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/ __ ? ?? ?? I ? ^ ISSUED SKMI-WEKKL^ l. *. OEisrs sous, publishers. } % Kamilg newspaper: jfor promotion of the political, JSocial. ^jricnltupl and Commercial Interests o)f the people. {teks?n0^tor\,vvveceijma''<ce' established 1855. VOKK viltLk, S.~0? FltlDAY, .TUNE 21, 1907. . N"Q. 5Q.~ ' * *-*- ?' - ? it Vialnhlv wiui the moat arathlnnr. searching. Moeum: r tty ETTA \ t CHAPTER V?Continued. She had some spirit left in her still. She turned sharply upon her son. "I told you Just now that I love Mignon as though she were my own. When your Uncle Gilbert brought her here from the west with her sick mother, and committed both to my ^ care, and when that mother died, and left Mignon in my hands, I solemnly promised to watch over the child and keep her, so far as lay in my power, from all harm. Cyril, you are my only son, but I would as soon see Mignon lying dead before me as married to you!" Severe words, indeed, for such timid lips. He winched and grew violently red. "Then you will not use your influence to prosper my suit, eh? Happily, I know of a person who is more obliging?I mean my father. His heart is set upon this match. She cowered suddenly, as if brought face to face with a power that she could not resist "Your father!" she echoed, blankly. "Why does he lend himself to such a ^ scheme? If he had Mlgnon's Interests at heart he would not?no, he could not. Perhaps you have also consulted your Uncle Gilbert?" "It is scarcely time for that, wise mamma. Moreover, I am tolerably sure of the consent of my uncle, the cattle king. Being a Vye, he will certainly look with favor on the suit of his only, and elder brother. Mignon and I are * the last scions of our race, and in us will be united all the family money and the family honors. Don't you see?" "I see," she answered, drearily; "but I do not like the plan, Cyril?I do not P like it! Surely some one ought to think a little of Mignon's happiness"? "My dear mother," interposed Cyril, airly, "Compose yourself. Hark! I hear the carriage. Our travelers are here." The noise of wheels was plainly audible In the driveway. Cyril Vye sprang through a low window, and disappeared in the direction of the h sound. "Oh, Mignon?oh, my poor child! God help you in your great peril!" Elinor Vye had Just time to murmur, then came a rush of light feet across the piazza, and Mignon herself, in a # gray serge traveling dress, rushed into her aunt's arms. "My school life is over, Aunt Elinor," she cried, like a glad, free thing which she was, "and here am I, come to live indefinitely at Rookwood. Here, also, is my dear friend, Maud Loftus; surely you will give her a warm welcome for my sake?" Philip Vye's pale wife clasped her > husband's niece to her heart, and cordially embraced Maud Loftus, as the latter, dusty with travel, appeared In the drawing room. Close in the wake of the two girls entered a small, irongray man, with a smoothly shaven face, a hooked nose, a narrow eye and faultless manners?Philip Vye, the lawyer, distinguished .for a tongue of superhuman eloquence and a heart harder than flint. It was curious to see his wife cringe as he approached her. "I beg your pardon" she murmured, in a miserable, deprecatory tone. She usually addressed him in that way. P "Don't be a fool, Elinor," he replied, in a low, severe voice. "I am glad these young folks have come. You need them, and they will soon change everything at Rookwood. I trust, even to your nerves. Now ring for a ser* vant to show them to their rooms, or dinner will be late; and if there is one thing above another to which I object, It is the guest who delays my dinner. Rookwood was no modern dwelling. It had been in the possession of the Vye family for full two hundred years. A splendid specimen of colonial architecture. steeped to its very chimneys in historic reminiscences, it stood in that most aristocratic suburb of Boston known as the Dale, looking forth disdainfully, as it seemed, upon the modern mushroom growth of Queen Anne palaces and Mansard roofs, and French villas, which bankers and statesmen and retired merchants had built around it. From the curiously wrought brass knocker on the huge door to the oaken timbers in the roof, all was ancient and carefully preserved. The house abounded in priceless things?carpets and chairs and porcelains that might have belonged to a salon or L/Ouis a.v; aria mere were low-studded rooms, paneled In oak and cedar, winding staircases, carved ba lustrades, old portraits of colonial celebrities, ancient brass faced clocks, polished wainscots, and rare tiles painted with Scriptural scenes. At the foot of the great garden the Charles river rippled peacefully away toward the sea. "What a dear old museum!" cried Maud Loftus, after peeping into, at least, a dozen delightful rooms. Then the two girls came to the chambers which had been assigned them? charming twin apartments, furnished in blue and gold. "It is just my idea of an English mansion of Elizabeth's time," went on the blonde Canadian. "I admire Rookwood, m'amie. I like your meek little Aunt Elinor, but your Uncle Philip gives me the shivers, dear; and as for Cyril?angels and ministers of grace defend us!?that young man ought to be vigorously suppressed. He is in love with you, Mignon? I used to tell you as much when he made his stupid calls at the school. Really, you should make haste to check such amatory aspirations. That eyeglass and that waxed mustache are insufferable." t Mignon's scarlet lip curled. "Don't jest about Cyril. I detest the Tollr nhmit Riinku'noil in stead. All the Vyes are Inordinately proud of the old place?It has been in the family for more than two centuries. Uncle Philip received it from his father as his half of the paternal Inheritance. Papa the younger son. took his portion of the family fortune, and, like the prodigal of Scripture, departed ? OF OMR V. PIERCE into