Ti-{Z
r:Y
Watson
Jeffersonian Magazine.
THOS. E. WATSON,
Editor and Proprietor.
Vol. 2.
FEBRUARY, 1908.
No. 2
CONTENTS.
THE HELSMAN— A Poem 84
EDITORIALS Thomas E. Watson
Tlie Reign of the Technicality — Concerning
Money — This is why the Panic Came —
How New^ York Gets the Money.
THE GARDEN OF PEACE— A Poem - Elizabeth Dargan Forrester 100
A SURVEY OF THE WORLD - - . . 101
THE JACKSON-DICKINSON DUEL - - William L. Parks 109
THE FARMERS' UNION 115
THE DREAM— A Poem Ada A. Mosher 121
THE OLD AND THE NEW .... Nina Hill Robinson 122
CONFESSION— A Poem - - - - - Mary Chapin Smith 135
ECONOMICS /. Lancaster 136
ANN BOYD— A Serial Story .... Will N. Harden 137
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON - Thos. E. Watson 144
LIVE IN HOPE Leonora Sheppard 151
THE GOLD OF CHARACTER— A Poem - - Wm. Holcomb Thomas 154
BOOK REVIEWS 155
THE MEN OF THE GRAY— A Poem - - S. H. Lyiejr. 156
LETTERS FROM THE PEOPLE ... 157
Published Monthly by
THOS. E. WATSON.
$1.50 Per Year. Temple C<»urt Building, Atlanta, Ga. 15 Cents Per Copy.
Entered as second class matter December SI, 1906, at the Post Offlct at Atlanta, Oa.
Watson
Jeffersonian MAbi^ZiNE.
THOS. E. WATSON,
Editor and Proprietor.
Vol. 2.
FEBRUARY, 1908.
No. 2
CONTENTS.
THE HELSMAN— A Poem 84
EDITORIALS Thomas E. Watson
The Reign of the Technicality — Concerning
Money — This is why the Panic Came —
How New^ York Gets the Money.
THE GARDEN OF PEACE— A Poem - Elizabeth Dargan Forrester 100
A SURVEY OF THE WORLD - - . . 101
THE JACKSON-DICKINSON DUEL - - William L. Parks 109
THE FARMERS' UNION 115
THE DREAM— A Poem Ada A. Mosher 121
THE OLD AND THE NEW .... Nina Hill Robinson 122
CONFESSION— A Poem - - - - - Mary Chapin Smith 135
ECONOMICS - - /. Lancaster 136
ANN BOYD— A Serial Story .... Will N. Harben 137
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON - Thos. E. Watson 144
LIVE IN HOPE Leonora Sheppard 151
THE GOLD OF CHARACTER— A Poem - - Wm. Holcomb Thomas 154
BOOK REVIEWS 155
THE MEN OF THE GRAY-A Poem - - S. H. Lyiejr. 156
LETTERS FROM THE PEOPLE ... 157
Published Monthly by
THOS. E. WATSON.
$1.50 Per Year. Temple Court Building, Atlanta, Ga. 15 Cents Per Copy.
Entered as second clatt matter December il, 1906, at the Poet Office at Atlanta, Oa.
THE HELMSMAN.
Over the sweeps of wintry sea Along the rock-bound, gloomy shore.
The wild north-easter raves, It hurries far and fast.
Its loud song rising high and free And with fierce rush and savage roar
Above the tossing waves. Bends straining sail and mast.
Down from the north the brave ship
speeds
O'er surges foaming white.
Following where the tempest leads,
Through trackless glooms of night.
Grasping the wheel with freezing hands, The mighty breakers smite the sand
No light his path to show, Eeyond the harbor bar.
The weather-beaten helmsman stands. And fling against the frowning land
His gray hair full of snow. Bent plank and shattered spar.
And dim the beacon's w'arning streams
Amid the flying spray.
Or through the driving snow-squall
gleams
A ghostly spark of gray.
Oh, dark and low; the murky cloud The waves are full of phosphor fire.
That hides the beacon's light; The good ship's foamy path
And fierce and high the winds, that loud Glows like a serpent, foaming, dire,
Exult in stormy might. And lurid in its WTath.
Swift where the yawning caverns wait,
And rocks with sea-lights shine,
The good ship rushes to her fate.
And breaks, and makes no sign.
But on the sands, when radiant morn His rough hands grasp, with fingers cold.
Illumes the eastern skies. The wheel that was his care;
'Mong tangled rope and canvass torn. While tenderly the sunlight's gold
The bluff old helmsman lies. Burns in his matted hair.
The long, long years will come and go.
And loving eyes grow dim,
As by some old world river's flow.
They wait and watch for him.
— Frank H. Sweet, Waynesboro, Va.
THE REIGN OF THE TECHNICALITY.
AVas there ever a judicial system more utterly absurd than that which
we Euglish-speakinj^ people have established?
Is it really anything better than Trial by Combat? Or walking over
heated plowshares? Or being tied hand and foot and tossed into the
water to find out whether one will float or sink?
After all is said and done, the present method of trying law cases
is nothing but a battle of the lawyers, and he who has the strongest lawyer
generally wins. It is only Avhen the Judge on the bench lends his powerful
aid to the good cause that the weak lawyer can win against an attorney
who outclasses him.
In bygone days, the man accused of crime was too cruelly treated.
He was inhumanly tortured, to make him confess. To escape the frightful
suffering, many innocent persons convicted themselves of crime. In
swinging away from this barbai^ous mistreatment of the prisoner, the
pendulum of human tenderness swung too far the other way. The state
is not now permitted to ask the aeciised any questions at all, unless the
prisoner voluntarily goes to the witness box. This is obviously nonsen-
sical. No innocent man could have any possible objection to going on the
stand as a Avitness, and no guilty man should be allowed to escape
for the reason that lie alone can rstahlish liis guilt.
Under the practice in most states a prisoner can make his own state-
ment, say anything and everything he pleases relevant to the case, and yet
the state cannot ask him the simplest question.
The result is that the guilty are constantly walking out of the Court,
acquitted, because the state is unable to establish some fact necessary
to the making out of its case.
In "Ten Thousand a Year," we have a fair illustration of the faulti-
ness of our system as a means of meting out Justice. A clerk has beeij
given a deed to engross. It must be written on parchment, which is costly.
In transcribing, he makes an error in a word of no importance. Fearing
that his employer will discharge him for carelessness if he reports the
error and asks for another parchment, the clerk neatly erases tlie ivord
which is wrong and writes in its place, the word which is right.
The thing is so neatly done that the Attorney never detects the
erasure. The deed is duly executed, enrolled, and made a part of the
muniment of title to an estate worth ten thousand pounds, ($48,400),
per year.
After awhile, a keen lawyer discovers, as he thinks, a flaw in the
title to this estate. Tittlebat Titmouse, Esquire, is thought to be the
8() AVATSOX'S JEFP^ERSONIAN :MAGAZINE
Irue heir, and is coached as Chiiiiiaiit. Tittlebat is a poor clerk — a poor
one in all sorts of ways,— and the author displays him as a bumptious
idiot of great proportion and variety.
A big law-ease starts up to tiy. the title to that estate. The lawyers
want a slice of that Ten Thousand a Year. In due time, the case comes
on to be heard, and no book that I know of contains a better account of a
battle of legal giants than docs this of Samuel Warren, himself a lawyer.
At first, Tittlebat Titmouse seems to have made out his ease. lie
is the true heir, and the proud family which has luxuriated in that
noble income of ten thousand a year must give it np to Tittlebat and
his lawyers.
But the other side brings its guns into action, and begins to bombard
the plaintiff's position. Deed after deed is produced, link after link in
the chain of title passes through the hands of lawyers and judges and
no flaw is found. Tittlebat's case seems to be going slowly but surely
up Salt River. Blue funk begins to take possession of Tittlebat and his
backers. Then the crisis comes. Defendants offer in evidence the very
deed which makes their chain complete.
Confidently the paper is offered,— anxiously it is taken in hand by
Plaintiff's counsel for examination. First one, then another of the big
lawyers scan the deed. Seems to be all right. But, hold on ! is that the
right stamp? One of the Plaintiff's attorneys dives into a bag, fishes
out a law-book, finds the stamp -.ict for the year in which the deed is made.
Alas! the stamp is the right one. So that precious dream of an "objec-
tion" to the deed goes glimmering. Exultantly, the leading lawA-er
on the other side extends his hand to take back the deed, so that he may
offer it, and take his verdict.
But no — no, indeed! — one vigilant, lynx-eyed fellow on the Plaintiff '.s
side discovers what he thinks is an erasure ! Great excitement follows.
Consternation on the one side, and elation on the other. A magnifying
glass is called ; the small speck on the deed is made to yield up its secret —
yes — there is, unmistakably, the evidence that the clerk in Avriting out
the deed erased a word wliiclt had no husincss ilierc and put in one ivJiicJi
belonged there.
Tittlebat wins an estate that isn't his and, for a brief season, enjoys
another man's property. And all because the law is, in very many
respects what Mr. Bumble conditionally said it is, — "a ass."
In running away from the perils of forgery, in legal papere, the law
went too far in the opposite direction. Since "Ten Thousand a Year"
was published, there has been a relaxation of the rigid rule which did
not allow explanations of changes in notes, deeds, etc., but where the
Technicality loosens its hold at one place it tightens it at another.
The veteran Georgia Lawyer, Col. Reuben Aniold, declares, in a
EDITORIALS 87
recent juldi-ess to the Bar Assoeiation, that seventy-three per cent of all
the cases arc (hcidcd on Iccliiiicalilics.
Pray reflect upon that. There is deep significance in the statement.
It means that nearly three-fourths of all law cases arc not decided on
their merits.
Can snch a system be meeting the requirements of Justice?
The question carries its answer with it. AVe miglit as well let John
Doe liire a man to fight Kicharcl Koc's man, aiitl make a ring, put the
two champions wilhin it, and say — as in olden times, — "' Fujld, and (iod
defend the right."
Not long ago, I was in the Supreme Court room of Georgia, awaiting
my turn to present a case. Preceding our case was one in which a man
convicted of willful, deliberate assassination was seeking to upset the
conviction.
The uiidisiMited facts m the recoi'd showed thai the deceased had been
killed l)y some one else, and had not killed himself.
There was absolutely no question raised by the defense upon that
point. The whole case had proceeded upon the self-evident fact that
somebody had killed the man. There was no pretense whatever that he
had killed himself. Yet the technical rule is that the plea of Not Guilty
throws upon the state the burden of proving the unlawful killing, and
in this case the judge of the Court below had, in his charge to the jury,
referred to deceased as having been killed. Defendant's counsel therefore
was asking that the Supreme Court set aside the verdict because the
judge had e.rpressed an opinioji upon, a disputed fact.
Tcchnicalljj the fact was in dispute — actually it was not; yet the
Supreme Court strongly intimated that it would be compelled to grant
the man another trial.
Consider the California decision by which those grafters of San
Francisco are escaping just punishment for their crimes.
The INIayor, Schmitz, and the Boss. Abe Reuff, compelled certain saloon
and restaurant men to pay large sums for the privilege of continuing
their business under the customary license. Unless they would pay bribes
to the Boss and the Mayor, they would have to close up their shops and
go out of business.
Yet the Appellate Court decides that there is no crime !
With astounding effrontery the Court says that although Schmitz and
Reuff did threaten these saloon and restaurant keepers, and did thereby
force money out of them, "the indictment is insufficient because it does
not allege or show that the specific injury threatened was an unlawful
injury."
So it would seem that some of our courts, eager to screen miscreants
who deserve the severest penalties, have evolved a new kind of injuiy
88 WATSON'S JEFFEKSONIAN ^lAGAZINE
Avhich one man may do to another. There is a lawful injurij which I
may do my fellow man, as well as an injury that is unlawful.
The I^Iayor of a city may collude with the local Boss, and the two
may go the rounds of the stores, saloons, restaurants, hotels, etc., saying,
"If you don't cross these itching palms with gold, you'll get no license
to continue business — See?"
Yet this shameless California Court announces that such a threat
as that is not a threat to do ''an unlawful injury."
Of all the triumphs won by the imperious Technicality, surely none is
more glorious than this last one in California.
What we need is something that will lessen the power of the lawyers,
liberalize the code of practice, destroy the tendency of technical rules
1o defeat justice, increase the control of the judge and jury over the
management of the trial.
At present, a court-house combat is too much like a mere tournament
where the lawyers come into the lists and tilt for their clients, while the
crowd sits there to acclaim the victor, and the judge presides to award
the prize.
In every case, the judge should be the Chief ^klanager of the trial ; he
should question each witness; he should call attention to errors of
omission and commission, in order that the merits of the cause may get
fairly presented; he should question eveiy defendant in criminal cases;
he should instruct the attorneys on either side how to correct their
pleadings when a litigant is in danger of losing his rights on account of
some error of his la^N^yer; he should see to it that no man wins or loses
a case on Technicality ; he should be ready, at any time before the verdict
has been received, to reopen the case for material correction of any and
every sort.
In other words, a trial of a law-suit should be an earnest, conscientious
effort of judge and juiy to measure up to the highest standard of duty,
and that is to find out how tliis case should he decided on its merits.
In a rough wa}', the following anecdote illustrates my idea :
After AVilliam II. Crawford had had his first stroke of paralysis —
causing him to lose the Presidency — his day of usefulness in the national
arena was over. He was appointed Judge of the Superior Court of the
Northern Circuit, and died in that office. On one occasion he was
])residing in Taliaferro County, and a smart lawyer from Augusta was
leading a case, on one side, while the other side was represented by a
member of the Crawfordsville bar, and no match for his adver.sarj-.
The Augusta lawyer was carrying things Avith a high hand and having
it all his own way. Old Crawford was "scrouched" down in liis chair,
and seemed to be nodding. The little countiy lawyer, who had right on
his side, was in great distress. Time after time he jumped up, objecting.
EDITORIALS
89-
remonstrating, and correcting-, Init Crawford took no notice. Finally it
came time to make the speeches to the jury. The country lawyer made
his, as best he could, and then came the big lawyer from the city of
Augusta. Having the conclusion, he made the most of his advantage.
He misstated the evidence, put the law as he wanted it, made fun of his
opponent, and was having a fine time, generally. Old Crawford dozed,
the jury enjoyed, the little country la\iyer suffered. He kept jumping
up, interrupting the Augusta lawyer, and disturbing the slumber of the
Judge. Finally Crawford opened his eyes and said, "Never mind, Mr.
S. — never mind. You sit down and rest easj'. Let Mr. B. go on and get
through. I\'c got the last ivhack at that jury."
Naturally, this observation of His Honor dampened the ardor of the
Augusta lawyer, considerably, and he hastened to a conclusion.
Then old Crawford roused himself, those great blue-gray eyes kindled,
and when he had his full "whack at that jury," the best lawyer had
lost the ca.se. and justice had pr evaded.
DO WATSON'S jp:ffersonian ^magazine
CONCERNING MONEY.
In tlie early j-ears of the reisn of Queen Victoria, there came on to be
heard, before her Lord Cliancellor, a veiy luuisnal case.
The Emi^eror of Austria liad brouizht process ai^ainst Louis Kossuth,
the IIun}j:arian patriot, to restrain him from issuing certain bits of paper
which he had caused to be printed in England, for the purpose of circu-
lation in Hungary,
Translated into our tongue, tlie wording of these strij^s of paper was
as follows:
"One Florin,
"This monetary note will ])e received in every Hungarian state and
public pay office as
" 'One Florin in Silver.'
"Its nominal value is guaranteed by the state. In the name of the
nation.
"Kossuth, Louis."
It was shown that more than one l)undred millions of these florin
notes had been prepared, and were intended to lie used in Hungary
as money.
The Emperor contended that "the introduction of said notes into
Hungary will create a spurious circulation, and thereby cause great det-
riment to the state and to the subjects of the plaintiff."
It further appeared in evidence that the Emperor had surrendered
to the National Bank of Austria the privilege of supplying the Empire
with paper money, and doubtless this bank Avas the instigator of the Bill
in Equity brought against Kossuth. The National Bank of Austria had
the same feeling against Ko.s.suth that our Whiskey Trust has again.st the
Moonshiner. In each ease, the name and power and money of the Gov-
ernment is used ])y a Monopoly to stamp out Competition.
In delivering his opinion, the Lord Chancellor uttered this truisin :
"The right of issuing notes for the payment of money, as part of the
circulating medium in llungai-y, .seems to follow from tlic right to create
money belonging to the supreme power in every state. This right is not
confined to the issue of portions of the precious metals of intrinsic value
according to their weight and fineness, but under it portions of the coarser
metals, or of other substances, may l)e nuid(^ to represent vai-ying amounts
in gold and silvei*, for which they may pass current."
Recently when The JekfersoiNLnn put out, from Washington, an in-
terview advocating the is.sue of treasury notes, and stating that the crea-
EDITOIUALS 91
tiou of money had always l)i('ii a sovoroign prerojjjative of the Govern-
ment, the Washington Post,— a givat leading newspaper,— declared, in
effect, that we were talking nonsense. "Mere rot," said the Post.
The Jhffkksoxiax is so accustomed to that kind of answer that
w( don't mind it much, but it's rougli on llie Lord Clinncellor of (Ircat
Britain, isn't it .'
Xo Greenbacker, no Fiat :\loncy crank, no Jxag 13al)y lunatic ever
stated more distinctly the right of the nation to create money, as "a right
belonging to tin supreme power in every state," than did this poor be-
nighted Judge, presiding over tht> highest eonrt of the most enlightened
nation on earth.
Let us pity this Lord Giiancellor. lie had not had the inestimable
advantage of learning finance fi-om the Ameriean daily paper.
Kossuth Avas enjoined from issuing the notes, upon the sole ground
that he was an exile in England, with no dc facto authority in Hungary,
lie. himself, had admitted that the p:mperor Francis Joseph reigned over
Hungary, and was. in fact, its Emperor. For this reason, the Chancellor
held, properly, that the Emperor, alone, had the right to supply Hungary
with notes to be used as money.
In the history of the world there never was a period when a strong,
orderly government allowed a subject to coin money. The state, invari-
ably, held on to this mighty levei", as one of the indispensable preroga-
tives of sovereign power. To make laws, to appoint public functionaries,
to levy taxes, to control navigable streams, to police the public highways,
to control the army and navy, to hold the national purse^and sword,
to negotiate treaties with other nations, to regulate foreign commerce,
to establish courts, to declare war or make peace, and to create money,
were among the universal, inseparable attributes of royalty.
When the state was weak. poAverful vassals waged private war, rob-
bers infested the highways, pirates roamed the seas, and private citizens
created money. When the state recovered its strength, it invariably
swept the pirate off the sea, the roliber off the highway, put down the
strife of lord against lord, and took hack,— with stern admonitions,— the
exclusive right to create money.
Historians, writing of the Dark Ages, never fail to tell us how the
anarchv of the times revealed itself in the disintegration of sovereign
power.' Private citizens encroached upon the state; the lords usurped the
prerogatives of the King; the security of the rights of the individual dis-
appea'red. Each man held what he or his order ivere strong enough to
hold, and no more. Even in the Middle Ages, it required all the reso-
lute 'courage of the strongest Kings to redeem the sovereign prerogatives
which the feudal lords had arrogantly usurped.
As chaos gave way to systematic government, the state was seen to
92 WATSON'S JEFFERSOXIAX :\IAGAZINE
have reconquered the sovereign attributes -wliieli the haughty nobles had
usui-ped ^ and thereafter no lords had courts of his own, dungeons of his
own, gibbets of his own, warfare of his own, or money coinage of his own.
The King's law, the King's courts, the King's money, were supreme and
exclusive.
But such daily papers as the Washington Post scornfully repel the
statement that the sovereign created money. "Mere rot," says the
Post. So?
Was gold usable, as money, before the King placed his stamp upon it
and declared, by law, that a certain amount of gold thus stamped, should
be a guinea? Did God make pounds, shillings and pe7ice, or did the
King do it? Was silver usable as money until similarly favored by the
law and the royal stamp ? Could one take a silver cup and go into the
market, and pass it about as money f Could the King himself, take the
gold plate off his table, and go into the market, and circulate the gold
plate as money?
Before the passage of the law making the stamped gold legal tender,
MONEY does not exist. The law and the stamp makes the money out of
the gold. God made the pine tree, but the sawmill makes the lumber.
Cod made the chicken, but the cook makes the fricassee. God made the
swine, but never the sausage. Pardon the seeming irreverence and home-
liness of the illustrations: — we are trying to reach the understanding of
the editors of the daily papers.
Ricardo declared that the universal adoption of gold and silver as
money metals had been an immense benefit !o the world, for they drove
out such clumsy currency as the Wooden Stick of England, ("Tally rod"
of the British exchequer), the Tobacco of IMaryland and Virginia, the
Peltries, of the Western States, Wainpum of New England, Leather of
France and Spain, Bark of China, Lead of Burmah, etc., — but he said
that the time had come when a still greater benefit to the world would re-
sult from the abandonment of metallic money, altogether, and the adop-
tion of a scientific paper currency.
Upon this, all independent thinkers who understand the subject, have
long been agreed. Those who really know how completely the ]\Ioney
Trust dominates the world, and how that remorseless tyranny is based
upon metallic money, cannot but denounce, with "divine indignation,"
the horrible greed of the comparatively few money-changers who use the
coin fetich to hypnotize and plunder the nations of earth. When gold
threatens to be plentiful, (as was the case after the discoveries in Cali-
fornia), the money-changer loses his affection for gold and pays his court
to silver; when silver becomes too common and gold scarce, silver loses
favor and gold is again the IMoney King's favorite. Even now, paid
writei-s of the Money Tnist are demonstrating with admirable skill, the
EDITORIALS 93
fact that the present panic has been caused by the luige increase in the
output of the gold mines.
Wliy does the ^loney Trust want to limit the supply of real money ?
For the same reason that any other Trust wants to limit the supply. The
bankn-s seek control, and the smaHer the volume of real money, the more
easily they can control it. If the bankers control the money, they rule.
Even the Emperor of Germany, with all of his imperious arbitrariness,
would never dare to go to war until he had consulted the Rothschilds,
Bleichroders, and other monarchs of the realm of money. This tyranny
of the banker is world-wide. Come war or peace, come famine and pes-
tilence, come seven fat years or seven lean yeai-s, the banker rules; and
he does it with "coin." He first chains the nations to the word "coin;"
—then he gets his grip on the supply oi "coin;"— thus he holds the
chain which fetters the globe.
How simple it would be to shatter the chain and escape this odious
servitude, hij doing precisely ivliat Louis Kossuth proposed to do for
Huuganj! By the exercise of that right which the Chancellor of Great
Britain declared to be a part of the supreme power of every state, a
scientific system of paper currency could be created, hased on the strength
of the state, answering the needs of every citizen of the state, and abso-
lutely independent of the bankers. To smash the Money Trust, whose
monstrous rapacity preys upon every nation, it is hut necessary that the
state shall assert its inherent power to create its own currency. A
dollar, whether in metal or paper, should be inscribed, "this is a dollar."
That declaration, and the law which makes the dollar a legal tender for
debts, are sufficient. There should be simply the sovereign mandate,
''This is a dollar." Absolutely nothing more is necessary to make that
currency as good and as strong as the Government which creates it.
All governments, being composed of human beings, may perish. Of
course when the Government is overturned, its currency is lost. But that
is true of its bonds, also.
The editoi^ of our daily papers are dreadfully uneasy, lest the small
notes issued by the Government should go the way of Confederate money.
But why are they not nervous ahout the hondsf
If the Union should go to pieces, as the Southern Confederacy did,
the bonds would fare no better than the notes. How about that, gen-
tlemen ?
Commenting upon the manner in which the Money Trust in the
United States has been allowed to usurp the sovereign power to create
money, the Jeffersoxiax declared,— in the AVashington interview.— that
this surrender of royal prerogative to private uses had its origin — in
modern times — in the concession which Barbara Villiers coaxed out of
her dissolute lover, Charles II.
