Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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" XSStTKD i. m. grist's sons, publisher.. } g ?Jfam{t]| Iferajajier: <Jfor the ?rontotion of the ftolitieat, fSooiat. gigricntfnijal and ffiouraeittiat Interests of the feogte. { SiBwn,m!i<amm.t*^L established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY. FEBHUARY 18, 1908. ISTO. 14. > m Hi n m iiumiiiMMiuiuMM THI Ui m By CLARENCE wnwiiwininiwirtiwwniwyuiii PART FIRST.?THE GREAT BANK ROBBERY. t r V CHAPTER I. h A Remarkable Letter. ? v Jasper Jahnway sat In his library, v a worn and faded letter spread before e him, his heart beating a little faster J: than had been usual of late years, as he prepared to read it. There were a several pages of it, and they were I closely written. But it was only a frag- ? went, after all, for the first and last b pages were missing. It was a letter u without date or address* or signature. jj Jasper Jahnway drew the lamp a lit- \ tie nearer to him: he turned its light a little higher; he smoothed the letter ? down with his white and nervous hand. v Then he carefully read the fragment b from its beginning to its end. t< "?And so it was murder! That is a very frank statement. Murder is a very ugly word. Never mind that. ? You know how very frank I am, ? sometimes: you know how much I love * truth, when truth will serve my pur- * pose as well as a lie would: it serves j' me as well now; so I use it. It was murder?murder! Pray tell me what you think of that? * "There was really no other way. I ? would gladly have done what you de- * manded, just that and no more. In- ? deed, I had no thought of doing ? more; had you? And yet I knew (did you not know, too) that there was a . risk?nay. many risks?in trying to ? do that which we had planned to do. * The victim awoke. I was recognized. ? Between a long imprisonment for robbery and other allied crimes, and freedom, though with a stain on my ? soul which nothing can wash out? that was the choice I was called upon ? niairo T mnrip it I made it in a moment. Yet never?never to you? never at a human bar of justice? . never before God's final tribunal?can I say that my choice was other than tj deliberate. A moment was long * enough. A heartbeat was time enough. I made my decision. I acted upon it. Henceforth you have nothing to fear H ?nothing while you are true to me. P If you are false?false in the slightest Si degree?false in word or in thought ^ even, beware! My muscles are as strong, my nerves are as steady, my heart as hard now as then. I have h given much for you?much. Let me tl tell you that you must not ask more, b Let me assure you, once for all. that P I must have life and freedom left? ^ left always. e "I talk of life and freedom. Possi- n bly I talk foolishly. It may be that n my freedom will be gone tomorrow, 1< and my life found forfeit within a S month. I say it may be. It may. But ti you must not dare to be the cause? P you must not dare! You must not it think me a mere tool, to be used at ri your wicked pleasure and then c thrown aside. When danger comes, d if it does come, you must stand brave- d ly by me to the end. When I die, your t death shall follow. Be coward enough f< to put me out of your way. and words Y I have said and written shall rise up ^ between you and any earthly future " you have fancied possible. If I hang tl you shall hang on the same gallows n with me. It Is not a pleasant thought? e Very well. Be true to me, then. v "Why do I write as I have done? Frankly and truthfully, because I do f not trust you: because your silence is t a necessity; because I am sure of that u silence only as I am sure of your n . fear; because I believe I have made s it impossible for you to dare break o over the limits I shall set around your c life and actions. When I tell you that s I am going to write the plain and g straightforward truth to you?think o of it, the truth, and from me?you t will begin to see how serious a mat- b ter this is likely to be for you. I warn i you, then; I warn you fully; I warn f you in time. Never say, when my n vengeance may have followed your F treachery, that you did not know the o ' consequences of your act. Between I us must be the everlasting bond of r a common guilt and a common dan- d ger. If any one hunts me to my death, it must be the man outside? g "But I am getting incoherent. My r pen is the hand of Passion and?and s ?It is not Remorse! It is not Remorse! t It is not Remorse! v "Don't think me mad. I am not c mad. If I were?if I only were: but a ?but 1 am as sane as I ever was. I I can never claim a clouded intellect I nor a diseased Drain mr mj * avu.t. here nor hereafter. "But I must prove my calmness by a calm story. I left the railroad sta- c tion in the early evening. The rain \ was falling steadily. It had fallen in \ a deluge for hours. c "The mud was knee-deep. Every 8 stream was swollen and dangerous, jThe darkness was intense, save when \ the lightning showed me the way. t "Three miles! Three miles across a rough country, cut up with brooks v and rivulets, and seamed and fissured a with rocky ledges and deep ravines. v Was it not fortunate that I had known 8 the road so well when I was a child? c "Three miles is long to one who is c in a hurry. Three miles of conflict s with the elements and their work is ^ very, very long. But it came to an end t at last. I reached the house. I walk- t ed slowly and noiselessly around it. c I found a window which was not fas- < tened. I went in. The owner of the i mansion and myself were alone, at j last, in this dreary, solitary house. If t it came to a contest, it would simply \ be a question between the strength r * and endurance of the two of us. v "I looked through the lower part ? of the house. It took much time. I t emptied boxes and drawers and cup- t boards. I hurriedly repacked every f place I explored. I did not lose a r moment. It was one o'clock, though, t when I went up stairs. c "I found the room where the owner t slept. There was a lamp burning with- f iii the apartment. I tiled the door. It r was not fastened. Strange, it is not? t Strange that any one ever forgets the s sort of world we live in. and the man- j tier of persons who people it! Strange r that any one fails to remember tlie l story of Cain! Strange that any dare sleep in forgetfulness that sueh as I l live?that there are men like you in 1 the world! > "I searched the other rooms first. ( Thoroughly? Thoroughly! I