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VOL. XXVII.—NO. 30.
HE TAKES A HMD.
Mr. Cleveland at Last Push
ing the Tariff.
WRITE! HIS VIEWS TO MR. WILSON.
A Strong Plea Made for Free Raw
Materials, Coal and Iron.
PRESIDENT SUGGESTS TAXING SUGAR,
Maintain Principles, Tie Says—No Secret is
Blade of His Opposition to the Income
Tax—A Letter that Will Cut a Figure.
Washington, July 19. —The following is
President Cleveland’s letter to Representa
tive Wilson on the tariff situation, which
Mr. Wilson read as a part of his remarks
in the house this afternoon:
‘‘Executive Mansion, Washington, July
19, 1894.—(Personal.)—Hon. William L. Wil
son—My Dear Sir: The certainty that a
conference will be ordered between the
two holes of congress for the purpose of
adjusting differences on the subject of tar
iff legislation makes it also certain that you
will be again called on to do hard service
in the cause of tariff reform.
“My public life has been so closely related
to the subject; I have so longed for its ac
complishment, and I have so often promised
its realization to my fellow countrymen
as a result of their trust and confidence in
the democrat!? party that I hope no ex
cuse is necessary for my earnest appeal
to you that in this crisis that you stren
uously insist upon party honesty and good
faith and a sturdy adherence to democratic
principles. 1 believe these absolutely neces
sary to the continuation of democratic ex
istence.
“1 cannot rid myself of the feeling that
this conference will present the best, if
not the only, hope of true democracy. In
dications point to its action as the reliance
of those who desire the genuine fruition of
democratic effort, the fulfillment of demo
cratic pledges and the redemption of demo
cratic promises to the people. To recon
cile differvi: - in the <’etail.-;„ uui.-priaej
within the fixed and well defined lines of
principle will not be the sole task of the
conference, but, as it seems to be, its mem
bers will also have in charge the question
whether democratic principles themselves
are to be saved or abandoned. There is no
excuse for mistakng or misapprehending the
feeling and the temper of the rank and
file of the democracy. They are downcast
under the assertion that their party fails
in ability to manage the government, ami
they are apprehensive that efforts to bring
out tariff reform may fail, but they are
much more downeast and apprehensive in
their fear that democratic principles may
be surrendered.
Tiie People Dili Look to < ongresM.
“In these circumstances they cannot
do otherwise than to look with confidence
to you and those who, with you. have pa
triotically and sincerely championed the
cau-e of tariff reform within democratic
lines, guided by democratic principles.
This confidence is vastly suggested by the
action, under your leadership, of the
house of representatives upon the bill
now pending. Every true democrat and
everv sincere tariff reformer knows, that
this bill, in its present form and as it will
be submitted to the conference, falls far
short of the consummation for which we
have long labored; for which we have
suffered defeat without discouragement;
which in its anticipation gave us a rally
ing cry in our day of triumph, and which
in its promise of accomplishment is so in
terwoven with democratic pledges and
democratic success that our abandonment of
the cause or the principles upon which it
rests means party perfidy and party dis
honor.
“One topic will be submitted to the con
ference which embodies democratic princi
ple so directly that it cannot be compro
mised. We have in our platform, and in
everv way possible, declared in favor of
the free importation of raw materials. We
have again and again promised that this
should be accorded to our people and our
manufacturers as soon as th ■ democratic
party was invested with the power to de
termine the tariff policy of the country.
The party now has the power. We are as
certain today as we have ever been of the
great benefit that would accrue to the
country from the inauguration of this pol
icy and nothing has occurred to release us
from our obligation to secure this advantage
to our people. It must be admitted that no
tariff measure can accord with democratic
principles and promises, or bear a genuine
democratic badg’ that does not provide
for free raw material. In the circum
stances it may w 11 excite our wonder that
democrats are willing to depart from this,
the most democratic of all tariff principles,
and that the inconsistent absurdity of such
a propoed departure should be emphasized
hv the suggestion that the wool of the
farmer be nut on the free list and the
protection of taxation be placed around
the iron ore and coal of corporations and
capitalists. How can we face the people af
te, indulging in such outrageous discrimina
tions and violations of principle?
