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The Winslow mail. (Winslow, Ariz.) 1893-1926, July 20, 1899, Image 2

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THE WINSLOW MAIL.
j. T. WALLACE I*ubliHlier.
WINSLOW, ----- ARIZONA.
STORM.
Storm and stress on the land.
And stress and storm on the sea;
And a wind that tolls for the unblest souls
That asleep in its green caves be.
Fhe raindrops splash on the pane;
The fogs sweep in from the east;
And the seagulls fly o’er the breakers high,
On the hearts of the drowned to feast.
A horror lies on the sea;
On the land does a terror fall;
•Twas in storm like this sailed the fated
ship
To the death that lay wait for all.
And the laugh of the treacherous sea
Rings out o’er their unknown graves:
While its scorn leaps high to the cloud
wracked sky.
With the hiss of its conquering waves.
For the ships may sail from the east.
And the ships may sail from the west —
They may pierce with their anchors its
untamed heart,
And furrow with steel its breast.
If it pleasure that heart to wait.
It can smile like some guiltless thing.
And no words can tell of the magic spell
The throbs of its surges sing.
But its hunger is heavy to see;
And its anger is death to feel;
In the awesome hour that beholds its
power.
Like reeds are the ribs of steel.
It is hungry for souls to-night;
It has won, it would win once more.
It is sick of the wrecks it has dashed on
the rocks
And strewn o’er the sand-paved shore.
Oh! the moan of the wind and the rain—
Oh! the crash of the sea’s fierce hand.
As it fling 3 the gage of its quenchless rage
At the feet of the cliffs on the strand!
God pity the ships that reel
O’er its pitiless breast to-night.
And guide their way through the storm
swept bay,
Ere the dawn of the longed-for light.
And God pity the souls that wait,
In anguish and nameless dread,
Till the morn shall wake and the storm
shall break.
And the sea toss back their dead.
—Boston Transcript.
| In Memory of Martha I
LBy Paul Lawrence Dunbar
. 9
YOU may talk about banjo playing
if you will, but unless you heard
old Ben in his palmy days you have no
idea what genius can do with five
strings stretched over the sheepskin.
You have been told, perhaps, that the
banjo is not an expressive instrument.
Well, in the hands of an ordinary player
it is not. But you should have heard
old Ben, as, bending low over the neck,
with closed eyes, he made the shell re
spond like a living soul to his every
mood. It sang, it laughed, it sighed;
and, just as the tears began welling up
into the listener’s eyes, it would break
out into a merry reel that would set feet
a-twinkling before one knew it.
Ben and his music were the delight of
the whole population, white and black,
master and man, and in the evening
when he sat before his cabin door, pick
ing out tune after tune, hymn, ballad
or breakdown, he was always sure of an
audience. Sometimes it was a group of
white children from the big house, with
a row of pickaninnies pressing eloss
to them. Sometimes it was old mas’
and mis’ themselves who strolled up to
the old man, drawn by his strains.
Often there was company, and then Ben
would be asked to leave his door and
play on the veranda of the big house.
Later on he would come back to Martha
laden with his rewards and swelled
with the praises of his powers.
And Martha would say to him: “You,
Ben, don’ you git conceity now; you
des’ keep yo’ haid level. I des’ mo’n
’low you been up dah playin’ some o’
dem ongodly chunes, lak ‘Hoe Co’n an"
Dig Tates.’ ”
Ben would laugh and say: “Well,
den, I tek de wickedness offen de ban
jo. Swing in, ol’ ’ooman!” And he
would drop into the accompaniment of
one of the hymns that were the joy of
Martha’s religious soul, and she would
sing with him until, with a flourish and
a thump, he brought the music to an
end.
Next to his banjo, Ben loved Martha,
and next to Ben, Martha loved the ban
jo. In a time and a region where fre
quent changes of partners were com
mon, these two servants were noted for
their single-hearted devotion to each
other. He had never had any other
wife, and she had called no other man
husband. Their children had grown up
and gone to other plantations, or to
cabins of their own. So, alone, drawn
closer by the habit of comradeship,
they had grown old together—Ben,
Martha and the banjo.
One day Martha was taken sick, and
Ben came home to find her moaning
with pain, but dragging about trying to
get his supper. With loud pretended
npbraidings he bundled her into bed,
got his own supper, and then ran to his
master with the news.
“Marty she down sick, Mas’ Tawm,”
he said, “an’ I’s mighty oneasy in my
min’ ’bout huh. Seem lak she don’ look
right to me outen huh eyes.”
“I’ll send the doctor right down, Ben,”
said his master. “1 don’t reckon it’s
anything very serious. I wish you
would come up to the house to-night
with jour banjo. Mr. Lewis is going to
be here with his daughter, and I want
them to hear j-ou play.”
