Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 June 1895 — Page 2

AGAIN.

- Oomv gently breathing o’er the eager land, .With fresh green grass that springs to kiss thy feet [With little brooks that sparkle in the faint shining, clouds both soft and i fleet, till the fair things that do thine advent I greet, glowers with their blue eyes still by .1 ... snowdrifts wet, ■oath winds and flying showers; all, all,' ( how sweet, Let me forget! ■pill from thy white hands till the tender • buds, «kn opal mist in every gray old tree; Four from thine urn the rushing silver -j.... .floods ■'■ - Thatleap, and dance, and struggle to be ! free; ~ V - Coax the pink May blooms to look up at i thee, Fearless of stormy wind or frosts that fret; Bnchantress, bring not back the past to me, Let me forget I 'Alas! when all thy spells but hide a sting, ■When the wild blossoms in each fragile , bell A lurking drop of bitter honey bring, .When hills and forests one worn story tell, When through -the birds' new warble sounds a knell. When grief and sweetness are in all - ~ things met, When winds repeat those voices loved too well, Can I forget? a. Poor pangs of earth! I know there comes a day, Not far nor late, when God’s restoring Spring 6hall set aside these miracles of clay, And his serene immortal Summer bring, ’ Wherein I shall not pine for anything, Not mortal live, nor loss, nor weak regret, But at his feet my grateful rapture sing, And so forget! •—Rose Terry Cooke.

WEYAND’S WIFE.

HY should I W> waste any more thought on Isabel Reece?” said ifTul Vance Weyand, S- —. as he sat smoking ml (| in his study one ***&- night “After r ~ promising to marry me, she chose * i a man who W V. V 1 more money. I’ll take a run over v 71 to see Malvern ;« K » to-morrow; he’ll TIE V cheer me up. Tell s him that I mean

to marry again, and speedily.” He found on reaching Malvern house the next day that he had come too late. His dearest friend was dead. ! Vance stood at the window trying to realise what this intelligence might mean to him, when the door opened to admit s girl dressed in deepest mourning—the eyes passionate, intense; the face pale as death, the small head carried proudly, even in the face of her .woe. Could this perfect woman be the fif-teen-year-old Margery whom he dimly remembered seeing long before? She came to him, one small hand clasped {tightly in the other. “Darcey,” he managed to articulate, and that was all “Didn’t you know? He Is dead.” He was unable to answer her. Stepping forward, she laid her hand lightly on his arm. “Do you hear? He is dead—dead—dead!” and she turned and walked quickly from the room. Days passed, and Vance Weyland stayed on in the little village where Margery lived, forgetting his own story at Darcey’s death in an effort to alleviate the sufferings of the lonely, stricken ■later; and in time the light returned to the girl’s eyes and the color to the beautiful lips. They were friends, firm, steadfast friends, and the bond which united them was love for the dead man. When the time came that he must leave her, iVance went to bid farewell to Margery. He found her walking by the river. “Margery, I have come to say goodby. I must go to-morrow,” he said Quietly. "Going? So soon?” she asked, with a startled look. “I regret it, but it is necessary that I ■hould do so.” A dull paleness overspread the regular features of the girl, but she said nothing. "I have been thinking,” continued her companion, presently, “what lonely lives yours and mine must of necessity be, and I have thought—forgive me if I should not—that we might add to •ach other’s happiness if you would consent to be my wife. It is true, we do not love each other in a romantic way; but our tastes are alike and we agree in essential points. If you give yourself to me I think I can make you at least content, and I am not afraid to trust my happines In your hands.” Still she was silent, but pallor gave place to a calm brightness which grew Into radiance. She stole a sly glance at his face. It was turned from her, and filled with a strange unrest. She knew that his mind had to his old love, and she grdw suddenly grave. So long she remained silent that he looked around in surprise. “You do not answer. My words have not offended you?” <J**l am not offended.” "Will you be my wife?” "Yes.” "And soon? Remember my lonely life.” "If 700 desire it.” *Thank you, Margie; you have made mi yQFy happy ” He stooped and quietly kissed her. So ihej were married, and life passed

