University of South Carolina Libraries
A STRATAGEM. Captain Levi Skullcarp sat on the gunwale of the Miriam, leaning for ward so that his elbows rested on his knees. With both hands he grasped the short stem of his cherry pipe, and his one eye gazed seaward across the smoking bowl. The tiller creaked idly to and fro and the sail flapped listlessly in the light breeze that scarcely ruffled the surface of the bay. "You know that young Mr. Archer tha's stayin at the hotel:" The cap tain shifted his one eye inquiringly in my direction. I raised ray hand in warning and whispered, "S-sh!" The captain acceded to my request in silence, and a moment later an other fine fish joined its fellows that were flopping about a box in tho cockpit. A faint splash and the treacherous bait was scurrying away in search of new victims. "Now, captain, what were you re marking?" I asked, glancing up from the water. "I was about to remark that it was right off here that me an that sentymental Mr. Archer was one day last week when ho says to me, 'Cap'n,' he says,'do you s'pose a man could commit soocide here?' He was lookin mighty melumcholy an"? "Do you mean the quiet young man with a black beard who has the second table from mine at the hotel, Skullcarp?" I interrupted. The captain Towed that he had never eaten at the hotel and conse quently could not locate Mr. Archer at his dinner, but he admitted that the sentimental young man did have a short black beard, usually carried a pipe and pouch of tobacco in the starboard pocket and a few books and magazines in the one to port. Having completed the identification, I was not surprised at the suggestion of suicide, for my attention had been attracted to Archer by his Avoidance of all companionship and r his distraught air. In fact, I had last seen-him sitting alone in a quiet nook on the hotel veranda, striking match after match in an attempt to light an empty pipe and accompany ing each failure with violent Ian guage softly spoken. I mentioned this to Levi Skullcarp. "Soocide was the word he used," my skipper said when he had stoked his pipe, as he called the operation, for the captain was fond of using what he deemed nautical expres sions, though he had never ventured to poke his nose ten miles offshore. It was a failing of Levi to talk a great deal about the deep sea, and at times he even dropped mysterious hints that he had circled the globe as commander of a trim clipper, though, in common with the other 'Great South bay captains,he derived his title from the ownership of a small catboat and the six aluminium buttons that adorned his patched coat. "'You might commit soocide here, Mr. Archer,' I says," contin u?s he, " 'providin you dove over 'head first an then doubled up, or eise walked two miles out to the channel. ' . "He looks at me kind o1 solemn, : then sighed an went on crabbin. The day was jist like this here, only there was a dead ca'm, an over yan der toward Fire islan the clouds was beginnin to rise. I mention them clouds because I was a-hopin they'd bring a breeze with 'em, fer I was tired floppin round in the sun while ihe lay there on the gunwale, some times readin, sometimes crabbin, an most o' the time jist watchin the wat6r. That kind o' thing's all right fer a man that never done nothin an don't have to, but fer a feller like me ez has been used to sailin throo life in a 20 knot breeze, topsails up an every inch o* canvas set, studdin sails included, to have tc flop roun in two feet o' water like a steam dredge, with the sun blisterin me paint?why, sir, it's hard to bear." Levi was shaking his pipe vigor ously, and I deemed it wise to as suage his auger by exclaiming with an ominous wag of the head, "On, you old barnacle !'" This had a soothing effect on the captain, for in a milder tone he con tinued: "We'd been that way 'bout four hour when I seen another boat edgin down our way. Her sail was hangin like clothes on a line, but she was a leetle finder out an caught the tide. A man was sittin in the etern an a lady on the gunwale. Mr. Archer, he seen 'em, too, an watch ed fer a long time. Then he turns to me an says, 'Cap'n, the glaws.' "That's just what he called?the glaws. " 'A trim little craft, cap'n,' say>; he. To do him credit, he knows a good boat. " 'I don't like the lines o' her body, sir,' I wentures. "At that he kind o' smiles an says, 'I means the lady. ' "He was right there, too, fer a trim enough craft she looked, with her white duck suit an sailor hat, though I couldn't see her face. 1 