The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1888-06-09

The New York Tribune never strikes
a blow unless it hits the nail on the head.
That the Muswumps are dead us ten
der to the Democratic party is beyond
any shadow Of doubt. They are spurn-
ed by the Democracy and Stunned by
the Republicans. The Tribune in very
happy strain points out the ruins OF the
Mugwump party MS one OF the curiosities
OF New York, in the following felicitous
language:
To the stranger in New York who has
only limited amount OF time ut his
disposal, and who wishes to make the ut
most possible use OF that time in sight
seeing, the question always comes
What shall lie visit first? The answer
is now easy: Let him, even though he
miss all else. see the Ruins OF the Mug
wump Party by moonlight.
"Ii you wOuldst view fair Mclrose Alright,
GOYislt II BY the pale moonlight:
For the gay beams Of gladstone day
Glld but u nOuL the ruins gray"
Any ruin is impressive-the touch OF
are. the thoughts it summons up OF the
past, the truth it bears in one OF mans
inability to battle with the cver.moving,
eycr.tearing.down forces of nature, the
SIGHT of the evidences OF mans efforts,
hopes, aspirations, laid low-all this is
Internationally so when seen by the
pale halflights Of the moon;-but the
sight of the ordinary ruin, the every
day stone ruin, with the gable.end
Knocked Oft and the lightning-rod point
ing toward the southeast, cannot in any
way compare-it does not, cannot, touch
the soul with that awe which is felt in
tho dead presence OF the Ruin OF the
Mugwump Party in New York.
Stand there at one side in the shadow
Of that broken column and look at it,
There it lies, its sharp outlines softened
and rendered half indistinct in the faint,
hazy light Of the crescent moon. What
is that crourhing fgureby the crumbling
parapet? Tint is one OF the Mugwumps
praying that the moon may go under
cloud and render the whole thing alto
gether indistinct.
Note the fallen triumphal arch direct
" in iront-once chief glory OF this once
brave castle. See its broken abutments
its crumblng stones. You look down
and you stand among the fragments Of
the keystone scattered on the ground
A crash breaks the death-like stiffness
You look up only to see that another
stone has fallen from the fast-disappear
ing abutments and broken into thou
sand pieces. The great triumPhal arch
OF Civil Service Reform goes to decay
before your eyes.
All around you are the tottering walls,
half fallen away, with jagged outlines
and ominous aspect, threatening to fall
and crush whoever ventures too closely.
Broken columns, white and spectral,
stand everywhere on guard, weird and
ghost-likc. All around are half-levcled
embankmcnts and half-filled meats, fal.
len turrets and crunlbling ramparts,
Ruin and desolation are breathed in
every passing breeze; gloom, sadness
and detection hang about every column
You feel it--they are everywhere. All
is despair, all dependency. Ruin is
King-there is no other sovereign.
You turn away-you feel that you
cannot move too iast-you are going
from the land OF the dead back to the
land OF the living. 4 sudden sharp re-
port breaks the awful stiffness. But
YOU speed on. 1t is only George Will
lam Curtis in the midst OF the ruin. He
has hung his harp on the ground, sat
down on it and busted n string.