Savannah weekly news. (Savannah) 1894-1920, June 28, 1894, Image 1
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( the morning news. i
VV> IJ. 44. 5 Established 1850. Incorporated 1888. >
x .. | J. H. ESTILL, President. 1
On a certain May morning, not many
years ago, under great patriarchal trees
bordering the River Wharfe,which winds
through the Yorkshire vales like a gleam
ing, sinuous ribbon of silver, not further
thana strong man’s voice could reach
from the quaint old hamlet of Tlkley, was
a band of Yorkshire gipsies who were
•oon to break camp and set sail for
America, the gipsy haven beyond the
sea.
Two hearts in this Wharfe-side camp
were well nigh broken.
One was Matthew’s.
Matthew was a gipsy lad, orphaned
poor; a poverty-stricken nawken or
tinker; a poor tinker, too, and despised;
for he was a reader of Gorgio books and
dared to grope on blindly for learning
and light; had shown signs of rhymes be
sides ; and had therefore become .an out
cast with this people.
How great an outcast, when an outcast
of outcasts!
It all rested upon him as a curse, save
with a single soul in Yorkshire, t
Loretta loved him; loved him for these
despised things in him, which, to just this
one human being, defied him.
Loretta was the pet of the Yorkshire
tribes. She was but a dainty mite of a
thing yet; but so full of jest and wit and
merriment, that her presence had come
into a thousand peasant lives and left
there an ideal dream.
How many had already come wooing
none knew. The sprite had sent them all
• away, no longer her lovers; simply her
valiant knights of honor; and each factory
or hamlet for a score of miles around held
a discarded lover, but always housed a
friend.
Well was Loretta guarded by keen eyes
and stron„ arms; but she was a gipsy
lass that could out-gipsy them all.
“Loretta, oh, Loretta!”
In the unwonted excitement ot the
morning the pride of the camp had disap
peared.
“ixjrettal” anjd “Oh, I oretta!” rang
out shrilly from spae-wtfe to chauvie
(child), and was taken up and repeated
by youth and maiden everywhere.
“W’y an’ we’re an’ hever is th’ racklie?
(dear little girl)” sang out old Lijah Bos
well, grinder, buffoon and merry father
heart of every boy and girl in the band,
as he blustered and hurried here and
there, and blustered and hurried only.
Matthew was also missing.
Where was the daft nawken,
Matthew?
And where was Loretta, racklie?
'Hie throstles, building their nests in the
hedge which swept down from the high
way ipitH b touched the river Wharfe
■•'bt.lOW oul 1 .i.” 11 :>nsw, Md A
There, despite the calls from the camp,
the child-lovers were sobbing their
parting.
“Nothing to give, my dearie; nothing
but this to give you!”
“An’ w’at is hit, Matthew!”
“Only some lines I’ve made to—to you!”
“W’at!—an’ made ’em all by yourself ?
An’ for me?”
Then she kissed him impetuously, inno
cently.
“Read’em Matthew. Oh. do, do! I’ll
alius keep ’em; alius!”
Loretta, her great eyes dancing with
greedy pleasure, nestled her bright,
warm face close, close to Matthew’s, while
her long, glossy hair swept over his shoul
ders ami breast, as the outcast rhmy
ster chokingly began:
“I ong we’ve wandered, darling, wandered;
Heath and moor and highway o’er;
Now wo part. I here to linger;
Thou to seek a far-off shore,
Out beyond the ocean's roar.
Darling, by our troth-plight given,
Darling, by thy hope of heaven,
Oh, be true as I to thee—
Save the sweetest kiss for me!
“Days will pass with long hours weary,
NightS all sleepless, starless grow,
And thy Nawken lover, dearie,
All the pain of waiting know;
Waiting, longing, with their woe!
Drwling, by our troth-plight given,
Darling, by thy hope of heaven.
Oh, be true as I to thee—
Save the sweetest kiss for rhe!"
“Loretta, racklie?—Oh, Loretta?”
The whole camp was filled with alarm.
She snatched the verses from the lad’s
hand. She showered them with kisses.
She hid them as some priceless thing
within her bosom. Then she fairly
danced around her bewildered lover, tell
ing him how, when on shipboard, she
would look longingly back, far back
across the dark waters which divided
them, and sing to him, for him, these
lines as the song and the cry of her heart;
would sing them as the song of her lips
and life; and that they should be to them
both a sacred tie until the years and the
tide should resistlessly sweep them again
together.
Then a long embrace; and then:
□ “Mi dearie Dubblesky!” (tor the dear
Lord’s sake!) from the old grinder Lijah
Boswell, as the startled lovers saw his
erst merry, but now angry, eyes peering
through the parted branches of the hedge
above them.
“Mi dearie Dubblesky!” grinder Lijah
repeated in horror and dismay. “Lor
etta, child! Ye’ll break a’ our hearts wi’
this!”
She sprang from Matthew toward the
good old grinder. Sho thrust her round,
little fist close into his kindly face. Then
she hissed at him, while the clenched
band trembled.
“Lijah Boswbll!—Lijah ! —hit’ ye hever
tells on me, Hi’ll kill ye ! So Hi will I Hi
’asn’t forgot Hi’m Romany—nor Romany
woman, neither! Go ye back t' camp,
Hi’ll be yon afore ye!”
