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THE TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
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1 r
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY
When I consider thy heavens, the work
of thy fingers, the moon and the stars
which Thou hast ordained, what is man
that Thou art mindful of him, and the son
of man that Thou visitest him? For Thou
hast made him a little lower than the
angels, and hast crowned him with glory
and honour. Thou madest him to have do
minion over the works of thy hands, Thou
hast put all things under his feet. O Lord,
how excellent is thy name in all the earth.
—From the Eighth Psalm.
Patronage, Not Peace
MONDAY, July 28th, closed the dec
ide that has elapsed since Austria
launched its armies against little Ser
blt and plunged the world Into war. The day
Is taken by one eminent observer as the basis
for some dramatic contrasts and a striking
lesson. “We who look back upon that ten
years of swift destruction and halting recon
struction, and now cl serve the way in which
human fears, jealousies and passions inter
vene to prevent the re-establishment of peace,
order and happiness may well wonder if
mankind, in mass, is wholly sane. Every
nation that entered the war—the United
States no less than the rest—went in with
bands playing, banners waving, the people
wrought up to a white heat of devotion and
sacrifice. He who strove to Impede the j
march of the militant majority into war,
was sent to Coventry If not to jail. Nothing
at the supreme moment seemed impossible."
Nine-tenths of the civilized world, ten years
ago, rushed gayly and thoughtlessly—the ad
verbs not too strong—into a war destined
to cost ten millions of lives and property
losses, direct and indirect, amounting to
one hundred and fifty billion six hundred
and twelve million dollars. Today every step
toward reaching some international agree
ment by which assurance may be given that
“it shall never happen again" is made’ the
plaything of politicians, the intellectual di
version of theorists, the stake of the game
played by international financiers. Could
anything on its face seem more incredible
than this contrast? As we look about for
methods by which that cause may be re
moved, whether World Court. League of Na
tions, Dawes agreement, English-speaking
unity, or whatever plan may hold some prom
ise, must we be so insistent that it shall be
perfect at the outset, and certain beyond a
peradventure of a doubt to accomplish the
end sought?
Cannot a world which took such frightful
chances and braved such incalculable perils
in plunging into war assume some slight risk
in building a world association for the main
tenance of peace?
The answer to this is that the world,
meaning the people, think and act through
“statesmen,"and to too many so-called states
men nothing can be advisable that jeopard
izes his personal interests. In this they re
flect the view of the parties they lead. There
Is no* an educated, observant man outside of
politics in the United States today but knows
that three of his class, chosen for their
breadth of thought and ability to deal with
business quesions of magnitude, properly au-
could. s.o ia. EUuooe and put this
country into the League of Nations on a
basis that would insure the world against
the horrors of a general war. Such direct
action, however, would rob the dominant
party of the bugaboo with which it frightens
the Ignorant and unthinking into its ranks
and perpetuates its hold on patronage and
power.
Patronage and power are the real stakes;
peace does not enter into their calculations.
They have no objection to peace; in the ab
stract it seems really a good thing; if it
THE ATLANTA TRIWEEKLY JOURNAL
could be wielded as a party asset, it would
be a wonderful thing. Just now it hap
pens to be the other way. There are those
among these “statesmen" who will tell you
that, used as a bugaboo, the world league
is good for several presidential terms to
come. These fellows command respect and
following through their ability to see far
ahead, and this impresses the masses next
to the gift of second sight. It's all very sim
ple, however, when the record is studied—a
farseeing stateman, it has been well said,
is one who persistently finds trifles where
with to obstruct any international agree
ment for the maintenance of peace.
Licensed Cotton Gins
FEW things are more important to the
growers of cotton than reliable infor
mation as to the growing crop and the
gathered crop before it is marketed. For
obvious reasons reports on the condition of
the growing crop must always be unsatis
factory since these are based on personal
opinions of men whose ability to judge,
whose psychology and disinterestedness must
be taken on faith. The best that can be
done in this field is to gather a multitude
of estimates and strike an average; yet on
this variable foundation cotton prices in the
exchanges swing up and. down at a cost of
millions to somebody.
