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i ISSUES SEMI-WEEKL^^ ^ ^ ^ l. m. grist & sons, Publishers. 1 % cjfamilg |tepaper: 4or to* promotion of the political, $oriat, ^jgrirultural, and (fonnnqrial Interests of the people. {TERMs^NG$LE^oiZw5El cents^ncf" established 1855. YORKVILLE. S. C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 28, 1900. NO. 25. ME 1 BY JEANNETTE Copyright, 1899, by Jeannette H. Walworl Synopsis of Previous Installments. In order that new readers of The Enquirer may begin with the following in * -V* o+sv?.TT on/1 iin/1nr?lanH if SlUJiUJCUL U1 1/UI9 OWIJ, ouu uuv?v?u?...? .? just the same as though they had read it all from the beginning, we here give a synopsis of that portion of it which has already been published: Tom Broxton comes to Broxton Hall from college, having been summoned to his father, who is dying. Mr. Matthews, Tom's guardian, passing "Mother" Spillman's cottage, drops a bag of papers. The next morning Matthews comes to look for one of the papers which have been lost. He does not And it, but Jimmy Martin, a Sardener, soon afier brings it to "Mother" pillman, She pledges Martin to secrecy and bides the paper in the back of an old chair. Tom Broxton visits the room in which his father lies, finds some flowers on an easel and among them an unfinished letter from his father to himself. Through ground glass doors he sees a figure tampering with the papers contained in his father's desk. Before he can enter the room the figure disappears. Approaching his father's body lying in bis coffin, Tom looks for a seal ring worn on the finger, but it is not there. Olivia Matthews arranges with her father for a garden party at Broxton Hall on her eighteenth birthday. Her father, riding past the Hall, stops there and sees the mysterious figure standing over Colonel Broxton's desk. After the lawn party Tom Broxton and bis guardian sit at the Hall talking about it, ana Mr. Matthews proposes that Tom, after being graduated at college, shall go abroad to study and declares that the Hall must be sold, to both of which propositions Tom demurs. Mother Spillman cautions Tom against bis guardian, but fails to convince him. Olivia rides out with Clarence Westover on horseback. Tom goes to the Hall, where he finds Olivia, who has been thrown from her horse, and carries ner into me nouse. one is notseverely injured. The party remain at the Hall. At midnight a scream is heard. It has come from Olivia, who has ' seen the mysterious figure standing over Colonel Broxton's desk. Two years elapse. Broxton Hall is sold to the Westovers. Tom Broxton is studying abroad. He writes to Olivia declaring his love for her. His guardian writes him that his estate has beeu lost, and Olivia writes him that she is engaged to Clarence Westover. Mr. Matthews' study is burned under suspicious circumstances, and all bis papers destroyed, including those pertaining to the Broxton estate. Tom Broxton returns from abroad and settles in the the west to practice his profession. Mr. Matthews is taken ill. Oliva visits the room where her father lies. Half conscious, she sees "Mother" Spillman, whom she recognizes as the figure she had seen standing over Colonel Broxton's desk, bending over her father and accusing him of having stolen the Broxton estate. CHAPTER XIV. SUSPICION IS CATCHING. The next day's sun had run Its course, its last friendly service being to gild with transient glory the topmost branches of the aucient cedars that flanked the front gate of the Matthews cottage on either side. They were wrapt in twilight gloom when Olivia opened the gate between them and stood staring down the road with unseeing eyes. Dr. Govan had just passed out of sight. He had spent nearly the whole day with her father. She had been rigidly excluded from the sickroom. They had broken her heart by telling her that it was her father's wish. "Her distress was agitating to the patient," the old doctor had said, with paternal kindness, adding, "Since you can do no good in there, my dear," with a grave nod toward the sickroom, "you had better brace yourself by a long walk." She had listened to him restlessly, with a haggard look in her childish eyes, which had great black rings around them. "Will father ever speak again. Dr, Govan?" she asked sharply. "Speak again? Oh, yes! He has spoken. 