“Oh. an' wat a Loretta, racklie!” whis
pered kind-hearted Lijah. as he passed
her a few moments later and- shook his
shaggy old head, as she demurely re
ceived the anxious questionings and lov
ing greetings of the querulous women of
the camp.
In an hour more the camp was disband
ed and the last partings with gipsy kin
had been said. L’p to the highway; down
over the old stone bridge of llkley; up
beyond the uaclent church of All Saints
among w hose near graves many a gipsy
chauvie (child) was resting; and then
over the breezy Yorkshire hills, and on,
on, to the seaport town, had sped the de
parting tribe.
Back in the deserted camp prone upon
the ground where Loretta’s tent had
stood, his hands clutching his battered
tinker's wheel, lay Matthew.
The throstles sang sweetly in the hedge;
the Wharfe, as for aye. flowed softly on
ward to the sea; but the broken life left
utterly desolate was as one dead to the
radiant sweetness of that fair May
morning, and eould only moan:
“Loretta, racklie! oh, Loretta!’?
PILGRIMS.
“TALES OF TEN TRAVETERS”* SERIES.
By EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
Copyright, 1894.
SAVANNAH WEEKLY NEWS.
Enecks RS ]
Then the weary tramp began. Weary
load and dreary life!
“Tinkle,.tinkle, tinkle!”
A merry tune this from the tinker’s
merry boll. But who shall know of the
heartache hid beneath every song that
ever was sung?
“Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!”
Over highway and byway; over stile
and meadow; through village and ham
let—
“ Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!”
A sorry looking tinker that indeed.
Move him on, blustering English “bob
bie!” spurn him one and all! Heart of a
true heart, soul of a martyr, life of a
saint, maybe; but form and face of an
accursed and outcast race!
“Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!” chiming ever
on the air; but always and ever, while
“Days will pass with long hours dreary.
Nights all sleepless, starless grow—”
rises the hopelsss cry in the tinker’s
heart:
“Loretta, racklie!—oh, Loretta!”
11.
You could not have said whether Prof.
Poppett was old or young. Other per
formers in the theater orchestra where he
literally played “second fiddle” had long
despaired of conclusion whether he
should be despised or revered. What
ever came, no complaint ever escaped the
lips of Prof. Poppett. He had never been
known to live anywhere. The directory
was silent as to his lodgings. No human
outside of the theater had been seen with
him. The most curious had found no key
to his nature.
He seemed to have but the one object in
life of existing in an atmosphere of music.
Study him as they might, his fellows dis
covered only this: Sometimes in tender
passages of the play, or when, in opera,
pathos or passion spoke from the speech
less instruments, a tear might be seen
coursing down beneath his glasses. But
this was quickly brushed away with the
end of his bow, no note being lost; for he
was too conscientious for that.
Just this, and a strange, yearning look
in his face when his dog, Mose from un
der his chair, tuged at the frayed ends of
his trousers, ana, looking up jn his mas
ter’s eyes, expressed mute joy in the
melodies were all that were seen and
known of his inner life.
But Mose, the dog, more than human in
this, always understood the professor.
It had even been hinted that they were
both tramps. But. all told, the two lived
only for and with each other, and they
were not an unhappy couple.
Professor Poppett was an interpreter of
music. Mose had a soul for music. Each
in his way, worshipped. Perhaps this is
what held them so closely together.
By and by the curtain rang down for
the last time upon the Grand Star Com
bination theater. Then the professor and
Mose knew the misery of beggary in 3
great city. At last there was nothing
behind; there seemed nothing beyond; so
they took to the road together.
Prof. Poppett’s voice was melancholy
at best. The old violin was tuned to
more and more mournful cadences. By
pleasant Maine farmhouses, at the sooty
doors of musical cross-roads’ smithies,
near groups of sturdy ploughmen, drawn
from the fields to the roadside; in brisk
and pretty hamlets, at busy stage sta
tions. the professor sang and played, while
helpful Mose bravely presented the rag
ged hat. But there had grown to be that
halting in Poppett’s manner, that trem
bling hesitancy in his singing and, more
than all that leusening faith in himself,
which so vioced in ballad and instrument,
that, though all grinningly listened, only
a few rewarded.
One autumn eqening, penniless, supper
less, hopeless, the two had been hooted
out a lovely, leafy Maine village, a few
miles to the north of old Portland by
the sea. Reaching a forest-edge, well
beyond pursuit, poor, simple Poppett fell
among the leaves exhausted and straight
way burst into tears.
Faiteful Mose, true and helpful to the
last, crept up beside him, pushed his
face against his master’s, kissed it in his
dog fashion and whined comfortingly.
After a little time the professor pet'te
the brute tenderly, but could only say.
“Mose. Mose! You miserable, loving
dog! We’re in hard, hard luck! eh,
Mose?”
Mose could not deny it.
Suddenly Mose bristled up, listened a
moment, and then snapped out a quick,
sharp growl of alarm.
Tho professor quieted him, looked
timorously away through the night *to
the far lights at the distant town, and,
with a bitter aigh of discouragement,
said to his loyal companion:
“God only knows where to, Mose; but
come along!”
Mose seemed to insist that somebody or
something requiring looking into was
near them; but they crossed a near little
stream, followed an unused road up a
hill, and were presently confronted by an
old rail gate standing half open.
Here Poppett looked in vain for some
sign of human habitation beyond, but
could descry only the dark face of deep
woods, and, above them, the yellow horn
of an autumn moon.
