University of South Carolina Libraries
tittE MITER ?#ATC HMAS1,- Established April, ISiiQ* Consolidated Aug. 2, 1881.1 1 nBe Just and Fear not-Let all the End? thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's THE TRUE SOUTHRON, Established Jooe, 18*4? SUMTER, S. C., TUESDAY, JULY 13, 1886. New Series-Yoi. Y. Ko. 50. ft ri PubiUhod toter faraday, ^ Ni* Gr. OSTEEN, SUMTER, S. C. Tito I>oflar$ per annan*-in advance. iDT? ET I SI if TS . One Sqtiare, fifst insertions...-.......$! 00 ?very subsequent insertion....... 50 Jp?tttRcls for t?rree months, or longer will >?HffiRKaTrea^cecr ?fes. All cor?Ofntficfii?o?s which subserve private interests will be charged for as advertisements. ^ Obituaries 'axtC tributes of respect will be charged for. '?rx'-'. - \^ THC BEST TONIC. : ross?t Tt&iic?ie., combining Iron with pare Vegetable bionics, quickly and completely ~*D?*?wiBjkp?p9Sa+ indigestion* Weakness, -yjMWTFjn Ittood, afiilnTiuiChllUand fcYers, ana Nearalxfa. ~ :- Stis-an rmtailfng remedy for Diseases of the EIAwjt sad liver. -If-is . invaluable for Diseases peculiar to -TFomen, and all Who lead sedentary lives. - rritdoetiwt injure the teeth,cause he&dache,or i produce constipation-o?ker Iron medicines do. ~s--9trs?i&tesirad. purifies the blood, stimul?tes vtbe-appetite, aids the assimilation of food, re? lieve? Heartburn and Belching, and strength .?ttTtteannseles and nerves. For Intermit? ent Fevers, Lassitude, Lack of "Energy, &c, it has no equal. \: ? The pennine has above trade mark and ; crossed red lines on wrapper. Take no other. * ?dy ty ?OWSCHMIC?L COL. BALTUORS, KB. JBnit rftiwtifftftiiPTrTTh*-*! -***?yv+ rrt-nfr ind *~ "^?** ' at^fc?a?dhy*fi90td?medooiM?rtion of the LIVER? For all ocmpUmtg al Una k:nd, ?aeil as Torpidity of ,4hf?Ti^TglkwiiBi*^K<aryocsI^yspqp8ia, Ihdigea " tkc,Irregnlartty of thfJ Beweis, Cbnsdpa?ion, Flatn 1 -??Kr. Eroctatioos and Barning of the Stomach. ' (?cc?etzmes called Hsartbnrn), 1EMHM? Malana, . Bar, Orig* and Fewer, Bre&kbone Fever, _ Diar ?e?dache.Tot bagala?tMS ?wtdnntol to Females. Bea?r^-down S^STtDIGERS tUBftlMI ja.b&ratuabto. It is notapacacea far all diseases, bet. Ol IDC a? diseases of the LIVER, ^Ti VWnE STOMACH and BOWELS. It. chances tho - complexion fran a wxiy, yellow ?tiagc. to a roddy, hwdthy color, lt entirely remores ' Jos?, g?oomyspirits. It is one of the BEST AL fERATTVES and PURIFIERS OF THE BLOOD, and KA VALUABLE TONIC. ^T?DICER^S A?RANTII , Farsafeby?IlDraegi?t3. Price $1.00 per bottle. f# F. STADtCER, Proprietor, SO? FRONT ST., Philadelphia, Pa* SAVE YOUR MONEY ; . ^ -BY- - ?Mm YOUR CLOTHES M?* ? -WIT#^ ? i - T? lt Millyit STAMP -AND^x- . ~ DiBEILIBLE INS. T FOE SALE BY ; tr. P. OS#1SBNv Watchman and Sontbron Office, !.? . .* .- SUMTER, S^C ff ?ST ??? IFarmw?e? IndsM?bie. Wf&M CHINA/ ?f^Itaigs, Medicines and K5ET 0TL?T SOAPS. HAIR AND TOOTH 'BRUSHES. PERFUMERY AND FANCY TOILET ARTICLES, ?c., Ac. PA2N?? ?tifa?Z -L .VARNISHES AND DYE 8TUEF&, GLASS, PUTTY, $c. ^^jyplpfy* ^ Fr-esh Garden Seeds. -;p PAINT YOUR BUGGY FOR ^3c>xxo Dollar. Of e e#at^ives an old boggy- the blackest bla<$t y<n?jper '?aw ana a handsome gloss witRntyrfwfihrn'g'. Itf dries hard in a few boors. No. rubbing! Ko varnishing! No ex tea trouble- Each can contains more than enough io paint a carriage. - - Retailed al One Dollar per Can. ":; " For Sale by -.' DR. A. J. CHINA. FOR SALE. z< ^ILE; COWS ALLAYS ??T HAND -9. 3i. T#0iIAS, * 2 iPedgefield, S. C. FOR SALE, CH^p for Cash, or Approved Papers '-' Payable on Jan. % 1887, ---?oe TEN HORSE TOZER & DIAL POR? TABLE ENGINE. ?Q?TCOiSAW BK0WN COTTON GIN. i ?^B^Steam BOSS COTTON PRESS, and Abost 30 feet of SHAFTING with all nec? essary Polleys and Belting to run the same, Di'T- ?PP$7 to or address A. D. KICKER, ' April $ Sumter, S. C. THE TEMPERANCE WORKER, ReTMzcd from Columbia, S. C. A I?ve> Temperance Paper, Published Semi-monthly ia SUMTER, S. C, j Under the Editorial management cf -BET. H. F. CHEEITZB?RG, ' G.W.C-T- Or LlO.Gr.T. OF S. (?. Assisted by an able corps of Editors. The patronage and inflaence of all friends of Temperance is solicited. Terms only 60 .?Bte a yfv To advertisers desiring a wide Circolation, it offers an excellent medium. ^ Qaboaioess, address J?- G- OSTEBN, Pablisber. BM??TTS SECRET By ALAN MHB. Author of "Vanity Hardware? "Gof?en Giris? Etc BOOK SIX. LADY BEAUTY'S JOY. j- - CHAPTER VIL LADY BEAUTY'S JOY TURNS INTO FROLIC Yes, but tears like those-albeit their grief is deep and .pure-are ready to sparkle when the next gleam of sunshine comes. Sophia awoke next morning with a dancing heart. She did not see Percival again that night; bat sent him a little note asking him to come early to her the following morning. And no sooner was he in the room than she flew to him and kissed him, with pride and delight on every feature. *. What are yon going to dof she asked. "Going back to Australia, as I told you," he answered. "But, Sophia, you are too good-far too good-to offer to wait for me. I am not going to be a success in life, I am afraid." ': "0,1 am going to earn my bread myself," Sophia" cried, clapping her banda You keep yourself; TU keep myself." "Earn your bread]" exclaimed Percival "How do you mean to do it?'' "Give dancing lessons, dear," she answered. "Look heref And with a "tra, la, la" On her lips, she began to turn and whirl about the room, down and up, the picture of honest delight And Percival looked on in wonder, which at every, motion of her figure kept turning into love. "Dancing lessons!" he exclaimed. "Where will you get pupils?" "Here is my first," she retorts, taking bim np as she goes by. "Now, sir . "Really. Sophia, what is all this for?" "For twelve thousand pounds, you clumsy boy! There, you are on my toe!" "Twelve thousand pounds. Sophia?" "Twelve thousand pounds, Mr. Percival Brent. I am worth twelve thousand pounds!* Kow she stops and looks him full in the face. "By tile way, can you tell me how Mrs. Lanigan is?" Percival turned very red at this amazing question; but there was no guiltiness in his face as he replied: "How do you know Mrs. Lanigan?" "How do you know ber?" Sophia asked smartly- "/know her through tile newspa? per. She was out driving with a friend of mine and got spilt. Somebody said it was the horses having had too much champagne-tho newspaper said that." Percival muttered ^something under his breath which sounded very like some brief and emphatic remark about the newspaper, and caused Sophia to lift her finger. "Please, not before me," she said. "No colonial language before me. I am not Bes? sie Warren." "I thought there was something up by what I heard in the hotel last night," Percival said with gravity and reflection. "Tell me. Sophia, have there been any stories going about here not to my cr?dit? "Bather," she answered, now serious her? self, "Dont mind them." "Let me tell you the whole truth about that affair," he said. "I was driving with Mrs. Lanigan. The fact was I was