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H wll OVAyt/v '“"W "a”co»^i - J. gr J.B UPPINCOTT \\ - —srr'V/L ***£> f’ußi'Snco e* \\ P ' y SffOAl »■« CHAPTER VI “Do not let the voter in your l>lnod whimper for mercy." Monterey danced every night and all night of that week either at Alvarado's or at the custom house, and every fter noon met at the races, the lm!4 fight, a merienda or to climb the greased [>ole, catch the greased pig by its tail as it ran or exhibit skill in horsemanship Chonita, at times an imperious coquette, at others indifferent, perverse or coy, was la favorita without appeal, and the girls alternately worshiped her —she was abstractedly kind to them—or heart ily wished her back in Santa Barbara Estenega rarely attended the socialities being closeted with Alvarado and Castro most of the time, and when he did she avoided him if sho could. #»***» On the last night of the festivities when the women, weary with the nun sually late hours of the past week, had left the ballroom early and sought their beds, and the men, being at loss for other amusement, had gone in a body to a saloon, there to drink and gamble and set fire to each other's curls and trousers seats, tho departmental junta met in se cret session. The night was warm, the plaza deserted. All who were not in the saloon at the other end of the town were asleep, and after the preliminary words in Alvarado's office the junta picked up their chairs and went forth to hold con clave where bulls and bears had fought and the large indulgent moon gave clearer light than adamantine candles. They drew close together, and after rolling the eigarito solemnly regarded the shy for a few moments without speaking. Their purpose was a grave one. They met to try Pio Pico for con tempt of government and annoying in sistence in behalf of his pet project to remove the capital from Monterey to Los Angeles, Jose Antonio Carillo and Reinaldo Iturbi y Moncada for conspir acy, and General Vallejo for evil disposi tion and unwarrantable comments upon the policy of the administration. None of the offenders was present. With the exception of Alvarado, Cas tro and Estenega, the members of the junta were men of middle age and rep resented the talent of California—Ji meno, Gonzales, Arguello, Requena, Del Valle—their dark, bearded faces, up turned to tho stars, made a striking set of profiles, the effect somewhat marred by the silk handkerchiefs tied about their heads. Alvarado spoke finally, and after pre senting the charges in due form con tinued: “The individual enemy to the govern ment is like the fly to tho lion—it cannot harm, but it can annoy. We must brush away the fly as a vindication of our dig nity and take precaution that he does not return, even if we have to bond our heads to tie his little legs. Ido not pur pose to bo annoyed by these blistering midgets wo are met to consider, nor to have my term of administration spotted with their gall. I leave it to yon, my compatriots and friends, to advise me what is best to do.” Jirneno put his feet on tho side rung of Castro’s chair, puffed a large gray cloud and half closed his eyes. He then for three-quarters of an hour, in a low musical voice, discoursed upon the dig nity of the administration and the de pravity of the offenders. When his brethren were beginning to drop their heads and breathe heavily Alvarado po litely interrupted him and referred the matter to Ciistro. “Imprison them!" exclaimed the im petuous general, suddenly alert. “With such a governor and such a people this should boa land white as tho mountain tops, unblemished by tho tracks of mean ambitions and sinful revolutions. Let us be summary, although not cruel. Let no man's blood flow while there are prisons in the Californios; but wo must pluck up the roots of conspiracy and disquiet, lest a thousand suckers grow about them, as about the half cut trunks of our redwood trees, and our Califor nias be uo better than any degenerate country of the Old World. Let us cast them iuto prison without further de bate." “The law, my dear Jose, gives them a trial,” drawled Gonzales. And then for a half hour he quoted such law as was known in the country. When he finished the impatient and suppressed members of tho junta delivered their opinions simultaneously; only Estenega liad nothing to say. They argued and suggested, cited evidence, defended and denounced, lashing themselves into a mighty excitement At length they were all on their feet gesticulating and prancing “Mother of God!" cried Requena. “Let ns give V allejo a taste of his own cruelty. Let ns put him in a temascal and set those of his Indian victims who are still alive to roast him ont" “No, no! Vallejo is maligned. He had no hand in that massacre. His heart is whiter than an angel's" “It is his liver that is white. His heart is as black as a blacksnake’s. To the devil with him!" “Make a law’ that Pio Pico can never put foot out of Los Angeles again, since he loves it so