Chapter VII: Part 7

“Say!” she exclaimed, hoarsely. “I want to see the head of the firm, the man who is attendin’ to Mr. Morley’s work. Where is he?”

The startled lad pulled away, blinked and grinned.

“Guess not,” he retorted. “He’ll take yer skelp off. He won’t talk to nobody this time o’ day.”

“It’s important, I tell you,” cried the woman, fiercely. “It’s a money matter an’ I _will_ see him.”

“Gwan ter trouble, then!” said the boy, pointing a mischievous finger at a closed door marked “No admittance.” “I’ll call de ambulance. He ain’t no Mr. Morley. I see you come out a flyin’ in jest two seconds.”

But Martha was past him, her grasp on the knob, and the door closed behind her as he stared.

“Here! Here!” ejaculated a stout, bald man, turning impatiently from his desk with a twist of his revolving chair. “You’ve made a mistake, madam. Go right out, please.”

“I won’t,” said Martha. “I’m here on important business—an’ I’ll state it before I move one step. You’ve taken Mr. Morley’s place. You’re the head of things, an’ I’ve come straight to you.”

A queer smile crossed the broad face. The man took out his watch. “I’ll give you just one minute,” he said, coolly. “What’s the trouble. Talk fast, now.”

Martha talked fast.

“I got thirty-five dollars worth of stuff here most four years ago,” she began, excitedly. “Mr. Morley said I could pay when convenient. Now you’ve sent to my house when I was out, an’ my husband paid it. I want that money back.”

Her listener laughed outright.

“Why! Why!” he coughed. “My dear woman, you have a very accommodating husband; that’s evident. Four years! What were you thinking of? Madam, the account should never have run so long. You owed it. It’s been paid. The transaction is closed. We cannot give you back the money. What a ridiculous request!”

The woman drew in her breath, shudderingly.

“People must settle their obligations, you know,” pursued the man patting his fat leg. “That is the rule of business. If _I_ owed you anything I should pay it. If you owe me, you have to pay also. Such a demand as yours is absurd. Can’t you see that?”

“I can see me an’ Enos turned out of our little home.” Martha’s voice was stony. “The money for that bill of mine was every penny we had. The rent’s got to be met before night. My husband’s an honest man—too honest to have any credit. I can see him growin’ old an’ gray in some shanty. I can see a poor half-witted girl cryin’ for the room she loves. These are the things I can see. Yes, sir, that’s the worst of it. Lucianna won’t understand——”

“Eh!” interrupted the merchant sharply. “Who?”

“Lucianna, sir. Not our own daughter, but most the same, poor thing. We’ve been glad to have her, an’ make her a home, an’ never minded the cost. She was so little when she came to us for shelter, smart an’ bright as anybody with her blue eyes an’ yellow hair, winnin’ us like she was our born baby. ’Twasn’t her fault she got queer. We wouldn’t put the child where she’d be abused again, so we kep’ her. Now, to root her out from comfort into the Lord knows what—I can’t bear to think of it. Me an’ Enos might get along somehow, but there’s Lucianna. I want that money back!”

Martha’s tone became sharp as she remembered her errand. Tears had blinded her eyes during the rapid explanation, quite forgetful for the moment of all save the coming deprivations of her loved ones.

Now, she winked them away to glare at the man in the chair. His ruddy face had gone to a dreadful whiteness. His hands were working. A strange sound came from the thick throat before he stammered feebly:

“I—I—lost—a little girl. Her—this—one—do you know the last name?”

“I’ve most forgot—she’s had ours for so long.” Martha began to tremble. “Let’s see? Yes. Say, it can’t be, your name is Crowson? That’s hers, Lucianna Crowson.”

“My God!” the stout man sprang up. “It is! It is! Everything points to her being the same. It must be so.”

He seized Martha’s hands with such vehemence that she recoiled with a startled, backward step.

“Don’t act so crazy!” came her alarmed exclamation. “You let go an’ be careful. The blood’s clean to the top of your head. Set down an’ behave.”

“Yes! Yes!” cried Crowson, releasing her, to pace the small room with a broken laugh and a fierce curse. “Wait! I’ll be myself in a minute. She’s my girl—I tell you. They wrote me she was dead—the people I left her with—after the child was cured. I’m her father, my dear woman. Don’t mind me, I’ll pull up directly. Wait!”

Martha shrank against the wall, as he laughed wildly and growled imprecations.

Presently he steadied, tightening his muscles and breathing deep.

“I’m all right,” said he, huskily. “You must excuse this, Mrs.—Mrs.—”

“Matchett,” answered his caller. “Certainly! ’Tain’t no wonder you felt shook up, if you’re really Lucianna’s father.”

“There is no doubt about it;” the man sat heavily in his chair. “Listen! She was eleven years old when she fell off her pony and injured her head. I was a comparatively poor man then, but I got the best surgeons. For months my little one lay in a hospital. We had no settled home. My wife died long before. Business called me away. When I returned Lucianna was pronounced cured. At least it was deemed safe to place her with some family where she would have every care, and no excitement. Should the trouble recur, an operation would be necessary.

