Bemornic aidan
Bellefonte, Pa., January 10, 1902
ROLL CALL.
“Corporal Green !”’ the orderly cried :
“Here !”’ was the answer, lond and clear,
From the lips of the soldier who stood near:
And “Here !” was the word the next replied.
‘Cyrus Drew !""—then silence fell,
This time no answer followed the call ;
Only his rear man had seen him fall.
Killed or wounded, he could not tell.
There they stood in the falling light,
These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,
As plain to be read as open books,
While slowly gathered the shades of night.
The fern on the hillside was splashed with blood
And down in the corn,where the poppies grew
Were redder stains than the poppies knew,
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood :
For the foe had crossed from the other side
That day, in the face of a murderous fire
That swept them down in its terrible ire,
And their life-blood went to color the tide.
“Herbert Kline I" + At the call there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
Bearing between them this Herbert Kline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.
‘Ezra Kerr!”- and a voice answered ‘‘Here!”
“Hiram Kerr !"—but no man replied.
They were brothers, these two; the sad wind
sighed,
And a shudder crept through the cornfield
near. :
“Ephraim Deane !"—then a soldier spoke :
“Deane carried our regiment's colors,” he
said;
“Where our ensign was shot, I left him dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke.”
“Close to the roadside his body lies;
I paused a moment and gave him drink;
He murmured his mother's name I think,
And death came with it and closed his eyes.”
"Twas a victory, yes, but it cost us dear :
For that company’s rcll, when ealled at night,
Of a hundred men who went into the fight,
Numbered but twenty that answered ‘*‘Here !”
— Nathaniel Graham Shepherd.
FOR JANE’S SAKE.
The dishes were all washed and dried
and put away in their particular places in
the closet; the brown painted, wooden
chairs were arranged in their accustomed
positions against the whitewashed walls.
Then Alice Adams took off her big blue
gingham apron, and hung it up. ‘There,
I'm glad I'm through,’’ she said to her
sister Jane, who sat in a rocking-chair by
the window. ‘‘I feel kinder tired to-night
somehow.”’
“My! if I bad my health, I wouldn’t
think much of washin’ up afew supper
things.”” Jane remarked sharply. “If I
had my health, I'd be too thaukfual fer it
to go an’ growl over a listle housework.”’
‘Oh, I’m not growlin’, Jane,’’ Alice an-
swered cheerfully. ‘I wuz a little more
hurried in the mill to-day then general,
an’ it kinder played me out. Idon’t mind
washin’ up the supper things a bit.”’
There was something the matter with
Jane Adam’s spine, and she sat most of the
time in the big, old-fashioned rocker that
stood by the kitchen window. She was a
little, angular old maid, with a sharp,
much-wrinkled face, a mouth with peevish
lines to the corners, and faded blue eyes.
Her gray hair was brushed back smoothly
and done up in a little hard knot on top
of her head. Alice was little and thin like
her sister, and her gray bair also was
brushed severely plain. But Alice bad a
vretty pink-and-white complexion, and
nice blue eyes, and the curves to her lips
betrayed muchgamiability of character.
‘‘I guess I'll go upstairs an’ change my
clothes,’’ Alice announced. ‘You know
it’s We’n’sday night.”’ '
Jane looked over at the clumsy wooden
clock standing on the mantel between vases
gorgeous in gilt and flowers. ‘‘Why,
you've got lots of time, Alice,’’ she said.
‘It’s not seven o'clock yet an’ Tom wuz
never known yet to came before eight.
You’ve got dead loads of time. unless you
wanter primp up extra to-night.’
~ '‘Ob, no,” Alice said softly. “I didn’t
want to do any primpin’. Ijust thought
it wuz later. We must hev had supper a
little early to-night.”
There was silence for a few minutes af-
ter this; then Jane suddenly leaned for-
ward in her rocker. ‘‘Alice,” she cried,
‘‘hasn’t it ever struck you ez hein’ kinder
queer this here gettin’ ready for Tom Mil-
ler, every single We’n’sday an’ Sunday
night fer goin’ on ten years, an’ here yon
are to-day just ez far off gittin’ married
ez I am, an’ the Lord knows I’m cut an’
dried fer an old maid. Hasn't it struck
you ez odd ?"’
Alice’s thin skin flushed red as a poppy.
‘Why, I never thought much about it,
.Jane,’’ she stammered. ~
‘‘Well, I would think it woz about time
fer yon to begin to think about it, if yer
ever goin’ to,” Jane said. “It seems to
me mighty queer about Tom; I’m blest if
it. don’t. Ican'tfer the life of me make
out what he's up to. Here he is, callin’
on you fer goin’ on ten years, an’ like ez
mot now yer just ez far from the point ez
«ever. Do you know what I'd do if I wuz
iin your place, Alice? I'd up an’ ast him
what his intentions wuz. Ezsure’s my
name’s Jave Adams, that’s just what I'd
Alo.”
