Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 34, Number 35, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 October 1888 — Page 1

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mi 5 t i YOL. XXXIY-NO. 35. INDIANAPOLIS, WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 3. 1888. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

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GU ILDEROY Author of "Under Two Flags," "Two little Wooden Shoes," "Chandos," "Don Gesualdo," Etc Now first published. All rights reserved. SYKOPSI3 OF 1'UEVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapter I and II Evelyn Herbert, Lord Guilderoy, owner of Ladysrood, an ancestral home ot beauty and wealth, is risking his domain. His sifter. Lady Kunburr, woman of great treueth of character and will, chide her brother for his lisüe apathy, aod ursr him to exert himself in the cause, of th sute and his country. CIIAPTEK III.

"H

E really ought to make some marriage," thought Lady Sunbnry, when 6he had left him, and took her way through the drawing-rooms opening one out

of another in a succession of rooms, all decorated and furnished aa they had been in George the Second's time, and with their ceilings and panels and mantelpieces painted by the Watteau school. "He really ought to marry," she thought; "it makes me wretched to think that he should go on like this." And yet, what woman living would have eemed to Lady Sunbury to be the equal of her brother? She would have been sure that a Venus was a dunce, a Pallas a blue, a Penelope a tool, a Helen a wanton, and an Antigone a fright. All the graces, all the muses, and all the saints rolled into one would -Lave seemed to her either a dowdy or an tcerveltty either a humdrum nobody or a portentous jade, if such an one had been called Lady Guilderoy. She had a most ardent and honest desire to see her brother married, and yet she felt that his marriage would be quite intolerable to her. For a person who prided herself on her consistency the inconsistency of her feelings was an irritation. I should hate her. I could not help hating her," she mused as she walked through the drawing-rooms. "But I should always be just to her, and I should be very fond of the children." Nothing, however, she knew, could be further from her brother's intentions than to give her either the woman to hate or .rthe children to adore. He had seen all the most charming marriageable women of Europe, and he had taken none of them. 80 far as his life was -pledged at all it was given to a woman whom he could not marry. Guilderoy, left to himself, glanced at his neglected essay lyin; on the writing table. "What is the use of -aying these things?" he thought. "Everything has been said already in the Lysis. We keep repeating it with variations of our own, and we think our imitations are novelty and wisdom." He threw the written sheets between the pages of a blotting-book, and took up a letter lying under them -vid read it -Ma-u; Le hadeai it when fAad arrived TTtJv'l his ofhef-fTorresuonTiice in the forenoon. It was from the lauy of whom his sister did not approve. It was an imDassioced letter. Now, wnen a man is himself in love euch letters are delightful, but when his own passion is waning they are apt to be wearisome. "How much of it is love?" he thoueht. "And how much love of proprietorship, Jealousy of possible opponents, pleasuro n a flattering alliche? God forgive me! I have not the smallest right to Imj exacting in euch matters or hypercritical, and yet it takes so much moro to satisfy me than I have ever pot in these things." He was conscious of his ingratitude. After ail, a great many women had loved him greatly, and had given him all they had to give; and if the quality of their love had not been equal to some vague exaggerated impossible ideal which floated -before his fancy, it had not been their fault probably ; much more probably his own. He lit a match and burnt the letter, and remembered with a pang the time when a iinglo line from the same hand had been worn next his heart for days after it had . Jeen received. "Why do our feelings only remain such a very little time at that stage ?" he mused ; and he wondered if the wood-dove in the cedar tree knew the varyincaud gradual changes troin ardor to inütTervnce. lie was not actually indifferent He felt that ' to become indifferent was a possibility, and when this is felt indifference itself "is never far off we may be sure. "Elle vient a pas lents; mais die vient." The letter asked him to spend the winter in Naples. He usually spent the winter somewhere in the south, but a vague dislike to the south rose in him before this request. The sense that his preeence there wa3 regarded as a right weakened his desire to go. Like all high-mettled animals, he turned restive when he felt the pressure of the curb. With the reins floating loose on his neck he followed docilelv. ! "If I do go," he thought, "I shall "have

all my days mapped out for me; I shall be worried if I look at another woman ; I shall be toll fifty times a week that I am heartless. Perhaps I am heartless, but I think not; and even if one is, to be told so perpetually does not make one's heart softer." Was he heartless? He thought not; and in this respect he knew his own temperament, lie was even more tender-hearted than most men ; 1 but he had been spoiled an 1 caressed by fortune, and habitual self-indulgence had j made him apt to consider himself with an ' unconsciousness which made it less ego- ! (tism than habit. He had done some things which were j unselfish and generous in an unusual de- ' gxee; but they had been great things in , -which the indolence and fastidiousness of ; his character had been banished by new I .and strong emotions. In ordinary matI ters ho was selfish without being the least ! aware of it, as indeed happens with the j majority of people. When the letter was burnt hi' went to one of the windows and looked oat. The ; day was closing in, and the shadows were taking the colors from the autumnal flowers and making the woods beyond - look black and forbiddinsr, while a few red leaves were being driven ' a'.ong the terrace under a breeze which nad suddenly risen and blfw fresh from the sea. A winter here would be unendurable, ho thought. It was very many winters 6ince he had sen Ladysrood in the winter months. None of the sports of winter were agreeable to him, and he did not care for house parti, which required an amount n( attention and fihvrv. nce from a host very distasteful his temperament. He usually me here only when he wished for tire solitude, and the gentry of his lty eighed in vain for the various eninments, the balls, the dinners, and hunting breakfast, to which, had

