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i. k. GRI8TB sons, Pnbiuhers. } % <^amilg jfrrospagtr: 4?r tl" jj'romotion oj[ the f atftital, gorial, Sgrittiltnral, and Communal gnosis af the ftoglt. established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1903. . 3STO. 59. 1 - " "" I 11 '?? - ? ? ?-? ? * I nnioAnrno a p- tup ij ati a a u By WILL N. H/ Copyright, 1902, by Harper Bros. All i CHAPTER II?Continued. BlahoD clutched this proposition as a drowning man would a straw. "Well, I will go see 1m," he said. "I'll go Jest to satisfy you. As fer as I'm concerned I know he wasn't tellln' me no lie, but I reckon you all never '11 rest till you are satisfied." He descended the steps and crossed the yard to the barn. They saw him lean over the rail fence for a moment as If In troubled thought "Poor father/' said Alan to his uncle as his mother retired slowly Into the house*. "He seems troubled, and It may mean our ruin?absolute ruin." "It ain't no trlflln' matter," admitted Daniel "Thar's no tellln' how many thousand acres he may have bought He's keepln' somethln' to hlsse'f. I re member jest when that dura sauna op a lawyer put that flea in his yeer. They was at Hansoh'8 mill an' talked confidential together mighty nigh all mornln'. But lefs not cross a bridge tell we git to it Lefs talk about some'n else. I hain't never had a chance to tell you, but I seed that gal in town yesterday an' talked to 'er." "Did-you, Uncle Ab?" The face of the young man brightened. His tone was eager and expectant. "Yes. I'd hitched in the wagon yard an' run into Hazen's drugstore to git a box o' axle grease an' was comln' out with the durn stuff under my arm when I run upon 'er a-settla' in a buggy waitin' to git a clerk to fetch 'er out a glass o' sody water. She recognized me, an' fer no other earthly reason than that I'm yore uncle she spoke to me as pleasln' as a basket o' chips. What was I to do? I never was in annh a nltolit in mv life. I'd been un loadin' aide meat at Bartow's warehouse an' was klvered from head to foot with salt and grease. I didn't have on no coat, an' the seat o' my pants was non est?I don't think thar was any est about 'em, to tell the truth. But 1 knowed it wouldn't be the part of a gentleman to let 'er set thar stretchln' 'er neck out o' socket to call a clerk when I was handy, so 1 wheeled about, hopln' an' prayln' ef she did look at me-she'd take a fancy to the) back o' my head', an' went in the store an* toid 'em to git a hustle on the'rse'ves. When I come out, she hauled me up to ax some questions about when camp meetin' was goin' to set In this yeer an' when Adele was comin' home. I let my box o' axle grease drap, an' it rolled like a wagon wheel off duty an' me after it, bendin'? bendln' of all positions? heer an' yan in the most ridiculous way. 1 tell you, I'd never play croquet ur leapfrog in them pants. All the way home I 4k/vn<?Kf Hrvnr IM HieOTflPAll Vnil." luuugut uvt? a v? ^ "Oh, you are all right, Uncle Ab," laughed Alan. "She's told me several I times that she likes you very much. She says you are genuine-genuine through and through, and she's right" "I'd ruther have her say it than any other gal I know," said Abner. "She's purty as red shoes, an' ef I'm any Judge she's gennwine too. I've got another Idee about 'er. but I ain't a-givln' it away Jest now." "You mean that she"? "No," and the old man smiled mischievously. "1 didn't mean uothin' o' the sort I wonder how on earth you .M ??? onnh o nnHnn In vnrp WUUIU CL ?VI> OWU U UV??VM ^ bead. I'm goin' to see bow tbat black scamp bas left my cotton land. I'll bet be baln't scratched It any deeper 'n a old ben would 'a' done lookln' fer worms." CHAPTER in. HHE next morning at breakfast Alfred Bishop announced bis intention of going to Atlanta to talk to Perkins and incidentally to call ou bis brother William, who was a successful wholesale merchant in tbat city. "I believe I would," said Mrs. Bishop. "Maybe William will tell you what to do." "I'd see Perkins fust." advised Abner Daniel. "Ef I felt shore Perkins bad bunkqed me, I'd steer cleer o' William. I'd bate to beer Mm let out on tbat subject. He's made bis pile by keeplu* a sharp lookout." *'I hain't bad no reason to think I have been lied to." said Bishop doggedly as be poured bis coffee into his > .1^ nl.nnl* a l./.llt tfl ft 1 11A DQUl'Cr illiU ?uuun auvui w wv., body could bear bis deathknell