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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 24, 1898)
INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION. . CHAPTER XXXIU.—(Co*Tisu*».>i The nurse, having lifted little Leon '■Into the bed, returned to her chair be side the Are, while Marjorie put her arm around the little fellow's shoul ders and presently fell asleep. Now that the fever had actually passed away, Marjorie’s convalescence ■was rapid. She still kept to her bed, being too ■weak even to move without assistance, and during the day little Leon was con stantly with her. She asked a few questions, and the more she heard the more her curiosity was aroused. One day she inquired for the grave lady whose face she dimly remembered to have seen, and who she now heard was the mistress of the house. In the afternoon the lady came to the bed side. Marjorie wa3 sitting up in bed that -day, propped up by pillows, looking the very ghost of what she had once been; while on the bed beside her was little Leon, surrounded by his toys. He look ed up, laughed, and clapped his hands when Miss Dove came in, but she only smiled and gently rebuked him for his boisterousness. Then she sat down beside the bed and took Marjorie’s baud. “Well, my child,” she said, “so you are rapidly getting well.” For a moment Marjorie was silent— she could not speak. The tears were blinding her eyes and choking her voice, but she bent her head and kissed the hand that had saved her. “Come, come,” said Miss Dove, "you must not give way like this. You have to tell me all about yourself, for at present I know absolutely nothing.” With an effort, Marjorie conquered her emotion and dried her tears. But what had she to tell?—nothing, it seemed, except that she was friendless and alone. -Nay, said the lady, gently. “You are not that; from the moment you en tered this door you had friends. But tell me, my child, how was it I found you and'your child starving upon my threshold? You have a husband, per haps? Is he alive or dead?” Marjorie shook her head. "He is here, in Paris, madame.’* “And his name is Caussidiere, is it not? So Leon has told me.” “Yes, madame. Monsieur Caussi diere.” " - "We roust seek him out,” continued Miss Dove. “Such conduct is not to be endured. A man has no right to bring his wife to a foreign country and then desert her.” “Ah, no,” cried Marjorie; “you must fot do that. I will leave the house whenever you wish, madame. but do not force me to see him again.” Miss Dove looked at her for a mo ment in silence; then she rang for the nurse, lifted Leon from the bed, and sent him away. “Now, my child,” she said, when the two women were alone, “tell me your story.” And Marjorie told it, or as much of it as she could recall. She told of her early life in the quaint old manse in Annandale with Mr. Lorraine Solomon and Mysie; of Miss Hetherington, and of the Frenchman who came with his specious tongue and wooed her away. Then she told of her life in Paris, of her gradual estrangement from all her friends, and finally of her desertion by the roan whom until then she had be lieved to be her husband. “So,” said the lady, when she had finished, “you were married by the English law, and the man is in reality not your husband. Well, the only thing we can do is to leave him alone altogether, and apply to your friends.” Marjorie shook her head. "That is useless, madame,” she said. “When my little boy had naught but starvation before him I wrote to my mother in Annandale, but she did not answer me.” “Yes, madame, It is true.” “It is very strange,” she said, “but -we must see what can be done, Mar jorie—may I call you Marjorie? In the meantime you must not think of all these sad things. You must amuse yourself with Leon and get well quick ly, and my task will be the lighter.” After this interview Miss Dove visit ed Marjorie every day, and sometimes sat for an hour or more by her bedside; and when at length the invalid, who gained strength every day, was able to rise from her bed, she lay upon a •couch by the window, and watched the sunshine creeping into the streets. It was not like Marjorie to remain idle when there was so much to be -dene, and as the weakness passed away lier brain began to work, planning for <he future. She had several schemes made when she spoke of them one night tq Miss Dove. The lady listened quietly, then she said: “You would rather remain in Paris, Marjorie, than go home?” “Madame, I have no home.” “You have Annandale Castle.” She shook her head. “Indeed, it is not my home now! I wrote, and there was no answer." “But suppose you heard that that was all a mistake; suppose you learned that your dear mother was ready to open her arms to receive you, what would you say then, my child?” Varjorie did not reply, If the truth irust be told, her troubled heart found little comfort in the thought of a meet ing with Miss Hetherington. At last, after long reflection, she spoke: "I know my mother—she is my mother—is very good; but it has all been a fatality since I was born, and I can hardly realize yet that we are so close