^'4 WATSON ^S JEFFERSOXIAN .MACAZINE
The Washington Post found this statcinent to be peculiarly aggra-
vating and inaccurate. It was n)ere rot, of course. All the same, the
statement is capable of proof. In his learned and most admirable works
on ]Moncy, Alexander Del ]Mar, formerly director of the Bureau of Sta-
tistics of the United States, has a separate volume devoted to the Barbara
Villiei-s ei)isode. This recognized authority on the subject of ]\Ioney
shows how the East India Company, acting through the King's mistress,
decoyed Charles II into sanctioning a scheme wliich gave to the Company
and to the gold-smith chiss control over the royal mint. The law by wliich
this was done is known as the "]Mint Act of lG(i6," and the bribe to the
Villicrs u-oman is named in the Act, The "joker" clause of this Act
was so framed that the gold-smith class and the East India Company ob-
tained almost absolute control of the supply of money. JMoreover, these
same intriguers secured a fourth charter for the East India Company, in
1677, which authorized the corporation to coin in India with its own
stamp gold, silver, copper and lead. This being a matter of public record,
we really cannot understand the flippant and scornful. manner in which
the Post scouted our statement. We make our mistakes as others d(>,
but generally Ave can produce respectable evidence to support our state-
ments of fact.
The Constitution of the United States expressly invests the Federal
Government with every sovereign prerogative necessary to its perform-
ance of those functions for which it was created. To make peace antl
v.ar, to collect and disburse taxes, to control national and foreign com-
irvcree, to make laws and enforce them, to create offices and fill them, to
control the army and navy, to create money, — are among the necessary
sovereign powers conferred upon the general Government. To surrender
any one oE these royal prerogatives in whole or in part, is to maim the
(lOvernment. Who would not protest, if it were proposed to delegate to
[)rivate individuals or corporations the power of regulating foreign com-
merce? Where is the man in public life who would dare to propose that
the Government should surrender to private individuals or corporations
the power to control the army, or the navigable watei*s, or to operate our
postal system ? Yet, in abdicating in favor of six. thousand national
bankers tJie sovereign prerogative of creating money, the GovernnuMit
has surrendered a power infinitely more precious than that of regulating
fori'ign commerce.
The very life-blood of the commercial and industrial icorld is money,
— the artificial creation by which we have agreed to take the measure of
the value of all conunodities, in exchange. And we have surrendered,
to a rapacious six thousand, the terribly dangerous power of saying Jiow
iiiiirli life-blood shall flow into the veins of the body-politic!
With their unconstitutional and calamitous Gold standard, their ab-
EDITORIALS
95
sorption oC all the surplus cash of the national tn-asury, and their usur-
pation of the riiiht. to slami) Iheir own notes as money, the six thousand
national bankers have as complete a trust as the Standard Oil, or the
Steel Trust.
What a shameful speetaele, that of a (iovennnent of 85,000,000 peo-
ple chained io a f click by a handful of Wall Street rascals! Oh, for one
year of Andrew Jackson, to smite these infamous scoundrels and to assert
///<? power of the Government!
Listen to the Supreme Court of the United States, (39 Barb. 427),
announcing its decision in Hague vs. Powers :
'']\roney is the medium of exchange— the standard oi- representative
of all commercial values. It is that which men receive in exchange and
in satisfaction of labor, and its various products; and ivhcthcr it is intrin-
sically valuable or otherwise, it is the standard of value by which alone
ihcy are all measured. Gold and silver are not naturally money, any
more than any other metal product or fabric. They are made so hy law
only.
"These metals become money by the force and operation of law alone.
"The power (to create paper money) is clearly one of the attributes
of Governmental sovereignty and may be exercised wherever it is deemed
necessary or proper by the sovereign power."
Thus the highest Court of the United States has done, as the highest
court of Great Britain did,— made a clear statement of a fact that is as
old as government itself, and which was never disputed until the money-
changers, using the libertine King's harlot as their tool, took possession
of the irresistible and sovereign power to control the money supply of
the world.
96 WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
THIS IS WHY THL PANIC CAML.
At the close of the Civil War, we had upwards of $2,200,000,000 of
paper currency. This currency was based on the wealth and strength
of the entire nation. As population and business increased this volume
of currency should have been increased. Gold and silver being uncer-
tain, the Government of all countries should see to it that the amount
of money in circulation bears some reasonable proportion to the popu-
lation and the commerce.
The chief function of money is to replace the old and clumsy system
of bartering one commodity for another. With money, we measure values,
for exchange purposes and for the payment of debts.
Consequently, it follows that money is a commercial instrument whose
duty it is to enable the commercial and industrial world to transact
business. Logically, therefore, the amount of money in circulation should
bear some relation to the amount of work which it is intended to do.
That is, the volume of money in actual circulation should bear some
proportion to the volume of commerce.
Now, when the Civil War was over, the armies disbanded, and the
industries of the country taking their first great leap upward, it is
obvious that the Government should have kept its eye on the vast increase
of production and of commerce and should have proportionately increased
the volume of currency, from year to year.
Just the reverse was clone.
As population increased, the supply of money was diminished. As
commerce expanded, the tool of exchange — money — was shortened.
As the demand for money became greater the supply was made
smaller.
Incredible to relate, the Government had no sooner conquered the
seceding States and forced them back into the Union than it began to
wage deadly war upon the producer of the entire republic.
The Government weid into the money-hurning business.
It supplied itself with the necessary furnaces and, in Washington
City, the currency of the country to the extent of eiyhteen hundred mil-
lions of dollars was delil)erately, designedly, wickedly burnt.
Why was this done?
Becau.se the ])ankers of New York, Boston and riiiladelpbia
demanded it.
And why did they demand it?
Because they had cornered the coin of the country, by means of the
Exception Clause, and ])ecause they had got all Ihe bonds by means of the
EDITOIUALS 1)7
greenbacks which the Exception Chiuse liad dt'preciated, and now they
wanted all other kinds of paper currency destroyed, in order that coin
and hank i)apcr might rule.
And they had their way.
Both the old parties actively aided the bankers in consuinniating
their conspiracy against the legitimate industries of the country.
The paper currency of the Government was almost entirely destroyed,
and as the volume of currency shrank, through the burning process,
prices fell, business failures multiplied, and the republic went through
an era of Hard Times.
At first the obligations of the Government, which the bankers had
increased as much as possible, were payable in lawful money.
Then they forced Congress to change it to coin.
Then they changed it again, and made it pa^yablc in gold.
They got the bonds witli grccnbachs which th< g liad purposelg depre-
ciated, with the Exception Clause.
Then they moir than doubled their )n(nn g on the bonds by compelling
Congress to change the money of pay>ne)it.
And at every step in this series of atrocious crimes against the people,
hotJi the old parties were the pliant tools of the conspirators.
In reaching their goal, the bankers and speculators not only dragged
the country through several periods of depression and stringency, but
brouglit upon it the Panics of 1873 and 1893.
Having contracted the money of final payment to gold, and having
cornered the gold, the remorseless Money Kings worked so triumphantly
upon a servile Congress that the Secretaiy of the Treasury was ordered
to deliver over to these favored rascals the revenues which the Govern-
ment raises by taxation.
All the Custom House receipts must go directly to these National
Bankers. The Internal Revenue taxes find their way to the same vaults.
The net result is that the conspirators are compelling the Government
to o^^ertax the people in order that a lot of New York rascals may have
money to gamble on !
The Government has a surplus — on paper. And it has a deficit — in
reality.
Why has it a surplus?
Because it over-taxes the people.
And why has it a deficit?
Because it has loaned the money to those New York rascals, and can-
net gel it hack!
At this very moment, the National Banks have more than two hundred
and fifty million dollars of public money, raised by taxation, and the
Government is in desperate need of it to pay operating expenses!
98 WATSON'S JEFFEKSONIAX .MAGAZINE
Yet, wlii'ii ,"\Ii'. CorU'Iyou calls for the ten iiiiliioiis which those rascals
promised to ytny on the first of January, he cannot get a dollar !
"Why did the panic come?
(1) Becanse the volnme of real money was being decreased during
a long period in which population and commerce increased.
(2) Because (iovernment currency had been destroyed and bank
paper put in its place.
(3) Because the law of "Ecservcs" had been sneaked through Con-
gress, b}' the aid of both the old parties, by means of which the money
of the country had first been drawn into the big cities, and then by an-
other twist of the reserve law draivn chirflij to New York.
(This will be explained in detail in another editorial.)
Now, consider the situation which the politicians of the two dominant
parties have aided the New York thieves to l)i'ing about :
First, they burn the Government's own currency.
Second, they abdicate in favor of the national l)anks the sovereign
function of supplying the country with money.
Third, they change the contract made with the bondholders and allow
those speculators on the necessities of their country to more than double
tlie value of their investment.
Fourth, they violate the Constitution and establish the Single Gold
Standard, thus narrowing the basis upon which all credit currency must
necessarily rest.
Sixth, they not only allow the national bankei-s to use, free of charge,
the cTcdit of the Government in their business, ])ut practically all of its
surplus cash, as well.
Seventh, they pass laws which draw all the loanable funds of the
country into New York.
Eighth, they permit the bankers to inflate the currency with various
kinds of bank paper, until the financial system looks like a church turned
bottom-upwards and resting on the steeple.
Ninth, they have so little real money afloat that less than one hillion
tloUars is available for the business transactions of 85,000.000 people,
Avorth at least $120,000,000, and doing a yearly business which is so vast
that the human mind can hardly grasp it.
Then, one day, somchody demanded c^tual casli — and the church
which had been nicely balanced on the tip of the steeple, lost its balance —
and great was the crash thereof as it fell over,
Do vou see it, son 1
EDITOKIALS '■>'■>
HOW NEW YORK GETS THE MONLY.
Once upon a tiin!\ those who put their nuuiey into a l)ank, for safe-
keeping until they wanted it, were supposed to have some rights.
This may sound like a touuh yai-ii. but it's a fact.
The depositor was onee regarded as a right decent sort of fellow, anr!
the law made motions as though it wanted to protect him from thieves,
speculators, stock-gamblers. forcil)l.> Ix.rrowei's, and other speckled va-
rieties of latter-day financiei-s.
AYith an eye to the protection of the depositor— a weak, filmy, watery
eye. I admit— the law solemnly requested the bankers to nmintain a cer-
tain amount of money where they eould lay hands on it, at any time, so
that if a depositor wanted a few dollars of his own money, he could get
cash, instead of soap-wi-appers.
At that time, the rogues' deviw of Clearing House Certificate had not
entered the head of those scoundrels of New York, who first forced that
nastv stufit* into circulation and set an evil exami)le whieh others followed.
By the national bank act, each national bank is required to keep a
reserve, in lawful money, to the extent of a certain per cent of its deposits
and circulation.
In some cities, named in the act, the reserve of actual money required
to be kept on hand, is twenty-five per cent.-, in all others, fifteen per cent.
But the act further provides that three-fifths of this fifteen per cent,
mav consist of a balance due to these banks by the banks of St. Louis,
Louisville Chicaoo, Detroit. ^lilwaukee. New Orleans, Cincinnati, Cleve-
land, Pittsburg, Baltimore, Philadelphia. Boston, New York, Albany,
Leavenworth, San Francisco, Washington City.
See how cleverly these schemers go about getting all the available
inonev of the country into a few big cities!
But that isn't the Avorst of it. After the money has been drawn into
these various "reserve cities/' it must then be drawn into one big pond-
New York.
Section 32 of the National Bank act provides, that one-half of the
reserves required to be kept by these banks of the big cities may consist
of deposits in the New York banks.
There you have it— a cleverly devised net work of canals which con-
vey the currency, first into many big cities, and then into one.
And vet Ave marvel that everybody should have to bow down to
New Yorik and go to her, on our knees, begging for some of our own
M0NE"i !
100 WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
We are fools enough to vote our financial independence away, and
then marvel at our chains.
We first say, by law, that the national banker shall be our financial
master, and then we wonder at our slaven'.
When these national banks came back to Congress, in 1903, to have
their charters renewed for another twenty years, not a single Republican
raised a voice of protest.
And not a single Democrat had the spunk and the patriotism to re-
mind the countr}' that the Democratic party, as now organized, owed its
first great victorj' to the fight which Andrew Jackson waged upon this
very question of national banks.
THE GARDE.N OF PLACE.
Over the Mountains of Loneliness,
Back from the Wastes of Desjiair,
My soul comes home from its wandering
To rest in your Garden fair.
In your Garden, dear, heartsease is growing,
There are lilies and snowdrops too;
The fragrance of lavender blooming,
To bear me a message from you.
Blue violets spring by the wayside,
That those who are lost may find cheer.
My soul creeps back through the darkness,
To breathe in the perfume there.
0, Garden that on earth is the fairest!
0, tlow'rs with your incense rare!
Reach out toward the death-sown Desert,
To the rocky bounds of Despair!
Oh ! shelter me. Love, in your Garden
From the wrecking winds that blow !
Let my spirit find peace from its wandering,
Where the flowers of Heaven grow.
— Elizabeth Darjran Forrester.
A SURVLY OF THL WORLD.
In Gennaiiy they have sent Max
Harden to jail because he published
the truth on some of " the rotten
nobility.
Similarly, Zola was convicted for
telling the truth in the Dreyfus case,
and Stead was sent to prison for ex-
posing the manner in which English
lords bought young girls.
The Marquis of Queensbury Avas
powerful enough to send Oscar Wilde
to Reading Gaol for precisely the
same unnatural vices cf which Moltke
and Eulenberg and their set were
guilty; but Harden, who exposed
them, was only a commoner, — not a
Marquis of Queensbury: therefore
Harden must go to jail.
There is another difiference ; the
Marquis prosecuted a literary man
who had no powerful protector; there-
fore the crime got the punishment it
deserved ; in the Harden case, the
criminals were nobles, and they not
only escaped punishment, but put the
literary man behind the bars.
All who followed the evidence taken
in the former case, where Harden was
acquitted, know that powerful agen-
cies were at work suppressing evi-
dence at the second trial. Not only
was Fran Yon Elbe virtually silenced,
but Harden himself was terrorized.
On the second trial, he was no longer
the same man that he v.-as at the first.
To save his court from indelible
stain, the Emperor probably exerted
all of his power to hush matters up.
and it is not improbable tJtat terms
were made with Harden himself.
Four months in jail is no adequate
puni.shment for such a crime as that
of which Harden was accused. He
perhaps compromised on a nominal
sentence to escape something much
more terrible.
Persia is about the last country on
the globe where you would expect to
hear a representative of the people
address "Mi-. Speaker," and refer
in good parliamentary style to the
"gentleman on my right," or see him,
on a small dilference of opinion as to
what had been said, imitate our friend
John Sharp Williams by fighting it
out in the hall with some recalcitrant
HeArmond.
Yet, in spite of the Shah and his
I)i-iests, Persia has a Senate, a House
of Representatives, a Constitution, a
Cabinet of Ministers, and is now
read}^ to try her hand at parliamentary
Government.
These changes have not been brought
about without strife. In fact, the
reformers have had to persuade the
Shah very much after the manner in
which the English Barons reasoned
with King John. He yielded because
he could not do anything else.
The financial system in Persia is
like it is everywhere else — execrably
bad. The financier rules. The Shah
has to give up to the foreign money-
lender all of his Custom House
receipts to pay the interest on the debts
Bryan: "I have no such scruples."
— From the Evening Journal (Jersey City).
102
AVATSOX"^^ JEFFERSOXIAX .AIACAZIXE
due foi-oijun C'l-oilitors. Therefore, the
.Slmh lias to run tlie governinent on
domestic taxes, one of which is a land
tax whieh the wealthier jii'oprictors
do not pay.
This leaves the expense of adminis-
tration to fall mainly on the poorer
elas.ses, as it does in our own dear
eon n try.
* * * *
When ]\Ii*. (Jladstone was a member
of the ministry of Sir Robert Peel,
he introduced and passed throngh
Parliament a bill which authorized
the (iovernment to purchase all the
railroads.
in favor of the private ownership of
public utilities.
The Jkkfeksunian' believes that if
the great organization of which lion.
Samuel Gompers is I'resident, persists
\v. its present official attitude of hos-
tility to the government ownership of
raili'oads, it will not only lose touch
with the labor movement in other
countries, but will lose the confidence
of the Amei-ican public and develop.
in its own ranks, divisions that will
be ruinous.
And the Jkffersonian is truly
sorry, for it admires Samuel (Jompers
and is in thorough sympathy with
most of his views.
LOOK WHO'S HERE.
—From tlio Plain Dealer (Cleveland).
The Act of 1S44 lias never been Our fat friend, the King of Portu-
repeahd. but has icmained a dead gal — who is said to eat nine meals a
1( ttcr. Th.e Labor i»Mi-ty, which is day and who looks it.— has abolished
now well irpresented in Parliament, his Parliament. The kind of Parlia-
and also in the Cabinet, has formally mcnt that it was is i)roved by the fact
declared itself in favor of this CJlad- that the Portuguese people .seem to be
stone law. llow Tiiuch greater, then, glad it's gone. The man who is reallv
is the genuine regret which nuist be
felt by all reformers that the Amei--
ican Fedei'ation op Labor, at its last
Xatioiial ('oiivciilioii, dccbircd ifst'll"
the master in Portugal is the Pi-ime
i\lini.ster, Fi-anco. It appears that he
wants to refoi-m abuses, aboli.sh u.se-
Icss olTices. cut down lavish expenses,
SURVEY OF THE WORLD
103
squeeze excessive i)en.sions and sal-
aries, and "educate the people to take
their place in Europe." As he began
liis i-etrenchnient by cutting oft'
^JrO.OOO from the animal allowance of
the Queen IXiwagcr, we cannot but
believe that he is in earnest.
TUKRE SP;EMS TO HAVE BEEN SOME MISTAKE AS
TO THE DEOREE OF DEADXESS OF THE
TAFT PRESIDENTIAL BOOM.
— Dailing- in Uic Des iroines Register ami Leader.
Washington to denounce ihusc C'alhuhc
voters ivho elected this Mayor?
For, mark you, the voters who
elected Ernesto Nathan JNlayor of the
Holy City of Rome, arc CalhoJics!
So, it woidd seem that even in Italy
the people Avant the priest to mind
I'lis own business, and not mix religion
\\i1h politics. Whenever the Church
iiiterincddles in affairs of State, the
consequences are bad for both. There
is (nitirely too much of it in our
country, as well as in Creat Britain
and Conliiu'iital Europe.
* * * *
American literature is severely ar-
raigned by (Jertrude Atherton, who
says that a tyranny exists which is
destructive of "virility, originality
and elemental fire." She calls the
reigning style the Magazine School,
and traces its origin to William Dean
Ilowells, — the gentle author whose
gentle readers will recall with feelings
that are inexpressible how he begins
"Venetian Life" with the .sentence,
"I think it does not matter when we
co:ne to Venice."
If we Americans could abolish our
own "Parliament," for a while, and
turn some able, courageous Dictator
loose on governmental abuses, the
country would be vastly better oft'.
"* * * *
A most significant thing has hap-
pened in Rome, Italy. In spite of
F. INFarion Crawford, the Pope, the
Sacred College and the rest of it, the
l)eople have elected, as INIayor, a man
who is notoriously "a bitter enemy
of the Catholic Church" whose creed
he denounces as "the graft of super-
stition or dogina." Worse yet, the
newly elected ]\Iaybr of Rome is a
]\Iaster-]\fason. Still worse, he is a
Jew !
No wonder there are frantic
screams of agony from the papal
papers.
Shall we not have some public meet-
ings of Catholics in New York and
Tin: I'ANIC BIRD.
Kladdera.lalsili (Berlin).
104
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINK
c;1
"3 2 tu
— X
M
^ ™-
(j.a
tn
o i
SURVEY OF THE AVOKLD
105
But is Mrs. Atherton right in say-
ing that there is a tyranny in the
literary world which smothers elemen-
tal fire, eliminates virility and dis-
courages originality? Do our pub-
lishers refuse any book whatever, if
they think that it will sell ? Do they
select smugly respectable books, just
because the W. D. Howells school pro-
duces no other kind ?
Bah ! The American publisher is in
the business to make money, and he
will publish anybody's book and every
kind of book, if he believes it will sell.
Did not they publish a book for
]\lrs. Gertrude Atherton herself, in
which that lady glorifies adultery, and
originates a new history for our
Colonial Era? What is her "Con-
queror" but a book throbbing with
virility and originality? I know of
but one thing more surprising that a
lady should have Avritten such an
essentially false and corrupting book,
— and that is, that it had such a large
sale. As history, it is a shocking of-
fense against Truth ; as a novel, it
should be classed with the Chevalier
de Faiihlas.
* * * *
Last year the Secretary of the
Treasury went "to the relief" of
Wall Street by turning over to a lot
of ravenous New York rascals pretty
much all the available cash which he
had on hand. To cap the climax,
Senator Aldrich introduced and
passed a bill which required the
collectors of Customs duties to deposit
in the National Banks all the money
collected on imported goods.
The sum and substance of the mat-
ter is that 85,000,000 people are being
taxed beyond the needs of the Govern-
ment, in order that the National
Bankers may have funds to lend to
"Wall Street specidators at from 50 to
300 per cent.
When the last loan of public funds
was made to the New York banks, it
was distinctly agreed that the loan was
to be repaid on January 1, 1908.
January has conic and the New
York bankers refuse to pay.
^yhat arc ivc going io do ahout it?
The fact is that the National Banks
now have $250,000,000 of public
money. This money was taxed out of
the people for the purpose of paying
the legitimate expenses of the Govern-
ment. Instead of being kept in the
Treasury, where it belongs, it is given
to G.OOO National Bankers to use in
their business. The people Avho paid
the tax cannot get the use of their
own money without going to the men
who pay no tax, practically, and sub-
KING CARLOS.
mitting to such terms as are imposed.
Brown, the National Banker, has
the money which the people of his
community paid, in taxes; and these
people must pay Brown a goodly rate
of interest to get the privilege of using
their own money.
How long are the tax-payers going
to tamely Qndure such monstrous in-
justice?
* * * *
lOG
WATSON'S JEFFERSOXIAX .AIAdAZIXE
At lliis VL-ry tiino, (January 10),
the (Joverinnent is ruuuing sliort of
actual cash and is livinc: from hand to
mouth. Dofifits are springiufi: up in
several directions and are clamorins?
for immediate cash. The Tivasury
Statement shows a mafrnifieent Gold
Reserve and cash balance.
But where is the actual money
needed to pay the daily expenses?
Those Xciv York rascals hare got it.
They are not only keeping it. but
they mean to keep on keeping it.
I'hey will never pay it hack, s.u'e
INDEH CQM PULSION'.
* * * *
Press dispatches of January 8th
announced that Secretary Cortelyou
had "called for" ten million dollars
of the loan which the New York
bankers promised to return on Jan.
1st. The dispatches further stated
that the New York bankers had not
responded to the "call" of the Sccrc-
tarv of the Treasurv. but had sent
l)articularly illegal way, it is J. P,
Morgan who personally takes charge
of the job. This specialist in the
manufacture of bogus stock, bogus
CLABKXCE S. DARROW.
J. P. IMorgan down to Washington to
see ]\Ir. Cortelyou.
Exactly so. Whenever Wall Street
wants to victimize the country in some
WILLIAM D. HAYWOOD.
In his cell at Boise.
l)onds. and bogus bank-credits, has
done more harm to the legitimate
l)usiness interests than a year of
famine and pestilence would have
done. lie was niainlv the cause of the
$263,000,000 mortgage which Presi-
dent Cleveland put on the nation, and
he is mainly responsible for those
frenzied financial methods of his imi-
tators which precipitated tho panic.
His visit to Washington was un-
doubtedly for the purpose of urging
^Ir, Cortelyou to "hold up" in his
effoi-ts to compel the borrowers of the
National money to pay it back.
* * * *
Now what -will ^h\ Cortelyou do?