4 Plea for Sumnr.
“It is quite apparent th it this question
Os free raw material does not admit of
adjustment on any middle ground, h,ll<
their subjection to any rate of tax-_ .
great or small, is a like violation ‘
ocratic principle and democratic good f uth.
“I hope that you will not consider *
intrusive if I say something m re l ’ l * l '™ *
another subject which can hardly fail t
troublesome to the conference. I t> >
the adjustment of tariff taxation on sugar.
Under our party platform. and m ac
cordance with our declared party puipost.s,
sugar is a legitimate and logical article ot
revenue taxation. Unfortunately, however.
Incidents have accompanied certan stages
of the legislation which will b- submitted to
the conference th it have aroused i.i ■ ■>. J
tion with this subject a natural democratic
animosity to the method? ami manipulations
of trusts and combinations. I confess to
sharing in this feeling, yet, it seems to me.
we ought. if possible, to sufficiently free
ourselves from prejudice to enable us cool
ly to weish the considerations which in
formulating tariff legislation ought to guide
our treatment of sugar as a taxable artl-
cle. While no tenderness should be enter
tained for trusts, and while I am decidedly
opposed to granting, under guise of taxa-'
tion, any opportunity to further their pe
culiar methods, I suggest that we ought
not to be driven away from the democratic
principle and policy which leads to the tax
ation of sugar by the fear, quite likely
ex p’-erated, that in carrying out this prin
ciple and policy we may indirectly and
inordinately encourage a combination of
sugar relining interests. 1 know that in
present conditions this is a delicate subject,
’■nd I appreeite the depth ana strength
of the feeling which its treatment has
aroused. I do not believe we should do evil
that good may come, but. it seems to me,
that we would not forget that, our aim is
the completion of a tariff and taxing
su"ar for proper purposes and within rea
sonable boun’ds. Whatever else may be
said of our action, we are in no danger of
running counter to democratic principle.
With all this at stake there must be in the
treatment of this article some ground
upon which we are all willing to stand,
whore toleration and conciliation may be
allowed to solve the problem without de
manding the entire surrender of fixed and
conscientious convictions.
Th<- Party's Will He Done.
“I ought not to prolong this letter. If
what I have written is unwelcome, I beg
vou to believe in my good intentions. In
the conclusion of the conference touching
the numerous items which will be con
sidered the people are not afraid that their
interests will be neglected. They know that
the result, so far as these are concerned,
will be to place home necessaries and com
forts easier within the!;- reach and to in
sure better and surer compensation to those
who toil . ~
“We all know that a tariff covering all
the varied interests and conditions of a
country as vast as ours must of necessity
be largely the result of honorable adjust
ment ami honorable compromise. I expect
very few of us can say when our measure
is perfected that all its features are en
tirely as we would prefer.
“You know how much I deprecated the
incorporation into the proposed bill of the
income tax feature. In a matter of this
kind, however, which does not violate a
fixed ami recognized democratic doctrine
we are willing to defer to the judgment of
a majority of our democratic brethren
I think there is a general that
♦ hi- i< ihp nartv duty. Hus is
pulp .biv apparent when u e realize that the
business Os our V'b
wit. ties for the result of our t \oits i
a, ‘'Vh. , .' ll deim'maey of the country pleads
o-i’ Mt -tlv f"r the speedy completion »’t
m’-'f J’xislntion which -'nr represinimtrves
have undertaken, but they demand not k. .
x :;;
ON DECK AGAIN-
Chnlrinnn Wilnon Speala* «•- *’•’*
in the House.
Washington. July 19. The house galleries
today bore living evidence of the public
interest in the tariff bill. For the first
time in nearly a month seats in all the
galleries, except the diplomatic galleiy,
were filled in anticipation of the debate on
the report of the conferees. There was
added also interest in the report that Rep
resentative C. R. Breckinridge. ot Arkan
sas, had been selected as minister t'o Rus
sia, which was evidently discussed on the
floor. .
