Newspaper Page Text
ISSUED SEMX-WSSKLT. l. *. OWST'S S0H8. Pi.bii.her.. j S (Jfamiig ieirapger: ^or ?h<gromo?um of[to* Siriw'topl and ?omm?[riat JittirMts of the people. established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY, JANUARY 9, 1906. ISTO. 3. " " - """'? * ?* ?>4U__ < >??l """"""i ?? "" "'1 t nroiafld nnii.l vAi. thus fnr hnrn# that trlpvous bur HOUSE $1 A Tale of the Revoli Upper C By JOHN ?*. CHAPTER in. An Incident That Savors of Romano*. By the time the sun had fallen to the level of the summits of the Blue Ridge, Butler and Robinson had progressed. so far In their Journey, as to find themselves In the vicinity of the Rockflsh river?a rapid mountain stream! that traverses the southern confine of Albemarle, and which, at that period, separated this county from Amherst. Their path had led them, by a short circuit, out of the ravine of Cove cceek, along upon the ridges of the neighboring hills; and they were now descending from this elevation, Into the valley of the Rockflsh, near , to the point where the Cove creek forms its junction with this river. The , hill was covered with a stately forest, , and a .broad, winding road had been cut down the steep side in such a manner as to present a high bank on one ] hand, and an abrupt sheer descent on the other. From this'road might be , seen, at Intervals, glimmering through ] t the screen of underwood, the waters of j the small river below; whilst, at the , same tlpie, the circuitous course of the , descending track left but few paces of , Its length visible from any one point, except where, now and then, It came boldly forth to the verge of some wild crag, from which glimpses were to be obtained of its frequent traverses towards the deep and romantio dell that received the mingled tribute of the two streams. Here, as our travelers Journeyed downward, their attention was awakened by the cry of hounds in pursuit of game. These sounds came from the wood on the crest of the hill above them: and the clamorous earnestness with which they assailed the ear, and roused the far echo of the highlands, showed the object of chase to have been suddenly surprised and hotly followed. The outcry was heard for some moments, pursuing a direction towards . the river, when, suddenly from the midst of the forest, the sharp twang of a rifle shot showed that some hunter was on the watch to profit by the discovery of the dogs. Robinson, as soon as he heard the report, urged his horse forward with speed, to the first turn of the road below, dismounted, and throwing his rifle into the palm of his left hand, stood ready to give his fire wherever he might find occasion. Butler followed, and reined up close beside his companion. "Thare is game afoot." said ?}al- ? bralth, "and If that shot has not done ? its business, it may be my turn to try i a hand." 1 These words were hardly spoken | when a wounded buck rushed to the ] LHI UK. *JL IIIC uann, OWIIIC wnvnv w. , fifteen feet above the heads of the trav- f elers and regardless of the presence t of enepiies. made one frantic bound for- ] ward Into the air, and fell dead almost at Robinson's feet. So effectually had < the work of death been done upon the \ poor animal, that he seemed to have i expired. In the convulsion of this last i leap, before he reached the ground: < his antlers were driven Into the clay: < his ey?s were fixed, and not a struggle followed. < "It was a home-shbt that brought l this poor fugjtlve to the earth" i said Butler, as he stood gazing ] at the piteous spectacle before him. "and sped by a practised hand." "I don't count him a good man. major." said Galbraith, with professional Indifference, "who would mangle his meat by random firing. Now. this buck was taken sideways as he leaped above . the top of the bushes, which la the tlcklishest of all the ways of shooting a deer. The man that plucked this fel- . low, I'll warrant, can plant his ball Just where he likes; right under the arm is the place for certainty; and the thing couldn't have been prettier done If the man had had a rest and a standing shot." During the short Interval, the hounds had arrived on the spot where the buck lay bleeding, and these, after a few minutes, were followed by two hunters of very dissimilar appearance, who came on foot, slowly leading their horses up the hill. The first was a tall, gaunt woodman, of a sallow comDlexion. Jet black eyes . * ' ~ r and round head of smooth black hair. His dress was simply a coarse linen shirt and trousers, the heat of the day being such as to allow him to dispense with coat and waistcoat. He carried, in one hand, a battered straw hat, and in the other, trailed a long rifle. His feet were covered with a pair of moccasins of brown leather, and the ordinary hunting equipments were suspended about his person. The second was a youth apparently about sixteen, dressed in a suit of green summer cloth, neatly and fancifully adapted to his figure, which was graceful and boyish. The Jacket was short, and gathered into a small skirt behind, and both this and the pantaloons were garnished with a profusion of black cord and small black buttons. A highly polished leather belt was buckled round his waist: a cap of green cloth rested, somewhat conceitedly, amongst the rich locks of a head of light, curly hair that fell, with girlish beauty, over a fair brow, and gave softness to a countenance of pure white and red: and a neat foot showed to advantage in a laced boot. The whole appearance of the youth was of one of an amiable and docile bearing, and the small rifle or carbir.e which he bore in his hand, as well as the dainty accoutrements that belonged to it. amongst which was a diminutive bugle, looked more like the toys of a pampered boy. than any apparatus of service. No sooner had these two approached near enough to Butler and his attendant for recognition, than the youth, quitting the hold of his horse, sprang forward with a Joyous alacrity and seized Butler by the hand. "'Captain