INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
CHAPTER XXIX.—(Continued. 1
“What la that to you?” said he
troughly. “I hare many things to do
~whic}r you oannot understand."
“And there are things which I can
"Understand,” returned Marjorie quiet
ly. Then she showed him the letter
"which she had received, and asked
•calmly, “Is this true?”
Caussidiere took the letter and lead
It with a scowl; when he had done so
'.lie tore it up and scattered the pieces
•on the floor.
“Leon,” said Marjorie, “Is it true?”
“Tee,” he returned. “My friend,
'Mademoiselle Seraphine, is entertain
ing and my wife is not; when a man
■has a little leisure, he does not seek
^the society of the dullest companion of
Ills acquaintance.”
He quietly went on eating his break
fast, as if the subject were at an end.
Tor a while Marjorie watched him, her
■face white as death; then she went to
3iim and knelt at his feet.
“Leon,” she said, in a low, trembling
•voice, “let us forget the past; maybe
ft has been my fault; but, indeed, I
merer meant it, dear. I have been so
lonely and so sad, and I have been
'kept apart from you because I thought
■you wished it, and—yes—because you
.sometimes seemed so angry that I
.grew afraid!”
She tried to take his hand, but he
■thrust her aside.
“Do you think thi3 is the way to
■win me back?” he said: “It is more
•likely to drive me away, for, look you,
2 dislike scenes and I have business
which demands that I keep cool. There,
•dry your eyes and let me finish my
-meal in peace."
At that time nothing more was said,
hut once he was free of the house,
•Caussidiere reflected over what had
taken place. He was in sore trouble
as to what he must do. To abandon
Marjorie meant abandoning the goose
which laid him golden eggs, for vjjth
-out the supplies which Miss Hetkering
ton sent to her daughter, where would
•Caussidiere be?
One afternoon, as be was about to
return home in no very amiable frame
-of mind, an incident occurred which
aroused in his mind a feeling not ex
actly of jealousy, but of lofty moral in
dignation. He saw, from -he window
•of a shop where he was making a pur
Achase, Marjorie and little Leon pass
Jr by In company with a young man
' whom he recognized at a glance. He
•crept to the door, and looked after
them, scarcely able to believe his eyes.
Yes, it was real! There were Mar
jorie and little Leon walking side by j
side with young Sutherland, his old j
bete noir from Scotland.
Half an hour later, when he reached
home, he found Marjorie tiuietly seated
in the salon.
“Leon!” cried Marjorie, startled by
Mis manner, “is anything tbc matter?”
He did not answer, but glared at her
with growing fury.
She repeated her question. He was
sstill silent. Then, as she sat trembling,
he rose, crossed over, and put his fierce
lace close to hers.
“Let me look at you. Yes, I see!
You are like your mother, the
He concluded with an epithet too
•coarse for transcription.
She sprang up, pale as death.
“What have I done?” she cried.
“Do you think I am a fool—tfiind?
Do you think I do not know who it is
you go to meet out there? Speak!
Answer! How often have you met
him?”
And he shook his clinched fist in her
lace.
“Do you mean my old friend, John
nie Sutherland?” she returned, trem
bling. "Oh, Leon, I was so glad to see
him; he is so kind—I have known him
«o long. I saw him one day by chance,
nnd since then-”
“Yet you said nothing to me!"
"It was often on my tongue, but I
was afraid. Oh, Leon, you are not
angry with me for speaking to an old
lrlend?”
The answer came, but not in words.
■Uttering a fierce oath, and repeating
the savage epithet he had used before,
he struck her in the face with all his
loroe, and she fell bleeding and swoon
ing upon the floor.
Chapter xxx.
HE mask of kind
ness having once
f a lien, Caussidiere
did not think it
worth while to re
sume it; and from
that day forth he
completely neglect
ed both Marjorie
and her child. The
supplies from Miss
H e therington hav
ing temporarily ceased, Marjorie was
mo longer necessary to him; indeed, he
was longing to be free, and wondering
what means he should adopt to obtain
Site end.
