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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (June 1, 1894)
VICIOUS VOORHEES. HE HATES PROSPERITY FOR AMERICA AND FOR AMERICANS. TheoricA ami Fftl««hoo<lA Permeated Hi* Kn tlre Tariff Speech A Clever Exposure of Ilis Quibble* and Prevarications—His Vulgar Abuse Recoils Upon Himself. The rabid remarks made by Senator Voorhees during his opening debate upon the tariff bill in the senate bear strong earmarks of Clevelandism, and many opinions have been expressed that the senator’s speech was at least prompt ed by the president, even if not actual ly inspired by the White House tenant Such words as “greed, ” “stealthiness, ” “crime,’’ “selfishness” and the like always abound in the speeches and ad dresses of the president when he dis cusses a protective tariff. They are al most as frequent as the “I’s” and “Me’s” that have now become a part of American history, and the tautology of the expressions referred to in the speech of Senator Voorhees affords good reason for the suspicion that it was, be fore delivery, submitted to the approval of Me. According to Senator Voorhees, the tariff taxes that are now paid to the ex tent of $76,670,000 annually “on the wants, necessities and daily consump tion of the laboring men, women and children of the United States” will be removed. If it be proper to wipe out $76,670,000 of duty that has been col lected under the McKinley tariff, which 8enator Voorhees stigmatizes as “a gi gantic crime, ” is the senator not equal ly guilty of connivance at crime by re taining a single dollar’s worth of such duty? Is it that “his lust for riches takes alarm” when he sees so much revenue slipping away from the treasury, and that his “sordid, brutal selfishness” im pels him to keep a grasp even upon some of the McKinley dollars, although they make him a participator in “a gigantic crime?” On the basis of a population of 68, - 000,000 people, which is the total, ac cording to present estimates of the treas ury department, the amount of prom ised relief is $1.12% per capita of bur densome and oppressive taxation, divid ed among the different schedules as fol lows: Chemicals. $1,000,000 Pottery. 1,900.000 Glass. 1,500,ICO Metals.. 12.500,000 Wood... 300,feo Tobacco. 3,800,000 Agricultural products. 3,300,330 Spirits, wines, etc. 1,600,000 Cotton manufactures. 3,450 0^3 ] Flax, hemp, jute manufactures. 6,000,000 Woolen manufactures.. 23,500,000 Bilk manufactures. 3,600,000 Paper and pulp. 300,000 Sundries. 2,450,uJO Transferred to free list. 12,170,000 Total. $76,670,000 senator voornees claims tnat tne pro posed redactions in the tariff will save $76,670,000 in taxation to the laboring people. This would be correct upon the supposition that our imports of foreign goods would be no more and no less dur ing the years to come than they were during the year of protection, upon which his calculations were made. But he omits an essential feature in trace. The mere fact of our having a protective tariff has been to prohibit the foreign importations, and the mere fact of low ering the tariff will very largely in crease such importations to an extent that will also increase the “burden of taxation. ’ ’ The senator claims that every dollar collected under the McKinley tar iff is a tax. Every dollar collected under the free trade tariff will be equally a tax, and more of it, because the imports will be greater and the ultimate “burden of taxation” greater. Take an invoice of $1,000 for manu factures of cotton imported from Eng land and now paying 50 pier cent ad va lorem duty, the McKinley tariff thereon is $500. Take the free trade tariff of 85 pwr cent ad valorem, lyhich will p>ermit $2 ,000 of foreign cotton to be imported where only $1,000 are now imported, and the tax will amount to $700, an in crease of $200 in the ‘ ‘burden of taxa tion” laid upon the pwor people by the "Wilson tariff bilL The same rule may be applied to all other commodities, and the greater the difference between the present and the prop>osed tariffs the larger will be the impjorts of the foreign goods. This view of the case has not been presented by Senator Voorhees or any member of his free trade army. They endeavor to make the pieople be lieve that our imports will not be larger when the tariff is lowered, and that the British trader is not waiting impatient ly to flood our markets with his cheap goods. But there is still