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lewis >i. gris t. proprietor. | gin Jndepfiulont <Jjaimls Jftcii'spaptr: <^oij the ^promotion of the fjolitieat, Social, gtfiriniltui;al and (foininercial Jntercsfs of the, ^outh. |terms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL. 37. YOEKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1891. NO. 30. - - 1 r J 1 J: $be ^torn idle*. 1 Love and a Scrap Book By DAVID A. CURTIS. (C^pyri^ht l>y Amoricnii Piv*m Association.] CHAPTER L nOW TIIKV METf. Near the foot of these trees lay a 'soman in a faint Across from a field, far to the right of the dusty road, came the sound of a shout. The air, quivering with summer heat, seemed reluctant to carry it. Everything had been so still before that the faint murmurs of insect life and the chattering and barking of the red squirrels in the stone walls had seemed like disturbances, and the stillness, like a sentient being, had merely moved a little to make room for an annoyance, settling down again after each small nbise like a tired sleeper. Then the shout came, flying straight and swiftly, across the meadows and fell plump in the dust. Then all was still again. Not even a bird chirped. Young Fanning moved uneasily in his sleep. He was lying on the grass in the shade of a huge elm, waiting for the cooler part of the day before rambling further on the purposeless stroll he had undertaken. The sudden noise, faint as it was, broke his deep slumber and set him dreaming. The dream awoke himr Another shout followed the first, and as if nature had been roused from a slnmber like his own the air stirred more readily?the sound came less like a rifle bullet. It was more prolonged than the first, and there was un accent to it sufficient to bring young Fanning to his feet Some one was calling for help. He listened a moment, but the air was still again. It was a stillness that, like Egypt's darkness, could be felt. Raising his voice, he sent out a mighty cry that shattered the repose. A little breeze stirred. A bird called back with a little caroL A crow cawed lazily from his perch somewhere in the woods. Fanning waited, listening keenly. There was a brief delay. Then the third call came, fainter and yet plainer than the others. A woman was calling and her voice was throbbing with pain. Fanning was bored. He had left his chambers in the city for a lazy tour on foot, feeling that work was out of the question by reason of the heat, and here on the first day he was called on to rescue an unknown woman from unknown trouble. He felt that it was an imposition, but could not see his way clear to ignore the demand, being very human. Tightening his belt, he sprang lightly over the low stone wall au?l ran across tho fields directly toward the spot where the woman lay. It wa3 rough ground, and he ran very swiftly, but his breath was easy and measured, his head was erect and his chest well out He was a rather small man, but his spare frame was all bone and muscle, and every muscle was well developed. A quarter of u mile of this easy running brought him to a little grove. It was a neglected place. The undergrowth w.'is rank and tangled. Briery shoots were interlaced like a network without order or design. Weeds choked the better capabilities of the soil. Sapling that oumbered space drained the vitality of worthier trees, and none were thrifty excepting a few old ones that were strong enough to hold their own and that looked down with lofty contempt at the brush beneath. It was a world in little. Near the foot of these trees, as Fanning saw, drawing near, lay a woman in a faint. The man looked, in a disgust that was almost unnatural, and his first word was a malediction. Then he sighed and mopped his face with a handkerchief that was at once wet through. Then his face took on a professional look, and he jnuttered to himself, "Lucky I have taken iny degree. There ! might be a scandal about this." Then the woman became the patieut, i and the man, equally unconscious of the j change, became tho physician. Sex was ; eliminated from the problem suggested by the situation. Like any other verity, : however, it failed to remain eliminated. 1 But that was afterward. He looked keenly, and seeing that he had a swoon ; to treat first, he deftly and quickly ! loosened her dress at the neck, and lift ing her a little with his left hand, cut ' the laces of her corset, slashing through the dress with his penknife, unhesitatingly. Then with his strong, nimble fingers he tore the gap wider and loosened the string. Laying her back ! on the ground he fanned her with his hat "Naturally in such a case," he grumbled to himself, "there is no water at hand." . Luckily, however, the swoon was not deep, and she sat up presently, looking it him with a question in her eyes that disappeared almost instantly. Pain chased it away. "Take a swallow of this," he said, producing a pocket flask. She obeyed, and the raw whisky made her cough. She looked reproachfully at him. "That is all. right," he said reassur- j ingly. "Now tell me how you are hurt." ! "I slipped and wrenched my foot, and when I tried to walk I fainted. I fancy i bone is broken." "Which foot?" "The left." With the word came, an involuntary movement and a sharp cry ! as the spasm of pain followed. "Don't move it." he said hastily, and in a matter of fact way he raised her skirt and looked. Feeling, not seeing, her surprise, for his eyes did not wander to her face, he said simply, "I am a physician." Then, thongh he was too busy to know it, sex asserted itself, and if he had look- j ed at her face instead of her foot he | would have seen a pretty picture, most I interesting to a philosopher, though perhaps not to one of his school, he being profoundly materialistic. , , Margaret Latimer was incapable of the petty trivialities of protest that a weak woman would have made. It did not occur to her to make an outcry and ftfTeefc snneamishness. but her eves flash ed fire. Fanning', had he seen her faee, must have humbled himself in abject apology, brusque and harsh as he was, | but fortunately he was entirely ignorant of her indignation, and took the swollen ankle in his hand without the slightest hesitation. To her it was as if the ground had opened under her. To l>e touched and gazed at in this fashion was simply incomprehensible. Her face, that was marble a moment before, became suddenly like a damask rose. Iler eye told her that Fanning was a gentleman, and his touch proved that he was truthful in claiming to be a physician, but The re.-idy penknife was cutting away | the substantial boot. When that was off it passed steadily and swiftly around , above the ankle, and with one downward j sweep destroyed the stocking. Then came again tne most excruciating pains as his skillful fingers pressed gently here and there. Physicians say there is an order of high intelligence which belongs to a portion . of the human race and which makes most difficult patients. Even sickness and pain fail to subdue it, and one gifted with it is as recalcitrant under treatment as a lawyer's client- who has a smattering of legal knowledge. He will oppose theories, question methods and even refuse medicaments that do not aj>prove themselves to his mind, and double the doctor's task by forcing him to overcome mental obstinacy together with physical ailment. The surgeon meets with less of this passive resistance than the physician, since his work is not commonly complicated with mental processes, but there are c:ises in which he must first reduce his patient to submission before he can proceed with treatment. Such a wise, to his great surprise, Dr. Fanning found this to be. Amazement kept this young woman silent for a few moments. The unprecedented situation?at least it seemed sc> +r? her?hewihlered her. and strone as she wjis it wjis a littlo timo before she conld decide whether to snbtnit to this benevolent stranger or not. At length she decided. "Stop a moment, doctor," she said quietly. Fanning looked up. He turned his face merely. The hand which still held her ankle was .'is rigidly immovable as if it were graven out of steel. "I know that the pain is inteuse," he said kindly, "but it is inevitable that you must