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\ THE SEMI-WEEKLY JOURNAL.
ATLANTA, GA.
Sousa Mistaken For Railroad Man.
Philadelphia Press.
Apropos of stories of mistaken identity told
tn this column the other day, Sousa tells a good
CBe on htmseif.
He says he »so in the station waiting for a
train, wearing his uniform as usual, because
he makes all hla men do It; therefore, leads
them in example.
A flurried and belated traveler ran by him
aad noticing his blue suit and cap, said: "Has
the * o'clock train pulled out."
*T don't know." answered Sousa in an indif
ferent manner.
"Well, why don't you know?" the man angri
ly shouted; "aren't you a conductor?"
"Tea," answered Sousa.
"Then I'll have you reported. You are Igno
rant and discourteous. A nice conductor you
are!" ,
"But you see I am the conductor of a brass
hand.'* said Sousa as he beamed graciously on
gho furious man
Hl 11 M I HIM 11 MH
“ The Leooard’s Soots”
On the mare flew lifting her proud sen
sitive head higher and higher, while her
heart beat her foaming flanks like a trip
hammer. ’She never slackened her speed
for the ten miles, but dashed up to Ma
jor Dameron’s gate at sundown, just 49
minutes from the time she started. The
prettcher patted her dripping neck.
“Good, Nancy! good! I believe you’ve
got a soul!**
She stood with her head, still high,
pawing the ground.
"Major Dameron, I've driven my mare
here at a killing speed to tell you that
young McLeod and Hose Norman have a
crowd of desperadoes organised to kill old
Rufus Lattimore tonight. You must get
enough men together and get there in
time to stop them. Sam Worth overheard
their plot, knows every one of them, and
there will be a batle if they attempt it."
“My God!" exclaimed the major.
"You haven’t a minute to spare. They
are already loading up on moonshine
whisky.”
"Doctor Durham, this is the end of the
Ku Klux Klan in this county. I'll break
up every lodge in the next 48 hours. It's
too easy for vicious men to abuse if. Its
power is too great Besides its work is
done.”
"I was just going to ask you to take
that step, major And now for God’s sake
get there in time tonight. I'd go with you
but my mare can't stand it."
"I'll be there on time. Never fear.” re
plied the major, springing on his horse
already saddled at the door.
The preacher drove slowly to his home,
the mare pulling steadily on her lines. She
walked proudly into her stable lot, her
head high and fine eyes flashing, reeled
and fell dead in the shafts! The preacher
couldn’t keep back the tears. He called
Dick and left him and Charlie the sorrow
ful task Os taking oft her harness. He
hurried into the house and shut himself
up in his study. .
That night when the crowd of young
toughs assembled at their rendezvous it
was barely 10 o’clock.
Suddenly a pistol shot rang from behind
the schoolhouse, and befcre McLeod and
his crowd knew what had happened 50
white horsemen wheeled into a circle
about them. They were completely sur
prised and cowed.
Major Dameron rode up to McLeod.
"Young man, you are the prisoner of the
chief of the Ku Klux Klan of Campbell
county. Lift your hand now and I'll bang
you In five minutes. You have forfeited
your life by disobedience to my ofders.
You go back to Hambright with me under
guard. Whether I execute you depends
on the outcome cf the next two days' con
ferences with, the chiefs of the township
lodges."
The mrfjor wheeled his horse and rode
home. The next day he efraered every one
of-the 11 township chiefs to report in per
son to him, at different hours the same
day. To each one his message was the
same. He dissolved the order and issued
a perpetual injunction against any divis
ion of the klan ever going on another raid.
There were only a few who could see
the wisdom of such hasty action. The suc
cess had oeen so marvelous, their power
so absolute, it seemed a pity to throw it
all away. Young Kline especially begged
the major to postpone his action.
“It's impossible Kline. The Klan has
done Its work. The carpet-baggers have
fled. The state is redeemed from the in
famies of a negro government, and
have a clean economical administration,
and we can keep it so as long as the white
people are & unit without any secret so
cieties."
“But, major, we ipay be needed again.”
"I can’t assume the responsibility any
longer. The thing is getting beyond my
eontrol. The order is full of wild young
sters and revengeful men. They to
bring their grudges against neighbors
into the order, and when I refuse to au
thorize a raid,'they take their disguises
and go without authority. An archangel
couldn't command such a force.”
