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A KANSAS CASE
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loth, Kan.. ■»y« ■
~Mj bock WM *o
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w a ■ In awful
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Why?
Bhllth—Why didn't you tell me you
had that seat painted yesterday,
Papa?
Father—Why, what happened?
Bdlth—Why, Freddy and I sat down
on It last night, and Freddy got paint
all over the back of liia coat and
trooaeral
Dr. Pierce's Plensant Pellets regulate
and invigorate itomach, liver and bowels.
Sugar-coated, tiny granules, easy to take aa
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The Trimmer.
"The late Bishop Bowman,” said
« Philadelphia minister, “once re
buked my too soft and conciliatory
leanings by telling me a story about
a little glrL
“This little girl. It seems, had writ
tan with great pains a composition
on the cow. The composition ran as
follows:
“ "The cow Is a very useful animal.'
"That evening the bishop dined at
the little girl’s house, and her mother,
since she was a very little girl, In
deed, wss proud of the composition,
and requested Us author to read It
aload. , j
“The little girl got her manuscript,
but. Instead of reading it as It stood,
she amended It on the bishop's behalf
W> that it ran:
"The cow Is the most useful ani
mal there la except religion.' "
Wingless Victory.
Aunt Dinah was a colored saint In
Charleston, who could shout above tiie
satire congregation. It wus the cue-;
tom during the collection to sing
*Tly abroad, thou mighty Gospel,"
and Aunt Dinah always threw back
tier head, shut her eyes, and sang
away lustily till the plate was ro
taraad to the altar.
Doaoon Alphronlus Green, noting
this, stopped when he reached’ her
paw one Sunday, and said:
“Look-a-heah, Dinah! What use
yoa a-*lnglng 'Fly abroad, thou mighty
flaws pel' ef you ain't give nothin' to
kaka her fly?”
Double Work.
“Why Is It that a man won't wash
tls faos with a washcloth?” demanded
Mix Wombat. “Men haven’t time for
bO that foolishness," euld Mr. Worn
tat "First you have to wash your
toes and then you have to wash the
IsAdoth.”—Louisville Courter-Jour
4iL
Lee* Habits of Industry.
Woman of France and other coun
trlss of Europe are much more Indus
Mow than when they come to this
' HAPPY NOW
▼tmlly of Twelve Drink Postum.
"It eertalnly has been a blessing In
nr home” writes a young lady In re
lard to Postum.
"1 am one of a family of twelve,
kho, before using Postum. would makp j
a healthy person uncomfortable by .
their complaining of headache, dizzi
ness, sour stomach, etc., from drinking
ooffee,
"For years mother suffered from
palpitation of the heart, sick head
ache and bad stomach and at times
woald be taken violently 111. About n
year ego she quit coffee and began
Postum.
-My brother was troubled with
headache and dizziness all the time
he drank coffee. All those troubles ol
my mother and brother have disap
peared since Postum has taken the
plaoe of coffee.
“A slater was 111 nearly all her life j
with headache and heart trouble, and j
about ail Bhe cared for was coffee and
tea. The doctors told her she must j
leave them alone, as medicine did her
no permanent good.
“She thought nothing would take
the place of coffee until we Induced
her to try Postum. Now her troubles
are all gone and she Is a happy little
woman enjoying life as people
■should.”
Name given by tho Postum Co., Bat
tle Creek, Mich.
Postum now comes In two forms:
Regular Postum — must be well
boiled. 15c and 25c packages.
Instant Postum—Is a soluble pow
der. A teaspoonful dissolves quickly
In a cup of hot water and. with cream
•and sugar, makes a delicious beverage
Instantly. 30c and 50c tins.
The cost per cup of both kinds Is
about the same.
"There’s a Reason” for Postum.
—sold by Grocera
A S TERLING NOVEL OF THE GREAT
MIDDLE WEST
eMIDpDERS
Charles Tenney Jackson
-''"THE DAY OF SOULS. MY BROTHERS
Keeper etc. etc.
CofjrljJi, A9L2, Tht Bobb»-Merrill Company,
CHAPTER XXII—(Continued).
