Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^ ^ ISSUED SIXI-WBBHL^ l. m. grist's sons, Pubii.her., j % Jfainilj .geurspaper: ^or the promotion of the {political, JJociat. ^griquttnqal and (Commercial Interests of the {people. {"SmA AM* established 1855. YQRKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, JULY 14, 1908. . <4* ^ 4* *1* 4* *4* *4* I' 4? -4* *4?' i Am I G&SI ^ By ETTA CHAPTER VII?Continued. The servant of five and twenty years' standing led Mrs. Ellicott down the stairs to the waiting carriage. The dishonor of her son had fallen upon the proud woman like a thunderbolt She spoke no word during the homeward drive, and Susan Taylor sat beside her, speechless also. Many things were perplexing the shrewd attendant?most of all, Miss Fassel's refusal to reveal the secret of her faithless lover. T* ?? - K/v ttnhannv S?l 1*1 il wits yia.ui ui<ti me uhiiuki.^ o ? was seeking1 to hide some portion, at least, of Lepel's baseness?also that she knew whither he had fled. Great Indeed was her love when she could so lend herself to shield him, in spite of his shameful treatment of her. "Poor child!" thought Susan, pityingly. "To be thrown over In this heartless fashion, and she such a proud, petted creature! How will she ever hold up her high, fair head again?" They reached the Beacon street house. Evil tidings travel fast. The frightened servants were all up, and awaiting the return of their mistress. Mrs. Ellicott gathered them around her in the great drawing room. In her winking diamonds and stiff brocade, her look was "something horful," as Parker, the butler, privately remarked. Breathlessly she questioned one and all concerning her son. Mr. Lepel had left the house that night, afoot and alone, immediately upon his mother's departure for Windmere. He was In evening dress, but muffled in a great coat. He had spoken to no one but a footman, and his remark to that lackey reiatea simpiy to the inclemency of the night. The man had watched his young master cross the street, and spring into a strange carriage waiting opposite. The vehicle had rolled swiftly away?not in the direction of the hotel where Mr. I^epel was to meet his best man. This was all that the servants knew about their master. Help me up to his chamber, Susan," commanded the unhappy mother; "he may have left some word for me there." The room wore a slightly disordered look. The drawers of the dressing case were open, and on a buhl table beneath the lighted chandelier some unimportant papers were scattered about. Amongst these Susan found the timetable of a railway running east. Evidently it had been dropped in -haste. She carried it to her mistress. "He went by this road, ma'am," she said, with conviction. Mrs. Ellicott crumpled the paper in her hand. "Search everywhere for something more." she said, feverishly. But Susan searched in vain. Nothing more was found. Lepel Ellicott had gone, without a word to the proud, fond mater. That forgotten timetable alone pointed the way of his disgraceful flight. IJ c-> in Acmn "Un, maaam: sa.iu ouwn, compassion, "let me help you to bed? you are worn out?you can bear no more." Mrs. Elllcott shook her head. "I shall not sleep tonight. Susan. You must watch with me. Mr. Lepel will surely send me tidings before morning?explanations. He could not. he would not. leave me long In this cruel suspense!" Susan looked grim. She, for one, ^ needed no explanations. The whole matter was frightfully clear to her. Mr. Lepel had left the city by that eastern road. At the last moment, and after a sharp struggle with his better self? for Susan loved her young master too well not to credit him with a struggle? he had deserted the aristocratic bride who waited for him at Wlndmere, to fly to another woman?yes. how could she doubt it??to the original of the photograph in the hair trunk above stairs! Hour after hour passed, and still the two women sat in that great silent house, expecting they knew not what. The rain beat, the wind roared through the trees across the grand old street. Midnight struck. "Hark!" wnisperea airs, r-uicuii. Ghastly and strange she looked In the rich dress which she had not thought to change, with all her diamonds blazing, and with a premonition of impending woe in her eyes. She clutched her servant's arm, and began to listen breathlessly. "I hear nothing, ma'am." quavered Susan. "Turn up the lights. I tell you somebody is coming!" Susan arose to obey. As he did so the bell pealed sharply. Yea. a messenger stood at the Kllicott door -a bearer of sad tidings. With some strange foreknowledge of the truth, the unhappy mother had been waiting hours, as it seemed, for the sound of his feet at her threshold. She arose at once to meet the man. "You bring news of my son," she said. "Do not hesitate to tell it. 1 need no preparation." The messenger turned upon her a pale, horrified face. He had lately looked on evil sights, and the memory unnerved him. "Madam," he faltered. "Mr. I,epel Ellicott left the city tonight by the S o'clock express for the east. I saw him in the depot, and later on, in th? train, as we steamed"? "What do I care about that?" she interrupted, as she leaned heavily on Susan Taylor. "Tell rne where he is nl the present moment." "At a small village, madam. s? mt twenty miles out of the city." "He is ill?" "No." "Hurt?" "No, madam; he Is dead!" * It had all happened at the very houi when the wedding guests at Windmert stood watching the door for the tardj bridegroom, A fast express, crowded with passengers, and rushing like a meteoi through the darkness, had collided sud denly with another train at the little i- + + 4* 4~ 4* 4^ 4* 4? 