It was thoughtlessness on the mas
ter's part; that was all. He did not be
lieve that Martha could be very ill; but
he would have reconsidered his demand
if he could have seen on Ben’s face the
look of pain which the darkness hid.
“You'll send de doetah right away,
mas'?”
“Oh. yes; I’ll send him down. Don't
forget to come up.”
“I won’t fu’git,” said Ben as he turned
away. But he did not pick up his banjo
to go to the big house until the planta
tion doctor had come and given Martha
something to ease her.- Then he said:
“I’s got to go up to the big house,
Marty; I be back putty soon.”
“Don’ you hu’y thoo on my ’count.
You go ’long, an’ gin Mas’ Tawm good
measure, you hyeah?”
> “Quit yo’ bossin’,” said Ben, a little
more cheerfully; “I got you whah you
cain’t move, an’ es you give me any
o’ yo’ back talk I ’low I frail you mon
st’ous.”
Martha chuckled a “go ’long,” and
Ben went lingeringly- out of the door,
the banjo in its ragged cover under
his arm.
The plantation’s boasted musician
played badly that night. Col. Tom
Curtis wondered what was the matter
with him, and Mr. Lewis told his
daughter as he drove away that it
seemed as if the colonel’s famous ban
joist had been overrated. But who
could play reels and jigs with the
proper swing when before his eyes was
the picture of a smoky cabin room, and
on the bed in it a sick wife, the wife
of 40 years?
The black man hurried back to his
cabin where Martha was dozing. She
awoke at his step.
“Didn’t I tell you not to hu’y back
hyeah?” she asked.
“I ain’t nevah hu’ied. I reckon I gin
’em all de music dey wanted,” Ben an
swered a little sheepishly. He knew
that he had not exactly covered himself
with glory. “How’s you feelin’?” he
added.
“ ’Bout de same. I got kin’ of a mis’ry
in my side.”
“I reckon you couldn’t jine in de
hymn to tek de wickedness outen dis
ol’ banjo?” He looked anxiously at
her.
“I don’t know ’bout j’inin’ in. but you
go ’long an* play anyhow. Es 1 feel lak
journeyin’ wid you I fin' you somewhar
on de road.”
The banjo began to sing, and when
the hymn was half through Martha's
voice, not so strong and full as usual,
but trembling with a new- pathos,
joined in and went on to the end.
Then Ben put up the banjo and went to
his rest.
The next day Martha was no better,
and the same the next. Her mistress
came down to see her, and delegated
one of the other servants to be with
her through the day and to get Ben’s
meals. The old man himself was her
close attendant in the evenings, and he
w aited on her with the tenderness of a
woman. He varied his duties as nurse
bv playing to her, sometimes some live
ly cheerful bit, but more often the
hymns she loved but was now too weak
to follow.
It gave him an aching pleasure at his
heart to see how she hung on his music.
It seemed to have become her verj- life.
He would play for no one else now,
and the little space before his door held
his audience of white and black chil
dren no more. They still came, but
the cabin door was inhospitably shut,
and they went away whispering among
themselves: “Aunt Martha's sick.”
Little Liz, who was a very wise piek
aninnjr, once added: “Yes, Aunt Mar
fy’s sick, an’ my mammy saj-s she ain’
never gwine to git up no mo’.” An
other child had echoed “Never!” in the
hushed, awe-struck tones w’hich chil
dren use in the presence of the great
mystery.
Liz's mother was right. Ben’s Mar
tha was never to get up again. One
night during a pause in his playing she
whispered: “Play ‘Ha’k! F’om de
Tomb.’ ” He turned into the hymn, and
her voice, quavering and weak, joined
in. Ben started, for she had not tried to
sing for so long. He wondered if it
wasn’t a token. In the midst of the
hymn she stopped, but he played on to
the end of the verse. Then he got up
and looked at^her.
Her ej’es w-ere closed, and there was
a smile on her sac smile that Ben
knew was not of earth. He called her,
but she did not answer. He put his
hand upon her head, but she lay- very
still, and then he knelt and buried his
head in the bedclothes, giving himself
up to all the tragic violence of an old
man’s grief.
“Marfj-! Marfy! Marfy!” he called.
“What you want to leave me fu’? Marffc-,
wait; I ain’t gwine be long.”
His cries aroused the quarters, and
the neighbors came flocking in. Ben
was hustled out of the way, the news
carried to the big house, and prepara
tions made for the burying.
Ben took his banjo. He looked at it
fondly, patted it, and placing it in its
covering, put it on the highest shelf in
the cabin.
“Brotliah Ben alius tvas a mos’ p’opah
an’ ’sponsible so’t o’ man,” said Liz’s
mother as she saw- him do it. “Now,
dat’s what 1 call showin’ ’spec’ to Sis
Marfj-, puttin’ his banjo up in de ve’y
place whah it’ll get all dus’. Brothah
Ben sho is diff’ent f’om anj- husban’ I
evah had.” She had just provided Liz
with a third stepfather.
