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THE HAUNTED BRIG.

It was on a beautiful moonlight night.
whenwe were inthe tropimas Iwu hard.
and fast in the lee of the launch. very busy
sleeping, that my person was saluted and
mynapcut short bye kick from old Harry
Wilson, one of our quarter-masters. ”Haul
your wind out of this," said he. “You’ve
watched the cable long enough. Reeve
and weiuh. I don't care if I come to an
anchor," and, so saying. he took posses~
sion of my moorings, but as he aim-led
too many guns for me there was nothing
to be said. and I quietly submitted and
prevailed on him to spin a yarn.

The scene was in complete keeping with
the subject; the full, beautiful, tropical
moon shone in unclouded splendor and old
Ocean lay outstretched basking in his
eflulgence, lulling himself to sleep with
his own eternal anthem, “the moonlight
music of the waves.”

Our ship, as beautiful a sloop-of-war as
ever carried the stars and stripes to be
warshiped and feared by distant lands,
was quietly plowing her way through the
almost unrufiled surface of the deep. The
wind was fair, though light, and our im
mense folds of spotless wnvas were
spread before it, glistening in the moon»
beams, and ever and anon crimsoned with
the phosphorescent illumination of the
ocean, so common in the tropics. Our
decks were nearly silent; the sailors lay
around in groups, dreaming, either sleep-
ing or waking, of that happy home and
all its endearments, to which we were
rapidly hastening, for, delightful men,
the sloop-of-war was “homcward bound.”
Those “who live at home at case” can
form no estimate of the delicious sense»
tions caused by those two words in the
bosom of the poor sailor far away on the
deep. In cold or heat, in storm or tem-
pest, “homeward bound" is the soother of
all aflliotions, the watohword of joy. The
man at the wheel when relieved would
say: “Her course is north, Jack. Home-
ward bound." Such was the state of
things on our decks when old Wilson,
having taken a fresh quid and worked up
his reckoning, began his yarn.

“It's many years now since I one day
drifted along down to Pine street wharf in
New York and saw there a Baltimore built
brig, called the Rising Sun. She was as
neat and pretty a craft as an old tar would
wish to clap eyes On—clinkcr built, black
hull and painted ports, with long, heavy,
raking masts and black yards—she looked
like a real clipper. Thinks I, that’s the
stuff for trousers; so I shipped. aboard of
her and the next day we were at sea.

“For the first week we had fair winds
and everything went on regular, but after
that there began to be the deuce to pay.
One night when we were sailing along,
with just wind enough to give her steerage
way, crash went something aloft, and a
man on the top hailed the first mate,
‘Mainyard’s carried away in the slings,
sir.’ ‘Mainyard carried away?’ growled
the mate. ‘Why, hang it, there is not a
capful of wind aloft! ‘Mainyard carried
away?" said the old man, sticking his head
up the companionway. ‘Why, the deuce’s
in the brig!’

“He was right; the deuce was in the
big, as we found to our sorrow.

“We turned to and slung the yard again
and got everything snug, and went on our
course, but we didn’t feel easy, and one
fellow began to tell how he had heard in
Philadelphia of a brig called the Rising
Sun which was haunted, but he didn’t
think, in New York, that this was the one,
and so had said nothing. Well, we were
talking and guessing about it, when this
some fellow, Starboard Tom, sang out so
sudden that we all jumped up as if the
brig was aflre. ‘I say, shipmates,’ says
he, ‘l’ll tell you how we’ll know if this is
the same craft. That Philadelphia brig
had a red spot on the deck of her fo’oastle
as big as a man’s head, close by the
stanchion, amidsbips.‘ We all ran down
into the fo’castle, and there, sure enough,
at the foot. of the midships stanchion was
a dark red spot—a spot of blood! ‘Tom,’
says we, ‘how came that there?’

“ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘I was told in Philadel-
phia that the crew mutiuizcd at sea two or
three yezusago and when the captain came
down into the fo'castlo to see a sick man
one of the ringleadcrs killed him with an
ax and that spot is where his head struck
when he fell. The crew robbed the brig
and left her and she was picked up by a
states man-of—war and taken into Philadel-
phia and lay a long time at the wharf and
nobody would ship in her. And I s’pose
when the owners found they couldn’t get
any hands for her there they sent her round
to New York to man her and so we’re all
sucked in l’

“I shall never forget how I felt that
night. I ain’t afraid of anything as long
as I can see it. But to be aboard a vessel
that’s haunted! I can’t stand that.

