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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (June 26, 1896)
|\/ TRAMP OR CENTLEMAN? An Unfortunate Circumstance That Preventad A Satisfactory An swer. Atlanta Constitution. Undoubtedly he »m a tramp. The Military marshal, whose busi neas it wan to represent the majesty of the law in the little village of Blue Rock, spotted the stranger os soon as he entered the place. The visitor was shabbily dressed. His coat was ragged, and his trousers were patched. His hat was without e brim, and his shoe# let bis feet touch the ground. ••I'll shadow him," said the mar shal to himself. The tramp slouched along down the shady side of the street until he readied the depot. Here he paused and took a scat on the platform. “Hello, there!" /•aid the marshal as he came up. “You must move on." The man thus rudely spoken to turned a weary face towards the officer. It was not a very ciean face and it bore traces of care. 'But it was not a bad face nor a very old face. On the contrary, it was rather frank and youthful. ... . All this ths marshal took in, but he had his orders and lie had to carry them out. Blue Bock had passed an ordinance subjecting all tramps to HO days’ imprisonment at hard labor. •■What are you doing here?" asked the officer roughly. “I am looking for work,”was the re ply. “Who are you and where are you from?" “I am a gentleman,’’said the tramp weaniy. “A gentleman!” shouted the mar shal. “You look like one. What is your name and where are you from?” The wayfarer put his hand to his head and a puzzled look cameoverbis face. “I would give anything to be able to annwer your questions,” he said, •'but I can’t answer for I do not know.” At this astounding reply, the mar shal raised his baton. “None of your chall,” be growled. “Now, I’ll give you one chance. You must march out of town or I’ll run you in.” The stranger evidently understood the meaning of the threat. He leaped from bis seat with a frightened look, and without a word walked oil down the railroad track. “He’s been arrested before,” said the officer thoughtfully. “No doubt lie’s been in a dozen jails. Well, so lie leaves here it is all right.” Two hours later the guardian of the peace found his tramp occupying his former seat on the depot platform. "Now, you must come with me,” said the marshal, angrily. He seized the lounger by one hand and jerked him up. The prisoner made no resistance. He looked reproachfully at his cap tor, and started off with him without a word. At Blue Rock justice was always swift, although perhaps it was a little crude. In less than an hour the tramp was convicted and locked up in the stock ade, where lie was set to work break ing rock. The prisoner’s obstinacy in assert ing that he had forgotten his name and former place of abode made the petty village officials very mad, and | the poor fellow was put to work at harder tasks than usual. As the weeks rolled on it was no ticed that the prisoner displayed no resentment or impatience. lie went about his work cheerfully ar.d with out a complair t. When the prisoner’s term was out the first man lie met alter his release was the marshal. “Get out ol the town right away,” was tiie officer’s advice. “But 1 want to stay here,” said the tramp. “1 want work, and l like the place.” “You are a blank fool to want to stay in this town,” i, plied the other, "and it will be my duty to arie*t you again if you don't leave. Ho march!’' The unfortunate wretch made no further appeal lie linuied oft slowly, and was soon out of sight. Later in the day the marshal passed by the de|>ot and saw as|iectH‘ le that made him open hi* eyes. The tramp was on the platform, and the superintendent was talking to him. “Come here,” said the superintend ent to the marshal, “and take this vagabond oft!” There was nothing to do t> it to make the arrest A speedy con . i. non followed, and the luckless victim was again sent to the stockade lor thirty days At last the mouth cants to an sud and the prisoner Was turned out. Tins 1 line l iie marshal marched him beyond the town limits and left him. “lie has too much sense