On many evenings after Martha had
been laid away, the children, seeing
Ben come and sit outside his cabin
door, would gather around, waiting,
and hoping that the banjo would be
brought out, but thej- w ere doomed to
disappointment. On the high shelf the
old banjo still reposed, gathering dust.
Finallj- one of the youngsters, bolder
than the rest, spoke: “Ain’t you gw-ine
plaj- no mo’, Uncle Ben?” and received
a sad shake of the head in replj-, and a
laconic “Nope.”
This remark Liz dutifully reported to
her mother. “No, o’ co’se not,” said that
wise woman with emphasis; “o’ co’se
Brothah Ben ain’ gw-ine plaj- no mo’;
not right now, leas’ways; an’ don’ you
go dah pesterin’ him, nuther, Liz. You
be perlite an’ ’spectable to him, an’
make yo’ ’bejunce when you pass.”
It was several months after this that
a number of young people came from
the north to visit the j-oung master,
Robert Curtis. It was on the second
evening of their staj- that young
Eldridge said: “Look here, Mr. Curtis,
my father visited j-our plantation years
ago, and he told me of a wonderful ban
joist you had. and said if I ever came
here to be sure and hear him if he was
alive. Is he?”
“You mean old Ben? Yes. he’s still
living, but the death of his wife rather
sent him daft, and he hasn't plaj-ed for
a long time.”
“Pshaw, I’m sorrj-. We laughed at
father's enthusiasm over him, because
we thought he overrated his powers.”
‘‘l reckon not. He was trulj- wonder
ful.”
“Don’t jou think you can stir him
up?”
“Oh, do, Mr. Curtis,” chorused a num
ber of voices.
“Well, I don’t know-,” said Robert,
“but come with me and I’ll try.”
The young people took their way to
the cabin where old Ben occupied his
accustomed place before the door.
“Uncle Ben,” said Robert, “here are
some friends of mine from the north
who are anxious to hear j-ou plaj". and
I knew you’d break your rule for me.”
“Chile, honey—” began the old man.
But Robert interrupted him. “I’m
not going to let you saj- no,’’and he hur
ried past Uncle Ben into the cabin. He
came out, brushing the banjo and say
ing: “Whew, the dust!”
The old man sat dazed as the instru
ment was thrust into his hand. He
looked pitifully into the faces about
him, but thej- were all expectancy.
Then his fingers wandered to the neck,
and he tuned the old banjo. Then he
began to play. He seemed inspired.
His listeners stood transfixed.
From piece to piece he glided, pour
ing out the music in a silver stream.
His old fingers seemed to have forgot
ten their stiffness as they flew over the
familiar strings. For nearly an hour
he played and then abruptly- stopped.
The applause was generous and real,
but the old man only smiled sadly, and
w-ith a faraw-ay look in his ej-es.
As they turned away, somewhat aw-ed
by his manner, they heard him begin to
plaj- softly- an old hymn. It was “Hark!
From the Tomb.”
He stopped when but half through,
and Robert returned to ask him to fin
ish, but his head had fallen forward
close against the banjo’s neck, and there
was a smile on his face, as if he had sud
denly had a sweet memory of Martha.—
Saturday Evening Post.
MABEL’S GOOD LUCK.
A Pretty Story Showlnjff That It Pay#
to lie Respectful to Old
People.
Perhaps the young woman who wrote
this moral story had read about that
nice girl who always looked pleasant at
the deaf and dumb man and found her
self heiress to his large property when
his will was probated. This is only a
supposition, of course. The story
speaks for itself, as the reader will see:
“Mabel was a beautiful girl, just
dawning into womanhood, and she ran
a typewriter. She helped support her
widowed mother, her father having
been lost at sea many years previous to
the beginning of this tale. Mabel could
earn but little wages with her type
writing, because she was also obliged
to answer the telephone, and she
couldn’t expect regular typewriting
wages for doing that. But she did not
complain. Every day when she rode
dow-ntown in an electric car she noticed
an elderly- gentleman whose clothes
were old-fashioned and pretty shabby.
He had a good face, but she could not
help seeing that his trousers bagged
at the knees a great deal. Other peo
ple noticed it, too, and snickered and
made remarks, and even called him ‘Old
Baggy Knees;’ but Mabel never did.
She was too well brought up, for one
thing, and, besides, she had a good
heart. Whenever she could she made
room on the seat for the old man, and
once when there w-as no room to make
she stood up and gave him her seat.
