Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume], September 21, 1899, Image 6

About Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925

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‘ -BY-*-
BERTHA ML CLAY.
Continued.
It might have been a pleasant even
ing, for Lord Lynne was animated and
happy. Lady Florence seemed to have
recovered the gay cheerful manner
that had once been her great charm,
the count told irresistible anecdotes of
his London adventures, and Agatna
listened, amused and interested; but
Lady Lynne had a weary listless look
upon her face, and her heart was sad
almost unto death. Once or twice
Lord Lynne gave an anxious look at
his wife.
' She Is not strong,” he thought; “I
must not let her fatigue herself too
much."
How could he ever dream of the
depth of anguish in that wearied
heart!
That night Lady Lynne could not
sleep; In vain were pillows of soft
est down made smooth and cool; the
hot aching head tossed wearily from
side to side, seeking for the rest she
was never more to find. At times
there was a strong Impulse upon he- to
seek her husband, and confess all to
him. Hut then she would never see
him again,—her sin, her struggle, and
her triumph, would all be in vain.
“Better,” said the perverted heart,
‘far better to die while he loves you
than to live without him.”
No sleep came to case the burning
eye* and the aching head. When the
gray dawn of morning came, Lady
Lynne went quietly to her maid’s
room.
“Stephanie," she staid to her, “will
you get up and find uie that little bee
tle of laudanum 1 had when my face
ached bo badly." *
“Certainly, my lady,” replied the
willing maid. “I am so sorry your face
is bad again. I would have been up
hours ago. if I had known.”
When Stephanie brought the little
phial, she looked in alarm at her
lady’s pale face.
“The pain must, have been very
bad,” she said; “what can 1 do?"
“Nothing now,” replied Inez.
When the maid disappeared, Inez
carefully dropped a small portion of
the liquid Into a spoon and drank It.
After that she slept, the heavy unre
freshlng sleep that results from
opiates.
Ix>rd Lynne and Agatha were full of
commiseration the next morning;
Stephanie had told them how hfr
lady had suffered so much from her
old complaint, neuralgia in her face,
that she had been obliged to procure
opium, to rul) It with
“I thought something was wrong
laHt evening,” said Philip, “you were
so quiet; hut Inez, my darling, he
careful of that opium; a small quan
tity may deaden the pain; but mind
you do not take too much."
The afternoon brought Count Rl
to the Palazzo Glorni. Lord
much of the Lelglis. nml
c I hey hon’d feel In be-
opce more.
mould not wonder,” he said, ”lf
,< arrived this v<r,'v day.
n uneasy expression came over the
count’s face.
“Do you expect your friends today?”
he said, turning to Inez.
"They will probably reach here,”
she replied, understanding fully all
that was comprised in the question.
laird Lynne was not deceived in his
expectations; for Just as they had
finished dinner, the door opened and
Sir Allan Leigh and Miss Leigh were
Announced.
Kvelyn had quite recovered her
bloom; her smile was bright as ever;
all trace of her long Illness had van
ished. Sir Allan had altered wonder
fully. He was now a tall handsome
man. with a bronzed face and dark
moustache. There was one thing in
which It was quite evident lie had
not changed,—that was his deep and
lasting love for Agatha Lynne. Tall
nnd strong as he was, poor Sir Allan
trembled like an aspen leaf when her
little hand lay for a moment in his
grasp and her sweet true eyes smiled
upon him again.
. \n) Miss Agntba Lynne. who had
felt uncomfortable when a Lord Hort-
Inston had raid open attentions to
her, who shunned the handsome
courteous 'Count Montalf!
very shy and conscious, as thehonest.
manly young baronet lingered near
her. and seemed to forget that anyone
else existed. Kvelyif and Lady
Florence were very happy together.—
both had the same love and keen ap
preciation of humor; and Lord Lynne's
face positively beamed with happiness
when he heard the ripple of sllverV
laughted that "funded through the
room. In the etmrse of the evening
Count Ritnildo appeared, and was cor
dially weigpmed by the hospitable
nobleman, who really liked a house
full of visitors.
