Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 6 April 1896 — Page 4

By ALICE E. IVES.

fCbpjrrlght, 1890, by the Author.]

"The men plied their trade as unconaedly as if they were trolling for fish, -.appose in their stolid, careless way they shot)Id bring up the body—the poor, old semblance of such marvelous, fiery,

BQEical, iuteuse, beautiful life: 'Oh, I could not bear the thought of Bing there, and I rushed back to the Jeserted rooms.

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excitement^ prevalTecI

fa. the little town. Cobblers forsook giheir lasts, tailors their shears and, shoptappers their shops to gather in knots at |5a street corners and discuss with loud Voices and many gesticulations the tragic qff air and their firm belief in the guilt of the young man.

VWomen let their kettles boil dry %hile they exhausted all their adjectives IB condemnation of the American villain M}d expressed their convictions that the tlrl must have belonged to the 'emanciKted' to have been alone at so late an .poor with a young man. I "There was nowhere the slightest 4onbt as to the terrible guilt of the handsome young foreigner. "The journals in describing him attributed a wiebed and murderous glare to his brown eyes and a bard, crtiel tnrve to his mouth. "Popular opinion was dead against Mm. In two weeks his trial would oome pn, and still no traces of the missing |irl

"I obtained the best counsel I oould £D1 tried to prevail on him to let me Write his parents a full account of the situation. At the mention of his parents be broke down for the first time and tried like a child, and I think I cried Trfth him. 'John,' he said, 'I'm all they have. would go so hard with them. Don't tell them for awhile yet anyway.' "I explained to him that the situation was getting to be very serious, and so one knew how it would end. If it should be conviction, they ought to be prepared for the worst. Accordingly be illowed me ro write. "The trial crime on. The most damning evidence was brought to bear on the Accused. A very important witness wat:

TTr. h'rolcc down ttnd cricd like a child. a hostler at the Rothelhaus, who had

passed tlie spot where the pair had stood very near the river's edge, was positive that he coird identify them both, had «een the young lady nearly every day for a week, and once the elderly gentle man hnd stopped and talked with him while with her, and he had had a close view of her ^ice. When cross questioned, he could describe what she wore on that fatal night and was also certai .. of the young man, as ho had spoken to him that very da1" and asked if they had any horses that were fit to drive.

When asked if he had understood any of

their conversation, he answered that he had passed quite near them and heard her say, 'How can you be so cruel?' He had picked up enough English to understand this, but oould not tell what the man answered, as be passed quickly on. "He swore to this having taken place "Within six feet of the spot where the hat was found. He knew the exact place, as they stood under a peculiar shaped tree with a trunk that forked about ten Inches from the ground. "Counsel then asked, 'Did she have on a hat when you last saw her?' 'She did.' "This was taken as evidence that a struggle, in which she had lost her bat, had taken place near where they stood. "The next witness was Gretel Hausemann, who lived in a small cottage About ten rods from the fatal spot. She testified to her having been awake at that unusual hour owing to a sick child whom she was watching, and at about 15 minTit.es before 11 she heard two terrible screams, which she was certain «ame from that direction. She ran to the door, expecting to bear people Aroused or running or something to explain the disturbance, but not a sound was again heard. "Two other witnesses were examined. They had both seen the prisoner passing through the town that night at a late hour alone. "There was a profound sensation when the uncle of the missing girl took the stand. "Ho testified to her having been nearly every day for a period of two months in the company of Philip Morely that, being very much engrossed in his scientific studies, he had paid very little attention to them, but had never once thought of any possible harm resulting jfrom their acquaintance. "After leaving Heidelberg his niece had grown very pale, but he had not thought much about it until his attention was called to the fact by a friend the day of Philip Morely's arrival in Klotz. "He remembered that on several occasions she had not appeared at meals, trot had thought she was busily engaged in writing and did not wish to be disturbed. When the friend had spoken to Jtiifc, he had said that be thought she ]ooked very ill. "All this, scrutinized b.v un-American

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Heavily against tne young

eyes man. "He also declared, what he had before on that dreadful morning, that there was no evidence of the girl having again entered .? the house after she had left it with Philip Morely. "When called to the stand, I could say very little to help my friend's case. I was obliged to admit that I had seen the two go away together, and that Morely had not returned to his room until a few minutes past 11.

