Newspapers / The Comet (Red Springs, … / Feb. 2, 1893, edition 1 / Page 1
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z t r TUP H I lib WWItlkM THE COMET Job Printing Ofuco is well equipped for FIRST-CiLSS JOB PRINTING. Prices and Work Guaranteed Satisfactory. Published at the Groat Summer Resort is an India. AiTEitti Mel Rend for Rates. EQUAL AND EXACT JUSTICE TO at.t. VOL. I. NO. 48. RED SPRINGS, N. C, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 18P3, KHIGHT i IEHABT ftHfiai According to one estimate ths total value of the crop of to United States firing 18'J2 t3,000,000,0D0f of which th! largest Item wu 750,0J0,. y) worth of hay. The tniaal prodacti, ncludiog meats, dairy proJucU, poul rj an 1 egg and wool, are plftCl at it :03, 000,000 more. The Bio Francisco Examiner relates low a St. Paul (Minn.) man tut had hi 7o!d plate attached by a dentist for debt. This not only interfere seriously with hi dining, but he cannot even znnxh his teeta in disapproval. The only tctb he ha hare the misfortune to r,p rtim to the srold plate aforesaid. It may not be generally known that Q i;n Victoria once had poetic aspir itiona and carried them so far as to write , h ok of Terse, flhe eat thla to a pub lisher under a nom de plume and had the demure, well known to some humbler rolic, of having it promptly ''returned with tnanks." "Electric railway! will safely convey r -cM-ngera at the rate of 150 miles an hour ho "trly day," said Professor William l Mirks', Superintendent of the Edison . K trie Liht Company, and it now " ii', to the Boston Transcript, that M. r"liction it about to materialize, , .-ii tu tbU country and abroad. Th profenors in the colleges of Splin in miserably underpaid, often receiving i m more thin $200 per year. They en .' iv.tr t') make a email profit out of 'r ir t:Ubooks, each reuirin his own I, , to h'juie l. Thee books are fre .( 1' iiMy in manuscript, or, if printed, ,,. s l I -it unusual prices. The student, om, report in consequence to . n I html shops and the annual fair, 'Hi' i .perialty is made of collegiate Kmnre lot a valuable citizen a few h-. i o, ya tho New Orleans Pictvune, i-i :')r llachette, the publisher, who .Mv.c;i IM7 and brought out I ; volu'iie. Every work he believed uH. ful for instruction he publishel re. l, ir. 1 ' -44 of financial coniidentioas. He Uv tli" monopoly of railway station !iirrics, and exercised over them a Ptjii-rri'iori which was equivalent to a r .-m rtfusorslup, but Itwet an en lUtfenod censorship, and those who I rt-4tvd az.int it had little. sympathy fr nil Mica of e lucatioQ. When John Jaoob Aitor died in 1819 Mth i.V)JO,000 be loft 10,OOJ,000 m ro th in tho richest American bjforo in n. Urt in the list ten years at lent two iDon (W. II. Vanderbilt and the seond I ilin Jic ' Astor) hive died with for-tin- t .vice this sizs, and John D. It cke f 1 1 r in or linirily ettimitei to be alsi w.rth "?lM,0i)0,OOJ. It is estimated "u there tire only (even Amiricta (or t'i i.m of over iaj.OOO.OOJ, Huntington, .:, Willi i n It)ckefellflr, Stanford, Mm. Uri'onitnd William Astor; six over r.'',,',,OJ'j, I). O. Mills, Armour, irt, CtnrN's Crocker's estate, Henry II I'on fin, the L. S. Higgios estate. f riuiicM of over $10,000,00) there v vi'utrt'n. Kvidcntly the Loo ion Statist appro ni'HiM. ''rhe American peoplo," it "are descended from economically flu-, moot ellective race in the warld. Tti-s settled in the States, taking with 'fi'Mn n highly developed civillxatioD i i h thits of law and order confirmed ux.j'li many yenerations. They have I t f :i continent at their command, then i '-ven vet a visl amount of unoccupied ii, there is a diversified climate, there resources almost limitless, and there i nolutdy no enemy they have cause ' frtr. Kxcept to maintain internal ' they are free at this moment to m i i their army and their navy, cer. tMii no foreign foe will attack them. ' world has nevei sen such a peopls 'nppily circumstanced, with such .'II'-mh opjHjrtuaities for progress nproTement." ' . S- S . . - . 