Butler," he cried with great m i tOBHtWI? er ationary Struggle In ? arolina. *? _____ in KENNEDY. H 18 animation, "how glad I am you have come! And how fortunate it is that I si should meet you! Get down from your pc horse, I have something to tell you. w< Here, Stephen Foster, take this gentleman's horse.' Hi "You are a fine fellow, Harry," said jn Butler, dismounting. "That smiling se face of yours is full of pleasant news; as it assures me that all are well at the 1 Dove Cote." Then having given his th< horse in charge to Robinson, and walk- sp< ed a few paces apart with his young friend, he inquired in a low and anx- I lous tone, "Mildred, my dear Henry, th what of your sister Mildred? Has she received my letter? Does she expect yo me? Is your father?" tic "Now, captain" interrupted the other?"but heigh! don't the newspaper pu say you are brevetted? I am a pretty th fellow to forget that! Well then, Ma- a Jor Butler, let me answer one question sci at a time. In the first place, sister of Mildred Is as well as any girl can be, thi that has a whole bushel of crosses to eit keep her out of spirits. Poor thing, she syi frets so. about you and my father. In lis the second place, she received your let- lln ter a week ago, and has had me pa- wi trolling this ridge every day since. Just to to keep a lookout for you; and. for the th lake of company, I have had Stephen cle p oster nunmiB ncic Oil iuc iimv Mivi V tor an excuse than anything else, be- cli :ause on this side of the river the na Irlves are not the best for deer?a man pr night be here a fortnight and not get we i shot. Slater Mildred wanted me If loi [ should see you first. Just to whisper ow to you that It Is Impossible to do any- of thing with my father, especially at this time for he has one of these English ml ifficers staying at the Dove Cote now, to< who. I am afraid, and so Is sister Mil- se< ired, has come to do some mischief. fr( Mildred says I must make some ap- otl ^ointment with you to see her privatey. I though of Mrs. Dlmock's. but this "tl Englishman has a servant staying over ap there, and maybe K wouldn't do. So, to major you will have to ride down to the big chestnut, on the bank of ph the river, Just under the rock that we sal ;all the Fawn's Tower?you know where that Is? It Isn't more than two Fa nlles from here." wl "I know It well, Henry I will wait pr here patiently," replied Butler, as he m< iow returned to his horse. ro< "Haven't we been In luck." Bald Hen- to y. "to get so fine a buck at last? This nal 'ellow has eight branches. It is Ste- ly ihen's rifle that has done it." olt The woodman, during this conver- Lo tnlrnn vAaaaaolAn Af Vila OTM 1 lull, uau laivc u ^uoorooiun wi ???" "f ipoll, and was now busily engaged with bit lis knife in cutting open and preparing D1 :he animal for transportation, accord- lal ng to the usages of woodcraft, whilst wi Robinson stood by, admiring the dex- pai :erity with which this office was per- ins 'ormed. When the buck was. at last; hji :hrown by Stephen across his horse co' Henry gave him orders to ride forward. "You will carry our game to your pli iwn house, Stephen; and don't forget wc omorrow, to let us have the saddle at sa< the Dove Cote. And Stephen, you need not say that we have found any ac- sal luaintances upon the road, you un- mi ierstand!" ac: The man bowed his head, in token ho >f obedience, and getting upon his long pu backed steed, behind the buck, was joon lost to view in the windings of the. wt hill. by "Sister Mildred is sometimes down- ra] right melancholy," said the young thi hunter, after he had remounted, and he now rode beside Butler. "She is th: troubled about you and is always tell- op] ing me of some unpleasant dream. I "g almost think she is over-fanciful; and then she reads everything about the tlv army, and talks almost like a man wa about soldiering. Do you know she is of making a soldier of me? I am con- its stantly reading military books, and qu practising drill, and laying out fortl- be flcations, just as if I was going into rei camp. My father doesn't know a tn word of it; his time is taken up with th these English officers, writing to them w? and every now and then there are fir some of them at our house. Mildred an knows them?a famous spy she would sa make! Isn't she an excellent girl. Major Butler?" Ft "You and I should guard her. Hen- a ry, with more care than we guard our ed lives," replied Butler, with a serious ba emphasis. hi: "I hope," returned Henry, "she mi will be in better spirits after she cr sees you." "I would to heaven," said Butler, gr "that we all had more reason to be m of good cheer, than we are likely to to have. It Is as cloudy a day. Henry, as you may ever behold again, should hi you live, as I pray you may. to the in ripest old age." lit Henry looked up towards the west, th "There are clouds upon the sky." to he said, "and the sun has dropped be- br low them: but there is a streak ol ha yellow light, near to the line of the dt mountain, that our wise people say Is wl a sign that the sun will rise in beauty th tomorrow." h? "There is a light beyond the noun- dt tain," replied Butler, half speaking to himself, "and It is the best, the only sign I see of a clear tomorrow. I wish. Henry. It were a brighter beam." A "Don't you know Gates has passed south?" said Henry, "and has some pretty fellows with him, they say. And aren't we all mustering here? pi every man most? Ask Stephen Fos- rl: ter what I am." in "And what will he tell me?" fa "Why. that I am his deputy-cor- In poral In the mounted riflemen; Ste- a phen is the lieutenant." cl "Oh, I crave your favor, brother of- p< fleer, good master deputy-corporal, O Henry Lindsay! and does your father 111 allow you to ride In the ranks of the gi friends of liberty?" th "Sister Mildred persuaded him that Tl as I am a mere lad, as she says,?look bi at me, major,?a pretty well grown ai lad, I take It, there Is no harm In my T playing soldier. So I ride always with p< ephen