“T was passing by," said tha Italian,
"and thought l should like to know If
your friends had arrived."
He was introduced to Sir Allan and
Evelyn, and watched, with scrutinis
ing eyes, the devotion trnld by the
young baronet to Agatha.
Coffee having been handed rotlnfl,
the long windows that opened on the
balcony were opened. ft was one of
prettiest in Home; graceful flowers I
■re entwined in the Ironwork. ru*L-!
ornamental lwiwer of it
1 ■ > ■ " V unrivalled
nisnificence from It mat Inez had
spe& hours in admiring.
itkwas with great, though silent
amuswnent. that Lord Lynne saw Sir
seeming indifference,
graduaWr persuade Agatha to come
out uponltbe balcony to him.
“There ■ no chance for Lord Hort
ington,” A said to himself. “Allan
has been tie favorite all along.”
Someone else watched this proceed
ing with a dark face and angry glance.
“You have ' known these—your
friends —some time,” said the Italian
to Lord Lynne.
“Ever since we were children,” he
relied, with V- smile.
When quite sure of not being over
heard, Count Rinaido drew near Lady
Lynne. He held a small engraving in
his hand, and under pretence of ask
ing her opinion about it, he bent over
her.
“What progress are you making in
my cause?” he asked.
“None,” she replied, briefly.
“Answer me truly,” he continued.
“Have you spoken to your sister as I
wished you?” ,
“Not one word,” she said, raising
her clear eyes unflinchingly to his
face.
“Count,” said Lord Lynne, “will you
give us your opinion? Is not this en
graving copied from Giorgone?”
He muttered something that sounded
like an execration, and leaving Inez,
went over to her husband.
CHAPTER XXXI.
“How strange it seems,” said Sir
Allan to Agatha, “for us to meet here
in Rome! But how altered your sister
looks! She must have been very ill.”
“She has,” replied Agatha; “but
Rome suits her; she is much better
and stronger now.”
"Do you know what brought me to
Rome, Agatha?” he continued,
“No,” said she, looking up Into his
face; but she saw something there
that caused a vivid crimson to flush
her own, while her sweet eyes drooped
shyly before the ardent gaze that
seemed to read her very thoughts.
It all came out then,—the long
treasured secret of his love; and his
story was so well and so eloquently
told, and bore In every word the im
press of such-truth and nobility, that
no' girl could have listened to it un
moved.
“You arc as far above mo, Agatha,
as that blue sky,” said Sir Allan: “but
if you will try to love me, my whole
life shall repay you. Do not keep me
In suspense, beloved; tell me, will you
try to love me?"
He could hardly hear the faintly
whispered answer. Itiwas favorable
to him. he knew, by the droop of the
golden head and the flutter of the
little white hand In his own.
“Miss Lynne, are you not afraid of
the night dew?” said a voice which
made Agatha start nnd took guilty.
Turning round, she saw Count, Ri
naldo, with a strange expression on
his face and a light like flame in his
eyes. “There is a splendid view from
this balcony." he continued, carelessly
turning to Sir Allan: who heartily
wished hint at the antipodes.—while
Agatha made her escape and re
entered the room.
The half-quizzical smile she saw up
on Lord Lynne’s Ups. sent her. with a
burning face, to her sister’s side.
Count Rinaldo was the first to take
his leave; as he did so, he silently
placed a small folded piece of paper In
Lady Lynne’s hand. Then Sir Allan
nnd Kvelyn rose to go.
'Philip.'' said the young baronet. In
a low voice, -yon are Miss Lynne’s
guardian. IN hat time can I see you
tomorrow?"
“About three,” replied Lord Lynne;
“and Allan, dear old fellow, I under
stand it. I wish you all the happi
ness in the world, and I believe you
will have It.”
When their visitors had departed
Lord Lynne went to Inez.
“Are you tired?” he asked, ktndlv.
“I am afraid all this talking and
laughing lias been too much for you.
it is like old times to see Allan and
-velyn ..PC; more. Do you remember
the charades and tho tableaux, Inez?
if Bertie Bohn were here we might
have them all over again."
Did she remember them" A pang.