But when it comes to actual cotton In
sight, absolutely correct figures are possible
under a simple plan. The licensed gin, with
weekly reports of transactions solves the
problem. This is the plan pursued in Ala
bama and elsewhere and one that Georgia
might well adopt. For It Is immensely im
portant to the farmer and to the country at
large that they be in position to know the
amount of cotton in sight at all times.
“Cotton in sight” so often reported during
the season is cotton in warehouse, compress
and in transit. It does not necessarily in
clude cotton stored on the farm. Nor is
there any guarantee against twice counted
cotton. It is upon these reports however,
and on guesses, that the cotton i price is
fixed in New York and New Orleans.
A law requiring a license to run a gin,
the fee nominal, and weekly reports from
each gin owner to a designated state officer
would supply exact information as to cot
ton brought in sight, and assist greatly in
defeating the manipulations of dishonest
speculators.
Another argument In favor of the licensed
gin is that it furnishes additional protection
against cotton thieves. Stealing seed cotton
from the field and the cotton house is com- 1
mon in many sections. The gin records make I
such practices dangerous.
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
get the answer to any question puzzling
him by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, Th C., and
inclosing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. Where is the silver market? F. T.
A. London had always been known as the
silver market until the war, when it changed
to New York City; however, it is now back !
in London and quotations entirely
on the prices there.
Q. What was the earliest patriotic song |
in this country? F. N. T.
A. The earliest patriotic song in America i
which L. C. Elson has been able to unearth |
is a “liberty song" advertised in the Boston !
Chronicle of October 16, 1 763. Mrs. Marcy
Warren, wife of General James Warren, of
Plymouth, Mass., wrote the words. The!
tune was Boyce's “Heart of Oaks." Mrs. !
Warren began the old American custom of i
setting patriotic verses to an English mel-■
ody. “Yankee Doodle" antedated this song,;
but, says Mr. Elson, not as an American
patriotic work, for originally it was a song
in derision of the Americans. The Ameri-:
cans admired the tune, even though it. was
used against them. Early in our national
career, Americans appropriated. the tune of!
“God Save the King." As early as 1779 the
melody was adapted to American use, a set
of patriotic verses having been written to it
and published in the “Pennsylvania Pack.”
An “Ode for the Fourth of July” was writ
ten to the same tune and became very popu-1
lar. During the last quarter of the eight
eenth century “Washington’s March” was!
the leading instrumental works of the Amer- I
ican repertoire.
Q. Didn’t President Grant change his
name so that his initials were I'. S.? O. G. D. |
A. President Grant's name was changed I
by the member of congress who made out!
his application to enter West Point. He was i
named Hiram Ulysses. Congressman Hamer j
wrote the name Ulysses Simpson Grant,
Simpson being the youth’s mother's maiden
name, and the error was never corrected.
Q. What does a “straw vote” mean? E. C.
A. There is an old saying “Straws show
which way the wind blows,” meaning that a
small thing may indicate which way a larger
event will turn. A vote, therefore, entirely
unofficial and taken by an individual ot cor
poration. often shows which way an official
vote will go.
Q. Was there a Jewish woman corre
sponding to Joan of Are? C. B. H.
A. Deborah, the wife of Lapodeth, was
one of the earliest judges of Israel and
urged the Israelites to rise against the Ca
naanites who had oppressed them for gener
ations. Barak, leader of the Israelites, re
fused to go into battle unless accompanied
by Deborah. With a small force she tri
umphed over the Canaanites. The song of
Deborah is considered a masterpiece of He
brew literature.
Q. What is the most valuable precious
stone? G. E. T.
A. Probably the most expensive stone in
the world is the stone known as the Orien
tal amethyst. This is really a sapphire of
amethyst color. Our amethysts, emeralds,
rubies and sapphires belong to the corundum
series and are all of the same composition.
There are only a few of these valuable Ori
ental amethysts in the world, and these are
guarded by Indian rajahs.
Q. Was Noah Webster a college gradu
ate? F. T. O.