Foster, and Mildred got me lis light rifle-carbine. Now, major, fancy I am pretty nearly as good a arksman as rides in the corps. rho is this with you?" asked Henry, oking back at Robinson, who loiterl some distance in the rear purposeto avoid what might be deemed 1 intrusion upon the private conferice of the two friends. "That is a famous soldier, Henry; > was at the siege of Charleston, id last year at Savannah. He has - J K1 qm/1 non tol 1 vaii 1U BUIIIC uaiu uiuno, uuu v?u tvit / vu ore of war than you have ever read all your studies." "He wears a curious uniform," said enry, "for a regular soldier. What his name?" "Galbralth Robinson?or Horse loe Robinson?to give him his most ipular distinction. But it would be ill to keep his name secret." "I have heard of Horse Shoe." said enry, with an expression of great terest. "So, this Is the man himIf? From all reports he Is as brave 'As who?" asked Butler, smllllng at e tone of wonder with which Henry oke. "As Caius Marclus Corlolanus, who. make no doubt, major, was about e bravest man In the books." Butler laughed, and applauded the ung martlalist for his dlscrlmlna>n. The road from the foot of the hill irsued the left, or, northern bank of e Rockflsh. which shot along, with rapid flood, over the rocks that lay ottered In its bed; and the gush whose flight fell upon the ear like I e loud tones of the wind. From her margin It was shaded by huge camores, whose tops, at this twl ht hour, were marked In broad es upon the fading: sky, and whose de spreading boughs met, from side side, over the middle of the stream, rowing a deeper night upon the >ar and transparent waters. The lley was closely bound by high pre>itous hills, whose steep crags and rrow passes seemed to echo and 1 olong the gush of the stream, that is now mingled with the occasional < vlng of cattle, the shriek of the 1, and the frequent hoarse scream i the whippoorwill. When our party advanced about a i le along this road, Henry Lindsay >k his bugle and blew a .blast which >med to dance in its reverberations >m one side of the river to the ler. ' "Mildred knows my signal," said he. lat is the scout's warning; cavalry proaches; dress your line; prepare receive a general officer." "Henry, pray drop your mllltnry rase, and tell me what this means," Id Butler. i "Ride on till you arrive beneath th? iwn'8 Tower. Wait for me there. I 11 give you a signal when I apoach; and trust me for a faithful wsenger. The river is deep at the :k, but you will find a boat fastened this bank. When you hear my stg- i I come across. Mrs. Dlmock's Is onanother mile; and, I'll warrant, the I lady will make you comfortable, ve, they say, major," added Henry, ortlvely, "is meat and drink, and a mket to boot; but for all that Mrs. mock's will not be amiss?especly for Horse Shoe, who, I take it, 1 II have the roughest time of the 1 ntv if ir?v<? is a hlanket. Mr. Rob ?on," Henry continued, addressing mself to that worthy. "It doesn't i ver two, you know." "To my thinking, young sir." reed Horse Shoe with a laugh, "it tuldn't fold so cleverly in a knap:k." "Now that I have given my orders," Id Henry, "and done my duty, I jst leave you, for my road lies ross the ford here. Where are my I unds? Hylas, Bell, Blanche, you ppies, where are you?" Here Henry blew another note, dch was immeditaely responded to the hounds; and, plunging into the pid and narrow stream, followed by e dogs who swam close behind him, < was seen, the next moment, rough the twilight, galloping up the posite hill, as he called out his ood night" to his friends. As soon as Henry had disappeared, e other two pricked their steeds forrd at a faster pace. The rapid flow the river, as they advanced along bank, began to change into a more let current, as If some obstruction low had dammed up the water, nderlng it deep and still. Upon this i mirrnr iho nnlp ereseent of e moon and faintly peeping stars ?re reflected; and the flight of the efly was traced, by his own light, d Its redoubled Image, upon the me surface. The high toppling cliffs of the iwn's Tower, that jutted forth like parapet above the road, soon arrestthe attention of Butler; and at Its ,se the great chestnut flung abroad s "vast magnificence of leaves," alost in emulation of the aspiring ag. "We have reached our appointed ound," said Butler. "I shall want y cloak, Galbraith; the dews begin chill my limbs." They dismounted, and Butler threw s cloak around his shoulders. Then, a thoughtful, musing state of mind, ! strolled slowly along the bank of e river, till he was temporarily lost view in the thick shades and some scenery around him. Robinson, vlng secured the horses, sat himself >wn at the foot of the chestnut, unllling to interrupt, by conversation, e anxious state of feeling which he id the shrewdness to precelve pre>minated In Butler's mind. CHAPTER IV. Meeting of Lovers?Some Insight In to the Future. The twilight had subsided and given ace to a beautiful night, the moon had sen above the tree tops, and now irew her level rays upon the broad ce of the massive pile of rocks formg the Fawn's Tower, and lit up with silvery splendor, the foliage that othed the steep cliff and the almost ?rpendlcular hill in its neighborhood, n the opposite side of the river, a ae of beech and sycamore trees, that ew almost at the water's edge, irew a dark shadow upon the bank, hrough these, at intervals, the right moonlight fell upon the earth, id upon the quiet and deep stream, he woods were vocal with the whis?rlng noises that give discord to the nights of summer; yet, was mere a stillness In the scene which Invited grave thoughts, and recalled to Butler's mind some painful emotions that belonged to his present condition. "How complicated and severe are those trials"?such was the current of his meditations?"which mingle private grief with public misfortune; that double current of 111 which runs, on one side, to the overthrow of a nation's happiness, and, on the other, to the prostration of