IIONO
This heading means a great deal, for it is no easy task to per
wfect every department-of an establishmert like ours, to handle the
volume of trade that we have every reason to expect will be tein
dered to us this season. September so far has shown a very I ib
eral increase over the corresponding period of last year, and if
"Coming Events Cast
Their Shadows Before"
THIS PROMISES TO BE
OUR BANNER SEASON.
It is indeed gratifying to note the unusual increase in the vol
ume of our business, and to say that we appreciate the confidence
reposed in us, gives but a faint idea of our feelings. We regard
the interest of every person that does business with us as ours,
and will do everything in our power to protect them.
We cannot give away gold dollars for ninety cents, no reason
...able person expects that, and wherever you find a merchant offer
ing staple merchandise at less than cost, his object is to attract
you to his store with a view of selling you something the value of
which you are not familiar with, and make up his loss on the lead
ing article. as well as, a comfortable profit on the other items.
Nothing of that character will be tolerated in this store: we de
Asoise it. Our business is based upon a legitimate percentage of
profit. and that.figured on as close a basis as is consistent with in
telligent merchandising. It is true, we sometimes sell goods at
and below cost. but that only occurs at the end of a season, or
when we Ave erred in buying something that did not prove to be
s good a seller as we expected, or bought too freely of certain
lines, then we make our loss as quickly as possible, for experience
has taught us that the first loss is always the lightest. Our ambi
.ton ought to be satisfied for we are said, by those vho are in a
position to know. to be
The Largest Retail
Dealers in. the State.
And while we might be satisfied to remain just in the position we
are, that would be practically impossible, we must go backward or
forward, and our mercantile pride will not permit of a backward
step, and each year will find us in the front rank, seeking new
fields, new customers, and keeping fully in touch with the spirit
nd progress of the city in which we take such pride.
I
sill
. I
17E
Un IV
-' * CHARLES CI
Cop yright. 1900. by
CHAPTER XII.
HAVE directed our livery
man to send over his best
nag and a cutter this morn
ing," said Albert at break
fast the next day to his friend. "and
you and Alice can take a sleigbride
and see Sandgate snowelad. I have
some business matters to attend to."
It was a delightful day for a sleigh
ride, for every bush and tree was cov
ered with a white fleece of snow, and
the morning sun added a tiny sparkle
to every crystal. A thicket of spruce
was changed to a grove of towering
white cones and an alder swamp to a
fantatstic fairyland. It was all new to
Frank, and as he drove away with
that bright and vivacious girl for a
companion it is needless to say he
enjoyed it to the utmost.
"I had no idea your town was so
hemmed in by mountains," he said
after they started and he had a chance
to look around. "Why, you are com
pletely shut in, and such grand ones
too! They are more beautiful than
the White mountains and more grace
ful in shape."
"They are all of that," answered
Alice, "and yet at times they make me
feel as if I was shut in, away from all
the world. We who see them every
day forget their beauty and only feel
their desolation, for a great tree-clad
mountain is desolate in winter, I
think. At least it Is apt to reflect one's
mood. I suppose you have traveled a
great deal, Mr. Nason?"
"Not nearly as much as I ought to,"
he answered. "for the reason that I
can't find 'any one I like to go with me.
My mother and sisters go away to
some watering place every summer
and stay there, and father sticks to
business. I either dawdle around
where the folks are summers or stay
in town and hate myself, if I can't find
some one to go off on my yacht with
me. The fact is, Miss Page," he added
mournfully, "I have hard work to kill
time. I can get a little party to run
to Newport or Bar Harbor in the sum
mer, and that is all. I should like to
go to Florida or: the West Indies in the
winter, or to Labrador or Greenland
summers, but I can't find company."
Alice was silent for a moment, for
the picture of a young man complain
ing because he had nothing to do but
spend his time and money was new to
her.
"You are to be pitied," she said at
last, with a tinge of sarcasm, "but still
there are just a few who would envy
you."
He made no reply, for he did not
quite understand whether she meant to
be sarcastic or not They rode along
in silence for a time, and then Alice
pointed to a small square brown build
ing just ahead, almost hid in bushes,
and said:
"Do you see that magnificent strue
tore we are coming to, andfdo-youo no
tice its grand columns and lofty dome?