“I found a home for her. Matters were arranged. Again I went West. Letters reached me regularly for many months. All seemed to be going well, in fact so satisfactorily that I, immersed in the starting of a business, ceased to worry. Yes, it must have been two years before I stopped my remittances, although those crafty letters had grown infrequent.

“I wrote the Harpinsons that I would be East soon and intended to take the child back with me.

“Then I received the shocking news of her death. Diphtheria, they said, and very sudden. A malignant case, and—well—the burial had been at night. Everything was done as if she belonged to them. As soon as quarantine was over they were going to move and would inform me of their location.”

Martha stood with her mouth open.

“Did they?” she hissed. “We must have had Lucianna for a good while before those critters said she was dead.”

“Yes,” said Crowson, frowning. “They bled me as long as possible. I received one more letter, postmarked Boston—a few details of no importance, but I had no suspicions. Since then, my letters have come back stamped, ‘no such party at address.’”

“But—” broke in Martha.

He held up an appealing hand.

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “I should have gone on at once. Yet what could be done? The quarantine—the detention from business—the added grief. My child was gone. All was over. Nothing seemed left to me save strenuous work and the making of money. I own three stores like this, the result of losing Lucianna. Now I have found her, I’ll not work so hard.”

“She won’t know you from Adam,” said Martha, jealously.

“Perhaps—in—time,” replied Crowson, stroking his forehead. “Thank God! I’ve the means to find out.”

“Have we got to give up Lucianna?” quavered the woman. “If—if it’s for her good, I s’pose I could stand it, but what will Enos say? She won’t want to go, neither.”

The man turned his head suddenly, and coughed.

“We will fix everything right,” he said, gently. “I’ll take no step without your consent. Let’s see! To get back to business—” he smiled, whimsically. “You mustn’t think a personal matter can influence our regulations. That bill of yours must be settled.”

Martha jumped. In her excitement she had quite forgotten the landlord, the house and the gravity of the Matchett situation.

Speechless, she drew herself up. Could this hard-headed man be so devoid of humanity, after what had happened, as to refuse her assistance?

“Still,” he went on in his matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll give you a little more time on it. Till next week, say. Here is the money, but say nothing about it. Quite against rules, you know.”

He pulled out a wallet and handed her four bank notes, three tens and a five.

“Thanks!” said Martha, counting them mechanically. “I s’pose you want this;” she held out the receipted bill.

“Oh yes—I must have that.” He put it carefully in a pigeon-hole.

“I’m ever so much obliged,” murmured the woman, “an’ I’ll try to scrape up something by next week. I s’pose you’ll be ’round to see Lucianna—an’ talk with Mr. Matchett.”

“Very soon.” Crowson’s mouth trembled at the corners. “How long have you had Lucianna?”

“Twelve years come Saturday. Enos was sayin’ so night before last. We call it her birthday, an’ most always give her something. Not this year, though. Can’t afford it.”

The merchant figured on a pad. “Twelve. Six hundred and twenty-four,” he whispered. Then aloud. “The Harpinsons charged me ten dollars a week for Lucianna’s keep. It was none too much.”

“They skinned you,” said Martha, adjusting her bonnet. She felt dazed and tired; quite bewildered at the prospect of losing Lucianna, uneasy regarding Enos, yet thankful for the temporary financial respite.

“I’ve got to hurry home,” she announced. “There’s nothing more to say except that I’ll do my best to settle my bill and I’m obliged to you. I’m mighty glad for you, sir, but the thought of what we’re losing makes me fairly sick. It ain’t right to say so, but I most wish I hadn’t come.” She turned with a choke.

“One moment,” said Crowson. “I want your address. What is your full name, Mrs. Matchett?”

“Martha.”

“Any middle name?”

“Hum! Lupkins,” returned Martha reluctantly. “We live at 462 Goodland Avenue—used to be Squash Street. You’ll find us easy enough—good day.”

“One thing more. It will take only a minute. You have arranged your old account. There’s another you seem to have overlooked.” He touched a button on his desk.

“There ain’t another!” declared Martha, defiantly. “I don’t owe a cent here besides this.”

The door opened quickly. A young man bustled in.

“Hinkley,” ordered Mr. Crowson, and his eyes twinkled, “draw a check at once to the order of Martha L. Matchett for six thousand two hundred and forty dollars.”

When Enos crawled into supper, he was a weary, conscience-smitten person. His anger had dissipated. What should come he knew not, but Martha’s feelings must be considered, first of all. He pictured her in the depths of despair—forlorn, distracted, possibly “packing.”

An appetizing odor filled the house. Enos sniffed.

“Beefsteak an’ onions an’ coffee,” he commented, gratefully. “Jest my likin’s. She wants to make up. Where did she get the meat?”

Drawing his chair to the table, Mr. Matchett gazed at his spouse with a dismayed visage.

Surely there was something wrong here. The display of luxuries, Martha’s unnaturally bright eyes, her compressed lips, the new black dress, her air of superiority.