4* 4^ BIBiyS "t ^ <? . W. PIERCE. J village mentioned by the midnight messenger. A terrific crash, a cloud of bursting steam, a horror of leaping fire?men 5 "**Al'llo Kn/1 Irif A mill wumtrii iui 11 aouuuEi, Liuoiicu .iiw shapeless forms, burned to a crisp?a few words flashed back over the wi-es to the city which the unfortunate victims had so lately left in life and hope ?that was all. An hour or two after the disaster, one of the many relief parties, working in the midst of the ruins, came upon the lifeless figure of a man lying under a mass of debris. He was evidently young, but his face was mutilated beyond all recognition; and the fire had caught the upper portion of the body and burned and blackened it frightfully. Strong men carried the remains to a neighboring shed?a temporary charnel house?and began a careful examination of the dead man's clothing. He was closely buttoned in a long overcoat. On throwing open this garment the relief party saw that the corpse was in full evening dress; and the fine texture of the clothing, the diamond shirt studs, a superb watch, with a monogram in brilliants on the case, and a purse containing a large sum of money, convinced all that some person of importance lay before them. In an inner pocket of the great coat a note book and a handful of letters were found. "Here we have his name and dwelling place," said one of the men, reading the same aloud by the light of the lantern. A moment of horrified silence succeeded. "Ellicott! Good Heaven! He was * 41 ? I ? U. A nti'AlIn In f VlO one OI me I'lCIICSl yuuug oncna HI HIV city," said a voice. "Poor fellow! his own mother would not know him now." To another of the party the proud name recalled a bit of newspaper gossip, recently read. "Why, this is the man," he said, "who was to have been married tonight to some heiress. What was he doing, where was he going, on that train?" "Not on his wedding tour, certainly." answered the train man, who had escaped unhurt from the catastrophe, and was now lending his aid to the less fortunate. "I saw the youngster myself, when he stepped aboard in Boston, just a minute before starting time, and he was quite alone. Put him down as identified, and we'll send word to his people." He was but one of many who had perished in that holocaust. A cloth was thrown decently over the disfigured fece, once so gay and handsome, and the party turned away to look for oth?r victims. And so it came to pass on this autumn night that Lepel Ellicott. curled darling of fortune, last scion of a rich ind powerful family, weak and faithless lover, was arrested at the very beginning of his dishonorable flight from home and love and waiting bride, end sent suddenly on the way that all dead men go. CHAPTER VIII. The Nephew. Eighteen long months had come and Tone. It was winter weather. A storm of deet rushed up and down the mall, and the trees which separate the aristocratic boulevard from the vulgar traffic of Tremont street spread a network of frozen branches to the lowering norning sky. In the breakfast room of the Ellicott house an open fire blazed, and before it, at a round table glittering with fine napery, old silver and painted porcelain. sat Mrs. Ellicott, alone. Her son's death had left her bowed, as with a ereat weierht of vears. Her hair was now as white as snow. A gown of blackest crape and bombazine clung to her feeble, slightly tottering figure. She had pushed aside the almost untasted breakfast of delicate toast and golden-brown chicken, and resting her cheek on one thin white hand, she sat in deep and perplexing thought. A movement at the door. "Mr. Stephens," announced the footman: and a dapper little man, with a face like a winter apple, stepped into the breakfast room. Mrs. Ellicott arose, and supporting herself on a gold-headed stick, advanced to meet her visitor. "Well, madam." he cried, before she could utter a syllable. "I have found your nephew!" She pointed him to a chair by the fire. "You have lost no time in doing it. Stephens." she said, approvingly. "I \t-aa U'nnrlorino- !c vnn ontorAit if VOI1 would succeed In discovering the boy. Where Is he? What is he like? Is it not a sad fact. Stephens, that no person seems complete without an heir?" Stephens, for many years the family lawyer of the Ellicotts, cast a pitying glance at the childless old woman, so poor and needy In the midst of her grandeur. "It is, indeed, madam. I received your instructions, as you doubtless remember, just forty-eight nours ago, ' and at once set about looking for the ' young party called Nigel Hume. An advertisement in one of the daily pa( pers brought him promptly to light. He is no boy, but a man of two and twenty, attached in some trifling capacity to the anatomical department of St. : Mark's hospital. At the same time he is studying medicine and surgery with a view to general practice." "Of course, he is poor." "As a church mouse. He frankly confessed that he possessed nothing but a lot of medicine books, inheflted from his dead father?a poor country surgeon?and the money required to " pay his expenses at the medical school." i Mrs. Ellicott stiffened perceptibly. r "As you already know, Stephens, the mother of this Nigel Hume was my sister. She eloped many years ago with a penniless medical student, and in consequence was very properly disin> herited by her family, and died soon after, leaving one child?the boy Nigel. Since her husband, too, is no more, my nephew must be quite alone in the world." "Yes." "Did you Inform him of my purpose in hunting him out?" "I told him, madam, that you were casting about for an heir. He remarked, rather flippantly, that if such was the case, you had better pass him by." "Ah!" "Really he is a somewhat extraordinary young fellow. He said?ahem! ? that he had managed to exist for more than twenty years without the assistance of the people who had disowned his mother, and it was quite probable that he might continue to do so for the future! 