“We went on for two or three days ex-
pecting that something more would hap-
den, when one day about dusk the car-
penter went down into the fo’castle to get
lemcthing out of his chest. He was a big,
brave fellow, who didn’t care for anything,
and had said all along that he did not be-
lieve the brig was haunted at all. He had
been down there but about five min—
utes when we heard a little noise, as if a
man was strangling and trying to call for
help, and the next thing we heard a yell
of agony and the carpenter burst up the
hatch. his eyes all black, his throat black
and blue, his mouth wide open, and his
eyes standing out of his head, and looking
back, as if something was chasing him, he
screamed out, ‘Oh, God, he‘s choking me'.’
and fell senseless on deck. Well, some
ran for one thing and some for another,
and after working at him a long time he
came to. When he was a little better, we
asked him what was the matter.

“ ‘Why,’ mys he. “trembling all over,
‘when I had got what I wanted out of my
chest, I turned into my berth, and as I
rolled over, I thought I heard something
moving in the Io'custle, so I turned round
to see who it was, when I was knocked
back into my bunk, and I felt two hands
choking me, though I could not see any-
thing, and I tried to get away, but I could
not stir. But just as I began to give up I
felt something on my cheek like a man’s
cold breath, and then the hands let go,
and I song out and ran on deck.’

“That was enough for us. We all felt as
if we were in aflx. That night no one
went into the fo’castle, but we all lay on
deck in the lee of the long boar. Star

 

 

 

bells he @
stood looking to see what would happen.
About five bells it disappeared, and Tom
was getting ready to bail for his relief
when up came a man out of the cabin,
dressed in white flannel drawers and shirt
and a white nightcap, and Tom thought it
was the skipper. It went to the weather
rail and looked into the fine of the second
mate, who was leaning there asleep, and
swod so for five minutes.

“ ‘Now,’ thought Tom, ‘stand by for
squalls; the old man is goin to blow up
the second dicksy for being asleep on
watch.’

”Just as he thought so the figure turned
round and walked for’ard, and Tom stood
looking after it, when suddenly the real
captain stuck his head up the companion-
way and sang out:

“ ‘Tom, how do you head there?’

“ ‘Ob, the ghostl’ cried Tom, and fell
down in a fit, and we had to work at him
along time to bring him to. But things
got quiet again and the night passed off
without any more disturbance.

“The next day. about four bells in the
forenoon watch, the captain called for the
carpenter to bring a small chisel into the
cabin, and ordered him to make two little
holes in the panels over the head of his
berth. Now, I believe, he had spoken to
the ghost, and he had told him that was
what be haunted the brig for. At any
rate, we had no more trouble with the
ghost, and, as the captain was a wide
awake fellow for carrying sail, be cracked
away on her, so that we made the River
Plate in a fortnight. We discharged our
cargo in Montevideo, and loaded again
with hides and horns and the forehold was
stowed with horns.

“We had been at Montevideo about six
weeks, and were to sail in a day or two,
when one day toward dusk I was down in
the fo’castl, and as I lay in my bank I
heard the horns in the hold rattle as if
some one was tossing them about at a
great rate. Now we stowed them as tight
as they would wedge, and I thought the
demon himself could not make them fetch
away; so I determined to see what the
matter was. The next morning when the
hatches were taken ofi I looked into the
forchold, and there the horns were wedged
just as we had left them!

“That was enough for me, and I ran
away that day and went aboard a ship
bound for New York. Two days after the
Rising Sun sailed and in a week we follow-
ed her. We had been out to sea about three
weeks, and were just north of the line,
when one morning a lookout aloft sang
out, ‘Sail, ho!’ We bore down on the craft,
and about noon we got within speaking
distance. She was a. brig, standing the
same way we were, with all sail set, stun’-
sails on both sides, and yet she did not
make much way.

“We hailed her, but sho said nothing.
We hailed again, but still she said not a
word, and we then saw that there were no
men on her decks. So our captain spoke,
says be: ‘They are all fast, keeping watch
below. We’ll turn them out before the
brig falls overboard.’ And he sent a boat
to board her, and I was one of her crew.
As soon as I got on her deck I knew her.
She was the Rising Sun! Everything on
the deck looked right, and she was going
regular enough before the wind, but there
was no living thing to be seen. Jackets
and shoes lay knocking about decks, as
they always do. The people’s chests were
all in the fo’castle, and the captain's dun-
nago was in the cabin, as if he had just
been writing. Nothing was taken away,
nor anything left adrift. Every rope was
belayed right and coiled up regular, and
the decks were clear. The logbook lay
open in the first mate’s stateroom, and a
pen with ink in it lay athwart it, and at
the end of the last day’s work, about a
week before, was this, “A strange man
seen on the forecastle'»and then a mark,
as if he had begun to write something else.