“What’s the matter?” said Martha. “Pitch in. I’ve got a nice supper an’ dressed up to show you how smart I can be under afflictions.”

Enos took a mouthful.

“I—I guess Craddock didn’t come for the rent,” he essayed. “Never knew him to skip us before.”

“He come,” replied Martha, loftily.

“An’ you—” the man’s fork shook against his plate.

“Paid him, of course,” said Martha, airily. “You told me to attend to it.”

Her husband half rose from his seat. “You ain’t right, my dear,” he said, soothingly—“what’s affected you?”

“Set down!” commanded the woman, laughing. “We’ve found a friend, an’ our girl’s found a father. It’s all straight, Enos. In case you want a bit of spendin’ money, I’ve endorsed this over to you.”

Mr. Matchett did sit down. His countenance underwent many changes as he fingered the check. “Wh—what’s it for?” he stuttered.

“Lucianna’s keep,” said Martha.

On the pleasant days, when the roads are fine, an automobile stops before the Matchett’s door. Presently it rolls slowly away. Martha sits very erect by the side of a golden-haired companion, and an Angora kitten nestles between them. There is a good deal of laughing and talking, and sometimes passers stare, but no one in the big car minds. The stout man in front with the chauffeur turns, smiling at the women.

“Pretty distressing for us all, the removal of that lesion,” he says, “but she’s reading little books, now.”

And when Enos asks a question with his eyes, upon Martha’s return from these trips, he gets the same old words: “She’s gettin’ better.”

_Who Pays the Taxes?_

BY WILLIAM H. TILTON

The residents of a small New Jersey village were recently called together for the purpose of considering the advisability of incorporating the village into a borough; and the Philadelphia newspapers reported that an application for incorporation had been signed by a large number of “taxpayers and citizens.” What is meant by this dividing of the people into two distinct classes? This question becomes of more than passing importance in view of the fact that the case cited is not an isolated one. For instance, during the political campaign of 1905, in New York City, a prominent newspaper spoke editorially of the candidacy of William R. Hearst for Mayor on a municipal ownership platform as an “appeal to the _untaxed_ and an attack upon the _taxpayers_.”

The Secretary of the National Reciprocity League, in an address at Chicago, is reported to have said that “Municipal ownership and operation of street railways had become a craze; that people who do _not pay_ taxes are the most enthusiastic supporters of the craze, as those who _pay_ taxes are opposed to the idea.”

The late Charles T. Yerkes, in reference to the election of Judge Dunne as Mayor of Chicago on a municipal ownership platform, said: “The city will run heavily in debt. Will the poor man suffer? No; because the poor man does not pay taxes. Men with property pay taxes; these will suffer.” Mr. Yerkes did not say just what kind of _property_ was meant; but as the returns of personal property in Chicago are said to be less today than they were twenty years ago (although the city is three times as large, with six times the wealth), it is evident that the owners of that kind of property—stock-owners of that kind of property—stocks, bonds, mortgages, paintings, jewelry, silver services, etc.—are not going to suffer to any great extent if they can help it. Then it must be the real estate owner, again, who is expected to do the suffering, because of the increase of taxes, should there be any such increase.

Day after day we read in the newspapers communications in reference to public questions which are signed “Taxpayer,” or “Property Owner,” as if that fact should give more weight or influence to their opinions or suggestions. Others go still further. A Pittsburg preacher in a recent sermon denounced universal suffrage, saying, “Only property owners should vote and all others should be disfranchised.” Numerous other instances could be cited which tend to show a growing tendency to consider the real estate owner as the only person who pays taxes.

Now the great majority of our people have probably not looked upon these signs of the times with any apprehension as yet; but “great oaks from little acorns grow,” and this increasing disregard for the rights of men, as men, this creating of class distinctions with a tax-bill as a line of demarcation, on the theory that one small class pays all the taxes and is, therefore, entitled to rights and privileges that are denied to others, is dangerous and contrary to all principles of Democracy.

Owing to the inherent defects of human nature, no doubt there will always be those among us who will expect and demand more than they are entitled to, but the average American is satisfied with a square deal. When deprived of what he considers his just rights, however, he is, like most other people, inclined to become indifferent to the rights of others. Sooner or later he helps to swell the large army of the discontented; and history teaches that discontent is not only the mother of progress, but the mother of trouble. “On the contentment of the poor rests the safety of the rich.”

It is not intended to discuss in this article the justice or injustice of any particular tax, but simply to consider the question of taxes—how they are paid and who pays them—in the hope that we may thereby the more intelligently render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s.

Let us consider first the tax on real estate, one of the most important illustrations of the so-called “direct” taxation which Mill has defined as “that which is demanded from the very person who, it is intended or desired, should pay it.” Now it is, of course, true that this tax is levied against the property and the tax-bill is rendered in the name of the nominal owner, who is, naturally, expected to pay it; but whence comes the money with which he discharges this debt against his property? If the premises are rented or leased, are not the taxes, insurance, cost of repairs, interest on investment, etc., all added to the rental which is asked of and paid by the tenant? There are leases drawn today which contain a clause providing “that any increase in the taxes shall be added to the rental.” And yet, during the late struggle in Philadelphia over the attempted lease of the gas works to a private corporation for seventy-five years, a gentleman appeared before the committee of councils on behalf, as he said, of the taxpayers _and_ rent-payers.