He sank drearily upon a fallen log be
side the gate, succeeding only in bringing
Mose to his side by a sharp word of com
mand—he seldom spoke to the dog in this
way—and then leaned against the fence,
giving himself up to the direct forebod
ings, which were quickly succeeded by
the stppor of utter exhaustion.
Was he dreaming?
There came to him in reality, or dream,
the voice of a maiden in song:
“Days will pass with long bouts dreary;
Nights all sleepless, starless grow;—"
The old violin fairly flew to the pro
fessor’s shoulder. The bow, poised aloft
trembled in his hand. His head reached
far out and sidewise, as if his whole being
thrilled in anticipation; while the dog’s
tail beat a lively tattoo upon the log—
“ And thy Nawken lover, dearie.
Ail the pain of waiting know;
Waiting, longing, with their woe."
Oh, how that old violin kept accompani
ment! The violin led, rather than fol
lowed. The last line was given by the
singer in a weird, sad minor. When its
final note was hushed, the songstress, who
was certainly nearing the musician,
seemed to listen and wait, as if to tease
and test the performer.
He promptly repeated the melody of
the last three lines, giving it the richest
and sweetest of coloring.
Wit h a burst of such melody as Poppett
thought he had never heard equaled, the
stanza was now finished:
“Darling, by our troth plight given,
Darling, by the hope of hex ven.
Oh, 1 e true as I to thee—
Save the sweetest kiss for me!”
The professor followed at the conclu
sion with an improvised refrain which
filled and flooded that Maine autumn
evening with rarer music than it had
ever before oknown.
The musician’s head laid so near tohis
loved instrument, and he had closed the
improvisation with such a flourish, that he
was startled when he looked up and dis
covered the mysterious songstress beside
him; but he withdrew his hat with a re
spectful “Evening, Ma’am!” following
this with a rap of the bow on the dog’s
nose and the injunction, “Mind your man
ners, sir!”.
Mose arose upon his haunches, ducked
his head to the little lady and awaited
further orders.
The moonlight falling upon the beauti
ful girl showed her standing there with
arms akimbo, intently regarding first the
professor and then the dog.
“You bo’nt one o’hus, is ye—a tacthi
Romany?” (a genuine gipsy) she asked
curiously.
“A—a—what, ma’am?” stammered
Poppett, twirling his hat confusedly.
“A pilgrim!” This rather stolidlv from
the girl.
“Yes, lady; I—l rather think you might
call us pilgrims—Mose?and I.”
“Where be your—your friends?”
“Well, lady”—the professor was get
ting into deep water—“well, Mose, there
is my friend; and I’m Mose’s friend!”
“Hasn’t ye others?”
“No, lady.”
“Not on yearth?”
“Not on earth.”
“No friends on yearth!—an’ you a
makin’ that ’eavenly music? W’y, an’
you’re in sorry luck, sure!”
“Sorry luck, lady? All broke up! Eh,
Mose?”
Mose admitted it as plainly as dog
could.
She walked straight to the woebegone
musician, took his ragged hat from his
hand, placed it kindly upon his head, and
said:
“Might—might I beg ye boldly to make
that music agin?”
“Yes, yes; a thousand times, lady!”
Then the professor put his very soul
into the work; played the melody from
beginning to end, never mis’ing a note;
and lingered lovingly over ti improvised
refrain.
When he had finished he saw that her
hands were clasped tightly across her
bosom and that she was weeping bitterly.
■‘Loretta, racklie! Oh, Loretta!”
called a rough, but kindly voice from
just over the gate. “Oh, Loretta! Ha’ ye
na better come ’long wi’ Lije? Bring the
fiddler feller, if ye likes.”
“Ay, ay, Lijah Boswell. ’Hie’ music
was a puttin’ me back in ol’ Yorkshire
like!” Then turning to Poppett she said:
“Come ’long wi’ your fiddle and dog,
stranger. Anyfcows ye’ll sure find a sup
an’ a bite wi’ hus!”
The girl had been to the stream for a
bucket of water. Lijah Boswell took it
up, and chatting merrily enough, led the
party over the old road through dense
woods for a short distance, when, on
rounding a heavy clump of oaks, they
came suddenly upon a large gipsy camp.
Lijah Boswell, with broaa grins and
much gesture, in a few Romany words
told his gipsy companions all he knew of
the wandering musician and his wonder
ful dog, and then these simple people
crowded around Poppett in scores while
bv gu':x th .m ‘;htmclodiot Lis weary
fingers could invoke, urged on by de
lighted applause and grateful incense of
steaming pots swinging above crackling
fires, while Mose in his happiest vein,
did his finest tricks and passed the hat
so wisely that, amid roars of laughter,
it was fairly filled with copper coin.
Then came a smoking hot supper for
the pilgrims from these ever-hospitable
gipsy pilgrim bands. How that hungry,
foot-sore wanderer ate; how Mose ate;
and how they both felt and looked grati
tude unutterable; brought both smiles
and mists to the’ eyes of member after
member of the band, as they caught
stealthy glimpses of their beaming faces
and then as silently stole away to rejoin
their companions and indulge in grotesque
pastime and hilarious laughter.