A. He entered Yale university at the age
of sixteen years and was graduated at twen
ty. A great part of his life was devoted to
education, years being devoted to the com
position of a dictionary. He aided in found
inc Amherst college.
]• MOVIE MAD
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has gone before—Gloria King
conies to Hollywood with the idea of
| making good in the movies, but be
comes hardened by the life and is fool
ish enough to marry Rolf Templeton,
the great screen star, thinking it will
be a step toward success in her ca
reer. He makes her his leading woman,
and when the picture “Stranger Souls”
is released, Gloria is a. hit. In fact,
she has stolen the picture away from
the star. Rolf makes an attempt to
j show his authority over her by carry
ing her downstairs in order to exploit
her before his friends, but Gloria car
ries off the situation. —Now go on with
the story.
CHAPTER XXI
“I Love Lou'’
QUICKLY Gloria led the way into her
sitting room and closed the connect
ing door. Then she wheeled about
and said evenly, “What do you want?”
Looking at him, her heart suddenly con
i traded. His face was very white aqd his
i eyes blazing. The arrogant manner had
I fallen from him, leaving him appealingly
, boyish. She had never before seen him
! like this, and it affected her strangely.
"I had to see you,” he began quickly.
! "I’ve been driving around in the car burn
ing up the roads. I couldn’t wait till
morning.”
“Well?” The single word was not en
couraging.
“Gloria, I suppose it's useless to ask you
to be friends with me.” He spoke very sim
ply, with quiet sincerity. For just a single
moment Gloria almost believed him sincere,
and then memory rushed over her together
with the realization that this must be some
kind of trap.
“Friends!” she repeated scornfully,
“friends with you? The idea is absurd.
Friendship Implies trust. Do you think 1
could ever trust you?”
He was silent, and after a moment she
went on speaking. “Since you have forced
your way in here tonight, you might as
well hear what I intend to do. I made up
my mind after the intolerable scene you
made before your friends that I have
reached the limit of endurance. I think I
must have been mad to stand it as long
as I have, and now—” but before she could
complete her sentence he had interrupted.
"Just a moment. Perhaps it would be
interesting to you to know something that
you probably don’t suspect, something that
1 myself didn’t realize until tonight. That
is why I couldn’t sleep, that’s the reason 1
woke you at this hour in the morning.
Gloria, I love you!”
She would have interrupted here, but he
held up ~his hand. "Wait, you must listen
to me. Don’t you see that I’m giving you
a chance to ridicule me, that I’m putting
myself in your power? If it weren’t true,
I d. never do that, but it is true, I swear it.
I didn’t know it myself until tonight. When
I first met you, it irritated me to know
that you disliked me, that you believed I
couldn’t act. I kept thinking about it, I
couldn’t seem to get you out of my
mind, and because you avoided me I hit on
the idea of asking you to play with me in
Stranger Souls.’ Then that day when we
played the wedding scene I held you in my
arms. After that I wanted you. I was de
termined to have you. I wanted to humble
you, I wanted to make you pay for the way
you had treated me, I wanted to hurt you
because you hated ifie, but in spite of every
thing 1 loved you. 1 know that now." His
voice was unsteady, he was pleading with
hei, but his words awoke no response in
the woman who stood staring at him incred
ulously. Her eyes were hard, a bitter little
smile curved her lips, and then she was
speaking, and all the suffering of the past
tew weeks was revealed in what she said
lon say you love me. If you had loved
me would you have forced your love-mak
,ng on me? If you had cared for me,
wouldn t you have been content to woo me,
to give me time to realize everything? You
knew that 1 regretted the step I had taken
the minute we were married. If you had
Joved me, there was your chance to prove
It. Instead, you forced me to go home with
you, you humbled my pride at every chance,
you exploited me before your friends, and
then worst of all you made love to me, and
1 think 1 know why you did that.”
"Because I was mad about you.” be in
terrupted hotly, “because I couldn’t keep
away from you when vve were alone.”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t the reason. It was
because you wanted to make me see you as
pther women have seen you. You had the
Idea that if you were persistent enough, I
couldn’t resist you for long. You placed
such a high value on your charms that
sooner or later you expected me to sur
ffender to them, but you see I never did.”
