Evening Star Newspaper, July 16, 1898, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 16, 1898-24 PAGES. et ce ee RASA e BULLDOG (Copyright, 1898, the miles from Dan Stuart’s whisky nd 3ighteen from Golden, the Mis- ail took a sudden kink In Its flesh- colored ribbon and wound around the butt of a big fir stump. amp a man was kneeling September day — all among the tawny gold and crimson of the dead rose lea and the soft gray and crzam of the bleached bunch grass. hf have been praying, so quietly ¢ kneeling there, but he wasn’t—he was b eming softly to himsalf, as his + 4mpat e wandered In and out among | the t and trées that fringed the | trail, | The morning sun picked out ttle bright Jewe! spots, on the instrument h2 had | leveled across the top of the big stump. He a surveyor taking levels. ree m:n riding bronchos came at a sudden turn in the trail, he nis head to the level of the instru- ad looked carefully along its smooth length The coming along at a heads on a level with | 2 ‘ous tightening | oft ight hand grasping the instrument; | & sharp click close to it; a puff of smok>| followed by a sharp crack, and the man ing the second broncho tumbled from the idle, shot through the heart. He rolled fell, and the bright blots of over the rose laves by the trail. yuse startled out of his sleepy report and flash, reared and diy forward. As he took the the air a bullet glanced from rn in front of the man and went corkscrew way through the aps of the big Mexican saddle. led and dug the spurs in the flanks of the horse as he felt the orching {ts way close to his skin. bad shot!” the man behind the ke@ out between his square jaws, ped the lever of his repeater for- back. he had meant well, but the cay- ng had diverted the bullet from its 1 way. 1 broncho and its rider were mak- ne in the other direction. The after them did not increase any, for they were doing their over as h nim-I the dead man had ridden did He stood beside the fallen flg- ing with dumb patience for his rise and mount again. i ne empty shell from ths breech of his rifle, the man who had fired the shots walked leisurely over to the fig- wre lying on the ground. “Weil, Jack, old man.” he sald, address- ing the hors, “you're a damned sight hon- ester than your master. If he'd stuck to bis pals as close as you're doing he'd be ready for grub-pile at noon instead of bleaching out here. “And I guess he cached the ‘stuff’ in this Dig apperajos, too,” h3 added, shoving his hand down in the ample, bag-like aiate. Yes, it wes there right enough; a whole bag full of .t. Forty-four hundred dollars, as was found out afterwards. Then he turned his attention to the man tying on his back, with the great ragged gash in his chest where the encircling uillet had plunged through. pard, you've thrown down your te for the jast time. Whisky arinkin’ is Searcasues . but whisky tradin’ is away 3,’ to jedge by this wad." And he Bandled the bag of money lovingly. “You might a-known better than to throw me down,” he added, reproachfully, as though he were trying to throw the blame! of the murder upon the man himself. : on now, Jack, I'l use you for a and he leisurely threw his leg over ase and disappeared down the Mis- 1 of the trail. gone far before he turned ft up a dry wai course. he stopped, and, dismounting, pro- ceeted to wrap some old bags he pulled out m behind a rock about the feet of 2. @ a tenderfoot, Jack: you've hit 1 so often that you're @ dit sore in * he remarked, in a dry mono- worked at the bags. Then he mounted again, and went across beset for about three miles, until he truck the big cedar swamp which runs for Miles and miles from Golden. As he rode along he let his thoughts work thems: es out in words, firing them at “Jack,” and puhctuating them with swing- ings digs from the big spurs which hung father loosely on his rather high-heeled boots. “They'll think that the prospector who laid your old man out has hit the trail for issoula and Mt out. “They'll pick up tracks there, all right @nough, but they ain't yourn, Jack. “Let me see,” he added, pulling a watch from his pocket; “Whisky Saunders took ‘hat bad spell about 10 o'clock. The jay on the cayuse will strike Golden about noon. Old Steel ané his Jim-Dandies will pull out E half an hur, and pick up your tracks eadin’ for Missoula about 3. “There'll be @ hell of a row, and they'll some poor di mop ee vil before night. They one but me.” heared the edge of the “Big a horse neighed a short distance ss Blazes sm Is you, Jack,” he ‘He thinks we've ob. he said, as he ng out here until e over you tonight. When it’s time.” ed Blazer and rode in a ing the cedar swamp, and Hon the mountain side on his way back to Golden. ford It was dark when he got to the cking Horse river, just opposite Half-way across he took a care- pull to one letting Blazer feel his : Stopping the horse, bis Winchester and threw {t far oat othe Peper side of the ford; that is, he took = » but the loose end of his ne gaught in the breech and the e splashing down at Blazer's hoo ‘A damned bad throw.” he said. SS then he chuckled softly to himsdif. Suess this outft’ll cut loose better!” and he Sommenced firing 38.55 cartridges far out m Ki ato the stream with vigoroui ngs > = iS Swi is “That's a cinch,” he grunted, -. “ft wish the gun laid as de. Dut it’s bad fishing now 4 md Ds , an’ Won't find it anyway.” Sens When Blazer's hoofs found of the water and st lost the muftied Tuck with a sharp Zing on the smooth-worn ston, i es on thes Golden = of the Kicking Horse, the rider ye his ion, legs a hitchin rue broke into a lope. = *Wing and the occa we ov Cen waena the night before the day th, uggler lay out on the Missowne . Stark and stiff, with his red Ufeblood plashed all over the tawny mat of aried eaves and withered rosebushes, and a cung English girl stood in Aryil Santley’s or quarters, not very sumptuous were they either, shewing much