a far country. Uncle Philip declares that papa was wild in his youth, but I do not believe it. Of course, he studied law, like Philip, for all the Vyes are lawyers, but the east was not large enough to hold him. He preferred to raise cattle rather than plead cases?livestock to law, you know, and I, for one, approve his taste." The two girls were leaning against a window which commanded a view of the wooded, romantic Dale, with Its shimmering river and red-roofed villas. "Have you interesting neighbors in this charminb suburban, dear?" asked Maud. "Yes?mostly old Boston families, descendants of the Puritans?the Dale is really a sutnmer retreat. You may look forward to stately garden parties and gypsy teas on the river, and kettledrums and recherche dinners and kindred dissipations." "Good!" said Maud, with her fair head half out of the window. "I have some new toilets in my boxes. Pray, what place is that across the river, opposite? It is like the Tower of Windsor rising: through a primeval Yankee forest. And, oh, just look at the boat yonder at the stone jetty. Surely it is a Venetian gondola?do look, Mignon!" Mignon obeyed. All the estates along the river boasted a landing-place? boating was a favorite pastime with the summer idlers of the Dale. Straight across the current, in a beeline from Rookwood, some very densely wooded grounds swept down to the water's edge. Out of the tops of broad-leaved chestnuts and copper beaches arose the tower which had attracted Maud's attention?a structure of dark slate veined with quartz, the stones arranged to produce lovely lowcolor effects; and at a stone jetty belonging to the estate, lay the gondola, for such the boat really seemed to be, with its gilding and carving, Its brass sea horses and awnings of Indian silk? yea. verily, a barge pretentious enough to have belonged to a prince of the Doge's time. Long eared hounds lolled about the landing place, but no human thing was anywhere in sight. "That house." said Mignon, knitting her smooth brows, "is the finest in the Dale. Why! Somebody must be living there!"?with an intonation of surprise. 'You see, it has been closed for years. The owner went abroad, because of some dreadful family catastrophe. I once heard the servants gossipplng about it, and Aunt Elinor rebuked me because I listened." "Ah, I detected romance in the air!" cried Maud, gayly. "The very aspect of that tower tells me that its master is no common person. What is his name, what he Is like, and, above all, #n m11 tr notao. w IIU.L was Llicr Uicauiui ia.uuij vuvwu trophe of which you speak?" Maud looked grave. "His name, if I remember aright, is Lispenard. I do not know what he is like, dear. I never saw him. He had already gone abroad when I first came, an eight-year-old child, to Rookwood. The family tragedy was connected with his sister, a beautiful young girl, who died a raving maniac in that tall tower. Nobody at the Dale ever mentions the story, and, really, that is all I know about it." "Lispenard! what a grand sounding name!" mused Maud Loftus! "mark my words, he is a Byron or a Rochester, or an Edgar Ravenswood. I find his gray tower and his Venetian gondola altogether too unique for this commonplace. insignificant Charles river. Oh, I wonder is he dark or fair? I do so admire dark men, of the melancholy Charles Stuart type. "Fie! you giddy creature!" laughed Mignon; "how dare you stand here, meditating future conquest, with Guy Fleetwood's ring on your hand?" Maud lightly kissed the diamond that sparkled on her third finger. "It is not that I love dear Guy the less," she replied, "but your neighbor across the river piques my womanly curiosity. Does insanity run in the Lispenard blood?" "I do not know, dear. Some day we place is Aunt Elinor. "By-the-way, Mignon, I received letters, from Guy yesterday. He has quite recovered from his wounds, and is about to shake the dust of Colorado from his feet, and return home, a wiser man. to his Canadian possessions, and to?me." With the help of a mulatto maid, who came to unpack the trunks, the two girls dressed for dinner. The meal was served in a great wainscoted dining room, rich in faded portraits and ancient biass bound buffets. On these latter glittered plate and china and punch bowls older than the Revolution. Mignon, with her intensely yellow hair and seal brown eyes, was seated beside her cousin Cyril. "At last we have you back at Rookwood," he chuckled, under cover of clattering forks and spoons. She gave him a withering look. "I do not know how long I may be content here." she answered coldly; "the only thing that binds me to the place is Aunt Allnor. His knitted brows made an ugly red line across his forehead. "You are as cruel as ever, belle cousine! Still sighing for your father's ranch?" At that instant the voice of Philip Vye came from the head of the table. "Now that Abel Lispenard has returned from his wanderings around the world, and settled down at his Tower, the neighborhood will not be likely to suffer from ennui." Mignon and Maud Loftus exchanged quick glances. "I beg your pardon!" quavered poor Aunt EHnor, who seemed to feel that she must apologize for every word uttered in the presence of her lord; "it is quite delightful that Lispenard should return just at this time, when Mignon is about to enter society." Philip Vye, who never encouraged small talk In the wife of his bosom, fixed his annihilating gray eye upon her, and commanded: "Explain yourself, madam!" "I?I be# your pardon, Philip! You kno.v that Abel Llspenard entertains like a prince. One Is always sure to meet distinguished people at his table. He is really the idol of the best families at the Dale." "Lispenard?that thing?" cried Cyril Vye, scornfully. "Why do you call him a thing?" demanded Mlgnon. Cyril Vye laughed. "That you will understand when you see him, my dear cousin. He is a vulgarly rich person?worth nobody knows how many millions, and