suffer it. There is a bone broken, and it must be set" "It is not the pain that I am thinking of," said Miss Latimer; "that is bad enough, but the situation is worse, i am more than thankful for your kindness, but we will suspend operations for the present My house is only half a inile away, and I prefer to wait until I can be taken homo before I am treated." Fanning looked at her closely and thought he understood her. The flush had not left her face, and it lent unusual beauty to a countenance that showed the highest breeding as well as marked intelligence. As if she hail spoken all her thoughts, he knew that even in her painful plight she was mindful of the proprieties, and that the ministrations which she would have accepted as a matter of course if her mother had been present were simply insupportable under the circumstances. To her it seemed that virgin pride was asserting itself. To him it seemed that she was tho slave of a foolish conventionality. He did not hesitate an instant. "Bosh!" he exclaimed roughly. "I shall not allow you to be moved until the bono is properly set and your ankle is bandaged." And without more ado he turned his attention to his business, which, as he conceived it, was to see t hat no further injury should come to her foot It was perhaps well for him that he did not look at her face again for a time. For her the world seemed to have come to an end. Here was a male of her species who not only set her expressed wish at defiance, but who wjis actually handling her person as if she were the tools of his trade instead of a rebellious princess of society. Evidently "the divinity that doth hedge about" a maiden hail no terrors for him. He was to her first a man, and secondly a physician. She was to him first a patient, and secondly?nothing whatever. Pride would not allow her to make further protest in words. One movement as if to arise, and, confronting, to slay him with her eyes, gave her such a pang that she recognized her powerlessness again. Then, like a destroying flash of lightning, came a single throb of agony when the hone Blipped into place and all became a blank. But even as she swocmed away into unconsciousness she was raging like an insulted empress at the single word "steady," which he had spoken coolly when she moved fuet. Once more Fanning looked up, after he had satisfied himself that the bone was properly set. "H'm! fainted again, eh," he said to himself without emo tion. "That's well. Now we'll get this bound up, and then see to getting her home." And forthwith the handy penknife was at work again, whittling out some rude splints. In his skillful fingers it moved rapidly, and a few minutes more were enough to put matters right so far as they could be put. Nature must do the rest. The second swoon was deeper than the first, and the youug physician had more trouble than before in restoring his unwilling patient to consciousness. Patiently and steadily, however, he worked until she opened her eyes again and looked at him with an expression which he could not understand. Utterly unconscious of having given any carse for offense, and fully alive to the fact that he had seriously discommoded himself to serve an entire stranger, he was confirmed in his cynicism by seeing no gleam of gratitude in her eyes, and he cursed her in his heart for a selfish conventional society miss?an order of being ho heartily despised. Being a thorough gentleman, however, only partially corrupted by meretricious philosophy, he could not fail to recognize the fact that she was a gentlewoman, and his speech was courteous, at least in fonn. "You say your home is not far away," he said. "If you will direct me to it I will get help and have you carried thither. Your foot is all right now if you will lie perfectly still, but I shall have to leave you here alone." "I am sorry to trouble you so much," she replied, as coldly polite as he, though her lips were still white from pain, "but there seems to be no alternative. My house is yonder," i>ointing, "and. some of the servants will come at once if you will tell them. Will you kindly warn them to say nothing to mamma till I get there? I do not want her to bo f rightened needlessly." He bowed, and in another moment was gone. As the sound of his footsteps and the rustle of pushing through the undergrowth died away the stillness grew intense again. Margaret Latimer closed her eyes and thought deeply. The fury of rage that had swept upon hei when this young stranger so coony defied her died away. She had been used to having her lightest word treated as n command, and it was confusing to have a gentleman say "l>osh!" to her, but her native sense after a few moments' reflection justified the man. Moreover the shock to her dignity and modesty seemed u trivial thing after she had thought of it. What had he done: He liad treated her with the most profound delicacy and consideration, possibly consistent with his duties as a surgeon, and had, moreover, rendered her a service which she could hardly overestimate. Supposing she had lain there, as it might easily have happened, all day, even all night, before help came. Supposing she had been moved before the broken bone was set ami she had been lamed for life. She began to feel very kindly toward the man "she just condemned as a ruthless boor. And she remembered, with a slight blush that he was good to look at, and that his manner when he w;is not employed jis a physician was perfect. She could forgive everything but the "bosh!" Yes, and she could forgive that. Meantime Fanning was thinking very little of her and very much of the annoyance he was put to. He had started out for a day of rest, and here he was engaged in a distinctly disagreeable work of compassion for a woman in whom he had not the faintest interest. However, there was no way to avoid it, and he went on. Presently lie came to a large, old fashioned country mansion with spacious grounds. Near the gate was an old gardener, whom he hailed and informed of the fiicts. The gardener went at once for tho coachman, and all three were speedily driving back to the grove in a low, easy carriage. Very little was wild till the lady was ) placed in the carriage. Then Fanning | lifted his hat and would have turned away, but she detained him with a gest| ure. "You will surely not leave me i thus," she protested. "I have not even ; told you how greatly I feel indebted to ! you for"? Then a spasm of pain turned her face white again, and Fan- | ning entered tho carriage. "You need not feel indebted," ho said : very coolly. "I have only done what'! any physician was bonnd to do. But 1 will see you home if you desire it, though your servants could doubtless take yon safely." Ho remembered what she had > ; said about her mother, and had hoped to I ; escape a scene of hysteria and thankful- I ; ness, but seeing tliat his patient still suf 1 fered greatly, he felt bound to remain : i with her. j All came?hysteria and gushing thanks, and he was more than thankful when he ! escaped from the house an hour later, ; havinir given his patient a sleeping ; draught, and assured her mother that no danger was to be apprehended. "At least yon will tell me, doctor, to whom I am indebted for my daughter's preservation," said the sweet faced, white j haired old lady, after he had protested | ; for tho twentieth time that sho owed i ! him no great gratitude. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a card which read: i DANIEL FANNING. M. D? i : No. 8 West Foktibtu St.. : : New Yoiuc : Then he strode rapidly away, forgetting utterly that he had not learned the ; name of the people who had failed to excite even a faint interest in his mind. A week later Miss Latimer looked up , from her reading and said, "Mamma, ! how very pretty this is;" and she read: j How often is our path Crossed by some betas wLose bright spirit slieds j A passing gladness o'er it, but whoso course Leads down another current, nevermore To blend w-ith ours. Yet fur within our souls. Amid the bustle of this busy world, Dwells many a thought that lingers closely still Around that image. "Yes, it is pretty," said Mrs. Latimer, "but I don't see anything very remarkable about it, do you?' Miss Latimer made no reply, but she presently asked for scissors and cut out the scrap, laying it carefully away until she should have time to paste it in her scrap book. CHAPTER IL DISASTER. Daniel Fanning had been burdened in j early life with the inheritance of a modest j fortune. Having no faintest trace of , business faculty and a strong inclination : to study ho had chosen his profession without regard to its emoluments, and I had begun practice without caring : whether he should make it lucrative or not. His income was sufficient for his ; moderate wants, and his capital was so j invested as to give him no concern what- ! ever. His guardian had handed over j the accounts when he was 21, and had i bade him farewell without emotion, hav- j ing no interest in him personally and be- : ing greatly relieved at the thought that ; the responsibility was ended. Ho had no relatives, so far as he knew, and no intimate friend. Even at college he had found books more attractive than men, | and had shunned intimacies after one unfortunate experience. To him, sitting one evening in his office alone, came tho demon of unrest It said: "Why do you sit here through the best years of your life? There is a whole world to see, and what havo you seen of it? What is there to keep you here when there is so much on earth for you to learn \ by observation?" It was an idle thought born of noth* 4- a? fko viifv norf rlfttr 1I1?9 jJCi y UUV UU WUW 1 V4^ UVMV he was making his preparations for a year or more of travel. It mattered nothing whether he should be gone for one year or five. He notified his patients that he was about to leave the citythere were not many to notify. He arranged to store his books and gave notice i to the people from whom he hired his j office that he was going abroad and would sail at once. All this was an easy task quickly done, i After he had completed it and was ready to sail, the thought came suddenly that it would be well to travel for a while in his own country before sailing, and he started for the west. Three weeks later he was in Bloomiugton, Ills. Sitting at nightfall in the smoking j room of a hotel, there he became aware j that a stranger was looking closely at j him, but he gave the matter no special j thought until the stranger came up and j said quietly, "You are my prisoner, Cork- | ins." " Vim arc mil primmer, Curklns." Then he looked up with ji smile, being i really amused for the moment, and said: j "Yon are mistaken in the i>er.son, my good fellow. My name is not Corkins; ! ! it is Fanning.'* "That's very well played," said the de] tective, for such the stranger was. "You j have got a good nerve, sure. But you 1 know you can't fool me, don't you? I j. know you too well. Now, will you come j with me quietly or not?" And he showed a policeman's shield. "I will go quietly, of course, if you are j in earnest," said Fanning, "but, really, this is a most absurd mistake." "Very sensible of you, too," said the detective, grinning, "but you know you can't play that game. You're too well | known. I wonder at you coming back I here so soon." "Coming back!" exclaimed Fanning, | in some surprise. "I never was in this j town in my life till today." "Very well, slick to it, if that's your ; j lay," rejoined the other with some dis- i i gust, "but it's remarkably foolish when j there are so many here that know you." i i And he made no further attempt to talk j ; with his prisoner, but led him straight- ! I way to the police station, where Fan- j I ning t hought that a simple explanation [ I would set tilings right at once. To his ! dismay, however, the chief of police and j \ the sergeant at the desk seemed to recog- I | nize him as positively as the detective - hail done, lie became alarmed. | "At least tell me who you think I am, | and what I am accused of," he ex| claimed, when ho found that his expla! nations were of 110 avail. "Plays it well, doesn't he?" said the chief with a smile before answering, and the others iaugneu. xuen ne said: ion arc accused, John Corkins, of burglariously entering Hayes & Mead's jewelry store und stealing ?1,000 in money from their safe." Fanning would have remonstrated fur\ ther, but seeing that it was useless h? j wisely forbore and submitted to being | ! searched and locked up for the night. | "It is wretchedly unpleasant," he said to himself, "but no doubt it will be all ! cleared up in the morning. It cannot be ; that any police justice will hold me on the charge of burglary." And he smoked a cigar which he had been allowed toretain, and tried with rather poor success to sleep. But in the morning lie found that it was altogether possible for such a thing | to happen. The magistrate before whom , I he was brought for examination was a j I stern though not unkindly man, who i seemed disposed ti) do exact justice, and ! who listened attentively to what Fan- . ning had to say. but the testimony of the police was so positive that ho had really no discretion in the matter. "If you are really a New York physician," he said to the prisoner, "you will have no trouble in establishing your I identity. In the mean time I shall hold you for trial in $10,000 bail. Have you ! any counsel?" Oil learning that the prisoner had not i considered it necessary to securo a lawyer, the judge smiled somewhat grimly I and told him that no obstacle would bo ' put in tho way of his doing it, and then | Fanning was led away to his cell. Ho was confused, almost stunned, by the I gravity of his situation, and when tho keeper spoke, not unkindly, to hiiu he only answered: "1 must think it over. I , do not know what to do." The more he thought the more serious : tho case seemed, although no doubt of hia acquittal yet entered his mind. To givo bail was impossible without sending to New York, and ho was reluctant i to apply to any of his acquaintances for j such a favor. Possibly it would be use- I less to do so. A bondsman would have j to own reul estate in tho county, he remembered. But when the case should j come to trial there would be no difficulty ! surely in establishing his identity. Mean- | time it would be well to secure a lawyer, j as the judge had intimated. He did so, but tho result of his first in- j terview with Mr. Playfair, who was recommended to him, was that that gentleman, having talked with the police be- j fore ho saw Fanning, decided in his own ; mind that ho had a criminal, and a remarkably foolish one, for a client, j He hinted as much after he had questioned Fanning. "Remember," ho said, "that it is tho worst possible policy to I conceal anything from your counsel." j Therent Fimninp flew in a race?a most uncommon thing for him to do? ; and came near quarreling with his best j and only friend, though he was only a hired attorney. However, Play fair apolo- ! gized?for he had pocketed a very liberal fee?and smoothed his client down by promising to exert himself and do the ! very best he could. To do him justice, j ho really intended to do tho best ho could I ?for himself. ?!