ROMANCE OF THE RANGE.
■he’s btn out here a-teachln’ tar this win
ter now a-past.
An’ l hi ar that she's a-tcllin* that this
winter is her last—
E*ha> she's goln' to quit the schoolroom
an' goln' home to stay—
An’ somehow I'm ja* hatin' ter to see her
go away.
Fer us fellers think that schoolmarm Is an
angel; yes w* do.
A little blur-eyed angel, yit a woman thro*
an’ thro’;
An* she treats us all so kindly. Jes* th' same
most ev'ry day.
An' somehow I'm Jes hatin' fer to see her
go away.
■he hatn’t never give m« reasons fer to
think I'd have a show
To win her. but I'm honest when I say I
'ike her so
That I dread her time ler goln.’, count ev'ry
passln' day.
'Cause I'm hatin', Jes’ a hatin', fer to see
her go away.
Well, her term Is 'bout completed, an*, say.
I don’t think I
Have got th* nerve to greet her an' to say
« last good-by;
Seem* so tough! Oh. well. I'm fewlln*—
call It heartsick. If you may—
An’ 1 m hatin'. Jes" a-hatln, fer to see her
go away.
I^ATER.
Oh. say. I m 'bout as happy as a feller
w-ants to be;
Went to see her an', by Jimmy, she jes'
upped an' cried—you see
•light there 1 had to say It. what so long
I've feered to say.
An' now we've went an' llxod It so she'll
never go away.
•-Chicago livening Post.
Copyright. 1S99, by J. R. Llpplncott Com
pany. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER XV.
Xol. Richard Somers dismounted and
took refuge upon the veranda of a
little cottage that fronted a cross
road near Mechauicsville while his ar
tillery thundered by and unlimbcred
in position to face the enemy. Men,
horses and officers were worn out with
fatigue and hard fighting and eager
lor an opportunity to snatch a few
hours of rest. The two grent armies
had entered upon the memorable
•e'ven days* fight which was to swing
ground Richmond and leave a bloody
$>ath to Malvern Hill. The cottage
•coined deserted, but presently an
• ged negress made her appearance
• from somewhere and pathetically at
tempted to extend its hospitalities to
the officers who began to swarm into
the yard. Clinging to her skirts was
a little girl of six or seven years,
whose fair complexion, blue eyes and
•ilken euvls bespoke a patrician par
entage, 1 whose frail figure and in
ccivsant cough gave evidence of a
fatal weakness.
"Her ma is done dead, sah.” said the
old woman, respectfully, when Col.
Fomcrs hurriedly questioned her eon
-corning the family, “an* her pa left
*fo’ you-all come; done come yistiddy
an’ go right back to town. He don’t
stay hyar anyhow.”
‘‘But that child must not remain
"here; she is in danger every moment.
"You must move out!”
“Whey we goih’ move, sah? Don’t
know nobody any better off’n we are
Toun’ liyah. Mnrster tell me to stay
Tight hyah. an’ I goin’ ter stay hyah.
better tek yo’ folks an’ move on. sah,
whey you started.” SoincTs had other
■things to think about, and turned
*• wav. Very likely the movement next
day would carry them beyond the cot
tage, and the danger was not press
fng at the moment. In the morning
the child might he sent to the rear
If necessary, and to-night he rather
welcomed the adjuncts of refined life.
He had use for the old woman, for
lie was but recently out. of hospital
• nd somewhat spoiled by nursing. He
made himself and officers comfort
able in the best rooms after the man
ner of old campaigners and prepared
for the short rest which he so much
needed.
8omers had made the necessary dis
position* and. left alone upon the porch
for a moment, his thoughts reverted to
♦ he cherished memento in his locket,
the worldless message of love which
bad so mysteriously reached him. It
was just one slender curl—the eurl
♦ hat had touched hischeek. he was sure,
• nd with it a name. They w ere enough;
no words could have summoned up
more vividly the scenes of that dark
ened wing-room, nor have told him
more eloquently that within the ex
<*tted city there was one heart which
be M no hatred for him. It was no hour
for dreaming and he roused himself
to the present. Around him were eon
tending hosts of doomed men, the spir
it of war hovered over the rude ramps,
• nd death lurked in the shadows, eager
for h's harvest. From the distance, the
echoes of dropping shots came faintly
to the car. and presently what seemed
♦ o he a small volley. This volley
claimed his attention and that of the
Junior officers, and he had ordered a
•ergeant up to inquire as to the cause,
when rhe Bound of rapid hoof-beats ap
proached upon the road, and in the dim
light a» he waited a frightened horse,
pursued by half a dozen troopers. s|Wd
hr. Presently the men returned lead
ing ‘he captured animal and tarrying
it* late rider. The latter w as > outhful
• nd clad in confederate gray, which
wa* drenched with blood and covered
with dust; for the wounded rider,
•dinging desperately to the mane of
the horse as he lav extended upon it*
neck, had finally fallen and been
dragged until the weight stopped the
runaway . The face of the unfortunate
fe Jow had escaped, and so young and
•o fair was i», even the hardened sol
dier* were touched.
