Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^ SXMI-wbekl^ .. ' . lM.grist'8 sons, Pubiithen. } 3- <JfamiIg Jtocspap*!!: dfor fromofom njf ify$olitiqal, jfotfal, ^jgrtytiltmial and Commercial interests 0J j tim?^XubcoW^ncm*01 * i . . . ESTABLISHED 1855. Y"O RKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 80,1913. 1 NO. 78. 9 _==^ __izz=======? ?--rrrzzrr=^r=r^r==?r The Mie By CHARLES T1 Author of Do / Soah (Copyright 1111, The Bobbe-Merri CHAPTER XXV?Continued They came upon the blond-headed young man who, In a night, had oome to have authority in hi* manner ?that tacit authority paat all trappings of office which men acknowledge In crises. He stood by the road a hundred yards outside the Llndstrom fence. All along this fence, and stretching Into the woods, was the hastily summoned posse, armed with shotguns, rifles, revolvers?with all the mob-lnefflclency of a community unused to the Issue of force. Among h? nrn/wia And on the bridge across Slnsinawa creek, and all along the way to town, were buggies, motorcars, horsemen, pedestrians, coming out and straggling back. The coroner's men had been there, and all evidences of Llndstrom's bloody work had beeiv removed. In the fence corners, fires were going; the deputies, chilled from the all-night vigil, were making coffee. Newsboys from Earlville were now going among the crowds crying papers; and these and the deputies eating and some laughing nervously with one another, gave the affair the aspeot of a huge grotesque picnic. They hurled quips at one another's ?nii taunts to the embryo vw?l UQV, ... war correspondents who hurried back to the telegraph offices, and then came on to question leading citizens, and to badger Harlan Van Hart, the prospective district attorney, who seemed In control. Murmurs were heard. Why wasn't something done? Who fired the last shot? It was getting ridiculous, this waiting and arguing and considering. The Chicago newspaper men, who just arrived, were laughing over the blundering and inefficiency. Some of the deputies had secured whisky and were already drunk. Arne Vance's machine reached Harlan Just as this word was brought Curran saw his eye set coldly; he was glancing along his disorderly cordon by the fence. He seemed about to ride down the line, and then he looked at his watch. "Harlan," cried Arne, "we brought Wiley back!" Curran was conscious that Janet at his side, ana Harlan were iuuuu* at each other with a significant silence. He was going to speak to Harlan, when that young man slowly motioned to him to leave the machine. He descended and went along the rail fence from the others. "Wiley," muttered Harlan, "will you g^ In there?" Wiley glanced at the Undstrom fort, a gray and silent frame shack in the midst of the corn stubble; a stack, a broken down wagon, and the well-house. No sign of life, nothing, yet from a window here and there, with bewildering ubiquity, the deadly rifle-shots had rung whenever a man had approached. "John will treat with you. He swore you were the only man in the county he would (rust. I rode near an hour ago and delivered our message. Gave him two hours to surrender or take the consequences." "Harlan, those children!" "I know. And his wife?and that sneak of a Frenchman is there. But ?" he glanced at the townspeople resolutely, "they left it to me?and I'll not endure this! Dead or alive, we'll take him this morning?and I'll not answer for any one. I'll lead the boys when the rush comes, Wiley." The elder man looked up at him. "Yes, I'd expect you." He was seeking an answer in Harlan's eyes? Harlan must know?surely he knew! But Curran could not speak, so great was the press of this other great matter. Harlan put out his hand. "Wiley, I depend on you. If they can be saved?It will be you!" n looked about. Some notion that Harlan was doggedly suffering under the covert gibes of the spectators at the safe distance?the mob who knew nothing of the exigencies ^ of the case?came to him. Some idea that the day would be crucial for the younger man, if he flinched under the responsibility. "I'll go." he answered, and for the first time since his own tragedy began, a trace of the old friendly smile f?nm? tn his lips. At the fence he called back: "And if he does not) come?" "The law will have to take its course. I promise nothing." Curran drew a white handkerchief from his pocket as he crossed the field. He was vaugely aware that Arne Vance's machine had turned down the creek road back to town. But keener still was the impression that the thousands of eyes were watching him. Presently he heard a murmur among the deputies, taken I up, growing, spreading to the masses of the people away beyond. He did not look back. They knew him, they would recognize him, the recreant, the fallen man of the county who would have been their leader. Even n atrnesrlinfir shout went up, he did not turn; It rang with a wild hysterical note, primal with hostility It seemed to Curran. Then the watchers saw him reach the house, pause at the door, and be admitted. The throng began to murmur again, and shift. But many stared silently at the house in the bleak Held. John had not fired at "Curran of the News." They began to mutter and argue explanations. The correspondents went off to put more "stuff" on the wire about this turn of affairs. And after fifteen minuses, that seemed an hour, they saw Wiley Curran come out of f the house. He seemed pleading; and they saw a boy's tow head In the door. And presently, Curran came on. He crossed the field In a great silence. Even the nearer people did ^ not crowd up to listen when he reached Harlan sitting his horse on the creek road. Curran spoke quietly, )LANDERS 5NNEY JACKSON i. My Brother'* Keeper. Etc. 11 Company.) yet It seemed his voice reached them all. so acute the stillness. "He will not surrender. I pleaded every point Told him that L&fe Mason onerea iu ueivau mm. iuai