<? had no hope of clear- I ing his client, hut at least ho could get j considerable money out of him. It so I happened that he wanted to go to New York on some business of his own, and I he suggested?partly to try his client's ; sincerity, but also with an eye to personal thrift?that if his ex[>enses wero paid ! he would go himself and bring back one : or two witnesses who would testify to 1 Fauning's identity. The philosophical reader will perceive ! two simple but invaluable morals in , what followed First, that when jus- 1 tice is di'iH'ndent upon legal processes J it will not do to neglect one point of ; proof, no matter how insignificant it . may seem or how overwhelming other j evidence may be. Tho second is that j circumstantial evidence is not worth the i trouble of remembering, if it can, on any j hypothesis whatever, be interpreted in j more than one way. Innocent men have i been hanged on circumstantial evidence, j because the true explanation of the circumstances seemed far fetched and un- j reasonable. And how should this not be ! so when circumstances happened 03 they did to convict Fanning? Yes, he would send Playfair to New York certainly, and would pay his expenses, and be indebted greatly to him for going. It happened that on starting on his travels he had closed his bank account, drawing out almost $4,000, and he had nearly the whole amount with him when ho was arrested, a fact which told against him afterward. Money was 6f little value to him in comparison with the establishment of his innocence, and he unhesitatingly counted out as much as Playfair asked for, seeing which the latter instantly reproached himself for the last time in his life for not asking for more. He cofitented himself, however, with the thought that the case was still young, and asked for instructions ns i to how he should proceed when he I reached New York. Fanning reflected for a few moments. < Then he said: "Naturally 1 do not want the story of this thing to get about. It will be enough if you go to Dr. Sandringham and to Mr. James Friend. Tne j doctor knows me professionally and Mr. ! Friend has charge of some business in- i terests of mine. I will write letters to them and you can explain the case fully." "Would it not be well to take your photograph also?" suggested Playfair. "I never had a photograph taken," j said Fanning. "We can have one taken easily enough," | said the other. "What possible necessity is there for j that?" asked Fanning. "The letters will be enough." The photograph, therefore, which might very probably have changed the wholo current of affairs afterward was not taken, and Playfair, after two or three more interviews with his client and after arranging with the district at- j torney for a trial within a month's time, : started for New York. Fanning, left to himself iu a most dis- j agreeable predicament, summoned all ! his philosophy to his aid, and succeeded | fairly well in reconciling himself to tho sitnation. He had always prided him- i self on his philosophy, and felt a thrill j of gratified vanity in finding that it was serviceable stuff and not mere theory. "1 am in prison, it is true," ho reason- ; ed, "but luckily it is for no fault of my own, thereforo no disgrace really at taches to the fact, and the seeming dis- i grace will soon bo wiped away. Thero j is no one on earth who will suffer any j pain or suspenso on my account, and for this once I can congratulate myself on tho fact that 1 am entirely alone in tho - - -- A - . x...... I worm. meantime a inonui is iiui'ii uul | of uiy life. Or is it really so? I am j having a disagreeable experience, but | after all it is an exjierience, and I can ! make it serve in the development of character if I choose." He did so choose, and spent the time studying and meditating. Ho was al- 1 lowed to use his own money, and lived i well at exorbitant prices, besides getting | the use of what few books ho wanted, j for tho jail servants were ready to do : almost anything for him so long as ho paid them. As tho day of his trial drew near, j however, ho began to bo very apprehensive. Ho had only heard once from his lawyer, having received a single letter from him, written on tho day of his arrival in New York, and of course containing no information beyond tho announcement of arrival. Ho was seriously angry and even a little worried I by this outrageous neglect, but when ho , sent a letter to Mr. Playfair's office to | make inquiries, that gentleman's clerk | called at tho jail, and informed him i that he had just received a letter from ; his principal in which tho latter said ! that everything was processing favorably, bnt that lie had been detained longer than ho expected to bo. IIo would certainly return, however, in time for ! Dr. Fanning's trial. It was very* un- j satisfactory, but Fanning did not seo i what he could do, situated as he was, t excepting to trust to his counsel, especially as everybody of whom ho inquired assured him that Mr. Playfair was the leading lawyer of the place (which was not true), and that he had never proven derelict in the performance of his professional duties, which was true enough in a sense. To do Mr. Playfair entire justice it must be said that he had a conscience, though it was subject to legal rules of practice and to thedeeisionsof the courts, i lie therefore easily (M-rsuaded himself that lie was doing his full duty by Fanning. And 4his ho did the more easily because he felt convinced that his client was really John Corkins. On reaching New York he went first to Mr. James Friend, fin-ling him to bo a reserved, dignified looking man of ! middle age, who carried on (according to tho Bign on tho door of his Wall street ! office) the business of a "banker and broker.'' Mr. Friend listened quietly while Mr. Playfair explained his ernuid, and he rend the letter which Funning had written without tho slightest change of countenance. Mr. Friend was an excellent poker player. Whilo he read and listened ; he was busily analyzing a difficult situation and dallying with a tremendous temptation. He had speculated heavily j of late and had lost heavily. Fanning's property wjls in his hands, and because of Fanning's trust in him and great care- i lessness about money matters it was not properly secured. If Fanning could be gotten out of tho way for a few yeais all might bo well. If, ou the other hand, j Fanning should call for any very con- | siderable amount at once it might raean disaster and even complete ruin. He reasoned it all out rapidly before . speaking. Then tie saia m a most onsi- , ness liko manner: "This is a most sur- 1 prising thing, Mr. Playfair. Dr. Fanning certainly left New York about the time this burglary you mention was committed, but he went to Europe. I j do not know his exact address just at ; this moment, but it is impossible that he j should be in niij^i^pow.r Even while Tie was spealdng Mr. Friend realized that he was taking a long risk, and he trembled inwardly lest Playfair should press him with questions. The lawyer, however, only saw confirmation of his own theory and was not disposed to be cri tical. "But the letter," he said. "You cer- 1 tainly know whether that was written by Fanning or by an impostor." "The letter," said Friend, "was cer- : tainly written by some one who knows j something about Fanning's business, ; and it even has a resemblance to his , handwriting, but it is not a close resem- i blance, and if you will notice there ore j two errors in spelling in it Now Dr. j Fanning is a highly educated man." "Yes, I noticed that," sahi the lawyer, j pluming himself on his own astuteness, and so this trifle helped to lock the pris- | on doors on an innocent man. "Now what on earth can that Oorkins be thinking of to send me to New York on such an errand as this?" thought i Playfair as ho left Wall street. J3o saw no more of Friend, and did'not fcr a moment suspect that that reputablo looking ! man drank much moro brandy than was . good for him that afternoon. "I will go to Dr. Sundringhnm,though," j said Playfair to himself. "Corkins pays, and I'll do what I agreed to. Besides, it 1 is interesting." Dr. Sandringham was an ex;remely ! busy man, but very conscientious. Yes. ; He knew Fanning, but had not seen him i very lately. A most promising young i man, who stood well in the profession. J What! In prison in Illinois? Impossible! j Oh! a man there who claimed to be Fanning. Well, that could bo easily settled, i Fanning's office was right around the ! corner. Most remarkable thing! And the doctor called his secretary, and asked him if he would go to Fanning's office and ask that gentleman to J step around at once on important business. It wjis done, and the secretary presently returned saying that Dr. Fanning had "sailed for Europe about a month ago." What the 6ervc.nt at the door had said j to the secretary was, "Sure, ho left here I a month gone, an' I belave ho wint to Yarrup." The secretary s unin tentional lie, however, tallied with Friend's fiendish one, and together they seemed to be proof absoluto. Dr. Sandringham hesitated. He was bewildered, and had Playfair produced Fanning's photograph he would certainly have investigated further, but he was expected at two deathbeds, and when the lawyer gave up the case, as ho did on the moment, the physician assumed that it must bo one of attempted imposition, and straightway forgot ?.11 about it in the multiplicity of