Within two weeks from the dissolution
of the klan by its chief, every lodge had
been reorganized. Some of the older men
had dropped out, but more young men
were initiated to take their places. Allan
McLeod led in this work of prompt reor
ganization, and was elected chief Os the
county by the younger element which
now had a large majority.
He at once served notice on Major Dam
eron, the former chief, that if he dared to
interfere with his work even by opening
his mouth in criticism, he would order a
raid, and thrash him.
When the major found this note under
his door one morning, he read and re-read
it with increasing wrath. Springing on
his horse he went in search of McLeod.
He saw him leisurely crossing the street
going from the hotel to the court house.
Throwing his horse's rein to a passing
boy. he walked rapidly to him and, with
out a word, boxed his ears as a father
would an impudent child. McLeod was
so astonished, he hesitated for a moment
whether to strike or to run. He did neith
er, but blushed red and stammered,
“What do you mean, sir?”
"Read that letter, you young whelp!”
The major thrust the letter into his
hand.”
"I know nothing of this.”
"You're * ialr. You are its author. No
other fool tn this county would have con
ceived IL Now, let me give you a little
notice. I am prepared for you and your
crowd. Call any time. I can whip a hun
dred puppies of your breed any time by
myself with one hand tied behind me.
and never get a scratch. Dare to lift your
Unger against me. or any of the men who
refused to go with your new fool's move
ment. and I’ll shoot you on sight as I
would a mid dog." Before McLeod could
reply, the major turned on his heels and
left him.
McLeod made no further attempt to mo
lest the major, nor did he allow any raid
bent onTnurder. The sudden authority
placed in his hands in a measure sobered
him. He Inaugurated a series of petty dev
iltries. whipping negroes and poor white
men against whom some of bls crowd
had a grudge, and annoying the school
teachers of negro schools.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BIRTH OF A SCALAWAG.
The overwhelming defeat of their pets in
the south, and the toppling of their houses
of paper built on negro supremacy,
brought to congress a sense of guilt and
shame, that required action. Their own
agents in the south were now in the peni
tentiary or in exile for well established
felonies and the future looked dark.
They found the scapegoat in these fool
later day Ku Klux marauders. Once more
the public square at Hambright saw the
bivouacs of the regular troops of the Uni
ted States army. Tho preacher saw the
glint of their bayonets with a sense of
relief.
WJth this army came a corps of skilled
detectives, wno set to work. All that was
necessary was to arrest and threaten
with summary death a coward, and they
got all the information he could give.
The jail was choked with prisoners and
every day saw a squad depart for the
stockade at Independence. Sam Worth
gave information that led to the imme
diate arrest of Allan He was the
first man led into the jail.
The officers had a long conference with
him that lasted four hours.
And then the bottom fell out A wild
rtampede of young men fcr the west!
Somebody who held the names of every
man in the order had proved a traitor.
Every night from hundreds of humble
homes might be heard, the choking sobs
of a mother saying goodby in the darkness
to the last boy the war had left her in old
ago. When the goodby was said, and the
father, waiting in the buggy at the gate,
had called for haste, and the boy was
hurrying out with his grip-sack, there was
a moan, the soft rush of a coarse hotne-
THE BEMI-WBKKLY JOURNAL, ATLANTA. GEORGIA, THURSDAY. JULY 81. 1002.
+ <saA/ r EkjJfejagy w'i *
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<WID wiMWi:
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+ “Read that letter, you young whelp!” +
* ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦+* + **+ + 4‘* + + * + * + + * + + * + +
spun drera toward the gate and her
arms were around his neck again!
“I can’t let you go, child! Lord have
mercy! He’s the last!” And the low, piti
ful sobs!
“Come, come, new Ma, we must get
away from here before the officers are
after him!"
“Just a minute!”
A kiss, and then another long and lin
gering. A sigh, and then a smothered
choking cry* from a mother’s broken heart
and he was gone!
Thus Texas grew into the imperial com
monwealth of the south.
• • • • • s
To save appearance McLeod was re
moved to Independence with the other
prisoners, and in a short time released,
with a number of ouiezs against whom
insignificant charges were lodged.
When he returned to Hambrignt the
people looked at him with suspicion.