he has a family skeleton so huge that no closet can contain it. He went abroad to escape the talk of the public." "Oh, hush, Cyril, hush!" pleaded his mother, and then, catching her husband's eye again, she feebly stammered, "Beg your pardon!" and sank Into silence. "Ridiculous airs that Lispenard gives himself!" Cyril drawled, without heeding his mother In the least; "sails on our Yankee Charles in a Venetian gondola. reads his Bible In every language, living or dead, plays Wagner's music, and keeps an Egyptian mummy grinning In his private library; typical, perhaps, of that family business which sent him tramping around the antipodes." i "Pray take pity upon us, Mr. Vye," I cried Maud Loftus, "and clothe the Lispenard skeleton with tangible out[ lines?in other words, tells us its story." He made a grimace. ( i "Really you must excuse me, Miss Loftus?I might spoil your digestion. It's something so deucedly unpleasant that we never mention it in polite so- i clety." "Oh, dear!" cried Maud; "you Inter- i est me deeply In this unique Mr. Lis- i penard. I pant to behold him!" "And I also!" laughed Mignon. < "You will find one look sufficient, ladies," sneered Cyril; "I'll wager my < head that neither of you will care to i see Mr. Lispenard a second time." < T?untw X'tfa IaaItoH Klarwllv flt thf> tWO girls. "Cyfil means that Abel Lispenard : has?hum! few personal attractions. Nevertheless, he is a most fascinating person, and he has made many con- i quests, I assure you, among the fair sex." i "And he Is still a bachelor?" asked ( Maud, with preternatural solemnity. i "Yes, he's still a bachelor," replied i the lawyer, and then he began to talk i of something else. i Dinner over, they went back to the I drawing room. Philip Vye, who never lingered long with the family circle, 1 retired to the library to write letters. 1 Maud Loftus, with a view to relieving ' Mignon of obnoxious .attentions, decoyed Cyril Vye to the piano, and kept ' him there turning leaves of music, ' while she sang selections from Verdi's ' operas. Mignon and her aunt were thus ' left alone at the other end of the drawing room. 1 "My dear," said Mrs. Vye, looking ' wistfully up into the lovely, spirited ' face of the girl, "permit me to ask you 1 one question; have you come back to { Rookwood heart whole?" Mignon stared, then smiled. 1 "Entirely, Aunt Elinor." "Then you do not yet know what love 1 is, Mignon?" ' "No; papa Is my one only lover, and 1 he," with a sigh, "is not as affectioh- 1 ate as I could wish, since he seems content to keep me far, far from him." ' The elder woman toyed nervously 1 with some meshes of bright embroidery silk. * ' "Your father is quite right, my dear. The far west is no place for a girl 1 like you. Pray, what could Gilbert do with such a daughter on a wild cat- 1 tie ranch? Mignon, you believe that I love you, do you not?" "Most certainly, dear Aunt Elinor." 1 "Well, then, I want to give you a? 1 a?word of warning. Never allow yourself to be coaxed or coerced in the matter of marriage. Be on your guard, dear, against?ah?undue influence. I dare not say more. You should be allowed to choose a husband for your- 1 self. All women," pitifully, "ought to have that privilege. But my papa cherished other views. He believed in the French method?he selected my husband for me, and, you know, my dear, there is such a thing as incompatibility of temper. My married life has not been altogether felicitous." Mignon lifted her delicate, dark brows. "Dear Aunt Elinor, if I ever marry, be sure that I shall choose my own husband?I, and no other! We western born people dearly prize our personal liberty, our inalienable right as individuals. Uncle Philip is an unmitigated domestic tryant. He has ruined your health and broken your spirit with his petty cruelties. Rest assured, he will have no voice in any future plans of mine! I have the strong, defiant western blood in my veins, you know. My mother was the daughter of a ranchero; I am not meek and docile Tike you. Aunt Elinor." Alarmed at such boldness, Mrs. Vye glanced nervously around. "Hush, oh, hush, dear!" she entreated, as though she feared her lord might hear, even through the wainscoted walls. Then, not daring to trust herself to speak further, she, with a heavy sigh, fell to manipulating her embroidery silks. Mignon stood watching her for a few moments, then slipped out into the hall, where the gas jets had just been lighted, and looked around for a portrait of her father, which had always hung at the foot of the staircase ever since her earliest remembrance of Rookwood. Its position had been changed. She did not find it at once, and her search for it led her to the vicinity of Philip Vye's library. The door stood ajar, and within the room voices were plainly audible. "I sent for you tonight," she heard ner uncle say, in a strangely abject tone, "because I felt sure that I could safely reiy upon you in my m/ui ui need. I want twenty thousand dollars Immediately. You see, I have sustained severe pecuniary losses of late, and find myself greatly embarrassed in consequence." "My dear sir," replied another voice that was altogether strange to Mignon. "I am very glad to accommodate you. I will send you a check for the amount in the morning. Command me at all times, and to any extent." She drew back abruptly. "Uncle Philip has a visitor," she thought, startled at this sudden glimpse of the true Inwardness of her ^ relative's affairs. "Is It possible that he is obliged to borrow money? Why, I always supposed him to be rich? very, very rich!" Then she looked up, and on the paneled wall above her head, saw the portrait of a youth, with fair hair and handsome, open countenance?the shadow of what her father had been in his boyhood?Gilbert Vye, the cattle king, possessed far more personal attractions than his elder brother Philip. Mignon straightway forgot her Involuntary eavesdropping. * "Oh, papa!" she whispered, with her adoring eyes fixed on the canvas, "this I paintea square is an inai your nwut- A sick child possesses of you. Where n are you tonight? What are you do- c Ing? Are you thinking of me? When n are you coming to take me home? F As she stood, like a rapt devotee, before that youthful face, with her tear- p suffused eyes uplifted to It, there was p a stealthy step, an audacious touch, e: and somebody bent back the girl's head cl and kissed her upon her sad, red, 0 drooping lips. ri "Cousinly, you know," drawled Cyril w Vye. "Aw, don't be offended. 