Guilderoy been like any one else, the great house would doubtless have been dedicated. Dut he saw no necessity to dedicate it. Ladysrood was much isolated, being surrounded on three sides with moorland and on the other side shut in by the sea, and though his distant neighbors would willingly have driven twenty miles to liim, he gave them no invitation or permission to do so. The great fetes which had celebrated his majority some fifteen or sixteen years before hail been the last time in which the reception-rooms had been illuminated for a great party. He was an idol of the great world, which always considered him capricious but charming; but his count v saw only the caprice and none of the charm, and thought him rude, eccentric and misanthropical. In his father's and forefather's time the hospitalities of Ladysrood had been profuse and magnificent; the closing of its doors was an allront to the whole country-side, against the unpopularity of which the good sense of Lady Sunbury had in vain often protested. "I have no desire to be popular," Guilderoy invariably replie!. "There is nothing on earth so vulgar as the craze for popularity which nowadays makes people who ought to know better onlv anxious to be fawned upon bv the crowd.'' "'Voxpopuli vox Dei,"' said Lady Sunbury. "It always was in the esteem of the vulgar th'-mselves," replied her brother. "My6e!f, I wholly decline to believe that the gods ever speak through the throats of any mob." "Can vou call vour own country people a mob?'' "Ob, yes. A well-dressed mob, but a mob decidedly. If you let them in by the great gate I 6hall go out by the garden door." And they never were let into Ladysrood, infinitely to their disgust. A few men dined with him occasionally, that was all. It was not wonderful that his neighbors thought Lady Sunbury would have been better in his place. When he looked out on to the terrace now and t,aw the little red leaves blowing, he rang and ordered his horse. He was fond of riding in the dusk for an hour or two before dinner. But as he was about to mount his horse he heard the sound of wheels coming up the avenue which led to the western door of the house, a petite ettird; only used by intimate and privileged persons. "Who can it be?" Guilderoy wondered to himself, for no one then in the country, to his own knowledge, was on suflioiently friendly terms with him to come thither uninvited. A moment later he caught sight of the invader, and with pleasure and astonishment recognized his cousin, Lord Aubrey. A few moments later he welcomed him at the west door. "My dear Francis, how glad I am 1" he said with perfect sincerity. "To what good chanco do we owe tliis happy surprise?" "If yon bestowed a little attention on the politics of vour own county," replied Lord Aubrey, "you would know that I had to attend a meeting in your own town yesterday. I heard you were here, and I did not like to be so near Ladysrood without passing a nigfjt with you. If ,1 had known sooner the tiate of the meeting I would have snt 'you word, but it was made a week earlier than I expected at tho eleventh hour." "I am delighted to see you, and there could be never the slightest occasion to let mo know beforehand. Ladysrood is vours whether I am in it or not. Would you like to go direct to your rooms, and I will take you to Hilda a'fterward?" "With pleasure," said Lord Aubrey. "I am hoarse, dusty and stupid, for I have been declaiming for three hours on policy to some live thousand people, of whom four thousand probably would spell polico with an , if they could SDciM it at all." "Spelling is a prejudice, like a love for ground leases, said Guilderoy. "Come and have a bath and forget demos for a day." "You continue to forget him always," said Lord Aubrey. Francis de Lisle, Lord Aubrey, was a cousin-german of Guilderoy's, änd some few years older than himself. He wis a tall man, with an air of great distinction and an expression at once melancholy and amused, cynical and good-humored. He carried his great height somewhat listlessly and indolently, and his gray eyes were half veiled by sleepy evelids, from which they could, however, ftah glances which searched the inmost souls of others. He was heir to a marquisate, and had dedicated his whole life to what he considered tobe the obligations of his station. He did not like public life, but he followed it with conscientiousness and selfsacrifice. He was not a man of genius, hut he had the power of moving and controlling other men, and his absolute sincerity of character and of utterance was known to the whole country. "How is your sister?'' he asked now, as he came to tho tearoom. "And what are you going to do in the west of England in autumn, you who hate grey skies and cold winds?" "I am delighted to be in the west of England 6ince it affords me a quiet day with you," said Guilderoy with perfect truth, "for he liked and admired his cousin. He had, indeed, a warmer feelins toward Lord Aubrey than Aubrey had for him. A man who had combated his own indolence and become excessively occupied is apt to have Blight patience with a man who hi8 allowed his indolence and his instincts to be the sole controllers of his life. Guilderoy's existence was a union of contemplation and pleasure; to Lord Aubrey it appeared the existence of an unconscionable egotist; and yet ho had a friendly regard for the egotist. "You have much more talent than I have," he said once to his cousin, "and yet vour voice is never heard by the country ;v and Guilderoy gave him much the same reasons for his silence which he had given to his sister. "You believe in a great many things and vou care about others," he added. "Now, I do not believe, and I do not care. Talent, even if I possess it which I doubt can not replace the forces which come from conviction. Thoso forces I have not." "Here is your model hero; the one perfect person endowed with all the virtues and moral conscientiousness in which I am so sadly deficient," said Guilderoy to his sister, as he entered her presence with his cousin as the sun descended over the western woods. "I admit that I wish your life were more likehi8; you would probably bo happier and certainly moro useful,' said Lady Sunbury, as she welcomed Aubrey with more cordiality than she showed to most people. "I am by no means sure," said Aubrey, "that when one does choose l'alla one is always right in the choice, if Hercules were : and if one is as intolerant of being bored as Evelyn is, it is no kind of use to take her; a divorce would be sued for immediately." "Yon do not regret your choice, surely ?" said Hilda Sunbury, in some surprise. Aubrey always seemed to her to 1e as

