Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ L. m. grist's sons. Pnbiithert. J % ?f[amttg ?lcu;sj?npcrk: jfor ihi; promotion of thq political, Social, gLjricuIlurnl anit Commercial interests of the peoplq. | '?RVi nou? c<>pv! "*yk"c E' ESTABUSHED 1855. YORKVtLLE, S. C., FRIDAY. SEPTEMBER t><>, 1913. 3STO. 77. The Mil By CHARLES T Author of ^7he "Da> of Sou (Copyright 1912. The Bobbs-Meri CHAPTER XXIII?Continued. "And I," retorted Harlan, "am waiting here for the paper you have in your pocket. Curran's signed withdrawal." "Eh?" The boss fidgeted. His eyes went to the judge. "You told them!" "I did. Tanner, this is damnable! This is an outrage," the Judge turned on Harlan. "My boy, you misunderstand me. I knew nothing?know nothing. The hate of this"?he shivered? "God, it is in my blood, our very Diooa, Harlan! The dirt, the turmoil, the sensationalism of it all." "Father, I did not dream you did. You brought me up in the reverence of the law?its spiritual quality, its invincible purity. I could not dream dishonor of you. But you?you hesitate. You stand still. It is not enough in a man?not enough in a judge. The only good is the fighting good." "What do you mean?" "I want Curran's withdrawal. I demand it." "He is out of the fight. He dare not speak tonight! His own paper is printing his resignation." "Give me that resignation," Harlan advanced on Tanner. "Give it to me? or I'll take it rom you." The boss retreated. He looked toward the door. Janet was moving to it. "Keep off, damn you!" he growled. Harlan was following him. Thad's hand went into his coat pocket. "Keep off! Here then, make a trade. Gi' me that stuff of Boydston's, I tell you! I'll keep my mouth shut, if you gi' me that stuff that damn fool wrote!" "Well!" Harlan's grim sinile came. The little gray boss reached a trembling hand from his pocket. From the door Janet turned. She had torn the paper from Tanner, even as Harlan was searching for his own. "Go!" she cried. "That's enough. Those notes are mine, Harlan. You can't trade them!" Harlan's smile deeped. With a sweep of his hand he hurled Tanner against the wall. "You rat!" He looked back to his father. "I want you all to listen. I am going to marry Aurene Lanascrum I am going to prosecute Boydston and Curry and Tanner. And if you"?he smashed the other man closer to the floor?"if you ever mention?or if I ever hear a word against the name of the girl I'm going to marry. I'll walk Into the First National hank and kill you. Is that plain?" The little boss struggled to answer. The judge laid his hand on his son's arm. "Harlan! Marry her? Your family?your mother?" The young man gave him a brief attention. "Very good." He lifted the little gray boss to his feet. "Tanner, my father wouldn't kill a man under any circumstances, would he? It's been bred out of him, and his generations before him. But I've got it back somewhere! If there's any need at any time!" He kicked the d??or open and threw the boss out. There was some commotion in the that ThiwVv av 11 Vl?I I IUIU , O" IIIUV II nu % ?! *. uv. . v.... was not noticed. An excited boy was dashing down the hall calling for Marryat, the sheriff. He could not find him. and stopped before Harlan at the door. "Mr. Van Hart, they want you or some officer! There was a big fight at the quarry! The contractors' dagos tried to sneak into Lindstrom's field and start work, and he shot into 'em. He killed three, and one's the foreman!" At Harlan's back the judge was listening. The young man saw something out of the window as he turned. A column of white smoke going up from the back yard of the News' shop; and a glimpse or Janets gown. He just realized that she had gone. And that, for the first time in fifty years, there would be no issue of the Home News. The boy was pulling at his sleeve in a hysterical excitement. "Hold on. I'm going, son!" Hut he turned again to his father. The judge was striving to speak. "He said Lindstorm! He said Lindstrom killed the men!" "You sent him down," the son muttered brielly. "I'm sorry, father!" CHAPTKR XXIV. I nc nice i? roiu. At sunset Curran was far in the hills There was a tiny hunting shack in th< thick of an oak-scrub ridge where ht had often spent the night in otiier seasons. with Harlan or Arne. seeking th? squirrels and wild pigeons, and now unconsciously, his steps led thither Without thought, without purposeonly he must he alone with his erisi? of defeat; he must keep reason. h< must grope lor the tatters life had lefi him. All the afternoon he had wandered keeping from the roads, and meetiiu no one. He had beheld the silent Midland country, the eloud patches chas ing one another over the close-cropped meadows from ridge to ridge. th? valleys bleak in the November hush Afar he heard the farmers snapping the corn from the frozen husks, throwing it with a rough cadence against the hump hoards of the wagons; am now and then he saw the yellow piles among the shoeked fodder and tin pumpkin vines. Again he saw a threshing erew, the red machine roaring the How of chaff, the glint of the fori tines as the pitchers threw the bundles to the band-cutters; the farm boyj wallowing in the bright straw, the girls coining out to bid the hands to dinnei which the neighbor women had gathered to prepare. All this line heart) life seemed strangely unreal, bit curiously his mind absorbed itself in it He pictured the long table in the farmhouse, the host welcoming the thresh ers. the discussion of the yield am price with the weighers ami sack sewers, as the owner let the brown whea run through his lingers. All this h< )LANDERS ENNEY JACKSON h. My Brother't Keeper. Etc. ill Company.) had been giving up with his .new larger life; this posy country friendliness i which only this year he had discovered and loved, and which had made place for