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The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, September 21, 1904, SUPPLEMENT TO THE MANNING TIMES, Image 6

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LEVI BROS.,
SUMTER, S. C.
0
We are giving more attention to the handling of Cotto
this season than ever before, which means that while w
bought more Cotton than any other firm on the market, it i
our puipose to buy a still greater quantity. This we car
not do unless we pay the price, and when you bring or shi
to us your Cotton, the VERY HIGHEST PRICE IS A'
SURED.
Our General
Mercantile Departmeni
has been thoroughly looked after and we invite an inspe(
tion of our Dry Goods, Fancy Goods, Shoe and Clothin
Stocks. Our buyer has devoted much of his experience thi
season in looking after the Dress Goods selections, and w
can assure our Lady friends that we are enabled to pleas
them. not only in styles, but prices. Our General Dry Good
Stock was never more complete and better bought-" 'GOOD|
WELL BOUGHT ARE HALF SOLD.
Shoes! Shoes!
There is no need wearing out shoe leather running about fc
footwear, when we have, direct from the factories, Shoe
of the best make, and which we can sell with a guarantei
Then, we carry as nice a line of Gents' Youths' and Boy
Clothing as you will be able to see in any other city. Thi
Department was selected %:ith a view to style, fit and dure
bility.
OUR GROCERY DEPARTMENT
Cannot be excelled anywhere, and our prices defy compet
tion. We have always enjoyed a tine Clarendon patronag
for which we are grateful, and we shall strive to continu
to merit the patronage and confidence you give us-com
to see us,
Yours, &c,
LEVI BROTHERS,
SUMTER, S. C
THE FALL OF 194
Is full of promise for Sumter rnerchants. The indicc
tions are that
Our Farming Friends
Upon whom we are so largely dependent, will make
good crop of cotton, and if anything like the preset
prices are maintained, they can look forward to
A Happy Christmas.
Already they have harvested good grain cropi
and we cannot conceive of any greater happiness tha
to feel that they are not dependent upon the West fc
their bread, and the surplus from their cotton crop ca
be used in improving their homes, which means
Happiness to their Familiec
It is useless to say that we have made unusual pr(
parations for the season's business, and with a contint
ance of the patronage heretofore so liberally bestowe
upon us, which we solicit most earnestly, there will b
no disappointment on our part.
Enlarge and Improve
Has always been our policy, and a glance through ou
stores and warehouses is a convincing proof that the
are stocked as never before, and probably as no othe
mercantile house has ever been stocked in Sumter. W
are frequently asked, why do you buy such a large stocli
andour reply is that in buying quantities
WE SAVE MONEY FOR OUR PATRONS
And another reason is we have the friends to buy then
There is no town in the State in which there is
better class of merchants or more active competition tha:
in Sumter, and while this house is credited with doing
The Largest Business
It is culy by the strictest care in buying, and the closes
margin of profit in selling, that we can maintain ou
supremacy. It matters not what baits or inducement
our competitors may offer we will take care of our friends
let the cost be what it may
The present state of the weather does not justif
us in entering into a detailed description of our Winte
Fabrics, but this will be taken up later.
O'DONN E LL & CO.
The
Substii
Copyright. 1903. by I
CHAPTER 1.
9 HE evidence was all in. The
sp(.elees had been made on
both sides of the case, and the
attorney for the state had
grown severe and eloquent in urging
conviezion. The jury luud remained in
retirement all the morning and at last
had filed in and rendered their ver
dict. David Buckley. the prisoner at
the bar. was found guilty of having
deliberately and in the' night s:olen a
bale of cotton from a nighboil; barn,
branded it as his own and taken it to
, market the next day.
, He was a sbort. thickset man near
The age of sixty-gray. stiff haired and
sullen fackil.';and J.'!.Et now mof4 -in
gry, it was tl:oaght. at certain neigh
bors who had testitied against him
than chagrined at the verdict of the
eourt. He glanced at his wife, who
S sat against the railing behind him, and
e then stared steadily at the floor till
e the sheriff came and led him back to
jail.
S Later in the afternoon he was
i brought back to receive his sentence.
