Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 15, 1913, Image 1
' _ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^
l. m. grist s sons. Psbii>heri. } % <j[antUg Jlpicspaper,: J-or th? promotion of th^ political, Social, ^jrieultirat and Commercial Jfnferosts o( the jpeopte. j u*"s/N'o^0?<,pV'"1RvlJ"CK?""ct'
established 1855. YQ3KVILLE. S. C., FRIDAY, AUGUST 15, 1913. 05.
The Mii
By CHARLES T1
Author of IZhc Day of Soul
(Copyright 1912, The Bobbs-Merr
CHAPTTR XIII?Continued.
He met the elder Vance next day,
Jake, the political farmer, the malcontent,
an original Greenbacker, a mugwump,
party trouble-maker, forever
given to standing about the square
Saturday afternoons in his moth-eaten,
old buffalo coat arguing: with the
countrymen. He could not have been
elected to any office, but he had not
sourted. His children had inherited his
reasoning unrest, but they had disciplined
it to achievement.
"Somebody to beat Hall?somebody
to beat Hall!" he roared. "Folks say
it's comin' to be you, Wiley! I get it
everywhere except in the News, and in
the banks and warehouses and the
court house! The country ain't what
it used to be?there are mines and factories?and
libraries and labor unions!
The old gang doesn't realize that. It's
you, Wiley, all the kickers want. And
I hear you ain't got the money? Ain't
some of these new real estate men and
boomers over in Earlvllle close to you
for that?"
"Not much. Cal Rice and Thad are
' * 'a?v? An r*f tH/iie Haolu "
Jake went out in the frosty sunlight.
"Don't forget," he growled, "that
there's a sight of people who ain't in
any deals! Arne, let's go home and
feed stock with that contraption of
yours up In the haymow." He looked
off across the square to the window of
the school superintendent's office: "I
guess that girl of mine is ready to go
home, too!"
Wiley watched the Vances drive oft,
the three of them in Jake's old buggy.
"Jake used to travel to political conventions
in the smoker, and at twelve
o'clock, pull a basket up between his
legs, spread a newspaper on his knees,
eat his chicken and sweet pickles, and
men pucn me paper uui me nmuun,
but when Arne comes back from college
he eats in the diner and uses a
finger-bowl," he told Aunt Abby. "And
they have two hired girls at the farm!
Janet and Arne make up the price of
the dining car and tjie maids by figuring
out soil analysis, or new school
methods, and don't bother their heads
with picking chickens, or putting up
lunches."
"Well, there'll come an end," she
warned; "tain't in nature for a farm to
stand two hired girls, or even one!"
He laughed: "Oet on the hand wagon,
Aunty!" Then behind her, in the
fragrant kitchen, he saw Old Michigan
warming his leg across the wood-box.
Michigan grinned expectantly:
"TVin# er?t n letter from our little
girl, Mr. Curran! And I done brought
it up here first thing for you to read."
"Aurelie?" Wiley was conscious of
a disappointment that she had not
written him. She had sent a i?o.st card
from some town, with a blithe comment,
but little news, only that every- i
thing was all right. Now he reached I
eagerly for the letter in the old soldier's
hands. Aunt Abb.v stopped her|
cooking as he tore it open. Then they
lost the world in Aurelie's tale of wonders.
"What she done say, Mr. Curran?"
"Fine! Says y- u'd look good to her,
now. Uncle Mich. She's having the
time of her life. Rverybody's good to
her, and helps her, and the McFetrldge
hnva are iust grand, and everything's
grand." Wiley looked shining-eyed
around: "That's the most of it?just
grand."
"Wiley," said Aunt Abby severely,
"I did hope she'd not get her head
turned!"
"Not a bit. She says: 'Uncle Mich,
the first night I was scared, and when
I walked out there and tried to see
over the lights I just wilted?inside!
Mr. Gratz stood in the wings with the
hook, and Hen McFctridge kept waving
me not to cross so far, and Mr.
Keldman kept whispering something
from the other sine, so i inusi nuvr
looked seared. I tried to speak and
couldn't say a word, and I looked
hopelessly off, and there was Mr. Hanltury
having a regular fit because I
was going to spoil his play. He kept
shouting to himself and dancing
around: "Dried?I knew It!" Then
that made me mad. and I glared at
him, and then I heard what Morris
Feldman was trying to whisper, and I
said, "Father, I am here." And just
right, too, Sol Gratz says?just like the
haughty young beauty I was supposed
to be, who's under suspicion of being a
thief. Because I was mad at Mr. Hanbury
and his old play!- And every
time I lost my lilies they all helped me
?every one, and you ought to have
seen what the papers said!"' cried
Mr. Curran?"I wish I'd seen that paper!"
"do on." said Uncle Michigan.
"When's she coming home?"
"Don't say," answered Wiley. "Says
the hotels are pretty bad, and the theaters
are cold and dirty, but it's just a
glory! Oh. lord?Aurelie!"
"Likes it?" queried Aunt Abby, from
her doughnuts.
"Says she's got a mission! To uplift
the stage! Oh, lord?Aurelie!"
"Hut when's she comin' home?"
quavered Uncle Michigan.
And looking in Michigan's eye. Mr.
Curran saw a tear.
"She doesn't say. Uncle Mich. She
just says she's sending a number of
things for "you-all' out at the Pocket
?with the first money she ever earned!
Christmas presents for you and
Knute and Peter and the baby, and
Albert and Mrs. Lindstrom?and for
John."
"And John, ho prayed so mighty
hard he chased her off the place!
Reckon she's the same old girl, Mr
Curran?"
"Sure. I think so. Uncle Michigan."
"Don't reckon this yere stage husiness'll
ever change her a mite, Mr
Curran?'
