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Title: Watson's Jeffersonian Magazine, January, 1907
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Watson's Jeffersonian Magazine, January, 1907" ***
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Transcriber’s Notes
Italics and bold face texts have been transcribed between
_underscores_ and =equal signs=, respectively. Small capitals have
been replaced with ALL CAPITALS.
More Transcriber’s Notes may be found at the end of this text.
[Illustration: $1.50 Per YearJANUARY, 1907 15 Cents Per Copy
Watson’s
Jeffersonian
Magazine
THOS. E. WATSON
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR
ATLANTA, GEORGIA]
THE
Meridian Life & Trust Co.
OF INDIANAPOLIS
ARTHUR JORDAN, President,
is a mutual old line legal reserve company organized and doing
business under The Legal Reserve Compulsory Deposit Law of Indiana,
which is acknowledged by the best Insurance Authorities to be the most
complete law for the protection of the Insured ever enacted in this or
any other country.
Each year the Auditor of the State is required to ascertain the net
cash value of all outstanding policies with three and one-half per
cent. interest thereon, and the company MUST deposit in his office
Government and State Bonds, and first mortgages on real estate of
double the value of the mortgage, to secure the cash value.
Economical management as shown by the following figures has placed
this conservative company at the head of companies in Indiana, its
home state.
Comparative statement showing amount of Insurance gained in the State
of Indiana, the home of THE MERIDIAN, in 1905:
Meridian Life $3,005,008
State Life, Ind. 738,358
Reserve Loan, Ind. 1,223,408
American Central, Ind. 2,285,556
Inter-State, Ind. 1,392,408
Penn Mutual, Pa. 276,249
Aetna Life, Conn. 438,706
A POLICY IN OUR COMPANY
Will “PROTECT” your home and family.
Will “CREATE” wealth.
Will “SAVE” your estate.
Will “GIVE” you a standing of credit.
Will “PAY” off your mortgage at death.
Will “FURNISH” happiness and peace of mind in life.
Will “SUPPORT” you in old age.
Will “SOFTEN” the pangs of death.
Will “GUARANTEE” a dividend not obtained in any other company.
THE MERIDIAN LIFE offers this desirable protection to its policy
holders at a cost worth considering.
Let us tell you more about the opportunity we offer you for a safe
investment, and protection. Your name, address and age, is all that it
will cost you.
_SEND IT TODAY._
$1,000,000 WRITTEN DURING FIRST EIGHT MONTHS IN GEORGIA.
LIVE, ENERGETIC REPRESENTATIVES
can secure a contract that will enable them to double their income, in
either Georgia or Alabama. Either all, or spare time. Write us for
full particulars.
E. C. LESTER, Supt. Southeastern Agency,
600 Austell Building, Atlanta, Ga.
M. C. MORRIS, Director of Agencies, Atlanta, Ga.
THE Publishers Failure
Places in our hands the remainder of Their Greatest Publication
Ridpath’s History of the World
9 Massive Royal Octavo Volumes, 4,000 double-column pages, 2,000
superb illustrations.
Brand New, latest edition, down to 1906, beautifully bound in half
Morocco
At LESS than even DAMAGED SETS were ever sold
We will name our price only in =direct letters= to those sending us
the =Coupon= below. =Tear off the Coupon, write name and address
plainly, and mail to us now before you forget it.=
Dr. Ridpath is dead, his work is done, but his family derive an income
from his history, and =to print our price broadcast=, for the sake of
more quickly selling these few sets, would cause =great injury to
future sales=.
[Illustration: Weighs 55 lbs.]
=Ridpath= takes you back to the dawn of history, long before the
Pyramids of Egypt were built; down through the romantic, troubled
times of Chaldea’s grandeur and Assyria’s magnificence; of Babylonia’s
wealth and luxury; of Greek and Roman splendor; of Mohammedan culture
and refinement; of French elegance and British power; to the rise of
the Western world, including the complete history of the United States
and all other nations down to the close of the Russia-Japan war.
=Ridpath’s= enviable position as an historian is due to his
wonderfully beautiful style, a style no other historian has ever
equaled. He pictures the great historical events as though they were
happening before your eyes; he carries you with him to see the battles
of old; to meet kings and queens and warriors; to sit in the Roman
Senate; to march against Saladin and his dark-skinned followers; to
sail the southern seas with Drake; to circumnavigate the globe with
Magellan; to watch that this line of Greek spearmen work havoc with
the Persian hordes on the field of Marathon; to know Napoleon as you
know Roosevelt. He combines absorbing interest with supreme
reliability, and makes the heroes of history real living men and
women, and about them he weaves the rise and fall of empires in such a
fascinating style that history becomes as absorbingly interesting as
the greatest of fiction.
=Ridpath’s= History is strongly endorsed by Presidents Harrison,
Cleveland, and McKinley, Jefferson Davis, Lew Wallace, John L.
Stoddard, Bishop Vincent, Dr. Cuyler, Rabbi Hirsch, Presidents of Ann
Harbor, Amherst, Brown, Dartmouth, Tufts, Trinity, Bates, Colby,
Smith, Vassar, Yale, and other Colleges, and by the Great American
People, 200,000 of whom own and love it.
=Ridpath= is generally conceded the Greatest History ever written.
=$1 Brings the Complete Set. Balance Small Sums Monthly.=
It is the only general history recognized as an authority.
It is so beautifully written your children will learn to love it.
You should know history in these history-making days.
This is your chance to buy for less than ever before.
You may pay in small sums monthly, if you wish.
SEND COUPON TO-DAY AND WE WILL MAIL SAMPLE PAGES FREE
FOLD HERE, TEAR OUT, SIGN, AND MAIL
FREE COUPON
Western Newspaper Association 204 Dearborn St. Chicago, Ill.
Please mail, without cost to me, sample pages of Ridpath’s History
containing his famous “Race Chart” in colors, map of China and Japan,
diagram of Panama Canal, etc., and write me full particulars of your
special offer to =Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine readers=
Name................................
Address.............................
HOTEL CUMBERLAND
NEW YORK
S. W. Cor. Broadway at 54th Street.
[Illustration]
Ideal Location. Near Theatres, Shops, and Central Park. Fine Cuisine.
Excellent food and reasonable Prices.
=NEW, MODERN AND ABSOLUTELY FIREPROOF.=
Within one minute’s walk of 6th Ave. “L” and Subway and accessible to
all surface car lines. Transient rates $2.50 with Bath and up.
=SEND FOR BOOKLET=,
Under the Management of
HARRY P. STIMSON GEO. L. SANBORN
Hotel Touraine.
Buffalo, N. Y.
[Illustration]
_=Delaware Avenue at Chippewa St.=_
_=ABSOLUTELY FIREPROOF=_
250 Rooms with Bath and Long Distance Telephone.
=EUROPEAN PLAN--$1.50 PER DAY=
up with Bath connections
Excellent Music and Grill Room.
C. N. Owen, Proprietor
=SEND FOR BOOKLET=
STOP AT THE
NEW PRINCESS HOTEL
WHEN AT
ATLANTIC CITY
[Illustration]
South Carolina Avenue, 200 feet from Beach.
The Princess Hotel is newly furnished throughout with rare taste, and
possesses all modern requisites for convenience and comfort of the
guests. Golf privileges and privilege of the Atlantic City Yacht Club
extended to the guests. American and European Plan.
=A BOOKLET will be gladly furnished upon application.=
Rates, Running from $12.50 to $30.00 per week, according to the
location of the rooms.
For any further information address
CROWELL & COLLIER
The Princess Hotel,
Atlantic City, N. J.
HOTEL NORMANDIE
BROADWAY and 38th STREET, NEW YORK
In the Heart of the City
[Illustration]
Fireproof European Plan
Single Rooms with Baths and in Suites
=$1.50 per Day and Upwards=
=Center of Amusement and Business District=
Telephone in Each Room Restaurant and Palm Room
The Cuisine Unexcelled Moderate Prices
SEND FOR BOOKLET.
ELMER E. ALMY, Prop.
=Also, Osburn House, Rochester, N. Y.=
JAMES W. GREEN J. D. WATSON
GREEN & WATSON
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
THOMSON, GA.
Consulting Counsel THOS. E. WATSON.
Will practice in McDuffie and surrounding counties. Loans negotiated
and Collections made on good terms.
WHEN IN BALTIMORE STOP AT THE
[Illustration: HOTEL JOYCE EUROPEAN]
130 Rooms
Elegantly Furnished
Unexcelled Cuisine
Rooms with Bath and en Suite.
Centrally Located.
Opposite Camden Station
Main Depot B. & O. R. R.
Rates $1.00 per Day and Upwards
SEND FOR BOOKLET
Hotel Joyce Baltimore, Md.
A SPLENDID STORY.
--_New York Times._
JACK LONDON’S
WHITE FANG.
Cloth, 12mo, $1.50
“Typical, graphic, tense, powerful, gripping the reader with a power
that knows no breaking till the story ends.... Shows more gentle
feeling and more charm than anything else the author has written.”
--_Chicago Evening Post._
Illustrated in colors from drawings by Charles Livingstone Bull, and
with special cover design.
Cloth, 12mo, $1.50
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS,
64-66 Fifth Avenue. NEW YORK.
Speaking of Economy
RED SEAL SHOES
Give double service at about the same price.
[Illustration]
For right down hard ware try our TUF-HIDE for the whole family and
you’ll save a good slice on the shoe bill.
Sold Everywhere.
[Illustration: No. 36 $2.50]
No. 36, Men’s $2.50
No. 112, Boys 2.00
No. 413, Womens 2.00
No. 145, Misses 1.75
J. K. Orr Shoe Co.,
Look for the TRADE MARK
ATLANTA, GA.
Georgia Shoemakers
Watson’s on a Postal brings a Catalogue.
Typewriters AT Half Price
[Illustration]
We have a large assortment of all standard machines, which have been
slightly used, that we will sell on guarantee, viz:--
Fay-Sho or Rem-Sho $25 to $40
Williams (All Models) $20 to $40
Remingtons (All Models) $15 to $60
Densmores (All Models) $15 to $40
Smith Premiers $20 to $60
Yost (All Models) $15 to $50
_Write for special prices on any other machine made. We have them in
stock_
Atlanta Typewriter Exchange
Seventy-One North Pryor Street
REFERENCES: H. M. Ashe Co., Central Bank & Trust Corporation, R. G.
Dun & Co.
What Will You Do During the Xmas Holidays?
You Are Not In It == Without a Gun.
[Illustration]
Anyone Can Afford to Own a Good Gun
Remington 1 Hammer Gun $20.00
Remington K Hammerless Gun 23.50
Remington KED Hammerless Gun 31.50
Remington 1 Automatic Gun 30.00
Remington 2 Automatic Gun 37.50
Parker V-H Hammerless 37.50
Parker P-H Hammerless 48.50
Fox No. A, Hammerless 37.50
Ithaca F, Hammerless 21.50
Ithaca 1, Hammerless 27.50
Ithaca 2, Hammerless 45.00
Winchester Take Down 19.44
Winchester Solid Frame 18.00
Winchester Riot 18.00
Sauer, Hammerless 65.00
Stevens No. 325, Hammerless 20.00
1890 Winchester Repeater, 16 shot, 22 cal. 10.26
1892 Winchester Repeater, 32, 38 or 44 12.50
1903 Winchester Automatic, 22 cal. 16.04
1906 Winchester Repeater, 22 short 8.50
1902 Winchester Single Shot 3.50
1903 Winchester Single Shot, Thumb Trigger 3.00
1904 Winchester Single Shot, extra heavy 4.75
No. 15 Hamilton 1.50
No. 19 Hamilton 2.00
Savage, Jr. 4.00
Savage 30-30 18.00
In presenting this list we only attempt to partially list the large
line of
Guns, Ammunition, Hunting Suits and Sporting Goods,
carried in our stock. We carry all the leading lines.
We guarantee satisfaction to every customer or your money cheerfully
refunded
Mail Orders Given Prompt Attention.
KING HARDWARE COMPANY,
53 Peachtree St., ATLANTA, GA.
“=Yes, do send me a book.=... Not a bargain book, bought from a
haberdasher, but a beautiful book, a book to caress--peculiar,
distinctive, individual: A book that hath first caught your eye and
then pleased your fancy, written by an author with a tender whim, all
right out of his heart. We will read it together in the gloaming, and
when the gathering dusk doth blur the page, we’ll sit with hearts too
full for speech and think it over.”
_Dorothy Wordsworth to Coleridge._
Such a book is
“ANN BOYD” by Will N. Harbin
and
“THE LIFE OF JACKSON” by Mr. Watson
Both begin in this number of Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine as
serials.
IF YOU ARE INTERESTED
IN
Texas Investments
OF ANY KIND OR SIZE
Address
E. C. ROBERTSON,
Kiam Building, Houston, Texas.
Genuine Gold Specimens
Free
Samples of gold ore direct from the mine, sent free. We have a limited
amount of stock of an exceptionally attractive and promising Nevada
Gold Mine. The company is operated by reliable, responsible and
honorable men, whose references are customers of years’ standing, in
all parts of the country. This stock is not manipulated by speculators
or stock jobbers. It is offered now at a very low price, for rapid
development purposes, and will sell at par soon, we believe, going
higher as the mine develops. If you want to make money rapidly we
advise you to purchase and hold this stock for large and regularly
paid dividends. The stock of one Nevada Gold Mine increased 50 per
cent in one day; 18 Nevada stocks during October 1906 increased in
value Twenty-One Million Dollars. If you like a square deal and to be
in the best of company, you will send us your address at once for full
particulars.
MANHATTAN INVESTMENT CO.
125 EAST 23D STREET, N. Y.
JEWELRY for CHRISTMAS
Give presents that will be appreciated. Good jewelry satisfies
all--sweethearts, wives, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers or
friends. Examine my magnificent brand-new stock. I help you select.
Out-of-town orders carefully attended to. Satisfaction guaranteed.
J. C. MELLICHAMP, 70 Whitehall Street
“ATLANTA’S ONLY POPULAR NEXT DOOR CHAMBERLAIN-
PRICE JEWELRY STORE” JOHNSON-DU BOSE CO.
“Books are the food of youth, the delight of old age; the ornament of
prosperity, the refuge and comfort of adversity; a delight at home,
and no hindrance abroad; companions by night, in traveling, in the
country.”--_Cicero._
THOS. E. WATSON’S “STORY OF FRANCE”
In two beautiful volumes for only eight subscriptions to WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
Either Mr. Watson’s Life of Napoleon or Jefferson for only five
subscriptions to WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
BETHANY,
A true and thrilling story of the Old South and Civil War, by Mr.
Watson, for only four subscriptions.
Club Rates. We Save You Magazine Money. Combinations.
Lord Bacon has said that “Reading makes a full man, conversation a
ready man, and writing an exact man.” If you want to be full--not
physically, but mentally--full of the best information, you should
read the best magazine literature. Foremost among the magazines is
The Metropolitan Magazine.
A beautifully illustrated monthly. A well appointed magazine in every
department. There’s something in it each month to interest the reader.
Are you a subscriber? Why not become one?
Below you will find some very attractive offers to which we direct
your attention:
=The Metropolitan
Magazine=
With one Class A $1.65
With two Class A 2.30
With two Class C 1.70
With one Class C } 2.00
and one Class A }
With two Class B 3.70
With one Class A } 3.00
and one Class B }
=Metropolitan
Magazine= }
Review of Reviews or }
one Class B } 3.00
Woman’s Home Companion }
or one Class A }
Metropolitan }
Worlds Work } 3.65
Delineator }
McClure’s }
=Class A.=
American Magazine $1.00
American Boy 1.00
American Inventor 1.00
American Primary Teacher 1.00
Baby 1.00
Cosmopolitan 1.00
Farming 1.00
Garden 1.00
Good Housekeeping 1.00
Home Magazine 1.00
Kindergarten Magazine 1.00
Little Folks 1.00
Physical Culture 1.00
Pilgrim 1.00
Suburban Life 1.50
Success 1.00
Times Magazine 1.50
Woman’s Home Companion 1.00
World To-Day 1.50
=Class B.=
Automobile $2.00
Motorway 2.00
Out Door News 2.00
Outing 3.00
Reader 3.00
Review of Reviews 3.00
Trained Nurse 2.00
=Class C.=
American Messenger $ .50
Amer. Poul. J. .50
Arkansaw Traveler .50
Boys and Girls .50
Housekeeper .50
Ladies World .50
McCall & Patton .50
Modern Women .50
Modern Priscila .50
New Idea Woman’s Magazine .50
Write for our Catalog.
Watson’s Jeffersonian may be added to any Club for =$1.50 extra=.
Address all orders to
Walker’s Southern Magazine Agency,
212 Leonard Building, Augusta, Georgia.
To Our Readers.
The advertising columns of this Magazine will carry into your homes
only the announcements of those whom we have reason to believe do a
legitimate and honorable business. Almost to the man, our advertisers
were prompted to place their contracts with us, not with a single eye
to the returns which they hoped to get as a result of using our space,
but because they are broadminded men who believe in this Magazine as
you do, enthusiastically predicting and welcoming Mr. Watson’s
success.
They with others, whose advertisements will appear in our next issue,
will continue to extend this evidence of their sincerity and thereby
guarantee WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE a financial success if you as
our clientele only patronize them to that extent whereby they can
carry their advertisement with us without doing so at a total loss. We
are careful as to the character of the advertisements which we carry,
which necessarily restricts our revenue from this source, so in your
appreciation of this fact we ask you as our friends to so far as
possible patronize our advertising friends and in doing so, be careful
to mention this Magazine so they may know our people and know they are
appreciative.
Since the time of President Jefferson’s Administration, it has
been sufficient guarantee of the quality of an article to
know it was bought at GALT’S : : : : : : : : : : :
[Illustration]
GALT & BRO.
ESTABLISHED OVER A CENTURY
Jewellers, Silversmiths, Stationers
1107 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE
WASHINGTON, D. C.
Christmas Jewelry
We Guarantee Satisfaction
in our
Service by Mail Department
Give Worth-While Gifts; not necessarily expensive, but good and of
permanent value. Here’s a little bunch of suggestions;
BROOCHES, Plain gold, enameled, pearl-set, jeweled, hand
From $1.50 up engraved.
SIGNET RINGS, Very much sought, splendid for engraved
Children’s $1.50 to $5 monograms.
Women’s $5 to $10
BARETTES, The smartest new hair-clasps and veil-pins.
From $1 to $25
Jeweled $25 to $50
SHIRT-WAIST PINS, Dainty and practical fastenings, more popular
Silver $1 to $4 than ever.
Gold $5 to $40
GOLD-BEADS, Always stylish and ornaments of real beauty.
$6.50 to $20
COMBS, The smart coiffure necessitates these; we have
$1.50 to $75 some beauties.
HAT PINS, We have right now the prettiest and largest
Gold $2.50 to $35 line we’ve ever carried.
Silver 35c to $2.60
BRACELETS, Something every woman wants. All styles. Very
$1.50 to $800 smart.
Suggestions Merely. Write to-day for our Catalog W, a splendid book
which will be a dependable guide to your holiday shopping. It is full
of PICTURES and PRICES. Covers our entire stock of
SILVERWARE, CRYSTAL, PRECIOUS STONES, CHINA CLOCKS, WATCHES, ART
WARES, ORIENTAL BRIC-A-BRAC.
_A request brings you the Catalog by return post._
_MAIER and BERKELE_
The South’s Leading Jewelers
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
BOYS’ INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL,
ROME, GEORGIA.
FOUNDED BY MARTHA BERRY.
THE ONLY SCHOOL IN THE SOUTH FOR BOYS FROM THE COUNTRY EXCLUSIVELY.
NO BOY FROM THE CITY WILL BE ACCEPTED.
Expenses for Board, Tuition and Plain Washing for term of sixteen
weeks are $25.50--just one-half the actual cost to the school. The
balance due for the expenses of each student is raised by the personal
efforts of the founder of the school.
There are now 125 students in attendance, representing twenty-four
counties in Georgia. Many of these boys would have no other
opportunity to obtain an education.
Here is a golden opportunity for the people of Georgia to help develop
the manhood, the citizenship, the sterling Christian Character of the
most worthy boys in the State.
$51.00 pays the deficit on one student one year.
$25.50 pays the deficit on one student one term.
WILL YOU NOT AID US IN THIS IMPORTANT WORK? Contributions, large or
small, gratefully received.
Address all communications to
MISS MARTHA BERRY, Rome, Ga.
1879------------1906
GEORGIA MILITARY COLLEGE
A UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA PREPARATORY SCHOOL
MILLEDGEVILLE, GA.
THREE COURSES: Classical, Scientific, Commercial; Music and Art.
Honest work done by teachers. Exacted of Students.
GOVERNMENT: Military, after West Point Model. U. S. Army Officer,
Commandant of Cadets and Instructor in Military Science, French and
Spanish. Military Equipment furnished by U. S. Government.
EXPENSES: Total cost for year of 38 weeks, $150.00. Includes Board and
Laundry, two Uniforms. Books from $5.00 to $10.00. This school brings
an Education within the reach of the poor boy.
OUR AIM: The complete training of the boy.
Twenty-Seventh Session.
Opened September 4th, 1906.
For New Illustrated Catalogue, Address,
W. E. REYNOLDS, A. M., President, Milledgeville, Ga.
The McDuffie Bank
A STATE BANK OF LOANS AND DISCOUNTS.
Thomson, Ga.
[Illustration]
=J. F. WATSON. President.=
H. T. CLARY, VICE-PRESIDENT.
W. S. LAZENBY, CASHIER.
J. GLENN STOVALL, ATTORNEY.
Capital Stock, $25,000.00.
MODERN EQUIPMENT, CONSERVATIVE MANAGEMENT, COURTEOUS TREATMENT,
ACCOUNTS SOLICITED.
DIRECTORS:
J. F. WATSON, H. T. CLARY, W. A. WATSON, O. S. LEE, B. T. BUSSEY,
THOS. E. WATSON, J. C. FANNING, W. R. HADLEY, J. DURHAM WATSON, W. S.
LAZENBY, J. GLENN STOVALL.
A Request.
WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE stands for all that is best in the life
of the people and the future of the republic. It will advocate those
principles for which its editor has so long fought. It is Mr. Watson’s
unselfish ambition to establish this Magazine in the minds, hearts and
thoughts of our people; to make it a power for the right against the
wrong and to make it a factor in moulding the minds of our young
manhood and womanhood for the future.
_OUR REQUEST._
If you believe in the principles which this Magazine represents. If
you would see it succeed, First, read it, every department. Then talk
WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE enthusiastically with every one with
whom you come in contact, make up your mind to send at least five (5)
yearly subscriptions before our next issue is out, and send them. You
will find this an easy task if you will make it a point to call on
those whom you know to believe in justice and freedom.
It is impossible to portray in words our appreciation to the many
hundreds who have more than granted this request already. We can only
predict greater results from them in the near future, which bespeaks
our absolute confidence in their unselfish devotion to a cause which
has had more than one martyr.
The National Sanitary Felt Mattress
Is Superior to the Best Hair Mattress. Noted for its Elasticity,
Durability and Comfort.
[Illustration]
Is as elastic as a feather bed. Is conducive alike to health and
repose. Is manufactured from best Staple Cotton woven into layers of
Felt by special designed machinery.
OUR GUARANTEE:
Give this mattress a 60-day trial and if it does not fulfill all the
conditions of our guarantee, return it to the dealer (if the tick is
clean) and your money will be refunded.
_The_ FAMOUS “FOUR HUNDRED” SPRING
Manufactured by us Exclusively.
THE “400”
Contains 88 Oil Tempered Springs
Enameled Finish, Absolutely Noiseless.
[Illustration]
THE “400”
GUARANTEED THE BEST
SPRING BED ON EARTH.
Gholstin-Cunningham Spring Bed Co.
Manufacturers, Atlanta, Georgia.
AN EARNEST REQUEST
Made to All Editors Who Believe in Fair Play.
=Gentlemen:=
By as foul a deal as was ever made, “Watson’s Magazine,” of New York,
has been taken out of my hands.
The written Contract, upon which I relied, has been shamelessly set
aside.
A man whom I selected as my personal representative, and placed in the
office at a fine salary, =which has always been paid=, betrayed me.
He and Col. Mann formed a new company, seized the Magazine under legal
forms, and are now running it for themselves.
=Col. Mann of Town Topics is Editor-in-Chief.=
C. Q. DeFrance is Associate Editor and Business Manager.
They have flooded the country with =a lying circular letter=, intended
to deceive the people as to the cause of my withdrawal.
=Col. Mann’s name is not even mentioned in this circular.=
Almost every statement made about me in that circular is a base,
malicious falsehood. They are simply =trying to hide their own guilt
in a cloud of slanderous fabrications=.
In the November number of “Watson’s Magazine” appeared an article with
the title of “=Explanatory=.” It should have been labelled
“=Defamatory=.”
It reeks with venom and lies. =Col. Mann wrote part of it=, and
DeFrance wrote the balance.
These publications of theirs do me the rankest injustice.
=I have no mailing list of the magazine which bears my name, and never
had one.=
=Consequently, I am at present powerless to reach the subscribers and
readers of “Watson’s Magazine.” I have no way of letting them know the
real state of the case.=
=On account of this very serious disadvantage, I make this appeal to
you:=
=Pray, inform your readers that I am now publishing the genuine
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine in Atlanta, Ga., of which this is the
first number.=
And that in the “Foreword” of this number is given =a full history of
my connection with the New York Magazine, together with my reasons for
quitting.=
In the interest of =Fair Play=, I beg that you do me this favor.
It is one which, under similar circumstances =you would not ask of me
in vain=.
THOS. E. WATSON.
WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
THOS. E. WATSON,
Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. I. JANUARY, 1907 NO. 1
CONTENTS.
THE BODY-SNATCHERS. Frontispiece. _A. K. Taylor_
FOREWORD. _Thos. E. Watson_ 3
Illustrated by W. Gordon Nye.
EDITORIALS. _Thos. E. Watson_ 29
Illustrated by W. Gordon Nye and A. K. Taylor.
The New Year--Mr. Bryan and Mr. Watson.--
Socialism at War With Love of Home and Country--
National Finance Run Mad--As to Hearst--
Ornamental Flag-Poles--Eastern Insurance
Companies--Abraham Lincoln’s Silly Biographers--
Shoot, Luke, or Give Up the Gun--The Dismissal of
those Negro Troops--The Proposed Ship Subsidy--An
Appeal to Patriotism--Love Licks--After All, It
Depends Upon Who Owns the Ox.
YOU OLD CONFEDS. Poem. _William E. 50
From _The Confederate Veteran_. Fowler_
A SURVEY OF THE WORLD. _Charles J. Bayne_ 51
Illustrated with Portraits and Cartoons.
ANN BOYD. Serial Story. _Will N. Harben_ 73
Illustrated by W. Gordon Nye.
TWELFTH NIGHT. Poem. _Charles J. Bayne_ 89
Illustrated, from Painting by Jan Steen.
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON _Thos. E. Watson_ 91
Illustrated by W. Gordon Nye.
THE BLUE CHAMBER. Short Story. _Prosper Merimee_ 105
THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. A Legend. _Jeannette Holly_ 114
EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. _Thos. E. Watson_ 117
Illustrated by W. Gordon Nye.
BOOK REVIEWS. _Thos. E. Watson_ 123
Illustrated.
A PEEP INTO THE WEEKLY PAPERS. 125
LETTERS FROM THE PEOPLE. 132
RETURNING THANKS TO MY FRIENDS. _Thos. E. Watson_ 141
WITTY FLINGS BY THE PARAGRAPHERS. 148
Published Monthly by
THOS. E. WATSON
$1.50 Per Year.
Atlanta, Ga.
15 Cents Per Copy
_Application made for entry as second class matter at Atlanta Ga. Post
Office._
[Illustration: THE BODY SNATCHERS.
THEY GET THE CORPSE BUT THE SPIRIT HAS FLOWN.]
WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
THOS. E. WATSON,
Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. I.
JANUARY, 1907
NO. 1
Foreword.
Before me lies a Thing, bearing on its cover the legend,
“WATSON’S MAGAZINE.”
The familiar emblem, the Liberty Bell, is in the center of the space,
and below is the address of
“Watson’s Magazine Company,”
121 West 42nd Street, New York.
Opening this Thing and scanning the Table of Contents, I note the
absence of the name of Mr. Watson, former Editor-in-Chief.
He’s out.
Nor do I see the name of the former Managing Editor, Mr. Duffy.
He’s out, also.
C. Q. DeFrance is still on deck, however, and Ted Flaacke is still
Advertising Manager--with no advertisements to manage.
Then comes a statement of the Contents of the November number. First the
old familiar word, “EDITORIALS,” meets my eyes. But the name of the
writer is not given.
It used to be Mr. Watson. WHO IS IT NOW?
The Table of Contents does not state.
The Editor is a Man of Mystery. Was he ashamed of his Editorials, or
were the Editorials ashamed of _him_? Deponent sayeth not--because he
doesn’t know.
Everybody else’s name is given, save that of the only man whose name
there was any special reason for giving--to wit, THE EDITOR.
Is THIS the way they send you into the world, MY CHILD? Offspring of my
hand, my heart and my soul--Benjamin of my old age! Is THIS the
orphanage upon which you have fallen?
Glancing down the list of writers who have contributed to this November
number, I am startled to find the name of Thos. E. Watson.
Who is _he_, anyhow? Isn’t he the man whom Colonel Mann and DeFrance
have been slandering through the newspapers? Why put _his_ name into
_this_ pot?
Curious to see what Mr. Watson may have written for the Thing, I follow
the page reference (103) and find the familiar headline “EDUCATIONAL
DEPARTMENT.” This department was my own creation, primarily intended for
the instruction of the younger members of the family. Under the headline
of “Educational Department,” the Thing puts a list of books.
Some boy wrote to me last winter asking me to name one hundred books
which would be useful to the general reader. I made out the list, last
February, and mailed it to New York.
In their quandary of dismissing Watson, the man, and holding on to
Watson, the Reputation, _they fished that list of books out of the
waste-basket_ and published it. _They_ signed my name to it.
That’s the only item in the Thing’s “Educational Department.”
Pitiful!
At the very time when they are slandering me in the newspapers, and
denying to me any share in the Magazine which my unpaid labor built up,
Mann and DeFrance have the cynical indecency to continue to use my name
as a writer for _their_ magazine.
Turning to “LETTERS FROM THE PEOPLE,” a Department which owes its
creation to me, I find letters praising “Watson’s Magazine.”
The dates are not given. These would have disclosed the fact that the
letters were written before the severance of my connection with the
Magazine. The writers were _my friends_, and by their letters _they had
meant to encourage me in my work_.
The cover of the Magazine bears the name
“WATSON’S MAGAZINE COMPANY.”
The two individuals who compose this “Company” are Col. W. D. Mann and
C. Q. DeFrance--a very precious “Company.”
Of my Magazine, Mann took half, and DeFrance took half.
By what right?
Concede that Col. Mann was entitled to grab half of the Magazine because
of the money which he had lost through the stupid mismanagement of the
Business Department--where did DeFrance get _his_ right to _the other
half_? HE HAS NEVER DONE A LICK OF WORK FOR THE MAGAZINE THAT WASN’T
PAID FOR AT FULL PRICE.
Where, then, was HIS right to seize, under legal form, one half of the
Magazine?
I called him from a very modest position in Nebraska, and put him in the
office as my personal and political representative. Starting him at $40
per week, I soon advanced him to $60 per week--a higher salary than he
had ever been paid, by far. I trusted him, implicitly. To the last
moment, I relied upon him, absolutely.
_And he betrayed me._ Often have I, like other men, experienced
ingratitude; sometimes perfidy--but never have I been stung by such
venomous and unexpected treachery as that of DeFrance.
Let it pass.
* * * * *
There is another deceptive inscription upon the cover of the November
number of the spurious “Watson’s Magazine.” It is the address,
121 WEST 42 STREET.
That is NOT the true address which should be used now. Colonel Mann has
taken the spurious “Watson’s” into the quarters of his TOWN TOPICS AND
SMART SET. You have perhaps heard of TOWN TOPICS. Also of SMART SET. And
a _mighty_ smart set it is, too.
Hereafter, you might as well address all communications intended for the
_spurious_ “Watson’s” IN CARE OF COL. MANN’S TOWN TOPICS.
[Illustration: THE FAKIR AND THE MANIKIN. COL. MANN AND DEFRANCE
VENTRILOQUISING THE BOGUS “WATSON’S MAGAZINE,” NEW YORK.]
Or, if you prefer, IN CARE OF COL. MANN’S SMART SET.
Last March the blustering old scamp who rolls around beneath the name of
Colonel W. D. Mann, wanted to remove the genuine “Watson’s Magazine”
from 42nd Street over to the Smart Set den.
I declined to let him do it. At that time, DeFrance was still true to
me, and he took the same view of the matter. So anxious was he not to
get mired up in Town Topics mud that he telegraphed me to stand out
against Col. Mann and _not_ allow him to make the removal.
Tray, _the faithful_, wanted to keep out of bad company. Tray, the
unfaithful, has now, of his own free will, got into the bad company
which he _then_ avoided.
Watch out, Tray.
* * * * *
The first article in the November number of the spurious “Watson’s” is
entitled “EXPLANATORY.” Most of it had already appeared in Colonel
Mann’s TOWN TOPICS. The rest of it bears the earmark of DeFrance.
“EXPLANATORY” was prepared by THE PRESENT EDITORS of the New York
“Watson’s Magazine”--COL. MANN AND DEFRANCE. Well aware of the fact that
the Public would not patronize _a Reform magazine_ edited by such a
creature as himself, Col. Mann has rushed into the newspapers with a
declaration _that he never saw or heard of_ “EXPLANATORY” _until after
its appearance in the November “Watson’s.”_
What a shameless falsehood!
Col. Mann and DeFrance fixed up that “EXPLANATORY” mess, and _Mr. Gordon
Nye, the artist, was commissioned to take the “Proofs” to Col. Mann for
correction_.
MR. NYE, who is now living with me, ASSURES ME THAT HE CARRIED THESE
“PROOFS” TO COL. MANN’S HOUSE ON 72ND STREET, THAT COL. MANN READ AND
CORRECTED THE “PROOFS,” AND THAT HE MADE CERTAIN ALTERATIONS IN THE
ARTICLE.
Then Mr. Nye took the Proofs of “EXPLANATORY” _back to DeFrance_, and
delivered to that person _the orders of_ THE REAL EDITOR-IN-CHIEF of the
New York “Watson’s Magazine.”
For THE REAL EDITOR-IN-CHIEF of the bogus “Watson’s Magazine” IS COL.
MANN, EDITOR OF TOWN TOPICS AND SMART SET.
Nice Editor-in-Chief _for a reform magazine_, isn’t he?
* * * * *
I am going to give, once for all, a simple statement of the whole
transaction, and then I will try to forget it, in higher, nobler work.
Nothing is a more thankless task than the narration of the events
leading to such a climax as this.
* * * * *
After the national election of 1904, I went to New York to hold a
conference with our National Chairman, Mr. Ferriss, and with other men
who had been prominently identified with our side of the campaign. The
conference was held at the office of Mr. Palliser who had been acting
manager of the campaign in New York. I also wished to confer with Mr.
Brisbane, who had long been urging me to join him in editing the Hearst
papers. He had repeatedly written and telegraphed. A definite offer of
$10,000 to edit Mr. Hearst’s morning paper, the American, had been made.
If I had been ready to accept a thousand dollars per month, there is no
doubt that it would have been paid. But while I was powerfully inclined
to cooperate with Brisbane, I did not like to be swallowed up in Hearst.
Besides, to edit a daily paper necessitated my residence in New York,
whereas my interests, as well as local attachments, were too great to
make the removal one to which I could readily gain my own consent.
While in this uncertain state of mind, Colonel Mann burst in upon me, at
my hotel, in all the glory and pomposity of white whiskers, white hair,
wine-colored face, spotted waistcoat, gold-headed cane, baywindow belly,
eyes that looked like hard boiled eggs, and a voice thick with
high-living and constant use.
As I may have remarked before, he looked just like a picture taken out
of a child’s colored picture book.
While he talked to me, I sat there trying to make up my mind as to which
he resembled most, an idealized portrayal of Santa Claus, or of John
Bull, or of John Barlycorn. I finally decided that he would do for a
composite photograph of all three.
This funny looking old chap I had never heard of before. His Town Topics
I had never seen--didn’t know of its existence.
He introduced the purpose of his visit by saying that he had heard of
Mr. Hearst’s proposition to me. If I had committed myself to Mr. Hearst,
he had no more to say; otherwise he had a proposition to submit. Told
that I was free, he outlined his project.
He would finance a great national magazine, if I would edit the same.
Casually and lightly, he mentioned $100,000 as the amount he would risk
on the venture.
With that amount he had made _Smart Set_ “go,” and he did not doubt that
a like amount would make another magazine “go.”
Everything must be in my name--corporation, magazine, signboard,
tail-piece and all. Not being particularly ashamed of my name, I had no
objection to this.
Inasmuch as I belonged to a political party which had just demonstrated
to its own satisfaction that it was the most unpopular political
conglomeration on the face of the earth, I imagined that such a fine
looking old personage as Col. Mann--calling himself a Democrat--was
afraid he would deface his own reputation by associating with a
political outcast, like me, and that, therefore, while willing to
pocket all the money the magazine might earn, he didn’t want his name to
appear.
Considerate old buck, he wouldn’t hurt my feelings by using the plebeian
word “salary.” The word “compensation” was likewise too vulgar to be
applied to my monthly and yearly stipend. With a rich roll in his deep
bass voice, he mentioned the “_honorarium_” which I was to receive for
my work. My “_honorarium_” was to be $500 per month. Besides, my
traveling expenses to and from New York were to be paid.
He emphasized the fact that, under his proposition, I would not have to
live in New York. A monthly visit was contemplated, but never made
compulsory, save upon the summons of the Board of Directors.
[Illustration: EVEN IF THEY COULD BEND THE BOW, THEY HAVE NOT THE
ARROWS.]
For several reasons, Col. Mann’s proposition impressed me favorably.
First, it preserved my identity. Second, it left me free to say just
what I pleased. Third, it did not take me away from my home--to which I
am tenderly attached. My ancestors helped to clear the primeval forest
off these old red hills of Georgia, and I love them, as I could love no
other land under the sun.
For these several reasons, I practically decided, then and there, to
accept Col. Mann’s proposition. He saw this--being a shrewd old
fellow--and did his utmost to get me to his office, in order that the
contract might be drawn up and signed before I left New York.
But I was not _quite_ so much of a greenhorn as all that. I refused to
close the deal, then, but asked him to send his proposition, in writing,
to me in Georgia.
Returning home, I fell sick. Overwork, mental strain, sleeplessness,
worry, etc., stretched me out. Unable to return to New York after Col.
Mann had mailed me the proposed contract, I decided to place myself in
the hands of a friend.
* * * * *
Dr. John H. Girdner, a native of Greenville, Tenn., had been one of my
most prominent and active supporters in New York during the campaign of
1904. Previously he had been widely known as the political lieutenant
and confidential friend of Mr. Bryan. Previous to that, he was well
known as the family physician and political follower of Mr. Cleveland.
Having long been a resident of New York, Dr. Girdner seemed to me the
ideal man to represent me in the negotiations with Col. Mann.
The Doctor accepted the trust, and finally sent me the contract for
signature. Some alterations in it had been made. One of these, and the
most important, was the creation of the office of Associate Editor, at a
salary of “_not exceeding_” $4,000 per year. This office was to be
personal to me. That is, I could make and unmake Associate Editors at
will, _provided_ Col. Mann did not have to pay them _more_ than $4,000
per year.
In communicating this feature of the contract to me, Dr. Girdner
signified his willingness to fill that position. It gave me great
pleasure to appoint him. Nothing was ever said by the Doctor or myself
concerning the amount that he was to receive, but he assumed, quite
correctly, that it would be proper for him to draw the full $4,000, and
he began to do so.
Not once did Dr. Girdner intimate to me that a business connection with
Col. Mann would disgrace me. How could I suppose that such a connection
was undesirable when Dr. Girdner himself was willing to make it? I am
sure that the Doctor did not know what all the world now knows.
It cost the Colliers $75,000 and months of hard work, to gather up the
evidence which proved what kind of a person Col. Mann is. How could Dr.
Girdner know, IN 1904, those facts which it cost Collier $75,000 to
prove IN 1905? The Doctor knew no more about it than I did--or he would
have warned me to keep out, and would have kept out himself.
When I went to New York in the mid-winter of 1904-5 to organize the
Company, Col. Mann opened another leaf in his book.
He presented a paper containing stock subscriptions to his Syndicate,
and asked me to “come in.” I was fool enough to sign for $2,500.
Had the old scamp not over-reached himself, he would have got me for
$2,500, _besides the $9,000 hereinafter mentioned_. But he _did
overreach_ himself. He had his man, Daniels, to present _another paper_
for me to sign. It was the lease of the house we were to occupy, 121
West 42nd Street. The amount was $1,200.
THEN, I smelt the rat. I not only refused to sign the lease, but, acting
under a natural revulsion of feeling, I cancelled my subscription to the
Syndicate. Had Col. Mann said a single word against my doing so, _I
would have cancelled the whole contract_--for the suspicion had then
crept into my mind that he was--what I now know him to be--A GRAND OLD
RASCAL.
* * * * *
Why, then, did I go on with the Magazine?
Because I was fastened. Because I had publicly pledged my word. Because
the contract gave me complete control of the Magazine, therefore Col.
Mann could not hurt it. Me he _could_ hurt; me he _did_ hurt, but the
MAGAZINE WAS, IS NOW, AND EVER SHALL BE, ABOVE AND BEYOND HIS REACH.
Thank God!
The soul of the Magazine was the breath of life which Jehovah breathed
into _me_; and Col. Mann can no more defile it by his touch than he can
defile me.
* * * * *
I commenced working industriously for the Magazine in December 1904.
Hundreds of letters were mailed from my house every month. Hundreds of
subscribers enrolled themselves and paid their money in advance of the
publication. I paid my own assistants, paid the postage, worked for
nothing. _It wasn’t the money that I was after._ Col. Mann saw that,
_and took every advantage of it_.
Not a cent of the small sum that was paid me came out of _his_ pocket. I
am glad to be able to say so.
But while money-making was not my purpose, I could not contemplate with
any satisfaction the prospect of _never_ being able to get anything for
my labor. The Magazine was bearing upon me heavily. The contract only
asked 3,000 words per month of me. After the first few numbers, my task
was never less than about 20,000 words
All this work I did with my own hand. Mr. Duffy, the Managing Editor,
had a stenographer. Mr. Flaacke, Advertising Manager, had a
stenographer; Mr. DeFrance, Business Manager, had a stenographer. I am
not sure about Mr. Hoffman and the office boy, Robert, but I guess they
had one too. _The Editor-in-Chief was the only member of the staff who
had to do his own work._
Finally, the toil became so irksome--especially during the Georgia
campaign of 1906, when Everybody and his Uncle and his Aunt were jumping
on me--that _I begged DeFrance to allow me six dollars per week for a
stenographer_. He did so for several weeks and then quit. In ceasing to
help me to this pitiful extent, he gave me neither excuse nor
explanation.
He himself was all the while drawing his $60 per week, for dictating to
a fifteen-dollar-per-week stenographer.
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” alleges that I usurped authority, and began to discharge
employes as though the Magazine were my personal property.
“EXPLANATORY” says that, unfortunately, I was allowed to have my way in
a great many business matters.
The new Editors, Mann and DeFrance, give _no specifications_.
I WILL GIVE SOME.
Into _the very first number of the Magazine_, Col. Mann inserted a full
page _advertisement of some of his nasty_ “SMART SET” _books_. When I
saw that advertisement, which _had been slipped into the magazine
without my knowledge_, Ted Flaacke, Advertising Manager, was summoned to
my room, and _told that there wasn’t money enough in New York to buy
space in my Magazine for prurient literature of that sort_.
I peremptorily demanded that the filthy thing be kept out, and _it was
kept out_. It is due Mr. Flaacke to say, that _he, himself, had known
nothing of the ad. until the magazine was out_.
This was the beginning of Col. Mann’s displeasure. He realized that he
could _never make a tool of me_--as he is now making of DeFrance.
The _Titles_ of some of those books are as follows:
“An Eclipse of Virtue,”
“Margaret’s Misadventure,”
“Naughty Elizabeth,”
“Sweet Sin,”
“The Ashes of Desire,”
“An Unspeakable Siren,” etc., etc.
Now, it may be that these books are not so bad as their names would
indicate--I have never read them--_but Col. Mann meant_ by these titles,
_to cater to the diseased taste for erotic literature_. Hence HE SLIPPED
THE AD. IN, without notice to me or to Ted Flaacke. THAT AD., IN OUR
VERY FIRST NUMBER, HURT THE MAGAZINE SERIOUSLY. I felt that Col. Mann
had no right to degrade the Magazine by making it a distributor of vile
books, hence my positive instructions to Mr. Flaacke. In justice to this
gentleman, I should say that he agreed with me fully.
Again: Col. Mann placed the Business Management in the hands of a young
coal-dealer who knew nothing whatever about Circulation Management, nor
about Business Management of that kind. He was a most amiable young
gentleman and perfectly honest. I liked him personally, very much. But,
unfortunately, he was addicted to the use of intoxicating liquors--even
during business hours--and frequently attempted to perform the duties
when too much inebriated to do so. Dr. Girdner first called my attention
to this, and then DeFrance. Our business affairs soon suffered so much
from the young man’s infirmity, that both Dr. Girdner and DeFrance
suggested that we make a change. I took the matter up with Col. Mann,
_who had himself began to find fault with the young man_, and the result
was that he was requested to resign.
[Illustration: CROCKETT MANN AND THE SOCIETY COONS.]
DeFrance had wanted the young man’s place, and he got it, _with an
increase of salary_. It was at my instance that DeFrance was thus
advanced.
* * * * *
Every change made by me was made in the interest of economy, and
resulted in benefit.
I wanted to make other changes, for the same reason.
We paid Mr. Flaacke in salary and expense account, about $5,000 per
year, and never got advertising enough to pay the bill. I wanted to stop
that nonsense, and to put Mr. Flaacke on the commission basis.
_I shouldn’t wonder if Col. Mann has, himself, now made that very
change._
The Managing Editor was getting $50 per week for doing work which his
assistant, Mr. Hoffman, could, as I thought, do as well. I wanted to put
the work on Mr. Hoffman, and save the larger salary.
_I note with interest that Col. Mann has, himself, made that very
change._
Thus THEY, THEMSELVES, VINDICATE ME, unintentionally, from the
accusations they make.
_Col. Mann approved every change I made while I was in charge, and he
now makes the other changes for which I contended._
* * * * *
When Edgerton went out, it had been demonstrated that the Magazine was
not going to “boom” as Colonel Mann had expected, and that _economy_
would be the law of its life.
Seeing that two offices could be combined, at a saving of $45 per week,
I made the change, _after full consultation with Col. Mann at Col.
Mann’s house_.
As to Dr. Girdner, Col. Mann had kicked at that from the beginning.
From what others told me, I know that Col. Mann vigorously objected to
Dr. Girdner as Associate Editor.
I know that from time to time Col. Mann would inquire, “_Does Watson
still want that fellow Girdner?_” I myself heard Col. Mann find fault
with the Doctor for putting two signed articles in one number of the
Magazine.
And I MYSELF HEARD COL. MANN SAY, to me and others, in his own office,
“_I don’t believe Dr. Girdner could ever write a good article._”
When Col. Mann asked me whether Dr. Girdner were INDISPENSABLE TO ME, I
frankly and truthfully said that he was not. THE COLONEL WANTED TO STOP
THAT SALARY. The Doctor was not willing to let his “_honorarium_”
accumulate on the books. Like a sensible man, he was insisting upon
drawing what was due him.
This was HURTING COL. MANN. Hurting him very much. Therefore, AFTER
FIRST ASCERTAINING THAT I WOULD REMAIN IN OFFICE, he put Girdner out,
himself. As between an Editor who cashed in his “_honorarium_,” and one
that allowed _his_ to accumulate on the books, who could doubt which the
Colonel would prefer?
It was I who INSISTED THAT COLONEL MANN PAY DR. GIRDNER A SUM WHICH THE
DOCTOR NATURALLY CLAIMED AS COMPENSATION FOR BREACH OF CONTRACT.
Dr. Girdner himself should know best why he quit us, and the Doctor has
written me a letter in which he says,
“I resigned the position of associate editor because my salary had not
been paid for several months, and from the methods of the company and
the report of its treasurer I did not think it was likely to be paid
in future.
Very truly yours,
JOHN H. GIRDNER.”
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” has much to say about my son.
The facts are these:
My son had been under Dr. Girdner’s professional treatment. He soon
began to show a marked improvement, and I realized the helpfulness to my
boy of _giving him something to do_. He was naturally eager to work with
his father. I, therefore, went to the Business Manager and sought work
for my son, just as I would have done for a stranger.
I said, both to Mr. Green and Col. Mann, “I don’t know _how_ he will do,
or _what_ he will be worth, but please _give him a trial_. If he makes
good, pay him what the work is worth. If he does not make good, I will
not expect you to keep him, and you can charge his salary up to me
during the time he will have been here.”
That’s exactly the way it was. My son commenced work, and when I next
went to New York all of them told me--and were apparently delighted to
tell me--that he had made good.
From Dr. Girdner down, they all spoke affectionately of him, and
declared that he was one of the steadiest, quietest employes at the
office.
As his strength returned, his usefulness increased and I advanced him to
more important and responsible duties than had at first been put upon
him.
To encourage my boy, and bring out what was best in him, I _did_ advance
him from time to time. WHO WILL BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO MAKE A MAN OUT
OF MY ONLY SON?
It was my most earnest desire to train my son in journalism, so that he
could take my place when I should have served out my time and passed
away:--to that purpose I _still_ cling with a resolution that nothing
can break.
