice; and that choice will be mine. Old Ben knows, and dictates Just to suit me, and an "Independent Is worse , than a Radical." Your friend, Civins. Rural Retreat, S. C., Aug. 1, 1906. COTTON SEED FOR FOOD. Mixed With Flour the Seed Now Enters Into Bread and Cakes. "The recent meeting of the Cotton seed Crushers' association at Atlanta. f?a.," says the New York Herald, brought out some Interesting facts In regard to the uses of cottonseed, both for domestic and export purposes. Governor Terrell, who was In early life a cotton grower,' said that he remembered well when cotfnnsppH was burned to Ket rid of it, but last year there were 4,500,000 tons of cottonseed bought from southern planters and the sum of J75.000,000 was paid to them, thus adding practically 25 per cent to the value of the cotton crop. This has been brought about principally through the cottonseed oil Industry. "There are probabilities of still further developments In the use of cottonseed which will increase the value of that product. Professor J. H. Connell, of Texas, In speaking of cottonseed meal as human food, made a striking presentation of Its value for such use. He gave a good lesson in the shape of biscuits and cakes made from a combination of cottonseed meal and wheat flour. They were pronounced as delicate and tasty as any produced of the flour barrel by members of the convention who were given an opportunity to partake of the food. Another use of the seed Is that for fertilizer in the shape of meal. "The use of the raw seed to enrich the land was pronounced a waste, as the meal can be used to much better financial advantage. Professor Connell said that within a short time he believed cottonseed crushers of the south would be able to announce an nptnnl illsrnvprv of 4 F?0ft 000 tons of a new product fit for human consumption. He stated that he had used cottonseed oil as a cooking fat In his home for six months, and that It was equal In all respects for cooking purposes to the best lard. "By an Invention of comparatively recent times cottonseed oil is freed rrom the old Impurities which gave It a rank odor. So-called olive oil which reaches America from southern Europe carries a large percentage of cottonseed oil. Cottonseed meal is used In making corn and flour muffins, biscuits, pancakes, gingerbread, dark graham bread, together with cakes of all kinds and for various ither similar uses. "The United States department of igriculture says that cottonseed oil s worth for food purposes for anl nials about double the value of tlmo:hy hay, and cottonseed meal for the tame purpose Is worth three and onehird times as' much as corn meal. \bout $30,000,000 worth of cottonwed oil is exported, and that Is only >ne-thlrd of the product. Fifteen rears ago 500,000 barrels of cottonwed oil were made, which number A-as increased to more than 3.000,000 jarrels for the last season." RUSSELL SAGE'S MAXIM8. Some of the Principles Which 8haped the Life of the Great Financier. Any maft oan earn a dollar, but It akes a wise tnan to use It. This has wen my motto from the very start of ny business career. I saved the first dollar I ever earned, ind from that hour I have never been n debt to a human being for a cent hat was not ready when due. Society (:? to blame for many wasted Ives. To excite envy Is to make enemies. Those who live for pleasure alone lo no good to themselves or to others. There Is do such thing as the money ?urse; a good man cannot have too nucn muney, Fifty cents is enough for a straw lat; it will last two seasons. If I had my life to live over again I vould try just as hard to turn my noneyrrrer and over and over again, :hat It might do the most good to oth?r men. I get plenty of relaxation from an jxclting rubber of whist, played at light In my own home after dinner. SVhen the game is over my day is lone. It Is a surprising fact that many Tien endure unwarranted expenditures for no other reason than to excite the ;nvy of their neighbors. How wicked s this! A boy who knows bargains In socks * 111 become a man who knows bar ;ains In stocks. When you have made your fortune t is time enough to think about spendng it. The tender care of a good wife is the finest thing in the world. The longer a man lives the more mistakes he may be counted on to make. Clubs are only a place for idle men ind wasteful young men. An active man builds success upon the foundation of failures; a passive man does not. Real charity is disbursed without alare of trumpets. I think the vacation habit Is the outgrowth of abnormal or distorted business methods. I fall to see anything egtlimate in it. The physician may recommend a hangs of air for a man when he is III; but why be III? Illness is but an Irreparable loss of time. Securities have been made in great luantltles and