well” “His ugly face would spoil the next generation” “Death to Carillo and Iturbi y Mon cada! Death to all! Let the poison out oi the veins of California!” "No, no! As little blood in California as possible. Put them in prison and keep them on frijoles and w’ater for a year. That will cure rebellion —no chickens, no dulces, no aguardiente” Alvarado brought his staff of office down sharply upon a board he had pro vided for tho purpose. “Gentlemen,” he said, "w’ill yon not sit down and smoke another eigarito? We must be calm.” The junta took to its chairs at once. Alvarado never failed to command re spect. “Don Diego Estenega,” said the gov ernor, "will you tell us what j t ou have thought while the others have talked?” Estenega. who had been star gazing, turned to Alvarado, ignoring the junta. His keen, brilliant eyes gave the gov ernor a thrill of relief; his mouth ex pressed a mind made up and intolerant of argument. “Vallejo,” he said, "is like a horse that will neither run nor back into his stall; he merely stands still and kicks. His kicking makes a noise and raises a dust, but does no harm. In other words, he will irritate, but never take a re sponsibility. Send him an official notice that if he does not keep quiet an armed force will march upon Sonoma and im prison him in his own house, humili ating him before tho eyes of his soldiers and retainers. "As for Pio Pico, threaten to fine and punish him. He will apologize at once and be quiet for six months, when you can call another secret session and issue another threat. It would prolong the term of his submission to order him to appear before the junta and make it an apology with due humility. "Now for Carillo and Reinaldo Iturbi y Moncada.” He paused a moment and glanced at Chonita’s grating. He had the proofs of her brother’s rascality in his pocket; no one but himself had seen them. He hesitated the fraction of an other moment, then smiled grimly. “Oh, Helen!” he thought, “the same old story.” “That Carillo is guilty,” he said aloud, “is proved to us beyond doubt. He has incited rebellion against the government in behalf of Carlos Carillo. He is dan gerous to the peace of the country. Iturbi y Moncada is young and heedless; hardly to bo considered seriously. Fur thermore, it is impossible to obtain proof of his complicity. His intimacy with Carillo gives him the appearance of guilt. It would be w T ell to frighten him a little by a short term of imprisonment. He is restless and easily led; a lesson in time may save his honored house from disaster. But to Carillo no quarter I” He rose and stood over them. “The best thing in Machiavelli’s ‘Prince,’ ” he said, “is the author’s advice to Caesar Borgia to exterminate every member of the reigning house of a conquered coun try, in order to avoid future revolutions and their infinitely greater number of dead. Do not let the water in your blood w’him per for mercy. You are not here to protect an individual, but a coun try." “You are right,” 6aid Alvarado. The others looked at the young man who had merely given the practical ad vice of statecraft as if he had opened his chest and displayed the lamp of wisdom burning. His absence of excitement in all ordeals which animated them to mad ness had long ago inspired the suspicion that he was rather more than human. They uttered not a protest. Alvarado’s one eyed secretary made notes of their approval, and the junta, after another friendly smoke, adjourned, well pleased with itself. "Would I sacrifice my country for her a year hence?” thought Estenega as he sauntered home. "But after all, little harm is done. He is not worth killing, and fright and discomfort will probably cure him.” CHAPTER Vn. “Let me qoP’ she said. “ Let me go! T fear you," - Chonita und Estenega faced each other among the Cartilmn rosea of the gnrden behind the governor’s house. The duena was nodding in a corner; the firstborn of the Alvgrndou screaming within ab sorbed the attention of every member of the household, from the frantic young mother to the practical nurse. “My brother is to l»e arrested, you say?” “Yes." “And at your suggestion?” "Yes.” "And he may die?” "Possibly.” "Nothing would have been done if it had not l>een for you?’ "Nothing.” "God of my life! mother of God! how 1 hate you!