At the time DeFrance and Col. Mann kicked him out, he was doing the
“News Record” and “The Say of Other Editors.” He was doing it well, as
the Magazine will show for itself.
He was being paid $40 per week. This was $10 per week _less_ than
Edgerton had received for the same work.
When I gave my son the place, another position which he had filled
acceptably to the Business Manager, at $15 per week, was abolished.
_Thus, even at the highest salary ever paid my son, he saved the Company
$25 per week._
I am accused of having mistreated Mr. Edgerton. The facts are these: _he
was already working in New York_ when he applied to me for a job on the
Magazine. I personally requested Col. Mann to take him on. After much
hesitation and seeming reluctance, Col. Mann consented. When reductions
of expenses became necessary, Mr. Edgerton’s _weekly salary_ was reduced
to $40. He told me that he would hold the job _until he could get
another_. I did not think he could render us very good service _in that
state of mind_, and I therefore relieved him of duty. _He had already
made $1,200 out of the job_--probably THE EASIEST MONEY THAT HE HAD EVER
EARNED.
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” says that at a meeting of the Board of Directors in
November 1905, I agreed to contribute $5,000 to a fund of $25,000, and
then broke my word.
The facts are these:
After repeated efforts to get some satisfaction out of Col. Mann, I was
drawn to New York in November 1905 by a most positive written promise of
his to settle with me if I would come to see him.
I went.
At Col. Mann’s house on 72nd Street, there was a gathering of the
leading stockholders and leading employes. As each reported for his own
department the employes were excused, and they went away. Mr. Flaacke
spoke his piece and departed. Mr. Duffy, ditto. Finally the assemblage
dwindled down to just me and the Colonel.
But, _before this_, Col. Mann had suggested that we raise some money,
and asked me IF I DID NOT HAVE SOME FRIENDS THAT I COULD PREVAIL ON TO
“COME IN.” The suggestion was put out of business immediately. I was in
the trap all right enough, and I DIDN’T INTEND TO BE USED AS A BAIT.
Then he asked if I would not continue to work for the Magazine without
pay to the amount of $5,000.
I ANSWERED, “YES.”
In that very connection, however, he had stated, again, his intention to
pay me the amount already due, and which he had promised to pay if I
would come to New York.
[Illustration: THE TOWN TOPICS DEN INTO WHICH COL. MANN HAS MOVED THE
BOGUS WATSON’S MAGAZINE.]
But to my amazement he had stated it this way:
“I WILL PAY IT, BUT NOT NOW.”
Every one who was present must remember these words.
I said nothing at all in reply, but after all the others had retired, _I
remained behind and I reminded the Colonel courteously, of his pledge_
to pay me when I came to New York. I asked that he pay me at least HALF
THE AMOUNT DUE.
He hung his head, for an instant only, and then, raising a flushed face,
told me he would see what he could do, and give me a reply next day.
He complained of the heavy expense of his recent litigation, alluding of
course to the celebrated Collier-Hapgood Libel Case and the subsequent
prosecution of himself for perjury.
Next day he wrote me a long, sweet, persuasive letter begging me to WAIT
ON HIM UNTIL JULY, 1906, at which time he would most assuredly pay. It
was _then_ that I did what I should have done at first--consulted a New
York lawyer.
Mr. Palliser advised me to make an end of the matter _then_, and I
should have taken his advice; but I loved my work and my Magazine, and
at the last moment I yielded and let Col. Mann have his own way.
From motives that he is unable to understand or appreciate, I WOULD HAVE
CONTINUED THE UNPAID SLAVE OF THE MAGAZINE, INDEFINITELY, HAD NOT HE AND
DEFRANCE MADE THE SITUATION INTOLERABLE. I felt my obligations to the
subscribers: my pride in the success of the Magazine which bore my name
was deeply involved. This was well known both to Col. Mann and DeFrance,
_and they presumed, upon it--once too often_.
* * * * *
It may be asked why I did not cut loose from THE TOWN TOPICS GANG
_after_ the exposures in the Collier-Hapgood Case. Simply because Col.
Mann had nothing on earth to do with what I regarded as the Magazine, to
wit--its policy, its purpose, its message. _That_ was the life of the
Magazine. THAT, in my eyes, WAS THE MAGAZINE.
I did not want to leave the subscribers in the lurch, nor did I want to
abandon a field of labor in which I seemed to be doing a good work.
Every man who has a purpose in life and who loves his work, will
understand me.
Therefore, when Clark Howell and others jumped on me for being connected
with a person who was being denounced throughout the land as a
blackmailer, I put the case on the strongest ground by saying, “I AM THE
MAGAZINE.” That was true. DeFrance and Mann _were glad enough to have me
check defection_ from the Magazine by saying it THEN.
In a very short while _they will_ WISH THAT THEY HAD ANOTHER METHOD,
EQUALLY GOOD, OF CHECKING DEFECTION. The subscribers to the magazine
that was mine are not going to endorse what Col. Mann has done, nor
remain with a magazine which HE controls--_never in the world_.
* * * * *
If Colonel Mann had not lost his senses, in his haste to grab the
Magazine, name and all, he would have foreseen _the utter folly of
trying to run the thing in my name_ AFTER I HAD GONE OUT. A _new_
Magazine, under a _new_ name, he could establish at LESS EXPENSE THAN HE
WILL INCUR IN THE VAIN EFFORT TO MAINTAIN A WATSON’S MAGAZINE WITHOUT
WATSON. A child ought to be able to see that. What possible good will
_my name_ be to him when he himself publishes the statement that _I_ am
out?
THE NAME WITHOUT THE MAN WILL BE A DEAD WEIGHT TO THE MAGAZINE, as Col.
Mann has, doubtless, begun to find out.
[Illustration: THEY HAVE A CORPSE ON THEIR HANDS; THE SPIRIT ESCAPED
THEIR CLUTCH.]
HONESTY, in THIS case at least, should have been his POLICY. It would
have paid him better in the long run.
Col. Mann rushed into court, got a judgment against the Magazine for
$60,000; _and sold it_, at Sheriff’s sale, _to himself_.
He actually _had the Sheriff to sell my name, and was ass enough to buy
it_.
But he didn’t buy _me_, along with the name, and he didn’t buy _the
spirit of the Magazine_ when he bought the desks, the iron-safe and the
trade name.
The most valuable asset, he could not, and _cannot_ reach.
That’s the Good Will, the Reputation, the Demand!
This is the _real asset_--THE ONLY ASSET WORTH HAVING.
This asset, in equity and good conscience, _belongs to me, by the most
sacred of all titles_--THE WORKMAN’S RIGHT TO THE PRODUCT OF HIS LABOR.
Since it is mine, I mean to have it--in spite of all that Col. Mann may
do.
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” will seek in vain to convince any considerable number of
people that I quit the Magazine on a mere question of salary.
_That is the very thing that I always subordinated to other and higher
considerations._
In some directions Col. Mann lavished money like a prince; in others, he
doled it out like a miser.
Thus he squandered $12,000 in advertisements in daily newspapers, where
they were not worth a hill of beans, and REFUSED TO FURNISH MONEY TO PAY
ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY POSTAGE on sample copies.
He wasted $5,000 trying to run the advertising department on a fancy
schedule, and REFUSED TO PAY THE AUTHORS WHO SUPPLIED US WITH THE
NECESSARIES OF LIFE. Sometimes the writers who had been so badly treated
had to threaten attachments, before they could get their money; and upon
one occasion DEFRANCE HAD TO SNEAK OUT OF THE OFFICE TO AVOID AN IRATE
AUTHOR WHO HAD COME UPON THE SCENE WITH THE RIOT ACT IN HIS HAND.
Talk about _me_ as the man who acted as if I wanted to “wreck” my
namesake? What could damage the Magazine more surely and seriously than
such management as _this_? We got a bad name among _writers_, because we
took their MSS. and then failed to pay. We got a bad name among
_advertisers_, because ads were inserted upon almost any terms. We got a
bad name among _subscribers_, because DeFrance allowed business letters
to go unanswered, and because Wm. Green, the Publisher, dribbled the
mailing of every issue through TWO FULL WEEKS.
These were the difficulties with which I had to contend. The country is
full of people who wanted to patronize us and befriend us and help us,
but who became so disgusted at not getting their magazines, and not
getting answers to their letters, that they simply quit us in despair.
_Would DeFrance like to see a list of their names?_
I can furnish him with a good long one.
* * * * *
On one occasion Col. Mann was eager to have me send a cablegram, through
our State Department, to our Minister at St. Petersburg, offering a
thousand dollars to Maxim Gorky--then in prison--for an article for the
Magazine.
THAT VERY WEEK I HAD TO TAKE THE MONEY OUT OF MY POCKET TO PAY THE GIRLS
WHO WORKED IN THE OFFICE.
Upon another occasion, he ordered the sale, AS JUNK, of 60,000 copies of
the Magazine WHICH HAD ALREADY BEEN WRAPPED AND ADDRESSED AND MADE READY
FOR MAILING AS SAMPLE COPIES. They were SOLD AS WASTE PAPER BECAUSE HE
REFUSED TO FURNISH MONEY TO PAY POSTAGE.
Colonel Mann’s business was the publishing of magazines. Naturally, I
assumed that _he was an expert at that business_. It never occurred to
me that I could be of any service in the business management until his
absurd mistakes forced themselves upon my attention.
THE COLLIER TRIAL SEEMED TO ESTABLISH THE FACT THAT HIS WAY OF MAKING
MONEY OUT OF HIS OTHER MAGAZINES WAS THE SYSTEMATIC BLACKMAILING OF
SOCIETY SWELLS AND WALL STREET THIEVES.
When he stands his trial for Perjury in the case now pending, the world
will doubtless learn other peculiarities which characterize his
management of magazines.
* * * * *
I wanted the Magazine to be a success, and I knew that it could _not_
succeed as then managed. Hence, my offer to continue, indefinitely, to
work without compensation provided I were allowed to make those changes
which I knew to be absolutely essential to final success.
To this effect I wrote to the Managing Editor, and to DeFrance. No reply
was made by the management.
Then I overcame my repugnance to Col. Mann, and wrote _him_--telling him
what ailed the Magazine, how it could be put on its feet and offering to
make a success, of it--without salary in the meanwhile--if he would let
me do it.
To my original conditions, however, I added another, namely, THAT
DEFRANCE MUST GO. After the way in which he had acted, and after the two
insulting letters which he had written me, it was no longer possible for
us to work together.
Col. Mann did not answer my letter at all.
He had _DeFrance_ to telegraph me _a request_ that I send the
Editorials, and _a promise_ that they would treat me right.
By having DeFrance send the message, I knew that he meant to keep
DeFrance--and that let me out.
DeFrance had already notified me that half of my magazine belonged to
_him_, and half to Col. Mann, and there was no arrangement that could be
made on that basis.
Besides, Col. Mann, after my letter was written and before its receipt,
by him, had rushed into the New York _World_ with an interview which
libelled me basely and cruelly.
* * * * *
Let me say, in justice to a most estimable gentleman, that I had no
quarrel with Mr. Richard Duffy. He is peculiarly well fitted to make a
first-class editor of a literary magazine. His standards are high and
his judgment sound. He was not, however, particularly suited to a
political magazine--never having devoted any special study to Political
Economy and Governmental questions. In my contemplated change in the
Editorial Staff, I was not actuated by any dislike of Mr. Duffy. My
motive was simply that of the mariner who sacrifices a portion of his
cargo to save his ship.
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” makes as much as possible out of the weekly cheque of
$125, sent to me “during the busy part of the subscription season.”
Yes, they sent me cheques to the amount of one thousand dollars, at a
time when _subscriptions were pouring in at the rate of two and three
thousand per week_.
But “EXPLANATORY” does not state the fact that NINE THOUSAND DOLLARS
REPRESENTS THE AMOUNT OF UNPAID HONEST, HARD WORK DONE BY ME ON THE
MAGAZINE and that Col. Mann told the newspaper reporters, brazenly, that
HE NEVER INTENDED TO PAY A RED CENT OF IT.
_Perhaps_, the sum-total paid me during the two years _would cover my
actual expense-account in working for the Magazine_. It certainly would
not do more than that.
* * * * *
“EXPLANATORY” dwells upon my ceasing to visit New York, once a month.
Drawing no salary, paying my own traveling expenses, and being made more
or less ill by each of these long trips, I discontinued them. Editorials
for a monthly magazine can be written down here in Georgia just about as
well as in New York, and postage stamps cost less than railroad tickets.
Everything that I was allowed to do for the Magazine could be done just
as well by mail as by personal presence.
As to refusing to make a final trip to seek “an amicable adjustment,” I
wrote to DeFrance that the proposition referred to already WAS MY LAST
WORD, and that there was no use in my coming to New York to say it
again. Col. Mann could accept or reject--I was not going there to listen
to any more of his coaxing, bluffing and lies.
Besides, to tell the whole truth, I was not sorry that THE TIME HAD COME
WHEN I COULD CUT LOOSE FROM THIS FAT RASCAL. _After_ I had worked on and
on; _after_ he had broken promise upon promise; _after_ he had sued the
Magazine for $60,000 and got an execution against it; _after_ he had
shown that he wanted me to continue indefinitely to do ten times as much
work as the contract called for, and to _never have any share in the
reward that might be reaped from my labors_; _after_ he had broken the
contract by dismissing my son from a position which was my personal
appointment; _after_ he had rushed into the newspapers and confirmed my
suspicion of his villainous purpose by revealing his utter and shameless
disregard for his contracts, THEN my conscience and my judgment
concurred in the decision to cut loose from the New York concern and
START A MAGAZINE OF MY OWN.
* * * * *
Not a second thought have I given to the loss of the $9,000. But THAT
wasn’t all. Col. Mann assailed me. The odium of a catastrophe which was
the result of his own folly, faithlessness and lack of honor, he tried
to cast upon me. In his efforts to escape universal contempt, he lied
like a bulletin.
Betrayed by one whom I selected as my personal representative in the
office and whom I advanced from Circulation Clerk to Business Manager;
accused of a mismanagement which I endeavored in vain to correct; held
up to public criticism for mistreatment of employes when I had never
uttered an unkind word to a single one of them, high or low, during the
whole time of my service, and when I had never made a change in the
force that was not sanctioned in advance, by Colonel Mann himself, I now
feel that burning sense of the injustice and outrage which any other man
of spirit would feel under the same circumstances.
* * * * *
With an effrontery which nothing could surpass, the two men who have
seized my magazine on the half and half plan _are mailing out a circular
letter begging Reformers to take shares in the stock of the new
Company_.
This circular carries Deception on its very face. It purports to hail
from “_2 West 40th Street_.”
What is “2 West 40th Street”?
Why, IT IS THE SIDE-DOOR TO THE NOTORIOUS TOWN TOPICS DEN INTO WHICH
DEFRANCE AND COL. MANN HAVE DRAGGED THE CORPSE OF “WATSON’S MAGAZINE.”
The FRONT of Col. Mann’s trap is on FIFTH AVENUE.
[Illustration: ARCADES AMBO!]
Now DeFrance and Mann _knew very well that there wasn’t a decent man in
America who would knowingly send a dollar to buy stock of Col. Mann at
the Town Topics address_. Hence in their efforts to lure pigeons into
the net, they use _the side-door address which no one who is not
familiar with the building would ever know to be the same building_.
OH, THE SHAME OF IT, DEFRANCE! And YOU were the man whom I selected AS
MY PERSONAL REPRESENTATIVE IN THE OFFICE, and who TELEGRAPHED ME TO FORT
LAUDERDALE LAST WINTER URGING ME TO RESIST COL. MANN’S REMOVAL OF THE
MAGAZINE TO THE TOWN TOPICS BUILDING!
With pathetic insistence, they are sending out this circular letter from
this Town Topics Side-Entrance addressed,
“_Dear Friend._”
I wonder how many dear friends Col. Mann imagines himself to possess.
_I wonder how many of DeFrance’s dear friends will follow him into_ THAT
MANN-HOLE.
The letter makes the modest request that a few thousand ardent admirers
of DeFrance buy stock in the Side-Door concern at $10 per share.
DeFrance tearfully ejaculates, “_I don’t ask you to donate the Money.
Far from it._”
_How_ far from it, he doesn’t say. _The confiding individual who bites
at that bait, and pours ten dollars into that Mann-hole will see a good
deal of ice in August before he will ever see his money again._
Think of the impudent falsehood of the assertion made in this circular
letter:
“The magazine, while not yet profitable, has nearly reached that point.”
Therefore, send your money to the Side-Door concern right away. Yet, in
the next breath, he claims that Col. Mann lost $180,000 in less than two
years on the Magazine.
To cap the climax of his wrong-doing, DeFrance actually signs the
Begging Letter as _Secretary of the People’s Party National Committee_.
By what right?
Under whose authority does he act _when he thus prostitutes that office
to the service of Col. W. D. Mann_?
What will our National Committee think of it when they _behold their
Secretary standing at the Side Door of the Town Topics building and hear
him calling for Populists to walk up and enter the Mann-hole, to the
tune of_ “TEN DOLLARS ADMISSION FEE, PLEASE”?
DeFrance has now stooped _to do the very thing that Col. Mann tried
vainly to get me to do_.
* * * * *
I wonder if those New York rascals really thought that I would quietly
sit down and twiddle my thumbs while they were making off with “Watson’s
Magazine”? I wonder if it never entered into those heads, which were
bent together to plot and to scheme, that the consequence of their
pretty little game MIGHT be a Revolt of Watson and HIS FRIENDS.
Unless I am greatly mistaken, _the subscribers_ to “Watson’s Magazine”
_are Mr. Watson’s friends_, and THEY ARE GOING TO STAND BY HIM. We shall
see.
* * * * *
After all, why worry over it? Life is too short to waste many of its
precious hours upon such a theme. Looked at in one way, those who
thought to crush me have done me a service.
They have put into me, once more, that intensity of energy and purpose
which, otherwise, might never have been mine again. What the spur is to
the thoroughbred, what the bugle-call is to the cavalier, the recent
attempts of my enemies to compass my ruin has been to me.
By the living God! HERE is no thought of surrender, no weakness of doubt
or hesitation, but a resolution, fixed as hardened steel, to MARCH ON.
What! Be a quitter NOW? Falter or flicker NOW? Lower the flag and stack
arms, NOW?
Rather, would I die.
The ear of the world is at last inclined to us, and the heart of mankind
is at length being touched by our message.
The long march of the despised Reformer is nearing its end. His final
triumph no sane observer, no watchman upon the tower, can longer doubt.
Halt NOW? Never in the world.
Desert NOW? Heaven forbid!
Why, for fifteen years we have walked amid the shadows of social and
political ostracism, never swerving an inch from the rocky road of
Duty--do they think we shall walk less firmly _now_, when the sunlight
is falling upon the path?
Times have changed. Men have changed. The principles for which we fought
have _not_ changed. THEY HAVE CONQUERED.
The strong man and shrewd politician at the White House laid his
attentive ear to the ground, quite a while ago, and heard distant
rumblings that taught him useful lessons.
The strong man and shrewd politician at Fair View, Nebraska, has had his
attentive ear to the ground and he, likewise, has learned his lesson.
The next time Mr. Watson of Georgia goes to Nebraska for the purpose of
helping Mr. Bryan to carry his home State for Reform, I venture the
prediction that Mr. Bryan will not leave Nebraska to avoid contact with
Mr. Watson--as he did in 1896.
The battle-flag of a great people, inspired by a resistless purpose to
assert the right of THE INDIVIDUAL to wrest the government of the
country out of the hands of the MONSTER CORPORATION will, beyond all
possible doubt, be inscribed with those mottoes which for fifteen years
have been our watchwords in the fight and our solace in defeat.
Courage, Comrades--COURAGE! And FORWARD MARCH!
* * * * *
On this mellow, radiant, opulent day of Indian Summer--when the golden
hours step quietly by, leading November into the dim realms which we
call the Past--I write these lines; and, having done so, cast behind me
that ugly dream, my New York experience.
Betrayed, _I will trust again_, AND GO ON. Better ten thousand
treacheries _than loss of faith_ in my fellow man. Repulsed, I will
rally, re-form, and CHARGE AGAIN. Better a hundred defeats than one
capitulation.
* * * * *
In March 1898, the Populists nominated me for Governor of Georgia. In
declining to make the race, my decision was controlled by the fact that
our organization had been wrecked by the Traitors who controlled our
National Committee, that I myself was exhausted--mentally, physically,
financially--and that Populism must henceforth do its work as A LEAVEN
TO THE LOAF.
The fatal Fusion of 1896 had done our organization deadly damage, and
the Spanish War finished us.
The blare of the bugle drowned the voice of the Reformer. With the
Cannon-boom shaking the world, men had no ear for Political economy--or
economy of any other sort.
Roosevelt rushed into war paint, and leaped into fame.
Bryan stuck a feather in his cap, and vowed that he, too, would become a
soldier in spite of those vile guns.
Hearst, also, went as close to the enemy as McKinley would let him.
HOW COULD I TALK ECONOMICS WITH ANY PROSPECT OF SUCCESS AT SUCH A TIME?
Loathing the war, foreseeing many of the evil consequences that it has
brought upon us, I quit the active agitation of Populism, and shut
myself up in my library to write books. _But if any soldier of the
Southern Confederacy carried away from Appomattox a heavier heart than I
took with me into my enforced retirement_, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A MERCIFUL
DISPENSATION OF PROVIDENCE HAD THE ETERNAL SLEEP TAKEN THAT SOLDIER INTO
HER COLD, WHITE ARMS.
What I suffered during those awful years is known to none but the wife
who shared my lot and the God who gave me strength to endure it.
* * * * *
To continue a hopeless fight with a broken-down organization was not the
part of wisdom. The thing to do was to wait, educate the people, let
events demonstrate that we had been right, and let the Spirit of
Populism enter into and inspire the leaders of other parties.
I knew that OUR PRINCIPLES would finally triumph--as to THE PARTY, that
was a secondary consideration.
In taking leave of my comrades in 1898, before quitting the field to go
back into the court-house to earn money to pay pressing debts, here is
what my letter said to them:
“Let no man believe that I despair of your principles, for I do not. You
stand for the yearning, upward-tendency, of the middle and lower
classes. You stand where the reformer has always stood; for improvement,
for beneficial changes, for recognition of human brotherhood in its
highest sense, for equality before the law, and for an industrial system
which is not based upon the right of the strong to pillage the weak. You
stand as sworn foes of monopoly--not monopoly in the narrow sense of the
word--but monopoly of power, of place, of privilege, of wealth, of
progress.
“You stand knocking at the closed door of privilege, as the reformer has
ever done, and saying to those within, ‘Open wide the doors! Let all who
are worthy, enter. Let all who deserve, enjoy. Form no conspiracy
against the unborn. Shut out no generations that are to be. God made it
all for all. Put no barrier around the good things of life, around the
high places of church or state. Make no laws which foster inequality.
Establish no Caste. Legalize no robbery under the name of taxes. Give to
no person natural or artificial sovereign powers over his fellow men.
Open, open wide the doors! Keep the avenues of honor free. Close no
entrance to the poorest, the weakest, the humblest. Say to ambition
everywhere, the field is clear, the contest fair, come and win your
share if you can!’
“Such is Populism. Such is its glorious Gospel. As such, I have loved it
with boundless reverence. As its disciples, I have loved _you_, fought
for you, toiled for you, _never for one moment doubting that you were
right_, and that your creed was the same immortal creed which in all
ages has challenged wrong, and defied oppression.”
* * * * *
Trample the Truth as rudely as you may, even in her death struggle her
voice is heard to say:
“I WILL COME AGAIN.”
In the darkest hours of the past, when all seemed lost and the
weaklings, the timeservers, the fickle minded and the mercenaries were
fleeing to cover, I used to say, constantly, confidently, “_Courage_,
friends. Be _firm_. DON’T LOSE HEART. It will all come right.
“Populism, as a party, may seem to be dead, but the Spirit is immortal.
It cannot die. As sure as God lives,
“IT WILL COME AGAIN.”
And now, after many days, in God’s own time, it HAS come again. From the
bottom of my heart and from yours, come _thanks to the Lord of the
Universe who spared our lives to see this day_.
And the purpose to which every energy I possess shall be devoted,
henceforth, is TO HELP THOSE WHOM THE PEOPLE COMMISSION TO BRING ABOUT
REFORM.
As to Reward, I seek none, expect none, save that of the _Inner Voice_
which says,
WELL DONE.
With this glance into the Past, necessary to _you_, as well as to _me_,
let us turn our backs to it, and face the Future--and let us WORK, as we
never worked before.
[Illustration: “HE CERTAINLY WAS GOOD TO ME.”]
Editorials.
[Illustration: The New Year]
Lead us gently, Father Time, as you take us to the portals of the New
Year.
We know not _what may be within_; and our souls are burdened with fear
as we _stand here at the door_.
Lost, forever lost, is _the Confidence_ with which we _used_ to go
bounding into the New Year--as revellers hasten to the feast.
We have met the Unforeseen so often, have mourned where we thought to
rejoice, been trampled upon amid the horrors of panic and defeat where
we had so stoutly fought for victory and reward, that _our hearts are
sadly subdued_, Father Time.
* * * * *
We did not SEEK this awful life-woe, Father Time.
_Thrust_, from some great outer darkness, into the hurly burly called
Life, we gaze upward at the stars in helpless ignorance of what it all
may mean; and some Irresistable Force pushes us, _pushes us_, swiftly,
_inexorably_, onward _to another outer_ darkness that _fills us with
speechless awe_.
* * * * *
Have mercy on us, Father Time. We have been beaten with many stripes,
and are covered with many wounds.
God! How we have _suffered_!
We knew _nothing_ at the beginning, and we know but little _now_; and,
_for every lesson that we have learned, we have been made to pay in
heart-aches and scalding tears_.
_Always_ struggling, often _down_, always anxious for the Morrow, often
in torture _Today_, we have stumbled forward, Father Time, still looking
for the smooth road and the sunny sky and the bright Companionship of
Success and Peace.
Shall we NEVER see Carcassonne, Father Time?
* * * * *
We shudder when we think of what you did to us during the Old Year,
Father Time.
Ah, but you were hard on us--_bitter hard_. Our little ones _panted for
a breath of fresh air_, Father Time; and they died like flies, in
noisome, reeking, crowded tenements, because there was not, in all God’s
Universe--where there’s light and air for every flower that flecks the
field--_a breath of fresh air for the little children of the slums_.
Ah, it was pitiful, Father Time!
Our feeble ones, young and old, _perished miserably of cold and hunger_,
in the midst of a land that worships the Good God, and amid such an
accumulation of wealth as was never known before since the Morning stars
looked down upon a newly-made world.
Poverty, Crime, Vice, Drunkenness, Riot, War, Famine, Pestilence,
Earthquake, Conflagration have glutted their awful appetites upon us
during the Old Year, Father Time. To WHAT _are you leading us in the
New_?
_Will the heart of the world grow harder and harder, Father Time?_
Will the greed of human avarice demand still larger _sacrifice of human
lives_?
Will _the Selfishness of Class gorge itself still further_ upon ravenous
conquest, and remorseless exploitation?
Shall the cry of the White Slave NEVER reach Heaven, Father Time?
Shall the song of the angels who hung over the infant Christ, NEVER
throb, _a living principle_, in man’s government of man?
Is the Reformer _always_ to be the Martyr, Father Time?
Is Wrong NEVER to be dethroned?
* * * * *
Oh, Father Time! We tremble as we feel you leading us toward the door of
the New Year. Beyond that portal we cannot see, and _we dread it--as
children dread the dark_.
Deal gently with us in the New Year, Father Time.
Give us _strength_ to bear the Cross--for we know that we must bear it.
Give us _courage_ for the battle, for we know that we must fight it.
Give us _patience_ to endure, for we know that we shall need it.
Give us _Charity_ that thinks not evil of the Just, and which will
stretch forth the helpful hand _to lift our weaker Brother_ out of the
mire, rather than the cruel scorn which passes him by, or _thrusts him
further down_.
Give us _Faith in the Right_ which no defeat can disturb, no
discouragement undermine.
Give us the _Love of Truth_ which no temptation can seduce and no menace
intimidate.
Give us the _Fortitude_ which, through the cloud and the gloom and the
sorrow of apparent Failure, can see the distant pinnacles upon which the
everlasting sunlight rests.
Give us the _Pride_ which will suffer no contamination, no compromise
of self-respect, no wilful desertion of honest conviction.
Give us the _Purpose_ that never turns and the _Hope_ that never dies.
And, Father Time, should the New Year, into which you are taking us,
have upon its calendar _that day_ in which the few who love us shall be
bowed down in sackcloth and ashes, let THAT day, like all the other
days, find us ON DUTY--faithful unto the end.
Mr. Bryan and Mr. Watson.
When I was in Nebraska in 1904 Mr. Bryan showed me every courtesy;
therefore, it was most appropriate for me to reciprocate at the first
opportunity. When Mr. Bryan reached the State of Georgia, during his
recent tour of the South, I wrote him a note which he gave to the press,
and which our readers have doubtless seen.
Not long afterwards the following personal acknowledgement was received:
September 22nd, 1906.
Hon. Thos. E. Watson.
My Dear Mr. Watson:
I received your letter at Augusta and thank you very much for your
cordial greeting.
I am sorry that it was impossible for us to stop over with you. It is
gratifying to know from what I have learned that we are going to be
able to act together in the coming contest. There has been a
remarkable change in public sentiment, so that things that were
formerly denounced as radical are now regarded as not only quite
reasonable, but even necessary. If you come our way, we shall be glad
again to see you, only hoping that you may have more time than when
you last visited us. Mrs. Bryan joins me in best wishes.
Very truly yours,
W. J. BRYAN.
* * * * *
Mr. Bryan says: “_It is gratifying to know from what I have learned
that we are going to be able to act together in the coming contest._”
Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see the National
Democratic party undergo a general casting out of the unclean spirits
that have taken possession of it. If it should become truly Democratic,
if it should return to the principles of the fathers, if it should
renounce Hamilton and all his works, if it should rebaptize itself in
the creed of Jefferson, if its National organization should expel every
tool of the Trusts, every agent of Wall street, every beneficiary of
special Privilege--_then the Democratic party would stand for
substantially the same things as The People’s Party_.
That being so, why should we not be able “to act together?”
Party _names_ are nothing. _Principles_ are everything. True reformers
think more of _having the work done_ than of _getting the credit_. Many
Populists condemned me in 1905 for advising them to support Hoke Smith
for Governor of Georgia. _No Populist condemns me now._ EVERYBODY
REALIZES THAT THERE ARE MORE POPULISTS IN GEORGIA TODAY THAN THERE EVER
WERE BEFORE.
Read once more the strong, manly letter which Hoke Smith wrote for the
first issue of the Weekly Jeffersonian, and then remember that thirteen
years ago the writer was a member of Cleveland’s Cabinet--_then_ you
will realize how immensely _the man has grown_.
Well, his Democratic followers have grown with him, and we Jeffersonians
vastly outnumber the moss-backs throughout the State of Georgia.
* * * * *
As Mr. Bryan says, _a great change is coming over the people_. Doctrines
which were scouted a few years ago are shouted now. Radicals who were
hooted, howled down and rotten-egged a few years ago are getting
bouquets now. _The Hearst editorials and speeches read like Populist
harangues of 1892._ THE BRYAN PLATFORM OF 1906 EMBRACES WHAT WAS
CONSIDERED THE WILDEST PLANK OF THE PEOPLE’S PARTY PLATFORM OF 1891.
“Act together,” William? Why not--_if you take our principles for your
creed and reorganize your old party to fit your new faith?_
* * * * *
That all true reformers may find a way to “act together” is a
consummation devoutly to be wished. A conference between Bryan, Hearst
and myself for that purpose was suggested immediately after the election
of 1904, but neither Mr. Bryan nor Mr. Hearst seemed to approve.
What may happen between now and 1908 no one can foretell, but I am
_still hoping that some honorable plan may be hit upon which will enable
all true-hearted reformers to_ “_act_ TOGETHER” _and overthrow this
fearful system which enables the privileged few to plunder the
unprivileged many_.
Socialism at War with Love of Home and Country.
In a recent issue of a leading Socialist paper the following gem of
thought is to be found:
“‘PATRIOTISM’ _is a nickname for_ ‘PREJUDICE.’”
Do you know why the Socialist flouts _patriotism_ and calls it
_prejudice_?
Think a little, and you will see. You love your _country_ because your
_home_ is a part of it; and you love your _home_ because it is _your
individual haven of refuge from the storms of life_--the individual
kingdom in which you are lord and master and in which you enjoy, with
your wife, your children, and your friends, whatever happiness life can
give.
_The man never lived who would_ NOT _fight for his home_--HOWEVER
HUMBLE.
The man never lived who _would_ fight for the tenement house in which he
chances to be a lodger. THE HOME IS EVER SACRED--the _hotel_ never is.
The reason is plain enough. The home is yours, _individually_; the hotel
is everybody’s _generally_. Now, the Socialist strikes at
_individualism_. He doesn’t want to own your home by any title that
gives you individual control of it. _He wants everybody’s home to belong
to you, and your home to belong to everybody._ In other words, the homes
of the people are to be owned collectively. If society sees fit to say
to you “MOVE ON,” out you go. Society will substitute _its_ title for
_your_ title, _its_ will for _your_ will, _its_ control for _your_
control. The home that Socialism will permit you to use this year may be
allotted to some one else another year.
_Under these conditions no man would love his home any more than he
would love his room in a hotel._ Under these conditions, the citizen
would have _no greater inducement to make permanent improvements upon
his home, than he would have to make improvements upon the hotel_.
Love of home being destroyed, love of country would also be destroyed.
Patriotism, being founded upon love of home, would perish under
Socialism, for the simple reason that the foundations would be gone.
_Under Socialism, the most beautiful feature of civilized life would
disappear._ Home life, as we know it, would be impossible. The song of
“Home, Sweet Home,” would thrill no responsive chords in the human
heart. The tender pathos of Burns’ “Cotter’s Saturday Night,” would not
be felt. Socialism would answer with a universal YES, Sir Walter Scott’s
ringing challenge,
“Lives there A MAN WITH SOUL SO DEAD,
Who never to himself hath said,
THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND?”
National Finance Run Mad.
THE WASHINGTON POST is authority for the statement that the President
will, in his next Message, _again_ urge upon Congress the necessity for
Currency Reform.
The MONEY QUESTION, as you will remember IS SETTLED; it is only THE
CURRENCY that needs REFORM.
Bryan says THE MONEY QUESTION IS SETTLED; ditto Roosevelt; ditto
Secretary Shaw; _ditto the big bugs of_ BOTH _the dear old political
parties_.
Yet, with equal unanimity and fervor, they all say that THE NEED OF
CURRENCY REFORM is something fierce.
Peculiar, isn’t it?
* * * * *
When _the people_ want financial legislation that will _restore the
system of The Fathers_, it is THE MONEY QUESTION, and it’s SETTLED. The
old party leaders, one and all, agree upon THAT.
Politically, therefore, THAT question is RES ADJUDICATA, and must not be
spoken of any more.
But when _the corporations_ want financial legislation _which will tend
still further to make our National Treasury a huge Reservoir from which
the National Banks and their allies can draw strength, support and
profit_--why, THEN, it is a matter of CURRENCY REFORM, and if Congress
doesn’t give the Money Power everything it demands, the Country will go
to the “demnition bow-wows.”
That’s how it is, my son.
THE MOGULS OF HIGH FINANCE declare that what our currency system needs
is greater “_elasticity_.” The India rubber quality is wanting, it
seems. The present system doesn’t _stretch_ readily enough. The Moguls
declare that the “_rigidity_” of the currency system threatens us with
calamitous conditions at the prospect of which the imagination becomes
exhausted and quits business.
Those two words, “_elasticity_” and “_rigidity_” are being featured in
all the Mogul talk, all the Mogul papers--and are being dutifully
repeated by all the Mogul Senators and Representatives.
* * * * *
YET, THERE ISN’T A PARTICLE OF SOUND COMMON SENSE in all this cant about
_elasticity_ and _rigidity_.
When the currency system of the body-politic is healthy and normal,
there can be no question of elasticity and rigidity. Like the
circulation of the blood in the human body, the circulation of money
will take care of itself.
ONCE GET THE SYSTEM RIGHT, AND NATURE WILL DO THE REST.
If the Physician tells you that YOUR CIRCULATION IS BAD--you KNOW what
that means.
Your system is out of order. The blood goes about its business, without
any help from YOU, PROVIDED YOUR SYSTEM IS KEPT IN ORDER.
YOU don’t have to pump blood away from center to the extremities; THE
BLOOD WILL GO THERE, OF ITSELF, IF YOUR BODILY SYSTEM IS IN THE PROPER,
NORMAL, SOUND CONDITION.
It is just so with, the circulation of money in the body politic; if the
system is RIGHT, THE MONEY CIRCULATION WILL REGULATE ITSELF BY NATURAL
LAWS.
* * * * *
ELASTICITY--RIGIDITY--two words that are cunningly employed to disguise
the purpose of the Moguls of National finance. _Those conspirators mean
to drive the Government still further away from the Constitutional
system of the Fathers._ They mean to push still further _the usurped
power of the National Banks to create and control the supply and
distribution of the Currency_.
“Currency Reform” means nothing more nor less than that.
* * * * *
GOVERNMENT LOANS TO THE COMMON PEOPLE, at four per cent, or even at two
per cent, would seem to be _more statesmanlike_, in all respects, than
_this eternal lending of government money to Wall Street without any
interest at all_.
WHY SHOULD UNCLE SAM FURNISH GAMBLERS MONEY TO SPECULATE WITH? Can any
good reason be given for it? Does it seem to be fair to legitimate
business men? Is it just to the taxpayers? Can it be RIGHT?
Yet the Wall Street gamblers got nearly ($30,000,000) thirty million
dollars from the U. S. Treasury in one lump. Upon this huge sum of
public money, the speculators will pay no interest at all.
Is it right?
* * * * *
ACCORDING TO THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT for Nov. 12th, 1906, THE GOVERNMENT
has now increased ITS LOANS TO THE NATIONAL BANKS to the stupendous
TOTAL of $147,000,000.
Never before has the gratuitous loan been so large. Who can defend such
a policy? Who would not BE ASHAMED to appear before an audience of
intelligent voters to advocate the wisdom and the propriety of such
GOVERNMENTAL FAVORITISM as this?
You laughed at the Farmers’ Alliance when it favored government loans to
the people, on the best of security, at two per cent interest. Yet you
say _nothing_ against government _loans to a few pet National Banks_
FREE OF INTEREST, and upon DOUBTFUL SECURITY.
Part of that LOAN OF ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN MILLIONS is secured by
Chicago Municipal Bonds, called, I believe, the Sanitary Bonds. Would
you not prefer to lend YOUR Money upon a good farm, or _upon warehouse
certificates for cotton_?
* * * * *
THE FARMERS would be only too glad to pay the Government FOUR PER CENT
for that money which THE PET BANKS GET FOR NOTHING. Four per cent
interest upon one hundred and forty-seven million dollars is a tidy sum.
Figure it out and you will see, that it is about SIX MILLION DOLLARS.
That’s a neat sum to be GIVEN AWAY EVERY YEAR, isn’t it?
* * * * *
CONSIDER THIS ALSO: You, the Common People, are the taxpayers who put
that money into the U. S. Treasury. THE PET NATIONAL BANKS PAY,
PRACTICALLY, NONE OF IT.
Yet THEY have the use of YOUR money FREE. If YOU get the use of a dollar
of it, YOU MUST GO TO THEM FOR TERMS.
_Tough_, isn’t it?
NO WONDER THE MONEY SUPPLY IS CONGESTED. So long as the Government TAXES
IT OUT OF THE POCKETS OF THE MANY, and delivers it over TO THE FEW,
there is _bound_ to be congestion.
Yet, the Pet National Banks are moving heaven and earth, RIGHT NOW, to
have CONGRESS LEGISLATE IN FAVOR OF GREATER CONGESTION. The power of the
Few over the Many must be increased by additional legislation.
Otherwise, the bottom will drop out and Perdition will have us by the
nape of the neck. When eminently respectable cabinet officers,
congressmen, editors, etc., tell you that THE PRESENT SYSTEM OF RUNNING
THE FINANCES IN FAVOR OF WALL STREET SPECULATORS AND PET BANKS is safe
and sane, and that all we need is to make it a little more so, BELIEVE
EVERY WORD OF IT AND VOTE ACCORDINGLY.
On the contrary, when some discredited crank tells you that _it is an
infernal shame_ to use the law-making machinery in that manner, _howl
him down_, at once.
DON’T LEND TO THE TAXPAYER HIS OWN MONEY AT FOUR PER CENT. THAT’S
PATERNALISM--and it STINKS.
Take the taxpayers’ money and LEND IT TO THE PET BANKS without any
interest.
THAT’S STATESMANSHIP--and it SMELLS LIKE ATTAR OF ROSES.
As to Hearst.
The case against Plutocracy gained an advance upon the Docket by the New
York gubernatorial contest, but, unless I am much mistaken, two national
figures came out of it with mud on their boots.
One of these is W. R. Hearst.
The other is W. J. Bryan.
When Max Ihmsen advised Mr. Hearst to come to terms with Murphy, the
striped Tammany Boss, he disgusted thousands of sincere Hearstites, not
only in New York but throughout the Union.
The deal was _too_ bad.
It took Hearst out of the class of Reformers and put him into that of
self-seeking Politicians.
It created in the minds of his disinterested friends the suspicion that
he posed as a Reformer to serve the purpose of a personal ambition.
* * * * *
Boss Murphy is a rich specimen of the Boss--the man who is in politics
for Money, who cares nothing for Principle, who has no conception of
Duty, who would not understand what you meant if you talked to him about
Moral Obligation, who amasses wealth by screening from adverse
legislation the rascals that rob the Public under corporate names, who
makes it possible for invaluable public franchises to be stolen with
impunity, and who renders it easy for the robbers that grabbed the
property to use it to oppress and exploit the people from whom it was
stolen.
I _know_ that Murphy is the worst representative of _that class of
Bosses_ because the Hearst newspapers told me so.
I _know_ that he has used his power, as Tammany Chief, to protect such
robbers of the Public as Belmont, Morgan, Rogers and Ryan, because Mr.
Hearst has told me so with “damnable iteration” and convincing emphasis
these many years.
At the breakfast table, he reminded me of it in his morning paper, _The
American_.
At the supper table, he recalled the fact to my memory in his evening
paper, _The Journal_.
In fact, he gave me no chance to forget it.
Murphy, a protector of Crime, Murphy, a tool of the Plunderbund; Murphy,
the stuffer of ballot-boxes; Murphy, the ally of Murderers and thieves;
Murphy, the inciter to assassination; Murphy, who robbed New York in the
interest of Ryan and Belmont; Murphy, who ought to be in the
Penitentiary garbed in convict stripes--THIS Murphy became so familiar
to me in the Hearst newspapers that I would have felt the loss of
something habitual, and therefore necessary, had my friend Hearst ceased
to grind the coffee-mill.
[Illustration: DREAMING OF 1908.]
Yet Max Ihmsen deliberately planned a coalition between denouncer and
denounced, between the Angel of Reform and the Devil of Plutocracy,
between the Champion of the “Common People” and the hireling of the
Plunderbund, between the man who cried “Stop thief” and the rogue who
was making off with the stolen goods.
IT WAS TOO BAD.
It shocked the _Sense of Right_ of ten thousands of enthusiastic
Hearstites who had believed in him as an _honest_ leader. * * *
See _the Consequences_ of this foul and fatal deal:
First--the loss of that most valuable asset, the real reformers of The
Independence League;
Second--the revulsion of feeling among disinterested Democrats and
Republicans who were supporting Hearst _on principle_;
Third--the calling back to robust life of the almost defunct Boss,
Murphy;
Fourth--the complete rehabilitation of Tammany;
Fifth--the surrender to the Plunderbund of the State Supreme Court _for
fourteen years_;
Sixth--the restoration to his place of power and hurtfulness of Thomas
Grady, the most debauched legislative corruptionist in America.
I _know_ that Grady is that kind of man, because the Hearst papers have
assured me of it so often that no doubt upon the subject disturbs the
absolute serenity of my fixed opinion.
* * * * *
As these _net results_ of the New York election loom up clearly above
the dust and noise of the conflict, it is natural that Mr. Hearst will
be seen to have dimmed his halo very considerably; and _the fact that
Murphy_, after securing to himself and his gang all the benefits of the
coalition, _turned upon Hearst at the last moment and put the knife into
him_, will cause no tears ANYWHERE.
That’s just what Hearst ought to have known would happen--for he had
said things about Murphy which _no man_, born of woman, _could possibly
forgive_.
* * * * *
But Bryan put a shadow upon _his_ radiance, also.
He swallowed the Hearst programme all the way through--from soup and
fish to cheese and coffee. _His stomach balked at nothing._ The ousting
of Democratic delegations which had been elected to the Buffalo
Convention; the packing of that Convention with delegations which had
not been elected; the throw down of The Independence League; the
guillotining of the Independent candidates; the repudiation of the
honest labor-champion, Thomas Rock, and the endorsement of the
Plunderbund corruptionist, Thomas Grady; the fix-up of the Judiciary
ticket in which three Judges were allotted to Hearst while Murphy calmly
pocketed seven--Bryan’s gorge rose at none of these things. One and all,
they slid down his gullet like rain-water down a tin valley.
Just think if it!
In 1904, Bryan was making 60 speeches a day for Parker--Judge Alton B.
Parker--whom he described as “the Moses of Democracy.”
In 1906, he was writing, telegraphing, telephoning and so forth for W.
R. Hearst, _the exact_ CONTRAST _to Parker_.
Heavens, what a leap!
From Parker to Hearst--from Greenland’s icy mountains to India’s coral
strand.
NEVER saw such a jump before in my life.
And Bryan is going to find that it will require considerable dexterity
to fit his crown on straight, after _that_ trouser-splitting leap.
HEARST has not changed _in principle_; PARKER has not changed _in
principle_; yet within two short years MR. BRYAN _has advocated_ EACH OF
THEM _with equal fervor_.
Quit playing Politician, William, or you will do yourself irreparable
injury.
_Fly your flag_ AS REFORMER and hold your sword _straight before you_.
Don’t again call such a man as Parker “the Moses of Democracy.”
Don’t endorse Hearst, _when he is_ WRONG!
_Condemn the wrong_, and thus encourage Hearst to mend his ways, to
retire Max Ihmsen, and THUS MAKE his powerful newspapers, MORE USEFUL,
MORE EFFECTIVE IN THE GRAND CAUSE OF REFORM.
Ornamental Flag Poles--Eastern Insurance Companies.
The Pennsylvania politicians decided that the state needed a new
Capitol. The people were told that unless a better state house were
erected Pennsylvania would be pointed at with scorn, viewed with alarm,
and otherwise treated in a disrespectful and uncomfortable manner.
So, the politicians, contractors, material men, jobbers, lobbyists,
dead-beats, plain thieves and so forth, went forward and in due time a
new capitol for Pennsylvania was evolved.
Costing how much?
THIRTEEN MILLION DOLLARS, MY SON.
The house, itself, cost only $4,000,000.
But, then, you see, it had to be furnished.
The “furnishings” of the new state house cost the tax payers of
Pennsylvania $9,000,000.
As a sample of said furnishings, consider the one item of flag staff.
What would such a magnificent new capitol be without a flag flying above
it?
_Of course_, the state house must be surmounted by the flag.
And how can the flag do itself credit, away up there in the heavens,
without a pole to fly from?
_Of course_, there must be a flag pole.
So, the pole was put in place, and the flag was braced to the pole.
At what cost, please?
Why, the flag pole cost $850. Not $8.50, but $850.
So, at least, it appears upon the expense-account.
What was the flag pole made of?
Why, _it was just the round body of a large pine tree_.
Nothing else, my son.
The probability is that any sawmill in the country would have furnished
such a tree for $25.
The labor of preparing the tree for use as a flag pole might have cost
another $25.
Fifty dollars ought to have covered the entire cost.
But then, you see, the gang that was bossing the job needed money;
therefore, the State of Pennsylvania was supplied with a fifty-dollar
flag pole for the moderate sum of $850.
* * * * *
But the country is adorned with numerous _other flag poles of the same
variety_.
One of them is PAUL MORTON, President of THE EQUITABLE ASSURANCE
SOCIETY.
No institution in this land of the free has a flag pole that is more
expensive.
Paul Morton costs the policy holders of the Equitable $80,000 per year.
Not $8,000--which would be a fair price--but $80,000--which is a gouge.
Just how many men, equally capable, could be found to fill his place at
$10,000 per year, it would be impossible to say; but there is no doubt
whatever that Paul himself would have served the Society just as well
upon a salary of $25,000.
But then, you see, he wanted more. So he took it.
Flag poles come high--under certain circumstances.
* * * * *
Life Insurance, properly done, is of vast benefit to the Insured. Life
Insurance, improperly done, is of vast benefit,--to the Insurer. Those
Eastern Companies got too gay. Their higher officers became corrupt.
Under various flimsy pretexts, they began to plunder the Insured. _Local
agents, who did the hard work, got small pay._ State agents and National
officers drew princely salaries,--and did little to show for it.
Some of those Eastern Companies have been building Insurance Business on
the same principle that gave an exhibition of itself in the building of
the new State House of Pennsylvania.
Everybody knows that the taxpayers of Pennsylvania have been robbed.
Everybody knows, equally well, that the Policy-holders of those Eastern
Companies have been plundered.
From the standpoint of such rascals as the McCurdy gang, the
Policy-holder resembled an Irish potato, in that _he had eyes yet saw
not_.
The blind Policy-holder, _who could never see that he was being robbed_,
became a jest among the thieves who spent his money in riotous living.
Life Insurance is all right--_when the Insurer is_.
BEFORE you allow the Insurance Company to examine YOU, _examine the
Insurance Company_.
Abraham Lincoln’s Silly Biographers.
The process of making a saint out of Abraham Lincoln goes bravely on.
