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THErEED CLOUD CHIEP
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. C. HOSMER, Publisher.
:red cloud,
NEBRASKA.
TJi HAPPY WOMAN.
3od did not jrive me a palace
-r, .r.rich rod wine and bilk:
Jint lesavc mo a cotta-re or peace,
-. ..V,e whitc wheat loaf and raillc
t.od did not give me n golden crown,
ortliepoinnof county life:
k"lHe. ave ine the j-oliicn ring of love
The ring of a happy wife. ;
"J?,5"01! ,ne to wrk in the household,
"lo -rlean In the harvest-held.
To gather the butter and honey.
-nd the wealth or the orchard yield:
no be out m the wind and sunshine.
Tossing tho rented hay;
To be up and feeding the workers
At the breaking ot the day.
lie fives me the hire of my labor.
The wage that 1 love the best,
The love of a loyal husband.
The babes at my knee and breast.'
J shate the hope of the sower.
I know when the roses blow;
3IIne is the joy of the harvest.
And the winter's lire and tnov. '
God giveth to some a palace.
And rich red wine and silk:
But Cod gave me a cottage of peace.
And the white wheat loaf and milk.
God giveth to some a golden crown.
And the pomp of courtly life:
Jiuf God gave ine Love's golden ring.
And the joy of mother and wife.
.And. oh, I nm full content.
Filling niv own little place:
Doing its every-dav duties
With a smiliug. cheertul grace.
You could not ti ml a happier soul.
If ever the world you'd range:
There is not a Queen 1 envy,
A woman with whom I'd change.
Ltllie . Larr, in A'. X Ledger.
WHAT LOVE IS.
.Smiles and tears are common things;
Hearts that throb like thitti-nn-r wings.
Sudden blushes, causeless sighs,
"Tender glances or bright eyes,
TJeldiugs to the least demands
"Whispers soft and touch of hands.
Grief when time awhile divides
May mean lore or aught besides.
These mar come and these may go,
Though of love you never know;
Though love's tone have these, alone
Love has attributes it, ow n.
That can ever dearer make
Xire but for the other's sake
That can welcome death as sweet
"When 'tis tile cast at love's teet.
Love unites, as when the sun
Melts two cloudlets into one;
Vibhes to one center tend;
Hopes and tears and fancies blend.
As two melodies combine.
Forming harmouy divine:
As two rivers, soul with out
Joins to make :hc perfect whole.
O'eurjc JStnUeuc, m Jcmnrcst's Monthly.
MADE OE MAERED.
nr jxssnc fotiieiigim
-Axdtusr of "One of Thru," "Probation,"
WcUfttM." Etc.
lTho
CriAPTEK XXII. Continued.
She made no answer, hut sat gazing
in an embarrassed manner across the
ea. How could she say to him: "It is
because you have come home that I
want to go?" The idea of his guessing
such a thing made her feel hot all over,
for toMabelle's morbid susceptibility it
appeared as if l'hilip must be just as
sensitive as herself on the subject of
her sister's conduct three years ago.
Had he not left England to escape from
the possibility of seeing or being near
Angela? She totally forgot that that
escape might have been an effectual
one, and that Philip might now be free,
delivered from the possibility of any
keen feeling on the subject. To her it
was a sore spot a haunting memory
of shame and misery, and rather than
name it to Philip the would even recall
.' her resolution, and remain at Red Lees
sit whatever cost of misery to herself.
Her feelings of utter dismay may,
therefore, be more easily imagined than
described when Philip "went on, in the
calm, self-contained manuer of one
who was pursuing an interesting but
jiot very exciting inquiry.
"You don't speak, f bcin to think
that Grace was right after all, and that
it is I who am the unhappy cause of
your determination to leave us. Can it
be so really, Miss Fairfax?"
"Oh. how could Grace " began
.Mabelle, and then overwhelmed by the
tlreadfulness of the position, and qu'tc
losinir her head in Jier confusion, she
.hastily sprang up, and was about to
ily without a word.
But before she could absolutely rise
Philip had interposed, and the touch of
his hand on her arm checked her sud
denly. "Do, please. Ictme go:" she exclaimed,
with a mixture of dignity and distress
in her voice and attitude." "It is really
more than a jest; it is not ''
"Evidently it is more than a jest,"
he replied, rather curtly. "At least, it
is evident that you consider it so.