Mrioi and bitter as death, shot through
her heart Was not every hour of that
happy time burned In upon her mem
ot \ ? Had she dreamed then, In the
"Nour of iter beauty nnd triumph, of
I the fate that awaited her?
Tome here, little sister," said Lord
i ‘ ->nne to Agatha. “I wonder what took
kpia-c in that very rontantlc-looking
! > • 1 wonder what Allan is
| i-onmit ’ o '-|> to me tomorrow."
"Do now let Isc her. Philip," IhJd
X
fate grow r-tnason.
“I will not Waae her. my dcar,”R
i'lh and Lord L.vutwtt win only say hue
word,— I think shl showed good Haste
when she returned tFWhyaPnth
to me." •
Returned it to you!" cried Agatha,
wiih a wondering face. “Why ”
But the words were arrested upon
hr tips. Inez had fallen hack with a
cry that rang through the room.
That is my fault." said Lord Lynne,
jfalslng her tenderly. “I Invite people
here, and forget how necessary quiet
and repose are to her."
Inez hntl uot fainted: it wa rather
as though some sudden blow had
struck her.
“Philip," she said, in a low, faint
voice, “what trouble I give you! But
you love me, my husband, do you
not?”
“Of course I do, darling,” he re
plied; “and I ought to be mAre care
ful of you.”
“Tell me just once againfthat you
love me,” she said gently. *
He bent over her, and smiled into
the beautiful pale face, while he whis
■pered that he loved her better than
his life.
Lady Lynne would not go to her
room until Agatha and Lady Florence
had gone to theirs. Then, when she
was sure her sister and her husband
would not meet again that evening,
she went up stairs to her own cham
ber, a handsome apartment, with some
traces of the old Roman luxury in it,
—large mirrors, rare statues .and pic
tures, silken hangings, and thick
soft carpets, were all there: but
Lady Lynne noted nothing of the mag
nificence that surrounded her. Ste
phanie awaited her mistress, a blue
silk 'dressing-gown thrown over her
arm.
“I will not keep, you this evening,”
said Lady Lynne to her maid. “Fetch
my writing-desk,—there is something
in it I have forgotten.”
The maid soon returned, hearing
vsth her the desk given by Lord
Lynne to his wife.
“At least, my lady,” she said, as her
mistress wayed her hand in token of
dismissal, “let me remove your orna
ments, and unfasten your hair."
Listlessly and silently Lady Lynne
sat down in the easy chair, drawn up
to the toilette-table, gazing stead
fastly at the face reflected in the mir
ror.
One by one the skillful hand
maiden removed the jewels from the
thick tresses of raven hair; then she
unfastened it, and let it fall in all Its
rich luxuriance over her mistress'
shoulders.
“No one ever had such hair as my
lady,” she murmured to herself, brush
ing it the while, and as proud of its
glossy magniflcance as though it were
her own.
Very beautiful did Inez look then,
with that wealth of hair flowing like
a veil over her white shoulders. Stead
fastly and silently she gazed at the
wondrous loveliness of the face in the
mirror, the dark lustrous eyes with
their jetty fringe, the rich red lips, the
queenly brow, the exquisite cheeks.
There were few such faces in thei
world.
“All in vain,” she said, “all in vain."
“Did my lady speak?” asked
Stephanie.
“No,” replied Lady Lynne, wearily./
“Bring me the little phial,—so that iff
I am in pain I need not call any one.'j
Stephanie obeyed, and then went out!
wondering why tier mistress looked
so long and calmly in the mirror.
Then I?>e7 rptnem*‘er'd the nnfe
that had been pressed into her hand.
It was in the pocket of her dress; she
rose, and found it. Her hand did
not tremble as she opened it, her lips
never quivered as she read It, al
though the few lines it contained were
her death-warrant.
"1 shall call tomorrow at three,”!
wrote Count Rinaido; "I shall ask fori
a private interview with your sister,]
and make her an ofTer of marriage. If
she accepts me, which she will do if
you use your influence, all is well; if
she refuses me, I shall ask lor Lord
Lynne. I shall tell him all that took
place at Serranto, and claim you and
your fortune as mine by prior right.
