Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 August 1894 — Page 4

OF A HEART. Dear heart —dear heart! the sweetest heart that ever Gave one quick throb for me! Ido pray God that your kind steps may never In paths of darkness be J But if they were—O, dearest eyes of blue! I would walk there through all my life for you' Dear heart —dear heart! the gentlest heart—that, beating. Felt for my heart one day! I trust that there shall be a tender meeting For our hearts, far away! But if there should not—O, my love, my dear! Since you were happy, I the grief would bear ! —[Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta Con stitution.

AN EPISODE OF ARISONA.

“That isn’t a bad reward!” “No. If a fellow could catch him he would make pretty good wages. Let’s see.” And the second speaker began to read the postal card that the postmaster at Hard Scrabble had just tacked to the door of the store that constituted the “office” so that everyone might read: , TAKE HIM IN ! Five hundred dollars reward will be paid for the arrest and delivery of Rube White to the Sheriff of Yavapia County. He is about 25 years old, 6 feet tall and slim, with a light complexion and has a big scar on the right side of his face. He is wanted for robbery and other crimes. If killed in resisting arrest the reward will be paid on satisfactory proof of his identity. When last heard from he was making for the Tonto Basin country. By the time the reader had finished a crowd of a half dozen or more men surrounded him. “Now, if that feller is headed for the Tonto Basin country it wouldn’t be’much of a trick to take him in,” said the first speaker, reflectively, as if debating with himself the advisability of making the attempt. “If you hear me, he ain’t going to be taken in, and the feller that tries it is going to have his hands full. They have been after him for two or three years and ain’t got him yet. They say he is righj on the shoot,” remarked another of tEe crowd. “Well, a feller ought to know him as soon as he sees him from that description,” hazarded the first speaker, “if he got up close enough to see the scar; and then al] he’d have to do would be to turn loose at him if he didn’t throw up his hands when you told him. Besides, nobody but him would try to cross over the mountains into the basin with the snow on the ground. Blamed if I don’t think I’ll go after him.”

“Well, somebody ought to round him up,” asserted someone in the crowd; “he’s been foolin’ ’roun hyar long enough, jes’ havin’ his own way, sorter as if the country belonged to . him. Blamed if I wouldn’t go with you, Hi, if I didn’t have to take this grub over to the boys in camp.” “Well, if any of you want to go, all right. I’m going,” replied the man addressed as Hi. It was not the first time that Hi Lansing had been on such expeditions. He was one of those men for whom danger seems to have a fascination. At his remark Frank Crandall, a young fellow who had been standing quietly by, volunteered to accompany him. The crowd turned toward him with more interest than they had thus far evinced during the entire proceedings. It was but a few months since he had come among them, fresh from the east, to take charge of one of the mines which had been closed down by the winter’s storms. For weeks he had been cooped up in the isolated settlement, and he longed for something to break its monotony. “Well, get your horse and gun and come,” replied Hi, and in an instant the two men had left the room to arm and equip themselves for the chase, while the loungers gathered about the stove to discuss the probabilities of their success. In a few minutes the men rode past the door, each armed with a rifle and a six-shooter; and the crowd, stepping out, bade them good-by, with the oft-repeated warning: “Be keerful, and don’t let him get the drop on ye.” The crust of the unbroken snow cracked crisply under foot as the two men rode on, fast leaving the little settlement in their rear. For some time neither spoke, but at last the silence was broken by Lansing asking his younger companion: “Did you ever try this kind of thing before?” “No,” replied the young man; “I never have.” “Well, then, you want to be keerful. If you don’t lose your head you’re all right. The only danger is that we may run on him before we know it.” “And if we do, what then?” asked the young man. “ Well, he will probably commence shooting, and if he does and you aren’t hit the first rattle out of the box, why, you want to git off’n your horse and git behind something and shoot back. If ther ain’t anything to get behind, keep your horse between you and him, and keep a-shoot-ing. Whatever you do, don’t let go of your gun. But what we want to do is to see him first, and then we’ve got the play on him; and all you have to is to tell him to throw up.” “And if he don’t throw up?” asked Crandall. “ Why, then you let him have it. The reward will be paid just, the same.” The apparent indifference with which Lansing spoke of the entire matter, much as if he were discussing the best -method of hunting a wild animal, shocked the young man; but he had committed himself too far to withdraw. They had been riding for several hours in silenc-o through the snow’, unbroken by aught save the scattered pines that here and there dotted the mesa. Before them tow’ered the mountains, through whose passes the man whom they were after would have to pass in search for safety in half-settled wilds beyond. As the two men rode along, scanning in