to corns ba> k,” reported ths marshal to the Mayor "*V* may have been too ha d m> nun," r«spouted ths Mayor, "I *on>> 'irucs think h# is wiong in ths head “ “W ell, it is too lat# to ta It about It," said tire Other, end the con versa t run ended The tramp dui no* turn up yo n that day nor tne a«it. The worthy marshal began to b# worried and lit* Mayor was a little un«a*y I hue Hixk was such a nut pla»e that a sensei ton was always welcome, and lbs unknown p votier bed been the talk ol tne town for siv ly dais ' lit v biding tn the woods, and w-tt •ftp in brie sen is nwM and b • n ths town." sent one 'I’t. s lea lav ml t-at favor, and that i >ebt tfv* fb 4*ef# o unl It did ^wStwrtth 4ay in# s was a III WSIll I ike ■ j Ni<t iW superintendent of the depot and even the marshal joined the party. The return trip was made after dark, and the train sped along at a fearful rate of speed. The excursionists were all in a jolly humor and were at the height of their festivities when the frightful shrieking of the locomotive whistle startled everybody. The train came to a full stop, and among those who rushed out were the Mayor and Marshal of Blue Rock. At the head of the train they found the engineer and conductor talking with a man who held one hand on hie aide, from which the blood was streaming. “Great God! It is our tramp!" ex claimed the Marshal. “You are right," said the Mayor. “My poor fellow, what is the matter?" rJne tramp fell in a fainting fit be fore he could answer the question. “You see," said the engineer, “this man was tramping through the woods when he came to the track mi l found two train wreckers tampering with the rails. Well, this tramp, or what ever he is, jumped on the two scoun drel* like a tiger. He disabled one of them, hut the other stabbed him in the side and ran away, tio he built a fire on the track, and as soon as I saw it I stopped the train." Just then several passengers came up with the wounded wrecker, who had been eeriouely injured by the tramp. The villain evidently thought that he was mortally wounded, for lie made a full confession. “I think," said the Blue Rock May or, “that we owe a debt of gratitudo to our preserver. Many men in this fix would not have turned over a hand to save us." The tramp opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “Hid vou know wo were on the tram?” asked the marshal. "Oh, ye#; I saw you when you went up the road thi# mbrning, and I hung about here because 1 saw those two chaps acting suspiciously on the track." "Come, now, who are you and where is your home?" asked the mar shal. "I am a gentleman. I have forgot ten my name and all about things that happeiul years ago. I can tel I you nothing more.” "By George!" #aid the Mayor, "1 be lieve he tells the truth.” "We must take him to Blue Hock and care for him,’’said one of the party. "He shall have the freedom of the town and the best there is in it.” “Thank you,” said the tramp, with a smile. “I am satisfied now.” A spasm of pain contracted his fea tuie*. A gasp, a fluttering of the breath and the unknown was dead! Tramp or gentleman? Who was he and what lay back of his misfortunes? These were the questions the Blue Hock excursionists asked each other on their way home. A Village Girl’s Success. At one of the large Delmonico balls in New York, the other night, a very pretty little woman, whose gorgeous cuatume of white velvet and pearls was much talked of, was a continual source of interest to the philosophical visitor. She represented the idga of evolution. Six years ago she lived in a small village wherein is an old-fashion ed college. She was then sixteen years old, extremely pretty in a doll-baby fashion and quite a belle among the college boys. One of them was the son of one of the richest men in this country. One warm spring day there was a foot race in which this boy ran He was sunstruck and the wise moth er of the pretty girl had him carried to their house. Within three hours’ time his lather was wired that he was dying, and before the lather got there thing:) had been so worked that the boy had pressed lor what he thought a death bed