The Sunday gazette. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1878-18??, October 06, 1878, Image 1

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HtLTNTAx£A., SUNDAY, QCT XIw?]COMING BATTLES’ l"’* THE GAZETTE MEN AMONG THE POLI '* TICIANS. _ Our Home District The Blazing Seventh —Harris’ Walk-over iu the Fourth—The County Races— *- s>ws From All Quarters —A Glance V at the Future. HAMMOND AND ARNOLD. The campaign of the Fifth District has been focussed in Fulton for the past week. Both sides seemed to appreciate the neces sity of attending to the 5,000 votes that will be cast in this county. Last Saturday’s bar (becue at Buckhead seemed to show the Ham mond men that there was work to do at home, and they have spent a week in doing it. A i right smart tussle occurred at Brooklyn on Wednesday night, and a field battle was set ~ for Saturday night. HAMMOND HAS GAINED STEADILY every day. He has improved wonderfully in political speaking, having pretty well ridden himself of the dry court manner, and taken on a popular style. Everytime the candidates meet. Hammond makes votes. His unquestionable superior- 1 ity over Arnold is so clearly demonstrated ■ that none but the most hide-bound partisans . can stand the comparison. The canvass is also exposing the weakness of the Arnold movement, Itnd showing that there is no bot tom in it. lhe people are finding out that Hammond stands on quite as green a green back platform as Arnold, and being a much ■ abler man, can do more for the cause. THE LOWER END OF THE DISTRICT is literally solid for Hammond. The whites I cannot be divided, and they will control the i negroes. There is still some disaffection in Clayton and Spalding, with a taint in DeKalb and Fayette. Gen. Gordon will speak in three of these counties. We are stronger than ever convinced that I Arnold will not carry a single county in the j district, and that Hammond will get from 500 to 2,000 majority in Fulton county. His : general majority will run from 3,000 to 9,000. : THE HIGH OLD SEVENTH. There are no new developments in the I Seventh, beyond the fact that Gen. Gordon has taken the stump for Lester, and sets a tidal wave in motion. There is no man in | Georgia of Gen. Gordon’s personal popular ity. He is universally beloved. He has had I thousands at every appointment to hear him, and has struck sledge-hammer blows. The Felton papers have begun to abuse him in a most shameful manner, which has aroused his friends to vigorous action. Gen. Gordon will make several speeches yet in the Sev enth. His addresses are masterly and con vincing appeals for harmony and Democracy. ADVICES FROM THE DISTRICT. “ Rome, Oct. 11th. —In reply, will say that ! loyd will give Lester 500 majority at. least ■ figures. This will be a change of 693 from Felton. It may go to 800 majority. Tn Chattooga the majority will be increased 250 to 300 votes. I know nothing reliable from Polk.” - Marietta, Oct. 10th.—-Of bourse, it is sale to bet that Cobb will go for Lester. It cannot give him less than 300 majority, and j it may give 700. It gave Felton about 200 majority in 1876. sou may rely upon this.” ' A gentleman from Marietta, who knows the inside of the track, says: “ Gordon’s coming into the district will not elect Lester, because he was elected before. Gordon has _ “hanged hundreds of votes and created un- ! 'jSSßgfleled enthusiasm, but the fight was whipped before*he came. How? i n.» • Lester will gain 300 votes in Murray, 200 in ( Dade, 300 in Walker, 300 in Chattooga, 150 in Catoosa and 150 in Paulding. Belton will . lose 800 in Bartow and 600 in Cherokee. This is a change of 2,900 votes. Besides this, ' Floyd will give us a change of 500, and Cobb nearly as much. Polk is uncertain, while Haralson and Whitfield show few changes. Gordon has not been thoroughly worked, but we hope it will give us a gain of several hun dred. Lester'cannot be beaten!" There is still three weeks of work in the Seventh, and things may be changed, but we do not well see how Felton can make it. The betting is very heavy, and is usually even. THE FOURTH DISTRICT. In this district matters have been very much simplified by the retiracy of Col. R. J. Moses. This movement will consolidate the opposition to CoL Harris on Mr. Henry Per sons. Col. Harris is, however, very confident of a re-election, and the chances seem to favor him very decidedly. He was in the city this week, and says that he feels sure of carrying every county except Talbot, and possibly Coweta and Harris. His election is almost one of the certainties. THE NINTH DISTRICT. The friends of Mr. Speer in the 9th are showing more spirit in the canvass, and are very hopeful of the result. It is conceded on all sides that Speer will carry Habersham, Pickens, Fannin, Union, Franklin, Hall and Banks. His friends claim Clarke, Towns, Oconee, Jackson and Morgan, and claim his election by from 500 to 1,500 majority. Mr. Rucker, who has been doing excellent work for Billups, claims that Speer will be beaten about 2,000 votes. The race is quite uncertain. An Atlanta man who didn’t think so was taken up the other day in Athens on a bet of SSO, even, he backing Billups. Both candidates are hard at whrk, canvassing every day. ABBOTT OR ROACH. The legislative race in the country shows up strong for Abbott. Mr, Roach, by openly proclaiming himself for Arnold, has alienated Hammond’s friends, who will center on Ab bott. Abbott is developing a very great personal popularity, and will poll a large number of greenback votes. If he only gets Hammond’s votes, however, he will be handsomely elected. He is a much abler man than Dr. Roach, and will take a better stand in the Legislature. The people know this fact, and will show it by their votes. Dr. Roach is an indomitable worker, but he has been beaten, and can be beaten again, and Abbott is going to do it. This is the season when the girl, whose stdrn father has kicked her lover out-doors, packs up a few things, writes an eight-page letter to her mother, drops a clothes-line from her chamber window, and at midnight, when silence reigns, raises the sash, sees how dark it is, and —jumps into bed as fast as she can. A grey hair was espied among the raven locks of a charming young lady. “Oh. pray pull it out, ” she exclaimed. ‘lf I pull it out ten more will come to the funeral replied the one who made the unwelcome discovery. “ Pluck it ont. nevertheless, ” said the dark haired damsel: “it’s no consequence how many come to the funeral, provided they all come in black. ” “ Nothing. " says the Bazar, “ looks sweeter in a little girl than a white muslin princess dress. ” Doesn’t it, old lady ? If you will just happen around here some time when our voung man man is looking his sweetest ona little girl of seventeen years old, you will blush for the tame, expressionless stupidity of a muslin dress. And we’ll leave it to the little girl herself, which of the two looks sweeter on her. “SMALL JANE.” 1 THE STORY OF a LITTLE HEROINE 1 Bow a T«ung Lire Struggled fliwtgi’ : Martyrd >m an Starvation to iti Duty. j, ’ RY H. w, C. Atlanta, Ga., October 8. hi nee my experience with the ease of “ Sal- I lie. I feel a hesitation in presenting a new heroine to the attention of the public. ,j You see, Ido not mind the real sorrow that I experienced when my sincere efforts to im prove the condition of this child same to naught. But