I each direction the snow-covered mesa, | Lansing suddenly wheeled his horse i to the right, and when Crandall joinI ed him he pointed to a narrow trail where two horses had passed through I the snow. . “That’s him. He’s driving one ■ horse and leading another, and he hasn’t passed by very long, either. ' See, the snow hasn’t had time to drift in,” said he. With the discovery his whole dei meanor had changed. A new look 1 came into his eyes and his voice sounded strange. He even grasped I his weapons in a manner different to | that he had heretofore displayed. “He’s right ahead, and we want to i look out,” the older man continued as they began to follow the trail. As they approached the summit of each hill they would stop their horses, and Lansing would dismount and crawl to the top, so that he might look, without being discovered, into the valley beyond, in order that they might not come on the fugitive too suddenly. They had traveled this way for several miles, when, reining j in his horse, Lansing pointed to what I seemed an old road leading off to the right of the one they were following, and said:

“That’s the ‘cut-off’ into the basin. I thought he would take it, but he probably doesn’t know the country. You had bet ter take it ride on ahead until you strike the road we’re on again. Then if you can’t find his tracks, you had better ride back to meet me until you do. I will follow the trail up. ” The ybuffg man tried to expostulate with Lansing for the great risk he was assuming in thus following ; the trail alone, but his companion ' was obdurate, and cutting the arguI ment short, by again warning the , young man to be on his guard he rode on, following the trail in the snow, while the younger man, finding objection useless, took the “cut-off” road. He had no difficulty in following it, and he wondered why the man they were in pursuit of had not taken advantage of it. The whole pursuit seemed almost like a dream to him. j The snow, unbroken save by his i horse’s footfall, stretched away mile after mile in every direction, with : here and there a pine, through whose ! branches the wind seemed to sob and i sigh, making the only noise that broke the stillness of the wintry ■ afternoon. It added to this feeling. Not a thing in sight. He began to depict in his own mind the manner of man they were pursuing. He had almost forgotten his name. After all, what had the man done that he, Frank CjAb&lft, should be seeking hiss blood ? Perhaps, like himself, the maz; had a mother and sisters to grieve over any misfortune that would overtake him. These and a hundred kindred thoughts passed through his mind.

The sun was fast declining as ho passed froin the “cut-off” into the main road again. The air was getting chilly with the coining evening, and the snow in the distance took on colors of pink and purple where the rays of the setting sun touched the mountain peaks. He scanned the main road eagerly to see if the man they were in pursuit of had passed, but the snow that covered it was unbroken. Then he rode back on the main road, in the direction from which he had come, to meet his comrade and the fugitive. He had just ascended one of the many rolling hills when, in the distance, he discovered a man riding a horse and driving another. At the sight his heart almost stood still. He dismounted and, leading his horse to one side, concealed him in a clump of young pines. Then he returned to the loadside and waited. The man was urging his horses forward, but they seemed to be wearied and made but slow progress. Crandall felt his heart beat faster and faster at the length of time it took the man to reach him. He examined his revolver and rifle, cocking each to see that they were in order. It seemed to relieve the tension of his nerves. After he had done this he knelt down so that he could fire with surer aim,and waited. He did not care much now whether the man resisted or not. If the fugitive resisted he would have to stand the consequence of resistance. It was nothing to him. The setting sun shone full in the man’s face, but Crandall forgot to look for the scar that the notice had said was on the right cheek, although he had resolved to do so particularly. When he first discovered the fugitive he scanned the road behind him to discover Lansing, but the nearer the man approached the less Crandall cared whether Lansing came or not. He let the man approach nearer and nearer, so that his aim would be more accurate. He could not afford to throw away the first shot. The face of the man became more and more distinct. He seemed to be oblivious of his surroundings. Crandall felt almost disposed to let him pass, but the thought that everyone would think him a coward if he did so spurred him on, and rising erect he ordered the man to surrender. The horse that the man was driving in front of him, frightened at Crandall’s appearance, swerved from the road, leaving the two men facing each other. For an instant Crandall looked straight into the other’s eyes. Then the man raised his rifle from the pommel of the saddle, and Crandall fired. The horse which the man was riding sprang from the road, and at the same moment its rider's gun was discharged. The smoke from Crandall’s own gun blew buck into his eyes, and he turned from it to follow the movements of the man at whom he had fired. As he saw the man still erect in his saddle, he felt the feverish haste to fire again come over him that men feel when they have shot and missed, and know that their life may be the forfeit of their failure. He threw another cartridge into the chamber of his rifle and raised it to his shoulder, but before he could fire the man reeled from his saddle and fell, while his frightened horse galloped of through the pines. Crandall stepped toward him holding his rifle prepared to fire again if necessary. As he did so the man raised his hand and said, simply: “Don’t fire—you’ve got me.” The snow was already red with blood where he lay. For the first time Crapdall looked for the scar that the description said was on the right

