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THl/LEDGER: GAFFNEY, 8. C., FEBRUARY ii, 18im. in sh;)ow. The world wns fair, nd very fair; Hluo s<ky and sunshi : t very where; But 'mid the flower: of the world One little bud kept jupcly eurled. In vain the wooing inshlne smiled, The little bud was ul beguiled. But when the night tept wild with rain Upon the desolated jdn Night through her sldows saw uneloso The petals of the hiden rose; A rose of love, to settf the years. Ah, turn and take Ulirough your tears! —E. Nesbitn Black and White. FREC11LEB. —T He was tho most Jecnliar chap that ever came to Dunstoi'e school, not ex- ct 1 ting even Mason,kho shot tho doc tor’s wife’s parrot wih a catapnlt, and after ho had been flogjed offered to stuff it in tho face of tho ihole school and nearly got expelled. (Freckles was so called owing to his Ikin, which was simply a complicated fittcrn much like what you can seo iuany map of the Grecian archipelago. This arose, ho .thought, from his havtig been born in Australia. Anyway, iiwas rum to see, and so were his bands which had red dish down on tho backj His eyes were also reddish—a sort of mixture of red and gray specks, and ;hey glimmered like a cat’s when he ws angry, which was often. His real nme was Maine. His father had made a *ig fortune sell ing wool at Sydney, ari his grandfa ther was one of tho 1st people to be transported to Botany By—through no fault of his own. Afteifae had been on a convict ship two yarn a chap at home confessed on his dathhed that he had done the thing Maiu’s grandfather was transported for. Scthey naturally let Maine’s grandfathergo free, and he was so sick about it tha he m vercame hack home again, hut narried a farm er’s daughter near Sydiey and settled out there for good. Maine didn’t think mu h of England and was always talking ibout the Aus tralian forests (if blue gun trees and bush and sneering ratluf at the size of onr forests round Merivne, though they were good ones. He mver joined in games, but roamed awayklone for miles and miles into the county on half holi days and trespassed with (cheek I never saw equaled. He could rpi like a hare, especially about half ;i mile or so, which, as he explained |o me, is just about a distance to blow ( keeper. Cer tainly, though often (last'd, he was never caught and never rrognized, ow ing to things he did vViich ho had learned in Australia am copied from famous bushrangers. Hs great hope some day was to ho a bushranger him self, and he practiced in a quiet way every Saturday afternoor, making it a rule to go out, of bounds alvays. His get up was fine. Me, being foul of the coun try aud not keen on gam's, he rather took to, and after 1 had swam on crossed knives not to say a word to a soul (which I never did till Fmkles left) he told me his secrets and slowed me his things. If you’d seen Fmkles starting for an excursion you wouldn’t have said there was anything remarkable about him, hut really he vas armed to the teeth and had everything a bush ranger would he likely to want in a quiet place like Merivale. Down his leg was the barrel of an aitgun, strong enough to kill any small filing like a cat at 25 yards. The rest of the gun was arranged inside the lining of his coat, and tho slugs you fired he carried loose in his trousers pockets. Round his waist he had a leather belt he got from a sailor for a pound. Inside the leather was human skin, said to he flayed off a chap by cannibals somewhere, which was a splendid thing to have for your own, if it was true, and in the belt a place had been specially made for a knife. Freckles, of course, had a knife in it—a bowie knife that made you cold to see. He never used it, hut kept it ready, and said if a keeper ever caught him he possibly might have to. In ad dition to these things he carried in his coat pockets a little spirit lamp and a collapsible tin pot and a bag of tea. Lastly, Freckles had a flat lead mask with holes for tho eyes and mouth which he always fitted on when tres passing. Once, as an awful favor—me being much smaller and not fust enough to run away from a man—ho let me come and see what he did when hnshrnnging on a half holiday in winter. “I shan’t run my nsnal frightful risks with you, ” he said, “because I might have to open fire to save you, and that would ho very disagreeable to me, hut we’ll tres pass a bit, and I’ll shoot a few things if I can. I don’t shoot much. Only for food.” Ho mado me a mask with tinfoil off chocolate, smoothed out and gummed on cardboard, hut I had no arms, and he said I had better not try and get any. Wo started for tho usual walk. Chaps