Nothing will move me from this pur
pose. Instead of wasting your time
in useless appeals to me, spend It in
persuading your sister to accept me.”
"I am hunted down," cried the
wretched girl, as the note fell from
her nerveless grasp, “I am hunted
down! Ruin lies on all sides of me.
Tomorrow Philip will ask Agatha what
she meant by not understanding his
allusion to the white hyacinth; to-;
morrow he will know that 1 lied and
schemed, and betrayed my sister, to
win his love; tomorrow he will know
that I have deceived him—he will
know all the wretched story of my
folly and credulity, my sin and shame
—will know that I am no wife for an
honorable man. Oh. Heaven, lean I
bear it?”
She did not weep now as she had
done months ago, when she wept for
the love given to another. The time
for tears was over with Inez Lynne.
A pallor like that of death settled on
her beautiful young face.
"It must be fate,” she cried, as with
quick step she paced up and down the
room; “it must be fate. If one shame
did not haug over me another would,
aud I can face neither. Oh, why have
1 wasted my youth, my beauty, my I
genius? Why have I sinned?”
Ibis was the cry of the ruined soul |
in qer hour of remorse. “Why have I j
sinnVrl? rAorrow men and women!
will shun me. My sister, whom ii
have learned to love scT dearly, will
pass by me. 1 betrayed; her, and took
her love from her.”
No idle sophistries came in this
hour *•) ease her conscience, or take
away the sting of her frArgw. She no
longer excused herself A r saw things
through a false median/ In the still
ness and dead of nighjj she stood face
to face w th her slns& she saw her
self clearly, as she tjff! neYer done
before, with no veil otLjllusloc hiding
the reality from her. Y
' nil i might have been happy!" she
ied passionately. "It i-t late now.
lam lost. My beauty,(U gen'us,
tny talent, have brought my to thUG
1 might have been happy and b;-\
To be ContftftHjp-
T.hing
INTO THE TWILIGHT. '
Slowly the twilight fades
Into the shades of night;
Sadly I watch its flight— \r
Lost is my heart’s delight!
Shrilly and long upbraids
The querulous Katy-dld;
The locust moans, amid
The murmuring maples hid.
Moving in brack brigades,
Across the sky stampede
Gaunt hosts I fain would lead
To some tempestuous deed.
Fierce is my soul’s unrest,
Yet must I curb its mood;
Still must my torn heart brood
Patient in solitude.
Speak to me from the blest
Bourne wherein you dwell,
O my lost Youth! axd tell
Where is your citadel!
Make me your favored guest
As in the days of yore
When Love laughed at your door —
Love whom I know no more!
Again smile in my eyes
Soon, else my heart shall break;
Come and a revel make,
Just for the old joy’s sake!
Come, Youth, I am b'-ore wise—
Aye, I would crown you now
And at your portal bow .*
To make a vassal’s vow!
Slowly the sunset dies,
Gone is the golden day
Info the twilight gray—
Claim it again! Who may?
—John Pengrave.
THOUGHTS OF GREAT MEN.
Three may keep a oecret —if two of
them are dead.—Ben Frank'in.
The public! How many fools must
there be to make a public?—Chamfort.
Weigh not so much what men say,
as what they prove remembering that
truth is simple and naked, and needs
not invective to apparel her comeli
ness. —Sir P. Sidney.
Simple as it seems, it was a great
discovery that the key of knowledge
could turn both ways, that it could
open, as well as lock, the door of
power to the many.—Lowell.
The kingdom of God does not lie in
elegance of speech or fineness of parts,
but in innocence of life and good
works. —Thomas a Kempis.
Our feelings are always purest and
most glowing in the hour of meeting
and of farewell; like the glaciers which
are transparent and rosy-hued only at
sunrise and sunset. —Jean Paul.
The young man or maiden who can
find out, in early life, what the line
of his or her genius is, has-every rea
son to be grateful to the teacher, or the
event, or the book that has discovered
it.—Edward Everett Hale.
When a child can he brought to
tears, not from fear of punishment,
but from repentance for his offense, he
needs no chastisement. When the
tears begin to flow from grief at one’s
own conduct, be sure there is an angel
nestling in the bosom.— Horace Mann.