another view of the case that Senator Voorhees has entirely overlooked—the question of wages, a very important phase to the laborer. Where we now import but $1,000 worth of cot ton goods and will, with a lower tariff, import to the extent of $2,000, there "Will be just $1,000 worth less manufac tured in our own mills, and $800 less of this to be distributed in wages. This means that 400 men earning $2 per day will be deprived of their opportunity to earn. These 400 men are to receive a remission of $1.12in a year from the tariff taxes that they have been paying, yet in a single day they are to lose $2 in wages. This will be a great relief, no doubt But there may be some work ers and wage earners who would prefer to retain the $2 per day and pay the $1.12)t per annum. Such a natural de sire on their part is characterized by Senator Voorhees as * ‘sordid, brutal self ishness. ” and a “lust for riches. ” Senator Voorhees claims to desire the relief of the people from unjust taxation and proposes to relieve them to the ex tent of $76,670,000, or$1.12*4 per head. At the same time he argues in support of a bill that will provide a surplus of revenue to the extent of $29,889,245 and says “there is no terror to me in a sur plus like this. ” Perhaps not Men who juggle with millions can regard mil lions with complacency. But it seems hard upon the poor laborer who is to be deprived of his work and not have the means wherewith to support himself or his family. It will be small satisfaction for him, without a loaf of bread in the house, to contemplate a surplus of $29, - 889,245 hoarded up in the vaults of the treasury. Such a policy as is advocated by Sen ator Voorhees and his free trade associ ates will be regarded by the mass of the people as “a gigantic crime. ” It may lead to crime, and who could blame a poor man without work if he were «n pelled to crime at the sight of $29,389, 245 in gold hoarded in the treasury' . “There is no terror” to Senator Voor hees “in a surplus like this,” but all men are not made like Senator Voor hees, and some even are thankful that they are not. To quote his own words, he has “declared a policy so flagitious in principle, so rotten in morality and so ravenous in its exactions on the abso lute wants in life that its possible dura tion is only a question of time when the next election by the people should oc cur. ” CHARLE3 R. BUCKLAND. A COMPROMISE TARIFF. The Democrats Tried It Once Before, and the Country Suffered Severely. In view of the comproimse nature of tho Wuson tariff bill it is well to refer to the tariff act of 1838, which was in tended as a compromise and conciliato ry measure. Tho south was on the verge of open rebellion, so determined were they not to submit to the protective sys tem. Mr. Clay and congress did not in tend to give up the protective principle of the act of 1828. But, like all such compromise measures, it yielded just enough to completely destroy its efficien cy, as was subsequently learned to our sorrow. It provided that by a sliding scale of one-tenth biannually all duties in excess of 20 per cent should be abol ished within a period of 10 years. In its results and effects it was really an abandonment of the protective princi ple, for the reductions allowed were soon found to afford “insufficient pro tection, ” which is practically no pro tection, as was so terribly proved under the tariff of 1816. Industry and trade soon decline, and again foreign goods poured like an inundation into our mar kets. Financial depression followed, as signments and bankruptcies resulted ev erywhere, manufacturers suspended op erations, and business grew worse and worse till the culmination was reached in the financial crash of 1837, one of the most afpalling and disastrous finan cial revulsions ever known, severer even than that which followed the re peal of the first tariff in r816. The revulsion of 1837 produced a far greater havoc than was experienced in the period above mentioned. The ruin came quickly and fearfully. There were few that could save themselves. Prop erty of every description was parted with at prices that were astounding, and, as for the currency, there was scarce ly any at all. “In some parts of Pennsylvania the people were obliged to divide bank notes into halves, quarters, eighths and so on and agTee from necessity to use them as money. In Ohio, with all her abun dance, it was hard to get money to pay