St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 25, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 12 January 1895 — Page 2

WIB CH A PTER XI —Con ti n tied. The third “stony-hearted” publisher ha<l taken a good deal of trouble over the rejected MS. lie had read it carefully, and inclosed the “reader's” opinion, a shrewd, kindly, and, if severe,, no unjust analysis of the whole; holding out a hope that after long years of study the author might succeed in titiding a public, not for that but for something else of a different Bort. “Very kind of him.” said Roderick, passively; “and in the meantime ue may starve." “Not quite that, dear," said Silence, gently. "You know we have enough for ourselves, if we live wholly to oursselves. Remember that Mrs. Grierson wtis saying the other day that the greatest evil of poverty was because I people will not spend their money upon their own family and its needs, but In making a show before (lie eyes of the world. Now. this might be necessary tit Rieherden, but here, where we live so quietly “Quietly, quietly! Blackball will soon drive me mad with its quietness! To vegetate here upon a pound or two a week, so long as there was the remotest chance of working my way to something better! I can't do it; no man could." “And no woman who really loved her husband would let him do it.” “Thank you, my darling, 1 thought you would say so. Even though you are a woman, you can understand. You will not be a coward? You will buckle on my breastplate, and fbt me plunge into the tight? Then, like our friend Macbeth — “‘At least I'll die with harness on my back.’ ” She laughed— they both laughed. Ay. even through all their distress. There was in them that wonderful, ever renewed spring of hope, which in pure natures is long before it runs dry. “So that is settled. I will see Mr. Black to-morrow about the possibility of letting Blackball, and then, if we can let it, we will go to London at once."

Silence made no reply. Her drooped face turned white then scarlet then white once more. “Come, wise little woman.what is the matter with you? You have given your consent, now give your opinion. Where shall we go, and when?" “I think, if you will let it be so, I should like us to stay quietly here until the spring.” “Why? What possible reason— 1 —” Silence put both her arms around her husband’s neck, and looked at him, right into his eyes, a strangely solemn, tender, absolutely speechless look. Then he knew. CHAPTER XII. The very day after their return to Blackball, Roderick, with a cheerful countenance, put his luckless MS. on the topmost shelf of the old oaken press in the dining-room, where nobody could get at it by anything short of a most resolute will and a step-ladder. "Lie there, my magnum opus! till I have gathered sufficient opes to publish you at my own expense, and distribute a copy each to all my friends, who then will have become so numerous that I shall clear oft' thereby at least the first edition. For the rest," seeing, though his wife tried to smile, her eyes were brimming, “never mind, love, even if your husband was not born to be a writer—at any rate, a novel writer—l may come out in another line, as a moral essayist, perhaps; or, who knows! having, they say, a little of my grandfather Si me, I may drop, or rise, into a capital man of business after all.” “What do you mean?” she asked, timidly. “Something of what I have been thinking all night, and am going to speak to Black about this morning,” said Roderick, taking down his hat. “Never let grass grow under your feet when you have made up your mind to a thing. I may not have much ‘mind’—according to our friends, the publishers—but I have got a will of my own; and I am deter-

mined to be a rich man yet. At least, rich enough to keep Blacklist 11 from dropping into ruins. Not this century, please God, shall any enterprising author write an improving work on ‘The Last of the Jardines ’ ” Gayly as he spoke, there was a deep earnest beneath the jest—the earnestness of a man who has courage enough to take his fate in his hands, and however heavily weighted, prepare to run the race of lift without complaining. True, the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the st rung-many a one, without fault of his own. flags, staggers, drops, ami dies; still, that man is not half a man who, with youth and health on his side, shrinks at the outset from either disappointed ambition or fear of poverty, or any other of those nameless terrors which come with later life. Especially when

he has not to fight single handed, or for ( himself alone. There is a creed abroad that a young man is better alone, free from all incumbrance of wife or children; but in the old times it was not so. Then, children were esteemed “an heritage and gift that cometh from the Lord;" now, selfish luxury, worldliness, and the love of outward show have brought our young men —ay, and some women, too —to such a pass that they feel, nay, openly declare, every child born to them is a new enemy; and marriage, instead of being “honorable” to all, is'a folly, a derision, or a dread. Why is this? And is it the men's