marriage. Mademoiselle tva» made a madame. On the arrival of the father with two of the best known doctors from New York, the sunstroke pronounced so fatal by the village physician was not only said to lie curable by the New York doctors, but also one t hat would see him all right in ten days or two weeks, The father positively refused to acknowl edge the marriage, believing that his son had been entrapped. Here they were husband and wife, sixteen and nineteen. The boy had a small sum of money that had been left him by an uncle, so later in the season they came down to New York and went to a hoarding house. The sixteen-year-old wife had the slitewd ness of a woman of fifty. The hoy’s name was the same as his father's. We will say that it was W illiam llor ace H!a> k, hut that lie had always l been called Horry. Now, madam hsd iiei ' aide engraved Mr*. William H. j'i, lllnck, Jr., and never called her husband by anything but his lirat J name. Tb* boy went nil Wall street and as the trouble in tbe lainhy bail I •***» kepi 111 net, men supposed that j lie was bring hacked by In* latlnr, and J in a year's time ls> made enough mom lev to mi 0|'an establishment of Ins own Tb* social wot Iti heard ever) - whet* of hut t harming wife, called on | her, and in tint* her mother m law was saluted wherever she went With j t ougiat n!a'ion* a* to I If charm «tl 1 the girl Iter son bad mart led, amt |*ti | p‘e talked alat.it what a pt#*v»n»* »h« 1 must li* to her. until the situation i grew to le a very trying one, and 111 : ht* inert ot heart*. cbthaillHI over tin | Wit ii! the gtrl, the uk| gentleman te* j ogm evl the pitwbgai sue, alter b< i loads a Untune, and now everythin, j goes on swuimiiugly There is a I * an J iilui counttt p*e-*, a lovely tuwa bouse, a loaenih vut tura uni. thw ha Ml ,,)*ii> Iishi \teilk, mil intiew 1, In* most escU»»ive set*, ami with ll an an atr of he*<ng a way* been It them 'wionvmg to this pretty Ittl’e tn t Mg muds ot a S«* tgiaml tthege Who is »h Ac , why aid |MS1|||* psr • *t in saving that all worldly know *dwe ta iwnUiint to lb# , tiles* • • - It. I'slist * ■>* 4 ,ly ,« «i *at«n |>y tie Ittk ot »l. I’* I, u e*a| its •• d . It*, la*#. tiilMk The Yankee'GIrl’s Choice, From the Portland Sunday Welcome. Residing on the Clackamas River, in Clackamas 'county, Oregon, is a good old quaker couple, whose pretty daughter, with her "thee*' and “thous” and chaste style of dressing, has been more thoroughly admired than any one for miles around. The fame of bar beaut y whs not confined to the immediate neighborhood of her bit tier's farm, but bad reached the ears of a stalwart young stonecutter of this city, named Stafford, and also the auriculars of a gay young rail road engineer, named Morgan. Hoth fell in love with the modest girl at first sight, the parents objecting to Stafford, who is a Catholic,while the daughter manifested a slight prefer eneeforhim. To make along story short, Stafford was so devoted in bis attentions that, unknown to the parents, he succeeded in engaging him self to the object of bis adoration.and ga\e her $100 with which to purchase a few necessary articles of wearing apparel. 'Phis reaching the lather's ears, lie sent for Stafford and Morgan —the latter appearing upon the scene accompanied by two friends and with bis pretty daughter met them u 11 in his little parlor. The feelings of the rivals can well be imagined when the blunt old Quaker announced to his daughter that her two admirers were before her, and that although he preferred the engineer, la? would leave the choice of her flit lire husband entirely to her. The poor girl burst into tears, and it could he plainly seen by the tumul tuous heaving of her bosom that a great struggle was going on between filial devotion on one side and love for the choice of her young heart on the other. Pending the decision Stafford and Morgan hardly dared raise their eyes from the carpet. At last, with a mighty effort and a voice full of tears, the young Quakeress sobla-d the name of Stafford, and gently-put her bund in bis. Morgan accepted the situation like a sensible fellow, and, with his