taxes. The sheriff of Muskingum coun ty, as stated by the Guernsey Times, in the summer of 1842 sold at auction one four horse wagon at $5.50, 10 hogs at 6% cents each, two horses (said to be worth $50 to $75 each) at $2 each, two cows at $1 each, a barrel of sugar at $1.50 and a store of goods at that rate. In Pike county, Mo., as stated by the Hannibal Journal, the sheriff sold three horses at $1.50 each, one large ox at 12 % cents, five cows, two steers and one calf, the lot at $3.25; 20 sheep at 13% cents each; 24 hogs, the lot at 25 cents; one eight day clook at $2.50; lot of tobacco, seven or eight hogsheads, at $5; three stacks of hay, each at 25 cents, and one stack of fodder at 25 cents” (Colton’s “Life of Henry Clay,” Vol. 1). The whole country went into liquida tion, bank loans and discounts fell off more than one-half, the money lost to the oonntry was not less than $1,000, 000,000, to say nothing of the tremen dous strain upon the moral sense of the people. All prices fell off ruinously, pro duction was greatly diminished, and in many departments practically ceased. Thousands of workingmen were idle, with no hope of employment, and their families suffering from want. Our farm ers were without markets. Their prod ucts rotted in their barns. Their lands, teeming with rich harvests, were sold by the sheriff for debts and taxes. The tariff which robbed our industries of protection failed to supply the govern ment with necessary revenues. The na tional treasury in consequence was bank rupt, and the credit of the nation very low. In the first six years after 1834 the revenue fell off 25 per cent, and the gov ernment was obliged to borrow money I at high rates of interest to pay current ! expenses.—American Economist. The Turkeys of Tiffin. Friend Kimmel, writing from the Heidelberg university, at Tiffin. 0., ; says that there seems to be an analogy 1 existing between our present free trade I Democracy and two old time turkey ' trappers that used to reside in that vi ! cinity. One of the trappers built a pen ] and succeeded in catching three fine ! wild turkeys. But while putting them j into the pen one got away from him, i bo he foolishly threw down the two he had in his hands to run after the one | that got away. The other trapper, see ! ing the race, exclaimed, “Run, Boltie. | run!” But Boltie failed to run fast | enough, and so lost all his turkeys. In like manner our free trade friends i want to throw down our large, certain 1 and profitable home market to risk ac ! quiring a small share in the sometimes ■ unprofitable and always uncertain so : called ‘ ‘markets of the world. ’ ’ The only ' difference seems to be that of the two i the free trader is the bigger fool, for • tbs trapper risked losing only 66% per cent in order to catch 33% per cent, i while the free trader risks losing 98 per cent in order to acquire the meager and ! uncertain 2 per cent A GENUINE HERO. rtiough Weak and Ailing, He Did the Proper Thing. “Have you ever wondered just what yon would do if, without a word oi warning, you were placed in a situation where you i had the choice of risking your own life sud- ' denly presented to you?” asked Gadderly i at the club the other night. Several mem bers declared they had not. “I recall a vivid instance of the kind,” said Gadderly as he ordered another bottle and braced himself back in bis chair. “It had often been a matter of speculation with me as to just what my action would be in a ; moment of extreme peril, and I am glad to | say, gentlemen, that when the time did ! come I was not unequal to the occasion.” There was a subdued murmur of sup pressed interest. “Some time ago,” he continued, “my health was so poor that upon the advice of my physician I engaged passage in a schoon er bound for Florida. The captain hail on board his little daughter, a sweet child of 12 years. One balmy day after we had been out a week I was slowly pacing the deck, and I may say that it was a particularly memorable occasion for me, that being the first day I was strong enough to walk, when I heard a sudden splash, and looking up hastily I discovered that the little girl had fallen overboard. Gentlemen, you can im agine my feelings.” Several members nodded. “Here was the opportunity of my life. There was a light breeze, and the schooner was moving lazily through the water. I rushed to the railing. For a brief instant I caught a glimpse of the terror stricken