absorbed in public life as other men are in pleasure. "I did not say that I regretted," he replied, "but misgivings visit one inevitably. Aquelbon! One cannot help thinking that now and then. I dare say a man of absolute geniu3 does not have that doubt, but when one is a very ordinary personage one must feel now and then that one might as well have enjoyed oneself and let the nation alone." "You are too modest; your example alone is of the most infinite benefit. There is something so noble in a man who has nothing to gain and everything to lose devoting himself to political life. It is those sacrifices which have made the strength of England and of the aristocracy of England." Aubrey smiled a little sadly: "We 6hall not last very long, do whatever we will." "I do not believe the principle of aristocracy will ever die out, 6ai 1 Lady Sunbury, resolutely. "It is rooted in human nature and in nature itself. All government. drift toward it whatever they call themselves. Even savage tribes have a chief. Where our party has been so culpable has been in pretending to asroe with those who deny this. Toryism should have the courage oi its opinions." "Certainly the lirst virtue of an aristocracy should be courage." said her cousin. "An aristocracy is nothing without it. A democracy in England would have sent a humble deputation and the keys of the Cinque Ports to Napoleon after Austerlitz. What stood against him and prevailed against him were the valor and the stubborn patriotism of the English nobility. Aristocratic governments are often faulty; they may be arrogant, illiberal, prejudice; they may be so, though they are not do necessarily : but there is one fine quality in them which no democracy ever possesses; they have honor. A democracy caunot understand honor; how should it? The caucus is chiefly made up of men who sand their sugar, put alum in their bread, forge bayonets and girders which bend liko willow wands, send bad calico to India, pay their operatives by the tally shop, and insure vessels at Lloyd's which they know will go to the bottom before they have been ten days at sea. Honor is an idealic and impersonal thing; it can only exist in men who have inherited its traditions and have learned to rate it higher than all material success." "1 quite agree with you," said Guilderoy. "Unless we honestly believe that we are the natural leaders öf the nation by virtue of the honor which we uphold aud represent, we have no business to attempt to lead it, and we ought not to conceal or to disavow that we have that belief in ourselves. Ixrd Salisbury has been often accused of arrogance ; people have never seen that what they mistook for arrogance was the natural, candid consciousness of a great noble that he is more capable of leading the country than most of the men composing it would be. If a man have not that belief in himself he has no business to assume command anywhere, whethere in a cabinet or in a caiup or in a cricket field. I have no sort of belief in myself, and therefore I have always let the state roll on without help or hindrance from me in any way." "You mav be a hindrance . without I ..1. ......

'bowlder in a highroad dovsnot move, but I eomi-ti ir.r.u if fivnrtnrn t.hrt Pjirri:lrt flj effectually as if it did." "By which you mean " "That when the radicals of your county are disposed to point to great landowners who lead their lives to very little purpose except that of their own enjoyment, you, my dear liuilderov, are conveniently at hand to be pointed at, and to sharpen tho moral of tln-ir tale." "It is wholly impossible for them to know what I do with my life," said Guilderoy w ith some anger. "Clearly; but they judge from what they see ; and you may be sure that they lose no time iu'making your country-side see with their eyes. For aught they can tell, no doubt, you maybe visiting pris ons like Howard, or capturing slave dhows like Gordon, all the time you are away from England, but they do not think so, and all they tell the county is that you have an immense income, which you don t earn, ami that you Fpcni it anywhere sooner than in England. I am not saving that thev have any business to make such remarks; I only say that thev do make them." "Let thra make them and be damned?" said Guilderoy. "With all my heart," said his cousin. "Only it is not they whoever are damned; it is "always the poor, 6tupid, hungry, gullible crowd, which is led astray by them, and is made to believe that it would mend matters to burn down great houses and cut down old woods. "You are always saying," continued Lord Aubrey, "that yoü wonder why I bore myself "with public life. It does bore me endlessly, immeasurably that I grant ; but apart from all other reasons you know, Evelyn, I must confess that mo'n in our position owe it to the country not to leave politics wholly in the hands of professional politicians. The professional politician may be honest, but his honesty is at best a questionable quality. The moment that a thing is metier it is wholly absurd to talk about any disinterestedness in tho pursuit of iL To tho professional politician national aflairs are a manufacture into which he puts his audacity and his time, and out of which he expects to make so much percentage for his lifetime. I say that we have no business, because we are lazy and fastidious, to let the vast mass of the uneducated and credulous who make up the mass of our nation bb led by false guides, who only use them to climb up on their shoulders to power. If we found a man persuading a child to eat poison by telling turn that it was honey, we should be as guilty as the intending murderer if wo did not strike the cup down and tell the child of the danger it ran. .That poor, overgrown, ill-educated child, the people the People with a big P is always having oion thrust on it under the guise of loney. If we do not try to show it what the cup really holds, I think we are to blame. That is the feeling which has rnoved-me to endeavor to do what I can. I should be uneasy if I did not do it. After all one can "only act according to one's light." "You are a very conscientious man, my dear Aubrey," said Guilderoy, "and I admire if I do" not imitate you. The overgrown child will, however, always prefer the deceiver, who tenders it the poison, to you who are so careful over its health. "That must bo as it may," said Aubrey, "I cannot help the results. Men never know their best friends in public life or private. That instinct is reserved for dogs." "I can well believe that you are indifferent to ingratitude," said Guilderoy, "and I am convinced you are the servant of your conscience. lint will you tell me how you stand the vulgarity of public lifo 7 It has become so hopelessly vulgar 1" "That I grant. And it is just its vulgarity which will, I fear, every year alicnato the higher minds from it more and more, and send them instead to their bookcases and their inkstands, I confess

