SR
Beara fan
Bellefonte, Pa., October 16,1903.
ONCT ON A TIME.
When night gits round an’ supper’s ate,
Dad lights his pipe fer smokin’
And gits th’ newspaper and’ sez
To me, a kinder jokin’ ,
“Now, Bub, I'll take yer wool of ’less
You hurry up those slippers.”
(He knows he couldn't, cause it’s took
A ready with th’ clippers:)
An’ then he sits an’ smokes an’ reads,
An’ mother sets a-sewin’,
A-makin’ clo’es fer sister—s’ prise
You how that kid is growin’ !
An’ I jes’ sorter wait aroun’,
A-hopin’ dad’s most through it,
Cause then he’ll tell me *bout th’ tale
'T’s got a giant to it.
“They ain’t no news but polytics,””
Bimeby dad sez, a-yawnin’.
“An’ John Smith’s paintin’ of his fenct,
An’ Green’s put up an awnin’ :
So then I climb up on his knee,
An’ he sez, “You young urchin,”
An’ rubs his whiskers ’gainst my face,
An’ thinks I need a birchin’.
“But wal,” he sez, “onct on a time
Was Jack th’ Giant Killer—"’
An’ tells about th’ drefliest things.
T jes’ plumb skeer
And how Jack sworded off their heads,
An’ all th’ blood ’twas makin’,
An’ Jim’ny Gee ! when bedtime comes
I, sneak upstairs jes’ shakin’ !
—T. R. Andrews, in Leslic’s Monthly.
A SPOOL OF THREAD.
Stacey stepped lightly off the car at the
corner of M— street that bright October
morning and headed straight way for the
department store across the street. Its
windows were gay with autumn splendor,
its great entrance sweet with flowers, and
through its heavy glass doors passed an
endless stream of hurrying, preoccupied
women. Men on entering a store of this
kind usnally fall into a lazy, somewhat in-
different stroll, but women plunge into its
entrancing depths with reckless disregard
for the unimportant remainder of human-
ity.
Yay wanted a spool of thread. In his
pocket lay a tiny piece of red foulard of
whichi one of his sister’s many new gown
(she was to be married on Thanksgiving
Day) was being made. He had been vie-
timized this morning by her to the extent
of at last yielding to her pleadings and
stepping out to buy the thread which she
assured him was needed by the fashionable
dressmaker upstairs, badly and at once.
Marie’s gowns, he understood, were being
made by the best man-dressmaker the city
afforded, but the little house dresses and
tea gowns—such as this dainty foulard
thing—were being fashioned at home un-
der her own supervision. It wassuach fun!
And the whole house was in a commotion
this morning in consequenco. Madam
Dressmaker had arrived on the scene, Marie
was all excitement, the servants were busy
and cross, and so it had developed on Dick
to purchase the all-important spool of
thread. In spite of the fact that there
were small stores within two or three blocks
of home, he absent mindedly boarded a car
where he promptly buried himself in the
morning paper and finally found himself in
the heart of the bnsy city with a big de-
partment store looming up in front of him.
Now he roamed aimlessly up and down
the broad aisles gazing helplessiy about for
the particular article he had come for and
at length was rescued by a hald headed
man who asked him politely what he want-
ed.
‘A spool of thread.”
‘‘Three aisles down, sir, on the left,”
pointing with his pencil. Stacey strode off
in the direction indicated, and took his
stand in front of the unmistakable thread
counter. There was no one there to wait
on him, apparently, and he was looking
about helplessly when from behind the
counter there slowly arose from a stooping
posture a girl—a girl with flaffy brown
hair, which rolled softly away from a white
forehead, on the right, only to droop on
the left, toward the dark, even brows which
shaded two divinely blue eyes. Her face
was oval and evenly tinted, the nose
straight and well formed, and her month
—but she held a pencil crossways between
her teeth so that her month was somewhat
distorted. She immediately withdrew the
pencil, however, and Stacey saw two pret-
tily curved lips that parted now in a slight
smile, all cherry and snow, as she asked in
a smooth, low voice :
‘‘What can I do for you ?”’
Stacy was still gazing with wondering
and open admiration at the distracting face
before him so that he nearly forgot what he
did want. He answered unsteadily :
“‘Oh—er—a spool of thread please.”
“What color !”? sweetly.