‘{Oh, Jane,”’ Alice eried, with titmost
reproach in her voice, ‘* you wouldn't be
ez bold as that, surely. Yer just sayin’
that. I know you don’t mean it a bit.
Why, that'd he ez good ez astin’ Tom to
marry me! I'd die before I'd do sich a
thing.”
‘‘He deserves to git ast to marry yon,
considerin’ the way he’s actin’. It
‘wouldn’t be a bit out the way, ez I kin see,
to bring him right to the point. Besides,
I think it's yer duty, Alice, to bring him
right down to bizness, an’ that quick. The
idea, him goin’ with you fer ten years, an’
uever 80 mueh ez hintin’ at anything. I
tell you, Alice, people’s begiunin’ to
talk.”
‘People talkin’,”’ Alice gasped, and
again ber thin skin flushed very red.
‘Of course they’re talkin’,”’ Jane an-
swered. ‘‘You ought to know by this
time that they’d talk about less’n that in
Boisville. I kin tell very well by the way
people’s aetin’ with me that they're talk-
in’, .
“'I don’t see what they kin say,’”’ Alice
said in worried tones. ‘‘I never did noth-
in’ in my life to give people a chanct to
talk.”
“Well, I'll tell you what they say,”
Jane responded, ‘if you wanter hear, an’
I'm sure it’s fer yer own good that you do
hear it. They say they wonder if you an’
Tom’s goin’ to go on keepin’ steady
comp’ny till one or the other of you step
in the grave. They say thatsurely by this
time you must know one another good
enough, an’ if you don’t, they don’t know
%
what's the matter with you. Yer not two
foolish young things that can’t make up
yer minds. An’, Alice, which is worst of
all, they say if anything would ever hap-
pen between you'n Tom you'd never git
another man so long ez your name wuz
Alice Adams, you’d be that disgraced. It
makes me feel real bad havin’ people talk
like that. I never did nothin’ in my life
I was ashamed of, an’ now I hev to be
looked down on, an’ made feel mean be-
cause the way you carry on.”’
Alice's eyes filled with tears. She clasped
and unclasped her hands nervously. ‘‘I
never thought fer a minute people would
be so terrible ez talk that way about any
one. I’m sure I can’t help it if Tom don’t
ast me. I'm sure I’ve waited long an’ pa-
tient enough. I don’t see why people goes
an’ hlames me.
“They blame you hecause yer ez slow
ez frozen tar, an’ God knows, that’s slow
enough. Any one ’d blame you fer bein’
so poky. I tell you, Alice Adams, you
just bring Tom to the point. I can’tstand
this any longer. If anything ’d happen
between you an’ him, I'd never be able to
hold my head up again. I'd never be able
to look a body in the face.’
Alice had grown quite pale. Her lips
trembled a little. ‘‘I think Tom means
all right by me, Jane,”’ she said, ‘“‘an’ I
don’t think I'll ever be the cause of yer
holdin’ yer head down. But not fer any-
thing would I so much ez hint at him
marryin’ me. Then people might have a
chanct to talk. Now they haven’t any.”
Jane’s eyes brightened suddenly with an-
ger. “I know somethin’s goin’ to happen
between you an’ Tom. I just feel it in my
bones somethin’s goin’ to happen. An’
it’ll all be your fault, Alice Adams. Dll
biame you fer it all. We’ll be the talk of
Boisville. I wish I wuz dead. It couldn’t
come soon enough to suit me.”’
Alice bit her lips to conceal their trem-
ling. Her sister’s words struck very deep.
‘*Jaue, mebbe to-night I'll ind out. Meb-
be somethin’ll happen that I kin. I wished
you wouldn’t feel so bad. Things’ll come
out all right. Wait till you see.’’
“Well, find out to-night what he’s up
to, is all I hev to say,’”’ Jane snapped.
“Lord knows he's had time enough to
make up his mind what he intends doin’.
The idee. goin’ with you fer ten years, an’
here you are to-day not knowin’ the first
thing ’hout his intentions. I don’t blame
people fer talkin’. I'd talk myself, blest
if I wouldn’t if I saw any one goin’ on like
that.’
“I'll go up stairs an’ git dressed, Jane,
Alice said. ‘“‘Tom’ll be here in a little
while now.”
‘Yes, go,” Jane answered; ‘‘an’ mind
you, Alice Adams, you bring Tom Miller
to the point this very ev’ning.’’
Alice went upstairs to her little room in
the attic. She sat down on the edge of the
bed, and burying her face in her hands,
wept bitterly. Then, remembering that
Tom would call in a short time, she dried
her eyes. ‘If he only knowed all the
trouble he wuz causin’ me he’d ast me long
ago,’’ she thought bitterly. ‘‘Not that I
careany. I could go on this way forever,
if it wazn’t fer Jane’s worryin’. Ob, dear,
I wish’d he’d remember, an’ ast’ me.’