If Marjorie would only leave him and
return to her friend in Scotland the
' matter would be Simple enough, but
this she did not seem inclined to do.
She thought of her child; for his sake
she still clung to the man whom she be
lieved to be her husband. ■
Thus matters gtood. for a week, when,
one day, Caussidiere, when within a
few yards of his own door, saw n man
-emerge from !•? and walk quickly down
the street,.
Caussidiere caught his breath and a
very ugly look came into his eyes; the
man was none other than the one
whom he had strictly forbidden his
wife to see—John Sutherland!
After a momentary hesitation he en
tered the house and walked straight to
the sitting-room, where he found Mar
jorie.
She had been crying. At sight of
her husband she dried her eyes, but
she could not hide her sorrow.
“What are you crying for?” lie ask
ed roughly.
“It is nothing, Leon,” she returned.
“It’s a lie; you can’t deceive me as
well as defy me.”
“Defy you!”
“Yes, defy me. Didn’t I forbid you
ever again to seek the company of that
accursed Scotchman?”
“Yes,” she returned, quietly, “and I
obeyed you. I saw him once again to
tell him we must not meet—that was
all.”
“I tell you you are a liar!”
Her face flushed crimson.
“Leon,” she said, "think of the child:
say what you please to me, but let us
be alone.”
one took tne mgntenei cniid by tne
hand, and was about to lead him from
the room, when Caussldiere interposed.
“No,” he said; “I shall say what
I please to you, and the child shall
remain. I tell you you are a liar—
that man was here today—don’t trou
ble yourself to deny it; I saw him leave
the house.”
“I do not wish to deny it,” st»« re
turned. “Yes, he was here.”
The tears had come into her eyes
again; she passed her arm around the
shoulders of the boy, who clung trem
blingly to her.
“Why was he here?” continued Caus
cidiere, furiously.
“He came here to say goodby. He
is going to Scotland—his father is dy
ing.”
She bowed her head and' laid her
lips on the forehead of her child.
“Why did you not go with him?”
She raised her head and looked at
him with weary, sorrowful eyes.
“Why did I not go?” she said. "Ah’,
Leon, do not ask me that—is it the
duty of a wife to leave her husband
and’her child?”
“Her husband!" he said, with a
sneer. “Ah, well, since you are meased
to put it so, your husband gives you
permission, and for the brat, why, you
may take him, too.”
“Leon!”
“Well?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I say, mon amle, t generally
do!”
“You wish me to leave you?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I think you would be better in Scot
land, and I should be better free.”
Again she looked at him In wonder.
What did it all mean? She could not
believe that he was speaking the truth.
He had been dining perhaps, and
drinking too much wine—as he had
done so often of late—and he did not
know, what he said. Perhaps it would
not be well for her to provoke him, she
thought, so she said nothing. She
turned from her husband, took little
Leon in her arms and tried to soothe
him, for the child was trembling with
fear.
But Caussldiere was not to be sil
enced.
“Did you hear what I said?” he ask
ed.
‘•yes, L/ecn, i neara.
“Then heed!”
She rose from her seat, still keeping
the child in her arms, and again moved
toward the door.
“Let me put Leon to bed,” she said;
“he is very tired; then I will come
back and talk to you.”
“You will talk to me now, madame.
Put the child down. I tell you It will
be better for you if you do as I say.”
“To do what, Leon?” ehe demanded,
with quivering lips and streaming
eyes.
“To go back to your mother; to tell
her- that we do not agree, or any other
nonsense yon please, except the truth.
We are better apart. We have noth
ing in common. We belong to differ
ent nations—nations which,for the rest,
have always hated each other. So let
us shake hands and part company—
the sooner the better.”
The mask had fallen indeed! Poor
Marjorie read in the man’s livid face
not merely weariness and satiety, but
positive dislike, black almost as hate
itself. She clasped her child and utter
ed a despairing cry.