“ “It is war then?” “1 would kill you if I were not a Cath olic." "I will make you forget that you are a Catholic." "You have made me remember it to my bitterest sorrow. I hate you so mor tally that I cannot go to confession; I cannot forgive.” “I hojie you will continue to hate for a time. Now listen to me. You have sev eral reasons for hating me. My house is the enemy of yours. lam to all intents and purposes an American; you can con sider me as such. I have that indiffer ence for religious superstition and in tolerance for religion’s thraldom which all minds larger of circumference than a napkin ring must come to in time. I have endangered the life of your brother, and I have opposed and shall oppose him in his political aspirations; he has my unequivocal contempt. Nevertheless I tell you here that I should marry you were there five hundred reasons for your hatred of me instead of a paltry five. I shall take pleasure in demonstrating to you that there is a force in the universe a good deal stronger than traditions, re ligion or even family ties.” His eyes were not those of a lover— they shone like steel. His mouth was forbidding. She drew back from him in terror, then struck her hands together passionately. “I marry you!” she cried. "An Este nega! A renegade! May God cast me out of heaven if l do! There, 1 have sworn! I have sworn! Do you think a Catholic would break that vow? I swear it by the church —and I put the whole church between us!” “I told you just now that 1 would make you forget your church.” He caught her hand and held it firmly. “A last word,” he said. "Your brother’s life is safe—l promise you that. ” “Let me go!” she said. “Let me go! 1 fear you." She was trembling; his warmth and magnetism had sprung to her shoulder. He gave her back her hand. “Go,” he said; “so ends the first chap ter ” CHAPTER VHI. "Dost thou think I am made of doub loonst” Casa Grande, the mansion of tho Iturbi y Moncadas in Santa Barbara, stood at the right of the presidio, facing the channel. A mile behind, under the shadow of the gaunt rocky hills curving about the valley, was the long white mission, with its double towers, corridor of many arches, and sloping roof cov ered with red tiles. Between was the wild valley where cattle grazed among the trees and the massive bowlders. The red tiled white abode houses of the presidio and of the little town clustered under its wing, the brown mud huts of the Indians, were grouped in the fore ground of the deep valley. The great house of the Iturbi y Mon cadas, erected in the first years of the century, was built about three sides of a court, measuring one hundred feet each way. Like most of the adobes of its time it had but one story, and a wide pillared corridor, protected by a sloping roof, faced tho court, which w r as as bare and hard as the floor of a ballroom. Be hind the dw’elling were the manufac tories and huts of the Indian retainers. Don Guillermo Iturbi y Moncada was the magnate of the south. His ranchos covered four hundred thousand acres; his horses and cattle w’ere nnnumbered. His Indians, carpenters, coopers, sad dlers, shoemakers, weavers, manufac turers of household staples, supplied the garrison and town with the necessaries of life. He also did a large trading busi ness in hides and tallow. Rumor had it that in the wooden tower bnilt against the back of the house he kept gold by the bushel basketful, but no one called him a miser, for he gave the poor of the town all they ate and wore and kept a supply of drugs for their sick. So beloved and revered was he that when earthquakes shook the town or fires threatened it from the hills the poor ran in a body to the courtyard of Casa Grande and besought his pro tection. They never passed him without saluting to the ground, nor Ms house without bending their heads. And yet they feared him, for he was an irascible old gentleman at times, and thumped unmercifully when in a temper. Chonita alone could manage him always. When I returned to Santa Barbara with Chonita after her visit to Monterey the yellow’ fruit hung in the padre's or chard; the grass was burning browm; sky and water were the hard blue of metal. The afternoon of our arrival Don Guil lermo, Chonita and 1 were on the long middle corridor of the house—in Santa Barbara one lived in the air. The old don sat on the long green bench by the sala door. His heavy, flabby, leathery f^ce had no wrinkles but those which curved from the comer* of the mouth to the chin. The thin upi**r lip was habitu ally pressed hard agaiust the small pro truding under one, the mouth ending iu straight lines which seemed no part of the lips. His small, slanting eyes, usually stem, conld snap with anger, as they did today. The nose rose suddenly from the middle of his face; it might have been applied by a child sculpturing with putty: the flat bridge was crossed by erratic lines. A bang of grizzled hair escaped from the black silk handker chief wound as tightly as a turban about his head. He woie short clothes of dark brown cloth, the jacket decorated with large silver buttons, a red damask vest, shoes of embroidered deerskin and a cra vat of fine linen. Chonita, in a white gown, a pale green reboso about her shoulders, her arms crossed, her head thoughtfully bent for ward, walked slowly up and down lie fore him. "Holy God!” cried the old man, pound ing the floor with his stick. "That they have dared to arrest my son—tho son of Guillermo Iturbi y Moncada! That Al varado, my friend and thy host, should have permitted it!” "Do not blame Alvarado, my father. Remember, he must listen to the de partmental junta, and this is their work." "Fool that I am!” she added