People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 September 1893 — Page 3

AN EVERY-DAY REALIST.

No doubt I’m one of the big coarse crowd, that men of learning oft rate as fools, That work for bread when they've snatched their chance of a few fleet years at the common schools. I’m only a carpenter that lives in a cheap New York Eighth avenue flat, With a plain but tender and trusting wife, and one boy-baby, funny and fat. Yst it cheers if I read, for an hour or more (when I'm not too tired to keep from bed), And I choose past all what the poets write, with their rhymes that haunt me in heart and head: For the trip and the tinkle, the swing and ring, have a way of setting my blood aglow, Like the gurgles from cold moss-bordered brooks, when willow-stems feather and southwinds blow. I’m a city-bred fellow, and yet I’ve gained some few glad glimpses of streams and trees: That is why nearly all of my favorite verse is so filled with the echoes of birds and bees. Yet I can’t help wishing some poet would dress his melodious language in spells that deal With the tunes and tints of such days as mine, their cares and comforts,-their woe and weal I should love some poem that deigned to tell of my toil with chisel and adze and saw, Of my resolute hammer, my whistling plane, my tawny shavings, my plank’s tough flaw; 1 should love the laugh of the lines to trill with my Mary’s voice and my babe’s gay coo; 1 should love the light of the lines to beam with their four sweet eyes of so bland a blue. I should love to read of the lowlier lot which is mine and people’s of my degree—- " The neat, prim parlor, the stubborn stove, the company coming for Sunday tea; "The wide-open windows while summer broods, the jingle of cars in hot streets unclean; "The holiday spent at west Brighton beach, and the planning of just what its cost may mean. 'The grimy Italian, whose fruit-filled stall brings a blaze from the tropics beneath alien sky: 'The youngsters that pause at the candy-shop’s pane and babble of what they would like to buy; 'The sad child’s funeral just next door, with its white glazed nearse and its mourners pale; ■The wedding near by, at the church round the block, where the bride’s too poor tor the price of a veil; ■The butcher that cleaves his chops and steaks, With a broad-blown visage as red as they The baker that clutches his copper coin for loaves that to many are life’s one stay; The staggering toper that slips beneath some pawnbroker’s triple golden sign; The wan-faced woman that watches late where a bright-lit tavern flares malign; The screech of the milkman at early morn, the> clatter of carts over sullen stones; The children that polka in mirthful pairs when the strain of a hand-organ clangs and drones; The fire-engine’s rush, with its gallop of steeds, its helmeted men, its quick-smoking breath; The bell of the ambulance, bringing us dreams, now of mercy and help, now of pain and death — Oh these are the sights and sounds I should prize in the pictures and music my poets make, Though perchance thus to prize is to prove my tastes are but trivial and shallow beyond mistake. Yet I feel these poets would pardon outright my impudence, boldness, and faults like that, If they knew what a welcomo their songs have won even here in this humble Eighth avenue flat. —Edgar Fawcett, in Youth’s Companion.

WARING'S

By PERIL?

cap; Castes king;.

[Copyright, 1893, by J. B. Lippincott . Co., and published by special arrangement] IV.—Continued. “Hello, Waring!” he began. “Oh, it’s you, is it, captain? Isn’t Waring back? I saw the light, and came up to chin with him a moment. Beastly night, isn’t it?” “Waring isn’t back yet. I look for him by the eleven-thirty car,” answered the captain. “Why, that’s in. No Waring there, but a half dozen poor devils half drowned and more’n half drunk, one of your men among ’em. We had to put him into the guard-house to keep him from murdering Dawson, the head-quarters clerk. There’s been some kind of a row.” “Sorry to hear that. Who is the man?” “Kane. He said Dawson was lying about his officer, and he wouldn’t stand it” “Kane!” exclaimed Cram, rising, “why, he’s one of ouf best, I never heard of his being riotous before.” “He’s riotous enough to-night. He wanted to lick all six of our fellows, and if I hadn’t got there when I did they would probably have kicked him into a pulp. All were drunk; Kane, too, I should say; and as for Dawson, he was just limp.” “Would you mind going down and letting me talk with Kane? I never knew him to be troublesome before, though he sometimes drank a little. He was on pass this evening. “Well, it’s raining cats and dogs, captain, but come along. If you can stand it I can.” A few minutes later the sergeant of the guard threw open one of the wooden compartments in the guard-house, and there sat Kane, his face buried in his hands. “I ordered him locked in here by himself, because I feared our fellows would hammer him if he were turned in with them," explained Mr. Merton, and at sound of the voice the prisoner looked up and saw his commander, ■dripping with wet. Unsteadily he rose to his feet. “Captain,” he began, thickly, “I’d never have done it in the world, sir, but that blackguard was drunk, sir, and slandering my officer, and I gave him fair warning to quit or I’d hit him, but he kept on.” “Ye-es? And what did he say?” “He said—l wouldn’t believe it, sir—that Mr. Doyle was that drunk that him and some other fellers had lifted him out of the mud and put him to bed up there at—up there at the house, sir, back of Anatole’s place. I think the captain knows.” “Ah, you should have steered clear Of such company, Kane. Did this happen at Anatole’s saloon?” “Yes, sir, and them fellers was making so much noise that the dago turned them all out and shut up the shop at eleven o’clock, and that’s what made

