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VOL. XXII
[1 I
k Isl
k V* jWfc, I M show herself he wished she bad not. She
L’l «► K| would only succeed in making him feel a
®l ~ great deal sillier than he knew himself to
K?m.\ fef be. and in a spirit of rebellion he would
'l 7 jwt K&K, Cl rush off to the club with the major.
/ I, \\\ The society of the major and Travers
” W.li.iZwwM iTi.i and )lle ot her fellows at the club was now
I or The Constitution.
Begging tin 1 major’s pardon, 1 will lirst
introduce Jack Livingstone into this story-
Properly speaking Jack is the hero, if
there is sneh a quantity. and. though not
half so large, half so eld. or possessul of
half the major’s capacity for stories and
wine, it is unite proper that lie should come
ft rst.
The major is so fond of Jack that he will
n-d object to this preference, 1 am sure;
though if he were hen*, seated by me,
with his cigar and a glass of his favorite
tipple 1 think he would suggest that I
".hist'ring ns in together, for that’s the
way you find us.”
And the major would be right, but 1 fear
if 1 presented this amiable pair together,
without first writing a few words in Jack's
liehalf, the situation would be such as to
create the belief that young Mr. Living
stone was a very dissipated and light
minded young man. The cards, the wine,
(which is always of the finest quality),
the cigars (they have a delicious flavor
that is positively enslaving), which would
be found on tin* table between them, if so
introduced, would conduce to that unfavor
able impression.
But such is not the case. 1 might speak
of him, as a great many do. only in con
nection with late hours at the club, cards,
flirtations with actresses, wine ami racing,
but 1 prefer to bring quite as prominently
f-rnar/ I.is bright and generous nature,
his reverence tor good and beautiful things,
notably women, his lavish freedom in giv
ing to e. arittib’ie causes, his loyalty to liis
friends and his gallantry to the weaker,
sex lie had money and he liked his
chtb and his club associates.
These carried him into ex
travagances that would have been foolish
ly prodigal in a young man of moderate
iivune. but he had his limit, ami. though
*• r, t lie ■■:, he seeUle.l t o be going a r ‘'l.b-ss
pace, he was always perfect master of him-
1 should, in enumerating bis virtues, have
mentioned his love for the major’s daugh
ter. He was quite proud of it, but for the
life of him he couldn't, see how it was to
er 1. 'i,'i;e situation struck him as being ex
lavtiingly odd. but as the major was Dolo
rously nhmst* in matters where the affec
tions of his daughters wen 1 concerned, it
did not strike him at all. lie had never
viewed Jack in the light of a prospective
son-in-law. To him Jack Livingston- wa<
a jolh good fellow, a clubmate and inti
mate companion.
He liked lack. Jack always listened to
his stories with a show of interest, and
laughed dutifully and immoderately over
them. Most of his stories wen- funny, but
oiu-e he toid a sad, pathetic tale, and
Travers, who was sitting at the table with
them, laughed as he was accustomed to
do at the others. Jack did nor. His face
was appropriately grave and serious and
tin- major fancied there was moisture about
* c voting fellow’s eyes. Jack was good
at e : rds. as well as at enjoying the major’s
stories, and many an hour has be sat tn
the clubroom across a table from the major
looking thoughtfully at fits hand and never
■a -ing a word. Travers and Bankston ami
(‘-■llins, ami iTie other fellows at the club,
were good enough in their way, but the
bia. bluff, hearty major made no secret ot
h<’preference tor Jack.
J.-i'-k’s !<>v< affair progressed under diffi
culties and embarrassments not. usual in
the ordinary romance in which a young
and young woman are engaged. It
reached that interesting juncture where he
madlv worshiped Miss Mario and was
forced to endure the most indifferent treat
ment from tir.it imperious and self-willed
voting lady. He now fancied ilia I he had
5. .-m'-ibou’: liis love making all wrong, lie
was only a novice in this kind of enterprise
a lid it was to be. expected that he would
male . bungling job of it. lie could never
recall a time he had even faintly suggested
to Miss .Marie that he intended making se
rie-'is love to her. It began by his going
home with the major to dinner. At first
she was no more to him than is any good
iookiug woman to a young man with whom
she is accidentally thrown. But more in
vitations from lh>- major, more dinners,
more talks with Miss Marie and the logi
cal result was a love all air.
What first interested him was the ele
ment of uncertainty about her. It was a
hobby of the major’s to discuss the pecu
liarities of women, and often at the club
] lek had heard him Judd forth glowingly
upon this topic. Women, the major con
tended. wore always doing the unexpected.
A'ler he in-- the major’s daughter, Jack
wondered if hi* clubmate had not gathered
much <>f his philosophy from watching .Miss
trie's character. Jack could never quite
understand whether she thought him quite
clover or a shallow youth, who was inter
esting only because hi- could make people
laugh ami toerable only because he wa- the
jmijor's friend.