Ye men of glocoi and austerity, who
paint the fact of Infinite Benevolence
with an eternal frown, read in the
everlasting book, wide open to your
rview, the lesson it would teach. Its
)ictures are not in black and somber
lues, but bright and glowing lints; its
nusic—save when ye drown it—is not
n sighs and groans, but sengs and'
heerful sounds. Listen to the mil
lion voices in the summer air. and find
ine dismal as your own.—Dickens.
RIVAL EUPHRATES RAILWAYS.
International politics complicate
ev try question for the rehabilitation
anl development of the once prosper
ou regions of Asia Minor and Syria.
Th s Is Illustrated in the struggle now
in progress at Constantinople between
Caiman, Russian and English diplo
mats and syndicates for a concession
for a railroad down the Euphrates
valley to the Persian gulf. The Ger
mans already have a line of railroad
extending eastward from Constanti
nople, and this they wish to extend
bltimately to the gulf, thus gaining
control not only of the business of the
rich country traversed, but also of
;hroi gh business between the Indian
i>cea i and the Mediterranean. German
pres ige and German trade In the
sulL' T '’ dominions have Increased
eoormoSj?> .ecent years, and it Is
desired to enlarge and strengthen both.
The sultan, on the other hand, would
like to have such a railway extending
front his capital through his rather
inaccessible Asiatic dominions, since It
would greatly facilitate his military
operations In that direction. Strategic
reasons appeal to him very strongly
in behalf of a railway that will shorten
:.he time required tor communication
with the lower Euphrates valley from
months to days. At the same time he
can see an advantage in having Ger
many rather than Russia Investing
money in Asia Minor. He is averse,
however, to letting Germany get too
strong a grip. But an English syn
dicate Is also urging upon the sultan’s
attention a scheme for an English rail
way to the Persian gulf, and Abdul
Hamid has recently shown a friendly
disposition; toward the English—
probably with the object of playing
off one power against another. The
English scheme, which is presented to
Uie snltan by E. Reehnitzer, a Hun-1
garian settled In London, provides for
a* terminus at Alexandretta, on the
Mediterranean, with a branch line
northward to connect with the exist
ing German line out of Constantinople.
This bianch line Is to realize the
snltan’s requirement of direct commun
ication with his capital, as already
Bated, for strategic purposes. The
terms of the English proposal being
frpm a financial point of view morel
favorable to Turkey than the German,
the project has received the sanction
of all the government departments at
Constantinople and awaits only the
ratification of the suhan. But the
sultan, who has the political aspects of
the matter to consider, is unable to
reach a decision. The German ambas
sador opposes the English project and
insists upon the adoption of the Ger
man scheme as likely to favor the local
and general interests of me Turkish
empire-- This forces a pause, and
while the sultan is trying to regard
the whole affair from the German point
of view, his attention is solicited from
a third quarter. Russia objects to an
English railway being constructed in
a region which Russia has long since
•marked out for herself, but vastly
more dots she object to a German
railway. For years Russia has viewed
with growing jealousy the progress of
German influence in Asia Minor. Her
commercial interests are opposed to
the opening up of anew granary, such
as the Euphrates valley, capable of
competing with Odessa. Nor is it to
Russia’s interest that Germany, as well
as England, should be interested • by
large investments to oppose Russia’s
appropriation some day of the region
between Constantinople and the
Persian gulf. She expects to fight
England anyhow sooper or later upon
the disposition to be made of this part
of the sultan’s dominions, and would
not like to have to fight Germany also.
Accordingly, though Russia would
prefer to have no railway- built by
■either English or Germans, she pre
fers, if one must be built, that the
English should build it. In that case
she may hope to have Germany an
ally as agamst the English. So Rus
sia does her best to defeat the German
concession, and the sultan, being un
certain what to do, does nothing.
MARK TWAIN ON THE JEWS.