"The paper," he muttered; and signed
It as a dying man might drag a pen
across its page. Then he sat back
staring. "Thank God," he whispered,
“not loo late and she need never
know!”
When he arose they did not know his
fare, so changed was It by agony. The
judge saw him cross the street In the
sunshine and enter his office. There,
the printer and tho press boy saw him
fumble among the type of his ancient
fonts, his lips moving as he worked.
He dragged his steps nearer the printer
presently. “Box this, Jim—open the
front page form- run It. And get the
paper out tonight. I—I’m going.” His
gray lips whispered.
He moved out slowly, and on the cor
ner In tho cold sunshine of the Novem
ber noon looked at letters of flaming
red on the hoards of the old opera
house. A farmer had stopped his
shaggy-bellied team to spell the word
ing;
TONIGHT!!
OUR CONGRESSMAN-!!!
Curran could not make out more. He
crept about the corner where the side
street led to the foot of tho bluff.
Creeping, that was the way It seemed,
when he reached the trail to the hills.
Her hills! The hills of the Midlands!
The place of the best men and women.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BETTER PEOPLE.
Many men of the county drove to
town early that day. It was the ever
present restlessness of election eve;
and In this instance a sense of new
Issues, of unusual and dramatic se
quences, was In tlie air. Then it was
to he the night of the "big Curran
meeting” at the opera house, the wind
up with red lire and the band; and the
country people, with a lively apprecia
tion of the spectacular, were eager to
hear the candidate. "Wiley" would
make the most of his last chance to
scald the "county crowd” with his
satire, that was sure. All the day the
court house was thronged with farm
ers, politicians, candidates, standing
about, smoking, gossiping. The dingy
central corridor was a reek of tobacco
and smells.
Harlan was wont to pass here on his
way to his office. Ho had not con
cerned himself with the llth-hour
wrangles and petty intrigues, for he
hud no opposition in his own light.
The "county crowd would put young
Van Hart over,” every one said, and
approved. The countrymen looked
back at him with diffident respect.
When he reached Miss Vane's door he
saw her at her desk. Hemminger, the
lonely Insurgent board member from
the river district, was there, sitting,
awkward, constrained, holding his hat.
Harlan way waving Ills hand cheerily
In passing, when Janet arrested him
with a gesture. Her eyes had a hard
brightness. When the young man
came in she bade him close the door.
Then she sat again. The hubbub of
voices in the hail was lessened.
Janet motioned Harlan to a chair.
"We," she began quietly, "have been
discussing you. Mr. Hemminger and I
have discussed you for two weeks."
Harlan looked up at Hemminger with
a surprised smile. "Indeed! Now, I
had noticed Hemminger in your office
a number of times lately. What is
the extraordinary interest?"
She disregarded his easy banter.
"Harlan,’ she went on sharply, “you'll
bo the next prosecuting attorney.”
“Without a doubt. On the first of
next month.”
She seemed dwelling on the three
weeks intervening. Then: “We are go
ing to confide In you something that
we might have said before; only"—
her glance held a curious suspicion—■
"well, I thought we’d better wait until
after the election. You owe your nom
ination to Tanner, the old crowd, and—
well, you'll pardon my frankness, but
we hesitated."
"Hesitated? What on earth are you
driving at?"
Hemminger smiled uneasily. Won
dered where you’d stand, Mr. Van
Hart. Kind o’ thought It would put you
in bad to load this on you.”
He still looked his wonder at Janet.
She was unlocking the drawer of her
desk. She took out an envelope and
from it a yellow and worn bit of paper.
•‘We shall demand,” she began deci
sively, ‘ that the first act of your ad
ministration is to go before the grand
jury and ask for the indictment of
Tanner and Dan Hoydston and Archie
Curry for the giving and the accepting
of bribes on the county road contracts
for the last six years.”
He looked silently at her. Hem
minger shifted his hat nervously.
"The proof,” Miss Vance went on. “Is
here.” She laid the yellow slip of
memoranda on the desk. It was cov
ered with careless entries, figures, ab
breviations. To Harlan it meant
nothing. “This is Boydston’s writing
--Hoydston. the go-between.”
“Those old yarns,” Harlan mur
mured; then her dominance stilled him.
