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Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 17, 1889, Image 1

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LEWIS m.grist, Proprietor, j -Independent iainili! |tepaper: i'or the promotion of the political, Social, Agricultural and (L'oinmerciat interests of the ^outh. j TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE.
VOL. 35. YOEKVILLE, S. C? WEDNESDAY. JULY 17, 1889. ISTO. 29.
^ ^ Jovial ^tovn.
' Mystery of Dd nil's Flat
CHAPTER L
ft HE sun was
sinking behind
the distant sierras;
their s 11 o w
capped summits
were tinted with
the fading^ flush
f r * n ee d thc
jopgi*Ln?'' mountain sides,
and 8trefchcd far
f/l iJ/ 'i' awav through
I miles of level
k - hind, there linf
'2?55?K5^i gered only the
^ clear dusk that
darkens suddenly into night. The air
was full of the aromatic fragrance
of resin, and the silence was so intense
that the crackling sound of the
dry wood. u|m>ii which tho fierce sun
had shone down all day. was sharp and
clear, while every now and then tho
chirp of the grasshopper could be distinctly
heard.
A man leaning against one of the redpine
boles noticed neither silence nor
^ fragrance: the chirping of the grasshoppers
did not disturb him, and tho fact
that the sun was sinking fast l>ehind him
away over the sierras did not trouble
him in the le:isL He was far too satisfied
with his own (>osition to think of
anything but himself, and the comforting
fumes of his pipe soothed his senses
infinitely better than balsamic odors.
Presently he pulled out his watch and
looked at it: then he uttered an imprecation,
and his face assumed tho expression
that had gained for him from his
friends the suggestive title of "Go-forHim
Tom." He was not accustomed to
being played false. He took out from
his breast jiocket a greasy, shabby note
book, and. turning over some dirty
papers, found a short note, which he
slowly read through: after doing so he
tore it up savagely into a hundred pieces
and flung them from him. An evening
breeze sweeping at that moment through
the forest caught the pieces and whirled
them away into bush and cranny. What
prompted him to commit such a foolish
EOV iv^rlinns. in
act iv ?ao uiiuvuik owj t x?, --snite
of his savage wrath against the person
who was keeping him waiting, ho
felt too sure of his own position to act
with the prudence that generally guided
him. By destroying that paper ho destroyed
the one clew to the mystery of
which that lonely tryst among the pines
was the beginning. After venting his
anger uj>on the note ho drew out of an
inner pocket a woman's dainty handkerchief.
He looked at it for a moment, a
fierce light stealing into his eyes: then he
raised it to his lips and, with a low
laugh, kissed it. As the laugh, insolent
in its triumph, cruel in its pitilessness.
broke ui>on the evening air, a tongue of
red flame flashed out from a thorn hush
some yards behind him, followed by a
loud report. With a wild cry of pain,
"Go-for-Him Tom" turned sharply round,
the handkerchief still in his hand, and
made a plunge towards the bush. Before
he could reach it ho staggered, and,
with a revolting execration upon his lips
and a convulsive sob of agony, ho fell
face downwards \ii>on tho earth.
The hist rays of the sun vanished from
the sierras and night fell suddenly upon
the forest. Tho darkness hid the motionless
figuro which was not to rise up to
greet another dawn, and closed over the
horrible red stream which gradually
soaked into tho earth.
#*#?# #
In the east was a pale glimmer of
light; but it was too feeble to penetrate
into tho depths of the forest, where darkness
still lingered, though already the
weird melancholy notes and sounds
which haunt forests at night were growing
silent, as the animals and insects
who did not care to face the light withdrew
to their hiding places, leaving be,
hind them that hush which precedes the
joyous waking of all things that love tho
day.
The dead man was still lying where he
fell: but there was human life near.
Some few hundred yards away a young
man hail encamped for tho night. He
was sitting up in his blankets, cogitating
over his position, which was eminently
unsatisfactory; his humlsome eyes were
growing inoro haggard, his tired face
paler and more downcast, when suddenly
lie saw straight^ liefore him a pale
figure, sharply defined against the blackness
of its surroundings. Ilis keen eyes,
accustomed to the darkness, could, after
having once caught sight of this figure,
even distinguish its outline. It stood , a
light and shadowy looking object, at the
end of the opening which he knew had
faced him when lie went to sleep. The
more lie stared at it, the more puzzled
and interested he became. It was not
an Indian?they never appeared light
against a dark background; it could
hardly be one of the miners who formed
the population of Dead man's Flat?they
certainly did not walk abroad in ethereal
garments. IIo did not imagine it to be
a ghost, because he did not believe in
such things; but for a moment his blood
ran cold in his veins as the white
shadowy figure suddenly glided forward
through the darkness, and came straight
towards him. Ilis hand had already instinctively
grasped his rille, which was
lying close by him, and ho now raised it
into position, in ease it should be needed;
but within twenty feet of him the gliding
white form stopped.
"By (ieorge?a woman!"
The exclamation broke from his lips
almost involuntarily,as the unmistakable
sound of a woman's sobs fell upon his ear.
If there had lieen any doubt in his mind it
would have vanished at the sound of tin
shriek that echoed among the pines,
when, springing to his feet, he plunged
through the darkness to her side.
She turned to fly, but her foot slipped
and she swayed for a second. Ilis strong
arms caught her before she could reach
the ground, anil the next moment sho
was a helpless prisoner in his arms.
"Oh, please let me"?she crieil in a
terrified tone; and then the sweet sound
of a woman's voice ceased abruptly, and
Mr. John Smith found himself holding a
limp, senseless burden. Tie had frightened
her into a swoon.
Anathematizing his brutality, lie carried
her over to his blankets, and laying
her down upon them struck a light. It
went out immediately, and before lie
could strike another the woman revived,
She sat up and broke into such hysterical
weeping and cries of terror at finding
herself in the darkness with an unknowr
man by her side, grumbling over his re
. fractory matches, that Mr. John Smitli
I was nearly beside himself too.
"Come, I say, mv good woman?tei:
thousand snakes! My dear girl, can't
you keep quiet a few moments?you're
perfectly safe. Ah, that's better"?as
the lighted match set fire to a little pill
of dried pino needles and twigs ho hail
hastily gathered together anil a chcerfu
blazo lighted up the scene.
Sho gradually succeeded in repressing
her sobs after his appeal, which hat
such a ring of genuine discomfituro ani
vexation that even her overwroughi
nerves were soothed, and she becami
calmer.
"Now then, that's something like! Tak<
a pull at this," ho said, bending over hei
with his flask.
IIo was nearly startled out of his wit
again, however, by her thrusting th<
flask from her, anil breaking into a pea
of laughter which seemed as if it wouli
never come to an end.
i After the first alarm at the sudden ani
unexpected change of mood, ho felt re
I lioved.
"That's better," he said consolingly"laughing
is better than crying!" Bu
! no grew mora alarmed than ever as the
| wild laughter continued, for lie began
j to think sho was mad. lie stood stupidly
! staring at her, his eyes wide open, his
: jaw dropping, and tho spectacle ho thus
presented in tho firelight upset the girl's
j self control still more.
"Oh, don't stand staring at mo like
I that! You'll drivo mo mad! Say something!"
she ejaculated.
"I'm real sorry!" ho began feebly. "I
I wish you wouldn't, you know!"
I "Not liko that! Just scold me?beat
: me?anything!" she gasped out, between
j her wild hysterical fits of laughter and
: sobbing.
j IIo began to see that this laughter was
only another form of agony, llis face
I grew grave, and a new expression came
into it jus lie again bent gently over tho
) girl.
, i "Now, you will just do as I tell yon,"
| ho said, in a cool, authoritative voice.
"You are to drink sorno of this."
Ho held liis flask to her lips with one
hand, passing his other arm round her
to hold her up, for sho was shaking like
a reed. The ouiet imperiousness of voice
and manner had its effect. The girl let
i him moisten her lips, sinking back heavily
against his encircling arm; but he
felt that she was quito unconscious as to
whether it were human or only a block
of wood.