him, give him honor.. And I n<?u? Q t tho nvimanl t\f his! inil'fl(?lf' the precious knowledge of their truths, and that he was equal to this man's I work, he had fallen; again, the wanderer, the man without understanding, the poet without song. He turned from it all with tear- 1 filled eyes, climbing higher in the bluffs. The leaves were new-fallen, showing the farwinding river, the < bronze shields of the corn coming up ' to the black muddy roads leading to the town, first past the modest homes of the workers and hired folk, and ' then to the heavy-faced houses of the : rich. After all, a pleasant friendly town, coming at last to know him; a wholesome town blown always with odorous airs, and tilled with the voices of young people, boys climbing the cattle trails, sweethearts wandering along the pebbly watercourses of Sunday afternoons; or old men and women coming slowly along the walks under the arching maples, speaking kindly, knowing every one and the children of every one. From the last high ridge, where the uplands began, he could see the great vistas. The smoke over the mines and factories in Earlville, the Mississippi, a band of dull silver strung along the hills of Illinois; and now, on his home shore, far to the north, a single farm wagon toiling up the red gash of a road to the yellow bluff, then rattling on, a crawling speck at last, the wrapped figure in the seat alone and desolate under the sky, the low-pressing globe of gray. He thought it might be his 1 friend, Memminger, going back to his 1 home people. He would tell them the ' news. He wondered how they would ' receive It; if they would not be saddened? They would open their weekly paper, the damp and soggy little sheet as it came from his old press, and read his ' announcement. The talk would go 1 about?some nameless blight that had ^ struck down their champion, and only the infinite silence would answer. He thought of the farmers driving home- J ward from the rally that would not 1 take place, rough-garbed, silent, it, 1 sort of awe of That Tanner, the little * gray boss who was on top again. They 1 would guess this much. Hut Curran, who, somehow, had appealed to their own secret sentiment; who had come clearing an obscure message, the ?' fighting good, the newer ideal of ' democracy?something ?>n?t the mon- ! ey lust of the republic?he, who had ' dreamed that out of their gray and honest lives he might weave the colors of his own infinite possibilities? 1 what would they think of him? Tomorrow was election, and by > night the great fight would be won. I They would all win, Delroy, the mili- 1 tant governor, the junior senator; all the men of the north in the brilliant < campaign. But he who had been of I them, of whom the home folk had i been proud as he voiced their con- I science against outworn theories of I wi- j :i u.. *? !!,*?% < weuilll aiiu (irniifKi-, in- uau iuiivii. He thought of how they would discuss him tomorrow about the polls, I his useless name on the ballots?a man apart, branded with a nameless stain, the eternal whisper following 1 him. Yes, he had found bottom after < the resurge of his life. He had risen I to fall. Love made the way and then defeated him. From the high point he saw a yellow scar and knew it was the quarry, with beyond shanties of the Pocket i squatters. I'p this hill she had romp1 ed and grown, his child, his little . girl, laughing the way of her vulgar I upbringing, all unknown and uncared for. And he?he might have done so much?he who all his thriftless life K...J hi, nil in his! 1 He tried to recall the first time he had seen her?a dark-haired child in a red dress going past his shop with the barelegged Lindstmm boys. Then a schoolgirl, slim, with sharp-eyed little Gallic tricks and poses; and then the maid he had come to know. Moody at times and lonely; passionate still with eagerness to live and be. And thence on to his miracle? laughing her way into his dreams, the bizarrie romance in his obscure struggle. lifting him by her kinship of feeling, of adventure, of follies and extravagances. Oh. the way they ' had come unknowing!?the two out casts to their triumph! Then he bowed his head with hum: bleness at this other miracle. With - all her droll playing with him. her grateful fondness for him, he had been ; the pure in heart. The wonder of it! ' That always, his passion had been a 1 sheltering and protecting one?a fatherhood, indeed, that defended her against the town's tongues, that ex> ulted in her success. And once again he looked off to the east and his mystic impulse came. He kissed his fingers to the dull sky and whisper e.d: "Because you're there. Aurelle 4?cf hocnllu. Vdii'ro ; At dark he went to the cabin, and * before a tiny fire sat long. A mort row was to be thought of?a sober I reckoning tomorrow, the long straight 5 road. He would have to go.he reason* ed: he was crushed, destroyed here. And then a flame of dogged . courage swept him. No, he would t not go! He had done no wrong. ? Fate had struck him down, but he ' accepted. He would make his tight * ?a losing fight, perhaps?with the inr finite cruelty of ostracism and the jeers of misunderstanding: the mutter ' of nameless things that men whisper t only to their kind, always about him. . Hut he would stay: he would Steel - his soul to it. with some sort of new - patience and pride in renunciation I that none could know. Unless it was - best for her! Then he would go. t gladly the wanderer; silent, crying l* down his fatherhood, his lonely love for her. For she had best not know he whispered?never, never! What need of the burden on her? In the dark he groped about this circle, and nothing could he find except that what was for her, he would do. Nothing else would matter. Then he slept, as he had not dreamed he could sleep, in a child's peace: or