“That was enough for us. We hauled
oil“ as quick as we could and got aboard
our own ship and made sail to get away,
when suddenly a tall, black man appeared
on the fo'castle of the Rising Sun, walked
slowly aft, and then went down into the
cabin. The brig gave a heavy lurch to
port and went down head fo’most, and so
ended the voyage of the haunted brig.
What became of her men nobody know.
They were never heard of to this day. "—
New York News.

 

Speedy nan way nxcycte.

There is now on the market, placed
there by a Michigan firm, a railroad
bicycle constructed throughout like an
ordinary machine, but capable of greatly
increased speed The wheels are, of
course, flanged and fitted with soft
cushion tires, one-third of an inch thick
and five wide. which causes the wheels
to run noiselessiy over the rails. One
advantage is that the rider can hear ap-
proaching trains from either side. There
is no jar, and owing to the smooth track
surface very high gears can be used. A
good rider can average a speed of thirty-
five miles an hour on a long run on this
machine with ease. A hub brake with
which the wheel is equipped makes
such a high rate of speed safe.’ '

 

When the Wheel Gran-n3.

When your bicycle makes a noise it is
a sure sign that something is wrong.
The perfect running machine is noiseless.
Loose tools will rattle, and should be so
wrapped that they will not be heard
from; a jingling sound usually means
that spokes have broken loose from
their fastenings at crossing points: a
distinct click indicates spokes loosened
at the rim; what might be termed a
jogging nose is usually caused bya
loose (crank; loud snapping almost in-
variably comes from a dry‘ chain, and a
loose sprocket will thump. No matter
what the noise is or from what part of
the machine it emanates it indicates
trouble that should be promptly attended
to.

 

VOICE, SATU DAY JUNE 1:, l.

TALKING 3N THEIR SLEEP.

 

'Tenthinklamdud," ,
Theappletreeendd. 7
“Bonuselhaveneveraleaftoahow, K
BecauseIetoop
Andmy’erancheadroop,

And the dull gray mosses over me grow.
But I‘m alive in trunk and shoot.

The buds of next May

I told. away,
But I pity the withered grass at my root."

“You think I are dead.”
The quick grass said,
“Becausel have parted with stem andblade,
But under the ground
I am safe and sound,
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.
I'm all alive and ready to shoot
Should the spring of the year
Come dancing here,
But I pity the flower without branch or roe "

“You think I am dead,"
A soft voice said,
"Because not a branch or root I own.
I never have died,
But close I hide
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.
Patient I wait through the long winter hours.
You will see me again-
I shall laugh at you then
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers."
——Edith M. Thomas.

A P RATE’S END.

“One of Crocky Dixon’s lot, ch? ’Pon
my soul. it’s very kind of German to say
so, especially as the old villain hirnself‘e
got a lot more the cut of the buccaneet
than 1 have.”

I looked up at the bridge and compared
the skipper—fiery faced and shock bearded
—with the man beside me—lean, clean,
brown and civil.

“Appearances don’t go for m ” I
said. “Crocky himself, I understa "—-

“Don't look the part, eh? Well, that’s
50. Ladies’ hosiery or barber’s clerk—that
was about his mark, by the outside of
him.”

 

“You did know hi , than?”
The lean man str bed himself out in
his deck chair. “Well, yes. In fact, I

was in a sense, as German says, one of
Crocky’s 10*. Much against my will,
though. And I was with him at the and.”

“At the end! Why—but perhaps you’re
Kirby?”

“Mr. Adam Kirby, sir, at your service.”

“Oh, of course. But, you see, you're
historical. ’ ’

“Or you Want to make me so. Isn’t
that it? But you’ve heard the story be-
fore?”

“In half a dozen versions. That’s why
I’d be glad of a first hand account.”

Kirby looked at his watch. “Got to
muster my 0001125 on deck in half an hour.
Just about time for the yarn.