4 , Grace didn't, though. Now, Miss Fair-
' lax. listen!"
Mabelle turned involuntarily, and
found him looking at her with an au
,v thorative expression which made her
pause, whether she would or not.
"You tacitly own that I have some
thing to do with your wish to cut short
your visit here," lie went on. and his
deep tones thrilled through poor Ma
belle, while the undercurrent of longing
to go, to get away, to escape from some
thing, sheknewnot what, grew stronger
every instant. "And I think I have a
right to know your reason. What have
I done to offend you? I am sure I have
tinned unconsciously, and one word
from you shall product a change I will
not offend again."
"Oh, Mr. Massey, how can you speak
-so cruelly? How can you turn me into
ridicule in such a manner?" she cried,
suddenly sitting down in ihe little hol
low, and covering her face with her
Lands. Dr. Johnson, full of an intelli
sent and sympathetic desire to console
her, put his paws on her lap, and
craned his neck to Tick her hands, while
Philip exclaimed, blankly:
"Turn you into ridicule! I have not
the faintest idea what you mean.'
"You must know perfectly well my
' reason for wishing to go." saidMabelle,
looking up at him with something like
Indignation at what appeared to her the
"wildest prolongation of an ordeal which
was becoming unendurable to her.
" On my soul and honor, all I know
:s that Grace came to me in a state of
much agitation, bade me put down my
?)ook and not be so lazv, anil when I
asked her in what way I could best
show her my activity in a pleasing man
ner, she pointed out of the window to
your i:gur and said: 'I've had a
quarrel with her, and you arc at the
"-tottom of it. She says she wants to go
away. Go and make it up with her.'
With" allrmy heart," "I replied, if yon
will tell me what I have done to offend
her.1 'I don't know,' she said, but if
you will go after her, she will tell you,
I am sure, and you must make it up
with her.' I am Grace's slave and
yours, so I came. Now, Miss Fairfax-,
v,
will vou explain? How have I offende
3d
you?"
. f 7a nnf !. , .T.wl ot . It, - T
lb n 11UI lll.lb UU UllUJlU Jill", IJlIt J.;
am sure I offend 7oh." said Mabelle
looking up with a face literally uilame,
and confronting the calm, bronzed face,
and the stead v dark eves of Philin
fixed earnestly upon her'own. A look !
of surprise was dawning in them as he
said:
"Offend vie! lam afraid I am still
in the dark. How could you by any
possibility offend me? 1 ok?"
" I mean that even to look at me must
arouse painful recollections in your
mind. It can not be pleasant to you for
me to bo here, after oh, you can not
have forgotten the last time we met
and and Angela!"
The word was out, and a dead silence
supervened, during which, after one
Hash from Philip's eyes, his countenance
scarcely changed. He looked thought
fully at the head of Dr. Johnson, while
he still gently stroked back the ears of
that companionable friend of man; and
the movement of his hand maintained its
regular, unexcited rhythm. Mabelle
sat looking at him breathlessly, and
doubt, fear, bewilderment, succeeded
bne another in a mad chase through her
mind, as she saw, first that dubious
liash of his eves, then the still more
dubious half smile which curved his
lips, and then the unshakable gravity;
without a trace of sternness or d;s-
pleasure, which followed. He did not
.spcaic: ne scemeu 10 oe lost in renee-
tion, till at last, looking up to Mabelle.
alter what appeared to ner a ween
of agitated emotion, she found his eyes
as calm, as steady, as serene as those of
a child.
"Are you angry?" she murmured,
timidly touching his arm. "I did not
mean to say that; but, oh! I have
never forgotten it, and now I believe
you have."
Philip arrestcil the hand, and held it
in his own as he said:
"Do vou think me so vindictive, Ma
belle?" "You have been so dreadfully in
jured!" she said.
"You really believe me so vindic
tive," he repeated, and though he was
amused he found he could not smile.
"I remember you suffered dreadfully at
that time. You were punished for a
sin which you could not have commit
ted if your life, hud depended upon it.