' CHAPTER XXII
Good-by
((T KNOW you hate pie, that’s why I
| came to you tonight to ask your
friendship. I want you to give me
the chance to make you care for me. I
promise never to intrude on your privacy,
to ask nothing from you.” Rolf spoke
guardedly, controlledly. and yet at that
moment the impulse was strong in him to
seize her in his arms. But he crushed it
back, lie had used force in the past, and
she hated him the more for it. Now he
must be patient and wait. Suddenly he
realized . that Gloria was laughing.
“Os course,” she said, after a minute,
“my success has changed everything. You
realize now that I am no longer in your
power, that I don’t have to look to you for
help. If I hadn’t made a bit in ‘Stranger
Souls’ you would never have discovered
that you loved me, but now that your pride
has been humbled, and your vanity hurt,
you realize the importance of avoiding a
scandal. Don’t you suppose that I see
through vou. that I realize exactly how your
mind is working? It would be more agree
able for you if I continued living here in
your house at least until your next pictuie
is released, but you must see that such a
thing is impossible. I couldn t spend an
other night under your roof. I shall leave
here in the morning. But you needn
worrv I won't make a scandal You can
tell people anvthing you like and I 11 agree
Io it For a Hme at least it will be enough
to get away from you. Later we can eci
On She at S t t ood d °there before him. a slender,
almost childish figure, and yet there vas a
oualitv as of steel about her. Her hatred
of him was unwavering, and she was ready
to impute the lowest motives to his final
attempt to hold her. It would be impossible
to convince her of anything else.
The idea came to him suddenly to be a
sport, to let her go gracefully, to help her
to the freedom she desired so much. But
on the other hand, every fault that for the
last few years had gone to make up his
nature cried out to him to hold her at' all
•osts. He was arrogant, selfish and con
ceited. Even the adverse criticisms of his
work in “Stranger Souls” had not robbed
him of all his vanity, and yet, for the first
time in his life, a sincere emotion had
stirred in him. His feeling for Gloria sprang
from something other than pure selfishness,
and he realized that deeper even than his
fierce love of her was the longing for her
respect. It must have been that way from
the very first, only conceit had blinded him
Now he knew that something in her he had
never been able to reach was a certain cling
' ing to a high ideal. That was the quality
THE THRIFT HABIT
By H. Addington Bruce
IT is a fact, unappreciated by most people,
that if a man or woman begins and de
terminedly continues to save each week
a portion of his or her earnings, the time
will come when it really is easier to save
than not. to save.
This is because the psychological law of
habit operates with regard to thrift as to
everything else.
And that law is,’ simply, that every act
with each repetition tends to greater readi
ness in performance, instil it becomes an au
tomatic or semi-automatic activity. Then
whatever interferes with it is. felt as an un
pleasant hindrance.
Thus the habitual smoker chafes if condi
tions prevent him from smoking at his ac
customed time. 'Phe reader habituated to
read his newspaper at the breakfast table,
is resentful if the paper has not arrived.
The writer whose habit it is to write in the
morning is at a loss if obliged to wait until
afternoon.
So, too, the non-saver who acquires a
habit of saving finds in time a positive
source of discomfort, if not distress, in any
thing that causes him or her to delay the
wonted visit to the bank.
And because the thrift habit is one of the
best habits a person can acquire, it is im
portant to impress on all non-savers the
certitude with which they will acquire it- —if
they but make an earnest effort to do so.
The trouble with most of them is that
they already have a spending habit. Well,
let them continue to spend-—within reason
able limitations. But persuade them to
make the experiment'of. say. subscribing to
a few shares of a. co-operative bank or a
building and loan association.
For some months they may find it diffi
cult indeed to make the required payment
on bank-day. They would sooner buy this
or that, they deplore the sacrifice of some
pleasure they could otherwise have. It is
with real regret that they force themselves
to set by Something for the future —some-
thing for the rainy day that most people
soon or late experience.