'You can tell my aunt,' he said, 'that I don't care a rap for the Ellicott fortune!' Misguided young man!" Mrs. Ellicott shrugged her shoulders. "Ah!" she said again. "Madam," continued the lawyer, "when we were talking upon this subject, two days ago, you mentioned some other party?a young female, living in another state, whose right to the Ellicott fortune seemed about akiiuI tn thof r>f Klp-el Hume"? "You mean Elizabeth Hillyer," Interrupted Mrs. EUlcott, sharply, "the daughter of my late husband's niece. Yes, the EUlcott family is now extinct save for her, and she, like young Hume, is altogether unknown to me. Stephens, I have carefully weighed the rival claims of these two strangers in my own mind, and decided that the son of my sister shall have the first chance? I give him the preference. It is not strange that he should feel a little hard toward his maternal relatives?that he should receive my advances ungraciously. He will grow wiser with time. A hanger-on at a hospital!?striving to make his own way?this is, starving and studying together! We all know the straits to which poor medical students are reduced. And he thinks I had better pass him by, in my search for an heir? Humph! I like the boy's spirit. Is he good-looking, Stephens? Is he in the least like?like my dead son?" "Not at all like Mr. Lepel, I should say, madam." She heard her lost idol's name with composure. The dreadful event of his death had left her bowed, indeed, but not broken. She laid one hand impressively on the lawyer's arm. "Stephens. I mean to make Nigel Hume my heir, and marry him to Edith Tassel!" Stephens fairly jumped. "My dear Mrs. Elllcott!" "What is there in the plan to startle you?" she cried. "Cannot you grasp my meaning? This boy shall take Lepel's place?he shall Inherit Lepel's fortune, and atone for Lepel's dishonor!" Stephens looked preternaturally grave. "Ahem! Where is Miss Fassel at the present time?" "At Windmere. She went abroad immediately after my son's death?yesterday she arrived home on the Scythia." | "Pardon me?does she know of your intentions regarding her?' "Certainly not!" sharply. "Stephens, I am impatient to see this Nigel Hume ?send him to me at once." "Madam, I will inform him that you desire an interview," said Stephens, rising to go, "but you need not be disappointed if he fails to appear." A dash of red in her thin cheek proclaimed her rising anger. "What! are fortunes so plentiful, Stephens, that mine is likely to go begging for acceptance? Can a starving student, who has his own way to make, afford to let an opportunity like this go by?" "Madam," replied Stephens, in a dubious tone. "I tell you frankly, I fear you will never get on with him. And as for marrying the young man to Miss Passel"? His voice died in a dry cough. "Send him to me," said Mrs. Ellicott again, "and I will judge for myself." The lawyer bowed and withdrew. He had made his report and received his intructions. The same night. Nigel Hume, the impecunious medical student, ascended the steps of the Ellicott house, and was shown into the presence of his rich, unknown kinswoman. "After all you did not refuse to come." she said. "No," he answered, quietly; "I was curious to see the aunt who, after twenty-two years of forgetfulness, had suddenly remembered that I was her nephew." She winched a little. Leaning both ivory-colored hands on her gold-headed stick, she looked critically at Nigel Hume. He was about the age of his dead cousin, but he had little of Lepers striking beauty. He was insignificant in stature, lean in the cheek, square in the jaw. His glossy dark head rested firmly on a thick, columnlike throat, and his grave eyes wore the keen, cold brightness of a sword blade. T1 ~?~~J onrntlniiPit With ne siuuu uj? iu uc oviU.. perfect composure. "It is true." said Mrs. EUicott, "that I never gave you a thought until after the death of my son. By that event Y was compelled to remember your existence." "I understand." lie answered, laconically. She waved him to a seat. "Of course you know the cause of your mother's estrangement from her family?" "Yes." "Her disgraceful marriage with a social inferior?a man without a penny"? He made as if to rise. "The memory of my father and mother is the most sacred thing that I possess, it is not possible for me to hear them censured." "Sit down," she commanded, sharply. "We will not talk of your parents. I have subjects of more importance to discuss with you. Mr. Stephens has told you that I intend to make you my heir in case you succeed in pleasing me?" He smiled. "There is not one chance in a hundred that I can succeed." "That remains to be seen. You are poor?" "It would be useless to deny a fact which is plain to everyone." "Do you care for money?" "Pardon me, I should be a precious idiot if I did not." Her proud face softened a little. "Tell me something of yourself," she j said. "I want to know you better." The wistful tone touched Hume. Youth Is generous. He felt a sudden compassion for this broken, bereaved woman, who had called him from his obscurity, and was now seeking to dazzle his eyes with the prospect of a fortune. "Apart from such things as you have already heard from Mr. Stephens, there Is little to tell," he answered, very gently. "I am neither good nor bad, neither dull nor brilliant, neither fool nor wise man." "And were you to die today," she [said, "no one, I suppose, would care much?" "Not a farthing, I assure you." "You have no ancient name to perpetuate. Your future is not worth speaking of; no hopes are centered in you." "Too true." Her voice took a resentful tone. "My son had all that you lack?he was your opposite in everything. And yet," wringing her hands suddenly, "you are strong and full of life, and he?oh, great Heaven! why was he taken, and you left?" A mother's wild, unreasoning grief spoke in this outburst. Hume preserved an unruffled demeanor. Perhaps he thought it natural that she should wish him dead, and her son alive in his place. He looked up at the picture above the mantel. "Is that the portrait of my cousin?" ho asked. "Yes." "He perished in some railway disaster?" "Yes." "Was the body recovered?" "All that was left of it lies in the Kllicott vault at Mount Auburn." With a thrill of keen interest Hume continued to gaze at the handsome, smiling face limned on the canvas. "Poor fellow!" he muttered, involuntarily. There was a moment of silence; then he held out his hand Impulsively to the lonely old woman. "I do not wonder that you resent my presence