'Twas shabby of you to leave me to Miss a Loftus and her deuced Verdi songs." tj She flung back from him, her brown n eyes charged with hot lightnings, her Q face as white as death. The scorn, w the indignation In her look, might have t< withered a nobler man than Cyril Vye. jj "Till my dying day," she said/ In a a, tone, that made him cower and change t] color, "I will never forgive or forget y this Insult!" Then she turned and walked straight to the library, pushed back the door, and, without ceremony, swept into the jc presence of Philip Vye?a splendid, in- Q digmant vision, with wide, velvety eyes p dilated, yellow head thrown back, lily- w like throat swelling, wrathful tears Jr crowding up under her long lashes. "Uncle Philip!" she cried, so absorb- ' ed in her own grievance that she tj deigned no glance left or right. "UnMe Philip," and her voice was like a silver trumpet, "I will not remain at 0 Rookwood a day nor an hour longer, save upon one condition!" ^ "My dear," cried Philip Vye, rising g hastily from his table, "what do you mean? What has happened?" "I mean that I have been grossly insuited by my cousin Cyril," she stormed, "and unless you assure me of prop- ^ er protection against a repetition of t] such insults, I will leave your house now?yes, this very minute!" And she jj| stamped her little foot on the bare, polished floor. j "Why! why!" cried Philip Vye, in such a tone as one might use to a spoiled child, "what can Cyril have ^ done?" w "He kissed me!" she cried; "and, oh! t| [ had rather a reptile had crawled h across my lips! I hate Cyril?I abhor tj him!" stamping again to emphasize c, her words. J "Pardon! my dear little tempest-m- ^ i-teapot, are you not a trifle violent? A. kiss? Why, is that such a terrible Q cffense, Miss Prude? No, on the contrary It Is a common privilege among cousins. Where Is Cyril? What punishment shall we mete out to the ras- " cal? Ah, let me call your attention, my dear, to the fact that we are not alone. But I beg Mr. Llspenard to ^ excuse you, for, as yet, you are only a l?j child?a sweet distracting, but sadly Impulsive child!" He waved his hand toward a chair r>n the other side of the table. With ^ a curious shock Mignon saw, arising from it, the strangest shape she had ever looked upon. A man, but his ? head would scarcely reach to her own shoulder. His legs were short, his p body square to grotesqueness. As for a neck, he seemed to possess none. ^ The head was set almost flat upon the powerful shoulders, which, with tht ? deep chest and muscular arms, looked out of all proportion with the extremely short limbs. The face surmounting p y this body was of the refined student type?delicately cut, olive-tinted, pale almost to transparency. The eyes a were Intensely black, melancholy in expression, yet with volcanic gleams showing in them now and then. The ? hair was black, also, and lay In soft ^ waves along the low, womanish fore- ^ head. This man hopped down from his chair, like a great frog, and bowed low to the girl, who started back, terrifled, in spite of herself. "Mignon," said Philip Vye, airily, 1 "let me present to you my neighbor, Mr. I^isnenard?the eentleman of whom we were speaking1 at dinner. Mr. Lis- v penard, this Is my niece, the daughter 0 of brother Gilbert, you know, our 11 western cattle king." Abel Llspenard bowed again, but did p not speak a word. That shocked, frightened looked In the girl's eyes he 11 had become sadly familiar with. a Strangers often regarded his deform!- ' ty in that way; but, for the first time, J he felt a sharp pang. Mlgnon stood her ground bravely for a moment, but Philip Vye, with a 0 mocking smile, hastened to say: "My 0 dear child I will attend at once to s your grievance. Trust me, Cyril shall be properly rebuked for his gross ? breach of propriety. He shall not kiss a you again?that is, against your will. a And now," with playful Irony, "I have some business affairs to transact with = Mr. Llspenard?shall I Invite you to remain with us?" Overwhelmed with sudden shame and confusion. Mlgnon fled to the door, but quick as she was, Abel Llspenard was quicker. He sprang and opened, and held it for her to pass through. He looked up at her, she looked down at F him and In that fateful instant she became aware that this singular frogman had eyes like two-edged swords. He did not seem to find anything amusing in the vigorous protest which she had made against Cyril Vye's cousinly kiss; on the contrary, his face ( was very grave. r "If my presence here has annoyed f you, I beg a thousand pardons!" he I said, in the low, cultured' voice of a I gentleman. r She made no reply. The door closed. I She found herself out in the wains- 8 coted hall, her heart beating fast, her t breath coming in little gasps. ' "Oh," she said to herself, "what a * otfoncrn norlnntiira f\f a man nnd. Oil, ' what a pair of eyes!" IV A young p'erson's kind of wit is t usually the kind that gives an old 1 person nervous prostration. 1 >tv You may think you are lone- * some, but you will never know what \ lonesomeness is until you are on your . death-bed and realize that you are going alone. s THE PRESS OF SOUTH CAROL INT! iddress of Editor A. B. Willia Leader, Before State Jpwq pnH fVmHor The following address was made by y Ir. A. B. Williams, editor of the Rich- r lond News-Leader, before the South v arollna Press association, in annual w leetlng assembled on the Isle of 'alms, June 15, 1907: Gentlemen of the South Carolina ? 