the Individual who labors in the cause! What a struggle have I to encounter between my duty to my country and my regard for those tender relations that still more engross my affections, nor less earnestly appeal to my manhood for defence! Upon the common quarrel I have already staked my life and fortune, and find myself wrapped up In AKI I otq Unna Thflt 1 to tlivroi pV. * IIUUO vrwraa^u vawa>v. cause has enough In it to employ and perplex the strongest mind, and to invoke the full devotion of a head and heart that are exempt from all other solicitude; yet am I embarrassed with personal cares that are woven into the very web of my existence; that have planted themselves beside the fountain of my affections, and whiqh, if they be rudely torn from me, would leave behind?but a miserable and hopeless wreck. My own Mildred! to what sad trials have I brought your affection; and how nobly thou hast met them! "Man lives in the contentious crowd; he struggles for the palm that thousands may award, and far-speeding renown may rend the air with the loud huzza of praise. His Is the strife of the theatre where the world are spectators; and multitudes shall glorify his success, or lament his fall, or cheer him in the pangs of death. But woman, gentle, silent, sequestered? r thy triumphs are only for the heart ? that loves thee?thy deepest griefs t nave no comiorier uui ine sctrei uom- > munion of thine own pillow!" t Whilst Butler, who had now return- e ed beneath the cliff of the Fawn's Tower, was absorbed In this silent musing, his comrade was no less occupied with his own cares. The sergeant had acquired much of that forecast, In regard to small comforts, which becomes, In some degree, an Instinct in those whose profession exposes them to the assaults of wind and weather. Tobacco, In his reckoning, was one of the most indispensable muniments of war; and he was. accordingly, seldom without a good stock of this commodity. A corn cob, at any time, furnished him the meanB of carving the bowl of a pipe; whilst in his pocket, he carried a Blender tube of reed which, being united to the bowl, formed a smoking apparatus, still familiar to the people of this country, and which, to use the sergeant's own phrase, "couldn't be touched for sweetness by the best pipe the very Queen of the Dutch herself ever smoked; and that"?he was In the habit of adding?"must be, as I take it, about the tenderest thing * for a whiff that the Dutchman know- t ed how to make." s A flint and steel?part also or nis x gear?now served to Ignite his tobac- e co, and he had been, for some time t past, sedately scanning the length and s breadth of his own fancies, which i were, doubtless rendered the more sub- 1 lime by the mistiness which a rich r volume of smoke had shed across his c vision and Infused Into the atmos- s phere around his brain. "Twelve shillings and nine pence," ? were the first words which became J audible to Butler In the depth of his v reverie. "Thai, major." said the ser- 1 geant, who had been rummaging his I; pocket, and counting over a handful t of coin, "Is exactly the amount I have s spent since this time last night. I paid 1 It to the old lady of the Swan at s Charlottesville, taking a sixpence for s mending your bridle rein. Since you 1 must make me paymaster for our c march, I am obliged to square accounts every night. My noddle won't t hold two days' reckoning. It gets t csrlmped and flustered with so many \ numberings, that I lose the count t clean out." "It Is of little consequence. Gal- t bralth." replied Butler, seeking to t avoid his companion's Interruption. I "Squaring up. and smoothing off, ? and bringing out this and that shlll- s Ing straight to a penny, don't come s natural to me," continued Robinson, r - 1 too intent upon nis recKoning iu ww- ? serve the disinclination of Butler to v a parley, "money matters are not in my line. I take to them as dlsunderstandlngly as Gill Bentley did to the c company's books, when they made i him orderly on the Waccamaw picket. For (Jill, In the first place, couldn't 1 write, and, In the next place, if he e could' a done that he never larnt to 1 read, so you may suppose what a j beautiful puzzletlflcatlon he had to r keep the guard roster straight." t "Sergeant, look if yonder boat is 1 loose; I shall want it presently," said t Butler, still giving no ear to his com- I rade's gossip. j "It is tied by an easy knot to the ( root of the tree," said Robinson, as he returned from the examination. f "Thank you." added Butler, with ? more than usual abstractedness. t "Something, major, seems to press r upon your spirits tonight," said the f sergeant, in the kindest tones of Inquiry. "If I could lend a hand to put ( anything, that mought happen to f have got crooked, into its right place j again, you know, Major Butler, I .? wouldn't be slow to do it, when you 1 say the word." ( "I would trust my life to you. Gal- t braith, sooner than to any man IIv- 1 ing," replied the other, with an affec- r 4 ' 1 mlutfl lfP \ donate fiiipimsin, uui ^<>u me, I am not heavy at heart, though a i little anxious, sergeant, at what has | brought me here, comrade," he added < as he approached the sergeant, upon whose broad shoulder he familiarly 1 laid his hand with a smile; "you will 1 keep a fellow-soldier's counsel?" I "As I keep my heart In my body," I interrupted Galbralth. "I am sure of It; even as you keep \ your faith to your country my true | and worthy brother." added Butler j with animation, "and that Is with no \ less honesty than a good man serves his God. Then, Galbralth. bear It In | mind, I have come here for the sake 1 of a short meeting with one that I ' love, as you would have a good soldier love the lady of his soul, you will i hereafter speak of nothing that may i fall within vour notice. It concerns 1 me deeply that this meeting should be I < secret." 