ex- t pected to find nothing. But I gave c earnest and painstaking effort to the c task. I found nothing. But I could ? not have satisfied myself in any other ( way than by beginning elsewhere than l where the sleeping one I meant to i wrong 'ay in unconscious and inno- t cent slumber. t "Why? t "I scarcely know how to say. I have t never been so weak as to believe in f presentiments. And yet?perhaps I 1 had a ho?a fear, I mean?that the end would be as it was. > "I hurried more than I had done ; below-stairs. I felt certain that I ? should find that for which I searched j only when I went into that room ( where the light was burning. There. my lantern would be needless. There I could rob at my leisure, pleasure, us- t ing the facilities provided by the one < whose treasure I?you. I mean?cov- < eted. i "I went into the last room. Slumber j should shrink away from one so ] wronged as the peaceful sleeper was 1 about to be. Could you sleep while ] some one searched your room to see ( miuiyiniMitnyiyM 111 m may JTSiBI % BOUTELLE. nwfwwi^inminrfinn UPM \ i-hat he could And? Pardon the quesion. I fear you may lose a night's est from pondering it! "I searched carefully. I searched lurrledly. I put everything away in erfect order. It was three o'clock rhen I went into the room. It was four ihen I found that for which I lookd. I slipped it into a convenient hidng-place upon my person. I turned o go. "Fate had ordered other than . peaceful ending for my night's work. glanced toward the bed. The occu>ant was sitting bolt upright, wide wake, watching me. Those deep >lack eyes, I shall remember them intil I die: those stern and scornful ins?t vhall never forget them?no. lor the worth; they uttered?'Coward, hief!* These, and my name. "You the alternative which cirumstance offered me. Yt u cannot lame me?Maine circumstance. If I i'hs secretly glad of the opportunity efore me. if I had a private grudge ? satisfy and a personal vengeance of eed; if those black eyes had done fork which I could never forgive; if onder heart had felt and yonder brain chemed beyond my power to pardon, hat is nothing to you. It is none of our business. You have the hint, hough, and much of comfort may it ring you! "The crime was yours. The guilt is ours. I promised to find and bring ou certain things. I have found them. have them. They are yours whenver you choose to come for them, ind the prlc'e I paid for them was no lore than I had to pay. I only digress nough to say that when I struck a low for you I struck one for myself s well. If it eases your conscience ny to know that, know it. But if you /uikIacUi* rotro inf mP heck it. or. better still, stifle it. Find ut why I did gladly what even you rould have shrunk from?try to find ut my reason for it?and I will strike gain! A word to the wise Is sufficient. >o you understand? "I sprang to the side of the bed. I id my pleas?my duty, I mean. "Pistol? No. Only a fool calls attenion to an evil deed which fate necesItates. "Knife? Ah. I was tempted! To disgure that face: to leave a mark upon ; which friends could never forget? hat would have been heaven to me. tut I used no knife. I was too wise ar that. "One shriek rang out on the started air of the stormy night as I forced he frightened wretch down upon the ed and covered the face with a huge illow. Then the struggle began. It as fierce and long. Sometimes I feard I should fail. I shall carry the larks on my throat for many and lany a day which those strong hands ?ft there. But I won. Resistance rew less?less?less?and ceased alogether. I held the thick pillow in its lace for many minutes. Then I raised :. The black eyes were staring horIdly at vacancy: their days of mishief-doing were for ever over. I rew the bed clothes up about the ead body of my?your?foe, I mean, leath had come in a troubled dream, :>r all that face or posture could tell, 'ou had your wish. I had mine, and re were both safe. Safe, because the tolen things were unknown to others han their owner, and would never be fiissed; safe, because there was no vidence of murder or violence anywhere. "I could have wept for very thankulness. I laughed aloud for joy. And hen. stooping over the bed for one ast look at the vanquished, I raised ay eyes to a mirror on the opposite '?t I'ftnm T aenrrelv knew niV wn face, so pale and drawn and hanged was it. I gazed at It with a ort of fascinated wonder. And as T ;azed I heard a noise behind me. I illy looked toward the reflection in he mirror of the window which was lehind me. The rain was beating upon t in a torrent. The wind was rattling he open blinds outside. For a morient that was all. The?I saw a face tressed close against the pane. A man utside was watching. He was not ooklng directly toward me. He was, ather, gazing upon the face of the lead. "I watched his reflection in the rlass?watched it for more than a ninute. I tried to catch some expresion, or to have memory and attenion grasp some peculiar feature which vould enable me to recognize the man >utside if T should ever meet him gain. Perhaps you can guess the use meant to make of the information craved? "But no matter. "I failed. "He wore a soft hat, drawn low lown over his face. He wore a coat vith a broad collar, and the collar vas turned high above his chin and heeks. His unkempt hair was all tbout his face. I should not know lim again if I were to meet him face o face. I should not have the right o be even suspicious of his identity. "Perhaps you have guessed that I vas the victim of an optical illusion, ind that there wasn't any man at the vindow behind me at all. It would be l very natural and philosophical conlusion to reach, and T believe you an rise to philosophical heights when itting before a roaring fire with a rood cigar between your teeth, and a >ottle of something strong at your el>ow. It is easier to be logical and ritical under such circumstances your circumstances as you read this doubt not), than it would be in a onely room, in a lonely house, with he dead body of one who an hour ago vas full of life and vigor lying within each of your cruel hand, and with an inknown man watching you. But the dea of illusion occurred to me?even o me?and I almost dared pray that he thought was based on truth. The ace would fade out. fade away in a nanner that was strangely startling, tnd. at first thought, explainable only >n the theory I have mentioned?the henry that I had overtaxed my pow rs; the theory that I had given