While the journal was being read Mi.
Wilson, chairman of the committee on ways
and means, with his face entirely hidden
by a handkerchief which bound a bandage
that ho had been compelled to wear over
his eyes in which is located the neuralgic
troubles from which he is suffering, came
into the house accompanied by Mr. Breck
inridge. As they appeared the clerk's voice
was drowned by the applause which went
up.
Mr. Wilson Cheered.
There was a burst of hearty applause
from the democratic side as he arose with
the tariff bill and the disagreeing report in
hand. His head was bound with a silk
handkerchief, which completely enveloped
his face, covering his eyes and falling to
his mouth. He stood in the aisle witii his
hand on the desk at either side.
He sent the report of the disagreement
to the speaker’s desk and it was read briefly
stating that there was a disagreement in
to to.
Mr. Wilson said that he desired to be
complete in his statement; yet he recog
nized that there were limitations neces
sary, but he could say, within the bounds
of courtesy and propriety, that if the sen
ate conferees had met the house conferees
in a spirit of doing good for the whole peo
ple, the agreement could have been reached
in one day. But the senate conferees came
fettered with certain obligations to their
colleagues in the senate, without stating
the nature or strength of these obligations,
it was sufficient to say that they were
against the principles of the house and in
a line witii the demands of the great cor
porate interests.
Mr. Wilson said that this developed ir
reconcilable differences. He said it in sad
ness that there appeared to be no recon
ciliation of the two positions. The house
bill had been framed with a view to re
deeming the pledges of the democratic
party. It recognized the people rather
than the private corporate interests, but
the bill as it came from the senate did not
recognize the great principles of the party.
Mr. Wilson next addressed himsell to
the detail; of the disagreement. He said
the main difference had been upon sugar,
iron ore, silver, lead ore, some features ot
the wool, n ■schedule, some of the iron and
steel s< heditls and particularly steel rails
and structural iron.
“But,” said he, "the great difference has
been in sugar.” . , , . , *
He took up the sugar schedule in detail,
explaining the difference between the senate
and house. The senate, he said, had adopt
ed a sugar schedule, which, whether true
or not. had been construed by the public
and the Dress of the country as a con
cession to the sugar trust. “If it be true,
said he “that the sugar trust has grown
so strong that it can say that no tariff
bill ‘-an pass until its interests are protect
ed. then 1 hope this house will never ad
-10 Mr Wilson was cut short by a burst of
applause which lasted half a minute. Mem
bers threw documents in the air, and the
galierv joined in the demonstration.
"If this be true,” he continued I hope
this house will never adjourn until refined
sugar is placed on the free list.”
The President s Letter.
He passed to an eloquent appeal for the
house bill. He said it had not only been
endorsed by the people, but the president
r th. United Slates had given his approval
? l ,i scheme of tariff reform created by
ho house' No man ba I been more intensely
the Hou. • . ontest than the pres dent.
inhrestea.il..- , r -marks Mr. Wils.m
A r “ ' .. .cl -rk’s desk a long letter
lir.d :e.HI < ' n , president, wherein
"AiSr
■ •»
amendments and ask fm the>
Turner and Monifaou > , . j ie „ as
Reed, Burrows and Payne, repumicaus.
ATLANTA, GA., MONDAY, JULY 23, 1894.
A PLANTATION COMEDY
BY JOEL- CHANDLER HARRIS.
Copyright, 1891, by the Author.
PART VI.
(Copyright. 1894, by Joel cwuncrrer Harris.)
Uncle Cato at once became very busy. Up
moved rapidly from point lo point with his
wheelbarrow, turning ano twisting here and
there as if he had only a. few moments in
which to accomplish < good deal of work.
Mr. Beasley came up and stool waiting un
til he could attract tl e old negro’s attention,
but the Irrnger he waited the busier I ncle
Cato became. ’’•’he old negro rattled
around through the garden walks with his
emptj r wheelbarrow almost without pause.
