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SLINGS AND ARROWS
By HUGH CONWAT.
Author of "Called Back," "Dark Days,"
"A Family Affair;' Etc.
^S~^~- FIRST LOVE.
It was ubout this time, I think, that such
training as Mr. Loraine had indirectly
given me began to bear its first full crop of
fruit. When first I stepped into the world
the novelty and freshness of all I saw had
kept the ovil which I had imbibed in the
background. But now that I was a mon,
now that the glamour with which a bov
surrounds everything had faded away,
much of Mr. Loraine's teachings, many of
Li3 cynical axioms, came back, perhaps un
awares, to me. The certainty which ha had
always felt as to some selfish motive being
the hidden mainspring in every action of
man or woman, with me became at least
suspicion. I had already met with false
friends, who had, under the guise ot friend
ship, robbed mo not only of money, but of
what I valued more?trust in my fellows.
" ? After awhile I began to persuade myself
that such popularity as I enjoyed was not
due to my own merits, but to my worldly
possessions; that I was by no moans a fine
fellow?merely a young man of large prop
This feeling is a danger which contin
ually besets a rich and sensitive man, es
pecially if his companions are poorer than
himself, and his own nature is not such as
con accept flattery as his due. Under such
circumstances It is easy to develop much of
the cynicism of Julian Loraine.
"Women had as yet done nothing to lower
my self-esteem." Until now, I had not
found the woman I could love. Ono reason
for thii was, that I wa; still of a romantic
nature, and was resolved that whomsoever
I nsked to be my wife should love ma for
myself?not for my money.
1 wish, so far as possible, to keep this tale
free from any sarcastic remarks of my own,
but at that time I often wondered if the
mothers of fair young daughters would
have found ma such a charming fellow had
not Juliaa Loraine modo that brief will.
But at last I was in love?hopelessly, uu
reservodlv in love. My nature is, I believe,
a passionate one, and now that it bad found
its aim, I gave it full and free scope. I
loved madly,'blindly, and, alas! jealously.
I had set my heart upon no daughter
of a wealthy or well* born family. The
girl I loved was not one whom I mot in
society; yet I proudly thought of the day
when every eye would turn and be dazzled
by her beauty?when people who appraised
the charms of fair women would rank those
of my wife above alL
Of course I was partial?all lovers are?
but now, as I glance from my paper to tbe
portrait which hanss on the wall facing me,
I tell myself that my lovo did not lead me
The soft, thick fair hair growing low
down on the forehead, and.swept bade over
the ear to join the knotted, silky mass at
the back of the head. The bead itself,
small, well-shaped, and, above all, well
poised. Tha large, soft, dark blue eyes,
V Too fringe of long, straight lashes?yes,
W straight, not curved? fallinj, when the
s eyes are closed, literally on the cheek. The
f girlish, yet perfect figure. Ah! I need not
i look at tbe portrait to recall and describe
For the rest, her name was Viola Keith.
She was an orphan, and all but alone..
How I met her, where I mot her, matters
little. Nearly all first meetings take place
under prosaic circumstances." Anyway, as
my eyes met hers, I told myself that I
looked at the one woman whom it was pos
sible for me to lovo with an eternal love.
I knew nothing of her family or her sur
roundings. I cared to know nothing. One
question only I asked myself: Can I win
her, and win ber for my own sake? Here,
even hero, in tho first flush of my new love,
suspicion of motive must be guarded
So when, at lost, I was able to tell her
what narao I bore, I changed it, and callod
myself Mr. Julian Vane. She should, if
she loved mo, marry me, thinking she was
marrying one in her own station of life.
Not that her station was anything to bo
ashamed of. So far as I could gather, she
was one of the many whose parents leave
their children a slender provision, yet large
enough to live upon in respectability and
comfort Viola, I found, lived in a small
bouse, with a prim old dame, the pink of
dignity and propriety, and who had for
merly been the girl's schoolmistress; a soli
tary, lonely life it must have boon for the
I laughed as I thought how, if she loved
me, I would draw her from her dull home
and show her tho great world and the glo
How was I to woo hor? We were not
likely to meet a1; any mutual friend's house.
I had no si?t?r. cousin or any one who could
do me a friendly turn in the matter. Yet
every moment of suspense would be an ago
to me. I must do something.
So one day I waited uutU I saw Viola
leave tho house. I watchc 1 her tall, grace
ful form pass out of sight, and by a great
effort repressed my desire to follow ber.