my nind a staggering blow; the theory hat I could no longer trust my tenses: the theory that, having done :ou such service as made you my debt>r. and myself such service as made ife worth living. I was going mad. "But T was not mistaken. I was not osing myself in the mazes of lunacy. Phe face was real. The man was real. A'hen he drew back from the winlow?drew away from the rain-wash>d glass?I lost sight of him in the rntside uarisness; wnen ?r close to the window I could see him i gain. "I bore his watchfulness as long as could?his watchfulness of the dead ather than of me. I suddenly sprang o my feet. For safety I would do anyhing. I rushed to the window. I threw up the sash. I faced the storm, he light from the dim lamp falling ill about me and turning the falling aindrops into a shower of glory. "The man sprang from the balcony on vhich lie had stood. I heard him crash iwav through the flower-beds and dirubs. That was all. I came away. I jot to the station. I excited no suspicion. I don't believe my face was seen it all by the spy who watched me. "They will talk of a sudden death today. never dreaming that it was ther than a natural one. But some me. somewhere, knows that there .vas a murder done?knows it as well is I do?knows it as well as you do. Mis life is a perpetual menace. His 'reedom is an eternal shadow. Found, tie must die. Living, he must be hunted. Unknown, he must be watched for and waited for. Curses?curse< ?curses?on the man outside?" Jasper Jahnway pushed the lettei from him as he tlnlshed It. "A remarkable production," he said reflectively. He was right. It was s remarkable production. "A fitting end to such a day as this has been." he said, a little bitterly; "s fitting evening's entertainment aftei the gloom of the afternoon." He rose and looked out at the night He shivered. The evening was toe much one of which some one had written to some one else, too much like the evening when a wicked heart hac prompted a steady hand to the commission of a terrible crime, to be perfectly pleasant. Mr. Jahnway drew down the curtains. He sat down close by the open fire. He faced the window as he sat. He muttered something about the man outside. The day, Saturday, November 5th, 1S70. had been as thoroughly disagreeable a one at Jahnway Park as any which Jasper Jahnway could remember. It is true that Jasper Jahnway was young: it is true that he had not been the fortunate possessor of the Jahnway estate for a very great number of years; and it is true that his roving life, prior to coming home to enjoy his unexpected inheritance, had left his knowledge of the possibilities of November weather in New England, in sight of the Atlantic, little more than a matter of theory and imagination. "But little as he knew of what had been or what might be at Jahnway Park, narrow as his experience there had been, he had seen many unpleasant days elsewhere; and his memory had failed to show him anything to compare with whut this day had been. From long before the earliest and faintest beginning of dawn, the rain had fallen in torrents; all day long the trees had tossed and writhed in the rushing gale; from morning to noon, and down the steep slope of the declining day to night again, the sound of the sea had been louder than the beating of the rain or the roaring of the wind. It is quite possible that "the oldest inhabitant." that garrulous encyclopaedia of ancient wonders and lexicon of superlatives. would have agreed with Jasper Jahnway in his estimate of the day. Or, perhaps Perhaps the owner of Jahnway Park had come to it as to a place of peace and rest, and a haven of refuge: perhaps he found storm and tempest more annoying than they had been in the days when they hod been his frequent companions, the days when he had taken his life in his hands and hunted fickle fortune half around the world. The soldier at home?loves peace; the orator at his own fireside?loves silence. It is the way of the world, you know. And Jasper Jahnway, at Jahnway Park, whatever may have been true elsewhere in his past, loved cloudless skies, bright flowers, warm sunshine. The old Jahnway mansion was an old one Indeed. There had been Jahnways and Jahnways. The particular line from which Jasper came had been poor; there were no portraits of his ancestors, until one traced the j pictorial history of the Jahnways back for many generations, on the walls of the picture gallery which was now his own. If there had been portraits of these Jahnways, the Jahnways whose blood flowed in his veins, they would [have been painted with a far-away look in their eyes?painted with swords in their hands?painted with sails above their heads and decks beneath their feet?painted with the ocean or the wilderness about them and with the world of ease and culture and civilization unhinted in garb or posture? workers, fighters. pioneers?these, and of those who wait?always. Should one inquire regarding- them and their past, he would find their swords drawn, sometimes, in causes whose merits would be difficult to explan; he would find their ships engaged, sometimes, in a questionable traffic; and find, above the head of some one of the bravest and most devoted of the Jahnways, a flag he would not have looked for?or none at all! The questioner, reading, pondering, studying the history of their past, would find hope and faith and earnest valor; but Jasper's fathers for generations had gone no emptier-handed to their graves than they had gone to the best years of their lives. And Jasper Jahnway had been true to the traditions of his race, until I'ntil he came to stand in the home which had belonged to another line of Jahnways; a line who had had money always; a line who had filled the old house with books and pictures and statuary: a line who had spread ease and comfort and luxury everywhere in the great house and in the spacious grounds Jahnway Park had been a paradise to Jasper when he first came. He knew that then. He did not deny it now. He wondered, nevertheless, how he could ever have enjoyed it as he did. It was a very unsatisfactory sort ol life now. It had been tame a year ago; tamer last month; and today?today h?