He looked again at the paper. “You
mean this is proof?”
“This and Hoydston’* confession.”
'onfession ?”
“It amounts to that. His admissions
to Hemminger. his fellow board mem
ber. on the way the last deal—the
Hindstrom Pocket deal—was put
through, lie admitted he took money—
he offered Hemminger $500 to keep
silent on this."
She tapped the paper. Harlan stared
at her incredulously. “Why. I saw
Hoydston coming from the bank not an
hour ago. There was a conference of
some sort. Father was there, and
Tanner and Wiley Curran. There are
rumors that Tanner threw up the tight,
and wants to make an agreement with
i Wiley and his league backers to keep
i their hands off the county committee
ship!”
| “Hoydston.” she retorted quietly, ‘‘has
! confessed, two weeks ago. He dare not
tell Tanner. He has been begging,
threatening, pleading with Mr. Hem
minger to keep silence, and to destroy
this" she lingered the paper. “Hast
1 Tuesday a week ago this was placed
in my hands by a mistake. The silliest
j hing a bribe-taker ever did, and only
a bungling old farmer like Hoydston
could have done it. I drove out to the
Diecks' place to get a petition that the
people have been circulating there to
divide their school district. This is the
place Hoydston sold to Diecks when he
moved to town. Well, this German had
charge of this petition and kept it in
a crack of the chimney in Boydston's
old sitting room. When I called for
the petition his wife—who can’t read a
word of English—handed me an en
velope. which 1 did not look at until
I came back to town. Then when I
went to file that petition I didn't have
4
30
It. Instead, these slips of memoranda.
I couldn't make any sense of them.
Hut there were computations of money
paid, and money divided, all in Boyd
ston’s handwriting. I studied it and
the dates, and it struck me curiously
that the dates of the transactions
tallied with several county board meet
ings. Anil then it dawned on me like
a lightning flash. 1 sent for Hemmin
ger, and we compared the notes with
his recollections of board transactions.
Why, Boydston had actually put Thad’s
name after one division of $300 between
himself and Curry! I couldn’t believe
such Idiocy. Then Hemminger took
the memoranda to Boydston and de
manded an explanation, and Boydston
collapsed In his front parlor and ad
mitted It. He lost his nerve completely
—begged and wept for Hemminger not
to show the memoranda—to allow him
to settle some way or other; and, above
all, not to tell Tanner. Hemminger
brought the notes back to me. Ever
since we’ve been wondering—and dis
cussing you!”
Harlan met her defiant gaze stead
ily. “Well ?"
"The county crowd put you in.
Boydston, in Ills frenzy, declared it
would do us no good to publish the
notes. He said the new district attor
ney was Tanner’s man! Said we
couldn’t get It to the grand Jury with
out you.”
The young man turned his serious
eyes on Hemminger. “Yes?”
"Harlan,” put in Janet, “we decided
to wait. I consulted no one. I was
afraid if we exposed It just before elec
tion it would look like a roorback of
our people and would hurt Wiley some
way or other. You know to attack the
best families this way—with Tanner’s
money and power and the Mercury
Journal—well, wo could not prove the
facts for weeks, and It would look like
mere politics on our part. But you”—
she watched him coolly—“I made up
my mind today I wanted to know what
you'd do when you’re elected."
"Do?” He stared at her with a trace
of anger. "Janet, you ask what I’d do?
Blow the lid off—send Boydston and
Curry to the pen! Tanner, too, if I
can got him!”
She looked off through tile window
at the bank corner. "It will be a tre
mendous job, Harlan, you, a new man
—wholly without experience in office,
bucking a combination that no man
here ever dared to fight. The money,
the Influence, the Best People."
He followed her glance out to the
country folk idling about the ancient
sidewalk of the First National. Far
ther down High street, under the leaf
less maples, he could see the tidy lawns,
the prosperous houses, and then his
home. The judge was slowly driving in
from lunch behind Old Dutch. So long
he watched, so imperturbably, that she
could not guess the struggle in his
mind. Not of right or wrong; but to
grasp Issues dimly limned beyond.
