fBEELMD TRIBOIE.j KSTAIILISIIEI) 1888. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY, BY THE TRIBUNE FEINTING COMPANY, Limited OFFICE; MAIN STREET ABOVE CEHTRS. LOHO DISTANCE TELEPHONE. SUBSCRIPTION KATES FREELAND.—rhoTRIBUNE isdelivered by earriors to subscribers in Freeland at the rats of 12hj cents per month, payable every two months, or $1.60 a year, payable in advance. The TRIBUNE may be ordered diroctform th, carriers or from tho office. Complaints of Irregular or tardy delivery servico will re. oeive prompt attention. BY MAIL —Tho TIHBUNB is sent to out-of. town subscribers for $1.60 a year, payablo in advance; pro rata torms for shorter periods. The date when the subscription expires is on the address label of each paper. Prompt re newals mast he made at the expiration, other- Wise the subscription will bo disoontlnued. Entered at tho Postofflce at Freeland. Pa* as Second-Class Matter. Make all money orders, cbeoke. payable to the Tribune J'rinting Company, Limited. Out of the 12,000,000 American fam ilies the income of 4,000,000 of these families is less than S4OO each per year, and the Incomes oi nearly eighty per cent, of tho entire number arc loss than SIOOO each per year. It is stated that 30,872 persons per ished at the hands of homicides in the United States during the five years ending with 1900. The figures of pun ishment for the crime are not made up, but are known to be startiugly small. A Kansas young man wbo is teach ing in the Philippines, writes home: "The children have learned to read and write from the first reader, and are better students than the American children. They memorize everything. The English spelling is 'much liiolo.' They don't sabe anal 'e' or 'ough,' 'tion,' 'siou,' etc. The natives are friendly and hospitab.e. Their dress is simple and brief. They have solved the problem of comfort. The liombres wear their only upper garment flap ping in the breeze. Senoritas' clothes are decollete at both ends, but withal they are becoming and sensible. The ■jlioes are always left at the door, and the stockings are left at home." t" •' - i. . In the International Monthly Pro fessor Slioler, the Harvard geologist, has disclosed his views about gold production. He estimates that on ac count of improved machinery and pro cesses it costs now about a third as much to get gold out of lodes aud veins as it did in IS3O. This cheapen ing of production makes it profitable to work pretty poor veins, and he guesses that within twenty years that source alone may yield §500,000,000 a year. But the chief gain Is to come from placer mining, which means get ting the gold out of accumulations of detritus made by the decay of gold hearing rocks. The use of dredges iu handling pay dirt of this sort, and the cheapening of other processes, have made so much difference that Dr. Shaler thinks that within twenty years this sort of mining alone is likely to yield as much gold as all tho mines yield now. In 1899 the earth produced gold valued at $307,000,000, so that Dr. Shaler seems to think that by 1020 the annual production may be SSO3,- 000,000, states E. S. Martin, iu Har per's Weekly. V' A Fable and a Moral* There was onec a Man who was con sidered by his Acquaintances to he ex ceedingly Well-informed upon all Matters of a General lutercst. When ever, therefore, a Dispute arose con cerning the Accuracy of a Statement about a Public Occurrence the Disput ants would request this Mail to Settle tile Difference which exisled between Them. When He lind Rendered his Decision, after the Manner of an Ora cle, it was Accepted as a Verdict from which no Appeal could he Made. And f the Fame of this Man grew exceeding Great, and He soon had no other Occu pation hut that of Arbitrating Disputes over Matters of a Public Nature and of General Interest. One day He was asked by an Inquisitive Person where He had Acquired His Universal Knowl edge which had made Him such an In dividual of Note. While a Significant Smile Hovered around His Intelligent Countenance He spake these Words: "Why, my dear Fellow, I Assiduously Devour every line in My Local Paper, which is a Greater Source of Accurate Information than the most Stupen dous Enclycopedia which was over is sued as a Substitute for a College Ed ucation." Whereupon the Questioner went his Way a Wiser Being. One of the newest things In the way of foods is fish powder, which, it is claimed, is a highly nutritious article, easy o r digestion, and. therefore, par ticularly -aitable for invalids. It is intended, oowever. tor ordinary house hold use. Monte Carlo has a special ceme tery for gambling victims who commit suicide. Since 1860 over 2.000 graves have been dug there. EVERY DAY IS THE BEST DAY. 6ome skiea may be gloomy, The calendar sparklet Some momenta be sad, With days that have brought But everywhere, always, 6ome prize that was longed for, Some souls must be glad; Some good that was sought; For true is the saving High deeds happen daily, Proclaimed by the seer— Wide truths grow more clear— "Each day is the best day "Each day is the best day Of somebody's year!'' Of somebody's year!" Each day finds a hero. No sun ever rises Each day helps a saint, But brings joy behind; Each day brings to some one No