rung every nilnute ef he'd jest listen to old women an' "Old bachelors." interpolated Abuer. "I reckon they are alike. The longer a man lives without a woman the more he gits like one. 1 reckon that's beca'se the man 'at lives with one don't see nothin' wutb copy in* in 'er an* vice-aversy." Mrs. Bishop had never been an appreciative listener to her brother's philosophy. She ignored what he had just said and its accompanying smile, which was always Abner's subtle apology for such observations. "Are you goiu' to tell Adele about the Mil mud?" she asked. "I reckon I won't tell *er to git up a' excursion over it "fore the crossties is laid," retorted Bishop sharply, and Abner Daniel laughed, that sort of response being in his own vein. "I was goin' to say," pursued the softly treading wife, "that I wouldn't mention it to 'er ef?ef?Mr. Perkins ain't to be relied on, beca'se she worries enough already about our pore way o' livin' compared to her uncle's folks. Ef she knowed how I spent last night, she'd want to come back. But 1 ain't a-goin' to let Brother Ab skeer me yet kOT^T^M Author of LKDIlrlN , "Westerfelt." ights reserved. It Is jest too awrul to think about What on earth would we do? What would we, I say?" That aftprnnnn Bishoo was driven to Darley by a negro boy who was to bring the buggy back home. He first repaired to a barber shop, where be was shaved, bad his balr cut and bis shoes blacked; then be went to the station half an hour before time and impatiently walked up and down the platform till the train arrived. It waB 6 o'clock when be reached Atlanta and made bis way through the jostling crowd in the big passenger depot out Into the streets. He had his choice of going at once to the residence of his brother, on Peacbtree street, the most fashionable avenne of the city, or lookiug up Perkins in bis office. He decided to unburden bis mind by at once calling on the lawyer, whose office was in a tall building quite near at baud. it was the hour at which Perkins usually left forborne, but the old planter found him In. "Oh. it's yuu, Mr. Bishop," be said suavely as he rose from his desk in the dingy.- disordered little room, with its single window. He pushed a chair forward. "Sit down; didn't know you I mai-o in tnwn- ot vniir hrnther'8. I reck on. How are the crops up the road? Too much rain last month. I'm afraid." Bishop sank wearily into the chair. He bad tired himself out thinking over wbut he would say to the man before tim and with the awful contemplation If what the man might say to him. "They are doin' as well as can be expected," he made answer. But he didn't approve of even that platitude, for he was plain and outspoken and hadn't come all that distance for a J mere exchange of courtesies. Still, he lacked the faculty to approach easily ! the subject which had grown so heavy within the last twenty-four hours and : of which he now almost stood in terror. "Well, that's gooti." re.urneci rerklns. He Jbs a swarthy man of flftyflve or sixty, rather tall and slender, with a bald head that sloped back1 sharply from heavy, jutting brows, on-; der which a pair of keen black eyes shone and shifted. "Come down to j see your daughter," be said; "good thing for her that you have a brother In town. By the way, he's a fine type of a man. He's making headway too. "You are a scoundrel, Perkins," he said. His trade Is stretching out In all directions; funny how different you two are!" "I 'lowed I'd see William 'fore 1 went back," said Bishop rather irrelevantly. Then, seeing that Perkins was 6taring at him rather fixedly, he saidIt was a verbal plunge: "I bought some more timber land yesterday!" "Oh, you did? That's good." Perkins' eyes fluttered once or twice before his gaze steadied Itself on the face of the man before him. "Well, as 1 told you, Mr. Bishop, that sort of a thing is a good investment 1 reckon It's already climbing up a little, ain't it?" "Not much yet." It struck Bishop that he had given the lawyer a splendid opportunity to speak of the chief cause for an advance In value, and his heart felt heavier as he finished. "But I took quite a slice the last time? 5,000 acres at the old figure, you know ?a dollar a acre." "You don't say! That was a slice." Bishop drew himself up in his chair and inhaled a deep breath. It was as if he took into himself in that way the courage to make his next remark. "I got it from the Tompkins estate." "You don't say! I didn't know they had that much ou hand." "Sence I bought the land I've accidentally lieerd tliut you are 6ome kin o' that family." Perkins started slightly and raised his brows. "Oh, yes! On my wife's side, away off, some way or other. I believe the original Tompkins that settled there from Virginia was my wife's grandfather. 