friends, left the house sans cerentonie. A Feature of the National Capital that Surprises Euro* pean Visitors. "There is one thing that surprises me about America and especially about Washington," said an English gentleman, "and that is the feeling of absolute safety which seems to per vade the atmosphere in all directions. J refer more particularly to the condi tion of your treasury. By the cour tesy of the officials I was shown through the vaults, where almost countless millions of silver are stored, and I was allowed the privilege even of entering the innermost recesses of the strong rooms where your public funds are stored, and there were no guards hut the clerks emtiloyed there. "Then, too, I noticed in passing the treasury building one night that all was as quiet as a grave. A few glim mering lights in some of the windows showed me that there was an occasional watchman inside of the building, hut there was no sign on the outside to show that any precaution liad been taken to prevent a whole sale robbery. The Bank of England, which is the great depository of the city of London, and is, perhaps, the financial institution of the world, is conducted on far different principles. Every night a visitor who happens to be in the neighborhood of Thread needle street will find a squad of soldiers from the barracks in the West End tilling down to take their position as the night watch. These ni«n nr* Ici-nt on rllltv Irnm til" time t tie bank close* until it reopen* on the following day. They are posted at all sections, and pace the streets surrounding the bank with a regulari ty of sentries around a camp. 1 do not know but that your system is far more attractive to a foreigner, al though the absence ot everything mil itary here is extremely strange to one familiar with what your politicians term theellete monarchies of Kurope. —Washington Special to the Indian apolis Journal. A Canine Conscience. "Tell you another dog story .' J,et me see;’’ and the invalid doctor lifted his lam*, leg into a chair and scratched his head. “I never told you about old 1‘edro. He was the special friend of all tiie children in the neighborhood and had a most remarkable memory. He was a water M-nniel, with a big bead, long ears, and a kind face; was fat. laiy, ami i«-i fcctly harmle.-s. The children used him lor a foot stool,sat on him. dressed Inin in gay calico, pinn-*d his -baggy ears hack with burdock bur-, anti be seemed to like their frol ics mini.-nksly. l hie summer all ordi naire rnr passed by the village tins •*-e» requiring ad dogs to be nuu/led. 1‘edio S4> instead, fasten, d with a p- iltarly made chain,«r in* li i.a t once done service 111 a suction pump It was not heavy, but one woiJd never ’*- t the i* id *ha| -■ ot its . n k . A hole *4- lilt through ttie >|i|r III S workshop.and the * ham was astrned - with a Silling staple to a lolst. Which { was exposed w licit the hoe Was t lit, Ivdio was a very unwitting priMinwr 11,*r a week, when one mo mug he was :o,ii*l tying * a the doorstep uilar, I * ham and staple pern He had gnaw I *d the staple out and In I pulled the I *uiW over bn* head, hone of htk I .isUnmgs lUilhi tie found high o. lok. | Tko tears af’erward the * h * i, and vliilllf |)4t t* 4 Hi* I** i|tl)44 in ih« Uc k«4 ( im4 wf thv Tltv blidV*4 (H*|l |S4h» ti#4 I fc#*i I III THV 4llU|l*44 4**1 b* •<»«H| ‘ 414w Id ill# IIH'vUiy lull ul MtHit ifciivl Tt»# 4wj(( * |»4HI|((|(i 111 |V4*fft lUHlkrtl v|*«4i4l <4% il, iHtfi'fil ut lit 4lV|i|44 bb (4li 1*4 I (tVil tli« !*¥*« tH(i> **l 41H*| A it I lull U i tutft y. bu (uMl 444 K»*||*4 UK I 41 U|»l .41*4 «4|mh« tidg I nt* iMtiV |M| b# 4*1 vb^iKk) No! * i n M 4 4*14 ( till* 1(1 , (H4W| 4**4 *b# «liiS4rf4 444(44 14 %**# t 14 4 ^(4ii • Stingy to His Wife. 8mall-mindedand stingy as men too often are, they are never raoreso than when dealing with their own wives. Borne of them, who past, abroad for very respectable and well-to-do citi zens, seeming never to lack money to s(>end upon themselves, are so pov erty stricken and niggardly at home that their wives, who certainly work hard enough to earn something more than their "hoard and