sold at high prices on the idea that economies to be effected by centralization of control will give them the arbitrary values which have been placed upon them. This theory will be exploded sooner or later, for there will always be competition. When the crash comes It will be a national disaster. I fear the centralization of big industries in the hands of five c>r six men will prove a big mistake. When half a dozen men control the business and financial policy of a great Industry a single error of judgment will plunge a whole nation Into financial loss and ruin. I do not Hay that trusts are not a good thing; but I do say we should go slow. A wealthy man does not work for himself alone. My one desire has been to be let alone in order that I might do what I desired in my own way. In that I have not succeeded. Some people may not believe it, but it is a fact that It has been my keenest pleasure to see people succeed who have acted upon my advice. The Universal Language of Gesture.?"We need no universal language?no Esperanto or Volapuk Llngabeauta?for a universal language has existed since man's birth; the language of the gesture." The speaker, an ethnologist, sharpened his left forefinger with his right forefinger as one sharpens a pencil. "That gesture means 'Shame! Hiss for shame!'" he said. "It means that the world over. Use it on a savage woman In New Guinea, or on the King of England, and both alike will understand you." He shook his fiRt. "That Is a threat," he said. "The world over it Is a threat." Holding his forefinger a little to the right of his face, he shook it, "A warning," he said. "Wherever man exists, there the shaken forefinger means a warning."?Minneapolis Journal. t-r a Pessimist is a man with liver spots on his disposition. 80UTHERN COTTON A380CIATI0N Interesting Claims as to What It Haa Accomplished. Following Is a part of a very Interesting statement just Issued from the headquarters of the Southern Cotton association In Atlanta: "The value of the Southern Cotton association to the cotton planters of the south Is apparent from the follow- ^ Ing statement: "In the two years ending September 1st, 1906, two crops of cotton, aggre gating practically 25,000,000 bales, will have been marketed at an average price to southern producers of nearly 10} cents per pound. "In the two years ending September 1st, 1898, 22,500,000 bales of cotton were produced and marketed at an average price of 6 1-8 cents. "This Increase In price Is an aggregate about $550,000, and Is very largely the work of the Southern Cotton asso-? elation. In comparison with such an achievement the cost of maintaining its organization is but infinitesimal, and it enters upon the coming cotton season with the greatest confidence in the ultimate realization of Its purpose, namely: fair prices for the product of southern labor; the avoidance of overproduction of cotton; and the protection of the south in its God-given privilege of furnishing the world with the cheapest clothing ever known at prices which will repay the southern farmers for their arduous toll and the trained Intelligence employed in producing It. "The Southern Cotton association has made its mistakes and has its enemies to fight. The mistakes have not, however, been important, as shown by the result, and its enemies have for the most part admitted its rtAtiror anH ho vo hoon fnrnoH nltlmato. ly to align themselves with its purposes. "The 1st of September, 1906, will And the world absolutely bare of cotton. The visible supply will be the smallest on record. The 26,000,000 bales of cotton with which the south has supplied civilization during the past two years are all consumed. The United States department of agriculture estimates that It will require 42,000,000 bales of cotton to adequately clothe the world's population, and the progress of civilization Is rapidly advancing the world's population to a point at which It will require to be adequately clothed. "Whatever the size of the coming cotton crop, there is no reason why It should be sold at anything less than the average price obtained for the last crop, through the efforts of the Southern Cotton association, namely: 11] cents and 12 cents a pound. Interested and self-constituted authorities have 'of late been endeavoring to stampede southern holders and producers of cotton into the belief that the coming crop was likely to be an abnormally large one, produced from an average very much In excess of any previously planted. This disposition seems to have penetrated even into the crop estimating board of the United States government, who apparently have not as yet fully emancipated themselves from the maladroit Influences which resulted In the scandal which the efforts of the Southern Cotton association last year disclosed. "That