I was staggered and sickened I by the fact that most of my friends were re joiced at her downfall. I do not remember anything that gave more genuine joy to the town than the relapse of this wretched girl into the slums from which I she had been lifted. It was the occasion of general hilarity—this falling back of an immortal soul into Death—this terrible spec | taele of a child staggering blindly from sun light into shame. I was poked in the ribs facetiously. A perfect shower of chuckles fell on my ear. Jt was the joke of the sea son —this triumph of the Devil over the body !of a girl. One mad young wag, who, with a . keen nose for a joke, followed her into her haunts of crime, came back, his honest face : convulsed with laughter, and bearing on his • lips a statement from her, to the literal effect j that “ I was a d—d fool.” I was staggered, I say, at the enjoyment created by the downfall of this girl. For L,y-1 self, I can hardly imagine a more pitiful sight than her childish figure, as with faee averted , and hands raised, blinded by the white light • ’ of virtue and bewildered -by her new condition, | , she slipped back, in despair, to her old shame. ! 1 may be a “ d—d fool,’ but I cannot find the | heart to laugh at that. MY FRIEND AND 1. I don’t know how it is, but I have a mania for looking into cases of this sort. It is not phi- I lanthropy, with me; it is a disease. I At the editorial desk, I sit opposite a young I man of a high order of mind. He makes it a point to compass the prob lems of nations. I dodge them. He has . settled, to his own agreement, every Euro pean problem of the past decade. Those I problems have settled me. He soars —I j i plod. Once in awhile, when be yearns ! ■ for a listener;- he reaches down for my ’ scalp, and lifts me up to his altitude, where • I shiver and blink, until his talented fingers I relax, and I drop home. It delights him to ■ adjust his powerful mind to the contempla tion of contending armies—l swash around with the swarm that hangs about me. His hero is Bismarck, that phlegmatic mira cle that has yoked impulse to an ox, and hav ing made a chess-board of Europe, plays a quiet game with the Pope. My hero is a ■ blear-eyed sot, that having for four years ! waged a gigantic battle with Drink, and alter nated between watery Reform and positive I I remens, is now playing a vague and losing I game with Spontaneous Combustion. My 1 I friend discusses Bismarck’s projects with a i vastness of mind that actually makes his dis- i course dim, and I slip off to try my hero’s I temper, and see whether I shall have him ' wind his intoxicated arms about my neck and i envelop me in an atmosphere of Whisky and ■ Reform, or fall recumbent in the gutter, his I weak but honest face upturned to the sky, and his moist, white hand working vaguely up- I wards from his placid breast, in token of ab ject surrender. Bismarck is a Bigger man than Bob. But I can t help thinkingthat Bobisengaged in the most desperate and thrilling conflict. Anyhow, I had rather see his watery eyes grow clear and his paroxysmal arms grow steadfast, than to see Bismarck wipe out every potentate .in Europe. It’- a gr».-.-<. fL; nc - < o .. watch the conflicts of kings, and See nations i embattled rushing against each other. But there are greater and deeper conflicts waged in our midst every day, when the legions of despair swarm against stout hearts, and Hun ger and Suffering storm the citadel of human lives! But I started to tell you of my new heroine. Her name is Jane. She presented herself one morning about three months ago. A trim, slender figure, the growth of nine years. It was such a small area of poverty that_l felt capable of attending to it myself. But I remembered that small beggars usually represent produc tive but prostrated parents and a brood of children. The smaller the beggar the larger the family. I therefore summoned the good little woman who guides my household affairs. She claims to be an expert in beggars. She has certain tests that she applies to all comers. Her fundamental rule is that all applicants are entitled to cold bread upon first call. After this she either grades them up to cake and preserves, or holds them to scraps- I remember that she kept Col. Nash on dry biscuit for thirteen months, while other appli cants have gone up to pie in three visits. I never felt any hesitation in taking her judg ment after that, for of all wheedling mendi cants Col. Nash, the alleged scissors grinder, takes the lead. But Jane was not a beggar. She carried on her arm a basket. It was filled with some useless articles that she wanted to sell. Would the lady look at them ? Oh! of course! They were bits of splints embroidered with gay worsted. What were they for? Why, she didn’t know. She just thought some one might buy them, and she needed some money so badly. “Who is your mother?” “I haven’t any. She is dead. I have a father, though.” “What-does he do?” “He’s sick most of the time. He works when he is well.” “What’s his name?” “Robert 1” (Saints! My “Bob!” Sick indeed! The weak rascal!) Jane was asked in, and I began to investi -1 gate. 1 learned that this child was literally ' alone in the world. She had a sister, a puny two-year-old, and a drunken father—my flabby friend. They lived in a rickety hovel, out of which the last chair had been sold to pay the rent. The mother, a year an invalid, had been accustomed to work little trifles in splints and worsted. She dying, the child picked up the splints, and worked grotesque baby fancies in wood and worsted. She had no time for weeping. Her hunger dried her eyes. The cooing baby by her side, crying for ! bread, made her forget the dead mother. So ■ she fashioned the splints together and with a brave heart went out to sell them. Bob reformed at the bed-side of his dying wife. Possibly at that moment the angels that had come to guide the. woman home swept away the mist of the man s debauch, and gave him a glimpse of the pure life that I lay behind. Certain it is that his moist, un | certain hands crept vaguely up the cover till I they caught the wasted cheeks of his wife, and his shaggy head bent down till his quivering I lips found her’s. And the poor wife, yield i ing once more to the love that had outlived I shame and desertion, turned her eyes from i her children and fixed them on her husband. , Ah! how this earthly hope and this earthly I love chased even the serenity of Heaven from her face, and lighted it with tender rapture! I How quickly this drunkard supplanted God in the dying woman’s soul! “ Oh. Bob ! my darling!” she gasped, and raising her face i towards him with a masterful yearning, she died. “Mother didn't seem to know we were ' there after father came,” Jane told me. And I I wondered if the child had not been hurt. ■■l • n —.------ - - - I . _ Mil -■ fTR • jB- - r J- ATLANTA, GEORGIA, SUND.