ono of a large party in the country that day, and the carriage which was to take Mrs. Lanigan backto the theatre had an accident, ?nd. the, friend at whose house she was asked mc to drive her in his gig, and I did, and we came to grief. I believe, Sophia, I had too much champagne, and that is the truth of it. Wo had rather too merry an afternoon meal I drank too much wine, I confess." "Naught}- boy! But tell me-did you sit next to Mrs. Lanigan at lunch?" "No; at the far end of the table." "There," Sophia said twice over, putting a kiss between the two words-"there, I forgive you the champagne!" . -She forgave him; but the hot fellow would not so easily forgive the slanderous folk who had made free with his name. And if I were to tell how he searched thc slander out, and faced Mrs. Hands, and faced John Done, to whom she referred him, and how John Dono turned very pale, and declared that Mrs. Hands had taken up in earnest what he had said in jest, and how to exculpate himself John 'Done made all his family quarrel for- % ever with Mri'Hands, and how Mrs. Hands * by tho transaction lost fifty dinners and about one hundred lunches annually for the re? mainder of her life-all this, if I were to tell, would fill more pages than I can compute ia a moment, and time and space press, and I must and shall soon make an end. So we go back to Sophia and her Percival He will not consent to marry her as a poor man. He will go back to Australia and make his fortune. Note, reader, how she manages him "Oh, very well," cries she, tossing her head . angrily.; "Of course I cant say '?Wilt you marry rrief* three times running. You must do as you please." Site walks from frfon to the window, and looks out, quite in a pet. "You know what I mean," explains he. He has followed her. "You know quite well wbat'I mean." - ' "W?fl, if I do. then yon need say no more aboutit" And she turns her back on him. "Tonly say I cant marry you as a poor mani " ' "Very well; don't marry me, then." "But I don't want you to speak in 'that way." "And I don't want you to speak at all." "Sophia, you need not be so ill-natured. She turns ou Wrr?) making ready to tell fib the second, which this time was a sizable one, without any mistake. - aO, I know what it is; you have some other woman out in Australia whom you want to many, and this is all pretense!" "Want to marry some other woman out in Australia!" Percival cried, aghast at tho thought "Another woman! Why, Sophia, look here!" He sinksAt her feet, anet then he presses her handkerchief to his. lips-not her har?-hum? bly signifying that anything about her is dear to him. And she, though not ill-pleased to see b^w artistically she has brought him to her feet, bites her lip, tosses her head, looks angry still Then releasing her hand? kerchief from his grasp, and putting it to her eyes "I know this," she says. "If you really lo lo-loved-me, you would not let this miserable mo-mo-money stand in pur way!r And: quite overcome with grief, soe plunges into her pocket handkerchief, and is lost to his view. He will have her out: she will not como. Ho will" dry her eyes; she does not want to have them dried. He will make her stop crying; she cries all the more. At last he sinks at her feet "Listen, Sophy; I will do anything yon pleas**. I will make no trouble about any? thing. I will marry or not just as you like, if you only will stop crying. I can't bear to see you cry; I can't, indeed." "O, you dear old stupid!" she cries, unveil? ing herself at the moment; and there she is, rosy, blushing, laughing, triumpliant. She bas carried her point and made a fool of him, and she tosses her handkerchief in his face, and flies from the room, killing him with a retreating ?ye as ho tries to catch her in vain. My wish is that every reader of this tate should, at all convenient places, have the moral lessons of the passage pointed out Hero I wi 1 just remark, tfeat if any render is very much in love with a woman, and site wants him to do anything which he does not want to do, he may as well do it .at once and save timo. One other fragment of their courtship, of later date, let me give, just to show how Sophia wove her web around him She is at the piano, and Ins been singing "In Questa Tomba" to him. They are alone in the little drawing room, and Percival says: "I am so fond of that me?ancfaoly music." "Melancholy music! Will you have some more?" "Please." Ripplo and dash, her hands fly across the keys. Ripple and dash, the notes glance oft her finger tips in a kind of audible spray. Then, with one-look behind her at him, and a facof^?of fun* she starts o?r. WE TWO. Laugh! if your heart beat light, dear hoy; Alone and merry are we; For Love is the game, and I am the toy; So laugh, if you like, at-me! Sing! if your heart beat light, dear boy Like a lark o'er a sunlit lea; Let the first trill be Passion, the next be Joy, And the end of the music-me / Dance! if your heart beat light, dear boy; ' There's nobody here to see. You can be saucy-and I can be coy I Dance, with your arms about-me! Just for one hour of heedless joy This shall our pastime be Laughter and singing and dancing, dear boy; And only yourself and--me!* She ceased, and turned up a thorough flirt? ing face, sparkling like a brook when the sunshine glances on it through moving leaves. O, she was ready for a bit of frolic just then, our grave Sophia, with her seri? ousness and her natural piety, and all the rest. Grave young women frolic at times, my uninstructed reader, and I would have you know it But Percival, more prosaic than she-per? haps more in love just then-looked at her, and his eyes grew moist with tenderness and delight as he gazed. "I dont laugh much, Sophy. I dance badly. I cant sing at all" "An old. crabbed, awkward thing!" she replied "His face is crosspatch. His step is a halt His notes were learned in a rookery." Nb, do what she win, she cannot make him laugh. He is too much in love, and his gaze makes her more serious, too. The twinkling li gh ts in her face pass off. She begins to give him beam for beam, full of earnest affec? tion. All the brook is running deeper now, and the lights fall on it steadily. "But the awkward boy loves little Sophia more than all the world beside." "Does he, truly?" "More than all the world beside." How old the words are! How new and fresh each lover can make them! "And will he go on loving-forever and forever and forever?" ''Forever and forever and forever." "Thea," Sophia cried, spreading out her arms, "why are you standing over there, stupid thing? Dont keep me waiting any longer. Come and kiss me." CHAPTER VIH. LADT RIVALS, WITH THE FOOTLIGHTS BE? TWEEN THEM. Percival got his own way, after all, in the matter of marrying as a poor man. Fortune, Henry Fielding tells us somewhere, never does things by halves. Two months after Percival's uncle died, and it was found that in spite of his wife's cajoling, he had remem? bered