the cotton crop for the season Of 1906-7 is UKeiy 10 De superaounuuni, < or even a large one, the Southern Cot- . ton association does not believe. Its reports from Its thousands of members and correspondents throughout the entire cotton belt Indicate that the increase In acreage over last year Is onlv 2.52 per cent, and the scarcity of labor; the lateness of development; the excessive rains In many sections and drought in the region west of the Mississippi valley foreshadow anything but a full yield for the season commencing September 1st next. "The published opinion of 150 members of the New York, Liverpool and Southern Cotton Exchanges Is that a crop of about 11,000,000 bales will be worth during the coming season 13.37 cents per pound, and those producers who part with their product for less than this figure are needlessly curtailIn? the hard-earned profits of their toll and depreciating the value of their fellow-producers' crop." In furtherance of the work of the association every cotton producer in the south Is requested to prepare for the next general meeting to be held at Hot Springs. Ark., on September 5, 1906, a statement giving his name, business and postofflce address, along with the number of acres cultivated and bales produced during the year endine Seotember 1, 1906, together with the number of acres now in and the number of acres that will probably be produced for the year ending Sept. 1. 1907. THE ART OF ADVERTISING. Character in Circulation?The Value of Reaching the Homes of Buyers. It costs more money to run a modern up-to-date daily newspaper, such as the Reporter, than advertisers and readers realize. No publisher can continue to furnish his advertisers with a medium that can produce results unless he insists upon being paid a fair price for his work. It has always been the policy of the Reporter to Insist that the people who read the paper pay for It. Therefore, there are no deadheads on the Reporter circulation books. Its readers are good customers?they pay for the paper In which they see the merchant's announcement and they pay the merchant for what they buy of him. The merchant who advertises in the Re porter sends his announcement Into the homes of the substantial people of the city?the people who buy and pav for what they get.?Fond du Lac (Wis.) Reporter. Perhaps there Is no more difficult problem In the world of business than to arrive at a fair judgment of the advertising value of space In a newspaper. In the nature of things this value cannot be measured as are yards of cloth or bushels of wheat or pounds of coal. It Is as Intangible as Is the something that lifts a great picture above the level of a mere painting. The canvas of each may be alike, the colors from the same tubes laid on by the same business, yet the result may have a market value of $100,000 a square foot as a Meissonler or $5 a square yard as hack work. Circulation Is often the only claim to an advertiser's attention that a newspaper presents. But circulation I alone is far from being the all In all. : There must be circulation or there can I be no advertising: value. The more 1 circulation there Is the better for the I advertiser?If the right people are i reached by It in the right way. And I there the problem appears. Who reads the newspaper Is vastly more Import- i ant to the advertiser In Its columns i than how many read It. Our Fond du Lac contemporary's ( policy Is very much like that of the i Herald. It hits several nails fairly on the head. Deadhead circulation Is well < nigh valueless to any advertiser. So is slum circulation?except for the cheapest of bargain offerings. So is circulation that reaches the shiftless, dissatisfied, complaining classes, always out of harmony with the established order of things?the classes that envy success and rail at any opinions but their own. A newspaper that panders to these classes can get them as a following, but whether they count by thousands or by hundreds of thousands, their value to an advertiser of substantial goods Is very small.?New York Herald. DUEL8 IN SOUTH CAROLINA. i ne Last tncounters at famous aana Bar Ferry.. For many years before the war, ind for a few years succeeding this :ode duello was one of the strongest tnd most destructive features of muthern life?of South Carolina life particularly. By this code a man who considered himself insulted or aggrieved by another might challenge :he latter to mortal combat on the leld of honor. The field of honor It emphatically was. Not with the light rapiers or popruns, as It were, as In France and Gernany, but with the direct, direful, leadly pistol, army or navy repeater, he combatants standing so many paces apart, as might be arranged by heir seconds, and using, according to he code, Just such pistols, or in