'ress Association, Ladies and Mr. ? resident: At the beginning let me 11 spress to the committee of your asso- a lation my sincere thanks for the honr done me by inviting me here. By Ights I ought to be in Richmond, h here the National Editorial assocla- Cl on will be entertained tomorrow, but w fter ably assisting as a member of a le convention committee of the Rich- q V ?ojid Chamber of Commerce, to lay * ut a great quantity and variety of e ork for my associates, I have come ? > enjoy the balmy atmosphere of 81 ome and bathe my heart in the pleas- ? nt warmth of old memories. The fact lat I have been asked here to talk to a ou Is as astonishing to me as it is 11 ratifying. The invitation, as I take 11 , is a supreme evidence of the good 111 and generosity of my former fel- ^ >w members. Fortunately for me c pinions as to my ability as a news- ^ aper writer and manager differed idely, for while some saw no merit Cl i anything I wrote or did?and priately I don't blame them a bit be- e ause my inclination is to agree with ^ tern?others were more merciful and, hlie less truthful, perhaps more en- p nuraging. As to my capacity as an rator, however, I have known but ne opinion. So far as I am Informed 0 was the unanimous verdict of the a ou:h Carolina Press association, con- w rmed by such portions of the popu mlofnrhina to onmO ^ Ithin the range of my oratorical ef>rts, that as a speaker In this state of ? lany varieties of speakers I was about a le worst ever imposed upon a sufTer- e ig audience. This unhappy fact was 1 fought to my attention and impress- ? d strongly upon my mind by the art- ' ss but obviously sincere comments of ? ie voters when I took the stump J gainst Senator Tillman In the year " 892.^ ^Therefore I assume that you 'to ar$ supposed never to forget any- M alng tn the nine years of my absence we mercifully forgotten my reputaQin or in the abundance of your ? tawitjg and the wonderful kindliness ' yfriendehlp have consent- * Jto endure for^e slice "Si doing me * good turn and offering me another 0 pportunity. It is natural on my return to South a arolina that my mind goes back to jy first arrival here. I intend to talk ) you of my recollections- of "The p ress of South Carolina in the Revoitlon of 1876." I shall present inci- j ent Instead of rhetoric, recollection jj ather than suggestion. The one adantage of advancing age Is that its Ictim can recall and tell what has n een and has happened. Any boy just rom school can tell you In resounding antences and ringing words what you n ught to do and what will be In the g uture and the hereafter. It is the () rivilege of us older fellows to tell, ^ rom personal observation and knowldge, of the past. I am emboldened ^ 3 my theme by the thought that a f] onslderable proportion of your memers were not born or were children t| i arms at a time the events and hap- e enlngs of which to me are but as g esterday. It is hard to realize that j r tviAfhoro .'omen ana men ui wuoj, uw?.v.u a nd fathers of families and editors of p ewspapers and members of the leg- p dature, were not born when I first a ame to South Carolina. But It was j( lilrty-one years ago; and some of ^ hese newcomers may be Interested in ^ hose times so recent and fresh to me. ^ The Journal of Commerce. ^ I came here to Charleston, May 1, t 876, In response to a telegram offer- j. fig me a place on the Journal of Com- c lerce at J15 a week. Who remem- |( ers the Journal of Commerce? 1 a wonder If any files of it exist. It was ne of the most remarkable newspa- tj iers ever published because it was op- c rated by a board of directors, com- 0 osed of business and professional n fien, as Innocent of knowledge of the t iewspaper business as I was myself? v nd that is the superlative degree of tinocence and ignorance. I never ave quite understood whether the v ournal of Commerce was organized ^ o break down the News and Courier r r to promote the cause of straight- v ut Democratic nominations and white q upremacy. o Of all the many years of South Car- s Una's shining and long history?long ? s we consider In this country compar- c tively new?that year was the most ^ ital and critical. You of the younger t eneration, even you older ones who q Ived In the up-country, cannot realize j he situation as it was here then. Of ^ he state government, the lieutenant v ;overnor. comptroller general, secre- a ary of state, attorney general, treas- c irer and adjutant and inspector genral and one of the justices of the su- r reme court were negroes, varying In c lue from ripe pumpkin to tar, most of g hem Imported. Here in Charleston a he police were negroes, or scalawag a rishmen, with not more than half or a ^ lozen good men of both colors. v In these conditions the Journal of t Commerce began to work. It was a c nixed up kind of an Institution. My s riend, O. Herbert Sass, used to write t rose poems for its editorial columns, t t seemed to be intended for the busi- r less r*id cultured classes, and yet its r rinciples were those of the masses c ind the up-town wards. Its first edi- t or was James It. Truehart, who came t rom New York via Richmond and d vho gave me my job. He was a bril- e iant writer, but South Carolina was t is strange to him as Timbuctoo now a s to most of us, and he used to edit a he paper with a state map In front of j lim, so that he might know the loca- c Ions of the counties of which he was t vriting. He stuttered fearfully and f vas addicted to the use of the word c 'damn," which he never could utter, I o he used to stop In his wildest parox- a ina : HE REVOLUTION OF 1876." I t t ms, of the Richmond News- ? Press Association. : i i : sms of rage and spell It with elabo- r ate care and precision?and he was r ery Impatient of Charleston, which g as new and trying to him. p In those days they yet rang the cur- t ew bell from St. Michael's tower. 