During the passage of the mortgage bill through the 1905 session of the New York Legislature, a member of the committee appointed by the real-estate owners to oppose the measure said: “The result, should the bill pass, will be for the real-estate owners to raise the rents. It is the public who will have to bear the burden, not the real-estate owners.” So we appear to have very relevant testimony to the effect that the man who receives the tax-bill, the man “on whom the tax is levied and who is expected to pay it” really acts as an agent, collecting the tax from his tenant and passing it on to the authorities. Is the tenant then a _taxpayer_ or a _citizen_? As more than eighty per cent. of the people of the United States occupy rented houses, the sooner this question is satisfactorily answered and each of us understands his own individual responsibility, the better for all concerned.

Would not the rent-payer hesitate to cast his ballot for corrupt municipal government—with its accompanying reckless and dishonest expenditures of the public money—would he not hesitate to strike or riot, if he knew that the expenses (the teamsters’ strike in Chicago, in 1905, is said to have cost the city $100,000 a month for special policemen) and losses would eventually have to be paid by increased taxes _added to his rent_?

The United States Steel Company is said to have done much to eliminate strikes at its different plants by selling a portion of the capital stock of the company to its employes. Every man who owns even one share now feels that he is a part of the organization, that its interests are his interests, its losses his losses; and he is not inclined to do anything that will injuriously affect himself. When property owners understand and admit it, and rent-payers realize that they are a part of the municipal corporation, of the state and of the republic, that the public interests are their interests, the public losses their losses, that we must all rise or fall together, a great deal will have been accomplished toward the creation of better feeling and a consequent improvement in existing conditions.

Adam Smith says of taxation that “the subjects of every state ought to contribute toward the support of the Government as nearly as possible in proportion to their respective abilities; that is, in proportion to the revenue which they respectively enjoy under the protection of the states.”

Montesquieu defined taxation as “that portion of a person’s property which one contributes to the state in return for protection in the enjoyment of the balance.”

Both these eminent authorities look upon the payment of taxes as a duty which the citizen owes to the state in return for something which he receives from the state; but neither says in just what manner that duty must be performed, and there are undoubtedly numerous ways in which the obligation of the citizen may be discharged.

A very important phase of the tax question to be considered here (owing to its being the source of almost the entire income of the United States Government) is what is known as “indirect” taxation, or the tax on commodities, processes, etc. This is more easily collected than a direct tax, because the consumer hardly realizes that he is being taxed when paying for articles which he may use his own discretion about purchasing; but it bears most heavily upon the poor, as only articles in general use will yield the necessary revenue.

For instance, the tariff on imports, for the fiscal year ending 1905, produced more than $260,000,000. This enormous amount was, of course, paid at the custom house by the importer of the goods, but it was then added to the cost of the goods and finally paid by the consumer. This tax is great or small, depending entirely upon the necessities or desires of the people.

The higher the social and economic development of a people, the greater will be the burden of this tariff tax; as what were once considered luxuries eventually become necessaries of life, and a larger proportion of income is consequently expended for food, wearing apparel, household goods, etc. Under such circumstances, a man who is in receipt of a fair-sized income (even though possessing little or no taxable property), if he buys freely for the wants of himself and his family, may contribute more toward the support of the Government than his wealthy landlord, who buys sparingly, swears off his personal taxes, and collects his real estate taxes from his tenants.

The internal revenue tax on spirits, fermented liquors and tobacco produced in 1905 about $230,000,000, which, while also paid primarily by the manufacturer or distiller, is then added to the cost of production and included in the selling price, which is paid, of course, by the consumer. Not only the man who smokes or drinks, but everyone who uses spirits in the manufactures or arts, in patent medicines or drugstore prescriptions (many of which contain large quantities of liquor), is contributing a share of this tax. Oleomargarine produced during the same period over $600,000, and playing cards about $425,000.

Another very important source of income, levied in times of emergency, as during the war with Spain, is the stamp tax, which produces millions of dollars. The man with a small bank account pays as much for a stamp when issuing a check for one dollar, as does the man who issues a check for $100,000 or more; and each pays the same when purchasing an article of manufacture which is sold under a stamp.

Again, we should not overlook such items as license fees, financial, mercantile and franchise taxes, which, while levied by the city, state or national governments upon some particular person, firm or corporation, are really added to the cost of production or operation and ultimately paid by the general public. For instance, during the political campaign of 1904 in New Jersey, when equal taxation of railroad property was the burning issue, the Republican candidate for governor, in a speech at Trenton, stated: “No matter how high the tax on railroad property is made, the people who pay the freight rates and passenger fares will, in the end, pay it.” As a railroad director, he undoubtedly knew whereof he spoke. Like the salesman’s expense account—which included an overcoat, although it didn’t show—the freight and passenger rates also include the franchise taxes, which tend to increase the cost of everything we eat, everything we wear, every article of use or adornment in the home, every portion of the material required in building the house, which ultimately has its effect on the rent the tenant must pay. In the light of these facts it would seem that, instead of there being question as to “who pays the taxes,” the problem is to discover the man who does not pay taxes in some form.