= had found the house like a prison, the very elements his foes, the whole situation intolerable. Did he love bright weather and warm sunshine? He did Hut only because storm made him a prisoner of civilization; only because the gentleman he had become must not wander aimlessly about when the winds and the waters struggled for the mastery. He could remember days when life had been otherwise for him. He had found books a bore; his pictures had pained him; he had wandered, restlessly, from room to room Pity Jasper Jahnway as noon found him?young, without ambition?strong without a calling?a human being with nothing to do; give him your sympathy. as he was when the afternoon was half done?at peace, with memory and inclination leading him toward dangei 1 ~?. ,i *...^11 hut lnncrine anil nilllin l urn nwuovu, c for tho swamp or the desert?daintily fed. but with a floating1 memory of the freedom of the days when the present had had little and hope had promisee! the future even less; let your tears fall for him. as waning: day darkenec around him?a man with great capabilities, without a care or an aim or a purpose?a man hampered and harassed by civilization, while his experience his instincts, and tlie inherited habit* of generations, called him to the freedom of savagery?a man to whom tht tempest which prisoned him was an enticement?a man to whom the voice oi the ocean was an invitation. J Such men as he break through restraint. Will he? The rain had lessened for a little time as the day died out. The wind had grown fitful and fretful for a while, 1 Instead of remaining furious. It was as though day was relinquishing its pow' er ere night was ready to assume conL trol. Streaks of blue had appeared among the clouds; they had broadened, deep ened, and finally let the sunshine 1 through as the god of day hung, for a ' moment, on the western horizon before ' giving Jahnway Park to the night, the 1 torno or me aeaa-ana-gone jtum?> aj a to the shadows, and Jasper Jahnway? to his future?to whatever he might be ! so fortunate or unfortunate as to find. ! Jasper Jahnway drew a long breath ! of relief as the sunshine fell along the ' table where he had vainly tried to read and petulantly pretended to write. He opened the window. He stepped out upon the wet lawn. Fate-guided, he was going for the strange letter, though he knew it not. Let us follow him. Winter was surely near at hand. His ; breath was in the air. Withered leaves 1 were scattered all about the grass? Nature's mute confession of the power 1 of Death. Rut Jasper Jahnway rejoic1 ed in his freedom: what were death 1 and decay and cold to him? Had he 1 not the sky above? Had he not the 1 fresh soil beneath his feet? The sun1 shine had fallen upon him only a moment since; after that, what was night to him? He turned toward the ocean. Books and pictures and ease were giving up ' their slight hold upon him?their power over his heart and brain. Child of Nature, he was reaching out for the 1 love which had been his for so much of his life. The white-crested waves showed dimly through the gathering darkness, 1 seeming to salute him as they ran thunderingly up the distant beach. He smiled. There was heart In his smile. Out there, hundreds and hundreds of miles away and many years ago, he had had his one brief dream of love, bright and sweet and swift, on an island i scarcely larger than his own estate of Jahnway Park. Out yonder, in another direction, other hundreds of miles away, he had drifted for many days and nights on a narrow plank, scorched i 1 - ? 1 ? ? -? 'Jntf oh i 1 l.orf unuer h uuiihhk nun ->.? uu;, under a pallid moon by night, mad with hunger, frenzied with thirst until he was so weak that he could not put his hand up to clasp those of the men who rescued him, nor command his voice to speak the thanks he felt. 1 Pain? Yes. Pain from the memory I of his dream of love, for he was lone- i ly now, and always would be; but love i Is worth having lived, though one must turn to memory only for the good It gives?worth having lived, though ope i may fail to live It for ever. Pain? Certainly. Pain from ship- i wreck and danger and famine; but the Joy of escape had made ample amends i for all that. And so far as the future was concerned, Jasper Jahnway was too young, yet. to have lost that instinctive-felt faith of the young heart (higher than the reason which Insists j that death is a future actuality and an ever-present possibility) that for him tides would turn, ships sail over strange routes, refreshing rains fall, clouds temper the sunshine, and the Omnipotent Hand of God himself be stretched out to insure him safety and life and strength, whatever others might find waiting for them; too young to have given up that way of looking at things and thinking of them which is the outward expression of almost a hope (can I call it that?) of a personal physical r\f (ho rl Q t'Q iminurittlllj u icnuuun i>i uiv ? , when humanity was not doomed to die ?a token of the time when the soul shall stand beyond the world in which there are graves, in a world where death shall never enter. All men, young and old, say, "I must die." The man is beginning to grow old who deliberately says, when strong and vigorous, "I may die today or tomorrow." Jasper Jahnway had nothing of the sort to say to himself; he never had had. To him, the old life meant the old dangers and the old hardships, it meant the old joys, too, and the same certainty of escape which the past had worked out for him. Older men are ' wiser ones. He turned his face oceanward, and he cried, passionately, while he stretch ed his hands yearningly toward it. "I love it: I love it; it has brought me more of happiness, more of the i good which elevates and improves, than ' such a narrow life as this can ever do; I love it: I love it!" Then he walked musingly and slowly i down to the very end of his estate. He ' could no longer see his house. The i ocean was not in sight, and its voice 1 came to him in a muffled tone. Tall trees were all about him. On one side of the narrow path in which he stood ran a noisy brook, babbling the gossip of the breezy hills where it was born, 1 and clamoring for the sea. On the other side rose a rocky hill, so steep and stony that It almost merited being called a perpendicular ledge. Then Jahnway had paused and looked ' about him. It was dark. But never before had the place seemed so pleas: ant to him. His mood was a strange one; the surroundings suited it. ? He tossed a stone into the stream. ! He laughed to see the shower of water : which sprung up where it fell. He i threw another, a larger and a heavier one. and shouted with almost the glee t nf n child itt the commotion it made. " " I There had not been so pleased an ex; pression upon his