to herself, “why do I not tell who alone is to blame? But I need no one to help dm hate him!" “Is it true that this Estenega of whom I hear so much is a member of the junta?” “It may be.” “If so, it is he, he alone, who has brought dishonor upon my house. Again they have conquered!” “This Estenega I met —and who was compadre with me for the baby—i 3 very young, my father. If it be he who is a member of the junta, he could hardly rule such men as Alvarado, Jirneno and Castro. I saw no other Estenega.” “True! I must have other enemies in the north; but I had not known of it. But they shall learn of my power in the south. Don Juan de la Borrasca went today to Los Angeles with a bushel of gold to bail my son, and both will be with us the day after tomorrow. A curse upon Carillo—but 1 will speak of it no more. Tell me, my daughter—God of my soul, but I am glad to have thee back!—what thoughtest thou of this son of the Estenegas? Is it Ramon, Este ban or Diego? I have seen none of them since they were little ones. “I remember Diego well. He had light ning in his little tonguo and the devil in his brain. I liked him, although’he was tho son of my enemy, and if ho had been an Iturbi y Moncada 1 would have made a great man of him. Aye, but ho was quick. One day in Monterey he got under my feet and I fell flat, much im periling my dignity, for it was on Al varado street, and I was a member of the territorial deputation. I could have beaten him, 1 was so angry, but lie scrambled to bis little feet, and helping me to mine, he said, whilst dodging my stick, ’Be not angry, senor. I gave my promise to the earth that thou shouldst l«iss her. for all the world has prayed that she should not embrace thee for ninety years to come.’ What could I do? I gave him a cake. Thou smilest. my daughter; but thou wilt not com mend the enemy of thy house. No? All, well, we grow less bitter as we grow old, and although I hated his father I liked Diego. “Again I remember I was in Monterey, and he was there; his father and 1 were both members of the deputation. Caram ba! what hot words passed between us! But I was thinking of Diego. I took a volume of Shakespeare from him one day. ’Thou art too young to read such books,’ I said. ‘A baby reading what the good priests allow not men to read! I have not read this heretic book of plays, and yet thou dost lie there on thy stomach and drink in its wicked ness.’ 'lt is true,’ he said, and how his steel eyes did flash, ‘but when I am as old as yon, senor, my stomach will be flat and my head will be big. Thou art the enemy of my father, but —hast thou noticed?—thy stomach is bigger than his, and he has conquered thee in speech and in politics more times than thou hast found vengeance for. Aye—and thy ranchos have richer soil and many more cattle, but he has a library, Don Guil lermo, and thou hast not.’ I spanked him then and there, but I never forgot what he said, and thou hast read what thou listed. I would not that the chil dren of Alejandro Estenega should know more than those of Guillermo Iturbi y Moncada.” “Thou hast cause to be proud of Rei naldo. for he sparkles like the spray of a fountain, and words to him are like a shower of leaves in autumn. And yet— and yet,” she added with angry candor, “he has not a brain like Diego Estenega. He is not a man, but a devil.” “A good brain has always a devil at the wheel; sharp eyes have sharper nerves behind, and lightning from a big soul flashes fear into a little one. Diego is not a devil. 1 remember once 1 had a headache and lie bathed my head, and the water ran down my neck and gave me a cold which put me to bed for a week, but he is the devil's godson, and were he not the son of my enemy I should love him. His father was cruel and vicious, but smart, holy Mary! Diego has his brain, but he has, too, the kind heart and gentle manner—aye, holy God! But come, come; here are the horses. Call Prudencia, and we will go to the , bark and see what the good captain iiae brought to tempt us.” Four horses led by vaqueros had en tered the courtyard. "Prudencia.” called Chonita. A door opened, and a girl of small fig ure. with solemn dark eyes and cream like skiu. her hair hanging in heavy 'braids to her feet, stepped into the cor ridor. draping a pink reboso about her head. “1 am here, my cousin,” she said, walk ing with all the dignity of the Spanish woman, despite her plump and inconsid erable person. "Thou art rested, Dona Eustaquia? Do we go to the ship, my uncle,_aud shall we buy this afternoon? God of inv life! 1 waucier has he a high comb to make me look tall, anrl flesh colored stockings? My own are gone with holes. Ido not like white”—- “Hush thy chatter." said her uncle. “How can I tell what the captain has until I see? Come, my children.” We sprang to onr saddles: Don Guil lermo mounted heavily, and we cantered to the beach, followed by the ox cart which would carry the fragile ear.,o home. A boat took us to the bark, winch sat motionless on