You were ill. and before it all came out
you had ondured tortures. I remember!
Grace wrote me about it at the time,
but at the time, instead of pitying you,
I was, I am afraid, hardening myneart,
and cursing your sister."
A little quick sob broke from Mabelle
as she tried lo draw her hand away, but
could not, and Philip went on:
"And it is 3'ou who suffer still. You
are so constituted, I suppose. All the
conscientiousness of 3-our family Avas
bestowed upon you, and 3011 have too
much of it, and others have too little.
And you imagine me nursinjr anger in
my heart against 3-ou: cherishing envy,
hatred and malice all these years! I
must 5:13 you have as nearly as possi
ble succeeded in offending me. It
shows me that I must have behaved
abominably in my lirst moments of dis
illusiocism for 3-011 to have thought thus
of me."'
Of course, by this time Mabel'e was
dissolved in tears, with Dr. Johuson b3'
herside in an attitude of profound
melancholy, his head and ears drooping
with a dolorous curve. She managed
to sa3, however:
"And 3-ou mean that you have quite,
quite got over forgiven, I mean that
"I never loved 3-our sister for one mo
ment, after I found she had lied to me."
he said, in a voice whose hardness dried
Mabelle's tears like magic. "On the
contraiy, I hated her with an unreason
ing, contemptuous hatred a bad feel
ingfor, after all, she was made so.
What enraged me was that I coidd not,
with my love for her, shake off its ef
fects upon my mind and character.
That was impossible. M3- love for her
had made me soft, I suppose, and her
deceit made me hard: and hard and
rough I shall remain all my life in conse
quence. No doubt 3-011 know. Miss
Fairax, that there is said to be a tide
in the affairs of men and there is also,
generally speaking, a time when the
stuff of which a man is made hardens
into shape, and no after-events can do
more than somewhat modify the cor
ners and outlines of that shape. Noth
ing short of smashing him to pieces
making an end of him can do more.
When 3'our sister jilted me -forgive the
word I am apt to speak rather too
plainlv for the ears of voung ladies, I
know "
"But not for those of women who re-.
spect the truth," interposed Mabelle,
decisively, though in a smothered voice.
"1x0; mat is wen sain. 1011 are
like Grace, I see, and prefer straight
forward expressions. Well, when 'our!
sister jilted me, the stuff I was made!
of took a very rough, marred sort of
shape; it got a twist, and nothing can,
ever make it straight again, or turn' me
into an agreeable, or gentle, amiabl
character. But it did not make me a
titter brute, as vou seem to think.
did not depriveine of the power to di
uiigiusn oeiween your sister, to who
Truth was a stranger, and j'ou.
whom she was the dearest friend
" Oh, if you could ever forgive me
1 1 have thought too much of it I
was all the world to me I hated it so
what she did; and I fancied it was
all the world to you, too.'
" Well, 3-011 owe me some little repa
ration, doh't 30U think, for having
fancied sueh things of me?"
" Indeed. I do; and a-thing any
single thing 3-ou can name "
Then stay here until Grace sets 3-011
free to go home, and let me endeavor
to show myself to 3-ou in a more favor
able light than hitherto."
" Very well. I must appear very
feolish to you. and oh, niy letter to
Angela! It will have gone."
"It has gone just as iar as my coat
pocket," he answered, producing it,
and Mabelle made a snatch at it.
"No, no!" said Philip. "Suppose we
tear it up and scatter it to the ocean
wave. I'll do it, and you sit still."
Mabelle aud Dr. Johnson watched
3
him tear the letter into tiny fragments
I and scatter them in a little shower over
Uie cliff.
"So is dispersed the absurd idea of
your going away from Red Lees yet,"
.':aid he. composedly, while she sat with
her bauds. folded before her, not feeling
j equal to opening
to oucmnr a conversation, till
1'iiilip said:
! "And how is she Angela,
I
mean-
i wnili" jtmtiif ya twiT-ili-i.!""
J"" ' ..?. iuiuj.t..
"Sae is very well, thank you."
"And happy?"
"Not exactly."
"Miserable?"
"Oh, no!"
"What an odd
state of mind. And
( you live v
! "Yes."
with her?"