! fault or the women's? Both, perhaps; yet, I think, chiefly the women's. Feeble, useless, half-educated; taught to believe that ignorance is amusing, and helplessness attractive; no wonder the other sex shrinks from taking upon itself not a help but a burden—charming enough before marriage, but after? The very man who at first exulted in his beautiful ornamental wife, will, by and by, bo the first to turn round and scorn her. No man could ever scorn Silence Jar- ' dine. In spite of her sacred feebleness, she resumed at once the business of life—harder than anybody knows who has not tried the experiment of making six-pence do the work of a shilling. And sho did it cheerfully, and without any outward sign. Brain never idle; feet never still, or. if compelled to stillness, hands always busy at something or another; full of endless care and thought for others, most of all for Roderick, who never thought of him- । self or his own pleasures at till; even in I her room, or on her sofa, Mrs. Jardine managed to be the very soul of the house, planning everything, arranging every thing, and. it often seemed, doing everything. It wn« a solitary life she led, for her husband took to going down to th,, milt every day, and all day long; it “amused” him. he said, and indeed he always came home looking so busy and cheerful that she was glad of the change for him. But it was a life of perfect ease. And then, it was full of day-dreams. “Are you not dull sometimes?” said Roderick one day, when he came in a little earlier than usual, and found her sitting sewing by the fading October light, 1 but with such a placid smile on her lips, i such bliss in her eyes. “Dull? How could I be? I was only < thinking." < "1 have been thinkink. too; only I would I not tell you till I was quite sure of myself." said he, as he sat down beside her. “Silence, Ido really believe your husband I is not such a goose as he seems. Black says so; and Black, though an oddity, is by no means a bad fellow." Silence smiled. She bad oftentimes bat tied against her husband's dislike to the honest man. w hose roughness "rubbed him up the wrong way," as he said, even worse than Mrs. Mndagan. Now under the rough rind he had discovered the pleasant kernel. Things had evidently righted themselves. "Ho objts-ted strongly to me at first be cause I was a gentleman, which was as great a delusion in his way as my setting him down a boor because he w ore a rough coat, and had manners to match. Now, we both understand one another better. 1 have been working with him nt the mill for fourteen days, and what do you think is the result?' He spoke with a buoyancy of tone and manner such as Silence had not seen in him for weeks. "Something is going to happen that is. if my wife does not object, which, being a very sensible woman, 1 don’t think she* will. 1 am actually going to earn my daily breed."

She turned round her lips quivering. "Now. don’t begin to cry about it. Mrs. Jarduie, my dear; it isn't breaking stones upon the road, or anything very dread i ful; and the bread 1 shall earn will not be too luxurious -only' two pounds a wm k one hundred pounds a year, w hich is my precise value just nt present. Flattering? —but it is something. 1 am rather proud of my position as bread-winner I. that j never earned a half-penny in all my days." He spoke a little fast, ami with a Hushed cheek. She put her hand upon his and held it, with a soft, firm hold. “Tell me all." “There is not much to tell. You know how fond 1 always was of machinery indeed, once 1 begged to be made an engineer, but my they nt homo (he never named his mother now) thought the profession was not ‘genteel’ enough, and it is too late now. Black says. But he also says, as a mill-owner I might find my turn for mechanics extremely useful. 1 could watch, examine, perhaps even invent; indeed, during these two weeks I have made a suggestion or two which he is pleased to consider ‘admirable.’ ‘Mr. Jardine,’ he said to me this morning, ‘if you were but a capitalist and could start a mill, or a workingman. who required to earn your bread as oversi'er or foreman you'd do.’ And I startled him by telling him I was a workingman. and 1 did re- | quire to earn my bread; and if he thought 1 deserved foreman's wages. 1 would take them gratefully, and— Why Silence, my darling! Not crying?" But she was, though she dried her tears at once. “Oh, Roderick! and this is done for me!” “For you and —it," he whispered, and then there was a long pause of speechless peace. “I don’t wish to make myself out a martyr, not the least in the world," said Roderick at last. “I like my work—l like all work, indeed, but this especially. And Black is by no means a bad fellow to work with when you only know him. There is that great difference in our ages which prevents jarring—and then, he has such a veneration for the family."