One fights for one’s class, one's kind,
one’s heritage of thought and feeling;
basic greed, the instinct to survive,
vestigial promptings from feudal
privilege to protect and exculpate—all
battled in his subconsciousness for
delay and pretext and caution.
Hemminger, the pale-eyed country
man. shuffled his feet with nervous ap
prehension. "I guess there are people
out there”—he lifted his bony linger to
the hills—“who will be with you in the
fight. Better people—”
The young man suddenly tipped his
chair forward with a smile.
"1 thank you for the word, Bert," he
smiled. Ho reached for the memor
anda. Janet's eyes silently followed
him. Almost a trace of suspicion was
in them when Harlan placed the pa
pers in his inner pocket. He arose.
"I’m going to see father. He’s in his
chambers by now."
Janet, too, arose with a sharp pro
test. But before she voiced it the door
burst open. A man reeled in, drunk, in
his shirt-sleeves, even though he came
from the chill November street. Jim
Mims, the News printer, stared wildly
at them.
"Where’s he gone? Where’s Wiley?”
The printer staggered to Miss
Vance's desk. He wiped his unshaven
chin, his bleared eyes rolled. “What
'a you done with him?"
"What's the matter?"
Ho spread a damp and Ink smeared
copy of the News before her. “There!”
he waited, “he told me to run this box
on the front page! I didn’t read it!
He set it up. he gave It to me. Me and
Aleck we run the whole issue off and
then started to fold the mail list, when
I first read it! I was drunk, that's it,
or. damn me, I'd never put the press
on it! No, sir, not even if he told me*”
The “box" enclosed a bold face type
In tbe center of the sheet: "For per
sonal ami business reasons, Wiley T.
| Curran withdraws from the congres
sional contest in the Kighteenth dis
trict."
Nothing more.
Janet was paling to her lips. In the
pause, Harlan seized the paper.
"Come!" he shouted and dashed from
the room. They followed him, the
tramp printer a wailing babbling rear
guard. When he reached the News
shop he came upon Miss Vance and
Hemminger staring at the pile of pa
pers that made up the weekly issue.
Young Van Hart was searching fever
ishly over the editor s desk.
“Not a word," he muttered: "nothing
to explain. Has he gone crazy?”
“There’s his big meeting tonight,”
Hemminger blurted. “I hear the band
boys practicing. But Wiley—God
A’mighty! has he gone wrong?”
Harlan suddenly turned on them.
• "That conference! He was called to
i Tanner s office this morning. 1 know,
| for father was there!” •
j “They—they”—Janet controlled her
voice—“smashed him, Harlan! Some
how, with something! Drove him out
| of the fight!”
The younger man turned to Hem
i minger. “Bar that door! Keep Jim
and Aleck here. And don't let a paper
go out!"
“Press time they’ll somebody come
| ’round,” blubbered Jim. “Some old
i woman, or some of the old preachers
whom he always gave papers to for
nothing. And the kids to carry ’em,
and the 4 o’clock mail to make!”
i Harlan was bolting the rear door.
“Hemminger, draw the curtains. Don’t
let a person in. don t answer any ques
tions. You don't know anything, re
member’”
Janet threw a blank sheet from the
stock shelf over the printed issues of
the News. Then she turned. “Harlan,
do you think this matter of Boydston
has anything to do with it?”
‘ | “No." I$b motioned her out the
• door. “Cota*. I'm going to father's
chambers. There’s no court today.
I And I want you. Janet”—he fixed his
i blue eyes on her fiercely. “Wiley—he
i ^and 1 have not been friends of late—
but this! If they broke him unfairly,
dastardly. I’ll light!”
She nedded. She knew the estrange
ment, knew it. as she knew the old rare
love of men between them. She had no
tint to speak until she was with Har
lan again in the court, in the Judicial
chamber just off the hall of justice.
Judge Van Hart was writing at his
table. He glanced up with some an
noyance; then, at sight of his son,
with surprise. At Janet’s entry he
arose with his old fashioned courtesy
and bowed.
He had no time for speech. Harlan
broke out with the wrath of a man past
reason. He towered above the Judge
when he reached the table.
“Father, what did they do to Cur
ran ?"