1 never was much of a band to go into such matters." "When I beerd that, Perkins, it wai natural fer me to wonder why yon you see?why you didn't tell then about the railroad." The sallow features of the lawyer seemed to stiffen. He drew himself up coldly and a wicked expression flashed in his eyes. "Take my advice, old man," he snarled as he threw down his pen and stared doggedly into Bishop's face. "HHolr tn unnr fnr miner and don't waste | WW ? ? . | your time asking a professional lawyer questions which have no bearing on your business whatever. Now, really, do I have to explain to you my personal reasons for not favoring the Tompkins people with a?I may sayany piece of information?" s Bishop was now as white as death. His worst suspicions were confirmedhe was a ruined man; there was no further doubt about that Suddenly he felt unable to bridle the contemptuous fury that raged within him. "I think I know why you didn't tell 'em." was what he hurled at the lawyer. "You think you do?" "Yes; It was beca'se you knowed no road was goln' to be built You told Pete Mosely the same tale you did me, an' Abe Tompkins unloaded on 'lm. That's a way you have o' doin' business." Perkins stood up. He took his silk hat from the top of his desk and put it on. "Oh, yes, old man," he sneered; "I'm a terribly dishonest fellow, but I've got company in this world. Now, really, the only thing that has worried me has been your un-Christlan act . st AU.A l -1 rrnmn ID DUyiDg an U1&1 UtliU 11ULU iuc xwwir klns heirs at such a low figure when be railroad will advance its value bo ;reatly. Mr. Bishop, I thought you were a good Methodist" "Ob, you kin laugh an' Jeer all you like." cried Bishop, "hut I can handle you fer this." "You are not as well versed in the law as you are In fertilizers, Mr. Bishop." sneered the lawyer. "In order to make a case against me you'd have to publicly betray a matter I told to you in confidence, and then what would you gain? I doubt if the court would force me to explain a private matter like this where the Interests of my clients are concerned, and if the court did I could simply show the letters I have regarding the possible construction of a railroad in your section. If you remember rightly. I did not say the thing was an absolute certainty. On top of all this you'd be obliged to prove collusion between me ana me Tompkins heirs over a sale made by their attorney, Mr. Trabue. There is one thing certain. Mr. Bishop, and that is that you have forfeited your right to any further confidence in this matter. _ If the road is built, you'll find out about it with the rest of your people. You think you acted wisely in attacking me this way, but you have simply cut off your nose to spite your face. Now. I have a long car ride before me, and it's growing late." Bishop stood up. He was quivering as with palsy. His voice shook and rang like that of a madman. "You are a scoundrel, Perkins," he said?"a dirty blacksnake in the grass! I want to tell you that!" "Well, I hope you won't make any charge for it." "No; it's free." Bishop turned to the door. There was a droop upon his whole body. He dragged his reet as he moved out Into the unllghted corridor, where he paused Irresolutely. So great was his agony that he almost obeyed an Impulse to go back and fall at the feet of Perkins and Implore his aid to rescue him and his family from Impeudiug ruin. The lawyer was moving about the room, closing his desk and drawing down the window shade. "It's no use," sighed Bishop as he made his way downstairs. "I'm ruined! Alan an' Adele hain't a cent to their names, an' that devil"? Bishop paused on the first landing like an animal at bay. He heard the steady step of Perkins on the fioor above, and for a mo ment bis fingers tingled with the thought of waiting there in the darkness and choking the life out of the .subtle scoundrel who had taken advantage of his credulity. But with a groan that was half a prayer he went on down the steps and out into the lighted streets. At the first corner lie saw a car which