cheek. For an instant he did not see it, and his heart seemed to stop ' beating with the fear of having made I a mistake, and when, on drawing nearer, he saw that it was there, that only the pallor which had spread over i the man’s face had made it indis- ■ rinct, he could have cried out with I joy at the feeling of relief that passed overjiim. “Are you badly wounded?” he asked. “I don’t know how bad it is. It is here somewhere,” the man said, placing his hand on his breast, as if not certain of the exact spot. “It feels numb like,” he added. Stooping down, Crandall unbuckled and took off the man’s pistol belt and . threw it into the snow, where lay his rifle, and then he tore open the man’s shirt. As he did so his fingers came I in contact with the warm blood, and he involuntarily drew back with a feeling of disgust. “Did you find it?” asked the man, i who was watching him closely and ; who had observed the movement. Recalled to himself by the question, Crandall again tore at the shirt, exposing the breast. Where the blood did not cover it it looked like marble. He could not see the wound on account of the blood until he had wiped the latter from the breast and then he found it. “What do you think of it?” the man asked. “There it is,” replied Crandall, | He could not say more. The appealing tone in the man’s voice for some hope—some encouragement made him feel faint and sick. “What do you think of it?” the 1 man repeated in a querulous voice, | and as he did .so he coughed until his , mouth filled with blood, and he spat j it out on the white snow. Crandall shook his head and walked | toward where his horse was tied. He ; felt that if he watched the wounded j man any longer he would faint. | Noticing his walking away, the wounded man said: “For God’s sake, don’t leave me. Now that you have killed me, stay with me, and don’t let me die like a dog.” The voice was one of entreaty, and Crandall returned and seated himself in the snow by the man’s side. The . sun had gone down and the twilight had come on, bringing with it the chill of night. Crandall covered the wounded man’s body with his overcoat and raised his head from the snow. Almost unconsciously he noted that as the patch of red made by the blood grew larger and larger, the face of the wounded man grew whiter and whiter. He never took his eyes from Crandall’s face, while his breath came quicker and shorter, as if he breathed with labor. With each breath the blood seemed to bubble from the wound in the breast. One of the man’s hands fell from under the coat that covered him. As Crandall raised it from the snow its coldness sent a chill through him. Once he had asked the wounded man if he could do anything for him, but the man had only shaken his head in reply. Crandall felt like reviling himself for what he had done, and wondered why the wounded man did not reproach him. Even when he expressed his sorrow at having shot him the dying man said, gently: “Don’t mind it. It’s too late now.” The twilight gave way to darkness, and still he sat there. He could not hear the dying man breathe without leaning over his face. He did this but once though, and the dying man had opened his eyes and looked up into his face inquiringly. Crandall would rather have stayed there until morning than to catch that look again. Suddenly he heard a voice call to him. He started as if he had been fired at, but it was only Lansing. As he answered the call Lansing rode forward, and, seeing the outstretched form on the snow, said : “ By George, you got him?” “Hush!” replied Crandall, fearful least the wounded man would hear the exulting tone which grated on his own ears as nothing else had ever before done. But not minding tho admonition,Lansing dismounted and, striking a match, held it close to the man’s face. It was pale and cold and the half-opened eyes were glazed. They did not even reflect the light made from the match, but from the partly opened mouth a tiny stream of half congealed blood seemed to be still flowing down over the beard. “That’s him, and it’s a pretty good day’s work we have done by earning that reward,” said Lansing coolly as the match went out. Somehow, though, as Crandall lay awake through the night within a few. yards of the body to keep the wolves from it so that it would be unmarred in the morning, when they would lash it to a horse and take it into the Settlements for identification,he wondered whj' Lansing could sleep so soundly. As for himself, the rigid form covered with only a saddle blanket, lying where the snow was red instead of white, was always before his eyes, even when he closed them. ■—[Argonaut.