here In health and strength," he said: "that you feel as though Prov idence had treated you unfairly, in snatching away a son that was precious, and leaving a nephew altogether without value." She made haste to resume her usual composure. "Forgive me," she answered; "I did not mean to be unkind. Will you dine with me tomorrow?" "With pleasure," said Nigel Hume. As he arose to go she detained him with a gesture. "Stay?I must ask one question before you leave me. Pardon an old woman's curiosity. Were you ever in love?" He stared; then, without the quiver of an eyelash, answered: "Never!" "Think again!" she said, earnestly. "More depends upon your answer than vou can dream of now. You are entirely heart-whole?" A faint, amused smile curled his Up. "Entirely! My dear aunt, I have no time for that sort of thing. A man in my position cannot afford to meddle with love. Believe me, I do not need to think twice before I answer you." Her face brightened strangely. "I do believe you," she answered; "the ring of truth Is in your voice. Whatever your faults may be, it is plain that you are honest. At some future time you shall know why I have asked these foolish questions." And with that she dismissed him. To he Continued. IDLE GOLD IN BANKS. Proposition In British Parliament to I rtftl/ A ftar I f The house of commons gave a first reading- yesterday to Mr. Bottomley's bill to make banks give a return to the state of unclaimed balances and valuables which have been undisturbed in their possession for six years or more and hand them over to the public trustee. "The object," he said, "is to bring into possession and control of the state the vast amount of wealth which Is at present lying dormant and entirely unproductive In the vaults and strong rooms of the various banking institutions of the United Kingdom." Banks would have to make a return of the money securities, jewelry and plate which had been in their possession unclaimed for si years, and which was the property of persons who had not operated their account during that period. They would also have to account to the state for all old bank notes or other obligations which there was reason to believe had by the effluxion of time become obsolete. The theory of the bill was that these banks had, from various causes, deaths, removals abroad, the extinction of families and the carelessness of testators, accumulated vast sums and had been In the habit every six years of "writing off" these dormant balances. "Three Is over a million pounds today," said Mr. Bottomley. "in the shape of unpaid dividends in the possession of the joint stock banks. "There was a joint stock bank which a few years ago had as a customer an eccentric old lady who had 28,000 pounds in the bank. v Once in every year she would drive up to the bank, ask for the manager, draw a check for thp pntire sum. count the notes, check the interest and then pay it in again and disappear for another twelve months." For seven years past that lady had not been seen. That 28.000 pounds with its accumulated interest was still lying in the bank. He could give the name of the bank to the chancellor of the exchequer. Was there a doubt that the old lady had ceased to exist? 1 What about* the poor dependents of the old lady who were deprived of the money ? A wealthy personal friend with money on deposit in various banks was killed In a railway accident. The family were now living in absolute . want because they were unable to find out where the money was. They had gone from bank to bank and the banks had said they could give no information. Mr. Bottomley made himself responsible for the statement that there was one private bank in London ! which admittedly had over two millions of dormant securities. His bill provided that after a given date the whole of the secuities should be handed over to the department of the public trustee. There should be returns every January. The result would be "a surprise to the country and a veritable godsend to the exchequer."?London Dally Mail. pisceltaneous ScadinQ. THE SOUTH CALLS TO ITS EXILES Its 1,500,000 Wanderers Are Needed at Home. In his address before the convention of the South Carolina Press association at Gaffney recently, Mr. R. H. Edmonds, editor of the Manufacturers' Record, after emphasizing in striking manner the wonderful natural advantages possessed by the south said: Who can measure the possible influence of the south upon the world's progress and industry and commerce? Who can measure Its possible influence in shaping the destinies of mankind by reason of Its strategic advantages for becoming a centre of industrial power, of commerce and of wealth? Upon this section the Almighty has placed a burden of responsibility for mankind's highest advancement, as great as is the opportunity for limitless material progress. Surely then we need the help of the million and a half southern born whites who are living elsewhere. What a mighty host! Mighty in brain power as well as in numbers! They are leaders in the nillnit O t tVt a Kn *? In a d n a n 11 a n In fl _ ai iiic uax | in cuuv.ai.iuii, 111 11 nance, in railroads and general business operations. A northern pulpit scarcely becomes vacant before the congregation begins to look south for a pastor. Southern men are Ailing many of the most important pulpits in New York, Boston and other leading eastern cities. If you would poll the vote of the country as to the most conspicuously able university president in America, it would be well nigh unanimous for Woodrow Wilson, of Princeton, a Virginian by birth. In medicine you would find southern born men at the head of the profession in New York and other great centres of medical education, surgical skill and hospital work. The legal profession would show up equally as strong. Engineering ability is expressed in the great Isham Randolph, of Virginia, head of the Chicago Drainage canal, one of the most important undertakings of modern times, while three of the five engineers responsible for the construction of the Panama canal