Then Alice started to dress. She was
very precise and particular that evening.
She put on her best gown, an old-fashioned,
black taffeta, bernffled and trimmed with
narrow ribbon velvet, that was worn but
on Sundays or special occasions. She
fluffed her hair out ina balf-hearted pom-
padour—she would have liked to puff it
out good, but she feared Jane's sarcastic
criticism; and the twisted a light blue rib-
bon around her neck, and tied it in a co-
quettish bow under her chin. Her cheeks
were flushed with color, her blue eyes spark-
led. In the roffled, shimmering taffeta
she looked like some quaint old picture
come to life. She was 1eady when Jane's
shrill voice reached her from the kitchen,
““Alice, Tom hez came.”
Alice hurried downstairs. She bad nev-
er before been so excited over Tom’s com-
ing. She first went into the kitchen. ‘‘My,
but yer rigged up to-night,”’ Jane said,
when she beheld her sister. ‘Got yer best
on, too, yer black taffeta. Tom’s sittin’
in the front room.’”” When Alice turned
to go, Jane called her back, and pulling
her down close to her whispered. ‘‘Now
vou make him pop to-night. Other wim-
min could do it, an’ I guess you kin, too,
if you try.”” Alice drew herself up erect,
and answered gravely : “‘I hope I’ll never
hev to do sich a thing ez ast any man to
marry me, Jane.” Then she rustled into
the little parlor opening off the kitchen.
Thomas Miller, a portly, red-faced, mid-
dle-aged man, with thin gray hair and
keenest blue eyes, was sitting by the win.
dow. When Alice entered he did not rise
to greet her. He just tapped the cane he
held in his hands two or three times on the
floor, and said, ‘Lor’ Zee, Alice, but
you're got up to kill this evening. But
you look good—good enough to eat.” He
looked her over critically, his sharp eyes
expressive of much admiration.
Alice sat down on a chair near him.
“This dress I’ve bad au awful long time,”
she explained. ‘‘I thought I might ez well
put it on, an’ wear it ont before it gits too
old-fashioned.”’
“I always liked blue on women,’’ Miller
said, noting the blue ribbon tw'sted
around Alice's neck. ‘‘Blue says I for
women and children. That's what they
should always wear. Yon're looking pret-
ty to-night, Alice; better .than I’ve seen
you look in a long time.” He tapped the
floor with his cane again; he looked out of
the window at the bloom of roses and lilacs
in the little front garden. Then he stood
the wall, and taking his chair, drew it up
quite close to where Alice sat. He took
her boih hands in his. ‘‘Alice, I’m going
to talk to you about something to-night,’
he said slowly. ‘I suppose I should have
spoken to you long ago ahout it, and I
would have done so if it wasn’t for one
thing that always held me back. Alice,
it’s about our getting married that I want
to talk with you.”’
Alice’s thin skin betrayed her terrible
emotions; her thin little hands trembled in
his hig ones. He gave them a tender
squeeze. ‘‘Great guns, you needn’t be so
surprised. Why, we’ve been cheating the
people of Boisville out of a wedding so
long that I do believe they’ve begun to
dislike us.’”’ His voice then grew very
grave, -*‘Alice, I would have asked yon
long ago, I would have married you long
ago, bus for one thing,”’
‘Why, Tom, whatever do you mean,’’
Alice cried. :
“I mean that the one thing that’s kept
me from marrying you is your sister
Jane,”’ Miller answered quickly. ‘‘Alice,
I like you, and I’ll marry you, but I can’t
have yoursister Jane around. I can’t have
her living with us. I know I am hurting
your feelings, Alice, but I can’ help it.
I might as well tell yon now as any time.
Alice, I'll marry you on condition that
you get rid of Jane.’’ :
“Tom 1” Alice cried. He conld not
look at her reproachful face. :
“Yes, get rid of her,” Tom went on.
‘‘She could go to some institution or
up, and leaned his cane carefully against:
asylum, and be well taken care of. I
couldn’t stand the same house with her. I
needn’s try it to know that I'd live accord-
ing to her views of living and not my own.
My eggs wouldn’t be cooked to suit me,
but to suit her. If I liked my beef undone,
and she didn’t. why I couldn’t get it un-
done, that’s all. Tam not a young man,
and pretty set in my ways, s0 I know I
couldn’t stand any woman like that
around. Thas’s just what has kept me
from asking you long ago. If you think
anything of me, Alice, vou’ll let Jaue go.
A wife, you kuow, should give dp all for
the man she loves.” :
Alice’s voice shook. ‘You know that
Jane's a cripple; you know she’s dependin’
on me; you knew it all the time you wuz
goin’ with me.”’