‘“Why—Ilet me see. I have a piece of—
of—gingham somewhere ahout me—where
is the thing?’ He pnlled from out his
pocket a big, snowy handkerchief, and
with it came the scrap of foulard which she
caught deftly as it fluttered over the aount-
er. The red lips parted this time in a real
smile as she studied the pattern and shades
and finally she said :
‘What shade of this—gingham—shall I
match ? The red ?”
‘If you please,” with dignity.
She went off to the end of her counter
where she pulled out a drawer containing
myriad spools of thread of all the shades of
red. After standing there uncertainly a
moment she came back to him. Her eyes
were filled to overflowing with something
very much like fun.
“What number ?’’ she asked with heart-
less indefiniteness.
Stacey pasped. What, under heaven,
did she mean ? He madea wild plunge.
‘Only one spool,” he answered, trying to
look cool and unconcerned.
*Yes,” in a low, sober tone, and with
eyes discreetly cast down. ‘‘But what num-
ber of thread 9”
“'Ob—ah—it really doesn’t matter, you
know. Well—what numbers have you ?”’
The girl swallowed hard and her voice
wavered slightly when she spoke :
. “Anything from 10 up to--say 500.”
This immediately produce on Stacey’s
mind a picture of an array of thread, No. 10
represented the tiny spools of cotton he had
seen in Marie’s workbasket and the 500 a
roll of wrapping twine, and he believed
himeelf safe in answering easily :
“Number 10 will do nicely, I’m sure.”
Two bright, surprised eyes met his for a’
mowent, and then a low peal of laughter
greeted his ears. The next instant she had
dashed away to the open drawer again,
where she stayed, it seemed to him, an
hour. At last she came back, a tiny parcel
_of brown paper in her hand, her lips severe.
ly straightened, her eyes apologetic. She
handed him the thread, saying demurely :
“I beg a thousand pardons, sir, for keep-
ing you waiting so long.”
*‘And for laughing at me?’ accusingly.
‘“Yes,”” contritely.
He was about to move away, but he tar-
ried a moment longer.
“What was there so funny ?’’ he asked
at length.
She was silent.
“Tell me,” he begged.
‘‘Oh 1” she choked back her laughter.
Then she raised those glorious eyes again,
80 that his heart jumped, and said :
‘‘Ask the woman you bought it for.’
‘‘Just the very thing I won't do,” said
Stacey to himself, and then with one more
Took, in which the dark eyes laughed with
the blue, he moved away.
All day, which be spent in his office, he
carried in his mind a picture of a girlish
face with browniehfinir and bluest eyes and
whitest teeth, and in his pocket a spool of
red thread.
Ast ten o'clock Maries affairs were mov-
ing smoothly. Madam had started on the
white wool house dress, had regained her
composure and good nature and tongue,
and was cutting, snipping, sewing rapidly
withal.
**You will need a couple of yards more of
this, dear. Yes, of the white. Did you
get it here in the city ? Then I’d run right
down and get more while you can. And,
by the way, Mr. Stacey didn’t return with
the red thread, did be? You might get a
spool, yourself, then, and I will work on
the foulard this afternoon.”
Consequently, at eleven, Marie was
down town. She paused at the counter
where her brother, some two hours before,
had come to his confusion.
‘Is there something I can do for you ?”’
There was something in the sweet voice
aud still sweeter face that attracted the old-
er, more fortunate girl’s attention, and the
two women, one in her trim tailor suit and
costly furs, the other in her plain little
shop gown that set her supple form so
modishly, regarded each other with mutual-
ly admiring eyes.
‘A spool of thread, please; number 60,
and to match the red in this,”” and Marie
handed to the clerk a sample of the red
foulard. The girl’s surprised, inquiring
look, first at the sample and then at the
face before her was quite lost on Marie.
Another young woman at that moment
rushed up to the pretty bride-to-be and a
low, laughing, excited conversation imme-
diately took place, while the girl behind
the counter again matched the foulard, and
then sent spool and money spinning away
above her head.
‘‘Marie,”’ exclaimed the richly gowned
new comer, ‘‘you just must come home to
lunch with me—please, dear. Just think
I haven’t seen you since before I went away
this summer. Oh, buat bother the dress-
maker ! She will keep, honey! Besides,
know she will accomplish three times as
much if you are not there to bother her.