1 A Liverpool merchant lately pave tbo niverity in that city a clock rlttel with s!l the modern improvements, including a chime that strikes the quarter. Too generosity of the gift is seor. to bs less worthy cl admiration when it is known that the workhouse hospital, where there re generally a thousiod patients, is im mediately beieath the clock. An Alder man has found it such a nuisance on his own account (he says nothing about the poor wretchee in the work house) that he has made a format com plaint to the reitry of the persecution hich the gift has brought upon him. He would go to bed at ten o'clock, and he would bear the machine in the tower toll out eleven, twelve, one, two, three, four, and ao on, and besides that every quarter of an hour would rome the ding-dong of chime. The Alderman, to say nothing of the work house victims, seems to have a case, anJ the Boston Transcript hopes that he will win. FORGET Buttercup, poppy, forget-me-not Theee three bloomed la a garden spot. And once, all mrry with song and play, A little one heard three voices say: "Shine or shadow, aommer or spring' O thoa child with the tangled hair. And laughing eyes we three shall bring Each an offering, passing fair!" The little one did not understand, Bat they bent and kissed the dimpled hand. Bnttercnp gambolled all day long Bhsring the tittle one's mirth and song; Then, stealing along on misty gleams. Poppy came, bringing the sweetest dreams. Playing and dreaming that was all. Till once the sleeper would not awake; Kissing the little face under the pall. We thought of the words the third flower spake, And we found, betimes, in a hallowed spot The solace and peace of forget-me-not. Buttercup shareth the joy of day, Glinting with gold the hours of play; Bringeth the poppy ewe?t repose, When the hands would fo'd and the eyea would close. And after it all the play and the sleep Of a little life what cometh then? To the hearts that abe and th ree that weep A w flower bringeth God's peace again. Each one serreth its tender lot Battrcnp, poppy, forget-me-not (Eugene Field, in Chicago Newa-Becord. PROF. MORGAN'S ROMANCE. BY KATK LIB. Professor Morgan was an antiquarian and archirologist. He lovedjthings that were old and things that had been long aeaa, ana pasea an nis nays among nones ani stones and ponderous books Nothing freah and living played any pari in nis nie, ana ne persistently witn drew himself from intercourse with his fellows. His prematurely bald head. nis large bumpy forehead and the studl ous stoop of his shoulders made him ap pear much older than he really was. and superficial observers imagined him to be as hard and as incapable of emotion as one of his own fossils. It was a rare thing for any one to get a look from the gray eyes half bidden under the rrom Inent brows. To those who by chance aid obtain a full, direct glance from them, and who had the wit to read them aright, they were a revelation of the man. They were eyea that spoke, and the in tensity of expression concentrated in them gave the lie to his otherwise emotionless aspevt. The Professor was, In fact, no fosail. His heart could beat warm and iiuick, and a romance lav hidden under his outer husk of hardness and reserve. Ten years ago, Hugh Morgan, solitary, unknown, embittered in spirit and broken of heart, had come from abroad snd taken up his residence in a lonely houe fronting the sea on the outskirts of a Welsh aeacoast village. It seemed an abode as congenial as possibly could be found. The neighborhood for many miles round abounded in antiquarian re mains, nd the house itself looked out on the Atlantic for three centuries or more. An isolated houe and an isolated life. A house with a story to tell, could it but speak, a human life with a hidden un told pst. Tho were the parallels Hugh Morgan drew between himself and his chosen home, feeling a dreary sort of kinship with it, and half imagining sometimes that it possessed a human oul, a soul that was as sad in its loneli ness as he in his. Here year after year he lived in solitude, devoted apparently to science alone, the roan to all outward appearances merged in the antiquarian. Mis tall figure, surmounted by a broad brimmed hat drawn low over his capac ious brow, became well known to all the inhabitants of the villag and the neighborhood around. Now and then it would be missed for six months or more at a time, when "The Professor,' as he came toJe called long before the title was his in reality, had found occasion to return abroad for scientific purposes. But, as a rule, it was to be mot with ejrerv day, eith r pacing thoughtfully beside the wide sea, or passing rapidly across the green waste behind tne strag gling village, on the way to the moun tains beyond. The years went by. Trofessor Mor gan became a