his own affairs. Playfair was also very busy. He did not write to Fanning because ho had no time to waste on a hopeless case. He did, ! however, meet his obligations so far as : to return to Bloorglngton in time to see 1 his client get a "fair trial ." And his client, j with a policy mare cautious :han wise, j refrained from upbraiding him lest he j should bo angered and so slight the case. The result of this was that Playfair was /.rmfirmml in his nninion of Fanning's guilt and more puzzled than ever to ac- ' count for his clumsy attempt to prove 1 himself somebody else. As for Fanning, the announcement by ! his lawyer on the very eve of the trial ! that he, the real Fanning, was in Europe ! was so stupefying thai he could not de- I cide what to do. The whole affair seemed so monstrously impossible that he actu- | ally found himself wondering whether he might not be insane. Then he checked j himself, remembering that insani ty of ten begins that vrt.y. The only thing to do, 1 so far as ho could see at the moment, 1 was to go into court and tell his story ' clearly and calmly and rely on his law- j yer. It was preposterous to suppose that he could be convicted. He had a fair trial; fair, that is, in the he.uring and consideration of all that was I presented. It was proven that the burglar}' had been committed, and that be- j yond reasonable doubt John Corkins had j committed it. And the prosecution presented him as John Corkins. Then Fanning was sworn and told his j story. Ho explained his possession of the amount of money in question and his 1 presence in the city jus they have already i been explained in this story, and assured the court that he could easily bo identi- j fied in New York. As agjiinst this the prosecution produced the three i>oliceinen already meniiTid tin. warden of the Illinois statu . prison, who all swore positively that the prisoner was John Ccrkins beyond the jKissibility of a doubt. The warden presented the detailed written description of John Corkins taken down j when ho hud previously been sent to prison for a similar crime, and it tallied , exactly with Farming's appearance, even to the location of a small mole on his ; neck. To do Playfair justice once more he fought hard for his client on technicalities, and insisted that tho identification was a mistaken one: but tho "proof" j was too conclusive. Judge and jury alike believed that Fanning'# story was ' a bold and by no means an ingenious lie. lie was found guilty and sentenced ! to ten years of hard labor in tho state prison. ? ? ClIAl'TEli III. DISCO V Kit Y. "I wish to know what this star// means." It lias lieen mentioned that Miss Latimer had a scrap liook. Now, one scrap book differs from another scrap lunik as the north star differs from an indistinguishable atom in the Milky Way, but any scrap book is or may be valuable. Tho man or woman who keeps a scrap book as it may be kept becomes dangerous because powerful. If knowledge really be power li ttle hits of knowledge rescued from among the flotsam and jet- ' samof the printing press and preserved in a fashion that enables the possessor to put ' his linger upon them become like so many dynamite cartridges stored away for possible use and capable of most effective explosion. It is not given ?to everybody to realize this; but as for me I pray that mine enemy may never keep a scrap book. If he should I hope he may never know how to keep it well. Miss Latimer's scrap book, it may bb said, was nothing more than one of those huge, misshapen volumes, into which are pasted, without order, and often without reason, such "scraps" (properly so called) as may chance to strike the owner's fancy at the moment they are perceived. These books become in time stored, as many men's minds are stored, with a miscellaneous, unassorted collection of general misinformation, of no possible use to the owner or to any of the rest of mankind, excepting on those fare occasions when misinformation explodes in the hand of the holder and shutters him in minute bits. Even 60 poor a thing as one of these gaudily bound, rattle-te-bang books, however, may have its use. The name of Allah, as the pious Mussulman remembers, may chance to be inscribed on any piece of paper that blows a-down the wind. So it happened that Miss Latimer came into possession of a piece of paper without which a whole story would have gone wrong. It came about through a curious development of modern civilization. Partly also through the economy of modern publishers, which impels them to print on both sides of the same piece of paper. Inasmuch as no human being has time to read all that may be written and printed in these biter days on any subject that may be of interest to him or her a new industry has sprung up within ten years. People read newspapers for other people, sending to their customers such clippings as may bear upon any given topic at so much per clipping. By employing such an agency the student may be reasonably sure of seeing all that is said in a thousand newspapers on the subject that interests him, whereas he could never search all those thousand publications if he had forty-eight hours of spare time every lay. So it liappened that Miss Latimer, after sho had returned to her city home nnd hud taken up the particular line of study that interested her for the time, sent an order to one of the bureaus where such work is done, for all the publications that might appear about the cultivation of orchids. To her presently then came various clippings about orchids; reports of horticulturists, alleged witticisms, descriptions of collections of orchids, philosophical essays upon the luxury of millionaires as exemplified by orchids of fabulous price, and untold varieties of comments, for orchids were just then tho fashionable craze. And among all these scraps came one from a Bloomington paper. She wondered, as she sat with this last in her hand, whether it were the paper or the whole world that was upside down, for on tho opposite side of the paper from that where the orchids were she read an account by the local reporter of a stay of proceedings asked for by Lawyer Playfair on behalf of John Corkins, recently convicted of burglary, tho prisoner having asserted, in spite of tho positive evidence adduced at his trial, that lie was not John Corkins at all, but that he was Daniel Fanning, M. D., of New York city. It appeared that the stay of proceedings was sought for aa a preliminary to a demand for a new trial, on which tho prisoner promised to introduce new testimony. And she further read that the court had denied the stay and- had censured the lawyer for bad practice in making such a request on such frivolous grounds. And she read moreover that the prisoner, still asserting that he was not John Corkins, had actually been sentenced to the state prison to serve for ten years. It was a technical sort of report, and . *11 1 i 1 J4, rp. 8bo coum not iuuy uuuenumu it. mc reporter seemed to assume that the reader had seen a previous story of the trial, but she gained a general understanding from the few paragraphs, and as she read she wondered what it could all mean. Was it possible that this manDaniel Fanning, whom she?well, whom sho rememl)ered, was a convict? Over and over again she read the brief story, and wondered as sho read what it could possibly mean. It could not be true, she thought, but even as Bhe tried to think so stories came to her mind of innocent men who had suffered mistaken punishment, and sho presently began to consider what sho could do. And the eminently sensiblo suggestion came to her that she could at least find out about it. Fortunately it was early in the day, and she was within a few minutes in her carriage driving toward her lawyer's office. "Mr. Willwright," she said on entering, "I wish to know at once what this story means," and she handed him the slip. The c Id lawyer read the story carefully, and said without hesitation, "I should say that it means that the judge was entirely right in censuring that lawyer for a very irregular motion." "Oh! bother the judge and his censure," exclaimed Miss Latimer impatiently. "What I want to know is whether that is Dr. Daniel Fanning who has just been