After the professor and Mose had fin
ished, nothing woulS satisfy the gipsies
but more music— mpsic wild and heroic,
music roystering and bacchanalian; and
then a dance; ay, a aance such as they
had not had since fhey left old York
shire ! Old and young joined, and never
in all Poppett’s theatric experience, even
in the grandest spectacular, had he seen
or imagined anything equaling the wild
abandon of these tawny people, from hag
gish spae-wife to rosy-faced chauvie, as
they sped by him in fantastic groupings,
never desisting until utterly exhausted,
long, long into the hours of the startit,
happy night.
Then with grinder Lijah and Mose for
tent-fellows, the professor gratefully
sank upon a couch of fresh leaves and
aromatic cedar boughs, and endeavored
to drive the face and form of Loretta
from his mind and collect his scattered
senses; but dazedly he saw the flaring
camp-fires grow diol and dimmer, was
conscious of the peaceful quiet and hush
that fed upon the happy spot, and in a
trice was pilgriming in the land of pleas
ant dreams.
HI.
Loretta, racklie, the songstress of the
camo, and the professor became insepar
able companions upon the road or in
camp, with the melodies which somehow
grew more and more tender, they were
soon together the loved minstrels of the
band. The passion which had over
whelmed poor Poppett since he had first
heard those grand Maine woods filled
with the echoes of Loretta’s song had
been wordless, but the old violin had told
his love; told it pleadingly, eloquently;
and true as truth, love unspoken by
tongue or pen will reach unto the object
of Its adoration and make its message
known. This dumb idolatry was pitiful.
Its response was pitying and dumb. If
there had been no wandering nawken,
the old violin hud not told its master's
tender prayers in vain. ,
One evening the two were sitting to
gether in cainii among the elms of the
Mystic Lake, over against old Arlington,
not far from still more ancient Boston
town—the winter was approaching, and
the band was fast journeying south
toward winter quarters now—when
Loretta stopped suddenly in her song.
"Poppett, which way is England?” she
asked solemnly.
•‘Over there, Loretta;” the professor
replied, pointing with his bow; "to the
eastward, thousands of miles beyond the
Boston lights.”
She laid her fair head in the palms of
her bands and sat there, silently weav
ing herself to and fro for a little time.
Perhaps the gipsy giri heard again the
\orkshiro throstles sweetly singing in,
the hedge and listened to the murmurs of
h e Wharfe as it softly flowed to the sea.
She finally turned to the musician and
said, as if her heart could hold it all no
longer:
"Poppett, I wants to go w’ere there's
books aft’ music an’ all sech bright
things'”
. “With me. Lorjtta?”
It came in a trembling whisper from
the musician’s lips. It was the most dar
ing thing the professor had ever said.
"NO. Poppett, with—with Matthew.”
Something came into the professor's
MONDAYS AND THURSDAYS.
SAVANNAH, THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 1894.
eyes which, for a moment, shut all the
world out and left everything blank to
him. He had heard the story of Matthew
from kindly old Lijah. The violin moaned
a little for its master and Mose grew rest
less, but finally the musician faltered:
“And if Matthew never comes?”
“Then Poppett, with you; sure, sure!”
The dog’s sympathetic and expressive
tail never wagged so boisterously before;
and if dog ever did such a thing, like the
“old man” of the plays, he surely said :
I “God bless yon. my children!”
1 An hour later there was a pleasant com
motion at the outskirts of the camp. A
party of gipsy friends, who were to ac
company the band on its southward jour
ney, had arrived. Among the vans was
one of beautiful design and decoration,
I drawn by a handsome pair of horses.
1 These are delights to gipsy eyes, and
' horses and van were instantly surrounded
I by garrulous men, so occupied in their
interest and admiration that its driver
for the time escaped observation.
The latter, a young gipsy of perhaps 20
years of age, heedless of the crowd about
him, sprang from his seat and disap
peared with a bound in the direction of
the tents.
“Is you chai (gipsy fellow) one of your
kin?” asked the leader of the arriving
party of the chief.
“No, brother, not as hus knows.
Thought he wuz kith 0’ yourn. Do any
’ere know ’im?”
There was no answer, but a general air
of concern settled upon tho gipsies as
they turned and watched the tawny fel
low who was running headlong in the
open spaces between the tents.
“He fell in wi’ hus jessarter noon. Said
he wuz cornin’ ’ere, an’ we jogged on to
gether. He’s a tatchi Romany, sure; but
a bit rang i’ th’ morfc (a trjfle daft), hus
■is thinkin’. He rokkered , (talked,chat
tered) o’ naught but Loretta, rackle, a’
th’ arternoon!”
At that moment there was a bustle and
confussion among the women of the band.
The flying gipsy had aroused them.
Shrill exclamations were heard on every
hand with “Save us!” and “It’s th’
Nawken’s ghost!”
But the ear of love is true and not
affrighted.
Loretta, leaping from her tent door,
sped like the wind toward tfce daring
stranger. As he clasped her in his arms
and pointed with unutterable pride to his
matchless gipsy van-home the girl cried
out exultantly:
“He’s come at last! God ’elp hus!—
it’s Matthew!”
Over beside a little tent among the
shadows Prof. Poppett was standing
white and silent. He had seen the rap
turous meeting. He knew all that it
meant to them »and- to him. With one
hand he grasped the tent-bow for a
moment’s support. The other he raised
as if in benediction. Finally he placed
the old violin in its worn and ragged
sack.
“Come, Mose,” he said quietly; “don’t
you see the curtain’s down again? Its
time to go!”
And pilgrims still, out Into the night
they again took to the road together.