as one who had emptied his soul, beholding a flame burn it out to purity. Once in the night, he awakened and found his lips muttering: "Thank God!" and then slept again in his inexplicable peace. Only, on this consciousness, there seemed to come sounds, faint and far, like the firing of a shot now and then. When dawn came he arose, hungry and stiffened with weariness and cold, but with a cleansed hunger, a somber resolve a feeling of the need of men. When he came out the lowpressing gray of the sky was still on the hills. He looked down and saw a farm wagon on the far valley road. It came to him that this was election day, and about the polls the groups were gathering. But on the hush of the morning there came again sounds that he could dimly recall in his dreams?gunshots. Once they were almost like a volley. Now. on his descent to town. he could see black distant figures, men moving out the road along the creek. CHAPTER XXV. The Communal Law. It was still very early when Currun left the trail in the road back of his cottage and came down past it lo the News shop. The housekeeper was not about. He wondered at that; she must be sleeping later than usual. In the back yard was a heap of burned paper ash that puzzled him. He came through the shop, opened the front door and looked out. The square was deserted. One or two clerks were setting out the vegetable crates and displays, but around the hitching-rail there was not a team, nor all down High street a human being. Curran was surprised ?it must h?a vppv psirlv. Then about the corner by the bank a. stiffened lame old figure crept. Curran regarded Uncle Michigan in surprise. His eyes had the look of a hunted animal, staring above his shaggy beard. -Mr. Wiley!" "Uncle Mich!" "I'm goin' to the station to meet her, Mr. Wiley. I telegraphed last night, and she'll done come to save Knute and Peter and the baby!" "Save them? Mich!" "They done give John three hours more. Then if he don't surrender, they'll charge the house and riddle it! And John he won't let the chilIren come out?nor any one. He says the Lord is wl* the right!" Curran was staring in his turn. Mich! What is it?" The old soldier looked at him with i rememberance. "1 forgot, Mr. Wil.'y! Where you been! Folks were tskin* fo' you?they said if ary man in the county could talk reason to John, it's you!" "Look here?has there been any trouble?any lighting?" "Fight! Where have you been! Started last evening. Why, it done ureak up your meetin', didn't it. The whole county just poured out there, rhey hail a time getting the bodies 1 ragged off?worked all night, and two more deputies were shot at midnight; and then this morning the folks got Marryat to go try another Itarley with John?and he killed the sheriff, Mr. Wiley!" The editor clenched his hands. "1 heard?1 know, now!" "The posse is all around the place. I sneaked away at dark and come to town to telegraph Aurelie. The deputies are keeping the crowd back to the creek road. Everybody's there ?all the town folks and the farmers that drove in to hear you. God A'mighty, what a' election day! They ain't a man thought of it yet! Five of 'em been killed, Mr. Wiley, and the sheriff's body is lying there yet. John's tired at every one who shows himself!" "And they've tired at the house!" "Yes. Mebbe killed some o' the boys. John's got it all barricaded. He can light from any window?and they got to cross that field where he can drop any one." Curtail was hurrying with him. The shock of the matter had driven every thought of himself front his mind. They passed a man or two who hardly looked at them. Curran could not tell whether it was the palsy of the tragedy, or the contempt in which they must hold him today when all the state would be ringing with his downfall. When they reached the Junction, a crowd was waiting for the train, lie heard snatches of talk. Men were gaunt and hollow-eyed. "Heared sotnebody'd wired the governor to send militia. . . . No, they ain't coming?Mr. Van Hart says it would be a disgrace if the county can't handle this affair. Folks say the governor ain't his politics?and he wouldn't call on him if half the coun*+* L-;n?wl Mnrrvfit U'.OU a fool to try to draw up on the house when John had just told him to stay off. And District Attorney Jewett threw up his hands?said he was going out of ottice, and he wasn't going to monkey with it. So they all went to young Van Hart?he's in charge of it!" The two, watching for the nine o'clock train from Chicago to draw out of the creek cut. heard this endless habhle. Teams drove by on their way to the quarry. Women were crying. The "local" from Karlville brought four correspondents of midwest papers who were being hounded for "follow" stories. The affair had already been Hashed nation-wide. I^ist night's battle was in all the Chicago papers which Rot early editions to the river towns at daylight. It was a sensation?this story of a one-armed outlaw, crazed with religious brooding, driven to desperation by his wrong of law, fortifying his cabin and defying the community to take him. Five men dead and eight wounded: the shanty riddled again and again, but the defender unhurt, and refusing all parley, all demands to surrender. The news shot through the staid and sober Mid land counties like a drama from the ancient and lawless west: it wrested attention even from the momentous election. Curran listened to Michigan's bewildered recital, and to the fragments of talk. The throng grew. Some said two companies of militia were coming; that the hastily summoned county deputies were hopelessly inefficient, scared, "bluffed" out by Lilndstrom s merciless snooting ana the number of the dead. "Nobody wants to tackle him," said a breathless clerk from the Hub Clothing store. "Some of the boys thought they could sneak around in the