was just gittin my eye fixed on that part o' her hull when Mr. ArcliPi jumps up, runs for'a'd to the inast an stood there like he was sigh tin land after a month adrift on a raft. " 'Cap'n, kin you run a leetle near er that craft r I know her, " he calls. " 'In this win j: I asks. " 'Pole!' ho yells. "'I could pole," I says, 'had I ;i pole, but I hain't. "He give a long ground an set down on top o' the cabin yander an kep' his eye throo the glass at the other boat that was foolin aroun 'bout a mile off our bow. "By an by be says, 'Cap'n, t?ero's a breeze comin. ' " 'I'vebeen a-watchin it, sir,' says I, an I ups with me anchor an sail. "It caught the other feller first, an of a sudden her canvas filled, an she begin to cut throo the water on a beat up the bay. I had the tiller ready, an it wasn't a minute till we was movin too. It was slow at first, but we soon had to reef an went tearin throo the water to beat a steam la'nch. The clouds had brought a reg'lar hurricane an was pilin up aloft an roarin full o' thun der. You otter 'a' seen Mr. Archer then. Ho kep' runnin from bow to stern an back, forever askin whether I thought we was gainin. Now I'm proud o' this here Miriam o' mine. I'll back her ag'in anything on the bay but that there strange boat. Why, that craft jist slipped throe the water like she was iled. We kep' up pretty well, though, an might o' caught her if the rain hadn't come, an us lost sight o' 'em. I wanted to put back, but Mr. Archer, he wouldn't have it, an kep' runnin up an down, pipin his eyes this way au \ that way an usin bad language till it come dark an the storm had pass ed. Then he throwed himself down in the cockpit an lit his pipe an says, 'Home, cap'n !' That was all ?jist 'Home, cap'n!' " I had thrown aside my lines, for Levi Skullcarp's account of the sen timental man had awakened my in terest, and when he had finished his recital I had turned my back on the water, my feet were dangling in the cockpit and my eyc3 were fixed on the bayman. "Didn't he explain why he was so anxious to see her?" I asked after a silence of some minutes. In reply the captain clambered in to the cockpit and, bracing himself against the end of the tiller, fixed the long glass to his eye. I followed his gaze to where it rested on a small white sail that was moving across the bay, about a mile away. "I'll be blowed !" he cried. There was a pause, and then he muttered : "Small jib, white duck dress, spoony bow, white hull, black hairl I'm blowed!" This exclamation was accompanied by a loud rattle as he closed the glass. "Git to win'ward, quick!" he yell ed. The boom swung around, allowing me just time to dodge it, and before I had fully recovered from my sur prise we were moving through the water under the fast freshening breeze. "Where are you going, captain?" I asked in a tone of remonstrance. He gave the sheet a few turns about a cleat, tucked the tiller com fortably under one leg, filled and lighted his pipe, and when the smoke was rising in great volume from the bowl and trailing astern in clouds that must have made our boat at a distance present the appearance of a small steamship he exclaimed again, "I'll be blowed!" Then I arose in my wrath and, supporting myself by grasping the centerboard and facing tho obdurate mariner, cried, "See here, captain, I was under the impression I had hired this craft, and"? "I'm goin fer Mr. Archer. Yan's her," he said in a firm, solemn tone that brooked no trifling and forced me to submission. Hardly had the Miriam touched the dock when Levi Skullcarp was ashore, and after giving me a hur ried admonition to be all ready tc push off on his return he clambered into a rickety vehicle and soon dis appeared in a cloud of dust. For some ten minutes I struggled with the rising wind and sea that kept in cessantly pounding the boat against the dock. At length I was relieved to spy a cloud of dust rolling down j the level stretch of road that led | from the village. Preceding it was a man on a bicycle. It was Archer. He reached the dock, sprang from his wheel and tossed it against a 1 post, jumped into the Miriam and without a word to me pushed her away, seized the tiller and the sheet, and off we scudded. "The captain!" I cried, pointing at the approadiing cloud in the cen ter of which I knew the redoubtable mariner to be. "Plague on the captain !" growled Archer. Then he added, more soft ly, "Get to windward. /lease." "But there he is now," I expostu lated. Archer looked around. Standing on the string piece of