“I'll get her into some good
Tom said.
Alice arose. She looked very tall in her
trailing black silk. Her face was ghastly.
“I can’t marry you, Tom Miller,’ she
said.
Miller got up, and secured his cane.
‘Do you refuse to marry me, Alice
Adams ?’’ he cried. ‘‘Remember, I'll nev-
er ask you a sccond time. I wonldn’t ask
the best woman created a second time to
marry me.’’
honie,”’
poor Jane away,’’ Alice moaned.
‘‘Keep your sister, then, since you pre-
fer her to me,’’ the man said, and then he
walked out of the room. He closed the
street door with a vicious hang.
Alice went out into the kitchen, where
her sister stillsat. ‘Why, what's the mat-
ter—what hez happened ?’’ Jane cried when
she beheld Alice’s face.
“Tom’s gone,”’ Alice responded, ‘‘an’
I'll never see him again.
to be married, Jane. It’s all
tween us.’
Jane sank back in her chair, quite limp.
“Well, if I didn’t see this all comin’,” she
cried. “I just thought it’d he like you,
Alice, to let a man make a fool of youn.
Now people kin talk. They bev enough
to keep their tongues goin’ fer many’s the
day. It’s pretty bard on me, though. So
Tonr Miller's given you up after keepin’
you on a string fer ten years. Well, he-
fore I’d be made a fool of like that hy any
man. I hope you'll like bein’ the laugh-
in-stock of the place.”’
Alice move towards her sister. She was
going to tell her all. She looked at the
poor, crooked back,the peevish, cross. little
face. Then she turned away and went up-
stairs to her room in the attic. I'll never,
never tell her what bez come between us’”’
she said, as she took the blue ribbon from
her neck, and unhocked the black taffeta.
‘She kin say what she likes to me, but I
won’t tell. It’s bad enough to hev my
heart broke without makin’ hers sore too.
I'll never tell her, no matter what she sez
to me.”’—By Elizabeth Sutton in Every-
body’s Magazine.
over be-
Wrong Girl For Bride.
Twin Sister Has A Narrow Escape From Being
Made A Wife.
Miss Helen Waters, of Binghamton N.
Y., had a close call a few nights ago from
being made a bride against her will by
mistake. Henry Carrol, who went to
Binghamton from Tarentun. Allegheny
County, and who is a glass worker fell
in love with Anna Waters, Helen’s twin
sister, and as the family objected planned
to elope. On the night fixed she was ill
and sent Miss Helen with a note. The cab
driver had been instracted to drive the
person he would meet to a minister’s house,
where Carrol was waiting.
When Miss Helen attempted to deliver
the note she was hustled into the cab and
and driven off She could not make the
driver hear her protests, and on arriving at
the minister’s, she took some time to con-
vince the groom she was not her sister and
was not trying toplay a joke on him.
No Hand on Throttle.
Engineer Lay Dying in His Cab While Train
Ran On.
For fifteen miles an Erie passenger train
howled along at a high rate of speed on
Wednesday unguided by the engineer, who
was lying in a dying condition in his seat
in the cab.
The engineer, whose name was Welsh,
had leaned out of the cab of his engine and
had been struck on the head by a mail
catcher. The train ran along, passing one
or two stations where it was scheduled
to stop, before the fireman discovered the
engineer’s plight. The fireman hrought the
train to a standstill. Welsh’s head was
crushed so badly that he died at his home
in Youngstown.
Gave His Life for His Mother.
Iu order to save the life of his mother,
Thomas Edwards, of Wilkes-barre, Pa.,
risked and lost his own life and died with
asmile on his lips. Three weeks ago,
while he was away from home, his mother
was stricken with smallpox at Plymouth,
where it is epidemic. When he retorned
he was forbidden the house hy the quaran-
tine guards. He was not vaccinated, but
he cried that his mother should not suffer
uncared for, and, fighting his way through
the guards, he gained admission and defied
them to make him leave. He tenderly
nursed his mother back to health, and was
then stricken himself. He died Thursday,
and almost his last words were : “I’m glad
I saved mother.”
A Standing Grievance
Many persons who are compelled to trav-
el on street cars so crowded that they have
to stand, will sympathize with the Chicago
man who finally decided to make a deter-
mined protest.
He called at the office one day, and ex-
pressed his sentiments in plain and vigor-
ous terms.
“Who are you, that you come here and
talk to us like that?’’ asked one of the of:
ficers of the corporation. ‘‘Are you a stock-
holder ?”’
‘No, sir I’? he thundered.
the strap-holders !”’
“I’m one of
Killed 24,000 Sparrows.
wn rons
a
The annual sparrow hunt of Pleasant
township near Pana, Ill., has ended, and
as a result 24,000 sparrows were killed.