shining light in the world of archaeological science; but each year as it passed seemed to bind him down more and more irrevocably to solitude of heart. The shunning of all companion ship, which at first had been but the in stinct of a wounded and sensitive spirit. became at length a fixed habit, which he as too shy and reserved to break through. Each year increased the stoop of the Professor's shoulders, the bald nes of his head, and the terrific develop ment of hi forehead. Each year the sad, shy eyes grew sadder and shyer and were more and more rareiy mien to meet the undiscerninjr, unperceptive eyes of others. Little did anyone divine what bitter hours of heart loneliness the misanthopic, unsocial Irofessor paased In the grim, museum like study of his lonely house, or what painful thoughts, quite unconnected with barrows ana cromlechs and Druid rircles, were his daily companions. One August day the Professor made a Journey miles away among the mountain's for the purpose of taking observations of a famous cromlech. He had been for two years at work upon a history of cromlechs, and was at this time gather ing material for a chapter on the differ ences between British cromlechs and those of the nationa of Germanic de scent. The journev took him all the morning, and when he came within sight of the Tillage on his return the afternoon un was biasing at its hottest. About a mile and a half from the village the roa pasaed through a rough field, in the midst of which, on a slight elevation, stood the ruins of an ancient British bouse. To any but an antiquary the house had the appearance of being nothing more than a shapeless heap of stones. The Professor had ft theorv of his own con cerning its origin and history; and in tended one day writing ft magazine arti cle about it bj way of recreation from BUTTERCUP, POPPY, Z1B-SOT. his laborious and exhaustive work on the cromlechs As he drew near the ruin to-day he saw coming toward it, from the direc tion of the Tillage, in the hot glare of the sun, two tiny figures in black dreaeea and white aun bonnets. Between them they bore a hamper, from which yellow cat raised its head and gized around with inquiring eyea. The little faces be neath the sun bonnets were crimson with beat and haste, and, aa soon as they reached the foot of the mound on which the rain stood, the two little travelers put down their burden, and sank beside it, panting wun iaugue. The Professor's interest was transferred from the ruin to the charming picture made by tne children and their cat. It wu long since he had rested his eyes upon objects so young and fresh, and full of life. His fancy was pleasantly struck with the picture of young life to which it formed a background, nis heart stirred, and he stepped nearer to the children, who had been to absorbed in the labor of getting along with their burden that they had not perceived the Professor. Now, as they heard his ap proaching footsteps, they raised blue, startled eyes toward him, and threw pro tecting arms across their hamper. Th Professor felt irresistibly drawn toward them, and, contrary to his usual custom. ipoke. "I won't hurt your cat," he said. His voice was gentle, and so were his grey eyes, which were not too shy to meet the innocent blue ones. His broad brimmed hat was like their father's, the toop of his shoulders reminded them of their father, too, and his manner invited confidence, so the children accepted his friendly overture and took him at his word. ' Come and look!" cried the younger of the two. Fhe jumped to her feet, and, tripping up to the Professor, took his hand. At the contact of the little soft con fiding fingers a thrill shot through the Professor. He looked down at the child, and catching the sweet look of the inno oent round face, it was most strangely borne in upon him that that sweetness oi expression, that heavenly blue of the ryes, and that soft fluffiness of the brown hair on the fair forehead were not unfa miliar. As the child's hand drew him along be held it with a gentle pressure, and a musing expression crept into his sad eyes. The elder child lifted the yellow cat from the hamper. "There I" she said, "those are Amber's dear little kittens. We brought them here to save their lives because Gwennie said they would all have to be drowned F The Professor bent his back and peered into the hamper, where ft family of blind, groping, three-days-old kittens