If you had been a country boy you
would recollect seeing'a picture of 'tdIn
the spelling book. Take a good -look
at it, for that is the-temple of knowl
edge, and it is there I teach schooll"
Frank was silent, for this time the
sarcastic tone in her voice was mores
pronounced. When they reached It he
stopped and said quietly:'"Ptease hold
the reins. I want toA look into the
room where you spend your-days."
He took a good long -look, and when
he returned he said: "So that is what
you call.a teznple, is-it? Andait was in
there the.litte.girl wanted to kiss you
because youo-lookedhappy" And then
as they drove on h~e added, "Do you
know, I've-thoughtsof'thatspretty little
touch of-feegln a.dzeotmensinaeyou
told aboutit, and when I go home!I
shall sendia box of candy to you and
ask you- to do-me-the favor-ofegving it
to thtttega."
It was not what she expected he
would say, and it rather pleased her.
When they were nearly home, he
said:
"You are not a bit like what I Imag
ined a schoolma'am was like."
"Did you think I wore blue glasses
and petted a black cat?" she asked
laughingly.
"The glasses might be a protection to
susceptible young men," he answered,
"and for that reason I would advise
you to wear them."
"Shall I get some tomorrow to wear
while you are here?" she queried, with
a smile. "I will if you feel In danger."
"Would you do it if I admitted I
was?" he replied, resolving to stand hIs
ground and looking squarely at her.
But that elusive young lady was not
to be cornered.
"You remind me of a story Bert told
once," she said, "about an Irishmen
who was called upon to pleA guilty or
not guilty to the charge of drunken
ness. When asked afterward how he
pleaded he said, 'Bedad, I give the
judge an equivocal answer.' 'And what
was that?' said his friend. 'Begorra,
whin the judge axed me was I guilty
He.sat star'ng mnoodflV at tv flames.
or not guilty I answered, "Was yer
grandfather a monkey'?" And then be
gave me sixty days.'"
"Well," replied Frank, "that is a good
story, but it doesn't answer my ques
tion."
That afternoon when Alice was alone
with her brother he said, "Well, sis,
how do you like my friend?"
"Oh, he means to he nice," she re
plied, "but he Is a little thoughtless,
-a it wmnl Ao him irood to have -in
ARK MUNN 3
LEE d, SHE'A'R'D :
work for his living a year or two."
The two days intervening before
Sunday passed all too quickly for the I
three young people. When Sunday
morning came they of course attended
church, and Frank found himself slyly
stared at by all the people of Sand
gate. He did not pay much attention
to the sermon, but a good deal to a
certain sweet soprano voice in the
choir, and when after service Alice
joined them he boldly walked away
with her and left Albert chatting with
a neighbor.
On the way home she, of course, ask
ed the usual question as to how he
liked the sermon.
"I don't think I heard ten words of
it." he replied. "I was kept bustv
counting how many I caught looking at
me, and whenever the choir sang I for
got to count. Why was it they stared
at me so much? Is a stranger. here a
walking curiosity?"
"In a way, yes," answered Alice.
"They don't mean to be rude, but a
new face at church is a curio. I'll
wager that nine-out of ten who were
there this morning are at this -moment
discussing your looks and wondering
who and what you are."
A realization of her cool indifference
tinged his feelings that evening just at
dusk, where he had been left alone be
side the freshly started parlor fire, and
when the object of his thought hap
pened in he sat staring moodily at the
flames. She drew a chair opposite and,
seating herself, said pleasantly:
"Why so pensive, Mr. Nason? Has
going to church made you feel re
pentant?"
"I don't feel the need of repentance
except in one way," he answered, "and
that you would not be interested in.
To be candid, Miss Page, I'm growing
ashamed of the useless life I lead, and
it's that I feel to repent of. A few
things your brother said to me three
months ago were the beginning, and
a remark you made the day we first
went sleighing has served to increase
that feeling. Ever since I left college
I have led an aimless life, bored to
death by -ennui and conscious that no
one was made any happier by my ex
istence. What Bert said to me and
your remark have only served to make
me realize it more fully."
"I am very sorry, Mr. Nason," she
said pleasantly, "if any words of mine
hurt you even a little. I have forgot
ten what they were and wish you
would. The visit which Bert and you
are maing me is a most delightful
break in the monotony of my life, and
I sl~all be very glad to see, you again."