& MORNING, OCTOBER 6, 1878. Vol. 1. that all her months of patient love and watch- ■ ing had been forgotten in a tempest of love for a vagabond husband that had wrought nothing but disaster and death. i After the funeral through which he went, in a dazed sort of stupor, Bob got drunk. I j don’t know why or how. He seemed tenderer : since then than before. I noticed that he re formed oftener and got over it quicker. A piece of crape that Jane bad fixed about his hat seemed to possess sacred properties to ■ him. When he touched it and swore absti nence, he generally held out two or three days. One night, as he lay in the gutter, a I cow, full of respect for his person, and yet ■ unable to utterly control her hunger, chewed i his hat. Since then he seemed to have lost I his moorings, and drifted about on a current | less drunk. He was always kind to Jane and the little biddie. In his maudlin way he would caress I them, and cry over them, and reform with them, and promise to work for them. Even when he ate their last crust of bread, he ac companied the action with a sort of fumbling pomposity that robbed it of its horror. He never did it without promising to go out at once and bring back a sack of flour. Onee he went so high as to promise four sacks. So I that the child in love like her mother with the ■ old rascal, and like her mother fresh always in faith, was rather rejoiced than otherwise when he ate the bread. Did he bring the flour? "Why, how could he? They had to bring him home. So of course I did not blame him. Poor father!” I must do Bob the justice to say that he never earned a cent in all these days that he did not intend giving to Jane. Os course he never did it, but I desire him to have the credit of his intention. If the Lord held the | best of us strictly to performance and ruled out intention, we wouldn't be much better in I his sight than Bob is in ours. ‘ One day I was sitting behind a window , looking at Jane, who stood in the kitchen j door. Her oldish-looking, chipper little face was turned straight to me. It was a pretty I face. The brown eyes were softened with ' suffering, and fear and anxiety had driven all color from her thin cheeks. I noticed that her mouth was never still. Though she was . alone and silent, her lips quivered and trem- I bled all the time. At times they would break : into a dumb sob. Then she would draw them firmly together. Again they would twitch convulsively in the terrible semblance of |a smile. Then in that pretty, feminine way she would pucker them together. Long suffering had racked the child until she was all awry, and her nerves were plung ing through her tender frame like devils. “Jane, were you ever hungry?” “Sir!” and she started painfully, while her of scarlet into Ker cheek's. She was a proud little body and never talked of her sorrows. May the Lord forgive me for having re peated the question. “ Sometimes, sir, when I couldn’t sell any thing. Last Saturday we had only some bread for dinner. We never had anything else till Sunday night. I wouldn’t have minded it then, but Mary cried so for bread that I went out, and a lady that I knew gave me some things.” Now, think of that. From a crust at Sat urday noon, on nothing till Sunday night. Os all the abundant marketing of Sat urday evening; of all the roasts, and loaves, and cakes; of all the luxuries of Sunday breakfast and dinner, not a crumb for this poor child. While we were dressing our chil dren for their trip to Sunday-school, or their romp over the hills, this poor child, gnawed by hunger, deserted by her drunken father, holding a starving baby, sat crouched in a hovel, given up to despair and hopelessness. And that, too, within sound of the bells that made the church-steeples thrill with music, and called God’s people to church 1 A friend who had heard Jane’s storj’ had given me three dollars for her. I gave it to her, and told her that as her rent was paid, she could with this lay in some provisions. She was crying then, but she dried her eyes and hurried off “ Will you please come here and look?” called a lady whose call I always obey, about an hour afterward. I went, and there stood Jane, flushed and happy. “ I declare I am astonished at this child !” said the lady. And therewith she displayed Jane’s pur chases. A little meal and meat had been sent home. The rest she had with her. First, there was a goblet of strained honey ; then a bundle of candy “for the baby;” a package of tea “ for father,” and a chip straw hat, with three gayly-colored ribbons, “ for her self.” And that’s where the money had , gone! “ I am just put out with her,” said the ar bitress of my affairs, after Jane had gathered up her treasures and departed. “To waste i her money like that! I can imagine how the poor, half-starved child couldn’t help buying the honey-goblet; 1 should die myself if I didn't have something sweet; but how in the world she came to buy that hat and ribbons I can’t see I” < Ah I blue-eyed woman ! There’s a yearn in the feminine soul stronger than hunger. There’s a passion there that starvation cannot conquer. The hat and ribbons were bought in response to that craving. The hat, 111 bet thee, was bought before the honey—aye, be fore the meal or meat “ Can’t understand it?” Then, my spouse, I’ll explain: Jane is a woman ! I must confess that I was pleased at the misdirection of Jane's funds. Have you ever had a child deep in a long-continued stupor from fever ? How delighted yon were then when, tempted by some trifle, he gave signs of eagerness ! So I was rejoiced to see ! that the long years of suffering had not ■ crushed hope and emotion out of this girl’s i life. | The tea and the candy showed that her i affections, working up to the father and drawn :to the baby, were all right. The honey gave . evidence that the fresh impulses of childhood i had not been nipped and chilled. The hat j and ribbons—best and most hopeful purchase of all—proved that the womanly vanity and love of prettiness still fluttered in her young , soul. Nothing is so charming and so femi nine in woman as the passion for dress. ■ Laugh at it as we may, I think men will agree . that there is nothing so pathetic as a young woman out of whom all hope of fine appear- DEVOTED TO GOSSIP AND LETTERS. ance has been pressed. A gay ribbon is the : sign in which woman conquers. I wager rtmt ; Eve made a neat, many-colored thing of fig leaves. But to return to Jane. I know that this desultory sketch should be closed with something unusual. Jane should die or get married. But she’s too young for either. And so her life is just running on as ever. She plods the streets as she do. She has quit selling the flaming scraps she used to sell, and now knits her young but i resolute brow over crochet work, which sbJ sells at marvellous prices. Her path is with more sunshine than ever before, and q.t . Sunday-school she is as smart a little w-omaji as can be seen. If the shadow of a stagger ing figure, that falls so often across .be; course, could be lifted, she would have littje else to grieve- over. Not that she complains of this—-not a bit of it. “ Poor father is sick so much. How can he be expected to work?” And so she goes on, with her woman’s nature clinging to him closer than ever; even as tlKc ivy clings to the old ruin. Hiding his shame from the world, wrapping him in the pleni tude of her faith, and binding up his shattered resolves with her heart strings. And as for Bob: I am strongly tempted to tell a lie, and say that he is either sober or dead. But he is nei ther. He is the same shiftless, irresponsible fellow that I have known for three years. His face is heavier, his eyes are smaller, his nose redder, his flesh more moist .than ever. But' in the depth of his debauch there seems to have been winged some idea of the excellence of Jane’s life, and the fineness of her martyr dom. He catches me anywhere he sees me, and falling on my shirt-front, weeps copious tears of praise and pop-skull, while talking of her. He swears by her. By the way, I must do him justice. Yes terday he came to me very much affected. He was white-lipped, and trembling, and hungry. He had spent the night in the gutter, and the policeman who was scattering the disinfect ing lime, cither careless or wise beyond his kind, had powdered him all over. He seemed to be terribly in earnest. He raised his tre.r bling hand to his hat and touched the pie. ■ where the erape used to be, and swore that fat intended to reform, for good and all. “S’ei; me Jane!” he said. 1 have not seen him since. I hope that tlw iron has at last entered his soul and will hold him steadfast. Ha! that sounds like him stumbling up the steps now. 