“You see, Crocky wanted to be up to
date. That old schooner of his was 2. won-
der to sail. But now that both Dutch and
English cruisers were on the lookout for
him he thought it was time he had a
smokepot of his own. I needn’t go over
the nabbing of Hija de la Mar. The straits
papers had that all right enough, except
that they said she was a good lump of a
steamer. She was only a 60 foot Barrow
built launch, sent out for Jarera of M3-

nilla. I ought to know. ”
“Yes. You were her engineer, weren’t
you?"

“Engineer of a hooker like that! Not
likely. But I was going to Minlando my-
self, and Jose Parera asked me to run the
Hija down for him. And how Crocky
nailed us and marooned ’em all but me,
of course you know.”

“Yes. But why did he except you?”

“Because there were fixtures about the
steam gear that puzzled him—newfangied
touches that made him think he’d got hold
of a20 knotter or therea bouts. Sixteen she
was credited with on the measured mile.
Fourteen was all I could knock out of her,
Crooky’s pistol at my ear to help me. ‘And
that’s her top notch, is it?’ says he at last.
‘With better coal,’ I told him, ‘and a few
inches more down by the stern I might
squeeze another knot out of her, not
more.’ ‘Call it 18 as a general thing,’ he
says, ‘too much for the Dutchie or for
anything the Britishers bev got in these
hyar waters.’ ‘Yes, but what about the
Spaniards?’ I says. ‘You've put your foot
in it properly now with them too.’
‘Shuckl’ he says and walks away aft, full
of a notion that many a Yankee and J obn-
ny Bull has come to grief over before now.
Got the same idea yourself as like as
not!”

“And that is?”

“That the Spaniards are poor, God for-
saken creatures, not much account, afloat
or ashore. Anyhow, I could see Dixon
knew' nothing of the new 18 knot cruiser
that had arrived at Manilla the day we left
it. She’d be after us by that time, I ex-
pected, but of course I said nothing to
Crocky. Sixteen of his men he had with
him, the best, I suppose, in his estima-
tion, which meant pretty well the biggest
scoundrels, and the nearest thing to a
white man among ’2!!! was a big, cross eyed
Portuguese with a touch of the tar brush.

“About 7% latitude we were in, and as
we headed away duo cast I fancied Dixon
was making for the Carolines. I kept look-
ing him over as he sat on the skylight
with a yellow back novel and a bottle of
poor Par-era’s Medoc, and I couldn’t bring
myself to believe he was such a savage
devil as he was made out. But I soon got
an eye opener.

“We fell in with a little green painted
brig heading nor’west—cocoanut oil, I
heard afterward, she had from the islands
for Canton—and Crocky run alongside and
boards her with all his cutthroats but two.
What happened in the brig’s cabin I don't
exactly know or what Crocky took from
the tomato faced skipper, but when we
had cast of! and the brig had filled her
main topsoil again the skipper runs to the
taflrail and shakes his list at Crocky. ‘You
Yankee robber,’ he yells, ‘you'll pay for
this as sure as my name’s'—what his
name was I didn't hear, for just then
Crocky fired. The old chap stood for a bit
with his fist stretched out; then down he
went in a heap. ‘Thougbt I'd missed,
didn’t you.” Dixon says to me in a voice
like a girl at a tea party, but I could see
from the looks of his men that his claws
wore out.

“Presently he walks up u the chap at
the wheel—a half caste Dutchman by the
look of him and not well used, I could see,
to have the spokes of a steamer in his dipo
para. Qixon just looks at the compass,

 

897.

 

 

-anu, mm‘ou. :- alngle‘word, catches the

mana erashcon the headwith hlsrevolv-
er butt. Then he looks round—the small.
Ist man aboard, with an {alumni male
smile on his smooth little face. "fake the
wheel, Miguel,' he says to the big Portu-
guese, 'and been this thing over the side
a couple of you.’ Now, the man was only
stunned—I could see his chest heaving as
they got him up on the rail and I called
out before I could help it, 'He’s not deed!’
Rext second a bullet scored the top of the
tape I had on, and says Cruelty—smiling
more beautiful than ever — ‘51:: inches

lower next time. '

“Wall cir- eh 3
thing as rate, .33: ”35.51: m it 33:
this man‘s doom that drove him into such
sudden ferocity. At all events it was the
shooting of the red faced skipper that
brought the cruiser down on us. The mate
of the brig kept her away from the Philip-
pines to report the matter, and what docs
he drop across, six hours later. but the
Spanish warship pegglng away to the
aouth’ard, on the chance that Dixon would.
make for some out of the way hole in
northern Gilolo. Away comes the Don,
then, dead in our wake, with every ounce
of steam he could carry, and, sure enough,
next morning at sunrise there was a little
inky smear going up out of the blue be-
hind us. Crocky hardly took his eye off it
for an hour, and when he found it was ris~
ing and spreading he comes to me and
says, ‘Drive her!’ Not a word more, but
you bet I did drive her for all she was
Worth."