he'd have & fair trial. That our people were people of the law?they would give him Justice. I begged for wife and children. But he told his old story. The land was his. No man could put foot on it until he was pdld. He told his old grievance. The law sent him to jail?It made him what he was. Never again would he face man's Justice?God was the supreme Judge?and not Van Hart." Van Hart's son was pale. There seemed challenge and indictment in the other's tone. He gathered his reins tighter. "Well' we'll take him." "Harlan?In God's name?those children!" "He had his choice." . "Walt?" Curran stepped nearer, then faced as If to the others. Harlan turned In the saddle. He lifted his hand solemnly. ""No more. There Is your answer?there Is the law! The people! Ask them, Wiley!" Curran glanced back, an Impulse to make a last passionate outcry to something, he knew not what ^But the people?the Midlanders, indomitable, contained, unfearing the final Issue of nothing. Their land, their law?their Saxon strength had won and made it through bloody centuries. The man standing alone seemed to read their will. He checked his cry. What would it be but the cry of a broken man, a discredited leader?? tifmaalf wlthmit nlnoA Amoni them? They had not Bpoken now at the crisis?they had approved by this silence. Curran bowed hlB head in a sorrow that only the light of heart may know. Then, with a swift remembrance, he stretched his hands to Harlan. "For God's sake, boy! Wait?Aurelie is coming! And you love her, Harlan!" But the other man had galloped down the road, speaking to the group here and there. The deputies sprang up In a straggling line. Some one up In the quarry face fired a shot, and a shout rang from the farther woods. The man by the fence watched them silently. He turned to look at the people. They, too, were still, steadfast; absorbed as if, from a mighty arena, under the gray stare of the sky, they, the rulers, the arbiters, watched a drama?the conflict of eternal forces which would destroy what they ordained to destroy, and save what they ordained to be saved. That was the communal l*?w. the social compact He who set himself against it would perish. Curran felt Its Inexorbleness?he, too, had defied It?and It had bided Its time to destroy him. CHAPTER XXVI. Let There Be Peace. Janet and Arne had yielded to Old Mlnhlmn'g ontrpfltlgg that thf?V SDeed back to the Junction to meet th Chicago train. Aurelle would come?he clung to it with a sheer and pltlous obstinacy, she would come! They followed the old man as he pressed through the crowd to reach the cars. "Done come," he was muttering. "Always she done come when I call!" Then they saw his worn eyes light. Aurelle was on the step, descending. And behind her, leading a brindle bull-pup and looking the last word of perplexed embarrassment, was Rube Van Hart. Behind him was a pink-faced and Immaculate young gentleman who also seemed amazed at the Instant murmur that went up from the throng. They all knew her and knew In a flash that the tragedy at Llndstrom's place had summoned her. She threw herself with a cry of joy Into Uncle Michigan's arms, her face burled in his tobacco-colored whiskers, and the long-stemmed roses she had carried now scattered over his shoulders. A vision such as Rome, Iowa, had never seen outside of the tin opera house. Even her proper traveling costume could not subdue her love of colors or repress her Ingenuous sense of blossom time, all * - ?i_i??, o. nfQ mui ettgei', ;UUUK sprung: from the gray soil of penury to bill-poster grandeur! She all but upset Uncle Michigan off his peg-leg with her affection, overwhelming him with little cries and explanations. And all the time Rube Van Hart, who had met her returning from Earlville, where he had been on a horse trade for Carmichael, stood there dangling the gold-collared bulldog. As he told the express agent, he had been captured, bound and gagged, and had been desperately hoping for a wreck before the train got to where home folks could see him lassoed to a violet-smelling bull-pup and an actress lady! Aurelie had come back to the old town with her bull-pup and her press agent. Uncle Michigan and Rube fought a way for her to Arne Vance's motor car. The young gentleman from the Cohan & Snitz publicity bureau followed. It was worth his Job to lose sight of Aurelie. There had been a tremendous row when the western managers for Cohan & snitz received a telephone message from Aurelie at midnight that she would not play at the next day matinee, because she was going out to Iowa where her "folks had shot somebody." They had roared and cursed and dashed after her in a taxicab only to find that she had dashed ahead of them to the union station. Only young Mr. Kaiser had made the train, and immediately the Cohan & Snitz people wired him at every station to make the most of it. Great press stuff, this! The comedienne of The Girl and the Burglar going out at midnight to settle the cause celebre that all the west was agoging about. They rushed another girl Into the part and then began to boom the "press end." Young Mr. Kaiser yelled his futile protests when he saw Aurelte lifted Into the car. He snatched at the tonneau and Arne Vance pounded him over the fingers and howled: "You get off, damn you!" They dashed away, and the press agent, seising the bull-pup from Rube ran for the nearest conveyance. "Follow 'em," he shouted. "Keep track of that girl!" On the wav out he wearily confided in the hackman. "Take it from me, chasing Miss Llndstrom around over these United States Is some work. She wanted to stop the Earlvllle State Express one time so that the water wouldn't splash In her stateroom bath tub, and denounced the conductor all the way to New York when he refused. Say, If I could get over half the real stories I know about her with the city editors, I'd be made on Broadway!" "Hey?" retorted the hackman. "Used