In an effort to discover whether the nia
ior’s daughter was poking tun nt him or
re.dlv trvmg to find out what manner of
man'he was. Jack found new charms in
be- and while he utterly failed in making
•“'mit’her motives he ended by falling more
honelessL in love with her than ever- io
him i’ seemed to lie a very one-sided affair
'i’he major’s daughter, for all he knew, felt
m> more interest in him (han in 1 ravers,
who was dull; Oliver, who was elover, but
•i failure; or Hardyman. who was success
ful bin otherwise uninteresting. She di 1
not appear to think them sm-h tools as he.
He blamed hiim-df for m>t having some
nn lerstandi'ig wiih her before the (lung
far. It occurred to him that the
foolish man who went anead blind-
j v ami allowed himself to fall
hi-div in hive with a woman without first
- -,-eiviug assurance from her that he won! I
, be laughed at for his pains, presented
verv ridiculous picture. He now felt
that lie was making just such a spectacle
,p- himself. The many calls lie had mane
. * the major’s homo were presmnabb m
th.* major’s account, amt nobody ehaiged
hem up to the majors daiigh er. M h<n
he called. Miss Marie presented herself ot
rot as she chose. Often when she did
a poor solace for his overwrought feelings.
The major's stories seemed to have lost tlieir
charm and Travers’s bluntiiess was more
noticeable than ever. The major was not
slow to note I hi' change in Jaek’.f manner,
and to cheer him up he told a series of
iiis funniest stories in his best vein. These
signally failed to produce any effect, and.
remembering how Jack had appreciated
his sad tale, he told a love story with a
pathetic ring to it. It. was quite an in
volved affair, and the major succeeded in
ingeniously having all of the men to fail
in love with a pretty woman, and he had
her in turn to make them all correspond
ingly miserable, (hie young fellow, in par
ticular. worshiped her with a devotion
that reminded Jack of his own.
There was a bright man and a dull
man, a good man and a bad man in love
with her, besides the young fellow, who
alone of all her suitors, loved her truly
am! well. The* good man was a minister,
am] the bad man was a dashing fellow,
who played the races and cards, spent his
time at the clubs and in flirting with ac
tresses. and laughed at the young minis
ter’s poky ways. ’The good man hoped
to win her because she was so good
and generous, so loyal to the church and
so liberal in giving to the poor. Sin* sat
in ln-r pew regularly every Sunday morn
ing and listened to his sermon with a
serious face. The bright man hoped to
win her because he could interest her,
the dull m in because he knew no better,
and the bad man because he had much
experience and had won many conquests.
The young fellow hoped to win her be
cause lie was young am! because she was
young; because he loved her with all his
heart and he believed that a good young
woman like her would only marry a man
like that. 'Th-* major did himself credit
in working out a grand climax, and as
h • neared the end. Jack found himself
leaning forward on the table.
•‘And sin* —what did she do?” asked Jack
breathlessly.
"What did she do? What do yon sup
{ pose?" asked the major. "She married
Gm fkkw. of OMW-”
Jack sank back in his seat disappointed;
Collins said she did quite right ami showed
her sense, and Travers said it would have
been a good thing if she had married the
minister and helped the church
"There's no accounting for women." said
the major. "The.t are peenlia • creatures
and yon can never tell v.h'.t they are
going to do. My women folks keep ma
guessing. My wife surprised me by mar
j-ving inc and I have always feared ihat
my daughter would repeat the mistake.
'They are single yet. but you wouldn’t sur
prise me if you told me they had fallen in
love with some long-haired musician or
artist, who hasn’t common sense enough
to get in out of the wet.
"Now. it's a woman in Jack's case. No,
no. von can't tell me I know better. Lvo
been all along tlmre and know what I’m
talking about. You’ve got it bad. Jack,
and do yon know what I would do if 1
were you? Propose. Do it right away.
She mav not fall dead at the proposition,
but just' draw that face up in front of her
am! slk-’H wilt. I’ll be b.mud. That s the
w.iv I diil prop'jsetl iiihl by the rteriuil,
1 was a married man in two months’ time."
"That's a capital idea.” said Travers.
"Immense.” said Collins.
"Just trv what 1 tell yon. and report
major. "Oh. sin'll have you, no fear of
that ." T i
"You don’t know the lady, said Jack,
doubtfully. .
'Hie major know women and their ways
and Jm-k decide I that his advice was
good. lie made up his mind to accept,
feeling that if he were rejected his predic
ament would hardly be worse than now.
Ho had iust reached his decision when the
nm jor announced that his family fti’te
going av iy to the seashore. Jack, being
an intimate friend of the family, was in
vited around to see them off- and between
(1,.. ti „„. he received the invitation and the
departure of the major's family, he resoh-
I ;1 thousand times that h-- would know
i Mi<s Marie's feelings towards him before
i she went away.