His latest biographer, Mr. Hill, clears him of the charge of “telling
stories just to amuse people.” Mr. Hill--a sober and worthy man, no
doubt--produces a witness by the name of Ewing, who being duly sworn,
deposes and says:
“I never heard Mr. Lincoln tell a story for its own sake or simply to
raise a laugh. He used stories to illustrate a point, but the idea that
he sat around and matched yarns like a commercial traveller is utterly
false.”
Why should the Lincoln biographers strive and strain to establish the
fact that HE NEVER “SAT AROUND AND MATCHED YARNS LIKE A COMMERCIAL
TRAVELLER?”
Is it any disgrace to sit around, occasionally, and swap yarns, “like a
commercial traveller?”
If so, the men who are TRULY RESPECTABLE are the dull fellows who can
neither tell a joke, nor enjoy one. Some of the best and brightest men
that ever lived have prided themselves upon their gifts in that very
line. To be a good story-teller is to possess the golden key that
unlocks almost every social door.
Daniel Webster revelled in a good story; so did Clay; so did Tom Corwin;
so did Robert Toombs, and Alexander H. Stephens.
As a mental relaxation and recreation, there are, in fact, few things
that serve better than “to sit around and match yarns like a commercial
traveller.”
* * * * *
THE TRUTH ABOUT LINCOLN is that he was a man, and _a great man, but no
saint_.
The last time I was in New York (November, 1905), my friend, Hon. T. H.
Tibbles, of Nebraska, was there, also, and we talked of Lincoln, whom
Mr. Tibbles had known.
And _one of the very things which Mr. Tibbles had seen and heard Mr.
Lincoln do was “to sit around and match yarns like a commercial
traveller.”_
* * * * *
MR. TIBBLES TOLD ME how, being at a certain place, his attention was
attracted by repeated bursts of loud laughter, coming from a certain
room. His youthful curiosity being excited, he followed the sound to the
room from which it came. The sight that met his eyes was this: Abraham
Lincoln was sitting in a chair, with his big feet upon a table in front
of him; around him were grouped a number of men, to whom Mr. Lincoln was
telling side-splitting yarns.
Tibbles joined the audience and got his share of the fun.
What of it?
Does that lower Lincoln in any sensible man’s eyes?
No. Let the Miss Nancy brigade go off to one side and talk about the
nebular hypothesis, or some other nice, well-bred subject. For my part,
I would prefer, _occasionally_, “to sit around and match yarns like a
commercial traveller.”
* * * * *
I asked Mr. Tibbles whether the stories that he heard Mr. Lincoln
telling were smutty.
At some future time, when I find, after a careful field-glass scrutiny
of the horizon, that I have no other row on hand, and am feeling the
need of one _very_ badly, _I am going to tell you Tibbles’ answer_.
Shoot, Luke, or Give Up the Gun.
Most men are presumed to have sense enough to know when the sun is up,
and when it is down.
To no mortal on this earth is it a matter of vital importance to know
the exact moment it rises and sets.
Even if any inquisitive lunatic wanted to know, he couldn’t find out,
for the simple reason that the hour of sunrise and sunset varies with
every mile of the earth’s surface, and is earlier to the man at the foot
of the mountain than to the man on top.
In the military establishments of the world, however, it is considered
to be a matter of life and death to know just when the sun rises and
just when he sets. So extremely indispensable is this piece of daily
information that a gun, a cannon we mean, _must_ be fired to proclaim
the tidings.
“Boom!”--the sun is up.
“Boom!”--he’s down.
Whereupon, your true soldier can sleep with a conscience childlike in
its freedom from care.
Otherwise not.
If that gun (mind you, a _cannon_) was _not_ fired, solemnly and
formally fired, every time the sun rose and every time he set, the
military breast would be racked with rude alarms, and the military mind
would be tossed to and fro with dread forebodings.
To fire off a musket wouldn’t do; wouldn’t _begin_ to do.
It would be unconstitutional, if not actually anarchistic and
revolutionary.
To start the day without firing a cannon--why the military establishment
could no more perform its traditionary functions without a cannon salute
to the coming and going of the sun than one of the old parties could
exist without stuffed ballot boxes.
Therefore, the custom is fixed--rooted, as it were, in the soil of our
civilization. It is one of the greatest advantages we have over our
untutored ancestors.
However much _they_ may have yearned to shoot the sun up and shoot it
down, they couldn’t do it. They had nothing to shoot with. They were so
completely engulfed in the currents of stupidity and barbarism that they
just had to trust to their eyes to know when the sun was up, or was
down.
You might ask how the soldiers do _on cloudy days_. You might ask, with
unseasonable levity, if the army doesn’t have to go by the clock _when
the sun is not to be seen_. And you might, out of your desire to be
smart and show yourself off, ask whether the army couldn’t go by the
clock as well on fair days as on foul ones.
But such questions as these will do you no good, and they would cause
you to lose friends. They are irrelevant impertinences.
For, you see, when anything has been done a long time, the presumption
is that there is sense in doing it that way.
Therefore, all nice and respectable people put salt in the fire when the
screech owl twitters, and make a cross mark and spit in it, whenever
they turn back in their tracks. We all do this because the custom has
age and good sense on its side.
If you think you can prance through the world smashing steady old
customs which have been handed down to us from time immemorial, you are
in a fair way to get yourself into trouble.
Consequently, if you don’t like the way the armies of the world spend
the people’s money shooting for the sun, you had just as well make up
your mind to the wisdom of laying low, and paying your share of the
expenses.
Every two years, your chosen representatives in Congress approve the
item in the Military Appropriation Bill which gives $20,600 to the army
to shoot the sun-shoots with.
Now, if you don’t like it what are you going to do about it?
The soldiers are not going to go by clocks or by eyes--they are going to
shoot those cannon, at all the military posts, every time the sun rises
and every time he sets.
And you will continue to pay the expenses, as formerly.
What else are you here for?
“Boom!”--the sun’s up.
“Boom!”--he’s down.
And it only costs $20,600.
See how great a thing it is to be civilized.
We shouldn’t be surprised if the sun had lots of amusement watching us
fools down here.
BOOM!!!
The Dismissal of Those Negro Troops.
What else could the President have done?
He is Commander-in-Chief of the Army: certain members of a certain
battalion “shoot up” a certain town destroying property, terrorizing a
peaceful community and committing murder.
The Commander-in-Chief endeavors to discover the identity of the guilty
parties. He fails. He then _appeals to the honor of the battalion_,
asking that the innocent point out the guilty. By no other method can
the red-handed rioters and murderers be identified and brought to
Justice.
_The battalion is deaf to the appeal._
The innocent refuse to point out the guilty.
_The innocent elect to make a common cause with the guilty._
Therefore, THEY, THEMSELVES, BECOME GUILTY of the highest crimes, as
ACCESSORIES AFTER THE FACT.
In law and morals, there is _not an innocent man left in that
battalion_, whose every member deliberately conceals the murderers, aids
and abets them after full knowledge of the crime.
Considering them all as guilty, the President ordered their dishonorable
discharge.
_Why not?_
They had committed crimes involving turpitude, degrading the uniform.
They had sullenly defied the President’s appeal to their honor, and
hence his notice to disband them.
The innocent had elected to share the guilt of the guilty, and thus _the
whole battalion was guilty_.
* * * * *
Fanatical friends of the blacks say that the President _should not have
punished the innocent_.
Nor did he.
He who conceals a murderer giving him aid and comfort, is himself a
party to the crime.
What legal principle is older and sounder than that?
The fanatics overlook it.
The President did not.
Nor will those who consider the facts without passion and seek to judge
the case without prejudice.
Apparently, the fanatics intend to convulse the Congress and the country
over this matter of the Negro Troops.
Let it not be forgotten that _even now the fanatics do not propose that
the originally innocent negroes shall be required to point out those
originally guilty_.
The fanatics demand that the President back down, and that the order for
the dismissal of the negroes be countermanded.
Thus, the originally guilty will be forever screened, and the crimes
they committed will forever go unwhipt of Justice.
The President has been right and should be sustained.
To allow these fanatics and these negroes to triumph over the President,
WOULD BE TO EXALT THE CRIMINAL AND TO DEGRADE THE JUST JUDGE.
If that had been a battalion of white men, nothing would have been said
about it.
But it was a lot of negroes--consequently the fanatics got busy.
The Proposed Ship Subsidy
A FAT MAN who was talking loud enough to disturb his fellow-passengers
on the train, said:
“What we need now is the Ship Subsidy, and the Panama Canal and”--the
rest was of the same sort. He had read something like this in a
newspaper, and had SEEN IT THERE SO OFTEN that he had come to the
conclusion it must necessarily be true.
IN THIS WAY SOME MEN GET WHAT THEY CALL THEIR OPINIONS.
Not YOU, of course. You get yours BY THINKING FOR YOURSELF. I KNOW that
this is so, because YOU TOLD ME SO YOURSELF.
“We need a Ship Subsidy,” declared the fat man, with emphasis and
decision. So “WE” do--but who are the “WE?”
The WE who need a Ship Subsidy are the Privileged, the beneficiaries of
Class Legislation, the Trusts which gorge themselves upon unjust
advantages.
In order that we may enable the Manufacturing Class _to enjoy a
Monopoly at home while they undersell the foreign Manufacturer in the
foreign market_, we have put a fictitious, UNNATURAL VALUE TO THE
MATERIALS OUT OF WHICH SHIPS ARE BUILT.
Consequently it costs MORE to build a ship in the United States than
anywhere else in the world.
Now, our Navigation laws will not allow the national flag to protect an
American vessel UNLESS THAT VESSEL IS BUILT IN THE UNITED STATES.
RESULT:
The foreigner has come WITH HIS CHEAPER VESSEL and borne off our
carrying trade.
Our infernal Tariff and Navigation laws have driven our flag from the
seas, by making it IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE AMERICAN MERCHANT TO BUY HIS SHIP
ABROAD, OR TO BUILD ONE AT HOME ON SUCH TERMS AS WILL ENABLE HIM TO
COMPETE WITH THE FOREIGN-BUILT SHIP.
Isn’t that plain enough, WHEN YOU STOP TO THINK IT OVER?
BUT THE FAT MAN declared that what WE need is the Ship Subsidy Bill.
What IS the Ship Subsidy Bill?
Why, it is a proposition that the Government shall, in effect, take
money out of the National Treasury TO MAKE GOOD TO THE SEA MERCHANT THE
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE FOREIGN AND HOME PRICE OF THE SHIP.
That’s the GIST of it, my son.
AT YOUR EXPENSE, the government has created the Trust which makes it
_impossible for an American to build a ship that can compete for
ocean-going freight_.
AT YOUR EXPENSE, that impossibility is to be abolished. THE DIFFERENCE
IN PRICE between the cheap foreign-built ship and the dear home-built
ship IS TO BE MADE UP OUT OF YOUR MONEY.
AT YOUR EXPENSE, the Trust will therefore be ABLE TO COMPETE for the
ocean business.
AT YOUR EXPENSE, the Trusts themselves will scoop the Carriers’ profit
upon the transportation of the Trust-made goods which ARE SOLD ABROAD
CHEAPER THAN THEY ARE SOLD AT HOME.
You catch it all around, don’t you, son?
* * * * *
YES, THE FAT MAN was right.
We DO need a Ship Subsidy--we Trusts.
We want to maintain our monopoly at home, and we will do it. We want to
continue to undersell the foreigner in the market and we will do it. We
want, furthermore, to rake into our own coffers the profits now reaped
by the foreigner who controls ocean transportation.
We COULD do this _by lowering the Tariff_, but that would derange our
entire Class-law fabric. THAT WOULD ENDANGER OUR MONOPOLY OF THE HOME
MARKET.
Consequently, the only way for us to get what WE want, is to have the
Government grant us a Subsidy which will make good to us THAT DIFFERENCE
IN PRICE between home-made and foreign-made vessels WHICH OUR
TRUST-CREATING TARIFF HAS CAUSED.
Thus we, the Privileged, will unload upon the Unprivileged BOTH
LOADS,--that of the Trust, and that of OUR escape from THE ONE
CONSEQUENCE of the trust WHICH HURTS US.
* * * * *
THERE IS ONLY ONE incident to the Protective system which is a drawback
to the Trusts.
That is THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF CONTROLLING OCEAN TRANSPORTATION.
Every OTHER incident to the Protective System HELPS THE TRUSTS AND HURTS
THE PEOPLE.
The one incident which HURTS THE TRUSTS AND HELPS THE PEOPLE must be
dealt with.
We must so manage that ocean transportation shall likewise belong to the
Trusts.
How?
[Illustration: NOW YOU SEE WHY YOU DON’T GET THE PARCELS POST.]
BY GIVING TO THE MERCHANT MARINE A SUM OF MONEY OUT OF THE PUBLIC
TREASURY, OVER AND ABOVE THE FREIGHT WHICH IS EARNED.
Then, indeed, every incident of the Protective System will present a
harmonious color-scheme, for THE TRUSTS WILL HAVE HOGGED THE WHOLE
BUSINESS.
And that donation out of your tax money, which is intended to save the
Trusts from the injurious burden of their own damnable Tariff System is
the Ship Subsidy which the fat man said we need.
So long as the Protective System hurts the Common People it is a
national blessing and must be gratefully sustained: _but the moment the
same_ system pinches the Protected Interests, they must _rob you_ under
the form of Ship Subsidy to get back what they lose by their own
tariff.
An Appeal to Patriotism.
Signs are plentiful that tens of thousands of honest Democrats and
Republicans are profoundly dissatisfied with the trend of recent events.
We look to the State, and no beacon light gives us confidence.
The time was when our rulers loved the people, trusted the people,
worked for the people. Those were the times when there was light on the
hearth, plenty on the board, and hope in the hearts of the people.
Those were the times when our rulers _remembered that our forefathers
came here to build a temple, a government_, DIFFERING IN ALL VITAL
RESPECTS FROM THE HATEFUL SYSTEMS OF THE OLD WORLD.
For this very purpose--that of establishing a system entirely different
from that of Europe--our forefathers braved the perils of the deep;
fought hunger and faced death; battled with the wilderness and the
savages it held; determined to die free, rather than live slaves.
In Europe they were fettered by class laws, class privileges, class
tyrannies.
They were crowded out from a fair competition for a share of nature’s
bounties by monopolies, chartered wrongs, statutory abuses, legalized
spoliations.
Braver than we, their degenerate sons, they counted life worth nothing
unless freedom went with it, and THEIR COMING HERE WAS A SUBLIME PROTEST
AGAINST THE OLD WORLD SYSTEM OF CLASS-LAW AND SPECIAL PRIVILEGE.
What have we, today, _as the result of all their heroism, and suffering
and success_?
We have our rulers aping everything Europe does, and fitting upon us,
forever, the abominable system our forefathers fled to escape.
_Where are class laws more insolently dominant than here?_
Where is Special Privilege more tyranically exacting than here?
Where are monopolies more contemptuous of law and public welfare than
here?
What people are greater slaves to misgovernment than you whose
low-priced products must bear the strain of untaxed bonds, useless
offices, and a steady growth of ever increasing salaries?
Who pay _nine-tenths of all the taxes_?
THE MANY WHO TOIL.
Who gets _the lion’s share of all the wealth produced_?
THE FEW WHO DO NOT TOIL.
In what country do the laborers, in shop and mine and mill and field,
produce more of the good things of life than ours?
It cannot be named.
In what country has nature opened her royal hands with a more regal
bounty?
It cannot be named.
Has there been any failure of harvest?
No.
Has there been pestilence, invasion, or civil strife?
No.
Then why is it that the signal guns of distress sound all along the
commercial seas, telling of brave ships going down?
Why is it that the feet of the homeless and the unemployed beat the
pavements of our great cities with a never-ending march?
Oh, brothers! why are so many hearths chill and dark, so many hungry
mouths unfed, so many despairing souls weighed down with the nameless
dread of the unknown future?
We have left the beaten track of our fathers. We have let the old
landmarks be forgotten. We have gone after strange gods.
We have foresworn the faith upon which our republic was founded, and are
being led back to the system our ancestors came here to shun. Why can’t
we all see it? Why can’t we all act together? Why can’t we lay down
prejudice, pride and passion, and devote our noblest efforts to the
salvation of our country?
[Illustration: AN ABSURD PROPOSITION.]
How can the Republican party cut loose from its Morgan-isms, its
McKinley-isms, its Carnegie-isms, its John Sherman-isms, its Standard
Oil-isms, its Steel Trust-isms.
How can the Democratic party cut loose from its Cleveland-isms, its
Carlisle-isms, its Wall Street-isms, its Whiskey Trust-isms, its Sugar
Trust-isms?
Neither will ever cut loose.
In the coils of the serpents of the sea, Laocoon may struggle, but will
nevertheless be powerless to escape.
Why cannot WE cut loose from these corrupt and class ruled
organizations, as Jefferson cut loose from Federalism, as Jackson cut
loose from National Republicanism?
While we dispute as to names and organizations, the State suffers. While
we quibble over technicalities of political practice, liberty asks in
vain for help.
Would it were not so!
Would that we could agree where we differ, unite where we divide, and
love where we hate.
Would that some divine touch of duty could lift us all to the summits of
patriotism where the only rivalry would be that of service--the only
purpose that of redeeming the land from those who despoil it.
Call the party what you please--names are nothing--but let us have a
Union of all patriots who believe in equal and exact justice to all men,
without special privilege to any. Let us have a democracy ruled by the
people, instead of this greedy, corrupt, heartless plutocracy ruled by
corporate money.
Love Licks.
_The Saturday Evening Post_ says that “Max Ihmsen, Hearst’s chief
political adviser, was once a theatrical advance agent.”
Was _once_?
When did he quit?
Judging from the way he managed Hearst’s New York campaign, he’s as much
of what he _once was_ as he _ever_ was--if not more.
* * * * *
That brightest and best of newspapers, the _Washington Post_, suggests
that some Frenchman snuff out the wretched little cad, libertine, and
aristocratic brute, Boni Castellane.
Granting that the snuffing out suggestion is a good one, why should a
_Frenchman_ be asked to shoot the contemptible and loathsome creature?
The American lady whose money he squandered, whose jaws he slapped, and
whose life he wrecked, has _three able-bodied brothers_--why should the
Gould brothers _wait for a Frenchman_ to take hold of the snuffing out
job?
* * * * *
Joseph H. Choate, being asked to define the difference between Cleveland
and Roosevelt, answered, “Mr. Cleveland is too lazy to hunt and Mr.
Roosevelt is too restless to fish.”
But see what a happy middle-course Mr. Bryan takes. When too restless to
fish, he hunts; and when too lazy to hunt, he catches fish. In other
words, you _never can put your eye on him when he isn’t after it_.
* * * * *
The Moguls of High Finance have about worked out their plans for an
elastic currency.
Their own notes are to be used as money, and the only thing back of the
notes will be “the general credit of the Banks.”
How pleasant it is to witness the process by which national finance
simplifies itself and acquires that suppleness of joint which the Moguls
call “elasticity.”
A Money system which rests upon a bottle of ink, a quire of paper, and a
printing press is _so_ simple that even a wayfaring fool may comprehend
it.
And when it comes to pass that _any_ Mogul of Finance can turn himself,
in the twinkle of an eye, into a Paper-money Mill, our currency will be
“elastic” to beat the band.
Go it, Moguls!
* * * * *
The brilliant paragrapher of the _Atlanta Journal_ writes:
“The only thing lacking about the dismissal of those negro troops was
that they should have been disbanded in Boston.”
Inasmuch as nearly all of “those negro troops” will be given permission
to re-enlist, it isn’t clear to my mind that Boston couldn’t have
enjoyed the episode quite as much as any other city--Atlanta, for
instance.
* * * * *
The same paragrapher who _is_ really one of the brightest of the bunch,
remarks:
“Stonewall Jackson once declared that ‘nothing justifies profanity.’ But
then he never tried being Speaker of the House.”
While we are at it, let’s put the case stronger than _that_.
What’s being Speaker of the House to living in a town like Thomson,
whose name the outside world spells in seven different ways?
What’s being Speaker of the House to having a fat knave and a lean sneak
doing business _under your name_ in such a den as Town Topics?
What’s being Speaker of the House to having the fat knave and the lean
sneak virtually tell the world, _in a magazine bearing your name_, that
you are wealthy and _therefore_ could afford to work _for them_ for
nothing?
What’s being Speaker of the House to having your own friends invited,
_by the Secretary of your National Committee_, to come round to the SIDE
DOOR of the Town Topics den, and drop ten dollars, each, into the
Mann-hole?
Dear me! When it comes to claiming credit for _not_ cussing, I could
name several things that dwarf the proportions of the Speakership of the
House.
Mr. Roosevelt went down to Panama to take a look at that big ditch which
nobody seems to be digging very fast. Thus far the trench appears to be
just large enough to hold the millions of dollars that the taxpayers are
pouring into it.
While he was down there it is to be hoped that Mr. Roosevelt gave close
scrutiny to the place where the administration of Jules Grevy, President
of the Republic of France, slid into that same ditch. By marking the
place, carefully, Mr. Roosevelt may possibly prevent his own
administration from tumbling into the same hole.
* * * * *
They are raising a rumpus in Government circles because the liquor
dealers are bottling whiskey in bottles--bearing the official
stamp--that do not contain full measure.
It doesn’t much matter. The less whiskey the bottle holds the better for
the man who holds the bottle.
_Don’t_ shoot!
After All It Depends Upon Who Owns the Ox
On the Pacific Coast there is an intense hostility to the yellow man.
The whites are at daggers’ point with Chinamen and Japanese.
Race hatred, you see.
Recently, the authorities of San Francisco have separated the two races
in the schools.
Jap. children are not allowed in the white schools. Yellow must not mix
with white. Contact is contaminating. Separate class-rooms, separate
play-grounds, separate everything--so runs the educational order of the
day.
Yet those white people of the Pacific Coast pretend that they cannot
understand the attitude of the Southern whites to the negro.
It is all right for THEM to cultivate race-hatred of the _yellow_ man,
but all wrong for US to indulge race-hatred of the _black_ man.
Queer kettle of fish, isn’t it?
[Illustration: NO MATTER WHICH ONE DOES THE CLIPPING, THE WOOL HEAP GETS
IT JUST THE SAME.]
You Old Confeds.
BY WILLIAM E. FOWLER, Excelsior Springs, Mo.
You boys are getting kind o’ gray,
You old Confeds;
You surely ain’t got long to stay,
You old Confeds;
Old Father Time is after you;
He’s worse than were the boys in blue;
He’ll get you all ’fore he gets through--
You old Confeds.
With old “Pap” Price and brave Stonewall,
You old Confeds;
With Robert Lee (you fought with all),
You old ex-Rebs--
Half starved, you faced the boys in blue,
When clothed in rags and tatters, too,
And braver soldiers no one knew
Than you Confeds.
No North, no South, to you they say,
To you ex-Rebs--
No more you see the boys in gray,
No old Confeds.
Sweet peace is here, you gladly tell;
You’re satisfied that all is well;
But when you think of those who fell,
And hear once more the musket’s hell,
You’d like to give one Rebel yell--
You old Confeds.
And don’t forget the boys in gray,
The brave Confeds,
Who can’t be here with you today--
The dead Confeds.
Amidst the screaming shot and shell,
Amidst the thunderbolts of hell,
They bravely fought and, fighting, fell--
The soldiers dead.
A silent toast to them now drink,
To each Confed;
To comrades dead let glasses clink,
To your brave dead.
You drink to soldiers that you knew,
To your dear comrades brave and true,
Who sleep beneath the Southern dew
Their restful sleep.
You love your country and its flag,
You old Confeds;
In its defense you’d never lag,
You old Confeds;
But long as heart beats in each breast
You’ll think of those who sweetly rest
’Neath flowers by south wind soft caressed
In Southern lands.
And when old Gabriel blows his horn,
You old Confeds
Will fall in line on that great morn--
You old Confeds.
The Master then will say to you:
“Just take your seats in that front pew;
There’s nothing here too good for you--
You old Confeds.”
--From the _Confederate Veteran_.
A Survey of the World.
BY CHARLES J. BAYNE.
The close of the old year and the beginning of the new finds the
civilized world in a state of parliamentary deliberation, with the
establishment of additional parliaments in various dependencies as one
of the leading subjects of deliberation. The lawmakers of practically
every nation in the two hemispheres are now in session, so the
discussion of budgets and the agitation of reforms furnish ever-changing
subjects of public interest.
The American mind has been moving forward from its varied and
conflicting analyses of the recent elections to the concrete measures
which will be introduced in Congress, and still it is unable to fix its
attention definitely on serious subjects while the holiday spirit is in
the air. Members of Congress themselves feel that they are merely in
Washington for a few days to outline a program for a later date.
[Illustration: New York _Globe_
“NOW TO BUSINESS.”]
The President’s Message.
Congress convened on the first Monday in December, and on the following
day the President’s message was transmitted to that body. It is
generally agreed that Mr. Roosevelt’s communications to the federal
law-makers are increasingly partaking of the nature of open letters to
the American people rather than being definite suggestions to the House
and Senate of the measures which should be enacted at the current
session into law. The present document is no exception to that rule. It
is largely made up of homilies which recall the waggish comment of Tom
Reed about “Roosevelt’s delightful enthusiasm over his discovery of the
Ten Commandments.” Such is practically the view of The Washington
_Herald_, for instance, which says that “Congress will regard the
counsels of the President as the obiter dicta of a distinguished
publicist, awakening the public conscience, but without special bearing
on the work of the present session.”
The forces of reform were delighted to find him advocating a law
prohibiting corporations from contributing to campaign funds, the
failure to pass which during the first session of the present Congress,
when reform was in the air, was the subject of considerable criticism.
It is pointed out that he does not now go so far as to advise that all
contributions shall be made public. He is quoted, since the transmission
of his message, as favoring a return to the large insurance companies of
the funds they contributed to the last Republican campaign, and this has
brought forth the question from his critics: Why disgorge only the
contributions of the insurance companies, when the funds belonging to
stock-holders, as well as to policy-holders, have been used by various
corporations to influence elections?
The Race Question.
One of those homilies to which reference has been made is the
President’s discussion of lynching and the race question. No one will
take issue with him on what he says on the subject--unless it be on the
statement that two thirds of the lynchings are for crimes other than
rape. He quotes Ex-Gov. Candler as saying that he had, within one month,
saved a dozen innocent negroes from lynching. After still further
discussion of the question, the President advocates the infliction of
the death penalty for rape and urges that assault with intent to commit
this crime be made a capital offense, “at least in the discretion of the
court.”
All this is, of course, a matter with which the states alone can deal,
except in the territories under the exclusive jurisdiction of the
federal government. On the general subject of lynching, The Brooklyn
_Eagle_ says that “the President is right in his preachment, but would
be tempted to ignore it if he were in private life, and a citizen of a
Southern state.”
Labor Legislation.
The relations of labor and capital come in for considerable discussion,
and the cause of labor is well sustained. The President advocates a
rigid enforcement of the eight-hour law, where practicable, a
conservative use of injunctions, and an investigation of the conditions
of the labor of children and women.
Senator Beveridge is already primed with a bill which will reach the
child labor question, through the elastic Interstate Commerce
Commission, by prohibiting the interstate transportation of commodities
on which child labor has been employed.
The President favors the enlargement of the Employers’ Liability bill,
passed at the last session of Congress, so as to place the “entire risk
of the trade” upon the employer, and he favors federal investigation of
controversies between labor and capital.
He advocates an enlargement of the meat inspection bill, so as to
provide for placing the date of inspection on the label and throwing the
cost of inspection on the packers.
He urges the more complete control of corporations in general, “by a
national license law, or in other fashion,” which is one of the
utterances anticipated with the keenest interest.
[Illustration: Washington _Post_
TEDDY’S ONLY TARIFF REFORM.]
He comes out for an inheritance tax, an income tax, and mildly urges a
ship subsidy and currency reform.
A bill providing for free trade with the Philippines passed the House in
the last session, but it met its death in the Senate at the hands of
members who feared that it would seriously affect the beet sugar
industry. The President again recommends the adoption of this measure,
or at least a reduction in the Philippine tariff; and, as one result of
his visit to Porto Rico, he asks that the inhabitants be granted United
States citizenship. A special message on this subject, it is said, will
go to Congress later.
The Japanese Question.
His utterances on the Japanese question are perhaps the most sensational
in the entire document. At least they have proven so, from two points of
view. After paying a splendid tribute to the “little brown men” of the
Orient, and advocating the adoption of naturalization laws in their
behalf, he makes an attack upon the principle of state rights which has
attracted more than ordinary attention. The exclusion of Japanese
children from the public schools of San Francisco, which is discussed
more at length elsewhere, has occupied a foremost place in the public
mind for some time, and it is generally conceded to have largely
resolved itself into a question of state rights, and the power of the
federal government to force an observance of international treaties on
the individual states, particularly where state laws alone are involved.
The President demands that the civil and criminal laws of the federal
government be so amended as to “enable the President to enforce the
rights of aliens under treaties.”
Further along he made some nebulous threats about employing all the
force of the army and navy in behalf of the Japanese, if necessary, and
at once the California representatives were, themselves, up in arms. The
President hastened to explain that he had been misunderstood--that he
only meant to say that he would protect the Japanese from mob violence,
by aid of the army and navy, if necessary, so the members from the
Pacific slope are satisfied.
In the meantime the President has instructed the department of justice
in California to make a test case of the state law segregating “the
children of Mongolian parentage” from the whites in public schools, and
it is believed that the matter will thus be settled.
The remainder of the message is devoted to the Rio conference, the
situation in Cuba, Central America and Alaska, the maintenance of the
navy at its present efficiency, and the approaching session of the
second peace conference at the Hague.
Mr. Watson’s Views.
While various public men have selected a variety of sentences from the
Presidential Message as being particularly striking, our readers may
have a natural curiosity to know what sentence in the message of the
President most impressed our Editor-in-Chief. His section of the
Magazine had been closed before the President’s message was made public,
but in a private letter to me, Mr. Watson remarks that the finest
sentence to be found in Mr. Roosevelt’s recent message to Congress, is
this:
“_Neither a nation, nor an individual, can surrender conscience to
another’s keeping. A just war is far better for the soul of a nation
than the most prosperous peace obtained by acquiescence to any wrong or
injustice._”
Mr. Watson thinks that the manner in which the President emphasizes the
fact that a nation, like an individual, _should not consent to live_
under dishonorable conditions, was very fine.
* * * * *
In addition to the editorial expressions which have been incidentally
quoted in the foregoing summary of the message, The New York _World_
says that “if Roosevelt would advocate tariff reform and if Mr. Bryan
would stop advocating government ownership of railroads, they would be
substantially in accord.” The New York _Tribune_ says “the message is
characterized throughout by that courage with which the President
habitually faces public questions.” The New York _Press_ thinks the
reading of it must have given the trust-owners “a night of restless
slumbers.” The New York _American_ calls it “the most ambitious state
paper of his career.” The New York _Times_ thinks the wisest counsel the
President gives Congress is to “obviate the evil of prohibiting all
combinations of capital, whether good or bad.” The New York _Sun_
devotes its criticisms chiefly to those matters affecting the judiciary.
Cabinet Changes.
The echoes of the Presidential message had scarcely died away, when the
President communicated to the Senate a long list of nominations which
included many changes in his Cabinet. Root, Taft and Wilson will remain
where they are. Charles Jerome Bonaparte, will become Attorney General;
Secretary Victor H. Metcalf, Secretary of the Navy; Oscar S. Straus, of
New York, Secretary of Commerce and Labor; George B. Cortelyou,
Secretary of the Treasury, in place of Leslie M. Shaw, who is to resign,
and Mr. Cortelyou will be succeeded in the Post Office by Mr. George V.
L. Meyer; James R. Garfield, Secretary of the Interior.
The appointment of Attorney General Moody to a position on the Supreme
Court Bench has brought forth considerable criticism. Before him, in
that capacity, must come for review much of the litigation in which he,
as prosecuting attorney for the government, has been interested. Nearly
forty million dollars in various suits are being held up for a hearing
before a full bench. According to established precedent, Mr. Moody
should not pass upon them, after having been identified with them in the
Department of Justice. No definite opposition to his confirmation is
manifested, however.
The General Elections.
The general elections are receding farther and farther into the past,
and public interest in the matter is abating. The returns in the state
of New York, showing the election of the entire Democratic ticket with
the exception of the head, have been interpreted according to the
personal views of the interpreters, but the truth seems to be that there
was a general uprising in favor of reform, brought largely to the
forefront by Hearst, but that the personality of Hearst himself, coupled
with his adhesion to Boss Murphy, was something that the people would
not stand for, and hence his defeat. Representative Jas. W. Wadsworth
paid the penalty of his opposition to the meat inspection bill, and will
not be in the Sixtieth Congress.
[Illustration: WHEN THE SIXTIETH CONGRESS CONVENES
Washington _Herald_]
[Illustration: Brooklyn _Eagle_
“DON’T DISTRACT HIS ATTENTION.”]
A survey of the elections as a whole shows that the Republican majority
in the Sixtieth Congress will drop from 112 to 58. The Republicans
carried every Northern state by reduced majorities, and the Democrats
carried every Southern state, in many instances by increased majorities,
at the same time redeeming Missouri from the Republican ranks into which
she passed for the first time with the Roosevelt tidal wave. In the
lower house of the Sixtieth Congress there will be an even hundred new
members.
The Republicans of the Senate, will probably make a gain of four
members. The terms of thirty senators will expire on March 4, 1907,
fifteen of them being Democrats and fifteen Republicans. Patterson, of
Colorado, Guerin, of Oregon--appointed to succeed the late Senator
Mitchell, who died in disgrace--Dubois, of Idaho, and Clark, of Montana,
are the four Democrats who will probably be succeeded by Republicans.
Then the Republicans in the Senate will have more than a two-thirds
majority.
[Illustration: SENATOR JOHN F. DRYDEN.]
Senator Dryden, the life insurance president of New Jersey, doesn’t know
whether the legislature in January is going to re-elect him or not--and
no one else seems to know any more than he does. The Republican majority
is very close, and there is considerable defection in the ranks. He may
be opposed by Gov. Edward S. Stokes.
[Illustration: Chicago _Inter-Ocean_
“HUGHES WILL PUT IT OUT.”]
Pennsylvania went Republican all right, but it was not exactly as “Maine
went for Governor Kent.” Edwin S. Stuart--the first bachelor in a
generation, by the way, to occupy the Keystone White House--is conceded
to be “a very nice man,” so the Republicans elected him over the fusion
candidate, Emery. It is charged in some quarters that his election
indicates that Pennsylvania has recovered from her spasm of
righteousness and reform, but the fact remains that Boss Penrose is now
asking that things be done instead of demanding them, as he formerly
did, after the manner of the Quay school in which he was educated.
[Illustration: New York _Mail_
THE MAN THAT BEAT HEARST.]
New Hampshire has a peculiar election system. If no candidate receives a
majority over all, the election is thrown into the legislature. Hon.
Charles M. Floyd, Republican, received a plurality, but not a majority.
His election by the legislature is assured, however.
[Illustration: MR. BRYAN--“ALAS, POOR HEARST! I KNEW HIM WELL!”
--Chicago Tribune.]
The election of James O. Davidson as governor of Wisconsin was hailed
as a victory for the anti-Follette forces, since they had opposed his
nomination, but the junior senator made his influence felt in no
uncertain way elsewhere, notably in the defeat of Representative
Babcock, who has served seven terms in the house, and for a long period
was the official fat-fryer of the Republican Congressional Campaign
Committee.
[Illustration: Spokane _Spokesman_
“SHOVED OUT.”]
The new state of Oklahoma selected Democratic members of the
constitutional convention and will stand by Jeffersonian principles.
Some effort is being made to embody white supremacy provisions in the
organic law which is being framed, and this has started a discussion as
to whether the President, under those circumstances, would issue the
proclamation admitting the new state to the Union. It is recalled that
under somewhat similar circumstances the statehood of Missouri was held
up for fifteen months.
Such is a running review of the results of the elections, but, as
previously indicated, the measures to which Congress will devote its
attention after the Christmas holidays are the center of interest.
A concerted effort is being made to force the administration to take up
the subject of tariff reform, notwithstanding the fact that the
President ignored the subject in his message.
The Divorce Congress.
One of the notable conventions of the year was that of the National
Divorce Congress which assembled in Philadelphia on Nov. 19 and 20 for
the purpose of formulating a uniform divorce law which, it is hoped,
would be enacted by all the states of the Union. It was the legislature
of Pennsylvania which took the initiative in this matter, not only by
codifying and examining its own laws, but by arranging a conference,
through Governor Pennypacker, to discuss the matter of uniform divorce
laws. This conference was held in Washington last February and a
committee was appointed to draw up a model bill to present to all the
states. Thirty states and territories were represented at the Congress
in Philadelphia and the grounds for absolute divorce, as presented by
the committee and adopted by the Congress were:
1. Adultery.
2. Bigamy, at the suit of the innocent and injured party to the first
marriage.
3. Conviction and sentence for crime, followed by continuous
imprisonment for at least two years, or under indeterminate sentence for
at least one year.
4. Extreme cruelty, endangering life or health.
5. Wilful desertion for two years.
6. Habitual drunkenness for two years.
The Situation in ’Frisco.
About the least pacific section of our united country just at present is
the Pacific slope. The action of the Board of Education of San Francisco
in excluding Japanese children from the regular public schools of the
city, and requiring that they be segregated in schools set aside
exclusively for them, has aroused the deepest interest all over the
country, and its echoes are reverberating on the shores of the
Chrysanthemum kingdom. It is becoming increasingly evident that the
matter of excluding the Japanese from the public schools is not the crux
of the matter. It is but a symptom of a very general condition of
dislike and distrust. The people of California frankly declare that the
more they see of the Japanese the less they like them and that since the
Russo-Japanese war, as one resident of the state puts it, “the Japs are
getting too blamed cockey.” The Californians assert that they have the
sympathy and support of the entire Pacific slope in their determination
to hold the Japanese in check. They point to the fact that the little
brown men practically dominate the labor situation in Hawaii, and that
they are making that territory merely a half-way house to California,
which they will likewise over-run. The labor unions, which are
particularly strong on the slope are strong in their antagonism to the
Japanese.
It is boldly declared by many representative citizens of California that
they will not stop short of introducing a bill in this or the Sixtieth
Congress excluding the Japanese from the United States on practically
the same terms as are now applied to the Chinese, who are held in some
quarters to be more desirable.
Many interesting questions of national and international law are
involved in the present situation.
Those who advocate a federal law excluding the Japanese are reminded
that the existing treaty, which was negotiated by Mr. Gresham in Mr.
Cleveland’s second administration, provides that “this treaty shall go
into operation on the 17th day of July, 1899 and shall remain in force
for a period of twelve years from that date.” Twelve months’ notice,
from the time of expiration, must also be given by either party, if such
party desires to terminate the agreement. Notice of termination cannot
be given, therefore, until July 19, 1911, and until July 1912, it must
continue as the supreme law of the land. Consequently the adoption of a
Japanese exclusion law cannot become effective for five years and a
half. The President’s advocacy of naturalization for the Japanese is not
received kindly on the slope. In addition to all this Mayor Schmitz and
Abe Ruef, the political “boss,” have been indicted for extortion.
[Illustration: _TREED!_
Philadelphia _North American_]
The Increase in Wages.
The month of November was marked by the announcement of the most general
increase in the wages of employes ever recorded in this country during
so short a period. This increase was made, for the most part, by the
railroads and other large corporate interests and chiefly affects
employes whose salaries are less than $200 a month. In many instances
the advance began with the first of December, while in others it becomes
effective with the new year.
It would be a difficult matter to make anything like an approximate
estimate of this golden harvest which is to go into the pockets of the
laboring men. It is said by those who are in a position to know, that
the advance in wages announced by the railroads during the month of
November would alone amount to $20,000,000 annually, affecting 200,000
employes. Even so conservative an authority as The Chicago _Evening
Post_ thinks it entirely probable that the advance in the wages of
railroad employes becoming effective on the first of the year will reach
something like $100,000,000 a year, while others place it still higher.
The Steel Trust and the street railroads have also advanced wages.
[Illustration: EDWARD H. HARRIMAN.]
It is only fair to say, in dwelling upon this general advance in the
wages of labor in so many departments of industry, that, according to
the mercantile agencies, the cost of living is higher now than it has
been at any time in twenty years, and the continuance of agitation and
discontent in certain quarters is held to be justifiable for the reason
that the purchasing power of a dollar is so much less than formerly that
it is no more than off-set by an increase of ten per cent in wages.
The Harriman-Fish Embroglio.
The final triumph of Edward H. Harriman over President Stuyvesant Fish,
of the Illinois Central, after a long and bitter feud extending over
many years, is still a topic of absorbing interest in the railroad world
and to the public in general. At a special meeting of the directors of
the road held in New York early in November Mr. Fish was defeated for
re-election by a vote of eight to four, the thirteenth director,
Vice-President Welling, being confined to his bed from an illness of
which he died a few days later. The formal complaint made against
President Fish was that he had not observed the “harmony” agreement of
last July, when it was at one time proposed that a special committee
should solicit proxies, and not Mr. Fish personally. He was charged with
arrogating to himself alone “the duty and function resting upon the
entire board,” and not being able to “distinguish between the powers and
duties of the president and those of the directors of the corporation.”
The purpose of the board was known before-hand and it was no surprise
when James T. Harahan, one of the vice-presidents, was chosen to succeed
Mr. Fish.
The nomination was seconded by Charles A. Peabody, President of the
Mutual Life Insurance Company, which was one of the many reasons
sustaining the belief on the part of Mr. Fish’s friends that his refusal
to take part in the “white-washing” of the Mutual officials was really
responsible for his overthrow. It is recalled that Harriman made
threats at the time that he would make reprisal on Fish for his refusal
to knuckle under.
[Illustration: STUYVESANT FISH.]
In the meantime Mr. Fish announced his intention of carrying the matter
into the courts. The constitution of the state of Illinois provides that
“no railroad corporation shall consolidate its stock, property or
franchises with any other railroad corporation owning a parallel or
competing line. A majority of the directors of any railroad corporation
now incorporated, or hereafter to be incorporated by the laws of this
state, shall be citizens and residents of this state.” Of the directors
of the Illinois Central only three, at the time of the recent election,
were residents of the state of Illinois. They were Gov. Deneen, who is
an ex-officio director by reason of his office as governor, James T.
Harahan, the new president, and John C. Welling, who has since died. It
is not denied that for thirteen years a majority of the directors have
not been “citizens and residents of Illinois,” and the scope of the
immediate issue is enlarged by the fact that if the courts hold the
present board to be illegal, so also will be the work of every board for
the past thirteen years, including issues of stocks, bonds, etc.
Harriman’s control of so vast a system of railroads is naturally
regarded as a menace. The Union Pacific and the Southern Pacific, of
which he is absolute master, aggregate 15,000 miles, with an outstanding
capitalization of $1,031,000,000. The Chicago & Alton and the Illinois
Central, which he practically controls, have a mileage of 6,668, with a
capitalization of over $380,728,223. He is largely in control of the
Baltimore & Ohio, the Reading and the Central of New Jersey railroads,
with a mileage of 7,255 and a capitalization of practically
$770,000,000. He is a stockholder and director in Erie, which has a
mileage of 2,553 and a capitalization of $382,900,000. Thus he is a
moving spirit and to a large extent the dominant figure in 31,000 miles
of railroad, with a capitalization of more than two billions and a half
of dollars. It is not surprising that an investigation on the part of
the Interstate Commerce Commission is now announced.
[Illustration: THOMAS F. RYAN.]
Ryan’s Vast Interests.
One of the recent surprises in Wall street was the resignation of Thomas
F. Ryan as a director from more than twenty railroads and industrial
corporations, including the leading trusts of the country. Coincident
with his retirement came the announcement that he was one of a number of
American capitalists who had secured from King Leopold of Belgium
certain rights in 8,400,000 acres of land in the Congo Free State, for
the purpose of developing the rubber and mineral resources, building
railroads and otherwise exploiting that vast territory.
An effort is being made in Congress to have this government join in an
investigation of conditions in the Congo and several of Leopold’s
lobbyists are in hot water.
The Lesson of Spencer’s Death.
No event in recent years has created a more profound sensation than the
tragic death of President Samuel Spencer, of the Southern railroad, who
was killed in a rear-end collision on his own road on the morning of
Thanksgiving day. Mr. Spencer was a native Georgian, and worked his way
through all the grades of his calling to the presidency he held at the
time of his death. Many personal tributes have been paid to Mr. Spencer,
but the fact that he was a victim to the inefficiency of his own
railroad system has been commented upon with decided emphasis. Readers
of THE JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE will recall the heated controversy last
summer between Mr. Watson and the editor of The Macon _Telegraph_. The
latter criticised Mr. Watson for making the point that Mr. Spencer, as a
railroad manager, squeezed too much money out of the South into the
pockets of Wall street millionaires, allowing his road to become
dangerous, allowing employes to be overworked, allowing bridges to
become decayed, refusing to double-track where double tracking was
needed and refusing to employ a sufficient number of men to do the
amount of work necessary in the proper operation of the property. The
text from which Mr. Watson preached was the official commendation of Mr.
Spencer by the voting trustees of the Southern Railway Holding Company.
They praised him because he had, during the last thirteen years, doubled
their property, trebled the gross earnings, and increased the net
earnings, over and above all operating expenses, more than 525 per cent.
He took this report and proved that instead of being something for Mr.
Spencer to be proud of, it was something to make him ashamed, since it
proved conclusively that the road was being run simply from the
standpoint of those who wanted dividends and who did not care how
unsatisfactory was the service, nor how many lives were lost because of
the failure to adopt safety appliances, double tracks, and by failure to
abolish the deadly grade crossings. Mr. Watson feels that the fate which
has overtaken Mr. Spencer is the most appalling proof that could be
furnished that he was right in his contentions.
[Illustration: “HE WAS DEAF TO ALL WARNINGS, AND AT LENGTH HIS OWN TURN
CAME.”]
[Illustration: TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT
The hand of the law will get old John D. himself yet.
--Minneapolis Journal.]
The press of this country and England view the matter in the same light.
The Brooklyn _Eagle_, in discussing the matter, says, “We can only
deplore this very able man’s loss. We can only hope that his sacrifice
may result in no further disregard of the precautions that would have
averted it, had those precautions been observed. Until that time,”
continues the _Eagle_, “we may expect preventable ‘accidents’ which wear
every quality of murder except its intent.” _The Pall Mall Gazette_, of
London, founded by W. T. Stead, expresses the hope that Mr. Spencer’s
death “will arouse those responsible for the management of American
railroads to a feeling that it is desirable to make them safer.” The
statistics of accidental deaths in America, says _The Gazette_, “are
appalling to the English mind, but seem to have little effect in
America. But the inclusion of directors among the victims is almost
proverbial as the surest route to reform.”
In spite of these solemn warnings another fatal rear-end collision
occurred on the Southern within ten days, a short distance from the
scene of the former accident.
Mr. Spencer has been succeeded, as President of the Southern, by Mr. W.
W. Finley, formerly second vice-president of the road.
Standard Oil Before the Bar.
The most definite and concrete form which the agitation against trusts
and combines has ever assumed in this country, and the most interesting
legal step the government has taken in a generation, was the filing of a
bill in equity, by United States Attorney General Moody, on Nov. 15, in
the Eighth Judicial Circuit, in St. Louis, Mo., against the Standard Oil
Company, of New Jersey, and seventy of its subsidiary corporations and
limited partnerships, as well as against seven of the leading officers
and directors of the big trust, to have the combination dissolved under
the Sherman Anti-Trust law, as being in restraint of trade and commerce.
The government, for nearly two years, has been gathering information on
which to base some such action. But last June the attorney general
appointed two assistants, Messrs. F. B. Kellogg and C. B. Morrison, to
act with Assistant Attorney General Purdy in gathering information as to
the transgressions of the Oil Trust in the business of refining,
transporting, distributing and selling oil throughout the United States.
[Illustration: THE STRIPES MAY GO ON YET, IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT.]
Their report was such as to justify legal action on the part of the
Department of Justice, and after the information had been carefully
examined by the President and the Cabinet, the bill in equity was
filed. The recital of alleged facts in this petition, is virtually a
history of the Standard Oil Company from its infancy to the present
time. It sets forth that the Standard Oil Company, of New Jersey, with
its seventy allied corporations and limited partnerships, produces,
transports and sells about 90 per cent of the refined oil products used
in this country and about the same proportion of the refined oil
exported from the United States; that this practical monopoly has been
procured by a course of action which, beginning in 1870, has continued,
in the main, under the same persons down to the present time; that these
persons now surviving are John D. Rockefeller. William Rockefeller,
Henry H. Rogers, Henry M. Flagler, John A. Archbold, Oliver H. Payne and
Chas. M. Pratt; that their design throughout has been the suppression of
competition in the production, transportation and sale of refined oil
and to obtain a monopoly therein; that between 1870 and 1882 the purpose
was effected by agreements between many persons and corporations engaged
in this business; that in the latter year the business was made certain
by vesting in nine trustees, including five of the persons named above,
sufficient stock in the thirty-nine corporations then concerned to
suppress competition among themselves; that this plan was acted upon
until it was declared illegal by the Supreme Court of Ohio, in an action
against the Standard Oil Company of Ohio, one of said corporations, in
1892; that during the seven years following, the same individual
defendants, as a majority of the liquidating trustees, were pretending
to liquidate the trust, but as a matter of fact were managing all the
corporations in the same old way and were exercising the same control
over them; that in 1899 the individual defendants increased the capital
stock of the Standard Oil Company, of New Jersey, from $10,000,000 to
$110,000,000; that the company was then a producing and selling
corporation, and that they added to its functions the power of
purchasing stock in other companies, and practically all the powers
exercised by the trustees under the unlawful agreement of 1882; that the
Standard Oil Company, of New Jersey, then taking the place of the
trustees, acquired all the stock of the corporations theretofore held
and controlled by the trusts, paying therefor by the issue of its own
shares in exchange; that the President of the Board of Trustees became
the president of the Standard Oil Company, of New Jersey, that the trust
assumed the direction of the business of the Standard Oil Company, of
New Jersey, and has continued it ever since.