1 promise you be shall scold you roundly for those white cheeks and staring eyes before bedtime." She waved oue hand impatiently. "He must speak, doctor. There is something he must tell uie before?before"? She gasped and added in a choked voice, "Did Clarence tell you?" "About that old lunatic's visit last night? Of course he did. 1 saw her today. She is properly punished, poor old imbecile?not punished, for she did not know what she was about. She's about done for herself, coming up here in those thin house shoes. Malvina is pretty well broken up about it all." Ollle moved up very close to the old ? man and put her clasped hands on his heart as she said pleadingly. "She is a lunatic, isn't she. Dr. Govan?" "Mad as a March hare." "And nobody ever thinks of believing what lunatics say. do they. Dr. Govan?" "Not unless they are a little touched themselves." - He had no difficulty in tracing her meaning. It was a piteous plea for faith in her father. Westover had told him of the scone he had invaded without revealing ids own part in the proceeding. But. knowing as well as he did the old woman's mania, the doctor had no difficulty in supplying the details. "Poor papa?to think of my not protecting him better!" Dr. Clovan pushed her gently toward the door. "There, there, child, go. You are working yourself up into a condition of absolute usolessness." * "Oh. that will never do! I must not become useless while father needs me. I will go for a walk." "That's right. You are a good child. See that your walk means something. I will be back about. 10." Passing swiftly and resolutely from under the gloomy cedars through the smart, highly ornamented gate Into the broad public road, with its fringe of grass and weeds, gray with dust, she turned her face westward. She was going to the Spillmau cottage. Miss Malviua must tell her what her moth )S A fit H. WALWORTH. ?. er meant about finding and losing papers that belonged to Tom Broxton. ?lit? WUU1U L1UL Ifl .Uiaa .uuiviua auvn about the awful things that "poor old crazy woman" had said to her father. Those were words that must never find utterance a second time. They were too dreadful, too cruel, too false, absolutely false! And yet they haunted her. Some sleek black and white cows filed past her. wending their way homeward for the night. Their generous udders hung heavy with the promise of a rich yield. All of the black and white kine used to belong to Colonel Broxton. No one else had their like. She could distinctly remember hearing the old colonel discourse upon the superiority of his Imported Holsteins and being rallied by her father on his extravagance In keeping such a fancy breed. She wondered who the black and white cows belonged to now ?Tom, of course. The thud of rapid hoof beats on the road behind her made her draw still farther aside Into the dusty grass and weeds. She felt like hiding. "Why?" she asked herself petulantly. With long, clean strides, drawfbg a light sulky after her as easily as if it were a baby's perambulator, the colonel's black inare sped past her. A stranger was in the sulky. A man she had never seen was driving the mare Winnie. She wondered who she belonged to now?Tom. of course. Sick at heart, sore frightened, lilting herself for even remembering that "crazy old woman's" terrible words, she reached the Spillraan gate and passed timidly through It and up the broken brick walk, between Miss Maivina's two rows of gayly blossoming annuals, into the cottage, without knocking, for the door stood wide open. If she knocked, "Mother" Spillman might answer. There was no one in the little sitting room. The great chintz covered easy chair which she had never before seen vacant had been pushed back against the wall. Miss Malvlna's sewing machine was closed, and Its oilcloth cover was spread over It. The books on the table in the center of the room were rigidly correct in their stiff arrangement. A lamp burned dimly in the midst of them. There was a certain air of decorous repose about the entire room which smote upon Olivia's nerves omiuousiy. The door to the adjoining room was ajar. A dim light shone through it. Perhaps she would find them in there. Of course she would. Dr. Govan had said "Mother" Spillman was sick. She bad forgotten it. With considerate caution she made her way toward the light. She did not want to disturb "the poor old lunatic," but she must have speech with M1S3 Malvlna. She could not rest that night without It Yes. she found them in there, mother and daughter, the one quiet, motionless, at rest, with her long, gaunt hands lying stretched peacefully upon the white coverlet, the other sitting by the bedside weeping In noiseless resignation to the expected, weeping for her dead. Olivia swept swiftly forward and laid a hand on Miss Malvina's arm. "Is she sick? Is she asleep?" "She is dead," said Malvina quietly. "She went very peacefully just five minutes ago." The louely woman lifted her dull red eyes to Olivia's. The girl felt a quick rusli of sympathy. She wound her arms about the mourner. "Dead, and you here alone!" Miss Malvina turned and smoothed the thin gray hairs back from the marble cold face on the pillows. "I'd rather have had it so." she said. "I wanted nobody about. Poor dear! She lias not been herself