He went to the major s that night with
the definite aim of following the majors
mlvico. The major’s daughter was looking
loveL She exhibited a marvelous famil
iaritv wiih the details of trunk packing,
his feeble way Jack made himself
useful, seeing that the trunks got off propet
lv She was radiantly beautiful tonight,
Jack thought. but her . soul seemed so
thoroughly wrapped up m tiimk checks
and railroad tickets that he felt a hesitan-
CV ill turning her thoughts to the one sub
ject nearest bis heart. To his mind she
denied to regard her baggage as far more
important than he. .
He stood at the tram and held hi l hand
m his for a moment. Though she was
smiling more sweetly upon him than she
h-id ever done bofor'. he never felt more
acutely miserable. He had not even ii.it
el to her what was uppermost m las mind
Sb- seemed to be supremly unconscious of
any undue tenderness m his voice
<,r As n the r t'rniii glided out of the depot his
heart and his hopes sank. He gazed aftet
it lom'inglv ami then picked his way through
the crowded depot to the street It was
getting late, and away , from the depot the
streets were comparatively desertet. lie
walked <lowly home, musing over the inci
dents of the night as he went. Never be
fore had he occupied so small a place m
hi-s own estimation. He felt that if he
li-id her back bv his side just for a mo
rn. nt he would tell her that he loved her
JIT courage, which had totally disappeared
! while in her presence, had returned surpris
ingly. . ,
He knew that sleep was impossible m
his disturbed state of mind and In* sat by
his window to pursue his disagreeable
j thoughts after reaching his home. Sitting
lin the quiet of his chamber he could
scarcely believe that he had been such a
coward*. He felt nerved up to anything
now and he only wished that she were near
him so that he might make his declaration.
Vaguely he thought of following her to the
seashore on the morrow ami making his
proposal. For a minute he entertained
this thought and dismissed it. He would
wait until she came back and (hen—but
tliat was so far off, ami she might meet
ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY. AUGUST ?9, 1893.,
some one at tin* seashore who would crowd
him out of the question.
A happy inspiration caused him to resolve
to write. \\ hile still under the spell that
her late presence bad cast over him he
sat down and wrote her a declaration- of
his love. Il was a long letter and h<»read
it over after he had written it with a sat
isfied look. He sealed it in an envelope
ami addressed it to the seaside resort to
which she had gone. It was the next best
thing to a verbal proposal and gave him
a wonderful amount of comfort as he sur
veyed the envelope bearing her name.
It vyas late in the night and usually ho
would have laid the letter on the table to
be mailed in the morning.
He wont out and posted it in the corner
mail box.
It had been just six weeks since .Ta<k
Livingstone was at the club, when the
ghost of his former self, weak, pale ami
thin, walked into the clubroom in his old
punctual manlier -just as the hands of the
clock signified 10 o’clock and seated him
self at his favorite window.
What am I going to tell now will explain
Jack’s looks.
Tb it night after he had mailed his letter
to the major’s daughter, .la k returned
to his room. 'There, his brain whirling
with the events of the day and night, he
fell asleep with all the windows of his
room open and the door ajar. 'Tin* result:
was that he caught cold , despite the saying
that "fools, lovers and drunkards have a
special guard of angels placed al their dis
posal by kind Providence,” ami it was a
bad cold, which became worse, and then
dangerous, and before it was through with,
Jack’s life was despaired of.
All this time no answer had come from
Miss .Marie.
The day after he sent the letter a fool
ish fear sprang up in Jack’s heart- he
fancied he had forgot to put a stamp on it.
But he reasoned himself out of that fancy
for the outlines of the letter were traced in
delibly upon his memory. When he
brought this memory before his mind’s eye,
he could see a delicately tinted envelope
with the address. "Miss Marie Morton,
Hotel T’lorentine. Seashore Resort," and in
one corner he could see the stamp; it: was
a green, -1 cent stamp. Then he smiled to
himself, for lie remembered 1 he hunted
among his old papers for . because he
thought the great, big, clumsy Columbian
stamp looked too loud to carry the letter
on its sweet errand.
The major and his family had gone only
three or four days when Jack was sent to I
bed by his physician, who was also a friend |
and admirer of Jack’s. In two days he •
was delirious, and at the club, and among j
all his friends it wa,s whispered around —
and be it said with genuine sorrow —that |
Jack Livingstone, the handsome, good-na- i
lured, gallant Jack, was dying of typhoid ’
pneumonia. In his sane intervals he talk- ■
ed more than was good for him—talked ■
about everything except: that nearest his i
heart, his poor parched lips trembling and |
stammering as he spoke. At these times i
he told himself tliat he did not want to '
live, but his vigorous body and strong con- I
slTu'. >ll w— . -10-d i:•> ’■ > rb-'.'bil ■ )•■-
ntfll of this s-nt'iinent by iiis great, love for !
the major’s daughter; ami then he had a i
lot of pride, this same young Mr. Living- '
stone, and hi' b-gan to think he would just i
like to show the young lady how little he i
actually eared for her- that he regarded his
proposal in the light of a false step which I
m-ant nothing. 'Thus it was that "Honest '
Jack” struggled and fought with John :
Livingstone. His thoughts during this pe- '
riod w- may lay to the fact that his let- i
ter had never been answered.