The judge, a tall, powerful man, dark
of hair and eye and as brown as a
Spaniard, was about to order him to
stand up when Hiram Hillyer, a well
to do cotton and grain merchant of
the town, rose and begged permission
to speak to the judge in private before
the prisoner was sentenced.
"Well, I reckon we've got time, Mr.
r Hillyer," the judge said pleasantly.
"If it's anything in Buckley's favor I'd
M like to hear it. I've been on the bench
seven years, and I don't think I ever
had a man before me that was painted
as black by his neighbors."
S Making his way through the cluster
of lawyers and students of the law
around the stove to one of the vacant
jury rooms, the merchant waited for
the judge to join him, and when he
came Hillyer, nervously pulling at his
short, gray beard, faced him, an eager
look In. his mild blue eyes.
"I'm afeard it ain't nothin' in the
old man's favor, Judge Moore," he fal
tered. "The truth is, I'm a-thinkin'
about his son. Judge, ef thar ever
e was a finer, more honest an' upright
boy than George Buckley. I hain't nev
e er run across 'im."
e "Oh, you can't tell me anything about
George," said Judge Moore. "He and
I are friends. He voted for me and
legged for me in the Upper Tenth dis
trict. Ah, so he sent you to me, did
he? Well, what does George wanti
I was glad he wasn't in court to hear
all that stuff against his daddy."
"You see, we thought-me'n' George
both -thought that maybe you mought
-justice mought be carried out by Im
posin' a pretty heavy fine, an' "
"Old Buckley Isn't able to pay a
cent," broke In the judge. "I've made
inquiries, and if his little farm Is sold
it will leave his old wife without any
"means of making a support. No, the
Sjig's up with him."
"But George's been savin' money for
the last five years," said Hlllyer ant
i ously. "I've got It borrowed from 'im
at regular rates. I can lay my hands
on the money at a moment's notice.
Yes, he can raise a reasonable amount
Iall right."
Judge Moore frowned, thrust his
hands into the pockets of his trousers
and turned to a window which looked
.out on the courtyard, where a few
Idlers lay on the grass near the hitch
ing rack.
"I'm not going to be the medium
through which deserving innocent peo
ple suffer for the guilty," he said
firmly. "I've thought it all over. I
was afraid George might ask this, but
it's no go. I've made up my mind on
that score."
"Oh, judge, don't say that!" pleaded
Hillyer. "The boy simply can't bear
it. You see, Judge Moore, since I
tuck 'im an' sent 'Im off to school he's
been sorter away from his home, an'
the feller's got as much feelin' as any
body else. Then when he got through
college an' I give 'im a place In my
business he's stood with the best folks
In the town, an' it would go hard with
'im-to have his own daddy at the coal
1 mines."
"I know all that, Mr. Hillyer. I've
thought of it twenty times during this
trial. I hardly slept last night trying
to make up my mind what to do in
Scase the jury didn't recommend Buck
ley to mercy. Well, they came down
on 'im like a load of bricks, an' I'm not
-going to let George suffer for him.
-Why, the old rascal can't be cured of
his dishonesty. Didn't you hear what
Bradley said about his constantly steal
ing from his neighbors, many of .whom2
never made any charge against him out
of respect for Mrs. Buckley and George?
No, sir; his son, who is my friend, shall
not sacrifice his savings for him."
"Then I'll pay It, judge; you know
I am able."
"You shan't do -that, either," said the
judge firmly. "Even if I'd consent to
let as old a man as you be out of
pocket for such a hopeless reprobate,
George would find It out and insist on
repaying you in the long run. No; five
'years in the mines will do the old
scamp good, and I'm going to secure
his transportation."
"You think .that's final then, judge?"
Hillyer had turned quite pale, and the
quivering hand which had clutched his
-beard stayed itself in its downward
progress.
1i "Yes, that's final, Mr. Hillyer. I wish
I could help you, but I can't. I'll settle
Buckley's hash in about two minutes
after I give him a sound lecture. Right
now the old devil would cut the throats
of several of the state's witnesses If
he was at liberty."
"Then I'll go back to the store an
tell the boy," Hlllyer sighed as he
moved to the door, a dead look of dis
appointment in his eye.