'JHey! he has rolled back to the bottom ! He»e he c'6mes I again. That must be him’ “ OF-^-ourse!' BOOKR AND AUTHC 'S. J Chatty Notes of the Famous Literary Folks- jJ-TTT- Scott s novels. Edward Eggleston’s “Roxy” has gone to a second edition. “The College Book,” an illustrated history of twenty-four of the leading American col leges and universities, will be out this fall. French papers say there is but little doubt but that Victor Hugo is insane, although his friends, try to conceal the fact. He still writes. The next number of The Nineteenth Cen tury will contain an article from Mr. Ar chibald Forbes, narrating his experience in Cyprus. The Latin poems of Leo XIII. are to be published in Spain with translations into Spanish of Signor Bonghi’s “Leo XIII. and Italy.” “Peep of day,” the most successful juve nile book of Mrs. Favell Lee Mortimer, who has just died in England, had a total sale of 1,250,000 copies. The October number of the Atlantic Monthly has been reprinted to meet the demand created by the striking article on "Certain Dangerous Tendencies in American Life. Tennyson has written, or.at lea; sis writing, a new idyll, "The Daughter of Dervarghal,” founded on a romantic passage in Irish his tory, and having its scenery and incidents wholly in Ireland. It was to study the ground that the laureate recently visited the green island. A Dublin critic reviews a book, and then says in a postscript: "Passages that 1 con sider to be unsuitable for the perusal of little boys and girls are to be found in pages 61, 63, 64, 138, 1 17, 148, 151, 156, 221, 223, 212, 243, 314, 343.” Little boys and girls will thus be saved much trouble. American writers are looking up in Eng land. Bret Hart has one of his dialect stories in Belgravia ; "Mark Twain’s” articles are regularly reprinted in London; W. W. Story is a regular contributor to Blackwood ', Henry James, Jr., E. S. Nadal, Mrs. Louise Chan- dler Moulton, Rev. Leonard W. Bacon, and Mrs. Bennett, are on the writers in Macmil lan's; Bayard Taylor and Edgar Fawcett are writing poetry for the English Magazines. The New York Evening Post says that the Bryant-Duyckniek Shakspeare, a work on which these two eminent scholars spent the best part of their later years, will not be published for some time to come. Their pur pose was to furnish “the most perfect and at the same time the most superbly made popu lar edition of Shakspeare which has ever been published, and to that end both money and labor have been spent upon it without stint.” The text is founded upon that of the folio of 1623, which has been followed very closely, except in those cases where the readings in the later folios and quartoes are manifestly improvements. The illustrations are to be the best of which modern art is capable. The costumes and architecture of the times and countries in which the plays and poems are placed are to be accurately reproduced; and everything that can be done to make the let ter-press attractive and faultless is to be pro vided for before the work is begun. These evenings are cool enough to get an arm and shoulder under a pretty girl’s shawl, if she’ll let y T ou. Ohio girls discovered that they would re move freckles, and it was all very nice until they further ascertained that it would also bring out pimples and ring-worms. Even sour milk won’t make angels of women. “ The girls of our days are very badly edu cated,” said one of the members of committee on education to the Bishop ot Gloucester.. “That’s very true,” retorted his lordship; “ however, there is one consolation —the boys never find it out.” A young lady, hesitating for a word in de scribing the character of a rejected suitor.l said : “ He is not a tyrant, not exactly domi- ■ neering, but—” “ Dogmatic,” suggested her I i friend. " No, he has not dignity enough for i that; I think pupmatic would convey my meaning admirably. ’ Lady (calling on intimate friend, who is j unmarried, and has only one servant): “ Is your mistress at home, Sarah ? Sarah: “No, i mum.” Lady: “Then will you kindly say i that I called to see if she could come and , spend this evening with us?” Sarah: “ Oh, no, mum, I’m sure she can’t, cause it s my turn out.’ i THE WICKED WORLD. the NOTABLE CRIMES AND CASUALTIES OF THE WEEK. ti ‘ A Father and his Son—A Lynching in Ohio—Au In formal Hanging in Tennessee —“ Who’s Managing this Hanging ? H A TRYING POSITION. | The Cincinnati Enquirer. i New York, October 7.—James McManus and his son, James McManus, jun., quarreled on Easter Sunday morning last, in their home at 537 West Forty-second street. Mrs. Mc- Manus, the mother, interfered, pushed her husband into the bed-room, closed the door and stood outside until all was quiet within. T hen she entered the bed room. A moment afterward young McManus heard his mother cry out. lie entered and saw his mother ly ing on the floor with a gaping wound on her I head. She died soon afterward. In the trial to-day, after being told to testify, the young I man said : “It is hard for you, gentlemen, to make me go against my- own father” —his [ eyes filling and his face flushing—“partieu ; larly' as I know in my heart that he would not I have hurt one hair of her head. He was cra zy. The eyes of Judge Gildersleeve, the jurors, the spectators, and even Mr. Lyon, were moist. Judge Gildersleeve told young McManus that he must answer or be held guilty’ of con tempt of court. Mr. Lyon gently repeated .the question. “I would rather not answer,” young McManus replied, with a tinge of firm ness in his voice. Mr. Lyon repeated the question. “ I would rather be held for con tempt of court than answer.” young McManus exclaimed. Mr. Lyon seemed loth to move that he be committed for contempt, and even moie gently pressed the question. “I don’t remember,” blurted out young McManus. Then Mr. Lyon unrolled a blood-stained spade, that apparently- had not been struck into the earth, and asked young McManus whether he did not see his father standing over his mo ther with the spade in his hand, but young McManus declined to answer. Then he was permitted to quit the stand, Mr. Lyon being disinclined to move that he be punished. Officer Thomas Dalton, of the Forty-sev enth street police, testified that young McMa- ■ nus told him that the elder McManus struck Mrs. McManus with the spade just as he opened the door. “WHEN YOU HEAR ME!" Dispatch to the Chicago Times. Eaton, Ohio, October 7.