ADVERTISING RATES It 80 1 to*. 9 mos. 6 mos lyr. 0.. 1. 1.75 3.50 650 12.00 Twe liquareq ' . 3.00 3.60 8.50 9.03 23,00 Thu* Squares . . 4.80 B.Z 9.03 17.00 75.00 612 squares.. . Quarter Column . 11.50 17.00 121.03 45.00 13.50 ZOO 40.00 00.00 11.1( Column . . 9/3.00 40.03 30.69 110.00 owi 00111MII ; 30.00 60.00 110.00 200.00 Professional Card. 91.00 por line per year. • Administrator's and Auditor's Notices, 117.00. • City Nonce', 30 cents pet line lit insertion, 15 cents Per toe each subsequent insertion. Ten line, agate constitute saguaro. ROBERT IREDELL, JR., PuntignEn, ALLENTOWN, PA [Written for She Chronicfe.l A SUMMER IN KANSAS BY ESTELLA De.NORD The fresh cool night air refreshed Maud very much. In the east the round moon was rising, throwing a pale radiance over the great prairie and calming her insensibly. Sit ting there, Maud thought over the strange chance, if there be such a word, by which her life had been saved, and tbat, , too,, by this man whom she bad never expected to see again. Her thoughts went back to that bril liant Juno morning, live years ago, when she had seen him for the first.time. It was while she was spending a few weeks at Niagara, before going to Newport, and on that morning she had gone out with a small party for a walk along the river above the falls. They stopped where the bank was five or six feet above the water and amused them selves by throwing pieces of wood and bark into the river and watching the torrent carry ing them away. They were talking and laughing merrily, when suddenly a large atone on the edge gave way, under the pressure of her foot, and with one wild cry for help she was precipitated into the rushing waters.. She heard faintly the exclamations of horror and despair that fell from the lips of her terrified friends, and then came that frightful rushing sound in her ears, that only drowning persons can experience ; for one moment only, then she felt herself seized by a strong arm and her head supported above the water. Wild cheers came from the shore above them to the brave man who had rescued her. lie fought the current with a strength that was almost bur culean, and succeeded at last in gaining a point far down towards the falls, so near them that Maud fancied she felt the ground rocking when he laid her on the shorn. Then for the first time she opened her eyes ; they rested not on one of the gentlemen of her own party, but on a stranger who was bending over her, his dark hair washed back from his brow and his keen eyes watching her face eagerly. "Thank Heaven !" be exclaimed as her eyes opened. Then her party came up, eager to reward the brave fellow who had done what the brav est of them dared not do. He must be some sailor, or perhaps one of the dwellers near that fearful ever, who had braved its dangers before. "Name your reward my brave man and Harry Willis stopped short, for the stranger had turned and faced him, and there was that in hie face which caused him to leave the sen tence unfinished. In spite of the rude, plain dress he stood before them like a young king in his haughty self-possession. "I deserve no reward and want none," he said quietly, " The lady was in danger and I happened to be a good swimmer—that was all." , He turned to go, but Maud had arisen and followed him, holding out her hand, "At least, let me thank you," she said, with tears in her beautiful eyes, " I shall never forget you as long as the life you saved this morning is mine ; will you let me know your name?" " With pleasure ; my name Is John Win gate. lam a western hunter on my way to New York, where I have business," replied the stranger, holding for a moment her hand in a firm, warm clasp. Maud unwired ntur..gave him ner isuureee, and urged him warmly to visit her during hie stay In New York. " Perhaps," she said softly, " I may find some way of acknowledg ing your braveiy when I see you again.',' He loved an acknowledgement of her Invi tation, and, returning to the place where he bad leaped into the river, picked up the hat he had thrown away and disappeared among the trees beyond. .Maud lad not seen him . , afterwards, for though she shortened her stay and hastened home, hoping to show her grati tude more fittingly, he never came, and now after all those months and years she was rid ing with him over that far western prairie. How often shelled thought and &carried of that proud, handsome face I and how like another dream seemed the reality I All this Maud thought as she eat there under the pale moon light. Her companion was silent ; he fancied that she needed rest and quiet after that ter rible day, and rude as his surroundings were, he was naturally kind and considerate, and let her have both ; presently he noticed that ber head drooped wearily, and, leaning forward, found that she had fallen asleep. He drew her toward him gently till hcrhead rest ed on Ills breast, then supporting her with his left arm, he congratulated himself on having made her very comfortable. On, on they sped, Gipsy's feet never halt ing, and his great strength never flagging. It was after three o'clock, when John Wingate, watchful and cautious, turned for the 'tun dreth time to discover any signs of pursuit that might appear. His heart .gave a great bound ashe discovered on the western horizon a number of dark spots, Invisible to n less practiced eye, but most surely pursuers, as he knew only too well. He turned his horn, ut tered a few warning words and then wheeled again giving him a quick encouraging pat. The sagacious animal had seen and compre hended the danger . and now actually flew over the level ground. The hunter's arm tightened involuntarily around his precious charge and the motion, slight as it was, awakened her. • " Have I slept long 1 I fear I LISNO• a iOO you," she said, drawing herself liomitib Irm that had supported her, crimson with' embar rassment. " Tired me 1 not at all ; you have • slept for more than an hour," ho answered, unwilling to let her know the . danger that menaced them. " How fast we are going ! Do you fear pur- EMU Yes, the red-skins are coming, as I feared they would." Maud shrank lt& Into the shelter she had quitted in such confusion a moment ago, and clung convulsively there. . . " Oh, they will kill us, they will kill us both 1" she cried, shivering. The bridle dropped on Gipsy's neck, while Ids master folded the frightened helpless girl in his strong arms, drawing her closer sod I closer till she could feel the beating of his great brave heart against her own. " I will save you if it Is in mortal power to do it, and whatever comes of our race for life, they shall not touch a hair of your head be fore they have taken my life." Then taking up the bridle he urged the faithful horse on to renewed efforts, while Maud, half fainting with terror, turned to see the danger that was threatening them. " They are very far away," she said, half hopefully. "They will he near enough anon," -an. swered her companion with a grist smile. " BUt if we succeed In reaching the timber be fere they overtake us we arc safe enough." "What timber ?" " Brall's woods, where you were captured You can see it in the distance. Gipsy knows a bridle path leading straight through the thickest part, which I do not think they will benble to find. If they take the usual road, - which is a round-about one and enters the forest at nearly the same place, we shall gala enough time to reach the settlement' before they overtake us." ' - " Perhaps they will not pursue us farther than the woods for fear of being capthred." "It Is not certain that they will venture very near the settlement, their horses being VOL. XXV too tired to enable them to escape should the settlers give therth chase." On they flew, the savages drawing nearer, till the fugitives could hear their tierce yells In the distance, but nearer, too, loomed the dark shadow of the timber to the eastward. Gipsy strong and willing, was