As Hlllyer was making his way
through the courtroom to the outer
door the wife of the condemned man
reached out her hand and stopped him.
She had clutched the tail of his long
frock coat.
"I want to speak to you," she said.
"Go ahead. I'm goin' outside." He
led the way down the stairs to the yard
below and then paused to hear what
he had to say.
"I seed you invite the judge out," she
began. "I suspicioned you axed 'im
to make it a fine."
"Yes, that's what I called 'im out fer,
Mrs. Buckley," thie merchant said,
looking down commiserately on her fat
igure clothed in dingy black calico,
"but it wasn't a bit o' use. He's made
r WILL N. HARBEN,
Author of
"Abner Dan
iel." "T h e
Land of the
C h a n g i a g
CUSun." "The
e North Walk
Mystery." Etc.
IARPER 4 BROTHERS
uplhis mind to sena theold ~man oif
for five years."
The woman nodded slowly. "Well, I
reckon it's as good as we kin expect,"
she said. "Ef it bad been a fine, George
would 'a' had to pay it, an' I'm agin
that proposition. He's worked hard
to make his little start, an' it ain't
right fer 'im to have to give it up when
-Mr. Hillyer, I've heard that pore boy
beg an' beg his pa to change, an' ef
he's predicted this thing once he has
fifty times."
"I knew that, too," replied the mer
chant, with a dark frown. "But
George is jest so situated right now,
Mrs. Buckley, that he'd sacrifice all he
expects to make in the next ten years
to avoid the disgrace o' the sentence.
He holds his own with the biggest
folks in town, an' this is simply awfuL
You know how some o' these blue
blooded families look on a thing like
this."
"Jest about as sensible as they look
on most things," retorted Mrs. Buck
ley philosophically, "an' I don't see no
use in humorin' 'em. They may know
a man's a thief, but ef he hain't pub
licly branded they don't care. But.
David has broke the law; thar ain't no
change to be made in 'im, an' I'm agin
lettin' it hamper George, no matter
what these shallow minded aristocrats
think. What's botherin' me is another
thing."
"You say it is, Mrs. Buckley?" And
the merchant stared expectantly.
"Yes, Mr. Hillyer. George hain't got
but one weakness, an' that is, once in
a long while, when he is in despair,
he will take a drink to drown his trou
ble. I reckon he bain't tetched a drap
but once since he's been with you."
"An' that was the time they threat
ened to jail yore husband fer pennin'
up Wilson's hogs, an' we succeeded in
squashin' the charge."
"Yes, that was the time"--the old wo
man pushed back her gingham poke
bonnet and looked straight into Hill
yer's eyes-"an' I am anxious to find
out ef this thing, has made him"
I "Not yet, Mrs. Buckley." Hillyer's
voice bad fallen very low; it was al
most husky. "But I've been that afeard
it would start 'im off that I haln't been
able to sleep at night. He's in a' awful
state o' mind, Mrs. Buckley, an' when
I go back an' tell 'im the judge's de
cision I don't know what he'll do. A
fine piece o' metal will bend jest so
far an' then it'll break."
The old woman nodded again slowly
and then said: "Well, I'll go back in
side. Tbhis Is a new wrinkle on me.
It's considered right an' proper fer
folks to go to the grave with the'r kin,
an' I reckon thar ud be talk ef I shirk
ed hearin' the sentence, but tell George
I'll come down to the store after
awhile."
"All right. Mrs. Buckley. I'll tell
As Hillyer turned toward the gate
to reach the little street which stretch
ed out, lined with cottages and br''k
law offices, to the red brick freight ..e
pot at the far end, one of the loungers
on the grass rose and slouched toward
him.
"Have they sentenced Buckley yet?"
he asked. "I'm a witness on that barn
burnin' case, an' ef it ain't a-goin' to
be called tonight I'm a-goin' home."
"It's next on the docket," the mer
chant informed him.
The man had another questin ready.
"What's cotton bringin' today?" he
asked. "I've got a big white bale ready
fer the gin."