“You can’t mean it, Leon! No, no,
you don’t mean what you say!" she
moaned, sinking into a chair, and cov
ering her face with her hand.
“Mamma, mamma!” cried little Leon.
“Do not cry.”
She drew him convulsively to her,
and gazed again at Caussldlere. He
was standing on the hearth rug, look
ing at her with a nervous scowl.
' “It is useless to make a scene,” he
said. “Understand me once for all,
Marjorie. I want my freedom. I have
great work on hand, and I cannot pur
sue it rightly if encumhered by you."
“You should have thought of that be
fore,” she sobbed. “You used to love
n>£ God knows what has turned your
heart against me; But I am your wife;
nothing can part us' now.”
. .“Do you really deceive yourself so
mrohT” hr demands'1 coVdly, , “Then
hear the truth from me. You are m
wife of mine!"
"Not your wife!” she cried.
“Certainly not My mistress, if you
please, who has been suffered for a
time to wear my name; that !s all.”
She sprang up as if shot through the
heart, and faced him, pale as death.
“We are married! We stood togeth
er before the altar, Leon. I have my
marriage lines.”
“Which are so much waste paper,
my dear, here in Prance!”
Sick with horror and fear, she totter
ed to Mm and clutched him by the arm.
“Leon! once more: what do you
mean?”
“My meaning is very simple.” he re
plied; “the marriage of an English
woman with a French citizen is no
marriage unless the civil ceremony has
also been performed in France. Now,
do you understand?”
"I am not your wife! Not your
wife!” cried Marjorie, stupefied.
* Not here in France,” answered
Caussidiere.
“Then the child—our child?”
“Trouble not yourself about him,”
was the reply. “If you are reasonable
he can easily be legitimatized accord
ing to our laws; but nothing on earth
can make us two man and wife so long
as I remain on French soil."
He added coldly:
“And I have no intention of again
expatriating myself, I assure you.”
It was enough. Dazed and mystified
as she was, Marjorie now understood
plainly the utter villainy of the man
with whom she had to deal. She had
neither power nor will for furthei
words. She gave one long despairing,
horrified look into the man’s face, and
then, drawing the child with her, stag
gered into the inner room and closed
the door behind her.
Caussidiere remained for some time
in his old position, frowning gloomily.
For the moment he almost hated him
self, as even a scoundrel can do upon
occasion; but he thought of Seraphine
and recovered his self-possession. He
walked to the door, and listened; all
was still, save a low murmuring sound,
as of suppressed sobbing.
He hesitated a moment; then, set
ting his lips tight, he lifted his hat
and quietly descended the stalls.
When the great clock of our Lady
of Paris chimed forth five, Marjorie
still Bat in her room staring vacantly
into the grate. The room was bitterly
cold; the light of the candle was grow
ing dim before the more cheerless light
of dawn; the last spark of fire had died
away; and the child, wearied with
fatigue and fear, slept soundly in her
arms.
Marjorie, awakening from her trance,
was astonished to see the dawn break
ing, and to hear the chiming clocks
announce that another day had begun.
She looked for a moment into the
child's face, and as she did so her body
trembled, and her eyes filled with
tears.
“My poor little boy!” she sobbed;
“my poor little Leon!”
She laid him gently on the bed, and
let him sleep on. Then she tried to
collect her thoughts, and to determine
what she must do.
“Go back to Scotland?" No, she
could' not do that. She could not face
her old friends with this shame upon
her, and show them the child who
should never have been born. From
that day forth she must be dead to
them. What she could not undo she
must conceal.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Sheridan as an Orator.