to see that kid sellin' skinned rabbits at the grocery not so many years ago. Young man, if you want stories about Aurelie Llndstrom, right here's the place!" "ITaAK a.irnlnst" vallari thfl nllhll city man; "If she gets out of sight most anything's liable to break?and I've got to make the three o'clock editions with a column on her!" Arne's machine tore into the long leadfless stretch of creek road where the first of the watchers began to appear in the buggies ana carts. Then the people on foot, a throng thickening until the road was blocked; and the dyspeptic farmer-student, swearing at them, leaped out and kicked away a panel of the rail fence. He sent the big car smashing through and it went lunging over the rough and frozen ploughed land. Aurelle had sat very still and pale, holding to Uncle Michigan's hand. She seemed swiftly understanding it all, the masses of people, the sense of Impending horror, the acute crisis. Uncle Michigan hod been trying to tell her; Janet Vance was endeavoring to explain; and her blar black eyes grew wider and brighter. And suddenly from the woods ahead there came the spatter of rifleshots. Janet put her hands to her ears. ' "They want you, Aurelle! Maybe you can?maybe you can! He would not listen to Wiley, but maybe you She turned swiftly. "Mr. Curran, where is he?" Janet ceased. She had almost forgotten in the whirl of events. Dumbly she watched the girl, striving to guess her thought Curran, crushed with his agony, out there making his last appeal?and Aurelie, sitting upright staring now at the battle-field, her eyes searching for him. She had asked for him! And slowly an infinite pity came to Janet's heart? Aurelle, what was she thinking? When the machine ground past a fence corner a man leaped out waving a shotgun. "Hold on! You can't go farther! Van Hart said no one could go closer: They are going to riddle that house next time Lindstrom Area a shot!" Arne jerked his throttle wider and dashed past. "They're closing in. Oh, Janet they're closing in! Where's Harlan?look for him!" "Harlan?" Aurelle arose, her hostile eyes leveled at the line of deputies climbing the fence. "Go on?go on!" she cried. The guards were yelling to them. From the creek side of the field another shot rang out Janet, looking that way, saw Harlan mounted, motioning to the men. Then from Lindstrom's house came the spurt of a gun, and one of Harlan's group fell face downward at his feet. They scattered. "Arne," his sister whispered, "get word to him?to Harian, mat ane here." He stopped the big car with a jerk. As he was climbing out, with the whir of the machine, and the warning shouts of the deputies in their ears, they did not notice that Aurelie had slipped from the other side. Not until Old Michigan raised a cry did Janet turn to see the open door behind her. Thirty feet away Aurelie was running. She had thrown her furs from her, scattering the roses among the frozen clods, and was flying onward to her old home two hundred yards across the field. The deputies were shouting. Arne saw her now. He turned to follow. Janet sprang out, a cry on her lips. Old Michigan uprose, calling his pleadings. Janet stopped. There was nothing she could do. The panorama was spread before her like a moving picture; the bleak corn-stubbled field, the gray little house detached in the winter sunlight, a film of smoke over its gable; and on all three sides of it a straggling line of men advancing, firing here and there, yelling insanely, loading to fire again. The spatter m * A - 4t- * ?1 - J U *r?Q vnllhV' OI snois mil'Keiltu, it ucwamv ?. I the blue smoke hid the farther fence, the masses of people far beyond under the leafless trees. From the gabel of Llndstrom's house came a single report, sharp from its nearness. A man of the line went down. She saw Harlan coming with the posse from the other side. Her brother was running faster, but Aurelie was far beyond him flying on with her old woodland lltheness. Then another figure caught Janet's eye. Wiley Curran had leaped the fence from among the deputies and had outstripped them. He was shouting; and the angle of his course would cut Aurelie ofT from the house. Janet cried to him. She saw the men beyond the house, under Harlan's J ?*???!?? *r\ flpa nnnllv riplih oruers, siuppuig ? i..v , erately, at the window from which Lindstrom was riddling the deputies. Then came the crash of a volley louder than all else. And she saw her brother stop short midway between her and the veil of smoke. He was striking at a patch of color, maroon and glistening black plumes, against the gray of the guns and the wintry woods. In the moment's intermission following the volley they saw a man step from the door?a tall grim figure, Btaggering in the acrid haze of the powder smoke and then coming on alone, upright, majestic. (To Be Continued). gttseeUanfous Reading. GRACE AFTER WHALEY Charleston Mayor Files Chars** Against Congressman from the First. Mayor John P. Grace of Charleston, has filed with Speaker Clark a hot petition charring all kinds of corruption against Congressman R. S. Whaley, and asking for his expulsion from the house. Congressman Whaley says the allegations in the petition constitute a tissue of lies, and are unworthy of belief If for no other reason than because of Grace's alleged reputation as a character thief and personal and political enemy of him and his house. The pemade either on personal knowledge or "To the Honorable, the Speaker of the 1 House of Representatives and the congress of the United States: "The petition of your petitioner respectfully shows: "1. That he Is the mayor of the city of Charleston, and a duly qualified 1 elector In the First congressional district of South Carolina; that for many 1 years he has been closely Identified 1 with the Democratic party, taking part in its club meetings, conventions, primaries and in the election of its candi- : dates, by