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PIDE AND POVERTY By AUGUSTA LAMED. {Copyright, tass, by American Preaa Associa? tion.] '? " JJ ; . CHAPTER L .TOcrr, there. Judith, yon have fussed . _ Uauj cvouyh." , . He was a tall old man, with a certain militar}' rigidity and stiffness about his long, loan person. His members haul {fee jointed mechanical look of an art? ist's wooden model, and the bony, thin arms huns: at his sides. His head, that topped this elongated person, slightly bent at the, shoulders, was small, but shapely, with a mass of iron gray hair that hung down to the rusty collar of his clc?*k,;and in front was tossed care? lessly off a* low forehead lined With many wrinkles that extended themselves ~ in a fine network above his faded eyes. This abundanceof tossing locks at first disguised the man's age, but as you looked closely into his face you saw that he must have numbered nearly four? score years. An undisguised querulous caress marked the lines of the month under the the long, ragged mustache, ?nd he stood now with an air of ill .dis? guised impatience as a young girl raised herself on tiptoe iu front of him to ad? just his hair, then with quick strokes yupoceeded vigorously to apply a brush broom to all parts of his seedy person, giving little dabs and pats to the worn cloth, picking off white threads and bits of fuzz, and rubbing gray and brown spots between her small hands. Then she proceeded to untie bis limp, black ssXk neckcloth, and to tie it again in a fcowknot more- pleasing to feminine -?yes, taking pains to pull out the ends and adjust them properly under his chin. The old man stood an unresponsive image of impatient endurance of all these little loving attentions from his daughter s hands. ?*2?ow i wish I had a rosebud ora 'white chrysanthemum for your button? hole, father. Then you would look like aa old ridalgo walking down State street** "There, there. Judith," he replied, half pettishly, "you ^ <-e fussed long ?Bough* Let me go," an. he took his cane and turned toward the door. "Have you forgotten, father?"1 she said reproachfully, with a little cloud on her face. Be turned quickly back, as if re? minded of some neglected duty, and taking the bright blond head of the ' young girl in his stiff, rheumatic old hands proceeded to print a light kiss on her forehead. "There, there," said he hastily, "he a good girl and amuse your? self." A strange little smile curved Judith's lips, and her eyes seemed unnaturally . bcight as she looked up at the old man and said, "Ton know you are all I have in the world, father." If she had said, "I am ail you have in * the world," "the speech would hav<e ' seemed more; natural and pertinent;; But judith never thought of her father in this way. He was her charge, her i .care; something to make and mend, to cook and pinch and fiad for; something to protect and defend, to shelter and feed and keep warm, if it lay in her {tower. She wai. to do it all with her . two little hands. She expected nothing cf him, absolutely nothing. All those who through life had expected anything of Stephen Renwick had been disap? pointed. Now, as she stood bareheaded on the doorstep of the Union's old colo? nial house that had always been her home, the wind lifted the light locks from her round forehead, and she called cut to bim as he went stiffly striding -down the path to the street, "Come home early, father." He nodded without turning round just as he reached the gate, now off its hinges and resting against the fence as a super? fluous reminder of better days. The fence itself had been a fine one in its day, with handsome posts and orna? mental woodwork, but it was now lit ?:; erally on its last legs, leaning and totter? ing with old age and decrepitude.' The dd house had been left high and dry on a rather steep bank owing to the chang? ing of the street level, and there were three or four broken stone steps leading down to the sidewalk. Judith stood and watched to see her father grt|*e with his ?tick and tread safely the loose stones cs his way to the street, and then she catered the house and shut the door. The oki maa tamed toward the center cf the town, with his head high and his stiff limbs moving mechanically, in? tensely conscious that he was Stephen Bouwick, the man who by culture, birth and breeding had always felt himself far above his provincial neighbors Itreriched in indomitable pride that finds ats chief stronghold among the best peo? ple of little towns, the old American vil? lage aristocracy. Judith watched him from the window as he passed down ender the trees, with his stiff stateli? ness, head