The hunt was indulged in by two parties
of farmers. Twenty men on each side en-
gaged in the pursuit the stake being a ban-
quet to be given by the party securing the
fewest birds. The victorious party brought
in 13,000 birds, while the losers bagged
11,000. The hunt has been in progress for
one week.
American Hops.
The American hop fields employ about
240,000 men, women and children as pick-
ersalone, for there are 72,000,000 Bop
vines to be stripped, and the crop in ago
season is worth $16,000,000.
‘I can’t marry you if yon make me put |
We ain’c goin’
The Whisky Insurrection.
How it began and How it Ended—An Important
Episode in the History of Pennsylvania.
The insurgents, before separating, ap-
pointed a meeting to be held at Mingo
creek meeting-honse, in Washington coun-
ty, on the 23rd of July. At this meeting,
which was largely attended, first appeared
Brackenridge, Bradford, Marshal and Park-
inson, who soon became quite promi-
nent, and continued so until the close of
the disturbance. David Bradford, who
was a Washington county lawyer, and a!
fluent talker, was immoderate and ap-
proved of the course which has been pur-
sued at Neville’s. Brackenridge, more
astute and guarded, made on his part a
temperate and ingenious speech, caution-
ing his hea:ers against precipitate action,
and without appearing averse to what had
been done, or endangering his own safety,
let them know that their conduct was trea-
sonable. Another meeting was also ap-
pointed to be held at Parkinson’s Ferry,
on the 14th of August, ‘‘to take into con-
sideration the sitnation of the western
country,’ and to which were invited the
citizens of the western counties of Penn-
sylvania, and the neighboring counties of
Virginia. .
David Bradford, who had assumed the
direction of the insurgents’ affairs, was
reckless and aggressive. In order to as-
certain what reports were being sent to the
authorities in the east, he instigated per-
sons to intercept the mail of the United
States; and in pursuance of his plan John
Mitchell and William Bradford waylaid
the post hoy near Greensburg on the 25th
of July. The packages from Pittsburg and
Washington were taken out of the pouch
and carried to Canonsburg, where a
‘convention’ of the leaders opened and
examined the fetters. Those from Washing-
ton were unobjectionable, but some of the
Pittsburg letters contained accounts of the |
‘affair and gave names of individuals who
had participated in it. Those of General
Gihson,Colonel Presley Neville, Mr. James
Brison and Mr. Edward Day having given
the greatest offence, these gentlemen be-
came more especially the objects of enmity.
This precipitated matters, and circular
letters were at once sent out ont by Brad-
ford and the ‘‘convention,’”’ directing the
militia officers of the four counties to ren-
der personal service, with as many volun-
teers as each could raise, and *‘march to the
vsual p'ie2 of renlezvors at Braddock’s
Field, on the Monongahela, on Friday, the
1st day of August next, to be there at two
o’clock in the afternoon, with arms and ac-
coutrements in good order.” They were
also notified that ‘four days’ provisions
will be wanted,” and curtly directed that
“the men be thus supplied.”” The objects
more particularly to be considered at the
proposed gathering were the seizure of the
magazine and military stores in Pittsburg,
together with the arrest and imprisonment
in the Washington county jail of the writ-
ers of the obnoxious letters. The burn-
ing of the ‘‘town’’ was even discustel.
Meanwhile the citizens of Pittshurg, hav-
ing been apprised of the contemplated at-
tack, speedily called a ‘‘town mesting,’’.
and, as opposition seemed useless, they ap-
pointed a (ommittee of twenty, with Mr.
Brackenridge at the head, who, with 25
unarmed militia commanded by Gen. Wilk-
ins, were to maich to the place of meeting,
hoping that this would have a tendency to
mollify Bradford and his friends, and to
avert threatened danger fiom the place.
The meeting also resolved, asa further
step towards security, to ‘‘banish’’ Ed.
Day, James Brison, Ab. Kirkpatrick, Col.
Neville, Gen. Gibson and quite a number
of other persons. Some of these individ-
uals, convinced of the prudence of such a
course, withdrew of there own accord, sev-
eral descended the river, a few crossed the
mountains, and some concealed themselves
in the garrison of the neighborhood, so
that it might be given out that they had
gone away. Such a condition of things is
almost inconceivable at the present day, but
iit should be remembered that the whole
country was practically in revolt against
the excise, and that the terrorism which
prevailed was far beyond the control of the
local authorities.