—One year ago Darke county vigilantes summoned a sus pected thief from his house at Palestine, and when standing in front of his wife, shot him dead. Several other men were warned by the Vigilance Committee to leave the county. About a month ago Stephen Whade, a col ored man, fifty years of age, received notice to leave Darke county within thirty days or suffer the vengeance of the committee, as he was strongly suspected of being a member of the same gang of thieves so terribly punished <a year ago. cj-. —:... t ~iw the lawless band. His two sons armed them selves and swore they would stand by the old man. About ten o’clock last Saturday night there was an unusal commotion in the quiet little hamlet of Tampico, four miles from Pal estine, for from various cross-roads came singly and in squads silent horsemen, until iu an adjacent grove half a hundred or more had congregated. Then the supposed leader of these unknown cavalrymen in a low voice issued orders; the men quickly masked and otherwise disguised themselves, and each man with a gun or re volver road out into the road, where they were numbered off, and four officers rode at the side of the column which moved out to the lonely house of Whade. When the leader, after summoning the ne gro to open the door, and being refused ad mittance, said: “Your time is up; come out and pay the penalty for your crimes,” Whade attempted to escape by a window from the front of the house, when the command “Every body aim, now; one, two, three, fire,’ was given, and a perfect volley poured through the window. Whade fell a horribly mingled corpse. The house bears the appearance of having with stood a regular siege, the windows through which they fired being entirely demolished. The mob searched a few moments for the boys who at their appearance had secreted themselves in a barn, where they dared not use their guns. It is expected the vigilants will return within a few days to settle with the young Whades unless they leave. This body of armed men undoubtedly is a regularly organ ized body of country people, who are called together whenever they cannot get satisfac tion by process of law. The neighborhood has suffered much, and there has been considerable loss of stock and grain, and other depredations committed. Farmers have been terrorized to prevent prosecution of suspected criminals. One of ! the leaders shouted when riding away: “Boys, 1 if you hear me talking, remember we mean ’ business when we call again ” LYNCHING A DEMON. Cincinnati Enquirer. Franklin, Oct. 7.—The lynching of John Thomas last night was one of the most excit ing events ever known in this section. As the noise of the evening train died away, in the field opposite the depot some one yelled in an ex cited voice, “ Help ! catch him !” The few who had lingered saw James Shannon run ning after a negro. Leaving his pursuer fur tber every step, the fugitive, springing up the embankment, had jumped on the track and dashed toward Nashville, Shannon cried:, "Oh! for God's sake catch him; he’s ruined my little girl I” The despairing cry of the heart-broken father acted like electricity on all. Many took the lower track on foot; some jumped in buggies and drove around the Nashville bridge to flank him ; others ran up town call ing for help. In a few moments the town was astir. Every horse was in requisition. In an incredibly short time, we were all over the fields north of Franklin searching everything that could conceal a man. Shannon came up reeling and falling, his face livid, saying: “Oh, Lord, boys, I’m ruined! My poor child! my poor baby I” Just after getting into Major Johnson’s field, while looking around everywhere for the fugitive, we espied him on the south face oi Roper’s Knob, running in an oblique direc tion across. We called to the crowd ahead, and they, changing their course, took after him. Soon horsemen went toward him at a furious gait, but when within a couple of hun dred yards he, thinking the game going over the Knob, ran to the left on the northern slope, and the negro, turning down, ran out of sight into the thickets on the southern slopes. Now the hillsides were covered with pursu ers. Relieving he was hid in the thickets, ■ they spread all over the hills, but the negrc Iran straight on, without, stopping, into Me ; Ewen's cow-pasture beyond the hills, away oil ito the east. He came upon an open clover | field, and while crossing a hill in it, the pur- I suers on top of Roper’s Knob saw him. I The horsemen, by this time increased tc ' scores, dashed madly forward, and on Mr | Cliffe’s farm, after a chase of about four miles I Thomas was brought to bay. The negrc ; drew a pipe, presenting it as if a pistol, anc warned his pursuers to stand or he would fire The answer was a blow with a loaded whij over the head. Others coming up repeatec | the blows until he surrendered. The sheriff ■ ran up, seized him, and said : : “ Gentlemen, he is my prisoner. Stand i ’ back 1” But they made a rush at the Sheriff, and ordered him to stand aside. They forcibly took the man away, when a yell of satifaction went up from the assembled hundreds. . Down to the load they went pell-mell to greet the successful pursuers. They moved I slowly along the road. It was agreed without ' a .word that he should die speedily on the roadside. Just within a large field they came to a large oak with horizontal limb's I outstretched. In profound silence they dis- i mounted and went over the fence. ~ I “ Who’s bossing this job ?” coolly asked the prisoner, a likely young mulatto about twenty years eld. “ We are all bosses,” said one. “ Are you going to let me hang all night?” ' inquired he. “We are going to let you hang until buz ' zards eat you up.” “ All right, then ; go ahead,” he remarked, with the most perfect Sang froid. “ Don’t you want to pray ?” asked one. “ Yes.” “ Then get at it.” He knelt at the foot of the tree and at-; tempted to pray, ■fcut his head continually ; turned from his devotions to watch the prep- J arations around him. When he had knelt j five minutes he sprang up, and signified his readiness to be hanged. “ What have you got to say ?” “ Nothing, only I did rape the child T’ “ What did you do it for ?” “ Because 1 couldn’t help it.” Several attempts were made to shoot him, but these were prevented. He confessed in full; gave all the revolting particulars with out showing any signs of fear or remorse. “ You are going to hang me,” he said. “ I want you to remember there is a Judgment Day. I wish it were here to-day.” “ It will be here, so far as you are con cerned, very quickly.” "Why didn’t you hang Bill Youngman and them other boys, who raped a negro girl some time ago?” he asked. (The boys he mentioned were colored, and had been tried, but acquitted.) “ ’Cause she was dar own color, and if you had stuck to your own color dey wouldn’t a tetched you, replied Dave Crawford, a col ored man. , The last words the doomed man ever spoke were : " Don’t let. me hang all night, but gimme to my folks.” A man mounted the tree, the hangman’s noose was placed around the negro’s neck, a handkerchief tied over his face and his hands tied. lie was placed on a horse and the ani mal driven from under the tree, and soon John Thomas was dangling in the air. Silently the crowd looked on, drew a long breath and rode away. The verdict of the jury w-as : “ He came to his death at the hands of the citizens.” After leaving the tree we went iu search qf the man who had suffered, and found hitii lying exhausted in a fence, corner. We lis tened with bated breath to of his