Restoration of British Forests.

The area of the woodland of the British Isles is now reduced to about 3,000,000 acres, which is only 39 acres to each 1,000 of the country’s total area. This is a smaller proportion than that in almost every other European conntry. Austro-Hungary has 343 acres of forest to each 1,000 acres; Russia, 342; Germany 257; Sweden and Norway, 250; France, 159; Italy, 145; Belgium, 142; Holland, 72; Denmark, 60. It is estimated that in addition to about $15,000,000 in tropical woods, Great Britain imports annually $60,000,000 worth of oak, ash, pine, etc. It is believed that the latter expense could be saved to the country by the afforestation of 6,000,000 acres of what is now waste land—a work t.pat Dr. SchlicK calculated would require 15,000 laborers, if the planting were done at the rate of 300,000 acres yearly, while it would eventually provide steady employment for 100,000 persons. This problem is bow exciting scientific and official interest, and as the future prosperity of Great Britain depends so largely upon a careful husbanding of its resources, so important a source of wealth is not likely to be much longer neglected.—[Atlanta Journal. I You can get sixty pounds of wheat for forty in Kansas.

MIDSUMMER FANCIES.

BEAUTY AND COOLNESS THE AIM OF THESE COSTUMES. Sllkn, Glnffham*, Prints, Lawns or Mas11ns Fill the Bill Exactly—Simple Combinations and Charminc Effects—Sensible Hints for Hot Weather Travel.

One Style Should Rule.

really be cool, then look it. It’s a duty you owe to yourself and others. To that end wear sheer bodices. Your skirt may be duck, if you like, but let the bodice be of fluffy, sheer stuff. Turn-away collars, with a wide ruffle on the edge and a little of cool neck showing, wide turn-back cuffs unstarched, wide b Its, with breezy sash ends—these are the things that make a girl a blessing to the community in a hot day. White is a good choice, but not always the best for cool effect, because it sometimes makes the skin seem too pink Dy contrast. A delicate green is, perhaps the very best, or a delicate blue or gray. Select a material that shows a tiny line of white or black through it, and trim with insertion of lace white or black to match. Make the gown very simply, for fussy dresses always look warm. Wear a fresh flower at the belt. Carry a sunshade, lined with delicate green, or a faint blue to match the dress. Have faultlessly white gloves loosely on the hand, wear whito shoes and stockings, and a dreamy, cool smile will complete a get-up that ought to make you a necessity in every family, as the tinman said of tho patent egg beater. If you want something which is very dressy and stylish and will have it

“it’s all right!’’