isrule and absence of order. Santley was astonished and said so, hich was quite right, for he had not sce race—Grace Aiton—since he had left En- @and. “I'm glad to see you, Grace,” hi but you shouldn't have come hero all tes me. You always had sense, but this is riy fool:sh.” “That doesn’t matter in the slightest, nd, besides (with a fine touch of womanly consistency), no one saw me coming here the friend who ts waiting outside; t's bone of thelr affairs if they did.” Dns expected of me,” he asked, iy. “You're wanted at home, your mother ts you.” suppese I ought to go, but I'm not all the same,” he added, taking a breath as though the words scorched throat a little you must go Arvil, I want you to ‘This life is not the life for you. Your » > WONOWDIOIONE y Ksekse) ————_ , WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY W. A. FRASER, ESET ES ESTES ESCH ESOSESOSES ENED | called oa a NOWOWT OWE WOW 4 hoe Moe k se? Gerseise) ek CARNEY, S. S. MeClure Co.) mother sent this money to you to take you back to Rer, so you must go now.” He stooped his tall, magnificent figure toward her a Iitte that she might see bet- ter, and with his hand parted the heavy black hair which swept across his broad forehead in iuxuriant abandon. Do you see that big red scar?” he asked; Well, if 1 were back there my mother would put her hand upon my forehead, so, as she did when I was a little boy, and when that ugly scar met her gentle eyes, she would ask how came it there. I could rot tell her, neither could I lie to her. And it is that way with all the scars, both on mind and body, they are too deep—I can- not go back. “Arvil, I do not belleve that. You were good when we were together as children in England, and you are good now in spite of | all you say, and you will go back. I prom- ised your mother that I would find you here and tell you that she wanted to see you before she died. Father was coming here for a few days to look at his mines, and then we go on to the coast.” “You need not come back with me to the hotel. [ have a good guide with me, the friend who got her to come with me her Mammy Nolan: I know that you will go back, for you've promised me, and you never broke a promise to me yet,” she said, as she slipped quietly out of the door. A little roll of bills was lying on the table where she had left it. . . . . . . * It lacked half an hour of 12 o'clock when a French half-bred, Baptiste Gabrielle, galloped into the square of the police bar- tacks at Golden on a cayuse reeking with the wet which is from the inside. The con- rtable on guard, pacing solemnly up and the dead body lying out on the silent trod! so stiff and cold, with the glazed eyes star- ing straight up into the mountain bine of the smiling sky, and the hurrying of men in brown jackets and dark, tight-fitting, yellow-striped pants, as they saddled and bitted the strong-limbed bay horses which were to gallop and gallop after—the wind. -Sergeant Hetherington and his merry men picked up the tracks the tall man told Blazes they would find, and followed them for many a goodly mile, which time there- of the tall man with the long neck was working his way along the mountain side to the ford. Many» miles beyond Dan Short’s place the tracks vanished. Per- haps some one eise had put bags on his horse's fest and led him across country. “Corporal” Ball was the official recog- nition of Mr. Ball's efficiency, but ‘“‘Lanky” Ball was the godless form ‘of expression his lathelike superstructure provoked among the fellows: “Lanky” Ball was more fortunate than the serg>ant; he discovered something. Twenty-four hours after he started out he discovered that he tould not find the man with the neck like an eagle—Arvil Santley—therefore he had disappeared—had it out—had hit the trail——had packed his outfit and dusted; these were the bits of lccal-colored knowledge ‘he picked up. It was from Mammy Nolan, who kept a restaurant in a big tent and sold whisky on the side, that he found out about Sant- ley. “He lit out south yesterday,” she said. “He got steered up agen a skin game tp to Dan Short’s, an’ they corraled his jast remittance from home. It’s about time he did get out, for they had him stone broke, But he was a gentleman, all the same,” said mammy, as she stood, with her hands on her fat hips and looked up and down the corporal’s ungainly fig- ure. “What did you want him-for? Has he been cracking some of the constables’ heads? He'd do it quick enough for them if they bothered him.” “I guess he’s done worse than that,” said the corporal, as he mounted his horse and rode away. - “Looks as though he'd done the trick,” said the major, when Corporal Ball made his report. “He's got a good start, and will Hkely head for the second crossing op the Colum- bia and work his way down into Mortana. There's a rough town at the crossing, and he’s dead sure to head for that.” And then because the sergeant was away with two men, and because the whisky men and the gamolers, and those who were cussed simply because they couldn’t help it, needed much guidance in their daily life and because the post was always short of men anyway, the major had to put a spe- cial constable on with Lanky Bail to go after Stanley. “You'll need a good man, a rusiler, to help you take this Englishman, for he’s a THE MAN TUMBLED FROM THE SADDLE. down Mm front of the major’s quarters, thought the fanatical looking rider was drunk or running amuck, and swore that he would put a hole in him unless he stopped. But Baptiste wasn’t drunk—he was only badly frightened. If there is any difference between a drunken man and a frightened half-bred, it is in favor of the former as far as coherence is concerned. Baptiste was a weird-looking object as he slid from the back of the jaded beast, standing -here with all four legs braced like the posts of a sawhorse in sheer weakness, and flanks pumping in half spasmodic strokes as the wide open nostrils clutched at the air the lungs were clamoring for. “By Goss! that fell’ Whisk’ Sand’son, he get keel,” panted Baptiste, with a face the color of a lemon in a bottle of alcohol. “By tam! a fell’ wit’ long neck he keep him behint stump, an’ he s'oot him soor.” “Is he dead, Ba'tiste?” queried a Sergt Hetherington, in a voice with a full flavor of peat bog about it. “Is he dead, or on'y hu-r-rt?" iS “Bet you life, that Whisk’ fell’ he dead, replied Baptiste. That fell’ he s’oot tree, fo’e time; an’ Sand’son he kill for soor, he dead w’atever. He try soot me, but I stan’ him off, an’ come quick tell police tell’.” “March him in to the major,” said Heth- erington to a constable. Before the major, Baptiste’s harangue boiled down, read: “Shot at 10 o'clock on the Misrcula trail, about eighteen miles ‘rom Golden.” towhat was the man Hke who did the shooting?’ asked the major. “Tall tell’ wit’ long neck,” was the graphic descripticn this query brought forth. “India1. breed, or white man?” asked the maji >. “Don’t «now; me tink he white. Tall fell’; tan long neck. That fell’ he get Whisk’; Sand’son stuff, too, you bet, Fo’, five tousan’ he get in appar’. ‘That was all. Baptiste’s face was the facé of 2 man whose voul is in other gar- dens; his language that of a man too bad- — sh Lockiag Into Two Revolvers, ly frightened to be anything but natural. The respect for the head of the force was ven as ¢ gain of mustard seed in the ava- lanche o+ fear which had swept him from that red-splashed spot on the Missoula trail to Golden. There was no doubt he was telling the truth. “Who's tall with a long neck?” asked the major shortly, turnt to the sergeant major, who was standing in front of his des! “I will find out, sir’ replied the latter, saluting es he passed out. “That long Englishman, Arvil Santle; has a long neck like an eagle; an’ Coi able Grady says that he’s been. workin’ the racket to beat two of a kind lately, sir,” was the sergeant major’s graphic re- port when he Ilned ip in front of desk again. “Let Sergeant Hetherington take two constables and rations for two days, and get after this devil before his tracks cold. Commence at the body. Send {t back to Golden. Teil Corporal Ball to look up this Santley outfit in town. If he’s got the — he'll have it cached somewhere about That was the beginning, ell in one cay, husky chap,” said major. ‘Who'll you get?” “Bulldog? Carney’s the man, sir,” re- plied Corporal Mall. “Get him,” commanded the officer. “Lanky” Ball found Carney after much tribulous search; found nim at Mammy Nolan's, found him amidst the glamor of many tin lamps, the smoke from which mingled with the odoriferous steam of fry- ing pork, and filled the big tent with a soft, summer-like haze. Loaked at from some angles, Carney was just the man to go after the slayer of “Whisky” Sanderson. He was a big, pow- erful man, as big as the one they were after. He could handle “Pearl,” that was his big Coit’s with a dexterity that com- manded universal respect. Long since he had filed away the sights and when it was necessary to place several bullets in a limited time, he “fanned” his gun—turned it into a minfature Gatling. Apart from this proficiency, and a certain Irrtability of temper, he was a high roller. Sometimes the police were hot on his trail as leader of a big whisky outat, and sometimes he was on their side, fighting shoulder to shoulder to put down some tough gang. He didn’t approve of tough- hess as a pasti “Be gentlemen,” he used to say. “Gen- tlemen can‘t work and gentlemen must have money, but don’t be tough for the fun of the thing—there is no fun in it.” When “Lanky” Ball explained to him what he was wanted for, and that there was ad reward of $500, half of which he would get if they captured the man who did the job, he replied: “Cert, I'll go, for I’m getting stale here. The game’s ahead of me here and I need a stake to start in again.” They rode out ten miles that night so that they would be sure to have an early Start on the trail next morning. Over their pipes, between “grub pile’ and “blanket time,” they drifted on to the smbject of the dead man and Arvil Santley. “I'll bet you an even fifty,” said Carney, “that Santley didn’t do this job.” “I've good cause to have a down on him myself, for I've got his signature across the bridge of my nose, where his big Sprawlin’ English fist caught me unawares one night. But he'll show my trademark right enough every time he parts his hair,” he added, by way of vindicating his out- raged honor, ‘for I carved his lofty brow for him, and {if his skuli hadn’t heen so damnably thick perhaps we wouldn't be chasin’ him now. All the same, he’s not the sort.to lay a man out for the fun of the thing; he never had any dealin’ with Whisky Sanderson, for he wasn’t In the know. He was all right for sport, but the beys hadn’t any use for him when they were runnin’ the stuff in.’ “I'll just go you fifty, Carney,” said the cerporal. “The old man doesn’t make many mistakes, and if we can get to the. second crossin’ of the river before Santley, we'll bring back the man that laid Sander- son out.”” “It's a bet, then,” said Carney, and there was @ queer smile about tha regular lips set so firmly in the square Jaw. Then they chipped in with their two biankets and slept under »ne cover, back to back, with their feet toward the small smoldering campfire; slept soundly, as just men should—“Bulldog Carney,” gambier, whisky smuggler and special constable, and oo Ball, plain corporal in the N. Wy “He's ahead of us,” said Carney, as they galloped side by side the next day. “I picked up some tracks back there, and here they are again. He doesn't seem to, be in any hurry, @ough, for, according to the tracks, his cayuse has been taking it pretty easy.” That afternoon, when they struck the crossing, they couldn’t find anybody who had taken Santley across the river. “He must be on