for so long. She talked queerly sometimes, and 1 wanted no gossips about." Olivia bowed ber head in sad comprehension. "You mean about my father." She stood resting one hand on "My child, Olivia, there arc no paper*." Miss Malvina's shoulder, her eyes fixed upon the dead woman's face. She did not catch her friend's look of startled astouishinent. Her voice was drearily calm. "Yes. I know. It is very good of you. It is just like you not to want nuybody to know how she talked about father. She said such dreadful things to him last night." "Mother up to your house last night! My dear, you must have dreamed it." "Oh. no! 1 wish I had! I wish 1 had! But she was up there. I cannot tell you what she said to papa. 1 thought then I could never forgive her. but she knows better now. and I expect if she could she would ask his pardon and mine too. She knows now that my dear father did not ruin Thomas Broxton. She kuows that be is a good and true mau. I can forgive her now. I have forgiven her." Miss Maiviua forgot her own bereavement in pity for the desolate young face bent over ber mother's bed. d She turned comforter. t "Yes, she knows better now. You n poor little girl?to think 1 should have s fallen so dead asleep that she could C leave the house without my knowing it! I begin to suspect that she has f been deceiving me for a long time, d You know the in?people in her fix are I dreadfully sly. I did not know she had f been out of the house for years. I can't t beg your pardon often enough for let- t ting her worry Mr. Matthews. I knew a she had a sort of unreasoning grudge h against mm. ooiiieumes, juu &uuw, u dear, they?I might as well out with c it," she added in a sort of desperation, p "Insane folks often pick out their best friends to vilify." II "I know, I know. More than once n has she left you asleep and wandered a out Into the night. I heard her tell b about it last night. Oh, if she had only k lived long enough to tell me some- k thing more about those papers! Why a cannot I get her dreadful words out of my head?" ' ^ Miss Malvina turned her tear dim- t med eyes away from the dead old face to the pallid j'oung one with startling suddenness. v "Papers! What papers?" b Olivia stooped and kissed the plain ? face impulsively. tl "Oh, It seems such a monstrous thing a to come here and accuse her of cruelty ^ when she cannot say a word in self de- p fense! But, then, no more could fa- ^ ther last night. She said that some- ^ body had brought her some papers that e she meant to keep until Tom came g( back, but that she had lost them. She n said that she could not look for them a In the daytime because you watched her so closely." Here the poor child q dropped on her knees and clasped her a trembling hands upon Miss Malvina's T lap. "Oh, what dreadful things she 0 said to papa about those papers! Find T them for me, Malvina. Help me to find them before it Is too late." r Miss Malvlna gathered her Into a a motherly embrace. "Too late for what, f my poor little Ollie?" l! "Before father?goes?and cannot tell c me what to?do?with them." t "My child. Olivia, there are no pa- v pers. Believe me, it was all the fancy c of a disordered brain. Mother was } queer for a long time back. 1 have h known it for a year or two. How s could there be any papers of impor- v tance to any one in this little cabin and a I not know about them? Forget what ?] you heard her say, my child. Let it go f for naught. As you say, she knows q better now." i Olivia got up on her feet, and, fold ing her hands tightly upon her breast, j she looked down on Miss Malvina with $ an Inexorable purpose In her sad eyes. 1 "I wish 1 could let it go for naught, j[ but I cannot. I know there were some papers lost, because 1 distinctly re- c member father asking you If you had q 6een any the night of Colonel Brox- a ton's death. I know be could not wrong any one purposely, but losing those t papers may have put him In a wrong position. Help me to find them, Miss a Malvina." v Miss Malvina fell back upon her only c line of defense. "Mother was queer, y Ollie. That was the reason I have ? shut our door to all the neighbors of r late. She did not know what she was 'i talking about. There are"? li Olivia Interrupted her impatiently. "But did you never hear her speak a of those lost papers?of her finding v them, I mean?" h "Never." a "Nor any one else? Father? Don't yoq remember that morning after Colo- a nel Broxton died?" a A subtle change swept over Miss t Malvina's plain face. A frightened r look came Into her eyes. a "Think. Miss Malvina. Try to re- n member. And?ab. do ten me tne o truth, the whole truth, no matter how sorry you may feel for me. 1 can stand more than you think 1 can. But I c shall never know what peace is until b my mind is relieved about those pa- d pers." a