sorrow in fetters A joy without taint; The whole earth can bind; Though it may not be my turn How selfish our fretting, Or yours that is near— How narrow our fear— "Each day is the best day "Each day is the best day Of somebody's year!' > Of somebody's year! —Priscilla Leonard, in Pittsburg Methodist Recorder. IT was long after John Rice Jones was commissary general at Vin cennes; long after Pierre Gamelin was commander there, but still all of sixty or seventy years ago that "Tom" McKinney rode the Southern Illinois and Indiana trails, and, hav ing evil Intent in his mind, came to where Life and Death meet and turned not back. It might have gone different with "Tom" McKinney if he had chos en not to kill his enemy, but the blood wrath was on him and ho was strong In his own courage, and what mattered a life when the law was young and a summer's wind would obliterate a trail. So "Tom" McKinney left a stark form and cold face looking up to the skies and rode away. So, too, we all riding to the Darkness by right or wrong. The men of the early days on tlis Wabash, Bon Pas, White, Little Wa bash and other South streams were big of boue and muscle, bard lu their passions, drunk with the license of be ing masters of a virgin soil, an un touched forest, an uugoverned laud. The Pottawattamles fled before them. Their place was taken by settlers, and some of these were strong and brave, and many were weak and cowed. "Tom" McKinney rode among J Vy ■■■■ '4 fS'br'* JV. > & .Ai* /' A COLD FACE LOOKING UP TO THE SKIES. them and worked liis will, just ns "An dy" Graham did aud "Gentleman Dave" Walker. "Andy" rode his gray mare. Twilight, and, drunk ns the mas ter might be, she never swerved from under him when carrying him over the hills to his home. There a pale-faced woman led the master to his bed and stalled the beautiful mare, and sighed, for she too was going her way and no hand reached out to turn her back. Wild, almost heroic desperadoes were these men of the beginning days, and none more bold than "Tom" Mc- Kinney. His people were scattered all over the Wabash country. Some toiled, some were shiftless, but none as dar- ; ing or law-defying as be. He knew j the run of the bottom lands, the ways i of the twisting streams, the hidden hollow, the densest timber growths. ' and there were men here and women there to keep bis hiding secret. Yet when he killed his enemy the law > found him and he was brought into j old Vincennes, where lie laughed at ' the courts and the people, and h? was ; tried and sentenced to be hanged in | the public square—by the nock until I he was dead. *•*** • I "Tom" McKinney did not believe that lie was to die until almost the last moment. The word went out to all the settlements that hang lie must, and the settlers made great prepara tions to attend. Ilis name had been a terror to them, and now they would be with him where they might laugh at his terror and be secure from his wrath. Down to Shawneetown. over to Albion, south to Mount Carniel, east to the Muscakituk, traveled the mes sage; r "There's to be a hanging' at Vin cennes. 'Tom' McKinney's goln' to be strung up." Forty miles west of Vincennes, old man McKinney, father of "Tom," re ceived the news that bis boy had final ly been convicted of murder and must suffer the extreme penalty of the law. Tile old man was plowing in the fields with his oxen when he learned of this, lie held the beasts in the furrow for an instant while he listened, and then without a comment said: "Get up, Buck." He had no particular reason to feel for "Tom." The boy had been wild from ills first days. Highway robbery, pillage, murder, had all been charged to his account before, and the father had wondered often, dumbly, what the end would be. Now it was in sight. "And," said the talebearer, " 'Tom's' in the jail now, but when they put tlie rope on him he'll be out in the open, and they're going to have a jollifica tion in Vincennes. They tells me when I was there that the doctors are all after 'Tom's' body and that when they're sure he's dead they're going to take it and cut it up, so as to see what made him so powerful strong." "They be?" askeii eld man McKin ney. "Yes. The Sheriff has said they | might have 'Tom,' ami ho won't get ' any coffin nor n grave." "I'll bo blamed," said the old man, and still hold the oxen to the furrow. The next day lie was back in the field and the next, and each day was one nearer to "Tom's" end. * * o • • An ox couUl not travel fast in those days. The roads were only partially broken trails and if the rains were on i almost impassable. The yellow clay of that land makes a fine bottom In the dry season, but when it is wet it is deadly to progress. Old man McKin ney sat by his cabin door and calcu j lated the forty miles to Vincennes and j (lie number of days it would take i his oxen to make the journey. He wrinkled his brow many times, but at ' last lie was satisfied. The next morn ing lie yoked his beasts to a rude j wagon, climbed in, laid ids rifle across : ids knees and took the Vincennes trail. | lie figured he should reach there In three days, and if this proved true he ; would arrive on the day of "Tom's" I deatli and several hours before his ex ecution. That was all