After this summary of Standard Oil history, the petition goes on to say
that the purpose and effect of the corporation as a holding company was
precisely the same as the purpose and effect of the appointment of the
trustees previously referred to, namely: to suppress competition between
the corporations and limited partnerships, whose stock was first held by
the trusts and then by the Standard Oil Company, of New Jersey; that by
the foregoing methods, and by securing railroad rates which
discriminated in favor of the corporations whose stock was held by the
holding company, the latter was enabled to secure a monopoly in large
sections of the country, with the result that prices to consumers are
much higher in those sections than in sections where competition, to
some extent, prevails.
The bill further sets forth that from 1882 to 1895 the Standard paid
dividends amounting to $512,000,000 on a professed valuation of a trifle
less than $70,000,000, besides accumulating a surplus “of unknown
magnitude,” and that for the last nine years the dividends have run from
33 to 48 per cent.
Almost on the very day that this bill was filed the Standard declared a
quarterly dividend which aggregated $10,000,000.
In filing this bill Attorney General Moody said that the question of
criminal prosecution would be left “for future consideration.”
Criminal Prosecution.
Whatever may be the disposition of the Attorney General of the United
States in regard to the criminal prosecution of Standard Oil officers
and directors, there seems to be no doubt as to the attitude of
Prosecutor David, of the state of Ohio. The grand jury of Hancock county
has returned an indictment against the Standard Oil Company, of Ohio,
and against John D. Rockefeller, president of the Standard Oil Company,
of New Jersey, as well as three directors of the subsidiary corporation
in the Buckeye state. Previous proceedings against the same defendants,
taken on an information brought before the Probate Court of that state,
are now being held up, pending the decision of the higher court as to
the jurisdiction of the court below. The present indictments by the
grand jury are based on the evidence adduced in the previous trial.
Conviction would subject the defendant company to a maximum fine of five
thousand dollars, which, however, it is believed, may be imposed for
ever day covered in the indictments. Mr. Rockefeller and the directors
of the subsidiary company would be subject to the same fine and to
imprisonment for a period of from six months to one year. More recently
Prosecutor David is quoted as expressing the belief that he has
sufficient evidence to bring not only Mr. Rockefeller, but all the
highest officials of the controlling company before the Ohio courts.
In the meantime he has taken steps to secure an alternative writ of
mandamus against the Buckeye Pipe Line Company, said to be owned by the
Standard Oil Company and operated in such a manner as to stifle
competition, requiring that the defendant provide for the public equal
and just facilities and demanding that they fix a schedule of rates.
In St. Louis the Federal grand jury has brought in two indictments, with
a total of seventy-two counts, against the Waters-Pierce Oil Company for
violation of the Elkins Anti-Rebate law. If convicted on all the counts
the maximum penalties would exceed a million and a half dollars.
The proceedings taken by the attorney general of Texas to oust the same
company from that state have developed a collateral sensation of great
size. Attorney General Davidson demands of the defendant company certain
vouchers which, it is alleged, will show that Senator Joseph W. Bailey
was paid various sums of money by the Waters-Pierce Company to secure
its readmission to the state, and gives out that if this evidence is not
forthcoming, secondary evidence will be offered to establish the alleged
fact. Senator Bailey indignantly denies that he received any such sums,
and announces that he will prosecute for perjury anyone who swears to
the existence of such evidence. Senator Bailey has already been
nominated by primary, but his re-election will come before the
legislature which convenes in January.
In the meantime the New York Central Railroad and the Sugar Trust have
been fined heavily for, respectively, giving and receiving rebates.
The Insurance Situation.
One of the results of the investigation conducted by the Armstrong
committee into the affairs of the New York and the Mutual Life insurance
companies was the enactment of legislation providing that the affairs of
the two companies should be taken out of the hands of the existing
boards of trustees, that all outstanding proxies should be invalidated
and that the policy holders should be given an opportunity to choose the
men who should thereafter manage the affairs of the two companies. In
pursuance of this law the policy holders began voting on Nov. 18 and
continued to cast their ballots for or against the administration
tickets until Dec. 18. In the New York Life the administration ticket
consisted of “the best of the old trustees,” together with some new
blood, while an opposition ticket was presented by the International
Policy-Holders Committee, of which the Hon. Richard Olney was chairman.
In the Mutual contest there were three tickets: an administration
ticket, the United Committee’s ticket and a fusion ticket. The second of
these was so called because it was the product of the united efforts of
the Mutual Policy Holders’ committee and the International Policy
Holders’ committee of which Mr. Samuel Untermyer was the chief organizer
and sponsor. The fusion ticket was made up of candidates from the
administration and the Mutual Policy Holders’ respective rosters. At the
time we go to press the result of the elections is not known.
[Illustration: ROBERT E. PEARY.]
Farthest North.
Commander Robert E. Peary has returned from his expedition to reach the
north pole. After suffering innumerable hardships he reached a latitude
of 87 degrees and 6 minutes. This was within 203 miles of the coveted
goal and thirty-four miles farther than the point reached by the Duke of
Abruzzi expedition, which had hitherto held the record.
Canadian Affairs.
Up in Canada they are still telling the story of the _habitant_ who,
when told that the Queen was dead, asked, “Who is Queen now?” He was
told that there was no Queen, but a King had ascended the throne,
whereupon the admiring peasant exclaimed, “My, what a pull he must have
with Laurier!”
The Canadian parliament assembled at Ottawa on Nov. 22--four months
earlier than usual--with its Liberal majority practically unimpaired,
and the Premier continues to hold the pre-eminence in Canadian affairs
indicated by the artless tribute of the _habitant_.
The Dominion has not escaped the muck-rakers, and the Conservatives are
bringing wholesale charges of corruption at the polls.
On Nov. 29 Minister of Finance Fielding introduced his long anticipated
tariff bill. Briefly stated, this measure provides for an intermediate
tariff, the rates of which shall be between the preferential rates
conceded to the mother country and the general tariff which applies to
other countries. This intermediate tariff may be held out as a basis of
reciprocity negotiations with such countries as show a disposition to
meet the Canadian government half way.
Cuba and South America.
The situation in Central and South America is unusually quiet. As a
result of the President’s visit, the working forces on the Panama Canal
have been completely reorganized. It has been definitely decided not to
appoint a governor of the Canal Zone to succeed Magoon, and an order has
been promulgated to give Chairman Shonts more complete control over the
administration portion of canal construction, while Chief Engineer
Stevens is placed in absolute control over Panama. Bids for the contract
to complete the canal will be opened Jan. 12.
Cipriano Castro, the fire-eating President of Venezuela, may not be
dead, but he will soon work himself to death denying the charge unless
he does something definite before long. It is evident that he is in a
very low state of health, and the end may come at any time.
Alfonso Penna was inaugurated President of Brazil on Nov. 16. He is in
thorough accord with the efforts to establish closer trade relations
between his country and the United States.
Argentina holds her own as the most prosperous and progressive of South
American states, and Chili is rapidly recovering from the disastrous
earthquake which visited her last fall.
The youth of the land, and even the children of larger growth, will be
glad to know that according to recent investigations the Island of Juan
Fernandez, so dear to the hearts of every boy who has grown up on
Robinson Crusoe, was not sunk into the sea by the disaster, as at first
announced, but remains intact.
Gov. Magoon has declared vacant the seats of the senators and
representatives elected to the Cuban Congress in 1905, and another
election will be held. The rivalry of Moderates and Liberals continues,
while the Liberals, particularly, are divided among themselves. It is
evident that American occupation of the island must continue for some
time.
Separation of Church and State.
That order of history which is “philosophy teaching by example” has been
moving steadily and persistently over the face of Europe toward a policy
which the fathers of our own republic foresaw and adopted a hundred and
twenty years ago. Perhaps the most pronounced feature of Liberalism in
the Old World today is the conviction that the separation of church and
state must become an accomplished fact. A movement so vast could not be
carried forward without being complicated in some measure with bigotry
and fanaticism, but on the whole it may be said that it is inspired and
sustained by the highest motives of state policy.
[Illustration: _From a Drawing by “Spy.”_
THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.]
The present Liberal ministry in England, which succeeded the Balfour
government, appealed to the country on the issue of free trade and was
overwhelmingly sustained. But since that time it is safe to say that the
Education bill, introduced by Augustine Birrell, President of the Board
of Education--and whimsically called the “Birreligious bill”--has been
the measure most discussed by the British people and the world at large.
Briefly stated, this bill provides that, beginning with January of next
year, only such schools as are provided by the local educational
authorities throughout England shall be recognized as public schools,
and after that date no public funds can legally be spent on any other
schools. In other words, if the present denominational voluntary schools
wish to receive government support they must become public schools, and
as such must be content with the same undenominational teaching that is
given in other public schools. The bill provides, further, that
attendance shall not be compulsory, and that there shall be no religious
test for teachers chosen by the local authorities. In those schools
which are taken over by the educational authorities from the religious
organizations--by the consent of the latter, of course--religious
instruction may be given two mornings a week, but not by the regular
staff of teachers, and not at the public expense. The bill further
provides that $5,000,000 shall be appropriated for educational purposes
by the government.
This measure, which has set all England in a ferment, was passed by the
House of Commons, but in the House of Lords it met vigorous opposition,
particularly from the spiritual peers, headed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury. On Dec. 6 it passed the upper house, so mutilated as to be
unacceptable to the Commons. The agitation in favor of mending or ending
the chamber of peers has been coming prominently forward. No basis of
compromise between the upper and lower house has yet been found. Since
the Education bill is sent back to the House of Commons with its most
vital features stricken out, the Liberal Government will probably go on
to other legislation, equally unacceptable to the peers, and thus force
them to reject a number of measures which are demanded by the people.
They will then appeal to the country, and the ending of a system of
hereditary legislators may be involved in the popular mandate.
[Illustration: PREMIER GEORGES CLEMENCEAU.]
On the Liberal program is a bill abolishing plural voting. Under the
present system of property qualification a large landowner may not only
vote where he resides but in every other place where he has property,
and as the elections do not occur in England, as they do in this
country, on one and the same day, it is entirely practicable for such a
landowner actually to vote for half a dozen parliamentary candidates. Of
course the peers will oppose any reform of the present system of plural
voting, and thereby will come in collision with popular sentiment again.
The land tenure bill, by which a tenant may secure greater permanency
in his lease or compensation for improvements in case he is
dispossessed, and the trades unions bill, exempting the funds of labor
unions from damage suits against members of such unions who may commit a
tort, are also in the Liberal program, and both will be resisted by the
upper house, thereby contributing to its own undoing.
Disestablishment in France.
While in England there are issues which dispute the first place with the
Education bill, there can be no doubt as to the pre-eminence, just at
this time, of the administration of the law providing for separation of
Church and State in France. It was early in December, 1905, that the
French Senate adopted a measure which abrogated the Concordat, signed in
1801 by the First Napoleon and Pope Pius VII. This measure had already
passed the Chamber of Deputies in July. In France the churches are owned
by the state and the clergy, regardless of denomination, are supported
by the government, a member of the cabinet known as the Minister of
Public Worship, having supervision of ecclesiastical affairs. According
to the terms of the new bill, no newly made clergyman of any
denomination is to receive support from the government of the republic.
Those now getting it from the state will continue to do so, but the
appropriations are to be decreased as the pensions and salaries of the
clergyman now in office expire or are withdrawn. The churches and other
places of religious worship will continue to belong to the state, but
they are to be leased to congregations of the churches or denominations
now worshipping in them. The Vatican is bitterly opposing the separation
act, and there has been considerable delay in forming the associations
to take over the church property under the terms of the law. Originally
it was provided that the period during which these associations should
be formed would expire on December 11, 1906, but there is no intention
on the part of the Clemenceau ministry, which came into power late in
October, to persecute the church. M. Briand, Minister of Public Worship
and the author of the bill, announced in the Chamber of Deputies on Nov.
10, that church property not claimed by the “cultural associations” by
Dec. 11 would pass under control of the state and finally go to the
communes at the end of the ensuing year, but that in the meantime the
churches will remain at the disposition of the clergy. The way is thus
left open to the Vatican by the admission of the possibility that church
property can be granted by state decree to associations formed before
December 11, 1907.
The government’s inventories of church property were completed without
arousing as much hostility as they did in the beginning but as we go to
press great excitement prevails.
To Abolish Capital Punishment.
Not only is the French government pursuing a peaceful policy toward the
church, as far as possible, but a humane measure is now pending which is
well worthy of an era of civilization and enlightenment. A parliamentary
commission, to which the matter was referred, has, by a vote of eight to
two, reported in favor of abolishing the death penalty, and substituting
life imprisonment. In extreme cases, solitary confinement is
recommended. It is not generally known, perhaps, that many of the
leading countries of Europe have long since abolished the death penalty,
except in trials by court martial. It seems a mockery that Russia should
be no exception to this rule, but in point of fact it was the Empress
Catherine the Great who took the initiative in abolishing capital
punishment. That the law is apparently disregarded is due to the fact
that the greater part of Russia is subjected to what is known as “the
minor state of siege,” which admits of the application of military law
to the trial of political prisoners. Capital punishment was abolished in
Greece forty odd years ago, and since that time Roumania, Portugal, and
the Netherlands in the order named, have followed suit. It has been in
comparatively recent years that Italy, Switzerland and Norway adopted
the same measure of clemency, on the other side of the water, and Brazil
and Venezuela in the southern part of our own hemisphere. So the
civilized countries which still retain capital punishment are the United
States, Great Britain, Germany, Sweden, Austria and Spain.
Liberalism in Spain.
The leaven of Liberalism has been working mightily in the direction of
the severance of church and state in the land of the Inquisition.
The weak and capricious youngster who occupies the throne of Spain sent
assurances to the Pope, late in October, of his filial attachment, and
all that sort of thing. Six days later he signed the Associations bill,
which had just passed the Chamber of Deputies, restricting the power and
influence of the church in a degree but slightly less than in France.
Then he made a little speech. There is an old Spanish custom that the
premier should give a banquet at the end of each year that he and his
colleagues in the ministry have been continuously in office. In view of
the fact, as the young king recalled, that one hundred and twelve
ministers had taken the oath before him during the four years and a half
since his coronation, there had been no banquets at the expense of an
incumbent premier. Alfonso, in signing the Associations bill, expressed
the hope that Gen. Lopez Dominguez, who was then at the head of the
Liberal ministry, with a large Liberal majority behind him in the
Cortes, “would be able to reintroduce so pleasant a custom.”
And the premier said he hoped so, too.
Having passed the lower house and received the signature of the king,
the reform measure which is agitating all Spain went back to the Senate.
It must pass that body, and again receive the signature of the king, to
become the law of the land.
Since 1876, when the Roman Catholic Church was reestablished as the
state religion of Spain, after a period of seven years of freedom of
thought, of education, of burial, etc., the Liberals have been slowly
regaining the liberties secured by the revolution of 1868. The church
has made strenuous resistance and has pursued a reactionary policy which
has finally aroused all the liberal and progressive forces. The state
already provided that marriages between Roman Catholics must be recorded
in the civil register in order to have legal validity, but the church
contends that civil unions are valid only when they are performed
according to canon law. The church has also arrayed itself against the
municipal control of cemeteries, and demands that the custom of setting
apart certain sections of such cemeteries for the burial of foreigners
and non-Catholic Spaniards shall be discontinued. Now the Liberals, who
are in power, have taken the bit in their teeth, so to speak. It is
proposed to emancipate the schools from monastic teaching, and to
require a state registration of all the monastic orders in Spain, of
which there is a large and increasing number since the agitation began
in France. In short the state will insist upon the absolute control of
civil marriages, the municipal control of the cemeteries, and a strict
regulation of the monastic orders.
In the meantime Gen. Dominguez will not give that dinner. One faction in
the Cortes thought that some time should be devoted to a consideration
of the budget, as well as to the separation act, and he was forced to
resign. A new cabinet was formed which lasted just three days--including
a Sunday--and resigned. The Marquis de Armijo has succeeded in forming
another cabinet, with old Gen. Weyler, by the way, as minister of war,
and he is endeavoring to go on--with what success remains to be seen.
Germany’s Isolation.
It is becoming very evident that the Triple Alliance, consisting of
Italy, Germany and Austria, is becoming weaker every year. The
feebleness with which Italy supported Germany’s pretentions in the
Algeciras conference aroused the resentment of the Kaiser, who made it a
point to telegraph his thanks to Austria for the part she took on that
same occasion, thereby administering a silent rebuke to the kingdom
beyond the Alps. This luke-warmness on the part of Italy is but one of
many elements which go to establish the isolation of Germany among
European powers. Prince von Buelow, the German chancellor, in an address
at the opening of the Reichstag, did the best he could to convince the
world that his imperial master had no sinister designs against anybody,
but the powers still look upon the Kaiser with suspicion, and it is very
apparent that he feels it keenly.
In the meantime France and England are drawing closer and closer
together. The Anglo-Russian “understanding” is said to be very
satisfactory at present. The rumor went that the basis of this
understanding between the Czar and King Edward was that both governments
should keep out of Tibet, that lower Persia should be given over to
England as her sphere of influence, while Russia confined herself to the
northern part, and finally that England should consent to the opening of
the Dardanelles to the Russian Black Sea fleet. The last item discredits
the whole program.
* * * * *
The rumor runs that the Shah of Persia is practically dying and his son
has been called to assume the regency. The Shah, before he was taken
ill, granted a national parliament to his people, of which, however,
little has been heard of late. What the policy of his son would be if he
should succeed permanently to the throne is problematical, but behind
the occupant of the Persian throne and the policy he may adopt, there is
always the shadow of what is called, by acknowledged pre-eminence, “the
Eastern question,” which will continue to exist until Russia can get
some satisfactory port where her fleets will not be frozen up in winter
and she may be free to sail the seas with her men-of-war and her
merchant-men.
* * * * *
The elections for the Russian duma have not yet been held, but the
assembly is expected to convene by March 1. The government is improving
the time disfranchising everybody who is likely to be hostile to the
divine right of kings, is executing or exiling political prisoners,
while the peasants are being systematically robbed of the relief sent to
prevent them from starving during the prevailing famine.
* * * * *
The lower house of the Austrian parliament, after a stormy agitation of
more than a year, has passed a bill granting the franchise to every male
Austrian over twenty-four years of age who is able to read and write,
and has been a resident for at least a year in the place where an
election is held. The upper house is not inclined to accept the bill,
demanding two votes for married men over 35 years of age, but it is
hoped that a compromise may be effected.
* * * * *
In the Far East, China is becoming more and more suspicious of Japan’s
intentions in Manchuria, and is discouraging the attendance of Chinese
students upon Japanese schools and colleges. Strong measures have been
taken to suppress the use of opium within ten years.
* * * * *
Australia is still gasping at the decision of Western Australia to
withdraw from the commonwealth and set up a government of its own.
In this movement, the Western section probably has the entire sympathy
of Ex-Governor Bill Stone, of Pennsylvania, who is busy just now
advocating the separation of the Western half of his own state from the
Eastern half, so contaminated by wicked Philadelphia!
[Illustration: “I RECKON YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING TO TELL ME.”]
Ann Boyd.
By Will N. Harben.
CHAPTER I.
Ann Boyd stood at the open door of her corn-house, a square, one-storied
hut made of the trunks of young pine-trees, the bark of which, being
worm-eaten, was crumbling from the smooth hard-wood. She had a tin pail
on her arm, and was selecting “nubbins” for her cow from the great heap
of husked corn which, like a mound of golden nuggets, lay within. The
strong-jawed animal could crunch the dwarfed ears, grain and corn
together, when they were stirred into a mush made of wheat-bran and
dish-water.
Mrs. Boyd, although past fifty, showed certain signs of having been a
good-looking woman. Her features were regular, but her once slight and
erect figure was now heavy, and bent as if from toil. Her hair, which in
her youth had been a luxuriant golden brown, was now thinner and
liberally streaked with gray. From her eyes deep wrinkles diverged, and
the corners of her firm mouth were drawn downward. Her face, even in
repose, wore an almost constant frown, and this habit had deeply gashed
her forehead with lines that deepened when she was angry.
With her pail on her arm, she was turning back towards her cottage,
which stood about a hundred yards to the right, beneath the shade of
two giant oaks, when she heard her name called from the main-travelled
road, which led past her farm, on to Darley, ten miles away.
“Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Waycroft!” she exclaimed, without change of
countenance, as the head and shoulders of a neighbor appeared above the
rail-fence. “I couldn’t imagine who it was calling me.”
“Yes, it was me,” the woman said, as Mrs. Boyd reached the fence and
rested her pail on the top rail. “I hain’t seed you since I seed you at
church, Sunday. I tried to get over yesterday, but was too busy with one
thing and another.”
“I reckon you have had your hands full planting cotton,” said Mrs. Boyd.
“I didn’t expect you; besides, I’ve had all I could do in my own field.”
“Yes, my boys have been hard at it,” said Mrs. Waycroft. “I don’t go to
the field myself, like you do. I reckon I ain’t hardy enough, but
keeping things for them to eat and the house in order takes all my
time.”
“I reckon,” said Mrs. Boyd, studying the woman’s face closely under the
faded black poke-bonnet--“I reckon you’ve got something to tell me. You
generally have. I wish I could not care a snap of the finger what folks
say, but I’m only a natural woman. I want to hear things sometimes when
I know they will make me so mad that I won’t eat a bite for days.”
Mrs. Waycroft looked down at the ground. “Well,” she began, “I reckon
you know thar would be considerable talk after what happened at meeting
Sunday. You know a thing like that naturally _would_ stir up a quiet
community like this.”
“Yes, when I think of it I can see there would be enough said, but I’m
used to being the chief subject of idle talk. I’ve had twenty odd years
of it, Mary Waycroft, though this public row was rather unexpected. I
didn’t look for abuse from the very pulpit in God’s house, if it _is_
His. I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t know a friendly soul was
nigh.”
“Yes, I was there clean through from the opening hymn. A bolt from
heaven on a sunny day couldn’t have astonished me more than I was when
you come in and walked straight up the middle aisle, and sat down just
as if you’d been coming there regular for all them years. I reckon you
had your own private reasons for making the break.”
“Yes, I did.” The wrinkled mouth of the speaker twitched nervously. “I’d
been thinking it out, Mrs. Waycroft, for a long time and trying to pray
over it, and at last I come to the conclusion that if I didn’t go to
church like the rest, it was an open admission that I acknowledged
myself worse than others, and so I determined to go--I determined to go
if it killed me.”
“And to think you was rewarded that way!” answered Mrs. Waycroft; “it’s
a shame! Ann Boyd, it’s a dirty shame!”
“It will be a long time before I darken a church door again,” said Mrs.
Boyd. “If I’m ever seen there it will be after I’m dead and they take me
there feet foremost to preach over my body. I didn’t look around, but I
knew they were all whispering about me.”
“You never saw the like in your life, Ann,” the visitor said. “Heads
were bumping together to the damagement of new spring hats, and
everybody was asking what it meant. Some said that, after meeting, you
was going up and give your hand to Brother Bazemore and ask him to take
you back, as a member, but he evidently didn’t think you had a purpose
like that, or he wouldn’t have opened up on you as he did. Of course,
everybody thar knowed he was hitting at you.”
“Oh yes, they all knew, and he had no reason for thinking I wanted to
ask any favor, for he knows too well what I think of him. He hates the
ground I walk on. He has been openly against me ever since he come to my
house and asked me to let the Sunday-school picnic at my spring and in
my grove. I reckon I gave it to him pretty heavy that day, for all I’d
been hearing about what he had to say of me had made me mad. I let him
get out his proposal as politely as such a sneaking man could, and then
I showed him where I stood. Here Mrs. Waycroft, I’ve been treated like a
dog and an outcast by every member of his church for the last twenty
years, called the vilest names a woman ever bore by his so-called
Christian gang, and then, when they want something I’ve got--something
that nobody else can furnish quite as suitable for their purpose--why he
saunters over to my house holding the skirts of his long coat as if
afraid of contamination, and calmly demands the use of my
property--property that I’ve slaved in the hot sun and sleet and rain to
pay for with hard work. Oh, I was mad! You see, that was too much, and I
reckon he never in all his life got such a tongue-lashing. When I came
in last Sunday and sat down, I saw his eyes flash, and knew if he got
half an excuse he would let out on me. I was sorry I’d come then, but
there was no backing out after I’d got there.”
“When he took his text I knew he meant it for you,” said the other
woman. “I have never seen a madder man in the pulpit, never in my life.
While he was talking, he never once looked at you, though he knew
everybody else was doing nothing else. Then I seed you rise to your
feet. He stopped to take a drink from his goblet, and you could ’a’
heard a pin fall, it was so still. I reckon the rest thought like I did,
that you was going right up to him and pull his hair or slap his jaws.
You looked like you hardly knowed what you was doing, and, for one, I
tuck a free breath when you walked straight out of the house. What you
did was exactly right, as most fair-minded folks will admit, though I’m
here to tell you, my friend, that you won’t find fair-minded folks very
plentiful hereabouts. The fair-minded ones are over there in that
graveyard.”
Mrs. Boyd stroked her quivering lips with her hard, brown hand, and
said, softly: “I wasn’t going to sit there and listen to any more of it.
I’d thrown aside pride and principle and gone to do my duty to my
religion, as I saw it, and thought maybe some of them--one or two, at
least--would meet me part of the way, but I couldn’t listen to a two
hours’ tirade about me and my--my misfortune. If I’d stayed any longer,
I’d have spoken back to him, and that would have been exactly what he
and some of the rest would have wanted, for then they could have made a
case against me in court for disturbing public worship, and imposed a
heavy fine. They can’t bear to think that, in spite of all their
persecution, I’ve gone ahead and paid my debts and prospered in a way
that they never could do with all their sanctimony.”
There was silence for a moment. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of
the trees and the blades of long grass beside the road. There was a
far-away tinkling of cow and sheep bells in the lush-green pastures
which stretched out towards the frowning mountain against which the
setting sun was levelling its rays.
“You say you haven’t seen anybody since Sunday,” remarked the loitering
woman, in restrained, tentative tones.
“No, I’ve been right here. Why did you ask me that?”
“Well, you see, Ann,” was the slow answer, “talking at the rate Bazemore
was to your face, don’t you think it would be natural for him to--to
sort o’ rub it on even heavier behind your back, after you got up that
way and went out so sudden.”
“I never thought of it, but I can see now that it would be just like
him.” Mrs. Boyd took a deep breath and lowered her pail to the ground.
“Yes,” she went on, reflectively, as she drew herself up again and
leaned on the fence, “I reckon he got good and mad when I got up and
left.”
“Huh!” The other woman smiled. “He was so mad he could hardly speak. He
fairly gulped, his eyes flashed, and he was as white as a bunch of
cotton. He poured out another goblet of water that he had no idea of
drinking, and his hand shook so much that the glass tinkled like a bell
against the mouth of the pitcher. You must have got as far as the
hitching-rack before his fury busted out. I reckon what he said was the
most unbecoming thing that a stout, able-bodied man ever hurled at a
defenseless woman’s back.”
There was another pause. Mrs. Boyd’s expectant face was as hard as
stone; her dark-gray eyes were two burning fires in their shadowy
orbits.
“What did he say?” she asked. “You might as well tell me.”
Mrs. Waycroft avoided her companion’s fierce stare. “He looked down at
the place where you sat, Ann. right steady for a minute, then he said:
‘I’m glad that woman had the common decency to sit on a seat by herself
while she was here; but I hope when meeting is over that some of you
brethren will take the bench out in the woods and burn it. I’ll pay for
a new one out of my own pocket.’”
“Oh!” The exclamation seemed wrung from her when off her guard, and Mrs.
Boyd clutched the rail of the fence so tightly that her strong nails
sunk into the soft wood. “He said _that_! He said that _about me_!”
“Yes, and he ought to have been ashamed of himself,” said Mrs. Waycroft;
“and if he had been anything else than a preacher, surely some of the
men there--men you have befriended--would not have set still and let it
pass.”
“But they _did_ let it pass,” said Mrs. Boyd, bitterly; “they did let it
pass, one and all.”
“Oh yes, nobody would dare, in this section, to criticise a preacher,”
said the other. “What any little, spindle-legged parson says goes the
same as the word of God out here in the backwoods. I’d have left the
church myself, but I knowed you’d want to hear what was said; besides,
they all know I’m your friend.”
“Yes, they all know you are the only white woman that ever comes near
me. But what else did he say?”
“Oh, he had lots to say. He said he hadn’t mentioned no names, but it
was always the hit dog that yelped, and that you had made yourself a
target by leaving as you did. He went on to say that, in his opinion,
all that was proved at court against you away back there was just. He
said some folks misunderstood Scripture when it come to deal with your
sort and stripe. He said some argued that a church door ought always to
be wide open to any sinner whatsoever, but that in your daily conduct of
holding every coin so tight that the eagle on it squeals, and in giving
nothing to send the Bible to the heathens, and being eternally at strife
with your neighbors, you had showed, he said, that no good influence
could be brought to bear on you, and that people who was really trying
to live upright lives ought to shun you like they would a catching
disease. He ’lowed you’d had the same Christian chance in your
bringing-up, and a better education than most gals, and had deliberately
throwed it all up and gone your headstrong way. In his opinion, it would
be wrong to condone your past, and tell folks you stood an equal chance
with the rising generation fetched up under the rod and Biblical
injunction by parents who knowed what lasting scars the fires of sin
could burn in a living soul. He said the community had treated you
right, in sloughing away from you, ever since you was found out, because
you had never showed a minutes’ open repentance. You’d helt your head,
he thought, if possible, higher than ever, and in not receiving the
social sanction of your neighbors, it looked like you was determined to
become the richest woman in the state for no other reason than to prove
that wrong prospered.”
The speaker paused in her recital. The listener, her face set and dark
with fury, glanced towards the cottage. “Come in,” she said, huskily;
“people might pass along and know what we are talking about, and,
somehow, I don’t want to give them that satisfaction.”
“That’s a fact,” said Mrs. Waycroft; “they say I fetch you every bit of
gossip, anyway. A few have quit speaking to me. Bazemore would himself,
if he didn’t look to me once a month for my contribution. I hope what
I’ve told you won’t upset you, Ann, but you always say you want to know
what’s going on. It struck me that the whole congregation was about the
most heartless body of human beings I ever saw packed together in one
bunch.”
“I want you to tell me one other thing,” said Mrs. Boyd, tensely, as
they were entering the front doorway of the cottage--“was Jane Hemingway
there?”
“Oh yes, by a large majority. I forgot to tell you about her. I had my
eyes on her, too, for I knowed it would tickle her nigh to death, and
it did. When you left she actually giggled out loud and turned back an’
whispered to the Mayfield girls. Her old, yellow face fairly shone, she
was that glad, and when Bazemore went on talking about you and burning
that bench, she fairly doubled up, with her handkerchief clapped over
her mouth.”
Mrs. Boyd drew a stiff-backed chair from beneath the dining-table and
pushed it towards her guest. “There is not in hell itself, Mary
Waycroft, a hatred stronger than I feel right now for that woman. She is
a fiend in human shape. That miserable creature has hounded me every
minute since we were girls together. As God is my judge, I believe I
could kill her and not suffer remorse. There was a time when my
disposition was as sweet and gentle as any girl’s, but she changed it.
She has made me what I am. She is responsible for it all. I might have
gone on--after my--my misfortune, and lived in some sort of harmony with
my kind if it hadn’t been for her.”
“I know that,” said the other woman, as she sat down and folded her
cloth bonnet in her thin hands. “I really believe you’d have been a
different woman, as you say, after--after your trouble if she had let
you alone.”
Mrs. Boyd seated herself in another chair near the open door, and looked
out at a flock of chickens and ducks which had gathered at the step and
were noisily clamoring for food.
“I saw two things that made my blood boil as I was leaving the church,”
said she. “I saw Abe Longley, who has been using my pasture for his
cattle free of charge for the last ten years. I caught sight of his
face, and it made me mad to think he’d sit there and never say a word in
defence of the woman he’d been using all that time; and then I saw
George Wilson, just as indifferent, near the door, when I’ve been
favoring him and his shabby store with all my trade when I could have
done better by going on to Darley. I reckon neither of those two men
said the slightest thing when Bazemore advised the--burning of the bench
I’d sat on.”
“Oh no, of course not!” said Mrs. Waycroft, “nobody said a word. They
wouldn’t have dared, Ann.”
“Well, they will both hear from me,” said Mrs. Boyd, “and in a way that
they won’t forget soon. I tell you, Mary Waycroft, this thing has
reached a climax. That burning bench is going to be my war-torch. They
say I’ve been at strife with my neighbors all along; well, they’ll see
now. I struggled and struggled with pride to get up to the point of
going to church again, and that’s the reception I got.”
“It’s a pity to entertain hard feelings, but I don’t blame you a single
bit,” said Mrs. Waycroft, sympathetically. “As I look at it, you have
done all you can to live in harmony, and they simply won’t have it. They
might be different if it wasn’t for that meddlesome old Jane Hemingway.
She keeps them stirred up. She and her daughter is half starving to
death, while you--” Mrs. Waycroft glanced round the room at the warm rag
carpet of many colors, at the neat fire-screen made of newspaper
pictures pasted on a crude frame of wood, and, higher, to the
mantel-piece, whose sole ornament was a Seth Thomas clock, with the
Tower of London in glaring colors on the glass door--“while you don’t
ask anybody any odds. Instead of starving, gold dollars seem to roll up
to your door of their own accord and fall in a heap. They tell me even
that cotton factory which you invested in, and which Mrs. Hemingway said
had busted and gone up the spout, is really doing well.”
“The stock has doubled in value,” said Mrs. Boyd, simply. “I don’t know
how to account for my making money. I reckon it’s simply good judgment
and a habit of throwing nothing away. The factory got to a pretty low
ebb, and the people lost faith in it, and were offering their stock at
half price. My judgment told me it would pull through as soon as times
improved, and I bought an interest in it at a low figure. I was right;
it proved to be a fine investment.”
“I was sorter sorry for Virginia Hemingway, Sunday,” said Mrs. Waycroft.
“When her mother was making such an exhibition of herself in gloating
over the way you was treated, the poor girl looked like she was ashamed,
and pulled Jane’s apron like she was trying to keep her quiet. I reckon
you hain’t got nothing against the girl, Ann?”
“Nothing except that she is that devilish woman’s offspring,” said Mrs.
Boyd. “It’s hard to dislike her; she’s pretty--by all odds the prettiest
and sweetest-looking young woman in this county. Her mother in her prime
never saw the day she was anything like her. They say Virginia isn’t
much of a hand to gossip and abuse folks. I reckon her mother’s ways
have disgusted her.”
“I reckon that’s it,” said the other woman, as she rose to go. “I know I
love to look at her; she does my old eyes good. At meeting I sometimes
gaze steady at her for several minutes on a stretch. Sitting beside that
hard, crabbed old thing, the girl certainly does look out of place. She
deserves a better fate than to be tied to such a woman. I reckon she’ll
be picked up pretty soon by some of these young men--that is, if Jane
will give her any sort of showing. Jane is so suspicious of folks that
she hardly lets Virginia out of her sight. Well, I must be going. Since
my husband’s death I’ve had my hands full on the farm; he did a lots to
help out, even about the kitchen. Good-bye. I can see what I’ve said has
made a change in you, Ann. I never saw you look quite so different.”
“Yes, the whole thing has kind o’ jerked me round,” replied Mrs. Boyd.
“I’ve taken entirely too much off of these people--let them run over me
dry-shod; but I’ll show them a thing or two. They won’t let me live in
peace, and now they can try the other thing.” And Ann Boyd stood in the
doorway and watched the visitor trudge slowly away.
“Yes,” she mused, as she looked out into the falling dusk, “they are
trying to drive me to the wall with their sneers and lashing tongues.
But I’ll show then that a worm can turn.”
CHAPTER II.
The next morning, after a frugal breakfast of milk and cornmeal pancake,
prepared over an open fireplace on live coals, which reddened her cheeks
and bare arms, Mrs. Boyd pinned up her skirts till their edges hung on a
level with the tops of her coarse, calf-skin shoes. She then climbed
over the brier-grown rail-fence with the agility of a hunter and waded
through the high, dew-soaked weeds and grass in the direction of the
rising sun. The meadow was like a rolling green sea settling down to
calmness after a storm. Here and there a tuft of dewy broom-sedge held
up to her vision a sheaf of green hung with sparkling diamonds,
emeralds, and rubies, and far ahead ran a crystal creek in and out among
gracefully drooping willows and erect young reeds.
“That’s his brindle heifer now,” the trudging woman said, harshly. “And
over beyond the hay-stack and cotton-shed is his muley cow and calf.
Huh, I reckon I’ll make them strike a lively trot! It will be some time
before they get grass as rich as mine inside of them to furnish milk and
butter for Abe Longley and his sanctimonious lay-out.”
Slowly walking around the animals, she finally got them together and
drove them from her pasture to the small road which ran along the foot
of the mountain towards their owner’s farm-house, the gray roof of
which rose above the leafy trees in the distance. To drive the animals
out, she had found it necessary to lower a panel of her fence, and she
was replacing the rails laboriously, one by one, when she heard a voice
from the woodland on the mountain-side, a tract of unproductive land
owned by the man whose cows she was ejecting. It was Abe Longley
himself, and in some surprise he hurried down the rugged steep, a
woodman’s axe on his shoulder. He was a gaunt, slender man, gray and
grizzled, past sixty years of age, with a tuft of stiff beard on his
chin, which gave his otherwise smooth-shaven face a forbidding
expression.
“Hold on thar, Sister Boyd!” he called out, cheerily, though he seemed
evidently to be trying to keep from betraying the impatience he
evidently felt. “You must be getting nigh-sighted in yore old age. As
shore as you are a foot high them’s my cattle, an’ not yourn. Why, I
knowed my brindle from clean up at my woodpile, a full quarter from
here. I seed yore mistake an’ hollered then, but I reckon you are
gettin’ deef as well as blind. I driv’ ’em in not twenty minutes ago, as
I come on to do my cuttin’.”
“I know you did, Abe Longley,” and Mrs. Boyd stooped to grasp and raise
the last rail and carefully put it in place; “I know they are yours. My
eyesight’s good enough. I know good and well they are yours, and that is
the very reason I made them hump themselves to get off my property.”
“But--but,” and the farmer, thoroughly puzzled, lowered his glittering
axe and stared wonderingly--“but you know, Sister Boyd, that you told me
with your own mouth that, being as I’d traded off my own pasture-land to
Dixon for my strip o’ wheat in the bottom, that I was at liberty to use
yourn how and when I liked, and, now--why, I’ll be dad-blamed if I
understand you one bit.”
“Well, I understand what I’m about, Abe Longley, if you don’t!” retorted
the owner of the land. “I _did_ say you could pasture on it, but I
didn’t say you could for all time and eternity; and I now give you due
notice if I ever see any four-footed animal of yours inside of my fences
I’ll run them out with an ounce of buckshot in their hides.”
“Well, well, well!” Longley cried, at the end of his resources, as he
leaned on his smooth axe-handle with one hand and clutched his beard
with the other. “I don’t know what to make of yore conduct. I can’t do
without the use of your land. There hain’t a bit that I could rent or
buy for love or money on either side of me for miles around. When folks
find a man’s in need of land, they stick the price up clean out of
sight. I was tellin’ Sue the other day that we was in luck havin’ sech a
neighbor--one that would do so much to help a body in a plight.”
“Yes, I’m very good and kind,” sneered Mrs. Boyd, her sharp eyes ablaze
with indignation, “and last Sunday in meeting you and a lot of other
able-bodied men sat still and let that foul-mouthed Bazemore say that
even the wooden bench I sat on ought to be taken out and burned for the
public good. You sat there and listened to _that_, and when he was
through you got up and sung the doxology and bowed your head while that
makeshift of a preacher called down God’s benediction on you. If you
think I’m going to keep a pasture for such a man as you to fatten your
stock on, you need a guardian to look after you.”
“Oh, I see,” Longley exclaimed, a crestfallen look on him. “You are
goin’ to blame us all for what he said, and you are mad at everybody
that heard it. But you are dead wrong, Ann Boyd--dead wrong. You can’t
make over public opinion, and you’d ’a’ been better off years ago if you
hadn’t been so busy trying to do it, whether or no. Folks would let you
alone if you’d ’a’ showed a more repentant sperit, and not held your
head so high and been so spiteful. I reckon the most o’ your
trouble--that is, the reason it’s lasted so long, is due to the
women-folks more than the men of the community, anyhow. You see, it
sorter rubs women’s wool the wrong way to see about the only prosperity
a body can see in the entire county falling at the feet of the
one--well, the one least expected to have sech things--the one, I mought
say, who hadn’t lived exactly up to the _best_ precepts.”
“I don’t go to men like you for my precepts,” the woman hurled at him,
“and I haven’t got any time for palavering. All I want to do is to give
you due notice not to trespass on my land, and I’ve done that plain
enough, I reckon.”
Abe Longley’s thin face showed anger that was even stronger than his
avarice; he stepped nearer to her, his eyes flashing, his wide upper-lip
twitching nervously. “Do you know,” he said, “that it’s purty foolhardy
of you to take up a fight like that agin a whole community. You know you
hain’t agoin’ to make a softer bed to lie on. You know, if you find
fault with me for not denouncin’ Bazemore, you may as well find fault
with every living soul that was under reach o’ his voice, fer nobody
budged or said a word in yore defence.”
“I’m taking up a fight with no one,” the woman said, firmly. “They can
listen to what they want to listen to. The only thing I’m going to do in
future is to see that no person uses me for profit and then willingly
sees me spat upon. That’s all I’ve got to say to you.” And, turning, she
walked away, leaving him standing as if rooted among his trees on the
brown mountain-side.
“He’ll go home and tell his wife, and she’ll gad about and fire the
whole community against me,” Mrs. Boyd mused; “but I don’t care. I’ll
have my rights if I die for it.”
An hour later, in another dress and a freshly washed and ironed gingham
bonnet, she fed her chickens from a pan of wet cornmeal dough, locked up
her house carefully, fastened down the window-sashes on the inside by
placing sticks above the movable ones, and trudged down the road to
George Wilson’s country-store at the crossing of the roads which led
respectively to Springtown, hard-by on one side, and Darley, farther
away on the other.
The store was a long, frame building which had once been whitewashed,
but was now only a fuzzy, weather-beaten gray. As was usual in such
structures, the front walls of planks rose higher than the pointed roof,
and held large and elaborate lettering which might be read quite a
distance away. Thereon the young storekeeper made the questionable
statement that a better price for produce was given at his establishment
than at Darley, where high rent, taxes, and clerk-hire had to be paid,
and, moreover, that his goods were sold cheaper because, unlike the town
dealers, he lived on the products from his own farm and employed no
help. In front of the store, convenient alike to both roads, stood a
rustic hitching-rack made of unbarked oaken poles into which railway
spikes had been driven, and on which horseshoes had been nailed to hold
the reins of any customer’s mount. On the ample porch of the store stood
a new machine for the hulling of peas, several ploughs, and a
red-painted device for the dropping and covering of seed-corn. On the
walls within hung various pieces of tinware and harnesses and saddles,
and the two rows of shelving held a good assortment of general
merchandise.
As Mrs. Boyd entered the store, Wilson, a blond young man with an ample
mustache, stood behind the counter talking to an Atlanta drummer who
had driven out from Darley to sell the storekeeper some dry-goods and
notions, and he did not come to her at once, but delayed to see the
drummer make an entry in his order-book; then he advanced to her.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Boyd,” he smiled, “I am ordering some new prints for
you ladies, and I wanted to see that he got the number of bolts down
right. This is early for you to be out, isn’t it? It’s been many a day
since I’ve seen you pass this way before dinner. I took a sort of
liberty with you yesterday, knowing how good-natured you are. Dave
Prixon was going your way with his empty wagon, and, as I was about to
run low on your favorite brand of flour, I sent you a barrel and put it
on your account at the old price. I thought you’d keep it. You may have
some yet on hand, but this will come handy when you get out.”
“But I don’t intend to keep it,” replied the woman, under her bonnet,
and her voice sounded harsh and crisp. “I haven’t touched it. It’s out
in the yard where Prixon dumped it. If it was to rain on it I reckon it
would mildew. It wouldn’t be my loss. I didn’t order it put there.”
“Why, Mrs. Boyd!” and Wilson’s tone and surprised glance at the drummer
caused that dapper young man to prick up his ears and move nearer; “why,
it’s the best brand I handle, and you said the last gave you particular
satisfaction, so I naturally--”
“Well, I don’t want it; I didn’t order it, and I don’t intend to have
you nor no one else unloading stuff in my front yard whenever you take a
notion and want to make money by the transaction. Deduct that from my
bill, and tell me what I owe you. I want to settle in full.”
“But--but--” Wilson had never seemed to the commercial traveller to be
so much disturbed; he was actually pale, and his long hands, which
rested on the smooth surface of the counter, were trembling--“but I
don’t understand,” he floundered. “It’s only the middle of the month,
Mrs. Boyd, and I never run up accounts till the end. You are not going
_off_, are you?”
“Oh no,” and the woman pushed back her bonnet and eyed him almost
fiercely, “you needn’t any of you think that. I’m going to stay right on
here; but I’ll tell you what I am going to do, George Wilson--I’m going
to buy my supplies in the future at Darley. You see, since this talk of
burning the very bench I sit on in the house of God, which you and your
ilk set and listen to, why--”
“Oh, Mrs. Boyd,” he broke in, “now don’t go and blame me for what
Brother Bazemore said when he was--”
“_Brother_ Bazemore!” The woman flared up and brought her clinched hand
down on the counter. “I’ll never as long as I live let another dollar of
my money pass into the hands of a man who calls that man brother. You
sat still and raised no protest against what he said, and that ends
business between us for all time. There is no use talking about it. Make
out my account, and don’t keep me standing here to be stared at like I
was a curiosity in a side-show.”
“All right, Mrs. Boyd; I’m sorry,” faltered Wilson, with a glance at the
drummer, who, feeling that he had been alluded to, moved discreetly
across the room and leaned against the opposite counter. “I’ll go back
to the desk and make it out.”
She stood motionless where he had left her till he came back with her
account in his hand, then from a leather bag she counted out the money
and paid it to him. The further faint, half-fearful apologies which
Wilson ventured on making seemed to fall on closed ears, and, with the
receipted bill in her bag, she strode from the house. He followed her to
the door and stood looking after her as she angrily trudged back towards
her farm.
“Well, well,” he sighed, as the drummer came to his elbow and stared at
him wonderingly, “there goes the best and most profitable customer I’ve
had since I began selling goods. It’s made me sick at heart, Masters. I
don’t see how I can do without her, and yet I don’t blame her one
bit--not a bit, so help me God.”
CHAPTER III.
Wilson turned, and with a frown went moodily back to his desk and sat
down on the high stool gloomily eyeing the page in a ledger which he had
just consulted.
“By George, that woman’s a corker,” said the drummer, sociably, as he
came back and stood near the long wood-stove. “Of course, I don’t know
what it’s all about, but she’s her own boss, I’ll stake good money on
that.”
“She’s about the sharpest and in many ways the strongest woman in the
state,” said the storekeeper, with a sigh. “Good Lord, Masters, she’s
been my main-stay ever since I opened this shack, and now to think
because that loud-mouthed Bazemore, who expects me to pay a good part of
his salary, takes a notion to rip her up the back in meeting, why--”
“Oh, I see!” cried the drummer--“I understand it now. I heard about that
at Darley. So _she’s_ the woman! Well, I’m glad I got a good look at
her. I see a lot of queer things in going about over the country, but I
don’t think I ever ran across just her sort.”
“She’s had a devil of a life, Masters, from the time she was a blooming,
pretty young girl till now that she is at war with everybody within
miles of her. She’s always been a study to me. She’s treated me more
like a son than anything else--doing everything in her power to help me
along, buying, by George, things sometimes that I knew she didn’t need
because it would help me out, and now, because I didn’t get up in
meeting last Sunday and call that man down she holds me accountable. I
don’t know but what she’s right. Why should I take her hard-earned money
and sit still and allow her to be abused? She’s simply got pride, and,
lots of it, and it’s bad hurt.”
“But what was it all about?” the drummer inquired.
“The start of it was away back when she was a girl, as I said,” began
the storekeeper. “You’ve heard of Colonel Preston Chester, our biggest
planter, who lives a mile from here--old-time chap, fighter of duels,
officer in the army, and all that?”
“Oh yes, I’ve seen him; in fact, I was at college at the State
University with his son Langdon. He was a terrible fellow--very wild and
reckless, full half the time, and playing poker every night. He was
never known to pay a debt, even to his best friends.”
“Langdon is a chip off of the old block,” said Wilson. “His father was
just like him when he was a young man. Between you and me, the Colonel
never had a conscience; old as he now is, he will sit and laugh about
his pranks right in the presence of his son. It’s no wonder the boy
turned out like he did. Well, away back when this Mrs. Boyd was a young
and pretty girl, the daughter of honest, hard-working people, who owned
a little farm back of his place, he took an idle fancy to her. I’m
telling you now what has gradually leaked out in one way and another
since. He evidently won her entire confidence, made her believe he was
going to marry her, and, as he was a dashing young fellow, she must have
fallen in love with him. Nobody knows how that was, but one thing is
sure, and that is that he was seen about with her almost constantly for
a whole year, and then he stopped off suddenly. The report went out that
he’d made up his mind to get married to a young woman in Alabama who had
a lot of money, and he did go off and bring home the present Mrs.
Chester, Langdon’s mother. Well, old-timers say young Ann Boyd took it
hard, stayed close in at home and wasn’t seen out for a couple of years.