reason of which he has gained an intimate knowledge of the poll- : tics of his section and is qualified to swear that the allegations hereinafter < made either o npersonal knowledge or i on Information and belief are true. "2. That heretofore, to wit, on the ' 31st day of January, 1913, Hon. George S. Legare, late representative in con- ! gress from the First district of South 1 Carolina, died, leaving a vacancy in 1 congress. "3. That thereafter, to wit, on the 4th day of February, 1913, Richard S. ' Whaley announced his candidacy to fill 1 said vacancy and began a canvass for i the' Democratic nomination, simultaneously circulating throughout the dis trict, as your petitioner is imorrnea and believes, that whoever entered the race must be prepared to outspend him In money, intelligence of which speed- 1 ily resolved the campaign into one of unprecedented vote selling. "4. That at stated times before and after any primary or election for con- 1 gress, each candidate is required by 1 Federal law to file certain sworn statements of expenses, etc., showing that < the cost of such primary and election < has not exceeded $5,000 In the aggregate, In pursuance of which Mr. Whaley filed four statements, now on file in J the office of the clerk of the house of representatives, reference to which is hereby craved as often as may be nec- ' essary, and which are hereby made part of this petition. "5. That the First congressional district of 8outh Carolina is composed of t five counties, inhabited propenderantly , by negroes; for the exclusion of whose participation In politics it is the custom '} by common consent for white men to \ Settle their differences in the Demo- , nroflp nrlmnrv nomination In which Is equivalent to an election; that there were In round numbers but 12,000 votes cast in the Democratic primary In these i Sountles, In which Mr. Whaley was omlnated, distributed In the Ave counties as follows: In Charleston county, 0,168 votes; In Clarendon county, 7,619 i votes; in Colleton county, 1,807 votes; ( in Berkeley county, 963 votes; In Dorchester county, 1,603 votes. Total, 12,050. Of which on the face of the re- 1 turns Mr. Whaley obtained 6,298 votes; i that thereupon Mr. Whaley was de- , clared the nominee of the Democratic party and in a special election which ' was held April 29,1913, Mr. Whaley was 1 elected without opposition to All the Unexpired term. "6. That in order to obtain these 6,298 votes, as your petitioner is Inform- 1 ed and believes, Mr. Whaley spent in the Arst and second primaries and the campaigns incident thereto not less than $60,000, or an average of about $10 tor each vote. "6. That notwithstanding such ex- | cesslve use of money, and because, as above set forth, he was required by Federal law under oath to file state- ' ments showing that he spent not over 15,000, your petitioner alleges Mr, Wha- ; ley wilfully and knowingly filed false sworn statements with the clerk of the house of representatives showing that 1 he spent altogether only the sum of j $4,533.10. "7. That in filing such statements, Mr. Whaley, in each instance, wilfully and knowingly made oath, (administered by a person permitted by law to administer such oath) to the truth of something which he knew was absolutely false; and that such wilfully and knowingly false oaths were made only because to state the truth would be to exclude him from' qualifying and taking his seat in congress. "8. That section 343 of the criminal code of South Carolina is as follows: 'Whoever shall, wilfully and knowingly swear falsely in taking any oath required by law, and administered by any person directed or permitted by law to administer such oath shall be deemed guilty of perjury, and on conviction, incur the pains and penalties of that offense.' "That your petitioner alleges that under the plain meaning of said section and under the decisions of the supreme court of South Carolina, Mr. Whaley, by filing his wilfully and knowingly false sworn statements in order to obtain his seat in congress, committed four separate and deliberate and felonious perjuries. , '"9. That Mr. Whaley now sits in congress, therefore, because he openly bought his nomination and election by going out upon the highways and byways and debauching the electorate, and by using over twelve times as much as the maximum of money allowed by law in avoidance of the consequences of which he afterwards committed four felonious perjuries. "Wherefore, your petitioner prays: "That the matter of Mr. Whaley's right to nis seat in congress De investigated, and that he be expelled from that body If the allegations contained In this petition be found to be true, and for such other and further relief In the premises as to your honorable body may seem just. "John P. Grace, Petitioner." "State of South Carolina: "Personally appeared before me John P. Grace, who made oath that the foregoing petition Is true of his own knowledge, except as to such matters as are therein alleged upon Information and belief and as to those matters he believes It to be true. "John P. Grace. "Sworn to and subscribed before me this 17th day of September, 1913. "W. Turner Logan, (Seal). "Notary Public." TinoilP I ICC CAVQ V17U Al CV I I IOOUC wr kibOf wn ? V TViirihUM Congressman Declares Mayor Is Actuated by Personal Hostility. When Mr. Whaley was asked about the petition filed by Mayor J. P. Grace, he characterized the allegations as a tissue of lies from beginning to end. Continuing Mr. Whaley said: "The people of South Carolina and the city of Charleston know this to be a fact, If for no other reason than that the allegations are fathered by Mayor Grace, whose reputation as a character thief, and whose vile opposition to me, politically and personally, is well known to the people of the state and the district "The man whom I defeated for the nomination, Mr. Hughes, has made no protest, although