Tlie Judge’s face flushed and set to
the impassive study it wore upon the
bench. It was as if he had expected
this from his son, as if lie had dreaded
it. But a tremor was in his voice at
tlie other’s menace.
Mr. Curran has withdrawn."
Yes, yes! But what did you do?”
“I? My son, I was called into con
ference with some gentlemen. It—was
rather a matter of Importance— party
Importance—I may say. of immense im
portance to the community. They
wished me—wanted representative
men to witness—”
“What did you do to Wiley?”
Tlie judge controlled himself by an
effort. "Sit down. Miss Vance. I—this
—very unfortunate—painful—”
"I wish to know,” she said clearly.
“We demand to know."
“You were there, father. And he has
withdrawn.”
A wan smile cAme to the magistrate.
“Very good. I assure you it was vol
untary on his part. Embarrassing,
doubtless, but”—he tried to smile on in
Harlan’s face and failed. "My boy,
the truth! Something lie dared not
face among honest men.”
Janet's eyes were blazing. “You ac
cuse him? I demand to know!”
Tlie judge coughed awkwardly. “My
dear, it is something yov, perhaps,
have not heard—this campaign—the
heat of politics"—he spoke deprecating
ly -he detested politics. “If you will
withdraw, I might explain to Harlan.
Since he demands it.”
“I demand it!” she cried. "I shall
not go!”
“She shall not go,” said Harlan. “Do
you know of that old yarn, Janet,
that's been bandied about? Of Wiley's
—marriage years ago?”
“Yet,” she answered calmly. “Heard
and forgave. Only—if he had only
come to me with it!"
“Was that it, father? That!”
More than that.” the judge sighed,
it was a delicate affair to mention be
fore women. He had that archaic idea
of women which could defend a social
economism that sent them to walk the
street, but would retreat at the sug
gestion that they really walked upon
legs.
He seated himself. “My boy, I do not
know how to begin. The man was sent
for. He was told that he was unfit
to represent this sober and moral con
stituency at Washington. He was
shown that the truth once out would
defeat him among our people, even at
this late day.”
“The truth?” shouted Harlan; "let's
have the truth!”
"The gentlemen discussed the
affair with him. He defied them.
We then proved to his satisfaction that
this —marriage—resulted in issue. That
he had a child, in fact—living. And
here!"
They watched him ceaselessly. He
fingered with a paper knife and glanced
out the window, it was distressing to
be annoyed by having to tell the truth.
Janet moved at last, breaking the spell
upon them all.
"I do not believe—” she muttered,
and then looked at the judge with stub
born courage. “Well, then I do! And
Is that all?"
"Another detail. This child of his
is the girl whose notoriety has set the
town by the ears for two seasons. Au
relia Lindstrom.”
They did not answer. Then he heard
his son whisper: “It’s a lie!” But
Harlan had turned from them to the
wall.
“He has admitted it. It was proven
to his own complete confession.”
Without the window the sparrows
twittered, and the fragmentary music
of the band practice came to the room.
Along the street and in the square, the
group could see the passing country
people, the teams; and hear the mov
ing of steps in the court house corri
dor.
Janet spoke again. Always her calm
ness prevailed. "How admitted tt?”
The judge shrugged uneasily. ‘You
just l ame to tell me that he had with
drawn. Is that not enough? What
answer can you demand more?”
The woman had arisen. She looked
at her watch. From the room she could
see the News’ front windows; the door
shut, Hemminger's face appearing once
when a lad demanded entrance and was
refused. Her head was aching with
the press of bewildering problems.
Some way out. some light, something
to break the hopelessness of It all! She
could look down the street to the opera
house, the gathering country people
reading the bill boards.
(Continued next week.)
The First to Fall.
From the Wichita Beacon.
Coe T. Crawford. United States senator
from South Dakota, thought there were
not enough progressives to nominate him
for United States senator, so he ran as
a “progressive republican.'' A standpat
republican beat him easily.
Soft-hearted progressives w'ho think the
standpatters mean what they say when
: they invite them back, will learn in time
that it is not meant that the progressive
| should come back and hold office. They
are not invited back for that purpose.