Then she came out again, and they say she was better-looking than ever
and a great deal more serious and sensible. Joe Boyd was a young farmer
those days, and a sort of dandy, and he fell in love with her and hung
about her day and night, never seeming willing to let her out of his
sight. Several other fellows, they say, was after her, but she seemed to
like Joe the best, but nothing he’d do or say would make her accept him.
I can see through it now, looking back on what has since leaked out, but
nobody understood it then, for she had evidently got over her attachment
for Colonel Chester, and Joe was a promising fellow, strong,
good-looking, and a great beau and flirt among women, half a dozen being
in love with him, but Ann simply wouldn’t take him, and it was the talk
of the whole county. He was simply desperate, folks say, going about
boring everybody he met with his love affair. Finally her mother and
father and all her friends got after her to marry Joe, and she gave in.
And then folks wondered more than ever why she’d delayed for she was
more in love with her husband than anybody had any reason to expect.
They were happy, too. A child was born, a little girl, and that seemed
to make them happier. Then Mrs. Boyd’s mother and father died, and she
came into the farm, and the Boyds were comfortable in every way. Then
what do you think happened?”
“I’ve been wondering all along,” the drummer laughed. “I can see you’re
holding something up your sleeve.”
“Well, this happened. Colonel Chester’s wife was, even then, a homely
woman, about as old as he was, and not at all attractive aside from her
money, and marrying hadn’t made him any the less devilish. They say he
saw Mrs. Boyd at meeting one day and hardly took his eyes off of her
during preaching. She had developed into about the most stunning-looking
woman anywhere about, and knew how to dress, which was something Mrs.
Chester, with all her chances, had never seemed to get onto. Well, that
was the start of it, and from that day on Chester seemed to have nothing
on his mind but the good looks of his old sweetheart. Folks saw him on
his horse riding about where he could get to meet her, and then it got
reported that he was actually forcing himself on her to such an extent
that Joe Boyd was worked up over it, aided by the eternal gab of all the
women in the section.”
“Did Colonel Chester’s wife get onto it?” the drummer wanted to know.
“It don’t seem like she did,” answered Wilson. “She was away visiting
her folks in the South most of the time, with Langdon, who was a baby
then, and it may be that she didn’t care. Some folks thought she was
weak-minded; she never seemed to have any will of her own, but left the
Colonel to manage her affairs without a word.”
“Well, go on with your story,” urged the drummer.
“There isn’t much more to tell about the poor woman,” continued Wilson.
“As I said, Chester got to forcing himself on her, and I reckon she
didn’t want to tell her husband what she was trying to forget for fear
of a shooting scrape, in which Joe would get the worst of it; but this
happened: Joe was off at court in Darley and sent word home to his wife
that he was to be held all night on a jury. The man that took the
message rode home alongside of Chester and told him about it. Well, I
reckon, all hell broke out in Chester that night. He was a drinking man,
and he tanked up, and, as his wife was away, he had plenty of liberty.
Well, he simply went over to Joe Boyd’s house and went in. It was about
ten o’clock. My honest conviction is, no matter what others think, that
she tried her level best to make him leave without rousing the
neighborhood, but he wouldn’t go, but sat there in the dark with his
coat off, telling her he loved her more than her husband did, and that
he never had loved his wife and that he was crazy for her, and the like.
How long this went on with her imploring and praying to him to go, I
don’t know; but, at any rate, they both heard the gate-latch click and
Joe Boyd come right up the gravel-walk. I reckon the poor woman was
scared clean out of her senses, for she made no outcry, and Chester went
to a window, his coat on his arm, and was climbing out when Joe, who
couldn’t get in at the front door was making for the one in the rear,
met him face to face.”
“Great goodness!” ejaculated the commercial traveller.
“Well, you bet, the devil was to pay,” went on the storekeeper grimly.
“Chester was mad and reckless, and, being hot with liquor, and regarding
Boyd as far beneath him socially, instead of making satisfactory
explanations, they say he simply swore at Boyd and stalked away.
Dumfounded, Boyd went inside to his miserable wife and demanded an
explanation. She has since learned how to use her wits with the best in
the land, but she was young then, and so, by her silence, she made
matters worse for herself. He forced her to explain, and, seeing no
other way out of the affair, she decided to throw herself on his mercy
and make a clean breast of things she and her family had kept back all
the time. Well, sir, she confessed to what had happened away back before
Chester had deserted her, no doubt telling a straight story of her
absolute purity and faithfulness to Boyd after marriage. Poor old Joe!
He wasn’t a fighting man, and, instead of following Chester and
demanding satisfaction, he stayed at home that night, no doubt suffering
the agony of the damned and trying to make up his mind to believe in
his wife and to stand by her. As it looks now, he evidently decided to
make the best of it, and might have succeeded, but somehow it got out
about Chester being caught there, and that started gossip so hot that
her life and his became almost unbearable. It might have died a natural
death in time, but Mrs. Boyd had an enemy, Mrs. Jane Hemingway, who had
been one of the girls who was in love with Joe Boyd. It seems that she
had never got over Joe’s marrying another woman, and when she heard this
scandal she nagged and teased Joe about his babyishness in being willing
to believe his wife, and told him so many lies that Boyd finally quit
staying at home, sulking about in the mountains, and making trips away
till he finally applied for a divorce. Ignorant and inexperienced as she
was, and proud, Mrs. Boyd made no defence, and the whole thing went his
way with very little publicity. But the hardest part for her to bear was
when, having the court’s decree to take charge of his child, Boyd came
and took it away.”
“Good gracious! that was tough, wasn’t it?” exclaimed the drummer.
“That’s what it was, and they say it fairly upset her mind. They
expected her to fight like a tiger for her young, but at the time they
came for it she only seemed stupefied. The little girl was only three
years old, but they say Ann came in the room and said she was going to
ask the child if it was willing to leave her, and they say she calmly
put the question, and the baby, not knowing what she meant, said, ‘Yes.’
Then they say Ann talked to it as if it were a grown person, and told
her to go, that she’d never give her a thought in the future, and never
wanted to lay eyes on her again.”
“That was pitiful, wasn’t it?” said Masters. “By George, we don’t dream
of what is going on in the hearts of men and women we meet face to face
every day. And that’s what started her in the life she’s since led.”
“Yes, she lived in her house like a hermit, never going out unless she
absolutely had to. She had an old-fashioned loom in a shed-room
adjoining her house, and night and day people passing along the road
could hear her thumping away on it. She kept a lot of fine sheep,
feeding and shearing them herself, and out of the wool she wove a
certain kind of jean cloth which she sold at a fancy figure. I’ve seen
wagon loads of it pass along the road billed to a big house in Atlanta.
This went on for several years, and then it was noticed that she was
accumulating money. She was buying all the land she could around her
house, as if to force folks as far from her as possible, and she turned
the soil to good purpose, for she knew how to work it. She hired negroes
for cash, when others were paying in old clothes and scraps, and, as she
went to the field with them and worked in the sun and rain like a man,
she got more out of her planting than the average farmer.”
“So she’s really well off?” said the drummer.
“Got more than almost anybody else in the county,” said Wilson. “She’s
got stocks in all sorts of things, and owns houses on the main street in
Darley, which she keeps well rented. It seems like, not having anything
else to amuse her, she turned her big brain to economy and money-making,
and I’ve always thought she did it to hit back at the community. You
see, the more she makes, the more her less fortunate neighbors dislike
her, and she loves to get even as far as possible.”
“And has she had no associates at all?” Masters wanted to know.
“Well, yes, there is one woman, a Mrs. Waycroft, who has always been
intimate with her. She is the only--I started to say she was the only
one, but there was a poor mountain fellow, Luke King, a barefoot boy who
had a fine character, a big brain on him, and no education. His parents
were poor, and did little for him. They say Mrs. Boyd sort of took pity
on him and used to buy books and papers for him, and that she really
taught him to read and write. She sent him off to school, and got him on
his feet till he was able to find work in a newspaper office over at
Canton, where he became a boss typesetter. I’ve always thought that her
misfortune had never quite killed her natural impulses, for she
certainly got fond of that fellow. I had an exhibition of both his
regard and hers right here at the store. He’d come in to buy something
or other, and was waiting about the stove one cold winter day, when a
big mountain chap made a light remark about Mrs. Boyd. He was a head
taller than Luke King was, but the boy sprang at him like a panther and
knocked the fellow down. They had the bloodiest fight I ever saw, and it
was several minutes before they could be separated. Luke had damaged the
chap pretty badly, but he was able to stand, while the boy keeled over
in a dead faint on the floor, bruised inside some way. The big fellow,
fearing arrest, mounted his horse and went away, and several of us were
doing what we could with cold water and whiskey to bring the boy around
when who should come in but Ann herself. She was passing the store, and
some one told her about it. People who think she has no heart and is as
cold as stone ought to have seen her that day. In all my life I never
saw such a terrible face on a human being. I was actually afraid of her.
She was all fury and all tenderness combined. She looked down at him in
all his blood and bruises and white face, and got down on her knees by
him. I saw a great big sob rise up in her, although her back was to me,
and shake her from head to foot, and then she was still, simply stroking
back his damp, tangled hair. ‘My poor boy,’ I heard her say, ‘you can’t
fight my battles. God Himself has failed to do that, but I won’t forget
this--never--never!’”
“Lord, that was strong!” said Masters. “She must be wonderful!”
“She is more wonderful than her narrow-minded enemies dream of,”
returned the storekeeper. “You see, its her pride that keeps her from
showing her fine feelings, and it’s her secluded life that makes them
misunderstand her. Well, she brought her wagon and took the boy away.
That was another queer thing,” Wilson added. “She evidently had started
to take him to her house, for she drove as far as the gate and then
stopped there to study a moment, and finally turned round and drove him
to the poor cabin his folks lived in. You see, she was afraid that even
that would cause talk, and it would. Old Jane Hemingway would have fed
on that morsel for months, as unreasonable as it would have been. Ann
sent a doctor, though, and every delicacy the market afforded, and the
boy was soon out. It wasn’t long afterward that Luke King went to
college at Knoxville, and now he’s away in the West somewhere. His
mother, after his father’s death, married a trifling fellow, Mark Bruce,
and that brought on some dispute between her and her son, who had tried
to keep her from marrying such a man. They say Luke told her if she did
marry Bruce he’d go away and never even write home, and so far, they
say, he has kept his word. Nobody knows where he is or what he’s doing
unless it is Mrs. Boyd, and she never talks. I can’t keep from thinking
he’s done well, though, for he had a big head on him and a lot of
determination.”
“And this Mrs. Hemingway, her enemy,” said the drummer tentatively, “you
say she was evidently the woman’s rival at one time. But it seems she
married some one else.”
“Oh yes, she suddenly accepted Tom Hemingway, an old bachelor, who had
been trying to marry her for a long time. Most people thought she did
it to hide her feelings when Joe Boyd got married. She treated Tom like
a dog, making him do everything she wanted, and he was daft about her
till he died, just a couple of weeks after his child was born, who,
by-the-way, has grown up to be the prettiest girl in all the country,
and that’s another feature in the story,” the storekeeper smiled. “You
see, Mrs. Boyd looks upon old Jane as the prime cause of her losing her
_own_ child, and I understand she hates the girl as much as she does her
mother.”
A man had come into the store and stood leaning against a show-case on
the side devoted to groceries.
“There’s a customer,” said the drummer; “don’t let me keep you, old man;
you know you’ve got to look at my samples some time to-day.”
“Well, I’ll go see what he wants,” said Wilson, “and then I’ll look
through your line, though I don’t feel a bit like it, after losing the
best regular customer I have.”
The drummer had opened his sample-case on the desk when Wilson came
back.
“You say the woman’s husband took the child away,” remarked the drummer;
“did he go far?”
“They first settled away out in Texas,” replied Wilson, “but Joe Boyd,
not having his wife’s wonderful head to guide him, failed at farming
there, and only about three years ago he came back to this country and
bought a little piece of land over in Gilmer--the county that joins this
one.”
“Oh, so near as that! Then perhaps she has seen her daughter and--”
“Oh no, they’ve never met,” said Wilson, as he took a sample pair of
men’s suspenders from the case and tested the elastic by stretching it
between his hands. “I know that for certain. She was in here one morning
waiting for one of her teams to pass to take her to Darley, when a
peddler opened his pack of tin-ware and tried to sell her some pieces I
was out of. He heard me call her by name, and, to be agreeable, he asked
her if she was any kin to Joe Boyd and his daughter, over in Gilmer. I
could have choked the fool for his stupidity. I tried to catch his eye
to warn him, but he was intent on selling her a bill, and took no notice
of anything else. I saw her stare at him steady for a second or two,
then she seemed to swallow something, and said, ‘No, they are no kin of
mine.’ And then what did the skunk do but try to make capital out of
that. ‘Well, you may be glad,’ he said, ‘that they are no kin, for they
are as near the ragged edge as any folks I ever ran across.’ He went on
to say he stayed overnight at Boyd’s cabin and that they had hardly
anything but streak-o’-lean-streak-o’-fat meat and corn-bread to offer
him, and that the girl had the worst temper he’d ever seen. Mrs. Boyd, I
reckon to hide her face, was looking at some of the fellow’s pans, and
he seemed to think he was on the right line, and so he kept talking. Old
Joe, he said, had struck him as a good-natured, lazy sort of
come-easy-go-easy mountaineer, but the girl looked stuck up, like she
thought she was some better than appearances would indicate. He said she
was a tall, gawky sort of girl, with no good looks to brag of, and he
couldn’t for the life of him see what she had to make her so proud.
“I wondered what Mrs. Boyd was going to do, but she was equal to that
emergency, as she always has been in everything. She held one of his
pans up in the light and tilted her bonnet back on her head, I thought,
to let me see she wasn’t hiding anything, and said, as unconcerned as if
he’d never mentioned a delicate subject. ‘Look here,’ she said, thumping
the bottom of the pan with her finger, ‘if you expect to do any business
with _me_, you’ll have to bring copper-bottom ware to me. I don’t buy
shoddy stuff from any one. These pans will rust through in two months.
I’ll take half a dozen, but I’m only doing it to pay you for the time
spent on me. It is a bad investment for any one to buy cheap, stamped
ware.’”
(To be Continued.)
[Illustration]
[Illustration: TWELFTH NIGHT.
_From Painting by Jan Steen._]
Twelfth Night.
BY CHARLES J. BAYNE.
Last of the wassail nights,
Wholesomely merry,
Still on the mistletoe
Clings the white berry;
Still are the apples red,
Brown is the ale;
Feast of our Saxon sires,
Hail and all hail!
Bring forth the boar’s head,
Bring forth the Rhenish;
Tankards that melt away
Haste to replenish;
Lift on the stoutest log;
Loud be the laughter,
Until the sound of mirth
Shake wall and rafter.
Call back the sturdy days
When hearts of oak
Beat to the lilting strains
We now invoke;
Call back the hearty days
When squire and yeoman
Feasted the home-returned
Pikeman and bowman.
Masques in the Temple hall,
Staged for the benchers,
Wait while the turning-spit
Heaps up the trenchers--
Wait while the venison,
Basted with spices,
Smokes as the richest
Of Yule’s sacrifices.
Now Merry Andrew comes,
Fresh from the morris;
Now rustic Corydon
Trips it with Chloris;
Let the soft virginals
Answer the tabor;
After this wassail night
Come days of labor.
Such were the old delights
Rounding the Yule;
Where sleeps His Majesty,
Lord of Misrule?
Still are the apples red,
Brown is the ale;
Feast of our Saxon sires,
Hail and all hail!
[Illustration]
[Illustration: “THE BODY HAD ROLLED OFF THE SLED.”]
Life and Times of Andrew Jackson.
BY THOS. E WATSON.
Andrew Jackson was born on March 15, 1767.
There has been a hot dispute over the place of his birth, but the weight
of the legal evidence favors South Carolina.
His parents were immigrants from the northern part of Ireland, where the
people are mainly Presbyterians in religion, and where there is an
inter-mixture of Scotch blood; but there seems to be no positive proof
that the Jacksons belonged to the over-worked family of Scotch-Irish.
They were poor people, living at Carrickfergus, linen weavers by trade,
and, if any one of them had ever been prominent in any way, the story is
lost. The most painstaking researches made by enthusiastic
hero-worshipers have failed to trace the Jackson lineage to a single
cattle-lifting lord, or to any other member of that upper world into
which the biographical snob is so eager to cast his anchor.
The Jacksons were plain, common, industrious, honest folks, who held a
respectable, independent place in their own community, but who were not
so prosperous as to resist the temptation to try their fortunes in the
New World.
Hugh Jackson, brother to Andrew’s father, had been a soldier in a
British regiment, and had served in America. He was present at
Braddock’s defeat, and may have known Fausett, the Virginia scout, who
is said to have given the rash British general the wound of which he
died. (_See note._)
_Note_:
“The Virginia provincials, under Washington, by their knowledge of
border warfare, and cool courage, alone saved the day.
“Braddock was himself mortally wounded by a provincial named Fausett.
A brother of the latter had disobeyed the silly orders of the General,
that the troops should not take position behind the trees, when
Braddock rode up and struck him down. Fausett who saw the whole
transaction, immediately drew up his rifle and shot him through the
lungs.”
_“The Great West,” Howe._
Apparently, Hugh Jackson became interested in the efforts of the Catawba
Land Company to colonize its holdings in the Carolinas, for upon his
return to Ireland he began to get together a band of kinspeople,
neighbors and friends, for the purpose of emigrating to America.
Among those whom Hugh Jackson persuaded was his brother, Andrew. But,
before everything could be got ready for the voyage, Hugh Jackson fell
in love with the daughter of well-to-do parents, and married her; and
the wife of Hugh was so satisfactory in herself and her surroundings
that the happy husband decided to remain in the old country--his wife
having vetoed his emigration scheme.
His brother Andrew, however, had probably already made his arrangements
to go to America, and, having got unsettled, found it not so easy to
sink back into his former life; therefore, after some hesitation, he and
the three Crawfords, one of whom was the husband of his wife’s sister,
took ship for Charleston.
Upon his coming to North Carolina, it seems that Andrew Jackson was too
poor to buy land. Instead, therefore, of locating in the Waxhaws
Settlement, where most of the immigrants from Carrickfergus had bought
homes, he went to Twelve-mile Creek, a branch of the Catawba.
Here he was seven miles distant from the Waxhaws Settlement, and was
face to face with the gigantic task of carving out a farm from the
wilderness.
The historian, the orator, the painter, have been eager in the duty of
blazoning the deeds of our pioneer missionaries, law-makers and
soldiers. The names of these heroes live, and deserve to live, in
letters of light upon the records of our country. But, to our pioneer
farmers, justice has never been done. Theirs was a combat calling for
every soldierly trait of John Smith and Miles Standish. The patient
courage which swung the axe, in the depths of primeval woods, was no
less heroic than the bravery which made the musket conquer. The toil of
the warrior’s march was slight by comparison with the homely, but
exhausting, work of preparing the soil for the sowing of seed. The
arrows of the red men were not more deadly to the soldier than were the
fevers which rose from the swamps and pulled down the settler as he
struggled to open out his farm.
In the South, in the East, in the West, the story of the pioneer plowman
of America is one of dauntless courage, of quiet heroism. He found the
New World a wilderness and he has well-nigh made it a garden. His axe,
his spade, his hoe, his plow, his muscle, his brain, his very heart and
soul have all been enlisted in the work; and never once have his lips
uttered the craven’s plea for “Protection.” Never once has he gone to
the doors of legislation begging special favors. Never once has he lied
to government and people for the purpose of securing a selfish advantage
at the expense of his fellowman.
No. He has not only not demanded of the government either Protection or
Privilege, but he has submitted--yes, for one hundred years he has
submitted!--to be robbed of a portion of his annual produce in order
that our Infant Industry Capitalists should be able to build up the
corporate power which now, in the form of Trusts, dominates the Republic
and secures the lion’s share of all the wealth created in every field of
industry.
Like many another pioneer of the American wilderness, Andrew Jackson
found the task too hard. He died under the strain. The impression which
his famous son had as to the immediate cause of his death was that he
ruptured a blood vessel in the handling of a heavy log.
The body of the hero who had fallen in the fight for his wife and little
ones--the fight to make a home for them in the wilderness--was buried in
the graveyard of the Waxhaw Settlement church. In after years, when
efforts were made to identify the spot it could not be done.
* * * * *
According to local tradition, there was held at the cabin-home of the
dead man the grewsome “wake” which was customary among the Irish in the
Old Country. Relatives from the Waxhaw settlement came out to Jackson’s
“clearing,” when they learned that he was no more; and, after preparing
the body for burial, their grief gradually wore itself out, and the
whiskey-jug became the ruling factor of the occasion. As lamentation
gave place to revelry, it is said that “the corpse came in for his share
of the refreshments.” What this may mean, each reader shall judge for
himself.
The same tradition claims that the body was hauled from the cabin to the
graveyard upon a rough wooden frame or sled, and that such was the
disorder of the journey that the corpse was jolted off the sled and
“tumbled on its face in a little bottom,” on the banks of Waxhaw Creek,
near the crossing.
The man who was riding the horse, which was hitched to the sled, had not
known that he had lost his load until one of the funeral party in
advance, happening to look back, saw “the sled bouncing up and down, in
a very light way.”
They had to go back miles before they came to the spot where the body
had rolled off the sled.
The numerous biographers of Andrew Jackson have shunned this local
tradition as something entirely too horrible to put in print; yet books
are only valuable to the extent that they tell the truth. The story is
useful as an illustration of the extreme roughness of frontier
conditions at that time; the poverty of the Jacksons, and the rude
simplicity of border funerals.
The immigrant had gone into the unbroken wilderness to build his log
cabin; and apparently there was no wagon road from his “clearing” to the
Waxhaw Settlement.
The use of the wooden frame or sled to carry the body on, would indicate
more strongly the lack of a road than the lack of a wagon, for, even
though the Jacksons had no such vehicle, the Waxhaw relatives would have
brought one if there had been a passable road. The corpse, tumbling off
the sled and being left behind on its face in the little bottom, is
uncanny, but to the dead the uncanny is not the uncommon.
The brilliant soldier--son of the Emperor Charles V--Don John of
Austria, who broke the sea-power of the Turks in the battle of Lepanto,
died dismally in the Netherlands; and his body was carried on horse-back
to Spain, in two sacks--half of the body in one sack and half in the
other.
When Abraham Lincoln died, his face discolored so rapidly that those in
charge, to save the feelings of the people who would want to gaze upon
the revered features, painted out the shocking discoloration; and, thus
artificially masked, the martyred President was borne to his tomb.
* * * * *
The widow Jackson and her two little boys did not go back to the
distant, lonely cabin on Twelve Mile Creek. From the church-ground where
the husband and father had been buried, they went to the home of George
McCamie, who had married Mrs. Jackson’s sister. Here, within a fortnight
of the funeral, a son was born to the widow; and this son she named
Andrew, after his father.
As soon as she was able to travel, the widow Jackson left the McCamie
home and went to live with James Crawford, her brother-in-law.
Mrs. Crawford was an invalid, and Mrs. Jackson took charge of the
Crawford housekeeping. Thus she and two of her boys lived for several
years, the oldest son, Hugh, remaining with George McCamie.
[Illustration: ANDREW JACKSON.]
The family name of Andrew Jackson’s mother was Hutchinson. She had, at
least, a primary English education, for it was she who taught Andrew to
read. That she was a woman of strong, lovable traits, is proven by the
sound advice she impressed upon the mind of her great son, and by the
passionate attachment to her which he carried throughout his life.
After the battle of New Orleans, when the victor had been crowned with
laurel in the Cathedral and acclaimed like a demi-god through the
streets, it was of his mother that he spoke to the officers whom he was
about to disband--their glorious work being done.
“_Gentlemen, if only_ SHE _could have lived to see this day!_”
As you follow the narrative of Andrew Jackson’s career, you will hear
him say many things that you will not approve, will see him do many
things which you cannot applaud, but when you recall that at the very
top-notch of his success and his pride, his heart stayed in the right
place, and was sore because his mother could not be there to gladden her
old eyes with the glory of her son--you will forgive him much in his
life that was harsh and cruel and utterly wrong.
During each Winter, for two or three years, after he had reached the age
of seven, Andrew Jackson was sent to the old-field school of a Mr.
Branch. After this, he attended the select school which a Presbyterian
preacher, Dr. David Humphreys, taught in the Waxhaw settlement. He
appears to have been going to this higher school in the spring of 1780,
when the inroad of Tarleton created a panic in that portion of the
Carolinas. At some later period of his youth, he is said to have
attended the old Queen College or Seminary at Charlotte a couple of
terms, but the time is not definitely known.
As to education, therefore, it may be safely stated that Andrew Jackson
enjoyed much more than the ordinary advantage of a back-woods boy of his
time. At the age of ten, he had become so good a reader that he was
often chosen to read the newspaper to the assembled neighbors; and he
remembered with pride, in after years, that he had thus had the honor of
“reading out loud” the Declaration of Independence upon its arrival in
the Waxhaws. For a lad of ten this was, indeed, something to remember
with honest pride.
He also learned to write “a good hand,” which can be easily read even to
this day: he was well up in arithmetic, and was fond of geography:
grammar he detested, as most of us did. While yet a school-boy he wrote
a composition which was in the nature of a patriotic proclamation,
reminding his countrymen that they must expect occasional defeats and
that they could hope to win only by steady effort and resolute courage.
From the advent of Tarleton, in 1780, and the Buford Massacre, until the
surrender of Cornwallis, the widow Jackson and her boys were tossed
hither and thither in the whirlwind of the Revolutionary War. The people
of the Carolinas were divided, as they were in other states, some being
Tories and in favor of remaining as subjects of Great Britain, while the
majority were Whigs, and in favor of Independence.
The feud between the two local factions waxed bitter, splitting into
savage groups almost every neighborhood, and often setting in hostile
array, the one against the other, members of the same family.
The troops sent over to this country by King George committed many
atrocities, some of which historians have shrunk from recording, but it
is also true that many a nameless horror was perpetrated by our own
people upon each other. In the later stages of the conflict, almost no
mercy was shown by Tory to Whig, or by Whig to Tory.
After Gates’ disastrous defeat at Camden, Andrew Jackson made his home
for a while at the house of Mrs. Wilson, a distant connection of Mrs.
Jackson. This lady lived a few miles from Charlotte. During his stay
with her, Andrew made himself useful pulling fodder, going to mill,
driving the cows to pasture, gathering vegetables for the table,
carrying in the wood, and taking farm tools to the blacksmith shop to be
mended.
Mrs. Wilson had a son who became Andrew Jackson’s playmate and friend;
and this son, who was afterward a prominent minister of the Gospel, used
to relate that whenever young Jackson went to the blacksmith shop he
would bring back with him some new weapon, spear, club, tomahawk, or
grass blade with which to kill the British.
Dr. Wilson remembered having told his mother one day, when speaking of
Jackson, “Mother, Andy will fight his way in the world.”
A girl of the neighborhood, who became in due time Mrs. Smart, happened
to see Andrew Jackson as he passed along the road, on his way to the
home of Mrs. Wilson.
She described the lad as being almost a scarecrow. He was riding a
little grass-fed pony or colt, which was so small that the long thin
legs of “the gangling fellow,” Jackson, could almost meet under the
horse’s belly. The rider wore a wide-brimmed hat which flapped down over
his face, which was yellow and worn. His figure was covered with dust,
and as this Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance galloped along the road,
he and his shabby little horse presented the forlornest spectacle that
had ever greeted the laughing eyes of the girl who was to become known
in Jacksonian annals as Mrs. Susan Smart.
Hugh Jackson, the oldest of the three boys, joined the band of patriots
which was raised and equipped, at his own expense, by that noble leader,
Colonel William R. Davie, of South Carolina. Only sixteen years of age,
Hugh Jackson left the field hospital, where he had been suffering from
fever, and joined in the assault upon Stono Ferry. The excitement, the
exertion, the heat of the day (June 20, 1779), brought on a relapse, and
the gallant youth died.
As to Andrew Jackson, he himself said,
“Take it altogether, I saw and heard a good deal of war in those days,
but did nothing toward it myself worth mention.”
However, he further stated that he acted for Colonel Davie as mounted
orderly, or messenger, “being a good rider and familiar with all the
roads in those regions.”
He witnessed the battles of Hanging Rock and Hobkirk’s Mill, and took
part in a skirmish with the Tories at the house of Captain Sands.
Andrew and Robert Jackson were taken prisoners, and it was while so held
that the boys were ordered, Robert first and then Andrew, to clean the
boots of one of Tarleton’s lieutenants. Both refused, and to each was
dealt a savage sabre-cut which had much to do with Robert’s death soon
afterward, and which gave to Andrew a scar and a hatred which he bore to
his grave.
To the rescue of her boys, came Mother Jackson, she who was “as gentle
as a dove and as brave as a lioness.”
The lads were so young, and were in such a desperate plight with
smallpox, that the British officers were perhaps glad to get rid of such
an encumbrance; at any rate they were released or exchanged, and the
forlorn group, the mother and her sick boys, journeyed back to their
home.
But Robert was already so far gone that he died; and when the smallpox
left Andrew he was a mere skeleton. “It took me all the rest of the year
(1781) to recover my strength and get flesh enough to hide my bones.”
To the sacred cause of liberty, Elizabeth Jackson had already given two
of her sons. The third had barely escaped a like fate. But the
golden-hearted woman was not to be cast down, or taught cowardly
prudence. No sooner was Andrew out of danger, than she sent him to the
home of Joseph White, another brother-in-law, and set out, herself, to
carry food and medicine to the sick and wounded patriots who were
confined in the British hulks in Charleston Harbor.
Braver, it may be, than the soldier himself is the battlefield nurse who
brings water to his parched lips, bandages to his bleeding wound, tender
ministrations to his dying hours.
May it yet come to pass that some time, SOME TIME, in the unfolding of
higher and better things, these angels of Mercy, the Good Women of the
Christian Nations, may be able to rush in between the lines, as _once_
happened in the days of old, and stay the hands lifted to shed human
blood!
Elizabeth Jackson, in the spirit of consecration, went to what seemed to
her the post of duty, thinking nothing of the cost to herself.
They were in prison--her neighbors, friends, compatriots--and she did
visit them. She brought to the suffering prisoners words of comfort;
messages from home; the motherly sympathy which heals like a balsam; the
kind word which is sweeter than myrrh.
Then the ministering angel, the best of all created things, a good
woman, passed out of the ship, carrying with her the deadly fever which
knew no difference betwixt the good and the bad. After a brief illness
she died, and she was buried near Charleston; but, like her husband, her
dust lies in a grave that cannot be found.
After the loss of his mother (in the fall of 1781), Andrew Jackson
remained with Joseph White, a saddler by trade, helping him in his shop,
in the making and mending of saddles and harness. At the same time, he
read everything he could lay his hands on--books, pamphlets and
newspapers. His uncle’s father was a local magistrate, possessed of a
book of law forms and rules of common practice. Most young men would lay
such a book underneath a volume of Sermons, and then spread a layer of
dust over both; but Andrew Jackson afterward said that he read and
re-read the law book until he knew it by heart.
But at this period in his growth an unfortunate thing happened. The
death of his father and his brothers had left Andrew Jackson the
heir-at-law to a considerable part of the estate of Hugh Jackson, of
Carrickfergus, his grandfather.
The amount, some fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars, was just about
enough to unsettle the average young man, jostling him out of the
routine of dull, monotonous industry--saddle-mending, for example.
The legal representative of the Hugh Jackson estate, in America, was the
William Barton, of Charleston, at whose house Elizabeth Jackson had
died. Why it was that he turned over the money to the young man before
he became of age is not explained. Perhaps Andrew wanted the money, and
had made up his mind to get it. If so, the conduct of Barton is
comprehensible. Whenever Andrew Jackson wanted a thing and made up his
mind to get it, he could become a most troublesome customer. At all
events, Mr. Barton paid over the money to the boy, and the boy sowed
wild oats with it.
He bought a fine horse, and fine equipments for the horse; he bought
fine raiment for his own person, including a gold watch; he bought a
fine pair of pistols, so that he would be ready in case it became
desirable to shoot somebody. In short, he went to going all the gaits of
a fast young man, until his money was gone.
At the last, he made a bet which would have swept away even his horse,
had he lost; but luck favored him; he won; and it is a convincing proof
of his inborn good sense that he immediately paid up his debts, and rode
his fine horse away from Charleston and its allurements.
CHAPTER II.
STUDYING LAW!
To that stage had Andrew Jackson came, in 1785, steered by the unseen
forces which govern the world. It is doubtful whether he himself could
have explained how he happened to drift into that profession rather than
some other.
In the finding of one’s life-work there is much more of feeling around
in the dark than is generally supposed. Cervantes did not begin to write
Don Quixote until he had tried success by many routes, and had landed on
the wrong side of a prison door. Bacon’s best work was done after his
disgrace as an officer of state and after Queen Elizabeth had expressed
the weighty opinion that he didn’t know much law.
Oliver Goldsmith, the neglected physician, wrote “The Deserted Village”
and “The Vicar of Wakefield” after he had waited in vain for patients
bringing fees.
Had Napoleon been a success as an author, he might never have meddled
with politics.
Had General Lew Wallace been a success as a soldier, he might never have
written “Ben Hur.”
Had U. S. Grant been a money-maker at the outbreak of the Civil War, he
might never have commanded on the winning side at Appomattox.
Had Sam Houston been able to wear with credit the harness of social and
political existence in Tennessee, he might never have thrown himself
amid the wilder men of the Southwest and won fame as a builder of
empire!
Patrick Henry’s failure in other fields shunted him into the legal
profession; and Jefferson’s partial failure as a lawyer became a
stepping-stone into the higher calling of practical statesmanship.
Happy is the man who can find out, early in life, the work which he is
best fitted to do. Among the most pitiable of the wretched is he who
grows old at a task which, too late, he learns was not set for _him_.
The gray-haired school-teacher or commonplace preacher, who realizes
that he should have been a merchant, lawyer, doctor or civil engineer,
is pathetic. To know what to try to do is the great problem, and it may
be that even the men who succeed in their chosen calling could have
rendered mankind better service in some other field.
Henry Brougham’s shrewd old mother bewailed his quitting the House of
Commons to don the robes of Lord Chancellor: Dr. Samuel Johnson lamented
the fate which never gave him a chance to try his hand in Parliament:
Edmund Burke writhed under Goldsmith’s famous lashing of him “who to
party gave up what was meant for mankind.”
What is it that draws the most ambitious men of modern times into “the
study of law”?
The reward, of course. All things considered, no other profession offers
so great a return upon the investment of time, talent and industry.
While the nations are standing in arms, clothed in steel from head to
foot, the purpose is not so much to fight as to discourage attack from
without and insurrection from within. The standing army gives the
education whose watchword is “_Obey!_” It cultivates the class-pride and
prejudice upon which caste rule is built. It interests millions of
citizens in the maintenance of “Law and Order”--the law which imposes
the yoke of the ruling caste and the order which restrains its victims
from revolt.
The military profession, therefore, is one which irresistibly attracts
very many aspirants to influence, to position, to power; but even the
military profession does not win over so many ambitious young men as
does “the study of the law.”
In the building up of our civilization we have complicated matters to
such an extent that the lawyer is indispensable, almost omnipotent.
Does the layman know anything about his own rights as a citizen? Very
little. Upon the simplest things only is he informed. At every turn he
finds himself under the necessity of getting help from the lawyer. Great
is the corporation--the bank, the railroad, the trust--but the
corporation dares not move a step without a lawyer in the pilot-house.
From the Justice’s Court in the rural district and the Mayor’s Court in
the village, all the way up to Presidential policies and Governmental
problems, the lawyer is the doctor who must be called in to look at the
tongue of the difficulty, and to write out a prescription.
In the business world the lawyer levies his tribute upon the great and
the small, the rich and the poor, the hayseed farmer and the silk-hat
financier.
Our Wall Street Money-Kings would no more think of organizing a rascally
scheme of High Finance without the help of lawyers than the buccaneers
of old would have thought of flying the pirate flag without guns on
board.
In the political world the lawyer is omnipresent, indispensable.
Who organizes the Machine and steers the Boss on his cruise, keeping him
off the reefs and bars of the Criminal Code?
The lawyer.
Who maps out the campaign, devises a fraud upon the people which the
statute cannot quite reach, and then, after the election has been stolen
from the people, shows the Boss how to keep the stolen goods in defiance
of right and in spite of the legal proceedings?
The lawyer.
Who is it that the beneficiaries of class-legislation naturally select
to advance their claims, voice their demands, guard their interests in
the legislatures of states, in the Congress of the United States, in the
Cabinet of the President?
The lawyer.
Under our system, so complex has it become, the man who wants to do
right doesn’t know how. Except in the simplest transactions, a lawyer
must show him how. If, on the contrary, a bad man wants to do wrong, but
wants to escape punishment, he needs, and can generally get, a lawyer to
show him the way.
The innocent man, accused of crime, needs a lawyer; is not safe without
one, and may be convicted, even then, if he happens to employ a sorry
one, who can be outwitted by the prosecution.
The guilty man, accused of crime, needs a lawyer; is not safe without
one; and if he employs a good one, while the prosecution is managed by a
sorry one, the jury may be forced to turn him loose, although they feel
that he is “as guilty as a dog.”
Thus, looked at from the standpoint of mere ambition, sordid
selfishness, the “study of law” powerfully attracts young men who want
to get on in the world.
But there is another point of view--thank God!
It is not every student of Blackstone or Coke who licks his chops, by
anticipation, over the sweets of mental prostitution.
It is not every student of the law who means to become the jackal to the
lion, the doer of dirty work for hire, the seller of divinely fashioned
genius to the highest bidder--with the morals of a harlot, without that
excuse of dire necessity which the harlot can often give.
In most cases the boy who comes to the study of the law is actuated by
nobler motives, a higher purpose. A generous ambition to gain knowledge,
to fit himself for a leader’s place among men, to arm himself with the
weapons which enable him to fight the battles of the weak and to defend
the right against the wrong, find place in his mind and heart, just as
they do in the beautiful language of the oath which he must take.
Almost in the very words--and quite in the identical spirit--that
ancient Chivalry solemnly swore the Knight-Errant to his duty, pledging
him to champion the cause of the weak and the oppressed, the oath of
office consecrates the young lawyer to his work by the same holy vows.
For it must be remembered that no profession has a more glorious
tradition and heritage than that of the law.
The Crusaders who have in modern times gone forth to redeem the Holy
Sepulchre of Truth from the Infidel have been led, by whom?
The lawyer.
The Knight-Errant who rode forth, panoplied in burnished steel, to break
the chains, lift the yoke, batter down the prison door of the captive,
the weak, the oppressed, has been, whom?
The lawyer.
Great was Mirabeau, but he dreamt only of changing France into a
constitutional monarchy, leaving Divine Right on the throne and
hereditary Privilege in force.
It was Danton, the lawyer, who led _the Revolution_, and sketched the
Democratic state, in which all the people should rule for the benefit of
all.
It was the lawyer who led in the long, hard fight for Civil liberty in
England; the lawyer who slew the monsters of her Criminal Code; the
lawyer who armed the private citizen with school-book and ballot.
It was the lawyer who pleaded Ireland’s cause at the bar of Public
Opinion, wrung from British intolerance Religious Freedom, compelled the
recognition of the Irishman’s rights in Irish land, and so won upon the
conscience and the fear of the ruling caste that the triumph of the
Cause of Ireland has become a question of time rather than a matter of
doubt.
In our own history, whose record is better than that of the lawyer?
Would our forefathers ever have gone to war with Great Britain had they
awaited the lead of Benjamin Franklin, John Dickinson and George
Washington?
_Never in the world._
Not until Patrick Henry and Dabney Carr and Thomas Jefferson and James
Otis and John Adams and Alexander Hamilton, _the hot-headed young
lawyers_, had fired the woods, and the flames were leaping onward with a
rush which none could stop, did those more cautious and conservative
citizens, Franklin, Dickinson and Washington, commit themselves to the
movement of the Colonies against the Mother Country.
The lawyer lit the signal fires of that Revolution, the lawyer wrote the
Declaration of Independence, the lawyer framed the Constitution, the
lawyer organized the Government. The lawyer struck down Feudalism in
America, wrote the statute for Religious Liberty, swung wide the doors
of individual opportunity, and forged, ready for use, every weapon
against tyranny which a free people need to protect themselves from
oppression.
Even at that early period there was another side to the shield, not so
bright as that which I have presented, but, throughout the Revolutionary
Era, the patriotic service of the lawyer was so splendidly conspicuous
that the reverse side of the shield was as the spot on the sun.
When Andrew Jackson rode into Salisbury, N. C. (1785), and put up at the
Rowan House, the old-fashioned tavern, he was eighteen years old, and
had already gone to the school of experience, to an extent which few of
his future competitors for national honor had equaled.
His boyhood had breathed in the hot atmosphere of war. The sound of
musketry, of rifle fire, of cannon play, had been familiar to his ear.
The sight of bloodshed, scenes of carnage, the ruthless deeds of Tory
hate and Whig revenge had burnt their impressions upon mind and heart.
The dangers amid which he had lived, the hardships which he had endured,
the lust of victory and the panic of defeat, the sudden flight from the
deadly attack, the narrow escape from awful death, the loss of his
brothers and mother, the imprisonment and maltreatment of himself, the
wild disorders and appalling cruelties of foreign invasion added to
Civil strife--all these things were factors in the molding of Andrew
Jackson.
When he entered the office of Spruce McCay to read law under that
influential attorney, he had already given evidence of the traits of
character which afterward made him one of the best loved and best hated
men that ever lived.
It had already been shown that he would fight at the drop of a hat; that
he was headstrong, impatient of contradiction, and overbearing. Weaker
boys who turned to him for protection got it. He would “take up” for the
small boy, and, if need were, wage his battle. He was high-tempered,
quick as powder, hard to get along with--and the boy who laughed at him
because he had what was called “a slobber mouth” had to run or fight.
He had shown that he was fond of outdoor life, outdoor sport games, and
recreations. He loved to hunt, was a good shot, an expert horseman and
rode admirably, excelled in running and jumping. Some say that even when
thrown by a stronger man he “wouldn’t stay throwed”; others relate that
John Lewis could out-jump him and throw him down; and that when John
Lewis threw him, Andy _did_ “stay throwed.” That he was believed to have
a generous nature is proven by the fact that he is said to have been a
great friend to this same John Lewis.
The eighteen-year old Jackson had already shown his fondness for
gambling at cards, on chicken fights and horse races, on the throw of a
dicebox, on almost any sort of game or contest. He was known also as a
wild young fellow who would drink too much whisky, indulge in too many
coarse practical jokes, and who, when inflamed by anger, could out-curse
anybody in all the regions round about.
During his stay of two years in Salisbury Jackson’s character continued
to unfold itself along those lines. He was not much of a student; it is
not recorded that he did any office work for Spruce McCay; nor does any
biographer explain how it was that he paid for his board and lodging.
It seems that he kept his horse, and that he was active in horse-racing,
cock-fighting, card-playing circles; but it is not probable that he
relied upon his winnings to pay his way.
How, then, did he do it?
Perhaps his work as school-teacher should be assigned to this period of
his life, and it is possible that some remnant of his legacy may have
tided him over.
Illustrative of the rougher side of his character is the practical joke
which he played upon the eminent respectabilities of Salisbury by
sending cards of invitation to the Christmas ball to two notorious
strumpets of the town. The unclean birds came to the ball, as per Andrew
Jackson’s cards, and the uproar in the fowl-house was considerable. But
Andy was a great favorite with the ladies--as “wild” young men have ever
been--and he succeeded in getting rid of the disturbers and at the same
time holding the admiration of the eminently respectable.
Another anecdote of the period represents him engaged with boon
companions in a carousal, which lasted throughout the night and wound up
with a general smashing of all the furniture in the room.
A flood of light is poured upon his standing with the “unco’ good and
rigidly righteous” at this time by the exclamation of the old lady of
Salisbury, who, on being told, forty years later, that Andrew Jackson
was a candidate for President, cried out:
“What! Jackson up for President? _Jackson?_ _Andrew_ Jackson? The
Jackson that used to live in Salisbury? Why, when he was here, he was
such a rake that my husband would not bring him into the house! It is
true, he _might_ have taken him out to the stable to weigh horses for a
race, and might drink a glass of whisky with him _there_. Well, if
Andrew Jackson can be President, anybody can.”
From the office of Judge Spruce McCay Jackson went to that of Colonel
John Stokes, where he continued his studies until he thought himself
ready for admission to the Bar. In the spring of 1787 he applied for and
received his license to practice law.
For a year after his admission to the Bar he appears to have lived at a
village in Martinsville, N. C., where two friends of his kept a store.
Tradition says that he helped them in running the business, and that he
accepted a local position as constable or deputy-sheriff. At any rate,
he realized soon that he was gaining no foothold in North Carolina, and
he made up his mind to try his fortune in the new country beyond the
mountains, where Robertson and Donelson and Sevier were planting the
beginning of another state on the Cumberland.
Before we follow Jackson into Tennessee, let us pause “to take his
picture.”
He was tall and slender--standing six feet and one inch in height.
Carrying himself straight as a ramrod, and stepping with a quick,
springing clearlift walk, he made the impression upon the observer that
he was as active as a cat--lithe, sinewy, tough, and with not a lazy
bone in his body.
He had a shock of red hair, and a pair of fine blue eyes, which rested
unwinkingly upon one in conversation, and which blazed when he was
aroused. His face was sallow, freckled, long, thin, angular, with a
fighting jaw.
His bearing toward men was open, frank, confident, self-assertive.
Toward women he was deferential, most attentive and polite. Surprising
as it may seem, there is no room for doubt that Andrew Jackson’s manner
toward ladies was from the first, captivating to a marked degree. By the
time he reached the age of eighteen he had developed a taste for good
dressing. The same trait which led him to want the finest-looking horse,
the richest caparison, the best pistols and guns, the best dogs and game
chickens, led him to choose for himself a style of wearing apparel, both
in the material and the make, which was far above the average of the
backwoods.
Some of his lady friends went to the courthouse the day he was examined
for admission to the Bar, and one of these has left a description of him
as he then appeared.
Those who recall Albert Gallatin’s statement that Jackson, when in
Congress, looked and dressed like an uncouth backwoodsman may not be
able to reconcile his testimony with that of Mrs. Anne Rutherford, who
says:
“He always dressed neat and tidy, and carried himself as if he was a
rich man’s son.
“The day he was licensed he had on a new suit, with a broadcloth coat,
ruffled shirt, and other garments in the best of fashion.”
There is no disputing about taste; and the reader is left to the
conclusion that a style of dressing which appeared to be the best of
fashion to a country girl of North Carolina may have seemed “irregular”
to such a cosmopolitan gentleman as Gallatin.
The red breeches of Thomas Jefferson had been “the best of fashion” in
Paris, but when he wore them in New York, as a member of Washington’s
Cabinet, social rumblings were heard and social upheavals feared.
(To be Continued.)
[Illustration]
The Blue Chamber.
BY PROSPER MERIMEE.
A young man was walking up and down the waiting room of a railway
station, in an agitated condition. He wore blue spectacles, and,
although he had not a cold, he used his pocket-handkerchief incessantly.
He held a little black bag in his left hand which, as I learned later,
contained a silk dressing-gown and a pair of Turkish pantaloons.
Every now and again he went to the door and looked into the street, then
he drew out his watch and consulted the station clock. The train did not
leave for an hour; but there are people who always imagine they will be
late. This train was not for people in a pressing hurry; there were very
few first-class carriages in it. It was not an hour at which
stock-brokers left, after business was finished, to go to their country
homes for dinner. When travellers began to appear, a Parisian would have
recognized from their bearing that they were either farmers, or small
suburban tradesmen. Nevertheless, every time anyone came into the
station, or a carriage drew up at the door, the heart of the young man
with the blue spectacles became inflated like a balloon, his knees
trembled, his bag almost fell from his hands, and his glasses off his
nose, where, we may mention in passing, they were seated crookedly.
His agitation increased when, after a long wait, a woman appeared by a
side door, from precisely the direction in which he had kept a constant
lookout. She was dressed in black with a thick veil over her face, and
she held a brown morocco leather bag in her hand, containing, as I
subsequently discovered, a wondrous morning-gown and blue satin
slippers. The woman and the young man advanced towards each other
looking to right and left, but never in front of them. They came up to
one another, shook hands, and stood several minutes without speaking a
word, trembling and gasping, a prey to one of those intense emotions for
which I would give in exchange a hundred years of a philosopher’s life.
“Leon,” said the young woman, when she had summoned up courage to speak
(I had forgotten to mention that she was young and pretty)--“Leon, what
a happy thought! I should never have recognized you with those blue
spectacles.”
“What a happy thought!” said Leon. “I should never have known you under
that black veil.”
“What a happy thought!” she repeated. “Let us be quick to take our
seats; suppose the train were to start without us!...” (and she squeezed
his arm tightly). “No one will suspect us. I am now with Clara and her
husband, on the way to their country house, where, _tomorrow_, I must
say good-bye to her; ... and,” she added, laughing and lowering her
head, “she left an hour ago; and tomorrow, ... after passing _the last
evening_ with her, ... (again she pressed his arm), tomorrow in the
morning, she will leave me at the station, where I shall meet Ursula,
whom I sent on ahead to my aunt’s.... Oh! I have arranged everything.
Let us take our tickets.... They cannot possibly guess who we are. Oh!
suppose they ask our names at the inn? I have forgotten them
already....”
“Monsieur and Madame Duru.”
“Oh no! Not Duru. There was a shoemaker called that at the pension.”
“Dumont, then?”
“Daumont.”
“Very well. But no one will ask us.”
The bell rang, the door of the waiting-room opened, and the carefully
veiled young woman rushed into a carriage with her youthful companion.
The bell rang a second time, and the door of their compartment was
closed.
“We are alone!” they exclaimed delightedly.
But, almost at the same moment, a man of about fifty, dressed completely
in black, with a grave and bored expression, entered the carriage and
settled himself in a corner. The engine whistled, and the train began to
move. The two young people drew back as far as they could from their
unwelcome neighbor and began to whisper in English as an additional
precaution.