And'then, rising, she added,. "If I hurt
you, please say you forgive me, for I
must go out and see to getting tea."
The last evening was passed much
like the first, except that now the
blusve Alice seemed to be transformed
Into a far more gracious hostess, and
all her smiles and interest seemed to
be lavished upon Frank instead of her
brother. It was as if this occult little
lady had come to feel a new and sur
prising curiosity in all that concerned
the life and amusements of her visitor.
With true feminine skill, she plied him
with all manner of questions and af
fected the deepest interest in all he had
to say. What were his sisters' amuse
ments? Did they entertain much, play
tennids, golf or ide? Where did they
usually go summers, and did he gener
ally go with them? His own comings
and goings and where he had been and
what he saw there were also made a
part of the grist he was encouraged to
grind. She even professed a keen in
terest in his yacht and listened pa
tiently to a most elaborate description
of that craft, although as a rowboat
was the largest vessz' she had ever set
foot on it is likely she did not gain a
very clear idea of the Gypsy.
"Your yacht has a very suggestive~
name," she said. "It makes one thin
of green woods and campfires.I
should dearly love to take. a sail in her.
I have read so much about yachts and
yachting that the idea of sailing along
the shores in one's own floating house,
as it were, has a fascination for me."
This expression of taste was so much
in line with Frank's, and the idea of
having this charming girl for a yacht
ing companion so tempting that his
face glowed.
"Nothing would give me greater
pleasure," he responded, "than to have
you for a guest on my boat, Miss Page.
I think It could be managed if I could
only coax my mother and sisters to go,
and you and your brother would join
us. We would visit the Maine coast re
sorts and have no end of a good time."
"It's a delightful outing you sug
gest." she answered, "and I thank you
very much, but I wouldn't think of
coming if your. family had to be coaxed
to go, and then it's not likely that Bert
could find the time."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," he
said, looking serious, "only mother and
the girls are afraid of the water, that
Is all.".
When conversation lagged Frank
begged that she would sing for him
and suggested selections from Moody
and Sankey, and despite her brother's
sarcastic remark that it wasn't a re
vial meeting they were holding she
not only played and sang all those
time worn melodies, but a lot of others
from older collections. When retiring
time came Frank asked that she con
clude with "Ben Bolt."
"I shall not need to recall that song
to remind me of you," he said In a
low voice as he 'spread it on the music
rack in front of her, "but I shall al
ways feet Its mood when I think of
you."
"Does that mean that you will think
of me as sleeping 'in a corner obscure
and alone' in some churchyard?" she
responded archly.
"By no means," he said. "only I may
perhaps have a little of the se.me mood
at times that Ben Bolt had when he.
heard of the fate of his swtet AlIce."
It was a pretty speech, and Frank
imagined she threw a little more than
usual pathos into the song after it,'
but then no doubt his -imagination was
biased by his feelings.
When they stood on the 'nlatform the
next morning awaiting ine train he
said quietly:
"May I send you a. few books and
some new songs when I get home, Miss
Page? I want to show you how much
I have enjoyed this visit"
"It is very nice of you to say so,"
she replied, "and I shall be glad to be
remembered and hope you will visit us
again."
When- thefai+..am ea in herathar
hurriedly ofered nis hand and witi a
"Perinit me to thank you again" as he
raised his hat turned away to gather
up the satchels so as not to be witness
to her leave taking from her brother.
CHAPTER XIII.
I N summer Southport island, as
yet untainted by the tide of
outing travel, was a spot to
inspire dreams, poetry and
canvases covered with ocean lore. Its
many cores and inlets where the tides
ebbed and flowed among the weed cov
ered rocks, its bold cliffs, sea washed,
and above which the white gulls and
fishhawks ci'cled; the deep thickets of
spruce through which the ocean winds
murmured and where great beds of
ferns and clrsters of red bunch berries
grew were one and all left undisturbed
week in, week out.
At the Cape, where Uncle Terry,
Aunt Lissy and Telly lived their sim
ple home life, and Bascom, the store
keeper and postmaster, talked unceas
ingly when he could. find a listener,
and Deacon Oaks wondered why "the
grace o' God hadn't freed the land
from stuns," no one ever came to dis
turb its quietude. Every morning Un
cle Terry, often accompanied by Telly
in a calico dress and sunbonnet, rowed
out to pull his lobster traps, and after
dinner harnessed and drove to the bead
of the island to meet the mail boat;
then at eventide, after lighting his pipe
and the lighthouse lamp at about the
same time, generally strolled over to
Bascom's to have a chat, while Telly
made a call on the "Widder Leach," a
misanthropic but pious protegee of
hers, and Aunt Lissy read the paper.