timber and get a shot at him close, and he wounded three of them before they could lift a linger!" "And they could hear a woman crying in the house. And a boy?must be that little Dane kid, Peter!" Old Michigan was fearsomely listening. "If she comes," he breathed, "to save Peter and the baby!" "They won't Hre the house, Mich." "They will! Young Mr. Van Hart said they will. He give 'em a chance to surrender?he's give 'em three chances to surrender?and John won't hear of it. And Mr. Harlan said not an hour ago, there'd be one more chance! Then he'll charge the place if tifly men are killed. The law, Mr. Wiley?he says it'll be upheld at all costs, no difference who is hurt!" "Harlan," muttered Wiley, "I?I wish I could see him. Beg him?ah, well!" he stared at' the depot crowd. He was thinking of the dogged and invincible quality he had seen grow in Harlan. He knew. He had felt its power?under all else lay this Viking ruthlessness. Yes, It lay with Harlan, he would not hesitate. The way of peace with him was the law vindicated. But it was curious, in all the turmoil, that no one noticed him?the obsession of the tragedy must have obscured even the sensation of his downfall. He tried to buy a paper but none was to be had. Through < 11 tKo /inmitlointa nn/1 ronriminntinns denunciation of the county officers for not doing something, he became aware of his amazement that no one questioned him. He met Mowry, the undertaker, in his long black coat and string tie, and Mowry had no thought except a grievance of his own. The Widow Steger had passed, and?just his luck?passed in the hospital at Burlington where he son-inlaw had embalmed her. And here Mowry had been buying his groceries of Dickinson for nine years in expectation of getting the widow. "Dog-gone it, Wiley, this is a sorehead town! It's irritatin' when folks won't patronize home industries. I'm going out to Californy where Hen and Ben are bottlin' mineral water. They say there is a great opening for an undertaker in their town?if they ever get their mineral water to sellin'." But nothing about Curran's with drawal. From this riddle his tired brain revolved to Aurelie's coming. How should he meet her?what word say of his downfall? His soul was crying to her out of the dawn of peace the night had given him. He had accepted, he had renounced?but he feared his self-control when she would look in his eyes with her pretty fondness, her laughing trust. His little girl, and his heart was big with the new fatherhood! And with it all came the old mutter to his dry lips: "She must not know?she must not know! That, too, dear God, I can accept!" There was another excited rumor. The crowd swayed and buzzed? another deputy was wounded out at the quarry. And the officers were fighting the unmanageable spectators, helpless without leadership. Van Hart had knocked a man down when he found him selling whisky to his posse. He had ordered four more jailed for disobedianee in crossing the dead-line. He was battling ror order, for law?and he was not even yet in office. Hut the old dry bones of county officialdom were helpless? they had begged the judge to send his son out to the siege. Above all the gossip Curran saw Janet Vance's serene face. She was in a touring car which Arne drove to the depot. Wiley stared at the legend on its side: "Curran for Congress! Vote today!!" The Vances did not see him until he placed his hand on the car, his eyes fixed on the banner. "Janet!" His voice died. "Take this off! Don't you know?" Her face lit with joy. "Wiley! But tliis is terrible. The community never passed such a night. And never such a day. Arne is swearing mad? there isn't a voter at the booth in your precinct?the town's emptied itself out here." He followed her gesture to the mean?well, didn't you see the News last night?" "Yes." she answered clearly?and smiled. He stared wildly at her. "And my meeting? I?wasn't there!" "Neither was any one else! Some people gathered, and the committee waited. Then Purcell announced it was off. He said you must be out in the crowd around Iandstrom's. Anyhow. it didn't make any difference to any one." "Hut, Janet! I?I?you know? You must know?" And then her hand closed over his on the seat. "Hush!" she whispered, "I know. And no one else!" And while he stared again at her, unable to make it out, Arne arose from cranking the ear. "Oct in there, Wiley! They want you?they have been asking for you! Where the devil did you disappear to last night? Hut the whole campaign went in the air when Lindstrom cut loose with his gun!" They had been whirling out the road with Arne continuing his imprecations on the misfortune. Michigan was with them?they promised to he back for the belated train "Some of the town women and the ministers want you to get to Harlan,' shouted Arne. "and ask him. foi Cod's sake, to get the children out before he attacks John's house. The whole thing fell on Harlan, somehow >ld Jcllybelly Jewott blew up aftei the sheriff was killed. The citizen? said somebody hail to take charge ol the posse?it was demoralized. Tho> put it up to Harlan, and he's lighting some order out of the mob." (To He Continued). Miscellaneous grading. * OUR SMOKE AND DRINK BILL. It Reaches the Enormous Sum of $2,700,000,000 a Year. Frank Fayant shows that the smoking and drinking bill of the American people now reaches the enormous fig ure of $2,700,000,000 a year. "Since the time when Columbus braved the unknown seas in search of the treasure of the Indies, man has dug out of the earth $15,000,000,000,000 of gold," he says. "Since the panic of 1907 the American people have spent for alcohol and tobacco $15,000,000,000. Or, to put these two statements in the form of a mathematical equation; the product of 420 years of human toil, sacrifice und bloodshed, of daring discovery and explanation