the wharf, violently waving one arm above hit head, while with the other he point ed seaward, was Levi Skullcarp. The sentimental man at tho catboatV helm waved a hand to imply that he saw the speck of a sail to which the captain was pointing and turned to the business of navigation. Away we went in pursuit. When the Miriam had at length settled down to work and was with clocklike regularity sticking her nose into the solid green waves and then saucily throwing them up in the air again and sending the water skirting along the rail or flying over me, my new companion broke the silence by appearing for the first time to recognize that I was human. "Mister-r-r?" "Kemp," I answerjed, bowing stiffly. "My name is Archer." "I think I have seen you about the hotel." "This must seem a Ht rangt* pro oeeding to you," be said, laughing. Evidently the peculiarity had just dawned on him. "Rather," 1 replied, thawing just enough to smile. "And perhaps an explanation in due." said he "Not as long as you can sail," J answered. On that score I confess I felt nc uneasiness, for I soon saw that, sturdy fellow that he was, Archer was fully competent to handle the boat, for all the power there was in the breeze he got out of it. and though time and again the Miriam keeled over till her lee sail was wee a\Yw"h and my heart was in my mou.ii,she always swung back agaiu without swerving an inch from hur course. "There is a girl in that boat that 1 am most anxious to see, Mr. Kemp," said Archer after a pause. "So I should judge," said I. "I have spent nearly all my life id London," he went on. "I should be ! there now had I not met her. She ! sailed for home about two months ago, and ostensibly by accident, but ' really by intention, I came over on j the same steamship. By the fourth day out from Queenstown we had fixed everything up nicely. Then I happened to remember another en- j gagemeut ? sort of a marriage of convenience?and, like a fool, I told her. She shut herself up in her j stateroom for the rest of the voyage ; and cut mo dead at the pier. I hum- j bly followed her to her homo in San Francisco. She fled back cast. All trace of her was lost, and I came down here to sulk. " "Do you think we'll catch 'einf ' I asked, with suddonly awakened in terest. "Thank you!" he replied. This simple acknowledgment of his grati tude for my now evident sympathy in his venture won me completely, and I scrambled forward to the mast with a recklessness that surprised me that I might get the bearings of the craft we were chasing. "How far off do you make them ? ' ' he called to me. "About two miles." * "They are beating along the bay, " he cried, "and I think if we hold this course we'll just cross their bow." The man's judgment was superb, for 15 minutes later we were so close to the other boat that I could see its two occupants plainly. One was a man, a regulation small boat man, attired in a combination of golf and yachting clothes. The second was the girl. I felt that, were she as in teresting as she appeared as she sat there on the windward rail, fearless of danger* her face aglow with the excitement of what she evidently realized was a race, Archer was ex cusable for forgetting his other en gagement. I was meditating on this when my companion, who had been hidden from her view by the rail, exclaimed, "Jove!" "We're all right," said I. "We'll catch them, and you can go on board." "That's just it," he growled. "I can't go on board. Why, she would out me dead or toss me over." As he was best posted as to the young woman's character, silence on my part seemed befitting. He did not speak again until we bad drawn within hailing distance of the other boat, when he motioned me to him. "We'll run right across their bow," ho whispered. "Don't you mind me. I can see bottom here. Keep right on, and they will have to take me in. Now, look out!" We swept across the bow of the other craft and, by a seemingly clumsy maneuver, went about. The boom swung around, and an instant later Archer was floundering in the buy. I grasped the tiller, and the Miriam j scudded away before the wind. Poor sailor as I am, had necessity de [ manded it I doubt if I could have navigated tho boat back to where Archer was flopping about in the water, so it was.an easy matter for me to obey his injunctions and sail away oblivious to his cries, which mingled with those of the girl in the tiny sloop. Only twico did I look back. The first time was to see my erstwhile companion being dragged by main force into the other boat, the second to see two men and a girl gesticulat ing wildly to me to return, but 1 smiled grimly and pointed tho Mir iam toward home. On the very next day I returned to town, and I heard no more of the sentimental man until lato in No- j vember. I was walking up Thirty ninth street one afternoon on my way home from the office when my attention was attracted to a well ap pointed brougham that swerved into the curb close by me. I heard a voice call, "Kemp!" It was Archer, and as I took his outstretched hand he returned to the pretty young woman who had just emerged from the carriage and said *. "Kemp, my wife."