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IHK SUMTER WATCHMAN, KgtaMttbed April, 1830. ? <. .---? .. -?. -?- -. "._? - : -rAiKiAl?datad -??ff. 2. 1881.1 ?Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aimst at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's THE TRUE SOUTHRON. Established Jane? Itt*. SUMTER, S. C., TUESDAY, JUNE 1, 1886. New Series-Yoi. Y. Ko. 44. N. GK OSTEEN, ; V : SUMTER, S. C. TBB5I3 : r'Two Dollars.per annum-in advance. .y- A 1>T IS T I S ? Kl ?TS . -? L^?* jSqnare, first insertion......,.~......-.$l 00 ^ ^?J^ safe^iiejitlnsertion....5tf ^^Goa^^pr.tb^inoa^is,, or longer will b* made at reduced rates. jL?^mmonications which subserve private interests w?H b?chargeifor asadvertisements. OM?naries and tribales of respect wfll be charged for. nYSPEPSI?" fe hr*m&nm? mina ?s ehatrescng cxanpiaini. U - mmiem\ fc tooth; by impairing nutiiUm. tad de lyBa?iDectoa. ' i?? - ^^^^^^ v^rt*00*** ? QoSaMyand ecmpjeteiy Cures Dyspepsia in all itsfotma. 3eartbnr^ Bcld?nst Tasting the feMLetc. Iteoricbe??ndMm?te?th?bkx)d.?tiimn ??tee t?? appetite, ?nd aids ti? aariniilatk-a of food. " . *%-?J^?T? r*J*; MOSSETZB^, the honored pastor cf tba -.' ^ "T- ITrst Kefocwed Church- Baltimore, 3?d_ says : "* Marine osed Brown1* Iron Sitters for Dyspepsia O -?nd lodifostjaa I take great pleasure in recom asfcdmg h highly. Also consider it a splendid tonio HOOL JoeXFK C. Sure, Judge of Circuit Cccrt, CHPXOPCO-.Ind^aaja: ^Iboarmoatcheerfulteati - gmty-to. t?? efficacy-of Brown's Iruti Bitters foe V ' T|jt?i??i. II>I1 M i i 111 ii ** - " the nh? baa ibo ??Trade Mark sod crowed redline* c*; -'-xi> - (twaoME, Take mm ?cher? Made ooh-hr ajtew3TcrliTMi?;?i. c^TS?LTiMogB, Mn? - ? - AURAH? ll M'<t < ?* IT?'Tiye- WTIII Ti riBact Mankind tro origin sByeaoaedhyadiaorderedcc?Hhtionof the LIVER. JWaBoomplsJntsof t?ns kind, such as Torpidity of tbslirer, TflTinemnw. Serr?os Dyspepsia, Indiges ? 7- - tioti. Irregularity of ti? Boards, Constipation, Flatt: facey. feactrHnns sad Barnine af tbe Stomach . (aosastimec called Haartbcrn), Miasma, Malaria, Bloody Rai, C?nUs and Fever, Breakboae Fever. ~ " Bxhaotf?on before or after Fevers, Chronic Diar? rhoea. Loee of Appetite, Hnadncha, Fool Breath. - ^regularities incidental to Females, Bearing-down - ;sgtsaat??Es Mim??T hliwntlintlte, it is nofrapanacea. for all diseases, bot piinr alt diseases of tho LIVER, ,jlVUl\K STOMACH ^ul BOWELS, ft **???f- the eamptervno. from ? waxy, yeHow -. ~ tange, to a ruddy, healthy coioe. St entirely remores .kw. gloomy spinta. It is one of the BEST AL f . TERATTVES and PURIFIERS OP THE s BLOOD; ?nd in A VALUABLE TONIC. STADICER'S AU RANT 11 -r TxnaafcbyauDrnggttts. Price $|.00 per bottle. C. F. 8TADIGER, Proprietor, TXOKT ST- PhHadelphla, Pa? SAVE YOUR MONEY -BY MARKING YOUR CLOTHES m -WITH RUBBER STAMP -AXD D?DELLIBLE INK. FOR SALE BT . C. P. OSTEEN, At Watchman and Southroa Office, SUMTER, S. C. Ink Warranted IndeUible. A. J. CHINA, DEALER IN Brags. Medicines and .-?INE TOILET SOAPS, HAIR AND TOOTH . 3K?SHBS. PERFUMERT AND FANCY TOILET ARTICLES, Ac. Ac. \PA12TTS, OILS, VARNISHES AND DYESTUFFS, GLASS, PUTTY, ie. Fu? supply of Fresh Garden Seeds. . April S_ P-AIifT YOUR BUGGY "FOR One Dollar. - One coat gives an old boggy the blackest black jon ever saw aod a handsome gloss without varnishing. It dries hard io a few hours. No rubbing ! No varnishing ! No extra trouble. Each can contains more than enough to paint a carriage. Retailed at One Dollar per Can. For Sale by _DR. A? J. CHINA. FOR SALE. MILK COWS ALWAYS ON HAN H. R. THOMAS, 7 ; Wedgefield, S. C / FOR SALE. C?eap for Cash, cr Approved Papers Payable on Jan. 1,1SS7. One TEN HORSE TOZER & DIAL POR? TABLE ENGINE. One 60 SAW BROWN COTTON GIN. One Steam BOSS COTTON PRESS, and About 30 feet of SHAFTING with all nec ewary Polleys and Belting to ron the same. Apply to or address A. D. KICKER, April 6 Sumter, S- C. 'THE TEMPERANCE WORKER, Removed from Columbia, S. C. , A Live, Temporaiice Paper, Published Semi-monthly in SUMTER, S. C. Under the Editorial management of RBV. H. F. CHBBITZBERQ, CkW.C.T. OT I.O.G.T. 07 S. C. Assisted by an able corps of Editors. The patronage and influence of all friends ofTeinperance is solicited. Terms only 60 ?sits a year. To advertisers desiring a wide Herniation, it offers an excellent m ec! in m. ' Oxx business, address N. O. OSTEEN, Publisher BEAUTYS?SECRET By ALAS Km Author of "Vanity Hardware* "Gold** Girls," Etc BOOK TWO. LADT BEAUTYS SISTERS. CHAPTER V. AS INTERCEPTION. Tie course of true love, if it never runs smooth, very often runs slowly. No one can say that Car or Sibyl Temple married for love; we need not assert that they sold them? selves; marriages such as theirs are made j every day, with the sanction of the church and the praise of the world; but they are not ideal marriages, not romantic-not the stuff ont of which love can be made. Sweet Sophia Temple, the beauty and heroine of this tale, was not proposed to so abruptly, nor married so hastily. Young Brent was shy. To increase his shy? ness he was passionately in love, and love made a thousand things delights to him which a wen-informed modern mau might do for bis lady once, but not twice, certainly. For instance, young Brent would stroll about the town y>*(lf a morning waiting for a chance meeting; and if, after he had executed a perfect walking match in slow time, he met Sophia, and she gave frftn a smile, or ex? changed a few words, he would return home all aglow, and could hardly sit down to his geology, so bot his flame would burn. Week after week this went on. Silly young fellow, when he might have been bathing in the full tide of courtship, to be thus timidly treading the margin ol'the golden sea! Yet perhaps not so silly after all; since most people agree i that love's preludes, are so delicious that they may well be lengthened: and some say that the water is pellucid near the shore and tur? bid when we venture further out ? This I will say in def ease of him. Sophia, more than most women, was fitted for thi ; slow, worshiping kind of courtship. It often I struck me that she was already what one might imagine a good, warm-hearted and beautiful woman becoming in a more ex? alted state of existence. She had the gold of our nature, with very little of its dross. From ber, more than from any woman I ever knew, or m*v either, did I learn how comely human nature may be when harmoniously developed; bow various qualities of mind and soul, which we are apt to think conflicting, such as. humor and devotion, passion and purity, may, when combined in proper pro? portions, be each the complement of the other. Sophia changed from mood to mood with an ease, an absence of constraint, which was the sign of a nature reconciled to life in the best sense. I am going to mention a trivial, occurrence, but to me it was significant. I saw her one morning greatly interested in an account of a wedding robe, its color, trimmings, and tb? usual sequels-just as seriously inter? ested as the most dressy of her sex could have been. A little while after, when a