his nephew; and, though the bulk of his property went to his stepsons, he left Per? cival the fifteen hundred a year which he had so long allowed to his father. So Percival did not marry as a poor man, after all, and the little mother, had she lived, might have confessed that sometimes love finds out the way to fortune too. Wedding bells come ringing in as my story nears its end. Sophia Temple is the bride the sun shines on. It is a quiet marriage; but loving eyes are about her and upon her. Seven long years she has waited, and now the day has dawned that makes her happy. All is sunshine. The little wedding" feast is full of pleasantry. Egerton Doolittle makes a speech, in which he assures the company that he always maintained, iu the face of every? body, that Sophia would find some one to ?ac^Jhjprsome day. He did not exactly meanwhaTh^aifl^^ut that some one would tura up; for he had heartr?r&t there never is a Jack but there is a Jill-not thaf~he meant to imply that Sophia was not most charming; quite the reverse; but still it requires fore? sight to say how any given thing will turn out, and he always said so, in spite of every? body; and there the thing was that day, and nobody could gainsay it And Goldmore hands Sophia solemnly into her carriage, and off they go for life and love, and the story is told. i They come back again and settle in the Beeches, which has lain vacant since .Mrs. Temple gave it up. They began their mar? ried life with every promise of happiness and with the brief sunshine of this lifo warm and bright about them. May I relate one little incident? Exactly a month after their return home Egerton Doolittle came in one morning and asked to see Sophia privately; and when he was alone with her, and the door shut he drew a long playbill out of his pocket "Look here, Sophia," he says, in a voice of alarm, "look at this." The b?l announces that in a neighboring city there is to be for one night only a per? formance of "The School for Scandal," with Mr. Lanigan as Charles Surface and Mrs. Lanigan" as Lady Teazle. "I call it a.serious thing for you, Sophia," Egerton says. "If you will take my advice as a relative, I should keep Percival in the background. You will observe it is only for one night, and as a prudential matter I should keep Percival in the background." Does she? "Come here, slr," she says to her husband after Egerton has gone. "Do you see this?" She shows him the playbill, and he looks a little foolish and conscious. "I want to see the Lanigan, Percy," she says. "You must take a box for us both to see the Lanigan." 'You are jesting, Sophia." "Never was more serious in my life. I must, and I will, see Mrs. Lanigan !" - Sp the abashed husband has to take a box, and in due time they are waiting for the cur tain to rise. "Now, which is Mrs. Lanigan?" Sophia asks, after the play has begun. "There," Percival says, "in the satin dress." "The blue satin dress? Surely THAT is not j Mrs. Lanigan V Sophia puts a very impres? sive emphasis on "that." "Yes, that is she," Percival replies, with obvious awkwardness. He feels very much ashamed of having admired her. He can seo nothing in her now at alL "Mrs. Lanigan is not the woman with the Iv :g train?" Sophia says, resolved to disbe? lieve him. In fact, ?he implies that it is quite incredible that THAT can be Mrs. Lanigan. "Yes, the woman with the long train," hs implies. "Why, Percival, you said she was so pretty." "Well, you know," Percival says, that was in Australia." "Had she the same nose in Australia?" in? quires Sophia, crushing her husband by thia sarcasm. And hereupon Mrs. Sophia Brent sets to work and picks the renowned Lanigan to pieces, from her eyebrows to her toes, and j makes it as plain as Euclid to Percival that j she- Ls not at all prepossessing; and Percival, having thc woman of women at his side, lio- i lleves all he hears, and begins to remember j now that Mrs. Lamgan's complexion was j sometimes a little doubtful So you see, reader, that Sophia, with all her charms, was j only mortal woman after all, and would let ? fly an arrow at a rival as swiftly as any of her sex. But it mattered nothing to Mrs. Lanigan, who was three timr-s recalled. And it mattered nothing to Sophia, who only wanted to punish her husband, and never loved him moro tenderly than that night And so it really comes to this, that I need not have recorded so trivial an occuiTcnce at alL SEQUEL. CHAPTER T. 7TT5 CHARACTERS BEGIN TO DISAPPEAR. T am begiunihg to regret that I did not call this "A Circular Novel;" which, beside being a title tlir,t might have raised public curiosity immensely, would have pointed to one cf the most remarkable features of thc | production. For the mathematical reader ! will know that it is the property of a circle no matter how vast it be-that if you pursue its circumference patiently you must at last reach the very point from which you start So here, reader, have you and I been com? panions now for six months, and on the l>cst of terms, trudging without a murmur tl? round of this novel, and now June find? ns in that very dining room, with its mingling lights, from which at first we started. For the dining room was Egerton Doolittle's: and among the company were not Sophia only, but her husband. Percival Brent. And now let us ascend to the drawing room' and rejo the ladies, and with the evening our nov too, shall close. One ponderous figure we miss. Archibe Goldmore no longer moves in the Kettlew? society. Fifteen long years ago that leviathi paid the great debt of nature. The grand i serve which had hung around him all his h long was never, even to the last, ruffled 1 one fold. Besponsible he was, just, good, his own way; but Sybil never got very ne to him. The pair had not a quarrel in thc lives; partly because she stood in awe of hil partly because he never meddled with he partly because each was impassive and col partly because they never loved each othe Love, my reader, is a grand ingredient in qua reis. The husband and wife walked apa through life, and never exchanged one cordi confidence. Even when Goldmore was seis with what he felt sure was to be his mort illness he did not communicate his forebodii to Sybil. This was not because he fenn frightening her, but only from his way i keeping things to himself. Before long, ho\ ever, concealment became impossible. TI doctor entered the house; the end was i view.. "Sibyl," the old man said one day, when 1 was rather better than usual, "I wish to sa a word to you." He drew himself up a littl with a faint remembrance in his air of h fa nous testimonial style. "You have been 1 me a loving and an honorable wife. When die you will find that I have recognized a that You will not be hampered by an foolish restrictions. I desire to return yo my thanks"-as if he had been speaking at public dinner-"for your unvarying considei ation and attention to all my wishes." He paused, and she stood beside