Won’t you come ? That’s a dear.” :
Marie yielded finally and, after taking
the little parcel from the clerk, went slow-
ly away with her friend. In a moment,
however, she was back. J
‘“Would you be so kind,”’ she said, ‘‘as
to send this parcel for me? Yes, there is
just the one.”
‘“What is the name and address ?’’ asked
the clerk, preparing to write.
‘Miss Marie Stacey, 538 L Boule-
vard. Thank you so much,” and handing
her the small parcel containing the white
wool goods and tucking the spool of thread
into her chatelaine, Marie dashed off with
her friend. :
“That is his sister as sure as my name is
Nan Hunter,”’ said the clerk to herself as
she followed the two with longing, sadden-
ing eyes.
At one o'clock Madam Dressmaker
was, to speak plainly, at the end of her
rope, and she told Mrs. Stacey so in no un-
certain words.
*‘Miss Marie bas not yet returned ? Then
what am I to do? The- white dressis
awaiting the extra two yards she was to
bring, and the foulard—if I only had that
thread ! Dear! dear !”’
At that moment a maid brought into the
room a small, soft parcel that proved to be
the white wool. Mrs. Stacey was dressed
for the street. :
“I am going down town myself," she an-
nounced. ‘‘If there is anything you need,
I can get it for you.” :
Madam Dressmaker snipped off a bit of
the foulard. ‘‘Get me a spool of thread to
match that, if you please.”
“That gown seems to be fated,’’ she went
on to herself after the older woman had
left the room. ‘‘Miss Marie probably nev-
er thought of that thread after she left the
house.” ;
So, at two o'clock, Mrs. Stacey, tall, dig-
nified, her silk linings rustling softly,stood
in front of the thread counter and handed
to Nan the piece of foulard.
‘Can you match that in red thread, my
dear? Number 60, please.”
Nan smiled—she couldn’t help it—and
the woman in the black silk raglan looked
at the girl approvingly.
“What a very pretty girl,”’ was her men-
tal comment. ‘‘And—her face seems so
familiar.”
‘‘His mother,’’ thought Nan, and then as
the stately woman walked away, ‘Now, if
the Hon. J. P. Stacey wonld just step in
and let me sell Zim a spool of red thread, I
think I would have the whole family sup-
plied.”” For the address given by Marie
had divalged the identity of this family,
one of the most prominent in the city on
account of the father’s fame asa lawyer and
financier.
It was nearing the closing hour when
Dick Stacey again entered. the big store.
The place was a glare of electricity, its
aisles were crowded with women, tired but
happy, and there was in the atmosphere
the heaviness of perfumes and sweetmeats
arising from the counters where these arti-
cles were sold.
Into the blue eyes of the girl at’ the
thread counter a great weariness had orept.
It had been a hard and busy day, and she
was tired, so tired that there were moments
when everything in the great store seemed
to be whirling about her head in a sicken-
ing. dizzying sea. Her face was very white
and pinched, and she clutched the counter
often to steady herself, while a sense of
heart breaking loneliness overflowed her
soul. If mother were only home ! But she
banished the thought as unworthy. Moth.
er—bless her dear heart '—was so much
better off with Brother John in the country
(and a vision of John’s cosy little house
arose before her) then there in the city
where she would be alone all day. And
then ——
Dick came swinging through the store,
his hand on the spool of red thread in his
pocket, and a white lie all ready at his
tongue’s end. He had lost the important
spool of thread and wanted another. Fur.
thermore, he bad been studying the end of
that perplexing little cylinder all day, and
—she shouldn’t make sport of him again.
Not much. He knew what he wanted this
time : ‘‘J. & P. Coates’ Best Six Cord Cos-
ton, No. 60.”
As he neared the place were thread was
sold he saw a crowd of women gathered to-
gether and then he heard a man’s voice.
‘Stand back, please ! Only one of the girls
fainted. Let us pass, ladies, if youn please.”
And right at his feet in the broad open
aisle was laid his little, blue eyed clerk,
lifeless, white as death, the almost trans-
parent lids drooping over her sunken eyes
below which two dark bluish lines traced
themselves across her cheeks.
‘‘Better carry her to the hospital,’’ said a
woman clerk at the man’s side.