this side somewhere yet,” said the corporal. “If you stop here and watch the crossing I'll try and look him up on this side. He'll be about some of the gambling dives, likely.” He looked him up. He found him, In the queen’s name he was made prisoner. Santley laughed when the corporal told him he was wanted for murder. “It's some blawsted debt, I fancy," he ‘and the murder racket is only a Dlind; but I'll go all the same. I’m half sorry I left the beastly hole, anyway, it’s so beastly slow dawn this way.” When they came back to the crossing Carney was gone—gone, cayuse and all, over the river; he had given the ferryman $60 to take him across, so the ferryman told the corporal, “He's a queer fish,” said the boatman. “I didn’t want to cross till the morning; ‘but he got me dqwn there by the boat, and cans phos stoles: Berean #0) and a plug of lead from that gun he spun. around on his forefinger."* ‘The corporal was dumfounded, “It's devilish queer,” he muttered; “but orders are orders, i I'ye got my man, and I don’t see as e call to go after this crook;” and BS theaght of Pearl, and Car- ney’s beautii ksmanship and various matters, Golden with his pi “Lanky” Hall mer. a good head for obey- ing orders, whichis a good thing for a corporal to have; he hadn't much of a head for solging “just such problems as this, which perhaps, good also—per- haps that was why he was corporal after twenty yea: if e. “Tl bet you fife cases, that ‘bull dog’ did that trader said Santley, as they rode side by @ide. “That's quege,” ld the corporal. “Car- ney bet me t you didn’t do it, and A pel thoughtfully back to now you wal 0 lay me the other way. It he did it, I "t suppose that he’ll come back for the stuff—the fifty he laid that you didn’t do it.” = “I got the idag Englishman, sir,” report- ed the oes the major, when they got back to barracks; but the other one’s lit out—took ‘his hook when I was lookin’ up the. prisoner." “What other one?’ queried the major. “Bulldog Carney, sir; he skipped across the river.” “That looks suspicious,” thoughtfully re- plied the major, as he pulled at his iron- gray mustache. “It would be a bad one on us if it turned out that he had done this, and we had carted him out of the country—given him ah escort; eh, corporal?” + Of course, there was a trial, with Arvil as the center of attraction. The other had gotten away, and they had to hang some- bedy if they could, so they devoted their energies to proving Arvil guilty, and the chances are they would‘have succeeded if it hadn’t been for one person. ‘His clearing out looked very suspicious and they found quite a sum of money on rim when he was arrested, although it was. known that he had been cleaned out before he went away. He would not tell where he got It, either. “None Of their blessed busi- ness,” he toid them, “It may hang you, $36 you don’t teil.” “Hang it is, then,” he replied, doggedly. But worst of all was Baptiste Gabrielle’s evidence. “Yes, by Goss! Dat fell’, he s’oot t’ree, fo’ time me. Steek has head up fom dat stump. See him me soor.” ‘Then Mammy Nolan went out to the place where Whisky Sanderson had met his fate, and she wound something, too. The bullet that had killed poor Sanderson had been in a terrible hurry, and had gone clean through and through him. Mammy Nolan followed up the line of sight from the stump across where San- derson had fallen, and luckily located the bullet in a sand knoll thirty yards beyond. It was a case-hardened 38.55 Winchester bullet. ®*rhat’s the bullet that killed him right enough,” mused Mammy; “but it might pesstbly have been fired thera some other time. It wasn’t quite conclusive. Then she found the bullet that had scorched the leg of the foremost rider that day imbedded in his saddle. That was con- clusive, Then commenced the search for the rifle itself. There was only one such rifla owned in Goiden, and it had belonged to Bull- Dog Carney. Now, Carney had been back in Goldgn after the murder, and he hadn't taken his said a friend, rifle with him when he went away with Lanky Bill, so he must have hidden it somewhere To return to Goiden after killing Sanderson he would cross the ford at Kicking Horse. Jt-was a foriern hope, but she made up her mind to drag the ford for the rifle. When Mammy found ihe riile where it had dropped she knew she had forge] one of the strongest links in the chain of evi- dence which fastened the guilt on Carney. it was Mamniy, too, who introduced a new witness to the court in the person of Grace Alton. She had come back from Vancouver in obedience to Mammy’s tele- gram. Her evidence was very simple, but effectually cleared up the mystery of the money. “I gave it to him,” she sald simply, pay his passage home to his mother. toid him a falsehood; I told him it was from his mother. He wouldn't have taken it from me if he bad known the truth, but I wanted him to go home to his moth- er, who was asking for him every day. We were children together—Arvil Santley and myself.” It was a revelation to that wild west- ern life, this sweet, womanly girl, and the man who would rather hang than com- promise her by telling,.that she had given him the mouey. “1 had too bad a name,” he said when his friends rounded on him for a’ ¢hival- rous goat. Mammy didn't know about the money When she sent for Grace; she only knew that Grace and Santley had met when Grace was in Golden. In the face of the new evidence, not much stock was taken in Baptiste Gu- briclie’s saying that Arvii Santley was the man who had snot at him. He had en too badly frightened to know what the man who had done the shooting real- ly iooked like. Besides the other, the man who bad galloped on in front swore that it was a fair man who had shot, while Santley was. dark. It came out that Mammy Nolan was a Pinkerton detective, and the business of running a restaurant and selling whisky on the side was only a blind. Nobody but the major