straining every muscle to reach the destined shelter as if his instinct told him that the safety of his beloved master depended on his efforts. At last, at last they dashed into the dark haven of safety,and Maud looking back shuddered as she saw how near their dreaded erierniee were. The hun ter gave a triumphant shout as his horse turn ed into the narrow tangled path, known only to him. The sudden silence of the savages told the fugitives that they were discussing the propriety of further pursuit. Only for a moment, then the crackling of the bushwood proved that they had not given up the chase. "If they should take this path also," whis pered Maud breathlessly." "They will not" answered her companion, "don't you hear their yells growing fainter, they are going far to the right of us." Wingate's conjecture was correct, they were far into the open country before the Indians emerged from the woodland. Their complete silence proved how utterly discomfited and astonished they were at the headway made by their pet enemy and his companion, and after a short consultation they turned back silently and reluctantly. For a few momenta longer the hunter al owed his brave horse to dash on with unaba ed speed, then he drew' the rein in and turned him. The animal gave a triumphant snort, while his matter dismounted and threw the bridle over his arm. "You can occupy the saddle during the re mainder of our journey, Miss Radcliffe," he said, " Gipsy has dohe his duty bravely and deserves to be relieved," • throwing his arm over the arched neck of the panting foam-cov ered creature, who understanding the mute, familiar caress, :rubbed his head against his master's shoulder. find I not better walk also I" Hand asked "No, we brae still several miles to go and you will need all the strength you have left, even to ride that distance. Besides, Gipsy scarcely feels your weight." So Maud rema'ned where she was while the hunter walked by his side. The houses of the settlement were visible at last. "We shall take the settlement la our course and inform your friends of your safety, and then proceed at once to the house of your cousin, or, if you wish, you can remain at Mr. Oshorn's while I ride over." "I should like to go home to-night yet, If is not putting you to too much inconyeni- ME! " None at all, and I shall have the satisfac tion of seeing you myself safely with your natural protectors," replied . Mr. Wingate, smiling. There were lights burning In every house as they rode into the little village and halted before the house of Mr. Osborn. The hunter assisted Maud to alight and the next instant Susie Osborn ran out of the house, new up to her friend and flung her arms around her. " Ok I" she exclaimed, crying and laughing at the same time, " I am ao glad, so very glad that you are safe. Will and Charley have been ant all night and we had given up the hope of seeing you again. I was sure the ch.rw, mother, here she is I Oh I am .n gurt dear, precious darling," , giving her another hug before she released her. The whole fam ily hastened out of the louse to welcome back the lost girl. Mr. Osborn was the first one to recover his senses sufficiently to notice her deliverer. " Why, John Wingate, bless your dear, good heart I" he cried out, grasping the hand extended to him, "this is kind of you. Come in. Barry take his horse." "No, thank you, Harry," said the hunter laying his hand on the bridle, "Miss Rad cliff desires to proceed at once to Mr. Fair fax's and I shall take her there of course, if she is not too much fatigued." "Ah I" laughed the old settler, "I never knew John Wingate to do anything by halves, but from the appearance of your horse I should judge that you had come quite far enough for one night." " Oh, you will remain here, will you not ?" pleaded Susie, coaxingly, putting her arm around the waist of her friend, "No, my dear, we must go at once ; Nellie must be nearly distracted." - "At least tell us where you have been. It seems so unaccountable, and 1 shall never for give myself," said Will Osborn penitently. "Oh, there is nothing to forgive. The fault, If fault there was, attaches to myself. I should not have strayed away from you," answered Maud ; and in as few words as possi ble she told the story of her capture and escape, after which, mounted on fresh -horses, (for the settlers would not allow Lipsey to go another step) they left for Mend's temporary home. . . Confusion and despair reigned In the pion. eer's cottage, which was usually so happy, Nellie was sobbing on the lounge, while her husband was pacing the room, anxious to join in the search, yet • unable to leave hls terrified wife. In this state the sound of horses' hoofs struck on Richard's ear. He hurried to the door and the next moment the wanderers drew up before the gate. " She has come, Nellie," he cried joyously. " Oh, Richard, you would not deceive me ?" " Certainly not, my love. It is Maud her self and there is a stranger with her. John Wingate, as I live I" hastening to throw open the gate. The next instant poor little Nellie was Bobbing on the bosom of her friend, while Mr. Fairfax was persuading her com panion to remain. "I shall not let you go, John," he said; " even if you had not done us such a service I should insist on your remaining for the sake of old times.". Maud's curiosity was aroused by the words. "Did you know Mr. Wingate; Richard ?" she asked. "Yes, over since I have been out here." " And you never mentioned him." • "Oh, he had forgotten the very existence of his old friend, at least his visits have ceased entirely of late," answered the hunter. Richard's frank face took on a puzzled ex pression. " I really don't know how It came about, I did like you always and do still," he said. "Oh, I see plainly," said his friend with an expressive glance at the settler's pretty wife, who had quite recovered her equanimity,'" I have been supplanted." Nellie blushed rosily and Richard laughing in a happy, contented way, went to put up the horses. In the meantime Maud related her adventures to Nellie Who, when all bad retired for the remainder of the night, repeated them to her husband in the privacy of their own rooms with many comments of her own. ' . "We shall go to see him some time, shall we not ? It wasn't kind in you to neglect him all this time." ' " I know it wasn't ; and now go to sleep, there's a good little wife, the day is dawning already." • ' • Breakfast the next Morning was lateiand In formal enough, hut the little circle that gath ered around the table were in the beet humor, although Maud declared that it would take her several days to get goer the effects of her tom- 3 1'tbitib pulsory ride. Nellie was In her element, do log the honors of her table with a matronly dignity that was very becoming, and on the whole, Mr. Wingate thought he bad not en joyed a meal more. for many years. " You must come often, John," said Rich ard as the former was taking his leave, " we shall always be happy to see you." "Yes, I do not want to lose sight of you as suddenly and mysteriously as I did the other time," added Maud. "I am going further east, having husinens at the next fort, that ought to have been at tended to long ago ; I may atop here on my way back in a few days." " We shall cut your , acquaintance if you don't," said Nellie following her guest to .the gate, where the horse stood eager to be otr. Mr. Wingate did stop in on his way home and spent a very pleasant day with his friends. Nor was that visit his last. He was surprised to find how often business called him to the settlement and natural it was to extend his trip to the little white cottage further on. Alas for John Wingate's habitual shrewdness I He would have blushed with shame at the mere Idea of more then a friendly interest in his friend's wealthy guest; but he did not think. Once they rode over to pay him a visit, and Maud, -not terrified this time by the close pro