face for many long , hours: it was good?so good?to have , something to do again, though it were I needless and useless. He stooped fur the third time; a i bundle of closely written sheets of pa. per had been twisted into a knot, t thrown close beside it. and forced into I the soil by a heavy heel. Jahnwa.v took the letter home. He ; read it while the night took up the ' storm's work where day left it. > We have read it. too. t A remarkable letter! And a re mark[ able Jasper Jahnway! A bed awaited 1 his coming up-stairs, and a sleepy ser1 vant waited to attend to any of his . wants. i Hut he spread his overcoat before the fire in his library: he took some huge volume for a pillow; and lie dreamed that he was a rover over the world > again, and, that when some one came . to tell him that Jahnway Harks was his. a voice said it was false?a voice ' from the stormy night?a voice from the open window?the voice of the man J outside! . To be Continued. ivliicrUanrotir. iJriulinr. APPELT DEFIES THEM. Clarendon Senator Rubs It Into Thin Skinned Colleagues. Senator Appelt in Manning Time?. The bill to tax liquor drummers lies away down on the Calendar, and unless there is some one who will take an active interest in its passage in the lower house, it will remain unconsidered. If it can be reached it will be enacted into law; there is some opposition to it however as is the case with all generul bills especially anything affecting the liquor interests. The moment there is a bill introduced touching the whisky element, it stirs up an opposition which often results In bltternesjt. In my last Issue I gave It as my opinion that this bill would be fought In the house, and stated there were "liquor drummers in Columbia, and they had friends in the legislature;" this was reproduced in some other newspapers. A member of the general assembly asked me if I did not regard a statement of that character a reflection upon the members. Of course, I did not.. It would have to be a very thin hltled member with a ghost of wrongdoing haunting him to feel that such a statement is a reflection upon him, when in his own conscience he knows he Is guiltless. Everything said adversely to liquor interests seems to be an Irritant, to some it seems to touch them in a tender spot and they get up and denounce It as "infamous" as "outrageous" and "insulting." with hair standing on ends, unless they happen to be bald-headed, they vehemently declare with manifest emotion "it warn't me," they then proceed to grow eloquent and punctuate their remarks with very bold (?) propositions, intending their language to be taken by the public as withering; but the scorching words are always prefaced with, in effect, "if I am meant" or "if any man imputes to me wrong motives for voting as I did on that measure, or charges me with being recreant to my duty to the state" etc., or "I scorn, I put the foot of my uttermost contempt upon any charge from any source that I have ever swerved in the rightful discharge of my public duty, as it js given to me to see the right." It sounds warm, there appears to be an atmosphere charged with sulphur, but when one to whom this rush of hot air Is hurled at, is not posing for effect, and will not permit himself to forget that he is not a bully, but an officer of the state charged with f?ortn in su-ftm duties, he can very gracefully maintain his self-respect by letting pass unnoticed these lf-but-impugn-my-motives-declarations, even emphasized as they may be with tremulous voice and reddened face. "If is a condition, and amounts to nothing whatever. If I were to say in the senate chamber, "somebody has stolen my pocket-book," I would regard it unnecessary for a man not having stolen my pocket book, and not having any knowledge of who did steal it, to get up and vehemently declare "I df<5 not steal the senator's pocket book, but if any man means to impugn my character, that man hath not a fig leaf to cover his naked indecency and it would be base flattery to call him a dog." I make these observations because on last Friday there was precipitated in the senate an unexpected episode which I am sure has not added much glory to the reputations of some members who felt it incumbent upon themselves to resent an article published in the Manning Times written by myself, and which wns based upon reliable information, that is, I so regard it, and what it has developed, the public can judge whether or not there was any justification for the information given to me, and which as a newspaper man I furnished the public. The article in q jestion was published in these columns, and reproduced in other newspapers, before there was, what has become known as the "Otts resolution," which sought to endorse the state commission and interpret the law regarding its powers enacted by the former session of the legislature, and which was intended for use at a hearing before Judge Pritchard, but carried with it no appropriation or anything else. There was a difference of opinion as to the propriety of the resolution. I had my own doubts about it, but inasmuch as they were introduced I voted for them; others ncjiinst them, which t;hey had n right to do, and still not be averse to other light throwing propositions relating to the liquor scandals. The offending article was entirely foreign to the Otts resolutions, had absolutely nothing to with them, near or remote: it only dealt with future legislation looking to an appropriation to deflay the expenses of prosecuting further investigations. I was not only informed there was a probability of some lawyers who are members of the general assembly that are retained by whisky concerns who have claims, and who are also retained by parties charged with graft, using their influence to defeat an appropriation to further prosecute the claims and cases, but that evidence has been obtained of such efforts having already been made. There is, in my opinion, a. considerable difference between a lawyer not a member of the general assembly, and one who is. The member of the general assembly is a state offlcer. sworn to uphold the laws of the state, and it does seem to me his position would be inconsistent were he to be retained to ? . a ...iiu defend public officers cnargeu mm crime against the state, and especially wrong did lie in his capacity as a legislator endeavor to prevent investigations or prosecutions in which his clients are interested. This is the way it looks to me. but