She suddenly drew herself from it
with a hot flush.
"I thought it was tho tree," she said,
in a weak, confused voice.
"It doesn't signify," ho returned
j bluntly. "Now you'll lie down till I get
; along with a meal. It is just morning."
His firmness and coolness again mas1
tered her and she lay down, letting him
wrap her up in his blanket, being indeed
; really too weak and exhausted to make
much resistance. She remained perfectly
quiet, watching him languidly
through her half closed lids as he came
and went in tho light of tho fire, which
ho had now enlarged to a size convenient
for cooking.
Tho pale light in tho cast reached the
woods and valleys at last, and it was
day. In a moment all tho forest was
i echoing with shrill note3 and tho whir
! of wings. Some bird, with a joyous
! rush through tho sweet air of the morn;
ing, flashed across tho glade in front of
i tho young man. Almost before he knew
what he was doing, ho had snatched his
revolver from his belt and brought the
bird down. It seemed cruel; but ho was
j hungry, and so, probably, was his guest.
; As ho glanced at her, ho saw that not
! even tho report had roused her from the
| heavy sleep into which sho had at last
| fallen. When sho did awake, it was to
j seo him absorbed and anxious before the
i fire, carefully attending to the roasting
of half a dozen little birds which he had
arranged on improvised spits of forked
; wood. As soon as they were ready ho
turned to seo what sho was doing, and
found her contemplating him with so
, much interest that he felt uncomforfci
able.
His equanimity was still more disi
tnrhod when, sitting unrkrht. with the
broad light of day shining upon her, he
saw her clearly for the iirst time.
' Do you know thai last night 1 thought
onco you might bo a grizzly?" he said,
with a rather awkward laugh, looking
at her with the frankest admiration, and
| wondering more than ever where she
could havo como from and who she was.
She flushed and laughed, and then
shuddered.
"I shall never forget it?that awful
night! I lost my way. Can you tell me
; where I am?"
"I reckon you'ro near Deadmau's
i Flat," ho said, thinking that he had
! never before heard so 6weet a voice.
! But he was frightened at the effect of
j his word6 upon her, for she had turned
! ghastly pale.
"Oh, I must get away!" she exclaimed,
i springing to her feet. "I mustn't bo near
! that place alone! Oh, I did not know!"
"It's all right," he said, anxious to
i soothe her?"we're some way off!"
"Oh, but there is some one there?I?
oh, what shall I do?" she cried wildly,
i wringing her hands.
She was in such a frenzy of fear and
: horror that the young man was afraid
she would break down again, as she had
j dono during the night. If the experi'
eneo had been painful to him then, when
he could scarcely see if she were as old
| and ugly as a witch, it would bo twenty
; times more dreadful now that lie had
S discovered her youth and beauty.
"You 6ha'n't go there, and no one
' ^elinll xmrn-v vnn AifKnr '* ltn
liuiu iuviu o??ui* '?v?* j ?vexclaimed,
saying anything that came
into his head to calm her. "I'll take you
anywhere you like. Heaven knows,
there are people there I'd rather shoot
than meet!"?with an outburst of fierce
j passion.
"Have you, too, an enemy?" she asked,
! in a strange low tone. Oh"?her pas!
sionate emotion again overpowering her
?"why should a man have an enemy!
If I were a man, and had an enemy, I
would kill him!"
There was something terrible in the
I gleam of lierco anger in the dark depths
I of her eyes, in the wild passionate tono of
; her voice. She looked at that moment
' as if she could deal a death blow without
a tremor.
He gazed at her curiously, vaguely
troubled at her fierce hate and passion.
Looking up at his face, she saw at a
glance the thought that was passing
I through his mind. She flushed hotly,
| 1 and then became deathly pale.
"You do not know!" she said, in a hard,
constrained voice.. "You are a man!
You cannot even guess what such an
! enemy as Tom Cairnes can be to a wo
iiiiiii;
"Tom Cairnes?Go-for-him Tom! Is lie
i your enemy, too! Heaven help any wo|
inau who lias to deal with him!" ho exclaimed,
betraying his own hatred.
"Then lie is your enemy as well? You
1 will understand how I hate him!" She
1 clenched her slender hand, her lithe beau|
tiful figure quivering from head to foot.
. "I shocked you by saying a moment ago
I that I could kill him; but, if you could
feel what it is to he a woman, persecuted
' I by such a man as that, you would take a
j Derringer in your hand and shoot him
L down like a dog!"
> ller terrible excitement imparted an
1 additional beauty to her face that dazzled
him, and he understood what she
meant by "Go-for-him Tom's" persecu>
tion. The hot blood flew to his face at
^ this infamous presumption. Ho would
' j havo shot Tom Cairnes down "liko a
1 dog" that very instant. Perhaps she understood
something of the feeling she had
aroused in him, for she flushed, and, the
lierce, angry light fading from her eyes,
> she looked up at him with the half
shamed, half shy appeal of a woman who
* fi'Ols the need of, and is grateful for, the
j I protection of a strong man.
Being a man, lie found her even more
> beautiful in this new mood than in the
1 i other.
"Let us have something to eat," hesaid
1 abruptly, his voice considerably affected
by this fresh influence. It was a prosaic
1 j expression for such an occasion, but lie
^ fi.lt hn niiKt wiv Knmethinfr. After all.
' he could think <>f nothing more appropri'
ate, for thcv wore both hungry.
CHAPTER II.
They sat down to their repast, which,
though frugal in sonio ways and partic|
ularly deficient in knives and crockery,
. was a remarkably pleasant one. Anxi.
oty for tho future and dread of the past
vanished, and they were conscious only
of this delightful al fresco meal in t'?e
great pine forest.
The morning air was still cool, though
1 already wavy lines, betokening heat,
were rising like a mist over tho clearing
1 in which stood the settlement of Deadman's
Flat, about threo miles distant.
. Soon, even in the depths of tho great
forest, tho heat would bo intolerable.
, j On every side of them stretched the
slender boles of larch and pine, the fra;
grant needles covering the ground. Tho
i joyous chorus of birds and insects greet^
1 ing tho new day was sweet music to
these two young people, and every tuft
of feathery fern, every busli of furze th
j and thorn, contained some sight of busy it
| life to amuse tlicin. There were all sorts lia
| of wonders in the thick undergrowth
; to dream of, and to impart that air of fr<
j mystery to the place which always lin- fa
I gers over the unseen. wi
They sat a long timo over that meal, hi
j although she did not eat much?indeed,
j lie was distressed at her want of nppe- to
' titc. He began to see too that the ex- **o
; citemcnt produced by the novelty of the a 1
j situation w;is wearing off, and that her te;
I face was growing very pale. The thought pe
! that Mr. Tom Cairnes was tlio cause of dc
her evident suffering made the young sa
fellow grind his teeth with rage. dc
But even such a meal as this, with sh
oniy a nuuusomo young uiuu ami a | "
beautiful girl to sit at it, with the th
mystery and loneliness and beauty of
the great primeval forest shutting them oh
in together from all the discord and th
weary noises of the world beyond, could ey
not last forever. re
With a woman's natural instinct she
had for some time been conscious of and be
depressed by the fact that her hair was ril
untidy, her face unwashed and her white bl
dress limp with night dews and stained
and soiled with travel. The young man's lit
continually increasing and very evident dt
admiration had aroused in her an ardent wl
desire to make a better appearance before
him. His admiration, however, was II
shown only in the most chivalrous and re
courteous manner, though his eyes, be- fr
ing naturally handsome and expressive. F1
were beyond his control.
The sound of the rippling 6trcam from hr
which he had brought water for their to
meal, and which ran through a thicket nc
some yards from where they sat, attract- th
ed her attention, it promising to aid her fo
in at least a limited toilet. le:
The opportunity came when a few
moments later the young man, prompted ar
by a feeling of delicacy, rose suddenly.