"You, tbal is it. Hot (Here, H> •"" difficulty. To be foreman at a cottonmill. You, a gentleman and a Jardine! Have you considered?” “It is because I am a gentleman and a Jardine that I do not need to consider,” he answered, with that slight air of hauteur which, whether it was right or wrong, his wife loved, could not help loving, for it was a bit of himself. “No, dear; in my worst, that is, my idlest days, !1 never was so foolish as to think there was any disgrace in work, any dignity in idleness; and now, when 1 have to earn i my bread by the sweat of my 7 brow, like old Adam and all the rest, down to poor Grandfather l’aterson, I'H do it, and not be ashamed of it, either.” * “Nor I. Nothing that my husband did > could make me ashamed of him, except i his doing something wrong. But now —”

She stopped, her voice choking; and again, weak-minded little woman that she was, she cried -they both cried. Then they gathered up their courage for the new life which began the next Monday morning. It might have been—possibly any person more worldly wise than these young folks would have said it was—that this two pounds a week, so important to them, came out of the softest bit in old Black’s heart, rather than his full and usually tightly shut purse; seeing it would be some months before an ignorant “gentleman,” however capable, could be equal in value to an experienced workingman,

even as foreman nt a mill. But they <jiq not know this, and without another word both cheerfully accepted the new life which was to begin the next Monday morning. The hardest bit of it was the long hours—the separation from the dusk of the morning till after nightfall. Sometimes Roderick came in so tired that instead of talking, he would just throw himself down—not on the sofa, that he always left for her, but on the rug nt her feet ami fall asleep till bedtime, while she, anxious to use her busy fingers to the last available minute, sewed silently, watching him the while. If he had seen that watch! Doos a man ever thoroughly comprehend how a woman loves him? But, the working days done, there were the blessed Sundays, hi' never knew how blessed, he said, till he became a “work-ing-man.” Church over, his wife sent him to take a long stroll over the hills, while she gathered round her for an hour the little class of mill girls, taught for so many years by Miss Jardine. Roderick sometimes grumbled at this, but she said, gently, e each do our work. I think this is mine; let me do it." And by the time he came to ten it was done, and the jealous fellow hail his wife to himself for the whole evening. 1 hose sweet Sunday evenings, when 1 ‘the rain was on the roof’’—for winter set in early that year how comfortable . they were! I’he two, shut in together, had to learn the great secret, and gq* through the hardest test of married life-4 even such young married life ntr theirs i’J eooMlnnf e,, ,■■!>. t*». ..... I ... passion, scarcely vun affection—for these can sometimes exist without }fl| at least for a long time but simple eoii^M pnnionsldp, that priceless friendsl^^L which is "love without his wings.” “Suppose you had been a goose, SjJn lence,” he said one day. “Suppose you I had expected me to be always making® love to you. instead of talking to yunlL like a sensible woman; sup]M>sc you had 3 not cart'd for the things 1 care for, but ft wanted something totally different—sayu dressing ami dancing and going out of 1 evenings- what in the world would haven become of me?" . fl She laHghcd merrily. “And suppose J you had boon a man of the world, who! liked good dinners and I illinnt society.fl and was ashamed of his poor little wife! because she was not clever—" |’ “Nonsense!" I “Not clever," sho repented, with a? sweet decision, “after the fashion that is I called clever, nor beautiful, nor grand/* had brought him no money and givetaL him no iw-Mi >n I don’t speak often <T J this, but I knou it nil. Supp ■*>. RotMu crick, you had been different from whttfv you are; 1 wonder what would have b^. I come of me! No. no!’ And her gay>t»wj melted into an almost sad seriousnessfl "Whatever the future brings we have th! present. Let us rejoice in it. and—let ual thank God " | in his old life Roderick had soldouM thought of this Now. when every nighn he saw his wife kneel down by her belli side, he had come instinctively to kneel