Mr. Crawford, a good man. is the first to
fall of that group of progressive repub
lican senators who decided to lend their
support to the party controlled by the
forces of reaction and dedicated to re
action.
He thought he could lead the progres
sives back into a party which has made
no change in its national management
since the Chicago convention. He goes
j down a sacrifice to his own credulity—a
1 credulity which was doubtless accentuat
ed by his practical desire to count the
votes.
There are other progressive republicans
who will pay the same penalties that
Crawford has paid for not staying with
their own crowd. It is a part of the in
evitable waste that accompanies every
forward movement of humanity. Those
good men who have not the courage to
stand upon the one side or the other are
ground futilely beneath the millstones.
(The onltor of the Wichita Beacon, Hon.
Henry J. Allen, is the progressive cundi
i date for governor of Kansas. He is a
: brilliant orator and a national character.—
| Editor Sioux City Tribune. 1
Need of a Smokelesv Senate.
From the Now York Sun.
I Tf the cigars smoked b/ senators of
| the United States in the Senate have
I been like the campaign cigars, prophetic
! torches of sheol, which they are in the
‘ habit of giving away to innocent and
j healthy constituents, the counterblast of
I Hon. Benjamin Ryan Tillman was as
necessary a< salutary. It is possible, how
| ever, that the Society for the Reforma
I tion of Weed3 has done a good deal since
Joe Cannon was extruded from Wash
ington. The smoke of his best efforts
has killed wild geese on the Potomac at
a distance of 137 miles.
It has been asserted by many em
inent specialists that there is no doubt
! that by the beat of the pulse alone the
j sex and age of a person could be told.
4 ^ ,__
* WE LOVE A MERIC AN S"
SAID ENVOY; RECALLED
Washington. Special: That th.0 Mex
ean people love Americans us broth
ers and would not consider going to
war with tile United States, was the
Btatement of Charge d'Affaires Algara.
at the head of the Mexican embassy in
Washington, the day before he was re
called by Huerta.
“Mexicans feel no animosity, no en
thusiasm for war, because of this Tam
pico Incident,” said Algara. “This is
because they look upon it as a diplo
matic matter and feel assured that the
Americans will settle it Justly. They
rely on them not ever to infringe upon
the rights of Mexico.
“I am sure it will take something
more than is yet in the air to bring
about in Mexico what Americans call
the psychological moment for war!
"Why, my people have shown their
friendliness so much in Mexico City
that no Americans are leaving there
for the coast.
“The people of Mexico and America
have no quarrel. They are friends.
They are brothers. They do not want
to stand up and shoot each other
down!
"You cannot make too strong a
statement for me to the American peo
ple regarding the esteem and affection
with which the United States Is held
by the rank and file of my country. It
will take a big thing to turn this love
to a hate which shoots bullets into
warm bodies.”
Algara left Washington at 12:10 a. m.
today for Toronto, Canada. He was ac
CHARGE D’AFFAIRES ALGARA.
companied by Chief Flynn of th»
United States secret service.
A GOOD OLD REBEL.
By Herbert Quick In Collier’s.
What Is a ballad? Any high school
girl—and even some high school beys
—could tell. But the high school def
inition would scarcely satisfy the
American Folklore society. Is “The
Wreck of the Hesperus” a ballad? It
has the ballad form and is very, very
popular. But it is not a traditional bal
lad. for the reason that we know its
author, and It stands as he wrote it. In
the true meaning of the word “vulgar,”
it is not a vulgar ballad, as is, for in
stance. that song of Young Charlotte,
who lived on a mountain side in a wild
and dreary spot, who perversely insist
ed on going to a dance without suf
ficient wraps, and was frozen to death
by her escort’s side for her vanity. Some
of our older readers remember this sad
tale.
Dr. H. M. Belden, of the University of
Missouri, who Is making a collection
of the ballads of the southwest, thinks
that this definition of the vulgar or tra
ditional ballad is a useful on, though he
does not accept it unreservedly: The
traditional ballad differs in style and
in origin from other poetry. It has no
author—at least no single author. It
springs from the homogeneous dancing
throng. Among its peculiarities are the
absence of the personal note, of re
flection. and of conscious artistry.