" "Do 3-ou like it?''
No
"Why?"
"Our I don't think' our
tastes
agree."
"You quarrel, perhaps?"
"No, never."
" You each go on your own way, and
never speak to each other?"
" JNot at all. We see a great deal of
each other. We get on somehow."
" And go out a great deal, I suppose,
and have a lot of visiting? They say
that is a wonderful help when one is
dull at home."
" But we don't 20 out much. Mr.
Fordyce docs not like it. We are very,
very quiet."
"Then, perhaps, vou are rather
dull?"
"Dreadfully dull."
"You must be. And vou find it less
' dull here, do you?"
-'I never find it dull at all here."
j " Yet you were ready, and even anx
ious, to ro back to that dull place be
cause vou thouclit
- Oh. don't please!"
" Well. I
won't.
Where does your
in which part of
sister live?
I mean
Irkford?"
" Her house is called Stoneiield, in
Queen's Park."
"Oh! They are
about there."
verv grand houses
"Very big," said Mabelle, dubioush.
"Big," 3'es. I remember admiring
them very much once. But what I was
going to sa3 Was, do you do as 3-011
please at Stoneiield, anil have 3-our own
visitors, and all that?"
"I know so lew other girls, 3011 see,
and Mr. Fonlyee does not care much to
have main 3ouug people about. Thej
disturb him."
"How cheering for 3ou! He would
hardh look upon me, though, in the
lisrht of a voung person, would he?"
""You!"'
'T even I! You seem horrified at
the idea."'
"Do 3'ou mean you would like to come
nd call upon Mr! l:ord3ce?"
"I should like to come and call upon
you, and then 3-011 could introduce me
lo Mr. Foruyee. Would Mrs.Jforuyce
object much, do 3011 think?"
"N no. 1 don't know. I don't think
so."
"Then what are 3-our objections?
Perhaps 3011 would object?"
"No. 1 don't know whv 3-011 should
not call, if if "
"If I think I can stand it. 3011 mcaa.
I almost think I can, after a little while
when I have got accustomed to it,
3ou know. But we will leave that an
open question for the present. Wh3 are
3011 getting up? There is no need to go,
and it is delicious here."
" But we must cro. Don't vou hear
that bell rinjnnj;? It means that
tea
has been waiting ever so long,"
"What an awful ide-i! Well, stop
one moment, Mabelle?"
"Yes, if you wish to."
" I do. It reminds me of the days
when 1 carried your books for you to
the High School. Don't go so fast. Re
member 3ou owe me some repara
tion "
" It seems to me you want a great
deal of reparat on," said Mabelle. feel
ing almost at home with Philip at last
almost as she had done in those da3s
gone bv. "when he had carried her
'What is the next piece of J
reparation?" she inquired.
" Onby this. We shall go out for a !
walk after tea, Grace aud I. She wants
some consolation now that Hermann
has departed. You must promise not
to have a bad headache immediately
we propose setting out, like vou had
last night." j
"Oh, if that is all, I promise," said!
Mabelle, laughing, as the3' went slowby
toward the house; laughing again at the
disconsolate attitude of Dr. Johnson,
who had heard the bell, and was now
seated in the field half W.-13- home,
anxiously waiting for them to come 1
for he resembled his immortal name
sake in nothing more strongly than his
devotion to a small cup of the most
agreeable of liquids.
In due time they arrived at Bed Lees,
entered thu hall, and were met by
Mabelle had consented to sta3 at tf,e
Red Lees none of the three quite knew.
All that the did know was that the
days were literally as happ3 as they
were long; and if zuy- one of them had
been asked, he or she would probably
have owned to an impression that at
Foulhaven the said- da3's were lono-cri
and sunnier, ths hours more, golden,
than anywhere else in the world.
If Philip was, as Mabelle accused him
of being, somewhat exacting in the mat
ter of reparation, he was, on the other
hand, equally assiduous to make it man
ifest to her h'ow entirely she had mi--
j taken him; and he succeeded in the at
tempt, as ot course it was certain that
he must During a month's holiday and
idleness there was ample opportunit3'
for him to give this kind of enlighten
ment, particularly to one wlio was so
willing to be enlightened as Mabelle.