lav. The Professor did not find them so charming or so interesting as the chil dren. He looked from the kittens to the child hugging the yellow cat, her blue eves sparkling under her sun bonnet. Who couH those blue eyed children bel Why should he fancy that they bore a resemblance to a blue-eyed girl whose life had !ecn closely entwined with his own in the hidden past? The Professor put out his disengaged hand, keeping gentle hold of the clinging child with the other, and absentlv stroked Amber's yellow head. Amber purred approval, and the children's hearts were com pletely won. Thej Invited the Professor to sit down on the grass with them, and, inwardly amazed and amused at his own unusual proceedings, the Professor did so. The children babbled about theit kittens, and he, listening with a rathet abstracted smile, turned hia eyes ever from one child to the other." "What is your name, little one?" he asked, abruptly, after a while. The question was addressed to the younger child, who still kept his hand and was leaning confidently against his arm, look ing up with curiosity at the bumps on his broad forehead. She was wondering if they had been caused by a tumble down stairs. "My name is ratlin, she said, in an swer to his question. The Professor started aa if an electric fihock had passed through him, and his face bisrned suddenly red. From Phyl- lis's face his eves traveled to her black crape trimmed" dress. "Why do you wear this' he asked, touching it very softly. "Because mother has gone away from us, ' said tne cnira, ner nps quivering s little. "She has gone to Heaven, and we shall not see her again until we go there too. " The Professor said no more. He sat silent, looking out with dim eyes across the sunny land. He did not see the fields stretching hot and parched down to the village; he did not see the grand mountains fading away right and left of him into mist. He saw neither the oalm sea shimmering out there beyond the vil lage, nor the exquisite skv of turquoise blue smiling like embodied joy above it. He saw a girl named Phyllis, whom in the past he had loved with the intensity of a reserved and yet passionate nature, he bad seemed to return his love, and to understand him ss few understood the sensitive, reticent student. Assured of her love, convinced by many token that he was the elect out of many suit ors, he had left her one year to join an exploration party in Palestine. Thither, after few months' absence, he was followed by news which turned him outwardly to stone and made hit inner life an agony of bitterness and grief. The news was conveyed in a cutting from the London Tim, aent ti him anonymously. It contained the an nouncement of Phvllis Wynne's marriage with a Colonel Llewellyn, who had at one time appeared to be a favored rival of her love, but who had long since ceased to press his suit. A letter ia Phyllis handwriting followed the an nouncement, but Hugh Morgan tore it to atoms, unread. A second and a third letter shared the same fate. Then the letters ceased. Hugh Morgan remained abroad for ft year or two, and on his re turn buried himself in the obscure corner of Wales in which be had now lived for tenyeaxs. The unmistakable likeness in the faces of these two children, and the fact of one of them bearing the name of his faithless love, set both memory and im agination at work in the mind of the Professor. These were without doubt Phyllis' children. And Phyllis was dead ! It was a strange chance that had brought him and Phyllis' children together strange and sad" that from the lips rf Phyllis' child he should hear of Phyllis death. So out there in the August sunshine, it the foot of the old ruin, the Professor read, as he thought, the list page of the romance of his life. But he was mistaken. There was yet another page to be turned. Unnoticed by the dreaming Professor er by the children, who. seeing their companion's abstraction, had quietly busied themselves plucking the yellow poppies which crew among the grass, there had come along the road from the village a lady in black dress. She was close upon them before the children per ceived her. ith outstreatched arms and affectionate outcries theT flew to meet her, and bending down kissed the little uplifted facea with great tender ness. "My little Kitty ftnd Phyllier she cried; "how you have frightened us! Why did you leve Gwennie! Why did you come all this d!ttce