pinquity of her copper•colorcd lover, fairly reveled among the books, and paintings of the eccentric hunter. She was deep in the mys teries of a queer old volume of• Mythology, while the rest of the party, including Mr. Wingate had gone up the ravine a short dis tance, as she thought, when a form darkened the doorway. She turned with a frightened look In her eyes, quite expecting to see the horrible well•rcmembered features of Red Feather, but instead she met those of her host, wonderfully soft and smiling. "I know who you were thinking of," he said, "I know by the loving expression of your face." Maud laughed and assured him that she had no doubt her face expressed her sentiments towards the illustrious individual who hon ored her by his preference. "By the way, I have nerve about Red Feather that will grieve you." " Ah, indeed I What is it 1" " A party of tie rodo down to the village the other day, and found that the whole tribe had removed further west." "Thank fortune!" exclaimed Maud fervent• ly. " We gained the Information from an old scout living in the neighborhood, who used to trade with them as amicably as if he had not tracked them to the death In his younger days. That reminds me—Excuse me one moment." ' The hunter hastened Into a small room at the rear where he kept his relics and other valuables, and returning in a moment, threw over the head of his guest the identical chain and cross she had given to the Indian. "My chain I" cried Maud gladly. "I never expected to see it again. What an extremely convenient man you are, Mr. Wingate.'! Mr. Wingate acknowledged the naive com pliment by a slight bow, and went on to ex plain : " Your savage admirer exchanged It for a string of beads, a wolf s-skin and a quart of fire-water—" The wretch," Interrupted Maud indig n antl v You see he believed in quantity rather observing that Red Feather had stolen or begged it of a white woman, and guessing who the owner was, I possessed myself of it and now claim the pleasure of returning It." "You are very kind, Mr. Wingate, but—" Maud blushed and hesitated, winding the chain round her slender forefinger, then hast ily taking it off she fastened it around his neck. " You will keep it as a slight token of my gratitude and esteem, will you not ?" she asked raising her eyes to his with a look in them that brought the hot blood into his dark cheeks. " If you wish it, yes," ho replied and many hanks for your esteem as well as for the beau- Uhl gift. May I never lose either." The voices of the rest of the party were heard at this moment, and Maud at once turned to her book, while her companion hid the cross in his bosom. The merry compa ny burst upon them, laden with flowers and berries. " A.h, you truants I thought we should find you here," cried Susie Osborn, who happened to be foremost, "to remain in-doors on such an afternoon, I am ashamed of you, Maud Radcliffe." " Not ashamed, only jealous, because Mr. Wingate bad the bad taste to leave her at the outset of our walk and return to the house," interrupted her brother mischievously. "I owe Miss Susie an apology. I returned with the intention of inducing her friend to join us but she had picked up a book that interested her so much that I did not succeed. Would you like to take it along to read at your leisure, Miss Radcliffe ?" " Oh, if you could let me have it, I should read it with the greatest pleasure," said Maud. "And now I dare say it is time to start," broke in practical Frank Wallace, who had only after much persuasion on the part of Susie and hie merry little wife been induced to join the party at all. "Oh, you tiresome man I" sold the former, with an impatient stamp of her foot, ".you are spoiling our fun at every turn, you haven't suggested one pleasant thing yet, to-day." "It is four o'clock, and it will take us till ten to reach home, and that is always my hour for retiring," said the Imperturbable Frank coolly. "Isn't it, Bessie?" Mrs. Bessie deigned no reply; however, Mr. Wallace carried his point. In less than half an hour the little party was mounted. The ride homeward was a very pleasant one. Maud, riding so securely by the side of her handsome escort, Will Osborn, could not hclp remembering that other ride, two months ago, when life or death depended on the . strength and speed of one noble animal. Bhe had thought of it with tears in her eyes that day, as she stole away to Gipsy's stable and pressed her soft cheek to his glossy neck. How she had wanted to show him her love and gratitude. Perhaps be had understood her wish, at least he had rubbed his smooth sensitive ears against her shoulder and looked with an almost human intelligence into her eyes. How swiftly that bright summer passed away. To Maud it seemed likeone long holi day away from the school of fashion, the tasks of metropolitan We. How calmly beautiful this western world was 1 How genial and un affected its Inhabitants I She looked forward almost with dread to too time when she must leave this new life for the monotonous routine of fashionable society, and yet that time drew nearer and nearer,till one calm September day saw her kneeling before her trunk and stow ing away the last article. Mr. and Mrs. Fair fax had gone to the settlement and would not be back before night. In a few days at the farthest, just as Boon as the trader with whom alto was to go as far as 131. Louis could get ready, she was to bid farewell to the scones that had become so dear to her. One circum stance troubled her sorely. She had notseen Mr. Wingate for nearly a month, and it was not likely that she should see him before she left, for be came seldom of , late ; he had been there but once since their visit to his cabin early In August. And now she longed to see him once more as she had never longedto see ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, MAY 3 1871. any one before. She did not question or blame herself because of this wish ; it seemed so natural that she should wish to see this man, who like an earthly Providence had twice snatched her from mortal danger, and to thank him, even though she knew' that, once under the spell of his clear, steady eyes and genial manner, she should find the task as im possible as she always had, as-impossible as he desired her to find it. Had she offended him t Kneeling there Maud tried to think of all she had said and done when she had seen him last, but she could think of nothing that could have hurt his feelings. "Dreaming, Miss Radcliffe ?" Maud started to her feet and confronted the object of her speculations. "I was thinking of you, Mr. Wingate, I am so glad to see you," she said holding out her hand with real pleasure in her dark eyes. "You are pot going away V pointing to her trunk. " Yes, in a day or two. I was afraid I should not sec you again. You are not well, Mr. Wingate," she added hastily. * The man's face had grown deathly pale and he steadied himself on the back of a chair near him. • " Excuse me. I have Wen 111 since I.,was here last, and I fear the ride has been too much for me." Ills voice was lovl but quiet and he had 'seated himself on the lounge and was resting his head on his hand. Maud poured out a glass of water and held it to his lips. He drank it eagerly. "Thank you. I feel better now. Are Mr.. and Mrs. Fairfax not at home." " No they have gone to spend the day at Mr. Wallace's and to see how soon Mr. Wilde will start for St. Louis. I shall go under his protection. " You will be glad to get back into the civil ized' world after your sojourn among us semi barbarians," said the hunter with a touch of bitterness In his voice. " No I have been very happy here, and I shall be sorry to leave you all,believe me." Ile did not reply : he only looked moodily out over the green prude with a sad faraway look in his stern eyes that brought the tears =EI "Mr. Wingate have wanted to ask you Something this long while. Will you tell IMO Perhaps so. I