The daily gazette., 1883-02-20
TARIFF rALKEKs.
Pen Pictures OF tho Men who Conduct
The TariR Debate in the senate.

The TnriH Debate In the senate.
rCorrespondeneeP Philadelphia Press.l
WASHINGTON, Feb. 16.--NeIther chamber
did much tariff business to-day and both
have ceased to feel interest ID the subject.
Every members man 4 beaded with letters
anxious business men, whose profits and
credit are ebblng 81 the strain and stree Of
daily doubk business "a the House remalns
crisp, crepitant and nervous, but IN the
Senate its viscid fiow sluggishly rolls along
like pitch spreading on a sidewalk The
days are all like this afternoon The Senate
Air is hos and drowsy, the galleries are sparse
with visitors. Outside q dense mist hangs
about the Capitol and, at every open window
in the corridors cool wreaths Of fog eddy In
TO die away in the close air of the great
gilded, glass-eeiled, iron-box, edged with
marble, in which the Senate doses and gasps
for breath.
All the land is watching and waiting on
vote and tally and division in the great issue;
but the seats are empty, the desks are lit
tered, and the speakers tread the threshed
and empty straw of barren debate. Conger,
the little man from Michigan, with his
wrinkled face and stubhy beard and faded
dress suit, was O figure in tha House As he
came down the aisle holding one hand un-
der his coat tails and the other in the air,
while his exasperating voice reused the
Democrats TO shout and protest and blum
der What can he do here between his ma
hogany desk and his stuffed chair but cling
to the lid with both hands and creak out his
motion for IS ton more on charcoal iron.
| He speaks for iron which is nine-tenths
labor; which little bands OF grimy men who
work themselves, and divide their own
profits, made in the pine shadows Of Michi-
| gan, IN the elefts Of the Alleghanies, ehasms
| and gorges Of the Blue Ridge, on the precip-
| itous misty banks Of the Tennessee, the blue
smoke rising from the lonely stack in places
| afar and apart. But there is no hint OF this
| in the debate.
| SENATOR'S ASLEEP OVER THE TARIFF.
| Endless drone follows. No Senator
| dreams of sitting in his seat but the men
whose States make or use charcoal from.
1 Hale Of Maine lies at full length, feet on
| lounge, arms akimbo In the style of mid
afternoon, when there are no ladies in the
galleries. Two boots protruding from the
| cloak room door show that the lounge within
| has its mapping Senator. Ingalls, is but
| toned and precise In his black coat, his arms
| folded, but in all the circles he Is the only
| man not lounging. Hawley rises, little
too short to be as impressive as he would
| like to be, says few words from under his
gray moustache, which the last few years
have whitened so fast, and his plea for
cheap charcoal is finished. Having done
his duty, he whips into the cloak room,
| drags an arm chair to the edge of the door
Of that dark but comfortable cavern and
/ lights his cigar Four Senators are mapping
| about him, and three busily talking.
Dawes pulls himself together, shakes him
| self and begins. He is another short man,
with bushy gray hair and dark face, out
Of which hope Is gone. He is emily one OF
many Senators he is nothing more, nor
will be. He has u compromise to offer, SS
| ton, and makes It. Sherman, in front Of
| him, tall, erect, rises in the clothes OF 20
years ago-the velvet collar, the pointed
waisteoat, the long, straight black coat,
which flaps as he moves-and has his brief
| and pertinent say for two hours. The debate
| drags on.
TAKING THE VOTE.
The roll begins, the seats fill, the vote is
| taken and the compromise rate adopted.
| Jute comes up. For hours this tibrous stalk
is hacked and SHREDDED and beaten and
| spun into the web Of peintless debate. Nc
| Pherson, tall, urbane, with gray moustache
and an air Of hard work in the past, good
bank account in the present, and more in
| the future, moves for a lower duty, steady
/ ing himself and his nervousness with firm
| grip on the edges of his desk. Sewell, way
4
| firmly fixed on a business-like nose, adds
| his say to "My colleague" In comes Logan
| out of one cloak-room where he has been
| comfortably on his back blowing blue
clouds to the ceiling, and seats himself in
the front row. Hard against him Cockrel
sits down, with his long, thick, blonde
goatee and Southern air. Logan is q dark
| skinned man Of the river bottom.
! The debate passes aimlessly from Sewell
1 to Mcpherson, and back again. Logan
/ takes his hand away from under his dark
| moustache-he has been sitting with his
| chin leaning on his hand-ltfts his nous
| tache with a dexterous turn of his lips, and
| splits voluminously, vocally and accurately at
1 the left front leg of the adjoining desk,
i which, fortunately for Senator Edmunds,
has no occupant just then.
| SENATOR LoGAN's SAY.
| Logan is getting ready to speak, clearing
the deck for action, SO to speak. Shortly he
4 speaks: so does Cockrell, both with great
bitterness, for Missouri and Illinois want
high jute. Mcpherson was for dear ore yes
terday and cheap jute to-day. The New
Jersey Senator grows apologetie. Bayard
comes to his side and suggests an amend
ment in the shape of an ad valorem duty,
then pulls his trowers carefully up to aYiod
| knee-springing, and seats himself with the
care which attends all the acts of his public
life. More drone, more drizzle, fog within
and fog without.
| Warner Miller gets tired out, and begins
tramping back and forth behind the seats
Tabor finishes his afternoon mail, and taps
delicately with his penholder for a page
the new Senators are modest In these man.
ters--sends OFT his letters and, having finished
the only business he has in the chamber,
shambles out with his heavy face and low
ering expression, the III mask life OF
evil has fixed on his face. At last, after
hours OF this sort of thing, Bayard's sugges-
tion of o'clock in the afternoon is adopted
at o'clock in the evening
THE LARGEST RETAIL STOCK OF DRY