The state of feeling prevailing among
the masses can be inferred from the num-
ber and actions of persons who attended
the meeting at Braddock’s Field on the
appointed day. It was estimated that not
less than seven thousand men were on the
ground, aud the affair throughont had a
warlike appearance. Many of the militia
were dressed in hunting skirts, such as
they wore in their campaigns against the
Indians; a discharge of firearms was kept
up at frequent intervals; aud, as the mas-
ter spirit, David Bradford, who had assum- |
ed the title of ‘‘Major General,’’ rode proud- |
ly past the troops, he was greeted with |
boisterous applause. Meanwhile a com-
mittee had been at work preparing resolu-
tions denunciatory of the excise law and
revenue officers, demanding the prompt ex-
pulsion of Gen. Gibson and Col. Neville,
and declaring it to be the duty of the
“‘army’’ as it was called, to march at once
into Pittshurg and sieze the garrison. Al-
though no opposition was made to these
immoderate propositions, it is probable
that wany of those present at the meeting
were well disposed towards the govern-
ment, but were afraid to avow their opin-
ions. The surroundings were too inauspi-
cious. Distrust was rife and suspicion wide-
spread. Neighbor feared neighbor. Friend
could scarcely confide in friend. The
lawless predominated and were dangerous-
ly intolerant. Had any man, no matter
what his calling or position, ventured to
countenance the law, he would have in-
evitable suffered in hody or estate, while a
vehement denunciation of the excise was
‘‘the shibboleth of safety,’’ and the sure
way to popularity. Under such ecircum-
stances . hundreds of men felt justified in
maintaining a discreet silence until such
time as the wild storm of passion had spent
its fury.
When Bradford proposed to carry into
effect the resolution of marching to Pitts-
burg, Mr. Brackenridge deemed it best to
humor the ‘*Major General,’’ in tbe hope
of being able to divert his followers from
their purpose before any damage was done.
‘‘By all means,’”’ said he, ‘‘let us march
into the towns and give proof that we can
preserve the strictest order and discipline,
refrain from doing any damage to persons
or property. ILet us just march through,
and taking a turn come out on the plain
along the bank of the Monongahela, and
after drinking a little whisky with the
inhabitants, the troops will embark and
cross the river.” These words spoken in a
seemingly unconcerned aud friendly man-
ner, became the order of the day. Brad-
ford's vanity as ostensible leader blinded
him to the purpose of this proposition, or
he would scarcely have permitted the real
command to be wrested from him in this
artful way. He and Colonel Edward Cook
acted as generals and Colonel Blakeley as
officer of the day, but Mr. Brackenridge
kept with the advance guard, led them by
the river road so as to keep them out of
view of the garrison, and wheeling to the
left brought them out on the plain. To at-
tempt to control the actions of a multitude
of highly excited men required undoubted
courage and consummate address. It wasa
delicate and difficult undertaking. ‘The
people were mad,’ said Mr. Brackenridge,
and their conduct seemed to justify his o-
pinion. A resort to force with a mob that
had cast reason to the winds would have
been worse than useless. The only thing to
fall back upon was tact and this Mr. Brack-
enridge possessed in a high degree. *‘‘I
thought it best,’’ said he, ‘‘to give words
and good drink rather than balls and pow-
der. It cost me five barrels of old whisky
on that day,’’ and he apolgetically added:
*‘I would rather have spared that than one
quart of blood.”” He evidently thought the
end justified the means; and though he
succeeded in the main purpose, some of the
more impetuous, after crossing the river,
burned Major Kirkpatrick’s barn on the
summit of Coal Hill. and had not General
Wilkins, with some of the town militia, in-
terposed, his dwelling would have shared a
similiar fate. The infatuation displayed
ou this occasion seems incredible, and yet,
as if to give emphasis to their acts and ren-
der the course of the disaffected stil! more
culpable, they burned the residence of Col-
lector Wells, in Fayette county. a few days
later, compelled him to resign his commis-
sion,and made him swear never to hold the
office again. Collector Webster, of Bedford,
was also attacked about the same time,and
finding resistance useless, brought out his
commission and official papers, and after
tearing them to pieces trod them under
foot as a means of averting personal violence
at the hands of the assailants.
Matters were now in a critical state. The
execution of the laws had been resisted by
« pen force; public officers abused and in-
umidated; official papers and private prop-
erty destroyed, and the malcontents avow-
ed the determination of pursuing their rep-
{ rehensible course until the objec: for whieh
thev were workingwas at'ained. The govein-
ment had either to suppress the insurrection
speedily, or imperil its own safety by con-
tinning the temporizing policy to which it
had thus far adhered. Ina coriespondence
which ensued between the national author-
ities and the governor of this State, the
relative duties of the federal and state Gov-
ernments, a question which also presented
itself at the time of the great civil war. was
freely discussed. President Washington,
having meanwhile complied with certain
perquisites which the occasion required,
issued a proclamation, commanding the in-
surgents to disperse within a limited time,
| and also arranged for a conference with Gov-
| ernor Mifflin, of Pennsylvania. The secre-
tary of the treasury, secretary of war, and
the attorney general, held the opinion that
the president was bound by high and sol-
emn obligations to enforce obedience to the
laws, and 1ecommended the employ):.ent of
a force sufficiently large to render assist-
ance useless. The president coincided with
them, arguing that forbearance had proved
a failure, and if continued the disaffection
might spread into other parts of the coun-
try and the disorders become incurable.
