The Vindication of Henderson of Greene By BRAND WHITLOCK AUTHOR OF “THE THIRTEENTH DISTRICT,” “HER INFINITE VARIETY,” “THE HAPPY AVERAGE," “THE TURN OF THE BALANCE," ETC., ETC. [JLT Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Company : ALDWIN, the lobby- ist, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and swaying with the train as it swung the Valley of the : Des plaines, con tem platively cut the end from a fresh cigar and said: ' “But I'm not so sure, after all. My experience with the Bailey bill shook my faith in that proposition.” The two other men in the salon looked up with startled eyes. Baldwin had been driven over from his Michigan Avenue home and caught the Alton Limited when it made the station stop at Twenty-third Street, where he boarded the last of its cur- tained Pullmans. This coach was the political institution known to Illinois statesmanship as the Springfield sleeper, and Baldwin and his two com- panions, Jennings, the secretary of state, and Denny Healy, a canal com- missioner, had the capsulated coziness of its smoking compartment all to themselves. Down by Dwight they had fallen into a desultory discussion of the old question as to whether or not every man has his price. The question could hardly interest these men long, for, after many years’ con- stant contemplation, under the gray dome of the state house, of the weak- nesses of men, they had come to an acceptance of the doctrine now grown frank enough to have no lingering taint of cynicism. Jennings, indeed, had just dis:nissed the subject by de- claring: “All men air fer sale, an’ mos: of ‘em damn cheap.” And so the subject might hav lapsed had it not been for Baldwin * heterodoxy. That George R. Baldwin of all men should doubt the first max- im of their profession was beyond comprehension. Though he played his part in life with a suite of law offices in a skyscraper as a back- ground, his serious business was lob- bying bills through the legislature. His friends, who were many, boasted that he always stood by them, right or wrong. Which he did, indeed, and as they were generally wrong, the value of such friendship, or his opib- ions on practical politics, could hardly be overestimated. The day had been a hot one in Chicago, but now a cold draft of smoky air was sucking through the narrow window-screen, on which the cinders hailed as the Lim- ited plunged southward. Baldwin had lighted his imported cigar, the superior aroma of which, perceptible even in an atmosphere choked with coal gases and the fumes of the domestic cigars Jennings and Healy were smoking, indicated faintly the height of cultivation to which he had brought his appetites, when Jen- nings, flecking his ashes on the floor of the salon just as he would have done on his own parlor carpet, said: “Well, go on with the story.” “One session there was an old man named Henderscn in the house, who had come up from Greene County; Henderson of Greene, everybody cail- ed him, to distinguish him from Tom Henderson, of Effingham. He was a queer figure was Henderson of Greene, tall and gaunt, with a stoop in his shoulders. He always wore a hickory shirt, opened at a red and wrinkled throat, and his hair was just a stubble bleached by harvest suns. The old man was a riddle to everybody in Springfield that winter. He was al- ways in his seat, even on Monday evenings, when no one else was there. He voted always with his party, and he voted consistently as well, like a good country member, against all the Chicago legislation. But he was a silent man, who stood apart from his fellows, looking with eyes that peered from under his shaggy, sun burned brows with an expression no one could fathom. He never made a speech, he never introduced a bill, he never offered a resolution, he never even presented a petition, and when the speaker made his committee as- signments, he placed the old man on the committees on History, Geology ‘and Science, and on Civil Service Re- form, and he did not even look disap- pointed.” The two politicians chuckled. “As for me,” continued Baldwin, “I pever spoke to him, and never knew ' any one who did. The speaker him- self only addressed him—and then as the gentleman from Greene—when they were verifying roll-calls. No one ever knew where he boarded. The herd book gave him a paragraph, say- ing that he had been born in Indiana along in '37, and moved i 3? 