The Jew is not a disturber of the
peace of any country. Even his ene
mies will concede that. He is not a
loafer, he is not a is not noisy,
he is not a brawler nor a rioter, he
is not quarrelsome. In the statistics
of crime his presence Is conspicuously
rare —in all countries. With murder
and other crimes of violence he has
but little to do; he is :i stranger to
the hangman. In the police court’s
long roll of “assaults” anA “Arunk and
disorderlies” his name sebloln appears.
That the Jewish hoJue is’ a home in
the truest sense is a fact which no
one will dispute. The family is knitted
together by the strongest affections;
its members show each other every due
respect; and reverence for the elders
is an inviolate law of the house. The
Jew is not a burden on the charities
of the state nor of the city; these
oould cease from their functions with
out affecting him. When he Is well
enough, he works; when he is inca
oacitated. his own people take care of
him. And not in a poor and stingy
way, but with a fine *ud large benevo
lence. His race is entitled to be called
the most benevolent of all the races
of men. A Jewish beggar Is not im
possible, perhaps; such a thing may
exist, but there are few men that can
say they have seen that spectacle.
The Jew has been staged In many un
complimentary terms? but, so far as
I know, no dramatist has done him
the injustice to stage him as a beg
gar. Whenever a Jew has real need
to beg. his people save him from the
necessity of doing it. The charitable
institutions of the Jews are supported
by Jewish money, and amply. The
Jews make no noise about it; it is
done quietly; they do not nag and
pester and harass us for contributions;
they give us peace, and set us an ex
ample—an example which we have not
found ourselves able to follow.—Mark
Twain in Harper’s Magazine.
WEDDING OF WASHINGTON.
It was a crystalline day, the 6th of
January—old style—ll 69. Up to a
colonial mansion, the white house, in
New Kent county, Virginia, a spank
ing team of horses clattereu and
stopped, puffing clouds of breath on the
frosty air. From the great coach a
brisk-faced, slow', important gentleman
in scarlet dress stepped out, British
from forehead to foot—his excellency,
Lieutenant Governor Fauquier, come
with his wife to grace the wedding
party of young Colonel George Wash
ington, anew burgess in the Virginia
assembly. The lieutenant governor
assisted the lady to alight. His sword
clanking as he followed her, remov
ing his belaced cocked hat, he entered,
to add to festive brilliance within.
The dark eyes of the comely little
bride, “the widow Custis that was,”
were bright. She greeted them with
dignity, softened by a desire to please
into the graciousness that is southern.
In white satin threaded with sliver,
and quilted petticoat, she wore pearls
entwined in her soft brown hair. Her
little feet in high-heeled slippers, “the
smallest fives,” twinkled with buckles
of brilliants. Point-lace ruffles fell
about plump tapering arms and bosom,
and adorned with bracelets and neck
lace of pearls she looked tiny beside
the tall bridegroom, in his costume
of blue lined with red silk, embroidered
whi;e satin Waistcoat, gold knee and
shoe buckles, and sword. Happiness
beamed in his glance and movement.
He was the handsomest man of the
handsome assemblage. It is said, and
he had the quality ;hat most quicltlv
makes' a woman love—masterfulness
unmlxed with tyranny. He was
twenty-ieven, she but 'hree months
youngeri Her charms w ere such that I
on the day they met he knew that he
wished tdmvarry her. He hid seen her I
but fojir Vjnes before marriage; ach
time, however, was a da> of more, or*
little less, c was a hopeful wedding,
a suitable rrmteh. —Leila Herbert in
’larper’s Ma Azine.
THE HOUSE OF THE TREES.
* IfrV.:..
Ope your doors and tike me in,
Spirit of the wood
Wash me clean of dust and
Clothe me In your/tnood mjk
Take me from the noisy light
To the sunless peace,"
Where at midday stdndetb night.
Singing Toil's release. ft&rWf
All your dusky twilight stores
To my senses give;
Take me in and lock the doWrs,
Show me how to liv&.
Lift your leaky roof for me, • )
Part your clinging walls;
Let me wander lingeringly |
Through your ecentednbAUg.
Ope your doors and talce me in,
Spirit of the wood;
Take me—make 'me next of kin -
To your leafy brood,
—Ethel wyn Wetherqld.
