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.