beside her. "saying his prayers." as thfl children do; or. rather, since with hoM always near him there seemed nothin* left to pray for, just whispering in h> heart. “Thank God!" As he did now^l ay. and many a time in the day, in thffi midst of his work, which was nor to^? pleasant sometimes. But it grew pleaO ant and easy when there flashed neroju him the vision of the sweet face nt boWNj no longer the ideal mistri .s of fa dreams, but the dear wife of low UisAit always at hand to lighten his burdei.'^** and divide his cares. * (To be continued.) Plan for Improving Stenmcrs. If the owners of the Cainpanhl pullvl out all her Ixdlers and for every tlvn pulled out put back two new boikrs same diameter. same length, sa;»ei heating surface in fact, each new bull- ; er an exact fae simile of the old ona except that the iron must be thru 1 times as heavy, so as to fit it for rail ing 500 pounds of steam instead of 18 I pounds of steam, and if they alter tip ! first and possibly the second cylinderi of their engines (leave the last ey Ikr ' dors alone; they are the true measun* of the steam consumed) so as to them for w orking 500 pwtinds of steaU j and expanding it down to the same pressure as at present, then 1 say tirey j will save three-fifths of their present: boiler room, they may dismiss three stokers out of live, retaining only two. and they may reduce their quantity of . coal and space for coal to about nv* I fifths of the present quantity say front 1 tons (if that is the quantity) dowi to I.2db tons, and they will still driv| the Campania at her present speed mill's an hour. But the saving of coaf will be on the coal used for the actual i propelling of the ship.—lndustries ami Iron. Sy iin athetie Butter. It is the way of poets—poets and children to attribute their own feelings to natural objects. For them the wind sighs, the brooks laugh, and the land 1 - scape smiles or frowns. “Mister Green.” said a venerable nep gro, entering the store of the village'. grOcer and prtwision dealer one mdtviS inc. "lior<'‘< sonic l>ott< r nix' m made, an' 1 done toted it in to see yo’d hab do opp'tunity to sell it. sah.”f “Good butter, is it?" said the store' keeper, as he took the package. "Yas. sah. prime butter." responded th" old darky; “on’y I's feared it mought 'a' molted jess a bit on de way.' ) “Oh. I guess not,” said the grocer; “this is a pretty cool morning.” "Yas, sah.” said the darky, wiping his face with his big handkerchief, “dis | am a mighty pleasant, cool mawnin'; but yo’ see, 1 toted it down here pooty fast.” Tennyson anil Wellington. In Tennyson’s ode on the death of the Duke of Wellington are the lines: “Not once or twice in our lair islandstory, The path of duty was the way to glory.” The lines, thrice repeated, with slight variations, are a paraphrase of a. remark of the Iron Duke which had deeply’ impressed the poet. Some one told Wellington that the word “glory” never occurred in his dispatches. “If glory had been my object,” he answered, “the doing my duty must have been the means.”