alone r' lne rroiessor. bearing tne voice rose suddenly to his feet. How strangely he was haunted to day? Surely that was the voice of Phyllis Wynne I And yet Phyllis was dead ! Hia wondering, star tled eyes devoured the face of the new comer, and he held his breath. He saw & woman past her fint youth, ft woman with . blue, sweet eyes, and with brown hair touched too early with gray. In spite of the difference the years had made. in spite of the paleness which had taken the place of the pcachblossom of old, and the smoothness of the hair which once had curled so softly about the brow. Hugh Morgan could not but recognize her. Ibis was certainly Phyllis. And yet the children said she was dead! "Phyllis!" he cried aloud, unable to contain himself, and his voice broke as he spoke the name which had not passed his lips for more than ten years. At the sound of that name, spoken by that voice, the lady started as the Pro fessor had started when the child Phyllis had pronounced it, and a crimson tide of color rushed over her Pale face. She loosened the clinging arms of the chil dren, and. taking a step toward the Pro feasor, stood with strained eyes staring at bim. "Hugh!" she cried. Bluntly and confusedly he stammered; But the child said you were dead The immobility of his face was all broken up with the strength of the con flicting emotions that possessed him, his gray eyes glowed under tne prominent brows and his strong hands trembled Phyllis was scarcely less moved herself, put, woman like, seeing nis excessive and almost overmastering agitation, she came to the rescue by control ling herself into calmness of voice and manner. "The children's mother is dead," she said, gently. "They are not your children?" said the Professor, pissing a hand over his brow, as if to sweep away the mist of bewilder ment that obscured his understanding. "They are ray bro her s children, said Phvllis Wynne. "He has just been ap pointed minister at a Presbyterian Church at C . bhe named a large town some miles distant. "I have taken care of the children since their mother died a few months ago, and we have come here for a holiday." "And tou you are widowed, then?' blundered on the Professor. Phyllia Wynne looked at him strange- "I have never been married,' she said, simply, and the crimson color again dyed ber delicate face. The Professor stared at her a moment in horrified amazement, scarcely able to seize the import of her words. Then he broke out in a pa-ssionate way, his voice oud and stern : "Then what fiend sent me that false notice of your mirriige vour marriage ith Colonel Llewcllvn?" "Oh, Hugh! Hugh!" cried Phyllis Wynne, swiftly, her voice sharp with pain. Through her quirk woman s mind there had flashed the explanation of all that had been so incomprehensible, the realization of all that Hugh, as well as she herself bad su(T reti, and with it a contrasting vision of what might have been. "Oh, Hugh! what an awful mis take! My cousin of the same name, Phyllis Wynne, married Colonel Lie wellynT "My God!" cried the Professor, "what a fool I wa ! What a fool ! " A dead silence fell letween them. No detailed explanation was neces&i ry just then. Each un lertood that either through the mistake of some officious meddler, or through thi deliberate vil lainy of some rival of jHugh Morgan's, they had been kept apart through the bet years of life, each embittered by the thought of the other's faithlessness. They stood side by side, looking gravely at the gleaming sea. Their hearts were beating with the same momentous thought, but neither yet dared to give expression to it. The children, gathering their yellow poppies and twining them about their hamer, looked up curiously now and again at their aunt and their new friend, and wondered why their faces were so serious and jet so escited, and why, after talking so seriously, they had now fallen into complete silepre. The silence could not long W main tained unbroken. It grew too pregnant with strong, struggling emotion. The Professor suddenly turned to the woman bv his side. "Have we met agnin too late, Phyllis?" he cried. "Is it too later As the question patted his lips his fare grew Tery white, and his gray eyes filled with an intense and painful eagerness. Phyllis kept him in no suspense. Her answer came at once, in a broken cry of loTe. "Ob, Hugh! it is not too late it could never have been too late!" And, her blue eyes