Only for a time do they feel this foolish
regret, this animosity against saving. Per
sisting in saving, they discover that to put a
little money in a bank every month has be
come as easy to them as spending the same
amount formerly was. And. as they see
their savings mount, they discover also the
presence of a peace of mind unknown to
them before.
Test this for yourself, If at present you
are among the non-savers. You will find it
one of the most certain of truths, as hun
dreds of thousands of other people have
found to their great joy.
(Copyright, 1 9 24.)
SUCCESS
By Dr. Frank Crane
SUCCESS, as we commonly use the term,
either in the sense of doing valuable
work or of attaining prominence and
riches, has little or nothing to do with char
acter.
No more deeply immoral teaching can be
given youth than to instruct them that if
they are good they shall become wealthy,
noted or efficient.
Whether such a person shall win any of
this world’s prizes is a wholly different mat
ter.
This world is a combination of stupid prej
udices, ignorant enthusiasms and vicious
customs, together with a vast deal of sub
merged human goodness, justice and love.
When We organize and get society ar
ranged upon a basis of equal privilege and
opportunity for every baby born into it, then
perhaps, in the general esteem, “worth will
make the man and want of it the fellow.”
The only sound doctrine to teach is that
the youth is to go in for only one thing, the
perfect development of his own personality.
Morally he is to be shown that sensualism
and all forms of selfishness do not develop;
they deform and dwarf him. They may not
keep him from being a great artist, poli
tician or nabob; but they surely prevent him
from ever being a great man.
If you tell him that he cannot become a
millionaire or a famous violinist except he be
virtuous, he will find out after a while that
you have lied. He will discover many an
alleged “great man,” in history and in his
own times, who is a pervert, a cad, or a
groundling. Then he will be tempted to
throw overboard you and all your moralizing.
The basic principle of true education is
to teach what is worth while, to teach
youth to be good for the joy and freedom of
it, not because of fear or authority or re
ward. and to do good work for the love of it,
not for praise or pay, and to be a man.
strong, clean, fearless and gentle, and to
look upon money, fame and all such stuff as
matters of indifference.
We must learn to reverence the individual
before we can ever form a government that
shall give the individual a square deal.
MY FAVORITE STORIES
By Irvin S. Cobb
Two weather-beaten, sandy-haired, frec
kled-faced persons were being arraigned in a
London police court. The policeman who had
arrested the pair appeared as the complain
ing witness against them.
“Constable,” said the magistrate, “de
scribe the circumstances.”
“Well, your Worship,” stated the officer,
“I found them on the curb, grossly intoxicat
ed and disorderly. I was told they 'ad just
been ejected from a public 'ouse after cre
ating a disturbance.”
“Then you did not actually see them
drinking?”
“No, your Worship, but it was quite plain
that they ’ad each ’ad a great many drinks.”
His Worship turned to the prisoners:
“Your name?” he asked the one on the
right.
“Alexander MacGregor,” answered the
prisoner in rich Scotch accent.
“And yours?”
“Jock MacDougal,” said the second de
fendant.
“MacGregor and MacDougal, eh?” said the
magistrate musingly. He again addressed
the policeman:
“Constable,” he said, “we'll adjourn this
hearing until you have made search for the
real guilty one —the person who was re
sponsible for these two poor fellows being
in the condition in which you found them.”
in her that made the public acclaim her,
and he had been given a lightning glimpse
of what his work might mean to him if he
viewed it through her eyes.
“Gloria.” he said, suddenly, “will you
ask me to give you your freedom? I’d like
it to be that way, I’d like to feel that I had
done one thing you asked of me.”
“So I’d remember you kindly!” she flung
out scornfully. "I understand. No, I won’t
ask for my freedom. I take it as my right.
And now that we’ve covered the entire
situation between us, will you go, please?
I'm very tired.”
He hesitated for a moment and then he
came over to her. For a moment, she
thought he was going to seize her in his
arms, and she held her breath, but he mere
ly took one of her hands in his.