When asked to state what conversation took place after he came in, the counsel for the defense objected, and I Was not made to repeat it. "T was next lasted IT" ITe'fi'aff TjeBavecI Tlx an unusual manner. I am afraid I lied when I said no. He had acted ratheT strangely, but who could tell how great a weight such a small thing might have with the jury, and—God forgive me!—I could not swear away the life of my friend. "The defense could hot bring a single witness who bad seen the couple return to the house. "The hostler was the last person who bad seen the young woman. "The past good character of the accused was proved beyond a doubt, and an attempt was made to establish the fact that the most friendly and proper relations had iexisted between the pair. "The prisoner in his defense reiterated this latter testimony and declared there had never been any misunderstanding between them that the words the hostler had heard were only in jest and in answer to a remark he bad made about a person tbey both knew. He denied that Bbe had at any time screamed. He had left her at her own door, and tbey had parted in a most friendly manner. "In the face of the terrible circumstantial evidence against him it waB ap parent that his words carried very little weight. "Edna Stirling had been last seen in the company of this man. She had mysteriously disappeared, evidently was drowned, and the law demanded her at his hands. "What did I think? Oh, I don't know what I thought, I was torn with conflicting doubts and fears. One moment I would be certain of his innocence the next I would be overpowered with the sickening suspicion of his guilt. I never want to suffer again what I did in those few weeks. "On the last day of the trial, just as the judge was about to charge the jury, the father came. "Poor Phil, who had sat through it all hollow eyed, pale and stony, broke down at sight of his father and hid his face in his hands. "By the time the jury returned he had regained his composure. "As they entered everything was so still it seeu"\'l as if the very clock ticked W'th the truKe jf a triphammer. "Aft n. ixr preliminary words came thi ver. ailty.' "The conu«jmii«a man started as if pie oei fcv a bullet. A convulsive shuddev passed his whole frame, and then, clutcr

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the rail with one hand,

he stood imiio^a.ieand stony as a statue, staring at the opposite wall with fixed, expressionless eyes. "The poor old father seemed stricken to the earth. "At that moment the most vindictive accuser of the condemned must have felt a thrill of pity at the sudden wreck of so much magnificent young life and promise. "There certainly was nothing hardened or vicious in the handsome face. There could have been no premeditation about his crime. Whatever he had done must have been a swift, terrible impulse coming upon hirri like the flash of a thunderbolt. 'At that moment, in the fearful quiet, when every one was watching the effect of the verdict on the prisoner, and before people's tongues were loosened in comment, there was a slight commotion among the crowd around the door, and two women entered. "One was a tall nun in the robes of her order the other, whom she supported and who seemed scarcely able to walk, was dressed in something very like a nun's habit and heavily veiled. "Once inside of the room and in full view of the court, she threw back the veil, and Edna Stirling stood in our midst. 'My niece!' screamed the professor, and rushed to her side. "Her face was as white as marble, and the emaciated features only made the great, beautiful, luminous eyes larger and more than ever like two fires. "The heavy folds of the black garment seemed to add a solemn grandeur to the spiritual face and form. 'You see I am not dead. Where is the innocent man whom you have accused of my murder? He must be cleared from suspicion. He is blameless.' "Her voice was clear and distinct, and was heard even to the remotest corner of the hall. Philip, who had not noticed her entrance, at the sound of her voice started, looked around, and, stretching out his arms to her, tried to speak. "His lips only parted, and he sank back into the arms of bis counsel as insensible as a swooning girl. "Well, you can make up your mind there was something of a tumult in that courtroom for a few minutes. "As soon as he was restored to consciousness, the young lady was requested to tell why she had so mysteriously disappeared. The nun asked that she be allowed to sit, as she was not strong enough to stand, and the girl began her story. "It seemed that she had not been well for nearly a week prior to Philip Morely's visit. On the eyening after his arrival at Klotz they had taken a walk together, and he had escorted'her back to her own door, where they bad parted in a friendly manner. She saw no one aroimd the premises, and concluded her nncle had retired. "It was so hot and close in the house she could not go in. Her head ached, and a terrible fire seemed hutnina(in »ll,