must know what it is " Will you tell me why you hide yourself Jere, when you might till such n high position n Society ?" " Society l" lie exclaimed bitterly " What right has a poor man to claim a place in so ciety. I hate the very word. Shall I tell you my history ?" "Yes," she answered eagerly. "Itis a very simple one. It will not take five minutes to tell. I was born in New York. My father was a wealthy man and denied me nothing. I graduated at Yale college and was about to finish my education as a lawyer with an t eminent practitioner when my father died, and died a ruined man. It was rumored that he lost his fortune at. the gaming table, but I know it was false. When I returned to my home I was almost penniless. My lather's friends closed their doors upon me. I was young and proud and hot-head od, and the slights I met stung me to the very soul. Thoroughly disgusted with everything, with no one to advise or restrain, for I was motherless from my infancy, I fled from the . . . pardonable injury, and buried myself in this newer and better world. I have been to New York only once since, five years ago. I went then at the summons of the man who had been my father 4 s partner and who was on his death-bed. Ile confessed that he had ruined my father but could make no reparation as every cent of his money had been lost in gambling. He had sent for me to crave my forgiveness without which he could not die. I gave It freely for how could I refuse It to the dying wretch Y Then I went back to my sol itude. I have no desire to leave It." " And yet you are not quite happy," Maud said, looking searchingly Into the proud gloomy face. "No one is happy who lives an unloved life." The words seemed wrung from his very heart, and his eyes studiously averted hitherto met hers, and in the fierce, yearning glance that shot from them Mend read his carefully guarded secret. " No one need live an unloved life,". she answered softly, " you, least of all men." "Be careful how you speak to me, Maud Radcliffe,.l cannot bear platitudes In my pres ent frame of mind, much less flattering." The white tenth were clenched under his heavy mustache and the look of intense suf fering on his face touched the girl as no words could have done. The next moment proud, beautiful Mend Radcliffe was on her knees at his side. . " Do you love me, John ?" she asked, her face burning With blushes. "Better than my own soul, my darling; let me call ymi that only once." "I am so glad;" was all her answer; but John Wingate read more In the arm stealing around his neck, in the soft cheek pressed against his face, than volumes could have told. He held her closely to his heart for a moment, kissedher once passionately, then lie seated her by his side aryl looked into her face. How the cold hard eyes softened and warmed as he scanned the beautiful blushing face ! " Why did you not tell are long ago that you wanted me to love you, John ?" she asked, her eyes dropping ben'eatli the earnest ness of his gaze. " I would not allow myself to think of love, ranch less speak about it. I meant to kill the love in my own heart ; that was why I stayed away from you, but I could not stay away long, I wanted to see you. Only I did not mean to betray myself. How fair you are, my darling I" putting back tho bright hair from her brow and looking into her face with wonderful boldness, now that he need not fear betraying himself. " And yet I must give you up." "Give me up I What do you mean?" Maud's brown eyes opened wide with aston ishment. "I mean that you are a beauty and an heiress, and that I am—you see what I ani." "Yes ; a brave noble man, who saved my life and has a right to claim its best love. A man whose heart any woman might be proud to win." " Thstis your Idea, Maud, 'but the world would see In me only a fortune-hunter, a mise rable adventurer." "And because it would , you wish to make us both unhappy." "Ob,my beautiful Maud, if you were only a penniless girl, how I could love you I how I could toll for you I as it Is it were better for us if wo bad never met. Our lives must sep. orate here." "This is the end then, when for five long years I hoped against hope to meet you again, searched for you brave face and strong arm in every new acquaintance, Maud answered with something like anger in her face. "As you please Mr. Wingate." "Mend, Maud you must not, shall not be angry with me, I cannot bear it." He caught her hands while a frightened look came into his fece. " You would not leave your world, and share my life in this wilderness, my dearest ?" " Certainly not, unless you wished it," answered Maud coolly, as she arose and walked towards the windott• He followed her, and stood ik perplexed Silence by her aide, looking out over the MEI " There are my cousins coming now. Yon will stay till to-morrow, 711 r. Wingate." '• Don't go back to the old, every-day life, Maud. Do you love me ? Answer me before they come,you must," as she still hesitated, half pointing. " Yes, John." "Then if you still love me In one year from to-day, will you sit down and write to me?" " What shall I write ?" " Only one word—Tome'." " And you will come at my request ?" " Yes, at once. I shall love you forever as I do now.. but I cannot tako any pledge from you until you have hod time to recon sider your choice. It was wrong In me to allow my feelings to run away with my reason. I should not have spoken, but I can not give you up now. It will be easier when you are hundreds of miles away and wish to be free. You do not wish It now ?" One long loving look from the beautiful eyes, such a look as no other man bad ever received from them, answered him. Then the settler and his wife entered the room. " You Lyre, old fellow ?" was Richard's boisterous salutation, "Bless my heart I what a charming tete-a-tete you must have bad." But shrewd little Nellie only gave a keen look at both and never said a word. She saw much more than her husband did, but she kept her own counsel. *•** * * * * " There was a sound of revelry at night." The season was near its close but the hop at the favorite hotel at Newport was well at tended, and the company was ns brilliant as any that had assembled during the summer. There was a stir near the door. Two. gentle. men, who were conversing, made way, allow ing another, evidently a stranger, to enter the romp. " Who's that, Hal ?" " The new arrival, I haven't heard his name, came only about two hours ago." ".2i. fine-looking fellow. Wonder whether he would have any objections to a talk with fellow ?" "I wouldn't advise you to question him much. lie dosen't look like one of that kind." However the first speaker gradually made his way to where the new-comer was leaning against a pillar, while his companien started off in search of a partner for the next waltz. "Fine evening, sir," said Charley Fenton, for the gentleman tvho was so desirous of making the stranger's acquaintance was no other then our old friend, Charley Fenton. The stranger's eyes came back slowly from some object at the other end of the room. "Yes sir, a very line evening," he answer- cd absputly. "I beg your pardon, you seem to be a stran, gcr here. I can introduce you to some lady if you wish to dance," persisted the officious little fellow briskly. " Thank you, Ido not dance". • " Know anybody in that group yonder? you appear to be interested." "I was admiring the lady in blue." " Nothing remarkable in that, sir, she has at least a score of admirers in this room." The stranger's eyes glittered dangerously thee AWCtlt,over the crowded root's. .only " She is very beautiful." " Yes and quite as heartless as she Is beau tiful," said Fenton bitterly, smarting at the recollection of n brief conversation he had had with that same lady a few days ago, " Ah I" the stranger's cold eyes flashed tri umphantly, and a wicked little smile played around his lips for a moment as he regarded his companion. A moment later