he wished to do. Over in Vincennes no one expected :, any member of the JlcKinney family 1 : to bo present. The people were poor, ' j far removed, and "Tom" had chosen , j ids own way. The scaffold rose in • | the square, unprotected by barricade, i ] The night before tiie hanging the ox I ! teams from the settlement began lo i come in. The wagons were ranged i j about the scaffold, and there the oat ■ | tie fed. while the men lingered in the : | taverns, drinking and smoking and ; llstcnlm: to ninny a tale of what Me | Kinney Lad been when be was free. Women came with their husbands and little children, and the one topic of conversation was the coming death. "I'll bet," said one, " 'Tom's' wishing now he had his mare, a gun and an open road." "Gosh, no," said another. "He's playing pitch and wishing his jig was done. He ain't no coward, 'Tom' ain't." The morning came and the stirring of the town. The cattle were fed in tho shadow of the scaffold, while the Sheriff joked with his prisoner and told him he would make "things as easy" as possible. By 10 o'clock the crowd was thronging the snuare and jostling up to the edge of the scaffold, fixing many a curious eye on the dangling rope. On the west bank of the Wabash appealed a dusty, foot-sore ox team that slowly made its way across by ferry and then lumbered up the street to the scaffold. A griin-i'aced old man sat on the wagon seat, and a rifle lay across his knees. (Some in the crowd knew him. They called out: "It's 'Tom's' father." The people made way for the old man and oxen to draw near to the scaffold, but McKinney did not stop there. He kept on until he was di rectly under the structure, and there he sat looking toward the jail. Then the doors opened and "Tom" came out, tall, rugged, handsome, fearless. Ills throat was bare, his arms bound, lie held his head high among his guards, and laughed at the people's faces. Tito eyes of father and son met. "How, pa," said "Tom." "How, 'Tom,'" said the old oan. ****** * Standing under the noose, having one moment of life left, "Tom" Mc- Kinney began to sing: "When shall I see Jesus, And reign with Him above?" Vje old man's voice, dry with dust, broke in: "Mighty soon, 'Tom,' if ever." A second of silence and the drop fell, McKiuuey's body shooting down almost in front of his father's face. The old man sat there lingering his rifle and looking at the doctors crowd ing about. They, too, noticed his ner vous shifting of his weapon. When they pronounced "Tom" dead, they drew back. The Sheriff cut the body down and it fell in the dust. Old man McKinney was off the wagon instunt ly, and had lifted his dead son high in the air and stretched him out in the wagon. Then holding his rifle again aud looking towurd the doctors that had counted on having the body, he said: "This is my meat. Get up, Buck." And across the Wabash passed father and son to be seen no more.—H. I. Cleveland, in the Chicago Iteeord-ller ald. A Fatal Meal. "Saw a curious thing in California Inst winter," said the man who trav els about. "I had stopped for a mo ment to chnt with n man who was plowing, when he called ny attention to a large centipede that he had just plowed up. " 'Come along with me a few feet,' said he, 'and let's see what those crows will do when they find it.' "There were several large carrion crows that had been following the farmer and picking up the insects that were turned up, aud they were now a few feet away, waiting for the plow to start again. "We went on a few feet nnd tho crows followed. One big, blnck fellow soon saw the centipede and swallowed him at one gulp. Then, in the ex pressive slang of the day, there was something doing in the neighborhood of that crow. With a caw of despair he mounted into the air for perhaps 100 feet, then fell heels over head un til he was a few feet from the ground. Then he managed to catch himself and flew upward again and away for the hills, cawing wildly. Ho had not gone more than 300 feet, when he lost all control of himself, and fell like a shot lo the ground. We went over to where he had fallen, and found him on his back with his feet in the air, stone dead. "In away I know how that crow felt when lie awoke to the situation. I hadn't forgotten my first spoonful of tobasco sauce that a joking friend once talked me into swallowing."—De troit Free Press. Ijuuer FUlituff. An English writer tells tills story: "While walking along the banks of the Wlske, accompanied by two fox terriers, 1 observed some large pike basking In a shallow pool. At the same moment a young cart horse that had got tile wrong side of the stream attracted my notice. It occurred to me if the beast would only jump on top of the iisli I might secure them while stunned by the shock. Accordingly, helped by the dogs, 1 drove the horse to the bank, cracked the dog whip which I carried, and the animal jumped, eager to return to its own Held. When the mud cleared off the stream two large pike floated to the surface stunned. They were out of reach, but I called tho dogs' attention to them, and one of them plunged In and re trieved a four-pound pike.getting well | bitten in tho process as the tish re j vlvcd. The other pike recovered and , swam away before the dog could reach | it."