"Hope not. Uncle Michigan. Darr
the smoke?it's getting in our eyes
ain't it?" Mr. Curran coughed and
spluttered: he didn't want to see the
tears on Michigan's whiskers. The old
man thumped the wooden leg on th?
)LANDERS
ENNEY JACKSON
?, My Brother's Keeper. Etc.
Ill Company.)
box and against the stove preparing t
get out of the house. "Uncle Mtehl
gan," said Mr. Curran, "stay to suppc
and we II talk about Aurelie. uee wn.z
I hope that little girl makes pood!"
"You want me to stay to supper?'
Uncle Michigan turned to Aunt Abb:
?"You're church folks, and I dom
been an ole whisky peddler Johnn;
Reb."
"You done been an old fool, Unci
Michigan! You sit right here till sup
per's ready!"
"Right here till supper's ready!'
added Mr. Curran. "Here's some mor<
of this letter?"
"But not any word about comin
home!"
"She'll get home. She says up in Wa
terloo the comedian got drunk am
nearly busted up the show. And tha
night they had to cut out her big situ
ation."
"What?" gasped Aunt Abby, "cu
her?what?"
"I swear?"
"Well, it can't be serious or they't
telegraphed!"
"1 guess so. She says Mr. Hanburj
changes his play so much they jus
can't keep up with it in rehearsals, bu
that Sol Gratz thinks pretty sooi
they'll get It all over."
"Get over what?over the operation
I suppose, Wiley?"
"She's picking up this stage slang s<
fast she must be getting on. I swear
it's a fine letter."
Aunt Abby was peeking at it ovei
his shoulder. "What's that? She ask!
if any one ever hears from Harlan Vai
Hart?"
Wiley sighed. "Yes. She?sort o
knew Harlan." He folded up the let
ter and handed it to Uncle Michigan
who stared at it as if it was a jewel.
"I reckon," mumbled Uncle Mlchl
gan, "you done better keep this in youi
safe at the office. Mr. Curran."
"That safe rusted shut in '96, Uncli
Mich?the time the creek flooded th<
News office?and it's never been open
ed since."
tl'.tl thin ti
tfii, ,vuu uiio icuci ii
the clock, Mr. Curran?or somewhere
I wouldn't lose it for the best leg
got." He handed it back to Mr. Curran
and the ediior locked it in the clocl
case. "When I git lonesome, I'll com<
up here and we'll read it all over again
Kind o' lonesome at the ole place. Johr
he's sourin' on the world. Keeps ths
boys cuttin' brush. And the baby's
ailin'. And the woman's frettin'. Seems
like the sun don't shine so bright sines
Aurelie went away."
"Don't you worry. Uncle Mich. She'l
come back rich and famous, and ev
erybody'll be happy, anu she'll give i
show in the tin opera-house."
Uncle Michigan's eyes shone again
'Just as Ole Captain Tinkletoes
prophesied down in Louisiany! She'l
done grow up to occupy the land!"
Mr. Curran's eyes shone, too. He hai
been told Aurelie's fantastic story, oh
.these many times! He had gilded It
enshrined it?loved it.
"Our little girl, Uncle Mich!" In
cried. "Out in the lug world fightini
her way, and not being scared! I nev
er think of how she came to me but
want to gather her up and shelter her
protect her"?he stopped slowly?"lov<
her?" he sighed. Then he turne<
away from them and looked down th<
hill to his shop. "Eh, well! I reckon
am the man who is in a state of ar
rested development concerning wo
men!"
CHAPTER XIV
Back to the Old Town.
Spring comes about Rome by simpli
tokens. In the black bottoms the wil
lows gently free themselves from tlr
soiling snow, bend upward ever s
lightly, and presently are wands o
furry gray. In the clay gaps of th
hills one hears the tinkle of water un
der ice and over rock, answering th
first call of the robins. The rabbi
tracks along the fences drabble dowi
to mere muddy markings in the snov
and then are lost In the first fain
green. Also, in town, housewives han;
their rugs on the porches and bea
them, stopping to look up at the blu
and breathe, as if the winter's hous
ing had taken a bit out of their soul
which now was coming back; and on
sees the children digging their toe
into the mud on their way to sehoo
lAollmr assarlv its release from th
frost.
Hut c-hiffly, in Rome people knot
spring has come when Rube Van Har
disappears. When the former league
began to climb the hills in Februar
and look off south; and when his wor
in Carmichael's stable grew slack an
his eyes vacant and his promises t
coach the high-school ball team mor
vague; and when he came silently i
the News office to read the "pink uns
of the Chicago papers, paid no atten
tion to Jim Minis, the tramp printc
asking for a chew, or to Wiley when h
asked who looked good for the secon
cushion with the Cubs since Delehant
was sold?paid no attention to any on
at all, but wandered down to the June
tion and dreamily read the names <
the box cars jogging down the cu
why then it was safe to set out garde
truck?spring had come.
Then the News announced that Ru
fus Adrian Van Hart, one-time catch*
with the Cubs, had gone south to he!
with the spring try-outs at San Ante
nio and would also get himself in cor
dition. This pleased Rube and all th
town kids and hurt nobody. Poor ol
Rube was merely stowed in a box on
getting away just because spring eal
ed and baseball was here and he coul
not help it. Among the Van liar!
there was no accounting for Rube.
Anil when Rube came back to ti w
the women knew it was near time t
take in house plants and let the chi
i dtvn go for hazelnuts, and resume tt
. lapsed work of the Shakespeare clul
I With Rub watch for a nip of frost.
Rut now spring, and Uncle Michiga
I spading up Mr. Ourran's garden. di.?