of continental wilderness, of cruel wars of aggression and conquest, of wonderful engineering triumphs, in the never-ending search for the precious metal, equals six years easy going expenditure of the American people for the weed that soothes and the cup that cheers. "How much is $2,700,000,000? If, a thousand years before the time of Moses the Lawgiver, the ancient Egyptians had begun hoarding a treasure of gold at the rate of a dollar a minute, and if ever since then?every minute, day and night, these thousands of years ?the accumulation of this treasure had continued, the golden hoard would today he 500 years short of the $2,700,000,000 we spent in one year for alcohol and tobacco." Mr. Kuyant says that the hulk of Why the Ring Was Given Back.? "So your engagement is broken off?" said the girl in gray. "Yes," replied the girl in brown, frowning at the recollection. "What was the matter?" "He basely deceived me. You see, it was this way. I asked him one day to promise me that he would never again smoke cigarettes. He promised. Then I asked him to refrain from the use of tobacco in any form. He promised to do that. Later, I told him I had a horror of any one who touched liquor, and he agreed never to touch it. After that I suggested that I thought the clubs had a bad influence on young ? '' T him f n ETivC mt-o, aim i ouuum ca|>w . ... them up, and he said he would." "Well, you didn't ask much of him. but I suppose he deceived you In the matter?" "Oh, no! I could have forgiven that. But just when I was congratulating myself that I had reformed my young man, I found that he didn't need any reforming. He positively was not addicted to any one of the bad habits I made him promise to abandon. It was a terrible shock, and I broke off the engagement right away. There was no longer anything in it to make it interesting!" this money is spent by wage-earners. It Is equal to the earnings of more than 4,000,000 workers. It is two and a half times the wages of all the men on the railroads. It is fourteen times the great pay roll of the Steel corporation. Sir George Paisn, tlie Engnsn economist, estimates that the American people are saving the great sum of $5,000.000,000 a year?that is, that we are putting this money into new railroads, factories, farms, homes and other productive investments, and thus adding to the national wealth. But we are spending this sum every 22 months for tobacco and alcohol. Our enormous savings bank hoard is the wonder and envy of Europe, but we spent In 20 months as much money for tobacco and alcohol as we have laid by in the savings banks in all these years of prosperity and thrift. Every month we spend more than we add to our bank savings in a whole year. More than half the total wealth of the United States is incorporated in manufacturing and industrial companies, banks and other financial Institutions, railroads, telegraphs, telephones and other public service corporations. The combined profits of all these businesses are less than the expenditure for smoking and drinking. Tile ^Zt.UUU.UUU.UIItl illlllu.u wuua.i |.-> greater than the total eost of all our government, from the president's salary down to the cross-roads school house. It is three times the national debt. It is more than all Europe is spending for war and preparation for war. "If our haldts do not change," says the writer, "we shall consume more alcohol and tobacco in the next 3.r> years than could be purchased for the entire wealth of the I'nited Stales today?the total value of everything possessed by everybody from the Atlantic to the Pad tie." A ipiarter of the $27.00(1.000,000 is spent for tobacco, an<l three quarters for alcohol?that is. the drinking hill is three times as large as the smoking bill. <?f the two billions spent for drink $1,170,000,000 goes for beer, $700,000,000 for whisky, brandy, gin. rum and other "strong drink," and $130,000,000 for wine. The $700,000,000 tobacco bill is thus divided: $440,000.(100 for cigars anil little cigars. $73,000,000 for cigarettes, $1.17,000.000 for smoking and chewing tobacco, and $34,000,000 for snuff. Mr. Kayant's figures show that beer is the drink of the American people, and that cigarettes are rapidly becoming the national smoke. The consumption of cigarettes has increased ,100 per cent in ten years.?Munsey's Magazine. THAW CASE STILL PENDING Argument Commenced Before the Governor of New Hampshire Tuesday. Concord. N. H.. Sept. 23.?The duty of the state of New Hampshire toward Hurry K. Thaw was the subject of ex! huustive argument before Gov. Pelker today. The legal battle in which William I Travels Jerome, special deputy attorney general of New York state, which ? seeks to obtain the extradition of Thaw ' as a fugitive from justice, was pitted against three of the fugitive's array of . counsel, was urumuuc ?n mu*-.->. ...... > near the close came dangerously near . to being personal. To the charge that he had resorted to * subterfuge and was moved by ulterior f motives in his determination to return r Thaw to the Matteawan insane asylum, Jerome retorted with unusual feeling that the state of New York would not permit its Justice to be defeated by the corrupt use of Thaw money. At the conclusion of the arguments the governor gave counsel until Monday to file supplementary briefs. This means his decision will not be known for a week at least. During Jerome's arguments new angles in the celebrated case developed. One that appeared to take the opposing | counsel by surprise was his statement that Thaw is now under indictment in Duchess county, charged with conspiracy to escape from the insane asylum. Attorneys for Thaw had emphasized the common belief that no bill had been I found against their client and that there was no evidence before the governor that New York intended