Thus adjured. Miss Malvina made a I! reluctant confession. t "I will relieve your mind as far as b lies in my power. Ollie. if you will only try to stop worrying over what can't b be cured. I was standing at our front c gate the night the colonel died, hoping ? somebody would happen by that I could question about him. When I b heard a horseman coming, 1 rushed out into the road with very inconsiderate speed. I frightened your father's c horse, and he dropped his bag. 1 x picked it up myself and handed it back " to him." t "lie told me the next day?you re- 5 member, it was when you brought him In your phaeton?that lie missed some c papers and thought they might have t dropped out when he let his bag fall." "All of which." said Olivia stonily, e "goes to prove that some pnpers were r lost." c "Yes. but of course he found them again. He said that morning that he t presumed he must have left them in c the study at the Ilall, but It did not t matter much. They could not have a been very important." ' "But Mrs. Spillman?where does she s come Into your story?" b "I told her when 1 went back into the house all about It. Poor mother! 1 J got into the way of repeating every- t thing to her. It Interested her, you < know, and, being queer already, she c got a twist in her head about those 1 nnnAMO T en r\r*ACA vt?hlnll t hnfO {q T\ A ' O, A OUJ/|/V/OV| n UIVU ?.uv*v MV use trying to account for." "But she was so terribly In earnest last night. Miss Malrlna. There must have been something more than Imagination in It all. But there, now. That sounds as If I were helping her to cast discredit on father." Miss Malvir.n sighed wearily and turned her eyes toward the cold, still form on the bed. There was a note of pride in her voice when she said: "Mother was always one of the terribly earnest sort. I used to tell her she must have some of the blood of the old Covenanters In her veins. Mother burnt out. She didn't rust out. Poor dear! IIow glad she must be to have lone with It all?this fuming and fretIng. I mean. Mother's wasn't a happy inture, at least not here below. I hope he Is now. I've told you all I know, llivla." Olivia was standing, with meekly l olded hands, looking down upon the ead woman. How strange It all was! jess than 12 hours ago that quiet orm had quivered with passion as It 1 owered over her father's sickbed, and ' hose sealed lips had hurled terrible ( ccusations at him almost with their ist activity. Now, If she should offer 1 p her own vigorous young life In exhange for a single word she could not j urchase it. j "Yes," she said slowly, "she looks as ' P she had found rest. I would give I :iy life, though, to bring her back to 1 uswer me one question. mere wouiu <c no guesswork about It now. She < ;nows, and, O dear Lord, I want to 1 ;now! Just one question I want to i sk." i With a touch of exhausted patience ' fiss Malvlna asked, "And the ques- < Ion?" I "Where are those papers?" ' "How should she know, child? What * rould she be doing with papers that 1 elonged to your father or to Thomas I troxton? She spent her whole waking 1 inie In that big chair. I never will be 1 ble to look at It without bringing her ack. How could she have found any ( apers? And, If she had, she would ] uve turned them over to the person hey belonged to. Mother was too hon- ] st to trick her worst enemy. If I I ound peevish and cross, child, bear in I ilnd, that 1, too. have gone through i n ordeal." i Olivia drew In her breath with a i juick gasp of excitement. She was too i bsorbed In the terrible mystery she i cas trying to unravel to take any note j f the tired look on the plain face she ras searchiug. "Ah, something else comes back to ue! I feel like some one who has bad I . clew put Into his hands, but it is so I rail and delicate he is afraid to strain i t for fear of losing It forever. It I omcs back to me when you speak of hat chair. I remember one day?it I ras long before my garden party?1 i ame here to sqe you about something. .rou were not here, and I was afraid of j ter. I have been afraid of her ever i ince I was a little child. I drew back | rhen I saw you were uot in the room ( ,nd waited on the porch for you. ] Mother' Spillman was down on her j :nees before that big chair acting so , lueerly. I thought at flrst she might ] e praying." ( "Which I don't doubt she was," said ( liss Malvina coldly. "She was very j levout. Mother prayed a great deal. | expect you disturbed her at her morn- ( ag devotions." J "I don't think I disturbed her," said ; )llie humbly. "I stole right away very uietly and left her patting the chair j 11 over with her hands outstretched." fatting the chairV Mother some- 1 imes got very ferveut in prayer." "Oh, now I can see you are getting I ngry with me! Think of it, Miss Mai- ' ina?my father may soon be as your 1 aother is now. When they meet up ' ohder, she will know him as he is. ill mistakes, all doubts, will be set to est forever for them. But for me?oh, el,, me to find those papers before he i?aves me! I must have them!" Sobs shook the tired young frame, ] ud Miss Malvlna's rising resentment j vas swept away on the tide of returning pitj. She got up and put loving rms about the weeping girl. "Olivia, don't you think, for my sake nd yours, too, all this wild talk about , few lost papers may be dropped for he time being? It don't seem quite , espectful to her, lying there so still nd helpless, with us questioning her aeanings and criticising her acts. 1 am nly asking you to wait a little while." 