DEMAND HIS HEAD. NEW YORK BANKERS WANT CARLISLE’S RESIGNATION. J. Pierpont Morgan and Other Wall Street Magnates Urge the President o et a New Secretary of the TreasMiry The Currency Bill. The President Is Angry. Mr ' J ' ^ivrpont n « the famous New’ York banker XtaT ° f th . e ° ther Kentlemen n who Ist fallen ’“ ° • I>resi ‘ leut ’s confidence • en Ji^ issue of bonds have ow m R a - BeCret Visit t 0 th “ 'Vhite Iked th “nportant errand. They ! Rked the removal of John G. Carlisle for OifitiU's"} ,llUt lle 11118 demonstrated his tahtness to manage the finances of the ..m 1 , r s n,l< | 1 his eontinnance in office >HII imperil the public credit and retard Improvement in the financial condition of country. Mr. Morgan and his associates also endeavored to ascertain where (hr I resident stands with regard to the ®uirency bill now under consideration by’ House of Representatives. fl J ’resident Cleveland is said by those associate with him to be very angry this demand of the New-Yorkers for % head. He is exceedingly in* Wfhnnt that n eou*riu of bankers should «ne inmunry i.> poke their uoseu ^g|a the administrative affairs of the j l^'rnmcnt, demanding the dismissal of - « official whom the President has lion- ! with his confidence, it is pretty ccr‘J«di that they got no sntisfnotion. It play be confidently stated that the Fred- l g^ 11 " declined to nsk for Mr. Cnrlisle’a frWignation, but he is believed to hafo ujtmused to look after the finances hiro^Hf during the remainder of his adtninlsWhtion. It is known and admitted that Wb' President informed Mr. Carlisle cf ■ I ■ c / / SECRETARY JOHX G. (VKttsin.

Mr. Morgan’s errand and repented much of their conversation to him. but Mr. Carlisle’s private secretary said that his resignation would not be asked for and that he would not voluntarily tender it. Wlmt explanation the President may have given Mr. Morgan ns to his attitude c<>n'’erning the currency bill is unknown, and he is no more communicative than n , sphinx <ui the bjvct to the metubers of ^^Ncnbinet. < >ne of them, who is opposed bi;!, sntd t > dnv 'lint th ■ measure h«u i. ■,-n discuss.-d m < him t meeting. and all lie turn ~ ~ ,, M concluding paragraph of the recent rues- j sage, which, in general terms, indorsed the recommendations of the Secretary of the Treasury, and urged the necessity of some kind of rev.'nue reform. He had not lu-nrd the I’resident say a word on the subject since, and ismld not say whether he approved the pending bill, but it was nt least inconsistent with his previous ideas and public utterances on the subject of sound money. Nop whs the pending bill an exact formulation of the suggestions in the treasury report, so that it i could not be assumed the I’resident was committed to it. He doubted the report ■ that Mr. Cleveland intends to send a sp<*s cial message to Congress on the subject. He had not heard of any such intention j and was i:« lined to believe the contrary. PUBLIC DEBT STATEMENT. The Amount of Cash Owed by Uncle Sam Increased in December. The monthly statement of the public । debt issued from the Treasury Depart- i ; mont shows that Dec. 31, IS!M, the public j I di bt, less cash in the treasury, ani iunted to §010.903.<>!)5. an increase for the month of ^31.320,775. Following is a recapitu- ; lation of the debt: Interest bearing debt, ?G75,105,130, increase during the month, ! $10,025,100; debt on which interest has ceased since maturity, $1,525,500, decrease during the month, $1,120; debt bearing no interest, $3S.'!.L’ 1.15. increase (hiring the month, $120.75(); total debt, $1,054,375,379, of which $590,13-1,104 are certificates and treasury notes offset by an equal amount of cash in the treasury. Cash in the treasury is classified as follows: Gold. $139,00(5,351 ; silver, $504,|i (>.”.5.450: paper, $122,914,759; general ac- ' count, disbursing officers' balances, etc., ^510,197,719; total, $752.754,25!>; against 1 which tlure are demand liabilities } a'counting to $029,410.7Q9, leaving a cash balance of $153,331,510. of wlucli SSO,2-. J. 445 is gol.lresm've. Tie monthly statement of the receipts and expenditures of the United States shows receipts during December amounting to $21,800,136; disbursements. $27,135.400. leaving a deficit for the month of $5,209,324 and for the six months of the present fiscal year $27,561,-105 The receipts from customs wore $11,203,049, against $10,2G0,692 for the month of November; from internal revenue, $9,394,0.39, against $7,774,704 for November. The receipts from customs during the last six months were $69,604,330, or only about $161,000 less than for the first half of last year. The receipts from internal revenue during the last six months were $82,160,752, or $8,201,276 in excess of the first half of the last fiscal year. A $5,000 diamond necklace and a diamond marquise ring were stolen from Mrs. J. Everett Hasler, of New York, at the Palace Hotel in Denver. After detectives began to investigate the theft, the necklace was mysteriously returned to Mrs. Hasler’s room. John Cunningham, a blacksmith at Mexico, Mo., struck J. T. Denion, a prom- I inent citizen, on the head with a bar of I iron and fatally injured him. Jonathan Crumpacker, aged 67, of Elk- | hardt, Ind., was waylaid on a lonely road | and murdered by an unknown thief.