clothes," are almost afraid to speak of needing an occasional dollar or two. Even if they get what they ask for, it is hand ed forth so reluctantly, and with so many words, that it might almost as well have been refused altogether. A man of this kind was lately seen in a store with his wife. Bhe was do ing some "shopping.” although she carried no purse,and had not so much as a nickel tied up in the corner of her coarse cotton handkerchief. Her husband, with a sad and seri ■ ouh look, ojiened Ills pocket-book and grudgingly paid for Die tilings lie was allowing her the privilege of selecting. Biie had picked out a cheap serge dress pattern for herself. "I’ll take ten yards," she said to ttie salesman. "Hhouldn’t think you’d need so much," said tier husband; "it’s pret ty wide goods." “Why, no, it’s rather narrow," said Ins wife. "It’s double width," he insisted; "and eight yards ought to be enough. There’s no use getting more to cut up and waste.” "It wouldn’t be wasted if there was a little left." "Well, there’s no use in buying mor’n you need. It’s going to cost a lot anyhow. Cut off nine yards, mis ter." Biie "gave in” with the meek, re signed look of a woman who hud "given in" to her husband’s larger wisdom some thousands of times be fore. Then she said she wanted a dozen and a half of buttons. "Hut how in the world are you go ing to use that many buttons on one dress? There’s no sense in it. A iln/Hii’i nUintv “Well, maybe I can get along with a dozen,” she said. Then she bought a yard of cheap ribbon, whereupon he gave a contemptuous sniff, and when she suggested getting five cents’ worth of candy to take to the children, he stiut his purse with ft snap, returned it to his pocket, and said decisively: “No; there’s no sense in wasting money that way. It’s a good tiling I carry the purse, or we'd all be m the poorhouse within a year!” The Truthful Ceorgia Land* lord. From the Atlanta Constitution, Not far from the City of Montgom ery, in the State of Alabama, on one of the roads running from the city, lives a jo'ly landlord by the name of Ford. In fair weather or in foul, in hard times or in soft, Ford would have his joke whenever possible. One bitter, stormy night, or rattier morn mg, about two hours before day break, he was aroused from his slum ber by loud shouting and knocks at his door. He turned out, but sorely against his will, aud demanded what wan the matter. It was dark as tar, and as he could see no one he cried out: “Who are you, there?” “Three lawyers from Montgomery,” was the answer. “We are benighted and want to slay all night.” “Very sorry I cannot accommodate you so far, gentlemen. Do anything to oblige you, but that’s impossible.” The lawyers, for they were three of the smartest lawyers in ttie State, and ready to drop with tatigue, held a consultation, and then, as they could do no better and were too tired to go another step, they asked: “Well, can’t you stable our horses and give us chairs and a fire till morn ing.” • _ f-.1« » -„ 1,. ..w.„ >! Our learned anil legal friends were soon drying their wet clothes hy a hrieht tire as they composed them selves to pas* the few remaining hours in their chairs, do/.ing and nodding, and now and then swearing a word or two of impatience as they waited for daylight. The longest night lias a morning, anil at ia-t the sun came along, and then in title time a breakfast made its appearance; hut to the surprise of the lawyers, who thought tiie liouse was crowded with guusta. none but them selves sat down to partake. ••Why. Ford, 1 thought your tu t»e was so full you couldn't give us a bed last night?