sentenced to the state prison, or whether it is a burglar? I happen to know," and here she changed color ever so little, "that Dr. Fanning left tho city some weeks ago." "Well," said Mr. Willwright. somewhat quizzically, "even that important fact is hardly a sufficient ground for assuming that he has been convicted for burglary under an assumed name in Illinois." "Now please don't joke about it," said Miss Lntiiuer. "Is it possible that such a terrible mistake should occur?" "Ye-es," replied tho lawyer with some reluctance, "it is i>ossible that such a thing might occur. Courts are human institutions anil they do make mistakes sometimes. But it is highly improbable that it has really occurred." "Then I wish you would find out all about it at once," exclaimed Miss Latimer. "Can you let mo know to-day?" Mr. Willwright smiled indulgently. Miss Latimer was a good client, for he h:ul charge of all her property and ho could afford to humour her whims. "I imagine," ho said pleasantly, "that I may barn in a week or two." Miss Latimer's eyes flashed. "And leave an innocent man in prison a week or two! What is the telegraph for? Won't you ask Mr. Playfair all ubout it and let me know?" "Certainly I will," said Mr. Willwriglit, dropping his playfulness when he saw how earnest his client was. "Shall I use your name in the inquiry?" he asked. "By no means," said Miss Latimer, blushing deeply this time. People sneeied at Miss Latimer for betraying her feelings. They said it showed a lack of good breeding. Other people admired her i 11 tho more for it. A few hours later a messenger from Mr. Willwright's office brought her a long telegram from Playfair to Willwright in which the main facts of tho caso were recited. It concluded: "My client has insisted on retaining additional counsel, and on sending again to Now York, but in view of tho positive nature of the identification the clearest jiossiblo evidence will be necessary to upset it." This was true enough. Air. Playfair had had a very unpleasant interview with his client after the trial. Fanning was for a time almost beside himself with rage at the mismanagement of his case, but realizing the gravity of the situation had calmed himself, and instead of antagonizing Playfair had instructed him to continue tin; fight, only insisting that another lawyer should also be retained, lie could do no more, placed as ho was, and w;us now in a fever of anxiety waiting for evidence that should clear | him on a new trial. Playfair's first motion had been made for delay, and ar appeal had afterward been taken or technical grounds. The new evidence camo sooner than h< expected. When Miss Latimer read Dr Sandringham's name she ordered hei carriage again and was shortly in hii office. She had known him all her life, | That busy man was greatly disquietec by her questions. He remembered Play fair's visit at once, and the possibility that he had by constructive negligence been a party to an innocent man's con viction for crime was most painful. "God bless my soul!" he exclaimed ir real distress. "Is it possible that such a I mistake could be made?" "It seems impossible," replied Misa ! Latimer, "but it also seems very much | as though it had been made," and she : showed him Playfair's telegram. Suddenly as he read the old doctoi i exclaimed: "Corkins! Why, that is the ! name of a man who was shot this mornI ing by a policeman. He is dying now at Tfc-11 1 H rxuievue uub^jiuw. i "Dying?" exclaimed Miss Latimer, u ! excited as he at a coincidence that was ! to her perfect confirmation of all hei ! fears. "Then come with me at once." ' And before the doctor could collect himself sufficiently to remonstrate againsl going out in office hours he was in her carriage, and they were driving toward i the hospital where he had seen the "in i teres ting case" a few hours before. It was the John Corkrns they were ii : search of. He had heen fully identified | after he had been shot as the individual : whose picture was in every rogues' gal; lery in the country, and as Miss Latimer I was led by the physician to the bedsidt I of the man who had just died her hearl ! stood still for a moment. The resem! bianco was so strong that it seemed tc ! her as if she were looking on the deac 1 face of a man she might have loved. That very night a capable man fron J Mr. Wilhvright's office started for Dli j nois with ample evidence, and after t ; slight delay Fanning was honorably ac quitted of the grave charge. Not unti ; after he had returned to New York U settle accounts with Mr. James Frienc J did he learn all that had been done foi ! him by somebody. Mr. Friend had i I bad half hour with him, and after mak I ing restitution to the last dollar fount j himself on the verge of bankruptcy. Fanning's next business was to call or j Mr. Willwright, as he supposed, to 6ettl( ; accounts with him also. To his amaze ! ment that gentleman not only refused t< I be paid, but declared that he had beei i retained by a friend of Dr. Fanning'i j whose name he was not at liberty t< j divulge. This was intolerable, and hi : said, with much dignity: I AWirtofimic flir fhftl J.I1C1U OJU OUUiO V/Uii^auuiiO) OM) : a gentleman cannot rest under. I can I not relieve myself of the debt of grati ! tudo I owe to your client, but I can ro j place tho money ho has spent, and tha ' I insist upon." And he signed a blanl | check and laid it on tho lawyer's desk. Mr. Willwright'a face lightened. Ii j fact he almost smiled. '.'I will tell him | and I have no doubt bo will appreciate I your feelings," he said, coolly puttin/ . the check in his pocket. But when Fanning saw Dr. Sandring | ham he found that gentleman lessscrupu lous. Miss Latimer had made him alsi j promise that ho would never -Ml Fan | ning who it was that had roused him t< j action, but he bad notions of his own | and his promise was made with menta i reservations. "If that child suppose ! that I am going to let two such person drift away from each other in ignorance,' he said to himself, "she does not knov me as well as I know her." And therefore it was that they did no j drift apart. On the contrary they drift j ed closer and closer together until on day, in the fullness of time, Fannin/ i said: "Margaret, you have come to b ' -D *? a Will VA11 TnfltTI I I ill! Ill tuo WUilU 4,SJ UJC. If Ui ; VV* j me?" ! "No," she said very gently. "I cari i too much for you to ullow you to giv< j yourself to me from a sense of grati tude." "You do care for me, then?" he sail i eagerly. "You love me?" I She arose, and for once ho saw he; I eyes flash as they sometimes did. "Hov ; dare you"? she began, but then shi stopped. She saw again that he whs not i in the very least, afraid of her. It wa | that which had won her so long before, i Ho smiled proudly. "Margaret," hi said very quietly, "do you think any ; thing on earth would make me tell i ! lie?" "No," she 6aid. "Then listen. I love you with m; whole heart. Will you marry me?" And she did. the end. Crltlcialtig a Masterpiece. A strange criticism of Rembrandt's fa i mous portrait of "The Gilder" was over | heard by two young artists at the Metro , politan museum recently. ; The young men were examining thi portrait for perhaps the hundredth time As on the previous ninety-nine occasion they had grown enthusiastic over thi j wonderful art displayed in its execution As is well known, the picture is tha of Jan Domer, a Dutch artist, who i ! habited in the costume of his eountr; ! anil age. One of the most marvelou pieces of work of the entire portrait i I the reproduction of a huge starched linei ruff that tho man wears about his neck The ruff almost stands out from the can vas, so skilfully was it reproduced by tb marvelous hand of the master. Tho two young men were almost read; , to fall down before the portrait to wor j ship it when they heard the sharp, nasa I tones of a countryman speaking beliini | them. The words they heard were, "Oh Maria, come here anil see this man witl | his head sticking through a cheese." Tho two men instinctively move* : away. "What a profanation I" said om i to the other. "Yes, indeed," was the reply. "I won ( der if it is possible for these people eve , to appreciate art. I believe there are a j least five hundred artists who would b j willing to lay down their lives if the; ! could but produce that ruff, to say noth | ing of tho portrait itself."