would take him to his brother's, and he hastened to catch it. William Bishop's house was a modern brick structure, standing on a well clipped lawn which held a Gothic summer house and two or three marble statues. It was In the best portion of the avenue. Reaching it, the planter left the car and approached the Iron gate which opened on to the granite sieps leauing up me lerruue. n wus now <iulte dark. Obeying a sudden impulse, the old man Irresolutely passed by the gate and walked farther up the street. "Somehow I don't feel one bit like It," he mused. "I couldn't tell William. He'd think I wanted to borrow money an' 'ud git skeerd right off. He always was afeerd I'd mismanage. An' then I'd hate to sp'ile Adele's visit, au' she could tell thar was some'n wrong by me bein' heer In secb a flurry. I reckon I do show it. How could a body he'p It? Oh, my Lord, have mercy! It's all gone, all?all me'n Betsy has saved." He turned at the corner of his brother's property and slowly retraced bis halting steps to the gate, but he did not pause, continuing nis way DacK toward the station. A glance at the house showed that all the lower rooms were lighted, as well as the big prismatic lamp that hung over the front door. Bishop saw forms In light summer clothing on the wide veranda. "I'll bet that tallest one is Sis," he said pathetically. "I jest wish I could see 'er a little while. Maybe It 'ud stop this awful hurtln' a little Jest to look at 'er an' heer 'er laugh like she always did at home. She'd be brave; she wouldn't cry an' take on, but It would hurt 'er away down in 'er heart, especially when she's mixlh' with secb high fliers an' money spenders. Lord, what'll I do fer cash to send 'er next month? I'm the land porest man In 1 my county." 1 Reaching the station, he Inquired about a train to Darley and was told 1 that one left at midnight He decided 1 to take It and sat in one of the iron armed seats without moving till he heard his train announced. Then he ' went into tbe smoking car and sat 1 down in a comer. 1 He reached Darley at half past 3 in the morftlng and went to the only hotel in the place. Tbe sleepy night clerk 1 rose from bis lounge behind tbe counter in tbe office and assigned him to a room, to which a colored boy, vigorously rubbing his eyes, conducted him. Left alone In his room, he sat down on the edge of bis bed and started to undress, but with a sigh he stopped. "Whaf s the use o' me lyln' down almost at daybreak?" he asked himself. "I mougbt as well be on the way home. I cayn't sleep nohow." Blowing out his lamp, he went downstairs and roused the clerk again. "Will I have to paj> fer that bed ef I don't use It?" be questioned. "Why. no.iir. Bishop," said the clerk. "Well, 1 believe I'll start out home." "Is your tea|m in town?" asked the clerk. . ' "The team I'm a-goin' to use is. I'm goln' to foot'.It I've done the like before this." t "Well, It's a purty tough stretch," smiled tbe clerk, "but tbe roads are good." CHAPITER IV. AT J rr was a little after sunrise. ISI1 rhe fam?y had just left the BSg breakfast table when Bishop Eaal walked In. His shoes and trousers were damp with dew and covered with the' dust of the road. His wife saw him entering the gate and vailed out to him from the hall: "Well, I declare! Didn't you go to Atlanta ?" He came slowly up the steps, dragging his feet after him. He had the appearance of a man beaten by every Btorm that could fall upon a human being. "Yes, I went" he aald doggedly. He passed her and went into the sitting room, where his brother-in-law stood at the fireplace lighting his pipe with a live coal of fire on the tip of a stick. Abner Daniel looked at him critically, his brows raised a little as he puffed, but he said nothing. Mrs. Bishop came In behind hefi husband, sweeping him from bead to foot with her searching eyes. "You don't mean to tell me you walked out heer this mornln'," she cried. "Lord have mercy!" "I don't know as I've prepared any set speech on the subject," said her husband te*ily. "but 1 walked. I could 'a'- gone to a livery an' ordered out a team, but I believe thar's more'n one way o' wearin' sackcloth an' ashes, an' the sooner I begin the belter I'll feel." Abner Daniel winked. The Scriptural allusion appealed to bis fancy, and he smiled impulsively. "That thar is," he said. "Thar's a whole way an' a half way. Some folks Jest wear it next to the skin whar It