?St. Louis He public. The Wage Question. A young colored philosopher was employed in one of our stores at a salary of frJ.SO a week. He told his employer one morning that he was going to leave, having got a better place. "A better place?" echoed his em ployer. "What wages are you to get?" "Three dollars a week." "But that is not as much as you get here." "No," said the boy, "but then it's better to do less and not get so much than to do more and not get enough."?Boston Transcript. Kin>u;;h Sul<l. Old Gentleman (dictating indig 1 mint letter)?Sir: My stenographer, j being a lady, cannol takedown what 1 think of you. I, being a gentle man, cannol think it, but you, be : ing neither, eau easily guess my thoughts.?Brooklyn Life. A TONGUE OF FLAME. "Poaco, peace," smiled the rose in her garden, And "peace" sang the bird on his tree, But a balo amoke shadowed tho valley* Where the rivers run to tho sea, And tho smell of battle was on tho winds Of the summer of sixty-three. In tho lap of its mother mountain Virginia City lay, And, wet in a rolling raincloud Of glimmering gold and gray, "j? ?chind the Sierras slowly sank The sun of liberty day. The mammoth Hag on tho summit In tho tremulous rainbow glow Fluttered far like a scarlet ribbon To tho eyes that watched below, But flashed in the sky of a nation The glory of long ago, Thon a frown on tin licek of the twilight Where tho smile of the west was warm. And climbing in dusky billows Mount Davidson's awful form A wonder of darkness swept the height Like the rush uf a silent storm. Through the murk of the muffled city, With its mystery untold, While the people dizzily gazing Stood dumb in the streets, behold In the blackening west o'er the mountain's crest A twinkle of liery gold! Every eye caught the heaven hung vision; Every heart felt its wizard spell. It flared like a spirit candle; It streamed like a star that fell; It waved command like a signal hand; It swung like a voiceless bell. Did they hear it? White faces listened ; Wild thoughts guessed its meaning divine. "There? is news of the war from the eastward; The palm tree has bowed to the pine, And the Lord of Hosts is uplifting His torch on the hills for a sign." 'Twas a dream, but not all. On the shadow The light that quivered and curled Was the flag by patriot lingers That birthday morning unfurled, And it blazed in the unseen sunset Like a beam from another world, Alono in its daylight of glory Above where tho lightnings run, But the glad city read on the morrow Its token of deeds that were done, And the steeples sang, "Vicksburg is taken And Gettysburg's field is won!" ?Theron Brown in Youth's Companion. A SOLDIER'S DOUBLE. LV CHARLES 1J. LEWIS. - About 30 days before Grant broke through Lee's lines at Petersburg and the beginning of the end came a portion of my regiment captured seven Confederates and brought them into camp. My own company was a part of the Federal force, but as I was on detached duty that week I was not with them. The first I knew of the capture was when I heard tho story that I had deserted to the Confederates and been recap tured and would be shot. I visited company headquarters to ascertain what th.e talk meant and there met with a strange reception. I was there, wearing a blue uniform, and yet I was in the guardhouse half a mile away wearing the butternut. I had been on duty at division head quarters, and yet I had been cap tured on the advance lines. 