' puting with his housekeeper whi
(( they knelt in the black damp earth
over a package of seeds magnanimously
distributed by the Honorable James S.
Hall, M. C. Their voices came to the
editor at his desk. Jim Minis had gone
to the blind tiger in the haymow of
Carmichael's livery-stable; and Aleck,
the press boy had stolen off to Sin
Creek to see if it was yet good bullhead
fishing'.
"If I'm ever going to congress," murmured
the editor, "I must fire this
spring fever and scold everybody into
working." He was watching Janet
I Vance tie her team of colts to the
county-yard hltchlng-rail, her trim,
0
blue figure against the young elm
green. She looked at her watch declr
sively. It was early for a county officer
to he down-town. She came across the
street with her direct' and springy*
step and to the News door. The editor
f took his feet off the desk and waved
e his hands lazily.
v "Janet, let's go fishing. Let's get Old
Mowry's wagon and take Aunt Abby
e and Jim Mims?if he's sober?and
* Mich and Aleck and all go fishing."
"Wiley, that's what you've always
done the first spring weather. But this
s year?now?"
"Don't finish it. Now?congress?"
1 "I drove in behind your back lot,"
she went on calmly, "and I see that the
" W. C. T. U. ladies are right. The size
* of that pile of beer bottles in your al*
ley! Just suppose you'd bought books
' all your life instead of beer?"
"Janet." Curran smiled at her, "I
* never had a place to put the books all
my life. But there's always been a
place for the beer."
* She looked at him in her old despair.
"Now?now?" he went on and.waved
' a hand at her, "don't scold. I'm up?
1 I'm doing! In for a career?congress?
1 anything! But the weather, Janet!
1 Can't a fellow sit once in a while over
his pipe?and watch you through the
* smoke, perhaps?and dream?"
She shook her head. "I know," he
1 went on lugubriously. "The problem
* with the new woman is, will she ever
let a man go fishing?"
1 She smiled but continued her direct3
ness: "Tom Purcell, of Earlville, is
going to take the active management
of your campaign this summer. The
' committee of the Progressive league
decided on him."
He shrugged. Up the cliff hack of
his shop the bluebirds were calling.
The committee of the nascent Progressive
league?and Janet?had kept Mr.
i Curran plugging rather steadily all
# winter. He had addressed farmers' In_
stitutes and gone to state conferences of
the Progressives, had met Governor
Delroy and the men of the state organization?"glad-handed
around the
j circle," as he put it?and had also gone
among the men of his own county,?
j lodge meetings, church fairs, district>
school entertainments. And on Arne's
visits from school they had taken long
j drives to lonely precincts where they
4 bad discussed farm problems from
s Arne's new angles, and Wiley had told
, the men simply and frankly that he
^ wanted them to vote for him in the
nrimarv.
I "You don't need to. The county crowd
knows now your candidacy is not a
t joke. I hear Judge Van Hart has written
Congressman Hall that he'd better
come home and look over his constit,
uency. They feel you, Wiley!"
j Wiley opened a benign eye. "Apparently,
Tanner and Rice and Roydston
1 are organizing this Retail Merchants'
association, the secret motive of which
is to get the town's advertising withheld
from the News. That's one angle
? of the fight. Janet, I shan't have an
; advertiser left except the undertaker
. and he wants me to take It out in
j trade."
"Re serious. Wiley!" she retorted?
B and then Uncle Michigan stuck his old
j squirrel-skin cap in the window.
e "April. Mr. Wiley, and dewberries
j air ripe down in Louislany!"
"And the mocking-birds are singing
. in the cane-brakes, Uncle Mich!"
"And if my ole house-boat wasn't
done stuck hard and fast up here?and
if my little girl hadn't done gone off in
the show business, I'd?"
"Uncle Mich!" roared the candidate,
pounding the desk?"shut up, or I'll
never get to congress! Bluebirds up
3 Eagle Point! Bullhead fishing! Aunt
f Abby sowing lettuce! Get out of here
with it all! Take April with you!"
"Uncle Michigan," smiled Miss Vance
"we're trying to talk business. Now
t you know that business and Mr. Win
,oy-"
"Fine!" cried the candidate?"Uncle
t Mich?'"
Old Mich took off his cap. "Miss
t Vance, I know what gets Mr. Wiley.
Done been my little girl!"
r.Iiss Vance was impassive, Mr. Curs
ran amiably evasive. "Your little girl?
Mich, you old scoundrel, you haven't a
e
sign of title to her. Why don't you tell
I us all?who was Aurelie, to begin with.
^ and who was Captain Tinkletoes? It
isn't right to wink and grin when peopie
ask you about her?people never
know what to believe:
"Reckon decent people believe only
what's good?and the others don't
! count. Hut my little girl come of beth
I ter stock than those big bugs on Higli
o 8treet "
c "Well, who?"
n Then Uncle Michigan did bis abomi"
inable trick. He leaned close and shut
. one eye tight and opened the other
,r very wide, drew up bis face so that the
0 white whiskers, sticking out in all dl,j
rections, made his face like a suntlowy
er. Then he exploded his famous
,, joke: "She done come from the Holy
Family!"
,f Then he doubled over with laughter.
t That settled them! He roared it to
n Father Doyle when the good priest
tried to settle Aurelie's patrimony, he
chuckled it to Aunt Abby and the Ep,r
worth league ladies; he discomfited
j, Mr. Curr.on and all the town with It ?
his little girl was descended from the
Holy Family!
lC "Uncle Michigan." put in Miss Vance
,] distantly, "what is Aurelie doing trust"
ir days?"
I- "I tlnn-no exactly. Mr. Wiley will
il read you her letters."
is "Mr. Wiley!" She looked at him.
Mr. Wiley sighed. "Hot a telegram
n from Hen MoKetridge yesterday. They
to played to S. R. O. at Marshaltown. And
I- another from Cedar Rapids says: 'Rigle
gest house here sinee ninety-six.' Jan-J
l>. et"?he looked at her with the first
hurst of enthusiasm she had seen this]
n morning?"Aurelie's a winner!"
r- The woman of thirty was looking off
le to the hills. "Wiley, I wouldn't pub
Ilsh all the-things you do about her In
the News. It's not good taste?all
those press notices and things. And it
doesn't do you any good in your new
?career." She had hesitated and looked
full at him. Uncle Michigan had
gone back to scratching his garden
bed. "The town says?" again she
paused at his resentful wonder.
"The town says what?"
"That you must be rather In love
with Aurelie."
He was on his feet before her. "Ja
net! They say that?"
"Well, you've run on in such enthu- I
siasm about her. Of course it's just
your way."
"My way? I can't help what the
town says. The town made an outcast
of me much as it did of Aurelie In the
old days. But by George, Janet?this!"
"She is the sort you would love, Wiley.
With all her courage, the brave
fight, as you say she is making?she is
one of the superlatively feminine sort
?or at least what you men stupidly
imagine is the really feminine. Appealing
to your absurd chivalry', as you call
it; but actually your vanity?clinging
to you and so giving you an enlarged
sense of your strength, your wisdom,
your indlspensablencjss to womankind!
Come now"?she smiled good humoredly?"isn't
that the type of woman
you like best?"
He faced her with a hurt laugh; she
had begun with a touch of bitterness
which her common sense subdued.
"The parasite? Not the woman who
can help?and who dares demand! You
men are all primitive in your ideas of
women, Wiley."
"Janet," he answered slowly, "you
don't understand. A child, misplaced,
hurt, proud, struggling for a bit of
good she sees?that is what I saw in
Aurelie. I don't deny her appeal. I've
felt like taking her in my arms and
saying: 'Why, you dear kid, you ought
not to he in this business!?knocking
about cheap hotels and in such shows.
You ought to have a home?a sheltersome
one?'"
"That is Just It." She smiled impersonally,
and briefly. "Well, no matter,
Wiley. Only I wondered why the bluebirds
were calling to you this morning,
and not congress. It is spring. Wiley!"
But Mr. Curran was put out and angry.
He did not want her to divert the
matter with her serenely measuring
smile. "Janet!" he cried again. "I
don't love her?no, no!"
"No?no! Merely attracted. As you
are to book-poster girls and the magazine-cover
girls!" She laughed now.
"Oh. well, the eternal masculine!"
Then she turned to him stubbornly.
"But you are coming through this
fight?tms campaign?mis man s worn
for us all."
"Yes." he answered quietly. "I will.
And you've hurt me, Janet. But perhaps
you were Intending to."
She left him with another banter.
He had a feeling that she was guessing
shrewdly at the struggle dimly
growing in his mind; he was trying to
grasp her larger standards, her victorious
self as a woman of the time, and
his yielding to the common thrall of
men in this chit of a girl. And he gave
It up as a had Job, and turned to his
work. But he observed that he did
work the rest of the day, savagely and
with effect. He would not listen to
the bluebirds.
Bluebirds and spring ushered in full
June. With his shop and his outer activities
he was busied, but not too
busied to read the scrawly letters from
Aurelie which Uncle Mich brought.
Things had happened. The McPetrfdge
combination had barnstormed il.r
northwest and then booked into a Chicago
stock house. Then it lost the
money garnered on one-night stands.
The city did not seem to recognize last
\-aar'a u'innor of thp bcatitv contest.
The Chronicle, having worked its subscription
lists as far as might be on
the exploitation, was rather indifferent
to Miss Lindstrom. Other reviews were
perfunctory. Morris Feldman said it
was Mr. Hanhury's "rotten" play. But
every one cheerfully admitted that,
even young Mr. Hanbury of the Dubuque
Register.
All this between lines of Aurelie's
exuberant letters. She was undaunted.
She was expanding vivaciously, throwing
herself into work, living every
? u..?. niin<i,oo ..f .1 /?l?v*
fascinated her. She bewildered Uncle
Michigan with her adventures.
"That limb of a girl." commented
Aunt Abhy, "she ought to be home. It
isn't doing her a mite of good, Wiley."
"Home?" murmured Mr. Curran.
"Where is Aurelic's home?"
"She ought to be gathered up and
taken care of!"
"Yes." Mr. Curran sighed. "I think
so too, now."
The next they heard was of a wrangle
between the McFetridges and Morris
Feldman. Then Mr. Feldman was
"out," and the "house was dark" and
she was boarding with Miss Norman
who was a "perfect dear." Then the
company reorganized with a lot of expensive
scenery and a new play which
the "angels" had procured. Then they
had a summer hooking and Aurelie
was to be "leading lady!" Out in the
west again somewhere! So Aurelie put
It.
Mr. Outran was struck dumb. Aurelie
a "leading lady!" He could not kick
his job-press that day. "That girl."
he mused, "must just be running that
show and the twins and everything!"
"Done goin' to occupy the land!"
chuckled Undo Michigan.
One afternoon when the suffnr trees
over the town wore summer-heavy,
and from the uplands came the faint
click-click of the first mowers, and the
younff corn was high across tlie hlack
bottoms, Mr. Curran, lookinff up from
his press, saw the Van Hart surrey at
his door. It held two suit cases and a
hulldoff the like of which in jowl and
leffs Rome, Iowa, had never before
seen. Ami a broad-shouldered younff
man wasdescendinff.Mr.Curr.au threw
proofs to the wind and seized his hands
"Harlan! Hack to the obi town!"