don't show, with broadcloth ur silk on the outside. They think ef It scratches * a little that'll satisfy the Lord an' ^ hoodwink other folks. But I believe ( Ha meant it to be the whole hog or . none." Mrs. Bishop was deaf to this philosophy. "I don't see," she said In her own field of reflection?"I don't see, I aay, how you got to Atlanta, attended to business, seed Adele an' got back beer at sunrise. Why, Alfred"? But Bishop Interrupted her. "Have you all had prayers yet?" "No; you know we hain't," said his wife, wondering over his strange manner. "I reckon It can pass jest this once, beln' as you are tired an' hain't had nothin' to eat" "No; It can't pass, nuther. I don't want to touch a mouthful. Tell the rest of 'em to come in, an' you fetch me the Book." "Well!" Mrs. uisnop weni um. ?uu told the negro woman and her daughter to stop washing the dishes and go In to prayer. Then she hurried out to the back porch, where Alan was oiling his gun. "Somethln's happened to yore pa," she said. "He acts queer an' says sech strange things. He walked all the way from Darley this mornln' an' now wants to have prayers 'fore he touches a bite o' breakfast. I reckon we are ruined." "I'm afraid that's it," opined her son as he put down his gun and followed her Into the sitting room. Here the two negroes stood against the wall. Abner Daniel was smoking, and Bishop held the big family Bible on his quivering knees. "Ef you mean to keep It up," Abner 1?? n?/v<imnnfnthrolTT 11 flcht was sayiug oisuuicumiMnj, ..a? an' good, but I don't believe in sudden j spurts o' worship. My hosses Is bitched ' up ready to haul a load o' bark to the tannery, an' It may throw me a little 1 late at dinner, but ef you are a-goin' 1 to make a dally business of It I'm with 1 you." ' "I'm a-goin' to be regular from now on," said Bishop, slowly turning the ' leaves of the tome. "I forgot whar I 1 read last." t "You didn't finish about Samson tyIn' all them foxes' tails together," said ' Abuer Daniel as he knocked the hot ashes from his pipe Into the palm of ' his hand and tossed them Into the ^ chimney. "That sorter Interested me. ' I wondered how that was a-goin' to ' i'?* hnt? t/> have a nansle o' foxes 1 C11U. M. U MM*- ?? ? ? m with torches to the'r tails turned loose in my wheat jest 'tore cuttin' time. It 1 must 'a' been a sight. I wondered 1 how that was a-goin' to end." 1 "You'll wonder how you're a-goin' to < end if you don't be more respectful," 1 said his sister. "Like the foxes, I reckon," grinned 1 Abner?"with a eternal torch tied to < me. Well, ef I am treated that away ' I'll go into the business o' destruction 1 an' set fire to everything I run across." "Ain't you goln' to tell , us what you l lid In Atlanta 'fore you nave prayer7" isked Mrs. Bishop, almost resentfully. "No, I hain't!" Bishop snapped. "I'll tell you soon enough. I reckon I won't read this mornln'. Let's pray." They all knelt reverently and yet with some curiosity, for Bishop often suited his prayers to important occasions, and it struck them that he might now allude to the subject bound up within him. "Lord, God Almighty," he began, his lower lip hanging and quivering, as were his hands clasped In the seat of tils chair, "thou knowest the struggle thy creatures are makln' on the face of thy green globe to live up to the best if the'r lights an' standards. As 1 vonH hofnro thPA thin mnrnln' I realize how small a bein' I am to thy sight 10' that 1 ort to bow In humble submission to thy will, an'-1 do. For many yeers this family has enjoyed :hy bounteous blessings. We've had good health an' the Influence of a Bible readln', God fearln' community, in' our chlldern has been educated in i way that raised 'em head an' shoullers above many o' the'r associates an' ?ven blood kin. I don't know exactly ivbar an' how I've sinned, but I know [ have displeased thee, fer thy scourge las fallen hard an' heavy on my amiltions. I wanted to see my boy heer i good, obedient son an' my daughter :har in Atlanta able to hold the'r ieadi up among the folks they mix ivlth, an' so I reached out Maybe it 4- KaH nnf Ktr n analro rr tin IUIU1UUCU null UI.JI UUL UJ U UUU1U n the devil's service. I don't know? hou knowest Anyways, I steered my rourse out o' the calm waters o' conent an' peace o' soul into the whirl)ool rapids o' avarice an' greed. I lowed I was in a safe haven an' didn't iream o' the stormclouds bangln' over