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her veins She loygeVXrf 9i» opoi grass And the clear, cold river they had just left, and she turned and went tyicktp it "When she got there, she took off her hat and bathed her head. She seemed to feel better after that, and-she rose from dabbling her hands in the water and started to go back once more to the house. But the delirium of the fever must have been upon her, for she went in the opposite direction, and walked and walked, &nd never reached home. "She had a dim recollection of being 'oh, so tired!' and trying to accomplish an impossible task of vainly endeavoring to find the way out of some horrible, impenetrable labyrinth, as we do in dreami, and ffiHn~she re'mefnbered no more until she awoke and found herself in along room with many beds. A nun was sitting near, and told her where she was. "She asked if her uncle was there, and when they told her they had seen no such person, she began to. be very much Alarmed, Rowing, what t\xe anxiety of her friends would be., "She begged Sister Felioe to write immediately. Then she remembered that the nun spoke a language that her uncle could not understand. Indeed, she herself had had great difficulty at. first in making herself understood, for she spoke to thqm in Gtonnan. ''There coul4, ,be no mail. until the next day, and no tefefpaph within seven miles, unless it was Klotz, which was nearer than thai. "She then asked for a newspaper, but such a secular Abomination was, of course, not to be found within the precincts of a nunnery. She was so persistent about it that a,messenger was finally dispatched for the much desired article. "On taking up the paper,, plmost the first item that caught her eyes was an account of the singular trial at Klotz. That instant she had insisted on coming, although they all declared it would be death to attempt it. "At this point she asked that the sister be allowed to finish the account. "The tall nun rose, and, through an interpreter, 'said that she was resident at a nunnery in France, distant only about six miles that the nunnery had a hospital attached, and at about 10 o'clock in the morning of the date corresponding to the one following the disappearance some peasants had brought in a wagon a young woman whom they had picked up by the roadside, as they thought, dying. "She was in a deep stupor at the time, and the case was pronounced brain fevef of an exceedingly dargerous type. For two weeks she either lay in thifi lethargy, or raved with delirium. "Sister Felice had had almost entire charge of tLe case and had watched her unceasingly. She was at last rewarded by hopeful signs of her recovery, but since she had had the madness to leave her bed in her present weak state she could not answer for the consequences. "They bad promised her to send a messenger directly to Klotz, but no— nothing would do but she must go herself. 'She feared'—here the nuu hesitated and dropped her eyes the girl caught at her hand with some whispered words— 'she feared,' went on the nun, in a low voice, 'that the accused might suffer innocently. 'We eaw that to oppose her, excited and determined as she was, would be even more dangerous than to allow her to go. 'The young lady has told the rest.' "Philip was overwhelmed with congratulations and left the courtroom once more a free man, but not until he had rushed to his preserver and pressed her hand, bending over it and kissing it with eyes full of tears. "There was little use for words now. All the strength which excitement had lent her was gone, and she lay in the arms of Sister Felice as one dead.