he left the MEM! "I have something for you, Miss Radcliffe, please." Maud felt a small hand laid On her arni and looking down saw little Fanny,the landlord's daughter smiling up into her face. She kissed the child and took the folded paper she hand ed her mechanically "Thank you, Fanny,'' she said with a MEI The child dropped d demure little courtesy and was lost In the crowd. Excusing herself to her companions, Maud opened the paper carelessly. What was It that brought the blood in a crimson torrent all over the fair calm face of the belle ? Her companions could not conjecture, and these were the words Maud read : " Maud : Meet me on the southern veran dm Yours, AT TREUALL DOOR Instinctively glanced from the paper to the door, and there looking straight into her face with that sweet rare smile she remembered so well, was John Wingate, not the rude hunter of Kansas, but &gentleman elegant in appear ance and faultlessly perfect in dress. Aland gave back his smile involuntarily but before her friends had time to follow the direction of her glance he had disappeared. Only Charley Penton saw the quick interchange of intelli gence and began to see the drift of the stran ger's interest in the lady in blue. Meanwhile ou the southern veranda stood Mr.Wingatc waiting with a lover's impatience, for the appearance of his fair lady-love. A light step behind him at lengths caused him to turn quickly. Maud sprang with a glad cry into the arms opened to receive her. "At length, my darling, the long year is Past," he whispered, "and you ace true to me." " Oh, it has been such a long, long year It was cruel in you to insist on such a long probation without even writing to me once." "I was morally certain that you would for get your western lover amid the fascinations of the elegant men of your own world." " You are a miserable skeptic. and I ought to have punished you by marrying one of them." "The little fellow who made himself so agreeable to me awhile ago for Instance," said Mr. 'Wingate laughing, "I wonder who MEM " Charley Fenton, I'll warrant he is always making himself agreeable to strangers," sug gested Maud, ",and, by the way, there ho Is coming this way now for all the world as if be did not know we were here ; shall we return to the house." ****** * * • On the spot where once stood Richard Fair fax's cottage, a prosperous town has sprung up, and there, near neighbors and close friends as well as prominent citizens John Wingate and Richard Fairfax live a happy contented life, and the former still remembers, with par donable pride, how ten years ago he curried off the belle of the season at Newport and broUght her to share his life in the far west. BICE= TII F, Joint High Commission at Washington is about closing its labors. The reports con cerning their work have been so numerous and so contradictory that It rs difficult to un derstand exactly what has been done, but the Commission seems to have been quite as suc cessful as was anticipated at the outset. It Is now stated that the Commissioners aro now busy in preparing a treaty which Is to consoll date thmesults of their labors, and that this I treaty will embrace the Alabama Claims, the fishery question and the Ban Juan boundary dispute. ARGUMENT OF FRANKLIN B. GOWEN Before the Judiciary Committee of the Senate of Pennsylvania, on lielialfof the itadiroati and Mining IntereNts of l'enopiylvania, Itlarch 311, 1871. Wt., who are Pennsylvanians, have always been under the impression that our State derived great benefits from having within her borders the only accessible deposits of anthracite coal yet discovered in the United States. I have been taught to regard thi3 pos session of the vast mineral wealth as a great blessing ; but I can assure you, that in conse quence of two years of suffering under the control and mismanagement of the leaders of the Benevolent Association, I am almost tempted to doubt whether all this treasure upon which our commonwealth has so largely depended for her revenue—which has given such an unexampled Impetus to our manufac tures, and has attracted to us an aggregation of capital that has supplied employment for, and fed and clothed so large at proportion of an industrious laboring population—has not been a great evil and a great curse ; and I fear that you, gentlenlen, who haire spent so much time in an earnest endeavor to fathom the cau ses of the present unfortunate condition of affairs in the coal regions, will be willing to agree with mo in this conjecture. Our neighbors of Now York derive their prosperity from, and boast of the supremacy of commerce ; but when we recall to our minds how fleeting and evanescent has been the xeign of commercial prosperity in all the countries of the world, and remember that at the beginning of this century Salem was one of the most important ports in the United States, who can tell whether, ere the close of the century, Salem or Boston may not have regained its supremacy, or whether the Ships whose sails now whiten the bay of New York may not float upon the waters of the Dela ware, or ride at anchor in the harbor of Nor folk I' But the prosperity derived from the possession of mineral treasures is more endur ing ; and in her coal fields our own great Commonwealth has control of an unfailing source of wealth, which, if properly fostered by the State, will be far more lasting than that which depends upon the diamonds of Brazil, or is derived from the gold of California. You may be surprised to learn that the coal traffic alone has within the past ten years paid into the treasury of the State between five and six millions of dollars; and that, notwithstand ing the difficulties with which we have had to contend during the pastyear, the corporations for whom I now appear before you have paid, as taxes to the state in the year 1870, nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. Why is it that our farmers have been releived from State taxation upon their lands, the State debt has ceased to be a burden upon our population, and - the finances of the Commonwealth are in so sound a condition ? Simply because the in terests for which I appear before you—which have been stricken down by the unlawful combination of an ignorant faction, and are now struggling to be heard, in a calm, judicial investigation, against the wild clamor of the demagogue and the fanatic--have paid into the coffers of the State so large an amount of taxes that other Interests and other, industries have been relieved from the payment of any. Having called your attention to the great importance of the subject under consideration, and fully conscious that the result of your de liberations may be either to rescue these great interests from the evils that environ them, or to consign them again to the control of a ty rannical association, I now propose (because it is necessary as part of the argument I shall make in d2lence of the course pursued by the railroad companies) to give, as succinctly as I can, and with some regard to the chronology of events, a statement of the causes which have led the several corporations to adopt the course which has called forth this investiga hiteg,U3T, Rrf u seat v a legal arpment in present difficulty and preventing its recurrence le the future. It is well known that during .the late war the demand for coal was greatly increased. The navy required a large supply, and manu facturers—who are always the great consu mers—were prosperous and active ; coal-min ing became exceedingly profitable ; the coal carrying railroads all made money ; tho miners and laborers were paid high wages ; and it was no uncommon occurrence for a good miner to earn several hundred dollars a month. In consequence of this, a great impetus was given to the coal trade. New collieries were rapidly opened; new coalyegions were brought into connection with the markets by new railroads, 'which were extended into every valley that