“Monsieur,” said the other traveller, in the same tongue, and with a
much purer British accent, “if you have secrets to tell each other, you
had better not tell them in English before me, for I am an Englishman. I
am extremely sorry to annoy you; but there was only a single man in the
other compartment, and I make it a rule never to travel alone with one
man only.... He had the face of a Judas and this might have tempted
him.”
He pointed to his travelling-bag, which he had thrown before him on the
cushion.
“But I shall read if I do not go to sleep.”
And, indeed, he did make a gallant effort to sleep. He opened his bag,
drew out a comfortable cap, put it on his head, and kept his eyes shut
for several minutes; then he reopened them with a gesture of impatience,
searched in his bag for his spectacles, then for a Greek book. At length
he settled himself to read, with an air of deep attention. While getting
his book out of the bag he displaced many things piled up hap-hazard.
Among others, he drew out of the depths of the bag a large bundle of
Bank of England notes, placed it on the seat opposite him, and, before
putting it back in the bag, he showed it to the young man, and asked him
if there was a place in N---- where he could change banknotes.
“Probably, as it is on the route to England.”
N---- was the place to which the young people were going. There is quite
a tidy little hotel at N----, where people seldom stop except on
Saturday evenings. It is held out that the rooms are good, but the host
and his helpers are far enough away from Paris to indulge in this
provincial vice. The young man whom I have already called by the name of
Leon, had been recommended to this hotel some time previously, when he
was minus blue spectacles, and, upon his recommendation, his companion
and friend had seemed desirous of visiting it.
She was, moreover, at that time in such a condition of mind that the
walls of a prison would have seemed delightful, if they had enclosed
Leon with her.
In the meantime the train journeyed on; the Englishman read his Greek
book, without looking towards his companions, who conversed in that low
tone that only lovers can hear. Perhaps I shall not astonish my readers
when I tell them that these two were lovers in the fullest acceptation
of the term, and what was still more deplorable, they were not married,
because there were reasons which placed an obstacle in the way of their
desire.
They reached N----, and the Englishman got out first. Whilst Leon helped
his friend to descend from the carriage without showing her legs, a man
jumped on to the platform from the next compartment. He was pale, even
sallow; his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his beard unkempt, a
sign by which great criminals are often detected. His dress was clean,
but worn almost threadbare. His coat, once black, but now grey at the
back and by the elbows, was buttoned up to his chin, probably to hide a
waistcoat still more shabby. He went up to the Englishman and put on a
deferential tone.
“Uncle!” he said.
“Leave me alone, you wretch!” cried the Englishman, whose grey eyes
flashed with anger; and he took a step forward to leave the station.
“Don’t drive me to despair,” replied the other, with a piteous and yet
at the same time menacing accent.
“Will you be good enough to hold my bag for a moment?” said the old
Englishman, throwing his travelling-bag at Leon’s feet.
He then took the man who had accosted him by the arm, and led, or rather
pushed, him into a corner, where he hoped they would not be overheard,
and there he seemed to address him roughly for a moment. He then drew
some papers from his pocket, crumpled them up, and put them in the hand
of the man who had called him uncle. The latter took the papers without
offering any thanks, and almost immediately took himself off and
disappeared.
As there is but one hotel in N---- it was not surprising that, after a
short interval, all the characters of this veracious story met together
there. In France every traveller who has the good fortune to have a
well-dressed wife on his arm is certain to obtain the best room in any
hotel; so firmly is it believed that we are the politest nation in
Europe.
If the bedroom that was assigned to Leon was the best, it would be rash
to conclude that it was perfect. It had a great walnut bedstead, with
chintz curtains, on which was printed in violet the magic story of
Pyramis and Thisbe. The walls were covered with a colored paper
representing a view of Naples and a multitude of people; unfortunately,
idle and impertinent visitors had drawn moustaches and pipes to all the
figures, both male and female, and many silly things had been scribbled
in lead-pencil in rhyme and prose on the sky and ocean. Upon this
background hung several engravings: “Louis Philippe taking the Oath of
the Charter of 1830,” “The first Interview between Julia and
Saint-Preux,” “Waiting for Happiness,” and “Regrets,” after M. Dubuffe.
This room was called the Blue Chamber, because the two arm-chairs to
left and right of the fireplace were upholstered in Utrecht velvet of
that color; but for a number of years they had been covered with
wrappers of grey glazed calico edged with red braid.
Whilst the hotel servants crowded round the new arrival and offered
their services, Leon, who, although in love, was not destitute of common
sense, went to order dinner. It required all his eloquence and various
kinds of bribes to extract the promise of a dinner by themselves alone.
Great was his dismay when he learnt that in the principal dining-room,
which was next his room, the officers of the 3rd Hussars, who were about
to relieve the officers of the 3rd Chasseurs at N----, were going to
join at a farewell dinner that very day, which would be a lively affair.
The host swore by all his gods that, except a certain amount of gaiety
which was natural to every French soldier, the officers of the Hussars
and Chasseurs were known throughout the town for their gentlemanly and
discreet behavior, and that their proximity would not inconvenience
madam in the least; the officers were in the habit of rising from table
before midnight.
As Leon went back to the Blue Chamber but slightly reassured, he noticed
that the Englishman occupied the other room next his. The door was open,
and the Englishman sat at a table upon which were a glass and a bottle.
He was looking at the ceiling with profound attention, as though he were
counting the flies walking on it.
“What matter if they are so near,” said Leon to himself. “The Englishman
will soon be tipsy, and the Hussars will leave before midnight.”
On entering the Blue Chamber his first care was to make sure that the
communicating doors were tightly locked, and that they had bolts to
them. There were double doors on the Englishman’s side, and the walls
were thick. The partition was thinner on the Hussars’ side, but the door
had a lock and a bolt. After all, this was a more effectual barrier to
curiosity than the blinds of a carriage, and how many people think they
are hidden from the world in a hackney carriage!
Assuredly the most opulent imagination could certainly never have
pictured a more complete state of happiness than that of these two young
lovers, who, after waiting so long, found themselves alone and far away
from jealous and prying eyes, preparing to relate their past sufferings
at their ease and to taste the delights of a perfect reunion. But the
devil always finds out a way to pour his drop of wormwood into the cup
of happiness.
Johnson was not the first who wrote--he took it from a Greek
writer--that no man could say, “Today I shall be happy.” This truth was
recognized at a very remote period by the greatest philosophers, and
yet is ignored by a certain number of mortals, and especially by most
lovers.
Whilst taking a poorly served dinner in the Blue Chamber from some
dishes filched from the Hussars’ and the Chasseurs’ banquet, Leon and
his lover were much disturbed by the conversation in which the gentlemen
in the neighboring room were engaged. They held forth on abstruse
subjects concerning strategy and tactics, which I shall refrain from
repeating.
There were a succession of wild stories--nearly all of them broad and
accompanied by shrieks of laughter, in which it was often difficult for
our lovers not to join. Leon’s friend was no prude; but there are things
one prefers not to hear, particularly during a tete-a-tete with the man
one loves. The situation became more and more embarrassing, and when
they were taking in the officers’ dessert, Leon felt he must go
downstairs to beg the host to tell the gentlemen that he had an invalid
wife in the room adjoining theirs, and they would deem it a matter of
courtesy if a little less noise were made.
The noise was nothing out of the way for a regimental dinner, and the
host was taken aback and did not know what to reply. Just when Leon gave
his message for the officers, a waiter asked for champagne for the
Hussars, and a maidservant for port wine for the Englishman.
“I told him there was none,” she added.
“You are a fool. I have every kind of wine. I will go and find him some.
Port is it? Bring me the bottle of ratafia, a bottle of quince and a
small decanter of brandy.”
When the host had concocted the port in a trice, he went into the large
dining-room to execute Leon’s commission, which at first roused a
furious storm.
Then a deep voice, which dominated all the others, asked what kind of a
woman their neighbor was. There was a brief silence before the host
replied--
“Really, gentlemen, I do not know how to answer you. She is very pretty
and very shy. Marie-Jeanne says she has a wedding ring on her finger.
She is probably a bride come here on her honeymoon, as so many others
come here.”
“A bride?” exclaimed forty voices. “She must come and clink glasses with
us! We will drink to her health and teach the husband his conjugal
duties!”
At these words there was a great jingling of spurs, and our lovers
trembled, fearing that their room was about to be taken by storm. All at
once a voice was raised which stopped the manœuvre. It evidently
belonged to a commanding officer. He reproached the officers with their
want of politeness, ordered them to sit down again and to talk decently,
without shouting. Then he added some words too low to be heard in the
Blue Chamber. He was listened to with deference, but, nevertheless, not
without exciting a certain amount of covert hilarity. From that moment
there was comparative quiet in the officers’ room; and our lovers,
blessing the salutary reign of discipline, began to talk together with
more freedom.... But after such confusion it was a little time before
they regained that peace of mind which anxiety, the worries of
travelling, and, worse than all, the loud merriment of their neighbors,
had so greatly agitated. This was not very difficult to accomplish,
however, at their age, and they had very soon forgotten all the troubles
of their adventurous expedition in thinking of its more important
consequences.
They thought peace was declared with the Hussars. Alas! it was but a
truce. Just when they expected it least, when they were a thousand
leagues away from this sublunary world, twenty-four trumpets, supported
by several trombones, struck up the air well known to French soldiers,
“La victoire est nous!” How could anyone withstand such a tempest? The
poor lovers might well complain.
* * * * *
But they had not much longer to complain, for at the end the officers
left the dining-room, filed past the door of the Blue Chamber with a
great clattering of spurs and sabres, and shouted one after the other--
“Good night, madam bride!”
Then all noise ceased. No, I am mistaken; the Englishman came out into
the passage and cried out--
“Waiter! bring me another bottle of the same port.”
Quiet was restored in the hotel of N----. The night was fine and the
moon at the full. From time immemorial lovers have been pleased to gaze
at our satellite. Leon and his lover opened their window, which looked
on a small garden, and breathed with delight the fresh air, which was
filled with the scent of a bower of clematis.
They had not looked long, however, before a man came to walk in the
garden. His head was bowed, his arms crossed, and he had a cigar in his
mouth, Leon thought he recognized the nephew of the Englishman who was
fond of good port wine.
* * * * *
I dislike useless details, and besides, I do not feel called upon to
tell the reader things he can readily imagine, nor to relate all that
happened hour by hour in the inn at N----. I will merely say that the
candle which burned on the fireless mantle-piece of the Blue Chamber was
more than half consumed when a strange sound issued from the
Englishman’s room, in which there had been silence until now; it was
like the fall of a heavy body. To this noise was added a kind of
cracking, quite as odd, followed by a smothered cry and several
inarticulate words like an oath. The two young occupants of the Blue
Chamber shuddered. Perhaps they had been waked up suddenly by it. The
noise seemed a sinister one to both of them, for they could not explain
it.
“Our friend the Englishman is dreaming,” said Leon, trying to force a
smile.
But although he wanted to reassure his companion, he shivered
involuntarily. Two or three minutes afterwards a door in the corridor
opened cautiously, as it seemed, then closed very quietly. They heard a
slow and unsteady footstep which appeared to be trying to disguise its
gait.
“What a cursed inn!” exclaimed Leon.
“Ah, it is a paradise!” replied the young woman, letting her head fall
on Leon’s shoulder. “I am dead with sleep....”
She sighed, and was very soon fast asleep again.
A famous moralist has said that men are never garrulous when they have
all their heart’s desire. It is not surprising, therefore, that Leon
made no further attempt to renew the conversation or to discourse upon
the noises in the hotel at N----. Nevertheless, he was preoccupied, and
his imagination pieced together many events to which in another mood he
would have paid no attention. The evil countenance of the Englishman’s
nephew returned to his memory. There was hatred in the look that he
threw at his uncle even while he spoke humbly to him, doubtless because
he was asking for money.
What would be easier than for a man, still young and vigorous, and
desperate besides, to climb from the garden to the window of the next
room? Moreover, he was staying at the hotel, and would walk in the
garden after dark, perhaps ... quite possibly ... undoubtedly, he knew
that his uncle’s black bag contained a thick bundle of bank-notes....
And that heavy blow, like the blow of a club on a bald head! ... that
stifled cry! ... that fearful oath! and those steps afterwards! That
nephew looked like an assassin.... But people do not assassinate in a
hotel full of officers. Surely the Englishman, like a wise man, had
locked himself in, specially knowing the rogue was about.... He
evidently mistrusted him, since he had not wished to accost him bag in
hand.... But why allow such hideous thoughts when one is so happy?
Thus did Leon cogitate to himself. In the midst of his thoughts, which I
will refrain from analyzing at greater length, and which passed in his
mind like so many confused dreams, he fixed his eyes mechanically on the
door of communication between the Blue Chamber and the Englishman’s
room.
In France, doors fit badly. Between this one and the floor there was a
space of nearly an inch. Suddenly, from this space, which was hardly
lighted by the reflection from the polished floor, there appeared
something blackish and flat, like a knife blade, for the edge which the
candlelight caught showed a thin line which shone brightly. It moved
slowly in the direction of a little blue-satin slipper, which had been
carelessly thrown close to this door. Was it some insect like a
centipede?... No, it was no insect. It had no definite shape.... Two or
three brown streams, each with its line of light on its edges, had come
through into the room. Their pace quickened, for the floor was a
sloaping one.... They came on rapidly and touched the little slipper.
There was no longer any doubt! It was a liquid, and that liquid, the
color of which could now be distinctly seen by the candlelight, was
blood! While Leon, paralyzed with horror, watched these frightful
streams, the young woman slept on peacefully, her regular breathing
warming her lover’s neck and shoulder.
* * * * *
The care which Leon had taken in ordering the dinner on their arrival
at the inn of N---- adequately proved that he had a pretty level head, a
high degree of intelligence and that he could look ahead. He did not in
this emergency belie the character we have already indicated. He did not
stir, and the whole strength of his mind was strained to keep this
resolve in the presence of the frightful disaster which threatened him.
I can imagine that most of my readers, and, above all, my lady readers,
filled with heroic sentiments, will blame the conduct of Leon on this
occasion for remaining motionless. They will tell me he ought to have
rushed to the Englishman’s room and arrested the murderer, or, at least,
to have pulled his bell and rung up the people of the hotel. To this I
reply that, in the first case, the bells in French inns are only room
ornaments, and their cords do not correspond to any metallic apparatus.
I would add respectfully, but decidedly, that, if it is wrong to leave
an Englishman to die close by one, it is not praiseworthy to sacrifice
for him a woman who is sleeping with her head on your shoulder. What
would have happened if Leon had made an uproar and roused the hotel? The
police, the inspector and his assistant would have come at once. These
gentlemen are by profession so curious, that, before asking him what he
had seen or heard, they would have questioned him as follows:--
“What is your name? Where are your papers? And what about Madame? What
were you doing together in the Blue Chamber? You will have to appear at
the Assizes to explain the exact month, at what hour in the night, you
were witnesses of this deed.”
Now it was precisely this thought of the inspector and officers of the
law which first occurred to Leon’s mind. Everywhere throughout life
there are questions of conscience difficult to solve. Is it better to
allow an unknown traveller to have his throat cut, or to disgrace and
lose the woman one loves?
It is unpleasant to have to propose such a problem. I defy the cleverest
person to solve it.
Leon did then what probably most would have done in his place. He never
moved.
He remained fascinated for a long time with his eyes fixed upon the blue
slipper and the little red stream which touched it. A cold sweat
moistened his temples, and his heart beat in his breast as though it
would burst.
A host of thoughts and strange and horrible fancies took possession of
him, and an inward voice cried out all the time, “In an hour all will be
known, and it is your own fault!” Nevertheless, by dint of repeating to
himself “Qu’allais-je faire dens cette galere?” he finished up by
perceiving some few rays of hope. “If we leave this accursed hotel,” he
said to himself at last, “before the discovery of what has happened in
the adjoining room, perhaps they may lose trace of us. No one knows us
here. I have only been seen in blue spectacles, and she has only been
seen in a veil. We are only two steps from the station, and should be
far away from it in an hour.”
Then, as he had studied the time-table at great length to make out his
journey, he recollected that the train for Paris stopped at eight
o’clock. Very soon afterward they would be lost in the vastness of that
town, where so many guilty persons are concealed. Who could discover two
innocent people there? But would they not go into the Englishman’s room
before eight o’clock? That was the vital question.
Quite convinced that there was no other course before him, he made a
desperate effort to shake off the torpor which had taken possession of
him for so long, but at the first movement he made his young companion
woke up and kissed him half-consciously. At the touch of his icy cheek
she uttered a little cry.
“What is the matter?” she said to him anxiously. “Your forehead is as
cold as marble.”
“It is nothing,” he replied in a voice which belied his words. “I heard
a noise in the next room....”
He freed himself from her arms, then he moved the blue slipper and put
an armchair in front of the door of communication, so as to hide the
horrid liquid from his lover’s eyes. It had stopped flowing, and had now
collected into quite a big pool on the floor. Then he half opened the
door which led to the passage, and listened attentively. He even
ventured to go up to the Englishman’s door, which was closed. There were
already stirrings in the hotel, for day had begun. The stablemen were
grooming the horses in the yard, and an officer came downstairs from the
second story, clinking his spurs. He was on his way to preside at that
interesting piece of work, more agreeable to horses than to men, which
is technically known as _la botte_.
Leon re-entered the Blue Chamber, and, with every precaution that love
could invent, with the help of much circumlocution and many euphemisms
he revealed their situation to his friend.
It was dangerous to stay and dangerous to leave too precipitately; still
much more dangerous to wait at the hotel until the catastrophe in the
next room was discovered.
There is no need to describe the terror caused by this communication, or
the tears which followed it, the senseless suggestions which were
advanced, or how many times the two unhappy young people flung
themselves into each other’s arms, saying, “Forgive me! forgive me!”
Each took the blame. They voiced to die together, for the young woman
did not doubt that the law would find them guilty of the murder of the
Englishman, and as they were not sure that they would be allowed to
embrace each other again on the scaffold they did it now to suffocation,
and vied with each other in watering themselves with tears. At length,
after having talked much rubbish and exchanged many tender and harrowing
words, they decided, in the midst of a thousand kisses, that the plan
thought out by Leon, to leave by the eight o’clock train, was really the
only one practicable, and the best to follow. But there were still two
mortal hours to get through. At each step in the corridor they trembled
in every limb. Each creak of boots proclaimed the arrival of the
inspector.
Their small packing was done in a flash. The young woman wanted to burn
the blue slipper in the fireplace; but Leon picked it up and, after
wiping it by the bedside, he kissed it and put it in his pocket. He was
astonished to find that it smelt of vanilla, though his lover’s perfume
was “Bouquet de l’Imperatrice Eugenie.”
Everybody in the hotel was now awake. They heard the laughing of
waiters, servant-girls singing at their work, and soldiers brushing
their officers’ clothes. Seven o’clock had just struck. Leon wanted to
make his friend drink a cup of coffee, but she declared that her throat
was so choked up that she should die if she tried to drink anything.
Leon, armed with the blue spectacles, went down to pay the bill. The
host begged his pardon for the noise that had been made; he could not at
all understand it, for the officers were always so quiet! Leon assured
him that he had heard nothing, but had slept profoundly.
“I don’t think your neighbor on the other side would inconvenience you,”
continued the landlord; “he did not make much noise. I bet he is still
sleeping soundly.”
Leon leant hard against the desk to keep from falling, and the young
woman, who had followed him closely, clutched at his arm and tightened
the veil over her face.
“He is a swell,” added the pitiless host. “He will have the best of
everything. Ah! he is a good sort. But all the English are not like him.
There was one here who is a skinflint. He thought everything too dear;
his room, his dinner. He wanted me to take a five-pound Bank of England
note in settlement of his bill for one hundred and eighty-five francs,
... and to risk whether it was a good one! But stop, Monsieur; perhaps
you will know, for I heard you talking English with Madam.... Is it a
good one?”
With these words he showed Leon a five-pound bank-note. On one of its
corners there was a little spot of red which Leon could readily explain
to himself.
“I think it is quite good,” he said in a stifled voice.
“Oh, you have plenty of time,” replied the host; “the train is not due
here till eight o’clock, and it is always late. Will you not sit down,
Madam? You seem tired.”
At this moment a fat servant-girl came up.
“Hot water, quick,” she said, “for milord’s tea. Give me a sponge, too.
He has broken a bottle of wine and the whole room is flooded.”
At these words Leon fell into a chair, and his companion did the same An
intense desire to laugh overtook them both, and they had the greatest
difficulty in restraining themselves. The young woman squeezed his hand
joyfully.
“I think we will not go until the two o’clock train,” said Leon to the
landlord. “Let us have a good meal at midday.”
[Illustration]
The Lake of The Dismal Swamp.
BY JEANNETTE HOLLY.
At an early day in the history of our Nation, there had emigrated to the
Southeastern shore of the Old Dominion, an English gentleman, whose
manners and carriage bespoke aristocratic lineage, and whose free use of
money made it evident to those in the same locality, that he must have
been a man of parts in the country whence he had come.
He had bought up acres and acres of the land lying contiguous to the
Dismal Swamp, but occupied a hewn log house some miles distant from that
place of ill repute. The report gained credence that he had left the Old
Country “for the good of his health,” in other words, his knowledge of
and participation in the plots and counter-plots against the government,
made it safer for both himself and some, whose fingers had ever held the
pulse of the Nation, that he should live elsewhere; and we find him
making himself a home across the waters, with stint of nothing, for a
vessel never made harbor, that it did not bring a large consignment to
Theodore Stanton.
In the course of time he erected for himself and family a commodious
house, many of the necessary materials coming from abroad, and he was
ever ready to welcome to his board any wayfarer with whom he came in
contact.
It was during the time that his house was building, and he had been
scouring the country for help for the work, when one day, a young Indian
boy presented himself at his door asking, “Work for me do?” He spoke
very indifferent English, but Mr. Stanton understood he had come in
response to his inquiries for hands, and he asked, “What can you do?”
“Ride horse, shoot gun, hunt deer.”
His appearance appealed to Mr. Stanton, and he nodded his head saying,
“You can hunt deer and bear for me, eat.”
That seemed satisfactory and from that time on, he called Mr. Stanton’s,
home, and sure enough supplied the family with all the game they could
use.
But his especial attention seemed to be paid to Mr. Stanton’s little
girl, Alice, to whom he was devoted, and who never seemed so happy or
contented, as when perched on Powhatan’s shoulders and scouring the
country for flowers, nuts or berries. He had been at his chosen home
now, for a long time, and had learned to speak and understand our tongue
very well. He said he was descended from old Chief Powhatan and that
little Pocahontas was his kin, but that his father had been badly
treated and set aside and would not go with his tribe of Indians; but if
any questions were asked, as to where his father was, a stolid look
would settle over his countenance, and he would make no reply;
occasionally he would disappear, and be gone for a day or two, but
always came back, ready for his appointed duty, to hunt the meat for Mr.
Stanton. He was as straight as an arrow, and it required little
imagination to believe he might be descended from a line of kings, his
bearing was so dignified and regal. To no one was he communicative or
unbending, save little Alice, over whom he watched with jealous care.
Mrs. Stanton, Alice’s mother, had never liked him, and often expressed
uneasiness at the feeling that seemed to exist between her ewe lamb, and
this dusky son of the forest, and she begged her husband to consign her
to her sister’s care, in England, in that way breaking up the
association, and giving Alice, at the same time, opportunities for
education that she would lack in the States.
“No, wife, don’t ask me that; I have made sacrifices enough, God knows.
I cannot stand to be parted from my little one; send for tutors,
governesses or any other sort of SSS, that you want, I will bear all
expense, but let me see my dear daughter every day, that’s a dear.” Mrs.
Stanton said no more, but she watched with ever growing sorrow; the glow
of pride that came to Powhatan’s dark countenance, when gazing at
“Laughing Water,” as he called Alice.
The gentle girl was now turning sixteen, and had developed into great
loveliness, but seemed wholly unconscious of her charms, and really I
believe, that was the one thing that drew so many worshippers to her
shrine.
About this time a party of gentlemen had arrived from old England,
looking at lands for the settlement of some emigrants who were anxious
to throw in their fate with the new settled country, and among them were
the sons of some of Mr. Stanton’s early and close friends.
Frank Berkley, nephew of the ex-governor, was among the number, and
soon won his way to the hearts of old and young alike, by his kindliness
and sprightliness.
Alice seemed unusually lively, when he was regaling her with his
exploits at college or his tilts with the fair sex at home, and her
merry laugh would ring out at his bright wit or mirthful sallies.
None seemed to observe the vengeful scowls Powhatan would throw at the
jolly crowd, as he crossed and recrossed the Hall, but would never enter
the parlor, nor join in any of the sports. I said none--none save the
anxious mother, who ever had her eye on her darling and when as a great
secret Alice confided to her, that Frank wanted to take her across the
water with him as his bride, she assented cheerfully, for she felt that
to be the only way to save her child from some direful fate.
The party was going farther West, making explorations, and would return
about Christmas time, to enjoy the festivities of that season under Mr.
Stanton’s hospitable roof, and would then take shipping for home.
Farewells were said, and all were well on their way, but Frank lingered.
“Stay with us, Frank,” Alice said tearfully, “we will be so lonely when
you are gone,” and Frank felt he would willingly tear his heart out, if
it would comfort the little girl he had grown to love so much in two
months.
“But,” he said, “my darling, then I would be accounted a laggard in
duty, for don’t you know I was put in charge of this expedition; and
will be held strictly accountable for its failure?”
“Oh!” she said, “Frank, forgive me. I will not be such a baby. I know
you will soon be back, and I will try to scare away the blues and bid
you a cheerful good-bye,” and he never forgot to his dying day, how she
put her arms around his neck and kissed him a fond farewell. The last
echo brought to him her parting words, “back soon.” They did not know
that an eye had watched their parting, and the owner of that orb, had
trembled with rage when he witnessed the caress.
Powhatan tried to coax her to ride or row, and had made and painted pure
white, a little canoe for her, but she told him it made her tired to use
the oars. “Come and see what a beauty your boat is, Minnehaha; you care
no more for your poor Powhatan,” he said sadly.
“Oh yes, I do,” she replied, “but I worked so hard entertaining papa’s
friends, I must rest up, but I will see the boat,” and taking his hand
she ran lightly to the barn, to see and admire the little white canoe,
with places all around the top for lights to be inserted, when the
candles were lit at night; it certainly made a beautiful show. But his
coaxing could not induce her to go on the water in it, and the craft was
only rigged up to show to her friends, and still remained in Powhatan’s
workshop. The mornings were beginning to be frosty and the air to show
that the weeks had passed along and soon now, they might look for the
return of the friends. Wild turkeys were killed and dressed, venison
hams were baked and boiled, and the array of cakes and pies in the
pantry, looked most tempting. On the afternoon of the 23d of December,
Mr. Stanton was decorating the rooms, under the supervision of his good
wife, and calling to Alice, said, “Daughter, we do need some holly so
much, could you not take one of the boys, and get some from the wood on
the swamp road? I must hie me to the postoffice or would get it myself.”
“Oh, yes, Pop, I will take my pony and John and soon be back.”
As she went out Powhatan met her, and having heard what Mr. Stanton
said, begged to be allowed to accompany her, saying, “I will take care
of you, Minnehaha.” So she could not well refuse, and when he had
saddled her pony and old Thunder for himself, they mounted and rode
off.
The father returned with the mail, the mother dressed for the evening
meal, but Alice came not.
“Oh father,” she cried, “where can she be?” and the mother grew restless
and uneasy. Presently seeing John approaching, Mr. Stanton called out,
“John, where is Miss Alice, boy?”
“Sir, I didn’t go with her; she went long that Injun, he say he take
good care of her.” Mrs. Stanton was almost beside herself. Wringing her
hands, she begged her husband for “God’s sake,” to take some of the men
and seek the child, ere she was lost in the dreadful swamps. Searching
parties scoured the country all that night, and when the next morning,
Mr. Berkeley and his friends arrived, they, too, joined in the hunt,
which was kept up for a whole week, but nothing was ever discovered,
save Alice’s little pony, quietly grazing on the edge of the swamp.
A rumor came, that from the highest point overlooking the Lake in the
Dismal Swamp, a huge black horse, with two riders, was seen to jump
directly into the lake and never rose again. From the same fisherman,
who dwelt on some high knoll in the swamp the report was scattered far
and wide, that at 10 o’clock every bright night was seen a little white
canoe, lit with firefly lamps, pushed swiftly through the waters of the
lake by a beautiful girl with fair locks floating over her shoulders.
The story was that she crossed the lake and then disappeared in the dark
woods beyond. But nothing was ever seen or heard of Alice or her dusky
lover again. Mrs. Stanton took to her bed and died of a broken heart,
leaving young Berkley to care for the stricken old man, who was soon
laid beside her in the garden that had been sweet Alice’s playground.
Mr. Stanton left everything he had to Frank Berkley who mourned
sincerely for his lost love.
Educational Department.
CONDUCTED BY THOS. E. WATSON.
Various Phases of the Money Question.
_Hon. Thomas E. Watson, Thomson, Ga._:
DEAR SIR:--Your logical editorial in your October magazine under the
caption of “The Money Changer and the Politician” hit the bull’s eye and
went straight to the heart of the subject. I heartily endorse the
editorial. Hon. A. S. J. S----, a very able and conservative gentleman
and also a gold bug as we sometimes denominate them, takes issue with
you, as to some of your assertions, and as the Doctor is a subscriber to
your magazine and very much open to conviction I am led, as a result of
a pleasant discussion with him to ask you some questions on said
editorial for the purpose of drawing you out more fully on the subject
for the Doctor’s special benefit and for general light on the money
question.
The questions that I propound embody the objections of the Doctor to
what he otherwise concedes to be an able elaboration of the question
under discussion.
You say, “Sparta rose to be a state of the first class on a currency of
iron; Rome became Mistress of the World on legal tender copper; coined
silver did not come into use until the Northern barbarian beat down her
frontiers; gold held no place in the coinage till the imperialism of the
Caesars had taken its lead in her decline.”
(1) Do you mean to say, that gold and silver did not exist as currency,
prior to that period referred to in the passage just quoted?
The Doctor says you are all wrong here and asks that your authority for
the declaration be given.
(2) He wants you to give more explicitly your authority for contending
that paper money is Constitutional; he combats the idea of the
Constitutionality of a paper currency, asserting that gold and silver is
the money of the Constitution and not paper.
(3) What is your authority for saying that Mr. Cleveland ruled that
Governmental notes which were payable _in coin_ should be redeemed in
_gold only_? He disputes this.
(4) In your glowing description of the effects of paper currency, during
the wars referred to by you, how it fed and clothed the soldier and kept
starvation from those the soldiers left at home--he asserts that the
gold and silver currency in circulation during the times you allude to
could have accomplished all you claim; independent of a paper currency.
(5) Was the paper money issued by the Confederate Government during the
Civil War as good at any time, during said war, as the paper money
issued by the Federal Government during the same war? If not, why not?
Understand me, I am perfectly in accord with you. I am asking these
questions in order that you may have an opportunity to knock the
sophisticated props from under the gold bug delusions and the people
given the plain facts.
Respectfully,
W. M. HAIRSTON.
* * * * *
ANSWER.
(1) Yes. Gold and silver were used in commerce and commodities, even as
precious metals, _but not as legal tender money_. The legal tender money
of Sparta was of iron. Lycurgus made it so, for a special purpose. See
Plutarch’s “Lives,” or Aristotle on “Government.”
The legal tender money of Rome was copper during all the long and bloody
years of her relentless and resistless march to world-power.
Gold and silver were used in commerce _on the basis of barter_--but not
on any other.
Neither gold nor silver were coined _into legal tender money_, until
_after_ Rome had become Mistress of the World.
See any standard History of Rome--Mommsen’s for instance; and see, also,
Del Mar’s “Money and Civilization.”
(2) Paper money _is_ Constitutional, for the reason that the
Constitution, itself, gives to Congress the right to coin legal tender
money, and the Supreme Court of the United States, in a case brought to
test that very question, decided, in effect, that the word coin, as used
in the Constitution, has the sense of “create,” and that Congress can
create legal tender money out of paper, if it sees fit to do so.
Congress _had_ seen fit to do so, for the good and sufficient reason
that the expenses of the Government had increased to more than a million
dollars per day, and there was no specie money in the Treasury.
The Government made money out of paper because it had nothing else to
make it out of.
Ground hog case, Doctor.
(3) The facts in the case. The Contracts were payable in coin, just as
in France. The _option_, of payment in silver or in gold, belonged to
the Government _under the words and in the spirit of the contract_.
In France, it was the same. The creditors claimed payment in gold, both
in this country and in France.
The French Government calmly bossed the situation _as any real
Government should_, and paid the contracts as _it_ pleased _in either_
“coin.” When the French Government felt like paying gold coin, gold was
paid. When the Government felt like paying silver coin, silver was paid.
In either case, the creditor got what his contract entitled him to
get--COIN.
But Mr. Cleveland’s “Government” was not so robust. He took it into his
head that “the bankers had the country by the leg.” In fact, he told Mr.
Oates of Alabama that such was the case.
Absurd!
No _real Government_ would ever get into that kind of blue funk.
Mr. Cleveland should have shown some of the “back bone” that we have
heard so much about. He should have said to those Wall Street Raiders,
“I’ll give you COIN--get anything else if you can.”
When the Government had the gold, the yellow metal should have been
handed out. When the Government did not have the gold, it should have
handed out silver--saying to the Raiders, “Take it, or leave it. Your
contract says COIN. There is coin. We make you _the legal tender_ of it.
If you don’t take it when so tendered, _your claim against the
Government is as dead as Julius Caesar_.”
THEN the Government would have had _the Bankers_ “by the leg.”
But, you see, Cleveland was standing in with the Wall Street crowd--and
that makes all the difference.
Suppose our friend, the Doctor referred to by Mr. Hairston, owed ten
different notes of ten dollars each, every one of them containing the
plain statement that they are payable in “_coin_.”
[Illustration: “THE CONUNDRUM IS: WHAT WOULD BE LEFT TO UNCLE SAM, IN
THE MATTER OF NATIONAL FINANCE, AFTER THE BANKERS SHALL HAVE GOT ALL
THAT THEY WANT?”]
Suppose that they fall due and are presented for payment. Suppose the
Doctor has half the money in gold coin and the balance in silver coin.
Suppose he offers the entire $100 in coin, in satisfaction of the debt.
Suppose the holder of the notes rejects the silver “coin,” and demands
the entire debt in gold coin.
What would the Doctor do?
Would he hurry and scurry about, hunting for gold to satisfy the
exacting creditor? I’ll bet a medium sized mouse-colored mule that he
wouldn’t.
The Doctor _knows_ that silver coin is legal tender, and _was
contemplated as one of the coins of payment at the time the contract was
made_.
Consequently, he would tender the silver, and if the _offer to pay_ in
that “coin” were refused, the Doctor would simply let the creditor do
what the heathen does when Christian Civilization gets after him--RAGE.
(4) Let the Doctor peruse the Life of Chase, who was Secretary of the
Treasury under Mr. Lincoln, and he will realize how much he is in error.
Many other authorities might be cited.
Gold and silver had disappeared. Specie payments had ceased. The
Government was about “broke.”
_The daily expense account was approaching the two million dollar mark._
Spaulding, Salmon P. Chase, Thaddeus Stevens and others realized that
unless the Government could float a paper currency the jig was up.
It was just about then that _Lincoln expressed the opinion that some of
the Wall Street bankers ought to be shot_. They were manifesting every
disposition to take advantage of the distress of the Government. They
were showing that they meant to get rich off the war. And they
accomplished their purpose.
They failed to obstruct the plan to issue paper money, but they
succeeded in having Congress virtually say that while the Greenback was
good enough for the soldier who was shedding his blood for his country,
it was not good enough for the Bondholder who was sitting at ease in the
financial Zion of Wall Street.
(5) My understanding is that the first paper money issued by the
Confederate Government circulated at par _when first issued_.
The legal tender currency of any Government must depend, in any case,
upon the strength, resources and credit of the Government.
Even the coin-currency _sinks to the mere commodity-value of the coin_,
when the Government sinks.
Even now there is an _artificial value in gold coin, put there by law_.
No pile of a million dollars in gold coin would sell for a million
dollars _as metal_.
In such a heap of gold you must allow for “wear and tear.”
The law _does allow_ for that very thing. If the gold coin is worn away
to a greater extent than ten per cent, the Government will not receive
it as legal tender--nor will the metropolitan banks receive it.
But anything _less_ than ten per cent loss in weight, _the law makes
good_, by declaring that _such_ coins are _legal tender_.
Few people stop to think of that.
Therefore, every kind of money is fiat money; that is, THE LAW MAKES IT.
Now, it must be self-evident that _the value which law puts into
currency_ SINKS, WHEN THE LAW-MAKING POWER SINKS.
If one can conceive of such a thing as the annihilation of the United
States we must know that our gold coins would at once go into the scales
to be weighed and priced _as metal_; our silver dollars would do
precisely the same thing, and each of them would be worth less than 70
cents.
As for our paper money, it would be waste paper, and nothing else.
United States greenbacks would amuse the collectors of fifty years
hence, just as Confederate bills do those of the present day.
Four Pertinent Questions Answered.
Enterprise, Ala.
_Hon. Thomas Watson, Thomson, Ga._:
DEAR SIR:--1. What are the fundamental principles of the four parties,
Populist, Socialist, Democratic and Republican?
2. Do you favor the way the United States allows the banks to use
national currency without interest and then charge the people 12 per
cent? If not, why not?
3. Do you think there is any likelihood of the Rural Free Delivery ever
being discontinued and if so on what grounds?
4. What does the Parcels Post Bill advocate?
* * * * *
ANSWER
(1) The Populists believe in the Public Ownership of Public
Utilities--such as Railroads, Telegraph and Telephone Lines, and Express
Companies.
They look upon the iron highway as a Public Road that should belong to
the Public. They believe that the tremendous power which private
ownership gives to the private corporations now owning the railroads is
too great, _too ruinous when improperly used_, to be exercised by those
whose sole aim is to extract the utmost possible dollar of profit out of
the franchise.
The Populists believe, also, that there should be _a return to the
money-system of the Constitution_.
The National Banks have USURPED the function of supplying the country
with a proper currency.
At the present time, when the Government has but $353,000,000 of its own
paper notes circulating as money, the National Banks have the enormous
sum of $583,000,000 of _their_ paper notes in circulation _as money_.
Populists contend that it is the prerogative and THE DUTY of the
government to create ALL THE MONEY THAT CIRCULATES, and to hold unto
itself the power of _regulating the supply_.
Populists believe in the Tax upon Incomes, and contend that this tax
should progressively increase as the Income increases. They believe also
in a tax upon Inheritance.
Populists lay particular stress upon THE GREAT PRINCIPLE OF DIRECT
LEGISLATION. They believe in allowing the people to compel the
law-making power to act when they, the people, want certain laws. They
contend that it is no more than right _to compel_ the law-makers _to
refer proposed legislation to those who are affected by it_. This
principle has worked happily wherever given a fair trial, and is usually
called the _Initiative and Referendum_.
Populists contend, also, that all officers should be elected by direct
vote of the people, and that the people should have the right at any
time _to retire an officer who has forfeited their confidence_.
This principle is usually referred to as the _Right of Recall_.
In practice it proves a most excellent method of MAKING THE
OFFICE-HOLDER “WALK THE CHALK.”
Populists also believe that we should have a system of Postal Savings
Banks. These would furnish to the people _convenient_ and _safe_ places
of deposit for their savings; and the system would go far to lessen the
dangerous power of the metropolitan banks.
Populists are opposed to land monopoly, favor the eight-hour day in
factories and similar industries, and believe that the employment of
children of tender age in manufacturing establishments, mines,
sweatshops, etc., should be watched with hawk-like vigilance _and
regulated with a parental care which puts the_ WELL-BEING OF THE CHILD
_above every other consideration in the case_.
Populists believe in UNTAXED NECESSARIES OF LIFE, and contend that
whatever tariff duties are imposed should be laid upon luxuries.
In brief, Populists strive for the adoption of those principles which
would make this A REAL REPUBLIC, instead of an Aristocracy ruled by a
Class, or a Plutocracy in which Dollars dominate.
And during the whole time that the Politicians and Sages and Powers have
been laughing at us, WE HAVE BEEN QUIETLY FURNISHING WITH OUR GARMENTS
THE WARDROBES OF SUCH EMINENT POLITICIANS, SAGES AND POWERS AS
ROOSEVELT, BRYAN AND HEARST.
Bryan accuses Roosevelt of stealing the very clothes _that Bryan himself
stole from us_.
As for Hearst--before he fell down on that Murphy deal--his editorials
and speeches were nothing in the world but the echo of James B. Weaver,
Jerry Simpson and Mary Ellen Lease!
Had he kept up the lick, and not gone into that deal with Murphy, HE
WOULD HAVE BEEN ELECTED GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK. He parted with his most
valuable asset when he ceased to be an Independent.
The Socialists _think_ they believe in the collective ownership of those
things necessary to the production and distribution of wealth, _but what
they are actually driving at_ IS THE CONFISCATION OF PRIVATE PROPERTY
and a jolly good division of the same, in order that THE HAVE NOTS WILL
BE UPON AN EQUAL FOOTING WITH THE HAVES.
That’s the inner meaning of practical Socialism, and that’s why it
assumes so savage a character in our great cities.
In the hearts of the rank and file Socialists, _are burning the same
fierce fires as animated_ THE GOTHS AND THE HUNS WHEN THEY BORE DOWN
UPON OPULENT ROME.
I have heard these people talk and I _know_ what it is _they really
mean_.
The Democratic Party, at present, hasn’t got any principles capable of
proof.
They are waiting for the next National Convention to hand out a new suit
of clothes.
They are awful sick and tired of that Parker platform, which is _almost_
the same as the Republican platform--as poor old Gassaway Davis said.
But they cannot “point with pride” to any other platform until the
National Convention meets. Just what will _then_ be done, it would take
an able-bodied prophet to tell. My own opinion is that they will adopt
the leading principles of Populism and put Bryan to running for the
Presidency again.
The Republican Party is doing just what Alexander Hamilton thought ought
to be done--running the Government in partnership with the rich, for the
benefit of the rich.
The Republican rule is a Plutocracy, tempered by an occasional spasm of
Rooseveltism.
(2) No. Because I do not believe in Special Privilege, nor in the
confiscation of $134,000,000 of money that belongs to the taxpayers. To
take away the people’s money on the pretext that the Government needs it
to pay expenses, and then _to deliver it over to a few Pet Banks to be
used without interest_, IS CONFISCATION. And it’s a burning NATIONAL
INJUSTICE AND SHAME!
(3) No. Because Congress dare not do it. The people would not stand it.
(4) The transportation by the Government, through the mails, of small
packages--say one, two, three, four, five, ten, fifteen pounds--at a
moderate cost, thus protecting the people from the robber Express
Companies.
Book Reviews.
CONDUCTED BY THOS. E. WATSON.
ANN BOYD. By Will N. Harben. Harper & Bros., New York City,
Publishers. Price $1.50.
Among the lads whose parents belonged to that great, wholesome class
which Lincoln used to call “the plain people,” you would have found the
creator of Abner Daniel, Pole Baker, and Ann Boyd had you gone to the
little North Georgia town of Dalton, soon after the Civil War.
[Illustration: WILL N. HARBEN.]
Two years old at the time that the deliberate treachery of William H.
Seward provoked the rash Confederates into firing upon Fort Sumter,--the
costly folly against which Bob Toombs protested in vain,--Mr. Harben
heard and saw much of the actual marching and countermarching of the
ensuing four years of THE MOST UTTERLY INSANE WAR RECORDED IN HISTORY.
Having been given a private education, the young man embarked in
business enterprises, and it was not until after 1886 that a mediocre
business man was offered up, a willing sacrifice, to a first-class
literary artist. Harben, the business man, means nothing to anybody, but
Harben, the literary genius, means a vast deal to everybody--for he is,
today, the most distinctly _original and creative literary genius in
America_.
_David Harum_ took the world by storm because of its unique portrayal of
a typical American business-man--shrewd, strong, persistent, humorous,
rough in most places and soft in spots. Banker and horse-trader, David
Harum knew human nature like a book, and was chock full of that rare
article called common sense.
Abner Daniel was in all respects the equal of David Harum, without being
an imitation; Pole Baker was superior, in some respects, to Abner
Daniel, and Ann Boyd enters a different class altogether.
The creations of Dickens and Thackeray offer nothing better, nothing
more human, nothing more symmetrically natural and fascinating, than
this heroic woman--tender-hearted, pure, brave and true--whose husband
forsakes her, whose child is taken away from her, whose enemies
persecute her, whose friends drop away from her, but who, standing at
bay and battling with the whole array, CONQUERS.
It is pathetic and it is grand.
How the proud woman covers her wounds and complains not; how the strong
soul finds itself _sustained from within_; how she brings a stupidly
narrow, prejudiced and malicious neighborhood to confusion and utter
defeat, is a story that makes one thrill with sympathy and admiration.
This number of the JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE begins the serial publication
of Mr. Harben’s greatest book.
READ IT CAREFULLY.
Few better books have been written.
Books Received.
BUFF. A tale for the thoughtful. By A Physiopath. Boston. Little,
Brown & Co., Publishers. Price $1.00.
_Gabrielle, Transgressor._ A novel. By Harris Dickson. J. B.
Lippincott Company, Publishers, Philadelphia. Price $1.50.
_Starting in Life._ What each calling offers ambitious boys and young
men. By Nath’l. C. Fowler, Jr. With 33 illustrations by Charles
Copeland. Little, Brown & Co., Publishers. Price $1.50 net.
THE DRAGON PAINTER. A novel. By Mary McNeil Fenollosa. Illustrated by
Gertrude McDaniel. Boston. Little, Brown & Co., Publishers. Price
$1.50.
MY PEOPLE OF THE PLAINS. By Ethelbert Talbot. Illustrated. Harper &
Bros., Publishers, New York. Price $1.75 net.
SOME SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGES. By Abbey Meguire Roach. Illustrated. Harper
& Bros., Publishers, New York. Price $1.25.
RICH MEN’S CHILDREN. By Geraldine Bonner. Illustrated in color by C.
M. Relyea. Bobbs-Merrill Co., Publishers, Indianapolis, Ind. Price
$1.50.
THE SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY. By Chas. Fletcher Doles, New York. Thos. Y.
Crowell & Co., Publishers. Price $1.50.
I AM SERMONS. By Thos. Shelton. Published by Christian, Denver, Col.
Price 50 cents.
THE TEETH AND THEIR CARE. By Thaddeus P. Hyatt, D. D. S., Brooklyn, N.
Y. King Press. Price 50 cents.
[Illustration]
A Peep Into the Weekly Papers.
Disgraceful Railroad Service.
Sometimes “patience ceases to be a virtue” and this is one of the times.
The _Record_ has kept quiet on the subject of the disgraceful,
indifferent, unwarranted and careless manner in which the Southern
Railway has treated its patrons from Toccoa to Elberton, through fear of
being classed as a chronic kicker.
But the thing has become so awful until this paper can keep still no
longer.
Our business men here in Royston--and we suppose it’s the same way in
Lavonia, Bowersville, Canon and Bowman--are losing money every day in
the week through this giant corporation’s ill-treatment. Our cotton
buyers have hundreds of bales of cotton stored here in every conceivable
place because they can’t get cars to ship it away.
Our merchants have goods on the road which were shipped to them days,
weeks and almost months ago, and are losing sales daily because they
can’t get the goods delivered on time.
Sometimes there is no freight train to arrive here for two days at a
time. Whose fault this is _The Record_ doesn’t know, but it must be the
“Big Guns” who own the road.
Not a freight train has arrived here on time in two months. Thousands of
dollars have been lost to the merchants and farmers of this section
through the criminal neglect of those who are at the head of this greedy
octopus, better known as the Southern Railway, which has Georgia in its
power as strongly as ever a boa constrictor of South Africa encircled
its victim.
How long? Oh Lord! How long, will this thing last?
Hasn’t Georgia’s Railroad Commission some power to do something for the
people of Georgia in this matter? If they haven’t they might as well
close up shop and go home and try and find some calling more suitable to
their respective talents, provided the members of that representative
(?) body have any.
The depot agent at this place is as painstaking and gentlemanly as any
railroad official in Georgia, but is helpless. He is worked to death for
want of sufficient help. He is doing the work of two men.
From the section boss to the highest official on the line in
question--the Elberton Air Line--that’s the road we’re talking
about--the pay is less by one third than it should be and not half
enough help is employed in any of the departments.
If the crew on the freight train that runs on this road were animals, we
could indict the authorities for cruelty to animals, but as they are
only human beings there is no law to cover the case. More’s the pity.
There’s something wrong with the law when it allows a greedy corporation
to work its men to death.
Why not put on two freight trains per day, having them to leave Elberton
and Toccoa early in the morning and returning in the afternoon? _The
Record_ believes this would solve the problem and stop the congestion of
freight on this line, at least.
The people of this section are broad minded and generous, and only want
what is due them from any standpoint, but propose to get what is coming
to them if it is gettable.
As we said in the beginning, we tried to keep still about this matter,
but our hammer has begun to knock and we propose to keep it up until
something is done.
_The Record_ will begin, next week, to circulate a petition among our
business men regarding this matter and proposes to send said petition to
Vice-President Andrews, of the Southern, in Charlotte, N. C., to Mr.
McMannus, in Greenville, S. C., and to the great and only Georgia
Railroad Commission, in the city of Atlanta.
Will our sister cities along the Southern, from Toccoa to Elberton, do
the same thing?
_The Record_ will wait and see.--_Royston (Ga.) Record._
Paid Dear for Their Titles.