"Fine! C.oinff to stay, Wiley. Not
exactly at the head of my class but I
pot throuffh comfortably." Harlan
drew himself up and looked across at
the dinffy windows of his father's old
law offices above the bank. "I'm ffolnff
to buck into the work, the worst you
ever saw, Wiley."
"It's ffreat. So many of our younff
men drift west or to the cities. Rut you
?riffht here with the home folks."
"Riffht here." He looked at his friend
with the old affectionate intimacy. "I
hear, Wiley, you're ffoinff to run for
congress!"
"Yes. They got me Into it. We'll
make Hall busy, too."
Harlan smiled gravely. "Father wrote
me of it."
Wiley glanced up at him. "Your
father isn't for me, Harlan. And he's a
pretty big man. But?eastern. We're
rattling on pretty strong for 'em out
here! Direct elections for senators,
the initiative, the recall of Judges?the
control of wealth by the state?the
new democracy, hoy. Rut you know all
of it. The old dreams we used to argue
in the News shop! Why we?the
old News and I?we sort of raised you,
Harlan. We made you as much as
Harvard!"
Harlan smiled. Wiley's eyes were
shining. They had a great brother
love, a faith, a pride.
"What's got into you, Wiley? You're
changed?you're awakened! Your campaign?the
big fight ahead? Was that
it?"
"I shouldn't wonder! Everything
seems changed. Even the old town?
God bless It. it's come to seem green and
fair and livable! Yes, I awakened,
Harlan. So's the old town! We're even
going to have a new building?the McFetrldge
twins are going to remodel
the tin opera-house."
"Yes?"
"And they've got a new show out.
And the leading woman is little Aurelie
Lindstrom!"
His friend's face had hardened. "Yes,"
Har!nn muttered.
"You knew?"
"Yes. I read of it?I aort of followed
her?in the reviews." Harlan was gathering
up the lines. "Wiley,?I?wish I
naa savea ner:
Wiley's hand closed over Harlan's on
the dashboard. "Boy," he murmured,
"I didn't mean to bring this old matter
up." Then his face lit with a sudden
exaltation as if he had put a great
hope to the test. "Tell me?you do
love that girl, Harlan!"
"I did love her once," retorted Harlan
squarely. "You might have guessed
why I wanted her out of this. And you
got her into It!"
"And now?" Wiley muttered. But
Harlan drove on suddenly and without
looking back. The older man watched
him with a feeling that the fine zest of
spring had dulled in him. He seemed
trampling on some rugged loyalty to
the best thing in life?the faith of
friends. He sighed as he went hack to
his shop. "Hot her Into It? Bless her,
I did! But I couldn't explain to any
one what it's meant to me!"
But the bluebirds in the maples did
not call so Jubilantly as they had the
summer long.
(To be Continued).
Crowned Madmen.
The Russian grand duke whose eccentric
freaks are the gossip of the
courts of Europe, could point to many
a predecessor of his blood who has
been much less sane than himself?
from that "most savage of monarchs,"
Ivan IV, to the first Alexander, son
and grandson of throned madmen.
Ivan, the "Terrible," among his
many insane freaks, would let loose
wild bears in the streets of his capital,
and placidly say his prayers while
watching the slaughter of his people,
"flinging a few coins to the mutilated
survivors as he rose from his knees."
He would compel parents to slay their
children, and children to kill one another;
and if there was a survivor,
"the amiable monarch would dispatch
him with his own hands, shrieking
with laughter at so excellent a Joke."
In one of his lighter moods of frolic
he commanded the citizens of Moscow
to "provide for him a measure full of
fleas for a medicine," and fined them
7,000 roubles when they failed.
The Insanity of Peter III took less
savage, if more grotesque, forms. His
ruling mania was for the "pomp and
circumstance of war," and one day he
gave orders that a hundred cannon
should be fired simultaneously so that
he might get some idea of the din of
battle. On other occasions he would
rise from the tame anu, giass in uunu,
prostrate himself before the portrait of
Frederick of Prussia, exclaiming', "My
brother, we will conquer the universe
together,"
Peter's son, the first Paul, was no
less insane than his father, although
his madness was longer in manifesting
itself. So violent was his hatred of
the revolutionary round hats, a fashion
imported from France, that one day he
sent 200 police and dragoons to scour
the streets of St. Petersburg and tear
them from the heads of all who wore
them.?Philadelphia Ledger.
The Issues in South Carolina.?Lands
of their own for landless farmers,
homes of their own for mill workers
who live in houses belonging to
corporations, money at low interest
rates for farmers, businesslike marketing
of the farmer's produce, the
good health of the mill worker's children
and t'"e education of every child
In South Carolina?these are issues in
South Carolina. They and a few other
issues constitute a progressive programme
for the people.
Who opposes them? Who dares
oppose them?
There are those in the state satisfled
with conditions as they are. So
long as ambitious politicians may be
elected to ofllce by an electorate In
large part illiterate and in large part
dependent for homes on employers,
why should they wish a change?
What improvement in the condition of
the people can possibly improve their
condition ?
Xot all the politicians and offlreseekers
are selfish. Liroadminded men
who have at heart the progress and
happiness of the people are still active
in the affairs of the state.
The issues that we have enumerated
were discussed last week in the Conference
for the Common flood. Poll
ticians tli<l not participate in the conference
an J perhaps it is well that
they refrained from permitting' their
presence to lend to the conference
ever, a suspicion of political color.
Nevertheless, the issues of homes,
of health, of schools and of rurnl
crei.'Ps are before the people. We
shali have two groups of politicians in
South Carolina. The one will stand
for stagnation and the other will
stand for progress.