Mr. Beasley smiled grimly as he watched
him.
“Cato,” he called, “if you were paid to do
nothing, you’d be earning big wages—
mighty big wages. Where is—”
“No, suh!” replied Uncle Cato, politely,
but firmly. “Marster say he ain’t gwine
ter be ’sturbed. He say he get headache,
jawache, toofache, an’ yearache, an’ he
say es Giner’l Grant come he ain’t got
no time fer ter fool long wid ’im. He
say ’pintedly. dates anybody come axin'
“tx-
l . ,e I
“Don’t preach at me, Beniah Beasley,” ex claimed Mrs. Frucannon, losing her temper.
ter see ’im dat he don't want ter see um
twel atter de dog days done coins and gone.
Dat ’zackly what marster say.” ,
V.'h le he talked Uncle Cato moved about
rapidly.
"But, Cato. I—”
“No, suh!” said Uncle Cato, “I can’t’sturb
'im fer nobody. Es you bleedze ter see im.
yoU'll hatter Seh’ some yuther iilggeT, kaz<
I knows what kinder capers marster cuts
up when I don’t do like he tell me. Git
some yuther nigger, an’ I'll stan’ here wid
de wheelbarrer ready fer ter haul ’im off
atter inarste done brained ’im.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr.
Beasley, sharply. “I don’t want to see the
general. I want to see your young mistress.
And if she is not to be seen, then tell my
daughter that I am here with some news
for her.”
“Yasser, yasser!” responded Cato with
alacrity. “I’ll go right now an’ tell Miss
Susy dat her pa want ter see ’er es she
ain’t too busy wid Marse Burrell.”
“That Winstett puppy!” exclaimed Mr.
Beasley, scowling.
At that moment Mrs. Fincannon came out
into the rose garden. She was looking for
a key she had dropped.
"Well, well!’ exclaimed 'Mr. Beasley,
“how is Mrs. Fincannon today?”
Mrs. Fincannon looked up in surprise.
Then she said grimly:
“I was feelin' lots better a while ago than
I am now. That much I can tell you!
“Ah well!” remarked Mr. Beasley, pat
ronizingly, “we are all subject to sudden at
tacks the little twitch'ings and spasms
that remind us how brief a span life is.”
“Don’t preach at me, Beniah Beasley!”
exclaimed Mrs. Fincannon, losing her tem
per. "I’m ol'l enough to be your mammy,
an’ I wish I had a’been. You’d cut a sight
different figger from what you're a-cuttln'
now.”
“No doubt, madam! no doubt. Mr.
Beasley bowed with an air of great defer
ence. “Il would have been a rare combi
nation. I should have been born with a
mustache.” ,
“Yes said Mrs. Fincannon, witn increas
ing Ire’ “an’ you’d a’ had some honest blood
“Tut, tut, madam, don’t fly up so! Mr.
Beasley was not there to create a scene.
“Blague oh you! Show your manners,
“Madam, your most humble ®
Mr. Beasley lifted his hat and made as low
a Mrs’ nr^nmm C f’l£l her arms across
her ample bosom and regarded Mr. Bcasl A
“'■ ive him sech a look it was a wonder he
hadffit a sunk bodaeiously into the ground.
- eniah Beasley!” she said, after giving
. A, benefit of as much contempt as
S “uld c’mcentrate in a stare "1 want
you to come out right an tell
ire What all this hulla-baloo is you re trjin
lowi up v. i’ t-ne They am t no
flesh an’ blood of mine, but. 1 vant to
know the ins an’ the outs of it. .
“\i idam.” responded Beaslej, t as
simple as A B C. It is no hullabaloo at
all General Herndon owes me money, and
I’m trying to get a settement, if not one
way then in another. lam too poor a man
to let the debt run on and not know what
exclaimed Mrs. Fincan
non “that ain’t the truth, an’ you know it
lest’ as well as you know you re slandkn
Umre. Bushrod Herndon never str
trade nor drove a bal » ain J
his two eyes seen the light.