He was afraid that ho had been forcing pi
his society upon her, and was fully con- <h
scious of her helpless position. It was a th
long time since Mr. John Smith had felt nc
bashful; but he did now, as, shouldering at
his rifle, with the explanation that he fo
was going to reconnoiter, in case any un- pi
pleasant acquaintance from Deadman's hr
Flat should be hanging about,he marched m
off between the trees. Ho felt liko some ca
awkward schoolboy, and was painfully
conscious of what seemed to him a fool- w
ish, stumbling gait. lei
She, gazing after him as ho walked off
between the pines, looking neither to the ai
right nor to the left, thought what a splen- fli
did figure he had and what a free and
graceful air. Ho was very shabbily sh
dressed, his clothes being of the poorest
quality, and everything about him bore st
the mark of privation and poverty. His
language, though shorn of expressions
nnt suitable to his nresent company, was te
that of the ordinary miners she had met. al
though there were moments when he gt
seemed to slip unconsciously into a grace th
of expression curiously at variance with re
his coarse dress and rough hands. There w
was something indefinable about him w
which brought back vividly to her mind ju
the life she had once known. It seemed hi
to her at that moment as though she had in
been wandering about the face of the w
earth for ages with a ruined, gambling, in
drunken father, who had speculated and w
lost comfort, home, honor, everything
except the affection of a daughter, who, pi
to save him if possible from himself, had a
given up ease and turned her back upon th
the homes willingly offered her by friends be
and relations. Surely, if anything could ip
have saved him from himself this beau- to
tiful daughter's love should have done so w
But unfortunately James Snaresbrook m
was beyond even the help of a guardian be
angel, and at the moment when his
daughter, travel stained and weary, lost as
by him in the pine woods, was dependent th
on a strange young man for protection dr
and hospitality, he was quite comfortably
drunk at the hack of a rou{/hly a\
built grog shop, close to the pump to th
which he had in his hist lucid moment m
conveyed himself, in order to be conven- ag
ientlv near its handle when he should w
awake. m
Probably the young woman had some se
suspicion of the fact, for her face grew m
very hard and haggard as she sat by the in
fire for a few minutes after the young sn
man's departure, forgetting even her
untidy hair and soiled gown, and her vc
beautiful eyes were bright with bitter
pain and contempt. Supjiose this young ci
man should meet him, what would he st;
think of her father? Would lie not de- F1
tinr'' A man's deeradation dracrs
down his children, and she must bear be
some of her father's shame. fit
With a heavy shuddering sigh, forced \v;
from a heart which felt that its burden on
was beyond its strength, she rose at last m
and went towards the stream. fe
Mr. John Smith, feeling painfully con- sti
seious of his ungraceful deportment, was br
obliged to turn aside at last to get out of be
the sight of those bright pursuing eyes, pc
for he had a strong conviction that they di
could be mockingly mirthful on occa- su
sion, and, with a sense of humility which pti
was quite new to him, ho l'elt that everything
about him was wrong and askew. Jc
This abrupt deviation of his courso ha
brought him in a straight line with the so
thick undargrowth of furze and thorn on
which enclosed the spot where lay the In
rigid body, with its down turned face hi
hideous and stained with earth and a*
blood. tr
IIo reached tho thick growth of bush, or
which stretched for some distance on Di
either side of the spot whero ho stood, not es
knowing exactly what he did. Hispulses qi
were beating violently with pleasant feelings
of excitement and confusion, in
which half-formed thoughts rushed wildly
through his brain, always breaking oil lie
before and confounding themselves with w
one central impression?a gir! with great w
dark eyes anil Hushing and paling tints 111
in her cheeks. lie turned aimlessly aside, tli
and, skirting the thick growth of thorn, nl
passed round into tho glade beyond. di
When ho lirst saw the man lying there, e\
it did not excite much feeling in his w
heart, except the natural shock that vt
death must bring to the most hardened, er
John Smith was by no means hardened, fa
though of late, among the lawless men w
with whom his lines had been cast, lie
had grown almost accustomed to see in
death follow fast on active, boisterous hi
life. m
This man was dead?tho first glance ui
told him that, even before he ran with is!
swift, long strides to his side. Somehow, st
lie felt very sorry for this man, as sorry tli
as he would have lioen long ago, when [ in
his heart was still fresh, generous, and j di
unhardened by contact with the callous ! he
recklessness of a wicked world, lie lie- tl:
gan to wonder, in the same vague dis- lit
turbed fashion in w hicli he had been tli
thinking since he left her, whether this lu
man had ever cared for any woman, or j
if any woman had ever cared for him. j w
lie was wondering about this as lie ] oj
reached the rigid, ghastly thing, when i a
something familiar in it, horribly famil- in
iar, seemed to make bis blood run cold, tl
With a swift movement lie turned the
dead man's disfigured face up to tinskies.
There it lay?its eyes .-laving f(
dreadfully upwards, as if pleading for ;il
vengeance?its lips parted still, as when i < !
the execration had died upon them.
John Smith stared down at it stupidly I o!
for some moments hel'oro his eyes began '
o t:ike in other thincs. Half hidden bv i tl
t he: man's arm was something that looked ; jx
like a limp rag. Mechanically he pulled
it out, and inspected it curiously, though al
all the time he felt lie would rather do "
anything than touch that red saturated
tiling. It was a. woman's handkerchief, ic
marked in the corner with a monogram, d,
"E. S." 11
Iler name was Elaine! She had laughed tl
at having such a romantic title, when
among other things they had discussed \-i
names. The conversation had arisen tl
through his telling her that his name was lc
John Smith, which he had said was con- cl
venieiit, l?ccanse it had nothing distinguishahle
ahout it; it might belong to a "
ullain or an honest citizen! She had ii
laughed, and said she hoped he. was the a:
latter.
I
It was some time before lie returned to
e spot where they had breakfasted, for
took him some minutes to hide the
.ndkerchief as safely as lie wished,
lie found her pacing restlessly to and 1
j. There was a great change in her j
ce, which was no longer lighted up j
ith laughter, hut was hard, haggard, I
tter.
She was too absorbed in her thoughts
hear him approach, and he made no
und to warn her. The power to utter
commonplace in order to arouse her at* i
ntion had gone from him. So it hap- '
ned that she caught sight of him slid- i
nly when he was close to her. lie
w the look of startled horror that xudnly
distorted her beautiful face; then
e looked at him for a moment in an
teas)', questioning, confused fashion j
at sent a pang of anguish to his bean. |
"What a longtime you have been!"
o exclaimed with a forced laugh,
ougli that look of terror never left her
11 11.i.ii*.I mi vtliinc
iiinr uMi ,->n IMM ik UIM I?M;? i
markuble?"
"No," lie said; but his eyes dropped
fore hers, and tlie hand that held the
:le, as it rested on the ground, treated.
She saw his confusion, and drew in
>r breath sharply as though with sud'ii
pain. There was a moment's silence.
Inch he broke by saying:
"I think wc had belter he pushing on."
e spoke more naturally?it was such a
lief to turn to ordinary topics. "Your
iends will have reached Headman's
at by this time.'*
She had told him that the friends she
id lieen separated from would be sure
go straight there. lie remembered
>w that she need have no fear of going
ere, even alone, for her enemy lay a
w hundred yards from them, powerss
ever to return.
"I shall wait," she replied, flushing
id trembling from head to foot.
"Not here!" lie interrupted her iin'tuouslv,
thinking no more of the inurt,
only of her great danger. Suppose
at body were found and she in its
'ighborhood? There were stern judges
Headman's Flat, and the law was enrced
there now with a severity in proirtion
to the terrible lawlessness that
id prevailed only a year back. "Let
e take you to a place of safety. You
,n trust me, can you not?"
"Y'ou had better have nothing to do
ith me," she said bitterly. "Go on and
ave me."
He would not listen to her, however,
id continued bis entreaties till her face
ished hotly with anger.
"I thought you were a gentleman,"
e exclaimed, "and won Id not force"?
"As you wish." lie interposed conrained
ly.