when I have shouted for an hour or two on a hustings before a general election, I have felt myself on no better intellectual level than a Cheap John. To bo compelled "to go on the stump" is a prospect which may fairly make a man who has anv refinement or delicacy about himshun political life as he would ßhun a collier's pot-house. There is too great a tendency to govern the world by noise." "On the whole I think I have the better part," said Guilderoy. "60 far as your own ease goes, not a doubt of it." "Evelyn does not admit that there is such a thing as duty," remarked Lady Sunbury from her tea-table. "I do not like the word duty " said Guilderoy. "It is puritanic and iilocical. If we are what science seems to prove, mere automata formed of cells and fibres accidentally meeting, we clearly are wholly irresponsible creatures. Nero is as innocent as St. Francis." "What a shocking theory 1" "Aa shocking as you please. But it is the only logical outcome or the conclusions of physiology." "I do not enter the lists with physiology," said Aubrey, "but itmay say what it will, it cannot prevent my consciousness of an Ego whica inclines to evil, and an Ego which tells me to avoid it. It is nothing very great to claim. A dog has iL He longs to steal a bone, and he refrains from stealing it; he longs to bite a hand which hurts him and abstains from doing so if he finds the hand is a friend's. I do not think conscience is exclusively a human possession, though it may have become larger in human than in other animals. But it is strong enough in me to make me sensible that 1 am in a very great measure responsible for my actions, and all the philosophies on earth will never talk me out of that belief." "And the belief has sent you to the house of commons?" "Just so; I admit the bathos I admit the justice of your implied satire. Uut I go to the house of commons because, feeling as I feel, I should do violence to my conscience, not to go to iL That sounds horribly piggish, but I cannot express what I mean otherwise." "I wish the country had a great many more men who felt like you," said Guilderoy. He walked about a few minutes restlessly, then, his sister having left the room, he asked with some abruptness: "You came last week frem Marienbad? Did you see the Duchess SoriaV" "Yes, I saw her. She wondered very much not to see you." "Did 6he say so?" "She said so with considerable bitterness. Why were you not there ?" "I do not care to do what I am expected to do," replied Guilderoy with some impatience and sullenness. "There can be no pleasure where there is no imnrerue; where there is nothing voluntary. Women never understand that. Ilaif the passions of men die early because they are expected to be eternal. Half the love

which women excite they destroy, because they stifle it bv captivity in a hothouse, as a child might kill a wild bird." Aubrey looked at him with some aiauscrnenL v "You. are undoubty righL .Even I, who havo no pretentions to much experience in the soft science, am awanf that you are most undeniably right. Dut how uo you propose to get anv woman and any woman in love to understand that?'1 "I do not even hope it," replied Guilderoy, wearilv. "I only remark that the utter inability of women to understand it brings about their own unhappincss much sooner than it would otherwise come to them. If they comprehended that the birds wants fresh air, ho would very possibly often return of his own good will to the hot-house." "And tell the tale of his amours en voyage? My dear Evelyn, the lady would have to be as wiso as Penelope and as amorous as Calypso to receive him on such terms." "It would bo love; whereas now it is only love of possession." "You certainly ask a creat deal of love, and seem to bo inclined to give very little." "One can only give what one has. Women reproach us with ceasing to care for them. Is it our fault? We cuinot control impulse." Aubrey looked at him once more. "Poor women 1" he said, involuntarily. Guilderoy moved impatiently. "There is no doubt of the Duchess' devotion to you," added his cousin. "On my honor, I think she suffers a great deal. She has been a coquet, no doubt, but she has never been a coquet with you." "I lo not think we ought to speak of her," said Guilderoy. "Certainly not, unless you wish it You introduced her name first." "My dear Aubrey," said Guilderoy with some violence, "of" all intolerable things on earth a passion which survives on one side and dies on the other is the worst. There is no peace possible in it. You feel like a brute, whilst honestly you are no more to bo' blamed than the sea is to be blamed because after high tide its waters recede. No man Is accountable for the flow and reflow of his own emotions. Women speak as though the heart were to bo heated at will like a stove or a bath. Now, of all spontaneous, capricious, changeful and ungovernable things, the fiassions are tho most wayward and the east reasonable. Why do you love ? You can not say. Why do you cease to love? You probably can not say either. The forces of your emotions and desires are wholly bej'ond your own control. They are not electric machines mere Leyden jars which you can charge at will. VV'hv, then, is it a reproach to ceaso to love? It is as involuntary aa it was to love at all in the beginning. Aubrey smiled a little dubiously. "Excellently reasoned! I should bo disposed to admit your arguments, but I doubt very much whether tho Duchess Soria would see the force of them." "You think she was annoyed that I was not there?" "She was much more than annoyed; sho was indignant and wounded. That was easy to see. She is not a woman who cares to conceal what sho feels. Why were you not there, by tho way ?" "I dislike everything which is made an obligation I told you so. WhatJs feeling worth if it degenerate into a habit?" "All feeling runs to seed in that fashion, unless it is broken off sharply whilst it is still in blossom, a painful fact, but a fact. Here and there perhaps thero is a sentiment strong enough to endure through all tho changes of its growth, so that instead of decay it almost reaches perfection ; but it is very rare, and can only bo the issue of a unique character." "The ideal of love, of course, does so : but it does not exist out of tho dreams of boyhood and of poets," answered Guilderoy impatiently. "There is attraction, and there is reaction; and between the two the time is more or less short, according to temperament and circumstances. Dut the end is always the same." "What you call attraction I should not call love. I should give it an uglier name." "Giyeitany name you like; it is all