he could have made such a protest to the state board of canvassers, and the house of representatives in the proper way. If he is complaining, his complaint has not been made known, and I take it that Via tka real man In intornot whn nftt ur&lly knew best the situation, hasacEjlesced in my nomination and elecon, otherwise he would be the contestant In this matter, j "I confess no surprise at the action of Mayor Grace; he is my political and personal enemy, the personal and political enemy of my family for years and it is another evidence of the vindictive and unrelenting character of the man who happens, by accident, to be the mayor of Charleston. Mayor Kns am itAAPffaviivAH Dflrf inSDJlA mind, thinks like a house afire and Is about as destructive and Illogical. He has ambition and loves power as much as any man I have ever seen. He Is a chronic office-seeker, having run for the state senate and being overwhelmingly ueiea?tiU. He then ran for sherur. and was overwhelmingly defeated by the people of his own county, who tyiew him best Then my brother-inlaw, ex-Mayor R. Goodwyn Rhett, was candidate for the United States senWe, and Mr. Grace entered the race I with the avowed purpose only of defeating my brother-in-law. He canvassed every county In the state, and ret his purpose was so plainly vindictive and vituperative that his total vote did not exceed two thousand In the entire state. He then ran for mayor of the city of Charleston, and by every artifice known to the demagogue, and by every appeal to passion and preju dice, succeeded In winning this position by one hundred and eighty votes. He has never been, and is not now, the choice of the progressive business people of the city of Charleston. He Ib a disturber, and a dangerous iconoclast, who seeks to tear down, without pointing out how to build up. "His opposition to me is not surprising, for I have regarded his methods as dangerous and have, therefore, Opposed them with all the strength of which I am possessed. His campaign against me last spring was vicious, vile and evidently moved by personal hostility to me and my family. His candidate was defeated by a clear majority of the untrammeled Democracy of the district, and bis action at this time Is an evidence of the fact that he is disgruntled, sore, desperate and willing by implication to befoul his own dest : "As far as I am concerned, I regret that these dirty and malicious charges should be filed against me, but I shall not let them Interfere with my efficiency as the representative of the first d^rlct. My eleven years as a representative in the state legislature of South Carolina; my four years as the chairman of the Judiciary committee of that body; my one year as speaker pro tern, and four years as speaker of that body, are evidence of the esteem and respect and confidence in which I am held by the people of South Carolina. The further evidence of this esteem is shown in my unanimous election as president of the state Democratic convention In 1910 and my election last year as a delegate to the , Baltimore convention. "The charges of Mayor Grace are Irritating, naturally, but those who understand the situation and know the facta, realise that they are inspired by the desperation of a man whose admitted ambition was to come to congress, and who realizes that my election destroys absolutely the prospect of the realization of that ambition. He . ? ?-?l? nlnvlnff a hand arulded bv a US IllCi Ct/ it<o W ......^ e _v mind obsessed and insaned by personal hostility to me, and I am willing and ready to rest my case upon the facts." , . . POLITICAL REVOLUTIONS. They Average One Each Eighteen or Twenty Years. It is the history of the people of South Carolina that they run amuck politically just about every eighteen or twenty years. We are subject to political revolutions and they come with regularity. It began about 1817 when William Smith of Yorkville was elected United States senator in spite of the opposition of Charleston and the Episcopal church. It Is hard for us In the present day to understand Just what a revolution this was. Then came John Q. Calhoun, who, after making a great speech In Charleston In opposition to nullification, turned around and espoused the cause and set not only the state but the whole country by the ears. The nullification madness was followed by secession in December, 1860. Then, after the great war, we had the revolution of 1876. Then in 1892 we had what is now known as Tlllmanism, and this was followed eighteen years later by B{ease and Bleaseism. We are not discussing the causes or merits of these various upheavals. Some, at least, were righteous and necessary; others perhaps were not. But the point we are making Is that these revolutions come along periodl n? - ' t-"-3 *Ua?v? I r? cany, we nave nau uicm i^u.auj ... the past and we will have them in the future. We do not know what will be the cause or excuse for the next one, but it will be due in about fifteen or sixteen years and many of us will live to see It. And ambitious young men starting out in life might begin to get ready for it even now. By starting now to keep in touch and sympathy with the people they may when the psychological moment comes pitch in and lead the movement Instead of having to follow it. The right kind of men, by starting now, may be able to use the next popular wave to advantage not only for themselves but for the public. Some of our upheavals in the past have been largely destructive; looking back and studying them we can see that they brought harm rather than good. It is to be hoped that the next wave which is bound to come, will be constructive rather than destructive, that it will be led by good men, and that it will carry the people forward and not backward. It Is to this end that we would Inspire the ambition of the young men of today.?Anderson Daily Mail. BU8INES6 AND PROGRESS. i