“He insists upon seeing an officer.”
«w«td one of them. “Claims to have le
an* ts to tell."
“Place him upon the porch and rail a
nwrgeoB. Where did he come from?”
wu atraogeljr affected.
“Don’t know. sir. He came riding
headlong through the rebel pickets. I
think, and they shot him. We didn’t
shoot at all. for at first the horse
seemed to be loose, and w hen v» e did
see the young fellow on him. we knew
he was too near gone to escape. We
had ordersagainst unnecessary alarms,
and so we ran him down.” ’l’he surgeon
came and laid open the jacket of the
now unconscious sufferer. He waved
back the curious group and motioned
for Somers to approach.
"A woman!" he whispered.
“Is it possible! To my room—to mv
room!” The rough soldiers again lift
ed the frail form tenderly and placed
it upon the bed inside. A hurried ex
amination disclosed the wound; a shot
from behind had passed entirely
through the body.
“She cannot live.” said the surgeon,
gently, as he arose and covered up the
white form. “There is not the slight
est chance for her.” The sentence of
death seemed to inspire her w ith a sud
den consciousness. She opened her
eyes widely, and they rested in wonder
upon the blue uniforms and strange
faces.
“What has happened?” she asked,
weakly. “Where am 1?”
“You have been wounded, madam,”
said the surgeon, “badly wounded; but
you are in friendly hands.”
“Ah!—Raymond—told me—that he
had—had arranged with the picket—
to pretend only to fire—oh.thr\ have—
killed me!” She shuddered, but with
sudden return of full consciousness she
cried aloud: “My papers!—they are
valuable!—where are they?"
“We have none, madam ”
“Oh, (Jod! — what agony!—oh. sirs, I
suffer, I suffer so—!’*
“Drink this.*' said the surgeon, plac
ing a glass of stimulant to her lips;
“more if you can; it will sustain you.”
“In the saddle pockets—my papers!”
Her eyes closed in exhaust ion. A young
officer who was sent to tind tho docu
ments eainc back quickly :
“Saddle trailing underneath; pock
et* empty." She heard him and un
derstood.
“Lost.! Then—I, too--am lost. Ray
mond!—Raymond!” She turned her
f*»ce away and wept silently.
“Gentlemen,” said Kiehard Somers,
hoarsely, “will you leave us? I know
this unfortunate woman.” He was
instantly the focus of wondering eves,
but for a moment only. The little
group saluted in silence and with
drew.
“Louise!" he said, sadly, standing
by her side. The eyes of the woman
were fixed on him as he sought to
control liis voice.
“Who spoke—who called Louise?”
“It was I—"
“Diehard! ”
es; sadder, older—but Diehard*
still, tiod knows I speak the truth
when 1 say 1 have nothing in my heart
for you but the tonderest sympathy.”
Her eyes clung to his fact* through
the spasm of pain that twisted her
body and drew the beautiful mouth
into a thin line of scarlet.
"How may 1 help you? 1 wculd
help you?—Louise, if 1 might.”
" I ell me—upon your miuI'x honor—
is*—is—it—death?”
He covered his eyes and stood si
lent. She waited in agony; he did
not answer her.
“Death!" she said, in horror. “Help
me! help me, Richard!” Sobs shook
her. and she stretched out her hand
to him as one who is drowning, A
cry burst from the lips of the manly
soldier, a cry no less agonized than
hers.
“Louise! I/ouise!— I would give my
life to help you! Don’t speak, don’t
look at me that way!"
on must help me—you must!
Quick—let me whisper! He will
‘LOUISE!*’ HE 8AID. 8ADT.T. 8TANI>
INU BY HER 8IDB.
come—he won't refuse now! He wan
to come soon! The marriage —
must must l»c fulfilled! Bring him
bring him—to me* Bring mv
child!” J
"Impossible, Iconise,” he cried.