ne till they bust in fury on my head, few, Lord, my' Father, give them " Wuaar' gasped M* wife. learta of patience an' forgiveness fer he blunders of thy servant Wbat 1 lone I done In the bullheaded way hat I've always done things, but I neant good and not harm. These things ve ask in the name o' Jesus Christ jut blessed Lord and Master. Amen." During the latter part of the prayer lira. Bishop had been staring at her lusband through her parted fingers, ler face pale and agitated and as she ose her eyes were glued to his face. "Now, Alfred," she said, "what are rou goin' to tell us about the railroad? [a it as bad as brother Ab thought 11 would be?" n,-u?- v. nnl*n If OOOTTlfWi DM if OIHLLUJJ ucniuiLcu. &?. ?- .. ie bad even then to tear himself from he clutch of his natural stubbornness. Ie looked Into all the anxious, waiting 'aces before he spoke, and then he rave in. "Ab made a good guess. Ef I'd 'u' lad his sense or Alan's, I'd 'a' made a >etter trader. It's like Ab said it was. >nly a sight wuss, a powerful sight vuss!" "Wuss?" gasped his wife in fresh ilarm. "How could it be wuss? Why. brother Ab said"? "I never have told you the extent o' ny dealin's," went on Bishop in the :urrent of confession. "I never even ;old Perkins yesterday. Fust an' last "ve managed to rake In- fully twenty housand acres o' mountain land. I ivas goln' on whnt I 'lowed was n dead ihore thing. I secured all I could lay ny hands on, an' I did It in secret. I was afeerd even to tell you about what Perkins said, thlnkin' it mought leak >ut an' sp'ile my chances." "But, father," said Alan, "you didn't lave enough money to buy all that and." "I got It up"?Bishop's face was dogjedly pale, almost defiant of his overwhelming disaster?"1 mortgaged this !arm to get money to buy Maybry and Norton's four thousand acres." "The farm you was going to deed to llan?" gnsped his wife. "You didn't 4t,ntV' JiLlUlIC liiU k "Not In that deal," groaned Bishop. 'I swapped that to Phil Parsons fer lis poplar an' cypress belt." The words seemed to cut rasplngly into the silence of the big room. Abner Daniel was the only one who seemed unmoved by the confession. He filled lis pipe from the bowl on the mantelpiece and pressed the tobacco down with his forefinger; then he kicked the ishes In the chimney till he uncovered 1 small live coal. He eyed It for a moment, then dipped it up In the shovel, rolled it Into his pipe and began to jmoke. "So 1 ain't a-goin' to git no yeerly pas9 over the new road," he said, his ibject being to draw his brother-inlaw back to Perkins' action in the matter. "Perkins was a-lyin' to me," auiwered Bishop. "He hain't .admitted u yei, Dui ue was a-iyin. nis ODjeci was to he'p the Tompkins sell ont fer a decent price, but he can't be bandied. He's got me on the bip." "No," said Abner. "I'd rather keep on swappln' gold dollars fer mountain land an' lettln' It go fer taxes 'an to try to beat a lawyer at his own game. A courthouse Is like the devil's abode, easy to git Into, no outlet an' nothin' but scorch while you are thar." "Hush, fer the name o' goodness!" cried Mrs. Bishop, looking at her husband. "Don't you see he's dyin' from It? Are you all a-goln' to kill Mm? What does a few acres o' land ur debts amount to beside killin' a man oi'a tuun frMHn' +r> holn no all? Alfred it ain't so mighty awful Tou know it ain't! What did me an' yon have when we started out but a log house boarded up on the outside, an' now we've got our childern educated an' all of us in good health. I railly believe it's a sin agin God's mercy fer us to moan an' fret under a thing like this." "That's the talk," exclaimed Abner Daniel enthusiastically. "Now you are glttin' down to brass tacks. I've always contended"? "For God's sake, don't talk that way!" said Bishop to his wife. "You don't mean a word of it You are Jest a-sayin* it to try to keep me from seein' what a fool I am." "You needn't worry about me, father," said Alan firmly* "I am able to look out for myself and for you and mother. It's done, and the best thing to do is to look at it in a sensible way. Besides, a man with 20,000 acres of mountain land paid for is not broken oy a long jump. / "Yes. I'm gone," said Bishop, a wavering look of gratitude in his eye as he turned to his son. "I figured on It aJllastnlgfit r cant pay the heavy interest an* come out I was playin' for big stakes an' got left. Thar*s nothln' to