there is. It becomes poetic, however, in poetic natures." "My nature is Absolute prose, so I cannot pretend to understand," said Aubrey; but although he said so, it was not' quite so sincerely spoken as was his wouL He had a vein of romance in his character, beneath the coldness of his exterior and the prosaic nature of his occupations. When he had been quite a boy he had made a secret marriage from pure love. It had lasted a brief space, and had ended ill. The woman for whom he had sacrificed much had been false to him in a gross and brutal intrigue. He had not made his wound public, and she had died not long after his discovery of her infidelity. No one had leen aware of this unfortunate drama in his life, but it had made him at once indifferent to women, and sympathetic with all sorrows of the affections. He never laughed at those who suffered. His own wound had healed, indeed, long ego, but now and then a nerve still thrilled under the remembrance of its pain. Iove had little place now in his busy and laborious life, but his estimate of it was higher than his cousin's, the doors of whose lifo stood wide open to it all seasons through. If there was anything in human nature which made him irritable, it was to hear men speak of the passions of life as Guilderoy spoke of them. "If they are playthings they are not passions," he was wont to say, "no more than the fireworks on the Arc de l'Etoile are the flames of the commune." For errors which were the birth of passion he had infinite sympathy, but with the mere caprices of the senses and the fancy he had little patience. "He should marry," said Lady Sunbury to him of her brother, repeating her favorite lament. Aubrey laughed. "I should certainly pity his wife," he replied. "Why?" said Lady Sunbury, irritated. "She would have a very agreeable position." "Oh, no doubt," assented Aubrey. "If she were satisfied with position. Perhaps she would not be." "Women are not romantic nowadays," said his cousin, in the tone with which she would have said that women did not wear patches. "I suppose that there are as many or as few amfs d1 elite now as then," replied Aubrey. "There never can have been ver many. Why should you want him to marry? he continued; "you know you would hate a saint if he married her." "I am sure I should le delighted," said Lady Sunbury, and was fully persuaded that she spoke the truth. Aubrey smiled. He spent that day at Ladysrood, and then took his departure for his own place IJalfrons, in the North. Ikdfrons was a mighty border castle which had withstood raids and sieges from the days of Hotspur, and it gave its name to" the mar3uisate which lie would inherit on the eath of his father, already a very old man of feeble health, who was but seldom seen by the world. "I wonder what he would do with his life if he allowed himself to do what he wishes?" said Guilderoy, when his cousin .had pipe. . ) "Hcywould never leave Daltrons, and wouid collect early Latin manuscripts of Virgil," replied Lady Sunbury. "Almost as dreary a paradise as his present purgatory." "That is a matter of taste. You prefer to collect a number of erotic memories which soon grow as fusty to you as if they were used tea leaves." "They are at least as amusing as old Italian manuscripts." "Not as harmless," said Lndv Sunbury. Continued ne.it ueeL) A CAMPAIGN LIE REFUTED.