to place him on trial. He went further and gave his word that Thaw would be placed on trial If returned to New York state. These assertions were coupled with the explanation that the returning of the indictment had been kept secret in order that evidence might be presented to the jury against "the Instigator of this plot, a man of more importance than any one yet mentioned in this proceeding." Judge W. M. Chase, for the prisoner, argued that Thaw was insane when he escaped from Matteawan and therefore fit- mu.. AAiiunir. irresponsiuie. i mai gc ui acy had been trumped up, he said, for the purpose of returning Thaw to the asylum. Speaking in a similar vein, Former Gov. Stone of Pennsylvania declared that there was no law to punish a lunatic for escaping from an asylum. Both (|Uoted at length from authorities. George F. Morris, the third of Thaw's counsel, attacked the petition for extradition, saying it sought to do indirectly what its sponsors could not do directly. In the name of public opinion and public sentiment, he asked the governor to exercise broad discretion in dealing with the case. Mr. Jerome said that while he had listened to many arguments in many tribunals, he never had heard a more extraordinary argument advanced than that of Mr. Morris, that In a forced and fraudulent public opinion the governor of New Hampshire could and should find a reason for an excuse for disregarding the petition for a writ of extradition and for refusing to perform a duty laid upon him by the Constitution of the United States. He quoted from decisions of the United States supreme ourt to show the process of extradition covered every offense punishable by law, and that the certificate of the requesting governor was all the authority as to the crime committed that was needed by the governor upon which the request was made. Replying to the charge that he had used subterfuge and was moved by ulterior motives Jerome said: "From the very hour that Stanford White lay dead on the roof garden in the city of New York?his life taken either by a murderer or a lunatic? from that time to this minute. It r.as been said repeatedly that in the end the Thaw money would defeat tne enus of justice. "So far it has not entirely accomplished It, but wherever this case has gone and wherever it has rested, it has left a trail of ignominy, disgrace, filth and scandal behind it that has been absolutely appalling. The state of New York wants back a man whom it regards as a homicidal lunatic when influenced by his Insane delusions and a vicious degenerate at other times?a man criminal in his lucid intervals and dangerous in his insane ones. "The state of New York can pledge its course by saying that if this man be returned to the state of New York he will be put on trial before a jury. "It will rest with the state of New York to show that the Thaw money can not corrupt forever, although for a time it may." Judge Chase, in pleading for Thaw, stated that criminal intent was the essence of crime. Against criminal intent insanity was a complete defense. Thaw killed a man, he said, but was regarded innocent of the crime because his act was decidetl by a Jury to have been that of an insane man. He was thereafter confined in the Matteawan asylum until the alleged act of conspiracy took nlace. "The state nf New York has no right to question the findings of its own court that Thaw was insane. But it has charged this insane person with the criminal ac( of conspiracy, especially requiring the exercise of sanity. "Thaw was in Matteawan not as a punishment for a crime, but as a protection to the public against the acts of an insane person." flow Stone, who followed, dwelt upon the fact that the request for extradition was not accompanied by an indictment Tile requisition papers, he said, did not * * ? 1 comply Wlin IMC requirements ui uic state. Gov. Stone concluded at 1 o'clock, and adjournment until 2 o'clock was taken. Gov. Stone this afternoon asked for time to tile supplementary briefs and was granted until Monday. The hearing was then declared at an end. In a sharp reply to Mr. Jerome. Gov. Stone charged that the deputy attorney general had hounded Thaw from the night that Stanford White was murdered. Divorce by Substitution.?Aunt Malinda was an old time Georgia negress says the National Monthly. She had been married twice, so she claimed; her second husband had just died and loft an estate with numerous heirs. Aunt Malinda was in court claiming her part as his wife. On the other side, the lawyer knew something of her past, so h?- tired at her some searching questions. "Now, Malinda, were you leagally, married to Josh Oihhs vour first has hand, and to the defeased, Joe Braswell?" "Yas, sar, I was dat fur slio'," was her quick reply. "When and hy whom were you married to Joe Itraswell, to whose estate you now tile a claim as his wife?" "Wal, sar, hit was dis way: Dat yuther nigger, Josh Oihhs, was no count, and after he left me two years I quitted him an' I des scratched his name offen dis licenses, an' put dis ceased nigger's name on um, dat is haw he was my secon' husband, an' enny lawyer ought to have conception ernuff ter know dat." IS AN ANCIENT INIQUITY Caste System in India as Evil in its Effects as Negro Slavery. England boasts that a slave Is free the moment he sets foot on English territory. Hut in her largest dependency there exists a social system as evil in its effects as negro slavery. It is not applied by men of one race to those of another whom they regard as inferior, but by men who consider themselves of the upper class to others of the same race whom the accident of birth has destined to an inferior social station. It is aristocracy of the worst form. There are 50,000,000 people in the lower castes in India, and 20,000,000 of these belong to the