Again, there are thousands of Americans who do not own one dollar’s worth of real estate, and many of them very few household goods, but who have a birthright in this free land by reason of descent from the heroes who pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor for the liberties we now enjoy; who fought and bled and died for the principle of equal rights, no taxation without representation, and who established upon this continent a “government of the people, by the people, for the people.”

And the men of ’61! Have they not as much right to a voice and vote in the affairs of the nation as those who remained at home and laid the foundations of a fortune during that critical period? Had the soldier remained at home, perhaps he too might now be a heavy taxpayer, or tax-dodger. But he answered the nation’s call in the hour of need, he sacrificed his opportunities and offered his life upon the altar of his country. And, if he escaped with his life, he returned home, after years of privation, suffering and hardship, probably ruined in health or crippled for life, compelled to make a new start. Has he not discharged his obligation to his country?

Who are the men who would rob an American of his birthright, who insist that none but property owners should vote or hold office while all others—the payers of rents, of the tariff, of the internal revenue, of franchise and stamp taxes, etc.—should be disfranchised? Can they show a better title than the men, or their descendants, who do the work in time of peace and the fighting in time of war, but who may not have been able to secure any real property—honestly or otherwise?

The Constitution of the United States provides that no man shall be deprived of his right to vote on account of race, color or previous condition of servitude. What right have we to attempt to deprive any man of that privilege because he does not own property and pay “direct” taxes?

Mettius Curtius said that “Rome’s best wealth was her patriotism.” Yet that patriotism was deadened and destroyed by privilege and class distinction, and Rome fell. Patriotism is unquestionably the best wealth of any nation; but it cannot be aroused or fostered in a republic by dividing the people into classes, the rulers and the ruled, on the basis of ownership of property.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.

The success, progress and safety of this republic rests upon the contentment of the _whole_ people, and that contentment depends upon justice and fair dealing. And every citizen, “unless he goes naked, eats grass, and lives in a hole in the ground,” is a taxpayer to a greater or less extent, according to the benefits he derives. He has the same interests in the national welfare; the same responsibilities; is entitled to equal rights and privileges before the law; and when we have fully realized the fact we will have established a higher standard of citizenship, we will each have more respect for ourselves and for one another, and a deeper, truer love and higher regard for our country and its institutions.

_Davenport, in N. Y. Evening Mail_]

_Bart, in Minneapolis Journal_]

_Macauley, in N. Y. World_]

Our readers are requested to be as brief as possible in their welcome letters to the MAGAZINE, as the great number of communications daily received makes it impossible to publish all of them or even to use more than extracts from many that are printed. Every effort, however, will be made to give the people all possible space for a direct voice in the MAGAZINE, and this Department is freely open to them.

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_J. D. Steele, Charleston, W. Va._

I have been a reader of your Magazine since its first issue, and while I partly agree with Mr. George H. Steele, Rockham, S. D., that none of us are perfect, I admire you for having the courage of your convictions, and it would be impossible to estimate the good your publication has all ready done.

As a remedy for the evils existing, as set forth by Mr. Bert H. Belford, Widners, Ark., I would suggest that our poor, ignorant, down-trodden farmers in the South get posted. There certainly is no reason for any grown up man of the present generation not being able to read, and almost every daily and weekly newspaper would put the most ignorant backwoodsman in possession of the facts which Mr. Belford states the farmers are ignorant of.

I believe I have never seen a letter from this state, but West Virginia hasn’t waked up yet. She is always behind in everything except graft.

May you live long and continue the good work you have undertaken!

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_A. J. Jones, Parlier, Cal._

TOM WATSON’S MAGAZINE is one of the greatest educators of the age, stands prominent in its class, is fearless, bold and decisive, is just what the people want. Every Populist should read it and give it the widest circulation possible.

Watson’s editorials are great and to the point. The Letters from the People are very interesting. Would be pleased to hear from our workers throughout the United States every month through the columns of TOM WATSON’S MAGAZINE. In regard to the work in California, we are preparing our petition for a place on the ballot, and will have a People’s Party ticket in this State this coming election. Our slogan is: “The middle of the road now and forever!” We take no part in any other party in existence, or coming into existence. Let us profit by past experience. The people here, regardless of party, are ready to accept our principles. You may hear something drop in California in 1908. We have a press ready to join us at once. Let us get busy at once. Brothers, the fields are white for harvest.

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_G. S. Floyd._

The lucid manner in which you expose the evils of our banking system should convince any one not blinded by ignorance or prejudice of the evils lurking therein, even as at present conducted, but if they secure the additional special privileges that they seek, what may we expect?