were allowed to go through a public pine wood to Merivale, hut half through, by a plan? where was a board which warned us to keep tl e path, Freckles branched off into some dead bracken and squatted down ar.l pnt on his mask. I also put on mine. Then he fastened his airgun together and loaded it and told mo to walk six paces behind him and do as ho did. His eyes were awfully keen, and now and then he pointed to a feather on tho ground or an old pest or a patch of rum fungus or a crab apple still hanging on the tree, though all tho leaves were off. Once he fired at n jay and missed it, then fell down in the fern as if he was shot himself and remained quite mo tionless for some time. Ho told me that ho always did so after firing that ho might hear if anybody had been attract ed by the sound. It was a well known hushman’s dodge. Once wo saw a keep er through a clearing, and Freckles lay fiat on his stomach, and so did I. He know the keeper well and told me he had many times escaped from him. Well, that gives yon an idea of Frec- ies, and the affair with Frenchy, ^’h I am going to tell you of, showed he really was cut out for hushrung- Ing. Frenchy, as we called him, was M. Michel, lie didn't belong entirely to Dunston’s, hut lived in Merivale and came to us three days a week, and went to a girls’ school the other three. He was a rum, oldish chap, whose great peculiarities were to make puns in Eng lish aud to appeal to our honor about everything. He would slang a fellow horribly one j day and wave his arms and pretty near ly jump out of his skin, and tho next day ho would bring up a whacking pear for the fellow he’d slanged or a new* knife or something. He pretty nearly cried sometimes, and he told us his nerves were frightfully tricky, and of ten led him to he harsh when he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t keep order or make chaps work if they didn’t choose, and Steggles, who had an awfully cun ning dodge of always rubbing him up the wrong way and then looking crushed and broken hearted so as to get things, which he did, said that Frenchy was like damp fireworks, because you never knew exactly when he’d go off or how. One day, dashing out of class with a frightful yell, Freckles got sent for, and went beck and found monsienr raving mad. It seemed that Freckles had yelled too soon—Inffore he was out . of the classroom, in fact, and Frenchy ' had got palpitation from it. He let into 1 Freckles properly then. He said he was his “bete noire” and “un sot a vingt- : qnatre carats”—which means an 18 j carat ass in English, but 24 carats in French—and “one of the aborigines who ought to be kept on a chain,” and many other suchlike things. Freckles turned all colors, and then white, with a sort of bluish tint to his lips. He didn’t say a word, hut looked at Frenchy with such a frightful expression that I felt soi icthing would happen later. All that happened at the time was that ; Freckles got the eighth book of Tele- | maclius to write out into French from English, and then correct by Fenelon, | which was a pretty big job if a chap had l>cen fool enough to try and do it, and M. Michel went off to Meri- j vale with a big card fluttering on his coattail with “Ici on parle Francais” written on it in red pencil. This I had managed to do myself while Frenchy was jawing Frocklt*s. I told Freckles, but it didn’t comfort him much. He said there were some things no mortal man would stand, and to be called “an aborigine” because a man was horn in Australia seemed to him about the bit terest insult even an old frog eating Frenchman could have invented. Hap pening to him of all chaps it was espe cially a thing which would have to be revenged, seeing what his views were. He said: “I couldn’t bushrango or anything with a clear conscience in the future if I had a thing like this hanging over me. It's the frightfnlest slur on my char acter, and I won’t sit down under it for 50 Frenchmen.” Then ho said lit* should take a week to settle what to do, and went into the playground alone. Next time Frenchy came up he was just the same ns ever—awfully easygo ing and jolly and let Freckles off the Telemachus, and offered him as classy | a knife, with a corkscrew and other things, including tweezers, as ever you ! saw—just the knife for Freckles, con- i sidering his ways. But iu didn’t come off. Freckles got white again when ho saw the knife and said: “Thank yon, monsieur. I don’t want your knife, and tho imposition is half done, and will he finished next time you come.” Then Frenchy called him a silly boy and tried to make a joke and playfully pinch Freckles by the ear. But nolxxly saw the joke, and Freckles dodged away. Then Frenchy sighed and looked round to see who should have the knife, and didn’t seem to see anybody in par ticular, and left it on his desk. He of ten sighed in class, and sometimes told us ho was without friends, unless he might call ns friends, and we said he might. When he went, Freckles told me he considered the knife was another insult. Then ho explained what he was going to do. Ho said: “I shall Apish tho impo. first, so ns not to he obliged to him for anything, and then I shall stick him np.” “Stick him npY Howl” I said. “It’s a hushrangiug expression,” he explained. “To ‘stick up’ a man is to make him stand and deliver what he’s got. I see my way to do this with Frenchy. Ho always goes and comes from Merivale through the woods, as yon know, and now he’s up here on Friday nights coaching Slade and Bet terton for their army exam. Afterward hp has supper with Mr. Thompson or the doctor. There yon are. I wait my time in the wood, which is jolly lonely by night, though it is such a potty lit tle place hardly worth calling a wood. Then he comes along, and I stick him up.” “It’s highway robbery,” I said. “Yon might get years and years of im prisonment. ” “I might,” ho said, “but I shan’t You must begin your career some time, and I’m going to next Friday night. I’ve often got out of the dormitory and been in that wood by night, and only the chaps in the dormitory have known it.” Well, the night came, and all that we heard about it till afterward was that about 11 o’clock, or possibly even later than that, there was a fearful pealing at the front door of Dunstou’s, and looking out we could see u stretcher and something on it. That something was actually Freckles, though the few chaps who knew what was going to he done felt sure it must lie Frenchy. Be cause Freckles is 5 feet 10 inches and growing, and Frenchy isn’t more than 5 feet 6 inches at the outside, and a poor thing at that. But it was Freckles all right, and two laboring men had brought him hack, and Frenchy had come with them. Not for five weeks afterward, when Freckles could get up and limp about, did I hear the truth, and I’ll tell it in his own words, because they must bo better than a chap’s who wasn’t then. He seemed frightfully down in tho mouth and said that he could never look follows in tho eyes again, hut it cheered him telling me, and when I told him he was thundering well out of it he admitted he was. He said: “I got off all right, aud the moon was as clear as day, and everything just ripe for sticking a chap up. Then, like a fool, having a longish time to wait, I didn’t just stop in shadow be hind a tree trunk or something in the usual way, but thought I'd do n thing I’d never heard of bushrangers doing, though Indian thugs are pretty good at it. I went and got up a tree which has a branch over the road, and I thought I’d dropdown almost on top of Frenchy to start with. And that’s just what I did do, only I dropped wrong and came down pretty nearly on my head owing to slipping somehow at the start. What did exactly happen to me as I left the tree I shall never know. Anyway Frenchy came along sure enough, and 1 dropped, and he jumped I should think fully a yard into tho air, hut that, was all, because in falling I hit a big root (it was a beech tree) and went and broke something in my ankle and some thing in my chest and couldn’t stand. Consequently, of course, I couldn’t stick him up. The pain was pretty thick, but feeling what a fool I was seemed to make me forget it. Anyway, finding it was useless thinking of sticking him up, I tried to hobble into the fern and get out of sight, and finding I couldn’t crawl I rolled. But, of course, you can’t roll away from a chap, and he came after me, and my mask fell off while I rolled, and he recognized me. “ ‘Mon Dieu! It is the hoy Maine!’ he said. ‘Speak, child! What in the wide world was this?’ “I disguised my voice and said I wasn’t Maine, and that he’d better leave me alone or it might be the worse for him yet. Bnt he wouldn’t go, and chancing to get queer about the head ; somehow I went off, I suppose, though it wasn’t for long. Wlien I came to, ho 1 was gone, hut he rushed hack in a min ute with that rotten old top hat he wears full of water he’d got from the puddle iu the stone pit. He doused my | ; head and made me sit up with my hack j against a tree. Then, feeling the fright- | 1 fulness of it, I again begged him to go aud let me he. I said: / “ ‘You don’t know what you’re do- I ing. I'm no friend to you, but the deadliest enemy you’ve got in the world very likely, and if I hadn’t fallen down at a critical moment and broken myself I should have stuck you up, M. Michel. So now you know. ’ “Ho said to himself: ‘The poor mad boy, the poor mad hoy I I will run a : 1 toutes jamhes for succor.’ But I told , him not to. I began to get a rum hot | : pain in iny side then, but I felt I would ! gladly have died there rather than be obliged to him. I said: “ ‘Yon called me an “aborigine,” which is the most terrible thing you can call an Australian born chap, and you wanted to pass it off with a knife with a corkscrew and tweezers in it. But you couldn’t expect me to take it feeling as I did. Now the fortunes of wnr have given yon the victory, aud, if you please, I wish you’d go.’ “Ho wouldn’t, though. He said he wouldn’t have hurt my feelings for anything. He seemed to overlook alto gether what I was going to do to him and asked mo where it hurt me. I told him, and ho said it was his fault—fancy that—and wished he was big enough to carry mo hack. I kept on asking him to go, and at last, after begging my pardon like anything for about a week it seemed, he went. But I heard him shouting and yelling French yells in the woods, and after a hit ho came back with two men and a hurdle. They pres ently took me hack, and what Frenchy’a said since to the doctor I don’t know. In fact, I didn’t know anything for days. Anyway I’ve had nothing bnt a mild rowing and very good grub, and I’m not to ho even flogged, though that’s probably because I broke a rib or two, not including the bone in my leg. Bnt I’m all right now, and I think it w«s about the most sporting thing a chap over 4id for Frenchy to treat me like that, #h? I shouldn’t have thonght it was in a Frenchman to do i4, espe cially affer I told him what I was go ing to do.” “Yes,” I said, “that’s all right But what aliout bushranging?” “It’s pretty sickening,” he said, “but I feel, us if all the keenness was knocked out of me. If a chap can’t so much as fall out of a tree on a wander er’s path at tho nick of time without smashing himself, what’s the good of him?” “Besides,” I said, “if it hadn’t been Frenchy, bnt somelwdy else of a differ ent turn of mind, ho might have taken you at n disadvantage and killed yon.” “In real bashranging that is what would have happened,” admitted Frec kles. “As it is, 1 feel months, perhaps years, wih have to go by before I feel to hanker after it again. And mean time I *Lau't rest in peace till I’ve paid Frenchy. ” “How?” I asked. “Well, I believe it’s to bo done. He’s often come tto see me while I was on my back in bed, and he’s told me a lot about himself. He’s frightfully hard up and a Roman Catholic, and hopes to lay his bones in la belle France, with luck, hut ho doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to manage it. He told me all this, little knowfing my father was extremely rich. Well, you see, tho mater wants somebody Hrcnch for the kids at home, which are girls, and knowing Frenchy bars this climate I think Anstralia might do him good. He’s 53 years old, and it seems to me if the gnv’nor wrote and offered him his passage and a good screw he’d go. I have made it a personal thing to mysi^f, and told the gnv’nor what a good little chap he is and what a beautiful accent he’s got and the thing that happened in tho wood.” The affair dropped then, and a boat ■ix weeks after, when Freckles was get ting fit again, hs walked with me on« half holiday to see the place where he was smashed up. Tho bough was a frightful high one to drop from even in daylight; also it was broken. Freckles got awfully excited when he spotted it. “There, there!” he said. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen for 12 weeks!” “I don’t see much to squeak al>out, ” I said, “especially ns tho beastly thing nearly did for you. ’ ’ “But can’t yon see? It’s broken. That’s what did it. I thought I slipped, and if I had I shouldn’t have been made of the stuff fora bushranger; but its breaking is jolly different. That wasn’t my fault. The most hardened old hand must have come down then. In fact, you couldn’t have stopped up. Oh, what a lot of misery I’d have been saved through all these weeks if I’d known it broke in a natural sort of way 1" He got an extraordinary deal of com fort out of it, and said ho should return to his old ways again as soon as he could run a mile without stopping. And we found his lead mask, like Ned Kel ly’s, just where it had dropped when he rolled over in the fern, and lie welcomed it like a friend or a dog. That’s the end, except that his fatherdid write to Dr.nston, and Dunston, not being very keen about Frenchy himself, seemed to think he would be just the chap for the girls of Freckles’ father. Anyway he went, and he cried when he said “Good- by” to the school, and Freckles told me that when he said “Goodby” to him he yelled with crying and blessed him in French, and said that the sunny atmos phere of Australia would very likely prolong his life till he bad saved enough to get his hones back to France. So he went, and Feckles went after him much sooner than he ever expected to, because the keepers finally caught him in the game preserves sitting in his hole under the stream bank frizzling the leg of a pheasant which ho had shot out of a tree with his airgun, and Dunston wrote to his father, and his father wrote hack that Freckles, being now 14 and apparently having less sense than when ho left Australia, had better return and begin life as an office boy in his place of business. Freckles told mo that office bo * in his father’s office generally got a fortnight’s holi day, hut that his mother would prob ably work up his governor to give him three weeks. Then ho would get a proper outfit and track away to the boundless scrub and fall in with other chaps who had similar ideas and begin to hushrange seriously. But he never wrote to me, and I don’t know if he really succeeded well. I’m sure I hope ho did, for he was a tidy chap, though queer.—Eden Philpotts in Idler. RIG GABRIEL SAILES HE VMS A MIGHTY MAN IN TALLNESS AND STRENGTH. TREATY OF Matrimony and ItiiMiarMN In Africa. The sailor who had a wife in every port he visited has his counterpart in tho native trader of west Africa, who has a wife in every village with which he trades. There is one important dif ference—Jack’s wives helped to spend his money, whereas the trader’s wives help to make it. Miss Kingsley tells us of tho custom and also gives the expla nation. It would be useless for the trader to sit at home and wait for his customers to come to him, because each village is usually at feud with all the neighboring villages, and the inhabitants dare not venture beyond their own district on pain of being robbed first and eaten aft erward. On tho other hand, it is obvi ously a risky thing for the black trader to travel from village to village with an assortment of the very goods best cal culated to arouse the cupidity of the guileless African. To lessen tho danger he resorts to fre quent matrimony. In every village ho takes a wife from one of the most im portant families and so secures a fac tion who favor him. The African wife is not subject to jealousy, and so each of tho wives is more than content to have a husband who can keep her sup plied with cloth and heads to outshine her neighbors. Her male relatives are proud of the connection with so impor tant a man and hope besides to he es pecially favored in matters of business. In return they take his part in disputes and help him to collect his debts and treat him generally as a respected mem ber of the family. First Knn on a Bank. Although hanking was practiced^ among the Egyptians 000 years befora Christ, and among the Romans almost in its modern form 1,900 ye; vsapo, yet, according to Gilbart, the first ‘•run” of which we have any account in history of hanking occurred in the year 1687. At that date the hankers of England were the goldsmiths, who had a short time before begun to add banking to their ordinary business, and had be come very numerous and influential. In 1689 the Dutch fleet sailed up the Thames, blew up the fort at Sheerness, set fire to Chatham and burned some ships of the line. This created the greatest consterna tion in London, especially among those who had intrusted their money to the bnnkers.Jfor it was known that the lat ter had ndvunced large sums to the king for public purposes, and it was rnmoivd that now the king would not he able to pay the money. To qnell the panic a rfyal proclamation wys issued to the effect that payments by tho exchequer to the hankers would be made as usual. In 1671 there was another run on the London hanks, when Charles II shut np the exchequer and refused to pay the bankers either principal or interest of the money which they had advanced. On this occasion many of tho hanks and their customers were mined.—Pitts burg Dispatch. Pert. Sue Brette—Does not applause denote pleasure in an audience ? Footlight—Why, certainly. “I notice yon always get mors »p- planso when yon go off the stage than whr j yon come on. ”—Yonkers Stats* man. How lie Felletl nn Ox With a BIow Froin IIIn Pint and Scared Away a Sew York PrlseUskter—Hi* Queer Mode of liurinl to Client the Devil. On the Talbot county “Debt Bool: For Quit Claims, Michaelmas, 1755,” made by Colonel Edward Tilghman for Henry Hollyday, Esq., representing the interests of the late lord proprietor, showing what was due on quit claims on that date, appears the following en try: “Gabriel Sailes—Rich Range, 300 acres, 6s. Od.; Delph, 100 acres, 2s. 6d.'' These farms were in what is now and was probably then called Oxford Neck, on tho left hand side of the public road from Hambleton to Oxford, in a pretty and rich agricultural section. Since Sailes’ day among other owners of tho land was John Leeds Kerr, some time United States senator. Of course no one living ever saw Gabriel Sailes or ever saw any one that did see him. He left no descend ants, and as far as is known to the nar rator or to the people he has talked with there is no one of his kindred liv ing. But his name is as well known to this generation as that of any of his contemporaries—better known than nearly all of them. The stories told about him and the traditions attaching to tho place keep his namo iu remem brance. He was a mighty man in tallness and strength, measuring, we are told, 0 feet 8 inches in height, and of splendid physical and muscular development. Many stories are told of his feats of strength, the best of which is this: The fame of this powerful man had gone far abroad. It had even reached New York city, where exaggerated stories of his feats and prowess had been told among men who considered they were something of giants themselves. The most notorious pugilist in the country at that time was a big and powerful New Yorker named Garth, or Goerth. He was a man of science in the pu gilistic art, had whipped many a man and had never been bested himself. He heard so much about Gabriel Hailes and what he could do that he got mad and determined to find him and whip him. One hog killing day in November a stranger rode up to the Sailes house. “Are you Mr. Gabriel Sailes?” ho de manded. “Yes. What’ll ye have?” said the eastern shore man to tho New York er, and he was not a hit startled at tho latter’s reply. “My name’s Garth. lam a fighting man from New York. I have heard of you as a fighter, and I have come all tho way down hero to whip you!” “All right.” said the eastern shore man, “wait a minute until I kill this beef.” In those days, and frequently in these, it was tho custom to wind up the proceedings of hog killing day by slaughtering a beef for Christmas. The animal this time was a big ox. He was brought up in front of Sailes, who struck him between the eyes with hia right list and knocked him down. After cutting the ox’s jugular ho turned about to announce to the New Yorker that he was ready to accommodate him. hut that worthy was riding rapidly out tho lane, on his way hack to Now York. It is not related of him that he was particularly cruel to his slaves. But ha must have neen pranky with them. It is told that when they asked “Mas’ Gabriel” for a holiday he would ex claim: “Holiday, ye black rascals I Yes, ye shall luive holiday,” and would then compel them to climb up on top the barn and sit straddle of tho roof ridge all day. Twenty years ago a gen tleman, then 75 years old, told tho nar rator that his father, when a small boy, had seen tho negroes sitting a-straddlo the top of Gabriel Sailes’ barn like so many crows. But the most singular freak of this most extraordinary man was connected with his death and burial. He had his coffin made while yet alive. It was made of two inch white oak stuff, cut and sawed in the midnight hours in a grove of white oaks on a headland called the Devil’s Keep. The coffin was open at both ends. He directed—the writing is still extant—that “a jug of whisky bo placed in one end of the coffin and a plug of tobacco in the other, so that if i tho devil comes in at either end he will stop to take a chaw or a drink, and 1 1 will get out at the other. ” Most fantastic notion, hut it is said 1 that it was done for the purpose of showing what he thought of rum and ■ tobacco, of which he used to say, “They are a part of the devil’s diet and not fit for white men to use.” In the early part of this century the grave was open ed through tho 'curiosity of some skep tical people, who affected to disbelieve i tho story. Tho thick oak coffin was ; there, both ends of it were open, and j in one end was a jug. A record of tho I fact and tho findings was mado at the time. Another of the fantastic direc- ' tions was that the grave should be dug north and south instead of east and west and a holly tree planted at each J end. This was done. The hollies are llv- . ing yet—big venerable trees. He died j about 1760. i Whoever writes the biographical an nals of Talbot county and leaves ont mention of this remarkable man leave* his work incomplete. These are a few of the stories and anecdotes, some seri ous, some comical, tradition keeps alive from generation to generation. The farm where the dwelling of Sailes stood, now reduced to 140 acres, is Ascribed as the Sailes farm. The story 6f Gabriel Sailes has never been published in any form; I rather shonld say the stories about him have not. I cam find ont nothing about his nativity. Rune say he had been a Por tuguese sailor before settling in Talbot, but his great size would seem to con tradict that.—Baltimore Sun. Paris Compact Ratified by the Senate After Much Warm Discussion. BATTLE HAD ITS EFFECT Number of Vote* Heretofore Consid* erfd Doubtful Thought to Havo Been Influenced by the Engagement Before Manila. Washisotos, Fab. 6.—The treaty of peace with Spain was ratified by th» United States .anate today, tho com- MAJOR GENERAL OTIS. pact securing 3 more than the necessary. two-thirds majority. Before the senate convened the lead ers on both sides of the treaty mani fested great anxiety aud all seemed to be very much in doubt as to the final result, the ratification or rejection seem ing to depend upon several donbtfnl votes. It was known on Saturday that tho treaty could muster but 58 votes. Whether any other men had come over, influenced by the battle at Manila, re mained unknown to those managing the treaty, hut the hope was expressed that additional votes had been obtained. Several senators who were on the doubtful list of the friends of the treaty lined np soon after the session opened today. Senators Roach of North Da kota, Rawlins of Utah and Turner of Washington said that the battle of Ma nila had not changed their views and they would vote against the treaty. It was supposed by some that these sena tors might be influenced by reason of the fact that troops from their states were in the recent fight, hut they said that this would make no difference with them. Senator Allen of Nebraska mata a speech in the senate denying published statements that he would attack Sena tor Gorman for using the peace treaty as a means to defeat Bryan. He said he did not keep Mr. Bryan’s conscience and paid a warm tribute to that leader. He (Allen) was opposed to expansion, hut our duty now was to ratify the treaty. There was weeping in Ne braska today and he condemned the Filipinos as bloodthirsty savages, who had precipitated an attack on us. Seuator Platt of Connecticut said: “The senate ought not to neglect or refuse to do a thing that will save the lives of our soldiers or make clear their right to fight back, if they are iu dan ger of being tuassacreed while their hands are tied by our failure to do a plain and necessary duty.” ENGLISH PRESS_COMMENT. Loudon Papers 8ny the Filipinos Have Made u Fatal Blunder. London, Feb. 6.—Tho afternoon news papers here agree that the Filipinos have made a fatal error and say they are coaviuced the Americana will not allow the trouble to influence their policy. The Pall Mall Gazette says: “Aguinaldo and his mefl have not dis played a clear conception of the Ameri can character. We take it for granted that there will be no looking backward now until America has plowed a Phil ippine furrow right through, although the job is likely to be long and trouble- some. ” The Globe says: “America’s mistake has been in at-, tempting to perform a big job with small means. Now that this h*s lead to the customary copacqueuces it may be safely assumed that the United States will place such au overpowering force in the field as to heat down any opposi tion.” « Insurgents Attack Manila. Washington, Feb. 6. — Admiral Dewey cabled the navy department today as follows: “Insurgents have attacked Manila. The Boston leaves t&day for Iloilo to re lieve the Baltimore, which will retnra to Manilla. Two men wounded yea^. terday on board Monadnock, one seafr ously.” ^ Army officers believe Dewey’s dia- patch received today a belated cable gram. while naval officers believe juafc the opposite, that it refers to a second engagement. Otis Controls tbe Situation. New York, Feb. 6.—The Evening World today prints tbe following dia- S itch from Manila, signed by General tis: “We control situation. Engagement, which continned for the 24 hours end* ing last evening, was satisfactory." 1 i* * Only an Outpost Skirmish. '< Hong-Kono, Feb. 6.—The Filipino junta here baa issued a statement aat- ting forth >at the fighting at waa only at- outpost skirmish designed to influence the vote in the Uinted States senate today on tha peace treaty. \v . ;r: —