pariahs or lowest class of all. a proportion fully equal to that of the negro slaves in the United States before the Civil war. Their condition is in some respects worse than that of slaves. These people are called "untouchables." because contact with one of them?even with his shadow?compels the high caste man to go through elaborate purification ceremonies. In some parts of the south of India they are sold with the land, as serfs were formerly in Russia, and their economic condition Is virtually that of slavery, with no obligation on the landlord to provide for their needs In old age. They are everywhere restricted to the lowest and most menial forms of labor, and any attempt on their part to better their condition is prevented by force. They are not allowed to carry an umbrella or to wear anything but the scantiest clothing. They are not allowed to take water from the public wells, as their touch would be pollution. On the occasion of a child having fallen into a well no female was willing to risk her life, and an "untouchable" who offered to descend the wall was prevented because he would contaminate the water. Before a man of the higher caste could be found the child drowned. The children of the untouchables are not permitted to sit on the same benches in school with those of the higher born. In consequence only one in 200 of them goes to SUI1UU1. They call themselves Hindoos, but are not permitted to enter the sacred precincts of the temples or to hear the Vedas read. In short, a more cruel, malign boycott was never carried on in any other part of the world. In slavery there were kindly relations between the blacks and the decent masters, and a recognition of reciprocal duties, but in the caste system there is nothing of the sort. The chance to better one's condition, which Jefferson called the "right to the pursuit of happiness," and Napoleon in more sounding phrase, "the career open to talent," is absolutely denied these degraded creatures who live and die like the beasts of the field, helpless and hopeless. England can hardly say that freedom follows the English flag. Tho /liitrrtipnnHlflnn of npf? pie naturally aroused the pity of the hest English missionaries. They taught them to read and instructed them in simple trades. It was discovered that they were quite as capable and docile as the higher castes, though it had been supposed that they were the survivors of the aboriginal race and the others the descendants of the Aryan conquerors. Some of them learned trades, and, being employed by the English, began to accumulate property. One of the untouchables opened a store in Bombay with the ironic sign, "No touchables served." It became evident to the more intelligent of the Brahmins that these people could be kept no longer in their "proper position," and that there was growing up a nation inside of the nation. So they devised a ceremony by which the pariahs can be initiated into a higher caste and have the right of coming to church and even of "wearing the sacred cord." drawing wntei from the village well, and being regarded as human beings. That a social regulation at least sixteen centuries old, which has grown into an old institution with vested rights as solid as any in the world, should show signs of weakening, is perhaps the best evidence that the twentieth century can give of the progress of justice and freedom, which after all are much the same thing in their effects at least.?Hartford Times. TAMING A PULLMAN PORTER Tee*Totaler is Also Made to Take a Drink. Capt. J. Thos. Arnold of Greenville, head of the Southern Public Utilities company in that city, and recognized as one of Greenville's best, was in Anderson on Sunday In company with Mr. Derleux of the Greenville News. While here Capt. Arnold told of an incident lie experienced on a Southern railway train. The story is too good to keep, so here goes. "It happened about six years ago. and to be exact it was on the afternoon following Christmas day. I had been in New York buying spring goods, and was on my way back to Greenville," said Capt. Arnold. "Soon after leaving I went in the smoker of the Pullman where I found two niignty genial gentlemen, one a manufacturer of carpets, who with his friend, a young Brooklyn lawyer, was on his way to Florida to enjoy some shooting. We three soon struck up a conversation and by the time we reached Washington we had become pretty intimate. The train stopped at Washington just about 10 o'clock that night anil we had concluded to wait until it pulled out of Washington before retiring. The train stopped in that city twenty minutes, and before it steamed out three gentlemen boarded our car. Two of these proceeded on to their reservations while the third, a typical southerner, clad in clothes that advertised his section, passed through the door to the smoker where we sat. At first blush we could see that the newcomer had been drinking; in fact it was very evident that he had been taking on liquor for some time. This young man, who by the way, had one of the best physiques I ever saw, lurched forward and seated himself on a small camp stool, all the ther seats being occupied by myself and the two new acquaintances. The broad shouldered southerner pulled his large sombrero down over his face and to all appearances seemed inclined to 'sleep it off.' We three resumed our conversation, which soon turned to the negro question. "One of the gentlemen, the carpet manufacturer I think it was, remarked that the negroes In the north are so impudent, giving back as strong as given them, that he avoided coming In contact with them. I had noticed the impudence displayed by the northern negroes and I agreed with my friend. "Just about that time our broadshouldered friend, with utter disgust, yawned and exclaimed, 'O, hell! What's the