are southern men. The World's Fair of St. Louis, vast in proportion and wonderful In its results, was due to the executive ability of a Kentuekiqn, David R. Francis, now a St. Louis millionaire. Two of the most successful commercial clubs in the country, working out marvellous results for Pacific coast cities, are officered by southern men. A few months ago the United States Steel corporation bought the Tennessee Coal, Iron and Railroad company of Alabama. This company has Iron ore and coal sufficient to justify the expenditure of many millions of dollars. No sooner was the purchase made than the Steel corporation selected one of Its ablest men?a man regarded by many exnerts as the ablest steel maker in America?to take charge of the immense plant already in operation and to direct the outlay of the millions to be spent in its enlargement. That man was George G. Crawford, a Georgian by birth, who left the south 15 years ago, at the age of 21. to seek a broad?d field in the metallurgical world. Now he returns as the head of a $50,000,000 company and his work will lift the whole Alabama iron region to a higher plane. The Steel corporation Is building at Cary, Ind., a $75,000,000 plant, the greatest industrial undertaking in the world's history. The nresldent of this Indiana plant, who is also president of the Illinois Steel company, Is likewise a young southern man. hailing from West Virginia. And ihus the story might be spun out to i ncerminauie lengius, suuvtms nun the south has enriched other sections it her own cost. Think of the 1,500,000 southern people?men of energy and force, men who have wrought marvelously In every line of human endeavor?and estimate, If you can, what their leaving has cost the south. Estimate then what their return would mean to southern advancement in science. In industry. In education, in religious work. What a mighty uplifting power they would be. and how their educational and business training would help to broaden the horizon of the whole south. How can the south progress while drained of its life blood to sustain and enrich other communities? Tf stated in terms of dollars on the basis of political economists' estimates as to the value of men to a country, these wanderers would, because of their experience, their knowledge, their energy, easily be worth $5,000 each. This would be a total of $7,500,000,000, or nearly as much as the assessed value of property in the south. Surely we need such men. In a nation's balance sheet men are a mighter asset than coal and iron and cotton. Then call them home, and, like George Crawford, they will come when the opportunity is presented. Massachusetts has proved that brain power beats natural resources? Shall we combine resources and brain power? If we do, then the south has room enough for every wanderer to come home and take part in the upbuilding of this Heaven favored land. Upon the press rests the responsibility of whether many thousands of these people shall hear and heed the call of the south to come home, or whether they shall continue to give the brain power and energy Inherited from southern sires and southern mothers to the advancement of other sections. Bearing upon this question of exile from the south is a fiction still cherished in some parts of the country, that southern newspapers are prone lo car ry to the point 01 ostracism me pcmecution of individuals who may happen to antagonize by word or deed that vague influence known as public opinion in the south. The fiction is essentially false. But there is an element of truth in it. There is a body of healthy public opinion in the south which determines that an individual who, for any reason whatever, either lack of mental balance, or desire for notoriety or personal gain, may set his face against principles grounded in sane and tried human experience, shall not be permitted to be recognized as having weight in that particular respect. But, the provocation must be most aggravating that will cause that public opinion to degenerate into the unrelenting bitterness that makes it impossible for a man to remain in a community. They are, to be sure, "mar tyrs" expatriated from the south. Such martyrdom, though, may usually be ascribed to astuteness In the publishing business playing upon ignorance, to more or less moral or mental invalidism finding refuge from uncongenial work, or to other facts. Men induced, for one reason or another, to live outside the south after having been born there, have permitted new found admirers to represent them as martyrs to convictions alien to southern thought. But who ever heard of a martyr running away from the stake? Nevertheless, and herein, lies the J truth of the martyr fiction. There is| a distressing habit or too many soumern newspapers to assail the personal character of an opponent, to mistake vilification and vituperation for argument. Too many of us, unfortunately, are ignorant of the first principles of parliamentary rules In debate. Too many of us are so poorly equipped for the task to which we have been called that we are obliged Jo resort to the device of the petty lawyer, who seeks to defend a bad case by abusing opposing counsel. Too many of us, In the happy decadence of the custom of settling an argument by assassination, In the street duel or In the appeal to the code, presume upon the fact that gentility will not resort to civil action for damages to character. Consequently, It Is almost impossible to have vital questions discussed upon their nyerlts in a manner that will have standing with intelligence, but the debate degenerates, not merely into an exposition of the competency of an opponent to handle the question profitably, which is always permissible within the limits of regard for personal integrity, but into reckless denunciation of the personal character of the individual. One effect of this is the very denial of the accusation that the south suppresses freedom of speech. There is probably no part of the country today outside the south in which unrestrained language