After Richard Brisley Sheridan had
made his great speech in Westminstei
Hall, asking for the impeachment oi
Warren Hastings, Edmund Burke said:
He has this day surprised the thou
sands who hung with rapture on his
accent, by such an array of talents,
such an exhibition of capacity, such a
display of powers as are unparalleled
in the annals of oratory; a display that
reflected the highest honor on himself,
luster upon letters, renown upon par
liament, glory upon the country. Ol
all species of rhetoric, of every kind oi
eloquence that has been witnessed oi
recorded, either in ancient or modern
tlmeB, whatever the acuteness of the
bar, the dignity of the senate, the sol
idity of the judgment seat and the sa
cred morality of the pulpit, have hith
erto furhlshcd, nothing has equaled
what we have this day heard. No holy
seer of religion, no statesman, no ora
tor, no man of any literary description
whatever, has come up, in one instance,
to the pure sentiments of morality; or,
in the other, to that variety of knowl
edge, force of imagination, propriety
and vivacity of allusion, beauty ;tnd
elegance of diction, strength and' co
piousness of style, pathos and sublim
ity of conception, to which we ;this
day listened with ardor and admira
tion.
A Sore Sign,
"When a woman,” said the cornfed
philosopher, "says that she really be
lieves she is getting fat, and her hus
band retorts that it is because sh<
eats too much and doesn’t do enough
work, it is safe to presume that th«
honeymoon has ceased to her”—Savan
nah Bulletin.
So Sadden.
"Mr. Tilllnghast left me 550,000.” re
marked the interesting widow to young
Hilow. "My dear Mrs. Tlllinghast,’
replied Hilow, “you should husband
your resources." “Oh, Frank, dear, this
is too sudden. But are you really sur«
you love me?”—Odds and Ends.
The talent of success is nothing
more than doing what you can do well
and doing well whatever you do with
out a thought of fame.—Longfellow.
A bad epigram, like a worn-out jw
ell, has n« point U It
THK COST OF LIVING
HAS IT INCREASED
QUENCE OP NEW
IN CONSE
TARIFF?
Figure* Showing That While the Farmer
Has Obtained Better Prices for Hie
Products the Kxpense of Supporting a
Family Has Not Materially Advanced.
The enemies of protection are not of
one accord in their plan of campaign
against that popular American policy.
They light along different lines. Most
of them rely upon the simple assertion
that there Is no truth In the claim that
the present revival of business and
industrial activity is in any way the
result of protection; others deny that
there has been any return of prosperi
ty thus far, and insist that business
conditions have not improved, while
still others, realizing the folly of both
of the preceding contentions in the
face .of facts which contradict them,
admit the prosperity, and do not stren
uously gainsay that protection has had
somewhat to do with producing this
result, but take refuge behind the plea
that if protection has made times bet
ter it has also made prices higher and
greatly Increased the cost of living.
The Boston Herald is among the
free trade newspapers which struggle
hard to find a dark side to the prosper
ity picture. The Herald has been at
great pains to show that under protec
tion the cost of living haB been largely
increased, and that the principal sta
ples and necessaries are very much
higher than they were a year ago. As
usual, however, in such attempt to
make out a case, facts or no facts, a
vast amount of exaggeration and mis
statement are resorted to.
For example the Herald asserts
that ‘‘flour Is fully 55 per cent higher
than at the lowest point,, a year ago-”
Inquiry shows that on the date on
which this assertion was made patent
flour was quoted at $4.80 per barrel of
196 pounds, against $4.75 a year ago,
an advance of less than 1 per cent, and
not “55 per cent higher.”
The Herald states that "corn is 9
to 10 per cent higher, granulated su
gar over 17 per cent higher.”
On the day when these false figures
were given to the world corn closed at
32.37 centB, against 30.87 cents a year
before; less than 5 and not “10 per cent
higher,” and the advance on BugarB,
caused by a tariff of 3-10ths of a cent
per pound, made necessary by the in
crease of revenue called for in order
to meet the additional $11,490,000 of
anuual Interest on bonds issued by the
free trade administration to provide
for deficits In the revenue, is not “17
per cent,” but is 11.1 per cent on gran
ulated, 9.7 on crushed and 10.8 per
cent on raw sugar.
"Molasses” is 7 to 9 per cent higher,
says the Herald.
On that day Porto Rico molasses was
quoted at 28 cents, the same price as a
year ago.