for many weeks In quietness and peace.; December had come, with chill winds' and heavy snows; Christmas was ap-j preaching. Vance was returning home from aj neighboring city, thinking of his life as it now was, and as it might haves been, and he felt that though he hadonce thought existence worthless without that which he deemed necessary to his happiness, he would not exchange what he possessed for the realization of the dream of his younger days,. For he loved Margery ns he had never dreamed he could love woman again. 1 At that moment his wife was stand] ing, tall and motionless, in the brightly lighted drawing-room, facing a betnw tiful woman whose dark eyes, large and lustrous, looked defiance into hers. “He is your husband?” she was saying. “He is my husband,” assented Margery, with a half sob in her throat. “Your husband, but my lover. Remember that It was I he loved, not you; for that I could almost forgive him for marrying you." Margery did not move. The whit© lips grew whiter, but a great scorn burned In her eyes; she feit the truth of her guest’s statement; but that she should have put It into words!

At that moment Vanee entered the room. The snow outside had deadened the sound of his approach. Margery did not know that he had returned until with a sudden movement the woman before her leaned forward, and “Vance”in soft, dulcet tones fell from her lips. “Isabel!” “The doctors tell me I have not long to live and I have come to make my peacg with you, Vance. I could not go leaving you in the belief that I was entirely heartless. I want to ask ” “All is forgiven and forgotten, Mrs. Weston. Pray do not disturb yourself. I trust that your physicians are mistaken, however.”* Vance’s tone was kind but cold. She looked at him keenly. “You forgive me? That is almost more than I had hoped.” Her slender white hand moved resfc-i lessly toward him, and he was compelled to take it Margery inwardly winced, but no outward sign of distress. She did not see what her husband saw. that Mrs. Weston was exceedingly ill. Vance made a slight attempt to remove the fingers which he held, but their clasp tightened in his; there was a slight swaying of the lithe body, and Isabel Weston was lying in his arms, her beautiful face on ids breast, utterly unconscious. lie placed her on a sofa. In a few minutes she recovered and insisted on returning to her father’s: house. When Vance re-entered thej drawing-room, after having placed! Isabel in her carriage, lie found Mar-: gery standing at the window, her face, pressed closely against the panes. He, took her cold hand in his, and led her, unresistingly to thi>. tiro. She obediently raised her eyes to hlsj face, but dropped them quickly. v e ;a.caafessia ar awbieh„l must--” “No, no, no!” she interrupted. “I can bear no more. Have I not seen andj heard enough. Is not my burden sufficiently heavy that yon seek to add to it? It was cruel of you, and yet I, too, was to blame. I should not have married you, knowing as I did, that you, still care for her; but I was foolish enough to think you would forget—how foolish I never before realized. She said—oh, she shouid not!—that you were my husband, but her lover; and you—you —” — — “Margery, you cannot believe that I am dishonorable enough to cherish love for a woman who, until a few weeks ago, was the wife of another man? Thej day on which I married you saw tha burial of my past love, and a new one succeeded it—a love strongery purer, than I gave to Isabel Reece —a love which is given to a woman who I know loves me, and whom, thank heaven, no other man can call his wife. You are mine, and I claim my own.” Still she was silent and unresponsive. “Margery,” he went on, in a pained voice, which yet contained a greai determination, “you must trust me.’