them follow me home in the ear and abuse me all the way. I couldn’t stand it, sir.” “You would only have laughed at them if your better judgment hadn’t been ruined by liquor. Sorry for you, Kane, but you’ve been drinking just enough to be a nuisance, and must stay where you are for the night. They’ll be sorry for what they said in the morning. Did you lock up the others, Mr. Merton?” he asked, as they turned away. “All but Dawson, sir. I took him over to the hospital and put a sentry over him. That fellow looks to be verging on jimjams, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been talking as Kane says.” Merton might have added, “and it’s probably true,” but courtesy to his battery friend forbade. Cram did add mentally something to the same effect, but loyalty to his arm of the service kept him silent. At the flag-staff the two officers stopped. “ Merton, oblige me by saying nothing as to the alleged language about Doyle, will you?” “Certainly, captain. Good night.” Then, as the officer of the day’s lantern flickered away in one direstion, Cram turned in the other, and presently went climbing up the stairs to the gallery leading to the quarters of his senior first lieutenant. A dim light was shining through the shutters.

Cram knocked at the door; no answer. Opening it, he glanced in. The room was unoccupied. A cheap marine clock, ticking between the north windows and the wash-stand, indicated midnight, and the battery commander turned away in vexation of spirit. Lieut. Doyle had no authority to be absent from the post. It was dark and storming furiously when the bugles of the battery sound<£l the reveille, and by the light of the swinging lanterns the men marched away in their canvass stable rig, looking like a column of ghosts. Yet, despite the gale and the torrents of rain, Pierce was in no wise surprised to find Cram at his elbow when the horses were led out to water. “Groom indoors this morning, Mr. Pierce. Is Waring home?” “No, sir; Ananias told me when he brought me up my coffee.” “Hold the morning report, then, until I come to the office. I fear we have both first lieutenants to report absent to-day. You and I may have to go to town; so get your breakfast early. We will ride. I doubt if even an ambulance could get through. Tell me, Pierce, have you spoken to Waring about —about that matter we were discussing? Has he ever given you any idea that he had received warning of any kind from old Lascelles—or any of his friends?” “No, sir. I’ve had no chance to speak, to be sure, and, so far as I could observe, he and Mr. Lascelles seemed on very excellent terms only a few days ago.” “Well, I wish I had spoken myself,” said Cram, and turned away. That morning, with two first lieutenants absent without leave, the report of Light Battery “X” went into the adjutant’s office just as its commander and his junior subaltern went out and silently mounted the dripping horses standing in front. The two orderlies, with their heads poked through the slit of their ponehos, briskly seated themselves in saddle, and then the colonel hurried forth just in time to hail: “Oh, Cram! one minute.” And Cram reined about and rode to the side of the post commander, who stood under the shelter of the broad gallery. “1 wouldn’t say anything about this to anyone at headquarters except Reynolds. There’s no one else on the staff to whom Waring would apply, is there?” “No one, sir. Reynolds is the only man I can think of.” “Will you send an orderly back with word as soon as you know?” “Yes, sir, the moment I hear. And-d —shall I send you word from—there” —and Cram nodded northward, and then, in a lower tone, “as to Doyle?” “Oh, damn Doyle! I don’t care if he never—” But here the commander of the post regained control of himself, and with parting wave of the hand turned back to his office. Riding single file up the levei,’ for the city road was one long pool, with the swollen river on their left, and the slanting torrents of rain obscuring all objects on the other hand, the party made its way for several squares without exchanging a word. Presently the leading file came opposite the high wall of the Lascelles place. The green latticed gate stood open—an unusual thing— and both officers bent low over their pommels and gazed along the dark, rain-swept alley to the pillared portico dimly seen beyond. Not a soul was in sight. The wat<*r was already on a level with the banquette, and would soon be running across and into the gate. A vagabond dog skulking about the place gave vent to a mourn-