held high, punctilious in his salute to such dd townsmen as he felt deserved his notice, but oblivions to all newcomers and parvenues. Ben wick pursued his way through the busiest Streets cf the town, wrapped in his self absorption, his hsg?a nose and flowing gray hair eaoving above the beads and shoulders of other men, and his stiff old legs getting on as ff by their own voli ti )n, quite apart fron the action of his brain. He turned, as was his habit every day, in at the door of the ?crary, hung his bat sad coat oa the peg he had appropri ?ated, drew his books from the librarian, who kept them apart, a little heap of brown old flumes ready for Ren wick's hand, and who watched the old man si? lently as he bore them away to au in closed nook ia one of the alcoves, where stood a small table and a chair. For more than fifteen years the old man had spent his days in that place poring over Ids books and making notes in a succes? sion of little diaries. Owing to his bowe \ gray head and absent look, visitors to the library often mistook him for some great oriental or Greek scholar engaged on a profound and learne4 w#rk. the slow product pf a lifetime of labor. Bm could you have glanced over Ms shoul? ders at the books on. which, iis was so busily engaged yon would fraye discov? ered that they were aj} purious and use? less volumes, utterly valueless for the present practical purno^s of the world, embracing old faifc a^ fashions of by? gone times-the equipment and pieaaures pf idle cjasses who have banished and Jjefr only ?he memory .0/ $?jr futilities. JJeraldry, venery, t'ie nobie art of self defense, the pleasure* tf? ^yairic a^es, . nice points of costume and ceremonia the accomplishments .of courtiers, tl - etiquette of kings and queens-these wei among the absorbing interests of o] Renwicks life; but above all he d' lighted in the recondite studies of genea ogy, in tracing ont the collateral branch? of old and celebrated families, with roo deep down in the annals of the Englis aristocracy. Over these pursuits he labored wit grave and solemn earnestness, pattin into them the patience and assiduit that should have been given to bett? things, and primarily to the earning ? daily bread. In his youth he had coi sidered these curious inquiries the propt pnrsuits of a gentleman. His antiquarin tastes all ran in the direction of thinj that earn no dirty money-the strictl uncommercial and patrician pleasures < sr man of elegant leisure. Having ii - herited a fine Old house and an ampi Fortune for the towu where he livet Renwick saw no reason why he shoul ;not please himself. Self indulgence ha been the rule of his life, but gradnall through bad investments the money ha all slipped through his ringers-tb" fin Old pictures, the precious editions of raT .old. books had disappeared. Penury too ?rr-irs abode in the big bare rooms. Th old honse had literally fallen to deca*. The roof leaked. The kitchen part wa crazy and ruinous. Snow and rain cam in on the very bed where Judith slept but the old man was always the same always Renwick, the provincial aristo erat, who, like the Bourbons, forgot noth ing and learned nothing. Stiff, rigid punctilious, methodical as a clock, th old man lived wrapped in the illusor sense of thc dead Renwicks and of hi own. Renwick had lost two wives and mam children, but nothing changed his habit of life. He seemed v incapable even o remarking the alteration in his circum stances now that he was reduced t< poverty and alone in the world with hi youngest girl, Judith. Still he livec wrapped in the sense of superiority t< his shopkeeping neighbors; a crystal lized egotism * inclosed him as in a glasi house and preserved his health anc vigor. His townspeople revenged them selves for his hauteur by making ?ok? on old Renwick, who sat year in anc year out in a nook of the library scrib bling notes apropos of nothing, and ye1 some few perhaps saw a certain patho? in the depths of delusion in tow hi ch th? human soul can plunge. Kow as the old man trudged stifflj down the street, his head knocking tb? stars, the bright haired Judith shut the door, shivering a little from the cold, and turned back into the room where a moment before she had been brushing and patting the impatient old gentle* man. It was a large room, and once had been handsome, even elegant, foi the chimney piece, now cracked ano* smoke stained, was of carved italian marble, and the moldings and rich dec? orations of the woodwork were in the best colonial style. The liberal windows let in floods of sunlight, showing thc sad contrasts of this room that once had been the stately library of the old