“I’ve sent for a stretcher,’
“But she mustn’t lie here, man. I'll
held you. Let's carry her.”
Dick drew nearer. “I can carry her—
let me,’’ and, stooping, he lifted the little
limp form in his strong arms and strode off,
after the sensible looking woman to the
hospital.
A half hour later a physician came ont of
the room reserved for such occurrences and
Dick, waiting outside, looked at him anx-
iously.
“‘How is she, Doctor ?’*
_ '*Well, some better, poor little thing.
She is completely worn out, though, and
needs a rest and change and some good
nourishing food. She hasn’t really recov-
ered from her faint yet, and I can’t get
much idea as to her home and whereabouts.
She tried to give me her number, but was
too weak—oouldn’t make it.”’
The woman who had conducted Stacey to
the infirmary stepped to the doctor’s side.
‘‘She’s come to, Doctor. She says she is
all alone in the city. Her ma’s out in the
country somewhere and she lives in one
room agz——'’
‘Wait a moment.”’ said Dick. ‘‘Isthere
a telephone here ?* He was directed to
oue in an adjoining room and called up his
mother. ‘‘Mother, may I bring a little sick
girl home with me ? Will you take her
in ?”?
‘*“ Why Dick 2’
“It’s all right, mother, You know I
wouldn’t ask you unlessit were. She is
all alone in the city, and the doctor says
all she needs is rest and food. Food,
mother ! Do you hear ?”?
“I hear, dear. What is her name ?”’
“I—O‘ wait a momenst.”” He dashed
into the other room. ‘‘What’s her name?’’
he asked.
‘Nancy Hunter,”’ replied the woman.
‘Nancy Hunter, mother.”’
He did not hear the little gasp that came
over the 'phone and finally he asked again.
‘May I bring her, mother ? If yon don’t
take ber in she——?’
‘You may bring her, son,’’ came faintly
over the wire, and he rang off and went
back to the doator.
“Doctor Carter,”’ he said, ‘‘yon may
have heard of J. P. Stacey 2”’
The doctor nodded, surprised.
‘1 am his son,’’ and, ignoring the polite
recognition, ‘‘I bave just telephoned my
mother asking her to allow me to hring
this—child—home to her for a few days at
least. Will you go with me and satisfy
yourself——7?
“I will, indeed. It is just the thing,”
and the doctor seb about his preparations
while Dick rang for a carriage.
Meanwhile, in the mansion out on I,—
Boulevard, Martha Stacey stood in the fire-
lit hall, her face pressed against the plate-
glass. The twilight was deepening into
night. The house was quiet, warm, softly
lighted; a wood fire crackled on the hearth,
for the evenings were chill. A big bunch
of pink carnations on the mantel above the
fire shed their spicy perfume through the
room. She was alone, and she was think-
ing. Not for a moment since she had
walked slowly away from the thread count-
er that afternoon had a certain blue-eyed
face with its wealth of over-hanging hrown
hair left her mental vision. So like! So
like ! She longed to hurry back and ask
the question that was burning on her lips-
Nancy ! Dear, dear little Nancy ! The
one girl friend whose love had made her
own lonely girlhood sunny! She was
back again in the old days when Nancy and
she had played and studied together, when
the joys and sorrows of one had been the
joys and sorrows of the other; when life
had flowed past them, a smooth, beguiling
stream with little hint of the bitterness
surging in its depth—for them both. Nancy
had been so pretty, such soft brown hair,
such blue, blue eyes, like—— (She shiver-
ed slightly. Could it be ?) Her eyes sof-
tened a second as she recalled the day fated
for them both, with which had come dash-
ing young Jack Stacey, who promptly fell
in love with Naney, and then—— Ah, how
could she have done it? The selfishness
of her own lovefor the lover of ber little
friend, her wilfulness and determination,
her willingness to bend Naney’s life to her
own purposes, all arose before her now,
accusing, condemning, in the shape of a
sweet, young face, pathetic in its weari-
ness. And it was Nancy's face. She had
not seen her girlhood’s friend in all those
years; but, long after her own marriage to
Jack Stacey, she had heard of her marriage
to a man by the name of Hunter who died
two or three yeais later. Tben came long
years with no intelligence whatever. She
had not known that for fifteen years Nancy
and her two children had been living in
the same city with herself.
A carriage stopped in front of the house;
Dick stepped out, assisted his new-found
protege to alight, another man followed,
and the three, the girl in the middle, came
slowly up the marble steps. Mrs. Stacey,
herself, opened the big door and they en-
tered.
‘Mother, Doctor Carter,” Dick said,
briefly, ‘and Miss Hunter.” Mrs. Stacey
bowed. They were all too intent on the
business in hand to give much time to
words.
‘There, sit here,’”” said Dick, hospit-
ably, drawing a chair to the fire, and
the exhausted girl sank gratefully into
its depths.
‘‘Best let her rest a few moments,’’ said
the doctor, ‘‘and then put her to bed im-
mediately. Mrs. Stacey, this is most kind
of you. I assure you the firm will appre-
ciate such hospitality toward one of its
force. Miss Hunter is one of their most
valued employes, I understand. Yes, I
am the physician for the firm.”’
Mrs. Stacey was watching closely the pale
face in the firelight’s glow. Its white,
drawn look, the tense lines about the
mouth, the pain in the eyes, recalled her
own little Nan’s face the last time she had
seen it. It was as if Time had fashioned a
magic bridge across which the stately
woman stepped into the land of her girl-
hood, the land of her sin. For truly she
had sinned against Nancy. Now she bent
over the tired little figure, in the hig chair
and laid a soft hand on the ruffled hrown
hair. ‘I am very glad you came to us,
my dear. Perhaps you remember—you
sold me a spool of red thread this after-
noon ?"?
Nan smiled wanly. Dick started and
his hand touched the little spool in his
pocket. The heavy curtains were pushed
aside and Marie looked wonderingly at the
group about the fire.
"Mother ! What has happened ? Why !
It is the little girl at the thread counter !”’
‘‘Yes, dear. She is sick and alone in the
city so Dick and Doctor Carter have
brought ber home for us to take care for.’
Marie turned to Nan smiling.
( Continued on page 6.)
States Millions in Political Banks.
County Treasuries Suffer While Machine Uses Public Funds.
—Men Who Hold the Surplus.—Republican Managers’ Ad-
vantage Invariably Consulted in the Geographical Selection
on Depositories of Taxpayers’
Money.—Partisan Rules
Mainstay.—Treasury Plum Tree Shaken for the Benefit of
Men Who Lead Against All Movements for Honest Gov-
ernment.
Nearly fourteen million dollars of
the taxpayers’ money, not counting the
three and three-fourths million in the
state’s sinking fund, were held by the
Republican machine’s favorite banks
and trust companies, at the beginning
of this month, for the mutual benefit of
themselves and that machine. The
exact amount was $13,936,151.34, an in-
crease of more than $700,000 over the
total amount in the 118 depositories a
month before. And yet during Septem-
ber $2,500,000 of the school appropria-
tion was paid out. This vast diversion
of the public funds as a matter of par-
tisan favoritism and profit exceeds the
record for any previous month in the
history of the commonwealth and
proves the timeliness of the Democratic
state platform’s condemnation of the
financial system which “results in the
accumulation of a large and unneces-
sary surplus in the state treasury for
distribution among political or of fa-
vored banks and presents a constant
temptation to extravagant appropria-
tions and expenditures.”
Apart from consideration of the tak-
ing of millions annually from the coun-
ties in license money, which the Demo-
cratic platform contends should be left
with them to pay for local improve-
ments and thereby reduce local taxa-
tion, this enormous surplus is used to
maintain the machine which makes the
public interest subsidiary to the pur-
poses of a corrupt partisan leadership.
Republican managers when accused of
this have pleaded that the treasury
must keep a great balance to meet such
drafts as those made by the public
schools. But the surplus grows stead-
ily from a cause to which they never
refer—the constantly increasing reve-
nue which the state does not need. The
manipulators of the fund trample upon
the principle that the money the tax-
payers pays to the tax gatherer should
be as sacredly held in the keeping of
the state for solely public uses as
money put into the hands of a trustee
for specific purposes and that any di-
version of the public funds for personal
or partisan advantage is a breach of
trust.
Treasurer Selects the Banks.