After awhile he talked w-ith her, and
found out who she w-as and where she
jived. One day-she missed him. In fact,
she saw him no more. It may have
been a week or so when there came
a heavy rap at the door. It was a man
with a package. The address was
‘Miss Mabel Pinklington, No. 972 Skid
more place,’ and Mabel opened it with
nervous haste. All it contained was a
pair of much-worn trousers and a card
which read: ‘For the little woman who
never called me Baggy Knees, from her
sincere admirer, John Tewksbury.*
Mabel laughed, but her mother shook
out the garment and said: ‘That’s a
funny present.’ She felt in the pockets,
but there was nothing there. Then
she threw the trousers across a chair
and plaintively said: ‘You know-, Ma
bel, dear, that if we cannot make the
last payment on this home to-morrow
we w-ill lose it.’
“Mabel sighed heavily and answ-ered:
‘Yes, mother, we will lose it.’
“Just then her mother, who had been
looking at the trousers idly-, said: I
don’t think I ever saw such baggy
knees on a human person. They look
fairly- solid.’ She came a little closer
and felt of them. ‘I declare, they are!’
she excitedly said. She turned them
inside out, and lo! two huge wads of
S2O bills fell on the floor, one from each
knee. When they counted them up they
found there was $4,180 in the two
bunches. Oh, but that was a happy
household! And next morning when
the cruel agent came for his money he
was given it before he could ask for it.
“All of which shows that it always
pays to be good and respectful to old
persons.”—Cleveland Flain Dealer.
THE BRITISH EMPIRE.
Increase in Area, Population and
Revenue in tlie Last
Thirty Years.
The empire is now a territory- of 11,-
500,000 square miles, or 13,000,000 if we
include Egypt and the Soudan; and in
this territory there is a population of
about 407,000,000, or of over 420,000,000
if Egy-pt and the Soudan are included
—a population about one-fourth of the
whole population of the earth. Os this
population about 50,000,000 are of Eng
lish speech and race, the ruling race—
in the United Kingdom, in British
North America, and in Australasia;
and the remaining 350,000,000 to 370,-
000,000 are the various subject races, for
the most part in India and Africa, the
proportion of the governing to the sub
ject races being thus about one-eighth,
say-s the Spectator.
The increase in area and population
in this empire, excluding Egypt and the
Soudan, amounts since 1871 to 2,854.000
square miles of area, or more than one
fourth of the whole, and to 125.000.000
of population, which is also more than
one-fourth of the whole. The increase
of the ruling race included in this popu
lation amounts to about 12.500,000, or
about one-fourth of the number in 1897;
and the increase in the subject races is
112,000,000, or nearly one-third the num
ber in 1897. This increase i* largely- due
to annexation. The existing revenue of
the different parts of this empire added
together amounts to £ 257.653,000, and
the imports and exports to £1.375,000,-
000. The increase since 1871 is £115,-
143.000 for revenue, or more than 40 per
cent, of the present total, while the in
crease in imports and exports is £ 428,-
000,000, or about one-third of the pres
ent total.
Tlie Fastest Illver llont.
Portland, Ore., claims to have the,
fastest sternwheel steamboat in the
world. The Hassalo, recently- complet
ed for the Columbia river trade, has
made spurts of 26 2-3 miles an hour.
She is 180 feet long, with a tubed boiler
eight feet in di-meter, and compound
engines of over 3,000 horse power. The
boat is so swift that it was found nec
essary to strengthen her rudder.
| The Currency Question, f
$ 1
a®.
STRANGE DOCTRINE.
A Wall Street Organ Says There Is
an Imperative Need for
More Currency.
Some very curious developments are
taking place in Wall street —develop-
ments that cannot be accounted for by
anything we have seen or heard from
that quarter during the past few years,
says the Atlanta Constitution. We give
one instance out of several. The New
York Journal of Commerce remarks
editorially that “the vast transactions
now going on and the volume of busi
ness that must come in autumn, must
impress every observer with a sense of
the imperative need of a larger volume
of paper currency, and of some means
of expanding the aggregate supply of
circulation in response to the require
ments of commerce, whether these be
temporary- or permanent.” There y-ou
have it! And we venture to say that
no reader of the Journal of Commerce
has previously hit upon such a state
ment in his favorite newspaper for
many long years. Naturally, therefore,
to find it there now, duly- spread out in
the editorial columns and standing for
the views of the editor, is calculated to
cause the thoughtful reader to rub his
eyes. Why, 20 years ago a demand for
more paper money' was roundly de
nounced in Wall street as “financial
heresy'.” To propose it was to solicit
abuse. There was a mighty small dif
ference in the view of Y\ all street be
tween betray-ing y-our country- and ad
vocating “inflation.” Four years ago,
the coinage of silver dollars was “in
flation.” Six years ago there was a loud
complaint of the overabundance of
money’. The banks in the money- cen
ters were gorged with it; the gold or
gans called attention to the situation
in order to show that there was an over
supply on hand; and the treasury re
ports were quoted to show the tremend
ous increase in the money supply.