”\ou do not know what you are wiv
ing. He is beyond the enemy's lines!”
Ah but but he is- coming! Wa
ter—water!"—he placed the drink
quickly to her lip* “coming. Rich
ard. Bring him f am living tell
him—1 am dying—I—Louise dying!
Nanon! Nanon!"
1 am a soldier,” he said, "sworn
in my country's defense. My Jife be
longs to my country not tcrmyself.
No one would give me permission to
go on such an errand. And if I were
captured I should die as the spy dies!”
“Richard — you and I—are—in (iod'i
presence!"
"Yes; in the presence of God!"
“Would . iie -oh, would—I 11*—
now ?”
"No."
Knee! here—J shall tell you now!
I swear in Hi* presence I have lored
no man in life -hut you but you!”
Hush. he whispered, chilled and
shocked, seeking to release hia hand..
‘•Believe, oh. belie*« mel”
“I cannot!” *
“Be lie v* l"
*T cannot—1 wouid if—"*
“Believe—believe me—Richard.” Her
hands tore feebly at a slender chain
that had slipped down into her bo»>
om. and drew a little locket into view.
He recognised it.
**I believe yon,” he said, gently, at
length. And he did; he had never
doubted it in hie heart.
“it is the last prayer of the worn*
An—who in all these years—of suf
fering— shame—has loved you! (Jo
to him! He will come—my child's
—save the child for—her mother's
sake! I.et me see her!”
The soldier had faced every danger
of the battlefield without a tremor.
In the presence of this woman's awful
agony his heart failed him. “The lost
papers-—duplicates—duplicates! Rich
mond is yours—Lee's army—de
stroyed!” He stood up then, and was
cool, his eyes reading her pale face
as an open book. He turned to the
door.
“Surgeon.” he said, “come to this
poor girl. Louise. I will return.” He
rode to headquarters and laid before
his chief all the fact*. A long dis
cussion followed.
“It is a desperate venture, general,
and If I fall—death! I know that.
But if I succeed, it may mean life
for many a man in this army. Still,
Ie-t me be frank; I shall go not for
that alone.”
“The decision is with you. colonel.
M.v advice is against your plan. And
yet—if that information opened the
road to Richmond—it would mean
(Jen. Somers.”
”1 have your permission?” There
was no answer. “I shall start in .10
minutes, then,” said Somers. The
general gave his hand in silence and
turned away.
“Avoid capture.” he said, sadly.
Day by day familiar faces were pass
ing from him.
“I shall not be captured. If It
comes, it will be a soldier’s death,"
was the reply. He reentered the pres
ence of Louise clad in the uniform of
a confederate captain. The old ne
gress was with her. and, hat in hand,
a young man, her son, was delivering
a message to her. isomers caught
enough of the word* to gather that
he came from Richmond.
“How did you pass through the
lines?” he asked, abruptly. The ne
gro grinned and was silent. “Can you
guide me through—quick, man,
speak.” The negro looked at the
uniform.
“\es, sah. Hut It's er long ways
now'—an’ through the swamp, too.”
“Louise, for your sake ami the
child's I fchall try. If I return no
more—it will be because I—have
failed!”
“Come-—to me. Rickard—kneel. And
now. God—bless you. ’Tis a sinful
woman's prayer—but He will hear—
even me. a murderess!”
“Murderess! Louise!"
“I tried to kill him tried to end
it! I fired to kill in my despair—it
was the wrong man. 1 saw dimly—
through the blinds—another woman’s
room—under the light of a match
°nly—and I killed him—an innocent
man!”
“Louise—in Richmond—through the
blind»—a year ago?"
“Ah. you heard of it?”
“I was the man.”
“It cannot be!”
“It. was n wing-room. She was
kneeling before me. and the bullet,
struck here!* lfc drew aside his hair
and rested his linger upon a white
spot. “Mrodnar—”
“God is comforting me," she whis
pered. “The rest will come.” Tears
streamed down her cheeks from her
closed lids. SomeTs chose the mo
ment to leave her.
"Keep her alive until morning," he
said, to the surgeon. "I will come
then -or not at all." And then to
the negro: “Xowr. my boy, $100 in
gold if you guide me safely into
Richmond and back. Will yon need a
horse?” The negro shook his head.