“Oh, Vauce, if I only might! But it ; has followed me always—this thought; that you ” A sound of hurried footsteps; the door was burst open, and a servant stood breathless on the threshold. “Mrs. Weston’s carringe, sir. There was an accident, and Mrs. Weston is dead, I think. They are bringing her here.” In a few minutes Isabel was again upon the sofa from which she had so lately risen. The black eyes opened Vance bent over her with a murmured thanksgiving that her life had been Bpared for a short time. She lifted one slender hand to his face. “Poor Vance,” she whispered. “You loved me then,! you love her now. I knew it when you spoke to me so coldly. My yanity led me astray —it was only a boyish fancy, soon forgotten—it was best so. They say I did not love Terence, but ah! it was death to me to see him die! His beautiful face so white and cold—the—ah, the pain Is here!” Her hand was pressed against her heart “They told me I could not live; I shq.ll sec him soon. You said you had for ” Her Sentence was never finished. She had gone to him. ■'■"The tears were streaming down Margery V cheeks, and Vance’s eyes were moist. “Margery, my dgrling, you see how It Is. Are you willing to trust me now?” One steady, searching glance, and their lips met in a long, solemn kiss. The clock In the neighboring church chimed the midnight hour, and they knelt band In hand, united in heart, by the side of the quiet form of Isabel Weston, and the cold dawn of morning found them still keeping a silent watch beside the one who had encountered death as they entered upon a new life of happiness and lore.—Yankee Blade.

THEY MET IN PEACE.

ANIMOSITIES OF WAR BURIED AT OAKWOODS. Bine Joins with the Gray in Dedicating a Monument and Decorating Soldiers’ Graves—American Heroes All—Funeral of Secretary Gresham. - - - - r* ~ V ' ---- -- Former Foes in Reunion.’ Memorial Day in Chicago was like nothing in the history of nations. It sent in the same line the victor and the vanquish--ed * each with garlands for its own army of dead, with the uncounted thousands from the heart of the city to Oakwoods cheering for the memory of heroes, of friend or foe. It was the first time since the first shot that warriors from the North and cavaliets from the South forgot entirely revengeful bitterness by such a kind of public demonstration of unity. It marked an epoch. The multitudes heard upon the same winds plaudits for tire men who died for their country and the yell which led the hardest and bravest enemy that ever faced fire. They stood with bared heads in the presence of (5,000 graves of victims of their own Douglas prison or shouted in salvos of patriotism at the sight of the thinned ranks hunting the humble mounds marked by a flag. It was this unique feature that brought to the city a crowd which barely found standing room in the stretch of territory dedicated to the ceremony. Thursday the surviving veterans of the two mighty armies which for four long years faced each other in bloody strife

HAMPTON. LONGSTREET.

pledged anew their faith in a common eountry and a common flag beside the pallid shaft which marks the eternal camping ground of fallen soldiers who pined and died beside the great Northern lake, brave and uncomplaining victims of merciless civil war,_ It was a scene long to be remembered, and may be regarded as the final epitaph upon the tomb ,of sectional strife and sectional estrangement At Cottage Grove avenue and Thirtyfifth street, then at the outskirts, but now in the heart of this city, a stockade was built during the civil war and named Camp Douglas, and there many thousands of Confederate prisoners were Confined between the years 1862 and 1865. The men held yiere under the restraints which be--all captives of war had spent their lives in the balmy climate of the sunny South and the rigors of a Northern winter told .upon them severely. As a consequence '5,000 of them were liberated by death and were buried in Oakwoods cemetery 4ft Cottage Grove avenue and Sixty-seventh street. It was to the memory of these thousands who died in a military prison in an enemy’s country that the monument was dedicated by their comrades and opponents in arms on the spot where they lie buried. It is the first monument to Confederate dead erected in the North, .the event was perhaps without a parallel ih history. It does not appear that anywhere else on the face of our round globe within a period of thirty years after the

CONFEDERATE SHAFT AT CHICAGO.

close of a bitterly fought war, the vanquished have ever before erected a monument in the memory of their comrades in arms in the heart of the victor’s territory. Especially has the sight ever been witnessed of the victors heartily joining the vanquished in doing honor to the valor of the vanquished dead. Gen. Wade Hampton delivered the dedicatory address.

THE DAY IN NEW YORK.

Grand Army Parade Reviewed by Prominent Officiala. Veterans of the Union army in New York city celebrated “the day of the dead" upder favorable conditions. The

LEVIP. MORTON.