1 "Forgive me." She slipped out of Miss Malvlna's lasp and dropped on her knees by the ied. Malvina left her there. It would ; lo her good to wrestle with herself lone. She passed Into the desolate Ittle sitting room and paused by the able with Its burden of rarely used , tooks. Ollie joined her there presently. "I have asked her to forgive me. I cave told her that I forgive her. Of j ourse she did not know what she was aying." j "Thank you, my dear, for trying to ?e just to her." Suddenly the girl's eyes widened. "And that is the very chair. Promise e, Miss Malvina, promise me," she vent on, with growing excitement, 'that when It is all over?I mean when here is nothing more to do for her? ou will let me come back here and"? "I'll be only too glad to have you , ome whenever you can spare a monent from your own dear Invalid." "You don't understand me." Her hnmlnor fovni'lohlv "I monn J CO ?CIU uut UIM6 ?v?v. . . ...v.. ? ay I come back and examine that hair?" It was on Miss Malvina's sorely tried leart to ask, "Are you, too. going daft ?ver Thomas Broxton's affairs?" but he girl's hot cheeks and shining eyes iroused her grave apprehensions. What f she should break down under the train, with a greater ordeal ahead of ler? So she said soothingly: "You can do ust whatever you choose with anyhing that is mine. Ollie. The old hair has served Its purpose. 1 don't are if you pull it all to pieces. Mother, am sure, -would be the first one to say Humor her.' Now go home, my dear. 1 four father may be calling for you. 1 vish I hadn't sent Jimmle Martin for tfrs. Lyons. I've got no one to see you lome, and It is a real dark night." "I am not afraid. I am coming back lO 3VA;u uo Ciuvu "Yes, as soon as we have put mother tway by father's side in the little rhurehyard. But now go home." She watched the small, graceful flglre until it became invisible by reason )f the twisted road and then closed ler front door softly. Could there be anything in all this :alk about some lost papers? "Suspl:ion is catching, I do believe." TO BE CONTINUED. I piSttHaneouiS fading. ; THE NEXT COTTON CROP. f Farmers Are Able to Control It if They ] Only Will. Editor of The Yorkvllle Enquirer: Allow me space in your paper to ( say a few words to the farmers of York { county in regard to the next cotton ( crop. I will, no doubt, write all in . vain ; but I will, nevertheless, write a , few words. ( If there ever was a time when the farmers needed to exercise good, sound . judgment in planning to plant their j crop, that time is now. We have just pas-ed through a hard year, and we y desire, of course, to make the most we possibly can out of this year's crop; but that don'.t mean we miust plant a large cotton crop. It is an undisputed fact that an oversupply of < any article lowers the price. And it is equally true that when the I demand is greater than the supply, prices rise. This latter fact was clear- i ly demonstrated by last year's short ? crop, for there is no denying the fact t that the short crop is what raised the ' price to 9 and 10 cents. The consumer is wanting cotton and cftn't get ? it; consequently the price is up. i When the supply is greater than the t demand, the consumer buys at bis own < price. 1 Cotton is bringing 9 cents at the i present time; but the impression has ? gone out to the effect that there will 1 be an increase in the acreage, corrobo- < rated by the heavy fertilizer receipts, i and has already had its effect on the ? market, and if we run this year's crop ? up to the 12,000,000 bale mark, it will 1 uot be reasonable for us to expect to 8 get 9 cents for cotton next fall. 1 Look what one short crop done. ' Raised the price from 5 to 10 cents, f Why not keep it there? The farmers ? have it in their power, to an extent at ' least, to control the price of cotton ; ' and we have been controlling it. We ? brought it down to 5 cents too. How? I By an overproduction. It is much better to put two hales on the market < at 8 cents, than four bales at 4 cents. < Why Dot make less and get more tor it ? Don't increase your cotton acreage and expect everybody