Once in about three weeks, according
to weather, the monotony of the village
was disturbed by the arrival of a small
schooner owned jointly by Uncle Terry,
Oaks and Bascom, and which plied be
tween the Cape and Boston. Once in
two weeks services were held, as usual,
in the little brown church, and as often
the lighthouse tender called and left
coal and oil for Uncle Terry. Regu
larly on Thursday evenings the few
pLously inclined, led by Deacon Oaks,
gathered in the church to sing hymns
toe- repeated fifty-two times each year,
to a prayer by Oaks that seldom
--:1 in a single sentence, and heard
. ie Leach thank the Lord for his
":ny mercies," though what they
were in her ,ase it would be hard .to
tell, unless being permitted to live
alone and work hard to live at all was
a mercy. The scattered islanders and
the handful whose dwellings comprised
the Cape worked hard, lived frugally
and were unconscious that all around
them was a rocky shore whose cliffs
and inlets and beaches were so many
poems of picturesque and charming
scenery.
This'was Southport in summer, but
in winter, when the little harbor at
the Cape was icebound, the winding
road to the head of the island buried
beneath drifts and the people often for
weeks at a time absolutely cut off
from communication with the rest of
the world, it was a place cheerless in
Its desolation. Like so many wood
chucks then the residents kept within
doors or only stirred out to cut wood,
fodder the stock and shovel paths so
that the children could go to school.
The days were short and the evenings
long, and to get together and spend
hours in labored conversation the only
pastime. It was one of those long even
ings and when Aunt Lissy and Telly
were at a neighbor's and Uncle Terry,
left to himself, was reading every line,
including the advertisements, in the
last Journal, that the following met
his eye:
WANTED.-Information that will lead
to the discovery of an heir to the estate
of one Eric Peterson. a landowner and
hipbuilder of Stockholm. Sweden, whose
son, with his wife, child and crew, was
known to have been wrecked on the coast
of Maine in March, 187-. Nothing has
ever been heard of said Peterson or his
wife, but'the child may have been saved.
Any one having information that will lead
to the discovery of this child will be
~mply rewarded by communicating with
NICHOLAS FRYE, Attorney at Law, -
Pemberton Square, Boston.
"Waal, I'll be everlastin'ly gol darn
ed!" Uncle Terry exclaimed after he
had read it for the third time. "If this
don't beat all natur I'm a goat."
It was fortunate he was alone, for It
gave him time to think the matter
over, and after half an hour of aston
ishment he decided to say nothing to
his' wife or Telly.
"I'll jist breathe easy an' sag up,"
he said to himself, "same as though I
was crossin' thin ice, an' if nothin'
comes on't nobody 'Il be the worse for
worryin'."
Then he cut the slip out and hid It In
his black leather wallet, and then cut
out the entire page and burned it
"Wimmin are sich curis creeters
they'd be sure to want to know what
I'd cut out o' that page," he said to
himself, "an' never rest till I told 'em."
When Aunt Lissy and Telly came
home Uncle Terry was as composed
as a rock and sat quietly puffig his
pipe, with his feet on top of a chair
and pointing toward the fire.
"Were you lonesome, father?" asked
Telly, who usually led conversation in
the Terry home. "We stopped at Bas
cor's, and you know he never stops
talking.V
"He's worse'n burdock burs ter git
away from," answered Uncle Terry,
"an' ye c':.n't be perlite ter him unless
ye want t' spend the rest o' yer life
listenin'. His tongue allus seemed ter
be hung in the middle an' wag both
ways. I wasn't lonesome," he contin
ued, rising and adding a few sticks
to the fire as the two women laid aside
their wraps and drew chairs up. "I've
read the paper party well through an'
had a spell o' livin' over, bygones," and
then, turning to Telly and smiling, he
added: "I got thinkin' o' the day ye
came ashore, an' mother she got that
excited she sot the box ye was in on
the stove an' then put more wood in.
It's a wonder she didn't put ye in the
stove instead o' the wood!"