"Seven and three-eights," answered
Hillyer, and he walked on. On the
main thoroughfare of the town he had
to pass several brick stores where the
clerks and merchants stood amid the
heaps of their. wares on the narrow
Ibrick sidewalks, and many of them
Iasked about the Buckley trial. Hillyer
made short but considerate replies and
hastened past. On a corner of one of
the streets running back to a railroad
Isidetrack, in the rear, stood his ware
house. Here he found his negro porter
busy with rattling floor trucks loading
a box car with bags of grain. The of
flee was a commodious room cut off
n one of the corners of the big brick
buildng next to the street. It con
tained a long walnut counter full of
drawers, with shelves overhead for old
ledgers, commercial reports, dusty let
ter files and wired bunches of bills, re
ceipts and canceled bank checks.
George Buckley, a handsome, dark
eyed young man of twenty-seven or
eight, sat on a high stool writing in a
ponderous ledger. Turning his head
and seeing who it was, he removed his
heels from the rung of the stool and
turned round. There was a steady
stare in his eyes as he fixed them on
Hillyer's sympathetic, almost shrink
ng face.
"You did not succeed." he said, his
lips tightening.
"No; he'd already m'ade up his mind,
George," replied the merchant.
George Buckley turned suddenly and
bent over his ledger and took up his
pen, but he did not dip it in the ink
stand. Hillyer could not see his face,
but he noted that the hand holding the
pe was quivering. Suddenly Buckley
laid the pen down, and Hlllyer heard
something resembling a sob or a gasp
escape him, then the young man stood
down on the floor and reached for his
coat and pulled it on. Hie was deathly
pale, his eyes were flashing strangely.
"George, where are you going?" The
old man caught his arm, but Buck
ley wrenched It from his grasp.
"Let me alone, Mr. Ehllyer," said be.
"For God's sake, let me alone'"
"All right, George; I was Jest
about"- But his words fell dead on
the air, for Buckley had taken his bat,
pulled it on, and plunged out at the
door For a moment the merchant
stood like a man turned to stone, and
Ithen he hurried back over the rough
floor through the warehouse to the
negro, a tall, middle aged man.
I"Jake," he said excitedly, unable to
control his voice, "drop yore work an'
run after George. Don't let 'im see
you, but come back and tell me where
he goes."
"All right, Marse H~illyer," and, leav
ing his trucks, the negro hastened out
athsde door of the building and
s~edhupthe street. Hillyer went back
intthe office and sat down at his pri
vate desk. Once he lowered his head
to his crossed arms and it looked as
i he were praying. In a few minutes
Jake returned, swinging his slouch hat
in his hand.
"Well?" gasped Hillyer-"well?2"
tr Be. went u+ to de pntoien manrm
Hillyer, but he didn't put no kener-ir
nur wait to git any. It looked to m(
like he didn't know whar he was goin
ur what fer. Den he come on dcwn b3
Hillhouse's bar. He stopped dar an
looked in, den he come on slow like an
stopped ag'in. Den he turned an
walked back an' went in. I wen
round to de back end en watched. H(
was at de counter pourin' him out i
dram, Marse Hillyer."
"You say he was, Jake?" said th(
merchant. "Jake, in the mornin' '
want you to truck all that westeri
wheat over on the other side. It's to(
damp where it Is."
"All right, Marse Hillyer."
A moment after the negro had lef
the office George Buckley came in an(
resumed his seat at the counter. HM
opened the big ledger, dipped his pei
and began to write. Hillyer watche
him cautiously. His hand seeme
steady enough, but his cheeks wer
r
P1
"He's in a' aufut scate o' mind, Mrs
BucdcYl."
flushed and his hair dishevelled ove
his brow. Just then Mrs. Buckley cami
into the office. She took off her hon
net, showing smooth, gray hair and
a deeply wrinkled brow and cheeks
and stood for a moment behind her sot
Hillyer fancied that their conversatloi
might be of a private nature, and, tak
Ing up a grain sampler, he left thi
room. The sound of his heavy boot
drew George Buckley's attention, ani
looking round he saw his mother. He
sympathetic eyes fell beneath his wil<
glare. -
"I reckon Mr. Hillyer's already tok
you," she began.
"Yes, he's told me."
"Well, thar ain't but one thing fe
sensible folks to do," faltered the wom
an, "an' that's to make the best of I
an' go on tryin' to do our own duty."
