BY M.T.CALDOR.
MTCJWMTIONM. MM ASSOCIATMMk ! '
■■
% • -i \
CHAPTER IX.—(CoimscBD.)
' "tfod bless you, sir. If ever Cbarle
OjinlhWood can serve your son, bellev
me, It shall be done. Heaven will re
|v urArd you."
^iThis was Hr. Vernon’s parting wit!
tW admiral. Both were conscious of i
m&tle, ‘ mysterious : whisper, telllm
thank' it was their last meeting on cart!
■—and so It was.
That of falter and Eleanor was stll
more brief. The young hero forced bad
the wild tumult that clamored eagerl;
to ask of her one promise to remaii
faithful, and pallid and calm, held ou
Ills hand, saying earnestly:
"Hay heaven bless you with all thi
happiness it has for earth! Good-bye
■Hie.”
8he had come weeping and sobblnt
from his father's embrace. The blue
•yes had drenched with their briny rain
the soft rose of her cheek to a faded
*|!te; the sweet lips quivered sadly.
Walter’s eye took in all, yet he said
only:
\ "Good-bye, Ellie!”
Eleanor had no voice to reply. Part
ing thus from the only friends she had
•ver* known, with but a vague, unsatii
! factory hope of some time, somewhere
meeting them again, quite prostrated
her sensitive temperament. Weeping,
fainting, nearly broken-hearted, her
vncl^'. carried her In his arms back to
the cabin, while Walter, with dry., burn'
Ing eyh and rigid lip, descended swiftly
to tM^oat that was to take them back
to the 'Hornet.'
In ftyent grief his father took a place
beaidjJhlm. The word was given to cast
off, when suddenly the admiral himself
appeared above, leaping over the rail
ing and calling Walter’s name. He
threw down a ring wrapped In a slip
of pap?r. Walter grasped It nervously.
Full'welt jbo.knew the rlnc;,jpany a
time lad Elite brought ttettrtflfcee the
sparkles play in the sunshtae that cause
flickering through the Hibiscus and
palm-trees; but he stopped not to exam
ine Wsnew, but spread out the paper ff>
fead the brief line written there. Hur
tled ,-blottid as they were, no diamond
In England or India could be so precious
to Walter Vernon, though they wore
onlyftjeee: "I shall wait for you, Wal
Wniter's face was covered by his
handfc but the straight, shapely Angers
coultppot hide the tears that at length
oameepouring through them
• ■% ■ ■ --- '
CHAPTER X.
M-* «■
ivm years after the
‘Hornet"* and ‘Col
lin Wood’ parted
company upon the
ocean, was gathered
In merrle England,
at a famous gallery
of paintings in
London, a fashion
able crowd—the
living tide swaying
to and fro, yet lin
fsruiveier, some cor Ana ow sane,
and pojne from obedience to * more ty
mnnjMnr mistress—rashlon—st a group
of piQfunM which bore the mark of a
■Sw^eulus, whose star had but lately
ahohjsp brilliantly on the aky of fame.
Vmkh ^-aeat not far from theae pfct
nreaVdata gentleman, whose foreign
doafcand slouch hat nearly concealed
his Me and figure; only the brilliant,
>ly black eye roving restlessly
drowd, and the glossy black
\& shading:* the* scornful lip,1
'were visible. There was a tistlera lan
gwr In his attitude that seemed belied
by the keen attentiveness of his glance.
Suddenly the eye sparkled In earnest at
“ sties, and quite unconsciously he
dWgerly forward. A gay party
ng by floated toward hint the sound,
flf a wbtl-known name. t v
“La^r Bleanor OolUnwood—pray tell
ms In what direction you saw her?"