As this joke was not new to the lis
teners no notice was taken of it, and
the three lapsed into silence.
Outside the steady boom of the surf
beating on the rocks came with monot
onous regularity, and inside the clock
ticked. For a long time Uncle Terry
sat and smoked on in silence, resum
ing, perhaps, his bygones, and then
said: "By the way, Telly, what's be
come o' them trinkets o' yourn ye had
on that day? It's been so long now,
'most twenty years, I 'bout forgot 'em.
I s'pose ye hain't lost 'em, hey yey'
'-Why, no, father," she answered, a
little surprised. "I hope not They
are all in a box in my bureau, and no
one ever disturbs them."
"Ye wouldn't mind fetchin' 'em now,
would ye, Telly?" he continued after
drawing a long whiff of smoke and
slowly emitting it in rings. "It's been
so many years, an' since I got thinkin'
'bout it I'd like to take a look at 'em,
jest to remind mc a' that fortunate
day ye came to us."
The girl arose and, going upstairs, re.
~ind with a small tin box shaped like
, trunk and, drawing the table up in
nt of Uncl rry, set the box down
en it. As he opened It she perched
She watched him take out the contents.
ean: ing against his shoulaer, passed one
arm caressingly around his neck and,
watched him take out the contents.
First came a soft, fleecy blanket, then
:wo little garments, once whitest mus
lin, but now yellow with age, and then
another smaller one of ftnnel. Pinied
:o this were two tiny shoes of knitted
wool. In the bottom of the box was a
small wooden shoe, and.thouglbelumsy
in comparison, yet evidently -fashioned
to fit a lady's foot Tucked in this-.was
little box tied with faded ribbn, and
.n this were a locket and chain, two
Ings and a scrap of paper. The writ
ng on the paper, once hastily scrawled
)y'a despairing mothers' hand, had al
most faded, and inside the locket were
.wo faces, one a man's with strongly
marked features, the other girlish with
>ig eyes and hair in curls.
These were all the heritage of this
6vaif of the sea who now, a fair girl
with eyes and face 'like the woman's
>icture, wras leaning on the shoulder
)f her foster father, and they told a
>athetic tale of life and dcath; of ro
nance and mystery not yet unwoven.
How many times that orphan girl
ad imagined what that tale might be;
ow often before she had examined
?very one of those mute tokens; how
nany times gazed with mute eyes at
,he faces in the locket; and how, as
the years bearing her onward toward
naturity passed, had she hoped and
maited, hoping ever that some. word,
;ome whisper from that faroff land of
er birth might reach her!
And as she looked at those mute rel
ics which told so little and yet so much
>f her history, while the old man who.
ind been all that a kind father coukd*
>e to her took them out one by one,
she realized more than ever what a
lebt of gratitude she owed to him.
Then he had looked them over and
>ut them back in the exact order in
which they had been packed, he closed
the box and, taking the little hand that
ind been caressing his face in his own
wrinkled and bony one, held, it for a
noment. When he released it the girl
stooped and, pressing her lips to his
weather browned cheek arose and re
sumed her seat
"Waal, ye better put the box away
o," sa-d Unclerry at last. "I'll
>'hnt anten himtle otim tcotnin."
'VEa agt ter ghoer pastone"
rm arsid ngl aro rynd his c fen
Fi stme oneey blaetus th e
lin.'bt sarti yell ith age, and Ten
anohesm a'tle on 't ban e gne
tore thweetBom'nss of knited
oo.n the dtan f the bo' wannin
'smball ooenghoen."og~cus
inocompalionye dipldomacyNotondd
Seto inven'sfot Tuesone ehxcuse
or oittl by ectiegwth fersbof, both
aco thias wlceadcin, toe
engl du thempe, onc e hatlay e
riy aofespis moter handTl ad wel-.
nost saed iad isie the lCapet ee
:wo fandcommne one, an wit stonglya
aedtteratresof t ther Unclis Try
Butgo ye Bsohem tand htorinocrls
Tihes weenl the rite nd nthei
if aosa thepest wof nocauri gsil
vatheyehs Yandkeae ikthewma'
At Barfoter aher an heyhold wa
thet teof ifen and dea ofumo
>famneyn frmyhsrno yetl sanwoe.