At the pressure of his hand she open ed her eyes, and a joyous, wonderful smile lighted up the whole face. 'My madness nearly cost you your life,' she said, in a low voice, 'but I saved you—they could not take from me that happiness.' "The next moment she seemed to swoon, and tbey carried her from the room. "That night he haunted the house, but was not allowed to see her the doctor said she must have perfect quiet. "The next morning while I was there they told him he could see her, but she would not know him. The fever had returned, and she was raving again with delirium. As the doctor said this, the professor entered. 'Yes, go in,' he said sternly, with compressed Jips, 'I insist upon it.' "I was left alone in the room, tho door standing ajar between it and the one where she lay. "It was very quiet when he entered, but in a few minutes I heard her say. 'No, no, don't tell him. God help me to hide it—I .love him so! Philip! Philip! I can call yon that when I am alone. You don't hear me, do you? My darling, my love, my sunshine! Oh, how terrible—terrible it is to be with-

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"No, no," he said. "J cannot, will not, give you up." out you. Can I go on living in this blank, horrible way? Oh, yes, always— always. See, I am A nun now—there are giieat iron bars between me and the light, and tfie flowers, and the birds.' Here the voice rose to a shriek. 'Ob.

take me away—-i caxrinui giif« mm 'apr "Then all was quiet again. After a time she began in A slow, solemn voice, like one reading a dirge. 'Learn resignation and endurance, for thiB in Godlike. Other than this is weakness and unfit for immortality. If thou art a soul, remember thy birthright. Yes, yes, ob, how I have tried, but no, life means'—and the words died away in an inarticulate murmur and low moans. "I could stand it no longer, and leaving the room paced up and down outside. "When PhiJip Morely rejoined me, he was terribly agitated. Throwing him*lf into a garden seat, be sat for soma time with bowed 'head and eyes shaded by his hand. At last he spoke and asked me if I had heard. "I could only answer, 'Yes.'

He got up, came to me and clutched me by the Arm, crying out: 'My God, John! What have I done —what have I done? I do love her, but not as she loves me. I am unworthy of it.' "He seemed completely crushed, now that he was brought face to face with the result- of his 'innocent little flirtation,1 his 'Platonic friendship. "The next day they told him he could not'see bdr, but he persisted AS one who had the rijgbt. 'Very well, then,' said the physician dryly, 'if you insiBt. It can't make much difference anyway. She W9n't live through, another day.' "Philip looked at him in an incredulous sortV of ^ay, as if such A supposition was simply impossible, And pusheld past him into the room. "She was lying very quiet now, and he watched by her side half an hour, afraid to move lest she should be disturbed. After a time she opened her eyes and seemed very happy to find him there. 'Tell me that I need never leave you again,' he said, bending tenderly over her. "For answer she feebly raised a small, thin hand and put it in his. "'We shall always be together,'he said. 'See, I shall hold your hand so that you cannot go away.' "A great joy came into the gray eyes as she answered: 'No, I snail never want to go again —never—never'— "The next moment there was a struggle for breath. He raised her in his arms. Between the flickering and going out of life she cried out weakly: 'Oh, Philip, I must—must go!' 'No, no!' he said like one crazed. 'I cannot, will not, give you up.' 'You cannot come with me. I shall be all alone, but'—and across her agonized features there flitted a wonderful smile—'perhaps it will not be always. Who knows?' "And the soul who had found overmuch bitterness and stony places in this world had wandered out to its native air among tl.e still waters and pleasant fields of that other country. Let us hope not all alone, but with a kind hand in hers."

The moon had sunk low and was dropping out of sight. It was growing dark in the room, and neither of the men broke the silence.

At last out of the dusky corner by the window a voice full of deep feeling came. "Philip Morely's double! May all the angels keep me from bis fate!"

And the doctor reverently said, "Amen." "My friend, this has been a lesson to me." "It certainly is a most wonderful, remarkable coincidence," said the elderly man musingly.

THE END.

Fifty Lashes.

A sturdy shoeing smith, with countenance lowering at his hated task, stepped forward, picked up the instrument of punishment a postilionlike whip handle, furnished with nine knotte'' heavy, leather "tails"—and awaited further orders. A nod from lys senior, a swishing hiss from the cat, and the sharply spoken record of the sergeant major "one," followed in quick su cession by "two," "three," "four"— then we were startled by the sudden word, "Stop!" from the officer in charge of the parade, a kindly hearted man who had recently filled illustrious positions as a general, and who spoke to the following effect: "The punishment is being inflicted in a manner which is tampering with the law, for those strokes would scarcely havehurt a child. To see that it is carried out according to law is my duty. Shoeing smith, do you do your duty?" No. 5 lash was accordingly of an entirely different nature from its predecessors.