“How is it, young man,” asked the
preacher, “that you are at home so soon,
while brave boys are serving terms in
northern prisons?”
"Had nothing against me,” he replied.
“That’s strange. When Sam Worth swore
that you organized the raid to kill Rufe
Lattimore." , .
"They didn’t believe him.”
“Well, I’ve an idea that you saved your
hide by puking. I’m not sure yet, but in
formation was given that only the man
in commend of tho whole county could
have possessed."
"There were a half-dozen men who
knew us much as I did. You mustn’t think
me capable of such a thing, Dr. Durham!"
protested McLeod with heightened color.
“It’s a nasty suspicion. I’d rather see a
child of mine transformed into a cur dog,
and killed for stealing sheep, than fall to
the level of such a man. But only time
will prove the issue.”
“I’ve made up my mind to turn over a
new leaf,” said McLeod. ‘l’m sick of
rowdyism. I’m going to ue a law-abiding,
loyal citizen.”
“That’s just what I’m afraid of!" ex
claimed the preacher with a sneer as he
turned and left him.
And his fears were r-oon confirmed.
Within a month the Independence Ob
server contained a dispatch from Wash
ington announcing the appointment of
Allan McLeod a deputy United States
marshal for the district of western North
Carolina, together with the information
that he had renounced his allegiance to
his old disloyal associates, and had be
come an enthusiastic Republicah; and
that henceforth he would labor with
might and main to establish peace and
further tho industrial progress of the
south.
“I knew it! The dirty whelp!" cried the
tho preacher, as he showed the paper to
his wife.
"Now don’t be too hard on the boy, Doc
tor Durham,” urged his wife. "He may be
sincere in his change of politics. You nev
er did like him.”
“Sincere! yes, as the devil is always
sincere. He’s dead in earnest now. He’s
found his level, and his success Is sure.
Mark my words the boy’s a villain from
the crown of his head to the soles of his
feet. He has bartered his soul to save
his skin, and.the skin is all that’s left.”
"I’m sorry to think |£. I couldn’t help
liking him.”
“And that’s the funniest freak I ever
knew your fancy to take, my dear—l nev
er could understand it.”
When McLeod had established his of
fice in Hambright he made special efforts
to allay the suspicions against his name.
His indignant denials of the report of his
treachery convinced many that he had
been wronged. Two men alone, maintain
ed toward him an attitude of contempt.
Major Dameron and the preacher.
He called on Mrs. Durham, and with his
smooth tongue convinced her that he had
been foully slandered. She urged him to
win the doctor. Accordingly he called to
talk the question over with the preacher
and ask him for a fair chance to build
his character untarnished in the commu
nity.
The preacher heard him through pa
tiently. but in silence. Allan was perspir
ing before he reached the end of his plaus
ible explanation. It was a tougher task
than he thought, this deliberate lying,
under the gaze of those glowing black
eyes that looked out from their shaggy
brows and pierced through his inmost
soul.
“You’ve got an oily tongue. It will carry
you a long way in this world. I can’t
help admiring the skill with which you
are fast learning to use it. You’ve fooled
Mrs. Durham with it, but you can’t fool
me,” said the preacher.
“Doctor, I solemnly swear to you I am
not guilty."
“It’s no use to add perjury to plain ly
ing. I know you did it. I know it as well
as if I were present in the jail and heard
you basely betray the men. name by
name, whom you had lured to their ruin."
“Doctor, I swear you are mistaken!”
“Bah! Don’t talk about it. You nauseate
me!"
The preacher sprang to his feet, paced
across the fleor, sat down on the edge of
his table and glared at McLeod for a mo
ment. An then with his voice low and
»♦♦»♦♦♦<»♦ 11111181 »♦ »»♦<
i Bu REV. THOMAS DIXON, JR.
; CoDuriafit 1902
Bu Doubfedau, Page & Co
quivering with a storm of emotion he
said:
“The curse of God upon you—the God
of your fathers! Your fathers in far-off
Scotland’s hills, who would have suffered
their tongues torn from their heads and
their skin stripped inch by inch from their
flesh sooner than betray one of their clan
in distress. You have betrayed a thou
sand of your own men, and you, their
swam chieftain! Hell was made to' con
sume such leper trash!”