<fl?hen I walked to hor house and requested
to sec Miss Rossiter, the prim old maiden
I told her in plain words the object of my
calling. I spoke frankly of my great love
for her companion, and I begged that my
fearer would aid me to remove obstacles
^vhich stood in the way of a closer inter
course. No doubt, with u lover's cunuin^,
I made myself most agreeable to tho ancient
gentlewoman. Pormission was graciously
accorded me to visit at thj house?as a
I wanted no more I rose to take my
leave, longing for to morrow to come, as I
did not like to venture two visits on the
first day. Just then the door opened and
Just then Viola appeared.
A look of surprise flashed into her face?
surprise, but not displeasure. A faint blush
crossed her cheek, and these signs told me
I should win her.
Now that my foot was inside the citadel.
I went to work fiercely, impetuously, tc
gain my desire. The days that followed arc
to me too sacred to bo describe.!: but nol
many passed before I knew that Viola';
love was my own.
We went to tho kindly spinster who was
responsiblo for Viola's safety and told her
the glad news. Tho old lady dropped her
knitting needles and looked bawddered.
"Oh, no, no!" she cried in horrified
tones; "you cannot mean it!"
Viola's blush and my words showed her
we were in solemn earnest.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" sighed Miss Ros
siter. "What sball I do? You have only
kDOwn each other a week!"
"A day would have been long enoug"h on
my part!" I cried, looking rapturously at
my lovely Viola.
"It is so sudden," continuel Miss Rossiter.
"I never dreamed of such a thing. In old
days matters were manage I much more
decorously. I thought, Mr. Vane, you
would bo at least three months in making
hor acquaintance. Oh, dear! I am much
The old soul seemed so distressed that
Viola ran over and kissed her.
"Oh! what will Eustace say? He wil
blamo me terribly. Ho is so masterful, you
know, Viola." ?
"Who is Eustacef I asked. I thought
that Viola's face grew -thoughtful as she
heard the name.
"Mr. Grant, my guardian and good
friend," she said.
"Then I mmt see him. "Where can I find
"Ho is away," said Mis3 Rossiter, plaint
ively. "Oh, I am so much to blamo 1
ought to have made air sorts of inquiries
about you, Mr. Vane."
"Your friend cau mako them on his re
turn. When will that be?"
"No ono knows. To-morrow, perhaps;
next month, next year. One uever can say
Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
I laughed and drew Viola away. We wero
so happy that we forgot all about Mi?s Bos
Biter's plaintive sighs, and I troubled nothing
about Viola's guardian. I did not even ask
what manner of man he was.
But two days afterward I knew. In the
evening I colled as usual at Miss Rossitcr's.
Viola heard mv knock and met mo in tho
"Eustace came back to-day. He is here
now," she said joyfully.
I kissel her and followed her into tho
room to make tho acquaintance of her guar
dian. Although she had called him by his
Christian name, I fully expectod to And him
a sober, middle-aged man; but iu tho easy
chair, lounging as if the place belongel to
him, and talking volubly to Mks Rossiter, 1
saw a strongly-built, suuburnei man who
could bo but few years my senior. He rose
as I entored and Viola shyly introduced us.
He was tall?tailor than I was. His
shoulders wore broad; his limbs long and
muscular. A man who, If not liandsorne,
would certainly bo noticed anywhere. The
thought which succeeded my astonishment
at his unexpected appearanca was, "By
what right is this man the guardian of the
woman I love?"
He gave me his hand; bat not, I faucied,
cordialb-. He looked me full in tho face,
and I knew that ho was trying to gather
from my looks soma knowledge of myself.
Then suddenly 1 saw a surprised expression
on his face?saw tho corners of bis mouth
droop as in half-suppressed scorn; and from
that moment my feelings toward h im were
those of mistrust and dislike.
He staid so late that I was the ono to
make tho first move. For once I was not
sorry to leave Viola. Tho appearance of
this man among us, the close terms of in
timacy upon which it was clear ho stood
with Miss Rossiter and Viola, cast a kind
of gloom upon me. I chafed at the thought
that my happiness was In any way depend
ent upon his favor. 1 grew moody and
silent, and for mo the evening was a dull
But not for my friends. This Grant was
evidently a brilliant and clever talker. Ho
narrated, in an amusing way, his experi
ences in some out of the way Alpino village
in which, for some reason which did not
transpire, he had been staying. Yet at
times I fancied that his merriment was
forced, and ugaiu and again I saw his kern
eyes turned on me with a searching glance,
which annoyed me beyond measure.