piece o? poetry was read aloud by somebody in the company--one of Tom Hood's, I think, just published, a. little fragment written in that note of mingled humor and sadness which was so much his own-I saw Sophia's face with a ripple of fun on it passing, with the poem, into seriousness. It seemed as if the soul of the poet, in its double mood of laugh? ter and teai-s, were expressing itself in her lovely features. It is a small matter to men? tion-laughable, perhaps-but it impressed me, and it was indeed a disclosure of ber char? acter. She bad a frank, spontaneous sym? pathy with life all round and in every part, such as I never met in any one beside herself. By reason of this virtue she was always in? terested in what was going on, and the very quality which subdued her individuality in one way made ber character fresh and de? lightful in another. Sophia charmed, by her constellation of charms, the grouping of vir? tues and graces of body and mind, which seemed to make her sympathetic with the most opposite persons, and at home in tho most various scenes. Was there a key to all this? or was she a Phoenix in muslin, a paragon, admirable and inexplicable? It is my conviction that her mothers constant lectures on the subject of women making themselves fascinating-lec? tures which fell on ears that interpreted every word into new and higher language than the original-gave that bent to her dis? position which made her what she was. The Kttle morning room disquisitions, with ball rooms and lawns and dinner tables for texts, concerning dresses and marriages and car? riages and fortunes and smiles and postures and witty answer* and complaisancy-these all Sophia carried up to a higher level of idea and aspiration. She resolved to charm others with happiness and goodness in view, not mere society conquests. Mrs. Barbara Tem? ple's prelections were delivered in the spirit of Lord Chesterfield, low and selfish, under a. thin disguise of good-, bumer. Sophia, by the instinct of a?, lofty nature, resolved to use the means her mother recommended, but with a dif? ferent end in view. And here was the pleas? ing originality of her life; she used worldly methods for most unworldly ends. The polish, the graces, the social attractions, the accomplishment*, literature and wit, which saints either despise or at best only tolerate, she used as the very material out of which her noble purpose must be woven. And so she remained rather worldly than otherwise on tl e face of her life, and sorious people declared sh? needed conversion. But in the st cret interior of her intentions she was truly devoted, trying, by the spell of a beautiful womanhood, to make those with whom she livid better and happier. Certain wise men explain the miracle of Pentecost as having Iflin in the ears that heard, not in the tongues that sj oke, the listeners clothing the speech with a sense of their own. So worldly, good humored Mr.-. Barbara Temple said her shrewd say; but the words, as they pattered from her lips, caught from the daughter's finer ear a music and a meaning which the speaker never understood With slow delight, with many a blush, with stolen glances and few shy words, the courtship of Percival and Sophia progressed, and each had commended the other in their inmost souls long before any love was ex? pressed. Brent senior had quite recovered bis spirits in the presence of Mrs. Barbara Temple, and his easy-moved laughter was heard in dining room and drawing room as of old. Accordingly, to and fro, from house to house the families went; and the young people had plenty of occasions of making love, though it was as yet love unspoken There are, then, two schools of lovers those who plunge, and those who inch; and those who plunge are wise, but those who inch are wiser. Percival, either by foresight or simply through circumstance" was an "incher.* Pleasant work he found it. But is a grave history like mine to detail every nod, glance, b'.ush, smile, sigh, and so on? or are grave students like my readers to be so trifled wffch? Let me, with wiso reserve, be con? tent, for this chapter at least, with one closing scene. End of January. Weather, much rain and windy; time, 3:15 p. m.; scene, dining room at Mrs. Barbara Temple's; persons present, Percival and Sophia. Mark, reader, they have been here since the rest rose from lunch, talking abo?t anything or nothing, but grow? ing warmer-at least Percival was growing warmer-overy moment. He believes the hoar has come. So stand the two at the win flow, watching the drops that course down the pane?, and idly racing drop against drop. Sophia wins three drops running. "Ah," Percival remarks with a sigh, "it is no use. I can never stand against you." Sophia thinks she understands this, and sighs, too, faintly, blushes about the thou? sandth part of a tint, droops her head about the millionth part of an inch. He Rees alL "What a stormy day!" he says next "Very stormy." "And yet it does not seem dull, not in here, does it?" Artful young man! ho low ered his voice toward the end of the sentence, as if the very walls must not hear, but she only. "Oh, no; it does not seem a bit dull in here," she responds. There is a regular lovers' way of saying the same thing to and, fro; tibe simpletons mean to intimate . their entire oneness in all things, spoken or thought Sophia looked Tery lovely just at that mo? ment, with the fear that is joy hovering over* her, casting lights on lier eyes, flushes on her cheek, and making her every slightest mo? tion tender and gentle. He feels that now he is full in the sway of the whirlpool; on and on be w?B be borne until be bas told ber alL "Something very singular happened to me in Australia," Percival says, bending nearer to her; "something I am half afraid to speak ol" Here he stops. "Tell me about it," she whispers, oh, so Tow, so deliciously! She meant: Anything yon say will be sweet to hear-especially what you are going to say. "It was something so strange, so unforeseen! One of those things which happen we cannot tell how, leading to we cannot tell what." He stopped again. Again she murmured one of those sentences which women never speak but to one ear only, unbaring their hearts. "Tell me about it* "While I was in Australia I fell in love with a girl, who is the queen of my heart, and shall be till I die." Her posture never changed, not by the movement of a finger; and I do not think the sharpest watcher would have seen a quiver of her eyelid or*a tremor of her lip. But the life went from her face and eyes, and the fear that is joy vanished, leaving behind the fear that is fear indeed. "Are the girls-the girls-in Australia very pretty?" she inquired, ia a death-like j voice. [ The next moment she would be in his I arms; the nert moment his kiss would have ! dropped in a burning seal on her lips; the next moment she would have been his, de? clared so by signs which even her modesty could not have hidden. Alas, how short is the space allotted to whispering, blushing love in this rough world! Just then the dining room door opened, and