He then began to pack up his belonggs,
which were few, and, with thedexrity
of a man accustomed to knocking
x.iit thev were sneedilv thrown to
rtlior. Too soon, indeed; for, now that
c moment of parting had come, lie
alized how painful it was to him. He
as bewildered at the thought that this
oman, who had come into his life only
st before the dawn of that day, should
ivc in two or three hours become an
fluenco in it which would change its
hole tenor forever. It was strange and
comprehensible; but lie knew that life
ould never be the same to him again.
Sho had been watching him during the
ocess of packing; perhaps she too felt
little of the pathos that underlies all
cso chance meetings on earth. He had
icn very good to her, and she had rented
his goodness by speaking harshly
him. As ho rose from the ground, on
hich ho had been kneeling, his eyes
et hers, and their look set all his pulses
ating faster.
"Will you not lot 1110 help you?" he
ked, stepping forward eagerly. "Is
ere nothing I can do? At any rate,
m't stay here!"
"I am not going to stay here," she said,
erting her face. "Yes, there is one
ing." sho exclaimed passionately, a
oment later, when, turning to him
;ain, she saw the stern expression that
:is clouding his face?"don't condemn
c?don't judge 111c even! You can't
e into a follow creature's life?there
ay bo extenuating circumstances even
a case of murder"?a mint, pitiful
rjile flickering across her face.
He flushed crimson, then paled to the
;rv lips.
"I reckon I must be going." he said
irtlv. Then, shouldering his rifle, he
arted off in the direction of Headman's
at.
It was not till lie had put quite a mile
itwecn himself and that slender lonely
;ure standing among the pines that he
as able to realize the fact that his own
icmy lay dead behind him, and that he
in-lit. fiitor Headman's Flat without
ar of meeting him walking up the
reet. The realization of this fact
ought him to another?that it would
i better to enter the place from an op>sito
quarter. If the body should be
scovcred, it would be well to avoid all
spicion of having traveled across its
ith.
The thought that troubled and worried
tliu Smith most, however, w;is that he
id left the fair woman, who had made
deep an impression upon him, without
10 kind word of greeting, and that perips
they would never meet again for
m to have the chance of explaining
vay this act of discourtesy. In his
ouble about this matter he made seval
blunders in following the trail to
eadinan's Flat, and his uneasy manner
icited the notice of one or two aclaintances
he met on his way.
CHAPTER III.
In one of the rooms of a handsome
)uso in New York a dainty luncheon
as set out, the table being resplendent
ith polished glass, silver and luxuriant
livers. The men servants had iust left
ie room, dismissed by the girl who sat
one at the head of the table. Iler
ess was costly and beautiful, like
erytbing elso in tbo room; her face
as refined and pretty, too; but it looked
:ry troubled, and the tears thatgathed
slowly in her eyes and fell upon her
Ided hands showed the reason for her
ishing to be alone.
It was hateful to havo to sit there to
aka a pretense of eating when her
. art was aching, and she felt that every
outhful would choke her. The old
lclo with whom she lived, though lavliing
every luxury upon her, was a
em martinet and would have thought
lat the orderliness of bis household '"as
. danger of being disturbed if his niece
d not sit down every day at the same
nirtothe bountiful re pas. s laidoutin
ie grand dining room. The only excuse j
3 ever allowed was when slit visited in
10 fashionable world to which they bo- j
nged.
While Miss Violet Churchill's cheeks j
ere still wet with tears, the butler I
jened the door and solemnly announced {
visitor, disappearing rapidly with |
uch discretion, out of consideration in I
ie \ isitor.
It was a young man, who, on seeing
iss Violet's tearful condition, darted
irward. and caught her in his arms
most before the discreet butler could
ose the door.
"Mv darling, what is it? lias that
Id"?
A contented sign irom tnc gin stopped |
ic flood of epithets ho was beginning to i
Dtir upon the old man's head.
"Don't, please, Jack!" She looked up i
t him as she nestled on his breast. }
lie's very good?really?only"
"Well, then, what is it?''?gazing anxmsly
down at her as she energetically
fibbed her eyes with the smallest and
busiest of poeket handkerchiefs. "That
ling is 110 good?you want a towel!"
"Oh, indeed, I haven't been crying
ery much, only I was lonely a little, I j
link! The room is so large, and I feel
>st at the table: and Miriam and the
Itiidren are away, and"
"And ? and ? and" ? impatiently ?
don't 1 know it all? You are left alone
1 this hot hole while all your friends
re enjoying themselves in cool country
placed. And to think that I can't take
Tou away too!"
"Don't, Jack!" smiling up at hlni
through hor tears, his impetuous angry j
outburst delighting her as a proof of his |
love. "I'm all right now, and 1 shall get j
away soon. I wouldn't l>c such a selfish
creature as to wish to leave uncle when J
he is ill?it wasn't that!"
"You should leave. Iiiiu quickly enough
if you were my wife!" exclaimed the j
young man wrathfully. "But what were
you crying for? No, I won't sit down, i
and I won't eat a mouthful till you tell
me!"
"I'll tell you if you will sit down. No,
not there," as the young man pulled up a
chair close to hers "It wouldn't look
well when Potter comes into the room!"
with a merry ripple of laughter, which
showed how much her spirits were improving.
im
"/'// tell you if you will sit down."
"It would perhaps look a little conspicuous,"
admitted the young man, reluctantly
retiring to a chair at the side
of the great table. "But it is a beastly
shame all the same! Why can't a husband
and wife sit where they like?"
"But we aren't husband and wifo yet."
"Just as good. I tell you I shall sit
where I like at our table when we are!"
"And I tell you, sir, that I won't have
the symmetry spoilt, nor will I be made
ridiculous. Fancy tho husband and wife
sitting close by each other at tho top of
a great dining table!"
"That's how it ought to be?not acres
or lamociotn uetweeni inn wnai were
' ou crying for?"
She Mushed, and her face became
grave again; she did not like to allude to
the subject of her grief. She knew, or
rather felt, that this young English aristocrat.
who loved her so well, was yet so
proud, with all the long inherited pride
of a great and honorable family, that ho
felt bitterly the annoyance and shame
that had been brought upon her by the
brother she had been crying over.
This brother was a young mati, whose
reckless fast living had made him the
talk of New York. lie had betted and
gambled and at last disappeared, after
l?eing guilty of a shameful transaction,
which, for the sake of his connections,
hio I been hushed up. He was now an
outcast from decent society. The only
news they had ever had of him since his
flight had come through a man whose
friendship would have stamped any one
with disgrace. He had been one of this
brother's principal associates, and the
very fact of their still being friends
proved that Redfern Churchill was not
improving in adversity.
"It is about Redfern," she said timidly,
not daring to look at her lover.
It was well she did not, for the Hon.
Jack Newenham's brow contracted as
he applied himself with some energy
to the contents of his plate, although ho
answered her immediately in his usual
tone.
"Any more bad news?" lie asked, devoutly
hoping that ho was about to hear
that Redfern Churchill had been shot in
some drunken brawl out west.
"I am afraid it is," she replied, her
fears for her brother overpowering all
linr nluMit Imrfinnr lior Inror'fl
feelings. "You know?you have heard
of Mr. Thomas Cairnes?"
"I have heard of that gentleman."
The Hon. Jack smiled; hut his brows were
contracted sternly.
"Well?oh, you will think me dreadfully
silly, I know"?and the tears began
to gather again. "But, you know, I
was so fond of Redfern! Indeed, ho was
always so very good to me?you don't
know what a dear brother ho was tillEven
Miriam did not know, for she mar
ricd so young and had her children and
husband. But I seemed to have no one
but him?though uncle is very kind.
Then that dreadful thing happened, and
he had to go away. And when Mr.
Cairnes wrotes to mo last year that Redfern
was starving, how could 1 help
sending him"
"Do you mean to say that that scoundrel
has been gotting you to give him
money?" interposed her lover angrily.
"It was only for Redfern?I couldn't
let him starve! Oh, I did?I do love him
so, and you mustn't be angry! I think 1
love you all the better because I can
love mv brother so well."