McLeod was dazed at first by this out
burst. At length he sprang to his feet
livid with rage. ,
“I’ll not forge| this, sir!” he hissed.
“Don’t forget it!” cried the preacher
trembling with passion as he the
door. “Go or. and live your lie!”
CHAPTER XXIV.
A MODERN MIRACLE.
"Mrs. Durham, the doctor wants you,”
said Charlie when McLeod's footfall had
died away.
"Charlie, deaf, why don’t you call me
‘Mama’—surely you love me a little wee
bit, don’t you?" she asked, taking the
boy’s hand tenderly in hers.
"Yes’m,” he replied hanging his head.
“Then do say Mama. You don’t know
how good it would be in my ears.”
"I try to but it chokes me,” he half
whispered, glancing timidly up at her.
“Let me call you Aunt Margarfet, I
always wanted an aunt and I think your
name Margaret’s so sweet,” he shyly
added.
She kissed him and said, “All right, if
that’s all you will give me.” She passed
on into the library where the preacher
waited her.
“My dear, I’ve just given young McLeod
a piece of my mind. I wanted to say to
you that you are entirely mistaken in his
character. He’s a bad egg. I know alls the
facts about his treachery. He’s as smooth
a liar os I’ve met in years.”
“With all his brute nature, there’s
some good In him,” she persisted.
“Well, it will stay in him. He will never
let it get out.”
“All right, have your way about it for
the time. We’ll see who is right in the
long run. Now I’ve a more pressing and
tougher problem for your solution."
“What is it?"
“Dick."
"What’s he done this time?"
"He steals everything he can get his
hands on.”
“He is a puzzle."
"He’s the greatest liar I ever saw," she
continued. “He simply will not tell the
truth if he can think up a He in time.
I’d say run him off the place, but for
Charlie. He seems to love the'little scoun
drel. I’m afraid his influence over Char
lie will be vicious, but it would break
the child’s heart to drive him away. What
shall we do with him?"
The preacher laughed. “I give it up, my
dear, you’ve got beyond my depth now. I
don’t know whether he’s got a soul. Cer
tainly the very rudimentary foundations
of morals seem ‘lacking. I believe you
could take a young ape and teach him
quicker. 1 leave him with you. At pres
ent it's a domestic problem.”
"Thanks, that's so encouraging.”
Dick was a puzzle and no mistake about
it. But to Charlie his rolling mischievous
eyes, his cunning fingers and his way
ward imagination were unfailing foun
tains of life. He found every bird’s nest
within two miles of town. He could track
a rabbit almost as swiftly and surely as
a hound. He could work like fury w’hen
he had a mind to, and loaf a half day over
one row of the garden when he didn’t
want to work, which was his chronic
condition.
When the revival season set in for the
negroes in the summer, the days of sor
row began for householders. Every negro
in the community oecame absolutely
worthless and remained so until the emo
tional insanity attending their meetings
wore off.
Aunt Mary, Mrs. Durham’s cook, got
salvation over again every summer with
increasing power and increasing degener
ation in her work. Some nights she got
home at 2 o’clock and breakfast was not
ready until 9. Some nights she didn’t get
home at all, and Mrs. Durham had to get
breakfast herself.
It was a hard time for Dick who had
not yet experienced religion, and on whom
fell the brunt of the extra work and Mrs.
Durham's fretfulness besides.
“I tell you what less do, Charlie!” he
cried one day. “Less go down ter dat nig
ger ch’ch, en bus’ up de meetin’! I’se get
tin’ tired er dis.”
“How’ll you do it?"
"J show you somefin’?” He reached un
der his shirt next to his skin, and pulled
out Dr. Graham’s sun glass.
"Where'd you get that, Dick?”
“Foun’ it whar er man lef it.’*He wall
ed his eyes solemnly.
“Des watch here when I turns ’lm in
de sun, I kin set daf pile ere straw er
Are wid It!”
“You mustn’t set the church afire!”
warned Charlie.
"Naw, chile, but I git up in de gallery,
en when ole Uncle Josh gins ter holler en
bawl en r'ar en charge, I fling dat blaze
er light right on hie baF haid, an I eat him
oflre Nho’a you bawnl**
"Dlek, I wouldn't do it.” Mid Charlie,
laughing In aplla of hlffiaeif.