"No horse can cross whur I gointrr
go.” He led away briskly into the
Chickahominy swamp. and when
Richard Somers found the stars again
he was within the lines of his ene
my with the Richmond lights in
sight. Not until then did he remem
ber that he had no knowledge of Ray
mond Holbin's wherealKnits. H«
stopped, amazed that he had failed in
this vital matter.
“Do you know Mr. Holbin in Rich
mond." he asked of the negro, "Mr.
Raymond Holbin?"
"Yes, s.ih, 'course I know him. Wi
all b’longs to es ma."
"What! Then that house back yon
der! Whose is that?"
"Dat’s his house, sah, I reck'n. Don’t
nobody come out but him. to see es lit
tle gal."
"His girl! Her name—what is her
name?"
"(alls 'er (‘hlcky most generally.
Sometimes he called ’er Nanon." Som
ers stopped then and stood with his
face toward the stars in breathless
reverie a few moments.
"My boy," he said, "you saw the
woman who wa* shot?"
"Yes. sah.”
"She is dying; that is her child snd
she does not know it. Here is all the
money I have with me; it is your* if
you will go back with all jour might
and tell her about the child. Do this,
my bo>, a nr! (Jod will bless you."
"How joii gointrr get back, marl
ter?"
"That doesn't matter! go! go! Here
is your money—be quick now!"
‘ Bring it along wid you, marster."
The negro vanished as a shadow with
in a shadow.
“And now, Ionise," said the soldier,
as he plunged on into the city, “(»od is
comffwting you!”
Ho far as the ehanr-e of detection
was concerned, Richard Homers was as
•wife on the streets of Richmond that
night as in his own camp; but he re
alized that perhaps be bar] a difficult
task before him to And Raymond Hoi
bin. And if he found him. what then?
I The city was ia a turmoil. Excited
men and women crowded tha ftreMa
and wounded soldiers were on every
side. There was to be little sleep that
night in Richmond or in the next five
to come, for the fate of the city hung
in the balance during the seven days’
battle. Somers carried off his novel
experience boldly, and, passing into
the Spotswood hotel, he sought a direc
tory. II is search for Hoi bin's name
was at once successful, and, taking a
note of the address, he went forth and
prepared himself for the final trial.
His safety lay in the character of the
service he was rendering to the woman
to whom Holbin owed much. At least
he argued so. How little he knew the
depths of villainy he was about to
probe!
A policeman directed him to the ad
dress secured, and he found himself
before a spacious and pretentious man
sion of the older style. There were
lights in front and he hesitated,
prompted by some intuition. If he
could get to the rear, he imagined,
and question a servant, the risk would
be less. There seemed to be a garden
and a wing, and upon a side street he
found an entrance through an iron
gate, which stood ajar. Kntering and
passing a horse tied in the shrubbery,
he approached the w ing-room without
connecting the place with any impres
sion of memory; but suddenly, as he
neared the closed door, the plashing of
a fountain smote his ear. and the expe
rience of a memorable night rose to
mind. The iron gate, the gravel walk,
the shrubbery and the wing-room! All
were there; and above all the low mu
sic of the fountain. Then, swift as a
flash of lightning, rose his promise. He
was pledged not to enter. But. as he
stood, his mind confused and without
power to measure the significance of
the new facts, the door opened and a
young woman stepped out. The light
from the iron lamp sw inging overhead
fell full upon her. He saw that her
face was womanly, sad. and beautiful,
a face hallowed by the sufferings of
others like unto th-ose he had seen so
often in the convent and hospital. A
vague half memory of it arose in his
mind. He lifted his hat instinctively as
she paused in surprise.
*‘l fear you have made a mistake."
she said, gently. “Whom do you seek?’*
At the sound of her voice he uttered
a low cry; and then—
“Frances!’’
At the same instant she rpeognizad
him and started forward; but, check
ing the impulse, she drew back,
stunued anti distressed.
[To Bo Continued J
WHAT THE FOOL SAID.
Story of n Quotation n ml of Much
Unorancr IMaplayrd by Irm
■tructora.
An Ignoramus, not knowing the au
thor of the line, “Though lost to
sight, to memory dear,” appealed to a
Person of Discretion, says the New
York Sun. “You don’t mean to tell
me you don’t know?” laughed the
Person of Discretion so rudely that
the Ignoramus slunk away, ashamed.