Let us bear in mind, first of all. that
the Secretary of the Treasury did not
make the situation of which we com-
]ilain. Congress innde it. The pol-
ished tools of the Privileged Interests,
operating in and upon Congress, first
levy more taxes than the Government
needs, and then tuni the surplus over
to the National Banks.
Mr. Cortelyou cannot change this,
no matter how hard he may try to do
SURVEY OF TTIK AVOKT.D
107
so. Congress makes the law, Congress
taxes the people. Congress votes the
public income into the N.-.tional
Banks.
:max harden.
Who Opened Emperor Williiinis" Eyes.
We have a huge surplus, — why?
Because we collect more taxes than the
Government needs.
But we have, also, a defieit, — why?
. .Because Congress votes i)uhUc
moneij into j)rivate business, and tJic
rascats who gd the money refuse to
return it.
The utmost that j\Ir. Cortelyou can
do, so far as what has already beeji
done is concerned, is to keep on call-
ing for the re-payment of the loan. —
refusing to make further deposits
with the dishonored banks.
But there is a thing that IMr. Cor-
telyou has power to do and this would
smash the ]\roney Trust, in.stantly,
bringing those New Yoi-k rascals to
their senses: he can issue $10:^,000.000
Treasury Notes. If he will do this,
and put the money in the state banks
for immediate distribution, the skies
would at once clear.
As a I'cmedy to Ihc (inancial situ-
ation, the Senatoi- whose j)ili gave the
National l^ankers our custom house
receipts, has introduced another bill.
He proi)osivs that these National
Bankers shall be given the authority
to issue $250,000,000 in notes to be
used as money, basing the notes on
state, municipal and railroad bonds.
He says that the 6 per cent tax which
this emergency currency must pay
will speedily drive it into retirement
when the emergency passes. Will it?
With "call money" in New York
ranging from 15 per cent to 300 per
cent why should the emergency cur-
rency ever go home ?
The self-evident effect of the Aid-
rich bill would be to encourage the
Wall Street speculator. Such men as
Harriman. Heinze, Morse, and IMor-
gan himself, could swallow that small
sum of money in their stock-watering
operations, and never bat an eye.
Senator Culberson of Texas has in-
troduced the sanest bill. Repeal the
law which counts as cash a credit
which the various banks may have on
the books of the banks of fsTew- York
and other reserve cities. The logical
result of the law of reserves is that
the "reserve city" banks draw into
themselves all the surplus cash of all
other banks.
Thus the loanable funds all go to a
few^ financial centres — N\nv York
chiefly. There these loanable funds
are sucked into the Wall Street mael-
strom. The country at large has to do
business on bogus money — bank cred-
its of various sorts. Then, some fine
108
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
morning, somebody wants real money,
and the bank cannot or will not pro-
duce it.
Result — panic!
* * * *
With all the loose cash of the coun-
tiy sucked into New York, to lend to
specuhitors at enormous usury, the
banks tiiere coolly declare a "closed
season," during which they refuse to
return to a depositor a cent of his own
money, refuse to send cash to their
correspondent banks, refuse to pay
cash on the drafts of disbursing offi-
cers of the Government. All this
time, they are lending the actual
money to Wall Street speculators at
from 20 per cent to 300 per cent, and
are lending the country bogus money
(Clearing House Certificates) at the
regular legal rate.
* * * *
Take one instance:
•Senator AV. A. Clarke had $400,000
on deposit in one of the New York
banks. He had need to draw on this
to the amount of $100,000. '
He was not allowed to have that
much of his own money until he
agreed to pay $4,000 for the boon.
Oh, how lovely is our blessed Gold
Standard, our Sound Money, and our
"best banking system on earth!"
wanted to get more money into circu-
lation. But the individual bidders for
the bonds were ignored, their bids of
104 turned down, and the bonds given
to the banks at 102V^. Even then,
the banks were not required to pay
for the bonds. At most, they went
through the form of paying 10 per
cent of the purchase money, and the
remainder was but a credit entry on
their books — worthless to the Govern-
ment and to the people. But the Gov-
ernment will have to pay interest on
the full amount of the bonds and
notes for the full time they are out.
Hence the banks will collect annually
two and three dollars upon an un-
taxed investment of ten. Tiventy and
thirty per cent interest!
To cap the climax, ]\Ir. Cortelyou
"went to the relief" of Wall Street
by lending, without interest, fifty or
sixty million dollars of our public
funds to these bankers. Therefore, in
effect, they were supplied, free of
charge, Avith the money with which
the.v paid that 10 per cent on the
bonds !
Indefensible as this entire trans-
action is, Mr. Cortelyou has done no
more than to faithfully follow the
examples set him by his predecessors
for the last forty years.
While I\Ir. Cortelyou is in no wise
to blame for our system of national
bank finance, the issue and dispo-
sition of the Panama bonds and the
3 per cent notes were indefensible.
The preten.se for the issuance of these
securities was that the Treasury
In Berlin the people are at the
point of insurrection because the
Prussian Landtag has refused to
grant manhood suffrage. As we close
the forms, the militarj^ is being
held in readiness to suppress any
revolt which may be attempted.
THL JACK50N- DICKINSON DULL
BY WILLIAM L. PARKS.
many versions have
been given to the pub-
lic of the famous
Jackson - Dickinson
duel, that for the sake
of truth, and that a
just account of the
same may be read at this late day, I
have written this article, and have
for forty j'eare, varied accounts of the
affair given at different times, and
have read the accounts as given by the
able and distinguished writers of the
life of Jackson. I will not go into
detail and give each name or author,
hut have the proof that convinces me
that tlie following account is the true
story of the unfortunate affair. In
The Old Pock Snrinc- House, where Jackson drank
the milk after he was wounded.
based my account of the duel on con-
versations had with living men who
iigured in the hot political campaigns
of General Jackson, men who were his
warm advocates, and men who were
his bitter political enemies. I have
read and preserved in my scrap book
addition, only a short time ago, I vis-
ited the spot where the duel was
fought, and had an octogenarian
whose father heard the pistol shots,
and who was familiar with all the sur-
roundings and incidents connected
therewith, to tell me what he knew.
110
WATSON 'S J EFFEKSON IAN M AG AZINE
On this trip 1 ohtaiiK'd pioturL's of the
sun'ouiidiiigs, and many facts hereto-
fore unknown to the public.
After first giving the cause which
led up to the duel, then will follow
the account of the duel which resulted
so fatally.
On March 15th, 1806, the following
notice appeared in the Nashville,
'I'enucsscc, Imperial llcvicw.
the field, af they will be shot without
refpect to their ownerf,
'^\Iarch 1ft, 180G."
The race was to be run on General
Jackson's plantation eight miles out
from Nashville. On the day ap-
pointed a great crowd gathered, but
to the surprise and chagrin of all, and
at the very last moment, Capt. Erwin
withdrew I'lowboy from the race.
■" — ; — w» ■ —
♦f
' . . ..»
\
ic*
Vi
^^*'^
' ■•■^ V**.
'"
\
H- ^If^H
™
■
k
i
i
^?^iM
fe__
■
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1
Si)riiiy: ulicrc Dirkiiison was gi\en water on way from diiclliiig j^ii.iiinl.
"Ci.ovER Bottom Races.
"On Thurfday, the 8d day of
Api-il iie.xt, will be run the greateft,
iinil moft interefting match race ever
run in the weftei'u country, between
(iciici-al Jackfonf horfe
TUUXTON,
fj yearf ohl, cari-ying 324 Ibf, and
Cai)t. Jofeph Erwin 'f horfe
Plowboy,
8 yearf old, carrying ];50 l])f. The
lu)rfef will rini the two-mile heaff
for the fum of -1^3,000.00 doliarf,
"No stnd horfef will be admitted
within the galef but such af contend
on the Turk, and all perfonf are
i'(>(iuefted not to bi'ing their dogf to
• i\Irs. Rachael Jackson, wife of Gen-
eral Jackson, was present to witness
• the race, and was very much wrought
~ ijp over the fiasco, and exclaimed, on
hearing that Plowboy had been with-
diuwn : "I know very well why Capt.
Ei'win backed down ajul withdi-ew
Plowboy from the race. He knew that
Truxton would beat his horse out of
sight."
Charles Dickinson, the .son-in-law of
Cai)t. Erwin was in the crowd, and
was drinking very heavily.
I\ri-s. Jackstm's remai-k was fold
to him, when he flew info a rage of
anger, and exclaimed in a very loud
and boisterous maimer, "just about
as far out of siglil as I\rrs. Jackson
JACKSON-DICKINSON Dll HL
111
run from her first husband when she
ran off Avith Gen. Jackson."
Dickinson's rcniarlv was repeated to
Gen. Jackson at once, wlio demanded
a retraction from Dickinson. Dickin-
son at once retracted tlie remark,
pleading his intoxication as an
excuse.
A short time aft(n- this, Diclvinson,
vrhile iml)ibing' freely in a bar-room
in Nashville, repeated the same offen-
sive language with reference to ]\Irs.
Jackson. When told about it, Gen.
Jackson went at once to Capt. Erwin,
and told him that he must make his
son-in-law hold his tongue. As is
well known, IMrs. Jackson had sepa-
rated from her first husband, Samuel
Ihey were re-married. This second
marriage gave rise to much tadc and
scandal, as Jackson had been to Con-
gress, Judge of the Su})reme Cou^t
of Tennessee, and was then Major
General of the State IMilitia.
]n the course of his political career
he had made many very bitter enemies
^\ho were quick to use this scandal
as a weapon to encompass the defeat
of Gen. Jackson.
This oft-repeated scandal was a
source of continual annoyance and
mortification to him and well-nigh
broke Mrs. Jackson's sensitive heart.
As a result of the failure to run his
hor.se in the race, Capt. Erwin was
Si-eno on Red River ncnr tlie iluclling grounds.
Robards, and accompanied Gen. Jack-
son to ]\Iississippi, where she visited
i-elatives and he engaged in a mercan-
tile business. While in Mississippi
they learned that Robards had secured
a divorce, and they were married.
Returning to Nashville they lived
together as man and wife for several
>ears, when it was discovered that
the}^ were not lawfullv married. Then
comi)elled to pay Gen. Jackson a large
sum of money, and not having the
ready money to liquidate the debt, a
violent quarrel ensued between them,
which gave to Dickinson occasion to
wi'ite for publication an article which
was vinl(>nt and insulting to Gen.
Jackson.
Hearing of the article, he rode into
Nashville, went direct to the office
112
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
of the printer, and demanded to see
the article.
As soon as he had read the article
in proof, he went to Gen. Thomas
Overton and sent a challenge to
Dickinson, which was promptly ac-
cepted by him, Gen. Overton acting
as second for Jackson and Dr. Hanson
Catlett for Dickinson. The time
agreed on was IMay 30th, 1806, and
to a marriage feast. Jackson Avas
cool and serious, and made known to
his second all his plans in the combat.
He told Gen. Overton that it mat-
tered not who won. and called the
word to "fire," that he was going to
reserve his fire and give Dickinson
the first shot, giving as a reason for
so doing, that unless Dickinson shot
him through the heart or brain, he
Tlie men stand near the exact spot wlicre the duel was fought.
the place the north side of Red
River, mid-way between Mason's
]Mill and Adairville, Logan County,
Kentucky, a very short distance from
the Tennessee line. Eveiy one in
Nashville knew of the fight, and to
avoid arrest, early on the morning of
the 29th, both parties, mounted on
swift horses, left for the meeting place
on the Kentucky line fifty miles away.
Dickinson and his party took the
lead, and on their way made fre-
quent stops, at which times Dickinson
would take advantage of the stops to
make a display of his marvelous skill
as an expert pistol shot. Dickinson
and his party were as gay and frolic-
some as had they been on their Avay
would, by holding his fire, kill him
certain. In a former combat of the
same kind he had clipped Gen. Avery's
ear, so near did he hit within strik-
ing distance of his head.
Reaching the j^lace of meeting late
in the evening, Dickinson and his
party found Red River was a rag-
ing torrent, owing to the heavy fall of
the water from recent rains. Con-
fident, undaunted, and in such high
spirits, they swam their horses across
the swollen stream, and engaged lodg-
ing at a farm house on the north side
of tlie river.
Jackson and his ])arty coming up
later, and learning that the Dickinson
party had crossed over, put up for the
JACKSON-DICKINSON DUEL
113
night at a tavern on the south side twenty-four paces apart, the pistols
of the river. Before sunrise the next were loaded, handed to them, and at
morning Jackson and his party crossed last the two deadly enemies stood face
over the river, meeting the Dickinson to face.
The Old Tavern, whore Jacl;son spent the night before and after the duel.
The men stand near the exact spot where the duel was fought.
party by agreement on "half-way
ground." On the duelling grounds
Dickinson won position, and Jackson
the word. They took positions
"Are you ready?" asked Gen.
Overton, and at the word "fire*'
Dickinson's pistol rang out, and a
puff of dust was seen to fly from Geii,
114
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
Jackson's left breast, and as quick as
a Hash of li^'htning: Jackson's pistol
cracked, and when the smoke had
cleared away, Dickinson was seen to
stagfier and fall in the arms of his
second.
Proud and defiant, with liead erect,
Jackson and his party hastily with-
drew to the river and crossed over in
])onts. Up to tliiit lime no one of
PusliinLT rapidly on, tliey came to
an old rock spring house, where they
halted, and on investigation found a
bucket of fresh sweet milk, of which
Jackson drank copiously, and was
very much revived.
Weak and faint from the loss of
blood they soon reached the tavern,
wliere the party spent the remainder
of the dav and the following niuht.
Tlie liDUSO wliCk'o Dickinson died. Died in rof ni on right. .M tliat time
a log liouse. Since weatlierlHiarded.
either pai'ty knew that Jackson had
received the slightest wound. After
the party had mounted their horses
on the opposite side of the river, and
were riding rapidly, Jackson's sur-
geon noticed the blood flowing from
his left boot leg. When asked about
it, Jackson re])lied, "I am danger-
ously wounded, he shot me through
my left breast."
When a.sked why he concealed his
wound he replied: "lie was certain
he would shoot me dead in my tracks,
and not get a scratch. I did not want
him to have the satisfaction of know-
ing that he hit me."
Late in the evening of ^lay 31st,
a covered wagon drawn by a pair of
horses passed through the streets of
Nashville. The wagon contained the
dead body of Charles Dickinson.
On the same evening Jackson
arrived at his home (having made the
trip on horse-back), near what is
now known as the "Hermitage,"
bearing a ghastly and i)ainful
wound on his left l)reasl ; a wound
which never entirely healed, and never
ceased to give him i)ain, and culmi-
nated in a disease which cau.sed his
death fortv vears afterwards.
THL FARMLR5' UNION.
The Jeffersonian means to do its
utmost to help the agi-iciiltural classes
in their fight for justice. The wealth-
producing millions who labor on the
farms have been mercilessly pillaged,
ever since the Civil "War, by our
diabolical financial system, by the
trust-breeding Tariff, and by the
public service corporations. The day
of revolt and of organized battle for
a square deal is at hand. The fight
is on, and there will be no laying down
of arms until victory is won.
At the head of the Farmers' Union
stands Charles S. Barrett, of Georgia
— as modest as he is industrious,
unselfish and devoted. If he does not
work himself to death, he will be
recognized soon as one of the most
important factors in our national life.
A few years ago he was a country
school-teacher. Taking hold of the
task of organizing the farmers, he has
worked at it with the untiring zeal of
a Loyola, or a Peter the Hermit.
Always on the go, concentrating his
energies to this one purpose, he does
not spend an average of one day in
the month at home. Today he is in
Texas, tomorrow in Oklahoma, next
in Kansas, then in Louisiana, then in
Tennessee.
In the beginnings, the Union often
needed money. Barrett would reach
down in his own pocket and fetch out
all he had.
At one of the early State Conven-
tions, Sir Grumpety Growler and
Colonel Greeneye IMarplot made some
remarks that indicated doubt as to
whether the finances had been prop-
erly handled. Barrett quietly pro-
duced the books and vouchers, which
not only proved that he had been
working for almost nothing, but had
spent, from his own slender resources,
several hundred dollars to keep the
thing going.
Ashamed of their suspicions and
grumblings, the Convention sent out
a Committee to buy for their Presi-
dent the finest gold watch that could
be found in Atlanta, — a gift to remind
him of their affectionate gratitude.
Tactful, honest, gifted with a rare
t.'ilent for seeing it all and saying
little, free from ambition for office,
guiltless of greed, Barrett is the ideal
man for his difficult position, and has
won the unbounded confidence of
every member of his great order.
* * * *
Wishing to present to our readers a
brief sketch of the life of Newt
Gresham. the founder of the Farmers'
Union, The Jeffersonian applied to
his daughter, INFiss Lutie Gresham.
She was kind enough to send the
biographical sketch which follows.
Her own winsome and intelligent face,
alons: with the strong features of her
father, appears in the engravings
which illustrate her narrative.
Wishing to present, also, a short
summary of the origin, early strug-
gles, and the final success of the
organization, we applied to R. F.
Duckworth, President of the Georgia
State Union and one of the pioneers
of the movement. His response is
given just as he wrote it.
Mr. Duckworth, it will be remem-
brred. was invited not long ago to
vicrit "Washinsrton for a consultation
with the President. He is universally
regarded as one of the strong men of
the Farmers' Union.
Among the other leaders who fall
IIG
WATSON'S JPiFFEilSONlAN MAGAZINE
into tlic same class as Barrett and
Dnclnvorth may be mentioned 0. P.
Pyle, of Texas, whose paper, The
National Co-Operator, has the hirgest
circulation of any of the Farmers'
Union periodicals. True-hearted Ben
Griffin, of Conway, Arkansas, is
another of the leaders whose influence
is national.
« * * *
As yet the Farmers' Union leaders
have not put their finger on the true
source of agricultural depression.
After awhile, however, they will
realize that their lack of prosperity
is due not to immigration and specu-
NEWT. ORESHAM,
Founder of the Farmers' Union.
lation so much as to a Tariff system
which allows the manufacturers to
rob them, a financial system which
allows the national bankers to rob
them, and to the system which allows
the pul'lic service corporations to rob
them.
The manufacturers and the bankers
are extremely anxious to keep the
farmers from going into politics.
Therefore, the editors and politicians
who serve the Privileged Few urge the
Union leaders to ignore such matters
as require national legislation.
Don't assail the Gold Standard!
Yet that is the veiy thing which
jerked down the prices of wheat and
cotton when those silk-hat rascals of
AVall Street began to draw gold from
Europe.
Don't assail the National Banking
system! Yet that is the vampire
which sucks out your life blood with
compound interest on billions of bogus
money.
Don't assail the Trust-breeding
Tariff! Yet that is what makes your
farm supplies cost you twice as much
as they should, and gives you 10 cents
for cotton, when you ought to have
twenty.
Don't assail the puhlic service cor-
porations, which exploit public utilities
for private profit! Yet that is where
you are made to pay annual interest
on eight billion dollars of capitali-
zation which is fictitious and fraud-
ulent.
The labor leaders have declared, in
national convention, that you must
continue to submit to this tremendous
burden, — just as the labor union
leaders of ]\Iacon sided with the rail-
roads when the Farmers' Union of
Georgia was making its successful
campaign for lower passenger fares.
Talk Good Roads — that doesn't
hurt the Privileged Few. They don't
pay the national taxes : you do. If
3'ou want to increase your taxes to
keep swarms of laborers on the high-
ways, go it! You can't scare the
Privileged Few by doing that. They
also love good roads. Tax yourselves,
and give these automobile fellows
good roads. That's what they want.
Then scoot for your life when the
automobile dashes down the road, at
fifty miles an hour. Pick up what is
left of your wife, or daughter, and
tote it home, after your buggy has
been knocked to pieces in the public
road. Catch your runaway team, and
THE FARMERS' UNION
117
get tlie broken Avagon to the black-
smith shop, the best you can.
G ood Roads 1 Dear me ! You won 't
liave any difficulty in getting good
roads. The millions of your money
needed to make them will be a tip
top excuse for not reducing your
of the disease. Sooner or later, they
will discard the surface remedies and
will adopt the constitutional treat-
ment which alone can bring relief.
"Patience, and shuffle the cards!"
The farmers will understand their
own case, by and by. And when they
* "'SW^^BS^^^C^??
MISS LUTIE GRESIIAM.
tariff taxes. Therefore, the j\Ianu-
facturers who tax you will help you
graciously, freely — laughing in tlieir
sleeves at getting rid of you so easily.
* "" * * *
But, sooner or later, the awakened
agricultural classes will locate the seat
do — watch out, Steel Trust! Your
day of clearing $156,000,000 per year
will be over.
Watch out, Express Companies!
You won't slice any more melons of
200 per cent net profits.
Watch out, Uailroad Kings! You
118
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
won't run any more public-be-damned
ex[)cditions wherein stockholders are
looted and the public swindled out of
hundreds of millions.
Watch out, Mr. Wall Street hanker!
You won't keep the $250,000,000 of
the people's money which the Govern-
ment has fjiven you, nor continue to
suck up the vital resources of the
nation with compound interest on fic-
titious money.
Such a revel at the public expense
as the Privileged Classes have had in
this country since the Civil War is
without parallel in the history of the
human race. But the clock will
strike after awhile, else the heart of a
great people has already been cor-
rupted and the puhlic conscience
seared.
SKETCH OF NEWT GRESHAM.
By Lutie Gresham.
My father, Newt Gresham, the
founder of the Farmei-s' Union, was
born in Lauderdale County, Ala.,
February 20th, 1858. When he w^as
six years old, his parents moved to
Kaufman County, Texas, where they
soon died, thus leaving him, at an
early age, to battle against the world
and its hardships. It was, undoubt-
edly, during this time that the foun-
dations of his character were laid.
The strength developed in these early
struggles helped him in shaping and
leading America's greatest organiza-
tion for farmers.
He was a member and a leader in
the Farmers' Alliance, and was never
reconciled, after the death of that
order, until he succeeded in having
another take its place.
]\ry father never had the oppor-
tunity of attending a free public
school. All the education he received
was the result of his own labo? and
determination. He was not a polished
scholar, but by dint of hard work he
secured a good practical education
and a vast amount of general infor-
mation.
In May, 1877, with seven dollars in
his pocket, he left his home at Cedar
Hill, in Kaufman County, and w^nt
to Terrell, Texas, where he boarded a
train for Fort Worth, on his way to
Granbur}', Hood County, Texas.
There was no railroad from Fort
Worth to Granbury. and not having
money enough to hire a private con-
veyance, he walked the entire distance
of forty miles. He then hired himself
to work on a farm at thirteen dollars
a month.
In January, 1881, he married Miss
Ida Peters, whose home was in Gran-
bury. He joined the Alliance in its
infancy, and was the first man in the
State to receive a commission to go
beyond State borders to do organizing
work. He was the best posted man
regarding farmers' organizations in
Texas. Leaving his young wife with
her parents, he went to the very com-
munity in Alabama in which he was
born. While there he organized a
good local Alliance, and before leav-
ing the State, a year later, he suc-
ceeded in organizing many thousands
into the Alliance. He then went to
Tennessee, taking his Avife with him,
but remained there only a few months,
having to return to Texas on account
of his wife's ill health.
In January. 1896 he went into the
newspaper business at Granbuiy. In
1899 he moved to Greenville, Texas,
where he was engaged in newspaper
work also. In January, 1902, he
moved to Point. Rains County, Texas,
and in the fall of this year, after
many hai'd efforts, he induced nine
men of Rains County to unite with
liim and secure a charter from the
State. My father was made General
Organizer, and in the face of eveiy
discouragement began the w'ork of
building up our great Farmers'
Ujiion.
I give a list of the names of the
THE FARIMERS' UNION
119
ten men avIio were instiiimental in
bringing about the F. E. C. U. of A. :
Newt Gresham, 0. II. Rhodes, D. L.
Seamster, W. H. Cochran, B. F.
Morris, James Turner, Tom Donelson,
Jesse Adams. Tom Pounds, W. S. Sisk.