matter with you folks Is that you don't know how to manage the negro! "Neither I nor my friends made any reply, whereupon the speaker continued by saying that he was going to give a little demonstration of his own Just to show us that he knew the negro; knew how to handle him and that he would make the negro appreciate his position and remain within the boundaries of that position. "This big fellow leaned over and punched the button for the porter, and it so happened that this porter on this particular car was a regular giant. He came to the door, pushed the curtain aside with all the dignity he could command, and In his Insolent way, so well practiced by Pullman porters, demanded to know who had sounded the alarm and what was wanted. "We didn't know what to expect next but it was soon brought vividly to our minds that the bold, surley appearance of the porter had brought no fear to ..... I .1/sir. ... 11V. wui nrmi-iH Uiirvcil vwiii^aiuuii, iui ?im the awful strong voice of his, he replied, 'I'm the gentleman that rang,' the declaration being emphasized by several curse words. 'What I want,' continued to get drinks for the crowd." "The negro porter replied In the most Insulting tone I ever heard that no liquors were served on the car. Our young southern friend, for we had now become to recognize In him a friend, came back at the porter thusly, 'I didn't ask you If they allowed drinks on this train. What I said was for you to get drinks for the crowd." Capt. Arnold said that the climax had been reached he thought, but not so. so for an Instant the big southerner reached up his big hand and grabbed the porter by the coat, around his neck. The porter was yanked inside the smokai? n n/I (hn oAiit Viomoi* nr h I nnoH nut Q big 44 and pushed it in the face of the negro, saying 'I told you to get drinks for the crowd?' Are you ready to go for them now?' "In a meek and submissive voice the big buck negro hurriedly replied. 'Yes, ser, boss,' and he was released. In a minute or two after disappearing the negro returned with drinks for the bunch. "The funniest thing about the whole thing was that the young lawyer had boasted to us before the southerner got aboard that he had never tasted liquor in his life. The southerner directed the negro to pass the glasses around and all of us save our lawyer friend, took a glass. The southerner noticing that one glass was left said In his commanding voice 'Take that glass.' The lawyer didn't hesitate for he grabbed the glass in an instant and all of us, except the lawyer, drank the whisky down. The lawyer eased his hand toward a cupsldor and was trying to empty the whisky in it when the southerner detected what he was doing. He gave another command, 'Drink that whisky,' and let me tell you. It didn't take long for that glass to get to the lawyer's lips. "The negro went out of the smoker," continued Capt. Arnold, "and a little bit later the southerner pushed the button. nAorxA -oonnoorflrl nn^ a/lth thd lit 1 IIC Iirftiu ica|/p^oivu uuvt ?? ?.. >.?. ?. most politeness asked if 'boss* desired anything else. The man had torn the porter's coat when he grabbed him and he inquired to know what the coat cost and what he had paid for the liquor. The total bill was $1.75. The southerner handed the negro a two dollar bill with the advice to always do without comment anything a white man tells him to do. 'Let me tell you one thing, George, down my way the sour tree grows to the right. All the negroes know that, and it would be well for you to remember that, too.' " 'That's the way to handle negroes,' declared our young friend, who we afterwards learned hailed from Knoxville. 'I had to knock two of the Washington negroes in the ditch (meaning the gutter), because they weren't Inclined to give me all the sidewalk. I needed,' "and you can take It from me," said Mr. Arnold, "that man certainly must have needed a lot of sidewalk room." "The crowd retired shortly after this and about an hour later the Knoxville gentleman became sick, due to the amount of liquor consumed, probably. He was occupying an upper berth and didn't have the time, energy or strength to get down. He began vomiting out in the aisle. "The noise, of course," Mr. Arnold said, "awoke every occupant in the car and all stuck their heads out to see what was the matter. The young lawyer from Brooklyn, who had been forced to take a drink and who was quite sullen when he retired, became jubilant because the big man was suffering, and didn't hesitate to show his delight by laughing. The big man, amid his vomiting spell, reached back in his berth, grasped his big pistol and aimea 11 ni me ;uunt m?.in, tummanding him to take In his head and stop that laughing. The lawyer did what he was commanded to do. "Next morning when I got up we saw the Knoxville man. He was not feeling the best in the world, but he talked pleasantly with us, giving us a card and telling us to hunt him up when we came to Knoxville. He didn't refer to what occurred the night before. "You can't imagine what a lesson that was to that negro porter." continued Capt. Arnold. "I was on my way to New York some time ago and I recognized the porter and he recognized me. The porter greeted me with this remark: 'Howdy, boss. I'se neber seen that gentleman since. He certainly was a case, wasn't he?' That porter knows his position now and he is filling it."? Anderson Dally Mail. Must be Expensive.?A rich Chicago manufacturer on entering a I?n <lnn gallery, was shown a picture ne thought was by Turner. "That is a splendid Turner you have," he said to the proprietor. "I will give you 15,000 pounds for it." "But it is a George Chambers," he was informed, "and we are only asking 500 pounds for it." "Oh, that would never do for my collection." said the American. "I want something real expensive!"