•• True madam. But whenever I have heard
our townspeople complaining that General
Herndon owed them money, I have bought
Ul "An’ now you’re tryin’ to shove him to the
wall A'n’t you ashamed of yourself to
be aepesterin’ your betters? Don’t you
know p’int-blank that the Lord haint
a-gwine to let you git the better of such
a man as Bushrod Herndon" Mark what
I tell you! you’ll be in deep trouble before
you're much older.”
Whereupon Mis. Fincannon turned away
indignantly and started to go in the house,
but changed her mind and went into the
wisteria arbor. She seated herself, took a
pair of cotton cards from the workbag
swinging at her waist, and proceeded to card
rolls for spinning. As Airs. Fincannon
turned away from Mr. Beasley, Susy and
Ethel came up.
“You here, papa?” said Susy. “Did you
send for me?"
“Yes, my dear. I am like the poor rela
tion the uninvited guest, or the old gray
rat that falls down the chimney flue: I am
here. I hope you arc well—and the charming
Miss Ethel?”
“Wo are quite well, papa. Have you any
message for me? Any letters?”
“Not just now.’’ Mr. Beasley replied in a
fatherly tone. “I want to say a few words
to Miss Ethel.”
“To me?” Ethel asked with dignity. “Very
well, Mr. Beasley.”
•qt is—ah—a somewhat delicate matter,
and I—ah—Susy, my dear, do you mind leav
ing us alone a moment?”
“ ton can have nothing to say to me that
Susy should not hear, Mr. Beasley.” There
was in this remark the emphasis ot con
tempt.
“Nothing that Susy does not already
know,” responded Mr. Beasley, with irritat
ing complacency.”
coodby!” cried Susy, “I am going
away!”
“A lovely gyurl. Miss Ethel, a lovely
gyurl!” He indicated Susy by a glance.
”What have vou to say to me, Mr. Beas
ley?” asked Ethel curtly She would per
mit no byplay.
A sensitive man would have bowed and
retired, but Mr. Beasley’s cuticle was as
thick as a saddle skirt. He smiled and
rubbed his hands together. He twisted his
beard and held the gathered ends between
his teeth. When he released it it uncoiled
itself slowly. The hairs seemed to crawl
apart as if they were infused with life, and
ihe sight of this performance gave Ethel
.■ hat tne children call a “creepy reeling "
“Did dear Susan deliver my little mes
sage?” inquired Mr. Beasley. “Did she put
it as deftly as she ought to have done?
Did she plead my suit for me?”
“She obeyed your commands and drop
ped the matter,” Ethel answered. “For her
sake 1 forgave the insult.”
“The insult Miss Ethel?, I have heard
REV. FeLIX SAMPSON.
that a man can pay a woman no higher
compliment than to ask her hand in mar
riage.”
“There are exceptions to all rules, Mr.
Beasley. Such a proposal from some men
Is more than a compliment. From others
It is worse than an insult.”
“You are hard. Miss Ethel,” said Mr.
Beasley. “Suppose I were as hard? Within
a day or two, this famous Herndon Wood
will be in the hands of the sheriff or a
deputy marshal. Your father will be
asked to show cause why a deed or mort
gage made in Boston should not be re
established. It is recorded here only by
title, and that title is confessedly a fabri
cation. What will happen?”
“What is all that to me, Mr. Beasley?”
Ethel spoke indignantly.
“Nothing. Miss Ethel—less than nothing.”
Mr. Beasley assumed an attitude of hu
mility. “What is Herndon Wood to you?
Nothing. What the comfort and ease of
our father? Nothing—less than nothing.”
“Are you trying tb threaten me, Mr.
Beasley?” Ethel was deeply moved.
“Threaten you! Miss Ethel, I have come
to show you how to escape these threat
ened troubles. I can stay the law only
when I have the right to do so—only when
I address myself to it as the husband of
Ethel Herndon.”
Ethel regarded him almost wildly, be
traying extreme agitation.