All of which leads us to remark that
we have been overwhelmed by the flood
of replies to an editorial request for the
remainder of what we supposed was a
real American ballad In which an unre
constructed rebel declares that while he
had catched the rheumatism a-fighting
in the snow, he’d like to take his mus
ket an’ go an’ fight some mo’. That ref
erence touched the chords of memory
in hundreds who had never seen the
verses in print, and were even ignorant
of the fact that they were ever printed.
But, alas! the ouota+ion is not from a
“vulgar” or traditional ballad—dozens
of readers have shown us that. It is
from a poem written by Major Innes
Randolph, a member of General J. E. B.
Stuart’s staff, and a native of Virginia.
Ho removed to Baltimore shortly after
the war. and was a well-known mem
ber of artistic literary and musical cir
cles in that city. He was a poet and
essayist, rather than a ballad writer;
but it is safe to say that few American
baMt»d«a have had a wider vogue as real
“traditional” ballads than his “Good Old
Rebel”—which follows:
Th© Good Old Rebel.
Oh. T m a good old Rebel.
Now that's just what T am;
For this “fair land of Freedom”
T do not care a dam.
I’m glad [ fit against It—
T only wish we’d won.
And I don’t want no pardon
For anything I’ve done.
I hates the f’onstitution.
This great Republic, too:
T hates the Freedmen’s Buro,
In uniforms of blue.
I hates the nasty eagle.
With all his brag and fuss;
But the lyin’, thievin’ Yankees,
I hates ’em wuss and wuss.
I hates the Yankee Nation
And everything they do;
I hates the Declaration
Of Independence, too.
I hates the glorious Union.
’Tls dripping with our blood;
And I hates the striped banned—
I fit it all I could.4»_
I followed old Mars' Robert
For four year, near about.
Got wounded In three plac'es,
And starved at Pint Lookout.
I cotch the roomatlsm
A-eampin’ In the snow.
But I killed a chance of Yankee—
And I’d like to will some mo’.
Three hundred thousand Yankees
Is stiff in Southern dust;
We got three hundred thousand
Befo’ they conquered us.
They died of Southern fever
And Southern steel and shot:
And I wish it was three millions
Instead of what we got.
I can’t take up my musket
And fight ’em now no mo’,
But I ain’t agoln’ to love ’em,
Now that is sartin’ sho’;
And I don't want no pardon
For whal I was and am;
And I won't be reconstructed.
And I don’t care a dam.
A volume of Major Randolph’s poem*
was edited by his son, Mr. Harold Ran
dolph, director of the Peabody Conser
j vatory of Music, and published by the
I Williams & Wilkins company of Balti
more in 1898. But “The Good Old
Rebel" had Jong before that date gone
into the songs of the people. It may
have been, as is suggested by Mr.
Richard N. Brooke of Washington, D.
C., “a bit of fun, not supposed to re
flect Major Randolph's own sentiments,
but to illustrate the irreconcilable spirit
of the illiterate element in some sec
tions”; but if so, it was too successful
for mere fun. It so embodied the bit
terness of the reconstruction epoch—a
bitterness which was created by op
pression—that it was sung (to the old
forty-niners’ tune of “Joe Bowers”) bj
millions who never heard of Majo;
Randolph.
Among the numerous readers who
have very kindly sent us versions of
the poem, only seven had any idea
apparently as to its authorship—Sen
ator W. E. Chilton of West Virginia;
Mr. H. M. Chase of Wilmington, N. C.;
Mr. Brooke, Laura Lee Davidson, and
Mr. C. Powell Noland of Baltimore; Mr.
G. L. Franks of Shreveport, La., and
Berry Lee Priddie of Huntington, W.
Va. Mrs. (or Miss?) Davidson says
that this song has been sung “in many
a southern parlor in the bitter days of
reconstruction; and to have heard the
author himself sing it is a joy to be
held In remembrance.’’ She also in
forms us that once the Duchess of
Manchester (then Lady Mandeville)
sang “The Good Old Rebel” at a Lon
don reception, and was rewarded by re
peated encores from the Prince of
Wales, who called it “that fine Amer
ican song with the cuss words in it.’*
But the ballad Is truly traditlonalized
by the fact that it has run through all
sorts of forms. We are not sure that
we have given the name chosen by its
talented author. Some readers call It
by one name and soipe by another.