More than that, the able director of the
mint, who can be depended upon at a
pinch, mustered all the fugitive figures
in the multiplication table to show
that the prospective increase of gold
production in this year would be suffi
cient to cause the “silverites” to open
their eyes.
We are told that the money outstand
ing the banks and “among the people” I
has been increased “some $300,000,000
in the last three years.” In the face of
all these claims, and at a season when
the demand for money is not most ac
tive, the Journal of Commerce comes
forward w-ith the declaration that there
is an “imperative need of a larger vol
ume of paper currency,” and likewise,
an imperative need of “some means of
expanding the aggregate supply of cir
culation in response to the require
ments of commerce.” Well, this is pre
cisely what we have been contending,
only we have insisted that the increase
in circulation should be in the shape
of specie, silver money, or notes based
on money of final payment. It is no
wonder, when the recent declara
tions of the gold organs are considered,
that a New England paper belonging
to that class should read with amaze
ment the proposition of the Journal of
commerce, should top it off with the in
quiry: “Is Wall street going over to
Bryan ?” and should declare that it
“sounds like a sentence taken from the
stump deliverances of some populist
orator.” We gather from this New-Eng
land paper that such propositions are
not effective even when they come from
so conservative a source as the Journal
of Commerce, for it prays that the cur
rency reform movement may “be deliv
ered from the patronage of these popu
listic speculators.” The Journal of
Commerce a “populistic speculator!”
Well! what next? We may well regard
it as a very encouraging sign that such
financial organs should perceive and
recognize the necessity of enlarging
the money supply-. Wall street will !
insist, of course, that the new supplies
shall come from the banks, but the peo
ple, we think, will be inclined to believe
that the credit of the government is
better than that of all the banks put to
gether. That question, however, is not
very pertinent at the moment. The
main thing is that the Journal of Com
merce should be willing to echo the
declaration that there is an imperative
need of an increase in the volume of cur
rency.
CHANGE IN THE ISSUE.
Only Alteration in ItiOO Will Re Drop
ping of the Mask by the
Gold Men.
There is only one change that can be
made in the issue for 1900. That is the
dropping of the mask by- the gold men.
In state after state the republican
party is repudiating the St. Louis plat
form, abandoning all pretense of favor
ing bimetallism, and declaring broadly
for the gold standard. That, of course,
is what the leaders really meant in
1596, but they disguised the fact and
deceived many honest men. It is now
clear just w here the party organization
stands. It is a practical certainty that
if France and India w ere to signify their
willingness to join us in an agreement
for the restoration of silver, the repub
lican party would not accept. We
never believed that it would, that is,
since the election of McKinley. If the
British government had agreed to open
the Indian mint, and France had agreed
to open hers, we do not believe that Mr.
McKinley would have accepted the prop
osition. The influences behind him
would not have allowed it. The claim
w-ould immediately have been made
that the United States, France and In
dia would not make a sufficiently strong
combination. If all of Europe had
agreed, excepting only England, it
would still have been insisted that bi
betallism could not be safely' under
taken. The administration is abso
lutely' committed to the gold standard
and the probability- is that in 3900 there
will be no effort at disguise. The only
change of issue will be in its greater
clearness and certainty.
Mast Wear American Clothes.
By order of the emperor of Korea the
members of the Korean legation in
Washington must hereafter wear cloth
ing required by the custom of this
country. Hitherto they have appeared
in oriental garb.—N. Y. Sun.
THE APOTHEOSIS OF DEBT.
Coarse of the “Financiers” of Twen
ty-Five Years Ago to Prevent
Too Mueli Prosperity.
In 1865 Hugh McCulloch, then secre
tary of the treasury, reported the peo
ple of the United States “practically
out of debt.” This alarming statement
created consternation everywhere.
The outlook for the future of the coun
try under such threatening conditions
was appalling. It could not be denied
that, under the circumstances then pre
vailing. the people would not only keep
out of debt but would soon become fore
handed. Mr. McCulloch, himself, took
a pessimistic view of the situation and
made no hesitation in saying that if the
financial condition then existing were
allowed to continue, corruption of
morals find other evil incidents to sol
vency were inevitable. “Chilled by ap
prehensions as to where such a drift
might lead the nation,” Mr. McCulloch
promptly took steps to avert the cer
tain calamity too much wealth in the
hands of “the ignorant and irresponsi
ble masses” was sure eo bring about
sooner or later. He began at once to
contract the too redundant currency,
which, as everybody knows, is always a
“menace to prosperity.”
This method of guarding against dis
aster, was, however, resisted by many
misguided people and it became appar
ent that some other plan must be adopt
ed to prevent accumulation by the
“masses,” and to dissipate that at
this juncture John Sherman, the
financial oracle of the period, was
called in for consultation. It did
did not take him long to discover and
point out the cause of all the trouble.
It was plain to him that the farmers
were getting too much for their crops.