"Yes," he nodded vacantly, "youar
right, mother. Are you going 'home
tonight?"
"No. I 'lowed It ud look more re
spectful to stay till they tuck 'In off lb
the mornin'. The sheriff's wife axe<
me to spend the night with her in th<
jail house, so I could be nigh 'im."
George Buckley shuddered visibly
but he said nothing. It gave Mrs
Buckley the opportunity she was look
ug for.
"George, I reckon bein' young as yo1
are an'--an' mixi' with folks here i
Darley that hain't never been in see]
a mess, It goes harder with you than i
does with me, away out thar in thi
mountains, but [ wish you wouldn'
take it so hard. You eayn't help yori
pa's doin's. No, you cayn't, an' n<
right minded folks ain't a-goin' to blamE
you. As fer me"-she paused an in
stant as she began to roll her sunbon
net n her fat, red hands-"why, m3
boy, I feel, jest like a awful load wa!
tuck off'n me. I cayn't help It. It mal
not be human-I don't know-but
feel est that a-way. You think yorE
cross is hard to bear, but fer fiftees
year I've hardly slept a sound night'!
sleep, expectin' an' expectin' the offi
pers o' the law to ride up an' hello a
the fence. An' keepin' his secrets
law, that's the wust-of it, fer he wouk
tell me every blessed bit o' devilmen
he ever was in. It all began away
back fifteen year ago, when he fell of
his wagon an' struck his head agin
rock. He never got over that; it madE
'im as ill as a snake an' mad at ever'
body, even his best friends. George
I want to, tell you how 'he did oncE
when"
"Don't, don't, don't'" the young mai
ried. I know enough. I don't wan
you ever to speak to me of his crimes.'
"Well, I won't, then," promised the
woman. "I reckon I've heard so mued
of his doin's that it don't horrify mi
as much as it would you. Well, I'l
go on back. I'mi goin' to Webber 6
Land's an' 1l1y him a change o' under
clothes an' some socks."
When she had reached the big en
trance of the warehouse she saw Hill
yer In the center of the building, walk
lg back and forth, his gray head hang
ing low, as If in troubled meditation
Turning as if from a sudden impulse
she went and joined him. The tw<
faced each ther.
"I smelt liquor on 'Im," she saih
tersely. "I stood nigh to 'im; he's hac
'im a dram, Mr. Hillyer."
"Yes, he's had a drink or two, Mrs
Buckley."
"Whar'd lhe git his whisky?"
"Jake followed 'ima an' seed 'im a
Hillhouse's bar. I hain't said a word
about it. It don't do one bit 0' gooc
to preach to a man all upset in mind
an' half full at that.".
"No, yo're plumb right, an' noboda
kin drive George. i'm powerfulll
afraid this !<goin' to be his downwart
start, Mr. Hillyer."
"Don't say that!" The words werE
spoken almost in a groan, and thE
mechant's sympathetic lace seemec
wrung with inward pain. "Don't sa3
that," lhe repeated, under his breath
"We mustn't lose hope-we mustn't d<
The old woman siared at the workini
face for a moment in silence; then shE
asked abruptly. "Mr. Iiillyer, who if
that family o' Cranstons that's comt
here from Virginia?
"Oh. you'v'e heard o' them?" salt
ilyer taking a breath. "Majoa
Cranston's a member of a fine olt
family, a regular F. F. 'V.; he own!
six or seven farms in this county an
has ai lot o' investments all over thE
country. He' moved here about sL2
months ago beena'se the climate agree!
with 'im, an' he hain't very strong
George got acquainted with his daugh
ter, a pretty, likely gal, but as prouc
as a queen. an' they've been gooc
friends ever since. She's well educated
an' so's he, an' they get along power
ful well together. Have you ever seet
'er, Mrs. Buckley?"