ful howl. A sudden thought struck the captain. He led the way down the slope and forded across to the north side, the others following. “Joyce,” said he to his orderly, “dismount and go in there and ring at the door. Ask if Mr. Lascelles is home. If not, ask if madame has any message she would like to send to town, or if we can be of any service." The soldier was gone but a moment, and came hurrying back, a negro boy, holding a long fold of matting over his head to shed the rain, chasing at his heels. It was Alphonse. “M’sieu’ not yet of return,” said he, in labored translation of his negro French, “and madame remain chez Mme. d’Hervilly. lam alone wiz my mudder, and she has fear." “Oh, it’s all right, I fancy,” said Cram, reassuringly. “They were caught by the storm, and wisely stayed uptown. I saw your gate open, so we stopped to inquire. We’ll ride over to Mme. d’Hervilly’s and ask for them. How came your gate open?” “Mo connais pas; I dunno, sare. It was lock’ last night.” “Why, that’s odd,” said Cram. “Better bolt it now, or all the cattle along the levee will be in there. You can’t lock out the water, though. Who had the key besides Mr. Lascelles or. madame?”

“DAT CROSS-HANDLED DAGGER.”

“Nobody, sare; but there is muddy foots all over the piazza.” “The devil! I’ll have'to look in for a moment.” A nod to Pierce brought him too from the saddle, and the Officers handed their reins to the orderlies. Then together they entered the gate and strode up the white shell walk, looking curiously about them through the dripping shrubbery. Again that dismal howl was raised, and Pierce, stopping with impatient exclamation, tore half a brick from the yielding border of the walk and sent it hurtling through the trees. With his tail between his legs, the brute darted from behind a sheltering bush, scurried away around the corner of the house, glancing fearfully back, then, halting at safe distance, squatted on his haunches and lifted up his mournful voice again. “ Whose dog is that?” demanded Cram. “ M’sieu’ Philippe’s; he not now here. He is de brudder to monsieur. ” At the steps the captain bent and closely examined them and the floor of the low veranda to which they led. Both were disfigured by muddy footprints. Pierce would have gone still farther in the investigation, but his senior held up a warning hand. “ Two men have been here,” he muttered. “ They have tried the door and tried the blinds. Where did you sleep last night, boy?” and with the words he turned suddenly on the negro. “ Did you hear no sound?” “No, sare. I sleep in my bed, —’way back. No, I hear noting,—noting.” And now the negro’s face was twitching, his eyes staring. Something in the soldier’s stern voice told him that there was tragedy in the air. “If this door is locked, go around and open it from within,” said Cram, briefly. Then, as Alphonse disappeared around the north side, he stepped back to the shell walk and followed one of its branches around the other. An instant later Pierce heard him call. Hastening in his wake, the youngster came upon his captain standing under a window, one of whose blinds was hanging partly open, water standing in pools all around him. “ Look here," was all he said, and pointed upward. The sill was above the level of their heads, but both could see that the sash was raised. All was darkness within. “ Come with me,” was Cram’s next, order, and the lieutenant followed. Alphonse was unlocking the front door, and now threw it open. Cram strode into the wide hall-way straight to a door of the east side. It was locked. “Open this, Alphonse,” he said. “I have not the key. It is ever with M’sieu’ Lascelles. It is his library.” Cram stepped back, gave one vigorous kick with a heavy riding-boot, and the frail door flew open with a crash. For a moment the darkness was such that no object could be distinguished within. The negro servant hung back, trembling from some indefinable dread. The captain, his hand on the door-knob, stepped quickly into the gloomy apartment, Pierce close at his heels. A broad, flat-topped desk stood in the center of the room. Some shelves and books were dimly visible against the walk Some of the drawers of the desk were open, and there was a litter of papers on the desk, and others were strewn in the big rattan chair, some on the floor. Two studentlamps could be dimly distinguished, one on the big desk, another on a little reading-table placed not far from the south window, whose blinds, half open, admitted almost the only light