My father was honest, sincere, self-
sacrificing, always seeing the good
points in a fellow man, and never
giving a thought to the bad. He was
a loving husband and father. He died
the 10th of April, 1906. after an
illness of five days. Our earnest wish
was that he might have lived longer,
so that he could rejoice in seeing the
great work he started going on so
faithfully and helping all who be-
longed to the great organization.
* * * *
MR. DUCKWORTH'S LETTER.
Barnesville, Ga., Nov. 22, 1907.
Hon, Thomas E. Watson,
Thomson, Ga.
My Dear Mr. Watson:—
After having been away from the
office for some days, I returned to find
a letter from you asking that I give
you some data as to the dates, etc., of
the Farmers' Union.
Replying I will say that the Farm-
Gi-s' Union was organized by Newt
Gresham and nine associates the last
days of August, 1902, their charter
being granted October 2nd, 1902.
They began the organizing of the
Farmers' Union in Rains County,
Texas. From Rains they went into
Wood, and Hopkinr, where I was
found, and I began my connection
with the Farmers' Union in December,
1902. I rented out the land which I
was to cultivate with my own hands
and began the active work of the
Farmers' Union in February, 1903.
In February, 1904, a State Union was
organized in Texas. It was in June,
1905, that we organized a State Union
in Georgia.
The daily papers absolutely refused
to give us any notice until about the
spring and summer of 1904. Then we
were severely criticized by some,
slightly spoken of • by others, and
merely mentioned by others. In 1905
they began to give us some consider-
ation. In the spring of 1906 we had
sufficient strength to enable us to
demand their "august attention."
When we first began the work of
organizing the Farmers' Union we
met with every obstacle conceivable.
The farmers themselves were super-
stitious, and feared that there was a
political move on foot. Almost every
farmer you came in contact with men-
tioned the Alliance and feared that
the Union would go like the Alliance.
It was hard to make them see that
though the Alliance made mistakes
and went down, that the amount of
good that it accomplished could not
be estimated in dollars and cents.
The country merchants, lawyers,
and the doctors, the old-line poli-
tician, and the new-line politician, all
feared that the Farmers' Union was
an interference with their business or
ambitions.
At one time there was several
months when myself, the founder of
the organization, and his brother, Ed
Gresham, were the only men in the
field actively engaged in the work of
organizing. I was then traveling with
Newt Gresham, the founder, and
many, many times did we become
blue, disheartened and almost ready
to give up the fight. It was not long
until Newt and I had spent about all
the cash we had, of our own, and the
amount we were receiving from our
work proved inadequate to meet
expenses, but we borrowed and fought
on.
The endurance of Newt Gresham
Avas wonderful. He could ride all day
long in the rain, make a speech at
night, sit and talk until one o'clock,
and be jubilant the next morning.
Being reared in and having prac-
ticed an outdoor life, he was able to
stand the strain through which we
120
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN I\IAGAZINE
had to pass, but when he was locked
up, as it were, at his desk in an office,
the strain proved too great and the
good man succumbed. But the organi-
zation goes on, its strength and power
continue to grow, its usefulness is
becoming greater and greater Avith
each j'ear.
It was the dream of the founder of
the organization to send a man to
Europe to study and investigate the
cotton situation each year. That man
has been sent. The founder dreamed
of the day when in spite of the specu-
lators in New York the farmers would
be able to get the minimum price
for their crops, and through times of
panic and flourishing conditions to be
able to hold their crops until they
brought that price. His dream has
come true and todav the Farmers'
Union stands as a monument to the
efforts of the men who planted it,
and to the courage of the men who
watered the plant.
Yours respectfully,
E. F. DucKvroRTn,
State President.
* ^ * *
Mr. W. S. Sisk was born in Georgia
Dec. 12th, 1866, and has lived and
worked on a farm all his life. He
moved to Texas thirteen years ago,
and was one of the ten men who
assisted Newt Gresham in organizing
the F. E. C. U. of A.
He is also an old Farmers' Alliance
man, having belonged to that order
when it was in progress in Georgia,
and read the first paper that Hon.
Thos. E. Watson ever issued.
THE DREAM.
Two hours ago he heard her goodnight prayer:
His motherless wee lamb's — and, tired, there.
Sat dozing softly in the easy chair.
Sudden, two little arms in baby might.
Around the father's neck are clasping tight!
The little body shaken with affright.
"Father!" — she trembled with the terror's dread —
He cuddled close the tousled, flaxen head:
"Father," she sobbed, "I dreamed that you were dead!"
'Gainst his, her little heart beat out its fear:
Holding her close and strong, he kissed each tear:
Soothing her gently — "Darling, father's here!"
From life, a little longer, wearier sleep.
Like a strong swimmer beating back the deep.
My sobbing soul, from troubled dream, shall leap
•
Into his arms! my heart, against his own
Shall grow as quiet as this child's hath grown:
Knowing, at last, the dream a dream — and flown!
And I shall see his eyes — 'tis many a year —
Shining above my tears to cast out fear:
And hear him whisper — "Darling, father's here!"
— Ada A. Mosher, While Springs, Fla.
THL OLD AND THL NLW.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "AUNT DICE."
(The following story is one of a series of "Glendower" tales, or sketches of Tennessee
village life, yet unpublished, by Mrs. Nina Hill Robinson — Editor.)
Chapter I.
The city clocks struck ten, Sara
Meredith closed her machine with ner-
vous fingers. All day its sharp click-
ing had sounded a rasping protest of
the real against the imaginary — its
steady "stitch-stitch" disproving
with pitiless materialism the teeming
fancies of her tired brain. And yet
all day familiar faces had smiled into
hers, and friends of twenty years be-
fore had trooped into her room and
held high revel there.
This was an off-daj'. Sara, after
years of self-discipline, was not wont
to play truant in the sunny valleys of
her girlhood days, that necessitated
a mental journey backward over a
stony ground of stony experience.
Many a dreary waste lay between that
gap of twenty years. ]\Iany a strange
dark mountain loomed within ! It
was rare now that she cared to do the
penance of a pilgrimage over, having
scarcely time for a look backward, she
told herself. Still, as an "off-day,"
when old scenes and faces would not
be denied, she lingered awhile — a dan-
gerous little while — with her happy
pa.st. Today, before her inner vision
were tantalizing glimpses of a noble
old mansion, with wide-open doors of
rest and peace, its galleries flooded
with Southern sunshine, and June
roses nodding in its windows. The
breath of the hills swept her cheek.
About her, in undulating waves of
green and gold, lay the familiar fields
of long ago, and sounds of brooding
peace, distinctly at home — like as of
pigeons cooing from the house tops —
fell on her ear, softly.
She saw again the shifting season
of fruit and flower, as when in her
girlhood's bloom she dwelt under blue,
Georgian skies. Along the garden
Avails were luscious figs, wasting their
cloying sweetness. Peaches, ripe and
rosy, hung low in wanton profusion.
And grapes, purple as Italy's own,
dripped their honey for crowding
bees.
Apricots blushed under sunny skies.
AVatennelons lay "green and dew-
covered" in grass-grown patches.
From cotton-fields, white unto har-
vest, came the songs of negro pickers.
And further still, out and awa}', over
hedges of Cherokee roses and tangling
undergi'owth, adown the line of blue-
gray horizon, and far blue air, to the
east or to the west, came the perfume
of Jasmine or scent of the fragrant
scuppernong.
Oh, garden of delights! Oh, land
of flowers, and fruit, and sunshine!
Oh, the piney woods, the red hills of
Georgia!
Sara folded her sewing in the neat
and careful manner habitual to her.
She drew a chair before the open
grate, and placed a study lamp on the
table, where lay an open letter, tlie
innocent cause of her disquietude.
She read again, slowly:
"Do Sara, put away your sewing,
and spend your holidays with us at
THE OLD AND THE NEW
123
The Oaks. We are to have our usual
house-party, and a number of guests
' are going out with me. We shall stop
awhile at Glendower and go on home
by early stages, in good old Southern
fashion.
"I shall bring my school friends.
One is from Virginia, another from
Georgia; and her uncle — an old friend
of papa's — is going out also. And
Oh, Sara, he is so distinguished.
He has traveled everywhere and be-
longed to some foreign embassy, or
legation. Brother will bring a friend
who was with him in Ctiba — Lieuten-
ant Watterson, of New York.
"Mother is planning the festivities
after the old-time fashion of a South-
ern Christmas, and the final enter-
tainments will be a dress occasion in
the costumes of — Oh — anywhere be-
tween the '30 's and '60 's of dear old
1800.
"And now, Sara, Sara, dear, bring
with you that lovely white silk gown,
with your pearls, and promise me you
will lay aside your work for one night,
and be young again with your own
little one,
"Ethel Summerfield Deering.
"Grandview College, Bait., Md."
A card from Mrs. Deering, written
in a more sober vein :
"Dear Sara:
"Spend your Christmas holidays
with us. I am so helpless without
3'-ou. We are to have a larger number
of guests than usual, this season, and
my servants need constant oversight.
"Mr. Deering and the boys join
me in affectionate greeting.
"Yours sincerely,
"Anna Deering.
"The Oaks, Glendower, Tenn., Dec.
15th, 1900."
Why, certainly, she would go. Life
Avith Sara was largely made up of
".uch things — of goings and retum-
ings, and taking up her work again.
The Oaks was nearer a home to her,
and dearer than any, out of Georgia;
a place of rest that toned her strained
nerves, and rein vigora ted her w^ith
the pure air of pine hills, and black-
jack forests.
Sarah Whiteney Meredith was born
to the luxurious ease and refinement
of an affluent Southern home, and
brought up under the tutelage of an
aunt, Avho was a survis'or of the
South 's ancient regime — a type of wo-
manhood which gave prestige to the
South in the days of her old school
chivalry, and social prominence.
The child, however, oi'phaned in
her earliest years, was the spoiled and
petted darling of that Georgia home.
Her aunt (than whom, to Sara's
thinking, none ever lived among wo-
men so gentle and lovely) paved the
way of her niece with rose-lined ease,
and heaped luxuries about her with
a prodigal hand.
In like manner she was educated
by early degrees; absorbing natur-
ally, and growing into mental and
bodily culture. It was not until her
twentieth year that she was taught,
as a final accomplishment, fine sewing.
This was the beginning. There
were then financial reverses (and re-
verses have a trick of swooping doAATi
upon the unwary) which left her pen-
niless. The death of her aunt quickly
folloAved. Sara, who was now alone,
realized that fine serving, the dreaded
accomplishment, w^as her sole means
of support.
Years passed. In the natural evo-
lution of things, the dainty frill, the
rolled and whipped ruffling, the fine
embroidery, gave place to the grind
and click of the sewing machine; the
smart tailor-made costumes and shirt-
waist of up-to-date fashion. But she,
too, had changed from a child of
nature and grace to a woman of forty,
with a gleam of silver in her gold-
brown curls.
But the Avhite silk gOAvn ! Sara
glanced up over the mantel at her
favorite painting — a work of her'^
124
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
done in idle hours — a garret in som-
bre colors; an old trunk with a white
ball gown, in sheeny folds, pulled half
way out. A string of pearls hung
over the edge; a satin slipper lay on
the floor, and a broken fan beside it.
It had been a whim of hers to em-
body these souvenirs of her past in
oil and color — the white silk gown in
which she had floated light as thistle
down, on the night of the last happy
day of her life, and the slipper which
carried her through dance and meas-
ure, tapping impatiently when the
kindest of true lovers came to her and
said in his quiet way :
"Shall we tread a measure, Sara?"
She remembered with pain her im-
perious gesture ; how she shrugged her
silken-draped shoulders as he turned
sadly away, and the angry snap of
her fan, that he sought her no more.
Sara was easily the favorite of the
ball room. She had no lack of lovers.
But Eobert Grantland, the friend of
her whole life, was to her nothing less
than the noblest and manliest of men.
He was the superior of her masculine
friends — a gentleman in a finer sense.
Her tender heart adored his virtues.
In spite of her capricious moods, her
faulty appreciation of his love, her
conception of his character was clear
enough — he was one in a thousand
among men.
She had wounded him carelessly.
She had done the like before, times
without number, assured of his gener-
ous pardon. But she little dreamed
that this last offense decided his fu-
ture career, and sent him far from
her presence.
Sara waited through a painful si-
lence. There were no tearful apolo-
gies or happy reconciliations ; no word
or message — never a sight of his face
— only silence. Then the news of his
sudden departure for Europe turned
her heart cold with fear.
She waited dumbly. There was a
letter of farewell which was kind,
even affectionate in tone, but unmis-
takably friendly; and letters again,
month after month, with the same
thoughtful, kindly interest. Still she
waited with dmnb, insistent pride,
but the slow months brought her no
guerdon of love, or promise of love's
fulfillment.
Sara felt that she had been Aveighed
and found wanting. She was counted
unAvorthv to walk in the way of a use-
ful life. "
In this the truth was evident. Rob-
ert Grantland had serious views of
life. He had truly relinquished the
love of his heart, without a word of
blame or protest. He argued wisely
that her butterfly existence was un-
fitted for an arduous and uphill ca-
reer. He would place no sacrificial
yoke upon her. She should be free to
spend her bright days in joyous aban-
don of soul. "With her thousand gay
and dainty charms, some one with a
like appreciation of the things of
earth would seek, and win, her affec-
tions. She would be, in a way, a
happy Southern matron, and life's
merry little round for her, perhaps,
would soon be over.
However, had he known that in
leaving Georgia he Avas leaving that
young heart desolate, the inomentous
question of his life might then have
been decided, with all his careful
plans.
This trial, as such trials often do,
awoke within Sara her better self, and
provided her a strength which cov-
ered her head in the day of battle.
Troubles crowded about her. She
stood alone, and bereaved. The pil-
lared mansion of rest and peace was
no more.
After this, the long years of expe-
rience! Sara stitched into ruffle and
seam the roses in her cheeks, and the
hopes of her youth. A woman of
forty remained.
Yet she was not given to repining.
Nor was she inclined to lackadaisical
airs over untoward circumstances.
She had developed rather into a
THE OLD AND THE NE^Y
125
wholesome type of womanhood, and
by slow gradations, into that product
of the twentieth century — a self-reli-
ant woman. At forty, she was not
bereft of charms. Age slips easily
over the heads of favored ones. Hers
was an elastic nature, peculiar to
Southern women — brave to bear, he-
roic to endure — preserving in her
spinster, days the sweetness of soul
and grace of her youth. There w^as
about her a certain poise and gesture,
a willowy grace that bespoke the
artist; a certain carriage of the head,
a high-bred air; a gracious sweetness
of mouth and brow that reminded one
of an old portrait of generations
gone, or the patrician danghter of a
hundred dainty mothers.
The careful training of Sara's early
life upheld her in perilous days. In
her darkest hours of privation and
toil, she was recognized everywhere
and always, as distinctly a gentle-
W'Oman. She had avoided — how care-
fully! — the pitfalls along the way.
There w^as, for instance, the crabbed
discontent of spinsterhood, and again
the gossipy tendency of the average
dressmaker. But she had no leisure
for small or mean diversions. Her
life had resolved itself into one prayer
— to be noble, to be something, to be
worthy ! and a veritable safeguard it
proved.
Sara kept her joyous and lovable
individuality, which w^as to her the
spring of life and youth. Her reso-
lute will triumphed over the many
petty weaknesses of her kind. Her
high courage and unfailing courtesy
found no closed doors to encounter.
Withal, she had schooled herself into
a sort of calm content — a poise of
mind that balanced safely her ills and
pleasures. She learned to divide her
life into short spaces — to live a day
at a time. x\nd the day was not all
dreary with a lace Avork of greenery
in her windoAV, and a bit of blue sky
above.
Owing to an artistic touch, and con-
scientious regard for duty, she was a
successful dressmaker. But that she
was an artist by practice, she counted
as a triumph of her will, which
snatched this luxury from working
hours.
Toil for Sara had its recompense.
In her art she was truly happy, and
grouped about the walls of her room
were relies of her summer idyls —
paintings done in oil and water color,
sketches of sea and land, silvery snow
scenes, and quiet landscapes. These
summer outings among the lake re-
gions of New York, where she reveled
in the beauty of earth and sky, of
wide hay-mown fields, and silver bits
of water, freshened her spirit for ev-
ery winter's toil.
Sara counted her friends by the
score, whose kindly influence had
helped her to an independent footing.
Of all her services (wdiich bore ever
the unmistakable stamp of her handi-
work), perhaps she alone kept a reck-
oning. Her list of accomplishments
was sui-p rising even to herself. Be-
sides her dressmaking, she Avas also a
skilled nurse, and a dainty cook, as
many a table in gala dress bore wit-
ness. Time was her most expensive
luxury; yet her decorative instinct
led her into opulent homes Avhere teas
and sAvell clubs prevailed.
Sara might truly have called her-
self successful. She had now reached
a substantial basis in her work. Her
yearly trip to New York — her summer
revel in color and glorious perspec-
tives — was assured. She reassured
herself that she was calmly happy.
She felt, indeed, a sort of pity for
that irresponsible young German girl
she used to know, who fed on illusory
sweets, and ballroom unrealities. Her
present strenuous life Avas, by far,
more satisfactory. And the little
ministries, w^aiting, to the right and
left of her, which added so much to
the pleasures of others, she Avould not
neglect.
At The Oaks — a haven of rest and
J2G
WATSOiN'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
refuge — she had been lavish in
kindly returns. She would spend
Christmas there. Sara folded the
letter in her hands. Nothing should
be wanting to heighten the pleasures
of the sea.son that her ingenuity
could devise. Ethel's warm heart
i^hould be comforted.
She began preparations for the
morning's train, packing a small
trunk, and smiling as she placed the
white silk at the bottom, wrapped in
silver paper, where it had lain un-
touched for years. This, with a neck-
lace of pearls and some rare cameos,
Avere the only relics of her palmy
days. She strapped her trunk,
turned the key in the lock, laid out
her purse, hat and gloves, as the city
clocks struck twelve.
Cn.VPTER II.
A flutter of snow in the air!
Clouds scurrying toward a gray
horizon in tlie teeth of a gusty wind!
Slush and mud in the streets ! Pave-
ments slippery and glistening under
the fading lights ; the cry of news-
boys, the rattle and bang of heavy
wagons; the swift, undulating motion
of the electric cars, and withal, the
city of Nashville with gaily decked
shopwindows, and Christmas greens
galore.
Sara left the Union depot on a
Avestward bound train, speeding over
Tennessee hills and valleys; passing
hamlet and town, dreary looking
stations, desolate farm houses, and
negro huts; miles of barren lands in
scrub oaks; ten miles of valley with
a river running through ; a forest of
black-jacks, a background of hills and
noble pines, and Deering Station was
reached.
Tennessee is full of suiprises. In
her seasons, for instance, what a
sportive Aveather-vane! She is fam-
ous for her lovely autumns — the
gorgeous cbloring of her Avoods; the
soft, hazy blue of her skies. Yet,
Avhen the late November Avinds Avail
through the holloAvs. and call from the
hill tops, one aAvakes from the pleas-
ant vision to find a treacherous chill
in the air, the trees all bare and gray
against a grayer sky — the severe
aspect of Avinter settling on field, and
hill, and river.
But Avho can determine the length
and breadth of a Tennessee Avinter?
In the late fall there is still a hint
of summer in the fragrant Avoods and
odorous breath of dead broAATi leaves;
still a hint of fresh green life under
the drifts, and in sunny stretches.
On frosty mornings, the air is
darkened by crowds of noisy black-
birds, creaking Avith their discordant
voices, like the sound of miles and
miles of rusty, moving machinery.
One says, "Winter is surely com-
ing." Yet Avhen the land lies locked
in snow, and icicles hang pendant
from every tree and housetop, a
spring sun looks out suddenly, and
a spring birds' carol sounds like a
p»on of victory. There are touches,
too, of color to brighten the Avintry
landscape. In the Avoods or on the
higliAvays, the glossy laurel and crim-
son bittersAveet; lichens, flecked Avith
fire, and bronze green mosses on rocky
spaces. Cedars eveiyAvhere, contest-
ing the ancient groAvth of oaks and
poplars. And lo! under the white
coverlet of midAvinter, plants of a
bulbous kind put forth green heads
Avith a gloAv of reneAved life.
Tennessee, herself, holds variety as
the "spice" of her existence. No
dead monotony of treeless plains on
her rugged surface! She delights in
bumps and depressions ; in scooped-out
valleys and endless chains of hills —
but here again she surprises one.
From barren fields and scant vegeta-
tion, a neighboring hill may command
from its summit of Avild honeysuckles
an inviting prospect — a vast pano-
rama of velvety, blue grass pastures,
set in ancient trees, clear of under-
groAvth, and fair as an English pre-
serve !
THE OLD AND THE NEW
127
This is IMiddlo Tennessee, mind you,
not in the East where her mountains
kiss tlie skies, nor in the West, where
she lies flat and prone by the Ten-
nessee river. She is, however, a land
of surprises from mountain peak to
river bottom; but in nothing more
than promiscuous mixing of localities
and men. A village of simple folk,
old and primitive; then as if progress
had suddenly remembered the lapse,
an upward and outward bound of
nature, and lo, the lordly estate of
the Southern land-owner, the man-
sion of refined and cultured life !
Tennessee has had her history.
And now, though strung with the
M-ires of modern inventions, many a
monument of her ancient greatness
stands yet among the seclusions of
hoary trees — the family homes of de-
parted generations.
The Oaks was such a surprise.
Commanding a view of the ten-mile
valley, and just over the intervening
pine hills from Glendower, the man-
sion Avitli its vast estate was an im-
posing reminder of antebellum days.
The building was a square massive
structure, whose stone walls were
quarried from the soft tinted rock
of the neighboring hills.
The spacious rooms were rich in
fresco work and antiquated carving.
A wide gallery, with its heavy col-
umns in clusters of three, ran across
the breadth of the building. A grove
of towering oaks, interspersed with
evergreens, adorned the grounds.
Here, Mr. Deering, a successful busi-
ness man, a progressive farmer, and a
scholar of high degree, dwelt among
his neighbors with the simple grace of
a country gentleman.
At Deering Station, Sara Mere-
dith entered the waiting trap, driven
by the practiced hands of Uncle Joe,
Avho was the man-of-odd-jobs at The
Oaks.
A drive of two miles by the river's
side, which turned abruptly as she
entered Glendower — that dull village
asleep in its cradle of hills — then out
and beyond, a sudden turn of land-
scape, a rolling sweep of upland, and
the light and wannth of The Oaks
greet her tired vision.
A broad light streamed from the
open hallway into the gathering dusk.
Sara's face flushed with the pleasure
of that true home feeling never ex-
perienced elsewhere than in Tennessee.
Two bearish hugs from Rob and
Edgar Deering unceremoniously bade
her welcome. These were her juven-
ile admirers. Mr. Deering, her kind
friend and counselor, greeted her cor-
dially; and INIrs. Deering, on whose
pleasant face time had levied no tax,
laid an affectionate hand on Sara's
shoulders.
"To your room, my dear, for a lit-
tle rest up before dinner."
And she mounted the stairs with a
vv'cary step, but that feeling again of
home, and that delicious sense of
happiness and subdued excitement
that pervades the Deering home at
Christmas time.
"Now, Sara," said her hostess, as
they sit at last by the great wood fire
in the hall, "hear my plans for the
holidays. AA^e have decided to cele-
brate Christmas in tiiie Southern
style. Mr. Deering expects an old
friend who has been abroad for years;
and who, 1 am sure, would relish once
more an old-time Christmas. ]\Iy
son, Vv^ho brings a friend from the
North, wiites to the same effect. We
shall please Ethel also, and her
friends ; and to tell the truth, ' ' added
Mrs. Deering, laughingly, "I am
really wishing to conciliate Glen-
dower, too. with something out-of-date
and musty."
"Glendower has a disgruntled air
on festive occasions," remarked Sara,
smilingly.
"Yes, like a decrepid old watch-dog
disturbed in his evening nap. It
seems that I ofTend the peace of Glen-
dower. Gold, or tennis, tallyho par-
ties, hay rides, and the like are
128
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
severely discountenanced. An auto-
mobile is an instrument of the evil
one, I cannot find the tender side
of Glendo^A'er. And the telephone,
Sara! That is an added offense."