akin. Ah! if I had but known, madame! If she had but told me at the first,, I should never have left Scot land, or known so much sorrow!” Miss Dove sighed in sympathetic ac quiescence. “It is a sad story,” she replied. “Your mother, proud lady as she is, has been a great sinner; but she has been terribly punished. Surely, my child, you do not bear any anger against her in your heart?” “None, madame; but she is so strange and proud. I am almost afraid of her still.” “And you have other loving friends,” continued the lady, smiling kindly, "Do you remember Mr. Sutherland?” “Johnnie Sutherland?” cried Mar jorie, joyfully. “Who told you of him?” “Himself. He is back here in Paris.” Marjorie uttered a cry of delight. “You have seen him? You have spok en to him? He knows-” “He knows everything, my child; and he is waiting below till I give him the signal to come up. Can you bear to see him?" There was no need to ask that ques tion. Marjorie’s flushed cheek and sparkling eye had answered it long be fore. Miss Dove stole quietly from the room, and almost immediately reap peared, followed by Sutherland him self. “Marjorie! my poor Marjorie!” he cried, seizing her hands and almost sobbing. But who was this that, Marjorie saw approaching, through the mist of her own joyful tears? A stooping figure, leaning upon a staff, turning toward her a haggard fa e, and stretching out a trembling palsied hand. It was Miss Hetherington, trembling and weeping, all the harsh lineaments softened with the yearning of a mother’s love. “My bairn! my bairn!” “Oh, mother! mother!” cried Mar jorie; and mother and daughter clung together, reunited in a passionate em brace. CHAPTER XXXIV. HEY took her home with her little boy to Amiandale, and there in the old Castle Marjorie soon recovered her health and her strength. It was winter still; the landscape was Waite with snow, the trees hung heavily under the icy load, and a blue mask of Ice covered the flowing An nan from bank to bank; but to Mar jorie all was gladsome and familiar as she moved about from scene to scene. She wore black, like a widow, and so did little Leon; and, indeed, it was a common report everywhere that her husband was dead, and that she was left alone. -1 As to Miss Hetherington’s secret, all the world knew it now, for the swift tongue of scandal had been busy be fore Marjorie’s return. Heedless of the shame, heedless of all things in the world, save her joy in the possession of her daughter, the grand old lady re mained in deep seclusion in her lonely ancestral home. In these sad, yei. happy days, who could be gentler than Miss Hethering ton? The mask of her pride fell off forever, and showed a mother’s loving face, sweetened with humility and heavenly pity. She was worn and fee ble, and looked very old; but whenever Marjorie was near she was happiness itself. The fullest measure of her love, how ever, was reserved for Marjorie’s child. Little Leon had no fear of her, and soon, in his pretty broken English, learned to call her “grandmamma.” “We began wi’ a bar sinister,” said the lady one day, as they sat together; “but there’s no blame and no shame, Marjorie, on you and yours. Your son is the heir of Annandale.” “Oh, mother,” cried Marjorie, sadly, “how can that be? I am a mother, but no wife.” “You’re wife to yon Frenchman,” an swered Miss Hetherington; “ay, his lawful wedded wife by the English and the Scottish law. Out there in France he might reject you by the law of man; but here in Scotland, you're his true wife still, though I wish, with all my heart, you were his widow instead.” “Is that so, mother?” “True as gospel, Marjorie. It’s wi’ me the shame lies, like the bright speck of blood on the hands of the thane’s wife, which even the perfumes of Araby couldna cleanse awa’I" “Don't talk of that, mother!” cried Marjorie, embracing the old lady. “I am sure you are not to blame." “And you can forgive me, my bonny bairn?” “I have nothing to forgive; you were deceived as—as I have been. Oh, mother, men are wicked!—I think they have evil hearts.” The old ladv looked long and fondly in her daughter’s face; then 6he said, with a loving smile: “I ken one man that has tho heart of a king—ay, of an angel, Marjorie." "Who, mother?” "Who but Johnnie Sutherland? my blessings on the lad! But for him, I should have lost my bairn forever, and. it was for his sake, Marjorie, that I wished ye were a widow indeed!" Marjorie flushed a deep crimson and turned her head away. Sutherland's unswerving devotion had not failed to touch her deeply, and she understood it now in all its passionate depth and strength; but she still felt herself un der the shadow of her old sorrow, and she knew that the tie which bound her to Caussidiere could only be broken by death. Thus time passed on, until the dreary desolate winter of that terrible year, so memorable to France and French men, set in with all its vigor. There was little joy for Sutherland. Indeed, his trials were becoming almost more than he could bear, and he was wonder ing whether or not, after all, he should leave his home and Marjorie, when there came a