10 t 'clock on summer nights and 9 e 'clock In the winter. The change of g me was one of the Important semi- tl nnual local items. u All Claimed Democracy. o While the newspapers of the state t ad practically been unanimous In t ailing themselves Democratic, there t rere serious and radical differences a mong them, as among the people, on t uestions of the policy of the party, g National issues and questions did not t ngage our thought except as parties g r men promised help or hinder In ii iving the state from the government g f ludicrous Incompetence and reck- s ;ss debauchery with which we were t filleted. South Carolina was known < iroughout the world as the "Pros- 8 ate State," and her children were r esperately and piously intent on rid- 0 ing her of the shackles and the e rushing burcjns and raising her to <j er feet, that she might once again 0 ike her old proud place among the c ommonwealths. Their thoughts and b opes and prayers were all to that ^ nd, but her thought varied widely, t ompromlses and combinations had f een tried and failed. The white peo- j le had caught eagerly at every prom- n le. however faint, of better things, -j ad given their aid to every indication f a purpose of honesty and economy nd had been beaten steadily. The 'hlte counties In the up-country were J" lmost solidly for a straightout tight ' nder the banner and name of Delocracy, for one supreme effort to ' vercome the 50,000 negro majority, v nd a hostile count, under laws fram- 11 d to make fraud easy for the party u 1 possession by sheer force and weight e f moral power and physical courage e a ri the lower and middle counties many f the people shrank from such an 0 isue, and with reason. A race war ? ould mean death and worse than eath to white men and their families, 9 rhere the negroes to the whites were e hree or four or ten to one. Never In history has a people been r onfronted with a problem more fear- 1 ill?confiscation, degradation, desola- 1 Ion*?cruelly slow, but ??4re destruc- * lorwof flvlllzatlon and j?aterl*l" ruin * n one side; on the other the immlent horrors of a race and civil war r i which no prisoners would be taken e nd nothing would be sacred or spard. If there was war the prospect was hat we would have against us the ? ower of the Federal government and he north, for many wolves were bayig with bared fangs for the very life ^ lood of the state, under the banner 1 f the bloody shirt. The negro was * et an idol and the southern white * nKIonf nt flopfo HotAStAtlnn to a ICVII IIIC UUJCV.I ?zi 1IVI vvi u lillions beyond the Potomac. By daring a desperate chance, the lost desperate any people ever dared, outh Carolina won In the grim game, i which life and honor and hope re re staked, and the odds against her remendous. She won by daring all angers, facing undaunted the frlghtul consequences. The daring thing nee more was the right and safe hing; and It was done under the leadrship and by the guidance of the tate press. My old friend A. U. Speights, bluff nd genial, a type of the old time hapy-go-lucky, devil-may-care newspaer man, trained when the trade was romance and a thing followed from sve and instinct and not for the dolirs and on business principles, as we lave It now, always claimed that the Ireenvllle Dally News, under his ediorship, was first in the state to hoist he stralghtout flag, and call for lampton for governor, In 1875. His laim was disputed; but, as I recolect. in May, 1876, the Greenville News nd Columbia Register, the two dally iapers in the state outside of Charleson. were stralghtout and the upountry weeklies were almost ur.animusly likewise, while the lower and nlddle counties, except In Edgefield, he press was divided, dubious or waering. A Power In the State. The power of the News and Courier A a a nou-anonor 11 / Hflliniuuuit. no a. .. iad no rival or even pretence at rivaly in the state. Charleston's influence ;as yet supreme. The people of South larolina had not forgotten the habit f turning to it as sunflowers to the un. The old city was the centre of hought and learning and social and ommerelal power and, as everybody mows, must be relied on to finance he fight, if there was to be a fight, 'here and to meet the emergency, the ournal of Commerce came. I never lave known exactly how or hence or >-hy. Its origin, so far as I know, is s mysterious as its purpose. But it ame. Trueheart had to study the state nap, but he had fire in his heart and ould put It in his pen. He was a Virginian and a Democrat to the core, ,nd loved the south and Democracy nd white supremacy, understood iroad principles and knew facts. He vrote editorials which rang through he state like a bugle in the sleeping amp and the country newspapers anwered and rallied and one by one he reluctant and the doubtful ranged hemselves. I was a boy then and did lot realize. Looking back now as a nan passing maturity and with some ipportunity for thought and observaion, I am filled with amazed admirainn for DeoDle and papers. Poor, lown-trodden; oppressed and burdenid as they were, the people supported f heir local newspapers. With state ? ind local governments and patronage t igalnst them, with opportunity for < dace and power and riches hanging ? lazzling and tempting to their hands, 1 he country editors stood true. Any t dltor of a reputable South Carolina 1 ounty newspaper at that time could i lave had the state treasury at his back < ind the 50,000 negro majority to sup- < >ori nis pcrsuuai aiiiuiiiuuo ?