1 was at once placed under arrest, and it was an hour or more before the mystery was solved. Then it was found that one of tho Confederate prisoners was my dou ble. As the case excited a good deal of comment at the time I will give you the full particulars. My double was a member of an Alabama regi ment. When placed side by side, we were twin brothers. Each of us was 20 years old ; eaoh 5 feet 5 inch es high; each weighed 137 pounds. Our eyes and hair were of the saino color. Even our voices were the same, except that he spoke with more of a drawl. The name of the young man was John Wakefield, and wo were born 1,000 miles apart and were in no way related. We were as much astonished as the officers and surgeons who were called in to gaze at us. No twin brothers ever bore a closer resem blance, and they declared that even our gait was the same. I had not yet recovered from my astonishment when tho suggestion was mado that 1 go into the Con federate camp as a spy on tho strength of the wonderful resem blance. I was given three days in which to pump Wakerield. He did not know my object, or I should credit him with having told me less, although he was tired of the war and rather glad ho had been cap tured. I first got his family history com plete, then the town from which he hailed, the names of many people and the situation of streets and pub lic buildings, then the names of his officers and comrades and incidents of campaigning. Having nothing else to do, and my aim being to ac quire information, I got from him almost every incident of his life in those three days and nights. As my life would depend upon my being thoroughly posted, we can vassed the most trivial incidents of his life at home and as a soldier. He was a ready talker and bad a good memory, and of course these things helped me wonderfully. When T was quite ready, I took his suit of clothes complete, and he was given mother. Then I was taken down to the front and made a bolt for it. In other words, one of the Confederate prisoners escaped and dashed across the space which separated the op posing lines. Not half a dozen men were let into the secret, and as I ran I was fired upon by half a regiment. They had promised me differently, mi ! >-: i ! '. <-ii i -;> ;i bit l er feeling : t j ' h in- wlm had charge ?:! > ; : .i',vd uf kirim such :: ! Viie hi:!lets whizzed tiver 1. ' . up t he cart It al my I'r--, . .. e .ruin- short of ? promptly mat 1 supposed every thing was all right. It wasn't, how ever. Federal spies had played the game before, and Confederate wit had become sharpened. I was sent to the headquarters of General Mahone, who was subse quently celebrated in Virginia and national politics. He asked me the same questions which tho colonel had put to me and many others in addition. I saw that he was suspi cious, and, braving all at one stroke, I requested that my captain be sent for. j The Alabama regiment to which I was supposed to belong was station ed tw-o miles away, and it was about 9 o'clock before the captain arrived. Previous to Iiis appearance I had been asked his name, which I gave correctly, and had also described his person. When he reached headquar ters, I was sent for, and as I stood before him and two or three head quarters officers General Mahone asked: "Captain Thorn, this man claims to belong to your company. Is he a member or not?" I "Yes, sir," was the prompt reply. "What's his name5" ! "John Wakefield, sir." "When was he captured?" "Four days ago, along with sev eral men." ' - "Are you positive that this is your man?" "Certain, sir. I knew him before he enlisted, and he has been in my company for a year." j That settled it. We were dismiss ; ed, and I followed Captain Thorn to the regiment. On the way I related i the particulars of my capture and : escape, and he seemed considerably puzzled that General Mahone should ', have been so suspicious of me. There were about 40 men in Company D. ; They all gathered around me as I I appeared and gave me welcome, and a young man named David Ganny, who had been WakefiekTs tentmate, put his arms around me and shed tears in his gladness over my return. I had learned my part so thorough ly that I was "at home" from the first. Next day I met every member of the company, officers included, j and where I used names I made no mistake. I fell into the routine with the rest, and after three days the curiosity of all had been satisfied. You may say it was a wonderful j thing that I could thus pass myself ! off and escape all suspicion, but I am only telling you what was known to General Grant himself. My or ders were to ascertain Lee's strength on a line about four miles long. How I was to accomplish this after entering the Confederate lines was left for meto decide. Wakefield told me that he had a cousin in tho Sev enth Virginia,a young soldier named John Winslow. Ho had visited him whenever opportunity offered, and this was a good excuse for me to get out of camp. I got permission from my