him an did not speak, nor show any sign of feeling She only regarded him fixedly; and he, afte waiting to gather a little strength, added i the simplest way: "God bless you, my dear, and watch ove you when I am gone." And then, although her face moved not whit, he saw one tear come out and stand o her eyelash and roll down her cheek. It wa thc only tear he bad ever seen her shed. Pei haps from her it signified more than floods c weeping from an ordinary woman. It wa sincere, anyhow, not assumed; and Goldmor knew it, and the sight comforted him befor he died. Liberty and fortune he certainly left her and at the time of his -loath Sibyl was in th very height of matronly bf jty. Her figur was full and rounded, her hair as fresh a when she was twenty, and her movement full of grace and dignity. She was by ni means young; but hers was a style of beauty which Time finds it hard to destroy, and w? all expected that she would have marrie* again. This expectation was the more reason able because she maintained her more youth ful habits. But five years went by, ten fifteen, and still Sibyl Goldmore did no change her name. And now there appearer upon her most unmistakable signs of age; and curiously enough, as her beauty more ant more decayed, she seemed moro and more re solved to let all the world know what** beauty she thought herself. She grow affected sat in postures, dressed for twenty-five-w< even fancy that she rouged a little. Meanwhile, her old roferve and her silent ways remained the same. She talked little, and took no pains with her conversation. Sh? treated most people with haughty reserve. Strong and sensible as she was, Sibyl wai never able to see that she was growing an old woman, and that the affectation of physich beauty had long ago been ridiculous. I grievi to write it of Sibyl, for whom I have ever fell respect, and even regard, but thc verdict ot Kettlewell was that she-once a. queen in our society-had become-dreadful word ! a tore! ? Caroline, at thc same' time, had changed with years in quite another way. You re? member how well she used to dress?-all these girls dressed weU> But Caroline, as she be? came intellectual, began to_ neglect her per? son, and rather affected slovenliness.^ She would wear a morning dress in the evening, or go to a concert in a shawl like a parish blanket, whick sho would pin across her breast with some odd brooch that she might have picked up in Hanway street In fact, Car became fearfully blue, and would even talk about Hebrew during dinner, attacking tender young curates who had never seen a Hebrew grammar, frightening the poor young men out of their senses, and ruining a good dinner. In addition to this, she became a woman's rights lady, and made speeches advocating female suffrage. Upon these occasions Egerton used to go to the back of the ball with an umbrella and applaud. Also, if it was a strange town, he would nudgo his next neighbor when the speakers came on the platform: "Can yen tell me," he would ask, in a low whisper, -which of these ladies is Mrs. Eger i ton Doolittler Curiously enough, the stranger was ncvor able to point her out "I should like to have seen her," Egerton j would say. "People assert sh? is a tremen ! dously clever woman. Indeed, I know she is. In fact, you may spread it with confidence; ; sho is a tremendously clever womani" "And in this way, my dear," Egerton would 6ay to her when they got home, "in this way I intend to get your name up. It's the kind of thing that is dene with actresses, and-and popular preachers, and statesmen too, I un? derstand, Some one goes about-perhaps the man's twin brother-pretending ne does nd know him by sight; asks, 'Is that the great Mr. So-and-so V Probably the other says, 'I never heard of the great Mr. So-and-so.1 'How very remarkable V the twin brother exclaims. 'Everybody is talking about him. I so wish to see what he is like.' Exactly my way with you, dear. I shall get your name up, depend upon it." "I am afraid we shall never get our votes," Caroline remarked, resting her chin on her hand, and speaking in a mood of doleful con? fidence. It had been a wet evening, and the meeting had been small, moist, and not san? guine ?We are working against hope." "I should not be disheartened, Car, if I wero you," Egerton replied. "Try a little of this pheasant, dear. ~Noi "Well, J will. I was going to say I should not be disheartened about the cause. As you said to-night, dear, new truths always have to work their way. Look at my theory about red mullet. I have been at it for twenty years, and yet even to this day that delicious fish is laid on your plato in most houses in Kettlewell just as if it was a package. But that truth will work its way, too; and when I am no more71-Egerton said this with a tremor in his voice, and he laid down his knife and fork to deal with cer? tain symptoms of moisture in his left eye "when I am no more, rod mullet will be cooked m my way all over educated Europe." For poor Egerton remained constant to his great theory about red mullet and firmly persuaded that a reform in that direction would help on thc regeneration of mankind, and in this gentle conviction our uniiablo milksop will live and die. We bid farewell to Sibyl, to Caroline, to Eg.-rton. L*t tho men learn what lesson from Egerton tivy can or will I write for the women. And I wish them to observe that Caroline, as well as Sibyl, sank into a social infliction. Jost nil power of attraction as years went on; and in l?oth casos I be? lieve tho loss arose from simple mismanage? ment This story (ns every reflecting reader saw long ago) has as many morals as a j hedgehog luis prickles. But here is one par? ticular moral sjwir which I would infix in the minds of my feminine students: Either Sibyl or Caroline, according to the gifts of person and of mind, would have out? shone Sophia from first to last had they known tho secret of charming as she knew it CHAPTER IL WY SWEET SOPHIA. I daresay some cf tho-o readers who arc never sotisfk-d went tb know why in tho world I have not told th?"n more about Per? cival Brent, our Sophia's worthy oiid happy husband Now, the answer to this I shall at once supply; Ho was so good and worthy, j and so successful and happy after. his mar? riage, that of him there is nothing to tell. What eau you say in a story about a man who goes to bed and gets up again three hundred and sixty-five times every year like all the rest of usi It is your men who cither never wish to go to bed; or have no bed to go to, who make the fortunes of us novelists. Per? cival continued a devoted student of science all his fife, and he has already attained a very respectable eminence among men of research. I h?ve' been- told that, but for his great mod? esty, bis name would be more widely known than it is; and even now I am assured he will make a sensation beyond his own circle of thought by a new work which he has in hand. Sophia