I'Mlm had been told by the head of
(rm
IM
f-Ht
itBm
.! - JTJ -
his firm to take as long a holiday as he
liked, for that he had earned it; and
though he had declared at fir?; on his
return that he would be lost without
his work, he very soon succeeded in
getting quite accustomed to idleness.
Certainly, everj circumstance, all his
surroundings, just then offered as it
wer a premium to idleness. The lux
ur.ous summer weather; the society of
two girls, one of . whom at least sur
rounded him w.th eVer'orm of petting
and love and indulgence, in her yy
at having him back again, and her
1)ride in his cleverness and capacity,
'or a letter had come from Mr. Starkie
to Mr. Massey the elder concerning his
son, and what he had done, which let
ter the gratified father had not been
able to forbear reading aloud to the
womenkind, and on nearing which
Mrs. Masse3- had wiped her eyes, and
Grace had danced for joy and prayed
that the letter might be given to her
for an heirloom; while a third lad3 had
sat in the background, with down-bent
head and glowing face, biting berlips,
and feeling her heart beat wildly.
Upon this scene the object of it hud
entered, and inquired what was the
matter. Being presented with the letter,
he had reau it, while all ey.es were
fixed upon him, and looking up, with
a flush upon his face, had beheld all
those ees, and breaking into a, some
what embarrassed laugh, had kissed
his mother, saying:
"Flummery! We always said thcro
was no one lfke old Starkie for putting
the paint on thick."
"It's a kind of paint that I like to see
laid on thick," retorted Grace, captur
ing the letter, which went to repose in
her archives; and ever after she made
more of Philip than ever; nothing was
too good, or, indeed, good enough for
him, and she went near to kill him with
, kindness.
But, as has been said, he took very
kindly to it. The man who had been
so restless and so untiringly energetic;
who had Worked so hard amongst what
Mr. Starkie designated the inconceiva
ble nardships of a desolate land scarce
trodden b3 other civilied foot than his
own likellobin-fon Crusoe, Grace said
whose frame had been made hardier
by his hardy life; who had been content
to sleep on a matting spread on the
ground, or sometimes on the ground it
self, "under the beautiful stars," and
who had worked with his bauds as hard
as the commonest navvy under"his or
ders, now reconciled himself with the
utmost affability to the dolec far nientc
of a summer holiday, to aimless strolls
over the cliffs with Dr. Johnson and one
or both of the girls, or to lying
stretched out upon the top of thesaid
cliff, while one of the 3"oung ladies
read Browning or Tennyson, or what
siwjvor other bard happened to be most
in favor at the moment; to sitting D3
moonlight in the scented garden, and
talking the veriest nonsense in the shape
of "chaff" with Grace, and sometimes
Mabelle, which it can enter into the
heart of man to conceive: to long jog
trot drives in the pouy-phaeton (always
with Dr. Johnson anil the girls) over
the breezy roads to distant woods, or to
some of the famous country-seats with
which the neighborhood abounded
fTO UK CONTINUED.
How Bears Fish.
Very few people know that bears
take to water naturally. The3' roam
over the mountains an.! through the
forestsdig open rotten logs for ants
and worms, and secure all the hornets'
nests they can, and tear them to pieces
and eat the 3oung grubs, pick berries
of all descriptions and eat them, and
would seem to belong
to the drv-land
animals.
The fact is different,
water, not, perhaps,
They love the
as well as the
moose and deer, but better than most
dry-land animals.
rhc3 are veiy fond of fish, and are
expert fishermen, and show more cun
ning and instinct, if not rea-on. than
man' cit3 chaps 1 have seen about the
lakes.
I came suddenly upon a ven- large
bear in a thick swamp, h'ing upon a
large hollow log across a brook, fishing,
and ho was so much interested in his
sport that he did not not'-ce me until I
had approached very near-to him, so
that I could see exactly how ho baited
his hook and played his fish. He fished
in this wise: There was a large hole
through the log on which he la3, and ho
thrust his forearm through the hole
and held his open paw in the water and
waited for the fish to irather around
and into it, and when full he clutched
his fist and brought up a handful of
fish and sat and ate them with great
gusto; then down with the paw again,
and so on.