captain to go, and in hunting up the Seventh Virginia I took care to miss it and cover the whole front and have a look at guns and fortifi cations. I found Winslow at last, but his greeting was far from cor dial. The two had evidently quar reled about something on which I j was not posted. He was so sulky ' and unfriendly that I was about to { cut my visit short when he gave me a searching look and exclaimed: ! "Why, you are not John Wake field at all!" "Then who am I?" I asked, with a laugh. "I don't know, but you are cer tainly not my cousin John. You look like him, but you are lfot he." It was queer that lie alone should have suspected me, but something in my speech, walk or look warned him that I was a counterfeit. I laughed at him in a good natured way, hoped I would find him in a better humor when I called again and started for my regiment, but I had not gone a quarter of a mile when I was overtaken, put under ar rest and an hour later was once more in the in'esence of General Ma hone. I am sure that the general had doubted me from the first. Indeed, j after the war he told me as much and added that he was not quite sat isfied even when my captain so thoroughly identified me. I was followed to his tent by Winslow, who boldly proclaimed that I was pot John Wakefield. Then all the officers and half a dozen men of the company, includ ing my tentmate, were sent for, and the general heartily entered upon tho work of trapping me. My life was the stake being played for, and, though I was terribly anxious as to the outcome, as you may believe, 1 believe I displayed all the coolness and nerve which my best friend could have hoped for. Every officer and every man promptly identified me as John Wakefield, but to offset this Win slow said that his cousin had a scar on the neck which could not be found on me. I denied the scar, and then my captain was requested to ask me certain questions which the general suggested or wrote out. In ' reply 1 gave tho Christian name of father, mother and sister as well as a number of uncles, aunts and cous j ins. I gave the names of many ! streets in Montgomery, Ala. -, the I names of many families, the situa tion of the statehouse, Exchange ho tel, police station, etc. I told the part taken by my regiment in vari ions battles and skirmishes and re lated a funny incident connected with my enlistment which Captain Thorn clearly remembered. .1 had pumped .lohn Wakefield so thoroughly and so plainly remem bered everything that 1 believe 1 passed the examination tally ;is well or better than he could. General jjinriono naci only one peg to nang a hopo on after putting me through my paces for a full two hours. My ' tentmate was sure I was John Wake field, and yet was a bit strange since my return to the company. I did not use tobacco any longer, and he had not heard me swear, though I had been addicted to both vices be fore my capture. I claimed that I had resolved to let tobacco alone, as it was affecting my health, and I had quit swearing in gratitude over my escape. The general was satisfied, and yet unsatisfied. He acknowledged that my officers and comrades ought to ; know me after being together for a ' year, but added that there was no great hurry to dispose of the case and sent mo to tho guardhouse. At : tho end of two days I was escorted ; back to his headquarters, and he [ played his last card. In his tent was j a soldier dressed in Federal uniform, whom I took to be a deserter. There were also two men dressed as civil ians, but I believe they were Con federate soldiers temporarily dis guised. Tho general bad two letters and a telegram before him, and as I stood at attention bo looked up and said: "Well, my Yankee lad, you are pretty sharp and have stuck by your story, but you might as well make a clean breast of it now. You see thi^ deserter from your lines, these citi zens from Montgomery, these writ ten proofs that you are not John Wakefield?" "Who do you want me to be?" I asked. "I want your right name and tho story of how you got into our lines. You are a spy, and hanging is the penalty, but, owing to your youth, we may decide to treat you as a pris oner of war." I declared that I was John Wake field, asked him to remember that all my company had fully identified me and expressed my willingness to face any new proofs he might have to the contrar}'-. He leaned back in his chair and looked me straight in the eyes for a moment, and I knew he was a beaten man. He did not call up the men or read the letters, as they