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THE
Weekly Jeffersonian
A Newspaper Devoted to the Advocacy of the Jeffersonian
Theory of Government.
PUBLISHED BY
THOS. E. WATSON and J. D. WATSON
Editors and Proprietors
Temple Court Building, Atlanta, Ga.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE - oo PER YEAR.
Advertising Rates Furnished on Application.
EnttraJ at Ptrttjicf, Atlanta, Ga., January 11, I()O7, at itcand clan mail matter
ATLANTA, GA., THURSDAY, MARCH 14, 1907
'*—■ .. -■■■ - ■ .q —— , -
Sub-Treasury Plan Tor the Philippines.
My Uncle Solomon Beeswax dropped in to
see me yesterday, and we had a good laugh
over a recent Act of Congress.
Uncle SoLis one of the Hayseed cranks
who joined the Farmers’ Alliance a few years
ago and who supported a platform which ap
proved of the lending of government money
on land and agricultural products.
This scheme was called the Sub-Treasury
Plan, and was the cause of much abuse and
ridicule aimed at my Unce Solomon and his
fellow fanatics.
Speeches, pamphlets, books, sermons, edi
torials came pouring down upon Uncle Sol
and his fellow fools, until you would have
thought that they were the meanest and most
dangerous gang of criminals on the face of
the earth. Uncle Solomon had stood pretty
well in his communitv up to that time.
His name was in the Grand Jury box; the
village merchants courted the good will ot
“Mrs. Beeswax”; and the county paper never
failed to inform the public when “Col. Solo
mon Beeswax, one of our most substantial
farmers, was in town today, shaking hands
with his hosts of friends.”
In short, Uncle Sol. was some punkins.
But alas! this world is but a fleeting show,
and vanitv of vanities, saith the preacher, and
you must notice where you’re going, or the
first thing you know your name will drop out
of the Grand Jury box, and out of the
county paper, and instead of being “Colo
nel Solomon Beeswax, one of our most
substantial,” you'll be “that d —d old fool,
Sol. Beeswax, who believes that the govern
ment ought to lend him money on land and
cotton.”
That’s the way it happened to my Uncle
Solomon. He lost caste in away that he nev
er could understand. He hadn’t stolen any
thing, nor poisoned anybody’s well, nor given
a Certificate in favor of Peruna, or Coca-Cola;
therefore, it puzzled him to know why he had
so suddenly become a yellow dog.
But yellow dog he was, all right enough,
and anybody who chose to throw a brick at
him was safe in doing so.
Poor old Uncle Beeswax—T used to feel
mighty sorry for him. I knew that an hon
ester man didn’t live, and that when he stood
for the principles of the Farmers* Alliance he
was inspired by the same love of humanity
and of Right that had caused Hampden to
draw his sword against his King.
A nobler band of heroes and patriots neveT
toiled, struggled and suffered than those who
made the grand fight for our principles in the
years that followed 1889.
But the current against the reformers was
too strong, and they were washed away, borne
out into the great ocean wastes where all is
swallowed up.
But yesterday Uncle Beeswax and I had
our laugh, just the same.
Because Hearst has become a good Farm
ers’ Alliance man?
No, that was not what we were laughing
about. Because Bryan has dressed himself in
THE WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
our wardrobe and is making faces at Roose
velt for imitating the fashion?
No ;that was not what we were laughing at.
Then what were we giggling and gurgling
and haw-hawing about?
Why, we were laughing at De Armond, of
Missouri, Bill Howard, of Georgia, and a lot
of other Congressmen of the “safe and sane”
variety, who had voted for the despised Sub-
Treasury Plan.
“You don’t mean it!” you say.
Yes I do. That’s just what they did.
You see, this fat man of Roosevelt’s admin
istration, Secretary Bill Taft, took it into his
head that the United States Government
should establish a bank in the Philippine Is
lands. This Bank was to be different from
other banks.
This Bank was to lend government money
to the brown and black natives of those Is
lands on their land and agricultural products.
In other words, the farmers of the Philip
pines are to have exactly what theTarmers of
this country demanded in 1890.