Senator J. A. Banka Indicates His Viaw of Gubernatorial Timber. Columbia Record. Senator J. A. Banka of Calhoun county, president of the State Fair association, In an Interview with a Record reporter at Columbia today, quite emphatically expressed himself in favor of a strong, vigorous and progressive bus iness administration of tbe affairs of state. He says the state needs a leader of great faith, large vision and broad vision to represent policies and principles for the greatest good. "There seems to be a growing sentiment In South Carolina favorable to a strong, vigorous and progressive business administration of the affairs of state." "Do you share this sentiment and what type of man should lead the movement and what do you think could be accomplished for the state by and under such leadership?" "Yes. I share the sentiment and would tejolce to be able to give It a voice to the end that our people were awakened to their opportunity for commercial, industrial and political advancement under such an administration. The leader should be, first of all, a man by nature, Instinct and tradition, a friend of ill the people. He should be a man of great intellectual and physical energy, of great faith and large vision and broad experience, an experience of life In ail its phases?political, industrial commercial and legal. "Energy of mind and body to drive bim with power to the goal of achievement. Faith in his people and their possibilities of accomplishment, and a clear and large vision of the things to be accomplished. A broad experience of life that errors may be avoided. The things to be accomplished for the state under the leadership of a man with brain and heart and soul big enough to inspire the people and command their confidence and co-operation could scarcely be measured. ' A restoration of confidence in our election system. A resurrection (I had almost said an establishment) in South Carolina of Jef lerBon 0 concepnun ui a bwci umouv vi the people and for the people and by the people. We have had quite enough Of government of, for and by the classes, and government of, for and by the factions. "A renewal and strengthening of public confidence in the government to the end that our large bonded Indebtedness may be refunded at a low rate of interest. A more equitable adjustment of our tax assessments, so that all classes of property be made to bear its proportionate share of taxation. MA co-operation with the national government in road improvement, in the establishment of rural credits such as prevail in Germany and France at a low rate of interest, so that the tillers of the soil could own their own farms. ' "The eradication of the cattle tick, the banishment of hog cholera, the dissemination of scientific knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry. "The establishment of a 'warehouse' system and the co-operation of the people, under state control. In the marnf tholr nroduots that a DrODer return could be demanded for all our products of farm and factories. 1 "A proper recognition of the state's geographical relation to the Panama canal and her wonderful possibilities of commercial greatness, standing as she does so near 'the gateway of the world.' What large> things could be done for Charleston, our principal seaport, and through her for the whole state, could our people be made alive through the government to our opportunity with relation to the Panama canal. "California Is at work, Texas and Louisiana are at work, South Carolina seems more concerned as to which crowd can get its fingers on the reins of government. "As the hart panteth for the water brooks, so does the heart and soul of South Carolina pant for something 11 ? ?nvommnntQl larger aiiu iiuuivi m * v* life, for a large conception of what may be done for the social, Intellectual and Industrial life- of the state through Its government. May a man be found with brain, heart and soul big enough to be a leader in this cause." THE SOUTH'8 COTTON CROP Its Value May Excaad at $65 a Bala, the Sum of $1,000,000,000. Tentative estimates indicate that the cotton crop of the growth of 1913 at current prices for lint and for seed will be worth over 11,000,000,000. The highest value In the ten years of record which the census office has kept of cotton prior to this season was 3963,180,000 for the crop of 1910. Last year's aggregate value stood next to that and was $920,630,000, including cotton and cotton seed. That the biggest crop does not bring the highest aggregate value is shown by the experience of 1911. There were then grown 16,160,126 running bales equal to 16,260,276 bales of 600 pounds each. These figures all Included llnters. But the value of the record crop of 1911 was only $396,840,000, or Just $103,340,000 less than the 1910 crop of 12,022,406 running bales. InHnr nrnn n/na rsmnrkahle for the price It brought per pound. Its average export price of 14.4 cents was the highest In twenty-flve years. There are those who estimate the value of the current season crop on a 14-cent basis. Farmers at Southern railway stations, especially in the east, are getting on the average of 13 cents a pound or 365 a bale. At these same points the average price for cotton seed is 322 a ton. At last year's production of lint of 193.2 pounds an acre, the 35,622,000 acres would yield 13,764,000 bales. This seems conservative In view of the fact that current estimates generally range from 14,000,000 to 145,000,000 bales. At 365 a bale we should have the following results: Crop of 13,764,000 bales at 365 each, 3894.660,000. Seed, 6,000,000 tons at 322 a ton 3132.000,000. Total value of lint and seed at farms or gins 31,026.660.000. The value of cotton seed in 1912 was estimated by the census office as 3128,390,000. The quantity of feed Itself was 6,104,000 tons, compared with 5,176,000 tons In 1910, which had a total value of 3142,860,000. The above