from some of the speeches made upon the floor of the senate, my views are not concurred in by some of the members?a very small minority however, as the majority hold views similar to mine. I was the subject of considerable acrimoniouus discussion, and those who felt aggrieved seemed to connect the Times article with their action in voting against the Otts resolution. If not, then they would have fared much better had they remained in their seats, as did a majority of the lawyer members of the senate. As one senator expressed it "the rock didn't hit me, and I have no occasion to holler." The affair was sprung upon me suddenly, and to say I was surprised would not describe my feelings. Before I could fully recover from the surprise the senator from Oconee was protesting his innocence of the charge of being retained by any - of the whisky houses, or any of the persons charged with graft. I am perfectly satisfied the senator spoke the whole i truth, and while no names were furnished me, at the time I received the Information upon which I wrote the article that has since acted like a car1 pet tack In the chair of the senators, I am morally certain my informant did 1 not think of Senator Earle of Oconee as a lawyer, and If he had ever entered his thoughts at all, it was as a newspaper man, but lawyer never. Nevertheless this Oconee senator made it known 1 that he Is a lawyer and felt aggrieved because it was clearly intitmated by my article there were lawyer members who would nrobablv use their influence to thwart the necessary legislation to prosecute cases, and if they did they would be exjH)sed. Senator Earle heard the speeches and what was omitted in theni: one member in effect, said he would not take one of these cases until 1 after the legislature adjourned, this is in keeping with what was once said about a legislator when last year the railroad pass Investigating resolution was pending, taking his pass back to a railroad attorney to be in a position to declare he did not have a pass, and then when the legislature adjourned, or the investigating resolution failed, he went back and secured the return of his ' pass. If there is no wrong in a member accepting a retainer after adjournment, there is none while the legislature is in session. Another member acknow edged that some of the. at least two whisky houses, were his clients, but he claimed it was his right to represent them, and was very eloquent in declaring his conscience in this matter. 1 ao not auum me ?inm u> ui uic gcutletnan, but his view is not in accord with other and more experienced lawyers. It is serving two interested masters. drawing pay from both. Grant though this lawyer is right in accepting retainers to defend against charges brought by the state, surely that privilege could not morally extend to permitting that lawyer to endeavor to keep down legislation which, perhaps, might he adverse to the Interests of the clients that have paid him a retainer? If a lawyer member can do this, why should It be a reprehensible act on the part of a layman to accept money for work to prevent certain legislation, either before committees, or by his vote? Has a lawyer privileges in the legislature a layman has not? I have no desire to impugn any man's motives, but the Oconee senator undertook to lay down a rule of conduct for my guidance, and declared "the information contained in that article was false and Insulting." this he did without making an investigation, and without waiting for developments, but I must think, if he is a fair man, he will have to modify his opinion, as there was enough in the speeches to show the source of my information was not altogether groundless. Have any lawyer members endeavored to prevent, in committee or elsewhere, an appropriation to aid the attorney general to prosecute case? If so, it seems to me the gentleman from Oconee will have to still more modify his opinion, and acknowledge the source of my information was better grounded man nc mou^nt. i was nut muvui, either to anger or worry by the if-butimpugn -my-motives- infamous -insultlng-to-the-senate-denunclation. I had a conscience void of offense towards any innocent man, and I 'cared not a tig" for the criticism, or characterizations of the guilty. I am content to stand by the record as made. The people throughout the state have decided the case, the verdict, as indicated by letters which I have received Is gratifying to me. I quote one from a man whose work for the moral uplift in this state stands with the highest. He says "1 have just read the fight against you as reported in the State. You are making friends every day and your manly way of treating these 'spring chickens' will continue to work for your highest good. May you indeed be known as an Israelite indeed in whom is no guilt. My hat is off to men of your courage." The only adverse comment I have seen comes from the Columbia Record, a professing Prohibitionist with liquor advertisements in its columns. The J... ...l ?? o oi.nnnrtoi. r\f thnue necoru rctui u an < . charged with graft is too well known for a gentleman to get into a controversy with its unscrupulous management. I am proud of the endorsement T have received from worthy sources, and especially proud am I of the hearty approval I have received from my people at home. With such expressions of commendation and from such a source I have a right to feel encouraged In the work I think light. I am not only responsible to my constituents for my conduct but there is a higher source which demands responsibility to Him, and" as long as He will keep me in my seiises, the ifs and buts of thin-skinned men will not swerve me from my course. One of the offended senators suggested I be expelled?preposterous. I defy them. I can snap my fingers in their faces and tell them to do their worst. They have my full permission to start impeachment at once, and I will promise them not to be exonerated with technicalities either. I am morally "" '"in > vnfp nf over three-fifths of 41 would sustain me, and leave my prosecutors to the derision of the people. But under the cirsumstances, if I were expelled, itn election to fill my place would have to be held. Knowing the people of Clarendon as I do. I am sure not a man would offer in opposition to my return. Let them try to expel, I dare them: it would he seen whether, the senate is a law-making body to enact wholesome laws for the welfare and progress of the people, or is it a protective association, maintained by the'taxpayers of the state, to punish men *who offend the senators, men who fawn "not, nor cringe, but who have the marrow in their bones to stand by their legal rights, and will not be misled from what they conceive to be right by withholding public information, on the hypocritical ground of the courtesy to the senate. In the . Colorado desert there are rainstorms during which not a drop of water touches the earth. The rain can lie seen falling from the clouds high above, but when it reaches the hot dry air beneath the cloubs it is entirely absorbed. These strange rainstorms take place in regions where the thermometer often registers 128 degrees in the shade. SHAH OF PER8IA JEWEL POOR. With All His Treasure, Can Hardly Paj Current Debts. There Is no court that comblnei splendor and bankruptcy in the sami degree a.