The brook was fairly alive with little
trout and red-sided suckers and some
black suckers, so the old fellow let him
self out on the fisaes. He did not eat
their heads. There was quite a pile ol
them on the log. I suppose the oil on
his paw attracted the fish and baited
hem even oetter man a ny-nooK, ana
lis toe-nails were his hooks, and sharp
nes too, and once grabbed, the fish are
ure to sta3'.
They also catcli lrogs in these ioresi
rooks, and drink of the pure water in
ot summer days, and love to lie anil
vallow in the mudd3" swamps, as well
,s our pigs in the mire.
hev often cross narrow places in
akes 03 swimming, and also rivers, and
eem to love to take a turn in tne
ivater. I once saw one swimming irom
he mainland to the big island in
looseluemajrantio Lake, with just 0
treakof his back out of tho water, look-
iner like a loir movimr alonjr. Sometimes
you see only. their heads out of the
water; at other times half of their bod
ies ai? to be seen. We account for this
difference b- their condition. If fat,
the grease helps to buoy them up; il
lean, the3 sink lower in the water.
Lcwhton (Jc.) Journal.
m
The London Lancet does not ap
prove of children's parties, and thinks
that not only in winter, but at all sea
sons, the amusements of 3-oung children
should be simple, unexciting and a
free as possible from the chanictenst'Ct
of the pleasures of later years.
A patent-medicine man advertise!
that, beginning life upon nothing, he
attained such a pitch of prosperity thai
he wore velvet robes with diamond but
tons, and stood before kings. JV. I
A'ctf-f.
SeTCral Wars Not to Win. - -
When the practiced and practical
fighter placed his raw soldiers in line at
Bunker Hill, ho said: "Wait till 3-011
see the whites of their ee-. aud then
aim low." The Republicans can beri:t
to "see the whites of their eves." Tne
candidate of the three barrels the
money barrel.- the whisky barrel, ami
the oil barre is likely to" be the Dem
ocratic candidate. He will be a stron--candidate,
too. It would be the heigh"
of folly to underestimate his strength.
Mr. Payne is strong in what he has,7m.l
in what ho has not. He has wealth and
a fair reputation, and he has not a long
and loaded record. He is from Ohio!
and that State votes in October. His
nomination will hopelessly wreck from
the start the Democratic notion of ap
pealing to the communistic hatred of
great corporations, but that will be a
niece of good luck for the part'. Mr.
Payne's relations with corporations and
monc3etl men will give him a kind of
strensth that mere wealth will not give
Mr. Tildcn, the railroad lawyer, and
that no other Democratic candidate for
a long time has been able to command
in an3 degree. In short, the candidate
of three barrels of strength.
Mr. Payne has weak points also,
which we do 'not propose now to dis
cuss. It is best for the Republicans, at
the very outset, to realize that here is a
candidate whose nomination is possible,
and from present appearances even
probable, whom it will be no holiday
amusement to defeat. It is time to
think about tak'ng aim. A weak nom
ination or a frivolous nomination will
not defeat that particular foe. One or
two men can be nominated who will
render the defeat of the Democrats with
Mr. Payne almost a certainty. But a
great many others are talked about,
who would in all probability be beaten
by him. A shot aimed at the right
place will kill; all the other shots will
miss.
For one thing, it will not be exactlv
in order to aim at Mr. Payne as a
Northern man with Southern principles.
Ho was the snokesman of the majority
in behalf of the platform adopted in tlfc
Democratic Convention of 18G0 that
platform whose adoption Southern dele
gations protested against by seceding.
It was not a platform that would be
called ven brilliant or statesman-like
to-day, but it took some independence
to insist upon it when disruption of the
convention and of the part3 was the
known consequence. It will not v.y to
nominate against Mr. Payne any man
who has not the respect and confidence
of the conservative and business ele
ments of the country. A candidate
who does not know what he believes
about the mone3 question, or who hap
pens to believe wrong, will have a hard
time of it. If the Republican party so
behaves as to retain the confidence
which its splendid course has inspired
in conservative and property-owning
citizens, and uaraes a candidate who
has bsen identified with that honorable
career, it need not fear. But it can not
afford this 3ear to ignoro the wishes of
such citizens; still less can it afford to
affront them.