had known this before. After many moons of anxious tracing, word of Carney came to hand. He was at St. Vincent, just over the borders from Manitoba. “The extradition law is slow,” mused the major, ‘likewise is it uncertain. Now, if we haa Carney on this side the line we could arrest him.” At this the sergeant, who was standing by, pricked his ears. “It moight be managed, sor.” “Perhaps, perhaps,” said the major re- flectively. “Corp. Ball knows his man. He escorted him out; perhaps he'll e: cort him back again. You will need con- siderable money, for it’s a long trip,” and he wrote out a fairish-sized order. Lanky Ball and the sergeant located Carney at a small hotel at St. Vincent, not a stone’s throw over the line. A little preliminary arrangement with the hotel keeper, and that night as Gar- ney gcntly slept the sleep of the just two figures: stole up the narrow stair which led to iis room, and silently slipped through the door. How still and dark the room was. Ah! not so dark now, for like the headlight of an engine a bull’s-eye lantern was throwing its full glare upon them, and they were looking into the dark depths of two murderous-looking revolvers as Carrey held them above the counterpane. “O, that’s you, Lanky, ts it?” he said cheerfully. “Glad to see you. Come to pay that fifty, I suppose. Just put it on the table there. I don’t feel like gettin; up. That's right, you can take one hand down,” he said. “Just lay your gun down on the table first, though. Quick, now, cough up that fifty, for, you see, you're burglars in my room, and if I let daylight through the pair of you it will be all right, you know.” Then Lanky put up 50 cases of the good government money he had brought to pay the expenses of taking Carney beck. That was the nearest they ever got to Carney, for he is still ving the life of “to a “gentleman.” In proportion to its size, a fly walke thir- teen times as fast asa man can run. - (Copyright, 1898, Lite Publishing Company.) yt Bhs Foner t Na oe. yom call Fpaceelt an_‘os' Sse 4 The Cassowary—‘‘Sh!—not so loud. That. is my nom de plume,” _ COSTLY CRITICISM It Does Not Pay to Make Remarks About the Kaiser. OFFENDER USUALLY GOES 0 JAIL Law of Lese Majeste Works Great Hardships in Germany. EVILS OF DENUNCIATION Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. BERLIN, July 8, 1898, The following article is written by .a prominent German editor, how prominent would be recognized immediately if his yname could be given. But to that he ob- jects most decidedly, as it would certainly mean his prosecution and imprisonment on the very charge which he discusses. It is sufficient te say that he is not a social democrat—is, in fact, thoroughly opposed to that political party and a strong adher- ent of the monarchy. Germany has attatned an Sll-favored re- nown im foreign countries by the number- less political trials which have occurred since the present kaiser ascended the throne. Most of these proceedings have been instituted on the charge of lese ma- jeste, a crime for which the English-speak- ing nations have not even a word in their dictionaries, The periods of incarceration which have been inflicted on men and women of all classes for the offense would aggregate centuries. Venerable widows of seventy and schoolgirls of fifteen have been sent to jail alike for a word of criticism against the emperor, though the press has provided a good proportion of the offenders. Now, what is this terribie crime of lese majeste? How does the law define it? Clause ninety-five of the German penal code gives some information on this point. It reads thus: ‘‘Whcsoever is found guilty of libeling the kaiser, or one of the federat- ed German sovereigns, will be sentenced to prison for not less than two months, or to incarceration in a fortress from two months to five years.” This is the law as it stood of old. It has not been altered under the present emperor. The only change tHat has occurred is a Severe and extended application, such as Was never before attempted. Under the old emperor one did not hear much of “Majestats Beleidigungs-Prozessen” (trials for lese majeste). His majesty performed the duties of a sovereign very much like Queen Victoria of England. He wrote his name under what Bismarck chose to sub- mit to him and lived otherwise like an old gentlema. of independent means. He Played at soldier as long as he was able to mount a horse, resorted to watering places in summer time, amused himself, but he did not meddie with party politics and never indulged in speechmaking. So his venera- ble figure commanded sympathy even among those who disapproved his earlier career and the bloody part he played in fighting the popular movement of 1848, for which he bore for long years the name of “Kartatschen-Prinz.””. Under such condi- tons no public man, no journalist or politi- cal agitator felt inclined to criticise the per- sonal acts of the old kaiser. It would have been considered bad taste to do so, just as it is in England to criticise the personal acts of Queen Victoria. A Heaven-Born Present. But this state of things was altered al- together as soon as William If occupied the throne. His temper does not permit him to be a constitutional monarch of the mod- ern type. He has in himself nothing of the charming modesty and the prudent modera- tion of his father and his grandfather. He is a romantic character of the type of Frederic William IV, who, a year before the revolution of 1848, emphatically ex- claimed: “‘No power in the world shall in- @uce me to put on a sheet of paper (1. e., a constitution) between our Lord in heaven and my people.” From this monarch Wil- lam IT has inherited the autocratio convi tion that he fs not a man of flesh and blood like other mortals, but rather a heaven- born present bestowed upon the fatherland. From this monarch, too, he inherited fond- ness for spechmaking, which has proved