else to cut theirs down. Let everybody cut down, and we surely will get a fairly good price for our cotton next fall. Nearly every class of people, except the farmers, are organized and run their business systematically. We stand in our jwn light by going on in this loose and careless manner. I am practically an inexperienced farmer. I am only a beginner; but I was raised on the farm, and have observed and studied the great field of progress and prosperity that lies out before the farmer, and am fully convinced that the farmer is one of the most free and independent classes of people on the face of the earth. If they would only come together, understand each other, raise everything at home they possibly can, and not produce any more of aD article thaD tbere is a demand for. Wake up farmers ! Don't plant the whole of York county in cotton. As I stated in the outset, these few rambling remarks will hardly have the desired effect on the farmers of York county; but next fall when everybody is complaining of low prices, I will be like the old woman, I will at least have the satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." J. K. Scoggins. Warren, S. C., March 21, 1900. McELWEE VS. McGlLL. Synopsis of an Important York County Case Recently Settled. The Columbia State of Wednesday, prints the following synopsis of the supreme court decision in the case of McEIwee vs. McGill. The synopsis < was prepared by John S. Reynolds, ! Esq., of the Columbia bar: . Margaret A. McEIwee, respondent, | vs. Elizubeth C. McGill and others, appellants. Assignment. Acceptance t and release. Mistake. , On June 2, 1896, Kennedy Bros. & ( Barron, merchants of Yorkville, beiug insolvent, made an assignment to D. ( E. Finley, for the benefit of their | creditors as should, within 90 days j from date thereof, accept its terms and execute a release of their claims and file the same with the assignee. By the terms of this assignment the < period in which creditors should so accept the release, expired on 21st August, 1896; but in the notice 1 to creditors, prepared at Finley's re- ] quest by J. S. Brice, his law partner, < September 1 was designated as the last < day for such acceptance and release. i On September 1, 1896, certain credi- i tors, by their attorneys, met in the of- < fice of Finley?he being absent?and < executed among themselves an agree- I ment "not to release their respective I claims, provided that every creditor 1 represented by any of the following members of the York bar shall by i himself or his attorney sign the agree- i ment." The plaintiff and other credi- I tors joining in her contention, signed I this agreement, and among the signa- i ture thereto was "Miss E. C. McGill, I per J. S. Brice, attorney." Brice, in l ? !? : ?U_ Mice . fact, Mad no aumoriiy iu oi^u iu> , McGill ; but no bad faith is imputed to i him. Before the execution of the i agreemeut aforesaid, namely, on Au- s gust 29,1896, Miss McGill's acceptance I and release had been filed with the i assignee?a fact of which Brice was ] wholly ignorant when erroneously sup- ? posing himself to be Miss McGill's I attorney, he signed the agreement in 1 question. I The object of this action was to set aside the acceptance and release exe- i cuted by Miss McGill, so that she j should stand, with plaintiff and others I in like plight, as a non-releasing credi- < lor. The circuit judge decreed that < such acceptance aud release should be < set aside, and that the assets of the as- \ signors be distributed accordingly. < Miss McGill appealed. The preference, in the assigument, of I such creditors a9 should accept their iividends io discharge of their claims, ivas Dot unlawful. The unauthorized act of Brice, in signing the agreement in question, furlishes no ground for interference with Miss McGill's acceptance and release. The question whether releases filed jn September 1, 1896, were to be considered as filed on time, under the ;erms of the deed of assignment^ is not properly before the supreme court, for .he reason that no releases were filed >n ihut. Hhv Judgment below reversed and com)laint dismissed. Opinion by Mr. Tustice Jones. Filed March 19. Messrs. D. E. Finley and T. Y. Williams for appellants; Messrs. Withsrspoon & Spencer for respondent. OSMAN PASHA. Career of Turkey'* Most Famous General? Tlie Siege of Plevna. ?rom the New Orleans Times-Democrat. A dispatch from Constantinople, vbich we publish in another column, mnounces in that city the death, yes.erday, of Osman Pasha, the ablest of Turkey's modern generals. Osman was born in Asia Minor at tome date between 1830 and 1835, and s chiefly known, out of his own country, by his gallant struggle against an iverpowering force of Russians in Bulgaria in 1877. In the Russo-Turk sb war which was waged that year ind