The Democrats have chosen to put
their convention later than the Repub
lican. If a nomination that is weak or
vulnerable should be made by the Re
publicans, we ma3" expect to see the ut
most advantage taken of it. Any man
of average sense can name several nom
inations that wouh? infallibly hand over
the electoral votes of New York, New
Jersc3' and Ohio to the Democratic
party. But there is not the slightest
need of going wrong. The convention
has only to lemember that the past con
duct of the Republican party in r.gard
lo public faith, honest money and pro
tection of industry, has cured for it
the confidence of conservative interests.
It has no reason to throw awa3 that
that confidence, or to shake it. The
convention has onl- to select a candi
date who represents what tho Republic
an party has done that is wise and
wortln' of confidence. It can find more
than one. But it would be particular
unwise to select a candidate who has
not been in sympatic with what is wise
and worthy of confluence in tho past
conduct of the party. This is not the
year to make that blunder with impu
nity. A7. Y Tribune.
A school-boy in London committed
suicide the' other (L-13. He had failed to
pass an examination, and for many
months before had been overworked and
cruelly punished in school. His teach
er states that he was noi a "brijrht
lad," and it was no doubt the absence
of this "brightness" that caused him to
lag in the educational race that was set
before him. The wise Coroner's jury
brought in a simple verdict of "suicide."
Perhaps a verdict of "killed by a false
and vicious system of education" would
have been truer to the facts. Dcl-rbit
Post.
m -
- The remains t of Ah Sam, the
Chinaman of the Jeannette, have
traveled 15,000 miles in search of a
grave, but are not 3et in their final
resting place. They will soon be taken
across the United States to San Fran
cisco, 3,1)00 miles, and then across the
Pacific, 10.000 miles further, to the old
home in China', thus making the circuit
of the globe and one-fourth of a sec
ond circuit. He was brought from
Asia and goes back to Asia". X. Y.
Herald.
" For the last five or six years,"
observed a distinjruished American
architect. ' I have been occupied al
most exclusively with public buildings.
I could count on the fingers of my
right hand the private houses I have
erected. My temper in consequence
has become comparatively sweet, for
nothing is so trying to an artist's soul
as to be subjected to the esthetic vhims
of charming women who desire his pro
fessional service." Harper's Weekly.
m
Dr. Poore, of London, in contrast
ing coffee and tea, sa3's the former con
tains more alkaloidal stimulant and the
latter more tannin. Tea calls for less
digestive effort than coffee, but the
tannin of tea' injures digestion after a
time. Out of ninety samples of ground
coffee purchased in London shops onl
five were found to be wholby genuine.
m m m
A willow tree standing in the cen
ter of Nicholasville, Iw., which meas
ures fourteen feet in circumference at
the base, was planted b3 Judge Wake
sixty-two years ago from a riding-switch.
The Cause of Southern Riets.
It is a favorito theory of a certain
school of political philosophers that
Southern riots are mainly attributable
to the feeling on the part of the white
men of the old slave States that the3
are necessarily superior to the negroes,
and that the negroes are therefore
bound to treat them with S3stematic
deference aud submission. The ne
groes, bcinr free, and invested with
ample political rights and privileges,
very naturally do not feel disposed to
take this view of the question, whence
it comes that the whites in haste and
exasperation fall upon them and scourge
and kill them. It will be better, we
are assured, as time passes and this
rooted sentiment of superior is modi
fied the progress of events, but it is
unreasonable to expect the former
masters to yield their inbred habits of
thought in an easy and prompt manner.
We must be satisfied to wait, the phil
osophers keep telling us, until the dom
ineering and wallowing instincts of these
people can have a fair chance to expend
their force and be replaced by some
thing more civilized aud considerate.