Tho tails were whirled aloft, and, after a circular sweep, were brought down fair and square with a thud between the shoulders of the prisoner, who, by the involuntary struggle of h'a lashed arms and the spasmodic wince of his whole frame, gave evidence of his suffering. Instantaneously red wales, caused by each separate thong, glowed on the firm white muscles of the powerful prisoner, and as lash after lash descended, these wales became merged in a large surface of bleeding flesh. At the twenty-fifth stroke the shoeing smith tossed his cat on the ground with a gesture of rehef that his share of the infliction was over, and another man taking his place proceeded to complete the tale. By this time the prisoner had apparently grown numb to pain. At all events, he endured it with the silence and the stoicism of a red Indian, although his shoulders presented a ghastly aspect, and ihe surgeon, standing close at hand, kept a keen watch lest natuie should be overwrought.—Blackwood's Magazine. __

THE CYNIC.

When a man saves his money, people think he steals Its The more confidential friends a man has, the fewer secrets he has.

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JfVXh.r

JOE M'CULLAGH TALKS FREELY.

Gives His Views on Newspaper Affairs.

OPINION OF ONE CENT PAPEES.

Why and How He Rednoed the PrlM of The Globe-Democrat to Leas Than the Cost of White Paper—Chat With a Noted Journalist.

In those days I thought 14could run tho paper about as well as Mr. McCullagh. and I half suspect he knew it. Times have changed. Tho editor of The GlobeDemocrat sits in a well lighted, hand somely equipped office on tho seventh floor of one of the ilnest buildings in St. Louis The vagrant newspaper and tho fertile contribution still litter tho desk and cover chairs and tables. But there is a clear space about the desk, and ono chair—n very comfortable chair—is ready for Immediate occupancy. Moreover, I know now that I could not have run The GlobeDemocrat 12 yoars ago or at any period of tho intervening time in which observation and experience have been teaching mo what amazing qualities are required fo" tho successful management of a great newspaper.

Eat One Creator.

There was an impression in the local room of The Globe-Democrat 12 years ago that a certain rivalry existed between the co.unting room and tho editorial rooms of that paper for the credit of having made it the loading newspaper wost of tho Mississippi river. Tho manager of the paper was thought to have an idea that he haa "made" The Globe-Democrat and even the modest advertising man was credited with 6aying that tho paper never would have amounted to anything without him. To the readers of the paper there has been but one creator, however. The business office oould have changed hands a hundred times, and the poople who swore by "The Globe" or "The G. D.," as it ismorocommonly called, would never havo known it. But Mr. McCullagh has a personal following which, as he said, is not limited to people of one political creed. All its readers swear by tho "great religious daily," as its editor facotiously calls it, and if you meet ono of thom in New York or Washington ho is protty sure to shako some famous journal in your face and say, W hy, these eastern papers are not half so mum ns The GJobc-Democrat." I have heard that from a great many Democrats and Republicans as well.

Recently the poople of St. Louis were astonished to read in tho morning papei —there are only two in this city, barring the German dailies—that their price had been reduced at ono jump from cents to 1 cent. They could not understood why tho reduction was made, and they don understand it yet. Mr. McCullagh told mo frankly that Tho

Special Correspondence.]

ST. LOUIS, R»-Joseph B. McCullagh is ono of the fortunate American editors who have become identified so thoroughly with their papers that tbey get personal credit for all the clever things tbey publish. Whenever an especially clever paragraph appears In The GlobeDemocrat the readers of that paper poke each other in the ribs and say, "That's Joe MoCullagh's." This applies chiefly, ol oourse, to the editorial page of the paper. "I don't want to say anything In praise of myself," said Mr. MoCull&gh recently, "but you will find that you cannot Judge

JOSEFH B. M'CULLAGH.

a man's politics by tho fact that he Is reading Tho GJobc-Democrat. If he i« reading The Republic, though, you can feel sure he is a Democrat."