"There is no real quiet where the
telephone rings." said Sara, with
genuine sympathy. "It ha.s a knack
of ringing out jokes, and disturbing
the climax of stories. It is a most
annoying convenience, I surmise, at
the Postoffice."
"An old-fashioned Christmas, once
more, ladies." advised Mr. Deering,
from behind his paper, "provided
you can command j'our forces."
"Ah, the question of serv^ants!
That is my dilemma. How can I
depend on them for such an occasion 1
They know little now of antebellum
times, and care less to learn. Then,
there is a kind of "Union" among
them, which includes every organiza-
tion for mutual benefit that they can
devise. They have lately regulated
working hours." '
"That is discouraging for the din-
ner hour?"
"I cannot learn. They claim the
holidays now. I am not sure of my
servants at all, throughout Christ-
mas. And without them, my plans
fail, of course. Think of it — a house-
party without servants! And — how
ludicrous! an old-time Southern
Christmas without darkies! Really,
I regret having attempted this affair.
I fear we shall only celebrate the
passing of the old."
"There is only one waj^" advised
Sara. M'isely, "Bribery."
"But, oh, my depleted wardrobe!
"What have I not given? I am con-
stantly receiving notes and divers
complaints. They are sent in as
admonitory warnings of leave-taking;
or I have learned to spoil thorn out
to mean additional gifts rather than
increase of salary. I resort to my
wardrobe, as I dislike to break my
rule of prices. And do you know,
my dear," Mrs. Deering whispered
solemnly, "a gown that is not strictly
up-to-date in style, they simply will
not accept?"
Sara laughed merrily.
"What force have we? Give me
my bearings."
"Well, Joe is a certainty. I have
only the faintest hope of keeping
Bettie, the housemaid, or Sam, the
butler. My laundress is almost
sure to fail me. Aunt Ann may
stay — at the expense of our peace —
in the kitchen. But just fancy my
pompous old cook in a cotton gowTi
and red bandana!"
"They need a Booker Washington,
or a wise leader, to teach them the
dignity of work," commented Mr.
Deering, from his desk across the hall.
"Can 3-0U solve our difificultj^ Sara?"
"Trust my rabbit's foot for Aunt
Ann," she answered gaily. "Let the
others go if they will."
The festivities of the week were
carefully planned on old-fashioned
lines. .f;uiious among the annals of
Southern hospitality. Apart from the
celebration of Ethel's birthday, which
was a dining, in red eft'ect — a charm-
ing combination of crimson wax
candles, holly, and j-ards of crimson
ribbon — every day's entertainment
was a replica of one in a departed era.
A rather grand dress affair in cos-
tumes of the early '60 's closed the
social features of the week.
"Now, Sara," said INlrs. Deering,
"one thing more — something in prim-
itive style — a kind of suiprise for
Christmas Eve. Our guests will arrive
on the evening of the 23d. Next
morning there will be a meeting of
the hounds at Glendower. We want
an illumination for the evening.
Think of something unique."
"I have an idea," said Sara, slowly,
"An 'possum hunt. The old cabin
on the hill must be cleaned and white-
washed. We will have a primitive
supper there, with a dnnce afterward.
The hill will be lighted with pine
torches. ' '
THE OLD AND THE NEW
129
"Oh, Sara, how delightful!" ex-
claimed i\Irs. Dcering.
There was more need, however, of
diplomacy in the kitchen. The maids
were sullen. Aunt Ann was porten-
tously stiff. She protested indig-
nantlj' :
"Name o' sense, Miss Sallie, what's
dat fur? Clean dat old cabin in th'
woods? Tain't fitten fur nuthin' but
a shuck pen ! ' '
She was a dignified old negro, in a
sweeping black skirt and striped shirt-
waist, very tight and trim ; with side-
combs of red celluloid in her haii", and
brass mounted glasses on her nose. A
broad ring on her finger, in spite of
its brazen quality, but emphasized her
respectability.
She stalked across the kitchen floor
with an affronted air.
Miss Sallie was a favorite in the
Deering kitchen — a particular one —
but Aunt Ann was intolerant of sacri-
fices now — she was more in need of
help. The dragging work increased
her exasperation.
Sara's perseverence met with a
second rebuff, evasively given:
"Scour it? Well, I kin scour it — I
IS done it time and agin. I live there
five year."
"Aunt Ann, persuade Joe to clean
and whitewash the cabin."
Aunt Ann rattled the crockery
ominously in the pantry.
"Now Miss Sallie, ef Joe does that
whitewashing in Christmas time it'll
open my two eyes — dat's all."
Joe was Aunt's shiftless and irre-
sponsible husband, tolerated at The
Oaks for the sake of his "better half"
— a fact of which she was fully aware.
The overhauling of the cabin was
done at last, however, and beautifully
done. The floor was scoured as clean
as sand and water could make it.
The walls were snow white, and the
old fire-place put in order — all the
work of Aunt Ann's irate, but ener-
getic arms. Joe was the object of
many a threatening imprecation.
The servants were still in an obsti-
nate humor regarding their expected
duties. They of the fluffy coiffeurs
and shirt-waist proclivities did not
relish a return to the bandana head-
dress and cotton gown. They missed
the sentiment of old-time relations,
and rebelled at the badges of slavery
days. They asserted their liberty.
They also claimed the holidays —
their own social duties would be neg-
lected. Sara's arguments were met
invariably with one or more rules of
the "S'ciety." Replies were quick
and pert. She was tempted more than
once to vacate her ground. But by
dint c«: coaxing, and rewards, an
agreement on Avorking hours, and
finally by crossing their palms with
extx'a coin, Sara triumphed in the end.
She compromised herself, however.
Through the busy days that followed
she was appropriated in the kitchen,
and the pantry was filled with
exquisite conceptions of culinary art,
for Avhich she was noted.
"You're welcome as an angel,
honey, ' ' said Aunt Ann, with restored
good humor. "Dese gwines on here
is sump'n turrible,"
The decorations were complete.
The Oaks was a bower of holly and
mistletoe from guest-chamber to the
great front vestibule. The heavy
pillars were Avreathed in pine, and
over the front entrance "Welcome"
glowed in holly berries from its green
setting.
One afternoon Sara went up to the
cabin on thehill where the delinquent
Joe stood ready to serve her orders.
"Loads of mistletoe, Joe, and holly,
and pine," said she, kindly. And Joe
worked with unusual interest and
unaccustomed energy, as her deft
fingers fashioned wonderful bowel's
of green, and cornucopias of the
autumn's fullness. Toward sunset
they rested from their labors. The
old cabin was transformed into a
thing of beauty.
Sara wended her weary way home-
130
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
ward. She reached the front lawn as
Joe disappeared under the oaks, on
his way to Glendower driving a trap
gaily bedecked with Christmas greens
and crimson streamers.
"Dat fool nigger," exclaimed Aunt
Ann disgustedly. "A red bow in his
haid! Dat's a sight fur quality
folks!"
Sara passed into the dining-room
and critically inspected the table as
it stood under the soft glow of wax
lights.
"I bid 3'ou good-night, Aunt Ann.
I shall not dine tonight; I am very
tired."
"Dat you is, honey," said Aunt
Ann, who was still in a wonderful
humor. "Good-night. I'll send you
a roll an' some tea."
Sara wheeled a chair to the bright
wood fire in her cozy room. She
closed her eyes dreamily, basking in
the delicious warmth, and enjoying
the quiet rest that was so rare a thing
with her. She listened drowsily for
sounds of the incoming guests. A
bark of a cur sounded with dismal
distinctness from across the river.
Then the melodious notes of the
hounds in the kennel, a crunching of
wheels on the front driveway, with a
chorus of voices and happy laughter.
There were greetings in the hall;
more voices and laughter, mingled
with the deep bass of masculine tones.
Then Ethel's voice, clear and high, as
she mounted the stairway:
"Sara! Sari! Sari!"
Sara felt two loving arms about her
neck. She looked up, smiling, into
Ethel's tender face.
' ' Oh, my dear, how good you are to
come, and how beautiful everything
is! Home is so refreshing. You will
dine with us tonight? Brother John
has grown quite an inch, and is so
handsome in his uniform. Ilis friend
from the North — Lieutenant Watter-
son — is very interesting, and probably
finds us so. He is certainly enter-
tained with Southern scenes and cus-
toms. He seems to enjoy every mo-
ment of his time. ,
"I am sure you will like my school
friends, Sara, but our distinguished
guest from Georgia is quite beyond
me. I need j'ou, really. You cannot
dine? How tired you are!"
"Not tonight, little one. Don't
mention me please — just yet. I have
some work to finish, and rest I must,
to-morrow. ' '
"Always 'work' with you, Sara!
When are your holidays?"
"Never mind. I shall be with you
to-morrow, sometime. ' '
"You must entertain our friend.
Perhaps you can advise him. Did I
tell you that he is planning a great
work in Georgia? He has now the
time and means to carry out his
plans. jMy friend, Elizabeth Dunlap,
is enthusiastic over her uncle's life."
"Oh, Ethel!" cried Sara in a
pained voice. "How happy are they
who can gratify the desires of their
soul."
"Why, you are always doing good.
Your life is a service and a mission,"
said Ethel, caressing the wealth of
gold-brown hair. "There's always
the hope of better things, remember,
and better days for you. dear."
Sara listened sadly. She saw noth-
ing before her but the inevitable dress-
making. There was no escape from
it. Her soul abhorred a fashion-
plate. The hollowness of dress and
display sickened her at times. How
glorious to be free of it all, to go into
the world and help others to be
happy! And how pitiful that the
soul was more often neglected — thrust
aside for material needs of the body !
The world is beautiful to the one
Avho makes it so.
Sara bade her friend good-night,
with a smile, and gathered her ma-
terials for work. Her elastic nature
rose buoyantly, above repining
thoughts. Better things would come
in time. And time should find her
ready and equipped for the change.
THE OLD AND THE NEW
131
The clock struck ten. Sounds of
laughter and music issued from the
drawing-room below. Llrs. Deering
moved in and out like a spirit of
Christmas, with her pleasant bits of
news and cherry messages. Sara
woi'ked rapidly, with skillful touches
of brush and pencil, on bits of brown,
crude paper , scrawling out, in letter-
ing of red ink, suggestive of poke-
beriy juice, the words of invitation
to the 'possum hunt. The work was
soon finished. At midnight the
curious guest, drawing out the thorn
which pinned the card of rough
brown paper, read in pleased sur-
prise :
"Start from The Oaks and find
ME — a fat 'possum, hanging from
a limb of a spreading oak!
"On the night before Christmas
1900."
Ch.vpter III.
The hall clock counted in sonorous
tones the hours of the night. Slum-
ber lured the tired guests with sooth-
ing lullabies. Yet there was one
among them who walked his chamber
floor with the startling cry of "Sara —
Sari — Sari!" still ringing in his ears.
The sound thrilled his soul like a
chiming of familiar bells. It brought
back with compelling force an over-
whelming rush of memories, with a
happy dream of his youth.
Identified with every nook of his
boyhood's haunts was the little
maiden, Sara, of his love — the fairy
creature with gold-brown curls, at
once his heart's desire, his soul's
torment. Her presence had im-
pressed upon his heart for aye the
mountain steeps of Georgia, the som-
bre shadows of the pines; the endless
hedges of Cherokee roses, and wild
muscadines by the water courses; the
sprays of trailing wistaria over-run-
ning hamlet, or mansion, or fence of
the field.
It were as but yesterday that he saw
her taking her evening walks with old
Madam Whitney, when the sun lay
low, and the mountain shadows were
long. She was the idol of this stately
old grandmother; and the delight-
some darling of a delectable home.
He knew her well — the little Sara
with gold-brown curls — she of the
poke-bonnet, whether of white, or blue,
or crimson; always and ever with
flowers on her dress or in her hair —
golden-belled jasmine or purple
wistaria, or blood-red blossoms of the
pomegranate.
He had traveled far and wide, and
years had passed, yet her face had
come between him and every woman
he had thought to call "wife." She
was like a ghost that would not
"down," the winsome, merry child
of long ago. The little maiden, with
her thousand endearing charms, Avas
still his soul's torment, his heart's
desire.
Next morning the music of ' ' Sara —
dear Sari" still echoed from corridor
and hall. This "Sara" was in de-
mand — a ministering angel of a
Tennessee Christmas. Who could
she be?
He passed on through the hall to
the wide, front gallery, where Rob
and Edgar Deering, abreast with the
day, played in the early sunlight.
The glow of the morning lay on
the grounds, and softened the sturdy
lines of the great bare oaks. Brown
leaves fluttered in the chill wind. A
thin blue line hung over the distant
river. The sun rode gloriously
through the clouds. It was a Decem-
ber morning of Tennessee — half gray,
half cold; a veil of cloud and a chal-
lenge of sunshine.
"And who is Sara, my little man?"
asked Robert Grantland, placing a
hand on Edgar's shoulder.
"Sara's a trump," answered Ed-
gar, busily fingering her latest gift —
his new air-gun:
"Sara's me mother," observed Rob,
meditatively, toiling down the gallery-
steps.
Sara, who was blissfully uncon-
132
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
scious of the mystery, luxuriated in
the rest and seclusion of her room,
eluding guest and tiresome formality.
It was onlj^ when the afternoon was
half spent that she girded herself
anew to do the honors of the opening
entertainment — the o 'possum hunt.
"Come, Aunt Ann — are you
ready?" she called out cheeril}^ from
the waiting cart.
She was fresh and sparkling. Her
face flushed with the pure joy of
living. The gold-brown hair Avaved
rebelliously about her brow, escaping
in tiny curls above her white linen
collar. Sara was ready Avitli a zest
for the occasion.
"Got Christmas in yo' bones, I
reckon; I ain't," grumbled Aunt Ann.
She inspected the loaded cart.
"All th' 'visions in here? Where's
that spare-rib an' sausage — here 'tis.
I tell you, Miss Sallie," she continued,
climbing into the cart, and settling
her ample proportions on the seat,
"dese here doin's is heathenish. I
lay myself out to be a light to the
cullud folks in this kuntry, an' here
I is, pullin' to a 'possum hunt — an'
a dance. Now this very night — this
vc7"if night — our s'ciety meets —
where I ain't been in a mont. "
"Tell me about your society, Aunt
Ann," asked Sara, flipping the pony's
cars with her whip.
"Well, it's th' 'Sons and Darters
of Ham,' Miss Sallie, an' its a power-
ful s'ciety. It helps the sick an' it
buries the dead."
"That's a good thing," observed
Sara, sympathetically, "Where do
you meet?"
"On tothcr side of the hill there.
We calls it th' hall, but we uses it
fur a church an' a school-house. I'm
treas'rer now, sence that no-count
Jim Jones tuck an' run off wid de
money — . Take keer, ]\Iiss Sallie!
Dat pony is de outdaciousest scamp
on dis whole place — that very Proc-
tor Knott. Hold th' lines — so.
"We chu'ehed him for it— Jim
Jones — and tu'ned him ela'r outen de
meetin '-house — "
"What church. Aunty?"
"Baptist — in cose," said Aunt
Ann, shortly.
"Well?" queried Sara, amusedly.
"Well, yo see. old Aunt Demsey
died about that time, and we all wid
an empty treas'ry — so de white folks
had to bury her. Den two of de
brethren wus sick acrost the river,
dependin' on dat dollar an' a half
from th' s'ciety — an' it ain't been
paid yit.
"Hold up de lines. Miss Sallie.
Dat pony needs a stiff hand."
"And Jim Jones — what of him?"
asked Sara.
"Dat low-life nigger? Why, what
did he do but dress hisself in fine
sto' clo'es an' 'pear 'fore the kongre-
gation, CO 'tin' dat yaller gal what
moved into Glendower. Now you
know. Miss Sallie, dat the whole er
Glendower jes do nacherly 'spise a
nigger — dey never havin' owned
none durin' de War — or befo'
nuther — an' 'specially a yaller
nigger —
"I tell you. Miss Sallie, dat pony's
gwine to show hisself — wid all them
tin pails rattlin'. I've knowed him
fur ten year, an' I ain't never knowed
him guilty of a good action yit. Now
hold him! Hold on. Miss Sallie!
Ketch dem buckets! Dar goes th'
taters — hold him — "
And over Avent Aunt Ann with a
thud on the pine-strewn ground, while
Proctor Knott clung to the hillside,
eyeing the overturned cart with criss-
cross eyeballs, and a contemplative air.
"Come, Aunt Ann, you are not
hurt?" asked Sara, solicitously, look-
ing down at the prostrate form with
meriy eye and twitching lips.
"Ilu't! Did you ever kno' an' ole
pusson to git over a fall? I ain't
'sprised ef I never gits over it."
Aunt Ann groaned. "Here I is,
thr'own on th' wayside, stid er tendin*
my meetin'! It wam't intended for
THE OLD AND THE NEW
133
luc to fool long o' 'possum hunts an'
dances! Take kccr, chile, I'm gwine
home ! Its th ' rulin 's of Providence. ' '
"Rulings of Proctor Knott!" ex-
claimed Sara, alarmed. "You can't
desert us now, Aunt Ann — Mrs. Deer-
ing is depending on you. You are to
have a new bonnet and gown for this
occasion."
Aunt Ann arose, trying her limbs
cautiously. "Well, they ain't no
bones broke. I reckon," straightening
her bandana. "But I ain't ride
behind dat pony no more — you hear
me?",
Sara refilled the cart hurriedly,
soothing the wounded feelings of the
old negress, and instructing her in the
duties of the evening.
"You are to help me cook and serve
this supper, Aunt Ann," she said
kindly, as they walked up the hill,
leading the pony. "And you are to
be a genuine before-the-war darkey."
"I 'members clem times," said
Aimt Ann soberh'.
"Well, I shall expect a good fiddler
and a banjo-picker."
"Joe ain't fitten fur nothin' else
but fiddlin', and Jack makes a banjo
talk."
"Very well, now; a crowd of dar-
kies about the door — all sizes — young
and old. They, may laugh, sing,
shout, dance — and finish up the
feast."
"That'll do fur ole Abe an' his
tribe down there at th' foot of th'
hill. They'll act enuff— don't be
oneasy. ' '
The cabin was in sight. A Christ-
mas bower of green, white and crim-
son. "My land! Miss Sallie, you is
fixed things up. Joe's got his blood
up, I reckon."
Joe was retrieving himself. The
yard was neat and homelike. Hung
in the trees around were wire baskets,
filled Avith pine knots, for torches.
Within, the huge fireplace was ablaze
with light.
A pleasing odor of pine filled the
room. Creat wreaths of evergreens
festooned the walls and swung from
the rafters. Bunches of mistletoe
adorned the improvised lamps.
Fronds of featheiy fern Avaved softly
from white walls, and across the wide
fireplace Avas an old and quaint device
in letters of pine — "Kindle Friend-
ship."
Sara flitted about busily, filled the
long t able with crockery, borrowed
from the Glen dower store, and, cut in
fanciful shapes, napkins of soft brown
paper. Aunt Ann, clothed in a blue
cotton gown and red bandana,
arranged her ovens on the broad
hearth. The primitive supper was
begun.
At ten o'clock, Sara's listening ear
caught the sounds of animated talk
and mingled laughter of the hunting
party, with Ethel's high, clear note
predominant. An enthusiastic cheer-
ing followed a sudden turn of the
hills.
Outside the cabin Joe had gathered
a crowd of curious onlookers. The
pine knots ablaze in the trees made
a glorious bonfire Avhicli quite
eclipsed Glendower's solitary Roman
candle. Under the flare of torches,
forms, dark and picturesque, moved
about to the sound of fiddle and
banjo, with a "flip-flap" and meas-
ured beat, yet with indescribable
rhythm of motion that invests a
negro's rags with the Avitchery of
music.
Under a shoAver of eager "Christ-
mas Gifts," the surprise party, led
by IMr. Deering, entered the cabin.
Aunt Ann hovered over the o\'ens in
tlie old-time Avay. The supper Avas
liroAvning slowly on the hearth —
'possum and sAveet potatoes; sau-
sages, broiling on a gridiron ; a huge
spare-rib, turning sloAA'ly before the
coals and roasting a delicate broA\'n;
corn-cakes, a pot of coflPee steaming
on a tripod, and a teakettle, singing
from its pot-hook up the chimney.
The lights shone brisrhtlv. The
134
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN IMAGAZINE
white walls glowed -with Christinas
cheer. Sara, in a dark blue gown and
dainty white apron, stood beside the
breadtray, moulding lier dough into
biscuits, putting a dimple in each
one with a turn of her palm, after
the pattern of the old-time mistress
of the oven.
iMore cheering followed, with cries
of wonderment and appreciation in
feminine tones.
"Oh, Sari, how dear you are!"
cried Ethel with eager enthusiasm,
bringing a bevy of girls about the
breadtray, while Sara smiled and
nodded in recognition. She received
the guests graciously, giving her
friend John Deering a bright wel-
come, and bowing cordially to Lieu-
tenant "Watterson, as they closed
about her.
"Of all things, Sara." said John
Deering, "this primitive scene pleases
us most — this bit of the old past, with
the new century."
But she scarcely heard. She stood
staring beyond him at a tall, stately
form — a handsome, manly man, with
close-cut, silvered hair, and face
bronzed and saddened, yet "one in
a thousand" still.
Her hands trembled. The green
and white walls swam before her dizzy
eyes. Again the breath of Georgia
hills; the vision of cotton fields, white
unto harvest; again the home of her
youth with its wide-open doors of rest
and peace.
Robert Grantland stood before her,
pale and agitated. She looked up
with a sobbing breath.
"Sara! Why, Sara, my little
friend ! Why are you liere among
these Tennessee hills? How has the
world used you, my dear, through all
these years?"
She smiled bravely through her
teal's. "I'll tell you, sometime. I
shall just be glad tonight — your face
is like home. I am rejoiced, Robert,
to see you again," she added, under
his kind gaze.
Sara recovered her composure.
She turned to the group about her,
ignoring John Deering 's quizzical
glances.
"This is an old friend, Ethel,"
she explained, smiling off the sup-
pressed excitement, as Robert Grant-
land began a pleasing description of
a little Georgia girl of his remem-
brance.
Sara was resourceful. She under-
stood the art of reducing to order a
chaotic condition of affairs. She was
again the gracious hostess. With a
bright remark — a word here and a
smile there, she went on moulding her
biscuits, and dimpling each with her
palm, to the delight of her guests.
A merry party gathered at length
about the rough table, gaily bedecked
Avitli apples, popcorn, and stick-candy
— Gleudower's best. Then, what a
feast — not so much of wonderful bis-
cuit or golden butter as a banquet of,
memory and "flow of soul."
Aunt Ann served the guests in a
prim and dignified manner. Her
statuesque dignity, unconsciously
posed, harmonized with the spirit of
the occasion. But Sara! With what
infinite tact, what exquiiste grace did
she do the honors of the homely table !
How deft Avere her fingei^s! And,
again, how light her jests, how joyous
her abandon, feeling in her happy soul
the tender watching of certain loving
eyes. The demure, Puritan-like mai-
den of the bread-tray was transformed
into a creature of sparkling wit and
merry jest. Aunt Ann lifted her tur-
banned head in mild surprise.
The banquet ended with a musical
clinking of glasses, under the happy
toast of Lieutenant Watterson 's "The
Old and The New," to which Robert
Grantland responded in eloquent and
retrospective vein of a nation's past.
The room was cleared for the Vir-
ginia reel. The thumping of banjo
and tedious tuning of the fiddle were
followed at last by a stream of liquid
THE OLD AND THE NEW
135
music. Joe drew his bow across the
strings with a steady hand,
Sara led the reel, in slow and stately-
fashion, Avith Mr. Deering. Graceful
figures moved down the line with
dainty step and rythmic tread.
Ethel glided by with happy, shining
eyes.
"A white silk wedding gown, Sari,"
she whispered, irrepressibly.