*' said one of the travellers, •*! didn’t suv so." Ford replied. ••You didn’t? What in the name of thunder then, did yon say?” ••You asked me to let you stav here all night and I said it would h* im possible, for the night was two-thirds gone when you tame. If you only wanted beds why didn't you say so " Tin* lawyer* bod to give It up. Three of them on one »l le, and the landlord alone had beat them a.I. use i urn—m The Deacon Outwitted. Sts I.uiuIiiS Trhrgrapk. Ik-nioii Isaac Ihtnlaon of Mvstu Had a hill of #1,50 about lour months ago against a colored man tor grocer lea Whlch lie could not collect, so lit seised the loan s house a» security, with a limit ol lour mouths im wloco the colored neighbor could pay up or have the animal auctioned to pay tbs iteht. Toe limit espired amt the horse was* trolled out to be su'd to III* hlgmsl bhldet There was an im mens* crowd assembled when the hid* «U« Tim sympathy of 11*« l*opfv hSUMnI to he Willi the emo ed dsliii«}Uent, aud the bidding was hie ly, |<« .In* one VO l *1 a tun- I* kept right mu until II reached $4 11 amt at thie sum the loose was kno k •d down to Hose well Hhiwii Then the crowd chipped '** soough to par hi, the horse aud to buy a bog ol ureal, and they turned the horse aiuj meal over to the colored mao a* * gift. a**d he mow wears a sm»le ».#«i ' around to the bs k ol hi* week I BEECHER’S OWH STORY. An article has been made public which was written by the late Ilev. Henry Ward Beecher and compiled by his son, to be published by Webster A Co. of New York. Mr. Beecher, in bis own inimitable way, tells tbeetory of the great scandal in which himeelf and Mr. Tilton and wife were the prin cipal actors. Mr. Beecher and the mutual friend, Moulton, have crossed the border into the unknown; Mr. Tilton is a wanderer in a foreign land, while his wife is living a quiet life in Brooklyn. Bessie Turner is a wile and a mother, and Victoria Woodhull and Tennie C. Clafflin are married to wealthy Englishmen. Mr. Beecher speaks of Tilton as one who, by his infatuation with Victoria Woodhull, had fallen from a high position to become almost a dependent on the charity ot bin friends. Not until this time,according to Mr. Beecher, did lie brooch the scandal which had been in his knowl edge for six mouths, and it was made known simply that he might extract from Mr. Bowen, of the Independent, <17,000, the amount of a claim in dis pute. As soon as the check foi the above amount was in his hand, his suppositious griefs were forgotten arid* lie signed the famous treaty of peace. This, Mr. Beecher says, was represented to him as necessary to re lieve him lrom the imputation of hav ing originated and circulated certain old slanders about Mr. Beecher. In speaking of Mr. Moulton Mr. Beecher says; “My confidence in him was the only thing that seemed secure in that confusion of tormenting perplexities. To him 1 wrote freely in that troub lous time, when I felt that secret machinations were going on around and echoes ot the vilest slander concerning me were heard of in unex spccted quarters. Mr. Tilton was first known to me as a reporter of my T Iki.oU mu <1/1 if /tl« i the Independent one of t he induce ments held out to me was that Mr. Tilton should be my assistant and re lieve me wholly from routine office work. In this relation I became very much attached to him. He frequent ly urged me to make his house my home. He used to often speak in ex travagant terms of his wife’s esteem and affection for me. After I began to visit his house he sought to make it attractive. Ho urged me to bring my papers down there and use his study to do my writing in, as it was not pleasant to write in the office of the Independent. Mr. Beecher then goes on at length to show how he was beguiled by Til ton after the lattei had left his posi tion upon the Independent and the Brooklyn Union. Me. Beecher says. "After Mr. Tilton’s return from the west in December, IhTO, a young girl whom Mrs. Tilton bad taken into the family, educated and treated like an own child, was sent to me with an ur gent request that I would visit Mrs. Tilton at ner mother’s. She said that Mrs. Tilton had left her home and gone to her mother's in consequence of ill-treatment of her husband. Sin. then gave an account of what she had seen of cruelty and abuse on the part of the husband that shocked me. I immediately visited Mrs.Tilton at her mother's and received an account of her home life and of the despotism of her husband and of the management of a woman whom he had made housekeeper, which seemed like a nightmare dream. The question was whether she should go back or separate forever from lier husband. I