Charlie refused io aooompftny him. But
Dick's mind waa set on the neoMalty of
thia work of reform. So in the afternoon
he clipped off without leave and quietly
made hla way into tho gallery of the ne
gro Baptist church.
The excitement was running high. Un
de Josh had preached one sermon an
hour in length, and had called up the
mourners. At least 60 had come forward.
The benches had been cleared for five
rows back from tho pulpit to give plenty
of room for the mourners to crawl over
the floor, walk back and forth and shout
when they "came through," and for their
friends to fan them.
This open place was covered with wheat
straw to keep the mourners off the bare
floor, and afford some sort of comfort
for those far advanced in mourning, who
went into trances and sometimes lay mo
tionless for hours on their backs or flat
on their faces.
The, mourners had kicked and shuffled
this straw out to the edges and the floor
was bare. Uncle Josh had sent two dea
cons out for more straw.
In th* meantime he was working him
self up to another mighty climax of ex
hortation to move sinners to come for
ward.
“Come on ter glory you pb, po sinners,
en flee ter de Lamb er God befo de
flames er hell swaller you whole! At de
last great day de Sperit ’ll flash de light
er his shinin' face on dis ole parch up
sinful worl', en hit *ll ketch er Are in
er minute, an de yearth *ll melt wid fur
vlent heat! Whar 'll you be den po trem
blin’ sinner? Whar *ll you be when de
flame er de Sperit smites de moon and
de stars wid fire, en dey gin ter drap outen
de sky en knock big holes in de burnln’
yearth? Whar 'll you be when he rocks
melt wid dat heat, en de sun hide his face
in de black smoke dat rise sum de pit?”
Moans and groans and shrieks, louder
and louder filled the air. Uncle Josh paus
ed a moment and looked for his deacons
with the straw. They were just coming up
the steps with a great armful over their
heads.
“What’s de matter wid you breddern!
Fetch on dat wheat straw! Here’s dese
tremblin’ souls gwine down inter de
flames er hell des fur de laker wheat
straw!"
The brethren hurried forward with the
wheat straw, and just as they reached
Uncle Josh standing perspiring in the
midst of his groanihg mourners. Dick
flashed from the gallery a stream of daz
zling llgmt on the old man’s face and
held it steadily on his bald head. Josh was
too astonished to move at first. He was
simply paralyzed with fear. It was alk
right to talk about the flame of the Spirit,
but he wasn’t exactly ready to run into it.
SuddefWy he clapped his hands on the
top of his head and sprang straight up in
the air yelling in a plain everyday pro
fane voice.
“God-der-mighty! What’s dat?"
The brethren holding the straw saw it
and stood dumb with terror. The light dis
appeared from Uncle Josh's head and lit
the< straw in splendor on one of the dea
con’s shoulders. Aunt Mary’s voice was
heard above the mourners’ din, clear,
shrill and soul piercing.
“G-l-o-r-y! G-l-o-r-y ter God! De flame
er de Sperit! De judgment day! Yas Lawd,
I’se here! Glory! Halleluyah!”
Suddenly the straw on the deacon’s
back burst into flames! And pandemonium
broke loose. A weak-minded sinner
screamed:
“De flames er Hell!”
The mourners smelled the smoke and
sprang from the floor with white staring
eyes. When 'hey saw the fire and got their
bearings they made for the open—they
jumped on each others’ back and made
for the door like madmen. Those nearest
the windows sprang through, and when
the lower part of the window was jam
med, big buck negroes jumped on the
backs. of the lower crowd and plunged
through the two upper sashes with a
crash that added new terror to the panic.
In two minutes the church was empty,
and the yard full of crazy, shouting ne
groes. |
Dick stepped from the gallery into the
crowd as the last ones emerged, ran up
to the pulpit and stamped out the fire in
the straw with his bare feet. He looked
around to see if they had left anything
valuable behind in the stampede, and
sauntered leisurely out of the church.
“Now dog-gone ’em let ’em yell!" he
muttered to himself.
(To .be Continued.)
‘Tired, weak, nervops” means impure,
impoverished blood. The nerves must be
fed by pure bhood, which may be had by
taking Hood’s Sarsaparilla, the best blood
purifier. . •••
DOES TOBACCO DISINFECT?