do bnt give up. Me bayln' so much land has made it rise a little, bnt when I begin to try to sell I won't be able to give It away." "Thar's some'n In that" opined Abner Daniel as he turned to leave the room. "I reckon I mought as well go haul that tan bark. I recktn yon won't move out 'fore dinner." Ian followed him ont to the wagon. "It's pretty tough, Uncle Ab," he said. "I hadn't the slightest idea It was so bad." "I wasn't so shore," said Daniel "But I was jest a-thinkln' in thar. You've got a powerful good friend In Rayburn Miller. He's the sharpest speculator In north Georgia. Ef I was you, I'd see him an' lay the whole thing before him. He'll be able to give you good advice, an' I'd take It ' A feller that's made as much money as he has at his age won't give a friend bad advice." " * * - * i-i? i-l AUm "i inougnt 01 mm, tmiu aibm, uui I am a little afraid he will think we want to borrow money, and he never lets out a cent without the beat security." "Well, you needn't be afeerd on that score," laughed the old man' as he reached up on the high wagon seat for his whip. "I once heerd 'lm say that business an' friendship wouldn't mix any better'n oil an' water." TO BE CONTINUED. British South Pole Expedition. Captain R. F. Scott, who commands the British antarctic exploring expedi?/.n whi^ii established a record in . < S MMfflHHHWp reaching latitude 82.17 and made baany Important sclentlflc discoveries, will remain another year in the south polar regions. Captain Scott is an officer in the British navy. Giri.s Oittwork Men.?According to n report which has reached "Mr. Gerow, free employment agent, the Eastern college students who came to Kansas to work In the harvest fields are not doing as much work as the farmers' daughters. "The girls of Pawnee county," said A. G. Miller, of that county, today, "are nuttlne the trained athletes from Princeton, Yale, Harvard and the other colleges out of business when it comes to shocking wheat behind a selfbinder. "The girls are working in the fields because it is necessary, and they know how to do the work. The muscles of the students have not hardened sufficiently to enable them to keep pace with the girls. "Two sisters, daughters of Oscar Swenson. near Larned. are working with four of the students, and they are doing more work than the four men. "If the students stay in the fields until they can do as much as our young women they will go home trained athletes."?Topeka, Kan., letter to New York Telegram. The man with kind eyes and a gruff manner is like the dog that growls and wags its tail?you are never sure which sign to believe. Some people haven't sense enough to use a hint if they had sense enough to take it. rniouncno v/r i nc y a i iwah? Condition of ths Popes 8ince the Loss of Their Temporal Power. It was the great Napoleon who broke the temporal power of the Papacy. When he overturned the power of nearly every government In Europe, he did not allow the government of the church to escape. For centuries, until the Corsican soldier came to desolate Europe with fire and sword, the pope had been the power above king and emperor. No throne was secure that . ' he did not support, and he even claimed, and sometimes exercised, the right of conferring and taking away the sceptre. ine roouu was more man Imperial. He was the supreme power of Europe and every priest was a minion and executive of his power. Napoleon took away the power of the kings of Europe, and then he took away the power of the pope. Thus it is that Pope Leo was the-first pope to be a spiritual ruler only. In 1800 Napoleon declared the temporal power of Pope Plus VII, at an end. Plus VII retaliated by plactag the ban of excommunication upon the emperor. Enraged by the act of the Pontiff, and determined to show his power over the head of the church, the emperor had the Pontiff brought to France a prisoner, and kept him until 1813, when the pope was allowed to return to Rome, but without temporal power. One year later Napoleon's empire tell, and the Papal States were restored to the pope. The restoration, however. did not reDlace all the former power of the Vatican. The pope held all the central part of Italy, but his former power over the kings of Europe had broken forever. The Papal yoke had been a heavy one, frnd those who had been relieved of It would bow their necks to It no more. When Plus IX ascended the throne of Peter In 