AN EXTRAORDINARY COP.
New York Sun’ —in the West One
Hundred and Twenty-fifth street pc
lice squad there is a ' patrol man who
reads Greek, understands tne sign lan
guage, holds a degree in m&icine, is
a good telegraph operator, and has
other aceomplisJiments not usual in a
policeman. He is George H. Quacken
bos, who was appointed to the force by
the Roosevelt board. He -is the son of
Prof. George W. Quackenbos, professor
of Greek and Latin at De La Salle in
stitute. -y
Patrolman Quackenbos was brought
up on a Kansas ranch, but ran away
when 11 years old to work as a miner.
In his wanderings he picked up /a
knowledge of telegraphy. F.t teturdtel
to his family and after a' while wMs
graduated from Washington univf&Kr
in St. Louis. After taking a’cdMgHjj
a bnsin-s.- <' >!ge in Chicago >flH|
'•!'■'! fora rinii in Texas ap]
if. It- •uniina
later
ani'Di^^^P
tute at Throgg's Neck. At
the Pan-American congresfe-.hp went to '
Venezuela to teach the deatfifind dumb.
Coming back to New York he taught
in St. Francis Xavier college in Six
teenth street and while teaching stud- .
ied medicine at New York university.
On receiving a diploma he married and
started a practice, but soon gave up to
accept the chair of rhetoric in Seton
Hall, near Newark. He taught in a
number of other institutions for sev
eral years, until, seeing in the news
papers an appeal to educated men V>
become policemen, he had u talk with
Commissioner Roosevelr and joined
force.
OUR COTTON INTEREST.
The next cotton crop will reacaHS,-
000,000 bales, if the estimates of crurc
ful observers of present conditions are
to be trusted. Last year’s crop was
11,250,000 bales, and the crop of the
year before exceeded 11,000,000 bales.
The coming crop, in fact, Is the largest
In our history. How the
of cotton has been be
seen by a comparison of
ages at periods ten years apartflEn
the period from 1866 to 1869. botOn
clusive, the average yearly crop was
but 2,422,000 bales; in 1876-79 the year
ly average was 4,777,000 bales; in 1886-
89 the yearly average wag
6.947,000 bales, and in 1896-
99 the average was 10,390,000
bales. The increase has been rapid in
spite of continued low prices. It
used to be said that cotton could not
be grown at a lower cost than 5 cents
per pound, but recent events seem to
Indicate that many planters obtain a
profit at 3 cents a pound, or less.
Economies in planting, picking, gin
ning. and, above all, in methods of
baling, promise to enlarge still fur
ther the margin of profit. The round
bale alone, with improved ginning, is
expected to put millions to the credit
of the planters. That the latter aL
not producing cotton at less *
seems to be proved hv the
they keep growing it.'lt is showWlso
conclusively, according to the Jour
nal of Commerce, by tb? evident fact,
that “the southern farmers are not de
teriorating, but rather are reducing
their indebtedness, and improving
their methods of culture.” Their posi
tion is being improved, among otter
things, by adding wheat and
to their crops and generally by rtPng
more of their own supplies. Haipily,
while production of the fibre Is imfeas
ing. the consumption of the
manufacturing industries ofMhf r|ll
is keeping pace with it. or
hind. The domestic
more cotton
growth of cotton mills in j n
cut years being phonotne^^^^^. (jk
yearly more raw in
former years, we also
ton yarn and cloth. This
out forcibly In a comparison of the ag
gregate exports of bales and yards of
cloth In 1887-89 with those of the
period 1897-99. In the former period
we exported 14,067,663 bales, against
21.130,751 bales in the latter. kOf cloth
we exported In the earlier pod 493,-
268,893 yards in the
yards. Happily, alsq,
tors in the production.of. rat cotton
do not greatly increase their output.
Egypt has but a limited aMjEand its
exports of cotton can ,me
large proportions. ,ng to
enlarge the growth of tton in cer
tain provinces of. and
- t
ha i 'Ar'
large
■ $
000 in 189"
of our f,.reign mmpetlt catjoes^
the decline of the prief JBotton per'
pound in recent year".