*. *?? vould have gone radical. Not one tditor yielded or even wavered. They ?ad stood to their people sturdily in he dangerous Ku Klux times when he shadow of the Federal peniteniarles lay across every home and in he path of every citizen who dared o speak?for perjured testimony was lUUIlUtl.111 auu llic DJ/JCO nUiO killed and reckless of results. In the lme of the uprising of the white peo>le in 1876 they were a unit. Never n all the history of the world has here been a clearer demonstration of he qualities which make the white nan and will keep the white man naster of the world than was given in South Carolina that year. With a tlain fifty thousand majority against hem, established by the census reurns and the records of previous lections, with the state and county ;overnments and organizations and he United States government with its inlimlt'ed powers of wealth and baynets, men and bullets behind them, hey dared and urged and demanded he fight, they courted the struggle to he very act and agony of death. In 11 these years I never have forgotten hat In the stillness of late night in September of that great year I heard hrough the windows the muffled ound of the hoofs of a horse gallopng through the sandy main street of lumter and the defiant shout of the olitary rider as if singing his own hought regardless of who might hear, Hampton or h 1!" That voice ounding from an unknown and astray nan from the darkness was the voice if South Carolina and of the great, ver conquering white race?"win or He?be master or a formidable memry!" That was the spirit of the South Carolina newspapers. As a strange ioy I watched them as they came to ne In that old office In East Bay, at he corner of the alley, swing Into line rom the leaping headwaters of the Ceowee to the broad and ' oubled nouth of the Santee. 'he Newt and Courier 8to'od Alone. The News and Courier stood alone, ts voice was for compromise and the enomlnatlon of Governor Chamberaln with Democratic endorsement, coking back now we can see that Its ogle was unanswerable. Numbers fere against us, the laws were against is. The governments were all against is. Chamberlain had a record of honsty, was fighting the thieves, murderrs and plunderers and seemed to have , strong following In his own party, iffering us supremacy by gradual and asy and bloodless approaches and legrees. Capt. F. W. Dawson, the trongest and most brilliant man who ver conducted a South Carolina news>aper, exhausted all the resources of hetorlc and reason In behalf of com>rom!se. His news and editorial colimns were alike vivid. Column after olumn and day after daysix dgys In he we&ww&fcad iuC Sunday papers hen?h^tffed^ut tffe"rttfWT'lJPg nagniflcent mind, persuading, threatinlng, urging, arguing, remonstrating. Vlth vitriolic anfi tremendous force he lenounced the "Shotgun Democracy," md there Is reason to believe that the *- ? TN ?MAwtlMAHne Til sauonui Utlliutrncj, Iiuiiiiuaunt * ?len for president that year, was vlth him. We of the straightout facion had not only the Republican pary, with Its vast and various powers, >ut our own party and all reason igainst us. On our side there was lothlng but Instinct?no visible hope, 10 reason or resource, nothing but the rhite man's deathless Impulse to fight ind to do his own fighting with the neans at his hand and by the methids nearest and most available, and o rescue himself and establish his iwn supremacy or die trying to do It. On our side, over In the Journal of Commerce office, the directors were ?usy and anxious and fumbling as am.teurs will. They swapped horses in he stream, displaced Trueheart and ailed in Col. R. Barnwell Rhett as ditor. They were possessed with the dea that a name, a writer and a flghtr could make a newspaper. Colonel thett had the name?a name Justly evered in South Carolina?and could vrite and fight on occasions, but as nanaging editor of a newspaper as we mow it now, he was not even an atempt. Day after day he would not >e at the office at all and would send lown his editorials by a messenger. Je had the old-fashioned contempt ind disregard for the news end. I loubt if he ever in his life checked up o see what his sub-editors and re>orters were doing or gave the slight (St attention to the mechanical aeparinent. We had some curious experi nces. In Colonel Rhett's absence I lave beheld with wondering eyes the ?ntire editorial and typographical orce unanimously drunk at 6 o'clock n the evening, and the paper they got ?ut was a weird wonder. Those were he days of hand type, when each irinter could keep a bottle under his :ase and refresh himself at discretion. >V"hen a reporter too Inebriate to arIculate or a city editor Helpless and iprawled asleep In the office were lasslng incidents. rather of Constitution and Edgefield. They were times which seem strange o us of now. The first time I ever saw Jen. M. C. Butler was when he stumpd Into the office to consult Colonel *hett on the phraseology of a chalenge he bore from General M. W. Jary to Captain Dawson. The capaln in one of his fiery editorials had ndlcated his readiness to meet Generil Gary, who, as one of the "Shotgun Democracy," had denounced him as a :oward. The challenge came per Central Butler on the next train. Captain Dawson was a man of his own Ideas, ie was not averse to fighting and was ifraid of nobody, but he realized that f he undertook to fight every man he >ffended or offensively criticised in hat great campaign it was but a mater of time?and short time at that? vhen he would be out of business. He leclined General Gary's challenge, >ut through the News and Courier rave notice of his daily habits of novement and location and invited he Edgefield champion to attack him. The first time I ever saw Capt. Daw son waa oil a summer uaj, nuvu, ?w i faithful employee I sallied out in he wake of my chief, Colonel Rhett, ?xpecting to help keep the flies off In in anticipated pistol combat across Broad street. Colonel Rhett had been ,vith the Journal of Commerce but a 'ew weeks when some allusion to him n the News and Courier gave him the >pportunity to make a personal attack >n Captain Dawson. The reply prob scorching personal excoriation ever put in type. It would have blistered the hide of a rhinoceros. A man belonged to his newspaper and his chief