•shed eagerly an arlstoeraUjSTtqoklng
gentleman. 1
"Ah, them tt is," spiritedly replied i'
brilliant-looking girl, twisting her
gaarl and gold opera glass' affectedly,
"yon are no exception to the general
rule. Viscount Somerset, the attrac
tions of our new star outweigh all oth
ers. Were she hot as lovely in charac
ter as la person, I should be jealous of
her, bat as It Is, cs* must acquiesce
gracefully. I give you full permission
to leave us and find her. We saw her
la thd^rcarrlage with Lady Annabel
and Sflr Manus Willoughby.^
"Upon my .weed. Lady Jsors, you are
as.keea and sharp ss the frosty air of
W November day, I assure yon rI
•fit present company agreeable, enough
twgme here until we meet or over-'
the Collin woods. I have a message
Lady A,nn»bel from the admiral,
mix at Bath;' By\he v&y, f
fancied I discovered a likeness In that
beautiful girl on the canvas yonder to
Idtf Bleanor. This Vernon keeps so
private gg Mm knows abeht kim. ger
*£>• »«»jSitwwwS^2o^r
gsttat Inspired him t»go graadmn
ghy talkers chattered on, un
Of the eagfr listeners behind
*t length came s stir of expecta
-• v-iSd -*»
*‘JbL • .
they come, Somerset. So
MMtd of onto follows, yon’l
little chance for conversation
wonderful is the sway Lady Anna
i over all hearts, with her paU
face and gentle dignity! Sec
Dnko of B-Is talking with hei
W over doubted she might be i
duchess any day? put never was wife
so faithful and devoted to a husband’s
memory as she. How she must have
loved him!”
"Duchess! Tes, she might have had
her choice of two or three coronets at
the least Everybody' knows hpw our
best and noblest men have sued in vain.
She wins almost as much admiration as
her daughter now."
“Hush, they will hear you! Good af
ternoon." .- .
"A One day. Lady Annabel. I have a
word for you from Bath."
The muffled figure bent forward yet
farther. How the eye glittered with a
lustre feverish and unnatural!
"Lady Annabel Colllnwood, Eleanor’s
mother!”
At the very name came the flood of
old emotion, sweeping away the breast*
work that for five years of strenuous
toil, of stupendous exertion, had been
closely guarded, lest a single wave*
should overleap the restraining barrier.
No1 wonder Walter Vernon—Signor
Vernoni he had allowed the Italians to
call him, and the name came with his
fame to England—no wonder he 'gazed
with breathless Interest as the group1
advanced, to see. for the first time Lady
Annabel Colllnwood! * s , *
He could have selected her frCm af
crowd of ladies as fair and graceful as.,
sher—a slender, pale-faced woman, with ]
a well-bred, quiet grace, deep, mournful
eyes—not like Eleanor’s, blue and
.sunny, but dim and dark as the mid- 'l
night sea, carrying with her a name-!
Imh, Invisible apd yet .potent atmos- j
phere of refinement and purity. This I
he saw at first, but a second look show-!
. nim nwnes«of light C^rruscatlng
«v«r the dim iris, af)d making the eye
resplendent; waves of rich thought
breaking over the symmetrical features,
and glorifying them with; Ugh*, and
shade qf eloquent meaning; smiles rare
and seldom, blit wonderful and magical
when they came, arching Into beauty
the Ups that were Eleanor's own. He
felt at once the spell by which Lady
Annabel still swayed all hearts, al
though more than forty years had pass
ed over her smooth, fair forehead. She
was leaning lightly upon the duke’s
arm, but her attention was given to the
young viscount, who was relating in his
lively way the meeting with the cour
teous admiral.
The tall figure and massive head of
tho noble duke concealed the couple
who Walked behind, and Walter was
obliged to wait until Lady Annabel and
i *»er companion turned to the pictures
before he beheld her for whom his hdart
had sighed so long.
i
t
a
b
e
c
n
6
c
li
li
t
l!
h
k
t
P
Eleanor was only sixteen when they
parted upon the far-off Pacific. Five
years, replete with the important
change from girlhood to womanhood,
had passed—would she seem the same?
His beating heart nearly suffocated
him as Walter once more gazed upon
Lady Eleanor Colllnwood,
Ah, the relief!—It was still hts Ellie,
though the youthful grace and beauty
had ripened into matured perfection—
though the slender form had grown
more stately, and the girlish dlffl.dence
had merged Into a calm, Belf-poBsessed
dignity—a well-bred grace that the Is
land experience could never have given
her. Still the soft blue eyes wore their
guileless look of pleading Innocence;
the sweet Ups dimpled with the very
■mile poor Tom had so often compared
to the first sunbeam that glistened
through the cloud over the sea; when
the ''Petrel" lay a wreck among the
reefs.