Pros and Cons of the Question Consid
ered Professionally.
Despite the fact that the general public
is continually being warned of the evil
effects which will assuredly follow indul
gence tn the soothing weed, smoking con
tinues in much the same manner as usual.
There are, too, enthusiasts with regard to
tobacco, and who attribute to the weed
all the virtues under the sun. These eulo
gists, of course, are as much in error as
those who deny it any saving grace.
A discussion was raised in an English
day paper of a recent date as to the mer-<
its of tobacco as a disinfectant, and much
interesting matter was brought forward.
The Lancet was called to give, so to
speak, expert opinion, and further infor
mation on the matter was forthcoming.
The belief that tobacco possesses extra
ordinary properties in warding off certain
diseases of a contagious nature is almost
as old as the Introduction of smoking
into Europe. During the great plague,
tobacco was largely used fok this purpose,
and children were encouraged to smoke
as a precautionary measure.
“In 1888,” cays The Lancet, “Dr. Paul
Tassinart of Pisa subjected the germs of
various deadly diseases—such as anthrax
cholera and typhus fever—to the action
of dense clouds of Imprisoned tobacco
smoke, during periods of 100 to 150 hours,
and he <ame to the conclusion that in
most cases, and especially when large ci
gars had been employed as generators,
the development of pathorgenic bacteria
was either partially or wholly arrested.
This experiment, however, by no means
proves the case, for, as The Lancet says,
no one keeps a cigar in his mouth for 100
hours at a time. Workmen in tobacco fac
tories are often pointed to as examples
of the disinfecting properties of tobacco.
It is declared that they are Immune from
epidemic. On the authority of some ex
periments conducted in France, it would
appear that there are some fairly good
grounds for this belief, but the investi
gations have not been carried out to a
passing of any authoritative opinion.
The matter is as yet subjudlce, and will
probably remain so for an indefinite* per
iod. Strong tobacco will keep away in
sects, and certain mild species of mos
quitoes, but that it will render a person
immune to contagion is a theory that will
not commend itself to the common sense
of a sane man.
To Make the Bible Popular.
In the proposed action of a newspaper pub
lished at Pana, HL, there is a suggestion to
the home mission bodies of this country.
The Pana journalist purposes to print the
Bible as a serial. Why should not the mission
ary bodies make arrangements to have the
tame thing done by other newspapers, thus
bringing the scriptures to the dally attention
of hundreds of thousands of people who have
not looked Into a Bible since their Sunday
school days?
There are some people foolish enough to sneer
at the Bible. Such people are the victims of
their religious—or nonreligious—prejudices. For
whatever may be thought of the claims to
divine inspiration made for the book no one
who reads it can deny that It commands a
place among the highest types of English lit
erature. \
"The English Bible," said Thomas Bablng
ton Macaulay, is a book which, if everything
else in our language should perish, would
alone suffice to show the whole extent of Its
beauty and power."
The missionary people could do no greater
service to literature as well as to religion than
by making the Bible a popular rather than an
esoteric book. The Pana man has pointed out
the wa*. ; ■ - :
!Do You |
Want a |
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During the past fourteen years, the Massey JF
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1 We have 175,000.00 caan paid in capital to ■
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months in other schools. We pay students’
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Satisfaction guaranteed by refunding the
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satisfied. We have a method of teaching by
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The Massey Colleges are the GREAT Com
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;♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦»♦♦»> ><< 8 <I M
: Over-Consciousness of the Century, i
J ‘ BY BISHOP WARREN A. CANDLER.
AVE we no’t had enough of
twentieth century talk and
twentieth century things? It
H
seems so.
We have twentieth century books,
twentieth century inventions, twen
tieth century science, twentieth centu
ry men and women, and some people
seem to want a twentieth century
God—an “up-to-date” deity. The twen
tieth century New Testament is in
fact advertised.
Now in all this there are several ele
ments hot over-creditable to the intel
ligence of j present-day talkers.
There is. for one thing, a thinly dis
guised egotism in all of it. Many men
seem to sav: "The planet earth never
had any inhabitants worth speaking
of till we arrived.”
“There were great men before Aga
memnon,” and there were very great
men before our generation. Os the
ages past we may as well admit ‘ there
were giants in those days.”