How" hemay toimsehat o"I'd bettr
ind. aI nee whtida tale ma-h bawe;
oWhn oftebfre snhal nihad riexamuind
hich one of i the mtokns; haorw
isn ies andethough mut copays at
rrhedce in Botohe fet ad how woul
h ras bariieg her nasrangeoar
'eturity padsted had sheif hisedlfn
tgaint theopetmting htsmwordhi
some, whose fromtt fro wolad ofk
1er bitre migh reacher!td fieo
And ea sih looke aTer thoke uters
csiousch atol ittccuandt. s mc
baWbe ll that an kIdo fahr you?"
bed oefe hertokte oustone had neo
"Waralize answred thncleverry whta
ngb of gattde saighes owedo tohm
Woor heie hm, looke theme ove rande
t curis brack. ind theactn ode the
;ich he had bfen packedforecposce
h box wad, knh ite han thFry
badyee'crighs face brightened.
"Inkler gand o onee, editfr. Ter
-y,"ohed sand, pessning toerb lis toands
ather. browneu chaeek aroy facts re
searchefr sat.ert hi saew
"Whall bedtt pyuf them away
no, dUncle Terry oe atth lawyer -a~l
ntmentenr e answerig totrni.
"I said' Ule er to al Ifew
aefstg ofe dasatr. "Ilowa'
buthsoshpmec aon go duutae
nre tatn'll gitar yout fust Tel
ant tnow tho lighslon for thupe
nihs> a'ty? Iwn't." gn
Innta Fryeo's nto stae meoup
"This plan hawot benany ery wat
oss, de toughtoacy. tnle said
bI'havt invennt a riertysonal discuse
mt ing byno excitn farsof cantes
alys h, but asued hat aly the
En.armall youlmae like it Cae ervey
>fe mvalee, werwll eiteow to
"Ian rcomned on andt netc on was
betterift,"replfItda Uncle Terry. "
in't cum theed ofokinter ay, not eto
ite tat smaltewaso crious gossipe
taxe h'igs gotke true.
AtWBath sir, haidFri a fwhusuait
andce we too he ankn drwo sumth
"Lawyer artie serced shaps onmust
m"ersad thiamaf dbtteroftiim
n esae awaits liel clant, btak
:imntd mus nesdtakle ai lawyer
detity bosnd th sht." dub
Whrden, afte anu allnit ide, tdusting
whic e satone." sokn arwt
his chln wnn- S aumo- ane nger
while he deliberated, "I 'pose I may
as well tell ye fast as.last I cum,
here for that purpose, .an' alLNIt~vanlct
fix is, if thar's nothin' in -it-ye'd. keep
It a secret an' not.raseianyfalsehopes
In the minds o' -them'as'sinear, and
dear to me."
"It's a lawyer's professional duty
never to disclose any business confi
dence that a client may confide to
him," answered Frye, with dignity,
"and in this matter I infer you wish
to become my client Am I right, Mr.
Terry?"
"I didn't cum here exactly purposin'
to hire ye," answered Uncle Terry. "I
cum to find what's in the wind, an' if
'twas likely to 'mount to anything to
tell all I knew an' see that them as
had rights got justice. As I told ye in
the fust on't, I'm keeper o' the light at
the end o' Southport island, an' have
been for thirty year.
"One night in March, just nineteen
year ago comn' this spring, thar was
a small bark got a-foul o' White Hoss
ledge right off'n the p'int and stayed
thar hard an' fast. I seen her soon
as 'twas light, but thar was. nothin'
that could be done but build a fire an'
stand an' watch the poor critters go
down. Long toward noon I spied a
bundle workin' in, an' when it struck
I made fast to it with a boat hook
an' found a baby inside an' alive. My
wife an' I took care on't and have
been doing so ever since. It was a
gal baby, and she growed up into a
young lady. 'Bout ten years ago we
took out papers legally adoptin' her,
an' so shlz' ourn. From a paper we
found pinned to her clothes we learned
her name was Etelka Peterson. an'
that her mother, an' we supposed her
father, went down that day right in
sight o' us. Thar was a locket round
the child's neck an' a couple o' rings in
the box, an' we have kept 'em an' the
papers an' all her baby clothes ever
since. That's the hull story." -
"How did this child live to get
ashore?" asked Frye, keenly interest
ed.
'That's the curis part," replied Uncl4
Terry. "She was put in a box an'
tied 'tween two feather beds an' cum
ashore-dry as a duck."