had been "prepared" for the occasion and could not have helped him out. After what seemed fully ten minutes to me he quietly said: J "Weil, perhaps a mistake has been, made. You can return to your regi ment." v My two arraignments beforo Gen eral Mahone made me an object of curiosity and gossip in my company, and when I returned it was to find all the men anxious to quiz me and two or three of them seemingly sus picious. Tho captain called me into his tont and questioned and cross questioned mo until he declared that nobody but a fool could have taken me for any one else. I put the men j off by lire tending to be angry, and ' three nights later, as we held a j breastwork at the front, I slipped away in tliA,darkness and re-entered J the Federal lines. Acting on the in formation I brought, Grant was ham- J mering away on that portion of the Confederate line at daybreak. Ten years after the war, as I smoked the pipe of peace with General Mahone at a hotel in Richmond, I put the inquiry : "General, suppose you had secur ed proofs that I was not John Wake field. What would have happened?" "Can't you guess?" he replied. "Would you have had mo shot?" "No, sir. I'd have hung you by theneck and madeagood job of it!" Didn't Call Named. Officer?How is this, Murphy? The sergeant complains that you call him names. Private Murphy?Plaze, surr, I never called him any names at all. All I said was, "Sergeant," says I, "some of us ought to be in a meu nerie. "?London Fun. The Number of Languages. The least learned are aware that there are many languages in the world, but the actual number is probably beyond the dreams of or dinary people. The geographer Baldi enumerated 800 which are en titled to be considered as distinct languages and 5,000 which may be regarded as dialects. Adulguns, another modern writer on this subject, reckons up 3,064 lan guages and dialects existing and which have existed*. Even after we have allowed either of these as the number of languages we must ac knowledge the existence of almost infinite minor diversities, for almost every province has a tongue more or less peculiar, and this we may well believe to be the case through out the world at large. It is said there are little islands lying close together in the south seas the inhabitants of which do not understand each other. Of the SCO distinct languages enumerated by Baldi 81) belong to Europe, 114 to Africa, 123 to Asia, 417 to America and 117 to Oceania, by which term he distinguishes the vast number of islands stretching between Hindustan and South America._ A Big Book. Dr. Parr is credited with having answered a "oheeky" youth in most effectivo fashion. The latter, wish ing to "tako a rise" out of Parr, who was a man of much dignity of aspect, beforo some frivolous ac quaintances, observed that if the doctor and himself were to collabo rate they could write a very big book. "An enormous one." said Parr dryly, "if wo put in all that I know and all that you do not.''? S:m Francisco Argonaut. NOTICE FINAL SETTLEMENT. Ti? undersigned, Administrator of E&s.'<9of Margaret McCullough deceased, hereby gives notice fhat he win on the 26 th day of Febrnary, 1888, apply to the Judge of Probate Cor Anderson County for a Final Settlement of seid Estate, and a ci'xJx-cr?o Spom his office as Administra tor. A. W. McCULLOUGH, Adm'r. Jan 26. 189S 31 5 .LIMITED DOUBLE DAILY SERYICE TO ATI.ASTA, CHARLOTTE, WILMINGTON, NEW ORLEASS AND NEW YORK, BOSTON, RICHMOND. WASHINGTON, NORFOLK. PORTSMOUTH. SCHEDULE IN EFFECT FEB. 7, 1896. SOUTHBOUND No. 403. No. it. Lv New York, via Penn B. B.*ll 00 am *9 03 pm Lv Philadelphia, " 1 12 pm 12 05 am Lv Baltimore " 3 15 pm 2 53 am Lv Washington, " 4 40 pm 4 SO am Lv Bichmond, A. C. L.?12 56 am *1 S? ?m Lv Norfolk, via S. A. L.*8 30 pm~*9 Lv Portsmouth, " ._ 8 45 pm 9 20am Lv Wehlon, " ArHendenon, " .... Ar Durham, Lv Durham, Ar Baleigh, v?a S. A. L-....-.... *2 16 am Ar S m ford, Ar Southern Pines Ar Hamlet, Ar Wadesb070, Ar Monroe, ..*11 28 pm*ll 35 am 12 56 am ?i SB pjm t7 32 am f4 $ pm f5 20 pm fll 10 am *3 31poT 5 03 pm 5 56 jjm 6 53 pm S U pea 9 12] S 35 am 4 22 am 5 10 am 5 54 am 6 44 am Ar Charlotte, *8 30 am *10 2 Ar Chester, Lv Columbia, C. N. & L. B. R... S.A. L. ... *8 K) am 10 4.1 ?s* Ar Clinton Ar Greenwood Ar Abbeville, Ar Biberton, Ar Athens, Ar Winder, - |6 00 yn 9 45 am *12 10 am 10 35 am lflJarn 11 05 am 12 07 pm 1 15 pm 1 09 pm Ar Atlanta, 8 A.L. (Cen.Time) 2 50 pm 2 41 am 3 45 em 4 3? am 5 3j am NOBTEBOUND. Ko. 4<?. No. as. Lv Attanta,8.A.L.