horrible wrong. The crime had been done several days before. Though the child, five years old, had received severe, but not dan gerous injuries, she had through fear con cealed her wrongs, until discovered by her mother. Rumors and Facts about People we all want to Hear From. Sankey is about to return to England for a rest. King Kalakakua is building a 550,000 pal ace at Honolulu. Mrs. Hayes says “Hold the Fort" is her favorite tune. Moody has rented a house in Baltimore, where he will reside. The Intelligent Compositor has had his hand on a report of an interesting case in a medical journal, and said, after describing the symptoms, “ astringents were ordered, but the patient, who suffered no discomfort from the eruption, disappeared.” Dr. Thomas Morley, of Boston, went to New Orleans and opened a store for the sale of a medicine of his own invention which he claimed to be a specific for yellow fever. The disease attacked him, and he refused to per : mit the doctors to attend to him, insisting on taking his own medicine and nothing else. He died. SWEET PRESS SINGERS. II The bard of the Boston Post sings of the return of the sportsman : Back from his summer diversion, A lishing aud shooting excursion, Dis wife in his pockets prodding; “ What’s this?" said she, simplest of women, As she held up a lace cap, o’erbrimmin’ With ribbons and elegant trimmin', “Oh, that’s something I took for wadding.” I The New Haven Reqister contributes an ode —and so forth —to the sea : Oh, sea! oh mighty, mighty sea! That gives the stomach ache to me, I That spoils my appetite for tea, Oh sea! 1 Oh deep! oh mighty, mighty deep, I gave thee what I could not keep, And o’er thy waters wept a weep, Oh deep! The Hackensack Republican man gives the handle of his poetical machine a couple i of turns, and out comes this merry madrigal: Such nights were made for lovers Who sit on the stoop and spoon; While on the scene, with smile serene, j Shines the effulgent moon. She leans up~*n his bosom. As the moon sinks in the west; Her downy cheek, so smooth aud sleek, r Leaves powder on his vest. The Yonkers Gazette man cries out in an- e guisli: [ Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud When the summer time comes with its insolent crowd S' Os flies and mosquitoes and fluttering bats, j That utilize all of our features for mats; i That stab us aud jab us and tickle our pates, | That swim in our saucers aud bathe in our plates, y I That drive us to woods with iniquity fraught, J , And make us say, things that we oughtn't to ought. e | 1- | Full suits are cut on the buy us. — Graphic. n I A song entitled “ Hug Me to Death. Dar e ; ling,” is intended for a duet, and no audi g I ence. e “I love men,” said Queen Christine, of :} Sweden, “ not because they are men, but be t ; cause they are not w’omen.” I It would become Nilsson to get rid of her s | husband. Widow Swedes are very becoming, you know.— Keokuk Constitution. if j ;-1 “ Ours was none of your front-gate com- ], mon matches,” said she; no, no; it was a r regular high-toned parlor match.’’ — Chicago a | Journal. '■ i Kate Claxton needn’t chuckle because the r I papers have dropped her for a time to pull I hair with Mary’ Anderson. Select your con n flagration, Kate; time's most up. The Baltimore Saturday Gazette says that i- homely women must be treated just as well s, in all respects as handsome ones. That’s so, o and we move that the editor go right home •- and put his theory in practice.- A" “ Dearest, he murmured, ecstatically, as r ' |he folded her in his arms for the first time, r ” " let me sample the nectar of your lips “ Take a whole schooner of it,” she faintly ° ] whispered; “ it’s all on tap.” s, It requires some pluck, in a small way, to o j maintain in unembarrassed serenity your seat d i in a crowded horse-car, when a tall, caltn 5. ; faced woman stares from the vicinity of the p bell-rope, at an imaginary line of space he 'd | tween your lap and your neighbor’s. HALES FRIEND! A SKETCH OF THOMPSON MURCH. THE MAINE MECHANIC How He Beat Blaine and Hale—The Story of His Campaign and the Reins He Holds. We present below the fullest sketch yet pub . lished ofthe famous mechanic who beat Eugene Hale in Maine. The methods of his campaign are thorough ly discussed, and we commend them to the attention of the men who are backing Arnold in tins District. If they had nominated a workingman in Reub Arnold's place, they , would have done much better than they will do. But see what Murch says: ■ Correspondence New Y'ork Suu. i The granite eagle that is perched over the ' main entrance ofthe New York post-office was cut trom the rock by a stone-cutter, who will be sworn in as the successor of Eugene Hale in the next Congress. His name is Thomp i son H. Murch. It is the work of an expe rieneed workman to cut an eagle from the granite that abounds in the Maine islands; buPto Mr. Murch, as he admits, it would have seemed easier a year ago for a green hand to 1 take up the hammer and steel and fashion that bird than for any one of those stone-“ut ters to defeat Eugene Hale. Yet Mr. Murch did defeat him by a plurality of 1,042 —he re- ■ ceived the official figures ‘last night. Two years ago Mr. Hale’s majority was more than 3,900. HOW MURCH MADE HIS CAN VASS. Last fall Mr. Murch began quietly a thor ough canvass of the district. His position as editor of tAo.Stonecutters Journal gave him j an opportunity to watch the local newspapers, I and he took every opportunity oflearningjust ! what the feelings of the people in the district | were.. ’lhe volume of discontent developed I surprised him. Republicans were chafing I I under the imperious rule of Hale and Blaine, I although they did not say so openly, and w er e disgusted with the policy ofthe administration. But they regarded the Democratic party as fully as bad, and there seemed no way in ; which a protest would avail. But just Here ! conies the “true inwardness” of the greenback movement, not only in Hale’s district, but I throughout the State; and the manner in i which Mr. Murch utilized it is briefly told. • | Seeing that there was great dissatisfaction j and that the people were ready for anything I that promised relief and the rout of the Blaine- Hale ring, Mr. Murch determined to put out a i teeler early last February. He arranged for a greenback meeting in Rockland, and paid | Solon Chase’s expenses and the hall and printing bills from his own pocket. Mr. | Chase had a great audience. The people did not hare very definite notions about this greenback question, but they were ready for I anything that promised a change. Mr. Murch saw this disposition, and began an organiza- : tion. 