?New Yorl , UUliUU. Where Woman I.ouds. Which living novelist has products ! the greatest number of books? A lady in the person of Mrs. Oliphant, claim this honor. This popular writer lues, nj i to the present date, produced seventy three novels and six biographies, t>eside contributing largely to j>eriodical litera ture. Miss Braddon has given us fifty ' five novels; Miss Yonge, fifty-three j Ouidu, or Louise de la Ramee, thirty three; Mr. William Black, twenty-eight Mr. Besaut, twenty-six and Mr. Hag gard, fourteen. An American author who died not long ago, wrote betweei | two and three hundred sensation novels Very few of these attained any great eel cbrity, but his copyrights brought hin over ?6,000 a year for several of the his f years of his life. The most prolific novelist the worlc j has. ever seen was Lope de Vega (1562 163T>). It is calculated that 21,300,000 o his lines were actually printed, and in less than l.SGO plays of his compositioi were acted upon the stage. Montalvai records the fact of his having written fif teen acts in fifteen days, making fivi plays in a fortnight If not romembem for quality of work, Vega holds a higl place in literary annals for quantity. Loudon Tit-Bits. Gen. Field, who has been given chargt of the codification of the Confederal archives, is an old Confederate soldier lie is now about sixty years of ago, and is tall, erect and broad shouldered. Foi a number of years he w;is in the servict of the Khedive of Egypt. It does not seem to be generally known that spiders are provided with a poisoi of a very active nature, the effects ol ; which are similar to those produced bj J snake poisons. gtijSfcttancmtS ?U?fltog. THEN AND NOW. Rev. Dr. Lathan Talks Instructively About Social and Economic Conditions. Correspondence of the Yorkvllle Enquirer. Moouesville, N. Cm August 28.? As the traveler in the South advances from any point, either north or south, he discovers marked changes in the manners and customs of the people, in the industries of the people, and in the people themselves. The manners and customs of the inhabitants of the lower counties of South Carolina are very different from those of the upper counties of the same State. Even the lan guage of the two sections are different. r Both claim to speak English ; but re' ally they only speak dialects of the English language. Each sectiou has ' its localisms. Each uses words which the other never pronounces or writes. i These sectional changes are marked as 1 we pass out of the cotton producing belt into the grain and stock raising sections of our country. The first thing which arrests the at' tention of the traveler in his journey ' from the seacoast of South Carolina to 1 the mountains of North Carolina, is the decrease of the negro population. The population of North Carolina, in f round numbers, is about one and a : half millions, and the whites are to the negroes as nine to six, or nearly so. ] In the counties north and west of ( Mecklenburg, there are few negroes, and in some large sections none at all, ' except in the towns and on the railroads. Another marked change is . that in this region of country the acreage planted in cottou is very small, compared with what it is in the middle section of South Carolina. The mode of farming is very different. Large quantities of clover are sown, and on 1 the fields on which oats and wheat j were sown last year, peas were sown j immediately after harvesting the grain. r At this season of the year the farmers j are busily engaged in turning the lands, sown in clover and peas, with a 1 large two-horse plow. In this way they enrich their lands, or, perhaps it x would be more correct to say, prevent 9 their lands from becoming exhausted. . These lands, after being turned, are 3 harrowed and again plowed; are then, i at the proper season, sown in wheat s with a drill. The defect in most of the 3 lands in the cotton-growing region is 3 | that all the vegetable matter is workod out of them. To counteract tnis aet feet they are stimulated every year - with some commercial fertilizer, but - j still planted in cotton every spring. - ; The productiveness of any soil det j pcnds largely 011 the amount of decayt ' cd or decaying vegetable matter in it. j The crops in the counties of North 1 j Carolina, north and west of Charlotte, , i are generally good. In the lower part a i Iredell, that is, in the region south of ; I Statesville, the people, some of them at ' least, have got the idea into their heads - that they can raise line cotton, and - j that there is more money to be made 3 in raising cotton than in raising grain. - On many of the farms the stand is 5 poor and the crop is late. Hence, al? though the stalk is large, the yield 1 will necessarily be small. In many 3 cases the stand of cotton was so bad B that the land was planted in corn. On most of the these fields the corn is f very promising. Usually, furmers prepare their land better for cotton than * they do for corn. This is a mistake. " Good preparation is much better than 9 good cultivation while the crop is grow' ing. In fact, if land is thoroughly prc9 pared before the crop is planted, very ^ little cultivation is required. The best time to plow deep and close, is when 9 preparing the ground for planting. The fruit crop in this region is most abundant. At every house the ladies . are busily engaged in drying and can' ning fruit, and peach pie and rich and j cool sweet milk, is the desert on every r dinner table. 3 It is strange, but true, that while this region of country is 011 the edge of ^ the peach-growing belt, still the crop is more certain than in those regions I ...U.iHoina nri*nnfot? 2 1 WUCIC 11IC pcutll UCV UVIHIUO ^ivuvv* perfection. This may be accounted for i in part, at least, by the fact that a very large number of the peach trees in the regions well adapted to the ma, turity of the fruit, is not seedlings, but grafts. In this region the reverse is true. The trees have become acclimated. By tampering with the laws of nature, the result is very apt to be sterility or a monster, r This region of country abounds with - fine roller Hour mills. There is one - in this place which has been kept, since wheat harvest, running night and day, a grinding 250 bushels of wheat every 24 . hours. All this wheat is grown in the s surrounding country. The general ef0 feet on the country is not hard to decipher. With these wheat growers it t ; does not matter particularly whether 0 ; cotton sells for six or ten cents per Y | pound. The price of cotton does not s | control the price of breadstuff's. 8 ; This is a good county and the people 1 | ought to be contented, but they are J not. Many of them talk of going to " ; Texas or Arkansas, or some place else. 0 i This is a restless age. The whole i country?all the people of the country, y : church and State, are in a state of un! rest, which, apparently, is driving us J ' on to revolution or anarchy. "Down i and out," is the watchword of both in ' j Church and State. This, we are told, is 1 I progress, but in what direction and to, . what, we may soberly inquire? | The changes which have taken place e j in our country, during the century | which is now nearing its close, are marr velous. In 1791 the United States was j. j small compared with what it is today. From the first permanent settlement of the country by the English, in 1(107, until the close of the war of the Revojj lution, the inhabitants had been engaged in almost continual warfare. The population of the thirteen colonies j in 1770 was estimated at H,uuu,uuu; 1 j hut this was niueli too great, and the ? | number was considerably reduced by a 8 war which continued from the battle [' of Hunker Hill, in 177"). to the surren j dor of Cornwallis, in 17X1. All North 8 Carolina west of the Yadkin was, prior - : to the Revolutionary war, with the ex i eeption of a few settlements, and these ? | many miles apart, an unbroken forest. " ; Prior to 1741, it was in full and undis j puted possession of wild beasts and " : savage Indians. Its settlement began ' immediately before and after the defeat 1 I of General Rraddoek in 17">">. That ! event exposed the inhabitants of wost! ern Pennsylvania to all the cruelties of 1 j the Indians, and as many of the whites H as could, (led to the South. The population of North Carolina was, in 177i?. according to an exaggerated estimate, " 2lil).