face of my little companion, and then she sank. In that brief moment, gentlemen, I have no hesitation in saying that I lived a lifetime. And yet—I say it calmly and dispassionate ly—the determination to save that little girl’s life never once was shaken. Before any one on deck knew what I was about I sprang to the railing and threw” “Excuse me a moment,” interrupted his friend Gilback. “Old man, you know you can’t swim.” “I know it,” quietly replied Gadderly. “And you said,” persisted Gilback, “that you were so weak that you could scarcely walk?” “I did,” responded Gadderly. “Then how could yon throw yourself overboard and save that child’s life?” tri umphantly questioned Gilback. “My dear fellow,” said Gadderly, “you misunderstood me entirely. I did not say that I jumped overboard. The captain had already done that.” “Then what did you do?” breathlessly in quired his audience. “As I was about to remark when I was interrupted,” replied Gadderly, gracefully filling his glass, “I sprang to the railing and threw him a life preserver.”—New York World. _ Two Standards. Jokes of a “practical” order are usually dangerous in one way or another, but a story is told of one harmless joke which il lustrated the power of imagination in an amusing way some years ago. At the time when most of the North river sloops came in at Coenties slip the Levant, a packet from Fishkill, anchored off the Battery to wait for a change of tide. A passenger who had been for the first time in his life on a sailing vessel, and who had been anxiously begging to steer the craft, not noticing that the vessel was at anchor, was told at last that he might take the helm. He obeyed the summons with alacrity and listened to the captain’s cautions in re gard to keeping clear of other vessels, etc., and then the captain went below. The tide was rushing by at a great rate, and the amateur helmsman felt much grati fied with the progress his craft was making as he looked down at the water. In time, however, an investigation of the surrounding landscape led to a slight feel ing of dissatisfaction on his part, which steadily increased as time went on. At last the captain appeared again and inquired gravely how he was getting on. “Well,” replied the amateur, with a du bious smile, “I appear to be gettin on first rate by water, but plaguy slow by land, if Tm any judge, captain.’’—Youth’s Com panion. Not All From Her. Fiddleback (in Castleton’s room)—Isn’t that a picture of the girl you have been so much in love with? Castleton—Yes, that’s the girl. Fiddleback—Pretty girl, old man. I sup pose she gave you that mouchoircase, didn’t she? Castleton—Yes. Fiddleback—Come to think of it, there are quite a number of things here I haven’t seen before. There’s a pretty piece of china. Castleton—Yes; she painted that herself. Fiddleback—She didn’t give you that vol ume of love songs, did she? Castleton—Yes, she did. Fiddleback—And that lamp? Castleton—Yes. Fiddleback—Well, you are in luck. That girl must think a great deal of you, old fel low. Hello! What’s in that bundle over there? Something else she has sent? Castleton (glaring)—No, sir; it isn’t. Fiddleback—I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. Castleton (gloomily)—Not at all. There’s no secret about what’s in that bundle. Fiddleback—What is it, old man? Castleton—That’s a wedding present I am going to send her.—Exchange. Taking It For Granted. 1 i ! Sadie—I had a proposal yesterday from a man of 75, with an income of $30,000. Bertha—When are you going to be mar ried*—Truth. Spring. Spring, gentle spring, is here at last. The snow has gone away. No more we feel the winter’s blast— The spring has come to stay. The Bmall boy, with his heart a-thump. Determination grim. Into the river takes a jump And has his first spring swim. The clerk, with figures in a row. Now counts his meager hoard And wonders where he’d better go For two weeks’ country board.» And every married man is sad • To think that he is broke. Because his darling wife has had To buy that new spring cloak. —Cioak Review. PHEBE’S LUCK. Phebe Cantwell woe spinning in the great, bare, unfinished kitchen chamber. There was a vrtaol? volume of spito in the jerk which broke her thread, and she tied it with an unnecessary tightness. Presently a weary step came toiling up the narrow, winding stair. Phebe knew it, and the frown was displaced by a smile. When she turned to meet the mistress of the house, her smile made her beautiful, but it was with a fierce, uncanny beauty that repelled and startled the woman, so that she stood still for a moment beside the door. Mrs. Lowe came forward and sank upon the only sect in the room. “Squire Brainard’s down stairs, and he says he wants a girl to keep house for him, and somebody recommended you to him. I should hate dreadfully to have you go away before all that’s spun. I guess you’d better stay about two weeks longer, hadn’t you? The squire’ll get along some way till then.’’ But before Mrs. Lowe concluded the above remarks Phebe was rapidly descend ing the stairs. “Well, I never! She’ll go as sure as the world, and then what will Sampson say?” Squire Brainard sat beside the window of Mrs. Lowe’s keeping room. He was tall, rather portly, somewhat bald, a well to do man of BO, rich and indolent. It was said that he had been ruled by his wife. But she had been dead now full three months, and the squire was begin ning to rebel against the household des potism of the Widow Plumly, whom Mrs. Brainard had appointed head of tho domes tic regime before her death. “I beg pardon,” he said. “I wished to soe Phebe Cantwell, Mrs. Lowe’s maid.” No wonder he made the mistake. The girl who stood before him, coarse though her garb, had not one of the outward indi cations of so-vitude. The courtly grace with which Squire Brainard rose and handed her a chair, and when she, with proud humility, refused to sit, remained standing near her, was an instinctive and involuntary homage to one of nature’s bom but uncrowned queens. “I am Phebe Cantwell,” she said “I had not expected—I—in short, I ex pected to find an—an older person. I wish to engage a housekeeper. Could I prevail on you, Miss Cantwell, to come?” “I will come, sir,” said Phebe, “and I hope all allowance will be made for my youth and inexperience. ” Phebe laid aside her Sunday garb and went back to the hot kitchen. She was shrewd enough to see the squire’s admiration of her beauty, and her ambition immediately soared high. Long before the morning that witnessed her in stallment at the Brainard mansion she had determined that she would yet be mis tress where she entered as servant. Her task was easier even than she hail hoped. The servants, glad to be emanci pated from Mrs. Plumly’s tyranny, obey ed her promptly, the squire honored her, and his eldest* daughter, Mrs. Lee, then on a visit'to her fa. her, fell into ecstasies about Phebe’s beauty. She insisted on sending for a young art ist from the city to paint Phebe’s portrait, and as she hinted to fall in love with and marry one who would be such an excel lent model for him. Phebe had not the slightest idea of mar rying a penniless young artist. She learn ed all she could from him, and Mrs. Lee accepted the gifts they had heaped upon her and finally saw them depart with a sigh of relief. She confined herself strictly to her avo cations, spending all her leisure in her own apartment and resisting all the squire’s attempts to draw her into his so ciety. So the summer passed and the early and late autumn. And winter came at last, and the squire found himself very lonely in the long even ings, when, tired of smoking his pipe and dozing over his newspaper, ho fain would have exchanged his dreams of Phebe for her real presence. One evening he drew her playfully to his parlor. She did not resist, for she thought it no longer necessary. She thought matters were verging toward a crisis and was quite prepared. Had she known how far her thoughts outstripped the squire’s she might have been less confident. “Now, Phebe,” said thesquire, “Iwant you to spend the evening here. I am lone ly, and I want your company. I wish you would come here always of evenings just as if you were my daughter. Why can’t you be like a daughter to me? Won’t you.” “I can never be a daughter to you, Squire Brainard,' ’ she answered at length. “You must, you shall,” he answered, half bewildered, wholly fascinated. “You must, never leave me. I cannot part with you.” There was no answer. “Are you going to be married, Phebe?” blurted out the squire, with his eyes full of tears. “No, sir. Oh, no,” and a blush glowed over her brown cheek. “Yes, you are—you are.” and he fell upon his knees beside her. “You will mar ry me. You will be my wife. Oh, Phebe, will you not? You will love me a little in return for all the love I give you, Phebe, my darling.” Of course her answer was yes, with due protestation and maiden timidity, and the squire was transported with happiness. He spent no more evenings alone, and the pair were shortly after married, to the astonishmW.it of nearly everybody and the scandal of the remainder. To the still further astonishment of ev erybody. Phebe made the squire a most ex cellent wife. She easily adopted the hab its of her new station and left behind those of the past. She was a good wife, an ex cellent mother, and even Mrs. Lee ac knowledged her to be an admirable step mother. She was an exemplary widow also when the squire had gone to his last home.