aggregate of 31,026,660, 000 represent^ we worm 01 tn? proaucts, or the price basis assumed at the point at which they pass into market, or where, as in the case of seed, they are consumed on the farm because they are regarded as more valuable for planting or feeding purposes than to be sold to the seed-crushing r .ills.? Wall Street Journal. wmen THf niRnn ply south Naturalist Tails of Things Net Generally Known. At this season of chill nights and heavy dews, the great, almost silent southward migration of the birds is under way. It is the gold and purple time of the year?the gold of the leaves, the corn and the golden-rods; the purple of grapes and the aster hosts, as well as patches and streakings in the maple's foliage. Weed seeds are ripening, apples are falling, the oppression of dog-days is past, and the birds are on the wing. During the August molt the woods and thiokserted. Even the red-eyed vireo in serted. Even the red-eyed viero in the maples has ceased his tireless twittering, and In the evening the whippoorwill has given only two or three repetitions of his elastic cry. But go out these brisk September mornings and observe the change. There Is a reminiscence of spring in the glad voices of robins, flickers ana errant bluebird*. Swallow* and swifts course about in the sky. and 4he downy drums In the orchard. Chippie* in almost end lee* numbers feeding by the roadside, and Scatter like leaves in a wind before the approaohlng team. Where in August, yesterday, all seemed lifeless, now abound the activity of newly feathered wings and the calls of gay foragers. The juncoe have returned to the meadow border or to the back yard, Where they will linger until enow flies, and later still If seeds hold oat, and there Is a dense copse to retreat to In a storm. And I know of no pleasanter winter friends to have about. Before my barn is shut for the winter, gay companies of them pick of the chaff on the floor, or flash back and forth on the rafters With tinkling music. The pine groves at this time are filled with a fally, transparent coolness, with an occasional leaf sifting clown before the wind. The trees are bronsed lightly with dead needles Which fall In sprays beneath the touch of. furtive warblers. Jays i scream noisily as they troop through the nut trees, whilst crows answer j back from hlgh-ln-air expeditions. September Is the month of jays and crowa The migration Is on in full swing. but swifter, mors fugitive, more silent than in spring. There are occasional bursts of song, but no continuous music; and the bright plumage of spring has in most, cases been exchanged for a somber autumnal garb. The gay warbler legions that filled the May woods with singing and color are now hurrying, almost unseen, through the groves, uttering only faint calls to one another, and in scarce distinguishable raiment Identifying them at this season is a task reserved for the experienced only, and even then with some uncertainty. The lips of the chickadee Is to be heard everywhere now; and he plays an Important role In respect to the bands of small birds. He seems to have become a kind of pilot, marshalling his careless warblers and glnglets through the woods, Inspecting intruders with his snapping black eyes, always fearless, always resourceful. After the warblers have departed rrom me nonn, me cuii-uun \nu? lk himself a northerner) still assumes this part with the small winter birds, Indeed, one of the prominent characters of the winter forest is what might be called bands of "winter" friends"?consisting of several chickadees, with kinglets, brown creepers, nutatches and a downy wood-pecker or two, In tow. Tou are standing in a silent woodland, when suddenly you catch the note of a chickadee, or the high drawl of the Canadian nuthatch, then another, now sounding nearer, and before you know It, one of these bands goes darting, flitting, swinging, ever exploring and peering for food, through the trees over your head. As if by magic the cold woods are made gay with happy activity and fine, merry notes. One of the chickadees flashes up to you, looks you In the face as If to question your intent, dee-dees some observation, - *? ? ? *I*A f*AAr? hafl ana in anomer muiuuiu ius uvur ? passed on, and gulet remains as before. If you wish to remark the autumnal migration in Its swiftest progress, go out of doors some of these clear September nights, take your stand in a quiet spot, and you will hear the voices of the multitudes passing overhead. You must not expect something loud and spectacular; but (far more impressively) you will catch the hurried calls of the small flyers, keeping account of one another in their swift night course. A faint tslp now here, now yonder, or now a longer, slightly louder note, dropping from the apparently empty 'sky will give you a clew to what is going on. You may have heard these fine, frequent sounds of a September evening without knowing whence they came or what they " ' 1# M were. But imagine to your??ii. ?. stream of warblers, wrens, vlreos and other small birds, flowing as It were along invisible pathways of the sky throughout the night?a stream miles upon miles In length, taking its course, it may be, from rivers, coast lines or mountain chains?a course that is as Inevitable as the tide. And it is a stream into which plunge young birds of the year as readily as the old and accustomed; frail, shortwinged sprites that dare not leave thicket of a summer, as well as big strong-winged fliers?all obedient to an Instinct, yet unexplained. That portion of the migratory stream which finds itself over our neighborhood at daybreak descends, and it is these birds that All our groves and hedges with restless movements on fall mornings, pursuing a food hunt through the trees in the same southerly direction of their nocturnal passage. That the migration goes on night and day, quietly, persistently. The