terrible destitution. D,8 o? N< tO Other Tabulation,, A 1 I ? I,ro «i«ht Sufferers ‘kstitution and , .^ tbraska tiling of the the Inhabitants * f'ti I>levai *' n K nmong districts I ‘“i d f ou Kht-strick C n says; d ' Bpatch from Hastings lerriblo dest‘.ntion exists in Pori • i ties ?n‘ h’ 01 in above coun- I fnd r ? BSt tWO days for "ant of rood and fuel. Hundreds of families aro without coal and in the border counties, where no tiees or brush exist, the poor people will have a hard time to keep from freezing to death. In Perkins County the destitution is complete. Over GOO families are appealing for help. In Hitchcock County the wife of a settler gave birth to twins during the storm, । and before neighbors could reach her ' poor "”i»nn expired for want ; of sufficient food and attention. ’The , twins are stiff living an j in e harge of I charitable neighbors. i North Platte reports that there are I eases „f suffering an,l hunger nmon« drought sufferers in lanenln nnU Jxjgnn < ounties. j Overseers of the poor state that unless nid conies from outside there will be ninny deaths from hunger and want of j clothing this winter. "1 he State Relief Commission has fifty families on its list as needing assistance and most distressing reports come in from nil over the western part of the State relating to woful lack of food and cloth- ; ing. says a Lincoln dispatch. "No deaths certainly attributable to ! starvation are yet reported, although ‘ it is claimed that a woma and two chil- 1 dren found dead in a cabin near Niobrara j the morning before Christmas died from lack of food and cure. Coal is most need- ' e.l no 1 XT- f n ,hleu, of the State Relief < Oinmittee. and t.eov..a J| o | dredge, of the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad, are doing everything in , their power to forward supplies to the more destitute localities. \ cry few farmers in the bonier counties have any stock lett, having let cattle and horses roam at large. Ihe people nre living in covered wng ns |>y lint dr"ds rather than face starvation ami tie. eto death.. More or less destitution exists in every county, from the Colorado line east to Hall and Adams <'"unties, and the various relief cointnitte. s, although overwhelmed with applications for aid, are doing all they can to relieve the distress." STRONG IS NOW MAYOR. Be Becomes the Executive Head of New York. For the first time in twenty two yours n Mayor not of the Democratic faith is at the head of the New York city govern-

inent. William L. Strong, who was on Tue sday inducted into the office, represents much th o same conditions and social elements that nsseit.-d themselves ; ill IS. " in (J:v < Io «■ ti' n of William F. ' It .. cue v.t to tho Mayoralty. Tn both I instances there was a revolt against mu- - n i c ipal corruption.

1 ■ t ■ 4^44 T- STROXG.