Morton and Mayor Strong. While reviewing the parade Gov. Morton was overcome by the heat and fainted. The services at Grant’s tomb were under tho auspices of U. S. Grant Post, G. A. R., and included a memorial address by Gov. McKinley of Ohio. Contributing to make this affair noteworthy, the United States cruiser Cincinnati was anchored in the river near by, by order of the Secretary of the Navy, and fired salutes. The statue In Battery Park of John Ericsson, the designer of the monitor, was adorned with flowers in honor of his distinguished services for the Union cause. Kansas City, Mo., will have a military encampment from Sept. 80 to Oct &

parade of the Grand Army members starting from the Plaza at Fifth aveuuo and Fifty-ninth Btreet showed sadly the ravages which thirty years have made in the ranks of the volunteers of 1801-G3. The reviewing stand at Twenty-fifth street was occupied by exPresident Harrison, Gov. McKinley, Gov.

WITH MILITARY HONOR.

Secretary Gresham’s Remains Tern* porarily Deposited in n Vault. Without ostentation, as befitted his life among his people, but with the military and civic accompaniments which ran even foot with his achievements as soldier, jurist and statesman, the remains of Walter Q, Gresham, general in the Union armies, the judge of the Federal courts and Secretary of State of the United States, were temporarily laid to rest in Oakwpods cemetery, Chicago, Thursday afternoon amid the flower-strewn graves of bis comrades in arms—graves decorated by the hands of men who had fought them on many a bloody field —and in the

LEAVING THE STATION.

shadow of the monument just dedicated in honor of the valor of those who had given their lives for the Confederate cause. It was a most remarkable juxtaposition. In the early hours of the day Federals and Confederates had joined in the unveiling of a monument to the 5,000 Confederates who had died in the military prison at Camp Douglas; the ex-Confederate Association had strewn on the graves of the Union soldiers Mried there a mass of flowers brought from the ground over which they had fought less than a genera--tion ago, and the Union veteransJiad placed upon the graves of their fallen comrades in the other cemeteries about the city the flowers which grow in our own latitude. Almost the echoes of the volley fired over-the Confederate burying ground by the first regiment of State militia and of the bugle blare could bo heard and “taps” were still sounding, and the smoke from their rifles was still floating over the

THE VAULT AT OAKWOODS.

field of peace, as the cortege of the dead Secretary oTTiTate" filed in through the gates into the cemetery. It was a remarkably fitting climax to the remarkable ceremonies which had just closed that the remains of the man who claimed the allegiance of both the North and the South should be deposited there, the keystone to the arch of re-ce-mented friendship whose visible sign had just been unveiled there. For as a soldier he had won the respect of those who fought him; as a jurist he had gained the love of the common people, and as Secretary of State in a Democratic administration he had commanded the support of the people of the South as well as of the North. The special •funeral train arrived from Washington in thejafternoon. The.procession was formed, headed by the escort of honor, consisting of the troops of all arms from Fort Sheridan. These were followed by the honorary pail-bearers, and next came the funeral car with the active pallbearers walking on either side. Next rode the members of the late Secretary’s family and the Presidential party, and in the rear of the cortege brought up the members of the Loyal Legion, G. A. R. veterans, judges of the courts, State and municipal officers, civic societies and citizens. The entire line of march was crowded with people who respectfully bared their head* as the cortege passed. Arriving at the cemetery chapel, the casket was removed from the funeral ear and borne within by eight sergeants of marines. The services conducted by the Rev. S. J. McPherson, of the Second Presbyterian Church, were impressive but simple, consisting merely of scriptural readings. There was a hymn by the choir and grayer. The remains were temporarily deposited in the receiving vault of the cemetery. No salute was fired, the ceremonies concluded with “taps.” Th* train had been held and the Presidential party jreturned to it and at once stnrted on th® return trip to Washington.

FAIRMON IS FIRST.