shining through tear, she stretched out her hands to him. The wonderful children, pausing in their work, saw their Aunt Phyllis gathered to their new friend's heart. She was held there closely, while soft whis pered words passed from lip to lip, and radiance of unspeakable happiness dawned over both faces. The years of suffering and separation seemed compen sated for in that one moment of exquuiu and perfect joy. The stones of the old ruin blazing in the Aug st sunshine gazed at the Pro fessor in imazrd reiroach. But he paid ao heed. The archaeologist was lost ia the lover Strand Mgxine. iCcaae cloba for ascendiog the peaks rf the Hinvilsyas are to be forsaed ia India. JAMES G. BLAINE His PnWic Career From Man hood (o Old Age, TRIIMP1IS AND REVERSES. His Early Life as a School Teacher and a Journalist, oetlnnlnc of His Political Career Speaker, Senator, Secretary of State, Presidential Candidate and HiatorianUls Bereavements and Ill-hated House In Washington lne Ulalne Household. JAXKS O. BLAISE FROM HI LAST MOTO GRAPH, TAKEN IX IW2. James UUJepie Blame waa born on the 81st or January, 1V), at West Brownsville, renn.. in a houss built by his great-zrand- fatber before the War of the R?Tolutioo, which still atands. TbsQillespies anlBlaloes were people of standing befora the Revolu tion. Colonel Blaina. who waa commitfaarr. general of tbe Northern. Department of Washington a army during the Revolution, was James U. iilaine'a freat-zraodfather. When eleven years old. he went to live with uncle, Thomas Ewinr. in Ohio, where bis mothers father, rfeal GiUejpie. an accom plished acholar, directel hia studies. Later be attended asbntoa College, at Wash ington, Penn., graduating at the aze of sev en teen. After leavinz col We be tauzht school at Blue Lie Spring. Kr. It was as a nrof- sor fn the military school there that he made the acquaintance of tbe lady a school teacher from Maine who afterward bevirae his wife. Later be went to Philadelphia, where he tauzht school and stuiiellaw. But after two years he abanionel law stud ies, went to Maine, and became proprietor and editor of the Kennebec Journal. At tbe birth of the Republican 1'arty be was a delegate to the Philadelphia Con ran tion in Iborl which nominated Fremont. After serving aa Speaker of the Maine Leg islature, he was rent to Oneree end bezan his National career in lt&L with tbe out break of the war. During the l'orty-arst Forty-e oond and Fcrty-thir l Conereaes he was bpeaker of the Houe. Mr. iilaina a administration or the Speak ership is commonly rezarJed as one of the most brilliant and succjssf ul in the annals of the House. He had rare aptitude and equip ment for tbe duties of presiding ofllcfr, ani his complete mastery of Parliamentary law, his dexterity and Dhytical endurance, bis rapid dispatch of businrs. and his Arm and Impartial spirit were recognised on all sides. It was during- his orupancr or th open er's chair in 1U that he took the flr an I succeeded In defeating the passage of the original "Force bill." The Dclitical revulsion of 1ST d1sc1 the Democrats in control of the Houie, an 1 Mr. BUine became tbeleelrrof tbe minority. Tbe session preceding the Presidential cm test of 187S wai a p jtk I of stormy an I ve hement contention. U.i the 21 of May a resolution was adopted in tbe Hius t-i ia estigete an alleged purebwe by the Union Pacific RailroM 1 Company of certain boo 1 ef the LitUe Rock and Fort Smith Railroad Company. It koon became evident that tb Investigation was aimed at Mr. Blaine. An extended business correepon Isncs on bis part with Warren Fisoer, o: Bnton, rua- niog through years and relating to various transaction', had fall-n into the bands of a clerk named Mulligan, anl it was allege 1 that tbe production of this corras;onden- would confirm tbe imputation againfct Mr. Blaine. When Mulligan was summons! t ts. ar.tra's irarwrLACt Washington Mr. Biaine poteessel bimtel' of the letters, together with memoren an that eoatalael a fall index and abstrje.. US the ftih of June. be rose to a per! erplanaUoG, ani aXtsr denying toe power of the House to compel the prnljc'Joa rJ kii nHttu rerer. anl his willingness to to to any extremity in defense of his rights, .e deijd thet be rxrrcm 1 to reerre n th- . 