Upon both occasions public sentiment was crystallized through the medium of a committee of seventy, the main purpose in 1>72 being to overthrow the Tweed regime, ami in ISAI to correct abuses, known < r suspected, in the police and other departments of the city government. The exposure of the practice of levying blackmail by the police, particularly upon the criminal classes of society, who, in consideration of their p yments of money, were granted immunity from arrest, was primarily the work of the Society for the Prevention of Vice, which procured the appointment of the State Senate Committee which has become famous under the name of its < .'hairman, Mr. Lexow. Without an enlargement of the powers ■ of the Mayor, it is argued, says a correspondent, Mr. Strong, whatever may be . his disposition, is as helpless to combat 1 corruption in the departments as his predecessors in office have been. It is proposed to enact a law giving the Mayor power of removal over heads of bureaus i and an absolute control of the police department. I nder the present system, I while the Mayor appoints members of the police board and other department chiefs, he may not remove them except through processes that practically amount to a deprivation of the power. The framing of new laws touching these points promises to be ns important work as any that is likely to come before the State Legislature and to bring out as many ; conflicting theories. Sparks from the Wires. Stephen Weiher, treasurer of McCook [ County, S. D., is short in his accounts i and has been arrested. i Receiver Walker, of the Santa I’e, । says it is not the intention to cease operating the Atlantic and Pacific. । Rail lines must reduce the cost of oper- ; alien before they can again compete with lake lines in the carrying of grain. । Thomas Quinlan was sentenced at Bowling Green. Mo., to two years in the penitentiary for murdering Gottfreid Kloppenstein, of Chicago, last December. The importation of cattle into Belgium from Canada has been prohibited because of pleuro-pneumonia having been detected in some animals recently arrived. Investigation shows that directors of the Commercial Bank, which failed at St. John’s, N. I''., had borrowed thousands of dollars from the bank and had overdrawn their accounts. An American ex-detective named Dauriac, who was an occasional reporter for the Figaro, has been arrested at Paris on । a charge of attempting to blackmail M. Scalis, the banker. Frank Stallworth struck William Janson a fatal blow on the head with a piece of iron at Miami, O. T. Harry Johnson, a brother of the victim, drew a revolver and killed Stallworth. James Crum, who was released from custody at Guthrie, O. T., upon his turning State’s evidence on fellow-counter-feiters, was rearrested on a charge of horse-stealing in Kansas.

Ttrio ofsenatoks. Morrill, palmer and Harris ALL OLD-TIMERS. beginning as Poor Boys, They Forged I heir Way Ahead and Have Been m Public Eife Nearly Half a CentUr y \ encrable Statesmen. Nestors of the Senate. m. 1 ? 0 o"’ 1 '” oldest men in ’he United Falmt M(yrri "’ of Ve nnont; s<a. l'' ° f n, “’ Harris of Tennesme. lor nearly half a century thev have I nTe-u-V’? >' lif “- M “ n ‘b '-p'learn- ' n eLt r f ' ! "’ ,M *’ r '«tion and sound judgi -t; . ■ * U ,;' .have studied American poli- | es in all its phases and have beXme j thoroughly acquainted with all measures Ot pubhc concern. Naturally they are , looked upon as the Grecian leaders 1. ,ked i upon the sage of Nestor, and whether on ! '‘ e ., llo . or of ’J 16 donate or in the councils o their parties, the wisdom stored up bv I '» l , | rS ( ? xlH ’ ri ‘‘ uco is constantly appealed |to by their associates. They have passed . bijond the mark of three score and ten | but their venerable frames are yet strong l ar ’f , ’i l St 'T 1 1 ' “ nk and u l’Parently they i 1 f ” ? a ‘ C tO BerVe thoir country weil , through several more sessions. ■ -in ‘.'i ol<lest of ’he trio is Justin S. Mor--I‘ll, the sago of the Senate. His life lias been less active than that of Palmer or

Harris and has been more closely confined to the halls of legislation. He was born in Strafford, Vt„ April 14, ISIO, and after receiving a common school education he entered a country’ grocery store and progressed until he owned one himself. Next he took up farm life and finally’ in 1854,