the placid chan nel. The captain greeted us with the lively welcome due to eager and frequent purchasers. “Now curb thy greed." cried Don Guillermo as the girls dropped down the companionway. "for thou hast more now than thou caust wear in five years. God of my soul! If a bark came every day they would want every shred on board. My daughter could tapestry the old house with the shawls she has.” When I reached the cabin 1 found tho table covered with silks, salins, crape shawls, combs, articles of laequerwarc, jewels, silk stockings, slippers, spangled tulle, handkerchiefs, lace. fans. The girls' eyes were sparkling. Chonita clapped her hands and ran around the table, pressing to her lips the beautiful white things she quickly segregated, running her hand eagerly over tho little slippers, hanging iho lace about her shoulders, twisting a rope of garnets in her yellow hair. “Never have they been so beautiful, Eustaquia! Is it not so, my Prudencia?” she cried to tho girl who was curled on one corner of tho tablo, gloating over the treasures she knew her uncle's gen erosity would make her own. “Look how these little diamonds flash! And the embroidery on this crape!—a dozen eyes went out, aye! yi! This satin is liko a tile! These fans were made i:i Spain! This is as big as a windmill. God of my soul!” —she threw a handful of yellow sewing silk upon a piece of white satin — “Ana shall embroider this gown—the golden poppies of California on a bank of mountain snow.” She suddenly seized a case of topaz and a piece of scarlet silk and ran over to me—l being a Mon terena, etiquette forbade me to purchase in Santa Barbara. "Thou must have these, my Eustaquia. They will become thee well. And wouldst thou like any of my whito things? Mary! but I am selfish. Take what thou wilt, my friend.” To refuse would bo to spoil her pleas ure and insult her hospitality, so I ac cepted the topaz—of which I had six sets already—and the silk, whose color pre vailed in my wardrobe, and told her that I detested whitys, which did not suit my weather dark skin, and she was as blind and pleased as a child. “But come, come,” she cried. “My father is not so generous when lie has to wait too long.” She gathered the mass of stuff in her arms and staggered up tho companion way. I followed, leaving Prudencia raking tho trovo her short arms "would not hold. “Aye, my Clionita!” she wailed, “I can not carry that Lig piece of pink satin and that vase. And I have only two pairs of slippers and one fan. Aye, Cho-n-i-i-ta, look at those shawls! Mother of God, suppose Valencia Mendendez comes” “Do not weep on the silk and spoil what tlion hast,” called down Chonita from the top step. “Thou slialt have all thou canst wear for a year.” She reached the deck and stood pant ing and imperious before her father. “All! All! I must have all!” she ciied. “Never have they been so fine, so rich.” “Holy Mary!” shrieked Don Guillermo. “Dost thou think I am made of doub loons, that thou wouldst buy a whole ship’s cargo? Thou shalt have a quarter; no more—not a yard!” “I shall have all!” And tho stately daughter of the Iturbi y Moncadas stamped her little foot upon the deck. “A third—not a yard more. And dia monds! Holy heaven! There is not gold enough in the Californias to feed the ex travagance of tho Senorita Dona Chonita Iturbi y Moncada.” She managed to bend her body in spite of her burden, her eyes flashing saucily above the mass of tulle which covered the rest of her face. “And not fine raiment enough in the world to accord with tho state of the only daughter of the Senor Don Guil lermo Iturbi y Moncada, the delight and the pride of his old age. Wilt thou send these things to the north to be worn by an Estenega? Thy Chonita will cry her eyes so red that she will be known as the ugly witch of Santa Barbara, and Casa Grande will be like a tomb.” “Oh, thou spoilt baby! Thou wilt have thy way"— At this moment Prudencia appeared. Nothing whatever could be seen of her small person but her feet; she looked like an exploded bale of goods. “What! what!” gasped Don Guillermo. “Thou little rat! Thou wouldst make a Christmas doll of thy self with satin that is too heavy for thy grandmother, and eke out thy dumpy inches with a train? Oh, mother of God!” He turned to the captain, who was smoking complacently, assured of the issue. “I will let them carry these things home; but tomorrow one-half, at least, comes back.” And he stamped wrathfully down the deck. “Send the rest,” said Chonita to the captain, “and thou shalt have a bag of crnlrl tnnioJ-t-” [TO BE CONTINUED.] - “ ‘ ~ *'~i -m- —»>■■■*• ■- .v! How It Caine to Fan* “Old Shilark says he is the man who started you on the road to for tune.” “The old villain tells the truth. All I had when I was a young man was a five acre farm, and he cheated me out of that. Then I had to come to town to get something to do and got into business and got rich.”