SCHOOL OF TECHNOLOGY.
Interesting Essays Read by the Grad-
Y uattHr CJass. .
Atlanta, Ga.; June 27.—The Georgia
School of technology has closed a most
successful and satisfactory year’s work.
The final commencement exercises of the
institution occurred this morning. Gen.
Clement A. Evans delivered the annual
address.
The baccalaureate address was de
livered by the president of the school, Dr.
I. S. Hopkins.
Chancellor Boggs, of the State Univer
sity, presented the diplomas to the ten
graduates.
The essays by the members of the grad
uating class were an important part of
the programme. W. O. Connor, of Floyd
county, and T. Holmes, of Cobb county,
spoke of the test of the shop boilers.
W. H. Duggan, of Floyd, dilated upon
rivet joints.
E. R. Whitney, of Richmond county,
gave an interesting description of the
manufacture of ice.
E. B. Merry, of Columbia, told of tbe
machinery used to manufacture brick
F. G. Forest, of Thomas county, and P.
Ogletree, of Meriwether county, told of
compression, and E. A. Green, of Clay,
and W. W. Hunter, of Wilkes, described
the effect of work on iron and steel.
The machine shops, wood working de
partment, foundry and blacksmith shops
were open to the puolic and were visited
by many. In the wood working depart
ment a number of finished articles were
exhibited, showing the work of the stu
dents. Among the articles were handsome
bookeases, desks, tables, and other ar
ticles of furniture, all finished in the
most elegant style and as handsome and
substantial as the most expensive prod
ucts of high art furniture factories.
Some of the articles had price marks on
them, and many were marked sold.
A TRAGEDY IN OQLBTHORPE.
A Farmer Murdered by a Blow With
an Ax.
Lexington. Ga., June 27.—Yesterday
morning Coroner JJeadwyler was sum
moned to the house of Mr. Newt Dillard,
near Sandy Cross, in the lower part of
this (Oglethorpe) county, which was the
scene of a bloody tragedy. One of the
hirelings on the place was going out to
the field and found Mr. Newt Dillard
dead with his head crushed. All the
evidence, which is very strong and oven
more than circumstantial, shows that he
was killed in his own house with an ax—
the ax being found with blood on the
handle. Mr. Dillard's wife, grown son
And son-in-law, a Mr. Thaxton, are under
arrest for the tragic deed.
It is one of the worst affairs that ever
happened in Oglethorpe county. Mr.
Dillard, it is said, was very overbearing
and unkind with his family. The jury’s
verdict was murder.
On Sunday morning last Coroner Dead
wyler was sent for to hold an inquest
over the body of one ike Davenport, col
ored, near Point Peter, in this county.
Ike had a difficulty with two negroes
about a woman Saturday night, and Sun
day morning was found in the road dead.
There have been good rains in some
portions of the county, with flattering
prospects for more.
A Bridge Bill Passed.
Washington. June 27.—Representative
Maddox secured the passage to-day of his
bill extending the time for the Fairman
Valley railroad to bridge the Hiawassee
and the Clinch rivers. The bill provides
now ts at the bridges must be begun in a
year and finished in three. The railroad
runs from Cartersville to the East Ten
ndhsee.
If you want a reliable dye that will
color an even brown or black, and will
please and satisfy you every time, use
Buckingham's Dye for the Whiskers.—
ad.
PERIER NOW PRESIDENT.
Socialist Deputies Very Loud-Mouthed
During the Balloting.
Perier Receives 461 of the 861 Votes
Cast, Brisson 191, Dupuy 99, Gen.
Fevrier 69, Arago 27, and 18 Were
Scattering—Ona Ballot All That Was
Necessary—Perier Nearly Overcome
by His Emotion on the Announce
ment of the Result.
Paris, June 27. —The national congress
summoned to elect a president of the
French republic for the full term of seven
years was called to order in the palace of
Versailles by M. Challemel-Lacour at 1:10
o’clock p. m. to-day. At least five min
utes elapsed after the formal call to order
before there was sufficient quiet to enable
the presiding officer to be heard, wnen
finally the assembly became orderly. M.
Challemel-Lacour announced the tragic
death of M. Carnot, and declared con
gress open for the purpose of electing his
successor.
Scarcely had the president ceased
speaking when M. Michelin, a socialist,
sprang tohis feet and shoute.fi, “I demand
the suppression of the presidency of the
republic.”
A tumultuous scene ensued, the uproar
being so great that the ipresident could
not make himself heard. The socialists
seemed to be stronger lunged, and their
cries of “Vive revolution” could be
heard all over the hall.
Mm. de Baudy and D’Asson endeav
ored to propose revision of the constitu
tion, but were quickly silenced by the
president.
CASTING LOTS.
Lots were then cast for the ballot, the
object being to see which letter the bal
lot should begin with. Tbe letter “L” was
drawn, and the name of M. Labarthe, a
moderate republican, was first called. In
accordance with custom. M. Labarthe
ascended the rostrum, and being recog
nized by the scrutator, placed his ticket
in the great urn which serves as a ballot
box, and descended and returned to his
seat. The senators and deputies whose
names were subsequently called went
through the same ceremony, and the vot
ing proceeded monotonously in this way.
When the name of M. Fabriot. socialist,
was called, he exclaimed “I shall not
vote, because I believe another presidency
will kill ti e republic.”