Acting on this view, he issued on the 7th
{ of August his proclamation for the employ-
ment of the number of men that had been
agreed upon, and on the same day made re-
quisitions on the Governor of Pennsylvania,
New Jersey, Maryland and Virginia for
their several quotas of militia to be imme-
diately organized and prepared to march at
a moment’s warning. The quotas were
fixed as follows : Pennsylvania, 5,200;
New Jersey, 2,100; Maryland, 2,350; Vir-
giva. 3.300—making a total of 12,950. Of
these, 1,500 were cavalry, 450 artillery.
Governor Mifflin on the same day issued
a proclamation directing a quota of Penn-
sylvania to be armed and equipped as com-
pletely as circumstances would permit, and
also called upon the legislature to meet in
special session on September first. As there
was no authority for drafting militia, the
prospect of bringing the quota of this State
into the field, was at first quite unpromis-
ing, but the governor who was a fine orator
at once made a circnt through the lower
counties, and hy public addressing the
militia at appointed places, succeeded so
well in arousing their enthusiasm that
Pennsylvania had her quota filled as soon
as any of her sister States.
While steps were being taken to bring the
military force into the field, it was deemed
proper to make a last attempt to render its
employment unnecessary. The President,
therefore, appointed James Ross, J asper
Yeatesand William Bradford commissioners
to bear to the insurgents a general amnesty
and promise of perpetual oblivion for every-
thing that had vassed, on condition that
‘‘the laws be no longer obstructed in their
execntion by any combinations, directly or
indirectly’ and the offenders against whom
process shall issue *‘shall not be protected
from the free operation of the law.”’ As it
was also considered advisable for the State
executive to act in concert with the Presi-
dent, Gov. Mifflin selected Chief Justice
McKean and Gen. Wm. Irvine as commis-
sioners to co-operate with those represent-
ing thegeneral government. The Pennsyl-
vania commissioners arrived in Pittsburg
ou the 17th, and those of the United States
on the 20th of August. :
A committee of sixty, chosen by the
Parkinson's Ferry gathering, with power to
call other meetings, had appointed a sub-
committee of twelve to confer with the
commissioners sent by the President. This
sub-committee consisted of John Kirkpat-
rick, George Smith and J« hn Powers from
Westmoreland county; David Bradford,
James Marshal and James Edgar, from
ward Cook and James Long, from Fayette
county; H. H. Brackenridge, Thos. Morton
and John Lucas, from Allegheny county;
and Herman Husbands, of Bedford county.
Wm. Sutherland, Wm. McKinley and Rob-
ert Stevenson, representing Ohio county,
Virginia, acted with them. The commis-
sioners met this sub-committeeat Pittsburg
on the 21st. They stated that it was their
business to endeavor to compose the pre-
vailing disturbance,and restore the author-
ity of the law, by conciliatory meas-
ures ; that while it was obligatory up-
on the President of the United States
to cause the laws to be executed, he desired
tofavoid to resort to coercion; explained the
general nature of the powers he had vested
in them ; and finally requested to know if
the conferees could assure them of the
willingness of the people to submit to the
laws, or that they would recommend such
submission to them. The conferees, in an-
swer, gave a narrative of the canses of dis-
content ; complained of tiie decisions of the
state courts, which gave a preference to
paper titles over improvement titles ; of the
vexatious of the frontier war and the man-
ner in which it had been conducted ; and of
heing harrassed with militia duty in re-
pelling incursions. They asserted that the
general government had been inattentive to
treaties respecting western posts, and re-
miss in asserting the claim to the naviga-
tion of the Mississippi; complained that the
acts for raising revenue on distilled spirits
were unequal and oppressive; that congress
had neglected their remonstrances and peti-
tions; and of the great hardshi; to which
they were subjected in going so far from
home to answer complaints in the United
Washington county; Albert Gallatin, Ed- |
States courts. They referred to the sus--
pension of the Presqu’Isle settlement; the
engrossing of large quantities of lands by
individuals; the killing of certain persons
at Gen. Neville’s house; the sending of sol-
diers from the garrison for the defense of
the house; that the appointment of Gen.
Neville was particularly offensive ; and
that the forcible opposition to the law was
owing to the pressure of the grievance, hut
if there was any prospect of redress, the
people were ready to show themselves good:
citizens.