Politicians who disparaged the conference
and would have choked it in
Its inception arrayed themselves
against what the conference stood for
and worked for; against lands for the
landless, against cheap money and
good markets for the farmer, against
the health of the school children and
against the abolition of the slavery of
Ignorance.?The Columbi.a State.
^liscfUattfousi grading
BOND ENFORCES HONESTY ?
. I
Chances Are 100 to 1 That Employee '
Who Steals Will be Captured '
Honesty, despite the old-time theory
ot inherency, is being manufac- '
tured and distributed on a commercial
basis in Mew York.
Uluh.uolurioil i>mnlnvpi>N In DOSi
tlons of tlnuncial trust are being re-1
formed or kept in their virtuous]'
groove by the expenditure of dollars [
and cents. The surety bond is the instrument
that bars the way to ill-got- '
ten riches and is a barrier in the
paih to the penitentiary.
Today men Intrusted with the keeping
of an employer's money are honest.
Their transgressions are negligent
and this small amount of dishonesty
is due to the surety bond. The
bank cashier can steal if he desires, j
but he can't "get away with it."
The surety bond undoubtedly is one
of the greatest factors in preventing 1
wholesale . thievery. And its effectiveness
Is maintained by an elaborate ,
system of espionage that almost covers
the civilized world. ,
Commit speculation and the chances
are 95 in 100 that you will be caught. |
You may enjoy the liberty of years
and the fruits of your dishonesty, but
a day of reckoning is ahead. A bond- {
ing company never re.ents in its hunt ^
for the man who steals and runs (
away. It then has become a matter (
of principle to apprehend and prose- ,
cute him as an object lesson.
In the last two years the number
of commercial houses requiring their
employees to give bonds has increased
60 per cent, and today there is
hardly a single individual in the city
who occupies any position in which it
is possible for him to commit a fairly
large theft, whether of money or merchandles,
who is not bonded.
From city officials who are bonded
by statutory command?the treasurer
of Chicago, for instance, whose rectitude
is discounted by a bond of $2,000,000,
and the collectors of the port
of New York, whose honesty is worth
about $100,000?down to the driver
of an express wagon, whose potentiality
for crokedness is not estimated
at more than $500, in some Instances,
the state and the Individual has
sought by these means to protect itself.
One of the largest bonding houses
In New York has in its flies the records
of more than 1,500,000 persons
whose history, past and present, is
there In fullest detail. And despite
the fact that the company is compelled
to pay claims against several of
these every year, Its omciais are nui
overwhelmed by human depravity. '
Far from It.
As the manager of the company expressed
it: "The average man is pretty
straight and goes along and does
his work as he ought to; the great
majority are as honest as could be
wished. In fact, they have to be; if
they weren't we couldn't make
money?and we do."
The general method of obtaining a
bond is simple. The head of a department
store, or of a bank, or of
any concern which contemplates employing
a man or a woman in a position
In which temptation may arise
and may be successfully "gotten away
with," places him at work on probation
and immediately sends an application
for a bond to one of the bonding
companies.
The latter requires the employee to
answer a certain number of questions,
to give the names of relatives, refer- '
ences and so on. With these as starters,
the company goes through that
man's record as with a fine-tooth
comb, and, according to what It
learns, either accepts or rejects the
application. If it rejects it, the man
usually is unable to retain his position.
The amount of the bond naturally
varies according to the responsibility
of the position, and there are any
number of instances of bonds or personal
honesty being written as high
as $250,000. Although the premium
usually is $3.50 for $1,000, this often
is increased when the applicant Is
engaged in a so-called hazardous line,
such as salesmen on commission,
cashiers of banks, etc.
The bond once obtained, the man
whnae fl.ielitv is covered bv it be
comes of vital concern to the bonding
company. He may not realize the
fact, but he nevertheless is the subject
of continual scrutiny and periodic
reports.
Not every man, of course; for the
small cashier in a department store,
for drivers and the ho#t of other employees,
whose opportunities for
stealing are both small and rare, the
bonding company cannot provide tracers
or inspectors. Jt cannot afford
to do so in consideration of the small
bond that has been written.
But in the case of big risks, bank
cashiers, superintendents, treasurers,
high officials?$25,000, $50,000, $100,000
risks?the bonding company is
extremely watchful. No one who is
not on the "inside" knows the tremendous
and intricate system of the
secret service which the bonding companies
employ.
But it is readily admitted by them
that their agents are constantly watching
the business and private lives of
the men for whom large bonds have
been written, and make reports upon
them sometimes as often as two or
three times a month.
"We have agents scattered all over
the United States," declared the head
of one of the most prominent fidelity
and surety companies, "and we can
place an experienced operator at work
on a case at any point in the country
within eight or ten hours. I cannot
tell you exactly what our system of
self-protection is; we cannot afford to
give away the game that way. But I
win say inai we near 01 iniiiKn m
connection with our risks from a hundred
and one sources.
"Human nature is a very queer
problem, and it is difficult to believe
how frequently we receive anonymous
letters or telephone messages tipping
us off to irregularities on the part of
some of the people we have bonded.
"Suppose you have pretty good
proof . that a man is spending more
than he should; that Is, living considerably
above his income, what steps
do you take?"