Jack did get well, and. after a desperate j
illness of four weeks, he was allowed to ;
sit. propped up with pillows, in a big
ehair and bathe in the health-giving sun
shine. 'Then ho was given a letter -a |
letter that his doctor told him had been j
delivered two or three weeks before. Jack ‘
glanced at the superscription and his breath
come in short catches, his heart fluttering :
up into his throat . 'This he attributed to
his late illness and present weakness. It: ‘
was the answer of his proposal- Jack felt !
sure of it. Would it bo yes, or—or —
But evidt'ntly he couldn't bear to think
of the other side of the question,
for he hurriedly tore the en-
velope open and unfolded the letter. At
one glance he could read the introduction,
the body and tin* signature; it was a short
note asking him to join the major's party
at. the seaside. Miss Marie had written
it for her father-acted merely as his see- ;
rotary. With remarkable strength he i
crumpled the stout paper in his bony hand
and tossed it carelessly in a corner.
All this, briefly told, was the cause of
Jack Livingstone’s thin, pale face as he
sat gazing out of the window on the morn
ing of his first day at the club since his
illness.
As he sat at the window watching the
gay equipages flash by, his thoughts were
bitter- bitter against himself, against: the
woman he loved: bitter against the world.
Involuntarily, even in his bitterness, he
placed himself and the major's daughter
in juxtaposition to the world, rather to
the rest of it. for he thought there was
little in it: now. 'The longer Jack sat at.
the window alone, the more melancholy |
lie became. He railed at himself for not !
having proposed to Miss Marie the night i
she left; then he cursed himself for having
written the letter of proposal; and finally
a feeling of curiosity overcame him, and
he began to speculate on the ways and
wherefores of her refusal to answer his let
ter. Then one of the major’s dissertations
on the peculiarities of women came to
his mind, and he wondered how lie had
come to take the major's advice and propose j
even by letter; but ho was no longer sur- !
prised Ihat the letter remained unanswer- j
ed.
Before Jack's thoughts had gone any ;
further, a well-known turnout: drove up. >
ami, to his surprise, both the major and |
th<' colonel got out. They didn't look up at 1
the window and Jack’s salute was given ;
unnoticed. It was some little time be- I
fore he heard the footsteps of his two I
friends, ami then the major's hearty voice j
was heard to say:
"Devilish lucky? Well, I should say so. [
I told the old lady that we attended the
deaf ami dumb convention."
Ami the peals of enjoyable laughter—
lauglitcr that made Jack, weak as he was,
laugh too in remembranee of the good jokes
that always came from such outbreaks —
preceded the pair through the curtained
doorway.
Jack’s ride to the club had been taken
with the sanction of bis physician, but he
felt that he was still weak: and his feel
ing became the stronger when he stood
up in his courteous way to greet his friends.
'The major, pushing the curtain to one
side to save his new hat, caught, sight of
him first and cried out:
"Jack, old man. how are you? We didn t
hear from you while we were away. Maiie
says that she is mad at you for not an
swering my note; she is the one that pro- ,
posed inviting you —why. what s the mat- I
ter. Jack, old fellow? You look pale and
weak " exclaimed the major, as he came j
nearer to Jack talking all the time, and
shook hands with him.’
“Nothing," half muttered Jack, for he
was trying to think and talk at the same
time; he could hardly believe his ears, but:
the thought of his unanswered letter drove
his happiness away. ‘T have been in my
room a couple of days,” he continued.
Here Jack deliberately lied, and it was a
meaningless lie, for he had nothing to gain
by it; he himself accepted it as a sure sign
that he was growing weak-minded.
"Yon stopped at the Florentine, as us
ual," Jack went on.
"No,” answered the major, "we met the
colonel and his wife at the station and
they persuaded us to stop at the new hotel,
the Palanquin —didn’t you see it on„ the
letter head of the note I mailed you?" It?
is to be taken for granted that the major
failed to remember tliat his daughter’s sta
tionery had cost him S2O that month, and
that it is a peculiarity of women to write
on a different kind of paper for every dif
ferent sentiment they may desire to express.
'The colonel, who was a closer observer
than tile bluff old major, noticed, a aingu’ar
pallor spreading over Jacks lace. Jack
looked at the colonel, and as their eyes met.
the pallor gave way to a Hush and the
youngi'" man thought to himself that it was
a god thing his back was to the window
whet: the major mentioned his daughters
letter. ....