The narrator pulled up to irrigate, and
I said, “Couldn’t you have sent something
astray with your engines, on the quiet?”

“Wouldn't be sitting here, yarning, to-
day if I had! Croeky knew a heap too
much for that! And; anyhow, it wasn’t
needed. The strangt r—steering for our
smoke, of course—hove herself up so fast
over the horizon that I knew she must be
the new cruiser, the Cid Campeador. But
still I said nothing, and when Crooky
handed me the glass, saying he ‘didn't
know her, I said I didn’t either. ‘She kin
travel a few, whatever she is!’ I heard him
mutter. ‘Keep her at it!’ he says to me
with a tap on his pistol. ‘And you, Miguel,
steady as you go i’ Then he went below.

“I suppose he still though he’d an off
chance of making the Carolincs. In fact,
I fancied myself it was about time we were
sighting some of the little outlying west-
ern islands. But the way the Don over-
hauled us was a caution, and as soon as he
was near enough to show us the whiteness
about his fore foot he let drive at us.
‘Long way short, my boy !’ I says to myself,
but I hadn’t reckoned on the latest touch
in guns—the shot pitched a good half mile
ahead of us! Up comes Crocky when he
hears the boom, and down he smashes his
glass on deck when he makes out the
stranger’s ensign. 'Great Jefferson 1’ he
says, ‘yellow bellies, after all!’ He ‘ :3k 3
turn or two fore and aft, and I noticed
that his pockets were bulging with some-
thing that made him very heavy in the
walk. Then comes another shot——not ten
feet above our smokestaok—and at the
screech of it Crocky seems to go clean mad.
He pulls a seven shot Colt out of each
breast pocket, tires at Miguel, and as the
big Portuguese falls over the wheel whips
round and pots five of his other men be-
fore tho rest could rush him. A long buck
nigger was the first to handle the little
demon, but, as he lay under the black
man, he managed somehow to fire another
shot that set the man’s shirt on fire and
blew away part of his jaw. In the middle
of the shooting I had stopped the engines,
and when I turned round there was the
big nigger with the blood pouring from
his smashed face just forcing Crocky over
the mil. His packets sunk him like lead.”

“What was in them?"

“Dollars! I fancy he intended to sink
himself with them anyhow after he'd pol
ishcd all his whole crew. But now there
were nine of ’cm left, and when they
missed the throb of the screw they came
for me like one man. But I fought ’cm
with what no man can face—steamvand
scaldcd three of thom so badly that they
jumped overboard and sank within 20
yards of the cruiscr's boat, puilin g up
hard. Two of the others fired into her and
killed a seamen at his oar. That’s what
made the garottc a certainty for them in
any case.”

“Had a middling close shave of it your-
self by some accounts?”

Kirby laughed as he jumped up. “Not
quite so bad as that. But, you see, I’d
been seventy odd hours without sleep or
shave, thick with grease and coal dust bo-
sides. No wonder the Spanish lieutenant
took me for what I looked like. But when
I got aboard the Cid it was all right. The
captain spoke English, and as soon as I
had got freshened up a bit he sent me back
with half a dozen of his marineros to run
the Hija into Manilla.

“And after I'd given evidence against
the five remaining picaroons I asked for
this”——Kirby logged out a long colt navy
-~“as a little memento of the Last of the
Pirates.”—Iocndon Sun.

Composite Photographs.

A composite photograph is a very inter-
esting study and is often used to illustrate
a class, as, for instance, scholars in a cer-
tain class are photographed one after the
other on the same plate, and the picture is
supposed to bring out the prominent char-
acteristics of the class. In the same way
a. club of athletes, a team of football or
baseball players are photographed. The
children of one family make a good com-
posite photograph, and Francis Galton,
the man who originated the plan of mak—
-ing pictures in this way, said that if a
picture of a child should be made at the
rate of one each six months or a year, the
result, after a number of years, would
make a most interesting study of the
grorr’dh of a family type or characteristic.