(Cen. Time) ?12 00 n'n ?7?Bm Lv Winder, Lv Athens, Lv Elberton, Lv AbbevlNe, Lv Greenwood, Lv Clinton, 2 40 pm 10 43pm 3 16 pm 11 26 pm 4 16 pm 5 15 pm 5 41 pm 6 94 pm 12 38 am 1 40 am 2 09 am 3 (Si Ar Columbia. C N. & L. B.B...?4 80 p m ?7 45 631 Lv Chester.. S. A. L ?v harlotie. Lv Monroe, Lv Hamlet, _8 13 pm 4 3? am 25 pm ?8 gfrjm ? 9 40 pm ... 11 23 pm 6 OS?n 8 JD.Bin Ar Wilmington Lv Southern Pines, Lv Baleigh, Ar Hendeason ....... 80 am 12 39 pm 12 14 am 9 28 sSm ........ *2 16 am 11 85 am ........ 3 28 am 1 OB'pm Ar Durham, Lv Durham ArWeldon, " .... Ar Bichmond A. C. L. Ar Washington, Penn. B. B.~. Ar Baltimore, " . Ar Philadelphia, " .....^ Ar New York, " ,.\. f7 f2am to 20 pm *4 55 am , 8 15 am 12 31 pm . 1 43 pm 3 50 pm *6 23 pm t4 05 pm til K??r 3 60 pm 11 is?ai 12 S 4? "t?n *6 53ijm Ar Portsmouth S. A.L. 7 30 am 6 SOpm Ar Norfolk " .?.. *7 50 am 6 05 flm ?Daily. ifPaily, Ex. Sunday. X Daily Ex. Monday. Nos. 403 ur.d 402 "The Atlanta Special,'' Stolid Vestibuled Train, of Pullman Sleepers and CoacB es betweer. Washington and Atlanta, also Pull man Sleepers between Portsmouth and ehestes, ? C. Nos. 41 a;id 38, "The S. A. L Express," ^tolid Train, Coaches and Pullman Sleepers between Portsmouth and Atlanta. For Pickets, Sleepers, etc., apply to B. A. Newland, Gen'l. Agent Pass. Dept. Wm. B. Clements, T. P. A., 6 Kimball House Atlanta, Ga. E. St John, Vice-President and Gen'l. Manner V. E. McJJee General Huperintendent. ii. W. B. Glover, Trafik Manager. T J. Anderson, Gen'l. Passeng?r Agent. General Offleer?, Portsmouth, Va. BLUE RIDGE RAILROAD H. C. BEATTIE, Receiver. October 6th, 1895. Eaatbounc MIXED a feet No. ix s 10 50 a m f 1023am f 10 l?am s 10 00am s 942am f 939am ween Anderson and Wal halla. STATIONS. Ar.?Anderson.Lv .......Denver. MHMM.Antun. .Pendleton. ,?.Cherry's Crossing. Adam's Crossing.. 8 66 a m.Seneca. 8 25 a m .West Union. s 8 13 a m?.Walhalla.... iLv utacb No. Ari 3 S5 pm 889pm 405 p m 410pm 4 25pm 435pm 5 05 pm 550pm 620pB 6 30 p J. B. ANDERSON, Seperintenden?. W. C. COTHBAN, General Agent. Connections at Seneca with Southean Railway No. 11. At Anderson with Southern Railway Nos. 11 and K. CHARLESTON AND WESTERN CAROLINA RAILWAY. AUGUSTA AND ASHEVILLK SPORT LINE In effect February 7,1897. ltfpm 6 if' pjn 7 00 IB 1016 pi Lv Augusta.. Ar Greenwood.. A r Anderson. Ar Laurenu. Ar Greenville. Ar Glenn ftprings.... Ar Sparenburg. Ar Saluda.. Ar Hendersonville. Ar Asheville. 9 40 am 12 17 pm 115 pm 3 00 pm 4 05 pm 3 00 pm 5 23 pm 5 51 pm 7 00 pm 9 2j; am Lv Asheville. Lv Spartanburg. Lv Glenn Springs. Lv Greenville. Lv Lauren;.?... Lv Anderson. Lv Greenwoc 1. Ar Auguae...?..^. Lv Cslhoun F?ta.. Ar Baleigt...... Ar Norfoli.. Ar PeUrsltug. Ar Bichmond. 8 20 am 1145 am 10 00 am 1155 am 180 pm 4 00 pm 4 0C pm 7 IC pm 7 M Am 2 28 pmi.,w? 5 00 pmll Kl im 4 44 pm 216 am 7 30 am 6 00 am 8 15 am Lv Augusta. Ar Allendkle... Ar Fairfax. Ar Yemasree... Ar Beaufort.... Ar PortBcyal. Ar Savannah... Ar Charleston. 9 30 am 10 35 am 10 50 am 2 55 pm 5 00 pm 5 15 pm 6 20 pa 7 20 pm 7 30 pm 8 00 pan 8 08 pm Lv Charleston. Lv Savannah... Lv Port Royal.. Lv Beaufort. Lv Yemae&ee... Lv Fairfax. Lv Allendnle... Ar August?. 15 p m 21 pm Si p m S 50 am 650 ?m 8 15 am 8 33 am 925 am 10 82 am 104J 43q 12 59 pm Close connection at Calhoun Falls rorAtben, Atlanta and all poiots on S. A. L. Close connection at Augusta for Charleston, Savannah and all points. Close connections at Greenwood for all pointe an S. A. L., and C. A G. Bailway, an* at 8p?rt?na?rg with Southern Bailway. Forany information relative to tickets, rauas, schedule, ute., address ? W. J. CBAIG, Gen. Pass. Agent, August*, Ga. El m. North, Sol. Agent._ ATLANTIC COAST LINE. Traffic Department, Wilmington, N. C, Dec 20, 1897. Fast Line Between Charleston and Col umbia and Upper South Carolina, Nor* Carolina. _ CONDENSED SCHEDULE. going west, going bast *No. 52. No. 53. I 7 7 00 am Lv.Charleston.Ar 9 15 pm 8 26 am Lv.Lanes.Ar 7 36 pm 9 35 am Lv.Sumter.Ar 6 20 pm 10 56 am Ar.Columbia.Lv 5 00 pm 11 58 am Ar.Prosperity.Lv 3 13 pm 12 10 pm Ar.Newberry.Lv 2 57 pm 12 50 pm 1 10 pm 4 23 pm 5 Kpm r, 12 pm 8 20 pm f. 05 piu 00 |?m '"Dttilv. Ko*. 52 und 53 Solid Trains between Charleston and Columbia,S. C. H. M. EsiKBSON, Gen'l.Passenger Agent. J 1{ KitNLKY,Gencra? Mkna<??r. T. M.t-MHR.50K,TnitHc Manager Ar.Laurens.Lv Ar.Greenville....Lv Ar.Sparenburg.Lv Ar.Winnsboro, S. C.Lv Ar.Charlotte, N. C.Lv Ar.. Hendeisonvill?, N. C.Lv Ar.Asheville, N. C.?? 1 45 pm 10 30 am 11 45 am 11 41 am 9 S? am "J 1S am 8 20 am