When at last I rose, ho followed my
example. Viola, as was her custom, accom
panied mo to the door of the house, but this
oveniug I noticed, or fancied I noticol, a
certain reluctanca and hesitation in hor
manner. Eustace Grant passed on in front,
of us. Ho opened tho door and stood on tho
stop I lingered for a moment to bid Violu
a last good night.
Presently Grabt turned, as if impatient ab
my delay. Thoro was a lamp exactly oppo
site the house and the hall was also il
lumined. I could, therefore, see the man's
face distinctly, and there was an indescrib
able look in his eyes which told mo tho
whole truth. This Eustace Grant, whoever
ho was, laved Viola oven as I lovoi her!
All my jealous and mistrustful naturo
surged to the surface. I grasped Viola's
hand and hastily drew her into a littlo sit
ting-room close by. She looked at mo in a
"Viola," I said, "who is this nianf''
- "Dearest, 1 told you; Eustace Grant, my
"Who is he? what is his profession?''
"Ah! that is a secret as yet. Ho will tell
you soino day; for, Julian, you will lovo
him liko a brother when you know him."
"Never! Listen, Viola. That man is in
lovo with you!"
Sho* made no answer, and by tho light
which passed through tho half-opeund door
I saw a soft expression of pity and regret
upon hor sweet face.
"You know itr I asked.
She sighed. "I am afraid it is so, or has
been so. Poor Eustace!"
Tho intonation of tho last two words car
ried comfort to my heart It told me that I
need fea r no rival. I embraced Viola, and
left hor. Grant was still oa the doorstep.
Ho was evidently waiting for me. 1 paused
in tho road, looking out for a vacant han
"Do you mind walking a little distance
with me, Mr. Vaue?" said Grant.
"1 havo some distance to go. 1 would
"I will not toko you far, but I havo some
thing I must say to you."
He turned in an authoritative manner, as
though fully expecting I should follow him.
I hesitated, thun joined him, and wo walked
side by si le.
Thcro was frigid silence between us; but
as I glanced at tho toll, manly figure by my
side, as now and again by the light of tho
gas lamps I saw that powerful, striking
face, the demon of self-distrust began to
rise again. How, I asked myself, could it
be possibl?, all things being equal, for a
woman to choose mo iu preference to this
man? And thanks to my concealing my
name and true position the chanoM appa
rently were that Grant had as much to offer
a woman as I had.
By and bye my companion stopjwd and
opeued the door of a house with a latch
key. He invited me to enter, and showed
mo iuto a room on the ground floor. Once
inside his own house his manner changed.
He was now host and I was a guest He
. apologized for the state of confusion which
I reigned iu tho room. Ho had only ra
I turned to his lodgings yesterday, and had
not yet got things straight The room, al
though plainly furnished, showe I that its
i tenant was a man of taste and culture.
? Books were scattered broadcast, here, there
I and everywhere. Grant swept a pfl> oil
: tho chair which he offered me.
"You smoke?' he said, producing a cigar
case. "I can give you some brandy and I
Ho opened tbe cupbourd and brought out
tho bottles. I dccliued his proffered hospi
tality, and awaited Lis communication. Ho
stood with his back to the mantel-piece, aud
mechanically fillet a pipe. He did not,
however, light it; and, although I looked
as carelessly as I could in another direction,
I knew that he was attentively scanning
my face. Tins scrutiny became unbearable.
"You have something to say to m.;, Mr.
Grant;" I remarked.
"Ye.7. 1 am only considering how to say
it I am something of a physiognomist,
and have bean studying your face for ray
I smiled scornfully, but said no more. He
was welcome to look at me all night if ho
chose to do so. Suddenly, in a sharp, ab
rupt way, ho spoke.
"Why are you passing under a false
name?" he asked.
M Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive!"
The attack was so unexpected t?.nt I
crimsoned, and for a moment was speech
less. I knew that my true motivo for the
concealment was, in respect to Viola, if un
worthily conceived, at least free from eviL
This thought strengthened me, and I was
able to face my in te rrogator. But, all the
sarao, it was a great mortification to foeJ
that in order to explain1 mattors to this man
I must, as it were, lay bare my most sensi
' You Know my true name?" I asked.
".No. But I have seen you somewhoro?
Vieuna, Paris?I forget where. Tuen you
were not called Vane."
"My name is Julian Loraine,"
"Julian Loraine," ho repeated, musingly.
"I have heard that name in tha world, and
with little good attached to it But it could
not have referred to yourself. You arc too
young. But your reason for the decep
on? Speak 1" he said fiercely.