asked permission to bring my wife to see them, whose judgment in all domestic relations I thought better than my own, and accordingly a stcoud visit was made. The result oi the interview was that my wife wasex tremelv indignant toward Mr. Tilton. and declared that no consideration on earth would induce li r to remain an hour with a man who had treated •ier with a hundredth part cf such in wit and cruelty. I felt as strongly as the did, but hesitated, as I always do, kt giving advice in favor of a separa tion. It was agreed that my wife should give her final advice at anoth er visit. The next dav, when read)' to go, she wished a fund word, but there was company and the children were present, and so i wrote on a scrap of paper: ‘I decline to think that your view is right and that a separation and a settlement of sup port will be wisest, and tiiat in bis pretent des|ierate state her presents near him is far more likely to produce hatted than her absence. lih.MANl'INU hkkciiku’k WITHIiRAWAI,. "Mrs. Tilton did not tell me that my presence had anything to do with this trouble, nor did she let me know i that on the July previous he had ex j tortrd from her a confession of exces sive affectum for me. "tin tiie evening of Ikr. IfT, 1*70, i Mr. Ilowen, on Ins way home, called at t my house and handed me a letter from Mr. Tilton. It was, as nearly i as I can remember, in the following ’ ttrnii " 'lleury Ward fleer her For reasons I which you explt-'tllv know, and which ; I for hear to state* 1 demand that you withdraw i.om the pulpit and eput Diuoblyii as w imklsiHV. Tiiiiuoiu Tu.rti*,' "I lead it over Isis and turned to Mr. Ilowen an I said Tim man t« i cra«y, tins is sheer Insanity,' and oil* ' er like wonts Sir. Howett prof* »s**| I to he ignorant of lli« loulents, ami I , handed I nn the letter to lead We wt i once fed Into a conversation about %lr, Tdtoa. He ten* me some a* , omit ' of the reasons why li>- had reduced hint front the editorship of the lm|« Iwn t«nt tsv the suivorninate posit nm Of coni rtbutor name r, that Mr ‘I'd ton's lelwm-is ami so* val stews,were rinning the 0 t Mice. TM.iox’s is* tutrix A osu stalk OUST, "ft now app a>* that on the Vu:t< : of |** envtaer. I * *‘U Ml I. ion bavin,, • teamed that I had replied to In* j tbtewieiiv letter by i «j.»> »* ng soch an opinion of him as to set Mr. Bowen finally against him and bring him fnco to face with immediate ruin, extorted from hie wife, then suffering under a severe-Bines*, a document incriminat ing me, and prepared an elaborate at upon me. "In my then morbid condition of mind I thought that this charge, al though entirely untrue, might result in great disaster, if not absoluse ruin. The great interests which were en tirely dependent on me, the church which I had built up, the book which I was writing, my own immediate fam ily, my brother’s name, now engaged in the ministry, my sisteis, the name which I had hoped might live after me and be in some slight degree a source of strength and encouragement to those who should succeed me, and, above all, the cause for which I bad devoted my life, seemed imperiled. It seemed to me that iny life work was to end abruptly and in disaster. My earnest desire to avoid a public ac cusation and the evils which must necessarily llow trom it, and which now have resulted from it, has been one of the leading motives that must explain my action during these four yeurs with reference to this matter. Tin: woumiu,i. (t.iquk. During the whole of 1871 Mr. Beech er was kept in a state of suspense and doubt. The officers of Plymouth church sought to investigate Tilton’s religion views, but the pastor assured them lie had hopes of Ids repentance, and restoration to the church. "Meanwhile one wing of the female suffrage party,” continues Mr. Beech er, "had got hold of lus story in a dis torted and exaggerated form, such as had never been intimated to me by Mr, Tilton or his friends. 