The girls of these United States have always borne the name of being the
most vivacious, intelligent and common sense mortals of any other
nation, but as is the case in all other things, there are exceptions to
the rule, and when they do depart from the record they can make the very
worse breaks of any. Just think of as intelligent, cultivated girls as
Anna Gould and Consuelo Vanderbilt allowing such broken down old foreign
sports, gamblers and roues as Count Boni de Castellane and the Duke of
Marlborough, persuading them that they were loved, not for their riches
but themselves, and marrying such cattle when they could have secured
good, honest, sober, loving husbands at home. One is now suing for
divorce in Paris after her Frenchman has spent eight millions of her
money, and the other is applying for a separation in London. If it was
foreign titles these girls were seeking, they have paid dear for their
little toy and really deserve no sympathy, but if they sought the men
merely for their supposed merits, the two women ought to have guardians
appointed over them for the remainder of their lives, for they have no
idea of how to take care of themselves.--_Gainesville (Fla.) Elevator._
Honesty and Honor.
Pope says that an honest man is the noblest work of God and Paul says to
provide things honest in the sight of all men.
Webster says that honor is esteem due or paid to worth. Bacon says that
some in their actions do woo, and affect honor and reputation.
In common parlance we call a man honest, if he pays his just and true
debts. Is that true? If a person pays debts with money secured by
extorting the widows and orphans, by pressing the poor, by selling hell
and damnation to youths, is he to be called honest? Certainly not. He is
neither honest nor honorable.
There is another class of folk, who think themselves honest and would
resent with their strong arms even an insinuation of dishonesty on their
part, that fall as far short of being honest and honorable men as
thieves do of being angels. They are an ingenious sort of people, whose
heads are full of tricks and schemes, and their greatest joy consists of
working them upon the public. They had rather make money dishonestly
than honestly. To enlist them in any cause only the whisper of the word
scheme is necessary. Yet, they pay their debts and they seem to think
that this alone will carry them to “heaven on flowery beds of ease.”
_The honest and honorable men in a community are those, with characters
so well known, as to never be approached secretly or otherwise, in
behalf of screening any evil, upholding any wrong, fostering any unholy
scheme. They stand boldly for right living and everybody knows it._
The clever, popular men of a community are not always the honorable and
the honest. Their popularity often results from their closed lips and
silent hands. They are polite, generous and liberal, but are
approachable and ready participants in any sort of secret deal for a
little cash. Money in their eyes looks brighter than honesty and they
are neither honest nor honorable, although very clever fellows.
But there is in every community persons, possessed of righteous
consciences, with so high ideals of the right and so much hatred for the
wrong, as to be unable to restrain themselves in taking brave, bold
stands in every civic and religious reform.
_Boys, the object of this article is to elevate manhood in Gwinnett
county and the latter are the characters for your patterns. Be men._
Say, what is honor? ’Tis the finest sense
Of justice which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offense,
Suffered or done.--Wordsworth.
--_Gwinnett, (Ga.) Journal._
Sacred Prosperity.
Divine right is still to be discovered in high finance, although not so
usual as a few years ago it was. A group of minority stockholders,
clamoring for an accounting from Mr. HARRIMAN, were consoled by his
lawyer with the assurance that “Mr. Harriman moves in a higher world,
where stockholders may not hope to enter.” The president of the Union
Pacific Railroad may continue to keep stockholders beyond the
battlements of his personal paradise; but the Interstate Commerce
Commission, by virtue of the Railroad Rate bill, have the right to make
inquisitorial entry. The rate bill became a law on August 28. The
raising of the Union Pacific dividend from six to ten per cent. was
effected by Mr. Harriman on August 16. If the Interstate Commerce
Commission have been under embarrassment about picking a railroad which
shall be compelled to lower its freight rates, the juxtaposition of
dates should make them easy. A road which at once pays exorbitant
dividends and charges exorbitant rates seems to need their services. It
is not for the purpose of paying higher wages to his conductors and
engineers that Mr. Harriman charges high rates. His operating expenses
are but 52.51 per cent. of his gross receipts; whereas the average of
all our railroads is 67.79 per cent. When a shipper pays Mr. Harriman
one dollar, fifty-three cents goes to pay the trainmen and for the
other purposes embraced under operating expenses; about two cents
goes for taxes, and forty-five cents goes to paying the interest on
bonds and to meeting the necessities of Mr. Harriman’s ten per cent.
requirements.--_Collier’s Weekly._
Trial for Murder.
Our system of criminal jurisprudence is better than most, and as good as
any with the possible exception of the English. But no one denies that
it has monstrous faults. In New York recently one man shot another over
a woman. Both men were rich and the woman beautiful--a combination that
will instantly wreck the essential purpose of criminal law anywhere in
the United States. Already the newspapers abundantly foreshadow what
will happen. The material facts in the case--so far as concerns the
purpose of the law to protect human life--were brought out by the
coroner in about half an hour. Hereafter we shall hear very little of
them.
Press reports assure us that a fine array of legal talent on either
side is preparing to play a splendid game of chess. If it can be shown
that one of the men led a life more vicious than the other that will
score ten for the side that shows it. The sorry muck-heap of the woman’s
career will be raked fore and aft until it has yielded every point that
will count on one side or the other. The lawyers will construct a great
melodrama, with the villain, heroine and hero, to be presented to the
jury. The verdict--the very life of the accused--will depend upon the
skill with which the game is played and the success with which the
melodrama is “put on.”
“Thou shalt not kill,” says the commandment. One can imagine a
completely civilized state, in noble dignity, requiring the one man to
answer whether he did kill and murder the other, contrary to its
statute. It is merely an imagining, however. Our famous murder trials,
with their tawdry tricks in the face of death and their rotten plays to
sentiment, are pretty exclusively barbarous.--_Saturday Evening Post._
The Negroes.
Senator Bailey talks, as there is no law against his utterances. “The
free negro,” he declares, in his amiable attempt to induce in his
hearers a calm and rational mode of thought, “is a more serious menace
to the South than the negro in slavery.” In Alabama, a couple of weeks
ago, at a Republican convention, there was not a negro present--one of
the details indicating a general drift of the Republicans toward leaving
the negroes out of their politics. Meantime, the negroes themselves are
divided sharply in their meeting of the situation. The so-called
“Niagara Movement” puts out an address to the country which observes:
“We claim for ourselves every single right that belongs to a free-born
American, political, civil, and social.” The whole address is a mass of
almost bombastic rhetoric on this theme. Meantime, another leader
speaks: “Let constructive progress be the dominant note among us in
every section of America. An inch of progress is worth more than a yard
of fault-finding. The races that have grown strong and useful have not
done so by depending upon finding fault with others, but by presenting
to the world evidences of progress in agriculture, industrial and
business life, as well as through religious, educational, and civic
growth.” Without failing to make it clear that he wishes the equal
protection of the law, Mr. Washington refuses to complain, to whine
about social rights and aspirations, and prefers to tell his fellows the
most useful things to do. He leaves white faults to white men and warns
negroes against negro weaknesses. Which leader will the negroes follow,
and which speaks with wisdom and with strength?--_Collier’s Weekly._
The Labor Famine.
What has become of all our laborers is a question which no one seems
able to answer just at present, but that they are not to be had is too
well known. In the cotton belt of Texas, churches and Sunday schools are
organizing parties and going into the fields to save the crop; in other
of the cotton growing states the women are helping the men gather the
staple; immigrants are offered work almost before they have put a foot
on American soil; out West two great rival railroads are scouring the
woods for men; factories where child labor has been legislated out are
running short-handed, and it would appear that if our prosperity did not
abate a bit from other causes it would do so from lack of labor with
which to carry it on. Meanwhile communities are learning the gentle art
of smiling, trade is booming and not even an approaching election can
offer an opening to the pessimist.--_Pensacola News._
Cotton and the Negro.
Our Statesmen tell us in one breath that the salvation of the South is
in the planting of less cotton and getting more for it and, in the very
next breath, they say that immigration will save us. They invite the
yankee to come, and the German, and the Irish, and the Scandinavian and
even the Italian.
If it be true that we are planting enough cotton, even too much, and it
is true, wherein will the South be benefited by having thousands of the
foreigners settle here to raise more cotton? There is but one answer. We
don’t need any more cotton planters.
But it is contended that foreign immigration will settle the race
question. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. The cotton patch negro hasn’t
given us any trouble, nor will he, and he isn’t going to leave either.
He is satisfied, his landlord is satisfied, and a German or a
Scandinavian upon the scene will mean two cotton patches instead of one,
one for him and one for the negro.
True, there are many of our ambitious farmers who can’t secure enough
laborers to make enough cotton to get rich as fast as they would, but
they’ll get rich quick enough in using our present available labor,
thereby raising less cotton, getting more for it, and, at the same time,
either resting their lands or sowing it in small grain. And when these
wealthy farmers plant less cotton, they benefit every poor fellow,
standing between the plow handles, in the entire South.
And this one or two horse farmer is the ideal citizen, anyway. The best
communities are those made up of small farmers. The churches, schools
and social conditions in a community, in which one man owns all the land
and runs forty plows, are not as good as one with forty land owners.
Oglethorpe county would, no doubt, be a better county today, if Jim
Smith had never been born, and this is not said with the spirit of
criticising a single act of his life, either.
It’s all right for immigrants to build our cities, our railroads, our
manufacturing enterprises or to labor in the cities, on the railroads,
in the factories or even take servants’ places, but the South doesn’t
need any more cotton raisers.--_Gwinnett (Ga.) Journal._
The Railroad Power.
The railroad magnates have divided up the lines in this country among
nine families of plutocrats, who by controlling transportation of
passengers and freight, can control the Government. They are divided as
follows:
Harriman 22,276
Vanderbilt 20,493
Pennsylvania 20,138
Hill 19,407
Morgan 18,789
Gould 13,789
Moore 13,028
Rockefeller 10,293
Santa Fe 7,809
-------
Total 146,112
That is three-fourths of the mileage of the country and the control of
the main lines in every state and territory. It puts into the hands of
these men a greater power than was ever exercised by any group of kings,
lords and dukes who ever formed a community of interests. In all past
history, to overthrow such a power as that, a resort to long and bloody
wars was the only recourse. It remains to be seen whether the great
peace movements of the last few years, for which Andrew Carnegie has
built a temple at The Hague, will produce a sentiment strong enough to
settle this question peaceably. Would Andrew Carnegie encourage
anarchistic disorders if he thought there was a danger of a reduction
of the tariff on steel? Railroad combination and robber tariffs are only
another manifestation of what we once called the “money power.”--_Omaha
(Neb.,) Investigator._
Populism Forever.
Whatever may be the future of the People’s party, whether it is doomed
to pass away and give place to some other party that will present its
principles, or whether it may yet rise as it deserves to do and get
control of the Government, remains yet to be seen.
One thing is certain. It has already accomplished more in this
Government in the last fifteen years in the way of creating public
sentiment and political conviction than both of the old parties.
Fifteen years ago the two old parties were discussing nothing but
Tariff. The Money question, the Railroad question and the Trust question
were entirely ignored by them. Not because the leaders of the two old
parties did not know the magnitude and importance of these questions;
but they got their campaign boodle from these rich corporations and they
were willing to accept the money and let the common people perish.
When the Populists came on the scene they began to “cry aloud and spare
not.”
They showed that the same laws of supply and demand that regulated the
prices of other commodities, also regulated the price of money, that
when money was plentiful, prices were high, all kinds of business
prosperous and labor fully employed and well paid. While on the other
hand when money was scarce it was high; all industries paralized, men
out of work and their families suffering for bread.
They showed that the great railroad corporations had secured the public
franchises and were taxing the people without their consent and without
mercy.
They showed that their great corporations, growing enormously rich were
combining together and forming “Trusts” and that they will eventually
control all prices, and as completely own and control the country as did
the Barons under the Feudal system.
Their cry and their plea was invincible.
Their arguments could not be answered.
Ridicule and abuse might serve to keep them down for awhile, but the
just indictment against the two old parties was destined some day to be
sustained.
Today the Populist looks on with pleasure and sees his principles
growing in public favor every day.
The Republican president and the Democratic leader are endorsing the
very doctrines that were fifteen years ago considered the most radical.
All honor to the Populists.--_Nevada County (Ark.) Picayune._
Sense.
Can there be such a thing as a radical conservative? John Temple Graves
thinks Col. Pleasant Stovall, of the _Savannah Press_, fits that kind of
a job. We believe that a trimmer--if that is what Col. Graves means to
call Col. Stovall--is the most decent citizen that afflicts human
society. He stops rushing things when a sense of the proprieties tells
him that a thing has been rushed far enough to make it coarse or common
(use which word you prefer), and the result is that his hair does not
grow too long, nor his ears too puritanically short.
Yes, sir, the medium grade takes the cake. Except in an occasional
storm, the radicals may overrun all opposition; but it don’t last, and
the fellow that wins on an extravagant moral issue may be found in the
ditch dead drunk as soon as public sentiment gets normal and resorts
for a season to common sense arrangements of its ethics and politics.
Yes, the men who make an over-display of honesty for the season always
get left as soon as the folks get back to their normal qualities. Common
sense controls when the excitement has passed.--_Cordele Rambler._
A Lesson in Fusion.
Hearst got beat for Governor of New York while the balance of the State
ticket he was on got elected. A few of the successful candidates are
Independence League men, but most of them are straight Democrats. Thus
Hearst’s reform work was turned to the benefit of corrupt and foul
Tammany. We hope this lesson in fusion will be enough for the League.
Hearst was defeated by about 60,000, while the other State candidates on
the League-Democratic fusion ticket were elected by small pluralities.
Tammany scratched Hearst. The Wall Street element of the Democratic
party either scratched him or voted the Republican ticket. We are
inclined to think well of Hearst because of those who scratched him.
Hearst says the fight for the rights of the people is still on. With his
great daily papers he can do a vast work toward overthrowing the rule of
the money power, if he gets into the middle of the road and stays there.
But if he endeavors to work within the old party he will do more to
prevent the success of the people than forty Clevelands could do. Maybe
the thing wasn’t hardly ripe and he had to back out, which he did by
fusing with the Democrats after the League had nominated a straight
ticket. We are guessing that Hearst will be in the middle of the road
supporting Tom Watson for President in 1908.--_Missouri World._
A Significant Vote.
Whatever may be said of W. R. Hearst’s individual sincerity and
integrity of purpose, the vote which almost landed him in the governor’s
chair of New York State--a position which is next to the presidency--is
the vote which is dissatisfied with corporation conditions. It is a
significant vote. And the strong anti-Hearst sentiment among the “upper
ten” all over the South is also significant. Everywhere men are,
consciously or unconsciously, taking their positions along lines of
economics.--_Farmers’ Journal, Abilene, Texas._
Where He Belongs.
Tom Watson is back in Georgia, where he belongs. He is too warm, too
impulsive, too frank and too honest for New York--cold, calculating,
deceitful, hateful New York.--_Farmers’ Journal, Abilene, Tex._
[Illustration]
Letters From the People.
Half Jackal and Half Hyena.
_Lucian L. Knight, Los Angeles, Cal._
I cannot silence without gratifying the impulse which prompts me to
write you at once after reading what you have to say about that
superlative scoundrel, Mann. As a friend who holds you in loyal and
affectionate admiration, I resent with all my heart the treatment which
you have received at the hands of one who is man in name only and who in
nature is half jackal and half hyena. I am aware how true it is that the
most insignificant of insects may vex even the noble lion. Mann may be a
millionaire, but I warrant his shillings are dirty. How miserably poor
the wretch is when the only assets he has in the world are the millions
which lie in the bank!
I know how little things have annoyed me at times and I know how much I
have appreciated an impulsive word of sympathy, even from “the least of
these.”
I am sorry I could not get the extracts you were to send me in time for
Vol. I of the Reminiscences which will be ready for publication within
the next few weeks; but I hope to get them in time for Vol. II. The work
will require two volumes. I have met with so much encouragement that I
am warranted in beginning at once upon Vol. II. Disappointed in other
cherished plans and prospects, I am now putting my life’s ambition into
this work which I trust to be able to make of literary and historic
value to Georgia.
An Anonymous Slander Rebuked.
_W. H. Eddy, Los Angeles, Cal._
Can you explain what quality there is in human nature, that prompts some
specimens of the race to the doing of things which are admirably adapted
to the hindrance of all that they profess to be in earnest support of?
Now, for instance: in _The Appeal to Reason_ of October 27th, is an
unsigned article headed, “Populism and the Pap.” Being unsigned would
indicate that it came from the pen of J. A. Wayland, or that of F. D.
Warren, the present Managing Editor. Now, both of these men have been
earnest workers for several years, or at least for what they conceive to
be the cause of socialism. It would seem as though, when two men are
associated in a work which each of them has advocated and written signed
articles in favor of, lauding it as a movement opposed to dishonesty,
deceit and all the baser tendencies of the depraved mind, that when he
takes a notion to stultify himself, descend to the lowest practices of
the gutter blackguard, he would have consideration enough for his
associate to sign his name, so that decent people who may be so
unfortunate as to peruse it, and such of the patrons of the paper as
have both decency and brains enough to resent it, might not blame the
innocent party inadvertently.
If socialism is anything, or is to be anything in human history which is
to make for the betterment of humanity, then it must rest upon the
fundamental principles of honesty, justice and truth. All those who
would not be cursed by its adoption to-morrow, by reason of their lack
of development and their consequent lack of capacity to appreciate its
meaning and the obligations inherent in it, assert that brotherly love,
the golden rule, and the Sermon on the Mount, are also corner-stones in
the foundation of its most noble structure.
But let us leave the latter out of consideration for the present. It is
not conceivable that there can be dug up in the office of the _Appeal_
one individual so low in the scale of human development as not to
concede honor, truth and justice as being the beginning, the very A B C
of socialism. What must we think, then, of the estimate that the one who
penned the abominable article referred to, places upon the intelligence
of his readers, to say nothing of the hundreds who have drawn from the
little stock of their earnings which are really needed for the comfort
of themselves and family, to assist this poor degenerate in distributing
his venom and flaunting his idiocy in the faces of a nation of
intelligent people, to the disheartenment of thousands of advocates of
socialism, and the great glee of those who aver that the animus of
socialism and of all socialists is such as “Breathes the hot breath of
brutal hate, and riots as it runs” through the two columns of the
“Appeal?” To those who have not been unfortunate enough to read it,
suffice it to say that it is a wholly uncalled for, unsocialistic, and,
from every point of view, rascally, assault upon Hon. Thomas E. Watson,
and to make it, if possible, more pusillanimous, it is given publicity
just at a time when, on account of Mr. Watson’s having been grievously
misused by his former business associates in the _Watson’s Magazine_
enterprise, Mr. Watson is deserving of the sympathy of every person who
possesses a spark of decency. It is cowardly in the extreme to strike a
person when he is down or crippled.
Mr. Watson’s life history is now an open book to anyone, not an absolute
ignoramus, in this broad country. He has his prejudices. He has his own
political ideas, which, at the test of the ballot box, have been shown
to be largely in the minority, but, to his honor be it said, the fact
that they were not the winning card, has never caused him for one moment
to falter in devoting time, money and energy in their advocacy, a fact
which of itself would give the lie to the baseless, senseless and
hypocritical charge of treachery and double dealing, which, by their own
statements, finds 250,000 duplications in this issue of the Appeal.
It is doing too much honor to quote from it, but the readers of progress
will excuse the presentation of some short samples. “Tom appears to have
a grudge against whatever tends toward progress.” Think of that in
reference to the father of the rural free delivery postal system which
carries tens of thousands of copies of this very diatribe of lies to the
farmers of the country, in whose interest Watson succeeded in having
this system established, as the _Congressional Record_ will bear
witness. Again, “But he has been repudiated by the respectable
democratic press of his state--as witness the merciless exposure of his
methods by the _Atlanta Constitution_ and the _Macon Telegraph_!”
Respectable! The _Atlanta Constitution_ and the _Macon Telegraph_!
Socialists of intelligence, what have you to say of the creature so lost
to decency as to, in the columns of the leading socialist weekly paper
of America, if not of the world, so far as circulation goes, laud the
_Atlanta Constitution_ and the _Macon Telegraph_, notoriously the most
mercenary and most thoroughly corporation-serving papers of the entire
South, and for no other reason--for he can plead no other--than because
they are fighting Tom Watson, who happens to be under the ban of his
displeasure?
And why are the ultra corporation journals fighting Tom Watson? Because
honest Tom Watson is sacrificing his private interests in a determined
effort to defeat the machinations of the Walter Parkers, the Herrins and
the Abe Ruefs of his beloved state.
Again: “That Watson received the price for his perfidy is not for a
moment to be doubted.” Whoever penned those lines either knew that he
was penning a most villainous lie or he is too ignorant to be worthy of
the contempt of a chimpanzee. There isn’t a person with intelligence
enough to write connectedly on truth, or any part of the scurrilous rot
this creature did, but knows perfectly well that if Tom Watson had been
corruptible, he could have received ten times more to have sold himself
to the very forces this creature is supposed to be fighting, than it has
ever been claimed he did get. That is just as true of Tom Watson as it
is of ’Gene V. Debs. Everyone, including the writer of that malicious
screed, _knows_ that they both could be rolling luxuriously in wealth if
they had but followed the course of these very papers which he is
pleased to declare “respectable.”
But the last quotation is manly as compared with this one: “It is said
that he has been up for sale before, and was knocked down to the highest
bidder,” etc., “It is said!” The language of the conscienceless gossip,
the method of the footpad, with the sand-bag, or the gas-pipe who
strikes you out of the dark. Again: “John M. Barnes, a man for whose
veracity many stand ready to vouch, etc.” Very good, Mr. No-name. Mr.
Barnes is good enough authority to use in an effort to injure your
brother man, Mr. Thos. Watson. Would you accept Mr. John M. Barnes’
statement as to the offices you, your associates and the _Appeal to
Reason_ are performing in America, and would you abide by and endorse
them in your own case? Never! And that very fact impeaches your honesty
in quoting, as against Tom Watson, the slanders of corporation hirelings
and political hacks, whom you know are fighting him for what there is in
it. No! no! When you go straining a point, you always _prove too much_.
Be something like a man, and bid him God speed in his task of awakening
the people to their dangers, even if he does leave them short of being
full-fledged socialists.
Tom Watson’s opinions are not in all respects mine. In fact, there are
many points on which we do not agree. But if I have outgrown the tenets
of Populism, and he has not, or if he sees so many falling away from the
mere party organization of populism as to be heart-sore and discouraged,
and chooses to advocate _the same principles_ under the name of
Jeffersonian Democracy, he is still entitled to the respect of friend
and foe alike, until he sacrifices principle to greed or puerile hatred.
Wants to Follow Watson’s Pen.
_L. A. Benson, Clay Center, Kan._
I write to inquire as to the truth or falsity of the rumor that you have
severed your connection with the Magazine which bears your name. I have
been a voting Prohibitionist since 1885. I bought the first issue of
“_Tom Watson’s_” and read it, and have hungered for its appearance ever
since. I have read every line of Editorial and other matter which came
from your pen. I was beginning to think myself so much of a Populist
that I could “keep step.” From 1894 until 1901 I lived in Philadelphia,
Pa., and judging the Populists from the caricatures appearing in Eastern
papers I felt surprised to find that I have all along possessed just
such views as constitute the essence of Populism. I find myself
unwilling to give up the opportunity to follow your pen. I will regard
it as a matter of genuine kindness to me if you will put me in
connection with the Magazine which takes your copy and spreads it among
your many disciples and admirers. I regard the work which you are doing
as _fundamental_, and I am aware that you, like all leaders in reforms
which touch the money-king, will suffer. If it be in the power of “Old
Plute” to crucify you, he will not be too tender. He will not be lacking
in heartless cruelty. But while you are bidding high for the hate and
vengeance of “Old Plute” you are winning the glorious title of “friend”
and “brother” to those who are crushed ’neath the heel of this
heartless, greedy foe. To _oppose_ him and to _stand the loving helper_
of men, is to trace the footsteps of the Man of Galilee, up a modern
Calvary. In plain language, it is the essence of pure and undefiled
religion. Here’s my hand, brother, and may God bless and prosper you.
Hedging on Human Life.
_N. B. McDowell, Ronceverte, W. Va._
In reply to your question in _Watson’s Magazine_ of August: “Is it true
that railroad corporations insure the lives of the railroad mail
clerks?” I cannot speak for the railroad corporations, but it was
developed in court here that the St. Lawrence Broom & Manufacturing Co.,
the largest corporation in this section, has the lives of its employes
insured for its benefit. This company employs a large number of men and
boys and has never made any provisions for their protection against the
inclemency of the weather, or the many dangers of machinery that might
be averted.
I was an employe of this company for fifteen years and have seen a
number of men and boys mangled and maimed for life, but it was not known
until quite recently that the corporation received insurance for every
employe that got crippled. A boy got his hand cut off and sued the
company for damages and it was clearly proven that the employes were
insured for the benefit of the company.
Must Have the “Jeffersonian.”
_D. H. Chamberlain, Harriston, Miss._
A few days ago I saw in the Memphis _Commercial-Appeal_ that you had
severed your connection with _Watson’s Magazine_. I am a subscriber and
have taken the Magazine solely on account of your Editorials, which I
regard as the finest and most forceful I ever read in any Magazine. My
subscription is about run out and if you are no longer connected with
the publication I do not care to renew. This is my reason for making
this inquiry, and I will be glad to hear the report is untrue. If it is
correct let me know if it will be your purpose to edit a similar
periodical. In that event you can count on me as a subscriber, even if
the subscription price should be increased to $5.00 per annum.
I think you are doing a great and necessary work in your attempts to
arouse the people to the dangers that now menace the liberties of this
unhappy land, “to hastening ills a prey.”
There is one point on which I am constrained to criticise you and that
is your ill-advised attacks on W. J. Bryan, which is something I am
utterly unable to understand.
Why do you do this when you both stand for the same things? It seems to
me unfortunate, to say the least, that soldiers of the hosts of Reform
should turn their artillery upon each other when so much ammunition is
needed to fight the cohorts of Plutocracy, and in this connection
nothing will ever be accomplished in the way of bringing this Government
again into the possession of the people if any such suicidal policy is
pursued. The reformers must get together if this Republic is to be
preserved, if it is not even now too late to save it. Of this I am
certain: we have no time left us for internal dissensions, and I hope
that so splendid a soldier of the common good as yourself, will, in the
future, refrain from stirring up discord in the ranks of Reform, and
reserve your ammunition entirely for our enemies.
As to Gins.
_R. W. Barkley, New York City._
November 12, 1906.
I note that you are proposed as President of the Cotton Association. I
have read your Magazine from the first number until Mann got it, and I
know your desire to benefit the South. I control the patent rights on a
cotton gin which works on a new principle and which leaves the cotton in
natural lengths, thereby enhancing the price to the planter by one to
five cents per pound. The gin can be run by hand, or by power, and a few
farmers can own one in common and thereby earn money by ginning their
own cotton. The gin consists of “mechanism for gradually opening and
loosening the cotton fibres while still attached to the seeds, with
means for thereafter removing the seeds.” Just take a little cotton and
gradually pull the fibres apart, without, however, separating them from
the seed, until you have a large puff ball and then see how easily they
come off at the seed. Well, that is what this machine does. No “gin cut”
cotton in it. Seed practically unhurt, also. Am looking for money
wherewith to build a large machine, (the inventor made the working model
by hand himself); it does the work fairly well, but it is getting to be
ram-shackle for demonstration purposes, and then for capital wherewith
to work the gin commercially. Such a gin ought to interest you and also
the Cotton Association.
EDITOR’S NOTE.--Having just been run through one new and improved
gin--known as _Town Topics_--and having been badly “gin cut” myself,
have but slight inclination for new inventions of the gin variety.
Getting Used to It.
_S. R. Sikes, Ocilla, Georgia._
I have your card of November 10th, advising me of your withdrawal from
_Watson’s Magazine_, and of your intention of publishing in the near
future WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN. I desire to express my sympathy for you in
your recent trouble with the New York publication, and to assure you of
my friendship and best wishes for you in your new enterprise, “THE
JEFFERSONIAN.”
I feel sure that you have been treated very unfairly by those New York
people, and I feel a spirit of resentment for you, and I am to-day
writing them to discontinue mailing _Watson’s Magazine_ to me, and to
erase my name from their list of subscribers. (Copy of letter enclosed.)
I would feel worse for you over this transaction than I do if it were
not for the fact you have been unfairly treated and falsely accused so
many times during the last ten or fifteen years, until I suppose you
have to some extent become toughened so that you can stand such
treatment better than the average man, and I see very plainly now, and
have seen for quite a while past, that the current of public sentiment
is rapidly drifting your way. I desire to offer you all the
encouragement I possibly can in the noble work you are doing--educating
the common people of the country on the public issues that are now
facing the American people, and in this connection I will state to you
that I have been with you, so far as my ability extends, in this battle,
and on some occasions have been severely criticised for taking your part
and standing by the principles of original democracy in the days when
the Democratic Party was seeking to destroy the principles upon which
our government was founded. Of course I will subscribe for the
JEFFERSONIAN. I want the first copy that is printed and each succeeding
issue. Mail me a few sample copies, and I think I can induce some others
to subscribe.
* * * * *
(Copy.)
November 14, 1906.
Editor Watson’s Magazine, New York.
Dear Sir:--After reading and carefully considering the recent
differences between you and the Honorable Thos. E. Watson, I wish to say
to you that I think Mr. Watson has been treated very unfairly. I am a
great admirer of Mr. Watson and his writings, and this led me to
subscribe to the Magazine in its beginning. I have been highly pleased
with it, and especially so with Mr. Watson’s editorials, but as he has
been forced to sever his connection with the Magazine, and as his
writings were the principle things which induced me to subscribe to the
Magazine, I write to request that you erase my name from your list of
subscribers. If I remember correctly, my subscription is paid up to
March 1st, 1907, but under the circumstances I do not wish another copy
mailed to my address.
Very respectfully,
S. R. SIKES.
Watson Was Its Strength.
_V. L. Anthony, Jr., Hurtsboro, Ala._
I subscribed for _Watson’s Magazine_ on account of your connection with
it. Now, as you are no longer with it, I wish your new Magazine when you
start it.
“The Gang” Insults the Readers.
_D. J. Henderson, Sr., Ocilla, Ga._
When the stockholders of the _Watson’s Magazine_ attempted to restrict
you as Editor and Manager, causing you to sever your connection with it,
they struck, what I call, a death blow to the Magazine. All of its
readers who believe in pure Jeffersonian Democracy felt the insult as
keenly as you. I enclose you copy of a letter I sent last week to
DeFrance, ordering mine discontinued. I am a subscriber to the Weekly
_Jeffersonian_ and will be to the Magazine you contemplate starting in
Atlanta as soon as the first issue is out.
The editor of the _Ocilla Star_, whom I asked you some time back to
exchange your Magazine with, has, since that time, “passed over the
River to rest in the shade.” The paper will be continued by his two
young sons, who, I know, if not doing so, will be pleased to exchange
with _The Jeffersonian_.
May the blessings of Heaven be upon you and yours.
* * * * *
(Copy.)
Ocilla, Ga., Oct. 24, 1906.
Mr. C. Q. DeFrance, New York City.
Dear Sir:--Please strike my name from the list of subscribers to the
_Watson Magazine_. I learn the stockholders endeavored to place
restrictions on Mr. Watson as Editor and Manager, and he, for that
reason, severed his connection with it. Thank God for that. I am glad to
know he had so much manhood about him. Tom Watson is one among the
greatest statesmen the United States has. It is a source of satisfaction
to know that he will neither speak nor write with a corporation muzzle
on. When the stockholders attempted to restrict Mr. Watson in his
Editorials for the Magazine, they didn’t only insult him, but they
insulted every reader of it who believes in the pure Jeffersonian
principles which Mr. Watson so ably advocates and defends. I would be
proud of Tom Watson were he from any other section of the Union. He
being a Southern man and a Georgian at that, I am exceedingly proud of
him. I fear somebody has been taken upon the Mount and shown the
glorious things the railroads will do if they will only fall down and
worship them. If _no Watson_ is with the Magazine then _no Magazine for
me_.
Respectfully,
D. J. HENDERSON, SR.
“It Would Be a Noble Charity.”
_Chas. D. Hunt, Gueydan, La._
Reading with interest your valuable editorials in the October number and
the most striking and interesting subject, “It Would be a Noble
Charity”--here you have treated a subject in a light that any person
could not help from shielding with an honest heart, with a strong desire
in mind to spread the cause of charity, but you have almost been selfish
with your subject. What of the territory bordering along the Gulf of
Mexico? That is, the extreme portion.
Here we have settlers of almost ancient times. They are not altogether
uncivilized, but are not able to meet the demands of our educated
requirements. Hence are we to still keep them back or are we to give
them a helping hand? These people know nothing of education and its help
in life, but toil with an earnest heart to maintain _merely_ a _scant
living_ and to bring the younger class up in their own path.
I think if the Humane Society would stop and think deeply in regard to
the young boys and girls that spend their school days in hard labor out
of school there would be something done to protect them and give them a
chance for a better future than is now before them.
It would be surprising to anyone who has had the advantages of education
and _really_ felt its _real value_ in life to stroll along the prairies
and see just how many bright young boys and girls are out of touch with
the educated world. Why? Their parents are not able to aid them to
secure an education, but are more than willing.
Do you not think much could be done in both mountain and prairie
territories?
Wants Only the Real Thing.
_Burton H. Jeffers, Rose, N. Y._
Having read in the _Missouri World_ that you had ceased writing for
_Watson’s Magazine_, I was greatly surprised. I had supposed that you
owned the Magazine, and had taken great pleasure in securing
subscriptions for it in this vicinity. Some of those subscriptions have
just expired, and the subscribers say they don’t want it again if you
are not going to write for it. That would seem to sound the death knell
of the now so-called _Watson’s Magazine_.
When you start your new magazine send me a sample copy, and I will
endeavor to give your subscription list a little boost. I would also
like a few sample copies of your weekly paper.
You Shall Hear Again.
_J. J. Hunt, El Paso, Tex._
Looking forward and hoping to get the November number of your Magazine,
I hear, verbally, that you have severed your connection with that
periodical, and I don’t care now whether it ever appears again, for what
I read in it was what you wrote, little else. I know you quit your
association there for good cause and that your work will not end, and
believe I shall hear from you again. I dare say two thirds of the
readers of _Watson’s Magazine_, like myself, will care little for it
now.
While I’m traveling, please know that I’m still a citizen of good old
Georgia, living at 257 South Pryor Street, Atlanta.
Samples of the Replies DeFrance May Expect to Get to Begging Letters.
(Copy.)
Boaz, Ala., Nov. 16, 1906.
C. Q. DeFrance.
Dear Sir:--In this paragraph you say too much to get my help; you say
that Mr. Watson’s backers cared nothing for Mr. Watson’s “ideas.” But
the money which you hoped to get out of those who do care for Mr. Watson
and his “ideas” was the object in view. Had it not been for Mr. Watson
and the principles he advocated I would not have been a subscriber. This
and the fact that Mr. Watson was forced to resign because of non-payment
of his salary and what you say in the fourth paragraph forever settles
it with me. When Mr. Watson betrays the people’s cause or trust for any
cause I am done, for I would never confide in another man as I have in
him, but he will never forsake the people.
Yours truly,
T. B. MOSLEY.
* * * * *
(Copy.)
Mr. C. Q. DeFrance, Business Manager, New York City, N. Y.
Dear Sir:--I received the November number of the _Watson’s Magazine_ a
few days ago, and your circular letter and subscription blanks today,
and in reply would say that I am one of those who much prefer the play
of Hamlet with the Prince of Denmark left in.
Further comments are unnecessary. My subscription expires February,
1907. Please discontinue same with the November number received.
Yours very truly,
A. A. DELONG.
* * * * *
(Copy.)
_Watson’s Magazine, 121 W. 42nd Street, New York, N. Y._
Gentlemen:--You will please discontinue my subscription to _Watson’s
Magazine_.
I subscribed to this periodical in order to read Mr. Watson’s
editorials; and, inasmuch as he is no longer identified with this
publication, it is useless to send it to me any longer.
Very truly,
BURGESS SMITH.
Wants the Jeffersonian.
_Chas. E. Harris, Alton, Ill._
I was very much surprised on buying _Watson’s Magazine_ for November to
find that you were no longer connected with it as editor. Of course I
will have no further use for the Magazine as I only bought it in the
first place for your writings.
I saw in one of the St. Louis papers that you intended to start another
Magazine and call it WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN. Please advise me if this is
true and when it will be ready for publication, as I want you to put me
down on your subscription list.
I hope to cast my first vote for you and Bryan in 1908.
No Sham for Him.
_Benjamin H. Hill, West Point, Ga._
Some time ago I subscribed for your splendid Magazine solely and only to
get to read your articles therein and I notice to-day’s number, with one
exception, contains nothing from your able pen. Without your articles I
would not give ten cents a year for it, in fact don’t want it at any
price. I desire to read after you, but don’t want this other trash.
I regret your trouble and hope it will yet prove for your benefit and
help.
The Jeffersonian is the Answer.
_Chas. Buttlar, Oakland, Cal._
I have been a regular purchaser of your Magazine from its beginning, and
it is with the deepest regret that I learn that you have withdrawn from
the Magazine. I presume that the enemies of truth have destroyed its
publication as they have done heretofore with others.
Will you kindly inform me, also, whether you will start a new Magazine
or paper by which we may enjoy the education that you have given us? I
wish you success and strength to overcome all opposition.
Hamlet Without the Dane.
_H. G. Sumner, Passaic, N. J._
_Watson’s Magazine_ without Watson is of course no longer _Watson’s
Magazine_. I haven’t seen the November number, but it must be like
“Hamlet” with Hamlet left out.
I am proud of having been one of the faithful in 1904, when I heard you
speak at Jersey City and again in that matchless “old fashioned stump
speech” at the Grand Central Palace in New York, where I managed to jam
myself through the crowd on the platform and get hold of your hand for a
second.
The monthly visits of your Magazine were like those of a dear friend
dropping in for an evening to discuss matters which should be of the
gravest concern to every true American. I have the numbers all bound in
volumes, but now my set is complete much sooner than I had anticipated.
A few minutes ago I took up a copy of _The Public_, in which I saw a
paragraph to the effect that you would soon start a new Magazine. I hope
this may be true, and I want to be one of the first subscribers, for I
am anxious for the continuation of the “Life of Jackson” and for more of
your Editorials.
From a Constant Reader.
_Jas. E. Dillon, Otwell, Ind._
Too late I learned the sad story of _Watson’s Magazine_. I have been a
subscriber to it from the first number, and I did not want to miss a
number.
I sent a long list of names to it a few days before I found it out, for
sample copies. But it has lost its attraction to me and I hope such men
as DeFrance and Mann will soon be relegated.
I have enclosed a few names that might subscribe to the new JEFFERSONIAN
MAGAZINE.
I hope you will have success in spreading the truth and nothing but the
truth.
Wants a “Watson’s” With a Watson in It
_H. C. Britt, Sparta, Ga._
I have been informed that you would send to the present subscribers to
_Watson’s Magazine_, if they so desired, your new publication, free of
cost, for the time for which they had paid their subscriptions to the
Magazine. I am a subscriber to the Magazine, and have been from the date
of its very first issue, and my subscription is paid to the
corresponding date in 1907.
I took the Magazine because of your connection with it. I would
appreciate the opportunity of getting acquainted with your new
Magazine.
Returning Thanks to My Friends
Shouldering the responsibilities and the financial burden of a new
magazine, is a serious matter. As nearly everybody will understand, it
involves tens of thousands of dollars in the way of necessary expense,
and whether you will ever see that money again depends entirely upon
circumstances over which you yourself have nothing like _absolute_
control. There are already so many brilliant and beautiful magazines
circulating throughout the Union, that establishing another is a venture
that borders upon temerity.
But in my case there was no alternative. _It had to be done._ Flesh and
blood could not bear the infamous treatment which was being handed out
to me by that fat rascal, Col. W. D. Mann, and that lean sneak, C. Q.
DeFrance. _Out of consideration for the subscribers_, as well as in
justice to myself, it was absolutely necessary that I should establish a
magazine of my own, which should extend to the subscribers of the New
York Magazine the privilege of securing the remainder of their terms
from a magazine which was, _in fact_, what the _name_ of the New York
Magazine had led subscribers _to believe it to be_.
To have Mann and DeFrance publishing, in New York, a _Watson’s
Magazine_, and securing money from thousands of innocent people, _who
would subscribe upon the faith of my name, and would then be told
falsehoods as to why I was no longer writing for it_, WOULD HAVE BEEN AN
INTOLERABLE SITUATION.
To remain silent and acquiescent under those circumstances, would have
been to make myself a party to the fraud. I understand that Col. Mann
and C. Q. DeFrance are using, for themselves, the money sent to the
_Watson’s Magazine_ by those who are not aware of the fact that there is
no Watson connected with THAT Magazine. _If they do not extend to the
subscriber the option of getting his money back, or of having it sent to
the genuine Watson’s Magazine_, they will be cheats and swindlers; and
they ought to be made to plead on the criminal side of the Court, _where
the appearance of Col. Mann would not be considered extraordinary_.
Not wanting to be a party to a fraud by making no effort to defeat it,
and not having a disposition to lie down quietly while those two rascals
trampled upon me, I announced the purpose of establishing WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE. Of course it was hoped that my friends would
stand by me. It was hoped that those subscribers who had gone to the
Magazine in New York would follow my Magazine in Atlanta.
Did the subscribers of the New York Magazine want a _real_ Watsonian
Magazine, or was it _just any old magazine_ that they were after? Were
those subscribers men and women who had faith in me, and who were
attached to myself, my work and my message? _Would they have sufficient
interest in the matter to sympathize with me, and follow me?_ These were
the questions. They could not be answered until the opportunity was
offered _for the subscribers themselves to act_.
With grateful heart, I hereby return profound thanks to those steadfast
and earnest comrades who have already enrolled themselves with WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
These friends did not wait for a sample copy; they did not wait for the
day of publication. _They had faith._ They knew in advance what my
Magazine would be. THEY HAD CONFIDENCE. They knew perfectly well that
their money would be safe in my hands. Therefore, from California to
North Carolina and from Florida to Michigan, they have poured in upon me
their letters of sympathy and encouragement. And together with these
letters they sent remittances to cover their subscriptions in advance.
* * * * *
From so great a number it is difficult, and perhaps not quite fair, to
single out individuals, but as it is my intention to carry in the
Magazine from month to month, a Department in which those who are most
active in their support of the Magazine will be mentioned by name, a few
will be mentioned now. Others will be mentioned later.
I want every one of my friends who have written me, to feel that their
encouragement and support is profoundly appreciated.
You naturally inquire, _who was the very first subscriber to_ WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE?
DR. CICERO GIBSON, THOMSON, GA.
Following closely after Dr. Gibson, came a good many others who arrived
so nearly together that it would perhaps be unjust to some to say which
was literally the first-comer, yet I cannot refrain from selecting a few
for special mention.
There was my gallant and loyal friend of LaGrange, Ga., Dr. Frank
Ridley, whose letter I am going to print in full:
“Please know that I am in thorough sympathy with you in the matter of
the Magazine contention, and all other matters.
“I have written to the New York office of the _Watson’s Magazine_,
instructing them to discontinue sending me their paper. I am enclosing
check for $1.50 for WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE. With sentiments of
my continued warm regard and friendship.
“P. S. Please see that my subscription begins with the first issue.”
* * * * *
Then there was the very warm-hearted H. J. Mullins, Franklin, Tenn.;
there was J. J. Gordy of Richland, Ga., who had rendered such faithful
service for the New York Magazine, and who transferred his zeal and
influence immediately to the JEFFERSONIAN; there was whole-souled Frank
Burkett, of Okolona, Miss.; and there was that gray-haired but
warm-hearted veteran, Thos. H. Tibbles, of Nebraska.
From the Empire State, Texas, came the cheering response of sturdy
Milton Park. From Salem, Va., W. H. Tinsley spoke words of
encouragement. And my good old friend, Allison W. Smith, of North
Georgia, went to work as earnestly and as promptly for the new Magazine
as he had done for the old.
And how can I fail to mention Paul Dixon of Chilicothe, Mo? _A truer man
does not live._ Of the many who have stood by me at this juncture and
shown a willingness to co-operate, none has been more emphatic than
Dixon & Lankford, who enjoy the distinction of publishing one of the
three Mid-Road Populist papers which stood the storm, and did not go
down in consequence of the awful mistake and of Fusion.
From Los Angeles, Cal., came a heart-warming letter from Lucian L.
Knight, which you will find elsewhere in this number of the Magazine.
From Athens, Ga., came a most welcome letter from A. D. Cheney; and his
bright boy, Jean Cheney, took up the work of canvassing his community,
with results so extremely helpful to me that I mention his name in
grateful recognition of his service.
From A. G. Thurman Zabel, of Petersburg, Mich., comes the following:
“I saw a notice in the _Missouri World_, that you were about to publish
a new Magazine. Enclosed find remittance for which send me your Magazine
as long as that pays for, and then let me know, and I will remit for it
for a longer term. I am glad to learn that you will continue your good
work.”
* * * * *
From Kentucky comes a cordial word from that veteran editor and gifted
gentleman, Hon. Henry Watterson, who, on the eve of his departure for
Europe, drops a line to the Atlanta management of the Magazine to say:
“Mr. Watson has few greater admirers or better friends than I am and
whenever the _Courier-Journal_ can do anything to advance his personal
interests, it is always at his hands.”
Judge John J. Hunt, one of those level-headed Democratic leaders who did
his best to prevent the awful mistake that was made by the Men in
Control, in 1896, was swift with his assurances of hearty co-operation
and support. And my old college friend. Alex. Keese, of Atlanta, _was
not behind anybody_ in the warmth and vigor of his protestations against
the wrong which had been done me by those knaves in New York.
Nor should I forget stanch W. S. Morgan, of Hardy, Ark., nor J. M.
Mallett of Cleburne, Tex., both of whom were emphatic in their
denunciation of the New York outrage:--Nor yet sturdy Jo. A. Parker.
From far-off Seattle, State of Washington, the voice of _The Patriarch_,
was heard in scathing condemnation of what had been done by Col. Mann
and DeFrance; and from New Jersey, Dr. Geo. H. Cromie was equally
emphatic.
My good friend, C. E. Parker, of Bainbridge, not only enlisted under my
banner, turning his back upon those New York knaves, but he _remitted
the largest individual check that was sent_--$13.80--and the largest
number of subscribers received in any one remittance.
_From the Hawaiian Islands_, came a cordial hand-shake from that veteran
of the Reform Wars, JOHN M. HORNER. From Paris, France, spoke the
sympathetic voice of JOHN ADAMS THAYER--the brainy, nervy man who
achieved such a wonderful success for _Everybody’s Magazine_.
Nor must I omit from the Roll of Honor the name of PROF. M. W. PARKS,
President of the Georgia Normal and Industrial School, and President
also of the Georgia Educational Association. His letter was a noble
tribute which I highly value.
Taylor J. Shields, of Vineland, Ala., has my sincere thanks for his
generous words.
Bay City, Michigan, is the home of an ardent, personally unknown friend
whose hand I hope some day to shake--his name is Francis F. McGinniss.
And I must find room to mention my untiring friend, Col. W. A. Huff, of
Macon; R. E. Thompson, of Toomsuber, Miss.; J. S. Ward, Jr., of
Thomasville; Ben Hill, of West Point, Ga., and Clarence Cunningham, of
Waterloo, S. C.; Rev. R. L. Benson, Clay Center, Kan.; H. G. Sumner,
Passaic, N. J.; Chas. Butler, Oakland, Cal.; Theron Fisk, Sioux Falls,
S. D.; and Prof. Z. I. Fitzpatrick, of Madison, Ga.
And then there is W. F. Smith, of Flovilla, Ga., who has never flickered
in his loyal comradeship any more than has that noble old Roman, Gen.
William Phillips, of Marietta.
Here is a specimen of the way they are writing to me and below it a
sample of how they are writing to the bogus _Watson’s Magazine_:
Dixie, Ga., Nov. 23, 1906.
Hon. T. E. Watson, Thomson, Ga.
Dear Sir:--I am writing the New York office today cancelling my
subscription to the counterfeit _Watson’s Magazine_. Old man Mann, and
DeFrance are a set of fools, if for one moment they entertained the
thought that they could detain the followers of the _real_ Tom Watson on
their subscription list. The thing can’t be done. When the readers of
the New York _Watson’s Magazine_ find out the truth about the manner in
which they treated the genuine Tom Watson, you will see them leaving
like rats leaving a sinking ship. The idea of _Watson’s Magazine_ with
Watson left out! Might as well try to run a locomotive steam engine
without steam. Tom Watson was the steam--the electricity--the
spirit--yes, the very life of the Magazine, and without him its name is
Dennis. It is a burning shame, the way they have treated you.
I am sending my check for $1.50 for your JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE, and wish
for it the success that you so justly deserve. I hope to be able to get
others interested in the new publication. You have thousands and
thousands of true and tried friends in old Georgia, and in fact, in
every State in the United States, and the numbers are growing all the
time, and every effort of the enemies of truth to put you in the
background only brings you more prominently before the masses as the
friend of Good Government.
May God abundantly bless and prosper you and yours, is the sincere
prayer of your friend and brother,
(Signed) G. B. CRANE.
* * * * *
(Copy.)
Dixie, Ga., Nov. 23, 1906.
Watson’s Magazine, 2 West 40th St., New York City.
Gentlemen:--I hereby cancel my subscription to _Watson’s Magazine_, and
ask you to refund balance that you are due me on same. I do not care to
read your slanderous vaporing about Tom Watson. You will soon find out
that, bad as you try to make him out to be, he was really the Magazine,
and without him it will sink in the cesspool of public contempt--as it
should do.
Yours very truly,
(Signed) G. B. CRANE.
Here are others, clean, clear-cut and business-like:
(Copy.)
Honaker, Va., Nov. 14, 1906.
Watson’s Magazine Co., New York.