From Then to Now.

This was said in a long conversation which I had with Mr. McCullagh in the editorial den at the top of the big GlobtDemocrat building, and he was enlightening me about tho recent reduction in the price of tho St- Louis papers to 1 cent each. The den Mr. McCullagh inhabits during his working hours now is very different from tho one in which he sat when I went to bim just 12 years ago to ask for a place on the local staff of his paper and to take my first assignment. The old den was in a building on Fourth and Pine streets two squares east of tho structure into which the paper moved a few yoars ago. Tho editor's room was a dingy square apartment on the second floor looking on Fourth street, ill lighted and equipped with well worn furniture. There was not much of this furniture, and it was almost hidden under dusty stacks of newspapers and manuscripts. On the editorial desk there was a clear space just big enough to afford a rest for one of Mr. McCullagh's hands, and on this he wrote his editorial matter holding tho paper in placo with his left hand. When lie wanted to ask a visitor to sit down, he usually had to ewoep a pil of papers from the seat of a chair to make room for him.

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down heeauso The Republic did. "Tho Republic," ho said, "is a class paper." And it was in -connection with this I statement that ho spoko of tho fact that his own paper was read by people belonging to both parties. "What Tho Republic had to gain by reducing t-ho price I don understand. I had been fighting a reduotion in this office for a long time, but I when I heard The Republic was going to reduce its price I made arrangements to como out with a like announcement at the same time. I wrote a brief double leaded editorial and gave it to tho foreman of tho composing room Wednesday night. Then

I mado arrangements to have a man get an early copy of The Republic every morning. I told tho foreman I thought the announcement would probably be made Sunday, to take effect .Monday. And so it lmpponed. I went home at my customary hour Satur

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day night, and when f'looked through the paper Snnday morning I saw the announcement that the price would be reduced the next day."

Jut Little Fan.

Then Mr. McCullagh came down town and wrote an editorial for Monday's paper accusing The Republic of following the lead of The Globe-Democrat In reducing Its price. He did not do this for the purpose of deceiving any one, but simply to have a little fun with the enemy—to see him fume and fret and protest. Mr. McCullagh is apparently never so happy as when he is provoking and aggravating the

editor of The Republic. Mr. McCullah told me he had figured the cost of the white paper in the Saturday edition of The Globe-Democrat, which has an eight page supplement, and it was greater than the wholesale price of the newspaper. The paper cost 69 cents for 100 copies, and the wholesale price of the Globe-Democrat is one-half cent a copy, or 60 oents per hundred. The other week day issues are not so large, but the half cent for which they sell hardly pays the cost of the paper on which they are printed. The Globe-Democrat, Mr. McCullagh says, has increased Its circulation 50 per cent by the reduction In price, but the incre»3* adds to the deficiency instead of lessening it. The press work and .the postage increase with. InoreasQ in circulation, and when the price paid for each copy hardly equals the coat of the pp.per it cannot be great as the entire cost of getting out the journal, including press wo»k, postage, telegraph bills, salary list, etc. It is clear then that only an lnorease in the amount of advertising will make The Globe-Demo-crat whole on its recent venture. And Mr. McCullagh says there Is a mistaken idea commonly aooepted about the relation of advertising to circulation. "Before I came to St. Louis," he said to me, *'I edited The Republican in Chicago for a time. The Chicago Times was at that time by far the biggest newspaper in the west. But it used to eome out day after day with a very small amount of advertising—rmuch less than The Tribune, though^ it had four times The Tribune's circulation. Story did not care very much, because he had other ways of gettiDg money. But I was surprised that The Times had 6o small a sharo of advertising, and, meeting the advertising manager of Field, Leiter & Co. one day, I spoke to him about it. He told me his firm advertised in The Tribune simply becauso The Tribune reached the people whose custom they wanted."