— Boston Globe. A Precise Heroine. “Dorothy’s ‘a’ in ‘squalor’ was quite, quite long, and she pronounced her ‘Asia’ between her teeth, with the alluring sibi lant effect—‘Acia.’ She accented her‘leg islative’ on the second syllable and could pronounce a great many words just as they are in the dictionary without smiling. Nothing, though, was so nice in her con versation as her elegant habit of bridling the shambling looseness of our common speech in colloquial phrases, like ‘couldn’t you?’ which she prettily replaced with ‘could not you?’ and the sloven ‘a-tall.’ to which she restored its printed aspect, so that ‘at all,’ with a proper fence between, lived again. Her favorite books of refer ence were‘The Orthoepist,’‘A Thousand Words Often Mispronounced.’ and ‘The Verbalist.’ Her vade mecum, however, was ‘Don’t,’ and it is fair to say that Miss Snel didn’t.’’—From the Novel “Benefits Forgot. ” MARGERY’S LOVERS. 'Twas 40 ynare ago. The ball was at its highest, and that night was to decide which of the two brothers Margery was to choose. Ferdi nand and Dan Allston, by ono of those strange caprices of fortune and of the blind boy, had, unknown to each other, formed the acquaintance of Margery Blen heim and had both fallen in love with her winsome face and dearways. By an equal ly capricious turn of Dame Fortune’s wheel the brothers had a week ago surpris ed each other by meeting the object of their adoration at the house of a common acquaintance. It needed no words to show to the one brother that the other was equally in love with Margery, but the most jealous of ghmees failed to reveal to either who was the preferred one. So, like men, they had, by an understanding made of those half words which speak more elo quently and are more purposeful than agreements resulting from elaborate dis cussions, come to this ball prepared to abide by the fateful words the young ar biter of their destinies might speak. Dan had whispered to his brother as he passed them on their way to the conserva tory, “Go in and win, old man.” His brother paused with Margery on his arm and hesitated a moment ns he looked Dan in the eyes, and then with a slight nod passed on, and amid the palm leaves spoko the words which brought from Margery the trembling “Yes.” The erect head and proud smile of Fer dinand told their story to Dan, who had from a corner of the ballroom watched the entrance from the conservatory. A hearty handshake and a “Make her happy, Ferdi nand,” was all that passed between the brothers that night as they separated. The wedding was fixed for the follow ing day, yet tne bridegroom in his room alone was haggard and worn, and thoughts of death rather than of life and love must have been uppermost, for a loaded pistol lay on the table. He angrily tossed aside some papers end reached his hand out for the pistol. The door opened sharply, and in came Dan from a dinner ut his club. Ho threw himself in a chair and laugh ingly said, “I am afraid I am hit rather heavily by that sharp fall in Erics.” Fer dinand looked up quickly—he had slipped the pistol under some papers. “You take your losses gayly,” he remarked. “Well, wliat'B the odds. Sighs won’t bring the money back,” and lie laughed again. His brother’s laughter irritated Ferdinand, and he querulously replied, “What, laugh ing again?” “Such a good joke. I told the fellows at the club that I was so liar 1 hit that they would next hear of me In Canada, and, by George, they half be lieved me, I do declare, "and Dan burst out in a good natured guffaw. “Well, I’m off—sorting bachelor correspondence, eh, old man? That’s wise. Well, goodnight. ” The wedding passed off as merrily as the proverbial wedding bells, but the gossips the next day had moro exciting news to talk of than what the bride wore, how the groom looked or the number