piece of news which fair ly stunned him. It came in the shape of a letter and a paper from his Parisian artist friend. The letter, after a few preparatory words, ran as follows: “You may be shocked, but I hardly think you will be sorry to hear of the death of your little friend’s husband, Leon Caussidiere. He disappeared in a most mysterious manner, and is sup posed to have been privately put to death. What he was, Heaven knows! but he mixed a good deal in politics, and judging from what you told me about him, I shouldn’t be at all sur prised to hear that he was a spy. Well, at any rate, whatever he was he is gone —peace be to his soul, and I fancy the world will get on a good deal better without him than with him. At any rate, a certain part of it will, I know! With this I send a paper, that you may read the official account of the death of your friend, and know that there is no mistake about it.” Having finished the letter, Suther land turned to the paper—glanced down its columns; came upon a mark ed paragraph, and read as follows in the French tongue: “Caussidiere, holding an officer's commission under the Committee of Public Safety, has been convicted of treasonable practices and put to death. He was tried by military tribunal, and executed yesterday.” Sutherland put down the paper and held his hands to his head; he was like a man dazed. Was he glad? No, he would not allow himself to feel glad —to rejoice in the death of a fellow creature, even though he was his en emy. And yet, if Caussidiere was dead, Marjorie was free. The very thought seemed to turn his brain. He put both the letter and the paper in his pocket, and went up to his room. He could not work, but he sat down, among his pict ures and tried to think. What must he do? Go to Marjorie? No, he could not do that—for she would detect the joy in his face and voice, and her sensitive nature would recoil from him, and that he could not bear. He must not see her; other lips than his must tell the news. He remained all the morning shut up in his room, but in the afternoon he left the house, and walked slowly across the fields toward Annandale •'Castle. (TO BB CONTINUED.) COAL AND IRON. Showing That Great Britain Is Not Holding Her Own. Statistics show that, whereas Great Britain in 1840 produced 75 per cent of the world’s supply of coal, at the pres et time it produces only 34 per eent, ?iys Nature. Atlantic liners no longer carry coal from Great Britain for the return journey; they now take in American coal, and no less than 1,500, 000 tons of American coal were thus consumed in 1895. The condition of the iron manufacturing industries has al ways exercised a most Important influ ence on the production of coal so that a large demand for iron draws wKh it a large demand for mineral fuel. Dur ing the last twenty-five years the world’s production of pig iron has in creased from 12,000,000 to 26,000,000 tons; but the share taken by Great Britain has fallen from 48.8 per cent to 29 per cent, while that of the United States has increased from 14.1 per cent to 26.2 per cent, that of Germany from 11.4 per cent to 21.4 per cent, and that of Russia from 3 per cent to 4.7 per cent. Indeed, iron is now being im ported from the United States into this country, and, incredible as it may seem, the railway station at Middles borough, the center of the iron trade, is built of iron brought from Belgium. Surely, then, the author of "Our Coal Resources at the Close of the Nine teenth Century” is hardly right in thinking that British coal and Iron still hold their own. He argues that other countries of Europe are exhaust ing their coal supplies just as Great Britain, yet the figures he gives show that Germany has in reserve, within a depth of 3,000 feet, 109,000,000,000 tons of coal, as compared with our 81,683, 000,000 tons within a depth of 4,000 feet. And this estimate does not include brown coal, of which Germany raises 25,000,000 tons annually. Probable Change in the Rubber Industry Hitherto rubber has usually been se cured by the wasteful method of cut ting down the trees. The recent dis covery that the leaves furnish a purer and more copious supply of gum than the trees, promises to produce a great change in that Industry. THE ISSUE IS MADE. ■T WILL BE GOLD AGAINST SILVER. Republican* Mint Standby tx> ,v’rr Ini » t rut Inn and lta Policy of financial Reform—Tariff Oumtlon Is Settled by lllnsley 11111. Tlio Congressional Issue of 1898 has uow been joined. By tlielr espousal af the Teller resolution in the Senate and then In the House the Democrats have forced the fighting. Every mem ber of the Democratic party in the House, except McAleer of Pennsylva nia and Elliott of South Carolina, voted for the Teller resolution; every Re publican except Linney and White, both of North Carolina, voted against it. This practical unanimity sets the two parties in array along the line of this question: Shall the United States lie and steal? For many years Congress thought it sufficient, in providing for the issue of bonds by the government, to .'promise tq pay in legal-tender coin, buti as early