Plucking up his courage he ap
proached a Diplomatist. "The same
author who penned the line, ‘Con
sistency, thou art a jewel,*” was the
answer. The Ignoramus asked a Man
Who Is Never Caught Napping. “Of
course, I know the author,” said the
Man Who Is Never Caught Napping.
“It’s—ahem—confound it, I’ve forgot
ten. The name is on the very tip of
my tongue, but—how stupid—I know
perfectly well, you know, but your
asking me lias knocked it clear out of
my head.”
The Ignoramus went to a Wise Man
and told him all. “Three separata
students upon three separata occa
sions were asked three different ques
tions,” said the Wise Man, oracularly.
"The finest question was: ‘What was
the exact number of the ancient Greek
chorus?* the second: ‘What is ths
cause of the aurora borealis?’ ths
third: ‘Whut is the source of animal
heat?’ To each question each student
gave the same answer: ‘I did know,
but I’ve forgotten,’ and each instruc
tor, it is said, made the same com
ment: ‘To think thnt the only man
who ever knew should have forgot
ten!” Still mystified, the Ignoramus
asked a Fool—there was no doubt
about his l»eing a Fool, because every
body said so. His answer proved it.
*’I don’t know," said the Fool.
Spotless Minina.
Katie ia an interesting figure Id
the studio of one of the art colonies
of this city. She is a maid from th*
“old and,” and a.n faithful to her mia
tress as she is devoted to art. Nat
urally Katie hears a lot of *‘sho|
talk." and appropriates the profes
sional terms to her own use. A vis
itor to the studio recently proved
rather irritating to Katie's nerves,
and after the door had Hoard upot
the obnoxious party Rati* drew the
portiere with a jerk, exclalmlegi
“Sure, she is as yon see her; thera’a
no background." I’pon another oca»
aion Katie was admiring in extrava
gant terms a picture of Queen Via
♦ oria. "Ah, but there’s a foine wom
an for ye! And look at all tha Si
gant ehilder she brought up." Net*
ing a smile on the face of her silent
listener, Katie bristled tip: "Well,
what have ye agin her? Snre, there’*
not a stain upon her that, isn't pur*
and spotless,—N. Y. Tribune.
e»nr Tar*»i Practice.
A general was hsrd pressed ia bat
tle and on the point of giving way.
"hen suddenly a spirit soldier cam*
t<- his rescue and enabled him to win
» great victory. Prostrating hirnselj
on the ground, he asked the spirit’r
name. "I ain the god of the target,*
replied the spirit. "And how have 1
merited your godship's kind assist
ance?" inquired the general. "1 am
grateful to you," answered the spirit,
“because in your days of practice
you never once hit me."—"A Century
oL Chinese Literature,"
THE SITUATION IN CUBA. J
Compliance with the riat* A tnea «
meat Must Be the Out
come.
The new hitch in the Cuban case is
to be regretted, but it has been
brought about by the Cuban* them
selves, and doubtless will toon be re
moved by them. Iu the acceptance of
the IMatt amendment by the Havana
constitutional convention there was
on addenda which gives a different in
terpretation to one or two of the pro
visions of the amendment than the
letter of that raeasurp will permit.
1 he visiting delegation of Cubans mis
understood Secretary Hoot in his ex
planation of some of the provisions of
the IMatt terms, and their notion got
into the proceedings of the convention
at the time the terms were accepted.
They evidently supposed that the pres
ident and the secretary of war intend
ed to remove some of the rigors of the
stipulations as set forth in the amend
ment, and they gave this idea to their
colleague* in the convention. In this
way the constitution framers obtained
an erroneous view of the situation, and
this is reflected in their acceptance of
the terms.
What the Cubans have been told
now by Secretary Root is that the
CUBA-" PATCHED ONE S IS BETTER'N NONE, ANYWAY.**
Platt amendment will have to be ac
cepted as it stands. Neither the presi
dent nor the secretary of war has any
authority to alter it in the slightest
degree. Their relation to it is to en
force it according to its obvious letter.
1 he function oi Interpreting the
amendment if there be any doubt as
to its exact meaning rests with the
courts. Congress has the authority
of making the terras and has the pow
or to change them in either direction
If it chooses. Congress is the only
power which can do this. The func
tion of the executive is to execute the
laws according to their letter, or ap
purent letter, and if there be any need
for an interpretation of them so as to
clear up any doubt as to their exact
meaning that work will have to be
done bv the judicial branch of the gov
ernment.