<r that of Persia. The palac< which Shah Mohammed All inhablti Is stored with treasures of incalculabh value. Yet the shah finds himself now adays almost without the means 01 paying his current expenses. Under his predecesors the palac< expenses were the first Hen on what ever revenue the country produced But nowadays there Is a parliament and the appropriation made for th< shah and his household for the cur rent year is only $500,000. Though money goes a good way It Persia, this sum is not one-fifth enougl to maintain the establishment on lb present scale. All the office-holder] stormed and the harem of Nasr-ed Din, grandfather of the present shah went in carriages to the palace of Ba harlstan to remonstrate. But the par llament stood pat, and when the shal contemplated dissolving it and with' drawing the new constitution he founc he would have too much trouble or his hands. J.ust how he will deal with the ex pense account remains to be seen; h< certainly has done nothing to reduc< It. The train of sen-ants and attendants, high and low, still numberi more than 1,500 men,, and there ar< more than 1,000 women in the ande roun. or harem, with their numbei rather increasing than diminishing. The shah's palace Is situated in tin oldest quarter of Teheran, called th< Ark. It consists of a number of housei and pavilions built at various timei and located haphazard among beautiful gardens. The buildings used by the shah himself are galled the biroun. There th< staff of court dignitaries are on dutj all day. They number altogether fronr 600 to 700 men. Across the guellstan or gardens. It the most remote part of the enclosure the Kadjt-Bashi or chief of the eunuchi holds sway, with his regiment 01 dusky gardians of the anderoun. The gardens are divided into the men's enclosure and the women's into which no man but the master may ever enter. The walls are lined with encaustic tiles, rippling brooks Intersect greet and gorgeous flower beds. Shade treef hang over deep pools that cool the air. Song birds in vast avarles concealed by shrubbery animate the seem with their carolling, and hidden martclans play In the summer houses all day and late into the night, a fashior borrowed, it is said, from India. The women of the anderoun have a double hierarchy. There are in the first place the official authorities Tfiere is also the purely social hierarchy, at the top of which are the princesses of the Kadjar line, the shah'i own family, who have borne sons of rank to succeed to the throne. All women of the Kadjar race have undisputed precedence. Next come the favorites of noble family and after them beauties ol lower rank. Beneath these are the hundreds of attendants and companions, down to the kitchen maids. The system is much more aristocratic than the sultan's seraglio, but any woman may secure a certain elevation by winning the notice of the shah. Some of the great princesses hav? pavilions all to themselves, with suites nt attendants and servants. The other favorites live in groups with their households in common. The dress ol the women consists of a Jacket or bolero, called the yal, which is sleeveles# and fastened across the breast with frogs of gold lace. Beneath it is the diaphanous undergarment called the pirahem. A skirl not much longer than a ballet dancer's, and sometimes fluffed out in the same way with stiffened underskirts, is called zirjoume. It only reaches to the knee. There are slippers for the feet, and a square fichu called tchargut Is worn on the head and knotted under the chin. From under it the hair falls in luxurious curls to the shoulders. All the women of the anderoun wear the same costume, though of course there are vast differences in material, The servants wear coarse linens and heavy mohairs; the princesses and favorites draw not only on the marts of Asia but those of Europe nowadays for their choicest fabrics. Gorgeous ornaments of gold and precious stones are worn by the favorites and their favorites. The rig is enchanting on young women, but the few Occidental women and a doctor or two who have had a peep into the anderoun speak with shuddering ol the appearence of the old and middle aged* women?especially as they say the Persian woman when she grows old always grows fat. The shah spends only his nights in the anderoun. He leaves it every morning at early prayer time. He spends his day in hunting, sleeping and eating, with his ministers or receptions to foreign representatives. The rooms of the biroun, the equivalent of the Turkish selamlik, are all decorated with glass. The floors are tiled but the tiles are hidden under priceless carpets. The walls are panelled with mirrors or with moulded and engraved glass. Festoons of crystals hang from the ceilings. The present shah is inaoient ana Oriental in his habits. Sometimes he will spend half the day smoking and dozing. Capriciously he will start ofl for one of his five hunting lodges neat the capital, where he can find any sort of game from panthers down to a quail. He takes his meals wherever he happens to be when the desire seizes him. His kitchens are always on the alert;there are 800 cooks and scullions In them. The dishes are passed from these to a grade of attendants who may be said to correspond with our footmen These pass them along to the chamberlains, who may serve them if no higher dignitary is on hand, but the highest official of the court who happens to be present has the right to present them to the shah. Ail the courses are served together. The staple dishes are rice with saffron, chicken fricassee, venison and roast mutton cut in