“Pork is over 33% per cent higher.”
Mess pork was quoted at $8.25,
against $8.50 the previous year.
“Mutton Is over 25 per cent
higher.
Here is some truth, for the price of
mutton sheep has undergone a sharp
advance since the adoption of the tariff
on wool, and the sheep owners of the
United States are more than $100,000,
000 richer in consequence.
"Potatoes are more than 100 per cent
higher.”
me average or quotations tn tne
market was $1.85, against $1.06 a year
ago, an advance of 75 per cent and not
"more than 100 per cent," and the fact
is dishonestly suppressed that the dif
ference is wholly due to the failure of
the crop.
“Apples are more than 100 per cent
higher."
Apples, in fact, average $2, against
$1.03 per barrel a year ago, which is
not "over 100 per cent,” but again the
failure of this crop is dishonestly sup
pressed.
“Butter is more than 15 per cent
higher."
Best state butter was quoted at 20
cents, against 18 cents a year ago,
which is not more than “15 per cent
higher."
“Eggs are over 10 per cent higher."
The best state eggs were quoted nt
23 cents, against 26 cents a year ago,
which is lower, and not "over 10 per
cent higher."
“Wool is from 80 per cent to 100 per
cent higher, and the trade in woolen
goods Is struggling to get the prices of
of woolen cloths up to a par with wool.
Who is to pay for this increased cost
of woolen cloths?"
The average of 100 quotations of do
mestic wool was 20.73 cents, against
19.92 a year ago; which is 59 per cent
advance, and hot “from 80 to 100 per
cent higher.” JAlso, the truth is dis
honestly suppressed that woolen cloths
were selling only 14.1 per cent higher
than a year ago, taking the average of
many representative goods of standard
grades, and that the cost of made-up
clothing had not yet advanced at all.
When the people do pay a higher price
for clothing they will pay it for the
restoration of work and prosperity toJ
more than a million people dependent
upon woolen mill operatives, of whom
about a third were idle a year ago.
“Hides are 40 per cent higher, and
boot and shoe makers are trying hard
to fet this increased cost out of boots
and shoes. Is this of supreme bene
fit to the great majority?”
The average of quotations for hides
at Chicago was 138.76, against 118.52 a
year ago; an advance of 17 per cent,
but not of “40 per cent.” The fact Is
dishonestly suppressed that the aver
age cost of leather was on that day a
shade lower at Boston than a year ago,
and that the average selling price of
boots and shoes, taking the standard
grades of each class, was 1% per cent
lower than a year ago.
On the date on which the above com- j
parlsons were made, the aggregate coat
of several hundred articles, covering
more than nine-tenths of the cost cf
living, was lees than 2 per cent higher
than It was 12 months previous. The j
plain fact of the matter is that, while
there has been a considerable advance
in the current market values of many
agricultural products, thus giving to
the American farmer the first real lift
he has had for several years, and at
the same time Improving business in
every department, the cost of living
has not been materially Increased as
a consequence.
It Is not so much because of higher
prices as because of more work, bet
ter wages, more money In circulation,
greater purchasing power on the part
of wage earners, larger demand and
general prosperity has been raised up
to an average higher than has been
known efor several years past.
Two Kinds ot Deficit*.
This from the Cleveland Plaindealer
Is an unusually frank acknowledgment
for a free trade newspaper to make:
Certainly during the last b!x months,
when our revenue has fallen short at
the rate of over $6,000,000 per month,
our people having been purchasing
more of our own goods than they had
at any time tor two years previous,
and more money has gone into circu
lation and more men have been at
work.
Enemies of protection and fair play
would win more respect Bnd obtain a
more attentilve hearing if they told
the truth more frequently. Admis
sions from a free trade writer as can
did as that quoted from the Plain
dealer are as rare as white black
birds.
Deficits occurred with great regu
larity during the four years of low
tariff and no tariff, and upward of
$200,000 of indebtedness was Incurred
to bridge over the shortage in the
revenues. None of the free trade peo
ple then had spasms on that account;
it is only since protection is once more
in operation that they worry about de
ficits.