Among the various versions of it,
scarcely two are alike. We have chosen
one sent in by a friend who appears to
have the printed form, but we are not
at all sure that It is not altered. One
change made in the interest of effec
tive singing is the repetiion of the last
two lines as a refrain, with a sharp ac
cent on the first word of the refrain.
Tt has passed from mouth to ear, and
not from page to eye,
PAINT INDICATES RISE IN
TEMPERATURE BY COLOR
A paint called ‘‘Efkalin" has recently
been placed on the European market to
Indicate by Its change In color when
the object to which it lias been aplied
becomes hot. At ordinary room tem
peratures Its color Is bright red, but
when subjected to a temperature of
about 122 degrees Fahrenheit the color
changes to a brown red, at 158 degrees
Fahrenheit to dark red, and at about
185 degrees Fahrenheit nearly to black.
Perhaps the most Interesting property
of tills paint is the fact that it changes
back again to its original color on
cooling, so that its temperature sen
sitive color Is practically lasting.
Another even more interesting paint
called "Acolorin,” also a European pro
duct, protects any article to which It is
applied from heat rays of the sun.
If applied to glass or slate, corrugated
Iron or other metal roots, It is declared
that they will be kept at temperatures
15 to 25 degrees Fahrenheit lower than
they would otherwise be.
SCOUTS TO DISCOVER
EFFICIENT EMPLOYES
The Canadian Pacific railroad has
recently added to Its staff a "scout,"
a man unknown except to a few offi
cials, whose duty it will be to travel
over the system and discover those
employes who are especially worthy of
advancement. Incidentally he will re
port those found wanting; but it is sig
nlficant that his function primarily Is
not to matte complaints but to make
doubly suro that the deserving are
recognized.
Undoubtedly this is a step In the
right direction. There Is a feeling
among railroad men that advancement
is slow and that merit is not recog
nized. Very likely If men can be
brought to realize that the display of
Initiative will be appreciated and re
warded their attitude toward their
work will be decidedly changed. If the
scout idea will bring home to the em
ployes of the Canadian Pacific that
their interest in the road will he ap
preciated and rewarded, it will help
much In raising the line's efficiency.
By Theodore Roosevelt, in the Scribner.
In a Strang • land a man who cares
for wild birds and wild beasts always
sees ai.d bears something that is new
to him and interests him. In the dense
tropical woods near Rio Janeiro I heard
in late October—springtime, near the
southern tropic—the songs of many
birds that I could not identify. But
the most beautiful music was from a
I shy woodland thrush, sombre-colored,
which lived near the ground in the
thick timber, but sang high among the
branches. At a great distance we could
hear the r'nging, musical, bell-like note,
long-drawn and of piercing sweetness,
which occurs at intervals in the song;
at first I thought this was the song, but
when it was possible to approach the
singer I found that these far-sounding
notes were scattered through a con
tinuous song of great melody. I never
listened to one that impressed me more.
In different places In Argentina I heard
and saw the Argentine mocking bird,
which is not very unlike our own. and
is also a delightful and remarkable
singer. But I never heard the wonder
ful white-handed mocking bird, which
is said by Hudson, who knew well the
birds of both South America and
Europe, to be the song king of them
all.
Most of the birds I thus noticed while
hurriedly passing through the country
were, of course, the conspicuous ones.
The spurred lapwings, big. tame, boldly
marked plover, were everywhere; they
were very noisy and active and both
inquisitive and daring, and they have
a very curious dance custom. No man
need look for them. They will look
for him. and when they find him they
will fairly yell the discovery to the
universe. In the marshes of the lower
Parana l saw flocks of scarlet-headed
black birds on the tops of the reeds;
the females are as strikingly colored as
the males, and their jet black bodies
and brilliant red heads make it impos
sible for them to escape observation
among their natural surroundings.
Every 24 hours there is poured into
the Harlem river 99.000,000 gallons, into
the North river 132,000,000 gallons and
into the East river 204,000,000 gallon*
• »f sewage.