Sara caught the bright glance, but
she heeded not. The years of toil were
slipping back. Peace was hers at last.
The music changed. She sat on
Aunt Ann's knee for a moment's rest.
The merry crowd flitted back and
forth across the floor. Laughter was
in the air, and happy voices. She
watched the scene with lustrous eyes.
' ' Shall we tread a measure, Sara ? ' '
and he, who was "one in a thousand"
still, whose voice was sweeter than
music, stood again before her. She
turned to him \Adth a smile, as he took
her in his arms.
Aunt Ann, from her resting place
on the hearth, leaned over toward the
fiddler in excited protest.
"Chune up dar, Joe! Chune up.
man! Can't you see dat gal a step-
pin'? M-y land — how easy she go!
Chune up, Joe, I tell yer! Oh! Miss
Sallie, honey, you've danced befo'."
And never was music sweeter.
Volumes of it rolled through the room ;
rills of it streamed from the crevices
of the cabin walls, and out upon the
torchlight hills — music that dropped
its liquid notes into the heart with a
song of love, and joy, and home.
The lights burned brightly. Holly
berries glowed rich and warm from
emerald wreaths. Christmas cheer
was in the air, and laughter, with the
hum of pleasant voices.
Sara floated down the room, in a
dream too happy for words. A brood-
ing peace lay in her heart — a restful
quiet, like sunshine from the Georgia
skies. She saw before her, in long
stretches of beautiful service, the satis-
fying desires of her soul. Gone were
the burdens, the dread and suspense,
the unrequited toil. Hers was the
recompense at last — ^the sheltering
arms of her heart's beloved.
CONFESSION.
MARY CHAPIN SMITH.
Dear Lord, we daily cry to Thee
As beggars asking alms,
Always imploring Thee to fill
Our empty, uplifted palms.
Continually we turn to Thee
From each hour's wrong and blight,
As children to kind parents flee
For refuge from affright.
We chant our litanies of woe.
Forgetting in our pain
That streams of countless blessings flow
Free as the gentle rain.
Thy pardon. Lord, we humbly crave.
And may we ever raise
Altars within our willing hearts
On which to offer praise.
ECONOMICS.
"Wealth is a quality of things causod
by the wants, desires, or necessities of
mankind. A thing that is not wanted
is not wealth. A thing that is wanted
is wealth, and the greater the neces-
sity, the greater the wealth.
A log may be worth a dollar as fire-
wood, but if a man were to fall into
deep water his necessity to keep afloat
might make its value equal to all his
possessions.
What are dollars?
They are things that can be trans-
formed into all forms of wealth known
to economics. If a man has dollars
he has everj-thing he can desire. Dol-
lars would not give him wisdom, or
virtue, or innocence, but these quali-
ties do not belong to economics.
The experiences of mankind hav.J
produced dollars of two kind.s. They
are dollars that are paid, and dollars
tkat are promised to be paid. Both
are indispensable in conducting the
business of the world. Credit is as
important as cash. Banks deal with
both cash dollars and credit dollars
in the same way that everybody deals
with cash and credit. The entire pro-
cess comes from the experiences of
mankind.
In practical life everybody deals
with wealth in the same waj^ There
is no trouble with any of it until it is
critically discussed, when the great
majority of men gi wild.
It is often said that labor makes
wealth, but the history of the world
does not produce a single exampL;.
A man may live in the world for
eighty years, having worked for many
persons and many have worked for
him. But he never worked to make
wealth. In every case he worked for
•dollars that were already made, and
in the pockets of another man. The
labor was done to get the dollar out
of the other man's pocket into his
own. If he thought the dollars were
not in the other man's pocket he
would throw up his job. The same
is true of all who worked for him.
Colonial speech is made up of
tropes, metaphors, figures, and is not
fit for critical statement. We say
the sun rises and the sun sets, the
rose is red, the grass is green. "We
talk of moral forces, of human broth-
erhood, all figurative. Wealth is an
abstraction, and not an object, or
thing, and as the majority of man-
kind cannot comprehend abstractions,
this quality must be combined with
an object, or thing, to be reacquired.
We say that labor made the grind-
stone, that the grindstone is wealth,
therefore labor makes wealth. But
wants, and desires, make the quality
of wealth that is in the grindstone.
Wealth is on the chain of causation
with wants and necessities, and not
with labor.
Labor is done to enable the individ-
ual to get for himself the bounty of
nature, and in no instance does it
make the bounty. Successive phe-
nomena are not always cause and ef-
fect, however much they may appear
to be so.
The infant labors to supply its
wants. It does not make its food.
It does not make the vital air it
breathes, and from the cradle to the
grave the child, the youth, and the
man, are economic products that sub-
sist upon the bounty of nature.
I. Lancaster.
Fairhope, Ala.
ANN BOYD
BY WILL N. HARBLN.
Chapter XXXI.
FTER leaving Atlanta,
with only her normal
strength and flesh to
regain, Jane Heming-
way returned to her
mountain home in
most excellent spirits.
She had heartily en-
joyed her stay, and was quite in her
best -mood before the eager group of
neighbors who had gathered at her
cottage the afternoon of her return.
"What I can't understand," re-
marked old Mrs. Penuckle, "is why
you don't say more about the cutting.
"Why, the knife wasn't going into me
at all, and yet on the day I thought
the doctors would be at work on you
I couldn't eat my dinner. I went
around shuddering, fancying I could
feel the blade rake, rake through my
vitals. Wasn't you awfully afraid?"
"Bless your soul, no!" Jane laugh-
ed merrily. "There wasn't a bit
more of a quiver on me than there is
right now. We was all talking in a
funny sort of way and passing jokes
to the last minute before they gave
me ether. They gave it to me in a tin
thing full of cotton that they clapped
over my mouth and nose. I had to
laugh, I remember, for, just as he got
ready, Dr. Putnam said, with his sly
grin, 'Look here, I'm going to muzzle
you, old lady, so you can't talk any
more about your neighbors.' "
"Well, he certainly give 3'ou a bliff
there without knowing it," remarked
Sam Hemingway, diyly. "But he's
a fool if he thinks a tin thing full o*
drugs would do that."
(CopjTight, 1906, by Harper & Bros.)
"Oh, go on and tell us about the
cutting," said Mrs. Penuckle, wholly
oblivious of Sam's sarcasm. "That's
what / come to hear about."
"Well, I reckon getting under that
ether was the toughest part of the
job," Jane smiled. "I took one deep
whiff of it, and I give you my word I
thought the pesky stuff had burnt the
lining out of my windpipe. But Dr.
Putnam told me he'd give it to me
more gradual, and he did. It still
burnt some, but it begun to get easy,
and I drifted off into the pleasantest
sleep, I reckon, I ever had. When I
come to and found nobody in the
room but a girl in a white apron and
a granny's cap, I was afraid they had
decided not to operate, and, when I
asked her if there had been a hitch,
she smiled and said it was all over,,
and I wouldn't have nothing to do but
lie still and pick up."
"It's wonderful how fine they've
got things down these days," com-
mented Sam. ."Ten years ago folks
looked on an operation like that as
next to a funeral, but it's been about
the only picnic Jane's had since she
was flying around with the boys."
The subject of this jest joined
the others in a good-natured laugh.
"There was just one thing on my
mind to bother me," she said, some-
what more seriously, "and that was
wondering who gave that money to
Virginia. Naturally a thing like that
would pester a person, especially where
it was such a big benefit. I've been
at Virginia to tell me, or give me some
hint so I could find out myself, but
the poor child looks awfully embar-
rassed, and keeps reminding me of
138
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
her promise. I reckon there isn't but
one thing to do, and that is to let it
rest."
"There's only one person round
here that's got any spare money,"
said Sam HemingrAvay, quite with a
straight face, "and it happens, too.
that she'd like to have a thing like
that done."
"Why, Avho do you mean, Sam?"
His sister-in-law fell into his trap, as
she sat staring at him blandly,
"Why, it 's^ Ann Boyd— old Sister
Ann. She'd pay for a job like that
on the bare chance of the saw-bones
making a miss-lick and cutting too
deep, or blood-pizen settin' in."
"Don't mention that woman's name
to me!" Jane said, angrily. "You
know it makes me mad, and that's
why you do it. I tried to keep a
humble and contrite heart in me
down there; but, folks, I'm going to
confess to you all that the chief joy I
felt in getting my health back was on
account of that Avoman's disappoint-
ment. I never mentioned it till now,
but that meddlesome old hag actually
knew about my ailment long before I
let it out to a soul. Like a fool, I
bought some fake medicine from a
tramp peddler one day, and let him
examine me. lie went straight over
to Ann Boyd's and told her. Oh, I
know he did, for she met me at the
wash-hole, during the hot spell, when
water was scarce, and actually gloated
over my coming misfortune. She
wouldn't say what the ill-luck was,
but I kncAv what she was talking about
and where she got her information."
"I never thought that old wench
was as black as she was painted." Sam
declared, with as much firmness as he
could command in the presence of so
much femininity. "If this had been a
community of men, instead of three-
fourths the other sort, she'd have been
reinstated long before this. I'll bet,
if the Scriptural injunction for the
innocent to cast the first stone was
obeyed, there wouldn't be no hail-
storm o' rocks in this neighborhood."
"Oh, she would just suit a lot of
men !" Jane said, in a tpne which indi-
cated the very lowest estimation of
her brother-in-law's opinion. "It
takes women to size up women. I
want to meet the old thing now, just
to show her that I'm still alive and
kicking."
Jane had this opportunity sooner
than she expected. Dr. Putnam had
enjoined upon her a certain amount
of physical exercise, and so one after-
noon, shortly after getting back, she
walked slowly do^^Ti to Wilson's store.
It was on her return homeward, while
passing a portion of Ann's pasture,
v.here the latter, with pencil and
paper in hand, was laying out some
ditches for drainage, that she saw her
opportunity.
"Now, if she don't turn and run,
I'll get a whack at her," she chuckled.
"It will literally kill the old thing to
see me walking so spry."
Thereupon, in advancing, Jane
quickened her step, putting a sort of
jaunty swing to her whole gaunt
frame. With only the worm fence
and its rough clothing of wild vines
and briere between them, the women
met face to face. There was a strange,
unaggressive wavering in Ajin's eyes,
but her enemy did not heed it.
* ' Ah ha ! " she cried. * * I reckon
this is some surprise to you, Ann
Boyd ! I reckon you won't brag about
being such a wonderful health prophet
now! I Avas told doAATi in Atlanta —
by experts, mind you — that my heart
and lungs were as sound as a dollar,
and that, counting on the long lives
of my folks on both sides, I'm good
for fifty years yet."
"Huh! I never gave any opinion
on how long you'd live, that I Imow
of," Ann said, sharpb''.
"You didn't ht^gliv You didn't
that day at the wash-place when you
stood over me and shook your finger
in my face and said you knew what
my trouble was, and was waiting to
ANN BOYD
139
see it get me down? Now, I reckon
you remember!"
"I don't remember saying one
word about yoiu' cancer, if that's what
you are talking about," Ann sniffed.
"I couldn't 'a' said anything about
it, for I didn't know you had it."
"Now, I know tJiat's not so; you
are just trying to take backwater, be-
cause you are beat. That peddler that
examined me and sold me a bottle of
medicine went right to your house,
and you pumped him dry as to my
condition."
"Huh! he said you just had a stiff
arm," said Ann. "I wasn't alluding
to that at all."
"You say you wasn't, then what
ivas you talking about? I'd like to
know. ' '
"Well, that's for me to know and
you to find out, ' ' Ann said, goaded to
anger, "I don't have to tell you all
I know and think. Now, you go on
about your business, Jane Heming-
way, and let me alone."
"I'll never let you alone as long as
there's a breath left in my body,"
Jane snarled. "You know what you
are ; you are a disgrace- to the county.
You are a close-fisted, bad woman —
as bad as they make them. You ought
to be drummed out of the community,
and you would be, too, if you didn't
have so much ill-gotten gains laid
up."
There was a pause, for Jane was
out of breath. Ann leaned over the
fence, ciTishing her sheet of paper in
her tense fingers. " I '11 tell you some-
thing," she said, her face white, her
eyes flashing like those of a powerful
beast goaded to desperation by an ani-
mal too small and agile to reach —
"I'll tell you one thing. For reasons
of my own I've tried to listen to cer-
tain spiritual advice about loving ene-
mies. Jesus Christ laid the law down,
but He lived before you was born,
Jane Hemingway. There isn't an
angel at God's throne today that could
love you. I'd as soon try to love a
hissing rattlesnake, standing coiled in
my path, as touch a dried-up bundle
of devilment as you are. Could I hit
back at you now? Could 11 Huh!
I could tell you something, you old
fool, that would humble you in the
dust at my feet and make you crawl
home with your nose to the earth like
a whipped dog. And I reckon I'm a
fool not to do it, when you are push-
ing me this way. You come to gloat
over me because your rotton body feels
a little bit stronger than it did. I
could make you forget your dirty car-
cass. I could make you so sick at the
soul you'd vomit a prayer for mercy
every minute the rest of your life.
But I won't do it, as mad as I am.
I'll not do it. You go your way, and
I '11 go mine.
Jane Hemingway stared wildly.
The light of triumph had died out in
her thin, superstitious face. She
leaned, as if for needed support, on
the fence onlj'- a few feet from her
enemj'. Superstition was her w-eakest
point, and it was only natural now
for her to fall under its spell. She
recalled Ann's fierce words prophesy-
ing some mysterious calamity which
was to overtake her, and placed them
beside the words she had just had
hurled at her, and their combined ef-
fect was deadening.
"You think you know lots," she
found herself saying, mechanically.
"Well, I know what I know!" Ann
retorted, still furious. "You go on
about your business. You'd better let
me alone, woman. Some day I may
fasten these two hands around that
scrawny neck of yours and shake some
decency into you."
Jane shrank back instinctively. She
was less influenced, however, by the
threat of bodily harm than by the sin-
ister hint, now looming large in her
imagination, that had preceded it.
Ann was moving away, and she soon
found herself left alone with thoughts
which made any but agreeable com-
panions.
140
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
"What can llie woman mean?" she
muttered, as she slowly pui-sued her
way. "]Maybe she's just doing that
to worry me. But no, she was in earn-
est — dead in earnest — both times. She
never says things haphazard; she's no
fool, either. It must be something
simply awful or she wouldn't mention
it just that way. Now, I'm going to
let this take hold of me and worry me
night and day like the cancer did."
She paused and stood in the road
panting, her hand, by force of habit,
resting on her breast. Looking across
the meadow, she saw Ann Boyd stur-
dily trudging homeward through the
waist-high bulrushes. The slanting
rays of the sun struck the broad back
of the sturdy outcast and illumined
the browTi cotton-land which stretched
on beyond her to the foot of the moun-
tain. Jane Hemingway caught her
breath and moved on homeward, pon-
dering over the mystery which was
now running rife in her throbbing
brain. Yes, it was undoubtedly some-
thing terrible— but what? That was
the question — what ?
Reaching home, she was met at the
door by Virginia, who came forward
solicitously to take her shawl. A big
log-fire, burning in the wide chimney
of the sitting-room, lighted it up with
a red glow. Jane sank into her favor-
ite chair, listlessly holding in her
hands the small parcel of green coffee
she had bought at the store.
"Let me have it," Virginia said.
"I must parch it and grind it for
supper. The coffee is all out."
As the girl moved away with the
parcel, Jane's eyes followed her.
"Should she tell her daughter what
had taken place?" she asked herself.
Perhaps a younger, fresher mind could
unravel the grave puzzle. But how
could she bring up the matter without
betraying the fact that she had been
the aggressor? No, she must simply
nnrse her new fears in secret for a
while and hope for — well, what could
she hope for, anyway? She lowered
her head, her sharp elbows on her
knees, and stared into the fire. Surely
fate was against her, and it was never
intended for her to get the best of Ann
Boyd in any encounter. Through all
her illness she had been buoyed up by
the triumphant picture of Ann Boyd's
chagrin at seeing her sound of body
again, and this had been the result.
Instead of humiliating Ann, Ann had
filled her quaking soul with a thou-
sand intangible, rapidly augmenting
fears. The cloud of impending dis-
aster stretched black and lowering
across Jane Hemingivay's horizon.
Sam came in with a bundle of roots
in his arms, and laid them carefully
on a shelf. "I've dug me some sassa-
fras of the good, red variety," he
said, over his shoulder, to her. "You
folks that Avant to can spend money
at drug stores, but in the fall of the
year, if I drink plenty of sassafras tea
instead of coffee, it thins my blood
and puts me in apple-pie order. But
I reckon you don't want your blood
any thinner than them doctors left it.
Right now you look as flabby and lim-
ber as a wet rag. What ails you,
anywayf"
"I reckon I walked too far, right
at the start," Jane managed to fish
from her confused mind. "I'm go-
ing to be more careful in the future."
"Well, you'd better," Sam opined.
"You may not find folks as ready to
invest in your burial outfit as they
was to prevent you from needing
one."
Chapter XXXII.
The following morning, in her neat-
est dress and white sun-bonnet, Vir-
ginia walked to Wilson's store to buy
some sewing-thread. She was on her
way back, and was traversing the
most sequestered part of the road,
where a brook of clear mountain water
ran rippling by, and an abundance of
willows and reeds hid the spot from
ANN BOYD
141
view of any one approaching, when
she was startled by Langdon Chester
suddenl}' appearing before her from
behind a big, moss-grown bowlder.
"Don't run, Virginia — for God's
sake don't run!" he said, humbly.
"I simply must speak to you."
"But I told you I didn't want to
meet you again," Virginia answered,
sternly. "Why won't you leave mo
alone? If I've acted the fool and
lowered myself in my estimation for
all the rest of my life, that ought to
be enough. It is as much as I can
stand. You've simply got to stop fol-
lowing me up."
"You don't understand, Virginia,"
he pleaded. "You admit you feel dif-
ferent since that night; grant the
same to me. I've passed through ab-
solute torment. I thought, after you
talked to me so angrily the last time I
saw you, that I could forget it if I
left. I went to Atlanta, but I suf-
fered worse than ever down there. I
was on the verge of suicide. You see,
I learned how dear you had become
to me."
"Bosh! I don't believe a word of
it!" Virginia retorted, her eyes flash-
ing, though her face was deathly pale.
"I don't believe any man could really
care for a girl and treat her as you
did me that night. God knows I did
MTong — a wrong that will never be
undone, but I did it for the sake of
my suffering mother. That's the only
thing I have to lessen my self -con-
tempt, and that is little; but you —
you — oh, I don 't want to talk to you !
I want to blot it all — everything about
it— from my mind."
' ' But you haven 't h e a r d m e
through," he said, advancing a step
nearer to her, his face ablaze with ad-
miration and unsatisfied passion. "I
find that I simply can't live without
you, and as for what happened that
awful night, I've come to wipe it out
in the most substantial way a self-re-
specting man can. I've come to ask
you to marry mo, Virginia — to be my
wife."
"To be your wife!" she gasped.
"Me — you — ive — marry — you and I?
Live together, as — "
"Yes, dear, that's what I mean. I
know you are a good, pure girl, and
I am simply miserable without you.
No human being could imagine the
depth of my love. It has simply
driven me crazy, along with the way
you have acted lately. IMy father and
mother may object, but it's got to be
done, and it will all blow over. Now,
Virginia, what will you say? I leave
it all to you. You may name the place
and time — I'm your slave from now
on. Your wonderful grace and beauty
have simply captured me. I'll do the
best I can to hold up my end of the
thing. My cousin, Chester Sively, is
a good sort of a chap, and, to be
frank, when he saw how miserable I
was down tliere, he drew it out of me.
I told him my folks would object and
make it hot for me, but that I could
not live without you, and he advised
me to come straight home and pro-
pose to you. You see, he thought per-
haps I had offended you in not mak-
ing my intentions plainer at the start,
and that when you knew how I felt
you would not be so hard on me.
Now, you are not going to be, are you,
little girl? After all those delicious
walks we used to have, and the things
you have at least let me believe, T
know you won't go back on me. Oh,
we'll have a glorious time! Chester
will advance me some money, I am
sure, and we'll take a trip. We'll sail
from Savannah to New York and stay
away, by George, till the old folks
come to their senses. I admit I was
wrong in all that miserable business.
I ought to have given you that money
and not made you come for it, but be-
ing a mad fool like that once doesn't
prove I can't turn over a new leaf.
Now, you try me."
He advanced towards her, his hand
142
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
extended to clasp hers, but she sud-
denly drew back.
"I couldn't think of marrying
you," she said, almost under her
breath. "I couldn't under any pos-
sible circumstances."
"Oh, Virginia, you don't mean
that!" he cried, crestfallen. "You
are still mad about being — being
frightened that night, and that old
hag finding out about it. No woman
would relish having another come up
at just such an awkward moment and
get her vile old head full of all sorts
of unfair notions. But this, you see —
3^ou are old enough to see that mar-
riage actually puts everything
straight, even to the bare possibility
of anything ever leaking out. That's
why I think you will act sensibly."
To his sui-prise, Virginia, without
looking at him, covered her face with
her hands. He saw her pretty should-
ers rise as if she had smothered a sob.
Hoping that she was moved by the
humility and earnestness of his ap-
peal, he caught one of her hands gently
and started to pull it from her face.
But, to his surprise, she shrank back
and stared straight and defiantly in
his eyes.
"That's the way you look at it!"
she cried, indignantly. "You think
I hopelessly compromised myself by
what I did, and that I'll have to tie
myself to you for life in consequence ;
but I won't. I'd rather die. I could-
n't live with you. I hate you! I de-
test you! I hate and detest you be-
cause you've made me detest myself.
To think that I have to stand here
listening to a proposal in — in the hu-
miliating way j^ou make it!"
"Look here, Virginia, you are going
too far!" he cried, white with the
dawning realization of defeat and
quivering in every limb. "You are
no fool, if you are only a girl, and
you know that a man in — well, in my
position, will not take a thing like this
calmly. I've been desperate, and I
hardly knew what I was about, but
this — I can't stand this, Virginia."
""Well, I couldn't marry you," she
answered. "If you were a king and
I a poor beggar, I wouldn't agree to
be your wife. I 'd never marry a man
I did not thoroughly respect, and I
don't respect you a bit. In fact,
knowing you has only shown me how
fine and noble, by contrast, other men
are. Since this thing happened, one
man — " She suddenly paused. Her
impulse had led her too far. He
glared at her for an instant, and then
suddenly grasped her hand and held
it in such a tight, brutal clasp that she
writhed in pain, but he held onto it,
twisting it in his unconscious fuiy.
"I know who you mean," he said.
"I see it all now. You have seen Luke
King, and he has been saying sweet
things to you. Ann Boyd is his
friend, too, and she hates me. But
look here, if you think I will stand
having a man of that stamp defeat
me, you don't know me. You don't
know the lengths a Chester will go to
to gain a point. I see it all. You've
been different of late. You used to
like him, and he has been talking to
you since he got back. It will cer-
tainly be a dark day for him when he
dares to step between me and my
plans."
"You are going entirely too fast,"
Virginia said, grown suddenly cau-
tious. "There's nothing, absolutely
nothing, between Luke King and my-
self, and, moreover, there never will
be."
"You may tell that to a bigger fool
than I am," Chester fumed. "I
know there is something between you
two, and, frankly, trouble is brewing
for him. He may write his long-
winded sermons about loving man-
kind, and bask in the praise of the
sentimental idiots Avho dote on him,
but I'll draw hiin back to practical
things. I'll bring him down to the
good, old-fashioned Avay of settling
matters between men."
ANN BOYD
143
"Well, it's cowardly of you to keep
me here by brute force," Virginia
said, finally wresting her hand from
his clasp and beginning to walk on-
ward. "I've said there is nothing be-
tween him and me, and I shall not re-
peat it. If you want to raise a fuss
over it, you will only make yourself
ridiculous."
"Well, I'll look after that part of
it," he cried, beside himself with rage.