in rushed little : Mr. Brent, roaring with laughter, stamping on the floor, choking, rubbing his hands. And Mrs. Barbara Temple followed laugh ! mg, but not in his fashion. "And then," cried the parson between his rapturous bursts, "then, without another word, down sat the dean, looking so import? ant, so dignified, so reproving-just like an angry turkey cock, I assure you, Mrs. Tem? ple. Bown he sat on his new hat-crash! it was stove in-his new batt And up he jumps again, and exclaims: 'Bless me, my hat?" Rosy with his boisterous mirth, he went up and down, not knowing what he had done, though quick-eyed Mrs. Temple suspected, and would have withdrawn. Percival ! looked inexpressibly discomfited. Who should make the nert move? It was Sophia. "Good to have a merry heart, Mr. Brent!" she said, smiling at him in a way which showed-he told his son as they went home that she at least en joyed the story. And she darted from the room. But Percival could not see her face before she was gone. Fixed he stood, poor baffled young fellow; the arms dropped at his side which were to have been wound about the girl he loved; his face a blank, his heart full of vexation. Meanwhile the little rector- fell into a chair, and sent up peal after peal of most obstrep? erous mirth. "The dear, was new, and the hat was new. j When he sat down we heard the crash. When he got up no one living could have ; told which looked more dismal, his face or his hat 'JSfess me, my hatP I hear him say? ing it now, Mrs. Temple. The finest sight I ever saw. Percival, Percival, why don't you laugh P _ BOOK THREE. LADY BEAUTYS LOVERS. CHAPTER L TEE LOVER SAYS "WILL YOU?" AND THE LADY SAYS "YES." One evening in February Rector Brent ap? peared about five o'clock, just as the lamps were lighted in the drawing room. Luck had it this time that Sophia should be sitting alone, and as she rose to welcome her visitors she remarked that her mother and Sibyl were in the library and Car out for a walk. The little man, with praiseworthy readiness-per? haps he had got a hint beforehand-remarked that he would go to the library, as he wanted to speak with Mrs. Temple; and at the word he hurried from the room, andi left our pair alone. Sophia, glancing at Percival, noticed that he carried a small parcel in his hand; and he, finding himself alone with her, re? solved to finish his broken story. He lost no time now, having learned a lesson on that subject already. "I was interrupted the other day when I was telling you about Australia," he re? marked, drawing a chair close beside her. "Shall I finish what I was saying?" "Do." "That girl lam in love with so passion? ately, who got my heart out there-" all this came out with such tumultuous haste that she might have known what would follow "shall I show you her portrait f "I should like to see it " "I thought you would. I brought it wits me," he said, opening his packet with trem? bling fingers. "Only let me tell you this pic? ture gives you a very faint idea of her in? deed. It is beautiful, but her actual face is past all likeness and all praise, soft as star? light, pure as snow, tender as the spring sunshine, full of life and truth. Oh, how I love it!" "She must be happy," Sophia said, with a delicate sadness that whispered all he wanted to know, but the excited young fellow did not mark it. "She must be very happy. Let me look at the picture." Almost with a sob she said ii. "I shall show it in a moment," he replied, holding ft ready to turn up to the lamplight; "only let me finish my story first It was this picture I fell in love with I resolved when I saw the face that is here to live and die for it. Its heavenly fairness subdued me in a moment ?nd for ever, and all my fear was lest the true face should not 60 as loTely, I had to wait a long time before I saw tho original-many months. AU that time I was true to my picture, and gazed at it morning, noon and night, till every feature was printed on my heart Then the day came when I saw-ker. At the sight all memory of tho picture vanished quite away. Oh, how I trembled lest she should be promised to ' another, or lest she should not love me!" "Was she promised to anotherr "No." There followed a tiny sigh. "And did she-did she-Oh, but she must?" Sophia said, turning her sud full ey. s ou his manly face. "I can finish the story ; she said i she would love you." "The story is not finished yet," he cried, im? petuously. "But you are right in ono thing : you can finish it. Look,, this is the picture of tho girl I love." She l>ent to look, and as she did so a tear she could not keep back dropped on the card? board. Tho next instant she uttered a cry and started to her feet. She had seen herself. A moment she looked at him, and such was the struggle of surprise, delight, modesty ami fear in her face that he was now as far from her secret as a moment before she had been from his. He thought she was angry. "Miss Temple-Sophia," he said, "don't be angry. If I have offended you, I did not mean it Surely you won't be angry?" Still she made no answer, but only looked ! at him, for speech and action ha/1 forsaken j her together; and he, foolish fellow; grew j certain that she was displeased. "I loved it so," ho said, [?leading. t:I could j not help it; and I wanted to tell you myself j before I speke to others ni out it. Twanted ; you to hear the story first from my own lips." . He hung his head, ashamed to look at her. 1 "I know I am presumption. I feel sure ul ready that you will tell me 1 am not the man you can love. I wish I had waited a little be? fore speaking; the dream was so much bet? ter than this awakening; but I could keon j myself silent no longer. Perhaps it is ns well I to know it at once. It will save-" But as he spoke, her cheek came close to his own, and her little hand fell on his shoulder. Too womanly for coquetry or coyness, she gave her answer at ow*\ and with such readiness that neither Percival i??r Sophia were able to settle that night which kissed the other first CHAPTER II. CAROLINE AXD SIBYL MARRIED. And SQ the third Miss Temple was engaged. Mamma made no objection. She did, indeed, when business came to be talked, remark to Mr. Brent that her daughter's foi*tune would not be large, and? that she hoped he would be able to provide handsomely for his son. At this he waved his hand in a confi? dent way, nodded and said: "That shall be all right/' He did not at that time enter into any particulars, but Mrs. Temple, from what she knew of him, was quite satisfied with this assurance and the matter dropped. It was soon known to the whole town that Sophia Temple was engaged to Percival Brent, and the announcement a littlo relieved our disappointment at the mysterious disap? pearance of the rector's flirtation with the widow. Indeed, some of us started the hypothesis that what we superficial investi? gators had mistaken for a flirtation was in reality nothing more than the settling of the preliminaries of the present affair. We said it must have been very pleasant for the two seniors to make the arrangements in