I curbed my rising auger, and, as well as
I could, told him why I had wooed Viola
under a falso name. I think he behoved
me, but I saw scorn on his face as ho lis
"Tho act of a fool," ho said. "Mr. Lor
aine, such romantic affairs should be left to
poets and novelists. Viola Keith would
need neither riches nor poverty with tho
mau tho loved. I toll you, if I were to go
to-morrow and make known to her your
doubt of her gjpglo-heartedness, I could
shutter tho wholo fabric of your happiness.
Why should I not do so?"
"It would be the act of a fiend," I said.
He laughed, not pleasantly. "Yes, it
would. 1 will not do it I will even keep
your secret and let you cony out your
ridiculous plan. But I will also do this: I
will follow you on your wedding morning,
and see with my own eyes that you have
married Miss Keith in your Tight name.
"No!" he said, seeing I was ready to spring
from my seat in indignation, "No! I will
have no protost You havo brought this
upon yourself. You have given mo the
right to mistrust you."
"Will you bo good enough to show me
the right by which you interfere at allf
"U.ilil her twenty-first birthday I am
Miss Keith's guardian."
"A very young one," I sneered.
"Yw; but older thau you funk. Her
mother (iied six years* ago. I was then 30;
"sh: tli< ught me old enough to be her child's
guardian, and I will see tho trust to the
The meaning thrown into the last sen
tence di I not escape me. It implied that he
? Btfli viewed -me with dtefcrrwt- My anger^
' was thoroughly aroused.
"Perhaps, Mr. Grant," I said, "there is a
nearer and dearer right you wish to exer
cise over your ward?one which sho her
self alone can bestow."
He drew h?nself up to his full height
"That, sir," he said, cainily, "is ungou
eroti'. I had hoped that my lovo'for Miss
Keith was a matter unknown to all save
myself. 1 love her as'it may ho beyond
your power to love a woman. I would lay
down my lifo for her far more easily
than to-day I lay down my love. Yet I
do this, and to you, my rival, can say:
Take her, and make her happy?make her
The repetition of tho last three words was
not a wish; it aas a command, a threat
Grant was still standing above mo, and as
I lookod at him I saw that his face was pole,
and on his forehead were drops of moisture.
His appearance almost startled mo; but I
said nothing. I rose and wished him good
night. Somehow, in spite of the dislike
with which the man had inspired me, there
was about him a strength and dignity which
impressed mo more than I cared to own.
He accompanied mo to tho door. When it
closed, I paused for a moment to light ono
of my own cigars. Thea I crossed the
road. As I did so, I glanced back. Tho
gas was burning in tho room which I had
just left; the blind was drawn up. I saw
Grant enter, throw himself into the chair
which I had left vacant, stretch his arms
out on the table, and lay his .heal upon
them, like one in agonies of grief. He was
bewailing the loss of the happiness which I
1 pitied him, but I hated him. It seemed
to m i that if this man set his heart upon a
woman's iove, sooner or later she must give
it to him. What would it be if now ho
asod all his power to rob me of Viola? I
knew that till tha ring was on her finger I
should have no peace of mind.
The next day, when I paid my visit to
"/tola, I was full of the /ear tkntl should
(hid Eustace Grant at her side, perhaps ex
ercising all his craft. In spite of his as
sumption of frankness, I believed him to be
crafty, to my disadvantage. It was a fear
which had no foundation. Neither on that
nor on succeeding dftys did Grant in any
way interfere with mt monopoly of Viola.
Ones or twice I met him, apparently com
ing from the house. On these occasions ho
bowed gravely, but did not stop to speak.
His visits were evidently paid at such times
as dkl not clash with mine. I raged in
wardly to think that ho had a right to visit
Viola at uny time; but I was too proud to
remonstrate. It was some comfort to me
to hear Miss Rossiter occasionally remark
that they saw littlo or nothing of Eustace
Viola sellotn mentioned his name. No
doubt, with a woman's quickness, she un
. derstocd that it was distasteful to me,
I Nevertheless, 1 know that she held her
, guardian In the greatest esteem, and looked
forward to the time when we should be
; friends. This I swore should nevor come.
Viola once my wife, the acquaintance be
, tween her and this strong-willed, attractive
man should cease.