Judge Thurm an Ii.d Dianl.iy the Stars and Ntrtpea Durlnj- the Encampment. Coixmbts, 0., Sept. 27. The following correspondence explains itself. The letter from Mr. Smith i hut one of many, and the answer being one to the truth of which thousands of Columbus people, without regard to party, can testify. Farwell, Mich., Sept. 24, 1S33. Hon. A. O. Thurnian, Columbus O. Ikar Sir IucUisi p:eae liaJ sftmnt ravle ia otir local paper, it is ahead by soMierof thiq place that attended the reunion at (xluia'.is that you iliil not ili-p'ay fie star aivl stripe at your resi.lfti'.-e, nJ I but it will cost a great many votes, duo soldier (dcrnoi r.it) say- fla; were il.plajrod every day Unt takea iu at u;h-ht. Flcaso euUghten uk at to th fai t. Yours truiy. M. T. Smith, Treasurer democratic county oommitteo. The cliiiavi inclosed states that Julse Tlmrman did not display the uatioual colors during the (f. A. IL eucamDiueut, and that his house was tiie 011W one in the city not decorated. Allen V. Thuruiun replied us follows: C01.C.MBIM, Ohio., Sept. 7, lS"i. To M. I. Smith, Ttt-aiurer D'-mocratio County Committee, l'are!l, Mich. DrarSik Yours of the 2 Ith int., inelosin? clippii;g from your lc-;il piper an I lunkins; inouiry ia p'tcard to statement that no U.iiPi were displayed on father's rei l ncrt during (t. A. It. week, is received. The story is absolutely untrue. Every d.ir two Iarj;e fla;s were displayed r.t lather's house. Those were taken in at ui'ht, ltesiae this, our office building, which is situa.ed on thi? line of march of the U. A. lt., was completely decoraUsl from one end to tho other. Yours truly, A. V. Tilt' KM AN. Free Speech aud I'ree Itallot. To Tue Editor Sir: The republican party, so its speakers and journals say, is in favor of free speech nnd a free ballot. How Ions has it been bo? When the war bean I was a boy, some thirteen years old, but I remember what happened then will. I lived in Greenfield, Hancock county, Indiana. In the year l?o2 the republicans stole out of the ballot-box sixty democratic ballots and put in sixty republican ones to change the vote enough to elect the republican county ticket. Then my father was a Lincoln republican, but he said: "Cientlcnen, this is not the war to do business." So he left the party, and then they turned against him, and in lsC4 they said he ehouYn't vote, and thirty-MX soldiers were brought there, with their enns with bayonets ou, and they staid around the polls part of the day, keeping democrats from voting. Many cf the men kept from votinc were old citizens and paid tares, but they were democrats. I iw tickets taken from democrats and torn up and the men made to leave town. A man by the name of Catt, an old citizen, who had helped to make the county improvements, tried to vote and they nearly teat him to death. Now the republicans think democrats are too thick for them to impose upon and they jump on the prohibitionists and ejr and stone theui. Dut Hen Harrison says that wherever the republicans are in power there every one can speak his sentiments without being molested. W. L. BilOOT. Julian, Ind., Sept. 25. Nature's Lair n Fraud. N. Y. Sun.l Miss Spinster (to bird fancier) "I wonld like to pet a canary bird, sir, that is a fine singer." Uird fancier "Yes madam; now there it as fine a little fellow e I ever I saw." Miss Spinster "rtllow? Is it masculine, Bird fancier "Oh, yes; the males only tine." Miss Spinster (departing in indignation) "I think it is a perlect outrage 1" Ouly One Available. New Y'ork Sun. JInsbsnd (who has advertised for a typewriter expert) "Did many call to-day, my dear, in answer to the advertisement?" Wife "Yes, quite a number; but there was only one applicant whom I told to call ajriin. lie seems very bright, and I'm sure you will like him." Husband "hat was the trouble with the est?" Who Thcr were all young women."

FARMERS AND THE TARIFF.