How swiftly his pulse leaped, his eye
burned! Would that smile ever beam
for him again? Not a breath of Intelli
gence had passed between them since
their parting; for all he knew she might
have forgotten his very existence. He
could teat it speedily.. And then, with
Jealous rage, the unknown artist turned
to her companion, on whose handsome
face so plainly was written his devoted
admiration. There was a manly, high,
bred air about him that pierced poor
Walter like a sword. He was good, he
was noble, he eras worthy of her—that
could be read ait a glance. No wonder
she listened eo graciously to his anima
ted words. ‘ ' *• vu v> •
v
fl
P
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e
f
s
fl
a
tl
tl
y
n
ti
tl
I
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0
y
a
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wua a atmed groan Walter turned t
away. Duke, marquis, noble lord— I
whichever he was, he had a right to
offer hie homage and suit; but for the
plebeian painter, where was there any
hope, any plea whereby to win the favor „
of that high-born, aristocratic mother,
even though Eleanor herself were true
to that voluntary, promise—"1 will ;
watt for you"T '4 •
The black folds of Lady Annabel's *
dress swept across his feet, sad while J
the hot- blood mounted his cheeks Wal- 1
ter bent his head, as though his pro- *
sumptuous thoughts were laid bare be- 1
fore that sad, dark eye. ' *, J 1
Then a single word In Eleanor's well- 1
known voice came to his ear—it was *
hurried, agitated, vehement. So weH 1
he understood every tone of that be
loved'Voice. he knew Something bad
startled her, and yet she had spoken i
hut ohe word—"Mother!" * c
"What is It, sty lovet" asked Lady i
Annabel, turning' at qnce where her t
daughter, alternately flushing and pal- '
tuff. Stood before the famous pictures <
that had won so much attention,! They
were evidently champion pictures, rep
resenting the same scene by daylight 1
and at midnight—a high, steep point «
of land. Jutting out into the tea, whoa# i
■ i i 4 i t i "m a
surf beat In frothy petulance again*
the reef. The feathery palm-tree cano
py and gorgeous vines whose brilliant
blossoms lay like garlands over the
volt* loe ix-trp'.e-l lie tropic clime
no more plainly than the intense blue
of the over-arching sky. Nature wai
Inexpressibly lovely, but the gazer's
eye was caught and riveted by the hu
man figures. A young girl, graceful
and beautiful, was seated there like a
queen upon her throne, and beside her,
nearly at her feet, reclined a youth
whose countenance was partially con
cealed as he was looking up eagerly in
to her face, which wore a wild, sor
rowful, yearning look, as her eyes and
extended hand pointed to the far-bS
line where sky and water met. Not
one could gaze upon the picture and not
know the whole was not yet compre
hended—the story not half told.
•• *vr. \ --—— ■- 1 UL
T? fci'-Vvjw ? CHAPTER XI,«
its companion was
dark In the back
ground—a dim sky
and stars showing
faintly the outline
of embowering tree;
but upon the rock,
Instead of , lfs
queen, blazed' a
bonfire that lit Up
1 luridly the ■ foamy
sea, ana care, a
ruddy gleam to three figures waiting
near—the youth and maiden and tall,
srrave man, who were all gazing off
vilh a wild Intensity of expression that
save a gloomy look to every face over
he water. *' '* •
"Ah, the pictures!” aald Sir Clement
Vllloughby. “l have looked at them
ull an hour before, to-day, They ere.
hrllling, are they not? I must seek
mt the artist; it will be an honor for
ay man to know him. That midnight
b superb." 1 ' - 11• '
Eleanor stood with wild eyes that
ould not drink in eagerly enough the
Id familiar scene. Now the blue orbs
lindled joyfully, and again the. tears
ame welling over them. Iff*? f
"Oh, Walter, Walter?” cried fo a
one of anguish that startled all and
hrllled one heart with Joy.