Brother Starkey of Nebraska who writes discouragingly in the December number should take heed, as the worm has turned in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and one may hope and believe that your efforts have helped to produce that result.

I was in Kansas in the early seventies when the horde of bogus Greenback editors, shipped out from New York and New England with rolls of Wall Street money, bought up the Greenback press throughout the West, pretending loyalty to the principles until secure in possession, when the hireling traitors came out in their true colors and the Greenback press vanished like mist before the noonday sun.

The President’s eulogy of the pension office is worth no more than his certificate of character to Paul Morton. To judge from observation and the star-chamber methods of that bureau one would conclude that it is run primarily as a factor in politics, and that the only criterion for the grade and tenure of a pension is the whim or discretion of an irresponsible official. Evidently the system is rotten and needs overhauling or revolutionizing. From the nature of the service it is doubtless true that irregularities are inherent therein, but certainly there is room for improvement.

Conventionality, a parent of aristocracy, is responsible for the misfortune of Midshipman Meriweather; herein we see one of the evils of militarism; the discipline they recommend so highly is the discipline of an underling, and this is mainly why they desire it.

Hurrah for Hearst!

You give Henry George, Jr., a severe prod in the current number. The single tax is sprung by the plutocrats when they wish to confuse and demoralize the reform forces.

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_Nelson D. Stilwell, Yonkers, N. Y._

The non-appearance of the February number of your magazine caused me genuine concern. I stand by you, every inch, in what you advocate and teach, and wish the circle of your readers might be extended many fold. I first had my attention called to the present evil condition of things by reading Lloyd’s “Wealth vs. Commonwealth,” and that but paved the way for further reading and investigation until my present condition of freedom from the bondage of ignorance has been attained.

I have observed the trend of things for ten years last past and confess that instead of improvement and reform, I see a steady progress towards further enslavement. What will be the end of it all? I am beginning to doubt the maintenance of society and law and order if the entrenched forces attempt to maintain their control. God forbid that our country should be baptized again with blood. But upon the heads of these “fools and blind” men be it, who cannot see the handwriting on the wall.

Your articles on finance and money interest me and absorb all my attention and edify me very much. Your Magazine has a purpose back of it, and no one will give a more ready acquiescence than the writer.

To be a reformer is to align oneself with the noblemen of bygone days whose hearts throbbed for the people. No greater example could be found than Christ, whose kingdom is called “the times of Reformation.”

Permit me to bid you God-speed.

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_Horace C. Keefe, Wallula, Kan._

I have somewhere said “this is the decade of the three Toms”—Tom Watson, Tom Johnson, and Tom Lawson. They are each or all likely to leave lasting footprints on the century, and I’m anxious that my Tom’s shall not be the least. I say “my” because Tom Watson stands for all that the country—if not the world—must come to, to have peace and answer the daily Christian pleadings—that “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven”; to be His will it must embody all that the doctrine of brotherly love contemplates; that is ideal, that is Populism. The other Toms stand for that part of the whole they contemplate or are willing to concede from a more or less selfish standpoint. Your Magazine is startlingly convincing in its arguments and facts—but, my dear fellow, it lacks that dignity that a Presidential candidate for a great principle should command. I know your excuse will be that your appeal to the masses must be in such style—DON’T DO IT.

It is the aggressive intelligent few that shapes the destinies of countries, and that will be so with ours; if the reverse were true, why does not the labor class have 50 or more, the farmers 100 or more, the socialists a like number of members in Congress? Such a result would show intelligence and a hope that something would result. Cut out such queries as—Why the negro maids? Deductions and conclusions are debatable but not style. The writer is one of the martyrs for the cause and has been your ardent admirer and well wisher. There is no question as to the ultimate outcome—though you and I may not be permitted to enter in.

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_W. E. Arrant, Alto, Tex._

I read and will say that your Magazine is interesting and entertaining in many respects, and I admire your ability and style in showing up the evilness and corruption of this age, which no doubt is doing good in the way of educating the readers thereof on the main cause of the present economical and industrial conditions that now confronts the whole people and oppresses the poor that labor and toil that they may share a small portion of their labor: while the rich revel in riches and the poor live in poverty.

I have been a student for several years, studying the economic conditions, the causes and effects of present conditions. The more I read and learn of the causes and effects, the more I wonder how and why the masses of the people have been so completely deceived so long.

I have been a Populist for several years. Was discouraged and disgusted with the fusion act in 1896, and since that time I began to read and study the Socialist doctrine to find out what they had to offer as a remedy for the whole people. Through this search for knowledge I found that the Populist Party was only a reform measure dealing with the effects and only a national movement, while the Socialist Party is international, and goes to the root of the cause of the unjust system of exploitation, and means the emancipation and freedom of the whole human family—a plan and system by which one can not rob another by a plan of legalized system of robbery. It means a system to be established upon earth by which one can live for all and all for one. It means that we shall establish a righteous system by which one nation shall not have its hands at another’s throat for pelf. It means a system by which it will be possible for all Christians to live a pure Christian life and practice the Golden Rule in fact and truth.