“Am I Inhuman? Am I cruel? Ask
Susy! Probe her innocent heart! Sift her
inmost thoughts! See whether she has
me imaged in her mind as a monster.”
Evidently Mr. Beasley was very much in
earnest. Ethel turned away from him
slowly, then paused, and finally went to
ward the house. A thousand confusing
thoughts were rushing through her mind.
What was she that she should stand in
the way of her father’s peace and com
fort? Why should she not sacrifice herself
for him when he had made so many sac
rifices for her? lie would be overwhelmed
with grief for a little while, but in the
years to come he would smile at. her pict
ure on the wall anil say: "This is my
daughter who loved me better than she
loved herself.” But, oh, the degradation
of marrying this man! And yet Ethel
paused at the steps, turned half around,
and then went slowly into the house.
Mrs. Fincannon came out of the wisteria
arbor, her face red as lire. Air. Beasley
was at a loss to know whether her color
was the result of anger or laughter, he
didn’t know whether to stand his ground or
beat a retreat. But as Mrs. Flncannon
came toward him he noticed the shadow ot
a smile on her face. It he had known what
an effort the smile cost her he would, have
retired from the field.
“Well. well. Mr. Beasley, what a poor
job you men folks make of the courtin’ bus
iness. If youz all didn’t have no more
sense in other ways than you’ve got in
that you’d all be in the poorhouse.”
“Why—er—was I awkward. Mrs. Fincan
non?”
Mr. Beasley could scarcely realize her
changed attitude toward him. But he had
a theory for it. He thought that as a wo
man of practical common sense she wanted
to prevent the sacrifice of Herndon Wood.
But Mrs. Fincannon had a scheme of her
own in her mind, and she was so well
pleased with the conception that she could
hardly talk for laughing.
“Was you awkward?” she asked. “Why,
you tilled me full of laugh. I thought to
myself: ‘Whyn’t the man pop the question,
plain and flat?’ ”
“Do you really think—?”
“I don’t think. What I know I know,
and I let sap-heads do the thinkin*. You
wait here. I’ll go see Ethel. I’ll tell ’er
what you ought to ’a’ told her. Jest you
wait.”
Mrs. Fincannon hurried into the house
and after a little while came out with
a triumphant air.
“What’d I tell you? Now, what’d I
tell you?”
Mr. Beasley glowed all over. His hands
shook with excitement.
“Mrs. Fincannon, you don’t really mean
to tell me—?”
“I tell you nothin’. Come here at 11
o’clock tonight in your buggy.”
“Why—er—is it possible?”
“Come here at 11 o’clock tonight in your
buggy!” Mrs. Eincannon emphasized every
word by striking the palm of her left hand
with the forefinger of her right.
Mr. Beasley looked at her as if it were
impossible to trust the evidence of his own
ears.
“But, madam—!”
“Well, the stars above!” exclaimed Mrs.
Fincannon. “Once a. fool, alters a fool.
Don’t come, then. Jest stay away!”
She turned and went toward the house,
shaking her head vigorously. Mr. Beas
ley took a few steps after her.
“I’ll come, madam, without fail. Are you
sure, Ethel —?”
“Just you come!” said Mrs. Fincannon.
Mr. Beasley hesitated. He wanted more
information. He was not assured. He
would have thanked Mrs. Fincannon. but
that worthy woman disposed of all that
formality with one quick gesture.
“Oh, what a fool a man is!” she ex
claimed. “Jest you come!”
Mr. Beasley bowed with the utmost po
liteness and went rapidly out into the ave
nue, expectation giving unwonted vigor to
his movements. Mrs. Fincannon paused on
the steps to watch him. She followed him
with her eyes until he disappeared, and
then she made this remark:
“Ain’t he a party lookin’ thing, wi’ his
fj.-,0/.le a-sl'.c!'in' vut lik a wart on a liz
ard’s neck!’
XIII.