()()(). by far the greater part of which was in the eastern and northJ eastern portion of the State. Now, 1 the population of the State is 1,400,000. ; The manners and customs of the i original settlers of Western North Car. j olina were primitive to a degree that j . is almost incredible at the present j time. The houses were all constructed out of logs, which were always of ! huge size, were hewn on two sides and 3 j then dragged or hauled on trucks to . j the building site. When the material j was all on the ground, all the male I members of the settlement were asked r to help at the "raising," or to state it in ; j the dialect of the times, "axed to the j raisin'." Corner men were in great j demand, ami a man who could raise i the corner of a house, was held in as 1 high repute as the individual is today ' ] who is able to build a cotton press. ' j Corner men were not abundant, and it i often occurred that the inhabitants of one community were iorueu, uy uirc necessity, to make application to some one many miles distant to raise the corner of a house. The first houses were made warm by stopping all the cracks between the logs with mud, and then, to conceal the mud, a split board was nailed over the mud chinking. The roofs of the first houses in the early settlements of the northern section of South Carolina and western part of North Carolina, were made of split boards, usually about three feet long. The boards were confined to strong rafters, not with nails, but by ? placing heavy poles on top of them. The floors were made of puncheons?, split logs?or, when these were wanting the ground was leveled off and beat down with a maul. Thitf was approt priately called a dirt floor. As the country improved, whip saws were introduced, and by a slow and laborious process, lumber of various kinds was sawn. These whip saws were run neither by water, horse power nor steam, but by two strong men. The mode of converting logs into building lumber was exceedingly simple. The mill consisted of a strong platform made of eight strong forks on which i were laid four poles strong enough to ! bear ud the weight of the largest saw log. On this platform, which was about eight feet high, the log to be sawn into lumber, having been flret hewn on two sides, was, by means of slides, placed. One of the sawyers mounted the platform, and placing himself on top of the log to be sawn, was ready for work. The other sawyer placed himself below the saw log. The whip saw was simply the old up and down saw, which preceded the circular saw. The log was lined on hewn faces, and the sawyers sawed to the line, the one pulling up and the other down. It was slow work and very hard work, but the lumber made was of a superior order. The lumber used in building the first fine houses in the lower part of South Carolina was all sawn by the whip saw. The task for two hands was 100 feet a day. Rather slow business, but the expense was very little. The great period of change in the Southern country has been since General Robert E. Lee surrendered. That act led to a revolution, radical in every-. thing which pertains to the manners and customs of the Southern people. Before the war between the States, the rich people rode in expensive two horse carriages; the middle class rode in buggies or on horseback; and the poor people and negroes walked or stayed at home. Now, all?white and black, old and young, ride either in a buggy or a Yankee road cart. The demand for harness and harness leather has increased in the South perhaps a hundred fold within the last quarter of a century. This is one reason that the price of shoes is what it is. Vast quantities of leather are worked up into harness, which was once used for shoes. Another change is the annual shipping into the South of corn, bacon, flour and hay by cur loads. This was not tne case once. n. ijathan. COTTON STATISTICS. Highest and Lowest Prices Each Year Since 1825. The following table shows the number of bales of cotton produced in the United States each year since 1825, together with the highest and lowest prices per pound each year in New York city: SKA SON. BALKS. HIGHEST. LOWEST. 1825 720,027 27 13 1828 957,281 14 ? 182 7 727,503 12 8 ' 182 8 870,415 13 0 * 1821) 078,845 11 8 183 0 1,038,848 13 8 183 1 987,477 11 7 18)2 1,070,438 12 7 183:) 1,205,324 17 9 183 4 1,254,328 18 10 183 5 1,380,725 20 15 1830 1,422,930 20 12 1X37 1,801,497 17 7 18:48 1,300,532 12 9 183 9 1,177,835 10 11 1810 1,834,945 10 /... 8 1841 1,083*574 11 9 1812 2*178,875 9 7 1313 2,030,406 8 5 1814 2*394*503 0 5 1845 2,100*537 8% 5 184 0 1,778,851 10 0 1817 2*347,634 12 7 184 8 2,728*590 8 5 184 9 2,090,700 11 0 185 0 2*355*257 14 11 185 1 3,015,020 14 8 185 2 3,282,882 10 8 185 3 2,930,027 11 10 1354 2,847,339 10 8 1855 3,527,815 12 8 1350 2,939*510 13 9 1857 3,113,902 15% 9 1358 3,851,481 13% 8% m-Jl J lUiM 7711 lift? \0ftz. moo 3,556,080 11% 10 1861 4,800,000 38 11 % 1802 1,500,000 64% 20 18ft! .'300,000 93 51 186 4 800,000 1.90 72 186 5 2,151,476 1.20 55 186 6 1,951,088 52 82 186 7 2,480,898 lilt 15% 186 8 2,300,557 88 10 l?i9 8,114,592 ai 25 187 0 4,347,000 2% 15 187 1 2,974,550 21)2 14% 187 2 8,874,451 27% 18>i 1878 4,170,888 21% 1 3% 1874 3,827,815 18% 18% 187 5 4,632,813 17% 13 187 6 4,474,069 13% 10% 187 7 4,774,805 12% 10% 187 8 5,074,155 12% 8% 187 9 5,761,252 13% 9% 188 0 0,605,750 13% 11 188 1 5,456,048 13 12% 188 2 0,949,750 13 10% 188 3 5,713,200 11% 10 1884 5,700,165 12 9% 188 5 6,575,691 11% 9% 188 6 6,490,585 0% .... 9^ iSs!!!!!!!!."!! olttwla*)!!!!!'.!!!'.!! !}%"!!!!!!"Z! 188 9 7,313,720 11% 9% 189 0 7,307,281 125-2 10.% The Prick of Wisdom.?There is nothing stranger to youth than the persistency with which age proffers its experience ; there is nothing more trying to age than the determination of youth not to accept it. The fathers, mothers and guardians who have learned their lessons wouid he glad to impart their knowledge, without its ruinous price, to those they love. But the youngsters will have none of it. No, they must.buy their own wisdom, "dree their own weid," "pay the piper" themselves. No yearning affection can shield them from the trials and temptations they rush sogayly to meet. But why should the elders continually mourn that such is the case? They have spent their lives in learning how to live. So did their predecessors. Their children will do the same. The law is universal. Knowledge comes only with age and wisdom with the close of life. It must he that it was so intended. The blunders of youth, the struggles of maturity, the regrets of age, are all part of the inevitable training of each soul, a training necessary before it is prepared to enter on a fuller life.?Harper's Bazar. How Not to Become Bai.d.?The i increasing prevalence 01 premature ! baldness is a fact now recognized by ! the medical profession. According to ' Dr. Joseph Tyson's remarks in The Lancet, the principal cause, although ! not the sole one, seems to be the l'rc; (pient covering of the head. Women notoriously loose their hair less often. The cause is found in the comparative lightness of their head gear. Coming to practical remedies, or preventives, we are told by this authority that ellil| dren should as much as possible do j without caps, ami that bats, when worn, | should be of the lightest description, i The chimney-pot hat cannot, we are j warned, be too strongly condemned. In i winter a light felt, well ventilated and j unlined, is best. Washing the head more 1 than once a week is deemed harmful; i continual brushing with hard brushes is ; also to be avoided. Greasing the hair, j once so general, is now considered vul| gar, but a little simple grease or oil ! appliitl after washing would, we are | assured, be beneficial. VkSF The richest colored man in l'ennj sylvania is John Clark, of Pittsburg, I who began with an bumble blacksmith | shop twenty years ago and has made a 1 fortune of $200,000.