next, the town of Plevna, naturaly a strategic position, was selected by Dsman as the point where he thought t best to await the attack of the Rustian general, Schuldner, who, with an irmy of 120,000 men, had crossed the Danube and was marching on Conitantinople. Scbulder did not get urther. When he delivered the attack ipon Osman be was burled back with jreat loss, and retreated, and was mperceeded by Krudener. Krudener nade a similar assault two or three nonths later, aDd with a similar remit, save that Krudener's loss was ,wice as great as Bcbuldner's. The Graod Duke Nicholas, with the lashing General SkobelefT as bis chief )f staff, next appeared agaiust Plevna, vith a fresh army of 80,000 men. Osnan's army having in the meantime ieen reinforced until its strength was >0,000. During the entire month, of September (1877) Skobeleff assaulted ,he city and gave the beleaguered no -est night or day ; but Osman was ;qual to the emergency. Not only did le successfully resist every attack of ;he Russians, but in sortie after sortie le became the assailant and inflicted treat loss upon the beseigers. Tbe Russian government saw that it did lot have tbe easy task before it which t bad anticipated, and at the beginling of October sent to the grand luke's assistance To^^en, tbe greatest military engine^^f his day, and lerbaps of the century. But even with Todleben's skill it ,ook the Russian army more than two nonths to crush Osman's brilliant defense ; and it was not until December 10, 1877, that Osman, with bis army, low reduced to 42,000 men, driven hereto by lack of food and ammuni;ion, sought to cut bis way out through .he ring of steel with which Todleben lad surrounded tbe city. He did not succeed and had to surrender with his jntire army and 77 guns. But so splendid bad been the defense that he ind his army were allowed to march lut with all the honors of war, amid Ibe huzzas of the conquerors. There have been not a few illustrious sieges during the balf-century? Silistria, Kara, Lucknow, Vicksburg, Ladysmith, Kimberley, Mafekiug; but not in any one of tbem was tbe defense louducted with greater skill and spirit irhan in Plevna, and Osman himself was distinctly the inspiring genius luring tbe entire siege as Williams was " nf Vom ni>Da(San.Pno;(>II Hi IU tuc VI IXOIO V> xywv>vu ? ? Mafeking. Well indeed might AbdulHaraid exclaim when Osman breathed his last: "Allah is unmerciful; be has ieprived me of my honest, true, friend, ind most valiant supporter ! The sultan's cry of sorrow is a touching tribute to Osman's worth as a man, loyalty as i. subject and bravery as a soldier. The Gsmanlis have bad few as staunch and tmlliant servants of recent years as the bero of Plevna. THE ASSASSIN OF GOEBEL. ' Suspicion Is Centering on n Famous Negro Dead-Shot. The name of "Tallow Dick" Combs has been on everybody's tongue in Frankfort this week, says a dispatch jf last Thursday. Numbers of people were found who remembered seeing the negro standing on Kagin's corner morning after morning before Governor Goebel was shot, closely watching 3very one that passed going toward the statehouse. Those who saw him then recall plainly that he was intent y watching Goebel. Of course, every one has a theory ibuut the assassination ; but the one most credited here is to the effect that he assassin was not originally brought to Frankfort to shoot or assist in shooting Goebel, but that after he arrived iiere as an alleged "witness" before the contest committees, the idea sudienly struck the conspirators that the mau afterward employed was the very man to do the job; that be was a sure jhot, and none would suspect bim of firing the shot. It is said the alleged issassin arrived here just alter the plan bad been abandoned of having jome one slip in Goebel's room after ie was asleep, turn on the gas and allow bim to die by asphyxiation as if ay accident. His coming, with bis reputation already established as an accomplished issassin, was an inspiration to the plotters. He was told to familiarize bimjelf with Goebel so he could pick him 3Ut anywhere. Goebel was pointed jut to bim and be became so familiar with the governor's figure that he jould soon tell him at any distance. Phis knowledge obtained, the next Ihing was to select the ambush from which the shot was to be fired, as the assassin could not be induced to fire from a point where he could be seen. At a meeting the day or night before the shooting it was all agreed upon, so it is said, that the leading spirits in the plot left Frankfort, going in every direction, but leaving behind the real assassin and his aids to complete the work which subsequent events proved was done only too well. Important evideuce is being brought to light every day by piecemeal, and it is believed the chain will soon be complete. TILLMAN