—Chicago News. ! Three llHtn'olltfheri Facts. There are three business facts which may be regarded as established—that 'there is uo worthy article at a reasoii | able price which cannot be sold by the ! right kind of advertising; that the j newspaper which has a large clrcula ! tion is the best medium of publicity, and that an advertisement which is specific and which quotes prices is the | most effective. I <& F* 1 [EEMIK] vf| v* [T/t [g_j Died a Hero's Death. HUGIIEY O'NEILL, of Tellu ride, died a hero. O'Neill was a simple-hearted Irishman, <; who worked in the Smuggler- Lniou mine. He was employed as en gineer of the bolster. He could attach no blame to himself for the tire that cost the lives of so many men, and was imperilling many others, but his heart ached for those who were per haps struggling with denth down in the blackness of the ninth level. There was another tiling that appealed to him. The solemn Avails of the wife, the sister and the children that broke tile still night air. He ran about and asked If anything was being done—could anything be done? All gave him the same reply. Death lurked in the ninth level, he was told. What was the use of adding to the death list? lie knew the chances were against him. But there was a bore possibility that lie might at least help. Me would go down In the cage to the ninth level. He made known his in tention to Engineer Cogar. That man, an old miner inured to the dangers of mines, told liim not to go to certain death. Enough brave men had al ready fought against the inevitable, lie begged him to desist, for the sake of those near aud dear to him. But uo oue was so near and dear to Ilughey O'Neill that he could contemplate the wretchedness of the women und chil dren whose wails haunted him. The argument of the engineer did not Im press him. What he wanted to know was if there was a bare possibility that his visit to the ninth level would save the life of at least one man. The engineer was forced to admit that there was a possibility. O'Neill hesitated no longer. He said in his brusque way: "Let me down." lie stepped into the cage iu which many a morn, rosy-tipped with the ris ing sun, lie had gone down with his drills about him and refreshed by tired nature's sweet restorer, was at peace with the world. The engineer before tile cage went down had an under standing with O'Neill that if no signal was given within two minutes after the nintli level Was reached, the cage was to be hoisted. "Ready!" said O'Neill In a voice that showed no sign of fear. "Swish," sounded the great wheel ns it turned, and down the cage started slowly, and then more rapidly. O'Neill disappeared into the darkness and smoke. As the daylight went out of his -sight bis deatliknell was sounded. Tile engineer watched the gauge. Down went the cage, bumping aud butting the black bole as it descended. At last tlie ninth level is reached. Engineer Cogar holds ids wntcb ner vously. He sees the minute baud go round. Two minutes never seemed so long before. No signal. Another few seconds pass and no signal. He Is sure lie has made no mistake. Again "swish" goes the engine wheel and the cnge starts back. Men lean over the black bole of death and look, look, look for the first sign of the cage. Is O'Neill in the cage or has he been suf focated, and Is lie lying gasping in the throes of deatli on the fatal level? The cage now nears the surface. It con tains a man—id least one man. There are two. One is Ilughey O'Neill and tile other tlie body of a victim of the poison iu tlie ninth level. "Hugliey!" shouts the engineer. There is no answer. The liero of the Telluride disaster is nnconscious. But be has found and brought up with him a man whose body is still warm and from whom the last spark of life lias not gone out. It is Joe Nelson, the husband of oue of tlie won',en whose cries had moved him to the poiut of Ills terrible work of rescue. Nelson never saw of day. lie expired soon after reaching the surface. O'Neill had done all that n human could do to save the life of one of his fellow men. The effort failed, but tlie deed was there—a deed which will stand out in the record of man's humanity to man as long as brave hearts beat and unselfishness lives. When O'Neill was taken out of the cage bo was limp and unconscious. He never regained consciousness sufficient to tell his story. Tlie supposition Is lliat when he reached tlie ninth level lie groped about in the darkness until lie found tlie body of Nelson, and then, himself at the point of death, lie dragged the dying •nan to tlie cage and got in with him. Falling unconscious when ids task was done, he could not give the promised signal. The poisonous vapors had al ready penetrated ills system nuil tlie pallor of death was upon him when he reached the sunlight. All efforts to save him, and they were all that mind and heart could de vise. failed, and on the following day he died.