The depositories favored with this
money are selected by the state treas-
urer, with the approval of the revenue
commissioners, one of whom is him-
self, the two others being the auditor
general and secretary of the common-
wealth. The maintenance of Republi-
can control in the offices of the auditor
general and state treasurer is a direct
warrant from the voters of the state
for the continued maintenance of these
conditions. As the auditor general and
state treasurer are to be elected next
month the continued partisan control
of the idle
rectly involved in the result.
treasury surplus is di- |
Two | 3
trusted machine leaders have been | 35] tapeus In: big: transactions;sM. i.
named for these important offices. One : :
of them earned his nomination by
faithiul support of obnoxious legisla-
tion. Both can be depended upon to
maintain the present conditions. They
will keep the state funds where they
will do the most good for the machine.
After studying results of the law re-
quiring 2 per cent. interest for the |
state from all depositories except the
flve “active” banks,
their daily balances only one and one-
half per cent., the late Governor Hast-
ings publicly declared that it would be |
far better for the state to hoard its
money in vaults and receive no in-
which pay on |
terest upon it than to suffer the sys- |
tem which he saw continuing, He de-
clared that the public funds were
“used for political purposes by depos-
iting them in favorite banks where
such deposits are expected to yield
returns. in the shape of political influ-
ence.” He denounced the empowering
of “the state treasurer or any man or
men controlling him to say what
banks shall handle the millions annu-
ally paid into the state treasury.”
Bribed to Be Blind to Misrule.
The names of the depositories of the
sinking fund are never disclosed, as
the authorities say there is no law
compelling such publication, and they
are evidently glad to have that excuse
for maintaining secrecy. Publication
of all the other deposits is enforced,
however, and it shows that most of the
favored financial institutions have
each one or more persons in the man-
agement who are either conspicuous
machine workers or are in a position
to command favors from the Republi-
can leaders. The other depositories
are practically bribed through the use
of the state’s money to be blind to
machine misrule in Pennsylvania and
to repcl all efforts to win assistance
from them in moves to make the gov-
ernment honest. These bribed de-
positories not only keep out of reform
agitation themselves but also infiuence
wide circles of friends and acquaint
ances to do likewise “for the sake of
the bank.”
The machine, in addition to thus
providing that appeals from advocates
of good governmaet shall fall upon
deaf ears, exacts financial tribute from
depositories unable to supply much
active work to maintain the power
which purchases with the people's tax
money the open or passive support of
bank directorates. Among proofs of
this is the case of an officer of a bank
in a city on the Susquehanna river,
who not long ago showed that he con-
sidered his institution highly favored
a_i
in having a state deposit of $25,0uv
upon which he had to pay only 2 per
cent. interest to the commonwealth.
He contributed $250 to the Republican
campaign and covered it as an “ex-
pense” item of the bank. Men who
know this fact observe that the “con-
tribution” was exactly 1 per cent. of the
deposit. They infer that the Quay ma-
chine, of which the state treasury and
auditor general’s office are the main-
stay, considered 1 per cent. a fair
offering from the class of depositories
to which that bank belonged.
Banks’ Political Connections.
Collapses in recent years of institue
tions which the state treasury had spe-
cially favored uncovered proofs of
cash returns to the Republican ma-
chine for deposits. Those disasters
exposed also the details of Republican
part leaders’ methods of profiting per-
sonally from the influence that had
shaken “the plum tree.” Yet no
change has been made in the corrupt
system except to find means of swell-
ing the surplus in order to satisfy de-
mands from partisan henchmen for the
favoring of additional depositories or
the increasing of deposits in the old
favorites.
In distributing the surplus there has
been remarkable discrimination in
favor of Pittsburg banks. No doubt
this resulted from the Quay machine’s
anxiety to adjust factional troubles
which had left Allegheny politics in a
ferment ever since the enactment of
the second class city “ripper.” Last
month Pittsburg alone had 32 banks,
trust companies and savings institu-
tions, more than one-fourth of all the
depositories, holding more than five
and a half million dollars of the com-
monwealth’s money. That exceeds
two-fifths of the entire surplus and
shows one of the greatest obstacles in
the way of Democratic efforts to im-
prove governmental conditions in
Allegheny and to ameliorate state
affairs through the agency of that
county.
Machine Leaders As Directors.