11 mujwr, i win nuve iicimcr cjrca m/i jars, If it concarns you to keep anything that mought chance to come to rry knowledge, private." "It is not for myself, sergeant. I bejpeak this caution; I have nothing to conceal from you; but there Is a lady who is much Interested in our circumspection. I have given you a long ind solitary ride on her account, and nay hereafter ask other service from pou. You shall not find it more irksome, Galbratth, to stand by a comrade in love, than you have ever found t in war, and that, I know, you think not much." "The war comes naturally enough to my hand," replied Galbralth, "but is for the love part, major, excepting jo far as carrying a message, or, In :ase of a runaway, keeping off a gang >f pestiferous lntermeddlers, or watchng, for a night or so, under a tree, or inything, Indeed, in the riding and *unn!ng, or watching, or scrimmaging Ine?I say, excepting these, my sarrtce moughtn't turn to much account. [ can't even play a fiddle at a wedUng, and I've not the best tongue for naklng headway amongst the women, rlowsome dever, major, you may set ne down for a volunteer on the first 'orlorn hope you may have occasion or." i "Mr. Lindsay lives on the hill across he river. There are reasons why I :annot go to his house; and his laughter, Galbralth, Is an especial 'rlend to us and to our causes." "I begin to see Into It," Interrupted ha sergeant, laughing, "you have a lotion of showing the old gentleman he same trick you played off upon -?ord Howe's provost marshal, when rou was lieutenant at Valley Forge, otichlng your stealing away his prls >ner. Captain Roberts. That wai ?. light affair, too. Well, the best wife i man can have, major. Is the women hat takes to him through fire and vater. There was Colonel Gardiner, < hat stole his wife just In that way. igalnst all opposition of both father i ind mother, and a better woman lever stitched up a seam, to my cnowledge and belief." "I have no thought of such an enerprise, sergeant," said Butler; "our rnrpose, for the present, must be conIned to a short visit. We are houseess adventurers, Galbraith, and have tttle to offer to sweetheart or wife hat might please a woman's fancy." "When a woman loves a man, es?ecially a sodger," replied the servant, "she sets as little store by house ind home as the best of us. Still, It s a wise thing to give the creatures he chance of peace before you get to angling them with families. Hark. I ?ear something like footsteps on t'othir side of the river! Mister Henry nust be on the march." After an Interval, a low whistle Istued from the opposite bank, and, in i moment, Butler was in the skiff, >ushing his way through the sparking waters. As the small boat, in which he (food upright, shot from the bright boonilght into the shade of the oppolite side, he could obscurely discern dlldred Lindsay leaning oh her brother's arm, as they both stood under the hick foliage of a large beech. And icarcely had the bow struck upon the jebbly margin, before he bounded rom it up the bank, and was. In the lext inaia.ru, iuuacu m mc cuiu,bv? >f one whose affection he valued ibove all earthly possessions. When that short Interval had passed away. In which neither Mildred nor Arthur could utter speech; during vhlle the lady leant her head upon ler love's bosom. In that fond famllarlty which plighted faith Is allowed o Justify In the most modest maiden, obblng the while In the Intensity of ler emotions, she then, at last, as she lowly regained her self-possession, aid, in a soft and melancholy voice, n which there was nevertheless a tone i >f playfulness? "I am a foolish girl, Arthur. I can mast like a blustering coward, when here Is nothing to fear; and yet I veep like a true woman, at the first rial of my courage." "Ah, my dear Mildred, you are a >rave girl," replied Butler, as he held >oth of her hands and looked fondly | nto her face, "and a true and a tried rirl. You have come kindly to me, ind ever, like a blessed and gentle ipirlt of good, are prompt to attend ne through every mischance. It Is a ong and weary time, love, since last ve met." I "It is very, very long, Arthur." "And we are still as far off, MllIred, from our wishes as at first we vere." "Even so." said Mildred sorrowfuly. "A year of pain drags heavily by, md brings no hope. Oh, Arthur, what lave I suffered in the thought that 'our life Is so beset with dangers! I nuse upon them with a childish fear. hat was noi so Deiore uur inching. They rise to disturb my dally ancles, and night finds them Inhabltng my pillow. I was so thankful, that 'ou escaped that dreary siege of Charleston!" "Many a good and gallant fellow loldler there bit his lip with a chafed md peevish temper," said Butler; "but | he day will come, Mildred, when we nay yet carry a prouder head to the leld of our country's honor." "And your share," Interrupted MUIred, "will ever be to march In the ront rank. In spite of all your perils last, your hard service, which has ihown no holiday, your fatigues, that have sometimes feared would break lown your health, and In spite too, of ( he claims, Arthur, that your poor dlldred has upon you, you are even , low again bound upon some bold adventure, that must separate us, ah. perhaps, forever! Our fate has malce In It. Ever beginning some fresh exploit!" "You would not have your soldier >ear himself otherwise than as a true tnlght, who would win and wear his ady-love by good set blows when here was need for them?" "If I were the genius that conjured jp this war. I would give my own :rue knight a breathing space. He - j ?1 Honno hpfw'POn Jnouia pipe auu UU..W. .vhlles," replied Mildred sportively. "He that puts his sickle Into this leld amonst the reapers," replied Buter with a thoughtful earnestness, 'should not look back upon his work." "No, no, though my heart break tvhlle I say it?for. in truth, I am very melancholy, notwithstanding I force a beggar's smile upon my cheek; no, I ivould not have you stay or stand, Ar:hur, until you have seen this wretch cu vjuai ili at ail cnu. *. laiovu /"ui first resolve?loved you for It?ap- i plauded and