"If we find that to be the case we
put It right up to him, and lf%e refuses
to explain or quit we cancel his
bond. For example, recently one of A
our Inspectors who was observing the
life of one of our large risks, a bank
cashier, reported that he was main- tl
tainlng an establishment for a woman
?a very pr? tty one, too, believe me? t<
md was spending a good deal of mon- Q|
sy for her edification. j,
"I 'phoned him and asked him to
rome and see me. He did so. I show- 0|
?d him what the sLtuation was and a:
suggested that he had better alter his s:
course of life. In two weeks he had c
cut it out completely, and now he is w
Jolng very well. I jc
"nut as a maner 01 iaci mu:* ui w
the big steals are accomplished by hi
inen whose lives never gave any indi- jc
atlon of their tendencies and of whom 8|
>ur Inspectors always gave exemplary y
reports. Those are the men who get tl
iway?for a time. But once they are ij
iway they usually don't know what D|
o do with themselves; how to bear fr
:he burden of their criminality with |e
proper nonchalance or bravado, and Cl
10 It Is often a question of time before
me of our agents finds them."?New p,
ifork Press. hi
* 1 w
iVILL SEEK SUNKEN TREASURE bl
' m
English Company to Salvage Vessels ^
Lost in Battle of Navarino. hi
A company has Just been incorpor- bi
ited in London called the Navarino ^
Bay Salvage company, to recover the ^
treasure In the Bay of Navarino, on rf
:he west coast of Greece, where 63 y
rurkish and Egyptian ships of war 8(
ivere sunk by the allied fleets of Engand,
France and Russia in 1827, says tl
i London dispatch. ft
Of these sixty-three, forty-three a
lave been located and buoyed, and as ai
he water Is very clear and not deeper t
than fifty feet, It is expected that a
rich harvest will be reaped. Many of
the ships are known to have gone jj
lown with specie and jewels on board, ^
Dut aside from that the guns and other tj
ihlngs which can be recovered without h
much trouble, have great value. The
reasurer of the N'avarino Bay Salvage
company Is E. W. Gaze, who has rented
how the salvors will go to work
ind what they expect to find.
"All the existing records that might
:hrow any light on the size and armament
of the sunken ships have been 11
nost carefully examined," he said, 1
'and from the dispatches of Admiral
Todrlngton himself, and from other w
murces. we have been able to ascer- *(
ain definitely the size and nature of al
practically every vessel that was sunk
n the engagement. w
"It Is thus possible, for Instance, to a
>stlmate at the bottom of the bay there
ire at least 300,000 tons of oak timbers b'
which, by the action of time and the Hf
lea, have been turned to the color and ri
tiardness of ebony. At a moderate es- w
timate this timber, which Is an Ideal cl
material for making furniture, will be
ivorth about $6 per ton. h
"All these old ships were sheathed t'
with almost pure copper, and It Is es- a
timated that there must be at least
300 tons of the metal In the hulls of H
the submerged ships. ai
"Then there are the guns. According
to the records preserved at the nr
British admirality. 2.016 guns went "
Jown In the Turkish and Egyptian fl
ships. One thousand three hundred of h
hese guns were made of bronze, which
Is worth from $250 to $300 per ton, w
and the average weight of each gun
may safely be put at four tons."
The salvage of these materials alone c
should amply repay the venture, but w
there is also more than a possibility t<
that the divers will find gold In specie tl
and other forms.
Certain notes, written just before A
the engagement, and found among the
papers of the Egyptian admiral, refer- v
red to the money in the possession of
the two commanders of the fleet. Mu- 5
harem Bey, the Egyptian admiral, had u
a ... , ,i
in nia vessel jz.uuu.uuu, iwemj laigi: hags
of money and 10,000 gold ducats, fi
and the Turkish admiral, Ibrahim Pa- n
sha, stated in a note that his ship went ti
down with gold and Jewels worth not 1J
less than $4,800,000. It is more than v
likely that some of the other ships car- h
ry specie and other valuables, and a f(
gold cup of the shape used, in the d
Greek church, has already been recov- "
ered by a diver.
> a
HAVE YOU READ THESE 147
ll
List of Fiction Books Selected by Wes- 1
tern Educator.
"Don Quixote," Cervantes.
"The Man With t^e Broken Ear," v
About. ^
"The Downfall," Zola.
"The Titan," Richter.
"Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush," ^
Maclaren.
"The Newcomes," Thackery.
"David Harum," Westcott. a
"The Heart of Midlothian," Scott. p
"Daniel Deronda." George Eliot. 0
"David Copperfleld," Dickens.
"Wllhelm Melster," Goethe. | '
"Gulliver's Travels." Swift.
"Les Mlserables," Hugo. r
"The Scarlet Letter." Hawthorne.
f
Consider the "fourteen greatest s
books of fiction," as selected by J. M. t
Greenwood, superintendent of the t
schools. They circulate very little at i
the public library, says the Kansas l
City Star. r
Fiction reading has pone out of
style, according to the theory of Purd c
R. Wright, librarian. Mr. Greenwood I
believes if such is true the fact is to be
deplored.
"The man or woman," the superintendent
says, "who lives to be 50 years
old and has not read two or three dose- ,
en of the greatest works of fiction j
from many lands has missed much. I (
have picked out fourteen books which j
I believe every one should read."
{
M isunderstood.?She was a plump I j
widow, with two charming daughters. |
She had been a "reliet" just a year,
and was beginning to wear her "weeds"
lightly. All the same, when the new
curate called upon her she sighed:
"Ah! I feel the loss of my poor,
dear husband very much. I never have ]
any appetite for anything now." ]
The curate was all sympathy, and in ]
the endeavor to cheer her by pointing
out what a comfort to her her daugh- j
ters must be, replied. ,
"I can quite understand that, but you ,
are solaced in?"
"S-i-r-r!" interrupted the indignant
lady. "Allow me to Inform you that I
' atn not laced in at all."?Tit Bits.
HATFIELD THE UNTERRIFIED
.merican Soldier Who Didn't Know
How to be Afraid.
"There are men who can smile Into
tie very teeth of danger," commented
n old soldier the other evening, after
dling some yarns that applied to his
bservation, says the Kansas City
ournal.