to be unfortunate for the kaiser himself, for the whole nation, and especially for a good many citizens. It is an unfortunate tendency for the kaiser, for the reason that nearly évery speech he has delivered has held him. up to ridicule before the whole country. Even those who He in the dust before him laugh at him as soon as he has gone, and many a cruel joke on his speeches which now is common property of his subjects was brewed in the ante cham- ber of the Schloss of Berlin. It is unfortu- nate for the nation, because the friendly relations which should exist between the body and head of the state are violently Gisturbed by these turbulent outbursts of an unruly personality. And, last but not least, it ts unfortunate for a good many individual subjects, because they have had to reconsider their frank criticism of these speeches in the prison cell. The Kaiser's Attitude. The question whether there wag room for such criticism or not may best be an- swered by some specimens of those speeches, Addressing a body of recruits, William once said: “For you there is only one foe, and that is my foe. In view of our present socialist troubles, it may come to this, that I may command you to shoot down your own relatives, brothers and even parents, in the streets, which God forbid! But if it comes to that you must obey my orders without a murmur.” After a din- ner given in his honor by the Brandenburg provincial diet he said: “Those who op- pose me I shall dash in pieces.” And again, to gentlemen of the Rhenish diet at Dus- seldort, with regard to Bismarck, whom he had just dismissed: ‘One only is lord in this country, and this one am I. Who- soever opposes me I shall smash’’—whence his nickname, ‘“William- the Smasher” (Wilhelm der Zerschmitterer). This firm belief that the Almighty and he are some- thing like very near relatives may be learned from many of his speeches. For instance: “The ‘kingship, by the grace of God,” expressed the fact that we Hohen- zollerns accept. our crown oeniy fro1 “God has given himself such endless trouble with our house that we can as- sume He has not done this for nothing. No, Brandenburgers, wa are called to greatness, and to glorious days will I lead you.” Again: “The first King of Prussia once. said: ‘Eome mea nata corona,’ (My crown is born out of myself). I in turn, like my imperial grandfather, hold my kingship as by the grace of . It was on this spot that King William openly de- clared before his subjecta that he held his crown from God alone. This is my deepest conviction and has ever served me as a guide in all my actions.” _ eo Crush His Opponents. A most undesirable thing for a consfitu- tional monarch to do is to take an active part in politics. Willlam II has done so, although in the beginning of his reign he told the people: “The King of Prussia stands so high above parties and party conflicts that, seeking the best interests of all, -he is in a position to make the wel- fare of every individual and every province in his kingdom his care.” He coon abandoned this position. When after his famous labor rescripts in 1900, which have proved since to @ mere electioneering trick, the social democratic votes rose from 760,000 to 1,420,000, he alarmed the garrison of Berlin to “play @t war,” and it is reported on good au- thority that on this oocasion the kaiser, court party to elevate William I, to whom his grandson, net history, had given the name of “Withelm der Grosse,” to nearly the rank of a saint, the kaiser uttered his strongest outburst ‘of hatred against the left wing of the opposition. In an address to the officers of the guard he said: “A rouc of men unworthy to bear the name of Germans ventures to drag into the dust the sacred person of our blessed emper- or (William I). May the whole nation find in themselves the power of rejecting these unheard-of attacks. If not, then I shail call upon you, my guards, to check this felonious rout and to engage in a fight that wil relieve us from these elements.” A few days later in another speech he designated the members of the social dem: ocratic party as “fatherlandless scam Although the country had hitherto startled by the heavy increase of trials on the charge of lese majeste, they were as nothing compered to the flood of these pro- ceedings which broke all over the father- land after these September speeches. From September, 1895, dates the high tide of persecutions caused by the rsona] en- trance of the kaiser into politics, What could be meant by that appeal to the guards? Revolution from above, bloodshed in the streets against_a party which count- ed a million and a half votes in the elec- tions, the second strongest vote of all par- ties? Would it have been possible for a Press which retained a minimum of self- respect to refrain from commenting upon these speeches? Could a nation look tacitly upon a perspective as horrible as was drawn here by the kaiser? Such repres- sion could not be expected. But as soon as We opened our mouths to utter our opin- fons upon these speeches we were sent to prison by scores. Operations of the Law. The kaiser had frankly spoken of civil war for which he would call upon the guards. But nobody was allowed to say that the kaiser had done it. For to initiate a civil war is a crime, and to Say that the kaiser had borne in mind the idea of civil war is lese majeste, notwithstanding the fact that he had really and publicly utter- ed that idea as his own. The kaiser had called a million and a half subjects “father- landless scamps,” but when a journalist wrote that the kaiser had “abused” the so- cial democrats, he was sentenced for lese majeste, because the kaiser is, by law, Supposed to be unable to “abuse” even when he has clearly done so. In the case of this journalist the public prosecutor de- fined the theory of lese majeste thus: “I do not ask whether what the accused maintained in his article be untrue or true, whether it has any justification or founda- tion, whether it be provoked by the em- beror or not, whether the emperor has used those words or not. The only question at issue is, Did he say that the emperor had abused the soclal democrats or not? He admits he did write it. That is absolutely sufficient for his conviction. As soon as he says, ‘The emperor has abused,’ he is guilty, In cases of lese majeste no piea of justification is allowed. The king can do no wronj He can do no wrong! Even if he does wrong ft is no wrong! That is what the German people is commanded to believe since the “September-Kurs” was opened, that the German people ts commanded by the judges of the country to accept as justice! A Far-Fetched Charge. When Liebknecht, the aged leader of the social democratic party, opened the annual party congress at Breslau some weeks af- ter those September speeches of the kaiser, he said in his opening address, in which the person of the emperor was not even el- luded to: “Thrusts of dirt, from whatever direction they may come cannot hit us,” Result—four months’ imprisonment on ac- count of lese majeste for the septaugenar- ian, upon whom his most bitter opponents look with respect. ~ It may surprise people outside of our own “fatherland” to learn how the court arrived at this conviction. Here are the “motifs” of the judgment: “These words (thrusts of dirt) do not, as such, constitute lese majeste, and the accused {s such an experienced politician that it was evidently his desire and his intention not to commit leso majeste.” But as the kaiser had @ few weeks before condemned the social domocrats in strong terms, “there might have been people in the audience who might eventually have been of the opinion that Liebknecht alluded to the kaiser as throwing dirt, and it might well have been the intention of Liebknecht to provoke such an opinion in his audience.” This is @ fine specimen of the rotten the- ory of “dolus eventualis” (eventual intent) which was specially invented by our prose- cutors and judges in order to satisfy the demand for victims of lese majeste. One may easily imagine how the confidence of the people in the administration of “jus- tice” has been strengthened by these ma- nipulations of a foul byzantinism, and how they will speak out on this theory at the first opportunity, Courts Do Not Agree. There is another typical feature of the lese majeste epidemic. After some months of administering “justice” of this sort, no- body in Germany knew what lese majeste was and what it was not. Not even judges knew, for on the same article courts in dif- ferent towns diverged in judgment. Here they dismissed; there they convicted. Ono editor was sentenced to nine months’ im- prisonment, which he has served, for an article for which two high courts in en- other town declined to prosecute, because, {n their opinion, there was not the slight- est trace of lese majeste in it. But the most startling example of these corrupt trials is this: A_provincial paper printed an article of its Berlin correspondent com- menting on the fact that nearly all duel- ist murderers were pardoned, while politi- cal prisorers had always to undergo their sentence. As the right of pardoning be- longs to the crown, the provincial judges, with the aid of that famous crutch, “dolus eventualis,” came to the conclusion that. the editor of the paper had committed lese majeste because he had attributed to the crown an unequal and unjust adminis- tration of the right of pardon. The editor had to undergo three months’ imprison- ment. Of course since the provincial editor, as the minor criminal who only printed the vicious article, was sent to prison, the actual author deserved to be punished in a more severe way, especially since he lived, as it were, under the eye of sacred majesty. So the provincial prosecutor triumphantly sent the judgment of his court to his Berlin colleague, who at once established proceedings against the Berlin correspendent. The ridiculous conclusion ot the matter was that, though the public prosecutor read out to the Berlin judgos the decision of their provincial colleagues, they unsnimously discharged the author, stating that in their judgment the article contained nothing but fair criticism, ard if such expressions of public opinion were to be. punished, fair criticism would be- come impapsible. , Nobody Knows What It is. It is a fact that nobody in Germany knows at this moment what lese majeste is. For safety’s sake, there fs a mutual but taclt agreement among those concern- ed as far as possible not to mention the kaiser and his doings. If he makes speech- es they are registered verbatim without comment. That is, indeed, the strongest criticism to which they can possibly be subjected. As a final resort, the editor of the Kladderadatsch, Herr Trojan, recently resorted to the advice of the old Latin sage, “Riderda dicere verum,” and in- structed his artists to draw a comic picture of one of the emperor's addresses to his recruits. The nation once more laughed good-naturedly at-their kaiser, but Herr Trojan was excluded from the common He is allowed during two meditate upon the lesson the Berlin judges gave him, that to make t! nation laugh at the kaiser is one of the most terrible crimes of fin de siecle—at least in Germany. There is another, perhaps the most per- niclous, outcome of these lese majeste prosecutions. Jeete is an unknown thing may perhaps conceive the suspicion that I am telling tales, or, at least, am strongly exagrerat- ing. But the following quotations from newspaper reports will dismiss such sus- picions. They are, with one ex: tion, cases tried in single month, and could be augmented ad libitum November 16. The tradesman, Baurnann, was sentenced at Stettin for six mont for lese majeste. Some women customers with whom he had quarreied had denounced him. November 5. Liebsch, a