that entered the room. With its head near this reading-table and faintly visible, a bamboo lounge stretched its length towards the southward windows, where all was darkness, and something vague and indistinguishable lay extended upon the lounge. Cram marched half-way across the floor, then stopped short, glanced down, stepped quickly to one side, shifting his heavily-booted foot as though to avoid some such muddy pool as those encountered without. “Take care,” he whispered, and motioned warningly to Pierce. “Come here and open these shutters, Alphonse,” were the next words. But once again that prolonged, dismal, mournful howl was heard under the south window, and the negro, seized with uncontrollable panic, turned back and clung trembling to the opposite wall. “Send one of the men for the post surgeon at once, then come back here,” said the captain, and Pierce hastened to the gate. As he returned, the west shutters were being thrown open. There was light when he reentered the room, and this was what he saw: On the China matting, running from underneath the sofa, fed by heavy drops from above, a dark wet stain. On the lounge, stretched at full length, a stiffening human shape, a yellow white, parchment-like face above the black clothing, a bluish, half-opened mouth whose yellow teeth showed savagely, a fallen chin and jaw, covered with the gray stubble of unshaved beard, and two staring, sightless, ghastly eyes, fixed and upturned as though in agonized appeal. Stonedead murdered, doubtless—all that was left of the little Frenchman, Lascelles. [to be continued.]

A HUMAN CALLIOPE.

A Strong-Voiced Canvanman Who Irritated the Animals, But Bared the Show. “One of the most singular men I ever knew,” said a wealthy retired circus man to a New York Sun reporter, “was a canvasman in the first show I ever owned. His name was Bill Flicker and his singularity lay in his voice; he was the loudest talker I ever knew. He disturbed everybody when he talked, and if he talked at night he always woke up the animals. This once came very near getting us into serious trouble. The giraffe one day bit at a little child who had approached too near his cage, and he never would have done this in the world if he had not been made irritable by being kept awake nights hearing Bill talk. There were times when we thought we would have to get rid of Bill, but he was a good-hearted man, and he did twice as much work as anybody else, and so we kept him, and the time came when we were very glad we did. Our steam calliope, one of the first ever used, was a great attraction. We always billed it very strong as a leading feature of the street parade, and it pleased the people immensely. We were at that time in the far west. In those days there were in every far western town a considerable number of intensely emotional people who were always sure to make a great row if things didn’t go to please them. While we were in one of these towns our calliope broke down, and the engineer was unable to repair it in time. We dragged it in the procession, but the people were so enraged at not hearing it play that they shot the horses. At the next town the calliope was still out of repair, and we expected that the people there would wreck the show, but at the last moment, just as the parade was about to start, Bill Flicker stepped forward and said: “ ‘Colonel, I’ll be the calliope.’ “They took the insides out of the calliope and put Bill in. The player took his place and worked the keys and Bill talked. After that nobody ever thought of discharging Bill Flicker. He disturbed ■ the animals, but he had saved the circus.”

CEREMONIAL USE OF TOBACCO.

A Sanctified Herb Among the American Aborigines. Since the world-wide diffusion of the tobacco habit, its earliest, and perhaps original, use has been in a great measure overlooked. With the aborigines of America, smoking and its kindred practices were not mere sensual gratifications, but tobacco was regarded as a herb of peculiar and mysterious sanctity, and its use was deeply and intimately interwoven with native rites and ceremonies. With reasonable certainty the pipe may be considered as an implement the use of which was originally confined to the priest, medicine man, or sorcerer, in whose hands it was a means of communication between savage men and the unseen spirits with which his universal doctrine of animism invested every object that came under his observation. Similar to this use of the pipe was its employment in the treatment of disease, which in savage philosophy is always thought to be the work of evil spirits. Tobacco was also regarded as an offering of peculiar acceptability to the unknown powers in whose hands the Indian conceived his fate for good or ill to lie; hence it is observed to figure prominently in ceremonies as incense, and as material for sacrifice.— John Hawkins, in Popular Science Monthly.

Marked by Lightning.

A negro in Washington has the scorch of a lightning stroke on his body—a white streak that begins between the shoulders and runs down the left side. It is waving in form, like the leafless stalk of a vine. This mark, which he has worn for about thirty years, he received when he was sitting under a tree during a thunderstorm always a dangerous place at such a time. Though he waA stunned for a moment after beins struck, he suffered no lasting inconvenience from the shock. Another man who was struck while sitting beneath a tree, escaped mark or hurt, but the soles of both of his shoes were torn off and flung to a distance of several yards.

HARTER ANSWERED.