chunks, served en brochette and called kebab. Besides these a vast number of sweel creams, luscious pastries and delicious fruit are served. The shah gorges him self with sweetmeats as all Persians do, men and women alike. i If the shah cares to fall back on the treasures of his palace he can keep the _ 3 wolf from the door for many a year. i Nobody knows the wealth stored up In i It. In the building called the museum s there are said to be bins full of emeri aids, topazes, rubles, diamonds and - pearls which have been accumulating f for generations. There are besides priceless articles i of pottery and metal work, Japanese - and Chinese, Indian, Sevres, Dresden . china, gold, silver and steel work from , all parts of the Orient. The collection i of ancient arms and armor Is worth . - perhaps a million dollars. Then there are the gorgeous articles ) of barbaric splendor which make up the j regalia. When the shah appears -in. s state he wears a tlaru of brilliants, surs mounted with an aigrette of precious - stones. On his fnr*?h#>n/t shimmers the famous diamond known as the Mountain of Light. His epaulets are studded, with emeralds, sapphires and topazes. His belt glitters with diamonds and his word handle and scabbard are incrusttd with rubles. . The. tefrestial globe made by hi*.', grandfather's order shows all the cantl-, nents and seas In precious stones, Persia being In diamonds. The celebrated . peacock throne consists of a great . square pedestal over which branches of foliage creep, all made of emeralds, with flowers in rubles and pearls. The chair is of gold and seems to be splashed with blood, but it is only patches of-rubles. Above the back shines a sun of diamonds, so set on . wires that they tremble with the motion of the occupant of the chair, sending flashes of light in all directions like the sun itself. This throne has been appraised as high as $40,000,000. Besides his palace and his hunting lodges the shah has several country houses with beautiful gardens, whither . he goes to escape the heat, taking sec-., tlons of the andemun and regiments of,.servants with him. The present shah has added automobillng to his pleasures.?New York Sun. PLAN FOR GOOD ROAD. . . i Missouri Judge*a Suggestion to Build , One By Taxation. : The citl2ei.ii of the central Missouri ' counties along the line of the southern ' route of the proposed state highway ' from Kansas City to St. Louis are. ' zealous in their efforts to organize spe- - ' cial road districts as provided for un-der the act of 1905, says a Jefferson 1 City, Mo. correspondent of the Kan1 8as City Times. This law authorizes the formation of special road districts ! containing not less than 2,000 acres ! of land which can be assessed for the ' building of roads. Judge Henry B. Bode, presiding " judge of the county court of Cole coun' ty, has devised a simple plan for the f construction of rock roads. HJs plan 1 is meeting with the approval of the ' citizens and the county courts in the neighboring counties along the route. ' His plan is to have each district f consist of sixty-four forty-acre tracts 5 arranged in a rectangle four miles ' long and a mile wide. Through the ' center of this a mile of rock road is to : run. The levy of a direct tax of $1 on each acre would create a fund of 52,-. 1 660, which, it is estimated, would construct a mile of rock road under ordl? . 1 nary conditions. The district could be 1 larger, however, and more money raised. The tax could be paid in fifteen or twenty years. The tax, of course, would have to be levied in proportion. to the benefits derived. Land near the 1 road would pay more than that farther 1 away in the same district. , These special road districts, upder ' the law of 1906, are organized in the following manner: . .. The taxpayers of any proposed diss trlct may petition the county court for organization under this road law 1 into a road district, giving the boundaries and the total number of acres .in . the proposed district. The county court 1 is then empowered to issue an order it a temporary organization and 1 shall appoint three commissioners to assess the benefits to accrue to the land. This shall be done with reference ' to the location of the land to the road. The land adjoining should of course pay more than the land at a distance. After the commissioners make their re1 tfort to the court, after the temporary 1 organization Is effected, the court will then submit to the voters the proposi1 tion of fixing the tax rates and submit all three plans for raising the money. It shall specify wnetner me muucj ! shall be raised at once, by direct taxation which will be within one year or | whether bonds shall be'issued payable in five or twenty years and to provide ' a sinking fund to pay the bonds and the Interest. 1 The court shall advertise the special election and the proposition submitted, 1 and the real estate owners have the right to vote according to the amount 1 of land they own. They may cast one vote for each acre of land they own 1 within the district. For instance, the man who owns forty acres has forty votes, and the owner of 120 acres gets that many votes. If a majority vote | for either proposition, then the same shall be declared carried, and the assessment will be levied according to the benefits fixed by the commissioners. However, if the majority of the votes are against all of the propositions the court shall pay the cost out of the road fund of the county and the district , shall be dissolved and the proceedings | stopped, and they cannot again be voted on for two years. The county courts of Cole and Moniteau counties have recently awarded a Joint contract for the construction of a wagon bridge across the Moreau rlv1 er midway between Jefferson City and California which when finished can be ' utilized for the new state highway over the southern route. I U? I II Tfie name musKcia ia apijucu ?. feathery crystals which gather upon , the outside of the wrapping of a frozen ( dynamite. The "whiskers" are more "irritable" than dynamite itself. A case is , on record where sticks of dynamite had been thawed out in hot water and the can of hot water in which it was done left in the blacksmith shop without I being emptied of the residual scum of grease and whiskers. The" first blow of the blacksmith's hammer on a near. by anvil was sufficient to set off the whiskers by concussion. The can was 1 blown to pieces but fortunately no one was hurt.