'The work was done in his office, in the ' village stores, on the street corners, and wherever opportunity offered. The organiza tion spread like wildfire. The hundreds of voters who described all this to the writer say that at first they had no clear notions upon the financial question, but went into the movement because of its promise of becom ing formidable enough to upset both the old parties. In the spring Mr. Murch determined to test the strength of the movement, and men came boldly out of both parties with him and ran a greenback ticket for the local election. They polled 130 votes in that little town after only two months organization; but they were enough to defeat the election of the republi can candidate for mayor. Encouraged by this, a club-room was hired, and the work of organization went on. Then it was decided by the new party men, both in Rockland and in other places in the district, to organize for the congressional contest, although they had no hope of present success. They were look ing forward to 1880. Mr. Murch, as he frankly admits he thought he would be, was put for ward by the party men in his district as a candidate for the nomination for Congress. So enthusiastic were his friends that they chartered a little boat, using all the money they could spare, and started, many of them without their breakfasts, for Belfast, where the convention was to be held. A kettle of clam-chowder made in the boat was their only food; but they were too enthusiastic to feel hungry then Mr. Murch was nominated, and he made the first speech of his life in accepting. In that speech he told the convention that he knew that much money had been spe‘-t.iii that district for congressional elect‘ oU? ; Be \iid not propose to follow that examp.e f OI . he had no monqy to spend for 3 , P ur P‘’.«s. At IliSt neither he nor ms ’ zation and ioE the dential election. Hale’s district is a large one. It has miles of seacoast, and in the interior few railroads. There are no large cities in it, and few large towns. Mr. Murch determined to visit every town in this district, provide speakers, and send to every voter documents. The new party was poor, and contributions were very small. Mr. Murch had 51,000, and he deter mined to spend it all, if necessary. He paid the expenses of speakers, of hall hire, and now and then of a band. He bought cam paign literature, and he spoke day and night. After a meeting he often harnessed his horse and drove twenty or thirty miles on those wild Maine roads in the darkness to the near est town. He was nominated in June; by the latter part of July he began to see that the new movement was spreading so rapidly that there might be a chance, after all, of his election, and he redoubled his efforts. The charges that had been made against him as a communist he met on the platform and in private. He went into Hale’s home town of Ellsworth and had a packed hall to hear him. His speakers were everywhere. Many of them were young mechanics, who asked only that their expenses might be paid. Reports came that whole towns, especially in Waldo county, were going over to the new party. Election day came. Mr. Murch spent the morning distributing tickets. At noon, feel ing exhausted, he went to a neighboring hotel for a short nap, and fell into a sound sleep, from which he did not awake until the polls closed. He lost his own vote thereby The people in the fifth district could hardly believe that Hale’s power was gone, and after they saw it, the man who broke the Blaine- Hale ring became a hero. Shrewd politicians in other parts of the State admit that the can vass of the new party was handled with mar velous skill, for there were some disturbing elements within to be managed, as well as the enemy without to be fought. To organize, control and lead to victory within six months such a movement required a skill that Blaine only was supposed to possess. But one rea son is given for the success of the movement, aside from what is admitted as its skillful : handling, and that is the prevailing desire for . the utter overthrow of Blaine and Hale. Could Blaine hear the opinions that Republi cans now freely express about him, he would realize that bis sway is over, while of Hale expressions of contempt are used. HOW THE NEW CONGRESSMAN LOOKS AND TALKS. The newly-elected Congressman is of me dium size with a supple frame. He must have been agile when younger. He moves now with a quick but easy manner. He was neatly dressed in black, and over the polished linen the black ends of a necktie fell negli gently. A slender chain of gold runs from I his vest button-hole to his watch-pocket, neat and not ostentatious. His feet and hands are small, but his hands are calloused by years of manual labor. A pair of large, light blue and singularly expressive eyes fix the stranger’s attention instantly. There are little wrinkles running from the corners of the lids that give him the appearance of being con stantly amused, and these wrinkles do often contract with a genuine smile. A broad, high forehead, with the perceptive faculties espe ciallj’ conspicuous, is fringed with light f brown hair that is rapidly silvering, and the . locks that are brushed hack over the ears are almost snow white. A nose as straight as a . Grecian model’s, with finely-cut nostrils, par tially hidden by a silky-brown mustache, and ’ a thin-lipped, strong willed mouth, give plenty of character to the faee. Mr. Murch would - pass far more readily for a professional man i than a stone-cutter, especially when a view is > obtained of his clear-cut profile. Exposure and labor have browned a complexion that s must have once been rosy, and there are I more wrinkles than a man of forty would have after a life of ease. He speaks quickly and determinedly, and his emotions play all over his face when he is at all stirred. t “Do you know,” he said, “that the Sun ex -1 pressed” my idea precisely when it urged that , the electoral commission was unconstitution ; al? Ah, that whole business was damnable. he continued, and he meant what he said. “That villianous Lousiana business and the ’ whole scheme of stealing the presidency —we never shall get over it. I have an idea that future patriots will try to skip that part of our history.” “Then you are not a believer in Hayes’ ) i right to the presidency?” t : “Indeed, lam not, and I don’t think there - j is a man in the country who, if he told the 5 truth, would say he was either.” "Did that feeling have any influence in your Maine whirlwind" No. Q L nquestionally.” replied Mr. Murch, and ; then added musingly, “I know that the dis gust that the whole business produced had a great influence in getting our people into that frame of mind which led them irresistibly to seek a change.” “In both parties ?” “Yes, I should say so. Republicans feel the disgrace as much as the democrats do the injustice.” “You were nominated and elected as a me chanic, were you not?” “I am one, and have always been since I left the sea. But I always preferred the name national industrial party to the greenback party for the new movement. However, the name doesn't amount to very much now. We all believe in the same ideas.” “And what are those ideas?” “Well, first of all, we wish labor to have a fair chance all over the country. In addition to that, we wish the political slavery in this district to be done away with. We want such protection from imposition as legislation can give us, and we desire some arrangement by which disagreement between capital and la bor can be adjusted. I am myself strongly in favor of a board of arbitrators, to be ap - pointed by the state, to whom matters of dis pute shall be referred. That would do away with strikes, which I believe to be of great disadvantage, although now. at times, abso lutely necessary for protection.” “But it is said that you are a communist.” “That was the meanest slander that was made against me. On the contrary, I believe that the ambition to accumulate property is the very strongest incentive for getting the best and most labor out of men. It is that they may have a fair chance for such accu mulation proportionately with capital that I have gone into the political battle. I tell you,” continued Mr. Murch, rising and rapid ly walking the' floor.'