But there are worse things than de
ficits, and the Plaindealer tacitly ac
knowledges as much when it bears wit
ness to the fact that times have been
extremely prosperous in spite of the
shortage of $6,000,000 per month. If
we must have deficits, let us have the
kind that have temporarily occurred
under the Dlngley law, where every
body is prosperous, instead of the Wil
son sort, when, In addition to deficits
in government revenues, there were
disastrous depletions of the revenues
of the great mass of wage earners and
wage payers.
Saoalbl* sod Patriotic.
'‘Fairness,” said Mr. J. Edward Sim
mons, in a recent speech at the annual
banquet of the Clearing House Associ
ation at Rochester, N. Y., “requires
that a new tariff law be given a trial, as
a tree does not bear fruit immediately
after it is planted." The man who ad
ministered this deserved rebuke to the
croakers and pessimists who pronounce,
the Dlngley law “a tariff for deficit
only,” occupies the foremost financial
position, outside of the federal govern
ment, held by any citizen of the United
States. Mr. Simmons is president of the
Clearing House Association, and also
president of the Fourth National bank
of New York. He is moreover a Demo
crat and not a protectionist. At least,
he was not a protectionist a year ago,
but like many another free trade theo
rist, has lately had much cause to
doubt whether the patriotic policy of
America for Americans has not, after
all, much to commend It in the matter
of developing commercial and indus
trial prosperity.
Whatever may be the private view of
President Simmons on this question, he
makes no secret of his contempt for
that class of calamity howlers who
would rather see ruin than good times
If the latter must be accredited to the
results of protection. It is the con
tempt that all good citizens must feel
for people who condemn the new tariff
before it has had the ghost of a
chance to demonstrate its effective
ness in the matter of producing rev
enue.
The Poetry of Protection.
Just a little dollar, on Its mission
sent, makes a lot of people glad each
time the coin Is spent. You pay it to
the butcher, for meat to give you
strength; he takes it to the grocer from
whom it goes at length, some pretty
bit of cloth or lace his better half to
buy, or helps to get her winter hat
to make her rival sigh. The dry goods
man sends on the coin to pay his mar
ket bill, and though the coin IS often
spent, it stays a dollar still, and every
time ’tis spent at home, some act'of
good is done in "booming” local indus
tries, ere setting of the sun. ■'*
But if you take that shining coin
and break the local chain, the chances
are that from afar ’twill not return
again. If once it passes out of town,
the butcher and the baker, the grocer
and the dry goods man, the cook, the
undertaker, the carpenter, the car
riagewright, the blacksmith, every one,
.will lose the chance to touch that coin
ere setting of the sun.
Just keep the little coin at home,
just keep it moving well, and7 every
time it changes hands somebody’s
goods ’twill sell. That single little
dollar has thus a wondrous power to
make somebody better a dozen times
an hour. It pays the bill and wards
off ill, and ne’er its power relaxes to
soothe the doctor, buy the coal and
pay for clothes and taxes.
Repealed Jnit In Tina.
"It is a good thing the Wilson act
was not given an opportunity to show
that it could raise enough revenue. By
the time that point had been reached
the sap and life would have gone from
our own industries."—Wilmington
News.
Competition of Cheap Labor.
The Pall River “Globe” recently iist
patched a representative to the cotton
manufacturing regions of the South,
with a view to obtaining reliable facta
as to the extent and character of this
Southern competition which is now be
coming such an important factor in the
industrial problem in New England.
This agent has spent some time in the
Piedmont district, where the cotton
manufacturing industry is quite exten
sively established and where New Eng
land manufacturers say they expert- \
ence the most formidable competition.