I realize the error of having more than one party representing the interest and prosperity of the whole laboring and working people; therefore, judging between the two, the Populist and the Socialist, have cast my lot with the Socialists, and expect to make the fight for justice and emancipation for wage slavery in the Socialist Party.

I appreciate your position and hope that you will accomplish much good with your valuable Magazine in the way of educating the people. I fail to see how you can ever expect to help to finally free the laboring people from economic bondage of slavery, without joining the Socialist Party. You have asked the people to give their ideas as to what they think about the existing conditions. I have given my views as I see them. I can realize no permanent hopes for relief outside of the Socialist and the co-operative commonwealth.

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_Harry Partington, City._

I took the publication since the first number and today I have in the house only the December copy, as I want to get everybody to read them that will and thereby have persuaded several to buy them, and you can depend on me to continue to do so, and will try and get others to do so. I look at it that I am in the city and can get it at the news-dealers with more certainty than as a yearly subscriber.

What I think of TOM WATSON’S MAGAZINE can never be told. I would like it semi-monthly, but I know I shall have to wait possibly some time before that comes. Dear sir, believe me, I am a very sincere believer and practicer of his doctrine and have been since the Democratic party undertook to carry the 16 to 1 doctrine under the auspices of W. J. B. of Nebraska. Sorry Billy failed then and 1904.

Hurrah for W. R. Hearst, but the money power is too strong yet. But hammer at them and teach us to be steadfast.

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_David Meiselas, Brooklyn, N. Y._

I have at last determined to congratulate you upon the success you have made with your Magazine. It is, beyond any doubt, good work. In reality I can hardly think to write all the praise the editorials are worth. I enjoy them as I would some classic by Shakespeare, or some scientific work by Darwin. The more I read them, the more I like them. They are digestible; and talk about brain food—it is the best.

Yes, Thomas E. Watson should be well considered as a champion for the cause of the people. Either he is a second Hearst or Hearst is a second Watson. They are so much alike in their fights for the people you can hardly tell which is which.

Over here in New York we are having a grand time, viz:

Murphy telling things about McClellan and vice versa. The big insurance grafters howling for more. Mr. Ivins telling things about the “reform grafter,” Mr. District Attorney, etc., etc.

Abraham Lincoln said we should have a “government of the people, by the people and for the people.” I must say we are living up to it, in New York—nit. We are having “a government of McCarren, by McClellan and for Murphy.” Great government, is it not?

If this is not the age of wonder, I don’t know what. But, Mr. Watson, keep up your steady work; don’t forget the Hon. Platt and Depew, the former our Chinese advocate and president of the largest express company; the latter the champion lobbyist of them all. Don’t forget our generous Senator Knox (with his generous rate bill). There are many more whom you should prey upon.

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_G. White, Enloe, Tex._

Yes “I will help”; it is one of the very, very few papers and magazines that I can heartily indorse from the old Liberty Bell to the last sheet of its reading matter; the gags and brakes that are applied to other editors, or a great majority, at least, disqualify them as editors.

The things that we most need to know are suppressed and the reading public are kept in the background on the most vital questions of the day. There is a mighty storm gathering in this once glorious republic; its muttering thunders can be distinctly heard. The glaring, forked tongues of wrath can be plainly seen over the tops of the distant hills that hedge in our eighty million people.

The old ship on which we have sailed thus far is out of repair; the pilot asleep, or cares nothing for the safety of his passengers; the captain has bought most of the crew; the breakers are just ahead.

I know not how my fellow-countrymen may feel over the affair, but for your humble Texas farmer it’s a sad picture. The light that once burned so bright not only lit up North America from Alalch Mountain to the Rockies, but crossed both oceans and gave to the world an object lesson of what a free people could do.

The same light guided Prescott at Bunker Hill. It was the never-setting star at Valley Forge that led Washington to the gate of glory at Yorktown. Is it true that the territory bequeathed to us (“and it was paid in blood”) is to be betrayed into the hands of the enemy for the small pittance of thirty pieces of silver? Is the money-bag of America to rule or ruin? Or will those who think and yet have a chance to act demand a settlement? TOM WATSON’S MAGAZINE is one that is asking for a settlement. May the day soon come.

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_N. M. Hollingsworth, Terry, Miss._

I see that you contemplate enlarging and improving the Magazine. I can see the place for enlarging, but not improving in the subject matter, except by enlarging and perhaps improving the material, etc. It is as good as human agency can make it. I only wish it could be read by every man, woman, boy and girl in the land. It is such an educator as we need, and it is being read by a great number.

I was at our county cotton-grower’s meeting last Saturday and was delighted to find so many reading your splendid Magazine. I secured a subscriber and have promise of several more which I will forward in a day or two. I have seen your letter to the _Atlanta Journal_ in which there is enough exposure of Clark Howell’s perfidy, etc., to consign him to the garbage heap.

If you think it worth while in the Educational Department of the next number of your Magazine, tell us what effect bucket shops and trade exchanges have on the price of such produce as are dealt in.