cheered you; I will not selfishly now, for the sake of my weak, womanish apprehension, say one word i to withhold your arm." i "And you are still," said Butler, 1 "that same resolute enthusiast that I 1 found in the young and eloquent beauty who captivated my worthless heart, 1 when the war first drew the wild spirits of the country together under our free banner?" ' "The same foolish, conceited, heady, i prattling truant, Arthur, that first 1 IUUK tt Dlliy lifting iu jruui yuuipvuo strut, and made a hero to her Imagination out of a boasting ensign?the same In all my follies, and in all m.v faults?only altered In one quality." "And pray, what Is that one quality?" "I will not tell you," said Mildred ; carelessly. " 'Twould make you ; vainer than you are." "It is not well to hide a kind thought from me, Mildred." "Indeed It Is not, Arthur. And so I will 'muster courage to speak It," said the confiding girl with vivacity, < after a short pause during which she hung fondly upon her lover's arm; i and then suddenly changing her mood, she proceeded In a tone of deep and i serious enthusiasm, "It Is, that since : that short, eventful and most solemn meeting, I have loved you, Arthur, j with feelings that I did not know un- ( til then were mine. My busy fancy 1 has followed you In all your wander- ' lngs?painted with stronger hues than ! nature gives to any real scene the dlf- I Acuities and disasters that might cross i your path?noted the seasons with a i nervous acuteness of remark, from ; very falnt-heartedness at the thought i that they might blight your health or i bring you some discomfort. I have 1 poured over the accounts of battles, the march of armies, the tales of prls- < oners relating the secrets of their prls- 1 ons; studied the plans of generals and i statesmen, as the newspapers or com- < mon rumor brought them to my t knowledge, with an Interest that has made those around me say I was sad- < ly changed. It was all because I had grown cowardly and feared even my < own shadow. Oh, Arthur, I am not j Indeed what I was." I The solemnity, force and feeling i with which Mildred gave utterance to ; these words, strangely contrasted with 1 the light and gay tone in which she i had commenced; but her thoughts < had now fallen Into a current that | bore her forward Into one of those i bursts of excited emotion, which were ] characteristic of her temper, and i which threw a peculiar energy and el- < oquence into her manner. Butler, ] struck by the rising warmth of her i enunciation, and swayed in part by i the painful reflections to which her topic gave rise, replied, in a state of < feeling scarcely less solemn than her < own? < "Ah, AUldred," and as he spoke, he i parted htr hair upon hpr pale forehead and kissed It, "dearest girl, the unknown time to come has na cup of i suffering for me that I would not hold I a cheap purchase for one moment like this. Even a year of painful absence i past, and a still more solicitous one to i come, may be gallantly and cheerfully i borne when blessed with the fleeting interval of this night. To hear your i faith, which though I never dwelt upon it but with a confidence that I have held it most profane to doubt, still, to hear it avowed from your own ; lips, now again and again, repeating i what you have often breathed before, and in letter after letter, written down, I it falls upon my heart, Mildred, like some good gift from heaven, specially j sent to revive and quicken my resolu- i tion in all the tolls and labors that yet ] await me. There must be good in store for such a heart as thine! and, : trusting to this faith, I will look to i the future with a bouyant temper." l "The future," said Mildred, as she i lifted her eyes to the pale moon that now sheeted with its light her whole ' figure, as she and her lover strayed ] beyond the shade of the beech. "I al? AAa? Tfhon T Hoar that word. IIIUPl 311 UUUC1 n uvti M. We live but In the present; that. Arthur Is. at least, our own. poor as we ire In almost all beside. That future Is a perpiexed and tangled riddle?a dreadful uncertainty, In the contemplation of which I grow superstitious. | Such 111 opiens are about us! My father's Inexorable will, so headstrong, so unconscious of the pain It gives me; his rooted, yes, his fatal aversion to ' you; my thraldom here, where, like a 1 poor bird checked by a cord, I chafe myself by fluttering on the verge of ( my prison bounds; and then, the aw- ' ful perils that continually Impend over 1 your head?all these are more than ' weak Imaginings; they are the realities of my daily life, and give me. what ' I am almost ashamed to confess, a sad 3 and boding spirit." ' "Xay, nay, dearest Mildred! Away 1 with all these unreasonable reckon- ' Ings!" replied Butler, with a manner that too plainly betrayed the coun- 1 terfelt of mirth. "Seclusion has dealt > unworthily with you. It has almost t turned thee Into a downright sentl- 1 mental woman. I will have none of ' this stepping to the verge of melan- ! choly. You were accustomed to cheer 1 me with sunny and warm counsel; 1 3 ? ? It u'oq vnur- J unci ynu inum uui ivinvk % ^ self who taught me to strike aside the waves of fortune with a glad temper. ? The fates can have no spite against i one so good as thou art! Time may ? bear us along like a rough trotting ' horse: and our journey may have Its I iark night its quagmires, and its < Jack-'lantbrns, but there will come a ruddy morning at last?a smoother 1 road, and an easier gait; and thou, my t girl, shalt again Instruct me how to j win a triumph over the ills of life." 1 "And we will be happy, Arthur, be- f cause all around us will be so," added < Mildred, catching the current of But- 1 ler's thoughts, with that ready versa- I tlllty which eminently showed the ear- 1 nestness and devotion of her feelings: 1 "Ah, may heaven grant this boon, and l bring these dreams to life! I think, 4 Arthur, I should be happier now, if I 1 could but be near you in your wan- i derings. Gladly would I follow you < throueh all the dangers of the war." "That were indeed, love, a trial past 1 your faculty to endure. No, no, Mil- 1 dred, she who would be a soldier's f wife, should learn the soldier's phllos- t ophy?to look with a resigned sub- I mission on the present events, and i trust to heaven for the future. Your 1 share In this struggle is to commune I with your own heart in solitude, and i teach it patience. Right nobly have I den! The sacrifice that you have made?its ever present and unmitigated weight, silently and sleeplessly inflicting its slow pains upon your free and generous spirit; that Mildred, ii the chief and most galling of my cares." "This weary war, this weary war," breathed Mildred, in a pensive under key, "when will It be done!" 