The' "Globe" presents the results of
its representative’s investigations in
that field. Under date of DecetSber IS
he writes from Charlotte, N. C., open- "
lng his letter with the question,
“Southern competition—-what does It
amount to?” and answering as follows:
“Believe the man who runs the Louise
mills, the largest cotton manufactur
ing concern in this city, and It
amounts to Just this—the Northern
mills must go out of business, for they
never will be able to compete with
the mills in this section of the coun
try on the line of goods they are nAw
manufacturing, and there is every
prospect that in the years to come
mills will be in operation here mak
ing every kind of goods which the %
Northern manufacturer makes to-day ,
and much more cheaply. This is put
ting it strong. It is not my opinion,
but his.”
The “Globe" correspondent quotes » •
pamphlet Issued under the auspices of
the Charlotte Board of Aldermen, in
which it Is set forth that within 100
miles of Charlotte there are over 200
cotton mills operating 1,621,215 spin
dles and 43,973 looms, which are
claimed to be the most successful of
all textile industries not only in the
South but In the United States. He
says that the operatives are temperate
and industrious, and that there is no
clashing of races among them. Hours
of labor are long, wages are low, liv
ing is cheap and everybody is content
ed and happy. From his story it looks
very much as if the great industries of
New England are threatened by the
cheap labor of the South.
Tha American auk ladniCry.
A fine showing of prosperity is
made for the silk trade of the Unite*
tatee in the annual review printed by
the American Silk Journal. In spit*
of the prevalence of phenomenally
low prices, the output of manufactured
goods amounts in value to nearly
$100,000,000, and the consumption of
raw silk reached 64,548 bales, valued
at $28,474,347, the largest In bulk,
though not in value, In the history of
the trade. Add to this the erection
and equipment of fifty-seven new fac
tories , together with additions to
buildings and machinery of existing
plants, and the formation of thirty- '
four new firms and corporations, and
the record, as a whole, Is a gratifying
one.
The prospect for the coming year,
under conditions of general prosperity,
are most flattering for the silk Indus
try. It has been one of the most en
terprising and progressive of all the
thriving industries of America, aad
has in an eminent degree been success
ful In demonstrating that, supported
by a fair amount of protection, Ameri
can skill and taste can in every case
successfully compete with the older
and more favorably situated institu
tions of Europe. In no branch of
Yankee enterprise has this fact been
more clearly demonstrated than In ths
case of American silk.
A Spasm of Senas.
The New York Evening Post is good
enough to say that “the Republican
resolution to make no ohange in the
tariff this winter is in every way com
mendable,” because “the country has
suffered so much from tariff tinkering
that it desires above all things steadi
ness in one experiment or other.”
This is a remarkable spasm of good
sense on the part of a free trade or
gan which in the past live months has
done little else than raise a series of •
frantic hullabaloos about deficits and
Diate about the "failure" of the Ding
ley tariff.
The Situation Baa Changed.
Hundreds of thousands of men who
were idle at the beginning of tho
McKinley administration are now em
ployed, thanks, largely, to the pass
age of the Dingley bill, which gives
sustaining protection to our manufac
turers, and there has been, too, a no
ticeable Increase in wages.—Kansas
City Journal. „
A Tankas Romanos,
Hawthorne found romance on the J
shores of old New England, and there '
is a good deal of it unminded in the
modern life of the Yankees. The fol
lowing story of love and marriage.
strange as it may seem, is'known to
the writer to be true: Years ago a
summer boarder, at tf cottage on a
point of land which formed the protect
ing arm of the hirbor of a fishing town
in Massachusetts, was shown a girl be- "
b> only a few months old. He looked
at the babe and admired; then Bald to
the mother: “Will you give me that
babe for my wife?” The mother had
known the young man for several
i summers; she liked him, and therefore
answered promptly, “Yes.” “Will you
promise never to tell her that you have
selected me as her husband?” “Yes."
The conditions of the singular betroth- ,
al were observed. The girl baby grew
up, and summer after summer the *
young man courted her. When she ,•
was eighteen he married her, and not
till then did she know that she had
been betrothed to her husband while t
in her cradle. Can old romance be
more romantic than this story of a New
England fishing town?