She was crying unrestrainedly now;
and for the first time her lover did not
attempt to kiss away her tears?he was
so confounded by the news, lie had seen
how worried and ill she had looked for a
long time, and had heard her uncle
scolding her over and over again for not
wpfirmrr :i now rlross?for hoai'dilUt ll|>
her money.
"They are a couple of confounded
blackguards!" lie cried, wrathfully.
"Oh, not Itedfern, I am sure!"
"A fellow who could take money from
his sister in such circumstances is"
She rose quickly from her chair, and
laid her hand upon his mouth.
"Hush, dear! lie docs not know about
it?Mr. Cairnes said so, and told me that
I was not to mention it to him. But that
is not all. You know, Mr. Cairnes is the
only one who knows the real facts of the
case. Uncle, of course, does; but, for the
sake of Miriam and me, ho will not
speak. This Thomas Cairnes, however,
knows, and a fortnight ago I had this
letter from him"?pulling an envelope
out of her pocket. "I answered it, asking
him for time, and begging him not
to do the wicked deed he hinted at, and
saying if I could send the money I
would. I have waited and waited for an
answer, and I don't know what to do.
Suppose ho has spoken already?"
The Hon. Jack Xcwcnham had taken
the letter silently, as she, forgetting her
fears, poured out all her trouble, turning
to him in her despair for help and advice.
He read the letter without comment;
but there was something in his face that
frightened her, when he looked up at her,
as she leaned against his shoulder.
"I will see about the matter for you,"
lie said quietly. "Leave it in my hands."
"Oh, but"?
"Don't be frightened, dear!" his face
relaxing a little. "I will make it all
squaro for your brother, if I shoot that
scoundrel first!"
"Oh, but if ho were to shoot you? Oh,
Jack!"
He took her in his arms and kissed her,
with a joyous laugh.
"You need not trouble your little head
about that! I'll come back safe and
sound, to worry your un< !e into giving
you to a pauper younger son. Who
knows?perimps i suuu sumu nu- wn?
lot mo sec?Don dm an's Flat, isn't it? I'll
start this afternoon. I might ho able to
marry vou in a month's time."
lie found it a diflieult task to quiet
her, for she felt she was in danger now
of losing her lover and her brother too.
It was a very disconsolate tearful eyed
little specimen of girlhood that the Hon.
Jack Xowenham left behind him half an
hour later.
Ho secured Mr. Thomas Cairnes' letter
?a highly classical effusion, for that
gentleman had onco taken high honors
in an English university. In neatly
rounded sentences ho announced his intention,
unless a certain sum was forthcoining
immediately, of giving to the
world the secret of Mr. Redfern Chur
He took her in his arms ancl kissed her. '
chill's flight from civilized regions, and f(l|
concluded by kindly promising to let to
Mis.i ('luirchill know,(immediately on the sti
receipt of her answer, where she could fr<
semi tin! money. in
Jack Nuwenham, in common with (It
most people in their own set in New York, \V<
knew that Rcdfern Churchill liad made CO
his exit from Bociety in very discrodita- th
hie circumstances; but ho did not know h(
the rights of the case. Even the scapegrace
s own sisters did not know all, and *y
it was whispered that other people, whose t'1
jiosition was unassailable, wero also im- ;! '
plicated, and that as much for their sake
as his own Iiedfern Churchill had been jy
allowed to escape, to prevent tho risk of j. j
certain facts being mado public in tho j j
course of a prosecution. As all who
knew of ltedfern Churchill's where- ..f
abouts had good reasons for keeping tho ])()
secret, there was every chance of the p
young man's being left in peace. ],(
That same afternoon, the Hon. Jack th
Newcnham started for Deadman's Flat, sh
It was about a week's journey from New T1
York, and lie felt considerably depressed sii
at the thought of leaving his poor littlo th
love alono in her anxiety and trouble. \v
The only thing that cheered him was tho in
immediate prospect of taking Mr. Thomas 1"
Cairnes by the throat and shaking out of th
him the power to compose any more of \l
those classical epistles.
[TO HE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK]
lUistcllnncdus Reading. IS
re
From the News and Courier, Juno 10.
TIIK CASK AGAINST DK. McDOW CIJkSKU. ,,i
Twelve men?five white men and ()|
seven negroes?acting as a jury of ni
his peers, found Dr. McDow not gin 1- in
t.v of the murder of ('apt. Dawson. |>(
lie cannot he tried again. Under Je(
the law lie is a free man. He will J'1
not he required to expiate his crime
upon the gallows, and the halter of y(
the hangman will not he drawn 1(1
.liuvuuil ltS^ fPlm nt'
lll.-t lin i\, i IM> Mvnitiiiti.1 w.
the law liavo I icon satisfied in form, J'1
but the court of public opinion to 1:1
which the ease was appealed, has reversed
the verdict. The evidence I1*
given before the court of sessions in ,s
Charleston, and upon which the jury u!
were bound by solemn oath to base p
their verdict, is the evidence upon J'J
which J)r. Mcltow has been tried be- "
fore the bar of public opinion, and
upon which he has been convicted '.
by the cold, dispassionate judgment J','
of the country. In the larger court
there was lacking something of the ("
machinery which led to theacouittal "
of the accused?personal hostility to \j!'
the dead, political and race antipa- 1
thies, family considerations, ignor- "
ance and weakness; but the facts of 511
the tragedy of the 12th of March, the .
brutal coiifesssion of the crime, the 1,1
.speeches of the lawyers and the
charge of the judge were before both
juries?the jury of 1 )r. Mel low's peers ?|
and the jury of public opinion. He p
was acquitted in one court; he has
been condemned by the other.
We had not intended to comment *};
upon the case ourselves until all other j]
comment was exhausted, and would 11
not depart from this purpose now
but for the fact that the protracted l'j
s. f rpi... "V....... .iii.l ( '..I .in,, li.i^. St
MII'IIIT 111 1 lie ^ f n Him \ uuiui mm .
been misconstrued by some as the M
silence of acquiescence in this 111011- j'l
strous perversion of justice or as the
sileneeof fear. We shall not rest qui- sl
etly under either imputation. Did we
fail to denounce the murder of ('apt. K'
Dawson as a most brutal, unprovok- |
ed, cowardly and inhuman crime, we [
should he false to his memory. Did j
we fail to hold up the perpetrator of ''
this deed to the execration of all lion- *l]
est and law-abiding men, we should !"
he putting a premium upon the inso- "
lence of crime and permitting the
voice of the independent Press to he
stifled. 1
The New York World published
the following editorial paragraph on
011 July :l: ..
"Some idea of the nature of journalism
in tho South may lto gathered from tho '
fact that the Charleston Nowsof last Sun- .J:
day had no editorial reference to the o!
verdict in the MeDow ease. Tho fact it
was quietly announced under this heading:'On
Trial for his Life. Dr. MeDow ij
acquitted of tho Murder of Capt. Dawsou.'
Here was a newspaper, whosoedi- Y(
tor and proprietor hat' 'icon foully assas- I
sinaled and his slayei pronounced inno- tii
cent, absolutely afraid to lift up its voice ;i
to protest against the injustice. And yet ;ll
Dr. McDow is threatening to take his
shotgun and administer a reproof to the
press of tho city hoeuuse it has not treated j
him with the 'respect hie his position, l'1
despite his indiscretions." M
Inn review of tho result of flic (rial pt
of.lulyti, thcCiiiciiinuti ('ommcrcinl- "I
(Jazette says: fo
cl louidi. Vmi'u mill ('iiiirinr n,
Oapt. Dawson's paper, properly msido "\j
110 expression before or during the trial. Cq
At its conclusion it was just as silent, '4,
except that it boasted of its siloneo, and
'believed' the people would indorse its !,,r
course in saying nothing. Indorse its "
course in failing to delend tlic memory ni
of its brilliant editor, and striking with (|]
a mailed band the jury that vindicated ,,,
his murderer and the people who up- ...
piauded tho act ami covered Me Dow with .
adulation! What, the editorial columns
of tho paper ('apt. Dawson had built up Is
and presided over with such distinguish- til
(id success when a jury in a shouting :
multitude sets free the man who killed j y(
him when he was endeavoring to protect I j|!
the virtue of a young girl from a liber- I
tine! Silent?not a word to say?when
this great outrage was perpetrated ? Is ol
this South Carolina chivalry? Well, III
then, was it an outrage? Was ('apt. w
Dawson engaged in the chivalric mission |]j
ascribed to him? Was tho court organ- p,
i/.ed not only to acquit, but to conceal
tho real facts in tho case? The siloneo of ...