contained a deposit of coal; and the high wages earned by the miner attracted from other countries a large immigration of skilled workmen, and diverted to the business of mining many who left other trades and occupations to gather the golden harvest which was spread before them. The natural result of this was that after peace was declared, and the war demand had ceased, the produc tive capacity of the anthracite coal regions was far greater than was required to supply the consumption of coal, and the laboring population had increased so rapidly that em- ployment could not be given to all. The natural remedy for this state of things would have been enforced by the law of de mend and supply. The badly-constructed and illventilated collieries that could not pro. duce coal at the rate the public was willing to pay for it would have been abandoned, and' the better class of collieries that could have supplied the market would have continued at work and given employment to as many men as were necessary to produce the amount of coal required by the wants of the community. The surplus population that could find no employment at mining would have gone back to other occupations until the increased de mand for coal, resulting from low prices, would have called them again to the coal regions. Thus lie ear or two of low prices would have supplied the cure for all the evils that were felt at the close of the war. But about this time there came into prominence an organization which is now known as the Workingmen's Benevolent Association. Em bracing originally [leveret distinct societies in the different regions, it gradually became a united and compact organization, chartered first by the courts and subsequently by the Legislature; and by the year 1868 it embraced nearly the entire laboring population of the anthracite coal region. The object of this organization was to se cure employment for all its members, and pro. vent the reduction of wages which every other class of labor had to submit to at the close of the war. Well knowing that if all its mem bers worked a full day during the year, the production of coal would be much greater than the demand, they Insisted upon an increased rate of wages and decreased amount of work, which would enable a man to earn in six or seven months as much as had previously been earned in a year—so that the entire poulaon should receive employment without increas ing the supply of coal above the demand. As it was also well known so them that such wages could not be paid unless the price of coal was kept up to a high rate, they suspended work whenever the price reached such a sum as made it impossible for their employer to comply with their demands. We, who thought we understood something about the laws of trade, and knew that natural causes would soon bring relief, remonstrated with the leaders of this organization in vain. The law of supply and demand, and every sound maxim of trade which experience has demonstrated to be correct, were thrown to the winds ; and from the bowels of the earthl there came swarming up anew school of petit. ical economists, who professed to be able, during the leisure hours of their short working day, to regulate a great industry and restore it to vigor and health. In the Wildest flight of the imagination of the moat pretentious char latan there never was conceived such a cure for the ills with which we were afflicted as was suggested by these new doctors. In their hands, however, we were powerless and with thinl eagerness of a student, and the assur ance of a quack, they seized upon the body of a healthy trade, and have so doctored and physicked it that it is now reduced to the ghost of the shadow of an attenuation. The first dose of this new panacea was admin istered in the year 1868; and a general sus. pension of work for many weeks, resulting in advanced prices andligher wages, encouraged them to proceed with - the treatment. Again in the early partof 1869 a general suspension in the regions was inaugurated, accompanied by a demand for a rate of wages based upon the price for which coal was sold; so that as coal advanced the wages of the men were also to advance; but a minimum rate of wades was demanded, which was never dollars wer than when coal was Sold at five at Eliza. bethport i and three dollars at Port Carbon. When coal brought these prices It was pos. siblo for the coal opemtor to pay the minimum rate of wages without losing money; but as these prices were about from fifty to seventy five cents a ton higher than coal could possibly be sold for when all the regions were at work, and consequently that much higher than the public should be asked to pay for it, the ope mtors of all the regions refused to accede to the demand. After six weeks of idleness, when it was apparent that the strike in the Wyoming and Lehigh regions would be of long duration, the operators of Schuylkill county agreed to the terms demanded by the men, and commenced work at the three-dollar basis as a minimum. Both of the other regions being Idle, the price of coal :was very high at Port Carbon; and so long as the Schuylkill county operators had the entire market to them selves they could afford to pay the wages. The public, and the miners and operators of the other regions were the only sufferers. After five months of idleness in the other re gions, when the depletion of the supply bad increased prices to a high rate, and It was evi dent that Schuylkill county was taking cue. tomers away from the other districts, both the 'Lehigh and Wyoming regions resumed work —the former upon the terms demanded by the men, and the three larger companies in the latter without a basis, but at a rate of wages far greater than had been originally asked. During the few weeks of the close of the sea son of 1869, when all the regions were pro. ducing, it became evident that the price of coal could not, and ought not, be sustained at such a rate as would enable the operators !n all the coal fields to pay the wages which those of one could pay when the others were idle ; and, accordingly, in the winter of 1809-70, a now basis was asked for by the operators of Schuyl kill county, which would enable them to pro duce coal as low as $2.25 and $2.50 per ton. This was refused by the Workingmen's Be. nevolent Association, and the result was, the long strike of 1870, which kept the Schuylkill region idle for twenty weeks, Lehigh and Wy oming continued at work in 1870; and in con seqUenze of the large amount of Schuylkill coal kept out of the market, the operators of the other region realized high prices, and were able to pay the high rate of wages—the only sufferers being the public, as in 1869, and the operators, workmen, and carrying companies of the Schuylkill region. In the latter part of July, 1870, the Work ingmen's Benevolent Association agreed to a modification of. their domande ; and in the Schuylkill regions work s as resumed August 1, 1870, at what has so frequently been alluded to In the course of this investigation as the "Gowen Compromise," which, while it adopted the same rate of wages at $3 as was paid the previous year at $3, permitted the rate to decrease in the same proportion as it advanced, and established the minimum at $2; so that when coal sold for $2 at Port Carbon the workmen received thirty-three per cent. Mei; wages than when it sold forsl3 ; and when $4 per ton at Port Carbon-was reaized by the operator, the workmen got an advance of thir ty-three per cent. above what he was entitled to at $3. Under this 'new basis work was continued in Schuylkill county during the re maining five months of 1870, and the amount of coal then sent to market, in addition to what was mined in the Lehigh and Wyoming fields, was such that prices fell to $2.25 and $2.50 per ton at Port Carbon. As this " Gow en Compromise" was only to last during the season of 1870, it became necessary to adopt some season - of for 1871, and in the month of Nov ember last the regular committee of the Work ingmen's Benevolent Association and opera tors met and agreed upon a rate of wages for 1871, which Alas entirely satisfactory to both parties and which has been called the $2.50 basis.. You will remember that during the whole of 1870 the three large mining companies of the upper 'Wyoming region had been paying the exorbitant rate of wages which they agreed to, rather than submit to the claim for a basis. It must he evident to all of you, that at this rate of wages the coal of these three companies was costing them more then they could realize for it during the months of October and No vember last. Accordingly, they announced a reduction of wages to take effect on December 1 ; and though this 1'4010,10n was not greater mitsik..lllo.zuto About mit to it, and on the Ist of December, 1870, they struck and quit work. I now desire to call your particular atten tion to the fact—which is undisputed—that at this time there wqs no difficulty whatever ex isting between the Workingmen's Benevolent Association and their employers, upon the question of wages, in the Schuylkil, Lehigh or Lower Wyoming districts. • In the Schuyl. kill region the men were working under the "Gowen Compromise,"which was to continue during the year 1870, and their representa tive had agreed with their employers in re commending the adoption of the 2.50 basis for 1871. In the Lehigh and Lower Wyoming coal fields no intimation had been given by either aide of an intention to change the basis under which the men were working. Not withstanding this, however, a general suspen sion was ordered by the Workingmen's Be nevolent Association to take place on Janu ary 10, 1871, and this order was literally obeyed. The object of this suspension, as stated by the officers of the Workingmen's Benevolent Association, and published in their organ, tho Anthracite Monitor, was to deplete the market, reduce the supply, and advance the price of coal ; and there can be no doubt that it was resorted to in the first Instance to assist the men of the three large mining companies, who had been upon a strike since the lstof Decem ber, and who could not hope to hold out very long in their demands for exorbitant wages if the coal market was being supplied from other regions. I presume that the consideration to be given by these men of the three companies for this assistance was•an absolute adhesion to the Workingmen's Benevolent Association, and obedience to its demands, that no work should be done except upon the basis. Tito suepenalon, therefore, became general in all the districts on January 10th. On the 15th of February the General Council of the Work ingmen's Benevolent Association ordered a resumption of work ; but this order was ac companied by a claim in the Upper Wyoming districts for the high wages of 1870, and in the Schuylkill region It had been predded by a demand for the old $3 minimum basis. These demands were not acceded to, andthe suspen thou still continues. I have thus gone over two years of alternate suspensions and etrikCs, by which, occasion ally, the workingmen of one region would realize exorbitant wages, but always at the expense of their suffering brethren of another, who were kept In idleness by their own, actions. Out of the last twenty-two months the workingmen of Schuylkill and the upper Wyoming districts have been' idle for nine months—and thoso.of the Lehigh region have been idle for eight months—and yet, with moderate wages and low prices for coal, they could have had steady employment. Let me now ask. What bas been the effect of this control of the coal trade, so relentlessly exercised by the Workingmen's Benevolent Association during the last two years-1 mean its effects upon others than themselves —upon the operators, upon the railroad com panies, upon the coal trade, upon the iron in terests, and upon the State? Before entering, however, upon this sub ject, I desire to say a few words in behalf of the coal operators. Ido not moan in behalf of the one out of the five hundred who has appeared here as the especial champion of the workingmen, but on.behalf of the remaining four hundred and ninety-nine whom the ono referred to bas characterized, out of his choice vocabulary of abuse, as " lying thieves and scalawag operators." I will take Mr. Cen drick as an example. Ile commenced lias a laborer in the mines, became a miner, worked for twenty years as such, was made a super intendent, saved ont of his hard earnings enough to enable him to possess a colliery of his own, and now, when well advanced in life, be finds the accumulated earnings of long years of toil threatened with destruction, and himself hold up to Ignominy and reproach, because In this free country' be has had the courage to resist the fierce tide of agrarianism that has threatenedo reduce him to beggary, and to run riot with the property which his own patient industry and toil have enabled him to lay up for old age. You must remember, gentlemen, that In the effect of thesesuspensions upon the two classes of men, employer and employed, there is a wide difference. The miner or laborer, if ho does not choose to work, can pack up his ef fects and move to another locality ; but the employer Is bound to his colliery, all his prop. erty Is there invested, and upon the success of the enterprise depends not only i ts s ence but that which to some men dearer than'llfe—his character for eommercial integ rity. The miner lass no money invested in the coal business. • The operator may have twohundred thousand dollars expended at ono colliery. lie may have notes to pay and con tracts for the delivery of coal to comply with ; Oil of these be can meet If he is permitted to work his mines. employes may be anxious to work for Mut, and may be entirely - - ROBERT ER,EDF.X.T.,TR. Main anb ,ffancp 21ob 'printer, No. 008 HAMILTON STREET, - ELEOANTPRIIPTING LATIM STELES 6i t arn i Checks , Odds ws , Circulars, Paper BookA,.Cons BureloDes, Letter qv:" Mlle, Tare and Shipping Cards, Posters ozallY Ire, eto., etc., Printed at Short !Pollee NO. 18. satisfied with their wages; but the grasp:of the Workingmen's Benevolent Association is around their throats : the decree goea forth that there must be a general suspension. The poor laborer well knows the ghastly fate In store for him If ho disobeys this decree, and the result of his obedience is the ruin and dis honor of his employer. We have called many of these coal operators before you, and they have testified to the injurious effect of their continued suspensions and strikes, and have stated that if the present condition of affairs is not improved, they will be glad to sell their property at one-half or two-thirds of its cost, , and be thankful that they escape the wreck with even that little to call their own. Let me take the Reading Railroad Company as an illustration of the Injurious effect of the management of the leaders of the Working. men's Benevolent Association upon tailmad companies. We have three hundred locomo tives, twenty thousand coal cars, an extent of railroad amounting to about twelve hundred miles of single track, and a canal ono hundred and eight miles long. We employ about twelve thousand'men, and aro fully equipped and or ganized for a business of one hundred and eighty thousand tone of coal a week. When the districts which depend upon us for an outlet are all at work, they can supply us with this amount of trade it, becomes neces sary for us, therefore, to be prepared to train. sport it; and we would not be carrying out the design of our charter If we were unable to do the business which was offered. This equipment and organization, therefore, must at all times be kept up; and it is almost as expensive to us when we are doing no coal business as when we are transporting 180,000 tons a week. We cannot discharge our em ployees; the railroad