M. Casimir-Perier arrived at the
palace, of Versailles at 3:20 o’clock this
afternoon. Neither he nor M. Dupuy
voted
When the calling of the roll was
finished there was a counter call for ab
sentees. This occupied a few minutes,
and then the counting of the vote began.
At 3:25 o’clock it was generally belibved
that M. Casimir-Perier had received
about 430 votes, which was sufficient to
elect him, there having been about 850
Votes cast, and on the strength of this
belief many deputies and senators
'• basoned to congratulate him.
THE TOTAL VOTE.
The total vote cast was 851, of which 6
were canceled because of irregularities,
leaving 845 valid votes. Os these 451
were cast for Casimir-Perier, 191 for
Brisson, 99 for Dupuy. 59 for Gen. Fev
rier, 27 for Arago and 18 were scattering.
Just before the result of the vote was
read Mm. Dejeante and Michlin at
tempted to deposit in the ballot box a
demand for a revision of the constitution.
The President M. Challemell-Lacour, re
fused to permit the papers to be put in
the box, on the ground that the act would
be unconstitutional. The business of
the national congress finished, the presi
dent declared the body adjourned sine
die.
While tbe members were filing out of
the chamber there were a few cries here
and there of “Vive social revolution.”
The result was announced to the sena
tors and deputies at 4:15 o’clock. At 8:45
o'clock everybody in the hall sat patiently
awaiting the counting of the ballot and
the announcement of the vote. The so
cialists finally became wearied and varied
the monotony by shouting “Vive revolu
tion.”
ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE RESULT.
The impatience of the members and
spectators was becoming almost beyond
endurance when M. Challemel-Lacour,
who had left the chair, entered by the
center aisle, and resuming his place
called upon the members to stand up.
This was a signal for the socialists
and members of the left to re
new their shouts, which they did
by declaring that they would remain
seated. The members of the center stood
up. whereupon the socialists hissed them
and cried out “Lackeys. Lackeys.” This
was more than the members of the cen
ter could stand and they took their seats.
The announcement of M. t'asimir-Perier’s
victory elicted ringing cheers.
M. Dupuy was present when the re
sult of the balloting was read. In the
court yard of the palace a landau drawn
by four horses with four artillerymen as
postillions, was waiting to cohvey the
new president to Paris. M. Challelmel-
Lacour had gone into the president’s
chamber to announce to M. Casimir-
Perier the fact that he had been elected
president of the republic.
PERIER ALMOST OVERCOME.
When the president of the Senate in
formed M. Perier that he had been
elected, the latter’s emotion almost over
came him. and the landau which was to
convey him to Paris and the squadron of
lancers which were to escort him, were
obliged to wait until the newlv-elected
executive had rested sufficiently to re
cover his calmness.
Public satisfaction at the result of the
election is general, and everything is
tranquil. President Perier left Ver
sailles for Paris at 5:50 o’clock. Premier
Dupuy accompanied him. Facing the
new president and the premier in the car
riage were the military commandants of
the. Senate and Chamber. In a landau be
hind the president’s carriage were Min
isters Leygues and Perncare. The pres
ident and his party were . escorted by a
troop of mounted lancers. As the pres
ident was about to drive away, some
one in the crowd threw a bouquet,
tied with the American colors, into
his carriage. The president .took his
departure from Versailles amid the rat
tle of drums and the bows, and cheers of
the crowds, who shouted “Vive le Presi
dent.” “Vive Casimir-Perier,” until the
party were out of sight.
THE RECOUNT.
The recount of the balfots left Casimir-
Perier’s vote unchanged. The votes of
the other candidates, according to the re
count, were as follows: Brisson IW. Du
puy 1)7, Fevrier 53, Arago 22. Scatter
ing votes were cast for Cavaignac, Loubet.
Freycinet, Rochefort, Touissant and
Flourens.
After Challemel-Lacour had read the
form investing Casimir-Perier with the
powers of the presidency he made an
emotional little speech, and then, turning
to the new president, embraced him
heartily. Casimir-Perier wept. He had
not mastered his emotion when a delega
tion of journalists- was admitted to con
gratulate him, but he managed to thank
them warmly, adding:
“Gentlemen, I belong to you. Discuss
me, but never forsret France and the re
public while doing so.”
HOWLS FROM THE SOCIALISTS.
The socialist demonstration after the
decisive vote showed such bitterness as
even the extreme Marxist had rarely dis.
played before. The moment the new
president was proclaimed, Joseph Miche
lin shouted : “That is the vote of a share
holders’ meeting.”
“Shame upon you.”
Aime Lavy howled: “Down with such
action.”
“The figures show that the reactionary
ring has triumphed.”
Michelin paced the aisle waving both
arms, and protested in ear-piercing tones
against the “action of this so-called sov
ereign assembly, which refused to allow
the consideration of a bill for the suppres
sion of the presidency.”
Avez, de Jeante and Clovis Huges be
haved as if bereft of their senses. They
gesticulated, ran from deputy to deputy,
and shouted their approval of Michelin’s
declarations. They became orderly only
from sheer physical exhaustion. As the
calls from the rostrum for closure grew
louder Avez rallied himself to this declar
ation : “I desire to declare that you have
triumphed here by means of a reactionary
coalition, but the republic will triumph
in the name of labor and the people.”