and value of the presents. The startling news had spread that Dun Allston, the trusted cash ier of the banking firm of Silphcr, Bullyon & Co., hud absconded, taking with him $60,000 in cash. The wiseacres quickly put two and two together, and soon every one knew that the unfortunate man had lost heavily in Eries. The bride and groom, with becoming feeling, so all averred, abridged their honeymoon journey. They took their places in society and save with a passing reference to that “sad scandal connected with a wild brother, you know,” the absconding cashier was com pletely forgotten. On a bright summer's day two years to a day after the marriage the husband lay dying in his bed. Hope had been given up, and the end was now but a question of a few hours, possibly a day or two. lovelier than ever, Margery entered the room, holding in her hand a letter marked important and immediate. Should she deliver the letter? The dying man saw the letter and her hesitation. He reached out his hand. She gave it to him. As lie saw the writing the flush came back to his face, the light to his eyes, the nerve to his arm. He opened the letter, from Which there fell on the coverlet a cream colored check. He read the few lines. Then a strange stillness spread in the room, with a sudden awe in her face the wife ran to his side, and the sharp anguish of her cry brought the nurse and physician in the room. The end had. come. From the stiffening hand they drew the letter which had hastened death. In the glorious summer afternoon, the brother of her choice dead on the bed, the wife read the letter from the brother she had reject ed: Margert's Mine. Cal., Jone, 1853. Dear Ferdinanu—An envious rogue has shot me down, and I am told I cannot live till sunset. 1 hasten, therefore, to send you a draft on New York for $80,000. Replace the $60,000 you 1 iok from my safe, with interest, and put the rest in trust for Margery. The mine here is scarcely worked. Don't let the rogues here get it. Send some trusty man out here to look after it. X called it "Margery's” from the first, and now I’ve left my will wiih the bankers here. Goodby, dear hoy. Never let Margery know. It was all for the best. She could not be allowed to suffer. I’d do it all over again for her sweet sake. Goodby. good by forever. Da*'. As in her tearless anguish she looked out toward the west, Margery knew now how the gamblers’ losses had been mado good and knew, as women often know too late, that she had chosen the wrong broth er. ’Twas but last summer I saw her as a gray haired woman. She sat by the same window reading a faded letter, but out of which time bad not taken the crumpled creases, and with the letter in her lap she looked toward the west and said, “ ’Twas 40 years ago. ’ ’—Exchange. Love. Lord Byron, brilliant, beautiful and un scrupulous as his own Don Juan, left be hind him the maxim that there was but one real form of happiness in love—where a man and woman so adored each other that they could conceive of no happiness out of each other’s sight, and this for their whole lives. Grant that this is to demand a great deal, yet it is true that ail the in fluences of long life combine to identify two who dwell together; their very faces often grow more alike, and how frequent ly the death of one is followed speedily, without sufficient visible reason, by that of the other also!—New York Ledger. Making Their Islands Grow. Owners of land among the Thousand is lands have a way of making their islands grow, not in numbers, but in size. An al most bare rock of small dimensions is thus expanded into an island covered with veg etation and having space enough for a house of comfortable size. The thing is accomplished by riprapping, pile driving and the importation of earth. The work is often done gradually, year by year, un til the landowner has made space enough i for his house, and after that the island is extended as the need arise- —Exchange. ! SOUTH ANI) NORTH. A BPAVE SOUTHERNER ANSWERS AGE HEWITT. Judg«* I A** Ln'tiirm the North on Fraud Brain*—They Art* Not Cltver Enough to Take Advantage of Favoml»le Situation*. Not So Unttcrupnlou* a* the Southron*. “Now that Abe Hewitt has raised this question about southern politicians having less brains than the Yankees," said Judge Lee of Georgia, "1 want to tell the truth about this thing with no Eli Perkins imagination. The fact is, we southerners have always had brains enough to