rare eases other weapons, as might be chosen by the challenged man. The teconds decided the positions and the tivlng of the word by tossing up. Sach combatant took with him to he field a second, a surgeon, one, two, perhaps three, friends as witnesses, ind generally one or more male ser rants. The seconds with excessive :lvlllty, punctilious courtesy and (nightly grace loaded the pistols, placed them in the hands of the com>atants and enforced rigid compliance vith all rules of the code duello. During the first sixty years of the ast century, when duelling was so in 'orce in South Carolina, says the Charleston News and Courier, there vas a rigid law, in words, against it -rigid in words, but absolutely a dead etter as regards inforcement Pubic opinion upheld duelling enthustastcally and frowned down the law. The >enaltles under this law were very serere, but never enforced. The penalles under the present law are also rery severe. Their severity and >rompt enforcement, coupled with the rradual crystallization of public opln> on against the custom, have caused luelling to become almost extinct 'Jot absolutely extinct, however. In he Bouth we still now and then bear if a duel In which the combatants are ruided and governed by the rigid rules if the old code duello. It is now almost forty years since i duel has taken place at Sand Bar ?erry. The last three duels that came iff there, If we remember aright, ociurred In one and the self-same year ?1870. One of these was between a rery prominent and popular young nan of Augusta, named Tilly?and >n account of his chivalry, generosity knd elegant personal habits he was :alled by his friends "Count Tilly"? ind another equally prominent and xipular, named Radcliffe. The rouble was about a woman, and sad :o say, not a good woman. Count Pilly was killed outright. Cornelius Redd, a man well known n Augusta during the war period and laid to be a desperate fellow, became engaged in a dispute with another lennerate nartv bv the name of Cope and, of Washington, D. C. The rouble was about a gaming debt, and :he two decided to fight It out accordng to the code. They selected seconds and a surjeon, and with some fifty Interested ipectators repaired to Sand Bar Ferry luelling grounds at four o'clock one ifternoon. The weapons for the set:lement of the difficulty were navy re^aters. A prominent Augusta man acted is Redd's second, while Mayor Hope if Richmond, Va., did likewise for ropeland. They lined up and opened fire. Pour shots were exchanged and Dopeland fell at the last shot He lived only a very few minutes after the shooting. Redd was not touched by the bullets, and a few years afterward lie was shot ana Kiuea oy a puuLeiwui while resisting arrest. He was a imall man but terrible game. This duel was one of the most coolly, pitilessly, bloodily systematic ever arranged to take place at Sand Bar Ferry. The third duel was a ludicrous pne, gotten up very cunningly by some Tun loving gentlemen of Augusta and Hamburg; and yet It seems to have been a real duel. It was between two negro men? Mose Sullivan and Peter Blair. There had been some difficulty between Mose and Pete about a case in court, and, being deftly influenced, they decided that only a duel could clear up matters. They went to the ferry, and Pete proved the unlucky one. He received the bullet from Mose's revolver in his knee and you remember that when you get it in the knee your face Is apt to be square to the front. Pete was good grit. Mose was 'most too gritty. Pete recovered from the wound. Mose Sullivan?we weep as we recall It?was afterwards kflled In Hamburg In a brawl. We knew Mose well and loved him well. He was a person of lofty instincts. We often met Mose after the duel, and before Ills unbecoming death, and used to Wnri' "hnn dav. Mose. we shall write a history of San Bar Ferry, and then we shall hand you down to honor ind fame." And Mose would reply: 'I know It, Marse Jeems, and I know fou will do me Jestlce." Iodine, Cure For Snake Bite. For a sure cure for a snake bite, take about seven drops of Iodine, scarify and bathe the wound also with Iodine. This remedy was first used by a medical officer In British service In India. It has cured both man and a number of animals; It never falls, It Is really wonderful In Its effects. One instance I will relate. A young man working for me In the harvest Held was bitten by a very large rattlesnake on one of his large toes. I gave him about seven drops of tincture of iodine on a little sugar and to make doubly sure repeated the dose an hour later. His foot swelled, but next morning he was all right. I have had animals whose bodies have swelled considerably, but all have recovered from the bite.?Topeka Capital. /? a or Only a fool' would expect to get any fun out of a funnel.