that snug way; and thus we explained the little intimacy between them. Pleasant was the early courtship of this happy pair. The very skies smiled on it Never, I believe, was there such a February. Day followed day in the softest beauty. Mornings crisp with frost; soft, balmy noons, evenings with red skies and frosty air again. Their love making was full of satisfaction. Sophia found bini an ingenuous young fellow, with real enthusiasm, full of active resolu? tions for lifo. True, she found it hard to be very warm over geology; but his general no? tion of living to use and honor delighted her. I think she would have been better pleased had he talked of getting into parliament or entering the church, rather than of achieving triumphs at the British association, an insti? tution which at that time had not emerged from the age of weakness and scorn. Still, she was fully satisfied with him, and gave him all her love. And he, for his part-it could not be otherwise-was entranced with/ her. Warmth, purity, tend arness, principle^ all the finer parts of character were hers; taste and no lack of humor, ready speech, lively fancy. As to her face, he worshiped it He always said that ber face was beauti? ful, because it was the image of her mind Why narrate lovers' raptures ? They were all in all to each other these happy days of early spring. j In March the two weddings came off; first Car's, and then Sibyl's. Egerton Doolittle had made a special request that the two should be celebrated on the same day; but to his request the great Goldmore declined to comply-possibly a lurking suspicion that the thing might look ludicrous led him to say no. Accordingly, we married Caroline and Eger? ton first; and a pleasant wedding it was, everything being done in most elegant style; and little Mrs. Barbara Temple looked not a day more than forty. And Rector Brent, between the occasion, the champagne and his own amorous disposition, cast so many glances at her, and these so warm, that it seemed as if he was being captivated anew. Car, I must say, looked splendid that morn? ing; flashing with wit, fire in her eyes, and ber attire faultless. She wore a bridal dress of brocaded satin, and her head-dress, which was somewhat original-those girls bad a tasteful way of being, slightly out of the com? mon-pleased all the ladies; the men, I be? lieve, looked more at the head which carried it Her veil, streaming over her superb "shoulders, made her dress complete, and we all pronounced her a lovely bride. She went through the service without any ner? vousness; indeed, I thought with slight audacity, as if she would challenge anyone to say she had made a foolish choice. Eger "ton Doolittle lisped his responses, and the two were man and wife together. Breakfast, as I said, went oif well. Little Mr. Brent pro? posed bride and bridegroom, to which, with many a blush and titter, and hand sidled to his mouth, Egerton responded. He thanked them all. He believed that he teas a very fcfc t?nate man. Here come a long pause. Fact was-confidentially-it had been his great aim hi life to find a tremendously clever woman-a woman who would be able to point out whether any given work was erroneous or not He did not like erroneous works. .He might read an erroneous work without knowing it, and get his mind upset He had married a wife who could and would tell him if a given work was erroneous, and he was very happy. Ho thanked everybody, Cbd wished everybody in the room would soon be married like himself, except those who were married already. There was no need to wish them married, because with a sly expression-they were married al? ready. (Here champagne effects became slightly prominent) He believed he had married a tremendously clever girl-woman he meant-wife he meant;-and he was very thankful He hoped Jais wife would try to make him happy-he meant he hoped he would try to make her happy-no, he' meant that he xcould try to make her happy, and be hoped he would do it Man was strong. Woman was weak. The man should use his strength to make the woman comfortable ?nd happy, you know. As the poet had said, I it was tyrannous to have a giant's strength, but it was excellent to-no, that was not it esactly. He forgot which came first He would look it uy, and t*nd them the exact quotation by post Anyhow, whatever the poet bad said, if it was a manly act, he pledged himself to do it, but not otherwise, and he believed that was the safe?t way to leave it Here he sat down with a k'nd of movement as if he were going to pieces, and wo all applauded heartily. Sibyl's wedding came a fortnight later, more sedate, and even more splendid. Archi? bald Goldmore loaded his young bride with presents so costly that, I think, to have had them, some of the girls would have married j Methuselah. Goldmore looke.i dignified I enough during the service, and not old; and I he walked down the aisle with a vigorous tread, so that, on the whole, the disparity in years did not appear so great as we expected. Sophia had been chief bridesmaid, of course; and, in spite of her sister's faultless beauty, in my eyes she looked the lovelier of tho two. While they were kneeling, a sunbeam fell on her, and when it touched her head, heaven seemed choosing her as a bride at the some moment Wonderful it was how the posture of prayer became that girl-the warmth and seriousness of her face seemed framed for worship, or for pure exalted love. But oro ? the two sentiments alien? ISb blunder about GoLlmore's speech, you j may bo sure. All sober, proper, truly ele- j phantino, and thoroughly Great British. The language in which his revered friend had proposed the health of himself and his wife | was in the highest sense gratifying. On his wife's part and his own he thanked them sin- ! cerely. He felt, indeed, that the lady who had that morning bestowed her hand upon j him was all, and more than, all, that his rev- ? ered friend had called her. He felt the honor she had conferred upon Lim. He could as? sure his wife, and her friends, that whatever lay hi his power should be done to make her thc return which she deserved. It was a sat? isfaction to them both to know that marriage would not part Them from their friends, nor from that locality. It would not be lons be? fore they should he among them as neighbors; ond he could only say, os one of the pleasant? est incidents in that propinquity, that his wife and himself looked forward to seeing thc present company gathered round their own table. One thing was noticed at thc wedding fea?t; little Mr. Brent, usually tho loudest laugher In every company, appeared grave and attracted; indeed; more than one per? son remarked a str?ngt; pallor about him which suggested a suspicion that ho was struck with illness. Percival, happy with his Sophia, and with f. thousand tender thoughts awakened by th.- ceremony ot the day stirring in his breast, was not likely to observo anything except what enforced at? tention: and no cloud <Unlined the brightness ?>f tho lovers Joy. Had. Percival notice?! his lather's face h?