track must be constantly watched, repaired and guarded; every super intendent and agent must be at his post, and receive his salary or his wages; the only men whom we can temporarily dispense with are the coal train hands. It Is greatly to our interest that the prices of coal should be low, because low prices increase consumption, and we make money more from a large tonnage than front high rates of charges. You can Judge of the effect of such a rail road company, when an imperative decree of the Workingmen's Benevolent Association suddenly deprives it of all Its coal tonnage ; when the receipts of the road from coal traffics are suddenly reduced from over a million dol lars, while the expenses remain nearly the same ; and yet to this extremity have we been reduced time and again during the last two years, and all because the Workingmen's Be nevolent Association have determined thattho public shall never purchase their fuel at less than $3 per ton at Port Carbon, or $5 per ton at Elizabetliport. Why, gentlemen, I stand here in all sincerity, speaking for the several railroad companies that I represent, to soy, that if this evil is not abated, we will be glad to have our charters forfeited and taken from us, so that our stockholders may invest their money in some other enterprise, and It some other country where the rights of property ore respected, and the citizen may appeal with confidence to the protection of the law. I trust I may not be misapprehended. I speak the language of sober truth when I say that if this state of society is continued for six months longer we will come before you as petitioners, asking you to invoice the assistance of the courts, so that we may be permitted to 'sur render our charters and obtain for our stock and bondholders the money they have invested. Then let the Workingmen's Benevolent As sociation take charge of our roads in name, as they have done in fact. Better, far better for us all, that this should come to pass, than that we should continue the farce of pretending to control our own property, while the baleful Influence of this organization is brooding like a dark shadow over the land. Let me now call your attention to the coal trade itself, and show you how injuriously It has been affected by the insane action of the workingmen. You knew that anthracite coal enterainto competition with bituminous-coal and with wood as a fuel. Whenever anthra cite can be introdeeed at a moderate price It displaces both of the other fuels for domestic purposes and is generally preferred to bitu minous for steam and for many manufacturing tutrraecq.....illrblStv~t..enl -- position. Even at a lower rate many manu facturers will discard anthracite and use bitu minous coal, if the supply of the former is con stantly interrupted, and the latter can at all times be obtained. I think I speak within bounds when I say that there are consumers now burning bituminous coal at the rate of 150,000 tons per month, who have been driven to it by the high prices and irregularity of sup ply of anthracite caused by the repeated strikes and suspension of the last two years. If you go into the steeple of Independence Hall, and look out over the city of Philadelphia, you will see the thick Mack cloud of smoke of bitumin ous coal. rising from the,stacks of many mac ufacturies at which nothing but anthracite had ever before been burned ; and if you go to the bay of New York, and look over thoshipping congregated there, you will see that hundreds of ferry.boats, steamboats and steamships,' which formerly burned anthracite, are now tiring bituminous coal. It is no exaggeration to say that in the year 1871 there will be burned at least 2,000,000 tone less of anthracite coal than would have been consumed had it not been for the the criminal folly of the managers and leaders of the Workingmen's Benevolent Association. So much for the coal trade. Now let us look at the iron trade. Within the next few years the question is to be decided whether the State of Pennsylvania is to maintain her supremacy in the iron trade; whether the val leys of the Lehigh and Schuylkill are to be the sites of furnaces and rolling mills, or whether the manufacture of iron is to be moved to the Southern States—to- Kentucky, to Tennessee, and Alabama—where vast depositsof iron ore have lately been brought to notice. I know of many instances where some ofour largest iron manufacturers have invested largo amounts of money in the iron districts of the South. If coal can be obtained at Port Car bon at from $2.25 to $2.50, and at Mauch Chunk at from $2.75 to $9, there can be no doubt that the valleys of the Schuylkill and the Lehigh will continue to be the great cen tres for the manufacture of iron. But if the policy of the Workingmen's Benevolent As sociation is to be enforced—lf coal is to be • kept at fifty 'cents a ton higher than It should be, and the regularity of the supply be con stantly interrupted by strikes and suspensions —there can be no doubt that Pennsylvania will have to bid farewell to its great iron man ufactures, and be content to see other States that are free from the tyrannhal rule of trade; . unions, prosper In an industry which, bypro per care, she could have retained 'forever for herself. A very experienced iron manufactu rer lately stated that the English iron trade required no better protection for its products in America than has been afforded by an ac.. tive co-operation of the Workingmen's Bene volent Association in Pennsylvania; and with in the last sixty days it is believed that more orders for Scotch pig iron have leftthe United - . States, than under other circumstances would have been sent in a year. Upon the general prosperity of the State the, results of the course which I have been con demning are but too apparent. Since the Ist of January wo have fallen behind last year's trade to the extend of about one and a half millions of tons of coal. , Of this two-thirds would have gone beyond the State if It had been mined, and would have been worth, at• the State line, at least four dollars a ton; ao that four millions of dollars, which in the space of three months would have been sent, into the Commonwealth by foreign consu mer% of our products, are now lost forever. . But let me call your attention to the effects of this association upon its own members. I speak now In behalf of the rightaof labor—not of the rights of the sleek, well-fed and well dressed leaders of the organization thatyou see around us here, but of the thirty thousand suf fering men who are anxiously awaiting the decree of their society to know whether they, have a right to make use of their hands to la bor for the support of their families. Capital has its right—property is entitled to the pro-. tection oLthe law ; but higher and dearer than the rights of capital, or the claims of property, Is the right of the laboring man—condenined to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow— to make use of the strength which God has given hint, without hinderanco or-molestation • from any one. But do these men possess this right, or, rather, dare they exercise it ? Is it not a notorious fact, that the decrees of a tri bunal called the General Council of the Work ingmen's Benevolent Association have con. deumed to idleness thousands of. men who were, entirely raddled with their wages, and who would now gladly return to work if they felt certain that the State to which they owe allegiance had the power to protect them from outrage ? Will the leaders of the Workingmen's Benevolent Association agree that the question of resuming work at the 42.50 basis may be submitted directly to the men, to be voted upon. by secret ballot t If they will, I can venture to prcdlet that eight out of ten would gladly eta-. brace the opportunity of going to work. (CONTINUED ON BEOOND PAM) , ILLENTOWN,PA NSW DESIGNS
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