The commissioners w:re surprised at the
extent and nature of these grievances, and
“intimated that if all these matters were
really causes of uneasiness aud dissatisfac-
tion in the minds of the people, it would
he impossible for any government to satisfy
them.’”” They stated what was generally
understood to be the intentions and course
of the government regarding the navigation
of the Mississippi and the other general
grievances. The acts of congress complained
of could, however, only be repealed by con-
gress itself ; their petitions had not been
neglected nor their interests overlooked ;
that they had a larger representation in
congress than their population entitled
them to ; that modifications had been made
which removed the chief objections to the-
law : and it was then asked if there was
anything in the power of the president yet
remaiting to be done to ‘‘make the execu-
tion of the act convenient and agreeable to
the people.’’
The terms upon which submission would
be considered as satisfactory, and the pow-
ers of the commissioners were submitted in
‘writing,and after some altercations the con-
ferees expressed their approval and promis-
ed to recommend the proposals to the peo-
ple. They added that however they might
be received, ‘‘they were persmaded that
nothing more could be done by the com-
missioners or them to bring the business to-
an accommodation.” It was agreed be-
tween the two parties that the people
should express their determination, and
give the assurances required, on the 11th
of September, but it soon became apparent
from the courses of the insurgent leaders
that submission could not be obtained by
this process. If there had heen any possi-
ble chance of this being done, it was dis-
pelled by the revolt spreading itself east of
the Alleghenies into the midland counties of
Pennsylvania’ and parts of Maryland.
Along the Camberland valley the disaffec-
tion manifested itself by the raising of so-
called ‘‘liberty poles.”” The one erected in
Carlisle during the night of September 8th
had on the usual inscription of ‘‘Liberty
and No Excise.” Some loyal citizens cut
it down the next day. Great excitement
ensued. Runners were sent out to arouse
the rural populace. A couple days later
over 200 men from the country brought an-
other pole into town and put it up. Guards
for its protection patrolled the streets
nightly. The people lived in terror. Peace-
able persons were held up in the dark and
money for whisky was extorted from them
at the point of the bayonet. When the
state militia came in, these outrages were
suppressed. In doing this, two of the
‘‘whisky hoys’’ were killed. Secretary
Alex. Hamilton, in a letter to Gov. Mifflin,
called them ‘‘unfortunate accidents.” At
Northumberland, Milton and other towns
on the North Branch, ‘‘liberty poles’ were
also erected, and the excise law was openly
denounced by its opponents.
The commissioners, after waiting until
the 4th of September, reported substantial-
ly that there had been no such submission
announced from the various counties as
would render it safe to establish revenue
offices ; that the number of signatures was
so small as to satisfy them that there was
no probability of the revenue laws being
‘‘enforced by the usual conrse of civil aun-
thority, and that some more competent
force was necessary to cause the laws to be
duly executed, and to insure to the officers
and well disposed citizens that protection
which it is the duty of the government to
afford.’ As if to verify the opinion which
the commissioners had formed, the inn at
which they stopped in Greensburg, when
returning east, was attacked by a riotous
crowd, the windows broken in, and the
commissioners themselves subjected to in-
sult and abuse.—S. B. Row.
( Concluded next week.)
Record of Cresceus In 1901.
The performances of Cresceus alone made
the season of 1901 a memorable one on the
trotting turf. He reduced the world’
trotting record to 2:02}; the world’s rac
record to 2:03}; the half mile track record
to 2:09}; the two consecutive heats record
to 2:03}, 2:06}. and the best three miles in
one day to 2:03}. 2:06}, 2:05, the last
against time. During the year Cresceus
trotted twenty-eight fast miles—ten in
races and eighteen against the watch. Five
of the latter were over half-mile tracks.
Was a Good Deal for Spain.
What a bargain we got when we bought
from Spain her Philippine war for a beg-
garly $20,000,000! Instead of a cheap in-
surrection, our purchase turns out to he a
$400,000,000 affair at least, and there is no
limit to the possible expansion of the fig-
ures. The greatest luck Spain has had in
three hundred years came to her in Manila
Bay and off Santiago.-—Norih American.
A Hindrance.
Mig. Hiram Offen—And do you think
you could do the cooking for the family
with a little belp from me?
Applicant—No, ma’am, I do not.
Mrs. Hiram Offen—You don’t?
Applicant—No, ma’am, but Oi'm sue
Oi cud do it widout anny help from vou.
His ‘“Whereabouts.”
A lady was looking for her husband, and
inquired anxiously of a housemaid :
*‘Do you happen to know anything of
your master’s whereabouts ?’’
*‘I’'m not sure, ma’am,’* replied the care-
ful domestic, ‘‘but 1 think they’re in the
wash.”’—The Pathfinder.
In the Cheap Restanrant!
Cassidy—Why don’t ye ate yer dinner?
Casey—Shure this is Froiday, an’ O’im
wonderin’. :
Cassidy— What are ye wonderin’ ?
Casey—Is turtle soup fish whin it’s made
out o’ veal ? : :
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