control this government. Think of it—we cotton states actually make a tariff for New England. We con trol congress. We are the nation today, and these mudsill Yankees are sitting down in the hall.” “How do you get so many congress men?” asked Bourke Cockrau. “Why, Abe Hewitt’s ignorant Yankees gave them to ns. The Yankees voted themselves out, and we voted ourselves in. Why, do you know that little brainy South Carolina, with 462,000 people, has seven congressmen, while Massachusetts, with 2,215,000 people, has only 12?” “And Mississippi?” “She’s got 544,000 people and seven congressmen, while Pennsylvania, with 6,148,000 people, has only 28. In one dis trict in Georgia 30,000 southern people, or 2,860 white voters, make a congress man, while it always takes 171,000 Yan kees, or 35,000 voters, to make a con gressman. But you’ve got representa tion according to your brains—‘small brains, small representation.’ ” “But do the negroes vote?” asked a northern congressman. “Niggers votel I should say not, and they never will. Your Yankee idiots made them citizens—made them voters —hut do you think we brainy southern ers will ever count their votes? I should say not. They vote in Kentucky, Ten nessee and the border states, hut they will never vote in South Carolina, Mis ’sissipjii or Louisiana, where they are in the majority. It wouldn’t do.” “Then the 20 congressmen represent ing Louisiana. South Carolina and Mis sissippi are fraudulent?” “No, sah, it’s southern brains. We know how to manage.” “How many votes did Cleveland get in South Carolina?” “Why, he got 05,000, and 85,000 in Mississippi, and 85,000 in Louisiana, but they made him president, and those ig norant northern Yankees let us do it. Why, you Yankee fools put McKune in Sing Sing for disfranchising a few citizens in Brooklyn and make a great row be cause Bob Ross was shot at the polls in Troy, while we brainy southern men count out 858,000 niggers in Georgia, obliterate 680,000 in South Carolina and annihilate 744,000 black Yankees in Mis | sissippi. We actually whip you Yankees in and make you help us do it! Brains! I reckon we have got brains!” “What would you old rebs do if we Yankees should elect a president fraudu lently in three northern states as you did Cleveland in the south?” “What! You disfranchise a Demo crat! You Yankees haven’t nerve enough to do it. You haven’t brains enough to stand by your own disfranchised Re publicans in the south. If you should put in a president fraudulently, we'd paint fraud on his brow, as Dana paint ed it on Hayes', who was really the last president honestly elected iD the nigger states. But you Yankees are afraid to do it. We old rebs would have some re spect for you if you had nerve enough to write fraud on Cleveland like this: ‘'But you’re afraid to do it. That's why the brainy men of the south run this government, and you can carry the news to old Abe Hewitt." An “Unprotected” Industry. As the people employed in this coun try at the various branches of the build ing trade are assured that, as there is no duty on finished houses any more than there is a duty on paved streets, their in dustry is one that the free traders claim to he “unprotected,” and neither their wages nor employment are influenced by onr protective tariffs, it may be of interest to them, now that their employ ment in building new factories has i ceased under the threat of free trade, to quote from a summary of the general re | port on the census of England and Wales made by The Engineer of Lon don. This jiai«r says of the building trades: “The number of persons thus employ ed shows an increase for the 10 years of only 2.1 per cent, whereas in the pre ( vions decade the rise was 21 per cent. The absolute number in 1891 was 680, 886. The extremely small increase of a little over 14,000 in the building trades i was accompanied by an actual decline in respect to the industries which supply | the building materials. The falling off , was only 1.5 per cent, but that there should be any decrease at all is a matter to be regretted, an increase being the proper result.” There is probably no trade in this country, nnless we call farming a trade, that receives greater benefits from the building of new factories, factory towns and the various operations connected with the inauguration and maintenance i of the industries developed in this coun i try by protection than the building ' trade.—American Economist.