He demonstrated that for every SIOO
worth of goods bought in foreign mar
kets $l5O worth of American prod
ucts was exported to pay for it.
This left a “balance of trade” in
favor of the United States of soo,
which our customers were obliged to
pay by shipping to this country that
amount in gold. This was intolerable.
If it went on it would plainly over
whelm the country' with wealth, the
burden of which it would be impossible
to sustain.
Some way must be found to obviate
this appalling danger, by reducing the
price of those products at least one
half, in order to reverse these alarming
conditions and to shift the “balance of
trade” to the other side, or disaster was
certain. It w-as plain that by reducing
the price of the products of American
farms 50 per cent, then for every
SIOO worth of foreign goods bought,
only $75 worth of those products would
be esxported to pay for it and there
would be a “balance of trade” of $25
against us to be paid in gold instead of
SSO in our favor to be collected. This
w r as bitter. This might be called the
Sherman system of finance. Under this
enlightened system was evident that
flic farmer would not l,e able to raise
produce at the price which would then
obtain and the necessity for borrow
ing money' could not be evaded. Soon
everybody would be in debt and hap
piness and prosperity assured. It
was left to John Sherman to secure the
necessary' legislation to bring about
this ideal condition, and it was with
this object that the “crime of 1873” was
perpetrated. The act passed by' con
gress fully accomplished the object in
tended. It has brought the farmers
and producers to their present enviable
condition of hopeless and ever-increas
ing debt, which seems to afford them so
much gratification and pleasure. It is
evident that they desire no change, for
they continue to vote to maintain and
perpetuate existing happy' conditions.
STEPHEN BLACKFOOT.
ABSURD GOLDITE CLAIMS.
51iere Would lie No Flood of Euro
pean Silver if Oar Mints
Were Opened.
The opposition threatens us with a
flood of European silver upon our re
opened mints. We answer, Europe
has no silver but her silver money'.
Her silver money' values silver at from
three to seven cents on the dollar high
er than ours. Hence the European mer
chant or banker must sacrifice from
three to seven per cent, of his full legal
tender money in order to recoin it at
our mints. Europe’s silverware, like
America’s silverware, carries in it the
additional value of labor and the manu
facturer’s profit. They' threaten us
with a flood of silver from the far east.
We answer that the course of silver is
invariably eastward, and never toward
the west. British India is a perpetual
sink of silver, absorbing it, never to
return, by from $30,000,000 to $60,000,000
worth every year. And India’s ab
sorption of silver will be enlarged by
the steadiness of the price of silver
fixed by our reopened mints. They
threaten us with a sudden retirement
of $600,000,000 gold, with the accom
panying panic, causing contraction.
We answer that our total stock of gold,
other than about $10,000,000 or $15,000,-
000 circulating on the Pacific coast, is
already in retirement. Practically all
our gold is in the United States treas
ury or held by' banks. The gold in the
treasury will remain there if the see
cretary avails himself of his option to
redeem United St.'ites notes in silver.
The gold in the banks constitutes the
quiet and undisturbed portion of their
reserves against liabilities. It will con
tinue to do money duty as such reserves
after free coinage for silver is enacted.
Hence a premium on it will not con
tract the currency. The utmost pos
sible contraction of the. currency will
be the few millions circulating on the
Pacific coast, and this would be retired,
but slowly, if at all.—lllinois State Reg
ister.
Tlie Goldite Llnr.
According to the goldites there is
getting to be so much gold in the
world and it is becoming so common
that the people don’t want it, and yet
they insist that the single gold stand
ard shall be established. Is this “hon
est?” Is it “right” to force upon the
people such a common article as a
legal tender for debts past, present
and future? Os all the liars in the
world the goldite liar is not only' the
most interesting one, but the smooth
est and most impudent.
A LITTLE NONSENSE.
“The leopard cannot change his
spots!” “No, and one so quickly tires
of loud patterns, too!”—Detroit Jour
nal.
“Bobbie,” said the visitor, “have you
any brothers and sisters?” “Xo,”* re
plied Bobbie, I’m all the children we’ve
got.”—Cincinnati Enquirer.
“Do you think strong drink shortens
a man’s life?” “It may, but I never
saw a toper who didn’t live out the full
ness of his days.”—Philadelphia Bulle
tin.
Sunday School Teacher—“ Now, Willie
Green, you may tell me what you un
derstand by the ‘future state.’ ” Willie
Green —“Please ma’am, it’s a terri
tory.”—Catholic Standard and Times.
Ethel —“I saw Count Hardupski last
evening.” Cousin Tom—“ Does he talk
as brokenly as ever?” Ethel—“My!
yes. I heard him ask pa to loan him ten
dollars before he left.”—Frank Leslie’s.