7 . a t.T Holdmz an tbe letter be ez&ataMl Thank Ood, I am not eshamsd to enow There ia the very orwnai psvesagv. Astd with some ernes of bamulation, wits a aaortlflcsvUon I do not attempt to coaesa', with a tense of utrege which I think any maa fas my poettKW woo'd feet, I inv.te the conftdeoce ot SO.aACr) f y eoaeirrme-a wfeUe 1 resvd Uvwe inters fro-js my drsr." The dVmatutratioii Ho-i with a dramatic teasM. Josaaa Caldwell, one of the cr g-na-tersof the UttJa Rock aal Fort Smith RsjI- I rrm full knowings ot u wno-e tnnaactioe, wa tra relics; In Europe a4 umw wer ttmxiat to eotnmanloaU with him. After flnlthiaf the ratadlac of th U tf r Mr. BUin turtHxi to the Chair man of the Commute anl dmaa44 to know whether he had received any dlanateh from Mr OtOlw-Jl R.. -J.-.!. answer Mr Blaine asaTfd. m within hia own knowledge, that the Chairman had re ceived such a dispatch 'toxnpUUly and ab solutely exonerates z ne from this charre ani yon hare snprrefoxl It" s. l alms's ftEsinaiict In 1875 Mr. Blaine waa aDtointt to Lh Senate to (Ul the vacancy cause! bv the re. sig nation offjenator Morrill, and tbe next winter was elected by the Legislature to tbe vuoceedlng term. Ilia career la the Sentts was both brilliant and distinguished, as It bad been In tbe House. He waa csllel from the Senate to enter President Oarflald'a Cabinet as Secretary of Stat. It was while pacing through the railroad depot leaning on Mr. Blaine's arm and pleasantly chatting with him about his coning holiday that ftarfleld received the assassin's fatal bullet. Tbe death of Mr. Oar field Ud to Mr. BUine' s retirement from the Cabinet, ia December. ii. r rom that date uoUl be entered Mr. Harrison's Cabinet as Secretary of 8tat. lie was in private life except durinz his camimfgn for the Presidency in 134. During his retirement Mr. Blaine wrote his 'Twenty Years in Congress," a work of great historieal value. It was In aooordanoe with his original sutzesUon and due to bis earnest efforts that provision was made in the McKinley bill for the reciprocity tre tis which formed such prominent features of National policy. The Samoaa difficul ties, t'le complication! arislnr. ont of tbe lynching of Italians at New Orlean and the was Java a. Htm. killing; of American e-w-nen at Valparaiso wers also dispieedof while Mr. Blaine, was at tbe htJloftbe MUts Department. The events preoeliog aal atteittar the recsnt Mmneepoiis Uoive-U on are reesnl al most to nee revxinunz. Mr. n:a'ne was induced to permit his na-nst be used as a c inli late, end retirnsl his pi v?i In the Cabinet. Waether in pnMlc position cr in private life, be alwavs r mains 1 a entral firure in Nsttoial af7iir. slai it's Lira is wassioroi. Fjt nearly thirty vetrs Mr. B eine has ben a resided t of tvashlnztio. While be never gave up hia home an I borne life la Maine, where ne net a town resiieuce in AumiLaanl a sn-nmer resiience at car Harbor, yet be als bad a home la Washing ton. II was only a few years after going there as a Member of Congress that be Lought tbe residence, &!1 Fifteenth street. usa wasito-, rs. where be live! e meey years. This was about tbt year 1V. wbei he was electa t Speaker of the tl'rase for the first tiose. The bowse beboacbt wee oae of a row whiei had yttt beesi bwilt aal was re garded at that time as oas of the chief areHitectaral lea tares of the estr. He mate als aome at 821 Fifteenth street for over tan years, and thea having ba;lt the fine reesieooe fronting ess Dvpiot Clreie. be soli the old house and took p wart aw of tbe new one. The death of (iarnel i aa I Mr. B aloe's retirement from pabUo life eaaemd a change la bis pis as aal be leased bis Dspoat Crce house to Mr. Lwter. ne was absent fraa the city for erreral years, al Uoazh Uspmt a nortioa of oae or two winters thre aal or-aUl the hoose os Lv fayrtte q-iare a1)otiag Oeaer! mileoct. whh Howaelby the dan rater of the Utt R'preesouuve Scott. c Pennsyl vania, Mrs. BocrU Tsw-sseoi. MH',H - .