A Banker** Reply to a Letter from Congressman Harter. Some time ago Congressman Harter, of Ohio, who is a rank monometallist, sent out a circular letter to all the bankers in the United States, urging them to keep up their efforts until silver was thoroughly demonetized. Among the replies he received was one from the president of the Lafayette bank at Lexington, Ma It is interesting reading, and the main features of the letter are given: Hon. M. D. Harter: A printed circular sent by you over the country asking for the expression of an opinion on the present law for the purchasing of silver bullion by the government reached me, too. Though doubting you want this answer, I send it Thomas Jefferson said the art of government was the art of being honest I worked with the party founded by Jefferson until absolutely sure that you and other leaders of it are just 180 degrees of the circle away from Jefferson. You know as well as I do—everybody knows—that the constitution never gave congress the power to demonetize silver. You know that it was fraudulently carried through congress; that Ernest Seyd was sent over to this country by a London and Frankfort firm of bankers to aid in the raid on our constitution. You know their allies, puppets and hired men in this country carried ou£ their wishes, fbr the benefit of the Frankfort-London bank ring. Nobody ought to blame the bankers of Frankfort and London for keeping Gentiles forever in bond, for they have been persecuted for twenty centuries. But for an American to become their hired servant or make himself a member of their ring and help to plunder his own countrymen in order to slave the spoils, no word in twenty languages can furnish for him a true and expressive name. That some demonetizes are honest in their opinions I well know. But your opportunities for knowing the question thoroughly, are such that I give you no such credit As an American business men, as a banker who has studied the financial problem for twenty years from a broader standpoint than personal greed, I think that the present law should stand until a return to the coinage of the constitution takes its place. I do not see that the constitution gives gold mine owners a monopoly of furnishing and holding the only thing that will pay a debt. The county in which I live has a large debt. When it was made all the gold and silver in the world could have been turned into American money to the desire of the owners. We pay that debt with wheat, corn, hogs, cattle and .other products of the farm. Because gold and silver were thus monetizable, money was plenty, a large quantity of them could be had for a given quantity of farm produce. We paid 10 per cent on our county debt us annual interest. Wheat was about fl. 50 per bushel. Now we have reduced the Interest to 5 per cent and wheat is 50 cents per bushel and under. The real rate of interest paid is higher now than then, though the nominal interest is lower. This is because money had been made scarce by the raid on the constitution. I was in this bank for ten years when it was like an arsenal, and in six years’ time seven banks were raided and eight men killed in a circle whose radius wai not over seventy-five miles. The men who did that had exactly the same principles that the members of the ring have whose mouthpiece you are in congress, and they had personal courage. Your ring is plundering in a way in which personal courage is not required. Geoboe Wilson.

THE SILVER DOLLAR.

History of Its Coinage and Circulation Previous to 1873—The Integrity of the Standard Dollar Has Ever Been Proserved. The argument is advanced and persistently harped upon by the gold monometallists that inasmuch as we did not have silver currency in any considerable amount, and, that between 1792 and 1873, although there was a total coinage of silver amounting to 1157,500,000, there was coined during that period only about eight millions of standard silver dollars; and, that the reason of so scant coinage was because the people did not want silver coin, and consequently no wrong was done in demonetizing silver in 1873. Let us see what the facts are covering this matter and we will thereby discover what store was set upon silver coin during that period. We will premise by saying that the citizen now of middle age can little understand the comparative poverty of our country in the earlier years of our history. Our nation had struggled on from the beginning through great trials and had done the best possible to provide coinage for the people, and let it be remembered that we produced no silver and had practically none to coin until about 1870, at which time it was discovered that the Rocky mountains from the British possessions to Mexico was a treasure vault abounding in both gold and silver. The knowledge of this fact was known to the bullion dealers and capitalists of the old world before our citizens themselves came to know the value of our mountain country, for the reason that at that time our people were using paper currency exclusively, and our production of bullion was immediately shipped to the world’s market For a dozen years the people as a whole were giving no attention to coinage and were completely off their guard. Crafty legislation inspired by those who held our war bonds and witnessed our wonderful powers of recuperation; who saw us forging ahead in industrial prosperity, and who feared that we would dig too much money out of our mountains, actually got the start of the people by securing the passage of the law of 1878, which prohibited the coinage of the standard dollar, and which changed the standard of our money of account from silver and gold to the gold dollar alone. Now let us see what the government had done to provide silver coinage to help us out in our years of poverty. .. _