1 did not then suspect what I now know that those atrociously false rumors originated with Mr. Tilton himself.” When Mr. Tilton returned from his lecturing tour in 1W7U Mr. Beecher made an inefectual effort to have him cut loose from Woodhull and her as- j sociales, in order that he might re uiiini, laia tientiur ii!u/<u in - -- r- i i s TIIK TRIPARTITE AGREEMENT. In speaking of ttie famous tripar tite agreement, Mr. Beecher calls at tention to the fact that at this time the Golden Age, a paper started hy Tilton and his friends, was on tfie verge of bankruptcy, and the i>ecun iary obligations were very pressing. “About this time,” says Mr. Beecher, “Mr. Moulton, who was sick, sent for me and showed mda galley proof of an article prepared hy Mr. Tilton for | the Golden Age, in which he embodied a copy of a letter written by him to Mr. Bowen, dated Jan. 1, 1871, in which he charged Mr. Bowen with making scandalous accusation against my ctiaiacter. This was the first time that 1 had ever seen these charg es, and I had never heard of them ex 1 cept hy mere rumor, Mr. Bowen never | having at any time said a word to me on the subject. I was amazed at the proposed publication. I did not then understand the real object of giving circulation to such slanders. My first impression was that Mr. Tilton designed, under cover ot an attack upon me in tbe name of another, to oi»en the way for the pub lication of his own personal griev ances. I protested against the publi cation in the strongest terms, but was inlormed that it was riot intended as an act hostile to myself, but to Mr. Bowen. I did not any the less insist upon my protest against this publi cation. On its being shown to Mr. Bowen tie was thoroughly alarmed, and speedily consented to appoint ment of arbitrators to bring about an arricable settlement. The result of this proceeding was that Mr. Bowen paid Mr. Tilton over $7,000, and that a written agreement was entered into by Bowen, Tilton and myself of am nesty, concord and future peace. not a i'knnv »or hi.ackm a;:.. “The full truth of this history re quires that one more fact should lie told, especially as Mr. Tilton has invited it. Money has been obtained from me in the course of these affairs in considerable sums, hut i did not at first look upon the suggestions that I should contribute to Mr. Tilton’s pecuniary wants as savoring of black mail. Afterward 1 contributed at one time $15,000. * * * Alter the money had been paid over in $1,000 hills, to raise winch I mortgaged the house J live in, I felt very much dis satisfied with myself about it. Final ly a square demand and a threat was made f o one ol my confidential friend* that if $5,000 more were not paid Tilton’s charges would he laid before 'the public. This I saw at once w»i I black mail in its boldest form, and I ' never paid a cent of it, but challenged and requested tbe fullest exposuri.” Niagara’s Power. Modern l.iglit mid Hunt. It seems that there is a scheme ' again on foot to utilize over an area I of 1,000 miles radius, by electrt a I dirtributioo, the power ol Niagara j Fall*. That tine idea is very old, we | need not remind any one; that it is | at present looked upon by comiietrut I visi t rival engineers a« tinfcaMlilc, is I equally well known, Kvrii the wealth of the ItolhschihU has Uni unequal I to I lie task ol t rmikind ting large I amounts ol electrical energy to any great di.tancv, lor the wx|M<rivuce ot Marcel Is pier, recently carried on in | France under their liouncial patron I age, have resulted m entire tailor*, h | is easy ta ravvatmnt electricity and its • . slavery to man. and the giant lutes | ol nature realty to do ins bidding, but it must not be fuigiittni tha. to transmit large amounts of energy over an e’r.trnal conductor with any : 'retard to minim trial limns meanstn I work at an *ie» tro motive, with win, h J «e aie a* yet familiar m dynamo tdr i mils only on paper, and to harness { •'» army mine to * baby rarrta^ j would tw a h.trmV** proceeding nhu^ i parwl a it It rootlet ling « muior it* a man s factory with a circuit ol the thousand* ol volts we hear talked 1 about. I *t*n t| dtrecl current traue I turnon* are need before tbe current is hiou.br wttrr lit# factory tbe douver i* ! lint ewllrety dun* aaat with. Tins i. onli one ol the dirt*, oit lee. Then ! name te Wgiuu