■ Kzß S :x A TOK MOKKII.I,

' at the age when most men who achieve j fame and public life are already on the : read and nearing the goal, he was first I elected to < 'ongress. Then began his ac- : tive political career. His knowledge of 1 commerce and finance brought him at once into pl ouiiiieu. C and in his second । term he was placed on the Ways and Means Committee. In 18(50 he became the author of and carried through the Morrill tariff. He remained in the House of Representatives until ISG7, when he was elected to the Senate and took his sent at the same time as did Roscoe Conkling. There he has remained ever since and is now serving a term which ends in March, 1897. when, if he lives, he will have completed 42 years of service in : Congress. From ISSI until the Demo- ■ erats came into control he was chairman of the Committee of Finance. He is progressive, is ileeply interested in educational matters and has done much for the colleges. The sturdy old Senator from Illinois is a Kentuckian by birth and is 77 years of age. He received a common school

education and went with his father to Madison CoTinty, Illinois, at the age of 11. Then he took a course in Alton C 1- I ! lege, paying his expenses | by his labor. After graduating he taught a coun-j try school and studied law. being admitted to ' 11... > r in !«<■:<• Ho rose gradually from one posi-

tion to another until 1652, 11 >'Atvrn. wh.^u was tent to the State Senate. Here he distinguished himself as i opponent of slavery and it was during tb -se years at Springfield that he became the firm friend of Abraham Lincoln. Prior to ISSG he was a Democrat, but when the Republican party was formed he joined it on account of its position toward ! slavery. In 1861 he was one of the members of the peace conference at Washington. When the war began he went into Missouri as colonel of the Fourteenth Illinois Regiment and soon became a brigadier general. He took part in many important engagements, rose to the rank of major general and commanded the military department of Kentucky from February. 18G5, to May, 1566. In 18RS he was elected Governor of Hli- • nois as a Republican, but in 1872 supported Greeley and then drifted back to ! the Democratic party. He was nomi- ' nated for several important offices, but i the Republicans were too strong for him. I In 1890, however, he was sent to the i United States Senate by the Democratic । Legislature. The aged Senator from Tennessee was ' i born in Tullahoma, that State, in 1818 1 ' and grew up, wild and without discipline.

t (Mb > > t to t i \ I m , ’.■ ’ 3 ^7t k r ! 7 I // ’ \ /

SENATOR haßkts. cessful merchant. : For two years he studied law at night, at- ’ tending to his business during the day. ; and had accumulated si,ooo, when 1 i though the failure of a bank lie was left ‘ I penniless. With undaunted enterprise he ' set to work anew and within two years had repaired his losses. Meanwhile his s ■ nights iiad been given to study of law and in IS 11 he was admitted to the bar. Shorts ly afterward he was elected to the Missis- , ■ sippi Legislature and in ISIS went to j i Congress. In 1553 he settled at Mem- ; phis. Tenn., and in 1857 was elected Gov- : ernor of Tennessee and re-elected in 1859 1 j and ISGI. He took sides with the Con’ 1 federacy and was driven from the State ’by the Federal troops. Then he joined the staff of Gon. Albert Sydney Johnston ‘ and was with him when he fell mortally wounded at Shiloh. He continued with 1 the Confederate army until the close of the war and then found that his entire fortune of $150,000 had been swept away. He evaded capture on parole, went into ■ exile into Mexico, where he remained 18 i months, and thence to England, where 'ho remained a year. Returning to Memphis in 1807 he resumed his law practice and in 1870 was sent to the United States ' Senate, where he has since been a con- : spicuous figure. His term expires in : March of the coming year, and an effort | is being made to defeat him for re-elec-I tion. Ex-Congressman Daniel W. Connelly died at Scranton, Pa., after a brief illness, i He represented the Eleventh Pennsylva- । nia District in the Forty-eighth Congress.

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on his father's sterile farm. At the age of 14 lie he went to Paris, Tenn., and began work as a shop boy, While here he got his schooling. At the age ' of 19 we find him in Tippan County, Miss., where ho has become a sue-