The major didn’t believe Jacks lie, end
told him to sit down. Though Jack didn’t
know this, it was far belter for him, es
pecially vhen young I'ravers rushed into
the room, having seen Jack from the
street, and began to pour out cotigral illa
tion:* oil his friend's first appearance iu
six weeks. A few minutes later Bankston,
(lollin- and Hardyman repeated the per
formance; the major merely looked at Jack.
Travero and the colonel went off into
another part, of the room, knowing the ma
jor’s penchant for Jack, and wishing to
try a game of eribbage for the wine and
cigars.
'The major and Jack, left alone, became
quite talkative, and the major or
dered a bottle of "the best,” de-
claring to Jack that its
recuperative powers were wonderful. Over
the wine they began to recall their last
meeting.
"It was the day that the colonel and I
discussed magnetism," said the major,
laughing. "Don’t you remember it? The
colonel had just inquired of me whether
or not I entertained an opinion to the ef
fect that he was a damned idiot —and then
you came in. We left it to you, ami you
told us about some famous woman magnet
izer. She's married now. Jack. 1 wonder
if lid I say she was married?”
And the major (hummed thoughtfully on
the edge of the table.
"Do you know, Jack.” the major contin
ued reflectively, "that women are both pe
culiar and wonderful? I have always
been uncertain about ’em.”
This was said in a tone that made Jack
feel that the major desired his affirmation
to his words, and he affirmed them, but in
sneh a doubtful manner that the major
looked hurt. But, as a matter of fact, the
major had never had his sweetheart's
father attack him on the peculiarities of
women, and it. was no easy matter to tell
whore the major would stop.
"1 told you about lots of peculiar things
J have noticed in my wife and two daugh
!■ : it 1 '! >i' women Well. they''. ' low-
di', n.H know s'lim* liuiuuhhis
paper gets out an awfully funny series in
the world's fair grounds. I bought a copy
and let my wife have it immediately. She
insisted on sitting down at once and read
ing it.
“Do you know. Jack, she read that paper
through without smiling, am! then passed
it to Susie with a sigh. Susie read it
through with as much accuracy as did her
m ither, but never a smile crossed her coun
tumiiwe. .Marie read it next, and her
manner was painful to observe. After
reading it. word for word, she laid it down
as if she had done her duty, nothing more
ami notiiing less.”
Jack's only comment was a mental one —
he was glad that he wasn't a humorous
paper.
“ I'iH'ii 1 picked it up.” continued the ma
jor; "to me the first joke was immensely
funny and I went into convulsions of
laughter. I was so tickled that 1 read it
again, out loud. And would you believe
me. Jack, they laughed, those three women,
until the tears ran down their cheeks. In
fact, they laughed tso immoderately that I
feared for their good manners.
"Now. can you explain it?” concluded the
major with a wave of his hand, leaning for
ward with the air of one who has pro
pounded a problem.
"1 think 1 can." answered Jack, smiling
a weak little smile. "You read them the
only real joke there was in the paper; they
failed to see it because the pages were
stuck together.”
At. Jacks feeble attempt to ap
pear jocular, the major, who
hail been softened by the wine, laughed
long and loud and then shewed his appreci
ation oi Jack's sally by asking him to din
ner.
And to dinner with the major Jack went,
although he disobeyed orders and should
have been lying down, an hour ago.
The major and Jack reached the major's
home in short order, and Jack's host rang
the door bell. Now. just here there happened
an incident that was quite the proper thing;
Jack says ho will always accredit it to his
miserable appearance. The major and
Jack were mo! at the door by Miss Marie.
The major had just turned to hang up liis
hat. when he heard a woman’s voice cry
out:
"<)h, Jack!”,
Ami Jack stumbled forward, his eyes
brighter and with more color in his face.
“1 thought you were at: the Florentine.”
went on Jack, heedless of the major’s pres
ence. not knowing that he was delaying
his own happiness with every word he ut
tered: the major was busily engaged hang
ing up his hat and' putting bis walking stick
away, keeping his eyes on the looking glass
al file same tilin'. "And then I was s'ck,
delirious. 'They never gave me the letter
for such a long time." appealed Jack, cour
ageously.
The major hail never heard Jack use the
same tone of voice before and was sure that
a climax was at hand. Then his daughter
fell into Jack's arms, weak ns he was; ami
the major -
“Dam’ me." said the major, “I am still
uncertain.”
And he went out the nearest door, slam
ming it to let them know that they were
alone; to Jack it was the major’s silent
consent.
Charles Ilickens’s Will.
From The New York Ledger.
'l’he following is an extract from the last
xvill and testament of Charles Dickens, show
ing the extraordinary modesty and tin' sim
ple Christian spirit of that master workman
in the field of literature:
“I direct that my name be inscribed in
plain English letters on my tomb. I conjure
inv friends on no account to make me the
subject of any monument, niemorial or testi
monial whatever. 1 rest my claim to the
remembranee of y country upon my publish
ed works: and to the renicnilirance of my
friends upon tlieir experience of me. in addi
tion thereto. I commit my soul to the mercy
of Rod. through our Lord and Savior, Jesus
Christ; ami I exhort my dear children brave
ly to trv to guide themselves by the teaching
of the New Testament in its expressed spirit,
ami to put no faith in any man's new con
struction of its letter here or there. ’
If Yon Don't li«*v«* It, Count.
From The Detroit Free Press.
A watch is said to tick LMJISOOOO times
in a year and the wheels travel 3,m>BJ-4
miles per annum.
THE SOUTH'S NEW ERA.
M HAT HAS HEEK ACC OM I'Ll SEI) Ilf
THE SOUTH SINCE THE IT Alt.
Some Northern Men Try Planting nnd Fall
Disastrously—Free Labor in t.lie South
—The Place for Young Men.
From The Now York Tinies.
New Orleans, La., July 23.—Though the
change in the nation's social and political
system since 1860 lias been startling be
yond anything in the country's history,
yet in all this bouleversemcnt there has been
a certain degree of advantage, until the
I south, which some of its old-time states
men and publicists would have had us
believe could not exist, without slavery,
j Ims really become richer in material wealth
i than it was before the disruption. And
I all this, too, in a quarter of a century.
| Before the war the south was purely ag
ricultural. Its wonderful deposits of iron
I and coal were absolutely untouched, ex
' eept in two sections of Kentucky ami
! Tennessee. The coal fields along the
! Black Warrior in Alabama were known,
but there was no adequate idea as to their
extent or value or that here nature had
worked one of her matchless marvels; that
in Alabama's hills iron ore, coal as good
as any known ami limestone (an indispensa
ble in the reduction of iron ore) were laid
in endless quantities side by side.
Providence seems to have done more for
the south than for any other section of
the country. The climate is milder, life
is not so grindingly hard as in the blizzard
swept west, where between drought, gratsts-
■ hoppers and (’-olorado bugs in summer
I amt blizzards and awful cold in winter
I the people become as coarse, common ami
I hard as the life is among them. Hum
boldt truthfully says: "Tin* people of a
I country partake in their personal traits of
I the iieculiarities of the climate they live
i in. ”
The close of the war in some regpeets
was the beginning of southern develop
ment. And be it known that, this very
d. velopment has been begun l>> southern
born men and continm d by them until its
success lias been assured. Take, for ex
ample, the history of Birmingham, Ala.
in 1.868 there lived in Washington coun
ty, Mississippi, the banner cotton growing
county of tr.e United States and the world,
a planter named J. It. Powell. The conn
ty mentioned lias two river front-s, one on
the Mississippi and the other on t.lie Yazoo-
Old Colonel Powell had two fine planta
tions, Pluck and Daybreak, of about 2.s‘Ht
acres each, on the Yazoo front <e Wash
ington county. With some peculiarities -
a firm belief in the code duello being among
them- the old gentleman was something of
I a scientist and an indefatigable student.'
1 Hi* had a very excellent knowledge of
[ practical geology among his otlcr aeeom-
i trips in and about what is now Birmiuc-
I hum, he became convinced that there was
i a most, remarkable deposit of coal and iron
I right: there together, with limestone as
t a close neighbor. 'To make sure, howev. r.
he got the best practical coal and iron
expert, New York could furnish to come
down and examine the great deposit that,
lie Powell had found. lie did so. amt
fully confirmed the gentleman in his views.
U’olonel Powejl thereupon established
what is now Birmingham ami brought
what is now Birmingham, ami bongli:
$i.2(M). Birmingham ami the coai towns in
Alabama have been mad" by southern
genius and energy and the ability to eon
duct, practical affairs of great magnitude.
'The three greatest min*' owners at Bir
mingham are Colom! Powell. John
Sloss and Colonel Johnston. 'They pay
I ever.v Saturday night GJH><) workmen- black
am! white alike—who are employed in their
mighty furnaces and rolling mills. 'These
j three men are all southerners—wore in the
>confi •.’* .'ate army and in tliieir works
i men. blai-k and white, are wage earners,
j a tiling one- never sees in a i’ennsyivania
j iron mill or mine, hi fact, a "nigger”
' can’t get a. job at any factory or furnace in
| Pittsburg, not even in the gr'.it and good
I Carnegie's stupendous coke works. Bir-
■ mingham was incubated and mnd*' what
it is by southern brains and wealth.
: Did ever lhe agricultural pari of any
I country produce such a shower of gold aS
; the cotton and sugar st'ciious of the south
‘do now? Seven states headed by Mis
i sissippi, the banner cotton state, win n
average is cons J -rod -have poured into
them S-TitHUMIJM i;» every year. No womb r
the south is rich. This money comes emh
year, and it will continue. for (hid has
blessed that region with an almost match
less climate and the most productive soil
under the sun.
'Th" question may be asked: "How is it
that the South liases,, speedily recovered
from the ravage and shock of war and is
getting on so well?" A mod natural and
proper question, and olio which <an b.
answered. When the var closed, all cn
tepriscs in the south were, of conrsi'. d ad.
In the gulf states a little cotton had been
grown every year, but the main labor had
Let'll expended in raising something to eat.
Cotton would always bring gold. s.> it was
a very poor sort of household that had
not a few bales hidden away against a
time of great need.
When the war was over cotton was very
high in price. Men from the north swarmed
into the rich cot ton-growing sections of
Arkansas. Mississippi. Alabama and Louis
! iana. 'They knew a thonsanrl-bale crop
was nothing on such plantations as they
found in these slates, which, on places like
Dumbarton, (belonging to the Duncans.)
the Hampton estates, the Cabin Teel plan
tation, (owned by the Marshalls.) in Mis
sissippi. and many in 'Texas, w good f* r
3,000 bales any average' year. 'They saw
fortunes in one good twelve month. Now.
all this would have been true, but lor on 1
or two reasons. 'These reasons the south
ern man understood very well, while th"
other never thought -jf them. 'The lirst
thing, therefore. the southern old-time
planter did when he came home from the
vrir was to rent his estates for as high a
cash price as could be obtained, half of
it in advance, lie fix 'd up his residence,
repaired the outhouse, planted an abundant
crop of corn and vegetables for his own
needs, put the rent mon 'y in the nearest
solvent bank, and waited.
'The two evils he foresaw happened. In
the lirst place, th;' northern white man did
not under.Jand how to manage the south
ern negro. Here was trouble number one.
Thq negro would not obey him am] did
not respect him. The Massachusetts man
brought down ett irniow; lots of what he
called “labor-saving machinerv" to make
cotton with. ’The old plnnter looked on
am! said nothing. His place was beauti
fully stocked by tin* well-meaning "yan
ks'".” wlw was going to| make two bales
‘wh"re the old planter had made one.
It all came aho it jest, as the southern
man foresaw. In the first place, the levees
wore all dc.wn anil none had been rebuilt.
The year 1565 was not good for cotton,
because the war ended too late tor "pitch
ing” a crop in the gulf states, but there
PRICE 5 CENTS
was a tine corn ami vegetable yield all
over the country. In 1866 the entire noijli.
seemed to be south planting cotton. These
gentlemen in many instances were most
charming and agreeable neighbors. Such,
for example, were (leneral Frank Blair,
who leased three places in Madison parish,
La.; General F. J. Herron ami Whitelaw
Reid, who wi re in Concordia parish, lower
down than Blair, and General Andrews,
of Massachusetts, who planted one ot
the Hampton places. Another union general
was in partnership with the ex-confederate
General Forrest, planting on the Yazoo,
and many others could be named. 'l’he firm
of Hoyt, Sprague A < '■>., of Providence, IL
1., and Ne*v York city, leased twelve im
mense plantations, paying a rental of from
SIO,OOO to $15,000 a year for each, and
spent nearly $1,06(1.000 in this way and
in purchasing supplies, farming implements,
live siock, etc. Their inv. >1 mi nt was a
total loss.
'The crop was planted. Had the crop
matured on the scale intended it wou’.d
have been about (iJMIOJHH) hales. But just
as it began to come up there came the
"first rise,” ns old planters call it, on the
Mississippi river, which did the work, lu
a week, a beautiful crop was ten feet un
der a yellow, muddy, swirling flood. When
the river did go down there might have
been a crop planted in the mint, just as
there was this year, bin the supply of seed
was exhausted. No more could be had un
til it grew. So ended the first: year. 'The
levees were Jiati-hed up. (,’arpetbag legisla
tures in Louisiana and Mississippi in oie
big appropriations for rebuilding those of
importance. In a. few instances, where
the land was so high that the floods did not
overflow it, a superb crop was made. As
cotton was worth about 60 cents per pound,
a bale was worth S3OO. and 500 bales
meant the snug sum of slso,(Hin. The
few big crops stimulated the New Ixiig
laiidei’s and others who had come "down
south’’ to make fortunes. At such prices
for cotton, anything like a good yield meant
a profit that was seemingly stiiiieiidous. So
Iry it again they would. It could not be
j that the Mississippi and oiler rivers al
i ways overflowerd.
For years the fields had not been iu
I cultivation and under tin sod lay an en-
I emy more dangerous to the cotton than any
■ flood. In 1867 it did look as though a
I great cotton crop would he made. L h.juime
I propose, et Dieu di,-pose. About the l<c
• of July of that year ,:n aeqnaiman"e was
: in the parish of Madison, La., slaying a
; few days wiih an old-time friend who ha 1
| left one of his legs among the cedars al
t Stone River. tine afternoon General
■ Frank Blair asked this gentleman, an ex-
I perieiieed planter, amt hi-- tisiior to rids
t and take a look nt 1 field.