-u-ei1 to its expression would hav?? perceived tout it was not illness which was impending. But Fate was kind to these loving two. It was for them a day of tender and undimmed ?elight-not a cloud, not a breath, not a doubt-only playful railery , soft looks, gent'e touches, sighs and all the train of lovers' little pleasures. Their love increased wonderfully that happy day; and it was well, for tit>uble was at hand. It was dark as father and son drove home, and Percival was greatly startled when, almost as soon as the hors?? began to move, the rector threw himself upon him, and, sob? bing like * child. called out :... CHAPTER ia ABOUT MISFORTUNE. "I am a ruined man, Percy-a ruined n The explanation which followed thi noQncement was In all its main features to Percival, who had never known any ticulars of his father's affairs. The i which may be briefly told, were these: 1 senior was the son of a father who had ried twice, and the rector had now a brother nearly twenty years older than self. This brother, under his mother's riage settlement, had inherited all her ] erty, which was very large. The father a life interest in it, but at his death the * passed absolutely to her only child. Pu Brent's father had ever been a careless imprudent man, who, having married tunately, lived on his wife's money. J her death he married again, as has been and his second wife died in the same m as himself ; but his reckless and improvi character was plainly seen by thestal which bis affairs were left He might et have saved, and saved handsomely, foi education and maintenance of his second oar rector, but as a matter of fact he die deeply m debt that even his furniture ha be sold to satisfy bis creditors. Young B was then at Oxford preparing for the chu but it seemed as if his whole future mus altered. At this time his brother came ward, and although he had never been kii used by the second Mrs. Brent, he now, i great generosity, resolved to help his brot and he made him an ample allowance foi -university expenses. Under these eire stances a very cordial friendship sprang between ?the- two, and this friendship hitherto been unbroken. The elder broi did not marry, being studious; and if a woman hater, certainly not a woi hunter. As time went on, and the your brother's position and requirements gi the elder increased' the allowance made him, and now for several years . had been giving the rector fifteen hund j per annum. This, he promised, should continued to his death, when an ample ] vision would be made for himself and Liss This arrangement had gone on for nu years undisturbed, but a short time bef< to Rector Brents great astonishment, brother, then over seventy, told him meditated marriage. The facts were s< out. A strong-minded Irish widow, of g family, with a file of tall, hungry, penni sons, had marked him for her own. Th followed, in the usual artful sequel, flatt and amiable persecution. The old man i cajoled, managed, and, in the lost stages the affair, bullied, until, without his broth? knowledge, he was actually married to triumphant widow, who wrote to the rect explaining the haste and secrecy of the tn saction by the state of "our dear Hem nervous system." The elder brother assu: his junior that the marriage would make difference in his allowance or his $ubsequ< prospects; and for twelve months this pro ise was kept But the old man was growi feeble, and his wife impatient Her s< were expensive, and sho wished to sect everything for thom. By what means cot not be ascertained, but she spirited her hi band away to the south of France, Une the plea of bronchial disease and nerve prostration, she shut bim up from sociel and when, a few months before, the recto growing uneasy, had gone to Cannes to s his brother, he was not admitted to the bout being comforted by the assurance that ever thing was being done to restore, or at least compose, "dear Henry's nervous System." '. tell the rt st in a few words, on the morning Sibyl's marriage the poor rector received letter, written by his brother himself, which, after son^B vague sentences about "lc of money," "failure of investments," and "i creasing expenses," he plainly said that ] inclosed the last check whic-h he would ev be able to send. The letter closed with postscript, in which the rector was remind? that already a great deal hod been donc f< hjmt which genial stroke was due to the di ration of the accomplished Mrs. Brent f our unhappy rector found himself placed j the position of the holder of a benefice worl scarcely a hundred a year, after outgoings, costly establishment, luxurious habits, d .dining years, and a son who had basa led * expect fortune as his inheritance The Urti? c?ergyman behaved with sin gula flignity and straightforwardness. He toi : the whole s^ory frankly, and seemed to di yelop ft ti ?de for the trial We wer pleased to near now from his lips some c those phrases about trust in God and rc. pia tion to the dispositions of providence a I which we had sometimes felt inclined to sra? when the sleek little fellow spoke them in th ! pulpit Indeed, so deep was our commisera i tion for the rector's misfortune that we-wb are neither a church nor, I fear, a very chan i table people-summoned a meeting of lead ing parishioners! a* ^hich we resolved, bj annual subscriptions, to raise enough to pal the curates; and thus, without directly pau i perizing our clergyman, we hoped to enablt him to hold his living. In this way Recto: Brent was put in possession of about threi hundred a year-not a bad allowance, yoi j may say; but consider how he had livet hitherto. The carriage must be put down j the gardens must be laid out in grass; th? cozy dinner parties must be given up; Rectoi Brent must, for the rest of his life, walk th< ways of genteel poverty. Among the first to hear the bad news wai Mrs. Barbara Temple. That excellent little j woman had a maxim for every change one ! chance, and upen hearing the tidings she re marked that such was the world-up and down. "If the 'ups' were always up," shi continued, straying for an instant into philos? ophy, "the downs would never have a chance. There was only so much money, so much ease, so much luck, going. What one lost fell tc the lot of another." At the same time she ex? pressed and felt genuine sorrow for Mr. Brent and for his son, who had always appeared tc her a most promising young fellow. Shortly after hearing all this, Mrs. Tempi,, rang for ber maid, and sent for Sophia, who came in with a light dancing step, rare with her; her face was full of glee. "I know what ic is, mamma; you want mci to look at your dross. But I saw it before you ? did. Frightful, it is! Tou shan't wear it, dear; not if I wear it myself." "Sophia, you look very pretty this morn? ing," the mother said, with much fondness and admiration, and a touch of sorrow too, as she thought of the disappointment the girl was about to have. "Nevermind the gown; I have something to say to you." Sophia looked wondering into her mother's serious face, as she took a seat beside her. "Life is full of trials, Sophy," the