Crittenden press. [volume] (Marion, Ky.) 1879-1907, 1906-08-09

~ W. ~ h1vt'f anu was HlO
ping at the foreign hotel, well up q
the mountain side. Ii was in Il
7 evening, and was sitting on tn
veranda in conversation with Lieu
tenant Butterwortb, an officer of tn
cruiser Charleston, then at anchor il
Hiogo Bay. Aboueten O'Clock
was very agreeably Srprised at tn
appearance Of my frieB1, the Amer
Canadian. He invited me to hi,
room where We bad quite an extended
conversation, during the progress Of
which ! discovered that he knew a
great deal about Kentucky politics
and Kentucky history. This fact,
though perhaps singular to the aver
age American. struck me with no
surprise from the fact that an intel
lgent globe trotter is Of all men the
best informed on all matters Of cur
rent history. He told me be had
been an admirer of John Young
Brown, regarded Proctor Knot as one
Of the greatest men of the nation and
he had frequently met Henry Wat
terson. 1t occurred TO me during the
conversation that he, genial stranger
though he was, might know more
about Kentucky history than what he
had read But | would not under
any sort Of consideration have taken
steps that could have caused him any
greater uneasiness than he was then
a victim Of, to say nothing Of bring
ing about his arrest or Imprisonment.
The gentleman disappeared from my
vision as an apparition.
The matter passed from my mind
until about 1897, when being in
Frankfort learned that suit had |
been filed in that county by the heirs
of Dick Tate to recover the amount
of his life insurance, and in that suit
letters had been fled written by him
from japan to his family. Twas led
by my curiosity to 60, accompanied
by my friend, Tebbis Carpenter, Of
Scottsville, to the Franklin County
Clerks Office TO examine those let
tiers. discovered this very interes-
ting coincidence, that one of those
letters filed with that snit was writ
ten from Mike on the very day Of
my interview with the mysterious
stranger at the shrnes Of the Sho-
guns. Another was written from
Yokohama the very day after |
smoked my first Manila cigar with
the same interesting stranger IN the
Grand Hotel in that city. And the |
other had been written from the an
cient capital Of Japan on the veryl
day and date of my long conversation
with the well informed American
Canadian on the yeranda of the
Yaami Hotel, overlooking the sleep
ing city of the uneonquerable Yam
ate, amid scenes Of exquisite beauty
that rival the pictured splendors of
the Alhambra. These were the last
letters written by Dick Tate, the ex-
lie, to the remnant in Kentucky Of
what was once the loving, beloved
and happy family Of Dick Tate, one
of natures towering noblemen, whose
generosity and bounding fellowship
had proved the wreck and ruin Of his
life as well as theirs. When | read |
those letters and had description of
this one time idol of Kentucky Dem
ocracy, then | knew | had missed |
what a sordid spirit would have seiz-
ed upon as an opportunity. Dick
Tate was nothing to me. had
never seen him until the day we met
amid the unbroken stiffness of Ja-
pans slumbering heroes In that
grove of a thousand years, where
hover the spirits of warriors compar-
ed with whom if history were exact
and impartial, the names of Caesar
and Napoleon would aspire no higher
than to occupy second place. But
he had been friend Of my friends,
and my right hand shall forget its
cunning before | shall turn to barter
the misfortuues of one who had been
so capable of msgnasimity, geseros-
ity and human fellowship.
If that was Dick Tate, and | have
never doubted that it was, then