" 'Deacon' Hatfield was certainly one
f them," said Colonel A. B. Conly,
sslstant adjutant general of the Kanis
national guard and a lieutenant of
ompany I, 20th Kansas. " 'Deacon*
as one of them. At the battle of Cancan,
when the firing was thickest,
hen it seemed as if all the furies had
roken loose. Hatfield took a eood long
iok at the en^my, put his head to one
de and loudly asked: 'Gee whiz!
fhoop-ee! Do you really suppose
lose d?d niggers over there are real'
mad at us?' He kept up that kind
r talk, all the while right out on the
ont line, firing away, absolutely fearss.
It was worth something to us, I
in tell you.
"Hatfield joined my company in ToBka,"
continued Conly. "The boys said
e was a church deacon. At any rate,
hen he enlisted he wore a Prince Alert
coat and looked like a church
lan, all right. He had all the deporticnt
marks In that respect, too. He
roke loose from some of them in time,
ut he was always a dandy good fellow,
'e had $5 when he joined us. He
lought he was something of a foot
icer and backed himself with his V.
fell he got beat. It was his first learn
with us.
"But to get back to Caloocan. After
le battle we were less than a mile
om the Fllllpinos, and in the day had
single sentry out ahead of us, while
t night we had six and a corporal,
here was always something going on.
"One afternoon bullets began to
histle around our company pretty
vely, though rather spasmodically.
fe lay behind works of rice sacks and
le bullets swept over us. But It also
appened that the lead began to whizz
neomfortably around Major Wilder
[etcalfs headquarters.
" 'Flanders,' called out Metcalf to
ur captain, 'who Is the sentry out in
ont of us today?'
" 'I don't know,' answered Flanders,
iut I'll ask Conly.' He asked me, and
told him it was Deacon Hatfield.
"The bullets kept on hissing around
[etcalfs headquarters, and he decided
> go out and see what was going on
nd who the sentry was.
"So the three of us stepped up on the
orks, and about 200 yards away was
six-foot ant-hill mound. Against this
ly a gun. Close by was a little bamoo
tree. Under it, but well In view,
it Hatfield. He was holding up the
lmrod to his gun, on the end of which
'as tied a big red bandana handkerhlef?and
it was a bright, gory red,
>o. Hatfield was as unconcerned as if
e had been asleep. He slowly waved
lat little red flag back and forward
fter each shot that came his way.
" 'What in thunder are you doing,
r-i/1.1 J .* ?n \1/V?nnlf n a OAAn
luuieiu : unnuiiucu mcunu, uu
s he saw the strange performance.
" 'Well,' replied Hatfield, "you know,
lajor, at target practice when they
llss the tagret, keepers wave a red
ag to show the shooters that they
ave missed.'
" 'Certainly I do,' said Metcalf, 'but
rhat I want to kno\v Is what you are
oing?'
" 'Oh,* responded Hatfield unconernedly,
though he was at attention, I
ras just teaching those oo-Goos how
~j shoot. I was signaling them that
ley were missing right along.'
" 'Why, good heavens, man,' said
letcalf, 'they'll kill you.'
" 'Naw,' responded Hatfield, 'they
fon't. They can't hit anybody.'
"Of course," went on Conly, "Major
letcalf told him to cut It out and get
nder cover behind the ant-hill. He
idn't want to see Hatfield killed. Hat
eld was unconsciously a sort of
ange-flnder for that headquarters
ent, too. tl was a ludicrous incident,
ut It was a dangerous one. Hatfield
,-as just that happy smiling sort of a
id. He absolutely dia not know what
par meant; he was a corking fine solier,
a good fellow and right out on the
ine all the time."
"What ever became of him?" was
sked.
"After we came back from the Philopines,"
said Conl.v, "Hatfield Joined
he regular army, going into the 11th
avalry. He was shot through the leg
y a bullet, but recovered soon and
rent back on duty. In a nasty little
Ight in driving some Filipinos out of a
hurch, where they had fortified themelves,
Hatfield was shot from his
lorse, the bullet going into his body,
le was left for dead, but later his
omrades were able to go back for him
O crfi In Hp rlid not re
nllst in the service. I asked him why,
ne time. 'Well,' he said, smiling and
inppy as ever, "I thought at first that
was married to the army and never
lid want a divorce. I stood for it all
ight when they shot me through the leg,
although it would have l>een natural
or a man to kick under such circumtances.
Rut when they shot me
hrough the body I Just got to thinking
hat maybe they would keep on going
ip and next time get me In the sky?iece
and it would he all off. So I
lidn't re-inllst another time.
"He was one of the happiest men I
>ver knew: and one of the bravest.
*ve lost all track of him now."
Points for Public Orators.?Knowing
vhereof I discourse, I beg to admonish
itudents of public speaking to avoid
is far as possible the use of the folowing
phrases: I rise with diffidence.
Unaccustomed as I am to speak. Ry a
lappy stroke of fate. It becomes my
gainful duty. In the last analysis. I
ini encouraged to go on. I point with
iride. On the other hand (with gcs\
t Tho vox nonuli. Re
hat a.s it may. May that a.s it be. 1
ihall not detain you. As the hour is
trowing late. Relieve me, Mabel. We
/lew with alarm. As I was about to
ell you. The happiest day of my life.
[t falls to my lot. I can say no more.
[n the (luff and bloom. I can only hint.
[ can say nothing. I cannot find words.
The fact is. To my mind. I cannot
sufficiently do justice. I fear. All I can
say is. I shall not inflict a speech on
rou.?Washington Herald.
X'T The man who hides his light
under a bushel is apt to think the
whole world is in darkness.
>