Frye stroked his nose reflectively,
stooping over as he did and watching
his visitor with hawk-like eyes.
"A very well told tale, Mr. Terry,"
he said at last. "A very well told tale
indeed! Of course you have retained
all the articles you say were found on
the child?"
"Yes, we've kept 'em all, you may
be sure," replied Uncle Terry. -
"And why did you never make any
official report of this. wreck and of the
facts you state?" asked Frye.
"I did at the time," answered Uncle
Terry, "but nothin' cum on't.' I guess
my report is thar in Washington now,
if It ain't lost"
"And do I understand you wish to
retain me as your counsel in this mat
ter and lay claim to this estate, Mr.
Terry?" conthined Frye.
"Waal, I've told ye the facts," re
plied Uncle Terry, "an' if the gal's got
money comin' I'd like to see her git
it . What's goin' to be the cost o' doin'
the business?"
"The matter of expense Is hard to
state in such a case as this," answered
Frye cautiously. "The estate is a large
one. There may be,.and no doubt will
be, other claimants. Litigation may
follow, and so the cost is an uncertain
one. I shall be glad to act for you in
this matter and will do so If you re
tain me."
It is said that those who hesitate are
lost, and at this critical moment Uncle
Terry hesitated.
He did not like the looks of Frye.
He suspected him to be what he was
a shrewd, smooth, plausible villain.
Had he obeyed his first impulse he
would have picked up his'hbat and left
Frye to wash his hands with invisibl'e
soap, and laid his case before some
other lawyer, but. he hesitated. Frye,
he knew, had the matter in his hands
and diight make the 'claim that his
story was false and fight it with all
the legal weapons Uncle Terry so much
dreaded. In the end he decided to put
the matter in Frye's hands and hope
for the best
"I shall want you to send me a de
tailed story of this wreck, sworn to
by yourself and wife," said Frye; "also
the articles found on this child, an4d
I will lay your affidavits before the at
torneys for this estate and report
progress to you later on."
When Uncle Terry turned .his face
toward home his pocket was lighter
by $200.
"I s'posed I'd git skinned," he mut
tered to himself after he was well on
his way home. "an' I reckon I. have!
A lawyer knows a farmer at sight, an'
when he ketches one he takes his hay!
Ie's taken mine fur sartin, an' I begin
to think I'm a consarned old fool, that
don't know 'nuff to go in when it rains!
How I'm goin' to git the wimmin to
give up them trinkets 'thout 'lowin'
I've lost my senses is one too many
fur me!"
CHAPTER XV.
T effect of Albert Page's vig
rous efforts to attain success
~was not lost upon his friend
Frank.
After their Christmas visit to Sand
gate Albert had applied himself dili
gently to the care of Mr. Nason's legal
needs. This brought him Into contact
with other business men, and the fact
that .Tohn Nason employed him easily
secured for him other clients. In two
months he not only had Mr. Nason's
affairs to look after, but all his re
mining time was taken up by others'.
He had spent several evenings at the
Nasons' home and found the family a
much more agreeable one than Frank
had led him to espect. Both that
young man's sisters were bi-ight and
agreeable young ladies, and though a
little affected, they treated him with
charming courtesy and extended to
him a cordial invitation to have his
sister make them a visit.
Since the day he had shaken his fist
at the closed door of Mr. Frye's law of
fice Albert bad met that hawk nosed
3awyer twice and' received only a chill
ing bow. The memory of that con
temtble contractitheihad-tactlY-alow
edFrye to-consder'es enrbrought a
:luhttohBfaceevery time he thougbt'
of It, but he kept his own counseL
Once orece-hebadibee.~On the point
of-ellIng.Frank the whole story, but
hadirefrnined.
Inghishintlente relations -with John
that-' Frye's --insinuation against that
busy man's character was entirely
false. Mr. Nason seldom spent an
egennswarYfromhiabome,dandswhen
bter thiry ii. tnangt rn
mnmatn .relattans, and .a'day seldom
passed.that~ankxidinotestep into'his
-offeforacat.
"Don't nind me,.Bert," that uneasy
man ;would -~ when, he saw that
Pagewas'b adon'twan1t
S[CONTINUED ON PAGE 6.]1
STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA,
1larsaenn cunsaty.
COURT OF COMMON PLEAS.