Congress grants to the colored people of our
Colonies wfiat was denied —denied with scoffs
K 1 f
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/ —Yy 1
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UNCLE SOLOMON BEESWAX.
and jeers and insults!—to the white people of
our own land.
Yes, sir, the Sub-Treasury scheme of the
Farmers’ Alliance is a law today.
Only, its benefits are to be confined to the
black people.of our colonies instead of being
extended to the whites and blacks here at
home.
If the principle is sound enough to be adopt
ed in the Philippines, why isn’t it sound
enough to be adopted in the United States?
Mr. De Armond, Mr. Bill Howard, and oth
ers who voted for the measure can reply to
this question later.
But in the meantime, don’t you forget that
the Democrats and Republicans united to en
dorse and to put into law the Sub Treasury
plan of the Farmers* Alliance.
Lord! How Uncle Sol. Beeswax did laugh
when I read him the record of that Congres
sional adoption of the principle of our despised
Sub-Treasury Plan 1
Said he:
“I shouldn’t wonder if I got to be ‘Colonel
Solomon Beeswax’ again before I died, and 1
had the honor of serving once more on the
Grand Jury.
. “The Lord seems to be coming right square
out on outside!
“Are you sure that Bill Howard voted for
the “Sub-Treasury?”
“Yes—Bill was along.”
“How things do change around!*’ mused
Uncle Sol. as he waddled off toward home.
H M
Theft No Crime —When?
When a British King had so twisted the
system of taxation against the American Colo
nies that no colonist could take his own iron
and fashion it into nails, make his own hat,
could not legally shoe his own horse, an Eng
lish author—duly pensioned by the king—
wrote a pamphlet to prove that taxation, such
as the following, was no tyranny.
Dr. Samuel Johnson may have believed that
he had made out a good case for George HL,
but the American Colonists did not think so.
The victims of that oppressive system of tax
ation arose in their wrath and shot the life out
of it.
Another writer of the Tory breed, filled
with the idea that no wrong can be done by
the Powers that be, might try his hand on the
recent decision of the New York Court of Ap
peals.
By a five to four vote, this high and solemn
court has decided that it is no crime to steal,
provided the stolen money be devoted to a
good purpose.
Geo. W. Perkins, the pert and dapper little
partner of J. P. Morgan, stole $47,000 from
the New York Life Insurance Co., and gave
it to the National Republican Campaign Com
mittee.
The eminent judges of the New York Court
of Appeals decided that Perkins’ motive was
good and that, therefore, while he took money
which did not belong to him—taking it pri
vately without the knowledge or consent of
the owners—the larceny was no crime.
GLORIOUS DECISION!
And yet these eminent judges who decide
that theft is not larceny, are virtuously aston
ished when communities, outraged by sudden
brutal intolerable violation of law, flame into
resistless action and lynch the criminal.
“Trust the Courts!” cry the constituted au
thorities. How can we trust the courts, when
we hear them delivering opinions which shock
common sense? How can we trust the courts
when we see them stultify themselves to save
a millionaire from just punishment?
Perkins took money that did not belong to
him. He took it without the knowledge and
consent of the owners. He concealed the fact
that he had taken it until the fact was proven
on him. He used the money in away that the
owners had not authorized and have never
ratified. He had neither express nor implied
authority to use the money as he did. On the
contrary, the money belonged in part to Dem
ocrats, and the conclusive presumption is that
the Democratic owners would have forbidden
the giving of it to the Republican Campaign.
These are the facts —the undisputed facts. If
they do not constitute the crime of Larceny,
then no facts could do it.
But Perkins is a member of one of the most
powerful financial combinations in the world
—and the law fears to touch him.
He belongs to the class of immunes.
MEN OF HIS CALIBRE CANNOT BE
REACHED.
They are above the law. Prosecuting at
torneys fawn and crouch before them.
Grand Juries accompany their finding of
“True Biils” Avith humble apologies.
Judges, learned in the law, drive coaches
and six through the mutilated statutes and
triumphantly carry the rich criminal beyond
the reach of punishment. Perkins took mon
ey that did not belong to him—did it secretly;