'The longest troubles have their end, replied Butler, "and men, at last, spent with the vexations of their awn mischief fly, by a selfish instinct, Into the bosom of peace. God will prosper our enterprise, and bring our battered ship into a fortunate haven." "How little like It seems It now!" returned Mildred. "The general sorrow, alone, might well weigh down the stoutest heart. That cause which you have made mine, Arthur, to which you have bestowed your life, and which, for your sake," she added proudly, "should have this feeble arm of mine, could It avail, Is It not even now trembling on the verge of ruin? Have not your letters, one after another told me of the sad train in which misfortunes have thickened upon the whole people? of defeat, both north and south, and, at this very time, of disgraceful mutiny of whole regiments under the very eye of Washington?that Washington who loves his country and her soldiers as i husband loves his bride, and a father (lis children. Have not those, to whom we all looked for champions, turned Into mere laggards In the war for freedom? Oh, Arthur, do you not remember that these are the thoughts, the very words, which were penned by your own hand, for my especial meditation? How can I but fear that the Brooi ?"* \ is still far off? How can I but f'-ul so'cr weight upon my heart?" "You have grown overwlse, Mildred. in these ruminations. I am to blanu for this, that in my peevish humor, vexed with the crosses of the day, I should have written on such opics to one so sensitive as yourself." "Still it is true, Arthur, all report confirms It." "These things do not become your entertainment, Mildred. Leave the 1 public care to us. There are bold hearts, love, and strong arms yet to spare for this quarrel. We have not ret so exhausted our mines of strength but that much rough ore still lies unturned to the sun, and many an uncouth lump of metal remains to be 'ashioned for serviceable use. History tells of many a rebound from despondency, so sudden and unreckoned, that the wisest men could see in it no other spring than the decree of Ood. He will fight the battle of the weak, and set the right upon a sure foundation." "The country rings," said Mildred, again taking the more cheerful huo of her lover's hopes, and following out with an affectionate sympathy, his tone of thought, "with anticipation of victory from Gates's southern march." "That may turn out to be a broken reed," interrupted Butler, as If thinking aloud, and struck by Mildred's reference to a subject that had already engrossed his thoughts; "they may be deceived. Washington would have put a different man upon that service. I would have a leader in such a war, tvary, watchful, humble?diffident as well as brave. I fear Gates Is not so." "Then, I trust, Aruthur," exclaimed Mildred, with anxious alacrity, "that your present expedition does not connect you with his fortunes!" "I neither follow his colors nor partake of his counsels," replied Butler. "Still my motions may not be exempt from the Influence of his failure or success. The enemy, you are aware, has possessed himself of every post of value in South Carolina and Georgia. I go commissioned to advise with discreet and prudent men upon the means to shake off this odious domination. So far only, and remotely, too, I am a fellow-laborer with Gates. There are gallant spirits now afoot, Mildred, to strip these masters of their power. My office Is to aid their enterprise." TO BK OONTINUSD. TEN MILLION BALES OR LESS. Frank B. Hayne Says Cotton Is Short and Citos Fig jres. Speaking of the cotton situation Frank B. Hayne, who is considered an luthority says: The census glnner's report of 9,282,)00 bales ginned to December 13, most certainly should have established the Tact that the growth of 1905-06 Is less :hnn 10,000,000. On the 13th of December last 11,>71,000 bales had been ginned for the fear, about 2,700,000 bales more than :he same date this season. After the 13th of December last year 1,700,000 sales were ginned. Everyone living in the south never nind In what cotton growing state, nust certainly realize the fact that :here can hardly be more than 40 per ;ent of cotton remaining to be ginned 1 J In at :his season, as compareu w>u> mo. jeason. Many conservative and wellposted people do not believe, that 6 per cent of the crop remains to be finned. Secretary Wilson, in an Interview 1 i month ago, stated that over 1,000,- 1 )00 bales matured after the bureau's ' ?8timate of December 4 last year. 1 This year. In the entire cotton belt, 1 probably not 100,000 bales has matur- ' ?d since December 1st. Last year cotton was being picked ' :i many parts of the country in April 1 ind May and ginning continued until 1 \ugust, so It Is quite possible that 1 lot more than 500,000 bales should be ' idded to the census figures and most ;ertalnly not more than 700.000 bales. 