Let us see. how long has it been sinco
slavery was abolished? Some twent3
years, if 3-011 will think about it; and
still the whites are apparently ready at
a moment's notice, as demonstrated in
Virginia and Mississippi, to load their
guns and go to shooting the negroes on
the slightest provocation, particular!
about election time. If, after twenty
years, scenes like those of Danville anil
in the Copiah locality are possible and
logical, and not to lie wondered at, about
how long will it take to reduce things
to a condition of safet and decency
where shiver onee existed? Must we
indulge the chivalric and sensitive ex
slave owners in outrage and massacre
to a limit which shall depend only upon
their pleasure? There is a feeling in
the minds of people who look at such
matters practically that twenty -ears is
a reasonable period for such processes
to be prolonged, and that it is time tho
former masters were sufficiently famil
iarized with the fact of emancipation to
be content with some milder fashion of
vindicating their superior. This may
not be a philosophical view, but it is
manifestly a common-sense one, and en
titled to respectful attention.
The Democratic witnesses in the Dan
ville case all solemnly declare thai the
"insolence-' of the 'negroes was the
cause of the riot. This "insolence"
consisted, as far as yet shown, in "call
ing the conservative party hard names,"
and in exercising the prerogative of
standing in the public streets when tho
whites desired them to move on. "The
negroes would not go away," ono wit
ness sas, "and soon shooting began."
If, after twent 3ears, the superior raco
of the South is not so far reconciled to
the idea of negro freedom and citizen
ship that it can consent to let tho col
ored people titter an opinion of a polit
ical party, or tolerate the presence of
such persons in the street when an
election is imminent, it will require at
least a century, we should say, to bring
about the serene and harmonious state
of affairs which the philosophers sa3 we
must wait fcr patiently. There" is a
feeling abroad, we repeat, that enough
'time has been given the ex-slave-holders
to adapt themselves to the fact that the
negroes are human beings, citizens and
voters, like themselves, and that the
shotgun ought to be eliminated from
Southern politics without any further
delay.
Biit is it quite true, after all. thai
Southern riots are principally chargea
ble to this white hatred of the negro be
cause the negro was once a slave? It
has not always happened, we believe,
that the victims of Bourbon violence in
these cases were colored men. In fre
quent instances white men have been
butchered to make a Democratic holi
day. There is a case now under inves
tigation in which a man of unquestion
able Caucasian lineage was shot down
at the polls just as he was casting his
vote an assassination of the most de
liberate and atrocious character. Wo
refer, of course, to the case of Matthews,
in Mississippi; and that is only ono
among many such. It can not be
claimed, surehy, that such murders as
these were instigated by the "insolence"
of persons who were formerly subject to
the overseer's lash. It is certainly not
necessary to kill white men on account
of bitterness felt toward tho negroes.
There must be a deeper reason, there
fore, for much of the bloodshed which
is connected with the efforts of tho
Southern Bourbons to accomodate theni
selves to the results of the war for the
preservation of the Union.
There is now and then a paper that
strikes a key-note upon this question.
and unconsciously discloses the method
of the madness that seems so hard to
control and overcome. Here is the
Meridian (Miss.) Mercury, for instance,
a paper of recognized soundness as a
Democratic organ, which declares with
out concealment or evasion: "The hon
est truth is. there is no great love of
the United States Government among
the more respectable and intelligent
classes of Southern people. The ruling
classes have discussed it, and only liars
or fools will admit that it is satisfactory
or lovable, or that they do love it," We
suspect that this is really the moving
cause of a great deal of the rioting.
There is no genuine loyalty in those
quick bosoms that so throb and heave
over the alleged "insolence" of
the colored population. The thing
they can not make up their minds
to accept is the galling fact that they
.are obliged to live under a Gov
ernment which they fought so hard and
viciously to destro3:. Their attitude is
one of inveterate hostility to the laws
and institutions which proved too strono
for them. They are, to put it plainl
as rebellious in spirit to-day as thev
ever were. No doubt the hate the ne
groes, and take a keen delight in kill
ing them;" but they hate still worse tha
Government that made the negroes free,
and seize every chance that comes in
their way to embarrass its operations
and thwart its purposes. The Demo
cratic party in the South is, in a general
way, an organization opposed to the
Government as such, and determined
to give it as much trouble as possible.
That is the exact situation: and the
riots have their origin not so much in
hostility to the negro as in a seated
malevolence against the authority of
tne Nation that survives in spite of
their prolonged and desperate attempt
to take its life. St. Louis Qlobe-DcnuH 1
crat.
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