Wishing you and your Magazine all the good that can come to a mortal and a great publication, I remain your devoted friend and admirer.

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_S. T. Z. Champion, Sterrett, Pa._

I am a constant worker and reader of this great reform movement and have been for the past twelve years, and have voted the ticket straight till they got me to straddle W. J. B. one time and I got such a fall I fear I will never live to get over it. I am getting old. I am one of Robert E. Lee’s old web-foot boys and stacked my old Enfield rifle at Appomattox Court House on the 9th of April, 1865. It looks like a miracle to see the fingers pushing a pen that pulled the trigger 40 years ago, and yet when I think of the blood that was shed for this great nation’s freedom and to see it being stolen away from us by those money knaves it makes me feel like I am just 16 years old. I have nine boys, all Populists. Oh, how I want us to live to get at least one more vote for that grand and noble boy, Thomas E. Watson, for our next President. Don’t you all feel me rejoicing over New York’s election, but I fear they will not let Hearst have his seat as mayor of New York. I have just read Watson’s answer to Hoke Smith’s letter. It is a grand reply.

You can count on me when the last roll is called. I’ll be there. Yours for reform.

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_W. H Thomas, Fairhaven, Mo._

After spending 25 years in the thickest of the fray I could hardly go back to the “wallowing in the mire.” No, my brother, I never say die, but am still pegging away. Yes, I am a Populist. I am a rampant Socialist and I think that most of my old comrades have followed my example and I can see no reason why all Populists should not do the same. You know, my brother, that the Socialists are growing as no other party ever grew and they are bound to become a dominant factor in politics in the near future. It is evolution. Reforms do not go backward. The Populists have done a grand work, but Socialism is inevitable and I would rejoice to see all old Populists get aboard the band wagon. You are doing a noble work and to show you that I appreciate it I am going to send you a dollar for the magazine and 50 cents for that fountain pen, although I can illy afford it, as I am 65 years old and dependent on my labor for the support of my family.

Don’t Teddy, the Trust-buster, make you tired? I think he is the biggest fraud that ever sat in the Presidential chair.

Wishing you long life and abundant success, I am with you till the battle is won.

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_James A. Logsden, Moline, Ill._

I have read with great interest the editorial, “Tolstoi and the Land,” in the October number of TOM WATSON’S MAGAZINE, and while I cannot agree with you in the position you take upon the land question, I accredit you with sincerity and honesty of purpose. In common with many others of us, you are giving of your time, energy and substance, to bring remedial justice and economic truth to human society.

Being fair-minded and in earnest pursuit of economic truth and equity, you will, I am sure, accept honest criticisms of your opinions.

In the outset you propound three questions, which are as follows:

“Is it true that the real grievance of the masses is that the
land has been taken away from them?”

“Will no reform bring them relief until the land has been given
back to them?”

“Will universal happiness be the result of putting an end to
private ownership of land?”

To negate these questions you call upon history to bear witness:

“As a guide to our footsteps the past must always be to some
extent our light, our guide.”

With this I am heartily in accord. It has been rightly said:

“History keeps the grass green upon the graves of former
civilizations, and stands as a beacon light to future ones. It
is the ever-living Janus, peering both into the past and into
the future.”

But history does not prove, as you assert, that civilization exists as a result of private ownership of land. These are your words:

In passing upon this and statements appearing in subsequent paragraphs, I think I shall have fully answered your three previous questions. When it “became a matter of _self-interest_ for some _individual_ to improve the land” was it because of his ownership or of his _security of possession_? When you admit that “as long as each individual felt that his parcel of land might go out of his possession at the next regular division there was no incentive to improvement,” you have admitted the latter. “Not until the individual became assured that the _benefit of his labor_ would accrue to himself did the waste become a farm and the hovel a house.” What was his assurance—private ownership or security of possession? That it was not private ownership is proven by the tenant system in vogue in every civilized country in the world. Obviously it is not private ownership that impelled the landless tenant to go upon land owned by others, clear away the forest and “make the land a farm.” Then what is his assurance? Security of possession—the knowledge that he will be left unmolested to enjoy the “product of his labor.” This tenant enjoys his security of possession because of the _tribute_ he has been compelled to pay to the owner to leave him unmolested in his possession and enjoyment. Could he not be as secure in his possession if the land were owned and the exaction made by all the people?

Therefore, “if the history of the world shows anything at all, it shows _this_,” that civilization has developed and progress has gone forward, not by reason of private ownership of land, but in spite of it.

“If, what is manifestly impossible,” says Mr. George, “a fair
distribution of land were made among the whole population,
giving each his equal share, and laws enacted which would
impose a barrier to the tendency to concentration by forbidding
the holding by any one of more than a fixed amount, what would
become of the increase of population?”

Your assertion that there would be no improvement under such a condition as you mention is self-evident. But this, instead of being an argument against the Henry George philosophy, is, in fact, an argument in its favor.

What Mr. George _does_ propose I shall endeavor to make clear in subsequent paragraphs when I touch upon your hypothesis regarding the primitive tribesmen.