Michelin mounted the rostrum to utter
his final denunciation. “You are usurp
ers,” he cried. “You try to impose your
will upon the people. You wish to be the
masters, but the people are the real
sovereign in France, and they will re
mind you of their power.”
LOOKED LIKE A FIGHT.
The altercations did not end with the
• proceedings of assembly, for the officers
had hardly left their seats before M.
Pelletan, editor of La Justice and Radical
deputy, fell foul of Armand Schrameck,
chief secretary of the prefect of police.
Schratneck assumed a threatening atti
tude, but he was held at bay by Pelle
tan’s friends, and eventually at their re
quest was ejected from the palace b.y the
ushers.
Troops had been massed at the St.
Lazara station to receive the new presi
dent and escort him from the train to
the foreign office. When it was, learned
that he would return in a carriage, they
were marched out to Sevres to meet him.
The appearance of the city was the same
as usual after the news of the elec
tion arrived, but for a slight
crowding of the boulevards and the
streets along the president’s route—via
Serves, the Bois de Boulogne the Arc de
Triomphe, and the Champs Elysee. The
people saluted Casimir-Perier with cheers
and the waving of hats and handker
chiefs. As the president approached the
foreign office on the Qui 1’ Orsay, the
officers removed for the time the
crape from their swords. The
tri-eolor was hoisted over the buildine
and a band played gthe “Marseillaise.”
The reception at the foreign office was
very brief. After it the President re
turned to his apartments in the Chamber
of Deputies. He will preside at the cabi
net meeting to be held to-morrow morn
ing at 8:30 o'clock, and will receive >from
Premier Dupuy before noon the formal
notice of the cabinet's resignation.
M. Casimir-Perier was born in 1847.
Like the lamented President Carnot,
whom he succeeds, he came of a distin
guished ancestry. His great-great grand
father was a notary, living near Greno
ble. who, dying, left a son, Jacques, a
tradesman of Lyons. Th® latter left a
fortune of $125,4)00 to his son, Claude, a
long-headed and enterprising speculator,
who in the troublous days before the rev
olution contrived to amass a colossal cap
ital. part of which he invested in the
splendid Chateau of Vizille. After the
terror he came to Paris, where he helped
to found the Bank of France, and sat in
the corps legislatif. This worthy left
eight sons. It was the fourth of his chil
dren. Casimir, who was destinied to es
tablish the political fortunes of the fam
ily on a prouder basis than heretofore.
He was a man of indomitable energy and
strong but honorable ambition; in person
a giant, with a voice of thunder, a
bitter style of eloquence, and a coarse,
even brutal, manner. He played a con
siderable part in the opposition after the
restoration, and his policy as president of
the council under Louis Philippe is a
matter of history. In 1832 he visited the
cholera hospital with the Due d’Orleans,
father of the Comte de Paris, caught the
infection and died. Auguste, his younger
brother, adopted the baptismal name of
his father as part of his surname, and
was known as Auguste Casimir-Perier.
In 1846 he was returned for one of the di
visions of Paris, and in 1849 he repre
sented the department of the Aube in the
legislative assembly. During the empire
he held absolutely aloof from public
affairs, but in 1871 gave in his adhension
to M. Thiers, who made him minister of
the interior. His death took place in
1876.
His son M. Casimir-Perier, though a
thorough republican, may be regarded as
belonging to the Orleanist school of poli
tics, that school which holds that liberty
stands in need of the corrective of order,
and whose ideal in all things was well ex
pressed by’ the phrase in fashion in the
days of Louis Philippe, the “Juste Mil
ieu. ’ ’ M. Casimir-Perier. in the early por
tions of his career, was conscious that his
ancestral connection with the Orleans
dynasty was not lightly to be ignored. In
1882, when a law was passed excluding all
the members ol the families who had
reigned over France from all civil and
military offices, he showed his sense of
that law of proscription by resigning his
seat as a member of the chamber. His
immediate re-election showed that his
constituents approved his conduct.
During the siege of Paris M. Casimir-
Perier distinguished himself as com
mander of a battalion of Mobiles. He was
mentioned in general orders for one dar
ing feat. He rescued one of his wounded
comrades under very heavy tire in an af
fair in front of the redoubt of Moulin Sa
quet. He is a man of great energy, and
the fact that he appointed M. Raynal to
be his minister of the interior shows that
he is not to be swayed by the clamor of
the radical and revolutionary press, asM.
Raynal. who belongs to the Jewish faith,
is the bete noir of the anti-Semitic and
revolutionary press. M. Casimir-Perier
was elected president of the Chamber of
Deputies in November last, and a fort
night later became prime minister.
santo’s trial, begins july 23.
Lyons, June 27.—The trial of Santo, the
assassin of President Carnot, has been
fixed for July 23.
ALL QUIET AT MARSEILLES.
Marseilles, June 27.—Everything was
quiet here this morning. An anti-
Italian demonstration last night was
promptly suppressed, and no further
trouble is probable.
WEEKLY, (»-TIMES-A-WEEK) $1 AYE AR. 1 A
•< 5 CENTS A COPY. \ Q Qft
I DAILY, $lO A YEAR.
FO/mesl
t 189 A* 3 * n
HILL AND THE INCOME TAX.
The Senator Still In the Van of Its
Opponents.
He Opens the Day’s Skirmish by a Re
iteration of His Charge of Discrimi
nation —Several Amendments to the
Section Voted Down—A Big Kick on
the Paragraph Requiring Corpora
tions to Keep Books.