-A ft . g. W-VT ' AboQt thebatrtnatatrefhU a4&lnltretio he purchase 1 hia te boia, whiol Is oa tb pppoaiU tida of Lfa-(H? Ki'itr. t U known m lb WwarJ li.mm. Tlv oH pUo na4 ba unorjupiet for vne ynars and was ia a dilapidate! eontiUoa. It was oteUr.t notortoadr nnlnocy, ir tr4iw hart ax oocwrr1 wirhln tu pnrUJ Darin r Buch&nin'a a lml,iiip.in. scupd as a clafcho-jte. Oae dav Itliin Bartofl Kty, tbe voaaraal hantaom Dta trlet Attorney of the District of OJumUt, iv washisqTs), n. c. hai just left tbe olubhout when he was shot down by Congretamati Sickle, of Nw York. Mr. Key was cartas I bar U tbe clubhouse. An Intrigus which Kv lad been carrying ou w.th Hicls's wife was the csuse of the aneountrr. Twj years after this occurreties tbe tioi, wbic i was for a time uo cu jiel. uwen by the then Hscretary of Mite, Wiiiu .i it. 8 1 ward, an 1 be moved IoVj it w ith his Urn. BLAtTfE'a AU'Il'STA ftKSIPg.trg. lly. On the night of April I. si whllM ? Sewsrd lay sick In bed In one of tin tiipr rooms, a Ug, oak complexion broal ahoulierei man rang the 'loir t,! lkn told the servant who admiltel hint that he bad apackaze of medicine which the Nx-. retary'a physicisn bad orderai to hi d-llv-erl to him personally. The servant ra fused to allow bim to go artirs anl th Kecretary's eon, Freilerirk W. Kewart. ai opposed nlm; t-ut the atranzt-r, making a feint of departure, auddenlv. sprang at Frederick and fell! him to the fi r w ith the I -utt of a revolver, almnet on the same instant alashing the servant with a knife. Us then darted forward and reche! tbe sick chamber where Secretary Siwar lwts sitUag up in bel. Tbe knife glem1 a2lt and Mr. Seward, weak and belploas, wee stabbed in tbe face anl neck, but th banl ages that swathed his neck .ssvei him fromamorted wound. A the mur Jrou Intruder retreated be waa axeln lntnpte t. this time by Major Augustus II. Hatd an i an attendant but he shook the n of. and running dowa stairs, leaped on his horse and rode erf. He was rptar1 e few days later, and being fu'ly lltn'l1d as Leafs Perns, one of tbe inert hnp'ilcatel In Pres dent l,inr4V dietb. was tried, ronlemael and ex- eoited with his fsilowon! irsUr Kerrelary of tYar lielsnap was the next lenunt of tae bouse of misfortune, an I for a lime the sober old edifice became gay with the 11 ' of the (Jrant regime, liefore a t weJ ve month lie evil geniut bad agsln atrt It. self an l Mrs. Belknap lay 'teal tin ier He rrf after a brief Ulneaa. Then, after the Ilelknapa vacaUJ. It again did dutv. as in the earlier days, as a boar ling -h ue, but Washington ba I somehow gt the l'ipr- ion that tbe piece was unctnoy an I tbst He tenants were orvgcei by ao evil rate rw time the Commissary weoeral s stT held rmaeeaaion. then when thf ial moved to the War Drpertrneot'e new I und ine It ee again tentative . It wee atut this time that Mr. liieJae, shoe J i afW hie appointment aa Secretary of Htate by I'ri dent llarrierja, aetoelsbed hie frtenls l v renting tbe ill-omened boua for ten yeua at a yesr. lie dec-rated en reni- vaUJ It throughout, tearing dowa the wslls of the room ia which tbe atte npt on Mr. Seward's life look plane, ani by gsnfous xpenlituree transform kI tbe diagy oil wtde-roomed hTuee into a maznifioeni mot era ressdeooe. Yet ail the obaat ee leliel to era Jieate tbe characteristw atuiutl to tbe rasDstnn by lbs superiUtioas Washlagtyti tsas. Beoomlag IU tenant, Mr. Blaine hae enoouotered the greatest reverses to LU era bltioos, and eipsrlefKwd the a t s irrowe of bieli'e aa. sluvs's siot-ssaLti. Of Mr. Blaiae'e sig chUire-i. three 1. eons sad a dsuzbter were rulJea'y stncseq down by death eftC reaohlaf mat jrltr. Hi e4deet eoa, Walter, a yoweg ma t fine parts, woo bet glveo eviieti-s of rare abilities aal was arpreauv destloel to ft brUliant fotore, 4U1 two ye-rs ego. KanotM, hia eeronl son. a bright buatnetas maa, ia msowr - t closely reeemUiac bis father, ai- d.eii denly ia the hevdsy of youth aal pron'tr A tolrd il crashing oereev eroeni was tbe death of the el lest daughter, AIoe. who was merr.el to IJeuteoant C'oloa-i Jobu J. rojrpingr. It lollowl S on the deatia of ber brother. Wa'sef Kiaine, waoee faasrel ebe ei e. tending when eelitl by the faUl l B4si. Of the three surviving ctllireo, thewwt, James made aa wnfortunaU taarriMe, tbe reenlu of wbsrh eev bit'.eret the Utter years U bie fih-r-. Mfe.OMof the dsurhters. Mas Margaret, is married to M'. Waiter Daaaroseh. se f tooM 'sw York moMoai director, an I tbe other, Mies iUrrtt U anarrlel. Mra LAIri OOTTAO ATftAftSIAasyra. BUftM Is still aa active aal brnUa-i laly. Khe basbeea a devoUd wife to th. grsat statesmaa, whom she married forty ooe years ago wheo trth were arboa teasers la a country district with bat Mtl to in-lsU the pro-nloeot .place tUTW iWtine 1 to nil la the highest circles U Mm ICsUoa. assasjsjBraw 7 mHmtJmmmmBF? "ssw m e : r :- : .. , .... -- - '. - L ' ... . - "
The Comet (Red Springs, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Feb. 2, 1893, edition 1
1
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