Turning it over, he looked for a long
moment at the soft pink palm, the fingers
curling ever so slightly, the hand entirely
passive. Then he stooped and laid his lips
to it. A moment later he was gone.
Thursday—“A Gifr” and “Fame." Re
new your subscription now to avoid missing
a chapter of this thrilling story.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 5, 1921.
HIS BROTHER’S WIFE
BY RUBY M. AYRES
CHAPTER XXXVI
The Ghost
AM thinking of giving up part of the
I house to wounded soldiers,” David
said presently. “More than half of it
is always shut up, and the authorities have
been asking for additional convalescent
homes and hospitals; these rooms would do
splendidly for wards.”
“Yes.”
Mary's voice sounded wistful; her thoughts
bad flown to Nigel, the son of this great
house, who had given his life for England.
He would never come here any more; the
beautiful rooms would never again echo to
the sound of his cheery laugh or voice.
She stifled a sigh. David looked down at
her quickly.
“What are you thinking?”
She answered him quite simply:
“1 was thinking of Nigel.”
He was silent for a moment.
“You are always thinking of him,” he
said.
“No, not always.”
They had reached the wide landing now,
and David turned to the right and pushed
open a heavy, nail-studded door.
“This is the passage to the old part of the
house,” he said. He held it back for her to
pass; she noticed that it fell again into its
place with hardly a sound.
A long, unlit passage lay ahead of them;
it was dark save for the moonlight stream
ing through the high mullioned windows.
There was something eerie in its great
beauty; instinctively she drew nearer to
David.
“I was right about the moonlight, you
see,” he said.
They stood for a moment, looking out at
the garden'; it looked almost like fairyland,
Mary thought, and it filled her with a &>nse
of awe, almost of fear. She would have
liked to put her hand into David’s very much
as ;a child in the dark gropes for its mother’s
hand.
“And is this where the ghost walks?” she
asked presently.
He shook his head.
“No —much further along.” He looked
down at her. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
“Os course not!” There was indignation
in her voiee.
They went on to the end of the passage;
there was another door there, much wider
than the first.
“Has Miss Fisher ever been here?” asked
Mary suddenly.
A quick frown crossed David’s face.
“I really do not know. Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking how all his lovely oak
and paneling and polished floors would suit
her. She is beautiful —like some princess in
a fairy story.”
“You are very kind.” His voice was rath
er dry. “I thought women never admired
one another.”
“That is only a man’s idea,” she told him
with dignity.
David laughed.
He pushed open the second door, but
barred her way with his arm when she would
have passed him.
“You have to wish when your feet touch
new ground,” he said. “Shut your eyes,
and wish for the thing you want most in all
the world.”
CHAPTER XXXVII
For Happiness
■'l\ iT ARY obeyed unquestionably; she
IVI shut her eyes tightly and wondered
x ** what she ought to wish.
For love? But that had already passed
her by! For riches? It was so unlikely
that she would ever have them! For what,
then, could she wish? Happiness? It al
most seemed as if someone put the .thought
into her head as she stood there by David
Bretherton’s side, with the moonlight bar
ring the polished floor at their feet.
She gave a little sigh.
“I wish for happiness, then,” she said.
Bretherton laughed.
“You ought not to have told me; you
must never speak your wish to anybody.”
He pushed open the door, and then entered.
There was a faint, musty smell of dis
used rooms; a sort of chilly dampness made
Mary shiver as she followed David into the
darkness.
They had entered a sort of wide corri
dor, at one end of which the tall, painted
pipes of rose to the very ceiling.
“This used to be the old music-gallery,”
Bretherton said; “and, it is chiefly here, too,
that the ghost lady is supposed to walk.”
“Oh!” said Mary softly. She looked
round her with wide eyes.
There was something depressing to her
in the darkness and silence; she began to
think of the men and women—dead long
since—who had walked the oaken floors
and made the old place echo with the sound
of their voices.
It seemed strange that none of them
would ever come there again; strange, too,
to think that some day she and David would
be dead, even as they, and others would be
taking their place in the world, and per
haps standing where they stood now.