Capt. Dawson's paper will certainly be
made significant among tho people and '<
an injury to his memory." I
Surely those expressions of opinion :u
from distant newspapers make it nee- u<
ossary that we should break, with- in
out further waiting, the well eonsid- (',
ed silence which the News and Courier
has preserved for more than three tl
months. g<
The verdict which was rendered in sj
the Charleston court house on June fa
2s, does not in the least concern ('apt. ds
Dawson. He is beyond the reach of
human tribunals, of jury com mis- In
sinners, of the machinery of courts, of II
the petty revenges of personal one- in
mies, of the hatred of false friends, w
Hut it is a verdict that affects every
man, woman and child in Charleston J<
and South Corolina. It concerns the tl
very civilization of the State. It le
threatens the fair and impartial ad- g<
ministration of justice. If it means w
anything, it means that the gunshop F
is the supreme court in this State; that e<
the law is the plaything of prejudice n
and passion ; that the courts are es- a?
tahlished for the protection of crini- di
nals, not for the punishment of crime; ?;<
that lust is a hi<rh moral attribute; In
and that the shedding of blond is a \v
virtue. n
Tin* cold, and what under other oi
circumstances we should consider the In
heartless comments of the press ofthc hi
country upon the result of the Me- k
Dow trial, are sufficient cause for se- T
rious reflection. The indictment of .1:
the entire people of the State for the I!
ilure of the jury in the McDowcase
discharge their duty according to
e law and the evidence, is tlagrantunjust,
howsoever much good men
ay leel that they are in a measure
sponsible for such a condition of
ciety as made the verdict of the
ry in this case possible. The oft
peated charge that any large part
the respectahleor law-abiding peoe
of this city or State approved the
relict of the Mcbow jury, is witha
r t .i! l 11 4 ??> ..4'
II JOUIHIUIion. *\u u ur riu^uii.^ ui
e State regret that even as many as
,'c white men could have been
und in this community, who would
nsent to such a verdict.
The severe criticism of the manner
which the prosecution of the case
is conducted has not been warrantby
the facts. \Ve doubt that the
Tdiet would have been different if
ipt. Dawson had been shot in the
;(*k in the very presence of the court,
id, after the frenzy of three hours
tiitinjif with his silent guest, the <lendant
had with moistened towel
nderly wiped away from the cold,
ill face the whitewash and mould
mi the grave in the closet underiatli
the stairs. Wedoubt that, un'i*
the circumstances, the result
mild have been different if in his
nfession Dr. McDow had admitted
at lie shot his victim in the back as
* was leaving the office. In view of
e result of the trial, the defendant's
torneys might have saved theState
e unutterable shame of this judicial
nvesty had they moved to quash
e indictment for murder upon the
ound that there was no statute of
mth Carolina providing that the
ilingof F. W. Dawson was a punliable
otlenco.
The News and Courier kept silent
tertlie murder of ('apt. Dawson and
'fore the trial of the slayer, because
did not intend that there should
1 the slightest ground for the charge
at it had attempted in any way to
ape the course of public opinion".
ic News and Courier has kept silent
nee the trial because it was aware
at, whatever views it expressed
mild be attributed to personal feelgaud
individual prejudice. It has
eferred to await the judgment ol
e country and to set up against the
rdict of ihe jury in the court ofscs>ns,
the verdict of the larger jury ol
ecountry.
We have published during the past
cek the views of newspapers in all
irts of the Cnited States. There is
bstantia! unanimity of opinion in
gard to the result of the McDow
ial. (iood men everywhere,without
gard to sectional lines or political
as, have been shocked by the outline
of this case. Cpon no subject
public interest has there ever been
aniTested so deep and widespread
diguation. No verdict ever render1
in a court of justice has been sub[ tcd
to so just and withering a reike.
Doubtless, there are some in
lis community who approve of the
rdiet, just as'there were some win
juiced at the murder of ('apt. Dawn;
but the large majority of tin
loughtful, intelligent, Cod-fearing,
w-abiding people of Charleston, re
ird the result of the trial of this casi
;an indelliblestain upon theadmin
t rat ion of justice. While smarting
ider the savage assaults 01 me pres?
' the country, they feel that some
>w a just censure has attended tin
lie event.
It is manifestly unjust to denounct
ic people of Charleston for the vcr
let in this case, and yet it was :
liarleston jury that found the ver
iet. It is a serious relleetion upoi
us community, and it is false t<
y that the shouts which greetei
r. Mellow upon his acquittal, voice<
ic sentiment of its better classes
id yet it is true that thisdisgracefu
nillition of popular passion occurm
i the Charleston court house, and ii
ic very presence of the court itself
is a" perversion of truth for anj
ic to intimate that the peopli
South Carolina approve of tin
tiding of the jury. The newspaper:
' the State have spoken upon tin
ibject with 110 uncertain sound, am
ic voice of the press is the voice o
ic people.
Hut, however earnestly we may
otest, the city of Charleston and tin
:ate of South Carolina will have t<
>ar the opprobrium of this 011 tragi
[>011 the honor of the State. If
iwever, the acquittal of Dr. Mellow
tall lead to the sterner cnforcenien
'the law; if, for very shame, n<
lilty man shall hereafter escape; i
le honest and respectable people o
ic State shall form an alliance foi
ie preservation of the remnant o
leir boasted civilization, ('apt. Daw
?ii will not have lived and worke<
1 vain, and his blood will not liavi
en shed in vain.
For tin? Yorkvillr Kiii|iiircr.
IEMIMSCEXCES OF WESTERN YORK.
* ' u'.wo.im
I lH'VCr Kliew ii IIUUI 111 <1 ? .-ii i .
ork more universally popular will
10 people generally than was Join
. 1 lenipliill, generally called "I'neh
ickey." Hewasanion?>thefirstniei
' that seetion the writer ever knew
mattered not what happened, la
as apparently in <jood spirits all tin
me, and would l<<?e|> a crowd o
Ministers lau<;hin?; continuously
have already told how he wotih
ick-naine people. I don't know o
single man in his neighborhood
id hut few outside, hut passed undei
une mini th'plume of which he war
ic author, lie generally seleetei
ic name of some dnjj or "old rip" <>
horse to use on these occasions ; or
rhaps, if any one had a partieulai
>y word," that came in very oftci
r the purpose of furnishin^a nick
une. for instance, ('apt. .Josepl
onttfomcry he called "Mull" ; .las
ojfjyins, "Watch"; Henry Foster
link"; Wylie Reeves, "Towser"
id old man Joluiic Nichols heeallei
The Aid." All such he kept in stock
id when I'nelc .lackey once appliec
ie name, it was in everybody'.outh
until it was worn out. lb
arried .Miss Nancy I'lexieo, daujdr
r of 'S(|uire I'lexieo, who died ii
lis or'111. Sometime after the wal
icy removed to .Mississippi.
James, his oldest son, died the Mrs!
ar of the war from the clients o
ie measles. I le continued with tin
my and took a relapse from wadinjj
icofthe Virginia rivers while oi
io march in the fall of isiil. Jin
as a lino specimen of manhood, Inil
is tender years were not sufficient
r (lie arduous duties of army life.
"Toho," the second son, was a chi)
urn the old Mock?just like I'nch
ickey. Il<'went to .Mississippi am
have learned reformed in moral?
id his manner of living. 1 cannot
>w recall any niemher of the family
i this county except Mrs. Williaii
, Whitesides, of Hickory drove.