8 BE 2 i 5 iia I know men who would have spent a fortune to give that legislature one more day of life, but it was sweep ing on its midnight death. Somehow, whenever [ think of the legislature, I think of that legislature, and when- ever my mind conceives the state house it isn’t pictured to me as stand- ing there on the hill, stately in the sunshine, but as it appeared that night as I walked over from the Leland, with the clouds flying low over its dome. The lower floors were dark and still as sepulchres, and the mes- | senger boys who came over from the | Western Union, now and then, remind- | ed me of ghosts as they went by, their , heels dragging on the marble floors of the corridor. A light was burning in the governor's office, though the old man himself, I knew, was over at the mansion, pacing the floor of the Ii- brary and cursing with classic curses. We were going to try that night to pass the Balley bill over his veto. “But the third floor blazed with electric lights, and the big dome was full of noisy echoes. The senate kept its coat on—you know how they mimic decorum over there—but the house was in its shirtsleeves, huddled like a pack of wolves around the speaker's dais, with faces ripe with whisky, shaking its fists under the umbrella of cigar smoke. Every fel- low was trying to get his bill passed in the last hour of the session—you know what it is, Hank?” “Oah, yes,” replied Jennings, “but ‘tair’t nothin’ to what 't used to be inder the ol’ constitution. We'd stack . pile o' them ‘ere private acts up on == clerk's desk, an’ pass ‘em all t' et ‘ith a whoop. Them ‘as the « 1ys—-but that "as 'fore your time.” “Trn e must have been good old « 'v¢" ..<ented the lobbyist, “for the i 1. “I recien! A feller could 'a’ done business in them days! Ol’ John M.'d better left the ol’ constitution alone— it 'as good enough. But there ‘as a passion fer change right after the war.” The lobbyist politely nodded concur- rence in this view and continued: “Some of the members clambered on to their desks, filling the air with oaths, ink bottles, and hurtling books with rattling leaves. Sometimes an iron weight sheathed in paper whizzed by on a vindictive mission, and one man made an Egyptian nigger-killer with rubber bands. Some even hurled their copies of the revised statutee— it was the first use they had ever found for them. Once in a while some one would toss a batch of print- ed bills to the ceiling, where they set the glass prisms of the chandeliers jingling, and then fell like autumn leaves, a shower of dead pledges and withered hopes. And out of all the hubbub rose a steady roar—" “Like at a lynchin’ bee,” assisted Jennings. “Exactly,” assented Baldwin, who had never seen a lynching. “There were drunken howls and vacuous laughs, and yet we could hear through it all the hoarse voice of the clerk, his throat so heated that you could see the vapor of his breath, as you can an orator's, or a wood-chopper’'s in win- ter, rapidly intoning senate bills on third reading. The pages were grow- ing heedless and impertinent. The newspaper correspondents, their dis- patches on the wires, puffed their cig- arettes in professional unconcern, and awaited happenings worthy of late bul- letins. The older members, who had been through the mill many times be- fore, lounged low in their seats. One could see, above their desks, only their heads and heels. The speaker, old 'Zeke himself, was in the chair, suave as ever, but growing caustic. He had splintered his sounding-board early in the evening, and had taken to tapping perfunctorily his walnut desk with his little inadequate gavel. i § by Eg g g iE 4 : 8 g § qr ie : I HH i § £ 5% ; g : i H : : HH 13 : are, and out to Camp Lincoln. They took many trolley rides, and even climbed to the top of the state house dome, whence, they say, you can see Rochester and the prairies for thirty miles around. He brought her over to the house one or two morn- ings, but not on to the floor as other members did their over-dressed wives: he sent her up to the gallery, where she sat peering down over the railing at the gang—and her husband, who took no part in all that was going on. “The old woman's interest in all these new things that had come into her starved life, her {ll-concealed pride in her husband's membership in such a distinguished body of law- givers, were touching to me, and as I looked at him that last night of the session, and thought of her, the wish to do something to lighten their lives came into my heart, but just then, suddenly, old Zeke started from his chair, grasped his gavel firmly, and leaned expectantly over his desk. At the same instant the older members dragged their feet down from their desks and sat bolt upright. The news- paper men flung away their cigarettes and adjusted their eye-glasses. The as- sistant clerk, who had been reading, looked up from the bill then under what I suppose they would have called consideration, and hurriedly gave his place at the reading desk to the clerk of the house. I knew what was com- ing. I knew that the Bailey bill was on its way over from the senate. And I heard Bill Hill call: “‘Mistah Speakah.’ “At the sound of that voice the up- roar in the chamber ceased. It be- came so still that the silence tingled like a numbness through the body; stiller than it had been any time since nine o'clock that morning, when they had paused for the chaplain to say his prayer. The gang turned around | and stood motionless, panting, in its shirt-sleeves, as though a flashlight photograph were to be taken. Half- way down the aisle stood Hill. You know how he would look at such a time, in his long black coat, his wide white shirt bosom with the big dia- mond, his rolling collar and black string tie, and his long black hair fall- ing to his shoulders. You know how ] : i Hl oof fitt “But through it all old 'Zeke stood there, game as ever, with a hard, cold smile on his face, and you could hear the sharp, monotonous rap of his gav- el, rap, rap, rap, neither fast nor slow. The tumult did not die during the reading of that scathing mesage, and when Hen's ruined voice ceased, and he rolled the message up again and thrust it in his desk, 'Zeke smashed his gavel down and I heard him say: “Wil the house be in order? bear-pit when he wanted to, and he never raised his voice to do it either, only his eye and the gavel. And so, when they were quiet, he said: ‘The question is: Shall the house concur with the senate in the passage of sen- ate bill No. 106, notwithstanding the objections of the governor? “The house tried to break away from him again, but he held it in his gavel fist, drawing the curb tight, and turned to recognize old Long John Riley, who was standing like a tall tree beside his desk, with his hand up- raised. “‘The gentleman from Cook!’ “‘Mr. Speaker,’ said Riley, ‘I move the previous question.’ “There was another roar, but 'Zeke's gavel fell, and his eyes blazed black again, and he said: “‘The gentleman from Cook moves the previous question, and the ques- tion is: Shall the main question be now put? Those in favor of this ques- i tion will say aye'—there was a roar of ' ayes—'and those opposed will say no.’ he would love such a moment—and it was his last chance that session. He stood there quietly a whole minute, and then putting a foot forward, said in his great bass voice: + “"Mistah Speakah.’ “Old "Zeke rose and said: * ‘Mister Doorkeeper.’ “A message from the senate, by its *‘A message from the senate by its secretary,’ repeated 'Zeke, and then Bill had to give way to Sam Pollard, who stepped forth and said: * ‘Mr. Speaker, I am directed to in- form the house that the senate has passed senate bill No. 106'—I never the number of that bill, : the right t domain, notwithstanding the objections of the i E : : < BF {There was a heavier roar of noes, and | then came | noes, ayes | “‘Gentlemen are as familiar with , the rules as is the chair. They are | to order a roll call after a viva voce | vote, unless he is in doubt as to the ' result, the demand for the yeas and ‘ nays not having been preferred before the question had been put to the | house. In this !nstance’—and the | splendid old fellow swung his gavel to his ear, and the smile flickered out is not in doubt. The ayes seem to EEE E : § i § E LH EE fig | i g § I F ! 8 ? g f it £ ! Hh iil iii il HH 2 : E s§ £8 g | g i 8 ] i i ses Shoes. Yeager’s Shoe Store “FITZEZY” The Ladies’ Shoe that Cures Corns Sold only at Yeager’s Shoe Store, Bush Arcade Building, BELLEFONTE, TA. Dry Goods, Etc. 4 — See ® LYON & COMPANY. Cotton and Linen Fabrics. All the choicest shades in Linens, Crepes, Ratines, Flaxons, Bengalines, Poplins and Ginghams. If you want a cool fabric for these hot days visit our Wash Goods Department and be convinced that we have the right things at the right prices. Our Ready-to-wear department is always up-to-date. Here you can find a complete line of Ladies, Misses and Childrens’ Dresses. Ladies Shirt Waists in white, lain tailored and fancy Balkan and Norfolk Middies or Misses and Ladies. Ladies Skirts in cream, serge, cotton, corduroy, and linen. Neckwear. 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