It is a mark of rawness to hold cheap
all former generations and their
achievements. A truly great soul never
lightly esteems the mighty spirits who
have been before its time. It is only
the pert and puerile who pour con
tempt on ancestors. Their ignorance
gives them an exaggerated conception
of present-day things, and makes them
incapable of viewing events in a true
perspective
Underlying this morbid consciousness
of the century there is a sort of su
perstition that might be appropriate
ly named calendaritis. Some have
talked of the century, as if at a par
ticular moment-—say at the midnight of
December SI, 1900. all movements pre
viously going on stood still, and a new
order of things began. The truth is
great events seem to fall out without
much regard to the calendar. In the
plans of Providence, Christmas, New
Year days, opening centunes and the
like, seem to be pretty much as oth
er days. The sun rose on the first day
of January, 1901‘, without any special
flurry. That ancient orb Is rather used
to centuries and the coming of a new
one does not excite him as it does the
impressible children of a day. ■
It is quite true that our times have
brought many great and valuable
things. In the realm of science as ap
plied to contrivances for enhancing
human comfort and increasing human
wealth much was achieved during the
nineteenth century, and with the re
gard to the same class of things the
twentieth century has made a very
fair beginning. The * applications of
steam and electricity have wrought
industrial revolutions. So also science
as applied to the art of medication has
done much to alleviate human pain,
heal disease, and protect human life.
Biology with its mlscrocope has en
abled men to see forms of life not
visible to former generations, and
to classify previously known forms of
life with a nicer discrimination.
In all. these directions the area of
knowledge has been extended and the
achievements of men have been con
siderable. The work of former gener
ations prepared the way for the ac
complishment of great results in these
fields. But our own generation has
become so intoxicated with pride on
acount of these results that many
imagine that we have solved all prob
lems and that we now understand all
mysteries. Science has become almost
a fetich with some. To say of a ques
tion that “the scientists tell us this
or that is so” is with a certain class
of minds to end all discussion. It is
the tashlon to believe the scientists
have settled everything, and weak peo
ple fear nothing so much as being
out of the fashion.
Now, while allowing most generous
ly for all that modern science has
really achieved in the directions in-
in the foregoing paragraphs,
it remain? true that neither nineteenth
century science nor twentieth century
science leiows no more about some
other matters than did the ancient
astrologers and alchemists.
Here for example is the matter of
life as to its essence and origin. What
does modern science know about that
matter? Not a whit more than did
Lucretius-or Democritus. The assump
tion that we know any more than the
ancients at this point is a piece of
gross ignorance and pretentious ego
tism.
The men of our time who have treat
ed of the subject have invented some
phrases to describe the problem and
these facile phrases are of graceful
form and easy utterance; but when
examined they mean absolutely noth
ing. Some years ago Mr. John Tyndall,
for example, announced that he had
found in matter “the promise and po
tency of every form and quality of
life,” and forthwith a sycophantic mul
titude of amateurs in physics sent up
vociferous acclamations over what
they foolishly Imagined Mr. Tyndall
had found. The truth is he had found
nothing; he had only formed a phrase.
Matthew Arnold's moonshine about
"Sweetness and light” is just as sub
stantial a discovery as that which Mr.
Tyndall claimed he had found. He
knows no more about matter than any
of the rest of us, and he knows no
moro about life as to its origin than
does a rag picker on the street. The
nighest approach that science has
made to a demonstration on this sub
ject is the conclusion that there is no
such thing as spontaneous generation,
and that proposition does not lead in
the direction of Mr. lyndflll’s alleged
discovery to the effect that he had
found in matter “the promise and po
tency of every form and quality of
•, life-”
Indeed Mr. Tyndall at one time
seemed inclined to agree with Bas- I ’
tian that spontaneous generation was |
possible; but some hot bottles forced !
him to abandon an hypothesis which J
he evidently desired to set forth as 1
true, and which if true would have I
gone forth to sustain his discovery
about matter and life.
More recently Ernst Haeckel has put
forth a book with the high sounding
title, "The Riddle of the Universe at,
the Close of -the Nineteenth Century.” ;
The half-educated will doubtless exult I
over its appearance as if he had real- I
ly solved “the riddle of the universe.” I
whereas he has solved absolutely
nothing. A more bold piece of unsup
ported dogmatism and scientific bigotry }
it would be difficult to conceive.