as 1870, when the great refunding act of the Grant administration was passed, the form of obligation was changed to "in coin of the present standard value.” At that time the val ues of the two kinds of standard coins gold and silver, were the same, al most exactly. So far as there was any difference the silver dollar was more valuable than the gold dollar, but prac tically they were the same, and the pledge of the government at that time was to pay interest and principal in coin of equal value. That promise has been renewed from time to time in other bond acts, not by inference and implication, but definitely by specific reference to the obligation assumed in the act of 1870. The actual adoption of the Teller resolution, in the pres ent state of the gold and silver mar kets, would have made every govern ment bond issued under the act of 1870, or any subsequent bond act, both a lie and a steal. The proposition, as the national debt now stands, is to steal from the bondholders fully $500, 000,000, and that in face of the fact that each bond declares to the holder that he shall be paid in full in coin worth the same as the standard coin of the United States was worth July 14, 1870. There has been just one parallel to this proposition on a large scale. In the days when Spain was at the zenith of its prosperity and the mines of Mexico and Peru were at the height of their output King Philip undertook to debase the coinage and make every new piece of money a minted lie. It was the most gigantic swindle ever at tempted up to that time. It would have been robbery, perpetrated upon all who received the coin in payment. The plan was concocted in secret, and was to have been put into execution clandestinely. It was frustrated. The King was at a disadvantage. He want ed to use those coins In making pur chases, not In paying debts. But the Teller plan is to take advantage of those whom we already owe. These creditors are at the mercy of the Amer ican people. If the United States should repudiate its entire debt, and not mere ly half of it, who is there that could stop it? All the world would point the finger of scorn at us, and brand us as liars and thieves. As Corea be came known as the hermit nation, so the United States would become in the eyes of all the civilized world the rob ber nation. It is upon this issue that the Congressional campaign of 1898 wlll‘be waged throughout the country. It is deeply disgraceful to have such an issue raised, but the Republican party is not responsible for it. The Democratic party forced the issue, and the Republican party has repudiated repudiation, and invites all honest men to join in demonstrating to the world that the United States, as a nation, is neither a liar nor a thief. Earnest and High-Minded. - From the Indianapolis Journal: The address of President McKinley before the organization of manufacturers in New York is one of the best of the many thoughtful utterances he has | made since his nomination. Whatever individuals may think of the Presi dent’s views, all candid men will agree that his speech is characterized by strength and dignity fitting the great office he holds. It is gratifying to the national pride to feel that no living ruler, born to the position, can speak upon national and international themes with anything like the power and breadth which characterized the last speech of the President. It presents a wide contrast with the pettiness of the speaking with which the time of Congress is being wasted. In the first part of the address the President outlined the duty of progres sive government. It ean aid commerce, but the enterprise of the people must promote it; it can make reciprocal treaties, but these will n<ft be effective j unless labor, capital, skill and energy 1 combine to utilize them. The Presi dent assumes that the onward move ment of the productive forces of the country must be directed to securing a prominent place in the world’s mar kets. What the President says regard ing the money of the country is clear and emphatic—we must keep the best, pay all obligations in the best. The victory is not yet won, and will not be until a sound currency is secured by law. He warns the timid that the work of providing the country a stable currency must go on. Even If failure results at the present time, the result will prpve that the party and the men who stand for sound currency have done their duty. At the present time these earnest and high-minded expressions of the Presi dent will give confidence to all those people who believe in broad statesman ship and have positive convictions In regard to the duty of government. Con sequently, many thousands of thought ful men who do not agree with the President on a number of points will respond with alacrity to his patriotic, high-minded and courageous expres sions. They will not call themselves Republicans, but faith in the leading expressions of Mr. McKinley will cause them to come to the support of the measures and the line of action he now advocates. For Cheating Bondholder!. Bailey of Texas is the Democratic leader in the house and