"No mountain razor-back stripe of
man like he is can lord it over me,
simply because the scum of creation is
backing up his shallow ideas with
money. I'll open his eyes."
And Langdon Chester, too angry
and disappointed to be ashamed of
himself, stood still and allowed her to
go on her way. A boy driving a
drove of mules turned the bend of
the road, and Chester stepped aside,
but when they had passed he stood
still and watched Virginia as she
slowly pursued her way.
"Great God, how am I to stand
it?" he groaned. "I want her! I
want her! I'd work for her. I'd
(To he Continued.)
slave for her. I'd do anything under
high heaven to be able to call her my
own — all my own ! My God, isn't she
beautiful? That mouth, that prouc>
poise of head, that neck and breast
and form ! Were there ever such eyes
set in a human head before — such a
maddening lip, such a — oh, I can't
stand it! I wasn't made for defeat
like this. Marry her? I'd marry her
if it impoverished every member of
my family. I'd marry her if the
honeymoon ended in my death. At
any rate, I would have lived awhile.
Does Luke King intend to marry her?
Of course he does — he has scai her;
but sludl he? No, there is one thing
certain, and that is that I could never
live and know that she was receiving
another man's embraces. I'd kill him
if it damned me eternally. And yet
I've played my last and laiggest card.
She won't marry me. She would
once, but she won't noiv. Yes, I'm
facing a big, serious thing, but I'll
face it. If he tries to get her, the
world will simply be too small for both
of us to live in together."
LIFE AND T1ML5 OF ANDRLW JACKSON.
BY THOS. E. WATSON.
(Copyright, 1906, By Thos. E. "Watson).
Chapter XIV.
During: the' whole time that Jackson was in the woods of Alabama,
relentlessly crushing the Creeks, the War of 1812 was running its course,
on land and sea.
There never was an administration less adapted to manage military
operations than that of James Madison. He had no turn for that sort
of thing himself, and nobody in his Cabinet was equal to the emergency.
Without any real preparation whatever, the United States rushed into
a conflict with a nation which had been on a war footing for twenty
years.
British soldiers and sailors had been trained, by actual service, into
an efficiency which made them the best fighting men that the world could
produce. In the Peninsula, under Wellington, the English infantry
and cavalry had become almost invincible. On the ocean, Nelson had
won such magnificent triumphs that no European nation even thought of
rivalling Britain's rule of the waves.
It was against this warlike nation, which had been in training for
twenty years, that the ardent Henry Clay and the timid James Madison
went to war — forgetting the difference between the cause of ivar in 1776
and that in 1812.
Battling for elemental human rights and against foreign control,
with the North and the South united — hand to hand, heart to heart—
the American people were in a totally different attitude in 1776 from
that of 1812. To defend one's self, to resist the foreign invader, is one
thing; to make war for a principle and to begin that war by invading
some other country is quite another. More especially Avas such a war
bound to be doubtful when New England hotly opposed it.
While the insolence and the outrages perpetrated upon us by Great
Britain were almost unbearable, they were no worse at the time we began
the War of 1812 than they had been during the two preceding adminis-
trations. Even under President Washington, we endured infractions
of treaty and outrages to our commerce, without armed protest. When
Wa.shington signed the infamous Jay treaty, he must have done so with
bitterness of soul, for its conditions were harsh and humiliating.
As such matters go, there was ample cause of war in 1812, but as we
had waited that long we might at least have waited a little while longer,
and spent the time in unifying the countr.y, and gcttiuQ ready io fight.
The nominal cause of war were the British Orders in Council which
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON 145
had cut off our maritime commerce. Those Orders had been revoked
before the Declaration of War was published, but our Government could
not know it. The tidings came after Detroit had been surrendered by-
General Hull, and the United States disavowing the armistice which
General Dearborn had concluded with the enemy, renewed the orders
for the invasion of Canada.
It would seem that had General Dearborn sent by courier, instead of
by mail, a letter to General Hull stating that the Orders in Council had
been revoked and an armistice agreed on, his surrender would not have
been made, that stinging blow to American pride not have been given,
and the Administration might have ratified the armistice. Negotiations
and an honorable peace would probably have followed. But General
Dearborn — almost incredihle to relate! — mailed his letter to General Hull,
and it was eight days in going the three hundred miles which separated
Albany from Niagara. When it reached the river, Hull had been a
prisoner for two days.
So, the war went on — in a half-distracted, hap-hazard, feeble, inter-
mittent sort of waj'', which was disgraceful. The troops were raw levies,
mainly, and there was no drilling worth mention. The officers w^ere
mostly new men, without military talent, or revolutionary veterans who
had outlived their usefulness. Among these there were feuds which
caused them to hate each other more rancorously than they hated the
British. Then there was hunger among the American soldiers, and
intense suffering for the want of woolen clothing, shoes and blankets.
The hardships encountered by the Kentucky and Indiana men in their
winter march to the Maumee and to the river Raisin, were so terrible,
that those of Jackson's troops in Alabama seem trifling. Think of
soldiers wearing the loose, cotton hunting-shirts, many of the men bare-
footed, in the mid-winter of the Northwest, trudging through the icy
slush, sleeping on the frozen ground, facing sleet and snow, hungry
as wolves most of the time !
And during this period of privation and suffering for the American
soldiers, the patriots of New York and Vermont were supplying the
British wdth abundant food. Thus treason was turned into a profitable
commerce and the enemy, fed by our own people, was enabled to maintain
a force which otherwise could not have been held on the Canadian frontier.
The story of this War of 1812 cannot be t6ld, in detail, here. IMost
of us are familiar with the leading events. Our memories pass in review
the shameful surrender of Detroit by poor old General Hull, who Avas
afterwards sentenced to be shot for his cowardice, and whose life was
saved by Mr. Madison's clemency. There was the gallant but abortive
attempt of Van Rensselaer to capture Queenstown. There were the
boastful proclamations and ludicrous doings of General Alexander Smyth,
who was finally hooted out of the service and who crept back to Virginia
by the side roads. There w^as the complete failure of General Dearborn.
There were the quarrels and the incapacity of Generals Wilkinson and
Wade Hampton. There was the amazing repulse of the American army
by a handful of men in a little stone mill on Laeolle Creek — one glorious
result of which was that it put Wilkinson out of the army.
There were the splendid courage and ability of the younger generals,
Scott and Brown, and that heroic struggle of Lundy's Lane. But there
146 WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
was also the outrage of burning York (Toronto) -which Avas later to have
its revenge in the burning of Washington.
In the Northwest there Avas the fatal division of Winchester's army,
tlie march on Frenelitown, the surprise of the Americans by an over-
whelming force of the enemy, and there, too, Avas a surrender, to be
followed by the massacre of the Avounded prisoners by the maddened
Indians. Then there Avas the action known as the Battle of the Thames,
and AA'hich Avas, so far as I can make out, nothing more than one resistless
onset made by the regiment of mounted Kentuckians. The cavalry
charge Avas so Avell timed and so Avell led that the Indians Avere struck
Avlien in confusion, Avere scattered like chaff, and then the British broke
and left the field. Practically no fighting Avas done by the infantry
at all. In the Battle of the Thames, Teeiunseh Avas killed. The Avhites
disgraced themselves by slicing strips of flesh off the dead chief's limbs,
to keep as trophies.
Nor must Ave forget hoAv young George Groghan refused to evacuate
Fort Stephenson Avhen General Harrison ordered him out; and mingled.
Avith our great admiration for Groghan, Avho beat oft* the enemy, is a
feeling of indignation against Harrison Avho, although close by, refused
to^o to the support of the heroic defender of the Fort.
This is Avhat Wellington used to say to his intimates, concerning the
long-draAvn battle of Waterloo: '^f I had had the army Avhich broke up
at Bordeaux, I Avould have SAvept him off the face of the earth in tAvo
hours!" And the Duke Avould illustrate by sweeping his arm over the
table.
As is Avell knoAvn, a portion of "the army Avhich broke up at
Bordeaux" came over to take part in the War of 1812, and Ave cannot
but speculate on Avhat Avould have happened had all those veterans been
concentrated on the Canadian frontier, and sent doAvn upon Ncav York,
Avhile a feAv Avar vessels cooperated by sea. It is practically certain that
nowhere in the East, North, or Northwest Avas there an American army
Avhich could have Avithstood the seasoned strength of these Peninsula
troops.
As Fate Avould have it, these soldiers Avith Avhom the Duke of Welling-
ton felt sure that he could have brushed Napoleon off the face of the
earth in tAvo hours, Avere' sent SouthAvard — and there Avas Avhere the
United States had the seasoned captains, the Avell-trained troops, the
practised marksmen, Avho Avere best fitted to reverse that "sAveeping"
process.
After the last great victory of AndrcAv Jackson over the Creeks, at the
Horse Shoe Bend, an incident occurred Avhieh docs him immortal honor.
lie refused to engage in a personal fight.
This is the Avay it happened : Colonel William King, of King's MeadoAvs,
(now Bristol, Tcnn.), Avas the son of the Colonel James King Avho in 1795
furnished the money Avith Avhieh General Jackson and Colonel Overton
purchased the ChickasaAV Bluff's, Avhere the city of INIemphis noAV stands.
The victory of the Horse Shoe Bend Avas largdy due to Colonel William
King and his men. Indeed, it is claimed that he Avas the first man Avho
crossed the breastwork. After the battle, Colonel King Avas made so
angry by the slight mention given him in Jackson's report, that he sent
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON 147
a friend to his superior officer with the message, "Lay off your stripes,
and I will challenge you to a duel."
This reminds me of an incident related to me by an ex-Confederate
soldier, (Sol. Andrews), when I was teaching .school in Screven
County, more than thirty years ago. General Pat Cleburne had in some
way made one of his troopers furiously angry, and the soldier said to
the General: "If it wasn't for them epaulettes of j^our'n, I'd give you a
d — n good licking."
At the word. General Cleburne threw himself off his horse, flung
his coat upon the ground and pointing to it, exclaimed: ^^ There lies
General Cleburne! Now walk into old Pat." Wliereupon the irate
soldier walked into old Pat and in about two minutes old Pat was one of
the worst whipped men that ever lived. And as he picked up "General
Cleburne" oft' the ground, it probably dawned upon old Pat that both
the General and Old Pat had made fools of themselves.
Now, when General Andrew Jackson was asked b}' Colonel
William King to lay aside those epaulettes, he declined to do it. Nobly,
he said to Colonel King's messenger: "Go and tell Colonel King
that our countiy cannot afford to lose such men as he and I. Therefore,
I will not fight him. I will correct my report in which I inadvertently
failed to give him and his men the credit they deserv^e. ' '
This manly reply, of course, disarmed Colonel King, and his friend-
ship for Jackson was made warmer and stronger than ever.
********
Turning his army over to General Pinckney. Jackson returned to
Tennessee — this time as the conquering hero. But his health gave way,
and for several weelvs he was prostrated at the Hermitage. May 22,
1814, brought him, from Washington, the appointment to the rank of
brigadier-general in the regular army; and six days later another
messenger brought him the appointment to the rank of major-general,
in the place of William Henry Harrison, resigned.
In obedience to orders, Jackson left home in the latter part of June
and reached Fort Jackson, in Alabama, July 9th, 1814. Here he was
instructed to conclude a definite treaty of peace with the Creek chiefs.
Summoned to this Council at their Hickory Ground, the red men
came. — those who had fought with Jackson and those who had fought
against him. The Big Warrior had been heroically faithful to the
whites throughout the war. He had kept Jackson reinforced by several
hundred warriors, his hunters had helped to feed the camp, his scouts
had kept him informed of every movement of the Red Sticks. He now
came to the Council where peace-terms were to be agreed on, and he
must have anticipated a generous reward for himself and his people
for their devotion to the cause of the whites. Weatherford, the leading
chief of the hostiles, was likewise summoned and he also, came to the
Council, but he sagely declined to waste words in the deliberations. He
said, in substance: "The loser pays. I am here to learn what terms
the whites impose. Then I will submit, because I can't help it."
A most sensible man — this Weatherford. He seems to have read
Jackson's character like an open book. He realized that the only way
to get what he wanted of Jackson was to humor him — as the Kitchen
Cabinet and Pegg}^ O'Neal aftenvards did. Therefore, Weatherford
sided with Jackson throughout the painful and prolonged negotiations,
148 WATSON'S JEFFKRSONIAX ^MAGAZINE
and after the terms liad been forced through, the astute Weatherford
got what he wanted — an exception clause Avhich allowed him to keep
and live on his fine plantation on Little Kiver, inside the territory which
Jackson was taking away from the Creeks.
Great was the astonishment and indignation of the Big Warrior and
the other friendly chiefs when they learned that they were not only
not going to be rewarded for their services, but that they were going
to be punished, along with the hostiles, just as though they had all
been Red Sticks.
Hard, hard was this treaty; stern, pitilessly severe, were Jackson's
methods in forcing the chiefs to sign. Virtually, he told them that
they must sign, or he would destroy them. Then they signed. He
compelled them to give up all Southern and Western Alabama, and
cooped them in the territoiy between the Coosa and the Chattahoochee.
With a pathetic effort at propitiation and to avert future attacks
from the terrible Jackson, the Indian chiefs, by separate treaty, sought
to give him a large tract of fine land. Congress did not ratify the
grant.
Not until Aug. 9, 1814, w-as this treaty of Fort Jackson signed,
and the General free to carry out the further order that he should
take command at Mobile.
Jackson had long had his heart set on having a brush with the
Dons. That Spain was at peace with the United States did not matter
at all, for the Spaniards were allowing the English to make Florida
a base for military operations against us.
At Pensaeola, a certain foolish Major Edward NichoUs was issuing
absurd proclamations to the people of Louisiana and Kentucky, had
seized the Spanish forts, had run up the British fiag, and was trying to
make soldiers out of a few Red Sticks who had drifted to the town
after the battles of the Creek War.
Also at Pensaeola was Captain Percy, of the British Navy, with
two sloops of war, Hermes and Carron. ffl
No sooner had Jackson come to Mobile than these two English
officers began to plan to attack him. First they made the attempt to
enlist the Lafitte brothers and their forces — the alleged pirates of
Barataria. This effort failing, they brought their own forces to bear
upon Fort Bowyer, at the entrance of j\Iobile Bay.
On Sept. 15th, 1814, the Fort was attacked both by land and water.
The guns of four vessels {Hermes, Carron, Sophie and Childcrs), and
the battery planted behind the sand hills bombarded the Fort, where
Major William Lawrence, with eight guns and one hundred and sixty
men were determined to make good the war-cry of the day, "Don't give
up the fort."
The British vessels carried, in all. seventy-eight guns; in the land battery
were two ; but the marksmanship of the Americans was so much better
than that of the enemy that the attack ended in complete failure. The
Hermes, her cable cut, drifted, grounded, w\as set on fire by Percy, and
blew up. The other vessels drew off, and early next morning the expe-
dition returned to Pensaeola.
Jackson, who was a great hand at proclamations himself, had issued
two calls, one to the whites and one to the free negroes of Louisiana,
urging them to enlist in defense of their liberties and their country.
LIFE AND TIMES OF ANDREW JACKSON 149
By this time, Sept. 181-i. the War Department was sending letters
to the General, warning him that England meant to attack New Orleans.
In October, j\Ionroe again wrote that an army of 15,000 men had set
sail from Ireland for New Orleans.
But Jackson was bent upon taking Pcnsaeola.
On Nov. 2, 1814, the General set out at the head of 2,800 men to
invade Spanish Florida. On the 6th of the same month he appeared
before Pensacola, and demanded the surrender of the town and the forts.
His demand being refused, he marclud into Pensacola, without meeting
any resistance to speak of, and the Spaniards ran up the white flag.
In the year 1874, I was asked to visit a veteran of the War of
1812 and to make out certain portions of hi-; application for a pension.
I remember that the old fellow was barricaded in his house, to keep off
service in some bankruptcy proceedings, I think.
I was passed through the picket line, however, and proceeded to fill
out the blanks in his application for pension. One of the questions
required that he should relate an incident of the war. I remember
quite well the veteran's reply to that particular question.
He said that he was standing close to Gen. Jackson at Pensacola, when
the Spaniards ran up the white flag, and tliat Jackson acknowledged
the signal tvith his pocket handkerchief.
The old fellow stood up, totteringly, and showed me the motion
which Jackson made with hand and arm. Up, then straight down, went
the old man's hand, in which he held his handkerchief, — and that's the
way Old Hickory answered the Dons, according to this survivor of the
campaign.
]\Iajor Nicholls hastily evacuated Fort Barrancas, and took refuge
on the British ships. — having first spiked his guns and laid the train
for the blowing up of the Fort.
Having done what he came to do — to drive out the English and
the Indians, and make an impression on the minds of the Dons, — Jackson
returned to Mobile.
ANECDOTES.
(1). From excessive rains the roads in Alabama had been almost
impassable. The army, which was on the march, suddenly came to a halt.
Jackson, who was some distance from the front, started on a gallop
to learn the cause. On nearing the head of the column, he saw a wagon
mired in the mud, the team unable to move it. and a young man swear-
ing at the driver and beating the mules. Jackson immediately called
for a long, stout rope and ordered one end fastened to the front axle,
then called for volunteers to take hold of the rope, while he took hold
of a hind wheel, and gave the word to pull, "all together." Out went
the wagon, while the swearing young man looked on in silence. Jackson
approached him Avith the inquiry : ' ' Wliy did you not do this 1 ' ' Because,
sir, I am an officer; I am an ensign." ''An ensign, indeed! Well, I
am General Jackson, commanding this anny, and I did not think it
beneath my dignity to put my shoulder to the wheel." The soldiers
talked and laughed at the fellow until he resigned, and returaed to the
ranks,
150
WATSON'S JEFFERSOXIAN MAGAZINE
(2). On one occasion. Avhile the army was in camp, and Jackson
in his tent, surrounded by his stafl! and many officers, ha\'ing a merry
time telling anecdotes, a captain appeared at the entrance of the
tent. One of Jackson's staff, observing him, approached and inquired,
"What do you wish?" "I would like to speak to the General," he
answered. Jackson, seeing him about the same time, invited him in.
"What is the trouble. Captain?" asked Jackson. "Why, General, I have
a complaint to make." "What is it, Captain?" "]\Iy soldiers do not
treat me with proper respect." "In what way, Captain?" "They call
me names; they call me Captain Bigfoot." "Well, let me see your foot,
Captain, set it on that box there." The Captain hesitated, but finally
placed his foot on the box. Jackson looked at it, and remarked: "Well,
by the Eternal; Captain, you have got a good-sized foot." And every-
body roared, — except the Captain, — who was greatly embarrassed. But
Jackson, to relieve the Captain, said to him: "Captain, if I were you I
would pay no attention to it. They call me names too, — they call me Old
Hickory, because they think I am tough, and my face rough like a shell-
bark hickory." "No, General, I can't stand it, and I want to tender my
resignation." "All right, sir, I think you are better adapted to handle
the plow than the sword."
My father said this was a Captain ^McCloud, of Sullivan County, Tenn.
(For these anecdotes I am indebted to ]\Ir. Geo. A. Alexander, of
Washington, D. C.)
Errata : Where Lookout Mountain was mentioned, in the preceding
Chapter No. 13 of this biography of Jackson, Missionary Ridge should
have been named. Just one of those slips of memoiy which will occur in
the rapidity of composition.
LIVL IN HOPE.
By LEONORA 5HLPPARD.
ID you catch a beau
while you were gone,
Jess?"
A most provoking
smile and eye-twinkle
accompanied the
words, and deepened
at the reply which
his niece gave — a "No" Avhich was
meant to be supremely indifferent,
but was a miserable failure.
Instead of relenting, however,
Hugh Wynne, the handsome bachelor
uncle, persisted, prolonging the tor-
ture until Mrs. Page, Jessie's widowed
aunt came to his aid, which she invari-
ably did.
"Don't mind you '11 be here the day
of the sale. Why, you're twenty-
five and going on, aren't you?"
This roused Aunt Lily; as the
scheming tormentor knew any refer-
ence to age would.
"When I was your age, Jessie,"
she began in her languishing voice.
But Jessie did not wait for the
remainder, she knew it too well. With
one sweep of her arm she gathered
all her sketching materials in her
apron, and ran from the porch and
doAvn the walk, banging the gate be-
hind her as Uncle Hugh's aggravat-
ing laugh reached her, followed by the
words: "Live in hope, if you die in
despair. ' '
These words, together with those of
her aunt, completed from memory,
"Wlien I was your age, Jessie, I had
been a wife five years and a widow
two," rang in her ears every step of
the way to her favorite haunt, a
pretty vine-embowered nook by the
big clear pond, about two hundred
yards from the house. She did not
slacken her speed until she had
reached her little retreat, and then
the raging flood burst bounds. Angiy
teare rolled swiftly down her cheeks
and fierce whispered words helped to
relieve the pressure.
"I can't go away for a little visit,
but it's looked upon as a sally after
a man. First thing when I come
back somebody wants to know if I
caught one. I'll save myself the
trouble of answering next time. I
shall pin on a big white card with the
result printed in bold black letters.
If unsuccessful: "No man yet;" the
contrary: "I've caught that man at
last."
A few more tears and vehement
resolves and the stonn abated. She
settled herself and began to sketch a
pretty bit of scenery on the opposite
side of the pond.
"I'll make myself a great painter,"
she said to herself, "and maybe I
won't be laughed at if I am an old
maid. I don't think famous people
are supposed to care veiy much about
marrying — too absorbed in their
work, at least it is only a secondary
consideration."
With this unsupported and un-
proved idea she began diligently to
work, and proved her talent to be far
beyond the ordinary. As her satis-
faction grew with the progress of the
work, she followed a never-failing
precedent — laid aside her work and
proceeded wdth child-like abandon to
enjoy her surroundings.
Only a few minutes of rapt nature
worship had elapsed when she heard
footsteps, and, looking up, she saw
her companion and friend since child-
hood, Hart Brinson.
152
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
She was unfeignedly glad to see
him, but Hart's ni^rvous, constrained
manner was so unlike his usual frank,
cheery greeting that she was puzzled.
He fumbled with her sketch, but for-
bore his accustomed blunt criticism.
"Wliat's the matter with you,
Hart?" she asked at last, as his ner-
vousness increased.
He laughed, and squirmed more
than ever, as he answered, "I've got
something to tell you and don't know
where to begin."
"Begin at the beginning," was the
curt reply.
He did not notice the retort, but
sat gazing off into space.
"I'm to be married two weeks from
today," be blurted out finally.
"Grace HjTuan — I don't suppose it is
unexpected news to you."
No, she was not surprised, and
wished them both much joy.
"Say, Jess, did you find a lover
while 5^ou were gone?" he queried
with an air of immense relief at
changing the subject from himself.
His satisfaction was short lived for
the change in Jessie's face startled
him.
"There it is again — hide from one
only to be found by another! I think
every one must be bound by a solemn
covenant to ask me that question.
No, I did not, and I won't next time,
and never shall. I 'spise a man any-
how. Now go!"
And go Hart did with a queerly
mixed expression on his face, in whi<?h
amusement predominated. finally
deepening into shouts of laughter as
he directed his steps toward Grace
Hyman's home.
As Hart disappeared from sight,
the girl's erect head drooped, and the
crimson cheeks and blazing eyes were
buried in her hands, while the reliev-
ing tears again flowed.
Finally, the bowed head was raised,
and the painting resumed. While
glancing from her sketch to the dark
red gables of the Brinson home.
which she Avas tr;>Tiig to incorporate
into the picture, her eye was caught
by the figure of Paul Brinson, owner
of the home and uncle of Hart.
As he crossed the dam, she laid
aside her brush and welcomed him
with a smile of genuine pleasure. No
fear of wounded feelings from him.
Never since their first meeting on this
very spot twenty years ago, had he by
word or act, hurt her proud, sensi-
tive spirit.
After the brief greeting, there was
silence for a time, he examining her
work with a trained, critical eye, and
she in reminiscent mood, watching
some ducks as they floated on the
pond.