Just before sundown I hey rode over cj
"\Vynt Fonxst.” A finer stand of cotton
I was never seen. Tm'i'e it stood, a field o»
; something over I.inmi acres, gracefully
: waving in the rising night breeze from tin*
distant sea. it was just beginning to
i blossom and there was not a weed or a
I tuft of grass to be seen.
"Your crop will be worth $1.>0.000, gen-*
! eral,” said the old planter to Frank Blair,
I "and, believe me, 1 am sincerely glad of
; vour good foi-in-i". ’’ This was a littia
/afie 6 o'clock p. m.
t I’he next ■■T in- a: um-re: '>*• u *
ovei-.-.''cr came :,i greatli exei;e:. "i ha
worms hav ■ eaten up i . -neral Bl.iir’s en
tire crop of cotton." said he.
“My Lord,” groaned li.s ft 1
I neighbor. "I expec!"'l this!” He and his
or rode ovt*r > the field I J
■ though a lire had swept, it. Where lIIH
i col toll had waved so gr leefully in thtj
breeze the night before i : was Hi>:hiti.4
but the hare earth to be seen, wiih UoW
and ’.hen a standing stalk ot * 'tt> n str:n
--‘ ped of ils leaves and c ■ red w ith myr -
: ads of little active .aterpikars from tiir e
quariers of an inch to an inch long. '1 im
I was the cotton worm. And in one m_-.it;
. these worms; had come, where from ttij
( ie could tell, and were from two in *hns
i to a foot deep all over the field. Wlle'i
you walk'-| among them your loot suck
down into something :- >ft. as though yea
I bad stepped upon a lot of very young kir
i tens. And it was this way all over the ■ ■:■■
i ton regions of Louisiana, Mississippi. \r
‘ kausas and ’Texas. Tiie result _ was that
! the cotton crop failed again the second
year.
By this time the old resident planter was
I ready to take hold. He saw that money
' could be made growing i.-otton. He de
j termined to make it. Ihe lessees of t!w<
i plantations were re ; lv to qiiii, so th.- 0.-I
| owner purchase 1 l heir improvements su .i
i of them as In- wanted and w ent at it. Thq
: levees were rebuilt an I he knew how t.j
i extinguish the eo:ion worm. Ihe largest;
crop of cotton made under the best eondi-
■ lions of slaxt rv was something abovo
i 4,5Oi).()(>() bales. 'The crop of Isqj:; was
I over B.llUl).o<>'i bales. There are no mora
j d"groes there now than it «*rt* w re whet*
: 4.5(H),000 bales were made in 1860-61.
Who. rii'-n. is doing this great work!
'l’he southern while man.
j 'The south lias grown enormously it*
i other respects. It will always be a pr >-
I diteing am! agiieuitural country nnher than)
1 one for iminuiaeturing. 'Hi" Louisiana,
I sugar planter made three times as mm-ii
I sugar io the acre this year as lie ever
I made before the war. 'The rice planters
■ are thriving. There was no great panic
I In the south this year, and in New Orli.-ams
! but one failure of any importance, which
I was caused by the senior partner ot the
firm getting caught in a New York eoffea
"pool. "
'There was a fear years ago among con
servative planters that the e-ilton region
might be "overplanted:" that is. more made
than could be profitably used. But this
is not so. The great crop of the past sea
i son will all be profitably disposed of at
good prices. Cotton etui be grown for (>
cents. Fully fair middling is worth m.w
8 3-4 cents. So tin- profit is evident.,
Mr. Greeley made the west when ho said:
"Young man, go west." "Young man. go
south." (let into a young, thrifty, vigo
rous cotton growing state, like Mississippi,
| Arkansas or Louisiana. G't bold of soma
laud and never let go. In a few years yml
will have a great cotton plantation, with
an income of from .'’"A’.ittst) to Ssoo.otn>
a, year, with leisure for study and travel
ami money to do both. And you will ever
be thankful that you took the advice given
you.
Government Ownership of Railroads.
From The I'hic.igo Journal.
The mere idea of adding eleven anil a half
billion dollars to our national delit is enough
to blast such a scheme in one sentence. The
amount alone is three times om great national
war debt at its highest figure. The other plan
of issuing bonds for only two-thirds of the
amount and silver eerlitiea'es for the other
third is no better. The flat money would
have to lie redeemed some time, the same as
the bonds. Tin- railroad liuziness of this
countiv lias becom- too vast a thing for the
government t*> im.' up. even if there were
any reasonable probability that the politic
ians could nm it as well or as cheaply as
is now being ran.
Tin' Criminal History of Ten Years,
From The Chicago Tribune.
1. "In the Gloaming.”
2. "Silver Threads Among the Gold.
3. “Aly Grandfather's Clock.”
4. "White Wings.”
5. "Sweet Violets ”
6. “Annie Rooney.”
7. "Down Went McGinty.”
8. “Comrades.”
t>. "Ta-ra-rW Boom-de-ay."
10. "After the Ball.”