“Didn’t you say' that five hours on
the wheel would be enough to learn to
ride?” “Oh, yes; but you must re
member that you have spent most of
the time on the ground.” Heitere
Welt.
Great Artist —“Now, some one has
written a book in which he attempts
to prove that all geniuses are insane.”
Great Inventor —“The author of that
book must be a genius himself.’’—
Cleveland Leader.
“John,” said Mrs. Hilkins, “I don’t
believe Tom will ever marry. He is too
bashful to ever propose to a woman.”
“Oh, I don’t know ; he may' meet a
young widow some day',” replied her
husband.—Ohio State Journal.
Krepps—“Who is the scared-looking
little chap so completely under the in
fluence of the big - woman?” Jligson—
“That’s Sizboom. Got a brevet and a
gold medal for daring work in the Phil
ippines.”—Philadelphia North Ameri
can.
MRS. SCHLEY FOUGHT.
Tlie Admiral’s Sympathetic Wile
Went Through the Snntiugo
Fight in Her Mind.
During - her recent visit to this city'
the wife of Admiral Schley said, in
speaking of her leelings during the
blockade of Santiago:
“Os course, when the news of the
battle came my heart stood still until
1 was assured my husband was unin
jured. The latter followed so closely
on the former that there was little time
for fright. My next feeling was that
of thankfulness that it was all over,
for I felt that this would be the final
blow to the Spanish navy. One gets
used to facing danger for himself and
those most interested partake in away
of that confidence. It is said to be quite
the ordinary' thought to one in battle
that, no matter what happens to every
body' else, he himself w ill come out un
scathed. This is more or less true of
those at home awaiting the result.
You know it is no trouble to convince
the watcher that a beloved one has es
caped death, but very hard to make her
realize that he has been injured or
killed. 1 think 1 saw and heard that
battle many times before it happened,
and alway s my husband was safe and
victorious. The description of those
Spanish ships as they crept out of the
harbor, the chase, their destruction
and all were no news to me. I had im
agined them so often. To me that
seemed the inevitable ending, and it
happened in the only' way it could.
Whether it was the inequality in the
fleets or not I do not know, but it did
not seem to me that there would be
great danger to our ships and men.
I had great confidence in both, and you
see it was not misplaced. The men on
the Brookly n were splendid fellow s and
the others were not behind them.
“I think that women are so used to
suffering in silence that it is usually re
garded as a matter of course instead of
heroism. There is, moreover, a be
numbed feeling often mistaken for
great courage or great heartlessness.
What do 1 think of western people?
Why', they' have been a revelation to me
throughout my r whole trip. I have
never seen more hospitable, lovely peo
ple. One of the things that touched me
most was the attention paid to ns by
the school children. Everywhere we
went the schools were dismissed and
the pupils vied with each other in load
ing ns with flowers and in other ways
displaying their patriotism. They
seemed to regard Mr. Schley' as a ‘good
fellow.’ They did not conceal their ad
miration of him as a representative of
the United States navy. They' were so
thoroughly' democratic. The ‘Hello
Schley', give us a shake,’ from the boys
on the street sounded very musical to
me. The tone was that of one good
comrade to another. You would have
thought they had fought side by' side
W'ith him. Their assumed proprietor
ship in him was highly characteristic of
the American boy and the American in
stitution.
“Perhaps the thing that pleased me
more than anything else was our re
ception by my r naval reserves. I call
them my boys, for they seem as though
they belong to me, especially those on
the Brooklyn. I sincerely hope this
will not be our last w estern visit. Why,
we have just had a taste of western air
and the freedom it inspires. No wonder
westerners are loy'al and good fighters.
They couldn’t be otherwise and breathe
the air they do.” —Chicago Chronicle.
Insanity Anions Half-Breeds.
An incident of the civilization of the
red man is that he is developing in
sanity. just as white folks do, and
therefore the government has bought
160 acres of land near Canton, S. D.,
whereon to build an asylum to accom
modate all the insane Indians of the
United States. Indian Commissioner
Jones says, however, that there are no
insane Indians of pure race. The in
mates of the new asylum will be half
breeds.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
Family of Hnncins: Masters.
The D’Egvilles, of London, have
taught dancing since the days oi
George 111. The present survivor de
clares that dancing among the upper
classes has degenerated into a vulgar
romp. His principal work now is teach
ing young women how to walk, how to
enter a room and to coach them for
presentation at court.—N. Y. World.
His Experience.
The Boy—l wouldn’t mind if we had
another w ar wid somebody.
The Man —You ain’t tliinkin’ of goin’
to the front, are you?
“No; but there’s nothin’ like a war
for sellin’ papers.”—Puck.
GENTLENESS IN WAR.
j
A Singular Characteristic of Uie
Samoaua—An Illustrative
Incident.