loved him well and constantly, and he never wavered in his devotion; to her for an instant His only other, mistress was Science, who is a harmless dame, ano1, never broke, a wife's heart yet; for, indeed, she rather promotes matrimonial constancy. Children came to these happy two in fair succession, girls and boys-the eldest being at Cambridge when tho youngest was yet tod-^ diing from chair to chair. I fancy Sophia' never quite shared the enthusiasm of her lord and master for the physical sciences; and she did not quite care for all his learned pro? fessors, who had not enough humanity for her; but she always entertained them genially. At times she would fillip her husband a little. For instance, one day hearing him say of a scientific friend, "He is successful and pro? found," which Percival uttered with unusual deliberation, Mrs* Sophia comes to her hus? band's side, and, looking saucily over his shoulder, says she: "By 'successful' my husband, means that the gentleman has discovered a new beetle, and by 'profound' that he believes absolutely nothing." Which Percival answered with a laugh and a pinch. Beyond these harmless pleas? antries there was never a difference on general subjects between the two. And here is why I have said nothing about Percival Brent Happy, somebody cries, is the nation that has no history. Happy the husband, say I, about whom the novelist can find nothing to tell. Happy Percival Brent, of whom all we now record is that ho called Sophia his wife; and that she was mother to the children who are now rising up like young palm trees in that happy home where once down the dining room floor our merry bttle mother of long ago stepped her minuet But Sophia, Sophia, to you I have not done justice. We all called you "Lady Beauty," but I have failed to describe you aright You are not interesting in my pages. You arc in? teresting in life. Who could make real your thousand little graces of mind and way, of dress and look and speech? I feel that had I drawn a woman who knew the way to ad? minister strychnine ?safely, and did admin? ister it; or had I written about a wowan who had four husbands, but had never realized her ideal, and described her in a cab. or a yacht, or some other energetic conveyance, flying away to joy with the man of her heart; or had I described a lively young woman who smoked Three Castles tobacco, wore a billy? cock hat sloped on her head, knew how to swear and whistle-she might have been a success in my hands. But you I have not been able to draw, my sweet Sophia. A blurred dim tracing is ,all I have given of your clear and perfect beauty. You will be called insipid; you whose hands and eyes and presence, had they but been about me, would have made me all I might have been, and now shall never be. Forgive me, who, try? ing to painf you, have painted only your pale shadow, and who feels now, as the brush slips through tired fingers, "I have tried, and tried, and failed. " CHAPTER UL LADY BEAUTY TEACHES LADIES ALL HOW TO EE BEAUTIFUL. But with a sigh I shall not end this story. I am resolved to end smiling, and to have my readers smiling, too; for which purpose I have kept an anecdote for the very latest line. Sophia would sometimes seo her friends at little tite-a-tete visits, and here she would discourse, as she only could, on all kinds of subjects, or she would let her friends dis? course. The charm of Sophia was, tliat you could never tell exactly whether it was you or she kept up the conversation. How that woman managed her house and family is quite beyond my comprehension. Manage she did, and well, and yet whenever you caped ~n_her, morning or evening, there she was, dressed rfitb, thc best tasto, her liiair done in faultless style, and all the rest of her attire to match- Ah, gray-haired Sophia, you knew-did you not?-that one' to whom you often vouchsafed those gracious inter? views, in all honor loved you with a more than boyish lovo? Of what did we not talki Literature, music, pictures, history, gossip now and then, but somehow ono always went away from that drawing room with a more cheerful heart, with nobler views and hope* of human life, with a touch of refinement caught from Sophia. And lovers Sop!?a had more than me, as he shall see who reads on to tho now hearing close. One morning-well I remember it-ai Sophia and myself sat thus alone, Percival being occupied with a fossil, I drew from my pocket that little paper of "Beauty Rules," of which I told you some time ago, saying that I should like her to explain these axioms to me. She was sitting in a low chair, and had a work-basket beside her, with which sho kept up a kind of tel-wrraphic connection in the shape of a thread which traveled slowly from the basket to herself, as her fingers worked out some mystery in wooL "Hand me the paper," she said, laying ber needles and work down. "I will read them to you, and explain." But here Sophia was seized with a flt of laughing, greatly tickled, it seemed, to find herself lecturing on beauty to me. "I never showed these to any one except yourse?f," she remarked, when her mirth was ended "And I never meant to show them to any ono at all. I - daresay--you win think them great rubbish." . ' " And so she began with alcomie preface, which was not on tho paper at all: "'Beauty Rules,^ by Sophia Brent, an elderly lady, who ought to be thinking of other things." "Ride One.-A woman's power in tho world is measui'ed by her power to please. Whatever she may wish to accomplish sho will best manage it by pleasing. A wo? man's grand social aim should be to please. "And lot me tell you how that is tobe done," Sophia said, putting her paper down for a moment. "A woman can please thc eye by her appearance, her dress, her face and her figure. She can please tho car by study? ing the art of graceful elocution, not hard to any of us, for by nature we speak with finer articulation than yen. She can please tho mind by cultivating her own-so far. at least, as to make her a good listener; and as much further as she will sho can please the fancy by ladies' wit, of which all of us have a share. She can please tho heart by ami? ability. Soo here," sho continued, growing jrravcr, ''you have tho key of my system. Beauty of person is only ono feature of true beauty. Run over these qualities. Seo how small a part personal beauty qr tho freshness of youth plays here. I want you to observe this; for my art would consist not in making women attractive who aro openly pretty and young, but in showing them that youth and prettiness, though articles of beauty; are neither tho only nor the indispensable arti? cles." "In {hat ^ase," I remarked, 'you will hardly illustrate your system in person." To this sh? vouchsafed asmilo and mock courtesy, and read: "Ride Tito.