"What ails you, Eleanor!^ tier
lother anxiously. ! ?J|Tg \
^Oh, mamma, take me hoine, an'd^et
■ come alone. I must dee tWiddtiires
The ladies and gantlepaea gathered
round her looked astonished and em
arrassed.
‘‘R”t ipny chlJd.” Bald . her mother
ravely, “we do not understand; you
we the company some word, of expla
a'lon."
Eleanor struggled for composure, and
ropping her veil over the flushed
Seek and tearful eyes, Bald more col'*
ictedly:' ■ i ■,
“I was taken by surprise. It Is our
iland home, mamma, and that ie Wal
ir and Mr. Vernon and myself,. Oh,
lose well-known scenes—it breaks my
eart to go back to them, and yet to
now nothing of the friends who shared
lem with me!. It was Walter who
ainted the pictures. Oh, I am sure it
as Walter! I must see him—I must
nd him.” .
Lady Annabel -turned hastily to tho
Ictures, while a look of pain and an
oyanee swept across her face. She was
Hdently revolving some subject care
llly In her mind, for after the first
wlft glance she dropped her eyes to (he
oor.
Sir Clement Willoughby was re^eg?
mining the pictures, more especially
ȣ first one. His eye wandered ques
onlngly over the graceful form of the
suth at the feet of the island queen,
nd when he turned to the other It was
i catch what knowledge he could from
ie aide glimpse of the boyish face.
•TO MR CONTINCBO. I
v *. o J »* ■ \ ' ** <r 2 | .
Horaen Will Bcrnaln. ^ “
The horseless age is a long way ofT.
; is out of sight, and Is likely to re- >
tain so, notwithstanding the arrival
t the bicycle and the motor wagon,
fhen the reaper was Invented, pesai
dsts foretold the starvation pf the
grlcultural laborer. The sewlug ma
rine was bitterly fought by people
ho saw nothing In store for the seam
:resa. The world to-day knows the
ssults. It is true that electric street
illways have dispensed with the serv
:e of many thousand horses and that
re bicycle has decidedly Injured the
very buslneas, and yet It Id a fact
rat -.the export trade la American
orsos Is making «taat strides forward,
he, experts, tor# 1896. just compiled,.
re $3,000,000 In value—about twice
rat of 1S94. Europe will keep on
uytng American horses, * and ’the
quine whieh at home has survived
competition of the steam railroad
Od *the trelfeyH|» wl« hold tts!b*tt
rlth the ’‘bike’’ and the horseless'
'agon. Horses will be cheaper, Jusft
■ watekhd pre cheaper’mow than for
merly, that is all.'—New' Yotk Journal.
I
, Pirared Water la H:a Boot*.
The itev. Leonard B.' Worth of the
taptlet church has begun a suit for
ivorce from Elvira W. Worth In Ok
thoma,. f'ha clergyman alleges that
Is wife asked trim to deed-all of his
roperty to her and made threats that
■ he did not ehe would not live with
lm, vbut would make it hot for
11 his life. On one occasiod, he says,
he filled his Sunday boots with water.
Brotherly Lm. *■
Love is the only recognizable ele
ment of power in this world. Every
ne who has grown beyond childish
issb of heart and mind acknowledges
hat the only thing which makes life
rorth living is the good we can do for
there.—Rev. C. J. Wood.
“Jaysam Brown” of Kansas seems
ass eccentric when you analyse It, and
liscover that it is only a blame fool
ray of writing “James Samuel.”
POINTEBTOFABMEBS
WHY THE PRICE OF PRODUCE
IS SMALL.
Mtlnani by a Practical Farmer Which
j I* Worthy of tha Consideration ol
Every Tiller of the doll—Condition
j nod Theory.
I StiS-zik**1 *' ‘ • V’ • W' ‘
I = -'This subject *may be answered to per
; feet i satisfaction, If people will only
j look at tacts., :A practical farmer once
j said be would rather own a good farm
j In the vicinity of a mine .than to own
j the mine. He said. if. the mine, was
j worked be could: make more .money
i selling produce to the miners than'the
. owner of the, mine could make; that If
the mine was not worked it was not
worth anything, and he could always
make a living out of his farm.