in print has a greater vogue. It is, in fact, a case of freedom of speech become license to berate or defame with impunity. This journalistic failing is one of the strongest drawbacks upon healthy advance of this part of the country. It is a natural outgrowth of the deterioration of the American public mind, which has changed pol'tics from devotion to principles in government to a support of persons with no clear-cut convictions of any kind on broad public questions, or losing sight of convictions In furthering personal ambition. Confined to no part of the country this regrettable, but not incurable, manifestation is the more pronounced in the south because of the untoward conditions here, which have prevented divisions in political action upon an honest difference of opinions on economic lines. It differentiates the south from the rest of the country in that her politics is too often the dominant in the life of the community, while elsewhere it is an accident. Moreover, against a fairly uniform habit elsewhere of turning politics to the best account upon perfectly legitimate grounds in furthering the material welfare, we have In the south too many exceptions being used against the common interests under a mistaken view that a party name can never become a mere epitaph, or that a political leader may be such a super-man that the vices of an ordinary human become virtues in him, or that the power to do a thing makes the doing right, regardless of consequences. No one can truthfully charge the south with the paternity of the last mentioned concept. But no care ful observer can dodge the fact that the south has welcomed the bantling with unprecedented enthusiasm and has given it its greatest chance in half a century. Our press is largely responsible for the luxuriance of the crop of evils growing from the overshadowing of broad principles by personality in public affairs. Our press Is one of the principal sufferers from the evils. Accustomed to measure things by men. some of us. many of us, lose sight of the ultimate possibilities in a project simply because it Is presented to us by some plausible Individual. whom, it may be. we may never have heard of before. The plausibility Is strengthened when to it is added an appeal to the higher sensibilities of a people or when it is accompanied by apparently frank expressions of disinterested desire to be of service. Effects of primary suggestion are so intense that often victims of this plausibility cannot be convinced of their mistake even after the most positive proof has been presented that antecedents and associations of the plausible ones are positive denials of their pretenses, and that they merely attempt to play upon the south as a r^o.fn in anmo irrpat came in which the real vital interests of the south are to be considered secondarily, if considered at all. Hardly a year of the past fifteen years has passed without the south being approached by some superficially attractive scheme, engineered usually from New York, and even from abroad, and turning upon actual or Imagined necessities of the south. Hardly a single one of such schemes has not managed to use a large body of the southern press to give it countenance with southern men, and one of the most unfortunate features of the situation is the readiness of some of our representative papers to stand by and defend the southern men who have been used in promotion of the schemes, even though the dangers of the schemes may have been demonstrated, and even though, after that demonstration, the used southerners give no evidence of regret at having been used or of determination to escape from the embarrassment. Stand* * tV*murrh thiplr Q n/1 1I1B oy Dili's inriiii.i iiiiuubii > > <.? >...u thin, and maintaining a position against all odds are admirable traits, provided one's friends are doing no wrong knowingly or wittingly, and provided one's position Is founded upon truth and righteousness. In the absence of the provisos the traits are questionable, and possession of them renders one liable.to become the mediums, though of most virtuous intent, for the furtherance of most vicious designs. Honest mistakes of judgment in this connection are calculated to weaken the influence for good of the press in all connections. That weakening certainly happens when our newspapers lose sight of more important matters in giving undue attention to politics. Politics is * the most unprofitable business in the world, except for the individuals who live at the expense of the public by making a profession of office-holding or office-brokerage. Party politics is bad enough, but personal politics is even worse. For personal politics obscures demoralization as to principles. It means that this man or that man wants an office, a Job that will give him fame, power of an easy wage, and It begets a state of public mind which estimates an economic question, according to the attitude toward It of the mere personal leader, and the mere personal leader is more likely to be influenced by a guess as to the effect of his action upon the superficial mind of his following than by a broad and statesman-like regard for the public good. Another effect of personal politics furthered by the press was epitomized by the Albany Herald In comments upon the recent campaign in Georgia, It said: "Politics is materially interfering with business In Georgia. While there is so much agitation and at a time when friend and neighbors are divided and engaged In an effort to down each other in the campaign, It Is almost Impossible to procure co-operation in the promotion of community interests or industrial enterprises that should be receiving the attention that their Importance would seem to demand, and all such matters and things as these are. therefore, being neglected until after the political campaign has run Its. course. Such political agitation as we are now having all over Georgia not only Interrupts business, but arrests the spirit of community enterprise and is detrimental to material