"Yes, once." answered the woman
"an' I never shall forget It, fer it show
ed me plainer what a fine charactem
George has than anything he cee
done. Thar's a lot o' meddlin' folk!
out at he oen Mr. h11er. an' thE
repor-c got out at smee reuroe go
i his schoolin' an' you tuck 'im in with
you that he was ashamed o' me. They
kept this talk up, an' when he got to
goin' here an' yan with Lydia Cran
ston it got wuss, an' some of 'emlow
ed that the girl didn't know-whasort
o' scrub kin George had. This.got-to
George somehow, an' one day-when I
was at Grove Level camp,ground-witit
some o' my neighbors, George-fetched
'er out along with some othercouples
of town folks. An' whenhe-seeme
a-settin' in front o' Mrs.jkellows''tent
with some more women he-fetchedithe
gal right up to me. He was sorter
pale an' excited, but he retchedidown
an' tuck my hand an' lifted me up,
an' says be. 'Miss Cranston, I want
you to mal.e the acquaintance o' my
mother'-no that wasn't it exactly.
This was it, 'Miss Cranston, I want you
to meet my mother,' an' me 'n' her
shook hands. It was awful, Mr-,Hill
yer. I've got a little more sense 'In a
jay bird, an' I seed through It. I seed,
moreover, that while she was a perfect
lady, she was sorter set back. She-got
red in the face an' was all flustered in
what she said, but he stopped that talk
out our way an' showed what hewas.
"Yes, he's all right, Mrs. Buckley.
The old man swallowed.
"Maybe," ventured the old woman
tentatively, "niaybe he's in love wlith
that gal, Mr. Hillyer, an' knows she
hain't the sort-that her folks hain't
the sort-to overlook a-a"
"That's just it, Mrs. Buckley," said
the merchant with firmness, "an' that
accounts for his misery an' the whis
ky. This thing has hit 'Im away be
low the belt. Thar's no two ways
about it. I'm dead afeard It's goin'
to undo all that's been done."
The old woman raised her eyes to- the
troubled face before her and stared
steadily. "Let's hope not," she said.
"Shorely the Lord will show us some
way to-to avoid that"
Hillyer dropped his eyes, and,,.turn
ing toward the door, the old woman
slowly shambled out.
CHAPTER II.
T was now about sundown, and
Hil' er started home. He pass
ed the postoffice, went into the
little building, looked absently
Into his lock boy, and then, taking .A
street that led past the town park
and several of the most pretentious
churches, be soon reached his house,
which was a two story brick building
with an old fashioned white veranda
and an L. The house, like many others
in the place, stood on a big lawn shad
ed by large oaks, magnolias and mul
berry trees. A wide walk bordered
with stunted rosebushes of some cheap
variety and covered with gravel
reached from the gate to the steps.
Along the side fence was a row of bee
hives, and frisking about in the yard
was a young calf.
Mrs. Hillyer was in the sitting room
with her niece, a rather plain girl of
thirty, Miss Hortense Snowden, whe
had been -living with the Hillyers sinc~e
the death of her parents, twelve months
before. They both rose at the sound
of the merchant's step in the wide, un
carpeted ball, and when he bad enter
ed they stood waiting for him to sit
down before resuming their seats at the
open fireplace, in which some dry hick
ory logs on old fashioned brass headed
dog irons were cheerfully ablaze, fur
nishing the chief light of the shaded
room..
"Well, anybody would know from
his looks how the case come out," said
Mrs. Hillyer as she sat down and
spread out her calico skirt. "An' ef It
had 'a' been dark I could 'a' read the
news in the way he put his feet dowi
in the ball." She was a short, cheerful
looking woman past fifty. Her eyes
were almost black, very keen, and they
flashed at all times with a merriment
that seemed as much a part of her a!
electricity is a part of an electric bat
tery. Her hair was abundant and red
dish brown and fell In intractable
waves over her brow and ears.
"Yes, it not only went clean agin the
old man, but Judge Moore p'lntedly re
fused to cut it down to a fine." Hill
ye's voice had a tone of deep de
jection as he said this, and he kept his
eyes on the fire.
"An' I kin see you mighty nigh had
a spasm over it," replied Mrs. Hillyer.
"Lawsy me, ef I never found anything
'to 'worry about till I worried over the
just punishment leveled on the head
' that old scamp I'd go to my grave
without a gray hair or a wrinkle.