blackpoll warblers stirring the sprays 01 mis greai sprues itmuy arc In all probability not the same onee that were there yesterday, nor the ones that will be there tomorrow. Southward ho! Is In the air. The birds that have sung In our woods during the summer are taking their unannounced departure day by day. It Is difficult to say where they go; we only know finally that they ire gone. And It will be until the wild geese pass, leaving only the birds thai can brave a New England winter. ?B. a, in Boston Transcript i '/> Jru* "i ^ ' r'; k.? ' ' ' I*1' OLD TIME GH08T STORY How Adam Msak Soivod the Alysiery of Gordon's Field. The reprinting of the story of Moots Gabble and ihe witch calls also for the reprinting of the story of Adam Meek and the ghost of Gordon's old field. The latter story Is no less Interesting than the first. It was told in Dr. Maurice Moore's reminiscences of York 4s follows: One of York's earliest sheriffs?I think the first after the present division of the district?was Adam Meek. Be lived near the month of BulloeMS Creek. I do not remember ever to have seen him; but know he bore a high character In the community for real Worth. He was a man of great integrity, fearless in the discharge of duty, and nartinularlv distinguished for his found common sense. He had a considerable family, and many of hla descendants live In York codnty still; none, however, I believe, bearing his name. His daughters severally married John 8. Moore. Baldwin Byert, and Samuel Moore, of York. One, perhaps both his sons, married and removed west years ago. t I recall a mysterious occurrence In the life of Mr. Meek, related to me after his death, by hla brother, Mr. James Meek, a man of perfect veracity and {he highest respectability. It exemplifies the interpidity of the format's disposition and his uncommon firmness of nerve, which fitted hftn so well Ior the trying duties of ths office he teld. In the days of yore, our forefathers were commonly believers in the supernatural. Scotchmen all believe in second-sight and warlock grim; Irishmen in baunshee and bogle; therefore. It is hot to be wondered that descendants of the two should see mors than other folks, and have many a legend of haunted houses and witched souls. "Wl* mair 'o horrible and aufu,' Which e'en to name wad be unlawfu'." | There . was a great excitement among the people of Bollock's Creek, in the Immediate vicinity of Adam Meek'* In Gordon's Old Plaid, which had fnr vaan been a lares ODetl bar sen! and through the middle of which ihn a road, an apparition had appeared to many. Indeed, every one who, for 4ome weeks past had, after dark set In, been traveling that way, were sore to see the "phantom-shape, at which sight they heeitated not to confess, they invariably put whip to their horses, or flight In their heels, and made off with all speed . till they could reach the Wood which skirted the field around, for this was the limit of the ghoefs Walk; as when they drew near the shadows of the friendly forest, It vanished. Some faint-hearted, but reliable neighbor, was relating to Mr. Meek a View he had of the spectre a few night's before, as he passed along the road through the old field. "What did it say?" inquired the listener. "I never stopped to let It get near enough to hear a word from It," was the candid reply. "Well! if ever I see It, I will talk > i, !?. 1L. I..IJ WlUl Il| quuiu iue uviueu yuii v? Adam Meek. It was not long afterward, he told the brother (who narrated the tale to the) that he had one evening been detained till a late hour, and It waa dark, when, on his way home, he entered the haunted old field. About the middle he descried the ghost approachlngv He stopped his horse and waited until it came up to bis side. He and the ghost conversed together, and it accompanied him to the woods, a distance of 204 yards, talking all the while, when it disappeared. He came on home, bat the substance of the discourse he said he could not then reveal; but perhaps later, he might be able to do so. Mr. James Meek said that an Uncommon amount of fraternal affection and confidence existed between his brother and himaelf, In all the concerns of life. From boyhood they had been used to repose all trust In one another?neither withholding any secrets from the other; therefore, he knew If It were possible or right, his brother would not conceal any part of the matter from him. Some weeks after his Interview with the apparition In Gordon's Old Fldd, Mr. Meek left home?and was gone nearly two months; and still, after his return, never divulged the meaning of his long absence as to where he had been or for what purpose. In reply to questions on the subject from his family and brother, his answer was, 1 cannot tell you now?I may before I die; but that is not certain. Thia I can tell you, the ghost at Oordon'a Old Field will never be seen again. I can assure the vicinity It haa been seen for the last time." It was even so. The road through the old field lost Its terrors to the belated traveler, whether riding or walking, for the specter visitant was seen no more from that time forth. The mysterious Interview and Journey of Mr. Meek, his brother thought had some connection with the ghost of Gordon's Old Field, but no explanation was ever made, as he died without ever giving any further account of either. There was certainly something strange in the tale, but his strength of mind gave him some knowledge his neighbors were afraid to fathom. What this was?some promise made, perhaps, or his discretion?made it undesirable for him to reDeat or One of the stories around town concerns a man who caught a heavy cold during the changeable weather and concluded to take a spell In bed. His wife came Into the room and said: "Jim, there's a visitor for you." "I'm too sick to see anybody," Jim growled. "But It's our pastor." "Thunder! I ain't sick enough to see him."?Newark Star.