Chicago Newspapers.

I asked Mr. McCullagh if he thought there was any likelihood that the Chicago papers would go back to 2 cents or moro, and he said it was possible, but no one could toll because Mr. Medill was a very positive man and very likely to stick to the course he had marked out.

Mr. McCullagh expressed great interest in Mr. Kohlsaat's Chicago venture, but Baid he thought The Times-Herald was shooting a little over tho heads of its readers on its editorial page. That class of literature he thinks may find a reading publio in New York, but not in Chicago^ or, in fact, in any western city. Ho commented on the fact that tho loss to The Times-Herald and Tribune in Chicago from the redaction in price must be greater than that of The Globe-Democrat, because the Chicago journals were printed on pap: of better quality. The Times-Herald, in fact, made Its reputation and secured its circulation originally because of tho fine paper on which it was printed. "X wonder if the Cincinnati Enquirer has changed its price yet?" said Mr. McCullagh, wheeling around In his chair and picking up a pile of newspapers. "No," he added as he found the Cincinnati paper,, "it is still 5 cents."

Then he sj^oke of the changes in Cincinnati journalism and the passing of Murat Halstead from that field of labor where his fame was made. Mr. McCullagh was in Mr. Halstead's office wlion he was a young

"When I knew him first," he said, "he would have laughed at any man who suggested that ho ought to go to public meetings and make speeches. He was content then to bo an editor. But after a time ho got an idea that ho ought to figure more conspicuously in public affairs. That was his greatest mistake, but not the on'\* one. I once said of him in The GlobeDemocrat that ho had spent 25 years explaining the errors he had made in the 25 years preceding."

Dwelling on tho subject of tho Cincinnati papers, 1 spoko of the vagaries in headlining of which they had been guilty la ly. Mr. McCullagh is a foe of tho "scare head," and The Globe-Democrat goes beyond a"threo liner" only on extraordinary occasions. "It used to bo the rule," said Mr. McCullagh, to put a big head line over a 'department' whether it contained much or little news. For example, Washington must havo a big head if thero was only a line of telegraph matter from the capitrl. Frequently tho head lino wa3 bigger than tho piero of news. I went over the pappr one day with a piece of string, and I was amazed to see how much space was wasted on !iead lines."

As to Scare Heads.

Trat string measurement settled the "scare head" fn The Globe-Democrat, because the editor of that paper has a hard time finding room for all the news thnt comes into hisoflico. The Globe-Democrat has an enormous telegraph service. It has held for 15 years or more the proud distinction of paying more money for telegraph tolls than any other paper in tho world. This does not ineludo enble tolls, for, though Editor McCullagh buys a great deal of foreign news from extern papers, ho does not place a high value on it unless it has an lnv.iortant bearing on local matters, and his first, order to the foreman on crowded night is to "kill oablo." Domestic news Mr. McCullagh values far above cable news, and apparently above local news as well, for Tho Globe-Democrat has tho reputation of sacrificing the local columns to tho demands of telegraphed matter.

Mr. McCullagh is a slave to his paper. Ho seldom leaves the city, and he spends nearly 18 hours of each day in tho editorial chair. Ho is a strict disciplinarian, and from the chief editorial writer, Captain Henry King, down every member of the editorial staff is required to report at tho office at 11 o'clock in tho morning and to remain until 11 o'clock at night. Tho local force is under tho same strict rule, and Ml: McCullagh knows every man who Is writing for the paper and personally controls its news as well as Its editorial policy. He Troqucntly says that thero are no other editors on the paper—no Sunday editor, no railroad editor, no dramatic editor. He edits the entire paper every day in the year whon ho is well enough to be at the office. Probably no other editor of a great newspaper In the United States gives tho same degree of attention to the details of editorial management. The fruit of this policy is a pleasant thing to took upon, an'Interesting thing to read.

GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN.

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