- Modesty is the ground on which all a woman's charms appear to thc best advantage. In manners, dress; conver? sation, remember always that modesty must ucver bo forgotten. "Hardly likely to be," I murmured "Is ft?" "Understand mo, " answered Sophia I ?riskly, "I mean modesty ill a very extende d sense. There is nowadays a tendency in women to rebel against old-fashioned modesty. The doctrine of liberty is spreading among u>=. for which I thank God," Sophia said (she was tho oddest little mixturo of Tory ami Whig and Radical ever compounded cn this eccentric sarth). "But the first effects of that doctrino on our minds area little, con fusing Weare growing moro Independent and moro individ? ual. Some of us fancy that to bo modest is to be old-fashioned, and, of course, wo want tho newest fashions in all things. I maintain," Sophia said, growing a little warm, as if she fancied I might argue back-"I maintain that a modest woman is thc reply of my sex to a bravo man-yon can no more have a true woman without modesty than a true man without courage; But remember, I use tho word modesty in a high sense." "Just what I was going to ask," I said. " Not prudery," she added. " Prudery is to modesty what brag is to bravery. Pru? dery is on the surface ; modesty is in the soul. Eosalind in her boy's suit is delight? fully modest, but not," Sophia said with a twinkle of her eye-" not very prudish, is she?" I assented, and thus made way for "Rule Three.-So the woman's aim fe to please, and modesty fe the first principle in the art of pleasing. " Have you anything to say to that?" she demanded. 44 Not a syllable," I replied. MI play ch* ciple this morning." "Very well," she rejoined. 44Wo come, then, tc "Rule Four.'-Always dress up to- your age or a little beyond it. Let your person be the youngest thing about you, not the oldest "Avery important lesson for -women of forty," Sophia remarked, speaking with a seriousness which, amused me, "The at? tempt to dress for young almost invariably leads to a reaction In the spectator's mind, and the traces of years become more pal? pable and more significant But a slight and graceful assumption of years in one's dress has an effect directly opposite. May this rule pass?" I bowed, and she went on: "Rule Five. -Remember that what women admire in themselves fe seldom what men ad? mire in them. "In nine drawing rooms out of ten," Sophia said, seeing me give a look of inquiry as she read this article, 4'Miranda or Cordelia, as novel heroines, would be voted bores. Women would say: 'We utterly decline to accept these watery girls as typical of us; we want smartness and life.' I don't really care much for Miranda or Cordelia myself. Now, this seems to me to caution us against trusting too implicitly or too far our own notions about ourselves. Another source of misun? derstanding comes from the novel writers. We are the novel readers, and the novelia is fcrced to write heroines to suit our taste. He does not want to offend us. Thus it comes about that even the male novelist fe too often only depicting women's women, after all. And I believe scores of modern girls are seriously misled for this very reason. They believe they are finding out what men think of them, when in truth they are reading their own notions handed back to them under a pretty dis. u ?e." "Like tht o :eap wine," I ventured to ob? serve, "made in England, exported to a foreign country to be blessed, and then re? turned as fine old sherry-highly finished wine." Sophia laughed with me at this, and read on: "Rule Six.-Women's beauties are seklorn men's beauties. "Which," she remarked, "is another form of what I said just now, only here I speak of personal beauty. My observation is, that if ten men and ten women were to go into the same company, and each sex choose the pret? tiest woman there, as they thought, yon would rarely find that they chose the^same. If this be so, we ought not to trust ourselves even as to our faces without considering that the sex we are to jriease must in the end set? tle the question, and will settle thc question in its own way. "Rule Seven.-Gayety tempered hy serious? ness fe tho happiest manner in society. ''By waich I mean," Sophia said, looking at me with knitted brows, as if she were about to explain some matter not altogether clear to herself, "that in all our gayety there ought to be a hint of self-recollection. Do you un? derstand me ?" "Not quite," I said | < "This I know certainly," she replied; "the most agreeable women I have met with-and I think the most regarded-have been women of rank, who have been trained with a due < regard for religion. Their worldly educa- < tion had made them mindful of grace and ( liveliness; their religious education kept these qualities under a particular sort of control, which is perceptibly different from mere 1 good breeding, lt seems tame that vivacity < and Sprightliness are greatly enhanced by a vein of seriousness. Certainly- no woman ought to be a mocker. "Next," she continued, seeing I djd not speak, "comes "Rule Eight.-Always speak low. "I wonder why I put that down. It fe so obvious. In support of it I need only quote your Shakespeare, who calls it *an excellent thing in woman. "Rxtle Nine.-A plain woman can ne VT be pretty. Sho can always bo fascinating if she takes pains. "I well remember," Sophia said, after reading this to me rather questionable asser? tion, "a man who was a great admirer of our sex telling mo that ono of the most fascinat? ing woman he had ever known was not only not pretty, but as to her face decidedly plain -ugly, only the word is rude I asked my friend: 4How, .then, did she fascinate." I well remember his reply. 'Her figure.' said he, 4was neat, her dressing was faultless, her every movement was graceful, hor conversa? tion was clever and animated, and sh* always tried to please. It was not I alone that called her fascinating; she was ono of the most acceptable women in society I ever knew. Sho married brilliantly and her hus? band, a barrister in largo practice, was de? voted to her-moro than if sho had been a queen of beauties.' "Nowhere," Sophia continued, resuming her own discourse-"here was a woman who, excepting a fairly neat figuro, had not a single natural gift of appearance. Is not this worth our thinking about-those of us women who care to please and arc not beauties born?" "Rule Ten.-Every year a woman live; tho moro pains she should take with her dress. "The dress of us elderly dames." Sophia said, laughing, "ought to be moro of a science than it is. How often one hears a woman of fifty say, '0. my dressing days are pastf When,"adds Sophia, "if she thought about it, they have only well begun. Afc least the time has como when dress is more to ber thin ever. Bemember. from forty to sixty-five fe a quarter of a century-tho third of a. long life. It fe the period through which the majority of growa-up pcopb pass. And yet how little pains women take-how little thought beforehand-to bo charming then ! "And now," she went on, seoiag I did not -J speak, "here comes my last rule-as yet:' "Rule Flexen.