The course for the ( uhans is clear,
must agree to the Platt statute
iti its strict terms. There can be no
mental reservations or equivocations
on this point. Their oftieial accept
ance must be so plain and so explicit
that there enn Ik* no possibility of
any hedging by them hereafter. That
they will meet the new situation in
the proper spirit is probable. The '
necessities of the case have been
pointed out to them by the author
ities at Washington in a frjhndly way,
and they have been told that the
terms must he agreed to as they are
laid down in the statute. The con
sequences of their rejection, or of a
delay in their acceptance, can readily
be pointed out to the Cubans. The
American troops will remain in the
Island until a government which will
meet American ideas is established,
and this rnwot Ik* done until the re
lations between Cuba and the United j
States are agreed to by the Cubans I
on the exact lines laid down in the1
Platt proviso. It was the expects-i
tion that a Cuban republic would be
In operation by the end of 1001 at the :
latest, but If there ts to he any ob
struct ivenea* on Cuba’s part this out*
come will hi* delayed. Probably an
amicable agreement will be reached
soon. At least this is the hope of all 1
Americans. Until this is effected, j
how *ver, the United States soldiers,
will remain In Cuba and the United j
States flag will fly over Cuba's prin- j
nipsl cities and its fortifications.—
ft. Louis Globe-Democrat.
TRAITOROUS AGUINALDO.
ArrfcUf* Captarrd la Laiaa
T*ll the Starr •€ HU
PerH4r.
Murat Halstead has made an ana!
ynia of the Filipino archives captured
when Aguinaldo and his cabinet fled
from Malolos in the spring of 1899.
The result of this study is a revela
tion of Aguinaldo's character that
places him before the American pub
lic in an entirely new light. Among
the documents captured were many
of Aguinaldo’s private papers and let
ters from the Spanish authorities in
Manila, written after Dewey’s vic
tory and before the capture of the
city. There are the minutes oj tha
so-called Filipino republic, proclama
tions, private instructions and offi
cial reports.
These various papers pruve from
Filipino sources that Aguinaldo plot
ted treachery against the United
States and in favor of Spain before
the fall of Manila, that he was it*
correspondence with the Spanish
Den. Augustin. There are letters
proving that Aguinaldo wrote after
the battle of Manila and before the
capture of the city that he had the
hope of preserving “from the ship
wreck the sovereignty of Spain in
CU&K
vsyUu\s—
these islands.” That is the kind of an
ally he was of the I'nited State*.
There are letters showing that
while the Amreican troops and Fil
ipino forces wer laying siege to Ma
nila, the Spanish army inside tho
city was supplied with fresh meat
through the Filipino lines on passe*
signed by Aguinaldo.
There is a letter from Af.i‘ina!de to
the Spanish governor genera! ex
pressing a wish to enter into a “con
tract for mutual advantages,and tho
letter was written on the day that
Admiral Dewey supplied Aguinaldo
with 7,000 guns to be used against tho
Span i a rds.
Documents signed by Aguinaldo
weeks before the insurrection broko
out on Fehrauary 3, ISM, gave inf
inite directions for the assassination
of American sentries while profe**
ing to be on friendly terms.
The captured archives also furnish
the details of the agreement under
which Aguinaldo for a cash payment
of 600,000 pesos agreed to drop th«
rebellion against Spanish authority
in 1607. The money was paid to
Aguinaldo, and with cabinet, officer*
he proceeded to Lingayan, where the
entire party boarded a Spanish mer
chant steamer and were taken to
Hong-Kong.
More than this, the programme wa*
so arranged that It was not until
Aguinaldo was ready to sail that ho
telegraphed orders to his generals to
lay down their arms and aurrender
their forces.—Chirago Tribune.
f^Therc is one thing about Presi
dent McKinley’s trip that made It dif
ferent from the average presidential
‘swing around the circle.” The pres
ident being no longer a prospective
caudidat r, it could not be construed
as a vote-getting tour. Perhaps this
will make the enthusiasm of the peo
ple all the greater, although Presi
dent McKinley is n mnn who alway*
arouses enthusiasm, in the western
cities end towns he will undouhted’j
receive the greatest welcome ever ao
corded any man.—Troy Times.
t-fMr. Bryan shouiu endeavor to
break himself of the habit of using
the word “must” in discussing plain
for the democratic future. He may
keep it up until he incites Homebody
to refer to him a* Old Musty*—Wash
ington fust.