1 fear before last (1903) only 7,526,000 pales had been ginned to December 13 put in that year, on the 1st of Septem- : per, 1904, 375,000 bales had been ginled. On the 1st of September, 19C5, ' 177,000 bales had been ginned. On the 1st of October 1905, over 900,000 bales nore than had been ginned on the 1st pf October, 1903. The crop of 1903-04 was so excep:lonally late that September cotton in N'ew York was cornered, and the 1 thorts that month were forced to settle it 13 cents, with October cotton selln?r np&riv 4 cents a pound lower. This proves conclusively how exceptionally ate that crop was and accounts for the fact that 700,000 bales more have been ?inned this year to December 13 over the same date in 1903. zmpcciiaBou? gtwiuujj. A CIVIL WAR 8TORY. The Confederate Yankee Who Became the Benefactor of Union Soldiers. "I was up in the nothern part of Maine the other day and heard k storv which wan a little out of the ordinary line of civil war stories I have read about," said a New York drummer whose territory ! In New England. "I noticed a funeral In the town, the turnout of which Indicated that the deceased must have been a prominent man In his lifetime. "A citizen said In answer to my Inquiry that the man had retired from business several years before his death. The cltisen added: *Hls funeral Is much larger than It would have been some years ago.' "I then heard the story. "When Lincoln called for troops there were few men In the state of Maine who opposed coercion of the south. This man was an exception. "Although a New Englander from a colonial family whose history goes back to the colonial wars, this man was, at the call of troops, what was known in the north as a copperhead. He was an officer In the militia at the time of Lincoln's election. Every man In his command except him volunteered in answer to Lincoln's proclamation. "He not only refused to go out, but he boldly contended that It was an outrage to oppose the secession of the southern states. He was ostracized socially and commercially. His business dwindled away. "During the second year of the L/v Tim uc ion HID uuiiiiuuiuiy. nuuuu; seemed to care where he went. "Two years later he returned. He was a physical wreck* The feeling , in the community was not quite ao bitter as In the beginning of the war. However, the man was not cordially received. "He had not been back long when it was heard he had been in the Confederate army and was discharged on account of his Inability to do duty. This information did not tend to increase his popularity. "He came into possession of considerable money after his return. Meanwhile some of the shattered remnants of the Maine companies began to drift home. Most of them were broken in health and some were penniless. "This man began contributing to the relief of the needy. A majority of the beneficiaries did not know the source of their help. "After the war was over It leaked out little by little, that the benefactor was the man who had been ostracised. To the credit of many he was again admitted to fellowship, and his business began to thrive. He became Independent MA few years later he was elected to ofllce on the Republican ticket The nomination name to him unsought, Up to that-time he had nerer affiliated with the party that elected him. "He served his term of office, but whenever there was a township or county election he voted the Democratic ticket This was understood to be his right It was never questioned. "Before he retired from business he was on one occasion visited by a man from the south who had been the colonel of the Confederate regiment of which he was a member, The ex-Confederate was down at the heel in every way. "No one knew what happened during his visit in Maine, but a few years ago it became known to !a few people in tne vicimiy mat tne Maine man helped his old commander to recoup his fortune. That man until 1101 was a successful broker and banker In his city, and> his silent partner for nearly Mtden years was the Maine Tankee who as a Democrat held a Republican office. "I have travelled all over the United States, and met all sorts of people but I have never heard a civil war story that was anything like this. My Informant Is at the head of a big Industry In Maine; he told me that only a few persons knew the facts as I have stated them." COTTON IN AFRICA. Dark Continent Makes 8ome Progress With the 8taple. During the last few years, says a correspondent, efforts have been made In different parts of tlM-world to grow cotton in competition with that grown in this country. The last report along this line is from South Africa where the effort has recently been made to grow the product successfully. Last year a small experimental plantation was established on a portion of land In the middle velL Four varieties were planted: Egyptian, Braxlllan, Sea Island, and Upland Big Boll. The seed of the latter were received there late, consequently the plants suffered in a severe hurricane that year, blossomed In the early winter, and consequently the test was not a fair one. Both the Egpytlan and Braxlllan varieties grew well. The average number of bolls per tree was 40, but in quality and size the Brazilian was the better of the two. Cotton seed was distributed generally throughout the country by the British Cotton Growers' association and the Transvaal agricultural lepartment. The year's growth in various parts of Switzerland proves that the climate and soil are congenial ana that the plant will do well in most parts of the country, and once che&p transportation is available there will be every encouragement for the establishment of a cotton plantation on a. commercial scale. Curious as it may seem, Qreat Britain sent to the United States last year cotton goods aggregating nearly $15 000,000. Its exports of cotton goods to all parts of the world went up to S403.919.500, including yarns worth 143,579,983. Of imports into Oreat Britain, cotton leads with $195,819,878, followed by exen and buls, 884,828.810, and bacon $30,216,148. In short, foods and the raw materials of commerce make up about three-fourths of all the commodities that go into Great Britain from the United States. Mary had a little waist Where waists were meant to grow. And everywnere tne rasmons wem Her waist was sure to go. ?New York Sun.