Night came on swiftly enough in the
Herndon Wood. The tall trees seemed to
absorb the light so that the interval be
tween sundown and dark was short. The
glow of twilight sometimes pushed itself
above the woods, but it seemed to be far
away. On this particula/ night the dark
ness appeared to fall more swiftly than
ever. The stars twinkled overhead, but
whatever appearance of light the sky held
only made the gloom of Herndon Wood
more oppressive. In the vast shaded ave
nues dusk had deepened into midnight dark
ness without warning.
Otis Maxwell went out into the rose gar
den and walked down toward the village,
moving slowly. But when he had teaehed
the end of the avenue, he paused, turned,
and walked slowly back. In the dark he
leaned against a tree and stood there as
patient as the silence. He took no note of
time. He was wholly absorbed in this new
passion that had taken possession of his
faculties. He saw the lights in the house
go out one by one. He heard the negroes
at their quarters singing to a wild melody
of their own (in which all the sorrow of all
the world was suggested) the words of an
old hymn that had been familiar to him
from his boyhood. The melody rose and
fell as if blown hitherward on intermit
tent gusts of wind. The song aroused him
from his reverie and he went toward the
house. All was dark within save a faint
light that shone faintly through the
blinds of the room occupied by Mrs. Fin
cannon. Shadows disturbed the light,
showing that there was a continuous move
ment within. Presently Uncle Cato came
along and there was some one with him.
“I ain’t so mighty certain an’ sho’ ’bout
dat white man,” he was saying. “He look
good, but I’m gwinter keep my eye on ’im,
an’ cle minnit he look like he gwine take
nw’ dan one piece er paper I’m gwine ter
drap de light an’ 'larni de neighborhood.
I am dat.”
“Don’t do dat, honey,” said the other,
whose voice Otis Maxwell recognized as
that of Blind Shack. “Dey ain’t nothin’ in
dar clat’ll do nobody no good.”
“So you are here, Uncle Cato?” Max
well spoke in his ordinary tone. “Well, it
is better to be too early than too late.”
“You sho’ skeered me, suh!” exclaimed
HE HEARD THE NEGROES AT THE Q BARTERS SINGING A WILD MELODY.
Uncle Cato. “I bring Shack ’long, suh,
kaze blin’ as ez he is, he kin see lots better
in de dark dan what I kin. I wuz des
tellin’ ’im dates dis yer ladder breaks
while mo an’ you is on it some mighty nice
folks’ll git hurted.”
“Sh-h!” whispered Shack.
The three moved softly away from the
steps. Presently Barrell Winstett came
from around the house. In a moment Miss
Susy Beasley tripped through the front
PIUCE FIVE CENTS
door and Burrell met her.
“Oh, Burrell!” she exclaimed in a fright
ened tone. “I heard some one talking;
I’m sure I did.”
“ ’Tain’t nothin’ in the world but the
frogs,” said Burrell, reassuringly. “Why,
there’s a big old bullfrog at the spring
that can talk more politics in an hour’s
time than Ben Hill an’ Bob Toombs an’
Aleck Stephens all put together. If the old
frog had his way he’d call a convention
an’ settle the rights of man before sun-up.”
“Oh, Burrell! I know I heard something
then!” Susy snuggled up close to him.
•'Shucks!” said Burrell, putting an arm
around her, “you nee’n’ to be scared when
I’m sittin’ ’roun’ an’ in tolerable good
health. I ain’t saw no better man than
me sence the war, not even that young fel
ler Olis.”
“O, I think he's so nice!” suggested Susy.
“Y-e-s,” assented Burrell, doubtfully. ‘L
did say I’d never like a yaukee, but he a
clever, an’ he’s got good sense.”
“And he’s so handsome,” declared Susy.
“Oh, yes,” replied Burrell with a sigh,
“he’s lots nicer and purtier than what 1
am.”
“Now, Burrell!” said Susy repentantly,
“I didn’t mean that! You know I love
you!” Her little hand crept into his big
one.
“You may love me some,” said Burrell
sadly, “but you don’t love me like I do
you.”