white, then consider the gown in the first, small picture. It is of white silk and has a gored skirt trimmed with bands of white bead and jet passementerie, a short strip showing in the center of the front and two long ones appearing at either side. The back and sides are plain. The bodice has a fitted lining and a plain plastron of white silk ornamented, as shown, with passementerie matching that on the skirt. Its sides are covered with fronts of white tulle heavily spangled with jet and bunched into rosettes on the shoulders. The hat is entirely black and is garnished with velvet ribbon and ostrich plumes. It illustrates prettily the present favorite trick of having a hat covered thickly with such plumes, which may droop or stand up assertively, to the wearer’s taste. If you cannot manage a gown of silk, why not emulate theenthusia m of the shouters of election time and make your cry, “What's the matter with gingham? It’s all right; it’s a dandy!” For proof of this reply turn to the second picture. Here the material is gingham of a Beautifully delicate blue, showing a fine white stripe—a better choice, as has been intimated, than pure white. The blouse waist is lined with muslin and has a wide box-pleat in the center of the frent, where it fastens with large pearl buttons. The belt may be either blue or white watered silk ribbon, and two ends extend upward to finish in rosettes. From the same ribbon comes the standing collar, which ends in a bow in front. A yoke is imitated by ecru embroidery laid over the gingham, and epaulettes of the same finish as the plain balloon sleeves. Muslin is used to line the plain gored skirt, and it has four small frills of ham burg edging inside. Around the b »ttom comes a wide band of ecru embroidery, matching that on the bcdice. If desired, heavy guipure

FL’LL-SKIRTEd afternoon dress.

can be substituted for the embroidery, or any cf the sea on’s many dainty laces. Never was there a greater supply of available colors, and they enter into dresses as the animals went into the ark—by twos—for the rule is quite general to have at least two colors for every dress. Here is the way the shades pair off tor the mazes of the fashionable parade: Gray and white, yellow and white, blue and white, all these colors with black, blue and gray, green and gray, lilac and white, lilac

. OR THESE hot *days fashion creators would do a wise thing if they would unite in commanding one imperative style. They won’t do that, of course, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable to ask that they permit a 1 stylishness to conform to an appearance of coolness. In the absence of such a general decree it is, nevertheless, possible for every , woman to so dress jherself as to seem ’’comfortable. If it is not possible to

and pale blue, lilac and delicate yellow, very delicate pink with lots of white, two shades of light green, and black and white. This is but a small beginning of the list, which is increased by many capricious combinations. In the third gown which the artist sets forth, sapphire, blue, and black thow in the tarfeta which composes it The skirt has a plain front and sides, and the back is arranged in three godet pleats very full around the bottom. It is not trimmed on the outside, but a lace frill com 38 inside. The round bodice is made of bias silk and fastens in front It is trimmed with a jet plastron showing only in front and a deep collarette of spangled black tulle, having two long tabs in front tied with jet ornaments in the waist, and also weighted with jet at the bottom. The fads of the summer girl are as different, one year from another, as are her gowns, and a season rarely passes but some craze springs up which necessitates a special costume. Usually these take the shape of some sport, and boating, tennis, and golf have had their innings, but this summer’s example makes a pretense of

SENSIBLE ITHBI FOB TRAVELING.

usefulness and dubs its devotee the ‘‘emergency girl.” In days long ago it was the housewifely little person who carried an emergency bag, and was always able and ready to repair any mishap of raiment, but in the summer of 1894, mind you, she must be able to take a stitch, not in the coat but in the wearer, if he needs it She must not only know how to sew on a button but be ready to put a patch anywhere you need one, or sew up a seam wherever you are cut Her little emergency case is small and black, and in it are all sorts of drug-store things—rolls of bandages, wads of cotton, queer needles, curly scissors, and so on. She is supposed to have a large white apron and a pair of turn-back cuffs in the outfit, and when she has to sew she puts them on and looks sweet, no matter how she hurts her patient. The regulation apron is a wide one, reaching to the edge of thejdress; the belt is wide, and it buttons in the back. It is enough in itself to transform the giddiest creature into a staid, competent emergency girl at once. The time for returning to town from the summer outing is not far distant for even the most favored, so consideration of traveling dresses is timely. After a whole summer given over to all sorts of frivolous adornments, a wee bit of reaction follows and seeks expression in these traveling gowns, which are made somewhat severely. Since this is usually the case, it constitutes no pronhetic hint that a return will be made to general simplicity in the autumn, but it is mere'y one point from which elaboration has been almost excluded. A thin woolen suiting of a grayish green shade is used in the first of these. It is made with a plain gored skirt and a blouse waist having a yoke of dark-green embroidered silk. The cape is not lined, of itself a great sacrifice in these days of brilliant cape linings, and has embroidered corner.-. It is garnished with a draped bertha whose corners and edges are also embroidered with green

