Savannah weekly news. (Savannah) 1894-1920, June 28, 1894, Image 1

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■L .Jr ( 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.