Mr. ilemphilldidn't live lonjf aftei
ie close of the war, and died at :i
tod old a?;e, loved, honored and re
tected hy his countrymen. Ili?
nits were as few as any man of hi?
i.v.
I append a few items that are em
aced in the history of Mr. .John (I
eniphill, and perhaps there are liv
witnesses who will read then
ith pleasure:
Between the years 1 s 17 and ls/io
tlm (J. Hemphill was overseer oi
ie (Join's road, Ity Hickory drove
adinjfto Chester. Joe Leech, (oi
tvernor, as he was otherwise called
as coniinissioner. Joe bought tin
eatherstone place, and, for his owi
tnvenience, cut a ditch across tin
tad. Thisdid not suit I'ncle.Jackey
< he was called. I'ncle .Jaekey or
* * * * 1 UIL..1 .... U..
red the nanus nut ami mini ujj uk
ivernor's ilitch. This pleased tin
ays very much, and they worket
'itli pluck and energy. This von
inch displeased the governor, so lit
rclered uncle .lackey to take hi:
anils and remove the obstruction
at I'licle .lackey would not do it
nowingthe hoys would not suhmit
he governor then threw I'ncli
ackey out of ollice and appointei
I). Foster overseer. The govern
or hein?; well acquainted with the i t<
hoys, told I'licle I toh ho woiihl send j ju
his negroes ;i nd help clear the ditch, tl
The day having arrived for the work, j ai
theroli wascalled,after which I'licle j A
Itoh commenced to explain what the :
old governor wanted, when I'nele | tli
.lackey gut rather wrathy and said | tli
to Lucie I toh, "D?n Joe Leech and 1
\ his d?<1 protectors." This pleased f A
j the hoys much, and they all added j y<
; that they helped to till if, hut would ><
not help to remove it. So Lnclo Itoh, j hi
' with James MeSwain?"Mux.v," as fo
j lie was called?and the governor's ne- to
1 groes, cleared the dchris, whilst the j m
others sat on the side of the road and 1 n<
laughed. j pi
i It was said that the governor would in
he out to superintend the work, hut ufailed
to appear, as the hoys werede- p<
termincd to take him oft" his horse
and harrow the road with him. This
closed the road matter. All the men
mentioned except Muxy have passed -\
away, and the then hoys who sur- | si
vi vi?, are now old men?only a few at ol
that. ' - j?
I nele Jackey and I nele Joe were w
never particular friends; neither hefore
nor after this occurrence. They hi
lived close neighbors and patronized ]\>
the same school, and their laimlios ni
grew up to he last friends, so far as I j)(
know. o:
Robert Nelson (Red Rob), James it
> Archie and R. I). Foster, were sons- j ji
in-law of Mr. Rhody Smith, who jc
formerly lived on Rroad river, near t<
I Howell's ferry. I'ncle Rhody was a \\
_ devout Methodist. So was James i?i
Archie. The others were not. So it si
1 happened that thesons-in-lawall met j,j
at I'ncle Rhody's house. When Fn- i a
cle Rhody got his hooks at hod time j w
and gave them to I'ncle Rob Nelson j tc
for the purpose of family worship, <i<
I'ncle Rob handed them to Jimmy | p.
Archie, who refused to take them,and tr
urged Nelson to use them and lead in hi
prayer. After some time Nelson ; |j,
agreed, ;ind read a chapter and led j ||
in prayer. At the conclusion, and n
' when iin opportunity otiered, Nelson | t<
said to Foster: "Say, Rob, I done ; u<
d?d well; don't you think so V" | u
i About, or near the same time, I tl
Archie visited Nelson. His cook j u
was a yellow girl. Flour was scarce. m
Nelson ordered her to put some lard u
in the corn bread, which she did. t<
When they commenced eating Archie | d
said to Nelson : "What kind of corn | j<
bread is this?" Nelson said it was I <,
i plain corn bread. Archie said his tl
corn would not make that kind of tl
bread, and requested Nelson to save y
him some seed corn, which Nelson ju
I promised to do. I'ncle Rob Nel- | a:
son lived, at that time, near where ti
Thos. Wilkerson now lives. Archie p
i lived near the spot where Sam Mitch- u
I ell now lives. They have gone to n
their reward. .1. 1.. s. 1,
* y
NO ROMANCE IN BUSINESS. g
[ A "lowing imagination is of value
to the poet and novelist; it is of little
use, however, in business. Fact in
[ trade must take the place of fancy if j<
success is to be obtained. Many an jj
' enthusiastic merchant has tried to J
| have two and two count live in his b
plans for the future; ligures, howev- ti
\ er, wentagainst him, for, in the strug- it
: j4fl?', actualities counted larger than il- p
] lusions. t:
] Rusiness must have a solid foundation,
otherwise no progress can be a
, made. Arithmetic is an important |>
factor. The agent or merchant who si
" neglects figures, neglects a most es- ft
sential point. Mere conjecture and tl
j surmise are poor elements in husit
ness, when everythingshouhl j>rocee<l <1
I on the principle of cause ami effect, h
j Theory must be reduced to practice,
. and practice the undeviating method
j established, as the result of cool cal- b
cubit inn.
j Romance ami tho multiplication
table never agree, as fancy profits are
always larger than the actual gains, g
^ Too often are men lured into outside /
, speculation through the idea of large
profits. In imagination they are rich ti
* already. They discount the future at si
j the very beginning and plan for ease n
and comfort on the visions of a speedy o
fortune. ' h
Visionary men are fools in busi- ti
ness. Its realm is too practical for
( their schemes, which, balloon-like, a
, collapse suddenly. Business is life; g
earnest, incessant, active. It will not t<
! brook slight evasion or delays. It
^ tarries not for sluggards, drones nor a
j schemers, its work must lie done,
j- and well done. It has rewards for ti
j- the diligent and position for the lion- si
orable. Its path is shining and h
j- straight; deceit and fraud are silent
partners that travel together in de- r
[ vious by-ways. Legitimate trade I
never accepts their bribes, for business n
is an aggregation of solid facts and h
will not tolerate deception. Men s;
who imagine they can successfully
cheat and deceive, soon find out their
mistake. Others, who fancy they v
, can launch their bark on the sea of
, conunerce and suddenly sail to for- \
, tune, soon, as a general rule, get ,'j
, stranded in shoal waters. v
, There is but one road to wealth. ()
11 is not already swept and garnished, j,
Kach individual must do his own v
, work, and do it systematically, tlior- ,,
C oughly, and to the end. Obstacles
are to be overcome, and rough places M
j to lie made smooth ; the task requir- |,
j- ing skill, tact and labor sufficient to v
trv the resources of the strongest ;r
brain. ?
. The winners are the plodders; the j,
I rear-guard is composed of visionaries
. :uid dreamers.?fRonnie's Aid. I..
I ^ ^
' HOVS WAXTKIh ?
i How often do the parents of this n
- country think of the immense de- h
i mand for hoys that is made hy the sa- o
loons? A hundred thousand hoys, a
, vigorous, strong hoys, hoys whose b
; work ought to la? making themselves a
I and the country rich, are demanded it
, every year hy the saloons to keep up c;
I the supply of drunkards. Year after k
> year the demand is made and tilled. I1
> Hoys with much money, hoys with si
- little money and hoys with no money si
i at all, hut with good heads and strong a
bodies, capable of earning money, tl
all are in demand that the money i(
I they have and the money they can ri
f make, may go to till the coders of the d
saloon keeper. ji
f The demand does not cease hut w
i continues and grows. It asks lor ai
i them just as they have passed their u
[ majority, when just facing: the reali1
ties of life. They would he takeirat j
an earlier ago if the saloons dared to < <
? do it. .Many of them are taken hy h
stealth helorc they reach manhood, p
1 hut when manhood conns there is no d
< restraint, and the saloon keeper hold- si
1 ly lianas the sign, "Hoys Wanted," p
' and the demand will he tilled, ii
i Many States have entered into a >
league with the saloons, and for pal- ii
try dollars sell the young manhood si:
i of the State. it
Read the license and you will lind j |>
< between the lims words like these: | <|
; "For live hundred dollars we hereby it
sell to the manhood of our hoys, st
we "five the privilege to destroy body J R
. and soul, to make paupers of hoys i ri
- that might he bright business men, to
i make sots of hoys who might he
leaders of men, to destroy the minds
, of hoys whose words might move nai
tions*to mighty deeds."