ANOTHER OOWN FOR JOURNEYING.

silk, as is the small yoke visible above the bertha. The standing collar has a large bow of green silk ribbon in back. The hat to be worn with the costume is a small toque, either of straw or velvet, which is trimmed with two white lace wings, two blackbird wings and a ribbon rosette in the center. The second model is taken from gray mohair; its skirt is simply ornamented by machine stitching and is neither lined nor stiffened. Its bottom is finished by a band of leather or cloth put on about five inches above the hem. The bodice has fitted lining and hooks in front beneath the overlapping box pleat. The fronts are blouse shaped, hanging over the belt, which is made of double-faced gray satin ribbon and hooks beneath the bow in front. The sleeves are rather wide and are finished with bands of leather cloth, drawn through small buckles. Traveling cloaks are often made with many capes and the material most used is a silk mohair. For colors, tan is much in favor. This is a mistake, because tan is not becoming to a traveling complexion, and there is no royal road which leads to an entire avoidance of grime in long car rides. Copyright. 1894.

All in the Queen’s Hands.

The fact that an Englishman is a lord does not qualify him to sit in the House of Lords. To occupy a seat he must first be summoned by the Queen, and the sovereign may summon or ignore whoever stie pleases, regardless of his birth. It is only custom, therefore. that makes the House of Lords a heredity chamber. “Dere's a fine word." said Plodding Pete,, as he laid down the piece of paper that had been wrapped around a ham sandwich. “Dat’s a fine word, •procrastinate. ’ What does it mean?” “It means ter put off.” “Does it? An’ ter fink of me bein’ procrastinated f’um six trains this week. Well, well.”

TAINTS THE NATION.

THE PROTECTIONIST POLICY DEPRAVES LEGISLATION. It Demoralize* Indtutry and Pollute* Society Suppresses Free Thought, Free Speech, Free Ballot*, and Free LegUlatlon—The Battle for Freedom. Protecting Debility. We have lately had some very disgusting proofs of the way in which the protectionist policy has corrupted our National Legislature. Given legislation which may put millions into the pockets of private citizens and corporations, and the obtaining of that legislation becomes a matter of business. It is sought in the tame spirit and by the same means that business men seek cheaper raw material, lower freights, or advantages of any kind over their competitors. Direct corruption of a legislator may or may not be resorted to. That depends on the honor and decency of the men who seek his vote. But no pains is spared to make it his interest to agree vfith the vote seekers. It may be money aid to the party, it may be payment o's the legislator’s campaign expenses, it may be by information that will enable him to deal profitably on the Stock Exchange—whatever the method or the means, the protected persons or corporations treat the matter as a strictly business one, with which sentimental considerations have only a very remote connection. The result is what we all know and are ashamed of. That is one side of the matter. There is another that is not more pleasant. The tendency with protected industries is to trust much to protection and not much to wit and energy and skill. Undoubtedly the effect in so large a country and with so active a people as our own is counteracted by the spur of competition from within. We have absolute free trade among a population nearly as large as tbat of France and England, or of France, Spain, and Italy combined, and, considering the character of the population, the domestic competi n is stronger than international competition in the latter group. When the counteracting interior competition is confined to the people of a country like France, it is relatively weak, and the effect of protection in demoralizing the general energies is correspondingly strong. It results in a modified form of state socialism, which is all the more mischievous for being veiled and insidious. Men who would be active and successful in an open fight with vigorous competition, become inert. They are constantly relying on the state to remove obstacles and reduce difficulties in the way of their prosperity instead of increasing their own energy and overcominor difficulties and obstacles. And not only their mental but their moral senses are perverted or put to sleep. They think of protection only as preserving the home market for them, ignoring the injustice of shutting their customers up to the same market. Jules Simon, one of the acutest and soundest of the political reasoners of France, has recently described this effect of the control of the Government secured by the protectionists: “They have favored and developed that vice of indolence which is peculiarly French. We have impetuosity in war, but indolence and timidity in business and industry. The habit of being governed over much makes us count on the Government instead of on ourselves. We look to it alone for safety and profit. At the slightest danger to our persons, our property, or our capital we run to the Government. We oppose readily enough, and with strong arguments, the theory of state providence, but on the first occasion we bid good-by to our theory and implore the state "to protect us. In our marriages we look for dowry rather than character; in our investments we prefer a mcderate but sure return: in industry, routine; in occupation, the peaceful mediocrity of the functionary to the chances and changes of the independent worker. We are essentially a ‘woolen-stccking’ people. Disasters are rare with us, but progress is slow, and this slowness, in the presence of the continually accelerated industry and enterprise among our competitors, is equivalent to defeat. ’’ This is not a pleasant picture. There is no reason to doubt that it is a fair and accurate one.—New York Times.