interests." Georgia's experience, the concentra tion for many weeks within less than a year after the inauguration of a governor, of thought and energy upon the selection of a governor who may not even live to be Inaugurated a year or more hence, was symptomatic. It differed In intensity only from the general southern experience. It rests with the newspapers of the south whether the experience shall continue or whether there shall be a real reform by which local politics at least shall be subordinated to everything else. A political campaign once in every four years and spread over five or six months is a big enough drain in all reason upon the resources of a country. When the campaigning becomes almost continuous it is amazing that there is any progress at all. Such politics thrives upon publicity. Close the channels of publicity and the politics will languish, the blight upon materialities will be removed. The intimate relations between some newspapers and some politicians may delay the consummation of the reform, but It can be accomplished. A start can be made in determining that political matters shall be treated only according to their news value, that the average political speech, being essentially an advertisement of the speaker, shall be published in full only at advertising rates, and that ten lines telling of the establishment of a news industry or of plans for civic Improvement or social betterment are worth more than ten columns of details of a party convention. There may be a temporary loss of advertising rerturns dependent upon I ine iavur oi pariy mauascio, uut presently this loss will be more than repaired by returns from advertisements of people who do things and make things to sell. The doing and the making will be a part of the development that will come with a reduction of political activities to their proper proportions, and lntentness upon the doing and the making will divert the public mind from the politics of personal partisanry and permit it to give the needed attention to the politics that makes for business. If the press of the south will give to material affairs the energy and vim it now gives to politics?if it will train its readers to see more of interests in a story of washed soil redeemed by improved cultivation than in a political discussion, more in what some thrifty farmer Is doing to diversify his crops or improve his stock, more in advocacy of good roads, municipal improvements and local industries than in hair-splitting theories on protection on tariff for revenue, then will the press be making the way ready for the southward march of Its wanderers. For months Georgia was stirred with an activity in political affairs which ought to illustrate how every state in the south could be stirred with activity in material upbuilding. If the press of the south would bend its energies to the advancement of business interests with the sleepless energy the press of Georgia for months gave to political discussion and work, there would soon be seen a material upbuilding from Maryland to Texas, which would make the south the wonder of the world. If men can be so imbued with energy in political affairs, why can't the same energy now be wisely directed to the things which vitally concern the progress and prosperity of the people? The power to accomplish this Is In the hands of the press of this section, and upon the press rests the responsibility of doing it or leaving it undone. What shall be the verdict of the future as to how the press has met this opportunity? My faith in the men who control the newspapers of the south makes me believe that they will deserve and receive the "well done, good and faithful servant." FED BY CLOCK WORK. Horses Given Their Rations by Means of a Cheap Clock. A provision merchant in Oldham has invented an ingenious contrivance by which, it is stated, he is able to feed his horses without personal at tendance, through the medium or a 4s. 6d American alarm clock, says Tit-Bits. In a small office adjoining the stable the clock Is placed on a shelf. Attached to the winding-up key is a piece of copper wire, and this is fastened to a small brass roller that runs on a wooden rod. At the end ol the rod is a heavy weight. When the clock "goes off" the wheel is drawn over the rod and releases the weight, which falls to the floor. The corn box is filled overnight, and immediately the weight is released a small door at the bottom of the box flies open and the corn falls into the manger. The horses never fail to rise at the sound of the alarm, knowing what is to follow, and when the drivers turn up, say at 7 or 8 o'clock, the animals are ready for taking the shafts. Another advantage to be gained by the method is that the horses need never be placed in the shafts before the breakfast has had time to digest. NEWS BY TELEPHONE. Editor Carpenter Doea Not Think the Hello a Complete Succeaa. The editor of The Dally Mail was unable to attend the meeting of the State Press Association at Gaffney last week, much to his regret. He was on the programme to read a paper on "The Use of the Telephone In Gathering the News," and if he had been present this is what he would have read: The subject that has been assigned me, "The Use of the Telephone In Gathering the News." reminds me of the old negro's recipe for cooking the rabbit, "First get your rabbit." You must first have a telephone. flnri If m 11 at Ko In ?aa/I ? .. MC III buwu nui IV111K UIUt-r before you can do much news gathering with It. And even then?but that Is the point of this paper. I am reminded at the outset of an experience I had some years ago while running the Greenwood Index. It was right after the Phoenix riot, In which the negroes gave battle, and many of them met sudden death, and the nerves of the people In that section were at high tension. One day a man named Stacey Hlott, who lived at Cross Hill, called me up over the telephone, and a conversation like this followed: "Hello; is that The Index office?" "Yes." "Well, this is Stacey Hlott a' Cross Hill." "The dickens you say! How did it start?" "Hlott! Stacey Hlott at Cross Hill," "Yes; I un^rstand. Anybody killed?" "Oh, hell: Th's I* Hlott; Stacey Hlott; Star y Hlot* Cross Hill!" "All rigat, old man. Glad you let me know. Hold the fort and I'll get some men and guns and come right over on the next train." I went on down the street and spread the news that there was " a race riot at Cross Hill," and men and munitions of war began to gathes from the four quarters of the town and prepare for business. It was two hours until train time, and some fellow took a notion that he would 'phone over to Cross Hill and get more particulars before we started. He 'phoned all right, and you can imagine the re sun. 