Pike County Democrat, Volume 27, Number 41, Petersburg, Pike County, 19 February 1897 — Page 3

KD so, you’d have me tell the tale My father oft told me! A story of the days when pale

Hope fled, and misery Stood stark and grim before that band Of men beyond compare— The tale of Washington the grand. Who crossed the Delaware! One Christmas night, long years ago. When shrilly cold winds blew, And through the darkened air the snow On frozen pinions flew, ▲ little band of patriot souls ' Stood brave and fearless where lb iciness and anger rolls The fretful Delaware.

Nor loo. nor storm, nor cruel blast Can hold these heroes back; They have resolved; the die Is cast For freedom's cause! A track Of blood upon the snow they've left From shoeless feet and bare; Of all life's comforts they're bereft. Beside the Delaware. But “Onward! Onward!'.' Is the word Their brave commander speaks. When thro' the storm his vc^ce Is heard Bach son of freedom seeks To do his bidding; put aside Is every woe and care— There's’ vlct'ry o'er the icy tide. Across the Delaware. On through the gloomy, stormy night With hardships dire they cope— *Fo_r God. and native land, and right!" . Their watchword and their hope; Until at last, all cold and dark. They greet the morning glare; Safe thro' the tide they've reached the bank Across the Delaware. And then, nine miles beyond they go. With steady, solemn tread. To where the hated Hessian foe 81ecp in their drunken bed. Aroused from dissipation's doze In wild surprise they stare. And conquered, give their swords to those Who crossed the Delaware. This, children. Is the story true Of noble, fearless men; And may ita lesson be to you A guide and eolsce w hen Storms hover near, my brave grandson. And you. granddaughter fair— Press onward, till the vicfry's won Across Ufa's Delaware. —George V. Hobart. In N. Y. Herald. ■i

EOIiGE WASHEC*. TON! You George Washin’ton, you! Kf you don* come ’long here when 1 cail yer I’ll take a bre&h broom ter yer, sail, dat 1 will!”

Aunt June stood in the cabin doorway calling1, shrilly and sharply, to a boy at that moment reluctantly making bis way to the cabin from the directicwi df the "spring branch” that skirted the field in the low ground. “Come ’long here, sah! Don’ you see I’se waiting?” George Washington obeyed reluctantly, bow ever; for it vras the season of the year when trout were biting. The small rod and bucket that he carried told, silently, the story of an interrupted minnow excursion, preparatory to a day’s llthicg in Duck river. IIis mother «wo her best dress, a bright magenta skirt and s brown worsted waist; a bonnet of curious shape and colors, and a pair of very white, home-knit gloves. A long, brown barege veil floated majestically from the bows and blossoms of her bonnet. A large market-basket and a. tin bucket covered with a clean vrhite cloth stood on the doorstep; a crazy little cart wit h a white mule nodding between the shafts waited at the gate. In lieu cf leather reins a white cotton rope jwssed from the bridle bit to the seat upon which Aunt June was preparing to mount. “Is yer goin* ter town, mammy?" raid George Washington, with a rueful glance in the direction of the waiting wagon. Ills black face expressed better than word* his heart’s disa pointment at the unexpected disarranging of his plans. “Co’ae I’se gwin© ter town! IloWa de butter gwine git dar ef.l ain’ fetch it ? Huccome yer reckin hit’s gwine walk dis day, stidder waiting fur me ter fetch it same’s udder'days? You’ster > stay right in here wid de baby till 1 git back. Does yer bear? Ef de baby cries gib her de biscuit on de she’f; and don* let her fall in de fiah. Does yer hear me? Why’n yer answer me. George Washington?** “Yettsum," said ths boy, 1 hearsyer;'* and with a glance nt the little block handle squatted upon ths floor "Wash/*

M he was called on ordinary occasion*, began to whimper. Since the baby was born he had been ita nurse; not a willing one always, but always a faithful one. To-day, for the first time, the rebellion took a tearful turn. *‘Shet up, 1 tell yer, and ten* terdat chile. Po’ little sister; ain’ yer shame yerse’f?” “Won’t yer fetch me a stick of striped candy?” sobbed Wash, seeking to make the best of an unpleasant duty. “I’ll fetch a stick ter stripe yer back ef I hear anudder word fum yer; see ef I don't. Shet up, I tell yer.” If the rebellion was bitter, it was short-lived. Before the crazy little wagon had creaked out of sight Wash was squatted beside his sister, industriously stuffing her with the big biscuit that had be in provided for her refreshment. Aunt June, sailng into the county •town in all the grandeur of her own turnout, soon forgot all about the children in the cabin at home. George Washington was to be relied upon, she knew, and so she gave herself no further uneasiness on the subject. Aunt June always went to town in style. The big basket went along for style, too, for Aunt June was not neglectful of her reputation, which was large among her acquaintance. The curious old.bonnet bobbed many a mild "good morning,” as the old mule jogged along the lanes or the white turnpike. •As she neared the town, however, the bows became leas cordial and a trifle— just a trifle—condescending. The reason was soon made known to the white mule. “Dese trifling town niggers!” she muttered. “Dey-all ’ud ruther lay about town in rags, and go ha’f-starved, ez ler go ter the country, whar dey’s plenty ter eat and drink, too. De lazy lot ob ’em! Jest look at ’em—eight erclock in de mawning, and not a bressed thing ter do!” - Aunt June was a thrifty soul, as was

.— —. — “Shet up! You reckin I don’t know what he wuz? Yer think I ain’t got a scrop of souse. Telling me’bout George Waahin’ton’a bufdaj? 1 say it!” “I heerd it ober in town,” said the negro. *‘Des listen at dat, will somebody?” cried Aunt June. “What town got ter do wid George Washin’ton, I’d lack ter know? Talking ’bout de town saying hit 'uz George Washin'ton’s bufday!” The negro broke into a laugh. “Well,” said he, “it am de sho’ fac’. Dey say—” . “Shet yo’ mouf. 1 don’ want hear none yo’ big talk. I wonder ef yer takes me fur a fool, or a what? Letting on I don’ know when’s George Wasnin’ton’s bufday! Hit ain’ ter-morrer, 1 tell yer. Ter-morrer ain’ no mo’ bis bufday dan it’s mine. 1 reckon 1 ought ter know when George Wa&hin’ton wuz bawn. I reckin I wuz dar at de bawning.” The negro broke into a laugh so loud that his fellow-workmen looked from their work to smile encouragingly, and wonder what had tickled him so. He stumbled back to them bent almost double, and holding his sides with both hands, laughing until the tears chased each other down his datrk, furrowed dheeks. To him it was a great joke. He supposed Aunt Juno had merely disputed the question in order to prove herself not lacking in the general knowledge of the day. But when she stated, “as a clincher,’5 he said afterward, that she “was there,” the joke became so funny that he could not contain himself. Aunt June gathered up her lines and clucked to the white mule. “Git up dar!” she exclaimed. “You’s gitting ez lazy ez one pf dese here town niggers; dat you is.” The mule started off rather briskly, but not too briskly to let Aunt June hear the parting shot from the bridge: “Look out, folkses; look out. Bar goes de ol'eot ’oman in de worl’. Look ' at her well. You ain’ gwine nebber

"SHET UP. I TELL YEJR. AX’ TEX’ TER »AT CHILE!'

Uncle Jake, her “ole man.” There were seven pounds oLfresh, yellow butter in the tin pail at her feet, in exchange for : which she would bring many a comfort to the cabin that she and Jake had bought with their own savings; the deed of it was safely registered in the clerk’s office in town. Aunt June scowled, grunted, and then sighed for the less fortunate ones of j her race; but ar she said, the town negro had no love for the quiet country life that had been her prosperity. The wagon had passed through the last tollgate when Aunt June spied an acquaintance among some workman who were repairing a bridge over which her team must pass. She pulled up the mule and beckoned the man to her. lie came promptly, and stood with his hand upon the mule’s back while passing the compliments of the day. “How you do. Mis’ Pennin’toa?” said he. “1, ain’ see you in a long time.” “I’se toler’ble.” was the reply. “You* alls well?”

“Toler’ble. Gwine ter town dis inawning, Mis’ Pennin'ton?” “Y'es, sah. 1 tab some butter ter fetch in, and some groc’ries ter fetch out. ’Pears lack dey-alla at home keeps me toler’ble busy gwine in town fur groc’ries; but Jake and de chiile® am hearty, and so am I; so we ought ter be thankful fur that, 1 tell 'em.” “Yeesum, dat you ought. Plenty hab got de health and de appetite what ain't got de groc’ries, 1 tell yer. Mis’ Pennin’ton. Pat dey is." “Dat am a fac\” said Aunt June, giving the big basket a turn. “ ’Pears lack you-ail's toler’ble busy ter-day.” “Yessuxn; we’a trying ter finish dis here bridge ter-day, bekase we don’t w ork ter-morrer. Hit’s George Washin'ton’s bufday.” Aunt June straightened herself with a jerk: “What dat vou say? Hit’s whose bufday?" Instantly the negro assumed the grandeur of enlightener. “Hit am de bufday ob George Waahin’ton; de—" “W hat dat you saying?" demanded Aunt June, uncertain whether to take the man seriously and be angry, or w hether to laugh at him for a joker. The man grinned and patted the white male's hack. “Yessuan, hit am George Washin’ton’s bufday. He

had no sech chance ter see sech a ole '« man agin in dis wort*. De ol’est ’oman id de-Avtart*—ef detroof wuz ali told.” Aunt June's anger had cooled somewhat wiben she reached the store at which she did her trading. The butter was weighed and she began selecting supplies in exchange for it. If she was slow the merchant was patient; for Aunt June’s butter was of the best, and there Avas always a demand for it. There were 40 cents to be traded out w hen the town clock in the courthouse steeple 6tTUck 12. “Lor, mars ter,” she' declared, “I’m ’bleeged ter g’long back home. Hit am twelbe ercloek and do chiller^ ain* got a bite ter eat. J’ll be ’bleeged ter come back and finish ter-morrer.” “You’ll have to get through to-day. Aunt June.” said the merchant. “The stone will be closed to-morrow; it is George Washington’s birthday.” Aunt June dropped the hank of yellow yarn she had been fingering for

some minutes. “Marster, she exclaimed, “who tole you dat?” “Who told me? Why, I don’t know. Everybody knows that; it is in all the papers.” The black face wore & puzzled expression. “Yer don* sesso.” “Why, yes,” said the merchant, smiling'. “why shouldn’t it be? We all love George Washington, Aunt June.” “Yes, sah; yes, sab; sholy; ter — be sho\” She finished her trading and went out- to arrange her packages in the cart; she was puzzled; she didn't at all understand what it all meant; yet there was a pleasant something about it, too. “Dat chile sholy been and done something and not let on ter we-alls, his pappy and me," w as her thought. Then in tier honest old heart she felt a twinge of regret for her anger at the bridge; she Wondered if the Aid negro could have been right after ail. “But caw," she mused, “bit couldn’t ’a’ been in de winter time be wuz bawn. I ’members hit wuz in de summer, bekase Jake wuz threshing wheat dat day. And dey wuz cabbage fur dinner, fur Lize Ann come ober and cooked it. Xaw, sah. tfey-all am sholy wrong.” At that instant a gentleman to whom the woman and her teoip were familiar, pacing at the moment* called out pleasantly to her;

[ “Hello, Aunt Jane! Must-be going- to celebrateGeorge Washington’s birthday front the number of your packages. Been buying yourself rich?” There it was again, George Washington’s birthday; she heard it everywhere. The very banks would be closed, she heard somebody say; and the post office would be open but an hour all day. Clearly it was George Washington's birthday. To be perfectly sure about it, however, she determined to step around to “Marse Tom's office,” and ask about it. Marse Tom was once her husband’s old master, and he would be pretty sure to tell her the truth. “Marse Tom,” said she, thrusting her. head in a moment at the door, "whatam de incasion ob all de incitement in de town ter-morrer?” ‘‘It is George Washington’s birthdays Aunt June. Come in and get warm.” said the master, without looking up from the paper he was busily preparing for the court that would convene the next week. But Aunt June was gone; she went straight back to the grocery. “Ef dey’s all detarmint ter bab it to, I reckon it am grot ter be so,” she declared; and she bought back a pound of the butter she had sold, two pounds of cheese, and a dozen sticks of striped

peppermint candy. “Ef ev’ybody else ain’ gwine begrudge de chile de celebrating, I reckin sfcoly his own mammy ain* gwine do dat,” she* said. “I’se gwine straight borne and kill a hin.” She felt relieved in crossing the bridge to find the workman gone. “I don’ want hear no more of that nigger’s mouf,” said she. “Lack ei not he’ll be thinking I don’ knowdebufday ob my own chillen.” She made several convenient stops on the way home, however, and at each stop explained why she was imposing so uponthemule. “Dey*s a lot of things in de cart, to be sho,” said she. “But hit am George Washin’ton’s bufday.” And for the life of her she couldn’t help saying it just as the people in town had said it; as something that everybody ought to know. Whether these knew or not she was not able to divine, since the same reply met her at each repetition of the announcement: “Yessum.” She was planning a great feast; she meant to make a cake and stuff it with raisins. “He ain’ no onery nigger, dat boy ain’t,” said she, as the white mule plodded patiently homeward. Little Wash couldn’t understand his 6udden rise to greatness, though he very cheerfully washed the potatoes, killed and picked the ben, and was told that he might beat the whites for a cake the next day. “A cake fur yo’ bufday dinner, son," his mother told him. That nig'z^t when his father came home Aunt June* asked him if he couldn’t get off from his work next day and eat dinner at home. HitamGeorge Washin’ton's bufday," she explained again in the town tone. “I done been gitting de chile up a bat of nice victuals.” Uncle Jake scratched his head and pandered. “Ole ’oman,” said he, after a pause, “you’s mistookin, honey, ’bout dat. Ter-morrer ain’ Wash’s bufday. Wash ’uz bawned in de summer time. l>on’ yer rickerlict do threshing?” “Yes, sah, dat Ijdoes. But de town folks dey all say ter-morrer ’uz George Washin’ton’s bufday. Dey all wouldn’t hab it no udder way. De very niggers on de pike say it ’uz George Washin’ton’s bufday. And seeing they wouldn’t hab it no udder way L jest stepped round ter Marse Tom’s office and ax him. Ease 1 know ef Marse Tom say it so. it am so. So I put my head in de do’ and says I: ‘Marse Tom, what’s ter do termorrer?* or something mighty lack j dat. And says he: ‘Hit am George j Washin’ton’s bufday.’ Den I come : ’long and kilt a hin; kase I* know it mus’ be so den, aldo I reckelick it ain’ i

Uncle Jake tilted his chair back and broke into a laugh. “Ole ’oman,” said he. “you’re all wrong ’bout dat. Dey wuztalking’boutannuderGeorge Washin’ton. I heered all ’bout dat long ’go. Dey wa’n’ meaning w e-alls’ po’ little Wash here.” Aunt June’s <ryes flashed for a minute; only a mirnite, however, and she ducked her bead to laugh. “I done kilt a hin,” said she. “and it’s got ter be eat. George Washin’ton am gwine hab dat bufday. He been mighty handy he’ping ’bout de baby and all, and he kin hab two bufdays dis year well ez not. Dey ain* no sech gre’t differ’nee ’twbc the twenty-secken o’ Feb’rery an' de twenty-ninth of July, ez I kin see. Seed de reesuns, son, fur de cake;, hit’s fur yer bufday dinner ter* morrer.”—Will Allen Dromgoole, in Youth’s Companion. THE MASSE CASK. WITH A DIFFERENT ENDING.

This boy. Tommy Max. who Is gettlv tbs whacks > For chopping bis father's plum tree. Couldn’t well tell a lie when bis dad asked him wby: And be "didn't do a thing to him!*’—see? —It In estimated that in the German empire there are 7.500.000 milch.‘town. A . ^

TKUST testimony. ftntel Examination of Protection Beneficiaries. The legislative committee of inquiry m not infrequently only a device for ‘'saying undisputed tilings in such a solemn way.** Certainly the first two sessions of 6enator Lexow’s committee on trusts have been of such a character. To the testimony there attaches only the value which belongs to a formal demonstration of facts which bad been long of current notoriety. The salient facts thus positively developed by this inquiry are these: The sugar trust controls SO per cent, of the ! output of refined sugar in the United ^States and fixes th^ price of that staple. J>s a result of this domination of the Market it is able to pay 12 per cent, dividends on preferred and 7 per cent. >a its common stock—Mr. Havemeyer amplifying his testimony at this point by remarking that he would not go into any business that would not net from 16 to 20 per cent. The capital. stock of the company is $73,936,000, much of which was created for the Qur-; pose of buying up and suppressing rival ! refineries. The undivided surplus in 1895 exceeded $13,000,000. Mr. Havemeyer, in a burst of public spirit, went on to assert that another monopoly— that of the Arbuckle coffee concern— made a profit of three to four cents a pound on its entire output, and that he intended to enter that field, to the great | profit of the public, and, incidentally, of course, to a profit of 15 to 20 per cent.

for himself. An immediate benefit might spring from this investigation if the gentlemen at Washington now engaged in ' formulating a new tariff would give heed to the figures showing the profits of the trust. It seems a safe proposition, one. indeed, that should be accepted bv the most thorough-paced MeKinleyite. that a monopoly making average profits of ten per cent, oh what ! is believed to be heavily-watered stock is not in need of protection. But it is j an equally safe proposition that the next official committee the Havemeyers will meet will be the ways and means committee of the house of representatives, with a plea for protection against German competition. It cannot be said the examination of the beneficiaries of the trust system is being prosecuted with a degree of acumen which promises the best results. Nor does the fact that the committee will hold only six more sessions offer encouragement that its report will form a very valuable contribution to the literature of the subject.—X. T. Journal. BOSS HANNA’S POLITICS. Boodle aid Buncombe ns Passports to Power. Mark Hanna is at his best after a banquet. It is then that his genial soul expands, his massive brain begins to work and his tongue is loosened. It was at a banquet that the genial Mark outlined the policy by which the people were to be induced to believe that Maj. McKinley was against the trusts and in favor of bimetallism. With unctuous fervor he described how, carefully worded messages and speeches, the major would fasten his hooks on the confidence and affection of the dear people without hurting the interests that stood back of him. Another banquet has loosened the great man's tongue and expanded his soul. The Cleveland Kailway Men’s Republican club, the name under which Mr. Hanna’s employes masquerade in politics, gave him a dinner and when the good things had taken effect the republican boss rolled out a chunk of wisdom embracing his whole political plat

form. Mr. IIanDa, who, by the way, was addressed as either a senator or a cabinet officer and who failed to deny the soft impeachment, congratulated the men upon what they had accomplished and urged them to strive for more. “If at any time I can do aught to assist you,” said he, “draw on me at sight.” There is only one thing in politics, from Mr. Hanna's standpoint, and that is the draft. His belief in it is excusable, perhaps, because that seems to be vhe only thing in politics that he knows and it has carried him a long way towards power and glory. It nominated and elected his candidate for the presidency and has placed within his reach the dazzling choice between the senate and the cabinet. His supreme faith in the power of boodle and sham in politics explains his preeminence among the leaders of up-to-date republican ism.—St. Louis liepublic. If It Had Bees Bryan! The 4th of March is almost here, and he voice of the receiver is still heard in the land. Notwithstanding the wish which is father to the thought that prosperity should come, banks crash, business enterprises are staggered, and the receiver stands preeminent aa the advance guard of McKinley ism. We were told that the mere triumph of “sound money’* would so compose matters that without further effort business would take care of itself. The triumph has come, the date of inauguration be seen over the hilltops of time, and there is no improvement. Suppose Bryan had been elected, how ell these things would have been charged up against free silverism! Since the reverse is the fact, are theji not as fairly chargeable to McKinleyism ? It may be like rubbing turpentine into a raw place to ask the question, but the people are asking it everywhere.—Atlanta Constitution. -It is said that the major, in order to do a good turn for Mark Hanna, may he. compelled to put him in the cabinet. Th*e country will not be in grief, however. if Hanna’s participation in government shall continue to be that of one of the ordinary everyday units.—Binghamton. (N. Y.) Leader. -Syndicate shareholders who are not satisfied with the dividends declared in the proposed tariff lull will •. send m their claims to Chairman Bing-- j er-—St. Louis Ranuhlie.

FARMERS VICTIMIZED, How the Protection Scheme Rebs the Producer. It is reported from Washington that the proposed tariff law will be. full of protection for the farmers. The re palp lic&n party has been trying for a good many years to properly protect the farmers, and still they have steadily been compelled to accept the assurance that the next tariff would dcr the hi? thing by them. That is, the farmers have continued to live in hope, notwith* standing the fact that many of them died in despair. Now, for the severalth time, the farmers are assured by the republican party that the good t.Hing they have been eagerly looking for le coming right along, and that the next tariff will embrace the quantity and quality of protection they need in their business. This means that, in the opin* ion of the republican leaders^ “the same old gag” has not as yet outlived its us»> fulness; that the farmers’ eyes may still be fitted with wool blinders. It is not necessary at this late day to bring argument to bear on the fallacy that the farmer can be benefited by republican protection. The history of American tariffs is full of evidences of such fallacy. The farmer has alwaya found protection working againsUhim; never in his behalf. Ilis agricultural implements and the clothing he and hia family wear he has been compelled to buy at prices that ptfove how well the manufacturers are protected, but when he has gone to the market to sell, he haa always found protection taking a day

off. The republican party has found it much easier to fool the farmer than to make .a tariff that was of the smallest advantage to him. Of course the scheme of republic^ protection must embrace the good of all. Manufacturers, merchants, mechanics and farmers must come in for a share in its manifold blessings—on paper, and if the scheme fails here and there in operation, there is always plenty of “wool.” The republicans will never be at a loss so long as the “wool” holds out. It is perhaps a good thing, for them, that the farmers are disposed to be credulous, for they can enjoy in anticipation the benefits that are quite cer» tain to fail of materialization.—Bing 1 tain t on (X. Y.) Leader. HANNA IN TROUBLE. Ohio Republican Bosses Beglnslsg " to Mix. • The new. irom Ohio indicates that a head-on collision is imminent be tween the Hanna humbug and the Foraker-Kurtz-Bushnell machine. Both are on the same track and coming at full speed from opposite directions to* wards the same point—the Ohio sena* torship iow held by John Sherman. * Out in Ohio they seem to look upon Hanna as a ridiculous sort of person, a political incubus and heavy deadweight, and they think the best place for him is at home with his private business of organizing iron, and steel “combines” and freight monopolies. The Foraker crowd is saying openly that Hanna came very near electing Bryan; that the reason Ohio gave McKinley only 47,000 majority instead of the 150,000 that was expected was because of Hanna’s record as amonopo* list and oppressor of workingmen, and a suppressor of competition. They show that the cry of Cleveland was unique among the great cities of the north in that it gave McKinley hut 5,000 majority where it should have given him at leasf 30,000. And Cleveland k Hanna’s own city. These anti-Hanna Ohio republicans insist that if Hanna should get the senatorship the public indignation would be so great that Ohio would go overwhelmingly democratic at the

next election. They back op their statement by a very convincing analysis of the election returns. If one did not know how Hanna hated public life and public office, one would say, from the way h© ia laying1 about him with McKinley and federal patronage as a club, that he really wished to go to Washington and save long-distance telephone charges between Cleveland and the white house. Whichever side wins the country will gain nothing. But the pulverization of the Hanna humbug would be amusing, —N. T. World. PARAGRAPHIC POINTERS. -McKinley should be free to choose his own cabinet, but it is hardly fair to mesmerize business by selecting a lot of old fossils.—Philadelphia Item. -No man in the cabinet will be more friendless and uneasy than Sherman. But he has the possibility of keeping everyone about him in hot water. —Utica Observer. j ——The new tariff will produce plenty of revenue, but only for the trusts. The government will still have a deficit unless its expenses are enormously, out down.—Kansas City Times. -The next excuse the McKinleyitee will give for delaying the arrival of prosperity will be the failure of Mark Hanna to break into the United States senate.—Kansas City Times. -Mr. Dingier‘s committee has not neglected to give the lumber kings the privilege of levying a heavy tax on the wood for the poor man’s home and implements of labor.—St. Louis Republic. -Mr. McKinley’s campaign utterance about opening the mills instead of the mints sounded very nice, but about the only things opened since him election are soup houses and distributing depots for the poor.—N. Y. JonraaL -The McKinieyites are proposing an extra session of congress next spring to throw the country Into a fever of uncertainty in regard to tarill laws. The country needs a rest from tariff tinkering; but what cares the republican machine? Did it not pledge the millionaire contributors to the cam paign fund that their purses should tx replenished by, fixing the tariff ratei so that they could levy tribute upon tb oeonle t—JUtaola State Register. ' „ . V-' S|||