Through twenty chapters of truculent
egotism he struts to reach at last the
conclusion that what he calls his
“monistic philosophy” has shattered fl- y
nallj and forever the dogmas of “the r
personality of God, the Immortality of ’’
the soul, and the freedom of the will’’—
and that, forsooth, solves the riddle
of the universe! What a solution! If
that be the answer to the problem, I
there does not appear to have been V
any adequate reason for ever working I
on the question. What is the use of j
seeking truth if the will is not free to 1
Why. suffer pain and severe alckncaa
from Bowel Complaints, when ATW
NOLD'S BALSAM stops one and cur&B
the other. It has been successfully used|
for 50 years. Warranted to give satisfacM
tlon or money refunded by Brannen
Anthony, Atlanta, Ga.
AMERICAN TIP TAKERS.
Once Sturdy Independence That If
' Fast Wearing Off.
■
Brooklyn Eagle.
Firmly established as the tip system iff
in American cities it still gives the counj
try man a distinct shock to go back to hid
native hills and find the fingers of native*
closing eagerly on gratuities. He does)
not mind tipping a French or Italian, oil
even an English waiter, but when a pretJ
ty school ma'am, whose people have Uvea
on the soil for generations, but who has
turned herself into a waitress in the zujnd
mer hotel, either to help through colj
lege or to set up a piano at home, takeg
a tip as naturally as if she had been born,
to it, a good American is likely to believd
that the principles of his country are be-,
ing undermined and that there is no sucig
ideal as equality left.
The most shocking case, so far as thfl
pervlslon of American ideas goes was re«
cently encountered on the observation cal
that runs across the Crawford notch.
The writer was passing through for the
first time, conscious that many of the
famous points were all Greek to him.
asked a question or two when a finaf
athletic brakeman stepped forward with,
information. He attached himself to th*
questioner’s party, and thereafter not sot
much as a waterfall was mlfised. It FMj
plainly a case of working the traveler*
for a tip and the work was beautifully
done. The brakeman knew everything;
and imparted information worth more tai
the recipients than the tip
so there was no complaint on that scores
But here was a big, husky
who very likely was entitled to belong
to all the socities of sons of things which
have been invented, yet, who had intekj
ligence enough to speak in town meetinn
or to be a select man of his town, eager-1
ly perverting the gracious American.
spirit of obligingness for a paltry
dollar. By the time we have as maim
show places as England we shall have de4
veloped the show place manner and thd
born courier who would rather “coo,” to;
quote Flipper in “The Runaway. Gfri.’M
than work. Environment is mightier thn
principle and constant dropping will weag
away the sturdiest independence.
Mixed.
She—OlThere’s Mr. Sothron. We was here lsM|
summer and he used to sing darky songs so
delightfully and with such a perfect dialect, j
He—He used to, but he pigys golf now, yoiA
know.
She—And has he neglected his singing 00,
that account?
He—WelL the other night he started to singl-
“I wish I was in Dixie
Hoot mon! Hoot moai”
SUBSCRIPTION GIVEN
FOR TOBACCO TAGS
The tags of the following brands of to
baccos manufactured by Traylor,
A Co., of Danville, Va., will be redeemed:
In subscriptions to our Semi-Weekly: -
Plumb Good. JfT
Bob White.
Good WIIL * ■
iiigh Life. , }
Natural Leaf.
Patrick Henry.
Right of Way. 2 ''X
Silencer’s SpeclaL
By saving the tags of the aoove brand*
(containing the name of Traylor, Spencer,
& Co.’) you can realize two-thirds of one:
cent for each tag in subscription to The
Semi-Weekly Journal, as follows: 75 tag*-
will pay for six months and 150 tags will
pay for twelve months’ subscriptipn. ;
This amounts to six eents per pound oir
tobaccos containing nine tags to the pound
in payment for. subscription to The Semi-
Weekly Journal.
Traylor. Spencer & Co.'s tobaccos are
sold direct from factory to best merchant*
in all southern states.
The above emntioned tags will be re
deemed in payment fjr subscriptions to
January 10, 1904.
Address all tags with your name and P,
O. address direct <.O The
Jojjrpal, »<■ .r ■ 1— -