—Denver Times. A Voting; I'rotfctor. During the Franco-Prussian War Sir Edward Mnlft was one of the secre taries of the British Embassy at Paris. Many persons, during tlie dreadful days of the Cointuuue, canto to him for help. One day a little boy ap peared. He seemed to lie about eight years old, and bad large black eyes and rather a wistful, woru expression. He used careful and deliberate phrases, such as might come from a man rather than from a child. "If you please, sir," said he, "my mother and I are in great trouble. The shells have struck many of the houses In our neighborhood, and I am very anxious to move iny mother farther in town, but we have no money, and we cannot leave without paying our vent." I mentally began to button up my trousers pocket. "Has your mother no friends in Paris!" I asked. "No, sir. We live by ourselves. I do not think she has any friends she could ask to help her." "How much do you want?" "Five hundred francs, if you please, sir." I fastened another button, but he continued quietly: "Of course, sir, I feel that lam ask- / ing a very great kindness of you, but I will pay you back as soon as the post J comes." It is true that numberless persons J were stranded because remittances could not be sent. Banks were closed, J and those who had no ready money j by them when the trouble began were in great straits. Still I had no mind 1 to risk 500 francs on the word of a child. "Why didn't your mother come, her self?" I asked, helplessly. "I don't think she thought of it, sir." he said. "She doesn't know that I have come." The buttons all unfastened them selves. I gave him the money. "Thank you, sir," said he, quietly, and left the room. I knew I had seen the last of those 500 francs. About a week after the Commune was over my little boy suddenly ap peared before me. "I am glad to see you," I said. "How Is your mother?" "It has been a most anxious time for us," he answered. "I brought my mother down to an apartment in the -- Champs Elj-sees, but when the lighting began it was worse than where we were before. " "Well," said I, "it's all over now." "Yes, sir; but my mother's nerves have been greatly shattered. I have decided to move her to Wiesbaden. I have made all the necessary arrange ments, and we shall go to-morrow evening. I should have come to you directly, but our first letters only reached us yesterday, and then I had to go to the bank to get change." With that he pulled out a little pock etbook, and took from it five 100-frane notes. "My mother and I are very much obliged to you," he said. "Good-by, sir! Thank you very much!" And he was gone. Bravery of Private Jones. Private William It. Jones of the Hos pital Corps of the Army called at the War Department and was personally commended by Major J. V. It. lloff, of the Surgeon-General's office for the u energy and bravery displayed by him j in this city a few days ago. Jones was in charge of six insane soldiers who were being taken in an ambulance from the Baltimore and Ohio station to the Government Hospi tal for the Insane. When the vehicle reached the corner of First and B streets the horses took fright and get ting hevond control of the driver, dashed madly over the plaza 011 the east front of the Capitol. Jones jumped out of the ambulance and run ning to the head of the team caught the bit of the off horse and by great strength and dexterity threw the strug gling animals to the ground. This closed their wild flight and saved the occupants of the vehicle from almost certain death, as the horses were about to turn down the steep bill of the Capitol grounds. The horses were badly cut, and the pole of the wagon broke, but fortunately none of the occupants was injured. Private Jones has only recently re turned from service in the Philippines, 1 and Is under orders to go to the artil lery post at Fort Monroe. * He has made application to be assigned to duty at Ft. McHenry, Md., near where his parents reside, and it is expected his application will be granted.—Wash ington Star. A Close Call. It was on goiug down to camp one evening to fetch water tlmt I had the narrowest shave I have bad iu the campaign. I went rather too early in the twilight, and found the bullets kicking up the ground all about the scattered tents and kit. I went on toward the vlei just below, with the camp kettle in my.hand. The Boers must have caught sight of me, for suddenly about a dozen bullets struck the ground, none of them more than a few inches i'-oin my feet. It felt as . if the bullets trt.d to get as near as " possible without hilling me, and sev eral went singing past my head. Here clearly was a ease for wisdom, for to have stayed there would have beeu to commit suicide; tliey bad got my range, and were missing me by inches only. I therefore cleared off at the double to two wagons covered with, sail cloth, the bullets singing past me as I went. However, the Boers had seen this move, too, and a dozen or more bullets came tearing through the canvas; so, as I was not goiug to be shot like a rabbit in a bole, I retreated, iu haste the way I had come, the chirp, cliirp still continuing unpleasantly , close to my head. I tilled my kettle ! from a bucket iu the officers' mess, which wits well under cover, and came up to camp with it unnoticed by the "snipers" in other directions.—Cham bers' Journal. The largest sugar plant in the world , hns just been prospected in Cuba, to J produce 20.000 tons of sugar a season. The plantation takes in 17,000 acre*.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers