The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 8, 1897, Page 20

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, AUGUST s, 1897. 'HOW SILAS BURROWS BOUGHT TWO PRINCES OUT OF SLAVERY The story of the finding of the Silas E. Burrows letters, published in THE CALL of two weeks ago, has aroused an immense amount of in- terest among the pioneers of this City, to whom Burrows was well known, but few of whom knew of his wonderful history. To them he was known ‘as a brilliant, whole-souled fellow, always ready with his purse or influence to help out a friend or even an ac- guaintance, and prepared at any time to embark in an enterprise, no matter how hazardous, if it promised big returns. In the days when Burrows was their friend and companion in the guest for gold little was thought of pedigree or records, and the career of the man who helped to make and mold National history was lost to sightin the mad whirl of the gold excitement that possessed the -minds of all. The man who had succored princes and presidents and eatned the gratitude of nations and kings lived out his quizt ‘merchant’s life, and when the final call came he was speedily forgotten, with thousands of others whose search for fortune was over. This week THE CALL presents letters telling of two of the most re- markable instances of philanthrapy that have ever been recorded. It was in 1827 that the Greeks—in much the same position as they now are—with their backs to the wall, were battling for independence sgdinst fearful odds. . The New World was all wrought up over the struggle for freedom from the unspeakable Turk, and the patriotic Greeks of New York, aided by sympathizing Americans, raised clothing, provisions and other neces- o, ML Lopn 0 NI 80 L oA 0 S 3 o o7 Sopyd b2 s Gorano ol Al.uy o e ;_Lrsu"/ ¢ /u/ A 5 I Dy Tt //>/°/-'*)/\wa°‘ C".\jk/ Ad(j (= 4] o - [ [F8 ;5N AL ,,}}\/Aw Roped A:,A/_I) i Dean) s \I:'wfl e Letter From the Prince of Timbuctoo to Silas E. Burrows. sities for their brave countrymen asa gift from the American people, ‘While tbey were casting about 1or a means of transmitting the goods to Athens Burrows came forward and offered the use of his new brig Bar- rows, previously referred to. She was tendered free of expense, fully manned and ready to sail. Her cargo was safely landed at Athens and was gratefully received by the Greeks. This remarkable incident is told in a few rough notes in Burrows’ own handwriting—in which he s s tnat he has lost the correspondence relating to the matter—and by a letter from Isaac T. Bragg, a professor of penmanship, to whom was entrusted the work of preparing, as a present to Mr. Burrows from the Greeks of New York, an engrossed resolution of thanks. 1828, the vear following tha Greek episode, and throwgmuch additional light on'his character as a philanthropist. It appears that Abdallah Rabahman, a powerful Prince of the Ethi- opians of Timbuctoo, lost his children and was heart-broken at their absence. Aliter a long search he learned that they had besn stolen -by Arab slave-dealers, who sold them to those who trafficked in human lives and sent them in ships to America. Nothing daunted by the distance or the almost utter hopelessness of his search, the black scion of a noble race took passage to a portion of the globe that was strange to him and landed in New York. Through the interest taken by influential people his search for his loved ones was facilitated, and he eventunally found them slaveson a Southern plantation. Then, to his chagrin and despair, he found that to regain them he must pay the bigh price put-upog.the children by the men who held them in bondage, and fhat his resources, depleted by his long and sxpensive journey, would not meet the emergency. In hisextremity he appealed again to those who had befriended him in New York. Mr. Burrows, hearing of the matter, promptly subscribed $100 toward the purchase price of the children. With the money he sent the following letter: . May 24, 1828. Abdallah Rahahkman, Prince of Timbuctoo—SiR: Inclosed is $100 to assist in purchasing the freedom of your children. When this is accomplisbed I hope you will return to your native land with all your family, possessing grateful feelings toward the people of the Untted States, who, inheriting unavoidably your coun- trymen as servants, are gratified in extending relief and liberating from servi. tudesl] those whose situation can be improved by the change. As this no doubt applies to your fawily, we all unite in securing their eman. cipation, and when the same can truly be said in relation to your countrymen that you leave behind, be assured the sons of liberty will agree in making it uni- versal. Accept of my best wishes for your future happiness. S1148 E. BURROWS. The reply of the black prince was in Ethiopian characters, and transe lated reads as follows: / WASHINGTON, June 5, 1828. Mr. Burrows—DEAR S1R: Ireceived the $100 which you sent to me, and I Letters in the collection refer to the same matter and make 1t appear that the ex-President had through frequent reverses fallen into such a financial state that a mortgage on his property was about to be foreplosed and leave him penniless. Burrows heard of the matter, and without solicitation placed the unfortunate ex-chief executive out of danger of penury for at least the time being. Then came a time when Burrows went through that bitter experience that at some period or otber falls to the lot of most men—the day of mis- fortune and the neglect or refusal of thosewho should to reach out a help~ ing hand toremember that they once were eager to honor him. - From 1833 to 1840 there seems to have been a turn in Burrows’ for- tunes, judging irom the tone of letters he wrote to others, and in 1841 he was reduced, according to his own statements, to almost poverty. The man who had been a public benefactor was compelled to become a sup® pliant for a public office in order to keep his family from want. In a letter to President John Tyler he tells his pitiful tale and throws light on the cause of his misfortunes, ag well as bringing to light other deeds that the foregoing letters make no mention of. He desired to be appointed Consul to Liverpool, at that time worth $40,000 a year, and was indorsed by many of the prominent men of the day. Extracts from his letters to President Tyler, written in Washington, where he had gone to plead his cause, follow: % * ¥ My situation is one of such painful character thatI can no longer remain here, and I cannot leave without stating my real situation to the President, painful and heartrending as it is to me. > “You have seen, sir, in the Richmond Whig and in the Enquirer, the united feelings expressed by all parties in Virginia toward me. To know that I am in want bas opened the kindest feelings of the heart among ber citizens. *In the changing revolutions of thislife the heart and hand that were once so ready to act have become palsied and this through no fault of mine. My home, where are concentrated all those ties now dear to me, must in a few days be broken up, unless the President remembers me in his kindness before I leave this city. KING OF SWEDEN'S GIFT TO BURROWS. STOCKHOLM,” January 19th, 1848. SIR: 1 have just received the letter which you had the kindness to address me from Berlin, dated the 4th of this month, and I hasten to have the honor of tendering you my sincere thanks for this proof of your remembrance. When you left Sweden 1 was wholly ignorant of the route you intended taking, and I waited with impatience to hear of you, that I might be enabled to address you, and to execute the commands of his Majesty, the King. His Majesty desires, sir, as a mark of his high esfeem and regard for you, to send you, through his Legation in the United States, a souvenir of your visit to his Capital. The present will be sent next Spring by the first opportunity to New York, and the Swedish Consul there will inform you of its arrival, and the Legation will have the honor of presenting the same to you. Accept, sir, the assurances of my most distinguished considerations, &c., &c. \ To SiLas E. BURROWS, Esq. thank youkindly. I received it the 4th of June. 1 shall come to New York ina short time and inquire where you live. Though I never saw you in this world, I am much obliged to you a thousand times, This will belp me a gfloq deal to buy my children. I have five sons and eight grandehildren. ABDALLAH RAHAHMAN, £on of Abrahim, of the City of Sumboo, County of Toota Sallo. Chrenologically the next story of Burrows’ philantoropy that the pa- pers tell is that of his princely generosity to ex-President James Monroe. This incident must have occurred in 1829 or prior to that time, for among the papers 1s a queer little four-page pamphlet printed in Philadelphia on March 25, 1829, entitled *“Annals of Liberality, Generosity, Public Spirit, etc.” It is signed plain *Hamilton,” and the author in his preface says: “It is the intention of the compiler of these annals to continue them occasionally as long as he lives should materials be furnisbed; and although the present is in a certain sense ‘the Golden Age,’ of which the ‘besetiing sin’ is the ‘auri sacra fames,” yetinstances of exalted liberality and munificenca frequently occur, and shall be put on record if those who possess a knowledge of them will only take a small degree of trouble to communicate them for the purpose of exciting, by force of example, a spirit worthy of this enlightened age and this thrice-blessed country.” Among a score of parazraphs relating to gifts to charity and legacies donated to needy and deserving purposes appears this: STIERNELD, Minister of Foreign Affairs. “T have arrested the hand of the destroyer and really have not forti tude enough to go to New York and see my home broken up and my children scattered. A dread of this has prolonged my stay in Washing- ton. The wife of my heart, who, when living, sustained me in my troubles, was placed by the side of Colonel Monroe in his vault the 28th of March last, leaving me with six children. I have not fortitude sufficient to sustain me in seeing those things once my dear wife’s pass away into the possession of others, and the appointment to Liverpool would save all. ‘% % ¥ Colonel Monroe was not the only distinguished son of Virginia whom I bave met in life when my aid was required to add to his comforts. General Harrison knew and realized what my feelings and intentions were and in the Enquirer of this date the President will see what was my conduct to bim in a ‘land of strangers.” He, too, filled the high station now held by yourself and had he lived I should not have been compelled to pain the President with this recital nor to have obtained the names of others to aid my application. If the spirits of Monroe and Harrison can influence the decision of the President I fesl secure. “%* * * I have been greatly injured by the Russian Government in loaning them xearly §60,000. This was the origin of my difficultiss, and I have felt too indignat at their treatment of me to complain to any one. If the President should be pleased to send me to Liverpool I have no doubt the Russians will do m# justice, but if I am deserted by my own country Virginia; Benjamin Harrison, nrterwa'rd _Presldont of the (Un.'ed gfa:elsich;xesstan George B. Carey of Vnrglml_. ’G-m;‘zlqE?h“éL %gm' General Van Rensselaer; L. 8. Ives, Episc_npxl 'BISDOD o Frtho snxa ina; Congressmen F. Mellory and Brooke of Yxrgimn, Jud_g:: ol d Wh‘:p“ma Court of Virginia; John H. Pleasants, editor of the Richmon g, and others. g Apparently Burrows autograph letters from did not receive the coveted appointment, for the these distinguished pergonages were returred, and he soon afterward sailed for Montevideo, South Americll, ‘xw'?:[" he still had some interests, and of his life there the letters rever i ittle be- yond the fact that he engaged in one of the pe_nudwal revho u oln; that shook the country. A letter from Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, t °¢h°e 9:::...1. authoress, who was an intimate friend of Burrows, referred to t le rigors o war that he is then undergoing and expresges hope that he will get salely ign. 3 thqu::sch[;i:n;‘p?ogrm“ apparently retriev{d his financial condition to some extent in the South American republic, ’or(ho returned !od),.w York, and appears to have been again in affluent circumstances, juc Ring frc o a letter written to President-elect General Zachary Taylor in 1843 of i was preserved. Wil’-;ihsaf::{hn hgls about to sail for St. Pat‘ersburg in his own yacht a vessel of eighty tons, and that he is carrying important state dupa‘tc'hg Burrows apparently made friends in the European courts he visited, & Zacazslyse2¥ Al 17 AT e Trendre £, Dolbos\E af< f‘%.\ e A frei ot G 2T Voo =, - 7 :“/t\’ltfur"! axcretls Letter From Silas E. Burrows to the Prince of Timbuctoo, for a printed letter from Minister of Foreign Affairs Stierneld of Sweden, dated January 19, 1849, speaks of the high esteem in which the American is held by the King. The letter reads: STOCKHOLM, Jan. 19, 1849. Sir: 1have just received the letter which you had the kinduoess to address me from Berlin, dated the 4th of this month, and I hasten to have the honor of tendericg you my sincere thanks for this proof of your remembrance. When you left Sweden Iwas wholly ignorant of the route you intended taking, and I'waited with impatience to hear of you, thatI mignt be enabled to address you, and to execute ths commands of nis Majesty, the King. His Majesty desires, sir, as a mark of high esteem and regard for you, to send you, through his legation in the Uaited States, a souvenir of your visit to his capital. The present will be sent next spring by the hrst opportunity to New York, and the Swedish Consul will inform you of its arrival, and the legation will have the honor of presenting the same 1o you. A curious and pathetic story that appears to have never before been made public is told by three sheets of paper that are pinned together and Burrows. were evidently carefully preserved by *S. E They were written in the sale of Burrows Esq. of New York deposited in bank $1200 to the credit of the ex-President Monroe to pay & sum of money due, and to prevent his estate.” how can 1 expect to be remembered by a foreign nation? * ¥ * Among the hundreds of letters addressed to the Presidenton Burrows' behalf were indorsements from Colonel John Sutterford, acting Governor Accept, sir, etc., To Silas E. Burrows E q. the assurances of my most distinguished consideration, ete. STIERNELD, Minister of Foreiga Affairs. It had been a long, hard day for the lit- | ile schoolteacher, and after the pupils bad cone she sat for fully half an hour at her desk, her head resting wearily upon one dimpled hand, the lashes of her big blue eyes shading the rounded cheeks be- | low them. She was good to look upon, this toiler in the educational cause, whom fate or chance, or whatever/else you choose | to call it, had sent to the wildas of a pic- | turesque county in the northern part of | California. Very good indeed to look | upon, but just now observed by nothing { more appreciative than a bushy-tailed | [ known no throv of affection | bood went 1 lay between her and the farmbousa where ’ she boarded. She did not know that from the m of the scrub oaks, madrones | and anitas behind Ler a pair of brown eyes watched her eagerly until she had disappeared, and a heart that had nce his boy- ingly out to her in the gathering darkness. A few mornings thereafter she found a | handful of ferns and wild flowers tied to | the knob of the schoolhouse door when she reached it. They were bound together with grasses and bore no message, but | The Last Hold-Up on Silver idge A Stirrir\g ]-ale of Earlg rquirrel, poised alert upon the doorstep, | she guessed who had vlaced them there, | ‘‘Nothing ever happens in the canyon. with inquisitive eyes turned toward the | and knew that he must have walked mites } But I shouldn’t care to go as far north as solitary figure in its neat, print gown,with | to find the blossoms, for the heat had | Siiver Ridge. Mr. Haskins and his wife | a bit of bright ribbon at the throat, and a | small, dusty shoe, decidedly the weorse for ‘wear, at the hem. | Coyote Cenyon was drowsy with the | heat of a summer aflernoon. Upon one side of it, to the east of a rough road, perched the schoolhouse, not unlike a | large-sized cracker-box. A shafi of golden sunlight from the west, slanting inward at the open door, finally reached to the fair head above the desk, where it caught a glint of its own color amid the { smooth, shining braids. The gir! stirred | #wnd drew toward her a pile of examina- | tion papers, scrawled over almost illegi- bly by acholars new to their task, as in- deed the majority of them were, the school having been established only since the beginning of that term. Suddenly a shadow blotted out the licht. A tall figure stood on the spot whence, at its approach, the squirrel had leaped in swift alarm, and a voice started the occupant of the room. It was 2 musical voice, such as one hears but seldom excepting in the throats of moun- tain people, whose lungs are fed by pure mountain air; and something in its tones seemed to vibrate in the girl’'s ears after it had ceased speaking. “Don’t be irightened,” the intruder said, answering the question in her wide-open eyes by a smile that disclosed white, even | teeth. His bearded face was strong and handsome, perhaps a half dozen years older than her own, with the courage in it that women are quick to recognize and to like. A thin line of rad trickled from his left temple and stained the handker- chief knotted at his neck. The giri rose nervously when she saw it. “I only want adrink of water,” he ex- plained, “if you will be so zood as to give it to me or tell me where to find it.’” For a few seconds she hesitated, her eyes fixed on bis. Whatever doubt she may have feit vanished before his answer- ing gaze. ““You are hurt,”” she said gently. “It is scarcely more than a scratch,” he replied. *‘A hunter wistook me for game in the brush yonder, and, as luck would have it, he was a poor shot.” *‘Sit here at my desk,’” she said with piquant suthority. “Iam not much of, a surgeon, but I will do what I can for you.” In a moment she had filled & basin with clear, sparkling water from the spring back of the cabin and brought a ' towel. Neither spoke while she deftly bathed his forehead and from between the leaves of a tattered geography took a square of courtplaster, divided it into small strips and applied them to the cut on his fore- bead. ‘When she had finished he ross and Jooked down &t her from his height of six feet. *Nobody was ever so kind to me be- fore,’* he said, “and Ishall not forget your goodness, Miss—'" “Miss Hunt.” He bowed and left her. The girl went back to her work, and 1n the cooler dusk locked the door and yalked the mile that | parched all flowers not sheltered from the | sun. It was pleasant to be remembered | by some one in her isolated life. She sang snatches of a merry song as she arranged the flowers, and when every two or three | ays thereafter she found cther offerings | like them awaiting her, she wondered when she would see him again. It was not until she was detained by the usual monthly examination papers I that he came. She started up at his foot- were telling me last night at supper about the stage robberies there, five of them in the last two years, but not one has taken place since I came here. They say every- body thinks it is the work of one man and perhaps he has given up in disgust. for not once has he secured any money. You see he never happened to hold up the stage on the trip that carries the coin to the mines to pay off the men else he would have made a haul of several thou- “‘She wondered when she would see him again.” step, but this time with'a blush and shy welcome. Presently they were chatting like old friends. It seemed as though they had known each other always. _So quickly does love find its way, even though it be thousands of feet above the wide Pacific’s level. He was a rancher, he told her, and would nhave come to see her sooner but that his presence before the children might embarrass her. For the same rea- son he declined to accompany her home. And the summer faded all too quickly into the fall, while the rough-board shanty in Coyote Canyon, gilded with love’s strangely glorifying radiance, be- came a bower of happiness. Once he asked if she were not afraid to go lLome alone. She laughed, zl! the dimples in her face playing hide-and-seek Wwith each other. “Of course not,” she answered lightly. sand dollars. Mr, Haskins says next pay- day 1s to be a heavier one than usual—the stage goes up on the 10th—and they ought to take extra precautions. Just fancy how frightened I would have been if such a thing had occurred when I crossed the ridge in that lumbering old mud coach, for T was the only passenger. Imagine a fierce highway robber, mask and all, poking a loaded gunin at me and saying: ‘Young lady, vour money or your life!' ” The canyon echoed ber merry laugh, but her companion did not smile. “Maybe he isn’t quite as, bad as you think, Babe,” he said gravely. “I am told that it's the Wells-Fargo box he is after, and he has never yet molested a passenger.” Little Miss Hunt shrugged her shoulders as she tied on her hat. “What 15 the difference between zob- California. bing a company and sn individual. Fred? I say it is thievery, whichever way you look at it, and the man is a criminal. But why are you so serious to-day ?'’ she ques- tioned, smiling mischievously up into his sunburned face. ‘‘Haven’t I promised to stay all through vacation, just for your sake! And since you don’t think a ranch life is good enough for me, haven’t I said I would teach until you could provide an- other home?”’ He caught her in his arms and kissed her. “You are an angel, Babe,” he sald ear- nestly. “Now listen. There is a good prospect that I will sell the ranch ina few days, and then we'll leave this part of the country forever. The school term closes on the 10th. Meet me here that afternoon. We will make all the arrange- ments for going away early next morn- ing, will get married at the county seat and then go down to the bay and begin our happy life together. 1sita bargain, sweetheart?"’ The girl reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Itisabargain,’” she repeated. “Good-by until th€ 10¢h.” e el e e * = A heavy rain had washed down the sides of the canyon and clouds scurried overhead. The schoolhouse door was barred . inside and the girl bounded eagerly forward. to slip the bolt at sound of a well-known knock. Her lover put her gently away from him as he closed the door. “Don’t touch me, Babe,” he said husk- ily, “I'm not the man you think Iam, and I've come to make a clean breast of it. You must brace up, little girl, for what I have to say will be ugly news for you to hear. For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that. It cuts me like a knife to hurt you, but the sooner it’s over with the better. I played a desperate game to win you, and I've lost. I'll make the miserable story as short as I can. “When I was 16 my mother died. My father was a stern, cruel man, and I ran away from what was a cheerless home, I came West, and have knocked about at one thing or another ever since, always making an honest living, but a couple of vearsago I had arunof hard luck and began to get reckless. There was no one tocare. ThenI saw you, and from that day Iloved the very ground thatyour dear little feet touched. I had no home to offer you, nor a dollar I could begin to save for you.” “But you were going to sell the ranch, Fred?” “That was all a lie. There was no ranch to sell. I have deceived you in every- thing except my great love for you. Babe, 1 am the man who has robbed the stage at Silver Ridge."” : The girl leaned against the wall with a low cry. Not trusting himself to look at her he went on, trying to steady his voice. “The first time I stopped the stage I was hungry—starving, in faci—and after that it secemed as easy a way as any 10 try to get on my feet again. Then you came and I realized what a life 1 was drifting all the while I was planning how I could get a start in life that would enable us to marry, and when you in your inno- cence spoke of the money the stage wou!d carry to-day some devil kept whispering in my ear to try my luck; that the com- pany could betier stand the loss than I could to give you up. Well, three of the passengers followed me and cornered me. I gave over the coin—I've never made anything but a failure of the whole despicable business—and begged them to e it e i W I thisman better than my life. He has) reformation. And a Ir end of his, blss d | told me ¢verything. In away,Iam di- | rectly responsible for what has happened | to-day, for it was ih order to get the means | for us to marry that he resorted to this crime, The money he has restored to you. I beg of you to let him go, on my word of honor that we leave this place imme- diately, never to return.” My dear young woman,” spoke one of ings, but this man—"' | ‘“Has done wroug for my sake,’”’ she in- | terposed quickly. “*And whatis the benefit to you or to any one if he goes to prison forit? It will ruin his career and break my heart.”” The tears, brimming up, filled the blue eyes and bathed the soft cheeks in a shower. One of the group stepped forward after a silence broken only by her sobbing. “Deuce take me, boys, if Idon’t think we'd better let him off, and give him a chance to reform, although I don’t go much on reformations myself. I know well enough that it 1sn’t exactly the thing “‘The five faced each other in the twilighfi” let me keep my appointment with you. They’re-outside now. I’ll not ask you to forgive me yet, but sometimes, when you think of a convict who still dares to love you, though he is not worth your slightest thought, perhaps—" \ His voice choked and he moved toward the door, but the girl was there before him, opening it upon three waiting fig- uras. “‘Will you please come in?” she said in a clear, sweet voice. When the five faced each other in the twilight she stepped to herlover's side and laid her hand upon into. 1 resolved never again todo any- | hisarm. thing uayortby of your confidence, But “Gentlemen," she ¢ontinued, *f love todo. 1I'm a Justice of the Peace —' A pair of small hands clasped his arm and a tear-stained face smiled into his. “Oh!"” said a tremulous, eager voice. “Then you can marry us right here. All you need tell any one is that you founa the box somewhere, you know. Gentle- men,” she added, with a brave attempt at gayety, “I invite you to be guests at my wedding!” And in the deepening twilightthe sol- emn words were spoken. * * S e ety ey That was years ago. There is & gray- headed Judge in. Ban Francisco who bas changed his opinien on the A | her audience, *‘we appreciate your feel- | ‘| longer. with a charmicg wife whose head is scarcely so bigh as her husband's shoulder, is a business man of considerable siand- ingin the same community. Bradstreet rates him A1, and Bradstreet, I take it, is rather good authority. Liciiax FErGUsorw, A $20,000,000 Fraud. _ "L hate to shatter a petdelusion by giv- ing the facts in the case,” said a former clerk in the Treasury Department at Washington to a New York Sun reporter, “‘but fraud ought to be exposed, regard- less of consequences, and the greatest fraud I know of is the famous ‘bridal package’ of the Treasury vaults. “I say famous: but it isn’t famous in a general sense. It is famous only among bridal couples. Idon’t know bow it is, but every bridal couple that go to Wash. ington on their wedding tour—and -it seems to me thatabout nine-tenths of the bridal couples of the country go to Wash- ington—know all about that package, and the bride can’t rest until she goes through the regular routine connected with it. No visit to Washington by a stranger is com- plete without an inspection of the treas.- ury vaults; but if his or her visitis a non- bridal one the fraud of the package isn’t played on them. “Idon’t know who it was in the departe ment that first imposed iton a brida] pair; but it went, and it grows in populnrity‘ every year. When the couple enter the v_ault the man in charge, after a few pre- liminary and perfunctory remarks,reaches up on a shelf, takes down a package of notes, and tells the bride to take it in her hand, if she hasn’t asked for it the very first thing. He then tells her that the package contains $20,000,000 in treasnry notes, all in denominations of 810,060 each. The bride is delighted, of course, and when she zoes back home she talks for weeks about having held $20,000,000 in her hand all at one time. The bridegroom can't resist enjoying tha same pleasure, and he fondles the package a while, aud’ the pair go away blissful over the experie ence, while the treasury-vault man t the package back on S the the Tank shelf and “Now this is all slmply a i gigantic fraud %;'Iut:iu young people. The treasury at ngton does not hold that money. The bulk of the Go‘v’:?:::::: money is at the sub-treasury in this city, ‘That ‘bridal package’ is a gay dacelver‘ I: does contain notes to the amouut o.l $20,000,000, of the denomination of $10,000 eaéb, but they’re not money, beca: se they’re not signed. 8o, instead of having held in their hands $20,000,000, the hap; couple have fondled simply a mkng that represented no more value than the price of the paper and the printing on it, 1t may be cruel to shatter this pretty de. lusion, but my conscience forbids me to carry the burden of its concealment any Hence these fagts.” ———— Bismarck and’ the Emperor. _ Bismasck, who had worn himselt out in the service of Germany and of his Em. veror, rarely referred to his labors for the Fatherland. One morning he and, the Emperor William were riding together in the park. They had not gone far Wwhen Bismarch complained of fatigue, Ths Emperer, who was quite fresh, said what testily: il “How is that though I am an older 0 man than yourseli, prince, I can al i y 'y always out~ Bismarck’s reply was ag 2 reproa it was epigrammatic. p ¥ S ““Ah, sire,”” he said, “the rider alwayg &ublect of { outlasts the horse.” ~Youth's Companion,