This statement of this practical far
mer is worthy of serious consideration.
The farmer can always do well if there
Is a demand for his produce. When he
makes a crop he wants somebody to
buy it. Look now at the facts; if the
mills and factories are not running,
the mines are less woSked. If the
mills and factories are Idle many other
industries stop. Activity in manufac
turing begets activity In many other
things; . railroads, steamboats and
Wagons all have more to do; merchants
have more to do; everybody has more
to do. The more there Is to do the
more people are employed to do It
All whq are employed get wages. What
they get they can pay out for what
they want. The more people there are
at work and getting pay the more mon
ey la in hand ready to be expended for
the farmer’s produce. *
i But some one will say all ;these peo
ple have to live anyway and have to
be fed. Yes but this difference ap
pears;;: People may live very economi
cally and eheap; they would like to
live better, but they have no money
unless they have work, and they do on
Just as little as possible. A family can
live, If one member gets as much as a
dollar a day, but if two or three mem
bers of the family each gets two dol
lars a day that family will live Just
that much better.
Some will now say It is extravagant
for people to live liberally—that they
ought to be economical and all that.
Lot the man who says this reflect on
how much his family expends. He per
haps thinks hie Income of one, two, or
three, or five thousand dollars a year
is little enough. Why does he not live
on a dollar a day?
The truth is it is but a natural privi
lege that a man wants when he wants
to live better than merely keeping
alive. If the people can get good pay
it la their privilege to want to use it
for home comforts. A man naturally
wants his wife and children to have
some of the good things of life—a car
pet, rocking chair, some books, some
nice clothes. Nobody wants to be
cramped down to the bare necessities
of life.
If people have work they will live
more liberally and in greater com
fort, and thereby they will spend more
money, and the farmer will have more
people to sell to, and get more money
for what he has to sell.
Now, we had Just as well try to make
water run up hill as to try to have
busy factories in the country without
protection to our American industries.
Free trade saye the people of the old
world can make all sorts of goods and
bring, thein to this country free of
jflpty, If that Is done of course the
people of this country will be out of
jn Job. ty^at our people want Is the
Job, TJiey want the work.
. Free trade says ,let any man have
tha. Job, io matter what country he
lives in. ’ Protection says we will give
work to out own people. We will run
factories and mills fn this country, and
this will open the mines, and thie will
make work for railroads and’'steam
boats and wagons .'and everybody else
will have more to do. -' Men will have
to be employed and they will get pay,
and they will have money to spend for
the farmer’s produce. ,
The pitiful cry of the free trader fs
that a man ought to be allowed to buy
hie clothes for Just as little as possible.
Suppose It would bo true that protec
tion would cause a man to give a lit
tle more for his coat, and cause a
farmer to give a little more for his
plow, or a rake, what does this amount
to when a man has work at good wages
and the farmer has somebody to sell
Vs stUll to? afti.usioai-I ; . A ■
Is it not perfectly plain that the in
terest* of the farmer and the mechanic
are just the same. The farmer wants
more money for his wheat. Why does
not somebody say the mechanic wants
to buy his flour just as cheap as he can
get it? What comfort is that to the
farmer?'
The fartner wants good prices, the
manufacturer wants good prices, the
mechanic wants good prices, everybody
wants good prices. Free trade, by
taking the work out of our own hands,
strikes a blow at all alike.
' Tut protection duties on foreign man
ufactures and give our own people a
chance to work is the policy of protec
tion. We want division of labor in our
country. While seme raise crops, oth
ers want to work in factories. This
will make a home market, and it will
not only give work and employment to
our people, but raise the price of prod
uee. The whole case Uee In the simple
fact that free trade gives the work to
the hundreds of people who live in the
old world and takes It away from our
own people.
It was the free trade vote of 1892
that caused what the platform adopted
by the recent convention In this city
called “cessation of our prosperity.’’
Instead of that condition being tracea
ble to any conduct of the republican
party it is traceable directly to the
panic produced when this country
voted for free trade. It is part of the
work of the republican party to rectify
that tremendous mistake.—Louisville
Commercial.
Brltlnh Prosperity.
Qreat Britain is enjoying an era of
unexampled prosperity. The mills and
workshops of England are ablaze with
activity and wage-earners are content
edly employed. We hear no more of
bread riots on Trafalgar square and
the walking delegate has been si
lenced.
The transition from pinching want
and spiritless idleness to copious
plenty and lively employment is coin
cident with the gradual operation of
the Wilson free trade bill. Although
it may be entirely unrelated to it, the
fact is, that English mills were closed
and English- workmen idle while the
McKinley bill was on the statute
book; now the mills are going and the
workmen are employed and we have
the Wilson bill and general stagnation.
Give the English manufacturer a
free and practically unrestricted mar
ket in this greatest and most vora
cious consuming country and he will
keep his workmen busy. By the same
license the American manufacturer is
forced to close his mills and throw out
of employment his workmen, This is
not a theoretical platitude; it is a pon
derous verity which is being illustrat
ed most vividly by contrast between
England and America at this writing.
What has the silver question to do
with the premises? Absolutely noth
ing. Industry has revived in England
because England has found a market
for her wares and manufactures. In
dustry is paralyzed in this country be
cause England is making and selling
here the wares and manufactures we
ought to make for ourselves. It is as
FREE COINAGE,
Rut. Or. BacHij yaorn Ola ElptrlHf
aa an Illustration.
Rev. Dr. J. M. Buckley, editor of the
New York Christian Advocate, in con
ducting a “Question Drawer” at the
Lake Chautauqua Assembly a day oi
two ago grappled with the silver ques
tion. Following is the question sent to
him and his answer:
Q.—What would be the probable ef
fect on missionary enterprises if free
coinage of silver were to become a law
of the United States?
A.—It would instantly or very
speedily reduce die incomes of the for
eign missionaries or it would compel
the raising of a vast amount more
money. The salaries of all foreign mis
sionaries have to be paid in gold. Re
cently in India the silver rupee has
diminished in value to such an extent
that one denomination has been com
pelled to make great additions to its
budget in order to equalize the sala
ries of missionaries in that country. I
know of a denomination with whose
affairs I am familiar that sends about
$800,000 in gold from this country every
year to foreign missionaries. Under
free coinage, if silver became more and
more our money, and we had to take
contracts on a silver basis, you can
readily see what the effects would be.
When I first went to Europe, it was
during the civil war: I had to go, and
I said to a man, go to Boston and buy
me six hundred dollars worth of gold.
He went and came back. Had net
bought any. He said that gold had
gone up to 1.20 and that he did not
want to waste.my money like that. I
said to him, go and chase it ard get it.
He went, and the next night came
back and reported that it had gone up
to 1.35, and that he certainly did not
want to waste my money at that rate.
I said I must have it, even if you can
only bring back one hundred dollars,
bring it. By that time it had gone up
to 1.50. When I got over to the Other
side I discovered that gold had not
risen at all, but that greenbacks—the
legal tender in this country—had gone
lo-wn. [Voice in the audience—that is
right.] While there I had to borrow
some money, and I made the contract
to pay it back in gold after I had re
r.». * •
A POSER FOR GROVER.
' 'rfZ7? T:' <Vj - : --
1
LI HUNG CHANG—But why shut out Chinese labor at one door and admit
the products of Chinese labor at the other door?
plain as the alphabet and yet the eil
verites are yelling for more free trade
and for free coinage of silver in the
same breath.
It is not pleasant for an American
to contemplate this marked condition
with the condition presented in 1891
and 1892. He feels like kicking him
self and everybody else for being de
ceived by the free trade cry of ’92 and
opening our markets to Great Britain
to our everlasting injury. To .him the
tariff is the great issue in this cam
paign, notwithstanding the emotional
ists are barking up the free coinage
tree. Therefore he will vote for a re
turn of the industrial prosperity which
in 1892 he helped to give to our great
rival across the sea.—Detroit Journal.
Japan for Instance.