kind? hearted little wordling began. "No one is flt to live who is not ready to meet small vexa? tions and disappointments, that perhaps at first don't seem small, mid meet them with a cheerful face. One great thing is to remem? ber-what is undoubtedly true-that most disappointments have a bright as well as a dark side. Indeed, if one looks over one's life, it is surprising to notice how many mis? haps which we either cried over or felt we would like to rrj- over, only we restrained ourselves, ?.ecomo on review matters of con? gratulation. Do you know. Sophy, I think sometimes, when I look back over my life, that what I called my misfortunes have in three cases out of four become either directly or indirectly sources of happiness after a year or two. I don't wish to talk boastfully, dear; but I think some of that is due to my own goori common sense." She drew herself up with a self-satisfied air, but instantly resumed her compassionate tone, while Sophia looked a little anxious, not knowing what was coming. She saw that her mother watched her closely, as she delivered herself of these philosophic morsels. "I shall not delay what I have to say," Mrs. Temple went on, stroking her girl's hand kindly. "1 have heard something this morn? ing which renders your marriage with young Brent impossible." "Mamma!" Sophia cried, in great agitation. "These things happen, Sophy," the mother continued; "these things often happen. I never told any of you girls before, but I as? sure you the first man that proposed to rol? and to whom I was on the point of being married-had to fly from England to avoid transportation." "Mamma!" Sophia cried again, but now springing to her feet, with a face white with fear and pain. "Tell me; what is it? He can't, 0, he can't have done anything wrong!" "Nothing wrong, dear," she answered. "I only mentioned my case as in some respects ? like yours. No; the Brents aro honorable j people, but they are beggars this morn Sophy-beggars. " Then, in as few words as she could use, Httle woman, with most perfect lucidity, the story of the disaster, remarking, v, she came to the maneuvering widow, thal rector ought to have kept a sharper eye his brother. "Because we all know, Sophy, that there always widows who will do these thing they can. I should az soon think of leat my jewel box all night open on my fi doorstep as of leaving a rich relation guarded-if it was my policy to get money. . Now, don't cry, dear," she ad< seeing her girl's tears flowing fast; *thi might have been much worse." "I am not crying now, mamma," Sot said, sobbing, however, while she spoke, was frightened at first by what you said, least, these are tears of relief, I mean really felt afraid of I don't know what, it is only money Percival has lost-not cl acter, not honor." "O, no; his honor is untouched," the mot replied "His character is as good as e; and that will, of course, stand by bim w be goes in search of employment. Beside am glad on your account, dear; for even most transient connection of your name "V a person who had done anything wrong wo be disagreeable." Sophia said nothing. She was drying her tears with great brisknsss and assidu It is a pleasant sight to see a pretty yoi woman wiping her tears away, and featl ing herself into cheerfulness again. "Excellent good sense, Sophia," tho mot said, looking at her with great approval, always knew, with your sound judgme you would come to this view of the ma tl but I was prepared for a little temporary luctance and a little girlish romance, an was prepared to bear it kindly, dear, and wait for the return of good sense, whicl knew would not be delayed long. But] are a wise girl, Sophy; nothing like fae the inevitable boldly, and at once." "But, mamma," Sophy said, "it is nc: s a great trial Percival can work. We ?. both wait." "O, then I have mistaken you!" exclain the mother. "Now, Sophy, my dear, 3 must not be absurd. This marriage is sim] impossible. Wait as long es you may, 1 young man cannot make a fortune such you should expect and require. You will this some day." "I promised him I would love him alway Sophia said, with artlessness which in 1 other woman might have seemed affect "and am I to break my word because 3 poor fellow is unfortunate? He has d( nothing. Is he to lose his money and-a me too;" At which dreadful prospect Sophia beg to cry again, and worked at her eyes w her pocket handkerchief, which she li twisted into a sort of ball, as crying wo? do "It isa very nice, kind way of talkii Sophy," the little diplomatist said; "and does you credit, dear. I almost think I li you better for it, sweet, sweet girl!" with kiss at each adjective, "But we must prudent, dear. Believe me, Sophy, nothi that is imprudent is ever Und in the lo run. It may appear so; it never is-1 kind even to those it seems most to bei flt. In life, dear, everything depends prudence." "Mamma," Sophia cried, rising from I chair for the second time, "if you had tc me that Percival had been disgraced. I thi I should have died. If you had tola me tb the man who spoke to me as he spoke h any secret dishonor, I think j should ha killed myself in grief and shame. I know t world would never have been the same to x again. But his fortune, his money-what that? Mamma, I promised to love him ai to marry him, and nothing but his own fat shall make me changa Not if he lost t fortunes! It would be hard on him," she x peated, with another rub of her eyes, "to lc his money, and then to lose me." Mother and daughter, there they sat. T mother was not angry, scarcely disappointe quiet, confident, fully assured that tho vj tory would be on her side at last Were n time and money with her, and who with sui auxiliaries ever lost a battle? And there s the daughter, tearful, flushed, affectionat longing to have her Percival beside her console him. Ah, sweet Sophia Tempi some there were as well as Percival who f< a few of those tender dewy kisses then bu ding on thy bps would have lost half tl world, and scarcely sighed as it slipp away! _ CHAPTER IV. STILL ABOUT MISFORTUNE. Percival called upon Sophia that afternoo and, for some wise reason, Mrs. Barbara Tex pie allowed him to see her alone. Indeed, tl little woman was never other than kind her daughters, and, being sure that Sophie madness could not last, she resolved not 1 seem tyrannical. So she let the tv y and gi have it all to themselves. Percival, impulsive in his wretchednes told Sophia everything in a breath. He wi stout-hearted enough to hide his grief pretl well, and he hastily assumed, as a kind of po tulate of the whole conversation, that Soph would think of nothing but of giving him U] Thus he raised in her a light sweet petulano which caused her to leave his dark illusic unscatiered for a while, "I shall go out to Australia again, and b gin life," he said with a manful air. She could not look at him, or she woul have been in his arms, so she stood ha turned from him with downcast eyes, and h? watching her, felt his heart sink. He ha faintly hoped for other things. "Yes, I shall go out to Australia again," 1 