J. Arthur hodge. Vermelle E. Jervey,
Eugenia Rhame. Kate McFaddin, Al
len C. Harvin. James C. Broughton,
Lillie Davis, Sallie Hodge, Jan
Tborton Harvin, by his guardian ad
litem E. G. Flowers, Plalitiffs.
against
Sarah Nelson, Fannie J. McFaddin,
Suan Brock, Clara Bates, Charles
R. Harvin. Hattie Kaminer. W.
Scott Harvin. Charles E. Broughtou.
Jackson E. Broughton, William S.
Broughtoa, Leo Melle Nelson, Mary
Cantey Weeks, Naomi Clara Brough
ton, Napoleon L. Broughton, John
J. Broughton. Kathleen C. Fletcher,
Elizabeth B. Fletcher. Sarah Harvin,
James Harvin, May G. Harvin, Mat
tie Harvin. and Edward D. Harvin,
Defendants.
NOTICE OF SALE.
BY VIRTUE OF A DEREE BEAR
ing date June 7th A. D. 1905 rendered
in the above entitled action by the said
Court I will sell at the Court House at
Manning in the said County, on the
first Monday in November, A. D. 1905.
(the same bing the 6th day of said
month) within the legal hours of sale,
at Public Auction, to the highest bid
der for cash,
All that certain parcel or tract of
land situated in the fork of Black River,
in the district, (now) County of Claren
don, and State of South Carolina, con
taining four hundred and fifty-one
acres, bounded on the ' North and
North Eas, formerly by lands of M. H.
Plowden and now of Mrs.- Annie D.
Ingram: bounded on the East and
South-East by lands formerly of Wil
liam E. Plowden, later of Samuel Plow
den, and now-of or claimed by D. W.
Alderman; bounded on the South by
lands formerly of Colonel Thomas Su
ter, and said lately to -have been
claimed by R. W. Fann, and now said
to be claimed by T. E. Smith; bounded
on the South and South-West by lands
formerly of John M. Hodge -and now
said to belong to James Montgomery
and to the children or heirs at law of
W. B. Plowden, or to his Estate; and
to T. T. Hodge. respectively, and
bounded on the North-West by lands
formerly of John M. Hodge and now
of Ben H. Harvin, and land formerly
of M. H. Plowden, now of Mrs. Annie
D. Ingram. A plat of the said prem
ises being on file in the records of the
above stated action.
In case the person or persons to
whom the said premises as ther 'aid
sale, may be struck off shall for the
space of thirty minutes. thereafter fail
or refuse to comply with his, her, or
their bid, then under the- terms of said
decree, said premises shall forthwith
be resold at the risk of the former
purchaser or purchasbrs.
The purchaser on said. sale will, be
required to pay for the sheriff's con
veyance of the property. 1
E. B. GAMBLE, I
Sheriff of Clarendon County.
Thomas
N mmer
GROCER
and
FRUITER
I desire to call attention to the
public that my store is head
quarters for all kinds of season
able Fruits, which I sell' at
wholesale and retail. My stock
of ..
Choice
are e - y confection
sore s te, andlIamn
sol atown for
Lahrney's
3hocola tes
and other Candies. Remember.
that bhsides an immense stock of
Cigars
and
Tobacco,
Jewelry and Fancy Goods, I
andle the best of
Farnily
Groceries
at close margin prices. At my
store can always be found a full
supply of those things that are
needed for a good dinner.
I want the pubhic to visit my
store and look at my line of
Novelties,
and as to prices and quality of
goods, I boldly declare 1 defy
competition.
Thomas
SNimmer.
- HOLUSTER S
ocky Mountain Tea Nuggets
A BSay Medicine for Basy People.
hnags Golden Eealth and Renewed Vigor.
A snecille for Constipation. Indigestion, Live
El oo , adBreath. SlugihBwleaae
and Backache. It's Rocky Mountain Tea in tab.
Jet form, 35 cents a box. Genuine made by
HoL,svEz D)ar Cocrrrr'i, Madison, wis.
GOLDEN NUGGETS FOR SALLOW PEOPLE
THE SUMMERTON HOTEL
Having made special preparations, I
am now better preparedI to entertamu
the traveling public than' ever lbefore
I especially invite the transient pat
ronage. ~ H. A. TISDALE,
Proprietor.