laborer in @ fur- nishing shop at Madgeburg, was sentenced for lese majeste, because in conversation he had sharply criticised the emperor's composition “Sang an Aegir.” _ November 9 The issue of the Vorwarts was seized by the public prosecutor for a paragraph containing the note that two policemen who had been sentenced to three months for assault had been pardoned by the emperor, to which note the editor added the remark that such leniency contrasted Strangely with the severe punishments for lese majeste. The editor of tl Vorwarts was sentenced to three months’ imprison- ment for such criticism of the kalser's rights. November 22. Kupezyk, a Polish laborer of Neu-Welssensee, near Berlin, was sen= tenoed to five months and two weeks for lese majeste. While intoxicated he had smashed the pictures suspended from the walls of his own room, one of them repre- senting the emperor. His own wife, who had informed against him, was the chief witness, November 29. An invalid miner and @ plasterer, both from Essen, were taken into custody and proceedings initiated against them. In & drunken discussion they had uttered some words against the emperor which were reported to the authorities by their companions, November 30. A Danish actor named Marx, while on a lecturing tour to Ham- burg, stayed at a hotel in Sonderburm Marx was known as a Danish agitator in Schleswig-Hoistein. He had a conversa tion with the parlor maid at the hotel, the jatter telling him that the soldiers of the garrison were going tc play a comedy that night in honor of the empress’ birthday. Marx replied to the maid, ." a Dan. ish phrase meaning “What a pity.” The maid repeated this phrase to the authori- ties, and the public pro: , translating “ga foi” erroneously by “ah fy,” “oh pfut” in German, at once arrested the actor and instituted proceedings against him for lese majeste. After having been in custody for a long time, the actor was tried and dis- charged, the judges accepting his plea that the words did not mean “ah fy,” but “what @ pity,” his intention having beep to ex- press his regret that the play was to be en. acted by dilettantes, and not by profe sional actors. This case created something of a sensation, even in Germany. November 22. A yidow named Zimmer- mann was tried in Hanover behind closed dcors. She was sentenced to five months Within the Christmas week following nine cases of lese majeste were tried, three being dismissed. The others were disposed of by sentencing the prisoners to twenty- two months. For the year 1894, the year before the “September kurs,” 622 persons were sentenced for lese majeste, eleven of them being under eighteen years of age. In 18% more than a thousand were convicted. That there is no abatement in this un- pleasant situation is shown by the follow- ing recent case selected at random from the newspapers? May 4, 1898. The shoemaker, Karl Gor- lich of Zaboze. to three months’ impri: by cfiminal court of Gleiwitz. for lese majeste. His wife, who is described as a very plous wo- man, was the informer. I think the reader will be satisfied by this evidence. It comes from German: end there are still no signs of abatemen for speechmaking goes on. Witness the speeches at Kiel before the departure of Prince Henry for Kiao-Chao, on the “mail- ed fist” and the “gospel of your majesty’s secred person.” But one thing is sure: The subject of lese majeste will play a promi- nent part in future elections and the voice of the people when it finds utterance, wil} be distinct enough to reach even the dulled ears of the resident of the schioss. $$ Femous War Horses, From the London Mail. Horses in war suffer more fatalities than men. Out of the many thousands who per- ish in their duty toward their masters, only & few return home to spend their lives in the ease and honor they deserve. One war horse, however, which made a splendid reo- ord for bimself, and now has his virtues, name and noble deeds engraved on a fitting tombstone, was Copenhagen, the horse thé great Duke of Wellington rode at the bat- tle of Waterloo. Nine years after the Emperor Napoleon died at St. Helena an old white horse per- ished of old age and pneumonia in England. stitution, and to all visitors it is The skeleton of the animal is set up in the Royal United Service In- Paice out as Marengo, the charger Napo- con rode at the battle of Waterloo. Ma- Tengo came originally from Egypt, and was Jeft to wander on the dismal battlefield whex the emperor was forced to fly for his life. An English officer found and took him, and he was sold to a general in the British army. In English pastures, cared for by kindly grooms, this noble horse Passed the latter years of his life far more peacefully and happily than his great and unfortunate master. ————_~e+. Where Hearing Ceases. From the London Mail. Lord Rayleigh in a lecture said that ex- periments hed shown that a vibration of sound having en amplitude of less than one-twelve-millionths of a centimeter could still affect the sense of hearing. Such a vi- bration would be so short that it would have to be enla 100 times before the most powerful microscope could render it visible, supposing that it were susceptible of being seen at all. Old people, hs said, do not hear high notes which are audible to young persons, and there is reason to be- lieve that babies hear notes which are in- audibla to their elders, tee A Pointer. the From Life. Hatterson—“How is it, old fellow?” Catterson (smacking his lips)—‘I think I know of a place, old men, where you can get even @ cheaper wine than this. The imbecility of some men is always inviting the embrace of death. It is the delight of such men to boast of what “‘tough fel- lows” they and tell how the} overwork them-~- Ro le on theit It may not sound pice to say 40, but it is pcamnent sican a speech of the e or to the guards on » 1895—that fellow - mothers-in-law their their sons, even