repeated, so sadly that Sophia could hard! even for an instant hold herself back. "It : a fine climate," he added, trying to seem tu concerned again. "You will meet some giri out there," sh answered in the very exultation of her hj pocrisy, "and you will like her very welL" "I shall never love any one again," ho sai gravely; and his voice grew unsteady at th last word. "Only you," he added, in a ye more shaking voice. That bit of unsteodi ness finished Sophia off. "Never do!" she cried-Cincver do. I asl nothing more of you; end then go round an< round the world, and I shall wait hero faith fully till you come back." So her little bit of deceit was over, and sh was sobbing in his anns, telling him that h< was ten thousand times dearer to her now because she could show her love to him; am that no other man should ever call hei his own, with twenty other of those S?I3 speeches made on such occasions; some ol which, as declaring the nobler impulses oi the heart that God has made, will be remem bered, I doubt not, when ten thousand humar frailties are blotted out of tho book of his remembrance. And Percival, holding thc lovely girl in his arms, felt how little he had le t, and how much be had gained in that very loss; and ho realized something of thc truth of Him who know the human heart, and said that there aro times when, in the very loss of lifo, we find life anew-life which can? not perish anti which cannot be defiled. There! They spoke no more, not another sentence for many minutes, but stood folded in each other's anns, mingling tears, enrap? tured, exchanging by a thousand fond pres? sures, heart against heart, emotions, vows, protestations, which tho narrow channels of speech con never convey. "You aro all tho world to mo," he said at last "All the world, am I?" she answered softly. "O Percy, Percy!? "And you will go on loving me, Sophia?" "For ever and ever." "Better or worse-richer or poorer?" "Yes, till death us do part nothing else sha'l-never, Percy !" So it went on, silence and speech alternating for full an hour. Mrs. BarTiara Temple was a wiso woman, but I somewhat doubt thc astuteness of ber policy on that particular afternoon. [TO BK CONTINUED.] iPulitzer. It is generally believed in St. Louis that Congressman Pulitzer resigned in order to escapean iovestigation'ooDeem ing his transactions with ibe Bell Tele? phone Company. It is generally be? lieved that thc attacks of the World upon Attorney General Garland, Gen. J E. Johnston, Socretary llamar and Senator Harsis, were paid for by the Bell Company. Editor Pulitzer fled to Europe io order to avoid tho examina lion iu the Pan-Electric Telephone mat? ter. Several years ago, while Mr. Pulitzer was a poliee commissioner in St Louis, it was reported that be was receiving $800 per month from a gam bling establishment for bia protection from interference by the police. When the matter was brought before the Courts, Commissioner Politzer disap? peared and did not return until it was too late for him to testify. ----^ What Our Editors Say. "Bing" Methods. Abbeville Medium. "Can any man or set of men monopo? lize the high offices in this State, filling them in rotation at will ?" asks tbe Au? gusta Chronicle in discussing the merits of Gordon and Bacon, gubernatorial candidates in Georgia. The same ques? tion is a pertinent one in this State. Too much of this thing bas been going on among us and it is high time for a change in the political methods of oar people. When a man is elected to a State office he seems to think that he is not only entitled to two consecutive terms but that when these expire he has especial claims to ?orne other office. It looks as if some arrangement was made among the chosen few by which they can rotate from one position to another. They appear to think they are entitled to be pensioners npon the people and that the public treasury must bc opened for their sustenance. In this way oligarchies grow up and a class is created which soon becomes bigoted and puts on airs of superiority. Even now if a good citizen outside of these officeholders seeks the governor? ship or other State office he is branded as a disorganizer or malcontent. The "ins" take it as a personal affront and all manner of misrepresentation and abnse is heaped upon the aspirant. Only a servile, cringing and posilani mous people would endure such a state of affairs. Let the masses of the people give more attention to polities and learn the true situation. When they do com? prehend it, there will be a swift and de? cisive rebuke to the coterie that has held sway for years which will make such "ring methods" odious forever here? after. The Pension Grab. Columbia Record. It is time to call a halt in the pension legislation of Congress, and President Cleveland has shown bis determination to do so. The soldiers of the Mexican war and other wars, where they fought as the representatives of the whole coun? try, ought to be pensioned by the whole country, and there is no qualification whatever to our willingness to see them liberally provided for, except that when the liberality assumes such proportions as to become extravagance, we rise to object, and we also think that their claims ought to be passed on by the Pension Bureau and not by Congress. ?s to the soldiers of the late war a re? gard for truth compels us to say that it seems to us particularly bard that the people of the South should have to con? tribute to ?he payment of the pensions of the soldiers of the North while our own soldiers go unprovided. This one circumstance is a standing reminder of by-gone strife and a constant declaration that the Southern people were rebels-a charge which we never can admit. If it has to bc so, however, it behooves the Democrats in Congress to take care that they are not made the instruments of robbing tbe treasury in their behalf. Loyalty to the Union does not require that Southern Congressmen should vote for every pension bill that is presented simply because the beneficiary was, or claims to have been, a Union Soldier. Let all applicants for pensions go to the Pension Bureau, as President Cleve? land has suggested, and let Congress at? tend to its proper business of legislating on measures of general interest. Keeping Faith With the People? Weics and Courier, The fact has been made public that during his recent visit to Wash? ington, Governor Thompson was authoritatively informed that an im? portant Federal appointment would be offered him if he would consider its ac? ceptance, and that he promptly declared his unwillingness to resign the office of Governor merely to promote his own in? terests. While it is exceedingly pleasant, of course, to know that Governor Thomp? son was tendered the honorable position referred to, it is still more gratifying to the people of the State to know that be declined it under the circumstances, and so gives additional evidence of his appreciation of the responsibilities and obligations of the exalted office be now holds. The honor proffered him at Washington, like all the others he has received, came