The historical dollar is the Spanish) milled dollar. It was the coin in most common use when in 1785, one hundred and eight years ago, the American congress adopted it as the basis unit of our money, making it the lawful dollar and standard. This action antedated our mine laws. The beginning of our coinage system was the act of 1792. It confirmed and perpetuated the standaid of 1785. This dollar contained 371 Jx grains of pure silver. The dollar of today is exactly the same in its portion of pure silver, haring never been changed. In 1806 congress made the French and Spanish silver coins full legal tender, and in 1834 congress extended the legal tender to the silver dollars of Mexico, Peru, Chili, Brazil, Central America and the five franc pieces of France, in order to draw the silver to our country. The gold coins of several countries were also legalized. In 1843 congress provided for the use in payment of customs of the silver coins of Prussia, Portugal, Russia, British America, and other foreign mints. This condition obtained up to 1857, at which date, owing to the influx of gold to our mints by reason of the heavy production in California, it was deemed advisable to restrict the legal tender quality of all foreign silver coins except for the payment of duties and tha purchase of public lands, excepting only certain Mexican and Spanish coins which continued a legal tender until 1873, and this for the greater part was the source of our government’s silver supply. Another factor governing the coinage of standard dollars should be noted. In 1809, Mr. Jefferson peremptorily ordered the silver coinage to be confined to fractional coins that the people might be the better served thereby,and not from any hostility to the dollar itr’ self, but on account of the scarcity of silver, and no standard dollars were thereafter coined until 1836. Another fact should bo noted that in 1834 the rati* of silver to gold was changed from 15 to 1 to 16 to 1, or in other words, the weight of gold coins was reduced about 6 per cent., and the European ratio being 15X to 1, it made our silver coins worth about 3 per cent more than our gold coins, and this caused our silver to be sold for use in the arts and to be exported. In 1853, the weight of our fractional silver coins was reduced in order to keep them in service, all previously coined having been exact fractions of the standard dollar. These light weight silver coins were limited in their legal tender qualities to payments in sums of five dollars only, and only for this reason were their legal tender qualities abridged. The integrity of the standard dollar has ever been preserved, and change in quantity of pure metal has always been made in the gold coinage. The spirit of this whole matter is that the gold monometallist desires to restrict our money stock to gold alone, and if he is informed as to these facts he is unscrupulous as to the argument advanced regarding the slight use of silver previous to 1873.—Junius, in Chicago Coin.

WHAT IS MONEY?

The Constitution of the United States Defines It. as (fold and Silver. All the legislation of congress has been to the payment of national obligations in “coin.” Nowhere does it designate an exclusive metal, and for the first time in any American state paper has this formula been omitted in the message of Mr. Cleveland, who substitutes for it the indefinite phrase "money of civilized countries.” What is money—legal money—in this country? We will quote the deflnltipn from the constitution itself, and it may be found in article L, section 8, clause s—in defining the power of congress: “To coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the standard of weights and measures” And again in same article, section 10: "No state shall enter into any treaty, alliance or confederation; grant letters of marque and reprisal; coin money; emit bills of credit; make anything but gold and silver coin a tender in payment of debts.” So clear was the sentiment of the fathers that this is the record. It doesn’t say, “the money of civilization,” or that it shall be gold, or that it shall be silver, but "gold and silver coin.” And no less an authority than Daniel Webster held that even congress has no power to demonetize either metal, or impair the value or usefulness of either. The plain proposition now before the American people is to discard silver as money and fix all values of every kind —labor and bread —on the gold standard. So plain has this become that the advocates of the single metal find it useless longer to conceal their purpose, but boldly through the president of the United States announce their policy. The battle has been joined and it should one way or the other be fought to a finish. If gold wins in this contest before congress it will be the death of the party responsible for it.—Kansas City Journal.

What Bimetallists Demand.

Upon April 2, 1792, George Washington, president of the United States, sigped the bill for the free and unlimited coinage of gold and silver at the ratio of 15 to 1. This law continued in force, unchanged (except • that in 1883 with the signature of Andrew Jackson, president, the ratio was altered to 10 to 1) until 1873, when it was stealthily repealed. It is the law of Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Adams and Madison, with the ratio of Jackson, that bimetallists now demand. They ask no change. They have never desired more, and will accept nothing less. —Denver News.

A “Parity” Needed.

No legislation under the sun can create a parity between the equipment of one who has led the silver forces of the house since 1878 and who has “made, a special study of finance during the summer months.” This will be apparent when Bland’s homely logic destroys the force of Bourke Cockran’a spell-binding eloquence. The ratio of merit will be about 10,000 to I.—Sk Louis Republic.