■“tbst- thg__most earnest j opponents of the socialist idea areUStg-fflea.. who labor with the view of accumulating. How such a slander could have arisen I don t | know. It is made out of whole cloth. I | don’t know but I had rather suffer some of I the present evils than to have the idea of the communists prevail." I “What first set you in the direction of po litical life ?” “ The intolerable abuses which the workmen I employed by government contractors in our : harbor suffered. They are mere slaves. I expect that some of them will be discharged for voting for me. I saw that there was abso lutely no hope except through a ballot-box revolution. If it had not been that, it must have been something worse.” “ Did you expect to accomplish it so soon?” " No, indeed. But when I saw what in tense dissatisfaction there was in this district among the masses with republican rule-—a dissatisfaction that had been subdued because it had no way to express itself until the new I party gave it the chance—l felt encouraged.” “ The cause of that dissatisfaction was what ?” : “ Well, to tell the truth, people had got tired of hearing that they were mere servants of : Blaine and Hale. For Hale there was, espe -1 cially since his visit to Louisiana in the inter est of fraud, almost contempt. People began to feel that they were not represented, but misrepresented. Many here think that Hale took the money to Louisiana which manipu lated things. Then Blaine has lost his pres tige. People are asking how it happens that he went to Congress poor, and now pays the heaviest tax in Augusta. They had sickened of his condescending, patronizing way about election time, aud there are thousands who are boiling mad at his insinuation that he carried Maine in his vest pocket- The hard times had an influence, but the people re membered that Hale and Blane had come down here at every election for the last five years and tcld them, ‘ Oh, you have passed the worst. Times are going to get be tie- But things got worse, and-peoplfLwe--' for any change. Now, I found all t»~ ments at work in the district. I knt « on some points of the financial questWlfaK could agree ; at least it would make a long enough for us all to take hold of.” • murch’s ideas about finance- . \ “ Now, as to the financial v' crf3 °f R® Maine greenback partv.” . , "We have been widely misrepresented. We hare been called inflationists. 1 deny that emphatically. lam not, anyway. We are called repu'diators. 3 hat I deny. we are said to be in favor of irredeemable paper money. This is false. WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT HIS FUTURE. “Do you think you can compass all these things when in Congress?” _ . - “Why,” saiil Mr. Murch, laughing, “I am only one man, and a new 1 don't expect to make a great a great Solution nor to take my place in Congress as a brilliant leader. But I shall tise all my efforts «tod estly; but firmly, I to bring, about ‘ ~7- 1 Just here two athletic young fellows came into the room and desired to speak to Mr. Murch. He took them aside, but soon re turned. His face was clouded and his eyes snapped passionately. “Here is an example of political proscrip tion,” Mr. Murch said, pointing to the men. “These men tell me that they have been dis charged from the government works. No reason was given, but they are first-class work men and have been employed for five years there; new men have been put in their places. They were known to be friends of mine and to have voted for me. There can be no other reason for the discharge.” Mr. Murch is given an excellent reputation by the people of Rockland. They say he ■ a quiet, unostentatious man, domestic in hi tastes, and every one speaks of his pracw of not running into debt. His family, con sisting of a wile and two sons, one 17 and one 15, live in a plain, two-ar-d-a-half-story doable house, that is built on a point of lanfj»that projects into the bay at Rockland. -The lawn is neatly trimmed, and flowers grow in pro fusion all about. A number of prett; remarkably little Sebright fowls were waui ” ing about the yard, aud they seemed perf , tame. Mr. Murch’s house is neatly furnii ~ Books lie around on his parlor table, m them of a serious or political character, seemed to be constantly in use. Th -/'- rolls up nearly to his door-yard, and? , northeast gale the wind must blow pitiX around the windows. There is, hov , ■ every evidence of taste and refinement i !• cleanly look, the arrangement of flowers'G the little internal decorations of the h’ w These are not costly, but they are pleai., none the less. Mrs. Murch rejoices i husband’s success, for she remembers ho '.: j was discharged years ago for voting a wf cratic ticket. She had encouraged he Q band in every way during the canvas* “ . never believed it possible for him to over A- Hale’s majority. “ How much did your election cost you, 5 J Mjirch,” the writer asked, “ if you have i.~’X objections to saying?” “ None at all. The money was honestly . spent. My total expenses were a trifle over £7OO, and I paid by far the largest part of the expenses of the canvass.” “ Hale must have spent many thousands?” “ Yes, I have no doubt he did. Some one told me that his father-in-law, Zack Chandler, who was here until a day or two before elec tion, told Hannibal Hamlin that he wished the little fellow would move into a less expen sive district.” “ And with S7OO you overcame a majority ' of 3,000, and defeated ‘ Blaine’s little Bub ?’ ’ “ Yes; and, by the way, that expression told against Hale here. People did not want 1 to be represented any longer by a man who was a tail to Blaine's kite. My money was expended for speakers, their expenses, halls, music, and printing. Expenditure wasn t very necessary with the people, feeling as they did. When our people get awakened, it doesn’t take much money for election pur poses ; neither can their will be circumvented ’ by a liberal expenditure of cash.” ONE WAY TO GET MARRIED. L . The Reno Gazette. ■ Judge Richardson doesn’t pretend to be a i parson, and therefore isn’t as well up in the ■ marriage ceremony as the slimy supporters of 4 I a decaying hierachy are. The young couple stood before him the other evening, and the I judge inquired in a cross-questioning tone of i the groom: 5 “ Are you a citizen of the United Sta'es?” The groom took hold of the waistband of i his trousers and tugged, saying: ; “ I voted for Tilden, Judge.” 1 “Why, James!” faintly exclaimed the • blushing creature by his side. 1 “Its a fact, Emmer,” protested James, rather indignantly, and glaring at the Judge. His Honor coughed and demanded se tlverely: - ' “ Do, yon. sir, as a citizen of Nevada and a ! lawful voter of Reno, solemnly declare that . ; you will forsake all other evils and chtave to ; I this one? ’ “I’ve money to bet on it! responded the t groom, growing pale, but placing his arm ■ around the waist of the shrinking bride. “Then,” cried the Judge, bringing his fist down on his desk, “God has joined you to-, gether, and the man that puts you asun- : der. The fee is just w-hat you like to give, • young fellow.” i It was pretty liberal, and the court set them i up and kissed the new wife several times be i sides. I