then as completely as a Highland gillie to the lord of his clan. From printer's devil and apprentice up we were expected to share the editor's battle, to maintain his cause, to resent as a personal insult every criticism on our news or editorial methods. When Colonel Rhett came to the office the morning of the denunciation of him by the News and Courier there was a , * consultation in the local room. It was assumed that there would be a fight In the streets and that Captain Dawson would have at least two friends with him. Prank McHugh? long since dead, poor fellow, and a good and loyal fellow he was?and I were awarded the honor of being the two first men to second him, because we were young and had no families. Our pistols were discussed, tried and examined, and the local editor, from Certain experiences of his own, gave us useful instructions as to drawing and laming, and settling the butts in >ur hands. When Colonel Rhett walked out McHugh and I were twenty steps behind him, "keeping heedful watch on his erect, slender shoulders, and behind us trailed casually- a large section of the local and typographical staff, anticipating joyously that the entire staff of the News and Courier might participate with Captain Dawson and that the question of local newspaper supremacy might be settled then and there in general battle without annoying details or the tedious necessity of labor. Thers Was no Fight. From the News and Courier office to State street was a line of detectives, sent there by Mayor Cunningham to keep the peace. At least Ave hundred citizens had gathered on the steps of the old postofflce, looking up Broad street and along the sidewalks to see the expected flght. To the general disgust and disappointment there was no flght. Colonel Rhett went peacefully to his home, then, I believe, somewhere in Meeting street A few minutes later McHugh and I and our following, coming up Meeting street, encountered Captain Dawson and his brother-in-law arm in arm, and the two hostile parties passed with nothing more harmful than mutual glares and a scrupulous measurement and allotment of the sections of the sidewalk to which we were respectively entitled. Colonel Rhet had killed Judge Cooley in a duel near New Orleans and, I think, was painfully sensitive on the subject of being regarded as a man killer. Dawson's fixed idea was that Rhett had been brought to South Carolina to kill him, and to the day of his death he never forgave the me/i whom he regarded g# being In a plot against his * * life". Probably he was mistaken, it is certain tWat Colonel Rhett never ,, would have been party to a plan to kill a man deliberately. He was said to be a dead shot with firearms of any kind and was intensely sensitive on questions of personal honor, but he would not flght you for vengeance unless he felt it to be absolutely necessary. About the second interview I had with him after he came into the ofllce ?I had then been promoted to writing sub-editorials?he gave me a copy of John Lyde Wilson's Code of Honor and of the Rhett and Calhoun corre spondence preceding a fatal duel, and Impressed on me that the purpose of the Code was not lighting, but the adjustment of troubles among gentlemen honorably to all. In the episode with Captain Dawson he contented himself with a brief editorial statement to the effect that Captain Dawson, being already under two challenges not accepted, and having publicly announced his purpose to accept no challenges, was outside the pale and beyond the notice of a gentleman, whatever he might say or do. Three Towering Figures. Time teaches us many things. It was my fortune to have quarrels and friendships with the three towering figures of modern South Carolina Journalism, Dawson. Rhett and N. Q. Gonzales. Like many others, I resented Colonel Rhett's failure to fight Dawson when the opportunity was not only offered but urged. I have lived to realize that his course of Inaction was best for his own reputation and for the state. I was alternately Captain Dawson's fierce enemy, close friend, bitter foe and friend again?his friend, thank God, when he died. Looking back I can recognize and honor the splendid intellect, the moral and physical courage, the robust manhood, which marked and guided his whole course of life, whatever his defects may have been. One of the most wonderful Instances of masterly newspaper strategy, one of the most remarkable illustrations of newspaper competency and knowl edge as opposed to incompetency and lack of knowledge, in all the history of the trade, was given that year. The Journal of Commerce won Its fight for the straightout policy. The press of the state was with it. The people were with It. Poor as South Carolinians were then, subscriptions actually poured In on It. I have seen from one mail two bushel baskets of letters, each containing subscriptions and money. At the same time the mail of the News and Courier was filled with stop orders and returned copies. All over the state Democratic clubs met, sent in subscriptions en masse to the Journal of Commerce, and resolved that such members as were paid up subscribers to the News and Courier would not take their papers from the postofflce. The county newspapers took It up. Some of them cut the News and Courier from their exchange list8. Practically all of them urged their readers to take and read the Journal of Commerce and to boycott the News and Courier?the word "boycott" had not been invented then, but the meaning was the same. The News and Courier fought straightout nominations by the Democrats and as1 sailed the "Shotgun Democracy" to the last moment of the meeting and action of the Democratic state convention. The morning that action was announced the Sews and Courier announced Itself as with the expressed will of the white people of the state. It turned In Its tracks within twentyfour hours, boldly reversed Its posl[Contlnued on Fourth Page].