Japan has a silver currency, and the
wages paid in that country are very
low. The money in which the wages
of laborers are paid, being measured
by the silver standard, has steadily
shrunk in value during recent years.
In 1889 sugar was about 2% cents per
pound in. Japan, a carpenter’s wages
were 15 cents a day; in 1891 sugar had
advanced to a trifle over 3 cents per
pound, while carpenters’ wages had
gone up to 15% cents a day; in 1894
sugar was 3% cents per pound, carpen
ters’ wages 17% cents per day. In oth
er words, a week’s wages in 1889 would
buy 36 pounds of sugar; in 1891, 31
pounds; in 1894, 29 pounds. WageB
have nominally increased, but the
prices of commodities have increased
so much more rapidly that the condi
tion of the wage earner has been con
stantly getting worse. Under the sil
ver standard in Japan, rice advanced
in price 62 per cent from 1889 to 1895;
beans, 39 per cent; salt, 26 per cent, and
tobacco, 48 per cent. The average-in
crease in wages was about 14 per cent
for the same period. Japan’s currency
has been steadily depreciating under
the silver standard, the common people
growing poorer.
AmnrtieBk.
The populists continue to assert that
there was bimetallism and the co-equal
circulation of gold and silver as legal
tenders down to “the crime of 1873.“
Yet in all that time only 8,000,000 sil
ver dollars were coined, and in 1873
not a silver dollar was in circulation.
The act of 1873 simply recognized the
fact of its non-existence as currency.
Since that act upwards of 400,000,000
silver dollars have been coined, and
they are kept in circulation by the de
vice of silver certificates and the prom
ise of the government to maintain
them at a parity with gold. But with
the free coinage of silver on private
account this obligation would cease,
and those who should receive the sil
ver dollars in payment of wages or
salaries or debts would have to look
out for themselves
turned. Now, mark; at time I bor
rowed, gold was selling in the United
States at 1.66, and in less than six
months after I came back I had to pay
2.22 for it; and it had been up and
down according to our success or de
feat In the war.
Can a National Silver Trait Work a
Miracle?
Ques.—Is there any probability that
silver would be doubled in price by thig
nation declaring 53 cents worth of sil
ver to be a dollar?
• Ans.—No. Prices are fixed by trusts
for biit a brief time. Cost determines
price. When the two metals were at a
parity before at 15% to 1, Germany
and Austria were on a silver basis, the
mints of India were open, and the
Latin union and the United States were
bimetallic. By and by silver began to
be mined at less cost, better processes
struck richer veins of ore and the price
of silver fell. We cannot keep butter
in the relation to calico which it bore
50 years ago. We remember when
butter was at 5 to 1 as compared with
calico; but to-day calico is at 5 to 1 asi
compared with butter. The changed
ratio of butter to calico is due not to
the gold bug, but to the fact that the
labor of man now has more to do with
producing a pound of butter than witli
producing a yard of calico. Steam
and water power now weave cloth, but
they can’t weave cows. But the de
cline in the cost of silver and in the
price of silver, making it a more bulky
value-backing for currency, has been
accompanied by the alienation of the
bulkier metal by European nations
who persist, despite the efforts of the
lie ited States to promote a larger
monetary use of silver. Not only Eng
land, but France, Germany and Aus
tria have gone to gold. The Indian
Sound Sanaa About Sound Money. , ,
No matter bow sound our money may
be it will not conduce to our prosper
ity so long as its principal mission is
to pay the foreign manufacturers for
goods that ought to have been manu
factured in our own country; so long
as the chief avenue of its expenditure
points away from instead of towards
home. Four years ago onr money was
also active. It paid to American woik
ingmen the highest average wage they
bad ever received; it kept our indus
tries busy turning out the largest pro
duction they had ever known; it moved
the wheels of commerce in all direc
tions, caused the largest known con
sumption of the products of our farms
and, in short, brought to every legiti
mate interest in the United States a
degree of prosperity without previous
parallel. This it did because it was
backed by systematic and uniform pro
tection. We need to get back those fa
vorable conditions. We shall not ba
prosperous until we do.—The Scrantoa
(Pa.) Tribune. July 29. 1896.