made the clos ing speech for the Teller resolution on Monday. He took the ground boldly that the government should pay Its bonded debt In free coinage silver dol lars. First, because they would be cheap and it would not cost much In real valuo to pay off what the govern ment owes—which Is a mean, dishonest reason—and, second, that bond-holders are an idle, worthless, blood sucking class. He wound up his speech In these words: "Do one of you believe,” said he, addressing the Republicans— “That if the bond-holder owed the government under a similar contract, that he would not exercise his option. If it is right that he should exercise Ills option, as he would, we believe the gov ernment has the same right with the positions reversed. (Democratic ap plause.) We are ready to meet you on this Issue, the issue that the money which is good enough for the people who produce the wealth is good enough for the Idlers who spend it; that the money which is good enough for the poor Is good enough for the rich; that the money the laborer receives for his toil and the merchant for his wares is good enough for the bond-holder, and, by the eternal, he shall be compelled to take it." At this point the hammer fell, amid a burst of enthusiasm from the Demo cratic side. This frothy rant exhibits either crude and pitiable ignorance or the spirit of charlatan humbug. Who are these idle, bloated bondholders, and to what use are the bonds put by them? There are in round numbers about 848 millions of interest bearing bonds out standing, including the 262 millions added to the debt in time of peace by Cleveland’s Democratic administration to make good the revenue deficiencies caused by the Democratic low tariff. Two hundred and sixty millions of the bonds are held in the treasury as se curity for the redemption of the nation al bank notes. And that is for the good of the whole American people. Would it be for their benefit to thave those bank note security bonds paid oft in 44-cent dollars, thereby cheating the million of bank note holders out of 56 cents on the dollar? But that is exactly what the Demo cratic house leader, Bailey, advocates, and is vociferously cheered for doing. —Chicago Tribune. A Memorable Utterance, From the Philadelphia Press: Presi dent McKinley's speech at the great banquet of the manufacturers in New York is the most important and mem orable utterance he has made since he took the executive chair. It even exceeds the message in pro found import and far-reaching signifi cance. That was an official paper ad dressed to Congress, It has the re straints of official form and language. Here the President speaks direct ly to the people with all the earnestness of eye to eye, with all the gravity of a recognized danger and with all the impressive force of a solemn public pledge and summons. The weighty and glowing words moved one of the most brilliant popular assemblages this country has ever wit nessed as men are rarely stirred, and only by deliverances which sound the deepest depths of consciousness and conviction. They roused that represen tative and thoughtful body to an almost continuous outburst of patriotic and passionate enthusiasm, which could at the close find its fit and culminating expression only in the spontaneous breaking forth of "America.” And as they are more calmly read all over the land they will awaken everywhere the same responsive sentiment and intense gratification. For in his speech the President sounds the battle note of a renewed, courageous, persistent, unyielding con test for the highest financial honor and integrity. It Is his answer to the chal lenge of the wayward senate majority. It is his fresh assurance and his plight ed faith to the world. It is his proc lamation to all mankind that so long as he Is president there shall be no debasement of our vital money stand ard, and that under his leadership the battle shall begin now and go forward without ceasing to place our currency where no president and no capricious wave of feeling can Imperil it. No faltering, no cowardice, no half heartedness—these are the president’s notes. His utterance comes like a trumpet call, and It summons the friends of honest money to gird on their armor for the battle before us. Since Mr. Bryan’s return from Mex ico he has furnished no light upon the condition of the workingmen in that country—a question in which a large number of his followers are deeply in terested. If he had he would have been compelled to tell them that wages in that country are only about one third to one-half what they are In the United States, besides being paid In a currency worth less than 50 per cent of 'our own. The "National Democrat*.