She fancied that she could even see a
phantom figure in the organ seat; hear the
soft pure strains of music issuing from
those painted pipes.
“Doesn’t—doesn’t anyone ever /use It
now?” she asked.
Unconsciously she spoke in a whisper;
David shook his head.
“It hasn’t been touched for years. There
are other rooms further on. Shall we go?”
His steps echoed hollowly as he led the
way; there was so little furniture and no
curtains at all at the high windows.
Here and there the outline of an old
high-back chair stood out of a corner; or
the ghost-shape of a folding card-table,
with quaintly clubbed feet and slender legs.
“If this were my house,” said Mary sud
denly, “I should live in this part of it—it’s
much more beautiful than the other wing.
It only Wants the windows open, and big
fires, and—” She broke off, conscious of
his eyes bent upon her, “I ought not to
have said that,” she added, in confusion.
“You do live here, don’t you?” said
David, smilingly.
A low archway led to a smaller, narrow
er room. i
“We ought to have a light to see the
carving here properly,” he added in a more
matter-of-fact voice. “Will you wait a
moment while I find one? There used to
be candles kept in the organ-loft.”
He walked away without waiting for her
to speak.
Mary stood there in the darkness, listen
ing to the sound of his footsteps. She was
conscious of a sort of timidity all at once
now she knew herself to be alone. She
wished he had not left her; she felt almost
inclined to call out to him, but bit her lip
to check the desire.
His steps had quite died away now, and
there was a momentary silence, followed by
the hollow banging of a distant door.
Mary started violently; she took a step
forward, then stopped.
How absurd to be nervous! He would
be back in a moment! Os course, he had
not left her for more than a moment. But
she counted each second by her racing
heart-beats.
The patch of moonlight coming through
the archway leading to the long music-room
seemed to fill the whole place with shad
dows. She remembered that David had said
it was here that the ghost lady walked.
The ghost lady only came when shame
or disgrace threatened the family. Panic
seized her: she took a step forward.
“David!” She thougnt she cried his
THE COUNTRY HOME 4
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON I
THE CHARLESTON' DEMOCRATIC CON
VENTION IN 1860
ON the 26th of April, 1860, almost a
year before the firing on Fort Sum
ter, the Democratic National Conven
tion met in Charleston, S. C.
Hon. Stephen A. Douglas was the up
standing candidate. He had been a. ma
gician—-who seemed to balance the North
against the South.
The convention had been preceded by bit
ter strife in the House and Senate. The
“Little Grant.” as Douglas was called, had
twice ’/ciore sought the nomination and
had been rejected by what was called the
“fire-eaters” of the South.
lie was getting up in years, and by the
time another four years had passed he
would be getting too old, etc.
The convention opened at noon, April 23.
Slidell, Breckenridge and Lane, of Oregon,
were bitterly opposed to Douglas. They did
not like squatter sovereignty—and he did
not consider slavery the main issue. It was
predicted before the convention met that
the Southern delegates would evacuate if
Douglas was nominated, just as Van Buren
delegates evacuated in 1848 at the Balti
more convention.
The day before the convention six South- '<s
ern delegates pledged themselves to with-jB
draw unless a resolution was adopted 'n y
ravor of Congressional protection for slavery
in the territories.
This was the first severe blow to the
Douglas men. There were two delegations
from New York-—one headed by Fernando
Wood, the other by Dean Richmond. The
latter was known as the “Albany regency,”
'of which we heard a great deal in those
exciting days. The Wood delegation fa
vored Douglas.
Seven Southern states and Pennsylvania
were openly against the Wood delegation.
Hon. Francis Flournoy, an Arkansas del
egate and a Douglas man, was made tem
porary chairman and Caleb Cushing perma
nent chairman.
Amid great uproar and confusion, the two
New York delegations and one delegation
from Illinois were not permitted to vote—-
until the disputes were settled.
Permanent Chairman Cushing said, in his
speech: “You are here as representatives
of the great Democratic party; that proud
party in the Union which maintains public
liberties and popular freedom —to maintain
the sacred rights of States.”