Dangers of Protection. Nothing better illustrates one of the inherent evils and dangers of protectian than the present situation in Congress. We refer to the objection against protective duties urged so strongly by Congres-man TomL. Johnson, viz: the difficulty of abolishing them. Mr. Johnson’s main reason for preferring an income to a tariff tax is that an income tax can be abolished without opposition from wealthy individuals and corporations, while, the mere suggestion that tariff taxes ought ■to be reformed downward arouses the powerful opposition of thousands of millionaire corporations that fatten on protection. We have not, since the adoption of protection in 1861, had a fair and open discussion of the tariff question, either in Congress or on the stump. The beneficiary of protection is always on hand with his “subtle power,” as Senator Caffrey calls it. He frightens or discharges his employes who are inclined toward free trade. He refuses to advertise with the free trade editor or he purchases a controling interest and changes the policy of the paper. He employs speakers to tell the people that protection is entirely for the good of his dear employes. If he loses at the polls he carries his case to Congress, where, by bribery and corruption, he usually gets the decision reversed. Several times since 1866 the Republicans have tried to reduce duties, In every case they have been unable to keep their promise to the people because of the corrupt influence of greedy protected corporations. They have succeeded only in reducing revenue duties that they might advance protective duties. Grant, Garfield, Arthur and Sherman all believed in free raw materials and in revenue duties. Both In 1883 and in 1890 the Republicans .expected to reduce duties. They were unable to resist the pressure of protected interests which had given large campaign contributions and which employed hundreds of lobbyists at Washington with large corruption funds. At last, unable longer to control, frighten or buy voters, they were brought face to face with a Congress elected to reform the tariff on free trade lines. The situation was desperate, but thev did not give up hope. They resolved to save as much McKinleyism as possible from the wreck. They established big corruption offices at Washington and made a study of men and conditions at the Capitol. They were unable to “swing” the House, but did succeed in frightening its Ways and Means Committee so that , it dared not bring forth a radical rev- ■ enue bill. In the Senate they have ' not only held their control over all | Republicans but have made a few i friends in Democratic ranks. They i have succeeded in prolonging McKinleyism and may prevent the passage of a tariff bill worthy of the name.

A system which has maintained itself for thirty years by the suppression of free speech, by purchased votes and by bribed legislators is not compatible with American freedom. One or the other must go. Which shall it be? Byron W. Holt. Only Free Trade Can Save the Farmer. The agricultural situation has rapidly assumed a very grave aspect. With the unheard-of fall in the price of wheat, together with the official report of a largely increased wheat-acre-age in Argentina—now fast becoming our rival in foreign wheat markets—the farmers of the West and Northwest must be at their wits’ end to know how they can “make both ends meet” next year. Almost every grain crop will bring low prices, and Southern cotton is not likely to fare better. A magnificent season in Great Britain ana good crops in Europe will reduce the foreign demand for American farm products till 1896. The Secretary of Agriculture recently said in the Forum: belling in competition with all the world, the most serious drawback to the American farmer is his compulsory buying In the “home market," whence all competition of the outside world is excluded. * • • It Is a great wrong upon agriculture to force It to sell In the free trade markets of the earth, and th sn restrict, coerce and bulldoze it into buying the things which it Is somewhere compelled to purchase In the United States, whence by the high protective tariff all competition is absolutely shut out Under commercial freedom the purchasing power of the farm's yearly produce would buy more at a low price than It can now even at a high price In a restricted market which is walled in and guaranteed competitionless to the protectees. The Herald has shown by official statistics that the McKinley tariff forces up the prices of all articles farmers have to buy to nearly double their value, and the aggregate sum it thus takes every year from the people as bounty to home manufacturers and trusts is not less than $2,000,000,000. If this tariff is not repealed distress, bankruptcy and ruin must be more widespread next year than now. especially among agriculturists. Should the Gorman tariff bill pass some relief will be felt, but the relief will be slow and scanty. American agriculture is groaning under a mountain of tariff taxation, and yet every Republican Senator and Congressman opposes the Wilson bill, which would, if passed, take off $1,000,000,000 —a whole billion of dollars—of taxation from agriculture—a sum, not one cent of which goes into the Treasury, but all of which is extorted from farmers and planters to swell the fortunes of the “protected" trusts. The negroes under the cld Southern slave holder were less crushed beneath the iron heel of despotism than our farmers now are under this brutal “protection. ” Only free trade can save American agriculture from pitiable decadence and disaster. All farmers and planters should at next November’s elections and now make a hot and heavy fight against every candidate for the Legislature or Congress who has not proved himself a fearless aqd honest advocate of real tariff reform and commercial freedom. —New York Herald.