** The irresistible force of logic Is now rapidly carrying the National Demo crats to the point where the real mer its of the controversy between honest money and repudiation will be too cleat before their eyes to permit of their blinking them, and at the head is the Hon. Simon Bolivar Buckner of Ken tucky, the candidate for vice president on the ticket of the Democrats who re fused to vote for Bryan and yet would not vote tax the man to beat him, Mc Kinley. General Buckner has spoken freely through the Indianapolis Senti nel: "The gold Democrats find themselves in a rather peculiar situation this year. The leaders of the gold movement in the Democratic party who conducted the exodus in 1896 now find themselves confronted by a serious obstacle. The rank end file—employes who voted with their employers in the last cam paign—this year want to vote their old party ticket whether Democratic or Re publican, and so if the gold Democrats place a ticket in the field they are liable to be left exclusively a party of generals without any rank or file or forces back of them, as the great mass of men are unwilling to vote any third ticket. They would thus be placed before the coun try in a ridiculous light, and the dig nity of the movement would be endan gered. This would be an argument against a gold Democratic ticket. The financial plank being this year the primal issue, gold standard advocates being arrayed on principle against the advocates of the double standard, fol lowers of the single gold standard would naturally stand together. This would mean gold Democrats voting with the Republicans, but there are other Issues in which the Republicans and gold Democrats are opposed. These would tend to keep the gold Democrats from voting with the Republicans,while the reasons mentioned are operative to prevent a gold ticket being put in the field. These are things that deserve the most careful consideration and are problems which are confronting gold Democrats.” In imagining that in 1896 they were supporting the cause of honest money, while in reality they were looking cold ly on as neutrals, the National Demo crats were blinded by the enthusiasm of revolt against what they knew was fraud and anarchy. This enthusiasm has passed, leaving general wonder that men of the Palmer and Buckner stamp could have been so emotional and fan ciful at such a time. The humblest Democrat who cast his vote for McKin ley was a sounder politician and a, : i clearer minded patriot than the distin guished statesmen who made up the National Democratic ticket. General Buckner’s words in the In dianapolis Sentinel show that he, and we take him for a type of his recent fol lowers, is still bewildered as to the past, and, therefore, uncertain for the future. His references to "other Is sues” which might keep the gold Demo crats from voting with the Republic ans, and to the danger of his movement being compromised in its dignity,show that he does not know absolutely whether his scarcely two-year-old de nunciation of the fraud of free silver and the Populistic heresies of the Chi cago platform came from a sincere and stable reason, or whether the financial honor and credit of the United States, the tariff, or bank currency reform, is. the more Important and the more com manding of an American citizen’s at tention. Are General Buckner and his friends to be less slow in understanding these issues, less high minded in giving to the importance of each its proper rank, and less resolute to stand by the re lentless .conclusions of honor and en lightenment than the thousands of oth er Democrats who, Beelng the situation of the country in 1896, voted for the Republican party, and will continue to vote for it so long as it stands for fed eral financial honesty against the vi cious and deluded monsters of repudi ation? The National Democrats can not much longer deceive themselves. They must be either poltroons or men. —New York Sun (Rep.) The Brand of Two Senator*. On the very day that Senator Lind say of Kentucky voted for the Teller resolution the Legislature of his state branded him as a deserter. The next day the Legislature of New York put a brand on Senator Murphy of that state. The language used at Albany was less severe that that employed at Frankfort, but it came to much the same thing. Each Senator was ac cused, and justly, of misrepresenting his state. This is1 especially true of the Troy brewer, whose term will ex pire in 1899. Edward Murphy, Jr., oc cupies the seat once honored by a Clinton, ar Wright, a Marcy, a Dickin son, a Seward, and a Conkllng. If there is one state which abhors finan cial dishonor more utterly than another it is New York. It often goes Demo cratic, but Bryan was snowed under a McKinley plurality of more than a quarter of a million. On local or side issues the state can be swept into the Democratic camp, but if only the issue of the Teller resolution is made duly definite next fall the Democracy will fare even worse in 1898 than in 1896. At the last regular Congressional elec tion the Republicans carried four dis tricts outside of that city, including the five Representatives from Brooklyn. The Murphys and Lindsays, who are sound money men in conviction but vote on the robber side, are without the slightest excuse in their betrayal of a high trust, and deserve the public contempt which will follow them to their political graves and be read be tween the lines of their epitaphs. The only charms some young men possess are attached to their watotL chains.