Officially Declared Winner of the Chicago Road Race. Homer Fairmon, of the Chicago Cycling Club, was declared the winner of the road race from Chicago to Evanston and return, a distance of about twenty miles. Edwin Fry, who came in ahead of him, was- disqualified, the judges having decided he had not covered the full course. Fairinon’s time was 54:30. George Emerson, of the Englewood wheelmen, won second and the time prize, his time being 52:14. Reports say the race was woefully mismanaged. Mrs. Catherine Adney, who has resided near Lebanon, Ind., for the past sixtyfive years, died at her home in that city. She was 07 years old. Freight cars with every modem improvement nnd capable of carrying sixty tons can now be bought for 20 per cent less than the prices of 1802. Prices vary because of the standards of different roads nnd tho necessities of the manufacturers. The average for the host cars in round lots is under SSOO. By order of the President, the payments of claims of tho Nez Perce Indians, amounting to SOOO,OOO, have been held up. The reason for this action la not known at the Treasury Department.

CUR LONDON LETTER.

THE UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM PRESSED ON PARLIAMENT. A Free Trade Country with More than a Million Idle Men—Where Cheapnes i and Poverty Go Hand in Hand —The Coat of Sugar. Five Millions Need Food. London correspondence: The unemployed question has now become so pressing in this country that a special Parliamentary committee has just been appointed to deal with the problem. It is not expected that the report of the committee will have any particular salutary effect for the simple reason that the whole difficulty is in our economic heresy of free imports, including prison made German goods. American citizens have just had an object lesson which has shown them very clearly what free-trade means. I will now tell them what it has done for the working classes in the United Kingdom. I have called them the “working” classes, but if matters go on at the present rate we shall eventually have no work left for our people to do. The prospect seems to consist of a dying agriculture and a decaying system of manufactures.

Will it be believed that In England and Wales alone there were 134,000 persons relieved at the several poor houses In one week in February last? This was merely outdoor relief and does not convey an adequate idea of the prevailing distress. Mr. Kerr Hardie, a labor member of Parliament, stated in the House of Commons that there were fully a million non-trade unionist workmen out of employment, or, counting 30,000 trade unionists out of work, a grand total of 1,030,000 men unemployed. If we reckon that each one of these workmen has a family depending upon him, we may safely say that about five millions of people are directly affected by want of work in England. In one part of London, with a population of workers of 44,090 in the district, there are 19,000 unemployed. In the London building trade only 3 per cent of the men are at present in work. There are 20,000 unemployed in Bradford, the great textile district In the tin plate district the men have offered to return to work at a reduction of 12% per cent, but the masters have no work for them. The condition of workers, even in the Government service,, is often deplorable. The postoffice is always supposed to be a splendid institution, but it generally starves its employes. Many of the mail cart drivers work sixteen hours a day for $4.50 to $5 a week. There are to-day in the central postoffice in London no fewer than 560 men sorters who earn less than $5 per week. It is generally thought that we are reducing our number of paupers. That is quite fallacious. Taking 1857, the earliest date available, we find that An. a population nL 19,000,00,0, the. xujjklber of indoor paupers in the first week of December was 129,000, while in January, 1894, in a population of 30,060,000, the number was 173,710. Following the statistics year by year, we find a continuous advance in the number of indoor paupers nearly keeping pace with the growth of population. The case of male able-bodied paupers is still more startling. Between January, 1880, and January, 1894, the number had increased from 26,000 to 391,319. In London itself the question of indoor pauperism is phenomenal. It has risen year after ygar. increasing from 29,458 in 1857 to 66,614 in 1894, and yet amid all this starvation, want of work and distress our free-trade Governmnt admits prison made German goods free into this country. And it goes farther yet and sends British contracts for soldiers’ clothes, arms, etc., to foreign makers because the labor is cheaper on the continent. This is the essence of free trade. To get manufactures at the cheapest possible rate, irrespective of any consideration about the maker. Railroads and Free Trade. The year 1894 was l the worst that the railroads of this country have known for decades. v