THE HEAVY BURDEN OF WAR TAXES. Practical, Erery-Day Illustration of the W01 ng of th Monopoly System fc cue Instructive aud Very Mgnißcant Figure. Mr. riollet is a wcll-kown character in Pennsylvania. He is a fanner, a politician, ami a picturesque figure in agricultural circles. Recently through the columns of the Philadelphia Times he expressed his dissatisfaction with the Mills bill and defended tho exi&ting tariiF. In reply to Mr. Piollet tho Tine, though a protection paper, presents a formidable array of reasons v? hy farmers should favor a reduction of tariff taxes. Among other things it says: AYe like Farmer Piollet, not bo much because he likes high and needless taxes, but because he has the courage to say o and to denounce with tho eloquence of manliness all who propose to reduce his taxes. Farmer riollet revels in high war taxes. lie ia used to them; he has got the hang of them; he pays them on pretty much everything: he needs and consumes; and, if he loves them, who can dispute his right to advocate them and brain-clout any president or party that attempts to lower his taxes? His life would be uneven and jerky if taxes did not fall upon him uniformly in hia farm-house and on his farm from cradle to prave, and from stable to kitchen, dining-room, parlor, chamber, cellar, garret, roof, foundation, field and flock. He wants no sudden breaks in his taxes. He has free water and free air and free coffee, and that' about all, but he hopes yet to see them taxed into blissful uniformity with alt hid other farmer taxes. Think of the jrrand uniformity of Farmer Piollet's life in enjoying " the farmers' taxes. He rises in the morning, shakes his farmer's mane in vigor as ho emerges fruin his 40 per cent, taxed bed6heeti, his GO per cent, taxed blankets, his 40 per cent, taxed pi. lows, his 30 per cent, taxed mattress, hi3 35 per cent, taxed bedstead, and he lands triuinphatly on atW per cent, carpet, tacked down with 43 per cent, taxed tacks. He strips olf his 40 per cent, taxed night shirt, put on his 00 per cent, taxed underclothing if woolen or 40 per cent, if cotton; follows with his 40 per cent, taxed 6hirt, his 00 per cent, taxed pants; Iiis 40 per cent, taxed socks if cotton or 00 per cent, if woolen ; his 30 per cent, taxed hoes. He next takes up his 50 per cent, taxed tumbler or mug; applies his 00 per cent, taxed toothbrush ; pours out water from a 00 per cent, taxed pitcher into a 00 per cent, taxed wash-bowl, takes up nis 3ö per cent, taxed toilet so?p to aid his refreshing ablutions in free water; brings the blood to glow in health on his cheeks by a 40 per cent, taxed towel ; comb his hair with a 30 per cent, taxed comb; gives j a linishing touch with a 30 per cent, taxed I brush. He next turns to his 60 per cent, taxed necktie, if fdlk, or 40 if cotton or linen ; ties it around his 40 per cent, taxed collar frtiilened by J4 per cent, taxed starch ; adjusts his 33 per cent, taxed puspenders, and if a 30 per cent, taxed button is missing he replaces it with a 30 per cent, taxed pin; he then puts on his GO per cent, taxed vtt ; follows with his GO per cent, taxed coat; supplies it with a 40 per cent taxed handkerchief, and is then ready to take a survey of himself in his 100 per cent, taxed mirror on his 35 per cent, taxed bureau, when he is ready to emerge from Lis chamber. As farmers are ever interested in teh weather, Farmer Piollet w ill always brush aside his 40 per cent, taxed curtain and take an early look out of his 80 per cent, taxed window sash and li3 per tent, taxed window glass to see how the free air and the only thing free that he can see looks, and promises for the day. If his digestion is a little unsettled he regulates it by a 40 per cent, taxed draught of magnesia" from a 40 icr cent, taxed glass; or he may prefer a dose of 18;) per cent, taxed castor oil, or a "nip" of 300 per cent, taxed whisky, sweetened with fij per cent, taxed ßugar," mixed with a 50 per cent, taxed ppoon. lie then takes his 50 per cent, taxed pocket knife to clean his finger-nails, takes up his 51 per cent, taxed wool hat and is ready for a survey of his manor. If ho is a prudent observer he takes a survey of his kitchen and inspects his 40 per cent, taxed oil-cloth; his 5S per cent, taxed stove and pans; his 45 per cent, taxed tinware; his 25 per cent, taxed broom ; his 3o per cent, taxed buckets; his 45 per cent, taxed jars containing bis 113 per cent, rice, his 35 per cent, taxed tables and chairs. The kitchen inspected, as the fountain of the farmer's health, Farmer Piollet next 6teps out on his 17 per cent, taxed porch floor by opening his 25 per cent, taxed door-latch, airs himself under the protection of his 17 per cent, taxed shingles, and if storm confronts him he wisely takes up his 50 per cent, taxed umbrella and starts for a survey ot the farm. He inspects his 3-3 per cent, taxed wagon, looks to the 54 per cent, shoes on his horses and the 76 per cent, taxed nails in them, takes a peep at his 44 per cent, taxed chains, Bees that his 40 per cent, taxed saw, his 63 per cent, taxed liles and his 50 pir cent, taxed screws are all in place; inquires about hia 30 per cent, taxed harness, puts his 35 per cent, taxed wheelbarrow in place, and carefully examines his 45 per cent taxed reapers; his 45 per cent, taxed plow; his 45 per cent, taxed harrows; his 4-5 per cent, taxed rakes, about which time he pulls out his 35 per cent, taxed watch attached to a 00 per cent, taxed guard, and discovers that it is breakfast time. Ii devotionally inclined, as Farmer Piollet doubtless is, he enters his house, calls his household around him, puts on his 00 per cent, taxed spectacles, takes up his 2G per cent, taxed bibie, aits down on his 5 per cent, taxed chair, leans back against his 25 per cent, taxed wallpaper that covers his 20 per cent, taxud lath, lays his bible on a 33 per cent taxed Htand. on which there is a 40 per cent, taxed cover, and proceeds to read the solemn morning lesson. This done he sits down to a 33 per cent taxed table, covered with a 40 per cent, taxed cloth, laden with 00 per cent, taxed plates and dishes, 40 per cent taxed glasses, 43 per cent, taxed tinware, 35 per cent taxed knives and forks and takes his 23 per cent taxed fish, seasons it with 49 per cent taxed aalt and 50 per cent taxed epices, sweetens his free tea or cotlee with 80 per cent taxed sugar, drinks it from a 00 per cent, taxed cup and makes his bread toothsome with 28 per cent taxed molasses. Breakfast over, Farmer Piollet takes his 70 per cent taxel pipe and his 100 per cent, taxed tobacco lighted with a 35 per cent taxed match to soothe his nerves and aid his digestion. He next

disposes of his correspondence with 25 per cent taxed paper, 25 per cent taxed envelopes, 30 per ceut taxed ink and 40 per cent, taxed pen, and writes elaborately to his granger friends on politica and agricultural economies. Farmer Piollet's 30 per cent, taxed clocc finally admonishes him to superintend bis outdoor operations. He has u-t threshed his wheat, bound with 35 per cent, taxed twine, on a 45 per cent, taxed machine: he bags it in 40 per cent taxed bags, ana he bales his hay for market in 3-5 per cent, taxed ties. He then hauls his produce with a team that is taxed from horsewhip to wheel and bed to the railway depot, where he employs a railway that has GO per cent, taxed fails, 35 per cent taxed cars, 102 per cent taxed trucks and 35 per cent taxed coal, and he emits a flood of granger eloquence against railways as he studies the tariiT of freights. He passes his 25 per cent, taxed schoolhouse, his 25 to 35 per cent, taxed church, and his 25 to 40 per cent, taxed bridge, all parti v built by Iii earnings, aud he is disturbed and conf used because of the high railway taxes. This is the one tax he doesn't Iovp, and he concludes to read up for a broadside acainst railways at the next granger gathering. Fanner Piollet takes up the Times the paper he always rea ls and seldom agTees with priuted on 20 per cent, taxed paper, with 25 per cent taxed types, 30 percent taxed ink and 50 per cent, taxed machinery, and the clouds sp- e lly pas from his face and smiles play upon Ins g ntly furrowed cheeks as he reads that his universal farmer taxes are multiplied to hi:n by the blessing of extra taxes by the jute trust, the steel trust, the toap "trust, the linseed oil trust, the envelope trut, the cordage trust, the paper-bag trust, the salt trust, the ruhler trust, the crockery trust, the nail trust, the glass trust, the gugar trust the lead trust, the lumber trust all of which are the creation cf high war-tarü taxes, and he, smiles serenely as a bridesmaid as he contemplates the profusion of tax blessing this great free land showers upon the farmers. He rejoices that the blessings of farmer taxes never cease from the 35 per cent, taxed cradles and 40 per cent taxed diaper of infancy to the 35 per cent, taxed cotlin and 00 per cent taxed shroud for the grave. Just then Farmer Piollet reads of the Milis bill propor-in:; ruthlessly to reduce the fanners' taxes, and he erupts in fury as he exclaims: "These infernal politicians can't let us farmers alone; they now want to reduce our 47 percent, taxes 7 per cent ; to Hades with them, say I, Farmer Piollet"