'mere was no riot, our expedition was called off, and It was up to me to explain, and this I could not do. It was not until two days later, when I got a letter from Stacey Hlott, asking me to please hurry along those chattel mortgages that he had been 'phoning for, that the explanation dawned on me. I carried Hlott's letter around town and showed It to everybody. Some people accepted the explanation, but I have always had an Idea that my reputation at Greenwood suffered greatly Just because of this incident. This illustrates one of the points that I want to make?that Is, that in the use of the telephone It Is very easy to get names and Initials wrong. The names Hiott and Wyatt, Sutherland and Sullivan, Gray and Day, and a host of others, are very easily mixed over the telephone, and this Is true of Initials, such as B., C.. D., and all letters of that sound, and A., J., K.. etc. And all of us know that to print names wrong Is the unpardonable sin in the newspaper business. A telephone is a very good thing to have at times, of course, but I have never fo?ind it indispensable. I am not ready to have mine taken out, but if I were forced to do witkout it I wouldn't care much. I have used it to good purpose, and then again when I have needed it worst it would lay aown on me. Our telephone exchange In Anderson burned down last winter, and we had no local service for six weeks. And yet we got out as good a paper during those six weeks, with as much local news In It, as we do now with two 'phones In the office, connected with some 800 or 1,000 subscribers In Anderson county. I do not encourage my reporters to use the telephone very much. Sole leather Is cheap, and besides I think plenty of exercise Is good for a reporter's health. And another thing, If you work a local Item with the telephone you get only that one Item. But If you go In person after the Item the chances are that you will get one or more others on the way. You cannot gather news by sitting In your office and using the telephone: or at least that has been my experience. You can use the telephone sometimes In following things up, or to verify details, but even then It Is not always satisfactory. Personal application, meeting people face to face. Is the best way. The telephone In the newspaper office Is chiefly a convenience for the people who want to ask Information, or to send In personals, want advertisements, etc. No doubt, every editor has had this experience, which has be- % fallen me more than once. I would be absorbed In thought, trying to turn off a Sunday editorial, when my telephone would ring and I would take down the receiver, and a fretful voice would tell me: "My paper didn't come In last night, and I don't understand It: you are so careless up there, and?" Or: "Say, my cow strayed off last night and I want you to put a piece In the paper about her. She Is a one-eyed cow, and had a short chain around her horns, and?" And my fine thoughts shrivel up and vanish In the fumes of my language. Or again, you leave home directly after supper, pleading extra work at * *? - *** ? - V? nm n q hnilt 9. tne uiiice. iuu tumc hv?m? _ a. m.t and when milady Inquired where you have been you put up the old song and dance about an extra run of work, and the help at the office being so no account that you have to do it all, and then she interrupts you with, "Why, I telephoned you three times. Central said she rang your phone at least a dozen times and she couldn't get you." And you crawl In bed muttering something about that 'phone being out of fix more than half the time, and ' if they don't do better you are going to have it taken out. Seriously, I don't set any great store by the telephone as an adjunct in gathering the news. I have tried It in long distance work, in getting the legislative reports and other stuff from Columbia, but it was never satisfactory. The telephone company has never given The Dally Mail a reduced rate that would be any advantage over press telegraph tolls, and the mistakes and uncertainties In the telephone service are so unsatisfactory that I prefer the telegraph in mine. And In the local work I prefer an industrious reporter who is not afraid or ashamed to do a little walking. My office telephone is mainly for the use of the , people who want to telephone things to the paper. We use our telephone at times, of course, but we do not depend on It. I do not concede that a i telephone Is a necessity, and at times I have serious doubts If it is a convenience. I could get along very well without one. But there is another side to the story. I have been speaking about the : use of the telephone in the general f run of newspaper work. There are ! times when It helps out greatly, on i election nights for instance. There , are between 50 ana t>o precmcia Anderson county, and with the use of I the telephone we get the results from l nearly every box within two or three : hours after the polls close. The rural ! telephones are also invaluable, when ! they are in working order, which Is ; not always the case. To sum up, In many cases the tele( phone is necessary, but in the general s run of the day's work, that Is "getting i on to" the news, it is a hinderance i perhaps more than a help. At least i this has been my experience. The exI perience of others may enable them to hold different views.