War is savage in its very nature, and.
one looks for war among savages to tie
peculiarly barbarous, ihat such is not
aiways the case among the people of
Samoa is attested by a letter sent from,
Samoa by an American gentleman who.
recently visited Apia, and whe gives a.
description of Mataafa’s army in camp,
after a battle between the rival claim
ants to the throne, says Youth s Com
panion.
‘We went all about among the huts
where the savages were resting after*
the battle and making preparations for
the next fight. It was a very peaceful'
scene, so” their arms were all concealed
under the mats where the men set. and
many of tb® soldiers were accompanies!
by their wives and children. Ttiev
w>ere amusing themselves by smoking
and beating tom-toms.
1 lie Samoans are a most amiable
race of savages, and white.people are al—
ways perfectly safe among them.
Everywhere we were greeted with*
smiles and friendly nods and the saluta
tion, 'lalofa,* which means ‘Love to
you,’ from men, women and children.
‘One instance of their friendly feel
ing occurred during the big battle. A
white man, who lived in the street
where they were fighting, saw that two-*
of his horses had strayed out between
the hostile lines. He did not want to*
lose them, and he did not want to ven
ture out in tlie line of fire. So he stuck
a white flag out of his window. Upon
seeing it. both chiefs ordered their men
to stop firing, and hostilities were sus
pended while the white man went out
and drove his horses to a place of shel
ter. Then the combatants went at it.
again.”
AFRICAN RIVERS.
Eight Months Out of Twelve They
Are Dry and Drifts of Sand
Mark Their Course.
It is a distinguishing feature of most
African rivers that they contain no*
water for at least eight months of the
year. It is true that w ater can almost
always be found in a river bed by dig
ging for it, but in outward appearances
a river is usually a broad belt of sand
lying between high and precipitous
banks. Many and many a coach has
been upset in one of these drifts, as
they are called. The descent is always
steep, frequently so steep that the
brakes cannot hold the coach, says
Gentleman's Magazine.
They start going down at a crawl,
and then the coach gathers way and
goes on w'ith a rush, the mules are
driven into a heap anyhow, and one
wonders that they do not get their legs
broken; but they usually land all right,
while the coach, practically unmanage
able. goes down like a sort of toboggan,,
jumping from stone to stone, and sway
ing like a ship in a sudden squall, and
may or may not arrive right side upper
most at the bottom, in fact, the pas
senger who has gathered his ideas of
coaching from a trip to Brighton or a
drive to Virginia Water, finds that he
has a lot to learn about the subject
when he gets tp South Africa. Still, on.
the whole, it was wonderful how’few.
accidents did occur, and if ohe consid
ers that the coaches ran night and day,
and that when there was no moon it
would sometimes be too dark to see
the mules from off the coach, it reflects
great credit on the drivers.
REBELLION RECORDS.
Immense Cost and Stupendous Ex
tent of This Account
of tlie War.
Up to June 30, 1308, the government
had expended $2,610,021 in printing the
official records of the union and con
federate armies, and it is estimated by
Public Printer Palmer that before the
work is completed the total expendi
ture will probably exceed $3,000,000.
This is $1,000,600 more than the total
amount appropriated by congress foi
the erection of a new government print
ing oiiiee, work on which will begii:
within a few days. The "Rebellion Rec
ords,” as the work is called, is probably
the most stupendous publication eve*
attempted, the series comprising 111
columes, averaging 1,000 pages each,
and the final edition will be 1,298,700
separate volumes. The first copy was
sent to the public printer August 24
ISBO, and it is doubtful if the work wilt
be entirely completed by the same date
next y-ear.
ELECTRICAL NOTES.
Berlin is telephonically connected
with 435 other cities.
The City of Mexico is now lighted by'
600 arc lights, most of which are of
2,000-candle power.
Electricty has supplanted steam on
the railroad from Milan to Monza, the
oldest railroad in Italy, opened for traf
fic in IS4O. Storage batteries are used,,
the electricity being obtained from the*
turbines on the Adda at Paderno.
Confession of a Millionaire.
A millionaire confessed the secret of his
success in two words—hard work. He said
he put in the best part of his life in gaining
dollars and losing health, and now he was
putting in the other half in spending dollars
to get back health. Nothing equals Hostet
ter’s Stomach Bitters for restoring health
to the overtired body and brain. It gets at
the starting point—the stomach—and over
comes nervousness, sleeplessness, dyspepsia
and indigestion.
In the New West.
In a few years the people out west will be
engaged in lynching the automobi.e thieves
—Washington Post.
“Durability is
Better Than Show”
The wealth of the multi-millionaires <
is not equal to good health. Riches
without health are a curse, and yet the
’ rich, the middle classes and the poor
alike have, in Hood’s Sarsaparilla, a
; valuable assistant in getting and ~
maintaining perfect health. ‘ |
>|i|>ltttt < > » 1 I 1 t t t
§3 Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use pg|
W In time. Sold by druggists. gs

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