As I said, I am Indeed a pitiful horol
But if 1 saw nothing of Grant I heard
from him. Ho wrote me, telling me he had
been informed by Mi6S Keith that our inor
, riago was to take place very ?hortly. Ho
would be glad to know my intentions re
, spectiug the settlement of her own smuli
fortune. There was a peremptorincss about
. the wording of the letter which nettled me
[ extremely. 1 wrote back that it was quite
. truo wc were to be married in a few weeks'
i time, but that it was not my intention to
settle my wife's monay upon her. The sum
, was: to ) paltry to trouble about, as it would
- Lo qui-o lost sight of in the large.post
nuptial settlement which I projx>3ed mak
ing. If Mr. Graut felt any doubt as to niy
means he could make inquiries of raj' solici
tor, who had my instructions to answer all
his questions fully.
To tins letter he aid not reply; but I
heard that be made tho inquiries, as I sug
gested. No doubt, Viola's interest, he
was right iu so doing; but I liked him none
the more for the action.
Yes; Viola, overcome by my impas
sioned prayers, had consented lo an almost
immediate marriage, Tboro was, indeed,
no rea:on why we should wait a day. Sho
loved me, and was willing to trust her
future in my hauls. I loved her, and
longed for tho moment which would make
her mine forever. Moreover, I longed for
tho time (o come when I might tell her all;
confess the innocent but foolish deception
I had practiced, and bog her forgiveness?
not for mistrusting her, but her sex in
general 1 was sorely tempted to reveal
the truj state of affairs without further de
lay; but Grant's warning rose to my mind,
and I determined that, until tho irrevocable
words were spoken, I would keep my
We were married in tho quietest way
possible. Viola, it seemed to me, had no
bosom friouds?no relatives who would bo
mortified unless they were, asked to the
wedding. The old spinster, who looked
very prim, and ready to apply her favorite
word, ''indecorous," to tho whole proceed
ings; a brother, as .prim as herself, and ono
trusted friend of my own formed the wed>
ding guests. . Eustace Grant had Deon
asked to accompany us, but Viola told mo
that for some reason or another, he had
excused himself. At this sho soomed greatly
I was also troubled by his refusal. It
showed too plainly his feeling3, both to*
ward mo and toward Viola.
But ho was in tho church; ho was. thoro
even before I was. As I walked up the
aislo I caught a glimpsa of his strongly
marked profile. He was in a far-off pow,
and was almost the only spectator of tho
He was in a far-off pew and almost tlie
? only spectator.
ceremony. Doubtleis, when Viola and I
left tho church, man nnd wife, Eustaca
Grant walked into the vestry, and, as ho
had expressed his intention of doing, saw
with his own eyes that I had married Viola
in my true name.
We drove straight from the church to tho
railway station. When alone in tho car
riage almost the first words my wife said
were: "Julian, Eustace was in church.
Did you see himf'
? "Yes, I saw him."
"Why did ho not come and wish mo good
bye? It was not liko him. I must havo
offended him. I will write and ask bim
I hated tho idea of Eustace Grant being,
in such a moment as this, uppermost in my
wtfe'-^ihoughts. "Never mini, deareat," I
7*iift;^--~httt<s Euotace Grant to usf
"Oh, much, very much to me, Julian 1 Ho
was my mother's friend, he has beon my
one friend ever sinco I can remember."
"I do not like him," I said.
"But you will liko him; you must like
him. Ho is so good, so nob!e, so clover.
Promise me, Julian, you will like bim for
Although I would not credit him with tho
two first qualifications?goodness and no
bility?I was willing tobalievo that Eustace
Grant was clover?perhaps too clever. The
disadvantage at which ho had hold mo upon
that night when I was for tho time, in his
eyes, on impostor, rankled in my mind. I
But to day I could afford to Ik> generous. I
drow Viola close to me.
"Doarost," I said, "I will try -and get rid
of my prejudice. I will try and forget that
this man loved you, and would havo made
you his wife. I will try to Cvase from
wondering why, when he is so good, noble
and clever, you should havo chosen me."
Viola laid her soft cheek against mine.
"Julian, my husband," she whispered,
"oro you not all that Eustace Grant is?and
more. I love you."
With her words all my doubt, all my fear
of Eustaca Graut fled? never, I hoped, to
return. With Viola's arms round me, her
kisses on my lips, I could afford to pity ray
unsnccossful rival. Whan wo were in
stalled in the compartment of tin train
which was, by a venal arrangement of the
guard's, reserved to ourselves, I fell to
considering how I should best make
known to Viola that tho name by which
she had hitherto known nu was assumed.