AND THE GOVERNORSHIP. Rumored That the Senator Denlres to Name McS weeney's Successor. The Manniug Times, edited by Senator Appelt, has the following editorial in its last issue concerning a rumor that Senator Tillman is taking a hand in the gubernatorial contest: "There is a rumor floating about the state that Senator Tillman is the main influence which inspires Hon. Frank B. Gary's candidacy for gubernatorial honors. Whetheh there is any foundation for the rumor we do not know, and hope it is not true. We do know that Senator Tillman is very friendly to the Gary family and he has manifested that friendship in many ways. He made the mistake of bis political life when he undertook to save John Gary Evans from defeat. That was not his judgment; but he permitted bis name to be affixed to the circular, entirely from a spirit of friendliness to the Gary family. We doubt exceedingly if there is a member of that family who would have been beard from at all, as far as high political honors are concerned, had it not been for Tillman. He is their political father, and through him nearly the eutire connection, near and remote, have been, and are now, filling prominent positions, both of honor and emoluments. We think it high lime and very proper, after such a long and careful training, that Senator Tillman turn his proteges loose, and let them take their chances without his aid. If Colonel Gary, a most excellent gentleman, wants to be governor, he should come forth and present his claims to the people. He should not wait to be carried about in the arms of his political father, for that father is under obligations to many men throughout the state, some of whom may be aspirants for gubernatorial honors. Senator Tillman will be a candidate himself; and we hope he will have no opposition ; but opposition or no opposition, he will be re-elected to succeed himself to the United States senate, and this being so, we think be ought not take a band 1 L ? ??t- * - ?! ? 1 ? ? J *1*AI UA ID iae guueruawmtu race, auu iua? uc should permit all of the aspirants to paddle their own canoes." UNKEPT PROMISES. How Hopes Were Created and What Became of Them. Canadian Baptist. A thick-set, ugly-looking fellow was seated on a bench in the public park, and seemed to be reading some writing on a sheet of paper which he held in bis band. "You seem to be much interested in your writing?" I said. "Yes; I've been figuring my account with Old Alcohol to see how we stand." "And he comes out ahead, I suppose ?" "Every time; and he has lied like sixty." "How did you come to have dealings with him in the first place?" "That's what I've been writing. You see, he promised to make a man of me; but he made a beast. Then he said he would brace me up; but he made me go staggering around and then threw me into the ditch. He said I must drink to be social. Then be made me quarrel with my best friends, and be the laughing stock of my enemies. He gave me a black eye and a broken nose. Then I drank for the good of my health. He ruined the little I had, and left me 'sick as a dog.' " "Of course." "He said he would warm me up; and I was sood nearly frozen to death. He said he would steady my nerves ; but instead be gave me the delirium tremens. He said be would give me great strength ; and he made me helpless." "To be sure." "He promised me courage." "Then what followed?" "Then he made me a coward ; for I beat my sick wife, and kicked my little child. He said be would brighten my wits ; but instead be made me act like a fool, and talk like an idiot. He promised to make a gentleman of me ; but he made me a tramp." Origin of the Penknife.?Do you know why the little pocketknives are often called penknives? Perhaps some of you have often wondered, and did not like to ask. You use a steel pen at school; but when Washington lived there were no steel pens. At that time, and uutil the year 1820, pens were made out?of quills or large feathers of the goose and other birds. Now these quil pens, being soft, got out of order and split, so they had to be remade. Most writers kept a sharp knife to remake these pens, so the knives got to be called "pen knives." The word "pen" is from the Latin word "penna," which means a feather; so when we say steel pen, we talk of a steel feather, which is absurd; but then the language is made up of very fimnv words and Dbrases. and the little word "peu" is now used for the piece of steel with which we write. What becomes of all the pens made? One firm in England make 200,000,000 pens every year, and there are several other makers who send out nearly as many more; then the in United States we make at least 200,000,000 every year. Where do they all go to? It is not often that you can pick up old pens and yet a vast number must be lost every day.?John de Morgan.