-In all things, let a woman ask what will please the men of sense before she asks what ?ill please tho mon of fashion." "I by no means intend." she added, 'that a woman is not to have regard to the opinion ? , of men of fashion, only she should not giro j it thc first place; She will carn' the men of ' fashion sooner by methods that please the mon of sense than men of sonso by methods that please men of fashion. And besides, listen to tho ?nc?i of fashion. They always ??raise a woman for things which begin to perish at twe;ity-firo. Even the old men of seventy will talk of *a fi;ic girl-deucedly fine figure!1" (I wish I could give ah idea of Sophia's slightly wicked mimicry at this passage.) "And they will call a woman rather on the decline. wh>n, if she is oh tho decline, where and what are they? You soe, if a woman lives for tho commendation of men of fashion she will, if pretty, piquant or what not, have a reign of ten years. But if she remembers that she has channs of mind and character and taste, as well as charms of figure and complexion, thc men of sense will follow her for half a century; and in the lung nm the moa of fashion will bo led by the men of sense. "And there," Sophia cried merrily, throw ing the paper down on the rug beside her "there aro my rules for reforming our littlo world of women!" CHAPTER IV. THE LAST AND LEAST CHAPTER OF THE I praise my heroine no more-not a line, nota word. Two Iii rle anecdotes I toll of ! * herr and with these I leave her to your judg- j v mont, my fair reader?. Tue first anecdote, j S you will perceive, is in the old styls, and you [ a will yawn over it The second is more in our modem habit Percival Brent was a quiet undemonstra? tiv?: man of science, who never shocked any? body by declaring himself against reli^on, or tho "old notions." But among his par acu? lar Mends, it was well known that he freely accepted the most advanced and (as they are* at present considered) the most disintejrrafr ing scientific views. ("Now what is-this lead? ing up to ! " you, my May-blossom student will a3k: patinece, little one; look below and see how near the end we are.) One of his friends who knew his views,, and could speak to'h im freely, said one day interrogatively: ."lt is a matter of astonishment to me, Brent, that you, with your opinions, still keep up your religious practices so regularly ?" "liet me tell yon tho reason," Brent answered. "1 am marri ed to a wife whom I love, and adie ire even more than I love her. For true sweetness of'character, liveliness, sense, and virtue all round, I never met her equal I have 4>?ten asked myself, 'What is the secret of h sr character? and I always come to tho sama conclusion-that if her religious faith were deducted from her she could not bo what she is, but must become a less agreeable) and not so good a woman. She has kept mo from taking the leap which reason has often bid tue take. I cannot renounce a religion, which I feel makes her what she is." A tedious anecdote, reader, however short Now for number two, which is quite another pattern. To Kettlewell, not so many years ago, came a man aged forty-three. He was famed as a ladies' man, and something in him must have pleased women, for his success: with a certain set was quite undoubted. Per? haps! Iiis consummate impudence won their hearts. Be that as it may, he was among them an object of no little curiosity, the mor? because he was wealthy and presump? tive heir to a title. This man, satisfied with bim:?elf and confident of his power over women, met Mrs. Sophia Brent two or three times. Whether he fancied her to be maid or widow-or whether, knowing her to bo married, he meant to enshrine her in a Pla? tonie affection I cannot telL This I can telL This, reader, did actually happen. That this man of the world, aged fortp three, fell in love with Mrs. Sophia Brent, aged fifty-three, and positively made a downright fool of himself. Ladies, I am your most obedient humbk servant THE EKD? What Our Editors Say. Carolina Spartan. It is DOW rumored tbat General E. W. Moise will be a candidate for Con? gress ia thc seventh district. Moise is Et versatile Hebrew, irrepressible in peace er war. There is no reason why tie should not roo. The education bill has been virtually killed for this session by the House of representatives. The Educational Com? en ittee have adjourned to meet the day before the session closes and the Labor Committee will not report the bill. The fact is the Southern members are afraid rf centralization and that is the only excuse ?hey have for their persistent op? position to this measure. It rs a crop? ping out cf thc old idea that separated Washington from some of his friends, md it may be traced in our political bistory all the way down to the present 3ay. However much we may dread it, centralization is coming and it oaght to corns. When people get too numerous yt too headstrong to be managed by the constable and thc town police, the arm )f the law needs strengthening a little. Dur govern ment cannot move forward in this go-as-you-please gait another century. Strong check reins have to ie applied and the Federal government ilone can do this effectively. With .his approaching centralization it would )e better to have our people educated so LS to grapple with the problem when it comes, and let them be educated in part with the nation's money, for this will jeither hasten nor retard centralizion. Sparlanbwrg Herald, Dr. Bellinger, of Charleston, lias )een acquitted of the murder of Steph acy Kiley. Wc do not intend to pass udgmcni on Dr. Bellinger's guilt or nuoeence. He swore positively that ie killed the negro in self-defence. Im nediately after the killing it was pub? is h ed in the press that "Dr. Belli ager ?aid he would die before he would tell ??hy he cid thc deed." If he made this statement the assertion now that it was lone is self-defence is incredible, and Dr. Bellinger has added perjury to mar? ier. If bc did not make the statement he paper which published it, published i wicked slander, and imperilled the ife and character of a good man. ?. Democrat in the White House. Prosperity Reporter. Thc President continues to send in ns vetoes, and the Republican Senators rccl that a Democrat is in the White Plouse. The lesson they received when bllowins: the Edmunds movement to ntimidate President Cleveland is not orgotten. It is safe to predict that hey will not attempt to pass the pension md other bills over our worthy Presi lent's vetoes. Thc machinery of Con? gress musi work for the benefit of the vbole people, and not for the benefit of Republicans and their friends. How is t that all of those good (?) Democrats n Congress, who have until recently bund so much fault with that noble nan in thc White House, failed to kill hese private pension bills and obnox ous schemes before they reached thc rVhite House? This is a fair question, md thc