— Indianapolis Journal. Mr. Gratebar to Philip. “It is unquestionably true, Phil ip,” said Mr. Gratebar, “that it is better to be a live dog than a dead lion, but that doesn’t mean, Philip, that you should be satisfied to re main a dog.”-—New York Sun. OUTWITTING THEM. Haw • Sharp Railroad Man Got tho . tor of ft Lot of Competitor*. ' He was a large and rotund rail , road man, whom the fellows called Sam and whom they seemed to like to listen to as he rat back smoking a cigar and telling stories after tho I work far into the night was done. I “One of the victories of iny life,” he said, after narrating several inci j dents which were not so altogether victorious, “took place when I was with the L. and N., with my head quarters at Cincinnati. It so fell out once upon a time that 125 people wanted to make an excursion into the west via Cincinnati and St, Loui.- from Berea, in Madison coun ty, Ky. As I remember, it meant i about §25 a head to the railroad get ting the party, and the competition among the boys was lively enough, I tell you. Negotiations had been going on vigorously for some time, and on a certain day the excursion ists were to be at the Berea station, and all the railroad men were to meet them there. “We came down from Cincinnati on a special train, and 1 was study ing up every possible plan how I was going to get that business for my road, but noway appeared until we were within a dozen miles of Berea. There it came to me, and I slipped around and had a little talk with the engineer, who was quite willing to help mo out by letting his engine drop a cog or do some other peculiar and unexpected thing, as locomotives have away of doing. This she did about six miles out and near a siding, where the one « ’er pulled in and proceeded to repair the damage, the men, who were in a hurry to get to Berea, putting in their time cussing the engine, the road and me. “As for myself, when I had fixed it with the engineer, I dropped off the train as it was leaving the sta tion, and the men on board didn’t more than discover that I had disap peared until the accident happened that delayed them two hours or more on that siding. In the mean time I wired my agent at Berea— you see, this all took place ou my own line of road, so it was a good deal easier—to make a x’atc to tho excursionists §2.50 lower than any figure yet given them, and let them have half an hour to decide in, or the whole rate would go up to the regular price. Os course the excur sionists didn’t know that I had the agents corraled on a siding. They didn’t know anything except that it was the lowest offer they had re ceived, and after chewing awhile on it my man wired mo that my offer was accepted. “What would be the result when they found out about the other agents and what kind of crazy offers those fellows might make to beat me out of tho business unless I had some kind of a clincher, I didn’t know, so I sent word to my agent to collect §lO ou each ticket, or the rate would go up to regular. This was easy enough, for they knew they had a good thing, and the money came in with a rush. Then my man telegraphed that he had collected over $1,200 and had it locked up in the safe, and ho would like to know what to do next. I wired back tlie short word “Escape,” and half an hour later my engineer, having re paired the break to his machinery, pulled inte the station at Berea with his profane load of railroad men. “What happened then utterly passes description, and I fancy if I had been there I would have been lynched, but they got over it after a time, and they went back to Cincin nati with no other feeling against me except an unalterable determina tion to get even at the first oppor tunity. Os course I had to pay for a supper for the crowd and a few lit tle things like that, but those didn’t count.”—Washington Star. Slielby f»n<l the Negro. The late Confederate General Shel by stood up for the rights of the ne gro on one occasion in away that entitles him to high praise. When he was appointed a United States marshal, he selected Lee Jackson, a negro, as one of his deputies. He was ! severely criticised for this by some southern papers, but he refused to weaken and justified his act in the following reply: “Tho young man is competent to render effective serv ice in lines where white men cannot do as well, perhaps, as he will do. I appointed him for efficiency and have no patience with thUt senti ment that gropes always among tho tombstones instead of coming out into the bright light of existing life | and conditions. The negro was al ways faithful to his people when a ; slave. He has been no less faithful I to his friends since he lias become a J freeman. He is becoming useful in ways never dreamed of before the i war, and it is unmanly to deny him i the right to do for himself every i thing that will improve and better j his condition. I trust that this is the | last I shall have to say in defense jof my official action. 1 am right in j what I have done, and by the right I pro]x>se to stand.” —New York Tribune.