The fight over the resolutions was pro
longed and bitter. Judge Taney’s Dred
Scott decision was upheld.
Jefferson Davis’ resolutions said negro
slaves comprise the most important part of
the South’s domestic institutions, and it is
the duty of the Federal Government to pro
tect that institution.”
The Douglas resolution left the question
of slavery to the Territories. Hon. Ben But
ler’s resolution was conciliatory.
The committee on resolutions occupied
i two days and nights.
At the Mills House, in Charleston, board
was $5.00 per day—a deposit required.
; Breakfast $1.50, ditto dinner and supper.
The Wood delegation was rejected by the
convention —the Dean Richmond seated.
The members from eight Southern states
declared they would secede and nominate
Davis and Slidell if Wood’s resolutions were
accepted.
The Alabama delegation (W. L. Yancey)’
was reported as weeping and praying, and
calling the North and West delegations all
! abolitionists.
On the sth day of the convention two
reports were made. One by a Mr. Avary,
of North Carolina, and minority report hy
Butler of Massachusetts. New England,
New Jersey, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michi
gan, Wisconsin, lowa, Minnesota, New York
and Pennsylvania signed Butler’s report.
Avary rose up to say: “We sympathize
with you when you are called dough faces
at the North.” Mr. Butler said: “Massa
; chusetts has never had a rule that prevent
ed a man from voting his sentiments from
fear of the bludgeon or bullet.” Mr. King,
of Missouri, said: “The majority report .
has the sting of death. If adopted tjw
Democratic party is whipped before the bat
tle.”
There was furious, hitter debating on
28th and 29th. An lowa, delegate pleaded
that the convention shall not drive one
half the delegates out of the party! An
Arkansas delegate declared: “Douglas to !e
an enemy of the ; South.”
They quit on Saturday night and begun
early Monday to debate again.
On the night of April 30, delegates from
Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana,
South Carolina, Florida, Arkansas and Vir
ginia withdrew from the convention. On,
the morning of May Ist the exodus beg ifrNy,
! It was proposed to adjourn to Philadelphia
and New York and start over again. Dele
gates begun to leave the hall, Georgia and
1 Arkansas leading.
On the evening of May Ist the balloting
! began. Douglas received 145 to 150 on
- several ballots, too few to elect.
The convention ba Hotted three days.. On
the 55ta ♦’allot Douglas had 157 ballots, On
the 15th ballot, Mr. Douglas, in Washing
ton, instructed them to adjourn to Balti
more. They met on June 28. The se
| ceders determined also<to nominate in Rich
! mond, Va., and to await the action at Bal-
I tiniore.
’ At Richmond. June 11, a meeting was
I held. The Baltimore convention nominated
Douglas. The Richmond gathering nomi
nated Breckinridge and T>ane,
A Bell and Everett ticket was also put
in the field.
Douglas tried to withdraw, but his friends
{would not release him. He came to Geor
gia and spoke at Kingston. His handsoms
wife came with him.
■ And this was 6 4 years ago.
name aloud, but in reality it was only a
whisper on her burning lips. Aqd then in
a flash all her control deserted her; she
felt like a frightened child, walking into
darkness and silence from a bad dream.
She started to run across the room to
wards the archway through which that
patch of moonlight shone; her breath came
pantinglv; she felt as if she were choking.
And then—then something stayed her
steps, and for a moment seemed to still her
heart.
Across the long music-gallery—across the
patch of moonlight—she thought she saw
the slender outline of a woman's figure; a
woman in a loose gray robe of some thin,
soft material; a woman who walked with
her white hands before her face as if to
i hide it in shame or sorrow.
It was but for a second that Mary saw
it, and then it had gone—melted away Into
i the oaken walls.
And then the icy hand and chain of fear
that had held her a prisoner seemed to re
lease its hold, and she ran—ran screaming
ly sobbingly across the room.
David had left her—she was shut in here
alone, forever. She would have to die in
this Pinnty, silent room, with only the gray
ghosts for company. .
Thursday—“ David's Suggestion." Renew
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