In normal conditions the earnings of the railroads should and do increase every year. They grow with the growth of the country and with the extension of lines. Last year they fell off enormously. Reports for the year are now approximately complete, representing 206 roads and 134,777 miles of track. They show a traffic loss of no less than $122,072,194 ns compared with 1893, which was a bad year. llow much of prostration tills means will appear when we say that from 1888 to 1892 there was every year a heavy gain in gross earnings, as follows: 1888, gain $13,903,586 1889, gain 42,865,020 1890, gain 72,141,530 1891, gain 47,067,580 1892, gain 56,303,782 It thus appears that in normal conditions the average annual Increase in gross earnings should be about $40,500,000. But instead of that there was a falling off of $10,520,098 in 1893, and for 1894 a still further decline of nearly $123,000,000 from that low level. The loss in net earnings was much smaller, being only $40,323,603. This means that there was a saving of $82,648,951 in operating expenses and maintenance. The greater part of this enormous saving represents a direct loss to wage earners, and through them to the producers whose products wage earners buy to the extent of their ability. The rest of the saving represents deterioration of the roads, and must ultimately be made good by stockholders. -The World. England Gain*, We Lose. Although England bought moro wheat, flour, bams, salt pork and leather from us, yet their total purchases of

the articles above enumerated were $2,305,483 less than in January, 1894,; showing that England is gaining at both r ends, selling us in one month $5,062,460 more than a year earlier, and buying from us $2,305,485 less, which made her net gain, under the Gorman bill, amount to $7,367,945 In a single month, or at the rate of almost $90,000,000 a year. This is the first fruit of “tariff reform,” and the approach toward absolute free trade. It is not surprising 1 that Prof. Wilson was tendered a banquet by the British Board of Trade, hut they should do more than this; they should provide him with a permanent job at a very high salary after he is out of the postoffice. They can afford it As for the President, when his term of office expires, undoubtedly he ought to be well cared for by the representatives of the British banking interests.

The Coat of Sacar. The bounty on raw sugar was 2 cents per pound and the tariff duty is now 46 per cent ad valorem, or less than 2 cents per pound. Should we not, therefore, have cheaper sugar now than under the McKinley law? ONE IN DOUBT. The present duty on raw sugar will average 1.20 cents per pound on a basis of 3 cents as the average value of all raw sugar that we import. This duty must be applied to all the sugar that we consume, because the market value of our domestic sugar will correspond with that of the duty paid imported sugar. Applying this duty of 1.20 cents to the 4,343,209,500 pounds that we consumed last fiscal year we have a total charge to the people of $52,118,514. The bounty of 2 cents per pound was chargeable only on the quantity of domestic sugar produced in this country, being $12,099,899 for the fiscal year ending June 30,1894.

Where the bounty cost the people only $12,000,000 the new duty will cost $52,000,000 on the basis of our former prices and consumption, making an additional charge for sugar of $40,000,000 to be paid by the people as the result of the Democratic policy on sugar. That is why sugar will now cost the people more money than under the McKinley tariff, and the producers of domestic sugar will also receive less protection to the extent of 4-5 cent on every pound of sugar that they produce. A British Demand. At the last annual meeting of the Associated Chambers of Commerce of Great Britain, held in London, Sheffield Chamber of Commerce asked the Associated Chambers to “call the attention of her Majesty’s Government to the disastrous consequences that have issued from the operations of hostile customs tariffs, and to the necessity of adopting such measures as may insure the defense of British imperial measures.” - , There are some free traders in this country who are so shameless as to assert that free trade is not for the advantageof British capitalists and manufacturers. Hopff So;-" ~* • The threat of free ships seems definitely lifted, for England can never expect that another Congress and nilmlaistration will be so subservient to her interests as the present one, and it is to be hoped that confidence in the employment of American built vessels will be revived, and that we shall see our wage earners employed in the numerous industries connected with shipbuilding. It is now certain that none but American built ships can engage in the vast coasting trade between the east and west coasts of America that will spring up as soon as the Nicaragua Canal shall be opened. Democracy Is Dead. The free trade party have always catered to the poor man’s vote, but now that American labor realizes that it is the object of that party to keep men poor, the friends of protection feel that we have turned the corner, and that in ’96 prosperity will come to stay. Free Trade Losses Lost. In free trade England the number of sheep declined by 1,420,000 last year and the number of cattle by 353,500 head. This shows that the loss of farm stock under free trade is not merely temporary, but continuous. Individuality is everywhere to be spared and respected as the root of everything good. Protection.