I was beginning, or fancied I was begin
ning, to kno w something of my wife's true
nature; aud I told myself that tho task be
fore mo was not so easy as I had oncJ im
agine! it would be. My confession was
hurried on by a question s-he herself
"Julian, what name was it you signed in
tho book at church!" V
I had hoped that in tho agitation natural
to a brido who signs her maiden uann for
tho last time sho had not noticed my auto
graph. But sho must havo dono so, al
though 6ho had said nothing about it until
So I made tho pluuge and told her all.
Told hor my true name; told her of the
beautiful house in the west which would bo
ours; told her of tho life, f rca from care and
anxiety as to the future, which stretched
before us. Then I besought her forgiveness
for keeping her in ignorauce of those things.
I had, bo it Faid, given hor to understand
that I was a man with an income just
enough to livo upon in comfort.
Grant was right. H>; knew Viola when
ho told me that, by revealing my deception,
ho might destroy tho fabric of my happi
ness. Sho said little, but her look told me
she was hurt and wouu^ed. I verily be
hove her first thoughts were that she would
rather I had been what I represented
myself to be, than to have the power of
sharing such n homo and so much wealth
with her. How little men understand
womenl Perhaps because no two women
But Viola forgave me. A woman always
forgives tho man she loves, but I knew that
she was sad at the thought that I coul I
have droatned that riches might have influ
enced her. Nevertheless, it was days before
I could got hor to join mo unrestrainedly
in tho schemes which 1 wove of our future
Wo went down to a quiet watering place
on tho south coast. Hero wo staid for a
fortnight. Oh, those sweet summer days!*
Shftll 1 over forget thein* For the time
there seemed no cloud which could possibly
shade our joy. All the cynical, suspicious,
misanthropical dements seemed swept cut
of my nature. I told myself that the con
stant, society of the wife 1 loved was mak
ing a hotter as well us a hjippierman of nie.
At tho end of our stay by "the soa it was
our int?ntion to return to London for n
couple of days, and then start for Switzer
land. Here, or in what country we chcse,
we were to spend months. In fact, I had
as yet no home to offer my wife. Tho tenant
of Herstal Abbey would not turn out with
out six months' notice; ;o, for thct'ino, we
must be wanderers.
Eustace Grant?I had by now almost for
gotten him?wrote once to my wife. She
seemed overjoyed ns she saw Iiis hand
writing, but vexed at tho ceremonious way
in which his letter began. It lies before
me now. I copy it:
?'My Dear Mrs. Loraixe: You will re
member that next Tuesday is your twenty
"As I am going abroad very shortly, I
am anxious to submit the accounts of the
trust to ycu and, of course, Mr. Loraine.
I hear that von will be in town on Tuesday.
Can I call upon you anywhere, or would it
be more convenient for us to meet at my
solicitor's?Mr. Monk, 30 Lincoln's Inn
Fields? Please let me know. Yours sin
cerely. "Eustace Grant."
"He might have sent a word of congrat
ulation," said Viola, in a vexed tone.
"How shall I answer this, JulianT'
"Say we will meet him at Mr.. Monk's at
19 o'clock on Tuesday."
To which effect Viola wrote. I did noi
read tho letter, but I wondered at tha
length of it.
to ue continued.
Special Bargains !
FASHIONABLE DRY GOODS
We are now closing out the balance of our
Winter Stock of
at less than cost of raw material.
Now is the time to procure Great Bargains
Everything selling off at unheard
of low prices. This is a
for all to
I will now devote my entire at
With an experience of ten
years I am in a position to
know what variety of Lamps
to keep on hand that will.suit
any purpose and give entire
satisfaction. When in need
of a Burner that will give
you a large brilliant light
call for " S 011E N T11U K' S
GUARANTEE". I give full
directions how to use it and a
guarantee for a year with
Remember that "FAIR
DEALINGS, LOW PRICKS
and BEST QUALITY is my
Motto, and don't forget that
whatever you may need in the
way of or for a Lamp you
will be sure to get it at
Headquarters for Lamps.
U. H. MOSS. C. G. DANTZLER
A/fOSS & DAXTZLER,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
OllANGEBl'JtG, S. C.
\V. HOW MAX.
On AN CEUUKG, S. C.
AS THE SEASON IS NEAR AT
HAND FUR PUTTING IN
And wishing to make roorc, wc will make
it to the interests of. all to call and get
As we are determined not lo cany over
any Fall Stock. We still lead in low
prices and are Headquarters for
GENT'S, YOUTH'S AND BOY'S
Our trade in
Zeigler's Fine Shoes
For Ladies was never better. Every pair
\Yo eany the largest und host Stock of
In the market. All warranted.