That's the trouble with you an' George
both. You are not carryin' out the
Scriptural injunction not to kick agin
the pricks. I don't know exactly wha'
the good book says "bout It. I disre
member. In fact, I (Un't know that]I
ever run acrost it in print myself, but
you bet it's that. My father, who
eat "an' slep' with the Bible in his
'hand, used to always keep sayin', when
folks was continually a-complainlin',
'Don't kick agin the pricks.' An' he
was right. Ef you set down on a board
with a tack in it, the harder you set
the more tack you git, an' that's so
with lfe. It's full of tacks, an' don't
you forgit It The Lord put old Buck'
ley in jail to keep 'im in a bunch of his
kind, so the devil wouldn't root around
among good folks so much to keep up
with 'im, but- Oh, no! You ain't
a-goin' to put up with it, an' right now
yore face is sour enough lookin' to
spile cream in the middle 0' Decem'
ber."
"I was think'in' about George," said
Hillyr softly. "It's mighty nigh kill
in im."
"That's so, Aunt Martha," spoke up
Hortense Snowden. "It's awful on
him. Why, just think of it. The best
people In Darley receive him and like
him. Hie was rising rapidly, but a
thing like this, as proud and sensitive
as he is, will almost kill him."
"You kin laugh an' make sport as
much as you want to," said Hillyer,
more boldly, "an' you needn't kick agin
nothin' unless you want to, but it's jest
like Hortie says. He won't be able to
face the music. He's all right when
he ain't driv' too fur, but this has al
ready started 'im to drinkin' ag'in."
"Oh, uncle, you don't mean It!"
"Yes, it has," groaned the merchant,
1"an' the Lord only knows what it's go.
in' to end."
"Huh! I say, then, George Buckley
hai't the man I tuck 'im fer," retorted
Mrs. illyer. "I wish I could ketch
'Im takin' a dram on account o' this
thing. I'd give 'im a talk that ud make
'ti"
"Go git blind, soakin' drunk," inter
rupted H~illyer as he rose and went out
through the kitchen to the stables to
see if his favorite horse had been at
tended to. When he was gone, his
wife got up and punched the fire with
the poker.
"I reckon you think I'm hard heart
ed," she said to her silent niece, "but,
Horte, it's the only way to git on with~
'im. You don't know nothin'. I never
let yore folks know what i've been
through. I'd 'a' been crazy or dead
long ago ef the Lord hadn't showed-me
how to make lIght o' serious things.
Ive had a heap n' tiugh times, butI
rmeNTINEn N NEyT PE.]
The Manning Times
IS CLUBBING WITH THE
Weekly News and Courier
AND
Life and Letters,
A. Southern Magazine.
We will send THE TIMES and the Twice-+-Week News
and Courier for $2 per year;
Or we will send THE TImES and Life and Letters for $2;
Or both The News and Courier and Life and Letters with
TiE TImES for $2.50 per year.
This is an excellent opportunity for the reading public.
The News and Courier is- one of the best State newspa
pers in the country; it gives State, national and the news of
the world.
Lire and Letters is a monthly magazme puonsneat
Knoxville, Tenn., and has among its contributors some of tie
fluest literary talent of the Sonth. We regard THE Ti
fortunate in being able to club with it.
Subscribe Now
and secure this magnificent Southern magazine with THE
TniEs for $2 per year; or The Weekly News and Courier
with THE TIM~s for $2 per year; or all three, THE Tmo.s,
Weekly News and Courier and Life and Letters for $,.50 per
year.
Hardware.
The place to buy your goods is where you can SAVE A DIME.
Belting or Lace Leather,
Oils or Babbit Metal,
Valves or Injectors,
Oil Cups or Gauge Glasses,
Packing or Files,
- Wrenches or Steam Gauges?
If so come to see us and save money.
DICKSON HIRDWIRE COMPANY,
Levi Block.
PEOPLE'S WAREHOUSE
Manning, S. C.
We are now having good sales every day.
Our buyers are anxious for Tobacco and no pile is neglected.
We are here to see that your-Tobacco brings the
Highest Market Price.
If you want the worth of your Tobacco, sell at PEOPLE'S
WAREHOUSE.
Yours for business,
R. D. CLARK,
Manager.

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