To make a composite picture the heads
must all be posed in the same position and
on the same line and of course at the same
distance from the camera. A full face
view or a perfect profile is the best position
for a composite photograph, and the full
face is to be preferred, as when the picture
is taken in profile the “composiw” nose is
a most peculiar shape.

To regulate the time of exposure for a

composite picture the time required for a ‘

correct exposure of one picture is divided
among the number of persons to be pho-
tographed. if the correct exposure takes
ten seconds and there :11: ten persons to
be photographed, then for each sitter the
plate should be exposed one second—Har-
per’s Round Table.

 

Rest and Work.

What. other: 5.2.2.42: ere the-e Ln. life
save these two, fearlms rest and hopcfui
work? Troublesome as life is, it has
surely given to each one of us some time
and season when, surrounded by simple
and beautiful things, we have really felt
at rest; when the earth and all its plen-
teous growth, and the tokens of the var-
ied life of man, and the very sky and
waste of air above us, have all seemed to
conspire together to make us calm and
happy, not slothful, but restful. Still
oftener, belike it has given us those other
times,:wheu at last, after many a strug-
gle} with incongruous hindrances. our
own chosen work has lain before us, dis:
entangled from the encumbrances and
unrealities, and we have felt that noth-
ing, not even ourselves, could withhold
us from doing the work we were born to
do; that we were men and worthy of life.
Such work and such rest I earnestly wish
for myself and for you and for all man.
To have space and freedom to gain such
rest and such work is the end of poltiics ;
to learn how best. to employ in is the end
of education; to learn its utmost meaning
is the end of religions—“diliam Morris.

 

A Union Paper.

 

Union men should always patronize
firms advertising in labor papczs. That
is one way they can show their friendli—
ness to organized labor. Firms who
won’t patronize a labor paper, and who
largely advertise in other papers, insult
you. They simply say they don’t want
your trade. As union men and friends
of honest toil, will you support them ‘2
We believe you will not. A labor paper
is. or ought to be, as good an advertising
medium as any other paper. and it will
be better if you only do your duty. The
The business houses advertised in this
paper arezreliable and include tho best. in
the city, and they ought to receive your
patronage. It will represent you and
your interests, and why should. you not
support those who. are trying to maintain
it? Don’t be lured into believing that a.
firm is all right until it shows a. practical
recognition of your interest.~— Union
Advocate.

All of the above THE VOICE endorses.
Look in our advertising columns for your
Saturday buying. They are all reliable
firms.

 

Honor to Whom Honor is Due.

 

“John,” said the great baron.

“What, sir?” answered the valet.

“John, take down my worst shoes to
the yard, and put a. little mud on them.
Get out a coat, a vest and a. pair of
trousers, each of different color, and the
worst I have. Leave the dust on them.”7

“Yes, sir.”

“And, John, I don’t want clean linen
this morning.”

"Very good, sir. Anything else? ”

“I don ’t want the coupe this morning."

Thus when the great coal baron had
returned from his arduous labors to his
home and its well earned test, he had
accomplished two great and seemingly
antagonistic results that fine Juno day.

Lehigh, lVanna, and Reading Central
had fallen off 4 points on ’Changc, while
the baron had laid in 10,000 more shares
at bargain prices, and the great public
had been prepared to stand another 50
cents on every ton of fin next winter’s
coal.

“John,two bottles tonight. I’ve felt
poor all day.”-—Twentieth Century.

 

Miscellaneous.

 

A. Pennsylvania paper says : “In. the
next Pennsylvania Legislature will be
found one gambler, one baseball umpire,
one preacher, eight men who declare they
are “gentlemen,” nineteen without
occupations, twenty-seven lawyers, and
one pugilist. * Of the members, three
were convicted of larceny, one was tried
for murder and acquitted, three in insane
asylums, while eight have been at Keeley
cures, and four are divorced.”

Areview of the work of the recent
state legislatures indicate that in no less
than Eeven states, New York, Indiana,
Illinois, South Dakota, Georgia, Alaba-
ma and Kansas, anti-trust bills, prohibit?
ing all combinations or agreements “in
restraint of trade,” or to control prices.
have been passed. These laws are similar
to the measures introduced in the Minne-
sota. state legislature, but which was de-
fected by the active opposition of the
labor unions and business men. It was
claimed that the measureiwould only be
used against labor unions and the local
members of these organizations will

watch closely the effects of the law in the
states above mentioned.

PAT EMT-s.

 

 

 
  

 
  

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