Protectionist’* Last Ditch. There is no doubt that the great majority of the people are with the President and the House of Representatives in the final struggle over the tariff. Even the Republicans cannot help admiring their courage and fidelity and unselfish devotion to, principle. Probably some of the narrower partisans in the opposition would not be sorry to see a breach that could not be healed between the Senate and the House. That would leave the Republicans a little longer enjoyment of whatever can be got out of the McKinley law. But how long would that last? Not lone, we may be sure. In a 1 hutnan probability, only a few months. A failure to pass a tariff act—if the House stood firm —would not be charged to the Democratic party, which controls the House, but to the treachery of those who cheated the party of its control in the Senate. It would be plain to the country that the chief agehcy in this treachery was the sugar trust, which would thus bp made the objective in the Congressional elections this fall. If any politician thinks there would be victory for the trust in such a fight, he can safely be left to discover his mis take.—New York Times. Prosperous Paper Industry. The Paper Mill says of the general condition of trade: The active members of two very large paper distributing houses declared yesterday that for the moment they had all the business they could well attend 'to, and that orders were coming in very freely. And it is only the middle of July. What do you think of it? Look out for a very material revival of business in September. Tariff or no tariff, this industry will succeed because it is able, in soite of protection, to compete in the markets of the world. The London correspondent of the Paper Mill writes, under data of July 7: “The low rates at which American 'news’ (paper) can be put upon the European market have created a sensation.” Last year the British manufacturers were complaining of the low prices made by Germans and Norwegians. but now the Americans threaten even these cheap producers. We are exporting about $2,000,000 worth of paper a year. Cheap labor cannot compete with dear labor. The President’s Letter. Of course, Cleveland’s letter went through the country. It had the right stamp to it.—Philadelphia Times. The only course of honor and safety is that which President Cleveland commends in his letter to Mr. Wilson. —Atlanta Journal. We do not think from what we have seen that this letter was judicious or -that it will help the enactment of a tariff bill. —Richmond Times. If these “conservative” Senators care to know what Democrats think of them, thqy should read Mr. Cleveland’s tariff letter.—Buffalo Courier. The entire business world will lodk to Congress to accept the suggestions made and end the uncertainty which is demoralizing the nation.—Nashville American. Now will the Senate listen to the voice of the Democratic President, which is also the voice of the Democratic people of this United States?— Boston Post. No Surrender. It is the duty of the House in the present emergency to stand on the Democratic national platform of 1892.—• Indianapolis Sentinel. With the House, the President, and the people against the Senate, it is about time for the latter to get in step with the march of destiny.—Boston Globe. If the Senate will not do its duty the country expects the Democrats in the House to do theirs and to protect its interests from the hands of the spoilers. —Baltimore Sun. The postponement of tariff reform is a grievous thing, especially at this time, but the people will forgive the postponement a good deal more readily than they will a cowaraly surrender of principle for the sake of" securing a present peace and the mere shadow of reform.—Detroit Free Press.