Washington, June 27.—0n1y five min
utes remained of the morning half hour
of the Senate when a quorum appeared.
At 10:80 o’clock the tariff bill was taken
up, the question being on Mr. Allison’s
amendment offered yesterday to section
59 exempting corporations with a capital
of less than SIOO,OOO.
Mr. Hill was promptly in the vain of
the opposition. He called attention to
the discrimination made in the bill be
tween incomes from investments in cor
porate property and incomes from other
sources. In the latter case, ex
emptions were made to individuals
to the amount of $4,000; but in the former
case there was no such exemption for the
individual who, if he had dividends to any
lesser amount, would have 2 per cent de
ducted from them. He could see no rea
son for such discrimination and supposed
it must be an oversight. An amendment
ought to be prepared, he said, to remedy
that injustice. He would vote for Mr.
Allison’s amendment, if he could get no
better, although that would ‘not accom
plish his own purpose.
ALLISON WITHDRAWS IT.
After Mr. Vest had spoken in opposi
tion to the amendment and Mr. Allison
had the floor, the latter noticing that Mr,
Harris was standing as if preparing to
make a motion, Mr. Allison said: “If the
senator from Tennessee wants to move to
lay my amendment on the table, I will
withdraw.”
“The senator,” Mr. Harris replied in
his usual slow and impressive style, “an
ticipates my object. I rose for that
purpose.”
“Then I withdraw it.”
So Mr. Allison’s amendment was with
drawn.
Several other amendments adding ex
emptions to the tax were offered by Mr.
Perkins of California and Mr. Hill, but
all were rejected.
Mr. Hoar offered an amendment ex
cluding partnerships from the provision
as to corporations. This was agreed to
without division.
Mr. Vest said that the finance com
mittee’s attention had been called to a
peculiar sort of savings bank in Delaware,
run by Quakers, in which the incorpora
tors received no profit or salary and in
which the interest was all paid to the de
positors. The senators from the state
were afraid that the exemptions did not
cover that case; and so he offered an
amendment exempting “such savings
banks, savings institutions or associations
composed of members who do not partici
pate in the profits, and where the interest
or dividends are paid only to depositors. ’*
This was agreed to.
SALARIES EXEMPTED.
The Senate then proceeded to -the con
sideration of the next section of the bill
(62) for the collection of the tax on the
salaries of government officers and em
ployes, members of congress, etc., over
$4,000. The finance committee reported
some formal amendments and one ex
empting from the tax salaries of state,
county and municipal officers.
The committee amendments to section
62 were agreed to.
The,next section was simply a re-en
actment, with some changes, of the duties
of internal revenue collectors and agents.
The various amendments of the -coni
mittee were agreed to, and then section
65 was read—requiring annual reports of
corporations. Several committee amend
ments were agreed to.
Section 06 was then read. It requires
business corporations to keep full, regu
lar and accurate booKs of account, which
shall be kept open to the inspection of as
sessors and assistant assessors.
Mr. Aldrich denounced the paragraph
as outrageous, and Mr. Gray, dem., of
Delaware, denounced it as absolutely
violative of the instincts of the American
people.
Mr. Gray’s speech provoked from Mr.
Vest a sarcastic rejoinder, in which his
allusions to the alliance between Messrs.
Aldrich, Hill, Gray and Chandler, pro
voked much amusement.
No vote was taken on the section or on
the amendments offered to it.
The House joint resolution, extending
for thirty days from June 30, the appro
priations for government expenditures
for the current fiscal year, was received
from the House and laid before the Sen
ate.
Mr. Cockrell moved that it be referred
to the committee on appropriations; but
objection was made by Mr. Hoar and the
joint resolution remains on the Vice Pres
ident’s desk.
The Senate, at 6:30 o’clock, adjourned.
BEATEN TO DEATH BY A MOB.
A Bavisher Leaps Out of a Court
Room Window But is Overtaken.
Spring Valley, 111., Juno27.—There was
a sensation in Justice White’s court yes
terday afternoon, followed by a mad
rush on the part of about 800 enraged
foreigners ’upon the prisoner, William
Pinkerton, who was on trial for an as
sault on Anna Baroski, committed last
Friday. Pinkerton made a leap out
of an open window’, but was soon over
taken and beaten to death by
tbe mob. The rush occurred during the
testimony of the girl, her description of
the outrage committed by Pinkerton in
citing her friends and neighbors to avenge
the wrong. The justice and lawyers
made their escape soon after the trouble
began and Pinkerton was left to his fate.
HANGED TO A TREE.
A Mob Makes Short Work of a Black
Ravlsher.
Columbus, Miss., June 27.—0 n last Sun
day at Hudson, Ala., on the Georgia
Pacific railroad, while nearly the whole
population was at church, Ed White,
colored, entered the house of a respecta
ble white woman, knocked herdown with
a stick, and criminally assaulted her.
The negro was arrested, brought back,
tried, made a full confession of his crime,
and on the way to jail he was forcibly
taken from the officers by a mob and
hanged to a tree.
HERE GOBS ANOTHER ONE.
Brook Haven, Miss., June 27.—George
Linton, colored, who attempted to out
rage the wife of farmer Johnson, in the
lower part of the county, was taken
from the officers by a mob of 300 men and
hanged to the limb on a tree.
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla has done wonders
in curing scrofula. Proofs furnished on
application.—ad.