to Governor Thomp? son without being sought by him, and marks the widespread recognition of his ability and fidelity in the discharge of every trust that has been commit? ted to bim. Of all the long roll of Governors of the State, none Las served South Caro? lina with more zeal and conscientious? ness than the courteous, modest and high-minded gentleman who now fills and graces the Executive office, Gov. Hugh S. Thompson. The Confederate Dead. Greenville Newe. It will be fair and proper for the people of this community to remem? ber that the observance of memorial day is not a business speculation or a scheme for anybody's advantage, lt is a labor of love and patriotism, inspired by motives which should command the respect, spmpatby and active help of every man and woman. We cannot afford to let the memory of the dead Confederates die or to ocase from honoring their graves and their deeds. We cannot afford to post ourselves bt fore the world as indifferent to the glory that is our only reoompenfe for the loss of so much of the best man? hood of our country, ojr forgetful of heroism and self-sacrifice. We cannot afford to let our children grow up ber lieving that thc Confederate cause and its soldiers were so unworthy that we have hastened to forget them. They fought for our common cause without receiving ox* boping for pay or profit. They fought brave!j and died in fight. We eau give them only reverence rad remembrance. Sorely we owe them that and ought to gire it. Splendid warriors ! Patient, loving, glori?os patriots and heroes ? Martyr? who crowded the hard and weary road to martyrdom with no faltering * pi rfu, and feet many times sore and bleeding, always willing! Shivering io tattered gray though the snow and chill of wi?* ter, gasping io the dost and heat of summer, toiling, boo gr j, s offering sa many things, facing death and giving blood, limbs and life for coantry and principle ! Where in SQ bl im i fy of par pose, in grandeur of act, io all that glorifies and sanctities humanity and constitutes the essence of the highest manhood caa the Confederate soldier be matched ? Well may the people of the South unite in one awful invocation and pray that when they forget the Con? federate soldier, dead or living, sad neglect to honor him, their right ?rms may numb and their tongues rot. Well may they do it. For a people who could forget or dishonor such cause and such men would have men without courage in their hearts and women who could be mothers of only puny dastards and sluggards. ? j. Impertinent Advice. Georgetown Enquirer. X Some of our exchanges are indst?ag in a good deal of sentiments! gush, about Gen. John B. Gordon, who is now mak? ing an active canvass for the governor? ship of Georgia. It is true that - Gor? don helped Hampton, his personal friend, in the campaign of 1876; bat there were hundreds of other Georgians wbo did as much for South Carolina as be did. Gordon isa politician with a very good military record and a very bad civil record. His connection with that infamous swindle, the South? ern Life Insurance Company, is enough to damn him forever in the eyes of bis fellow citizens ; and bis resignation of of the senatorship from Georgia to take a lucrative private office has never been satisfactorily explained. On the whole, we think Gen. Gordon has been amply rewarded for the services he rendered South Carolina in '76 ; and the news? papers of this State exhibit very ques? tionable taste in advising our Georgia friends, with such tender solicitude, as to their choice for governor. It is none of our business whom they elect govern? or ; and if they want Bacon, who is a man of high character and eminent ability, they should not be required to give Kim np because a few South Caro? lina editors have exaggerated notions el the "debt of gratitude*' whieb this State owes to bis rival. There is no sense in calling on Georgia to pay oar debts* A Binging Salutatory. The editor of a new paper at Wood? ruff's comes out in a column salutatory, from which we give some extracts be? low: The Woodruff people, bave lots of fun ahead _ of them.jJus.^?alL Jtben that editor gets really excited. Bot listen to him : "Woodruff is our birth place, and the home of our young years that have so rapidly glided by in time's furious .flight." ..If we'fail we ean but do so, know? ing that others have guns down be? yond the surging waves of tbe relent? less Ocean of the foaming waters that heave with open mouth ever ready to s wallow those who may be so unfortu? nate as to rush madly into the depths I of these uncertain watery graves. I "We therefore grasp the pen amid these trials and murky clouds aod will patiently await the future for the sequel t j of our labors, at the same time trusting , and hoping that our infant and discon? nected debut will ere long loom into a bright reality that will most assuredly reach the eclat and overdrawn climax ef hopes which we have based upon our new department of life." Big Majority for the President* Up to the 18th inst., the President had in all sent about 2,100nominations fer civil offices to the Senate. Of these 1,700 have been confirmed and only thirteen rejected. The remaining 400 will be disposed of in a comparatively short time, and it is not expected that the proportion of rejections will be in? creased. The Pennsylvania nomina? tions, it had been anticipated would meet with much objection ; but of the entire 150 sent in all have been con? firmed but two or three, and these are still pending and will go through. Nearly all of these nominations were made at the instance of Mr. Randall, and Senator Don Cameron bas taken as much interest in having them confirm? ed as if they were his own personal and political friends. The Southern Baptist Con? vention. This important body, representing about one million Christians, had a very interesting session at Montgomery, Ala., May 8-11. The veteran parliamenta? rian, Dr. Mell, presided. The mission? ary work was of course the absorbing question. Reports showed that the past year had been one of success and of forward movement. The receipts were $83.854, of which South Carolina contributed $S,368. Tbe most interesting feature jn the for? eign work was the opening of a new mission in Cuba. In fields already oc? cupied the only thought was to push the cause to victory. Home aissoaa were found to be in similarly encourag? ing condition. The increase of mem? bers in the churches represented aggre? gate 66,527, aod there is now in tb? white Southern Baptist churches a total membership of 1,039.600. The Con? vention for 1887 w^H be ^elo*. in liifujr. ville, Kentucky. -; m ? i : ?w?j_ She was wading across $be mud on, Woodward avenue w-ben, a butcher, cart came along and. splashed fcer fron* bonnet to shoes. ? pedestrian whc? witnessed thc accident pV$cd ?ftt bia handkerchief and sajd ; 'Beg pardon, bu,t [et me wipe spn^e of it off/ 'O, thanks, . she replied, 'but never mind the mud. If you feel U a duty, to dot something \n the case please, mention some of. the leading cast; words now iu use V