"Do you remember our flrst meet-
ing?" she asked finally, with a little
laugh, and not waiting for an answer,
continued: "I had run away from
Aunt Lil, and was on this very bank,
watching the ducks, when you and
Hart came across the dam. I remem-
ber you told me Hart had lost father
and mother, and that I must love him
because he was lonely."
"Hart is going to be married
"soon, ' ' he told her. watching her face,
kcenlj^ as the words left his lips.
"Yes, he told me," was the brief,
indifferent reply, and the searching
eyes could detect no sign of emotion
in tlie tell-tale face, save perhaps, a
faint show of anger in the eyes, the
suggestion of a pout on the curving
lips.
"I shall be wevy lonely when he is
gone." He spoke slowly, with his
eyes still on the girl's face.
"He will not live with you?" she
queried with surprise, as she faced
him.
" No ; he goes to the place his father
left him."
She turned her attention again to
the ducks, as though the subject held
no particular interest for her.
"Jessie," the tense voice made her
turn again. "Jessie, I have loved you
ever since I found you here, twenty
LIVE IN HOPE
153
years ago. It has undergone changes,
but only deepened with the passing
years. Can't you care enough for me
to come and brighten my home?
There's no other, is there?"
Unknowingly, he had touched a
sere spot, and Jessie's temper was
made savage by the hurt. "Of
course he knows there's no one else,
and he thinks because I'm on the bor-
derland of spinsterhood I'll be glad
to look at his ugly old face three hun-
dred and sixty-five days in the year,
to escape it. But I won't! Uncle
would laugh, everybody else would
smile and say — ■"
"I'm waiting Jessie," in a calm,
3'et insistent voice.
' ' I don 't care for you in that way, ' '
and the tumult within made her voice
curt, more curt than she realized, till
a brief, shy glance at his face showed
her the hurt look in his eyes.
But when he spoke again, after a
few minutes' silence, his voice was
perfectly natural, and kind as ever.
"Are you trying for the prize, Jes-
sie?" touching the picture lightly.
A questioning look was her only re-
ply, and he explained: "One has
been offered by a patron of the fine
art, to be given to the best picture by
an amateur, exhibited during the fair
in October. Suppose you try," and
with a few helpful criticisms and sug-
gestions, he left.
Art day found Jessie's picture on
exhibition, with a score or more of
others. Driven by a restlessness
which she made no effort to analyze,
she had finished the painting with a
painstaking perseverance, totally un-
like her usual habit of abandoning her
v.ork when enthusiasm died.
Surprised a little herself at its
merit, and remembering Paul Brin-
son 's words, she had it entered for the
exhibit, but with a sort of hopeless in-
difference. Today, however, as she
watched the ever-increasing number
of spectators who paused to admire
the beautiful conception and exquisite
finish of her little picture, a faint
hope stirred. It throbbed with al-
most painful strength when Paul
Brinson, in passing, whispered with
his peculiarly winning smile: "I be-
lieve you'll bear the trophy."
In trembling suspense she awaited
the decision of the judges, which de-
clared her winner; and after the or-
deal of presentation, and the congrat-
ulation of friends, she slipped away
behind a screen of potted plants to
recover self-possession.
From the otlier side came voices —
the conversation of two luckless girl
contestants.
"Who won?" asked the first.
"That little doll-faced Jessie Cub-
bedge. " sneered the other.
"Bah! She didn't do the work;
Paul Brinson did that. He can paint
— and he's in love with her — can't
fool me."
The speakers moved from the shelter
of the plants, and catching sight of
Jessie, Avith ci'imson face and tear-
filled eyes, stared rudely, and went on
their way tittering.
Jessie looked after them with a pain
at her heart which told her that none
can attain a position which will lift
them above the hurts common to all.
During the homeward drive, she
was stubbornly unresponsive to her
uncle's efforts at conversation, and
kept her eyes fixed, gloomily, on the
wheel-rut.
Indifferently, she raised her eyes
when the buggy stopped and then
stared in surprise — they were in the
fine grove fronting the Brinson home.
"I wanted to see Paul Brinson
about that horse he has been keeping
for me," explained her uncle, as he
jumped from the buggy, and threw
her the lines. "He's over in the
meadow now. I won't be gone long."
After a while Mrs. Bailey, the
housekeeper, came from the barn with
a huge pan of grain, which she car-
154
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
ried to the poultry run. Tired of
■waiting Jessie twisted the lines about
the whipstaflf, and leaving the gentle
old horse, joined her. She was watch-
ing, with the pleasure of a genuine
poultry lover, tlie fowls scramble for
their evening meal, when the two men
came from the pasture.
When within a few feet of where
Jessie stood, a sharp crack was heard
overhead, and before she could real-
ize its source, Paul Brinson sprang
forward, and giving her a headlong
push, lost his balance and fell, face
downward, just as a huge dead limb
crashed dovAii, striking him on the
head.
For a brief space the three stood
motionless, then Huge Wynne snatch-
ed the limb from the motionless fig-
ure, and after a hasty examination
signalled the two women to help, and
lifting the unconscious man, they bore
him into the house and laid him on
his bed.
"Do the best you can for him while
I go for a doctor, ' ' was Huge Wynne 's
parting admonition to the old house-
keeper, as he hurried from the room.
Paralyzed by the fear that he was
going to die, Jessie stood motionless,
gazing at the fine face with its deathly
pallor, and realizing, in the search-
light of this great fear, that she loved
him as he wished.
j\Ii-s. Bailey thrust a bottle of cam-
phor in her hand, with a. command
that she bathe his face. Jessie obeyed,
dropping on her knees by the bed Avith
a wild, unuttered praj^er in her heart
that he might be spared.
He gi'oaned at last while Mrs.
Bailey was bathing the wound on his
head, and stirred feebly. Twice or
three times he opened his eyes in a
dazed way before he fixed them on
Jessie with full recognition, and the
tale her anxious face told was suffi-
cient, for he smiled.
"I knew it would come" was all he
said as he touched her hand for a
moment, but they both understood.
The old doctor bustled in, leaned
for a moment above his patient, and
with a mighty throb of relief Jessie
heard his verdict — "A glancing blow;
be out in a few days."
THL GOLD OF CHARACTLR.
The future's hope is in the middle class —
'Tis there we find the gold of character —
The love of kindness and the hate of wrong,
Faith in the good, the beautiful and true.
And purity of noble womanhood.
True sympathy and love of bravery,
A perfect hope and simple trust in God.
— William Holcomb Thomas, Montgomery, Ala.
BOOK RLVIEW5.
Men of Mark in Georgia,
This is the most ambitious work ever
attempted by a Georgia publisher. Mr.
A. B. Caldwell, of Atlanta, has under-
taken a monumental task, and every pub-
lic spirited citizen of the State should
feel an interest in his success. His pur-
pose is no less than that of presenting a
portrait galleiy containing all the men
whose lives, devoted to the public service,
contributed to the security and the glory
of the State.
Biogi-aphical sketches, illustrated by
engravings, present the fine array of the
strong men who have been leaders in the
forum and in the field, men who have
been distinguished in science, in art, in
literature, on the bench, at the bar, .in the
pulpit, or in the development of material
resources.
When the gi-eat plan shall have been
earned through, we will have, in one pub-
lication, the very essence of all the best
histories, biogi'aphies, memoirs, etc., that
have ever been written on the subject. In
these sketches we shall have, at one and
the same time, a magnificent history of
the State, beautifully illustrated, but we
shall likewise have a Biographical Dic-
tionary, in which can be found a clear,
well-written summaiy of the career of
every man who made his mark in Georgia,
whether he was a native of the State or
not.
No library should be without "Men of
Mark in Georgia."
(See advertising pages.)
Campus Verse. Edited by W. C. Hen-
son and A. H. Bunee. The Mc-
Gregor Press, Athens, Ga. Price
$1.00.
When our friend, Henson, wrote that
he was sending a copy of a collection of
Poems written by the students of the
University of Georgia, we trembled. We
feared that these boys had published
rhymes wliicli neither gods nor men can
tolerate, and that it would be our painful
duty to say so.
Judge, then, how deep was our sigh of
relief when, after opening the book, and
getting past three doubtful hymns which
stand there in a very solemn manner, we
soon stnick "pay dirt."
College boys are all supposed to be
l^oets, at some time or other. There is a
stage in adolescence wliich relieves itself
in rhyme, in spite of all that can be done.
Have we not, each of us, gone through
that sentimental period wherein, if we
could say nothing better, we did cast our
poetic eyes upward to the pale night-
queen, and exclaim, "0 Luna! Thou art
the Moon?"
Of course we have. Even young George
Washington "drapped into poetry;" and
Thomas Jefferson wrote early verses that
give one the earache. And did not young
Byron start too soon, and get his hide
taken off by the brilliant Harry Broug-
ham, in the Edinburgh Review ? And
did not Byron then drink heavy measures
of port, and proceed to take the hide off
a lot of other fellows who hadn't done a
thing to him, ("English Bards and Scotch
Eeviewers"), and thus come near having
a duel with Tom Moore?
Thinking of these things, we confess
that it was a genuine surprise, and a most
pleasant one, when, after getting safely
past those three preliminary hymns, in
"Campus Verse," we came upon pure
gold, — for boundless is the sympathy of
the Jeffersonian for ambitious boys and
girls Avho are striving to develop intellec-
tually.
"The Chapel Bell" is worth a place in
any volume of poems. "A Ballad/' by
E. B. Vail, shows decided dramatic tal-
ent ; and "Genius " by the same author,
is exceedingly fine. In a humorous vein,
156
WATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
the same author writes "In My Other
C'oat Pocket at Home" three stanzas
■which reveal a gift of originality which
is unusual.
As exquisite a bit of versification as you
will find anywhere is "The Girl I Never
Have Met." A daring, yei successful
effort, is that of C. D. Russell (in "Quoth
the Devil"), to give expression to the sat-
isfaction Satan may be supposed to feel at
seeing the condition of the world in which
he and the powers of righteousness are still
having it, nip and tuck, as they have done
since the creation of man.
"Space," by Harold W. Telford, and
"Heroism," by Arthur L. Hardy, are em-
phatically good. "lone" is a gem.
"Had She?" by T. G. Stokes, is one of
the cleverest little strokes ever made with
a pen. It is delicious.
"To an Ante-Bellum Mansion," is per-
fect in its way, and its way is thoroughly
poetic.
"A Youth's Prayer" might well be
taken as a standard the world over. The
name of the author is not given.
"Opportunity," by George M. Battey,
is worthy of Lanier, of Timrod, of
Hajme, of any poet whomsoever.
The Jeffersonian endeavors to be
conscientious in "sizing up" books which
it reviews, but we do not hesitate to say
to lovers of verse that this little volume
has a lot of genuine poetry in it.
THE MEN OF THE GRAY.
We've drunk to woman — God bless her, —
We've drunk to our Southern States,
Right merrily we've drained a bumper
To appease the wrath of the Fates;
We've drunk till the keg's run dry —
And the east blushes red with the day; —
Last toast, and your glasses held high,
A health to the men of the Gray.
We'll wander yet in this strange world,
As did those who sought the Grail;
And some will live, and some will die.
Some will prosper, some will fail.
Yet as the years go swiftly by us
We'll still bear hearts that are gay;
In victory and defeat alike we'll honor
The mem'ry of the men of the Gray.
We've drunk like men of might,
All through this Southern land;
We've drunk to our Northern brother —
But he cannot understand.
Those who can, on your feet again —
'Tis the flush of a new-born day —
Last toast, and drink it like men,
A health to the men of the Gray.
—By Samuel Harloy Lyle, Jr.
LLTTLR5 FROM THE PLOPLL.
SOLUTION OF THE HELP
QUESTION.
By Dr. S. J. COBB.
The help question seems to have become
a problem in this country, particularly in
the South, where we depend largely upon
negroes for help.
I would suggest as a solution of this
problem, that we raise our children, boys
and girls, rich and poor, to be more in-
dustrious; raise them to take a pride in
doing everything that may be necessary
for comfort, instead of raisin^2: them to
feel that they are above work, as many
have been raised. There is an old saying,
'•Idleness is the devil's workshop." We
should all keep out of the devil's work-
shoj). When we think of it as we should,
we see it is wicked to be idle. We are
commanded to live by the sweat of our
I now, and that means work. If we fail
to do that, we not only violata that com-
mandment, but deprive ourselves of
health, happiness and comfort. We are
always happier, healthier, and more com-
fortable when doing some legitiiiiate work.
Xo man or woman ever attained to any
high position in life who did not work.
Then why raise our children to feel that
they are above woi-k? It is absolutely
wicked to raise children that way. Dr.
Hall said in his Journal of Health, he
lived for the good time coming when man
would be ashamed to be seen sick. I may
say with equal propriety, I live for the
good time coming when people will be
ashamed to be seen idle. Better make that
sort of impression on our children's
minds than to make them feel that they
are above work. There is plenty of work
for all to do, and all work that is neces-
sary to be done for comfort, is Jionorable.
No one should be too lazy or proud to do
such work as will add to his or her com-
fort. As we do these things, we will not
only need less hired help, but have better
help, help that we can rely upon; not
only that, but develop ourselves into that
high order of manhood and womanhood
that God intended us to be. All great
men and great women have been great
workers, and, as a rule, they commenced
at the bottom round of the ladder and
worked i;p. While all lazy people, who
feel that they are above work, never get
above the bottom round of the ladder that
leads upward. It is natural to be lazy,
but unnatural and wicked to cultivate a
false pride that would keep us from as-
cending the ladder of life.
The problem having been solved, the
question now is, will we do it. That de-
pends entirely upon our education and
training in early life. If we were edu-
cated and trained in early life to take a
pride in doing everything necessaiy for
comfort, and to look upon idleness as dis-
reputable, in fact disgraceful, we would
do it.
Norfolk, Va., Nov. 22, 1907.
Hon. Thomas E. Watson, "Editor.
Dear Sir: After reading your articles
in The Jeffersokian Magazine on
"How I Came to Write About Napoleon,"
and on "Protection," I felt that I bad
found my long lost brother, strawberry
mark and all. I have read "Mr. Isaacs"
twice, not because it was so good, but be-
cause after the lapse of years it happened
to fall in my hands, and I enjoyed your
sarcasm at Mr. Crawford's exjiense im-
mensely. Don't you think the audience
who paid a dollar a head deserve, also,
some ridicule? Like you, I fed on Ab-
bott when a youngster, and later on re-
read him. Since then I have read every-
thing I could lay my hands on relating to
Napoleon and his times, including j'our
book, and have made an exhaustive and
158
AVATSON'S JEFFERSONIAN MAGAZINE
critical study of Waterloo. Though I
never wrote anything on Waterloo, I got
up in my head a lecture on that battle
and delivered it in Norfolk, Portsmouth,
and elsewhere. I am still pining for more
worlds to conquer in the line of Napo-
leonic histoiy and literatui'e. I especially
want to read Henri Houssaye's great work
in four volumes, the last being devoted to
Waterloo, but know not where to get the
original or a translation. The best book
on the Watei'loo campaign I have ever
read is the work of John C. Ropes, of
Boston. Your article on "Protection"
also pleased me, for I have been all my
life an enthusiastic free trader, and was
the member for Virginia of the national
committee of the "Free Trade League of
America." I hope you will keep ham-
mering away on this subject. You will
help to enlighten the working men, who
I am sori-y to say ai'e, as a rule, intensely
prejudiced on this subject. I presume you
have read Basteat's "Sophisms of the
Protectionists,"-rthat great and interest-
ing little book. I used to be a contributor
to The Million, the organ of the Free
Trade League. My principal article was
called "An Indictment of the Theory and
Principle of Protection," which I would
like you to read, and republish if you
like. I will send you a copy as soon as
I can get one. • I also enjoyed a few years
ago your magnificent defence of the Ital-
ian race in answer to Booker Washing-
ton's absurd statement. Like j'ou, I am
deeply interested in Gettysburg, and am
making a study of it with a view to lec-
turing. Sincerely yours,
R. Devereux Doyle.
BECAUSE THE BOOK ATTACKS
SPECIAL PRIVILEGES.
Massachusetts, Feb. 26, 1907.
Hon. Thos. E. Watson.
Dear Sir: I should like to inquire just
lohi) it is that librarians slip and slide
when it comes to a question of your "Na-
poleon."
My interest was aroused by a para-
graph in Watson's Jeffersonian for
Febniaiy, and I tried to secure the vol-
ume at one of our home libraries, without
success. Why ?
The name of the libraiy is of no con-
sequence; it is a mild and inoffensive
specimen of the genus Carnegie, and by no
means worse than its contemporaries.
Is the book too "Watsonesque," in its
easj' disregard of alleged vested rights or
wrongs'? Does it rasp, too gi'atingly, the
finer sensibilities of our ultra conserva-
tives?
Not having the piece I must, forsooth,
defer to some indefinite future time the
solution of the puzzle.
A Reader^ of Reversionary Rights.
FROM A GREAT THINKER AND
WRITER.
Pastor's Study, Trinity M. E. Church,
South.
Atlanta, Ga., Jan. 2, 1908.
My Dear Mr. Watson : Pennit me to
congratulate you on the Januaiy issue of
your Jeffersonian Magazine. Eveiy
number is worth more than the price of
a year's subscription, but the first num-
ber for the new year is particularly fine.
Your editorial entitled "The Late" is a
wonderful piece of writing, uniting as it
does, in so inimitable a fashion, the ele-
ments, both of pathos and thought.
AVislung for you the happiest and best
New Year you have ever knoAvn, I am,
Sincerely yours,
James W. Lee.
To THE Jeffersonian :
The press has been scattering abroad,
for some time, statements to the effect
that Attorney-General Bonaparte would
take decided steps to bring to account the
"big" criminals, and commit to jail such
as were found guilty.
The Jeffersonian reproduces a state-
ment, with various connnents, from the
New York American, of late date, to this
effect. From the way, and in the manner
ill which this threatened action has been
LETTERS FRO^r THE PEOPLE
159
given such extended circulation, one ac-
quainted with Republican methods of en-
i'oroement of law might look up and
thank his stars that he was not a "specu-
h;tor in stocks" and under the ban of
this modern Cromwell and bis "brethren,"
so bent upon the incrimination of wrong
doers. But that man who has lived to
witness the last few years of skip-the-
rope law enforcement in this countiy,
only gives such news items the average
"strap-hanger" headline reading, and
passes on to the sj^orting page, where
news is a little more definite and inter-
esting.
Mr. Bonaparte has it within his power
to bring to account a score or more offend-
ers in high circles, and lodge them so far
behind the bars that their stay would
exceed the duration of an Australian Land
Lease. That's a fact, boys.
But is he going to do it?
No!
Who has ever suspected that he would'?
True, he may fire a few blanks and
"impose" a few fines, but prison walls
were not made for the rich, but for the
offenders of the rich. The rich frame
and perpetuate laws for self-protection —
they employ armies, perfects, and officers
to enforce them.
The only law the poor have are such as
are given him gratis, in order to arrest
his recourse to the bludgeon, by deluding
him into the happy resignation that he is
protected.
Mr. Bonaparte and the Administration
can put John R. Walsh in the pen; he
can put Harriman in with him for com-
pany, and he can make John D. R. dig
up that $29,240,000, if he has to pawn
hip wig to raise the money. But will
^N'alsh go to the pen, and Harriman go
for company, or John D. pay the fine
which the Federal law says is due?
No, in the name of humanity, NO!
It would shock the civilized world ! These
men are too widely known, their influence
is too strong, their bounteous hands are
remunerative to thousands of toilers, their
generosity too overflowing into the cam-
paign hat. And many such things do
tliey do.
John R. Walsh, the wrecker of three
banks, high finance juggler, grabber, per-
jurer, robber of the poor who had in-
trusted their savings to his care. Two
years have passed away since his crimes
were apprehended, and he quit the busi-
ness, but has he been punished for his
crimes"?
I saw the long line of bread earners,
widows, and evei-y stamp of humanity,
lined up for more than a block in the bit-
ter cold, nudging up, inch at a time, as
they filed past the paying teller's windotv
of the Walsh bank, in Chicago, withdraw-
ing their accounts until the funds were ex-
hausted, and were only replenished when
the other banks came to the rescue.
There you are, Mr. Bonaparte; if you
want to do something, sic yourself and
the rest of the administration bloodhounds
on his track, and bring him to justice. If
Andrew Jackson had had half the chance
for a combat as you have it would seem
a very easy task to prosecute and bring
to justice these criminals of the 400, who
have continued to violate Federal and
State laws with an arrogance that is ad-
mirably imposing.
If Mr. Bonaparte means business, let
him sally forth and beard the redoubtable
Harriman, who has only laughed at his
threats, and turaed bloody handed and
declared that Senator Cullom was "drunk"
when he declared that Harriman ought
to be put behind the bars.
We, the people, are getting tired of
this trust-busting crusade. It is too hard
on the consumer; it is too expensive on
the wage earner.
It is not long since Roosevelt set out
to bust the coal tnist. I wish he would
huny up and bust it, or else lower the
price of coal — I don't care which.
He set out to bust the meat trust, and
have you heard anything smash? Meat
has taken a gradual flight in the ascend-
ant, like a mad bull over the hill after a
red rag.
The man who willingly violates law, and
haughtily defies the administers thereof,
IGO
WATSON'S JEFFER^ONIAN MAGAZINE
is just as much a criminal as the man who,
in open defiance of law, holds you up
and takes your purse.
The criminals of high finance have
robbed the people, the State, and the na-
tion of millions, while the small one-horse
criminal with a tool bag, the mask and
the slug, have taken a petty few thous-
ands in little grabs here and there.
On the vciy day that the failure of the
Walsh bank was announced, a man in a
few blocks of the bank building, held up
and robbed a man of a few dollars, and
was Avith short ceremony sent to tlie pen
for five years, while Walsh had jeop-
ardized millions, lied to the government,
and is a free man today, and, to my mind,
will be until a man who does things slaps
the hand of justice on the shoulder which
has so long been cold to reporters, pho-
togi-aphers, courts, etc.
Of course things will wag along about
as they have, but I have no confidence in
these reiiorts that are going the rounds,
nor will I till I see some of the cloven-
feet villains begin to exercise themselves
with a sense of fear when the chief min-
isters of the law threaten prosecution.
The law is plain, and the violations
have been open and kuo^vn to the public,
but the influence behind the violators is,
and has been, strong enough to brook the
subsidized administration.
J. H. Camp.
Grundy, Ya., Oct. 31, 1907.
Hon. Thos. E. Watson,
Thomson, Ga.
Dear Sir: I have read Mr. Barker's
proposed platform for a new political
])arty, and j'our editorial on the same in
the November number of your Magazine.
You have done the cause of reform a real
sfbrvice in your clear, unanswerable argu-
ments against the protective system. You
have spoken plainly, — just what the situa-
tion demands. The robber tariff cannot
be fostered by a refonn party.
Tiie tariff is a moral question, — is it
right to rob the masses to protect the
classes? Let the tariff question be de-
bated as a moral question, and its mean-
ing will appear as clear as the noon-day
sun. The American people will not stand
for tariff "gi'aft" (once they realize the
iniquity of "high protection") — and more
than that they will not stand for the
various fonns of robbeiy that do not
have the sanction of law by act of the
national Congress.
The centralization of power is touched
on in the last paragi'aph of Mr. Barker's
plan, or outline, whereas it is of such
supreme importance as to demand the
first position and a fuller exposition. It
seems that the South must save the Union
by. insisting on State's Rights, for local
self-government and self-preservation
against the all-consuming corporations.
Yes, the South must insist on a tariff
that grants "special privileges to none"
and demand the just rights of the States
against Federal usurpation — and let her
voice be heard without fear or aj^ology —
in words that shall burn their meaning
iiilo the very wick of our political body,
and rouse the nation to action. Watson's
Jeffersonian Magazine will herald the
sentiments of a true Deraocracj', and may
the people everywhere read its utterances
to know tlie truth and be convinced that
nothing less than radical measures can
constitute the Jeffersonian Democracy.
Yours sincerely,
J, L. KiBLER.
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