This is the license that is signed, /
r scaled and certified I?,v the legislature
) of almost every State in the I'nion. 's|
Not always for the sune price, for ?
1 some States and some cities think a 11
.> boy's manhood is worth more money
, than that and demand a thousand
- dollars for their boys; while others, V
with a lighter opinion of the value
> of true manhood, will sell their hoys
1 for paltry sums and rejoice in the "
,* money they have made by the sale. c('
This is the license traffic. Cover it V,
s over with smooth words, soften the
; terrible fact as you may, it is nothing
, else than a sale by the State and the
. towns of the State of their boys for si
money. We lau^h at the old tales of ti
1 thedevil buying the souls of men, but p
- the fable of yesterday is the fact of r
-day. Not hy direct contract, but
st sis surely as though it were, does
ie devil buy the souls of our hoys
id pays the cash in license le<^.
ml every parent may well ask him-'
If, as he see the money drop into
ie public treasury, if it is his l>oy
lat is being sold. Some hoys must
> with every license fee that is paid,
re you willing that it should he
airs? Are you ready to turn your
>y over to the State that it may sell
im to the rum power? If so, vote
r the saloon, t'se your influence
> build it up, to strengthen and
ake it a legal institution; hut if
>t, if you want your boy for lietter
irposes, if you want him to lie'a
an in the fullest sense of the word,
?* your influence to crush the rum
iwer.
THE Cl'RE OK JEALOUSY.
Nuida, that queen of cynics, says,
clever woman is never jealous.
10 is not far out of the way. I have
ten noticed that women who lived
I <111 <1 I J I II ?j IIII-11- III I'll] (Mill Jliuil'uni
ere, as a rule, of inferior stamp.
I know a woman who watches her
ushund as a cat would a mouse, or
t us say a guy young rat, it seems
lore appropriate. He certainly will
>ar watching, hut he is aware of this
ctreme vigilance; he chafes under
, and, determined not to lie held
i leading strings, goes to greater
ngths than he would were his wife
> show more confidence in him.
*e might amend Ouida's statement
r saying a clever woman will never
low jealousy. There is no more
itiableor comtemptihle object than
man or a woman who gives way to
ihl imagines and suspicions. Bet>r,
far better, to be hoodwinked or
i'ceived than to suffer the corroding
ussion of jealousy to warp and disact
one's whole being. And if husmdsand
wives have not utter conilence
in each other?the contidence
lat lirmly believes that either one
lav pass through every ordeal of
'inptation unscathed?then they had
at best live together. It seems to
le that a most admirable element?
nit of bravery?is often lacking in
larriage. People grow faint heart1
when they discover that they have
lade a mistake; they are often fain
> turn their back and fly from the
uties they have assumed. Coward e
in marriage is as reprehensible as
a the battle-field. You may not like
le noise and confusion ; the smell of
ic gunpowder may be unpleasant,
ou may long to get away from the
[fray and wander in smooth pastures
lid beside the still waters, but to
irn one's back and fly would be desirable.
Thus in matrimony. You
my be disappointed, disillusioned,
eglected ; there may be blandishlents
and enticements beckoning
ou away from your conflicts, but to
0 is cowardice?to stay is bravery.
-
SPARTAN DISCIPLINE.
During the last century Spartan
leas of discipline prevailed in Engsh
and American families. Dr.
olmson protested against washing
abies in cold water, which waspraceed
in his day, the idea lieingthat
would make them rugg<*d. The
urpose to make children robust dicited
the method of governing them.
An English boy, while playing
1 1 ..?.IV IMI.II.IU/I IIVHI"
imjui mm 11? i nri nan, luiumcu
oard. His face was badly cut by
trikin?r against something in bis
ill, and it was with great difficulty
liat he was saved from drowning.
He was put to bed. Two or three
ays afterward his father said to
im :
"Well, Harry, how do you feel?"
"Quite well, sir," answered the
oy.
"Nothing amiss?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Then get up and take your floging
for giving us all this trouble."
md flogged he was.
Another English boy, being badly
reated at school, ran away, and predated
himself at his father's house,
lany miles distant. He stated his
omplaints against the school, and
is father, listening until he had
nished, said:
-"Well, my lad, you must be tired
fter yThw-kmg tfalk; you had better
o to bed, for you must lie up early
d start for school again."
"Hut mayn't I have some supper?"
sked the tired and hungry boy.
"No, my lad," replied this Sparin
father. "I pay for your board at
[ hool, and you can not have it
ere."
Such stories as these two?they are
elated in the "Reminiscences" of
lev. T. Mosely, an English elergylan?may
account for that reaction
i) family* discipline which has no
empathy with Spartan ideas.
Advick to a Young Man.?So
ou were a little too pert, and spoke
'ithout thinking, did you, my son?
md you got picked up right sudenly
on your statement, eh? Oh,
ell, that's all right; that happens to
Ider men than you every day. I
.......w.?i..iul tlmt win linvn :i tmsitive
,*siy of filing a decision whore other
1011 state an opinion, and you freuontly
make a positive assertion
,'horo'older men merely express a
elicf. Hut never mind; you are
onn#. You will know less as you
row older. "Don't I mean you will
now more?" 1 leaven forbid, my
oy. Xo indeed ; I mean that you
ill know less. You will never
now more than you do now; never.
If you live to he ten thousand years
Id, you will never again know so
inch as you do now. Xo hoary
eaded sago, whose Ion# and studios
years were spent in readin# men
nd hooks, ever knew so much as a
oy of your age. A girl of 1"> knows
bout as much, hut then she gets over
sooner and more easily. "Does it
uise a pang, then, to get rid of early
nowledge?" Ah, my boy, it does,
'idling eye teeth and molars will
em like pleasant recreation alongde
of shedding oil'great solid slabs
nd layers of wisdom and knowledge
ait now press upon you like goolog al
strata. "Hut how are you to get
(1 of all this suporincumlient wisom
?" < )h, easily enough, my hoy;
ist keep on airing it; that's the best
ay. It won't stand constant use,
nd it disintegrates rapidly on exposre
to air.?[Hob Huroette.
fcaT The proficiency attained by the
dored men who have charge of the
at rooms in large hotels, is often surrising.
They will pass out two hunred
chapeaux without making a
nglc mistake. A young man from
lutfalo, says the Commercial, was so
1 I I II 1 VW4.II llll JM IIU1IIIUIIVV uv ??
luw York hotel the other (lay, that,
l a tone of respectful admiration, he
;ke<l the phenomenon how he knew
was his hat. "Well, ssili," was the
risk response, "I couldn't swar dat
e hat was yourn, salt; 1 only knows
was de hat yo guv me." The bylanders
smiled, and the youthful
utfalonian stopped the investigation
ght there.
TlIK 1m)k1>'ts of thk South.?
he New <)i. iins Times-Democrat
dimates the amount of merehantaleyellow
pine lumber in the States
f Louisiana, Texas, Alabama, Misissippi,
(ieorgia, Florida, South Car-.
linn, North Carolina and Arkansas
t 212,M7,<MH?,<MM) feet. The forest
,'ealth ( f the South, according to the
ihles furnished by the Times-Deniorat,
i.- equal to its mineral wealth,
"nless the forests of Canada shall be
pened to us by reciprocal alxdition
f tariff duties,* the hulk of lumber
unsullied in the Northern and Westrn
States must soon he brought from
lie South.?[Philadelphia Record.
Inspector Byrnes of New York
ays that thirty-live years of observaion
have satisfied him that only one
erson- in a hundred respects the a
ightsof the general public.

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