The record-union., 1896-08-11

I prize as being first in value the good
will of our fellow-men. I would not
exchange a good standing in a COM
munity once secured for the wealth of
all the Irdies. I would not value the
trophies of coronation in the same
breath which would estimate the worth
of man who stood high at his corner
grocery" and whose reputation was
maintained at the freSide of his neigh
bors. And / care not what may be said
of my unWorthineSS, while / am deeply
sensible of my own faults and Short
comlngs, no man can accuse me of be-
ing Indifferent to the estimation of my
fellow-men, or say that I ever held in
slight esteem a kind word or did not
deeply feel the wound of an unkind one.
With no design, save natural de-
sire to be on good terms, l have gone
out of my way to reconcile hatreds and
hostilities against me. In a few in
stances 1 have been unsuccessful;
can do no more. If such influences are
stronger than the persuasions of friends
must submit to the inevitable, and
though defeated, as these enemies Of
mine say l will, there will, nevertheless,
he comfort, a solace and a compensa-
ton for my labors in the thought that
have found some friendships which
could not be taken away.
On the other hand, when, in turning
the leaves of my county's history, 1
find that my aspirations, if realized, will
subject my career to a comparison with
the labors of Benton, Bidwell and
Booth; when l think of the disadvan-
tage my feeble abilities will bring me
when contrast is drawn with the hon
or and fame of Curtis, Catlin, Colby and
Cox; when in my imagination 1 hear the
voice of Henry Edgerton, that voice of
matchless, undying charm; that voice
Of unrivaled, unequaled eloquence, fol-
lowed by the imperishable utterances of
the great, grand, generous hearted
Raymond, / shrink from the treSpasS
of ground so hallowed and pause in re-
spectful reverence to their sacred men,
ory.
When I recall the valuable service of
the venerable William Johnston, and
find the fruits of Grove l.. Johnson's
victories still fresh with the deeds of a
Dray, and the achievements of Hart
but stories of yesterday, I again shrink
from the responsibilities of a compari-
son, yet take hope in the thought that
the lives of these men will serve as a
constant reminder of what may be done,
as their records shall teach me what
must be done, to preserve the unbroken,
unsullied honor of their renown, con-
tributing as it does SO priceless page
to the history of Sacramento County.
I indorse the platform, and in that In
dorsement find a duty as pleasant as 1t
is patriotic. The platform of the Re-
publican party is sound enough, broad
enough and strong enough for me. l
will stand by it as I will stand by and
pledge myself to the support of the en-
tire Republican ticket. There has been
no event in my lifetime crowded into
single day which has meant so much to
me as this day has. I have looked for
ward to it's coming with an apprehen-
sion and hope the one bringing more
anxious worry, the other more COM
fort than I have ever known before.
But as sweet as this victory is, as will
live in a still fonder hope Of victories
vet to come, I would sacrifice it all be-
fore I would give expression to any
thing save an abiding faith, a profound
confidence and an eternal trust in the
PRINCIPLES
The story is told Of an old sea Captain
who for thirty-five uninterrupted years
stood on the deck Of stanch New Eng
land craft and guided her course to
and from the southern seas. But
storm overlook him at last; for two
days and two nights his ship made
gallant fight; though tossed on waves
that were mountain high, tortured by
torrents. wounded by the winds and
her spars by the lightnings splintered,
for thirty-six long hours she held her
own. But on the night Of the third day
the crisis came; every sail was torn,
every rope unraveled, every line loosed,
every mast gone At midnight stag
gering sailor cried: I'VE are lost. She
is going down. In quick succession
the boats were lowered from the davits
and filed with frightened sailors
dropped into the sea.
At last the turn Of the Captain came,
as he stood at his post and peered in
to the darkness beyond; as the waves
rose and fell, and he saw, through the
tlackness of the night, the ghost-like
shells. as they tossed in helplessness
and despair, each for a moment quiv-
with an awful plunge diving deep in
the trough of the sea, ne cried: 60 on
go on? by the gods I'll stay by the old
ship" And he stayed all through the
night in a lonely vigil he stood upon
the bridge Of his disabled ship. The
storm wracked, but it wracked in vain;
the winds blew, but the deck Ger which
they swept had been cleared away
The clouds deepened, the night grew
blacker, yet the lonely mariner still
stood at his post and he stood there un-
til morning came; he stood there until
the first welcome ray from the eaSl
silvered /the waters that had gone to
sleep. for the winds that maddeneo
them had waned; and though stripped
to the waters edge, though there
foated but remnant of the grand old
ship, she had nevertheless survived the
storm; she had outlived the treachery
OF countless waves, and as the old Cap
tain scanned the horizon he saw III the
distance little black specks which upon
a more careful scrutiny seemed to be
waving a signal of distress. With nc
crew to command, no hand but his oWr
to guide. no hope save the friendly a1o
OF a receding tide, he drifted to the
specks in sea, and as the sun was al
the zenith, at noon he helped back or
the dear old ship the half drowned
despairing sailors who had left hin
alone at midnight
Through such a storm is the Repub-
lican ship now passing; there may be
some who are crying out: I'VE are
losti" There may be some in the throes
OF despair; others clinging to the life
boat; some are plunging headlong into
an unknown sea. There may be desert
ers and threats of mutiny, but wher