Gentlemen:--The November number of _Watson’s Magazine_ is at hand. As
Mr. Watson is no longer _the Magazine_, will you please discontinue my
subscription and return to me the three month’s unexpired subscription
price, and oblige,
Yours truly,
J. L. KIBLER.
* * * * *
Dearing, Ga., Nov. 14, 1906.
Hon. Thos. E. Watson.
I received a card from you yesterday concerning the Magazine. I
noticed your proposition to make good the subscription to the _Watson
Magazine_. I think mine will be out in June, but I got it at club
rates and _don’t want to be a burden to you_, but I don’t want a
_Watson’s_ without a Watson in it, so you send me the WATSON’S
JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE, and I’ll see you and pay for six months at
least, as I have great confidence in you as a reform leader and want
to help what little I can.
Yours truly,
J. J. PENNINGTON.
* * * * *
G. M. Stembridge, of Milledgeville, is good enough to say, in
subscribing, “you are doing more for the Reform cause than any other man
in the United States.” “If ever anybody wants to whip you,” writes
friend M. S. Chiles, of Macon, in remitting his subscription, “I will
be pleased to push you aside and say, ‘Whip me first.’” “I would not
carry the New York publication from the postoffice,” says W. W.
Shamhart, of Newton, Ill. Dr. R. R. Smith, of Burtons, Miss., doesn’t
“like the jingle of the editorials” of the bogus _Watson’s Magazine_ for
November and would like to see any response that I may make. Verily, he
shall see it. J. K. Sears, of McCoy, Oregon, wants a Magazine “published
at Atlanta by Tom Watson and not by Col. Mann at New York.” “Please
enter my name from now till doomsday,” writes Prof. J. H. Camp, of
Chicago, who at the same time cancels his subscription to what he calls
“the New York dummy.” Dr. J. D. Allen, of Milledgeville, enrolls himself
and says, “send me the first copy.” “I shall always be a subscriber,”
writes W. W. Bennett, Esq., of Baxley. “The reason I subscribed to the
other Magazine,” says W. W. Arendell, of Gause, Tex., “was that you were
the editor,” so of course he wants the genuine WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN. B.
L. Milling, of Neal, Ga., was a subscriber to _Watson’s Magazine_ of New
York from the first issue, “and would continue to be, had it not been
that ‘the gang’ tried to impose upon you,” he writes. Likewise C. W.
King, of Rome, Ga., “only subscribed to the New York publication on
account of your colors flying at the mast-head, so”--he writes--“of
course I wish to enter my name as a subscriber to your new venture.” H.
Gillabaugh, of Missoula, Montana, thinks the bogus _Watson’s Magazine_
as at present conducted, is “like a church with the devil as pastor.”
“No more of C. Q. DeFrance for me,” writes J. T. Melbone, of Huntingdon,
Tenn. A cordial message greets me from Captain Jack Crawford, the
poet-scout. A. Benoit, of Shreveport, La., sends $10, with the request
that $1.50 be credited to him for subscription, and the balance be used
“for the cause.” From the little city of Flippen, Ga., a list of 25
subscribers to the bogus _Watson’s Magazine_ goes forward to DeFrance. A
copy of the letter is sent me with the request that they be enrolled on
the JEFFERSONIAN.
And so they go.
It is something to have lived and worked in such a way as to have won
true hearts in every part of the Union.
God knows how much I appreciate these stanch friends, many of whom I
have never seen and will never personally know.
* * * * *
My lady friends--God bless them!--have been just as prompt and just as
earnest in taking my side in this struggle against a rascally New York
millionaire and a treacherous sneak who are trying to make off with
_Watson’s Magazine_.
Shall I ever forget the warm-hearted letter of MISS SALLIE T. PARRISH,
of Adel, Ga?
Or that of MISS MATTIE V. MITCHELL, of St. Louis, Mo?
* * * * *
Various subscription agencies, as well as newspapers and magazines, had
made clubbing rates with _Watson’s Magazine_ while I was with it. Of
course Col. Mann and DeFrance would like to have these clubbing rates
stand, and would like to have the revenue coming from those who are
still subscribing to _Watson’s Magazine in ignorance of the fact that it
now has no Watson connected with it_. The managers of these subscription
agencies, and the managers of those newspapers are necessarily
compelled, _as men of honor_, to hold up all subscription money coming
from those who wish a _Watson’s Magazine_, until the managers of the
clubbing rates shall have notified the subscriber that Mr. Watson is no
longer with the New York Magazine that bears his name, but is now
publishing in Atlanta, the JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE. In other words, as a
matter of common honesty, the subscribers should be put on notice that
the New York Magazine which bears my name, has been taken away from me
by Col. Mann and DeFrance, and the subscriber should therefore have the
option of sending his money directly to the JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
THE UNION LIBRARY ASSOCIATION, of New York, promptly assured me that
this would be its attitude in the matter. They will hold the money until
the subscriber shall have elected which of the two magazines he really
wanted. This was very honorable in the Union Library Association of New
York, and the promptness with which the manager took that position, is
highly appreciated by me. I give Mr. Bowman’s letter in full:
New York, Nov. 26, 1906.
Hon. Thos. E. Watson, Thomson, Ga.
Dear Sir:--Yours of the 23rd inst. is at hand. You evidently did not
receive our letter, although we have an acknowledgment of receipt of
same from your manager.
We wrote you voluntarily that we would be glad to do just what you now
ask us to do. That is, endeavor to switch subscriptions for _Watson’s
Magazine_ to WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
It seems to us that if anyone wants your Magazine they will not be
satisfied with Colonel Mann’s continuation of the original. It is a
rather unfortunate state of affairs, but no doubt in time it will get
straightened out and everyone know the true facts in the case.
We can assure you of our interest in the matter, and will be glad to do
what we can to throw business your way.
Yours very truly,
CHAS. L. BOWMAN.
* * * * *
THE ATLANTA JOURNAL has notified our Circulation Manager, Mr. Clement,
that its position would be the same. In fact, I cannot see how the
managers of those various clubbing arrangements, which are now standing
in the name of _Watson’s Magazine_, can, as a matter of common justice
to me, _as well as to the subscriber_, turn over the money to Col. Mann
and DeFrance, _until the subscriber himself says that the money_ should
go to that precious pair.
* * * * *
Thanks are due and are hereby extended to the editors of the leading
periodicals devoted to literature and current events. Special
acknowledgements are due the New York _American_ for the use of striking
cartoons reproduced on pages 12, 16 and 28--inadvertently not credited.
The friendship and courtesy of such publications as _Collier’s Weekly_,
_The Saturday Evening Post_, The New York _Times Saturday Review of
Books_, _The Literary Digest_, _The Commoner_, and other notable
weeklies is gratefully acknowledged, and similar sentiments are hereby
expressed towards such leading monthlies as _The Century_, _The Reader_,
_The Review of Reviews_, _The North American Review_, _Success_,
_Appleton’s Magazine_, and _The World’s Events_, to such splendid
dailies as The _Tribune_, _The American_, and _The Globe_, of New York,
_The Public Ledger_, of Philadelphia, that lively bantling, The
Washington _Herald_,--which is fairly glittering under Scott Bone’s
touch,--The New Orleans _Picayune_, The Tampa _Tribune_, The
Jacksonville _Times-Union_, and Claude L’Engle’s brilliant _Sun_, of the
same place, The Charlotte _Observer_, _The News_ and _Age-Herald_, of
Birmingham, _The Forum_, from far-away Fargo, where the blizzards come
from and the _Post-Intelligencer_ from farther-away Seattle, where the
salmon come from, The Toronto _Globe_, dauntless champion of good morals
and tariff reform, _The Tribune_, of Salt Lake, The Columbia _State_,
The Nashville _Banner_, The Griffin _News_, and scores of standard
weekly papers scattered throughout God’s country down here and in the
West.
Editor Walter Hodges, of _The Central Texan_, who is a native Georgian,
“with some of the spirit of the old South,” is cordial in his offer to
co-operate with the JEFFERSONIAN; The Opelika, Ala., _Post_ hopes that
“Mr. Watson may succeed in his greatest battle of modern times for the
people’s rights,” and will lend a hand; the _Pretorian Guard_, of
Dallas, Texas, thinks that “with a leader of Mr. Watson’s originality at
the helm, success is certain;” Editor J. P. Sarraman of The Charlotte
_People’s Paper_, is “for Watson first, last and all the time,” and
doesn’t want any “imitation;” Editor Fletcher Davis, of the Hondo,
Texas, _Anvil-Herald_ assures the new Magazine that he will put in some
good licks for the enterprise, and W. M. Ellis, proprietor of the Rusk,
Texas, _Press-Journal_, breaks an established rule to accept our
clubbing proposition.
To one and all our distinguished regards and twice over to any whom we
have accidentally omitted.
* * * * *
Shall I ever forget how generously there came to me the ready, cordial,
soulful devotion of WILL N. HARBEN?
And how could I ever fail in appreciation of the disinterested and noble
impulse which moved my friends, H. CLEMENT, A. K. TAYLOR, and CHAS. J.
BAYNE, to cast in their lot with mine, for salaries less than they had
been getting elsewhere.
In the same class, stands my brilliant young friend, GORDON NYE, who
left the bogus New York concern to come and live with me, and work with
me.
With these young men, Clement, Taylor, Bayne, and Nye working _with_ me
instead of _for_ me, I go forward without the slightest fear of failure.
Nor would it be fair to fail to give due credit to my friend, MR. CHAS.
P. BYRD, who, when he realized that my object in publishing this
Magazine was, not so much to make money as to exert a healthy influence
over public opinion and to be of service in the largest educational
sense to young men, came to me with a generous concession on the cost of
doing the mechanical work of the Magazine, and thus enabled me to
publish it in my home State.
Had it not been for this magnanimous spirit in Mr. Byrd, the prices
which were quoted to me in Atlanta for the mechanical work would have
driven me out of my native State and forced me to give the contract to
the Columbian Printing Co., of Nashville, Tenn., whose offer was much
better than any that had been made to me, until Mr. Byrd generously came
to my relief.
* * * * *
“WE BOYS” ARE GOING TO WIN.
We are going to _down_ that brace of rascals in New York.
Friends!--don’t you think that knavery of that sort OUGHT to be downed?
Don’t _you_ want to see us down those New York fellows?
THEN, HELP US DO IT.
“We boys” are going to give you just about the livest Magazine that ever
you saw--and you must aid us in extending its circulation and therefore
its usefulness.
I want no office under the sun, but there is one thing that I _do_ want
and mean to have:
_Influence with that imperial sovereign before whose irresistible power
the haughtiest of heads must bend_--PUBLIC OPINION.
THOS. E. WATSON.
Witty Flings by the Paragraphers.
Always in Trouble.
What’s the matter with Kansas? This time it is the ears of corn are too
long to go into the shellers.--_New York Tribune._
A Morocco Slipper Needed.
The time seems to be drawing near for the powers once more to lay
Morocco across their collective knee.--_Chicago Evening Post._
Society in Court.
Pittsburg Managing Editor: “Where’s the society reporter?”
City Editor: “Covering the police court.”--_New York American._
Will Draw Cards Next Time.
A sporting friend, after reading the election returns, ventured the
assertion that in the next inning the “standpatters” will draw
cards.--_The Commoner._
Another Trial for Crapsey.
Now it is boldly asserted that Dr. Crapsey bears a striking resemblance
to Richard Harding Davis. This is another severe trial for the
doctor.--_Washington Herald._
Getting Their Money’s Worth.
All the satisfaction the Standard Oil Company can get out of it at
present is furnished by the fact that its array of legal talent is
earning its money.--_Washington Post._
A Bond of Sympathy.
The people of Canada are reported to be opposed to some of the magazines
published in this country. Is this another bond of sympathy between
Canadians and Americans?--_Birmingham News._
Knows How it Is.
Having been shelved temporarily on Cuban annexation, Senator Beveridge
bobs up with a startling idea for a national child labor law. He went to
work in the senate too young himself.--_Atlanta Journal._
Loose Change Not Counted.
After figuring over the matter for some months the persons engaged in
the task have been able to discover that Mr. Sage left a fortune of
between $60,000,000 and $100,000,000. There is a little difference of
only some $40,000,000 between these two estimates. Probably they have
not yet been able to count up the loose change.--_Columbia State._
Bosses, Bumble Bees and Billy Goats.
And now Governor Beckham draws the line on Dr. Powell (who demands
Sunday law enforcement). The trouble with the Governor is that whenever
some one antagonizes him that some one must be saddled with an unworthy
motive. This mode of dealing with critics and criticism is common to
bosses, bumble bees and billy goats.--_Louisville Courier-Journal._
BAINBRIDGE, GA.,
CITY LOTS FOR SALE
Gilt Edge Values in Real Estate Affords Tangible Opportunity for
Investors and Home Seekers.
Bainbridge is right on the crest of a wave of prosperity and
advancement now sweeping over this section. It has good river
connection, and is reached by two railroads; while three more are in
the course of construction; which goes to show that the present
development and future prospect of the city affords a rare opportunity
for investments in real estate.
One 65-foot lot on Shotwell street sold thirty days ago for $1,500,
will now bring over $2,000.
Some of the greatest fortunes in the South were made by prompt,
discriminating investors in this line; and we feel certain that the
investor has never been afforded an opportunity more golden in
prospect than is afforded in this sale of choice building lots. We are
offering on easy monthly payments
300 Choice Building Lots at $50.00 each.
These lots are conveniently located in the eastern section of the
city, on Planters, Water, Broughton and Shotwell streets; and within a
short distance from Circle Drive, Bainbridge’s most popular driveway.
An ideal place for a home.
Some Facts About Bainbridge.
Bainbridge is located on Flint river, deep water short channel to port
on Gulf, and enjoys the same freight advantages as Columbus, and is
entitled to Port rates, for which Atlanta has striven in vain. As a
commercial center, Bainbridge enjoys marked success. Within the past
five years have been added such industries as a large Oil Mill, two
Barrel Factories, Sash, Door and Blind Factory, Ice Factory, Hardwood
Plant, Corn Mill, Foundry and Machine Works, Canning Factory, two
Brick Factories, Syrup Refinery, Machine Shops and Car
Works--representing an invested capital of nearly half a million
dollars. All these industries came to Bainbridge because of its
natural advantages, and not because of money inducement by Bainbridge
people.
Its location on the river, railroad facilities, new roads, rich
farming section, etc., are bound to make Bainbridge the largest town
in South Georgia. It is surrounded by the richest farming lands in
Georgia--the foundation of the wealth of any town--a fine cotton
country; and the home of the famous Georgia Cane Syrup and Sumatra
tobacco. The climate is mild and healthy, and truck crops mature early
enough for fancy prices ahead of the main crop.
It is the Only Spot in the United States Which Successfully Grows
Sumatra Tobacco.
Farmers obtain $500 per acre for their tobacco crops. One New York
firm, A. Cohn & Co., has a million dollars invested in their plant to
grow and handle this product. Less than one-third of this land is now
cultivated. There is room for 10 times the present population, and
these great opportunities are certain to attract farmers to this
section.
Waiman Hotel, Bainbridge, Ga., Nov. 26, ’06.
MR. F. R. GRAHAM, City.
Dear Sir:--Before leaving town on the early A. M. train, I wish to
request that you reserve ten lots adjoining those I bought of you
today, as I think I can place them with some of my friends in New York
who are looking for a “dead sure thing” as an investment. My personal
inspection of the property today and that adjoining it, which you
showed me, leads me to believe that your section is ideally located
and that it has a brilliant future. I have covered this southern
territory for six years and have seen many sections grow rapidly, but
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Yours very truly,
(Signed) THOS. H. HEARD,
New York.
For Further Information, Address
F. R. GRAHAM, Dept. A., Bainbridge, Ga.
BLUE RIBBON
BED SPRINGS
The Proper Foundation
for a comfortable bed is as necessary as a good foundation for a
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PRICES:
No. 2 Blue Ribbon Springs, as illustrated $5.00
No. 2 Blue Ribbon Springs, with woven wire top 6.50
No. 5 Blue Ribbon Springs, for iron or brass beds 7.00
No. 5 Blue Ribbon Springs, woven wire top 8.50
Regular size for wood bed is 4 ft. 4 in. x 6 ft. 0 in. For iron bed, 4
ft. 6 in. x 6 ft. 1 in.
Prices quoted for special sizes on application.
If your dealer does not handle the BLUE RIBBON write to us.
[Illustration]
Southern
Spring Bed Co.
ATLANTA, GA.
The Right Mattress
Is Rarely Found by Accident.
Knowledge of the methods of mattress making, of the integrity of the
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THE RED CROSS MATTRESS
IS BUILT TO STAND.
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[Illustration]
PRICES:
2 ft. 6 in.--25 lbs. $10.00
3 ft. 0 in.--30 lbs. 11.25
3 ft. 6 in.--35 lbs. 12.50
4 ft. 0 in.--40 lbs. 13.75
4 ft. 6 in.--45 lbs. 15.00
All mattresses made 6 ft. × 4 in. long.
In two parts, 50 cents extra.
Prices for special sizes quoted on application.
Southern Spring Bed Co.
ATLANTA, GA.
[Illustration]
Absolutely FREE
To Readers of Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine.
In order to introduce The Arena, now that it is again under the
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THE ARENA FOR 1907
THE ARENA for 1907 will contain in addition to papers from the
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for free institutions, just government and civic righteousness, a
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Among the early papers of these series, will be contributions by
ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE, D. C. L., L. L. D., the greatest living
evolutionary philosopher and one of the most authoritative writers in
the cause of Progressive Democratic advancement; the HON. J. HENNIKER
HEATON, M. P., the foremost living author on cheap postage, the
parcels-post, postal savings-banks and international postal and cable
service; and the HON. EDWARD TREGEAR, Secretary for Labor for New
Zealand, one of the master statesmen whose constructive work in
framing many of the important advanced, progressive and Democratic
statutes of New Zealand has placed him in a commanding position in New
Zealand among the foremost constructive, liberal statesmen of
Australasia.
The first of these important foreign papers appears in the January
ARENA from the pen of DR. ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE, and deals with the
railroad systems of the United States, and how and why the people
should take over the railroads. It will be followed by a paper from
MR. TREGEAR on “New Zealand’s Progressive Attitude.” MR. HENNIKER
HEATON’S first paper will deal with the Telegraph Cables of the world
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merely the convenience of the millionaire.
Other papers from equally important and authoritative writers will be
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[Illustration]
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WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE,
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[Illustration]
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[Illustration]
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Whether You Wish to Buy or Sell Make Your Wants Known Here.
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California.
FOR SALE.--FINE HOME IN PINES NEAR OCEAN beach; summer the year round.
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stamp. Stevinson, Colony, 703 W. Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco.
* * * * *
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA FARMS.--60 minutes from Los Angeles. Beautiful
farms with all modern rural improvements; only $75 to $150 per acre;
easy terms; inexhaustible water supply; three transcontinental
railroads. Ten acres will make you independent. Fruits, vegetables and
alfalfa grow every day in the year; no cold or frost; perpetual
summer; the land of sunshine and health; beautiful towns of Pomona and
Ontario adjoin our lands; write today for maps and complete literature
describing the famous Chino Ranch. Chino Land and Water Co., Dept. A,
516 Wilcox Bldg., Los Angeles, Cal.
Florida.
ST. PETERSBURG, FLA.--For information and literature of value to the
homeseeker, invalid, or investor, address Board of Trade. Most popular
Florida resort.
* * * * *
SUMATRA TOBACCO LAND in the blue grass section of Florida. Will
produce $1,000.00 worth every year on each acre. Write quick as boom
has started. T. A. Ausley, Tallahassee, Fla.
* * * * *
PROPERTY ON ORMOND PENINSULA on Halifax R. Best location in state for
all year or long winter season. Good house, paying groves, price
$5,000. Address E. A. Lapp, Bulow, Fla.
* * * * *
FLORIDA ORANGE AND GRAPE-FRUIT groves and pineries, are paying big
returns. We have some bargains. Write for our descriptive booklet.
Tidd, “The Real Estate Man,” Jacksonville, Fla.
* * * * *
ORANGE GROVE.--250 bearing trees twenty years old, including grape
fruit and tangerines. In fine condition. One mile from railroad
station. High land, near large lake. J. E. Davison, Pawtucket, R. I.
Miscellaneous.
FOR SALE.--81,000 acre ranch, 15 miles from Santa Fe, N. M. 3,000
irrigated. Gold and coal on ranch. Price $4.25 per acre, or $2.12-1/2
for half interest. U. S. Renee, Smithland, Ia.
* * * * *
BIG BARGAINS IN LAND for investment or homeseeker in Missouri, Kansas,
Sunny Texas and Mississippi. Large and small tracts. The Investors
Realty Co., 696 W. Hall Bldg., Kansas City, Mo.
* * * * *
IOWA FARMS FOR SALE AND EXCHANGE.--We have some of the best bargains
in improved farms in Iowa. Send for our new illustrated list. Northern
Iowa Land Co., Independence, Iowa. Box T. W.
* * * * *
$10.00 down and $10.00 for nine consecutive months buys a lot in
Arcadia, Fla., the booming county seat of the greatest “Florida”
orange and cattle region in the state. Remit at once to get in this
offer. Address, R. C. Selvidge, Brandon, Miss.
* * * * *
$300 PER ACRE PROFIT IS THE RECORD for our farmers near Kingsville on
the Gulf Coast line, Texas, the winter vegetable garden of America and
the finest cotton land in Texas. Send for literature. The National
Land Co., 92 LaSalle St., Chicago, Ill. Mox W.
* * * * *
INVESTORS--HOMESEEKERS--take notice. We have for sale 150,000 acres of
the richest improved and unimproved land in Indian Territory and the
Southwest. Fertile soil--ideal climate--has no competitor for the
raising of stock and the growing of the various fruits and grains.
Devore-Birkeland & Co., T. W., 131 LaSalle St., Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
FARMING ALONG GULF IN TEXAS PAYS $500 an acre. Will deed that land for
$15 an acre on payments. Artesian water; fine climate; below frost
line; have large body ready for colonization, which will treble in
value within 18 months. Immigration Agts. Rock Island R. R. Excursion
$25.00. Oklahoma Texas Land Co., 511 W. Reaper Block, Chicago.
* * * * *
BUY A FARM IN PENNSYLVANIA, NEW JERSEY, OR DELAWARE. The best states
for profitable farming; soil adapted to a great variety of crops; near
markets that pay best prices for your products; farm lands in these
three states my specialty--sold and bought; write for particulars.
Raymond C. Frick, 1102 T. Real Estate Trust Building, Philadelphia,
Pa.
* * * * *
NEW ORLEANS BUSINESS PROPERTY.--I have for sale nearly half a square
fronting on three streets, near Canal street and the new Frisco
Terminal Station. Now covered with numerous small business houses and
one palatial residence. The finest location in the city for commercial
purposes. Can be bought for $180,000.00. Owner desires to leave this
country permanently. Buy now and double your money within five years.
J. M. Lane, Real Estate Broker, 718 Macheca Building, New Orleans, La.
* * * * *
TWO MILES from Meridian, Miss., on A. G. S. R. R., 506 acres. 200
acres bottom land, balance nice upland, well suited for fruit,
vegetables, cotton, corn, etc. Plenty timber--pine, white-oak,
hickory, etc. Finest stock farm imaginable. Reed winter pasture.
Springs and wells, purest free stone water. Mineral spring not
analyzed. Great demand for dairy and products. 250 acres cultivated,
balance woodland, $50.00 per acre. J. C. & L. Williams, Bonita, Miss.
FOR THE HOME.
WATERPROOF APRONS LAST A LIFETIME.--Artistic in design, white or
colors. Sold by the makers only. 50 cents each, delivered. The
Walters, Austen Co., 5th floor, 11th & Chestnut Sts., Philadelphia,
Pa.
* * * * *
FOR CHRISTMAS.--Send $1 up for self or friend. We send handsome clock
bank with deposit credited in passbook. 4% interest. Safety Banking
and Trust Co., 2921 Kensington Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. Organized 1900.
* * * * *
ANY MEMBER OF THE FAMILY will appreciate the Imperial Trousers or
Skirt Hanger, holds four garments. 50 cents at the furnishers, or 70
cents by mail. Write for booklet, Pynchon & Co., Philadelphia, Pa.
* * * * *
BUILD MISSION FURNITURE.--For pleasure and profit. We teach how by the
Houck Easy System. We furnish plans showing exact size and shape of
every piece, give complete directions how to make from start to
finish, tell what tools required, etc. So simple anybody can make.
Boys and young men acquiring lots of money by making furniture from
our designs and selling it. Particulars for stamp. Houck Furniture
Pattern Co., Dayton, Ohio, Dept. E. M.
* * * * *
THE BEST PUMP FOR COUNTRY WELLS.--No rusty water on wash day. No
plumbers’ bills for repairs. The Blatchley Wood Pump (lift or lift and
force) the standard for 38 years. Address C. G. Blatchley, 1052 Drexel
Bldg., Philadelphia, Pa.
* * * * *
BEST 200 RECIPES FREE! THE ENTERPRISING HOUSEKEEPER.--A famous book of
tested, economical recipes and illustrated kitchen helps, published to
sell at 25 cents. We will send it free. Just send your name and
address. The Enterprise Mfg. Co. of Pa., 2225 N. Third St., Phila., U.
S. A. Makers of the famous Enterprise Meat and Food Choppers.
* * * * *
PRIZE CLOTHES WRINGER, WORLD’S PRIZE winner over all competitors;
distinctly different from all others; strictly high-grade; automatic
clamps fasten on any kind of tub; easiest to operate; guaranteed white
rubber rolls; ours is one of the three wringer factories in the U. S.,
est. 1890. Selling direct saves you at least 50%; satisfaction
guaranteed or money refunded. Write us. Reference, Dun’s Agency,
Deshler National Bank, here. U. S. Wringer Mfg. Co. (E), Columbus,
Ohio.
INVESTMENTS.
I HANDLE NOTHING BUT DIVIDEND PAYING securities, and invite your
correspondence regarding any you may desire to buy, sell or exchange.
List on application. H. L. McCauley, 1524 W. Chestnut St.,
Philadelphia, Pa.
* * * * *
LOS ANGELES, CAL., first mortgages, 6 and 7% net, title guaranteed,
papers all complete, delivered through your own bank. Investments,
reports, and appraisals free. Bank references. 25 years’ experience.
L. C. Crossmin, W. Chamber of Commerce Building.
* * * * *
GUARANTEED MORTGAGE investments. Interest at 5-4/10% and 6% from
$1,200 up. Gilt-edged properties. Mortgages insured. My reference is
Hamilton Trust Co., Philadelphia. Charles H. Buckley, W. 38 South
Fortieth Street, Philadelphia.
* * * * *
FOR SALE.--5% first mortgage gold bonds to net 5-3/4%, principal and
semi-annual interest payable in New York--issued by a water and light
company with liberal city franchise in one of the best towns in the
South. Jas. Thompson, Walhalla, S. C.
BUSINESS OPPORTUNITIES.
THERE IS BIG MONEY IN ASPARAGUS.--Greater profits from its culture
than any other product. Write for free booklet. Napa Improvement Co.,
San Francisco, Cal.
* * * * *
I WILL BUY AND PAY SPOT CASH for your store and fixtures, entire
contents, no matter where located. Newell D. Atwood, 27 School St.,
Boston, Mass. Tel. 1322 Main.
* * * * *
TEN VALUABLE MONEY-MAKING formulas sent for one dollar. Preparations
that you can sell. That will pay big profits. W. Formulae Co., 832
Greenmount Ave., Baltimore, Md.
* * * * *
WANTED.--Patented specialties of merit. We have branch offices in the
principal cities of Europe and agencies all over the world. Our
correspondence is in eight languages. Power Specialty Co., T. W.
Detroit, Mich.
* * * * *
THERE ARE GOOD OPPORTUNITIES on the lecture and reading platform. Test
your talent in a recital for criticism in your locality. Write for
plan. Edward Amherst Ott, 252 W. Sixty-first Street, Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
COMING TO CALIFORNIA?--$25,000 will buy control of a factory in San
Francisco to produce horse collars by a patent process. Profits 40%.
Demand steady. Trade established. Principals only address J. C.
Hooper, 528 22nd St., Oakland, Cal.
* * * * *
HOME COMPANION TOOL SET.--No. 710.--Special offer. 41 individual tools
in hardwood case, sent on receipt of $5 00. Every tool needed by the
home carpenter. W. Goodell-Pratt Company, Greenfield, Mass.
* * * * *
A FEW DOLLARS will start a prosperous mail order business; we furnish
catalogues and every thing necessary; by our easy method failure
impossible. Send for particulars. Milburn-Hicks, 741 Pontiac Building,
Chicago.
* * * * *
WE CAN SELL OR EXCHANGE YOUR BUSINESS or real estate no matter where
located, or find any kind of business or real estate for you anywhere
in U. S. and Canada. Write Fidelity Company, C. Bee Bldg., Omaha, Neb.
* * * * *
CASH for your farm, business, home, or property of any kind, no matter
where located. If you desire a quick sale send us description and
price. Northwestern Business Agency, 331 Bank of Commerce Bldg.,
Minneapolis, Minn.
* * * * *
LONG ESTABLISHED MAIL ORDER and installment house furnishing business
for sale. Grand Rapids furniture is celebrated the world over, and big
money can be made selling from here. Address C. H. Leonard, Grand
Rapids, Mich.
* * * * *
MEN TO HANDLE high-grade map proposition. Territory in every state.
Experience no qualification. Liberal terms. Must be men of good
address and ability. Get our proposition. It’s profitable. Scarborough
Co., 114 Essex St., Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
PATCHES OF TIMBER turned into big profits by our portable beltless
combined sawmill and engine. Small capital required; easy terms. Glean
your county for bargains in timber. Lumber prices rising. Wm. Bartley
& Sons, W. Bartley, N. J.
* * * * *
52 CARLOADS OF PURE GOLD does not equal the fortune amassed by a
former Missouri County school teacher. The little book, “Missourians
Shown,” tells of an equal present-day opportunity. Sent free. Write
Jerry Culbertson, 695 Hall Bldg., Kansas City, U. S. A.
* * * * *
CUBA.--Tropical fruit plantation. Oranges, grape fruit, cocoanuts,
coffee. On ten years’ time. Profits enormous. Best investment of kind.
By reliable, experienced men; seven years’ experience in Cuban fruit
growing. Agents wanted, either sex. Address, Buena Vista Fruit Co.,
105 W. Tremont St., Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
WANTED. A PARTNER WITH $25,000 to $50,000. We have an established and
growing business, but lack capital to push it. An investment of
thousands will net millions. The investor must be a business man and a
worker. Write for particulars, and state fully amount you would
invest, previous business experience, etc. Purifico Mfg. Co., B.
Ashville, N. Y.
* * * * *
6% ON YOUR MONEY by local Building and Loan Association. 14 years in
business. Never had a loss, or failed to meet an obligation. Stock in
force $750,000. Write for free literature. Jefferson County B. & L.
Association, Birmingham, Ala.
* * * * *
MONTGOMERY, ALA., offers the homeseeker, investor, and manufacturer
wonderful opportunities. Capital of Alabama. Has 50,000 enterprising
people and is growing. In rich agricultural section. Has seven great
railroads and water transportation on Alabama river to Gulf. Coal,
iron and timber close at hand and very cheap. Labor plentiful and high
grade. Climate ideal. Schools, churches, public improvements matters
of civic pride. Dixie revels in prosperity. Montgomery is Dixie’s
heart. For booklet and information, address the business men’s
organization, The Commercial Club, Dept. C, Montgomery, Ala.
* * * * *
DOES YOUR PRESENT INCOME SATISFY YOU? You can double it by taking the
SHELDON SHORT CUTS in SELLING and MANAGEMENT. One salesman says: “You
added $5,000 to my salary last year.” Another states: “A single deal
closed by your method netted 50 times original cost.” 8,000 others and
nearly 1,000 firms are using it to increase sales and earnings. All
instruction by correspondence. You owe it to yourself to investigate.
Write for more facts and proof. SHELDON (1750) the Republic, CHICAGO.
HELP WANTED--MALE AND FEMALE.
PORTRAIT AGENTS.--16×20 crayons 25 cents. Water color 30 cents.
Samples and catalog free. Berlin Artists Association, 152-O Lake St.,
Chicago.
* * * * *
SALESMEN WANTED.--Men or women, whole or part time to sell advertising
calendars, fans and other advertising novelties, for an old reliable
house. Box 160, Meridian, Conn.
* * * * *
$25 PER WEEK AND TRAVELLING EXPENSES paid salesmen to sell goods to
grocery stores, drug and general stores. No canvassing. A rapid
selling line. Experience unnecessary. Purity D. E. Co., Chicago.
* * * * *
AGENTS.--HERE’S THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME. Stoll’s shoes for flat
irons, something entirely new, sell in every home. For full
particulars address Dexter Supply Co., 334 Dearborn St., Chicago.
* * * * *
WE WANT HELP.--Anyone desiring pleasant and profitable business should
write us at once. Our positive guarantee inspires confidence and makes
sales easy. W. T. Allen Medicine Co., Greenfield, Ind.
* * * * *
MORE MONEY, LESS TALKING, steadier work, bigger field, handling our
new inventions, than any other line. Needed in every home. Agents, you
can’t beat this. Selwell Co., 105 W. Jackson B., Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
BENTON HOLLADAY & CO. Man cleared $1,182, lady $720 last six months
selling Celluloid Waterproof Shoe Dressing. Why not you? Demonstrated
samples free. Benton Holladay & Co., 260 Clark St., Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
AGENTS WANTED to handle our line of high grade novelties. Great
sellers for cigar stores and newsdealers. Large profits. Catalogue of
300 and wholesale prices free. Write today. National Mfg. Co., Box T.
W., Norfolk, Va.
* * * * *
AGENTS WANTED in every gas town on salary or commission to demonstrate
superheated inverted gas light. Latest light out. Nothing to sell.
Sample free. Perfection Light Co., Dept. A, 53 River St., Chicago.
* * * * *
WE WANT A HUSTLING AGENT in your town for the only automatic shears,
the Sheer-Cut Shears. Best shears, best terms. Credit given. Orders
filled same day received. Novelty Shear Co., 184 LaSalle St., Chicago,
Ill.
* * * * *
THE HEARWELL TELEPHONE ATTACHMENT makes you hear better and shuts off
outside noises. An agency is open for you whether you have a store or
are employed. Big opportunity, Hearwell Co., W. 1300 Arch St.,
Philadelphia, Pa.
* * * * *
WANTED.--TWELVE EXPERIENCED LECTURERS, subject, industrial activities.
Also musicians for male quartettes. Give full particulars and
references with first letter. Edward Amherst Ott, 250 East 61st
Street, Chicago.
* * * * *
SALESMEN TO SELL the largest line of souvenir post cards in the
country. Also large line of advertising fans. Excellent side line.
Good commission and prompt settlement. Alfred Holzman, Publisher, 340
Dearborn St., Chicago.
* * * * *
AGENTS, OUR NEW GOLD window sign letters beat anything on the market.
Big profits. Agents make $10.00 to $20.00 daily. Complete sample
outfit 25 cents. Particulars free. Sullivan Co., 406 W. Van Buren St.,
Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
“FIRE CHIEF.”--Latest, most effective extinguisher. Acts instantly
without damage to surroundings. Handsome, light, inexpensive. Demand
universal. $40 per week to high class competent agents. Write today
for terms and territory. W. F. A. Company. The Spitzer, Toledo, O.
* * * * *
WANTED.--AGENTS IN EVERY SHOP IN THE world to sell Vanco hand soap.
Send 10 cents for full size can and particulars. Some agents make
$40.00 per month in addition to regular work. Address the J. T.
Robertson Co., Manchester, Conn. (Dept. E).
* * * * *
SAFETY DOOR LOCK can be used without tools on any door without
scratching. Proof against burglars, sneak thieves, and pass keys.
Pocket size, 25 cents. Exclusive territory to good agents. Large
profits. Send for samples and terms. Safety Door Lock Co., Seattle,
Wash. Dept. T. W.
* * * * *
HUSTLERS WANTED TO SELL BEST SPECIALTY of recent years. Aggressive
workers make $10.00 per day (no exaggeration). Those who mean business
write for full particulars. Special--To those wishing to lose no time
we will send samples for 10 cents. W. P. Chase & Co., Wilcox Bldg.,
Los Angeles, Calif.
* * * * *
LOCAL REPRESENTATIVE WANTED.--Experience unnecessary if honest,
ambitious and willing to learn the business thoroughly by mail.
Splendid income assured. Write at once for full particulars. Address
either office. National Co-operative Realty Co., 298 Athenaeum Bldg.,
Chicago, Ill., or 298 Maryland Bldg., Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
YOU CAN SELL PORCELA to every bathtub owner in the U. S.--and there
are millions of them. Easy to sell; liberal profits to bright agents.
Porcela is the only cleansing preparation that preserves the lustre of
the porcelain enamel while cleaning it. Porcela cleans everything from
kitchen to bathroom. Write for information today. Porcela Company,
Sales Dept. T. W., Pittsburgh, Pa.
MISCELLANEOUS.
MOTION PICTURE MACHINES, film views, magic lanterns, slides and
similar wonders for sale. Catalogue free. We also buy magic picture
machines, films, slides, etc. R. Harbach, 809 Filbert Street,
Philadelphia, Pa.
* * * * *
SONG WRITING PAYS BIG.--Your poems may be worth thousands. We write
music to your words, pay royalty, publish and popularize. Send for
booklet. Brown Music Co., 393 Temple Court, New York City.
* * * * *
THE ANGLE LAMP.--Best, cheapest, most satisfactory of all lighting
methods. Burns common kerosene oil. Convenient as gas. Tell us what
room you wish to light. Angle Mfg. Co., 78 Murray St., New York.
* * * * *
SONG WRITERS.--Your poems may be worth THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS. Send them
to us for the music. Accept no offer before reading Music, Song and
Money. It is free. Hayes Music Co., 223 Star Bldg., Chicago.
* * * * *
HOME STUDY.--Every reader of WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE who is
interested in home study and correspondence teaching is invited to
send for free copy of our 80-page catalogue and full information in
regard to our home study course. The Home Correspondence School,
Springfield, Mass.
* * * * *
HOLIDAY GIFTS.--Beautiful holiday novelties in silver. Something
special for souvenir collectors. Galt & Bro., Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
MUSIC LESSONS FREE.--Send for our free booklet. It tells how to learn
to play any instrument. Piano, organ, violin, guitar, mandolin, etc.
Write National School of Music, 34 P. O. Block, Montclair, New Jersey.
* * * * *
STOOPING SHOULDERS.--A habit cured without harness or binding braces.
The Vitality Suspender scientifically constructed to make large,
strong muscles of back carry weight of trousers--through the
unconscious law of equipoise--the chest is thrown out with abdomen
back--insuring free heart circulation--good lung action--deep
breathing--natural digestion. A suspender, not a harness. Sent by
mail, postpaid, one dollar. The Perfection Mfg. Co., W. Box. 90,
Girard, Ohio.
* * * * *
OUR PLANT is specially equipped to handle commercial work, enabling us
to do it more economically than others. We have envelopes, bill heads,
cards and statements, $1.30 per thousand up. Samples of these and
better grades promptly mailed to business men. We also have special
price list which includes delivery to far-away points at low rates.
Orders promptly shipped; get our figures for other work. L. Fink &
Sons, Printers, 5th and Chestnut, T. W. Philadelphia, Pa.
AGENTS WANTED
We want agents to sell our made-to-order suits and pants. Suits from
$10.00 up. Pants, $3.00 up. We will give liberal commission to the
right men. If you are interested, write at once for sample outfit,
particulars and territory. Warrington Woolen & Worsted Mills, Dept.
41, Chicago, Ills.
VIRGINIA
HISTORIC HOMES
on the rivers and Bay. Select country homes in the noted =Piedmont
region= and =Valley of Virginia=. Choice hunting preserves. Free list.
H. W. HILLEARY & CO., Charlottesville, Va.
THE
Atlanta Dental College,
A School of Dentistry
BY DENTISTS FOR DENTISTS
Largest School in the State,
Leading School of the South.
FEATURES:
Large New College Building. Complete New Library. New Practical
Porcelain Department. Heavy Operatory Clinic, Exclusively White
Patients. Monthly Examinations and Daily Recitations. Central
Location. Experienced Demonstrators.
Write for Souvenir Catalogue and Further Particulars to....
WILLIAM CRENSHAW, D. D. S.,
DEAN.
Box 401. ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
Mention this Magazine when writing.
[Illustration]
TYPEWRITERS
_AT LESS THAN HALF PRICE._
500 machines of all standard make, REMODELED, REBUILT or SLIGHTLY
USED, at less than HALF PRICE. Shipped to any part of the United
States on approval.
WE REBUILD all makes of Writing Machines.
WRITE US TODAY.
BUTLER TYPEWRITER CO.
717-18-19 Fourth National Bank Bldg.
ATLANTA, GA.
Manufacturers of the “BUTLER’S BEST” Typewriter Ribbons and Carbons.
MAGAZINE BARGAINS.
In placing your order for Magazines this year, do not forget to
include WATSON’S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE.
Subscriptions may go to one or different addresses. If you do not find
just what you want, send your list to us for prices.
Class A.
Price
Per Year
American Agriculturist $1.00
American Boy 1.00
American Magazine 1.00
Brann’s Iconoclast 1.00
Business Philosopher 1.00
Camera Craft 1.00
Commoner 1.00
Cosmopolitan Magazine 1.00
Farming 1.00
Garden Magazine 1.00
Good Housekeeping 1.00
Harper’s Bazar 1.00
Kindergarten Magazine 1.00
Kindergarten Review 1.00
Little Folks. Salem 1.00
National Magazine 1.00
Pacific Monthly 1.00
Philistine 1.00
Photo Era 1.50
Physical Culture 1.00
Pictorial Review 1.00
Pilgrim 1.00
Suburban Life 1.50
Success 1.00
Times Magazine 1.50
Travel Magazine 1.00
Woman’s Home Companion 1.00
World To-Day 1.50
Youth 1.00
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class A, $2.00.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any two of Class A, $2.65.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any three of Class A, $3.30.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any two of Class A, with any Class
B, $4.00.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class A, with any Class C,
$3.00.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class A, with any Class D,
$3.15.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class A, with either Class E,
$4.00.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class A, with Class IX, $4.25.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class B, $2.70.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any two of Class B, $4.05.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class D, with any Class A,
$3.50.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and either Class E, $3.35.
Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine and any Class D, $2.85.
Class B.
Automobile $2.00
Independent 2.00
Outdoor News 2.00
Outing 3.00
Reader Magazine 3.00
Review of Reviews 3.00
Short Stories 1.80
Yachting 3.00
Class C.
Appleton’s Magazine $1.50
Country Gentleman 1.50
Etude 1.50
Keith’s Magazine 1.50
Motor Age 2.00
Overland Monthly 1.50
Pearson’s Magazine 1.50
Ram’s Horn 1.50
Recreation 1.50
Class D.
Ainslee’s Magazine $1.80
House Beautiful 2.00
Lippincott’s Magazine 2.50
Toilettes 2.00
Class E.
Burr McIntosh $3.00
Smart Set 2.50
Compendium Subscription Agency,
No. 12 Howell St., BATH, N. Y.
_J W FIELDER, Pres._
_IVAN E ALLEN, Secy & Tre_
[Illustration]
_OFFICE & SALESROOMS_
61 PEACHTREE STREET
_MANUFACTURERS & DEALERS._
“ANYTHING FOR ANY OFFICE”
[Illustration]
_Fielder & Allen Co._
“THE OFFICE OUTFITTERS”
OFFICE FURNITURE,
TYPEWRITERS,
STATIONERY,
BLANK BOOKS.
SAFES & VAULTS
LOCAL
AND
LONG
DISTANCE
TELEPHONE
262
CABLE ADDRESS
FIALCO
P O BOX 454
NEW YORK 101, 103 DUANE ST
CHICAGO COR WABASH & MONROE STS
_FACTORY_
150 152 154 156 158 160 EDGEWOOD
_TELEPHONE 3800_
[Illustration: FILING CABINETS]
[Illustration: The OLIVER STANDARD VISIBLE WRITER]
[Illustration: _Standard_ ADDING & LISTING MACHINE]
[Illustration: EDISON’S MIMEOGRAPH]
[Illustration: SECRETARIAL BOOK CASES]
[Illustration: _BANK & OFFICE FIXTURES._]
_Atlanta Ga._, December, 15, 1906.
Mr. Business Manager:--
Is your business increasing? Is your office system adequate to the
demands? Do not wear yourself out with old methods. Take the short
cuts to success by having your office machinery in full revolution.
Office system minimizes worry, capacitates the brain, concentrates
power, broadens the field, increases business and reduces expense.
There is no office large or small that does not need our goods. We do
not confine our trade to Atlanta. Our travelling men and mail order
system is at your command, and your orders or inquiries will receive
our careful attention.
If you are in need of anything special in office appliances, write us
fully on the subject. If interested in any of the articles below
named, please check the item, cut out the page and mail to us for
prices.
ADDING MACHINES.
Addressographs
Architects Supplies
Book Cases
Bank Furniture
Bank Safes & Vaults
Blank Books
Blue Print Paper
Court House Furniture
Card Index Systems
Check Files
Check Protectors
Chairs & Tables
Church Pews & Seating
Desks
Drawing Material
Filing Cabinets
Gunn’s Sectional Bookcases
Inks, Mucilage & Paste
Indexes & Transfer Cases
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Wire Goods
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YARMAN & ERBE FILING SYSTEMS
YORK SAFES & VAULTS
ANYTHING FOR THE OFFICE
Yours very truly,
FIELDER & ALLEN CO.
[Illustration]
L. C.
SMITH
[Illustration]
Visible
Typewriter
Writing in Sight
Is in Line of Progress
See Our 1907 Models
H. M. ASHE CO. GROUND FLOOR Y. M. C. A. BUILDING
Bell Phones 1541 & 1896 ATLANTA,
Standard Phone 296 GEORGIA
We have $8,000 worth of our competitors’
standard machines which we will sell at less
than half price. :: :: :: :: :: ::
THE LIFE AND SAYINGS
OF
SAM P. JONES
By MRS. JONES.
Why Sam Jones Appealed to the Masses With Whom He
Came in Contact.
1. He hated the sin, but he helped the sinner.
2. He thought an ounce of mirth was worth a pound of sighs in any
market place.
3. He had no mercy for the Pecksniffs of this world, and punctured
sham and hypocrisy with his keen wit.
4. He was himself a living exemplar of the truths he preached. From a
member of the “Down-and-Out Club” he raised himself to a prophet of
light.
5. He preached and proved the optimistic lesson that life is livable;
for he foresaw the day when Death, the slayer, shall himself lie
slain.
[Illustration]
6. He never forgot that Christianity was a religion of joy and
laughter, not one of tears and sorrow; a living help for this earth,
now and here, and not a bundle of dried and moldy dogmas.
7. He was a man of and for the people.
8. He was a humanitarian in every sense that the word implies.
9. With all his firmness and steadfastness of purpose and conviction
he was gentle, tender and kind in the truest sense.
10. Above all, he was a man.
Only Authorized Edition.
AGENTS COIN MONEY. HANDSOME OUTFIT, 50 CENTS.
CIRCULARS FREE.
Big Book, 9-1/2x7, Over 400 Pages; Half Morocco, $3.50,
Cloth, $2.50; Postpaid. Order Today.
J. L. NICHOLS & COMPANY
930 Austell Building, Atlanta, Georgia
Transcriber’s Notes
Inconsistent, archaic and unusual spelling and hyphenation have not
been corrected or standardised, unless listed below. (The spelling of)
non-English names, words and phrases have not been corrected, unless
mentioned below.
Depending on the hard- and software used and their settings, not all
elements (in particular in the advertising sections) may display as
intended.
Front advertisement section: Red Seal Shoes advertisement: hard ware
and Boys, Womens, Misses: as printed in the source document.
Pages 1 and 105, Prosper Merimee: as printed in the source document,
actually Prosper Mérimée.
Page 8/9: the primeval forest off these old red hills: as printed in
the source document.
Page 37, ... leader. * * *: as printed in the source document;
possibly intended to be a thought break similar to others on this and
other pages.
Page 65, ... may be imposed for ever day ...: probably an error for
... may be imposed for every day ...
Page 91, Life and Times of Andrew Jackson: there is no (heading for)
Chapter I.
Page 109, La victoire est nous!: more commonly La victoire est à nous!
Page 111, Qu’allais-je faire dens cette galere? As printed in the
source document (should be ... dans cette galère).
Rear advertisement section: Bainbridge advertisement: the Waiman Hotel
was actually called the Wainman Hotel; Fielder & Allen advertisement:
tre is probably (an abbreviation for) treasurer (the remainder of the
word as printed has disappeared in the book’s gutter).
Changes
Some obvious minor typographical and punctuation errors have been
corrected silently.
Some ditto symbols have been replaced with the dittoed text.
Front advertisement section: laware Avenue changed to Delaware Avenue;
To Our Readers: clientile changed to clientele.
Page 4: _my fri_ends changed to _my friends_.
Page 47: Sugar Trust-ims changed to Sugar Trust-isms; aristocritic
brute changed to aristocratic brute.
Page 54: George B. Cartelyou changed to George B. Cortelyou.
Page 57: to present all the states changed to to present to all the
states.
Page 83: she same changed to she came.
Page 91, Note: moved to directly under the paragraph in which it is
referenced.
Page 106: moveover changed to moreover.
Page 107: cried he Englishman changed to cried the Englishman; without
offering any thinks changed to without offering any thanks.
Page 117: fronties changed to frontiers.
Page 121: Pertinent Question changed to Pertinent Questions.
Page 127: Wordworth changed to Wordsworth.
Page 133: is this issue changed to in this issue.
Rear advertisement section: Buena Bista Fruit Co. changed to Buena
Vista Fruit Co.; T. W. Philahelphia changed to T. W. Philadelphia;
Classified ads: Medidian, Miss. changed to Meridian, Miss.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Watson's Jeffersonian Magazine, January, 1907" ***
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