Strikingly demonstrating how the
machines of the principal cities are
helped by the state treasury to thwart
the “countiy’s” move for honest gov-
ernment is the fact that all but a little
less than two millions of the surplus
was deposited in Philadelphia, Pitts-
burg, Allegheny City and Harrisburg,
in 53 institutions. The two western
cities had nearly ~ne-half of the four-
teen millions. There was $600,000 in
the Colonial Trust. Company, an “ac-
tive” depository, of which ex-Senator
William Flinn, the ripped-out, but re-
cently reinstated machine leader of
Pittsburg, is the most influential direc-
tor. Other directors of the Colonial
Trust include Flinn’s son, George H.
Flinn, and the Flinn-Magee confiden-
Robert McAfee, who, last spring, suc-
ceeded General Reeder as commissioner
of banking, was a director last year of
the “active” Allegheny National, which
holds $785,369.32. The cashier of the
bank, William Montgomery, is Senator
Quay’s fiscal agent and handler of
stocks. The president of the “active”
Commonwealth Trust Company, of Har-
risburg, in which the state has $437,-
767.14, is Major Lane S. Hart, formerly
state printer, brother of the late Wm.
B. Hart, who was the next state treas-
urer elected after Quay resigned from
that office and left William Livsey to
serve during the remainder of the
term. ' The vice president of Major
Hart's company is Judge John H.
Weiss, of the Dauphin county court, a
close personal friend of Quay, and the
directors include Congressman M. E.
Olmsted and another influential Quay
worker, Charles H. Mullin, of Cumber-
land county. The law excludes judges
from the directorates of banks, but not
of trust companies.
Beneficiaries of Durham Rule.
The largest of all the deposits in the
state except that in the “active” Far-
mers’ and Mechanics’, of Philadelphia,
is that in another “active” concern, the
Quaker City National, of that city. Tt
has $864,600. Its president, Jacob HE.
Ridgeway, is in close personal and po-
litical relations with the principal
managers of the Republican party,
city and state. The chief leaders of
the Philadelphia machine do their
banking in the“Quaker City.” Its direc-
tors included the late Alexander Bal-
four, whose conduct as an inspector of
the Eastern Penitentiary brought him
under fire, and also the late Congress-
man Foerderer, whose wealth financed
the city machine at times.
Oil For the City Machine.
The foregoing facts throw some light
upon the resources and methods of the
city machine, which, according to the
leading Republican newspapers of the
state, has included 80,000 fraudulent
votes in its returns of a single elec-
tion.
In Pittsburg the Freehold Bank,
which was the late Chris. L. Magee’s
favorite institution, has a state de-
posit of over $300,000. Its directors in-
clude Flinn and his son. Other state
depositories there are the North Amer-
ican Savings Company, and has as viee
president Francis J. Torrance, active in
politics as one of Quay’s principal
friends; and the Anchor Savings Bank,
of which Pittshurg’s first chief magis-
trate under the “ripper,” A. M. Brown,
is president. H. C. Frick, coke and
steel king, a proposed candidate for
Ouav’s seat in thn senate. is a director
-dent also of the
of the City Deposit Bank, which has a
snug deposit from the state treasurer.
Similarly favored is the Exchange Na-
tional Bank, of which one director,
Calvin Wells, controls the Phildelphia
Press, which swallows Press-Muzzler
Snyder as a candidate for auditor gen-
eral, although it maintained vehement
denunciation of Pennypacker’s gag
even after the Republican state con-
vention.
Leading Politicians Favored.
One of the old financiers of the Pitts-
burg Republican organization, T. Hart
Given, is president of the Farmers’ De-
posit National Bank, in which is $190,-
000. C. A. Muehlbronner, who intro-
duced the Pittsburg “ripper” in the
senate, is a director of the favored Ger-
man National. Of - another favorite,
the Keystone Bank, W. C. Magee, a
relative of the late chief political ruler
of Allegheny, is a director. Director
E. M. Bigelow, brother of the ‘“rip-
per’s” chief engineer, is a manager of
the Liberty National, a state deposi-
tory. Stephen Stone, United States
marshal, and son of the ex-governor
and the latter's political side partner,
ex-Congressman W. H. Graham, are
directors of the Mercantile Trust, which
has a nice state deposit. Stephen Stone,
as a director of the favored Prudential
Trust, appears again, and he and Gra-
ham are also connected with another
state depository, the Federal National.