voters should demand an an wer before nest election. It does look is if President Cleveland is different rom the majority of thc Democratic >arty in Congress. When thc fountain iC3d is parc there is hope for the trearn. With Cleveland in the White 'louse for another tenn and judiciously elected members ia Congress, it is im? possible to estimate what changes for he better would take place. If thc democrats wish thc reins of govern - nent to remain in their hands, they oust send mcu to Congress who will odeum party pledges. Commencements. S. C. Adv?cale. Commencement season, with its cadges ami batons, essays and orations, lowers and modal?, sweet girl grad?? les and not quito so sweet boy dittos, ? desolating tue earth with its inunda ion of speechifying; There is a sui feit if talk-counsel, admonition, warning, >raiscf prognostication, retrospection, od almost any other abstract or eou rcte rep! osculation of verbal, articulate Otuoi un ?cation . There ts enough of his sort of invaluable commodity, this [cod advice pabulum,lavi>hed on worn, P(.ary, perspiring humanity at this sca on of the year to furnish the earth for . mil ?eau i um. There is some good, however,, i& tl? multitudinous palaver, of commence? ments, ft affords the newspapers a> refreshing aad perennial grist of Dewa? in pleasant contrast . to the hybrid, half alphab?tisa!,. ba?f-aumerical atavistic* ol' the base-ball reports and tho swagger? ing slang of the diamond field, which the base-ball- reporter hurls with reek less unintelligibility, at the dazed bead* of the au initiated. Ordinary people can un Erstand that Miss Ks charmingly written essay on * Adversity, Kke Night, Reveal the Stars/ waa ?elifluously rendered by the Rev. Yerisopbt Gasher in his most gargling, cooing, tear-eoa* pelling style/ Bat neither Webster'* Dictionary, nor the Encyclopaedia Brit?nica, nor any other cr ea tare ca? clear the eternal mist that clouds the announcement that *A's two-bagger carried B to the third, where be died OB an error of C's-, caused by D's fowl bit to first, who moiled the spbere sad spoiled the nest of goose-eggs cf tb? opponents, despite a whitewash and two bot grounders jumbled by tbe sheri stop/ or words to that effect. Abbeville Press and Banner. Much Ado About a Small Matter* Oar metropolitan neighbor, the Newt and Courier, seems to go into eestacte? over the appointment by Pr?sident Cleveland of Governor Thompson to the office ol Assistant Secretary of the Treasury. That paper prints some three or four columns of leaded matter, in reference to tbe 'honor' whick baa th as been conferred os South CaroKaa? When it is remembered that, merely as a place of honor, it is not superior to the office of Governor, we are amazed that so mucb ado should bo made about so small a matter. We believe the* pay of tbe Assistant Secretary of tbe Treas? ury, is only about $1,500 a year, and we farther believe that there ara dorena of appointments that are superior to that of Assistant Secretary. Thea, b South Carotina so much reduced tbat the State is specially 'honored' if ooo of ber citizens gets a tenth-rate appoint? ment at Washington t We r?pudi?t? any such idea. While saying this, we congratulate Governor Thompson on bis appointment. We are- glad that be bas received it, and we know that oar people are glad of ! it on account of himself more than for themselves. His time as Governor for the second term is nearing its close and although be bas made a good Governor ; it is not to be expected that be could bo again re-elected. There are other -citi? zens who would fill the office as vrell as be does, and it is nothing bat right that there should be a change. Tho whole thing may be told in a few words. The people of Soutb Carolina respect Governor Thompson, and bave tko. kindest feeling for bim. For these rea? sons they are delighted tbat bo bas been provided for at Was h ing too. If his . appointment to tbe ofice of Second Assistant Secretary of the Treasury is a great 'honor' to Souib Carolina, then we are.- greatly mistaken. Governor Thompson's Spottes? fife, and anim? peacbable character as a citizen, aa a teacher io our schools, and Governor of the-State is-ao honor to South Carolina, but his appointment to o Sice in Wash? ington is merely evidence of tbe Presi? dent's high appreciation of bis personal worth. Ouly this and nothing moro. Worshipful 0, (boo great, almighty, everlasting, beautiful, glorious, bright shining dol? lar t^Vc love thee with our whole son), might and power! We love theo more than oar neigbl>?r/ond better jkapV ourselves, lt is for thy sake we live and move, and bave our be og. With thee we can accomplish all things, with? out thee we can do nothing. Thou givest us glory, honor, might and dominion. For thy sake wo labor all the day long ; for thy sake we lose our sleep at night; for thy sake- wo go poorly clad, and feed ourselves on tho vilest of food ; for thy sake we lie, and cheat, and steal, and oppress and de? fraud our neighbors ; for thy sake wo will keep our children from school ; for thy sake we will profane tbe Lord's day \ for thy sake we will neglect the orphan and ?the widow ; for thy sake we will make wars, and rob and murder oar fellow-men ; for tby sake we will make laws to license men and women to. seit intoxicating drinks to make drunkards, liars, thieves, gamblers, blaspbcmerr, robbers, cut-throats, bouse burners,* murderers, and suicides ; for thy sake we will sell drinks to make starved and maked orphans and broken-bearted wives to fill graves with drunkards, jails with criminals, poor bouses with paupers, the insane asyluis witb in? mates, the gallows with subjects, and hell with victims. Oh ! how wo loy? thee, thou all potent dollar I thou great attracting dollar. With the weakness of age and declining years may our love for thee grow stronger and stronger wbile life shall last, and may our heart still cling close to thee when death closes our mortal career. Amen. Text-1 Timothy 6, IO. For tho love of money is the root of all evil, which while some covetod after, they have erred from thc faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows/ [Benj. A. Pc*n, M. J). Bryantsvifc* Iud. Mistook Their Mau, "You are a drinking man, arc yo? not?" ?aid a canvasser for the liquor party, to a prominent official o? Rich? mond. '.No/* said he, " I never indulge/' "Well, but you won't vote against us, will you?" Yes, 1 shall even if it costs me roy office from which 1 new get my livittg." And then with an inde? scribable pathos, and with gathering tears, he added ; "My wife is lying at the gates of death. My two little boys wil soou bc motherless, and 1 cannot coi 1 sent to tum them over to the tender mercies of the dram-shop. 1 shaft rote 'dry.' "-Southern Journal He had bad Enough. Old I#ady (-somewhat privileged .Are you a marrying ?au, Mr. Hardi castle/ Mr. Hardeastfe (earnestly ? *Ob, aw ?edetd ma'am ; I'm a widow**/