POLITICAt BLACKMAIL. One of Harrison's Home Supporters In a CharaeterWtic Hole. One Joseph R. I!oMnon, who announces himself as the cdiior and proprietor of the Indianapolis Ijortrr a paper that TUE ÜEXTINE1 has never heard of has written the followin? blackguard epistle to Mr. Thomas M. Osborne, a leading manufacturer of aricult ural implements at Auburn, N. Y.: Office of Indiaxapoms REronTEn, Indianapolis, Sept. 2, l.v$. j Mr. , Tresid-.nt, HiauI-iLtuilnf t'oupany, N..Y. SIR It is reported thron jh a democratia county source, that y .u.a former republican, will vote lor Cleveland and Thurnian. I presume you are the sin of the late ( ), and in a nseu.sure represent the money that he accumulated from tiie sale of (his machinery) to the fanners of the western Mates, an.l every dollar th:tt you inherit from the estate of (your father) came to you because of the protective policy of the covernment thrown arojmt the farm products of the very lanner who, because of the government protection. were enabled to buy vour father's manufactured machinery. If it is true that you will vote for free trade bv supporting the democratic' ticket, you are an unworthy son of a very respectable sire, and it ia the birvreit specimen of the meanest faul that has come to the Inn.t so far ia the campaign of l&vi. The circulation and distribution ot the Ilrport'r is the largest of any newspaper published ia the Union. The farmers ot the ern states want to know, and they w ant the information at once, in regard to your joitioa politically. They hive no ue tor any machinery manntacttired bv a representative of the pauper labor of Kurland. Yon are the only man manufacturing farm implements ia the United States who represent th.it dangerous doctrine. The jjrter will be pleased to hear from you, and will pve you all necessary time to place yourself upon the reoord, and it" an answer is not received in due time, the lirportT will consider that its present information is true and at o ue proceed to notify M-estern farmers that i'arn machinery manufactured by your company is a representative of the most dnn cro;:s element to American prosperity, the destruction of northern industries for the purpose of tiu' iin up southern powers bucked by ISritish luiluence and money, and northern democratic d uh-:aced politicians. 1 am, sir, respectfully, JoSKl'lI IL TiODINSOjr, Editor and Proprietor In iianapolis K porter. Mr. O.sborne sends this letter to the XeW York I'ont with a note, ia which he says: I ara entirely unacquainted with the person who wrote thia letter, never heard of Lim before, and the attack is entirely unprovoked. Kxactlv why he should assume to drai? me before his judgment-seat I cannot tell. I inclose it to you, thinking it may be of interest to show the ort of thine which the high-protective doctrine leads to, in exposing innocent people to such coarse and unpleasant attacks. The Poft, in commenting upon Robinson'a letter, says: It will be well for Robinson to keep out of the jurisdiction of this state after ivritiug such a letter, because he is liable to be indicted under the boycotting law. Aside from the jjross impertinence and blackguardism of the performance, the political economy of Robinson's letter is most wonderful, lie assumes that the agricultural classes of the United States, who sell their staple products at Liverpool prices, lesa the cot of transportation, and buy their supplies and tools subject to a tariff" tax of 47 pr cent., are the real beneficiaries of the tariff and that they will be so outraged by the jroinps on of Mr. Osborne that they wiil stop buyintr hia machines at a word from Robinson of Indianapolis. Why have uot the farmers of the Weel lone since boycotted the Mct'ortnsck works at Chicago nnd the Anltman it Taylor works at Mansiield, ()., two nurseries of tree trade far exceeding in importance those of Mr. Osborne at Auburn, X. .t What John .larett Swore To. ' Chicago Kws.l This Mr. Jarrett norae tim since pare remarkable testimony before the senate committee on the relations of labor and capital. Said Mr. Jarrett: The waes pii 1 the iron and ateel workera (I refer to those which ara connected with our organization) are, on the whole, tolerably fair. I claim that this condition is simply the result of Organization among the workmen. A a ruk in auch mills as are not controlled by our organization lower wage are paid. Of coarse there are all orti of arguments used by the owners of these mills. They claim that the controlling influence whereby wages are governed in thia country is the tari H, and they aay they pay all the tariff puaranteea them." To the ab tve he added that "such claim Ia all humbug;" that "it was the labor organization alone that compelled th employer to pay good ;" When recalled to a sense of the necessity of giving the protectionist role some mall show by one of the committee, he finally put in a strong plea for protection. This, in turn cadcu out a few pertinent questions from Senator Call of Florida, who said: "I understand you to say, Mr. Jarrett that but for the trades anions the benefits of the tariff would be absorbed wholly by the manufacturers?" To this Mr. Jarrett responded: "It would be largely o.w