“You goose!” cried Susy, “you know I
do!”
“No,” Burrell went on; “no, you don’t.
I went to mill today, an’ I set on the bank
an’ looked at the water stretched out there
so calm an’ cool, an’ I says to myself, *Win
stett, that’s the.place for you. Then you’ll
be out of everybody’s way.’ ”
“Oh, Burrell!” pleaded Susy, putting both
arms around him and leaning her head on
his shoulder. “Oh, how can ypu? Please,
please don’t talk that way any more. I’m
miserable, anyhow, I know something’s
going to happen.”
Something did happen. The waning voice
of Mrs. Fincannon came echoing down the
hall:
“Susy! You, Susy Beasley! Come in
out of the damp!’
Burrell kissed her once, twice, thrice,
and she disappeared in the house, shutting
the door behind her. Burrell went around
toward the rear.
“Huh!” said Uncle Cato, in an under
tone. “Marse Burrell smack his mouf lik<
it tas’e good.’
Otis Maxwell and the two negroes re
mained perfectly quiet for some time,
Finally Shack laid his hand on Uncle Ca
to’s arm.
“Dey’s sumpin’ gwine on ’roun’ yander
in Miss Crissy’s room. Creep roun’ dar an’
see what ’tis.”
Uncle Cato went softly around and peeped
through the blinds. He came back arid re
ported that his young mistress was giving
Earceeny some of her old clothes and Mrs.
Fincannon was making the girl try them
on. He said his young mistress looked as if
she had been crying.
“Ah, well,” said Otis Maxwell, with a
slrh, “let’s get about our burglary. They
are not likely to go near the library to
night.”
It a little while a faint light in the li
brary showed that the gentle burglar was
at work. Then the blinds were closed and
all was dark again.
Suddenly there was a noise in the avenue
—a slight crunching sound. This attrited
the attention of Shack, who slipped a Fay
from the library window and moved noise
lessly in the direction of the entrance to
the rose garden. Then his keen ear caught
the sound of approaching footsteps. Then
there was a whispered consultation.
Mr. Beasley had arrived, bringing with
him the Rev. Felix Sampson, in order to
reassure Ethel and Mrs. Fincannon. Mr.
Sampson was a newcomer in that neigh
borhood, and he was not very sure of his
ground. In fact he had undertaken the
present expedition with many doubts and
fears. He had prudently left his horse
and buggy at the far end of the avenue,
and was prepared to take to the woods on
the slightest provocation. He stepped
about very lightly Indeed and was con
siderably agitated.
“I think I owe it to my cloth not to ven
ture too near,” he Whispered to Mr.
Beasley. “I feel that I am running a great
risk, a very great risk indeed. I feel that
I am inviting criticism. Yes, my dear si:’,
I feel it keenly. With your permission, I
will retrace my steps, and stand at the
head of this beautiful avenue, and there
await you and your charming bride that is
to be.”
“Stuff!” growled Mr. Beasley. 'Non
sense! Stay where you are.”
“But, my dear sir, you don’t appreciate
the delicacy of my—ah—my position. Should
we be discovered and—ah—pursued. I
feel that my—ah—my calling would be dis
graced.”
Mr. Beasley laid a warning hand on Mr,
Sampson. A noise was heard in the direction
of the library. The moon had risen suffi
ciently high to diffuse a dim light over the
garden and Mr. Beasley and the Rev. Mr.
Sampson shrank back under the shadow ot
the trees.
A noise was also heard at the front door
of the house and two female figures came
out upon the veranda. Otis Maxwell, who
had started into the house after his search
in the library, a successful search apparent*
ly, for he held a paper In his hand, was
near enough to recognize one of the figures
as Mrs. Fincannon. The other resembled
Ethel. They walked down the steps to
gethcr.
“Now don’t be skeer’d,” said Mrs. Fin
cannon. “There hain’t nothin’ on the round
veth to hurt you—nothin'. You don t have
Io opeVyouZ mouth. You don’t have to
S QUs Maxwell watched this queer proceed-