H. C. Frick is a director and Attor-
ney General P. C. Knox was until
recently in the board of the Mellon Na-
tional, which has a slice of the sur-
plus. Of another Pittsburg depository,
the Pennsylvania Trust, William B.
Rodgers, city solicitor, .who helped
with “Quay reform” bills and the “rip-
per” in its original shape, has been the
vice president. Ex-Speaker William
| T. Marshall is a director of the Public
Trust Company. Quay’s friend, Tor-
rance, and William McConway, whom
Flinn flatters, are directors of the Sec-
ond National. In the Union Trust is a
repetition of familiar names, including
Attorney General Knox and Frick. Ex-
Judge James H. Reed, who helps con-
trol the Columbia National, which has
$245,000 state money, is president of
the Philadelphia Company, a monopoly
of traction, gas and other public utili-
ties of Pittsburg.
Fat Pickings For Serving Leaders.
Of Harrisburg state depositories Ad-
jutant General Stewart is an investor
in the fortunes of the Commercial
Bank. Lane S. Hart and Congressman
Olmsted are president and director re-
spectively of the First National, which
holds $293,667.45. © Edward Bailey,
member of the new capitol commis-
sion, is president of the Harrisburg Na-
tional, with $130,000. Bailey is presi-
Harrisburg Trust,
which holds $350,000 and has ex-In-
surance Commissioner J. M. Forster as
vice president.
Supreme Court Justice J. Hay Brown
is a director of the Lancaster Trust,
which has state money. Of other fa-
vored institutions fed and fattening on
the use of the people’s money, Ship-
builder John B. Reach, to whom State
Senator Sproul is related by marriage,
is a director of the Chester National.
Congressman Acheson is in the board
of the Citizen’s National, of Washing-
ton. Ex-State Senator C. C. Kauffman,
formerly an insurgent, is a director of
the Columbia (Lancaster county) Trust
Company. Senator Matson is a direc-
tor of the Commercial National, of
Bradford. Elkin’s chief lieutenant in
the Republican gubernatorial canvass,
T. Larry Eyre, and ex-Auditor General
McCauley are directors of the Farmers’
National, West Chester. Major Gen-
eral Charles Miller, of the National
Guard, is in the beard of the Franklin
(Venango county) Trust Company.
Representative A. A. Thompson, of Fa-
yette, is an assistant ' in the Union-
town First National, which has $100,-
000, and his father, J. V. Thompson,
Quay leader, is its president.
And They're All Republicans.
The presence of Quay’s personal and
political friend, Samuel Moody, in the
board of the Beaver First National, ex-
plains its favor from State Treasurer
Harris. Other fortunate concerns are
the Farmers’ and Drovers’ National, of
Waynesburg, with ex-Senator Daniel
S. Walton as a director; the Honesdale
National, which has in its board Homer
Green, member of the committee that
prepared Quay’s fake “ballot reform”
bill; the Mercer County Trust, with
State Senator James D. Emery, spon-
sor for one of the infamous Emery-
Focht passenger railway franchise
grabs, as president, and Lyle W. Orr,
formerly employed in the state treas-
ury, and Common Pleas Judge S. H.
Miller as treasurer and director, re-
spectively; the Grove City People’s Na-
tional, having as a director Representa-
tive H. K. Daugherty, chairman of the
last house’s judiciary local committee,
who, at the close of the legislature, was
appointed attorney for the dairy and
food commission and drew a salary un-
til Governor Pennypacker was remind-
ed of the unconstitutionality of the ap-
pointment; the Union Banking Trust, of
Dubois, with State Senator A. E. Pat-
ton as director; the Westmoreland Sav-
ings and Trust, in which one director
is John B. Steele, unsuccessful Repub-
lican candidate against Judge Doty,
four years ago, and the Warren Trust,
in which State Senator H. H. Cum-
mings is a director.
And so the list of politicians, all Re-
publicans, connected with the financial
institutions favored with the enor-
mous, unnecessary surplus, might be
prolonged.
This explains why the afflicted wards
of the state in hospitals for the insane
are compelled to suffer from crowding
and lack of ordinary accommodation.
Neither their health or comfort, nor
the oppression of the farmers and
other taxpayers, whose counties are
practically robbed of license fees
which would reduce their taxation, are
to be considered by the machine when
it wants to profit from millions in its
favorite banks.