1846, the Papal dominions consisted of nineteen states, situated In central Italy, covering 17,000 square miles and having a population of 3,000,000. The pope maintained a standing army?of whitah the noble guard and other small companies, which now guard the Vatican, comprise the existing remnant?and collected a revenue that Is believed to have approached $14,000,000 annually. The Pontiffs power in this large dominion was absolute, both temporal and spiritual, and It so continued until thirty-three years ago, since which time the pope has been, as both Plus IX and Leo XIII, expressed it, "The . Prisoner of the Vatican." In the Papal States all offices, both spiritual and temporal, were filled t>by priests, and to this day the Roman Catholic priests are. still educated as if. In view of their having af some flmeTlo^ll temporal offices under the power of the Vatican. Pope .Leo, during the reign of Gregory XVI was * governor of the provinces of Benevento and Perugia, and filled the office with marked success and ability, his administration being chiefly marked by the disappearance of the banditti, whom he routed out of mountain fastnesses and imprisoned: or executed. In 1850 the powers in Italy, besides the Papal States, were the kingdoms of Naples and Sardinia and. the prov inces of Lombardy, Tuscany, Modena and other provinces, all under the dominion of Austria. These provinces, under Austria had for a long time been misgoverned and oppressed, and there had been a number of rebellions. Finally, an army under the Patriot Oarabaldl and King Humbert of Sardinia threw off the Austrian yoke and then proceeded to Naples and Sicily, driving out King Francis n,. whose reign over that country had been remarkable for tyranny.. King Victor Emmanuel was elected king of the United Italy, and only the Papal States remained out of the United Kingdom. These states, extending across the kingdom and cutting it in two, and having within them the city of Rome, the natural capital of the country, were covetously regarded by King Victor Emmanuel and his advisers. Since 1849, however, France had protected the pope in his dominions. a French force having been placed in Rome after a period of practical anarchy, during which the Eter 1 />!?.. ?... I. n# a mrih nai Vtiiy woo in - iiic ucuiuo v& u. mw that had driven out the pope. When It became an open secret that Victor Emmanuel only waited for a chance to seize the Papal States, Emperor Napoleon III, put a large French army In Rome and kept it there until 1870. The war with Prussia then compelled him to withdraw this force, and the pope was left helpless. It Is doubtful if, even with his opportunity, Victor Emmanuel would have endeavored to seize Rome by force had It not been for the fact that a powerful republican spirit was growing In his kingdom. France had again established a republic, and Italy seemed ripe for It. It w#? nnrtlv to divert this BTowlne sen timent that King Victor Emmanuel, In September, 1870, marched on the Eternal City. Pope Pius was a man of peace; he resolved, that no blood should be shed to preserve his power, nnd gave orders that as soon as the walls were breached the city should be surrendered. This last command of the pope, as a temporal ruler, having been promulgated, the Pontiff retired to the Vatican, a self-immolated prisoner. For four hours the cannon of the invader thundered at the walls of the Eternal City until a breach was made, and the Papal flag was then hauled down from the defences. Itfcwaa never raised again save in the Acred precincts of the Vatican. 1. Pope Pius DC made a treaty with King Emmanuel whereby he was to retain the Vatican, having full power over its area, including the colleges and churches connected with it, and was to T ? - -m n nee AAA? nave an ineuiiie ui o.^uu.uuui, uui mc Vatican has never been reconciled with the Italian government, and the claim to the right of temporal power over the Papal States has -never been abated. The pope has always refused to accept the Income allotted him by the Italian government, and it has accumulated until it now amounts to between 115,000,000 and $18,000,000. The Vatican, which is really big enough for a city of 10,000 to 20,000/ii8 all that remains to the pope. Fromjfts boundaries Pope Pius IX and Pope aso XIII, always refused to go; they would not leave the prison allotted to them by the uprising government of Italy.