man? sion, but had now fallen on evil days. Patches of plaster had broken from the ceiling, and the wall paper showed sad rents and discolorations where the carved oaken bookcases had once stood. The floor was bare save for a few rusty braided rugs that lay on the boards, and the ragged cLair coverings were patched with stuff of another color. The large, hospitable fireplace had been boarded up, and an old Franklin stove, propped on bricks, diffused such heat as it could through the large room.: Pitifully shabby and scantily furnished as it was, scrupulous neatness and a certain refined touch of arrangement made the old room dignified. The young girl stood there now like a figure in a picture,lier hands clasped behind her, and her bead thrown a little back, showing the full white throat and the pretty out? line of her form in its rusty* black go\ -, over which was tied a white apron. All the rays of the October sunshine seemed gathered about her head making a glory, ; but the face was not regularly beauti? ful. The mouth was too wide for a per? fect curve, though filled with even white teeth that flashed out in a brilliant smile, matching the natural warmth of the dark blue eyes. The nose was not quite Grecian, nor was the complexion very blooming, but a frank, bright in? dependence-a spirit of repressed fun i ?hat saw all the humorous things in ; life-seemed to beam from this pictur? esque face, in the ??id more bewitching j than the mest ?>erfect contour. It had rained the night before, and ? water had come in on her bed through \ the broken roof, making a little pool on j the old quilt with which she was cov ! ered, but that was the last thing that troubled Jndith as she stood there gaz ! ing at a cracked glass on the window : shelf filled with bright autumn leaves j and red berries. She was saying: half j aloud now to herself as she counted the items on her fingers, "Only a handful of flour in the barrel, no butter, no eggs, no meat, tea ont, kerosene for one night more, halt a candle, a paper of oatmeal, half a peck of potatoes. " These items summed up at the moment the contents of the Renwick larder. The old man never knew how the house was provisioned. He believed in the special prov: ?nee of the Renwick family and transferred the responsibili? ties of life to the heavenly powers. Gradually lie had lapsed from affluence Into poverty through unsound specula? tions and bad investments. At the mo* ment lie owned much worthless ste*** and certain mythical mining lands in the far west. Knowing nothing about business, lie hekl on to these with the tenacity of an artful child, waiting for a rise which never came. Wrapped in dreams and illusions, odd fads and fancies he glided down the *loi>e from affluence to poverty. There was tx* very abrupt transition. He had calmly *?ar??n np the shreds and tatters of t??? ?M estate*, and until the last few years, since Jndith had come to woman? hood, there had been no actual, sharp j incis of poverty. The carved book? cases, tl>'? rare editions of the classics, the old pictures had all gone into the pot and the oven. He had gradually contracted his way of life-had nar? rowed himself to three or four rooms. One whole half of the rambling old house was unfurnished and empty, given over to rats and spiders, When Judith proposed to let thjs half to Mr. Holcomb, the bookseller, Renwick was very angry and flung out of the house without giving her his goodby kiss. Renwick wonjil sooner 6tarve tban allow a tradesman to harbor under his decayed roof. Tb? pld man went off to the library in an aristocratic huff, and Jndith did the jvork of the meager household with tears pi ber eyes. She could do nothing with {hat impossible nature gaye bj stealth. fie loftily ignored all the disagreeable facts of life, and especially the prime fact that there was little food or fuel in the house. When people ?et themselves up as superior to others there are always some who believe in theni. Judith in a j half amused way did believe in the old ' man. He was all she had, to love, and she was humbly willing \o delve and toii in secret that he might bolster him? self on his family pride, A^s he was ab? sent all day at the library t noor Judith, to buy him warm winter \mderflanrHs and to put a few bin? ui coal in tLe , cellar, had taken in twc> ftttle pupils, nieces < f thc ^tore ?lealer Sparkler, who 1 lived in a small brown house just around the corner in Grove street. Mrs. Spar? kler's back yard adjoined the Kenwick garden. She had no children of her own and had adopted her husband's two orphan nieces, who soon became the torment and terror of her life. Mrs. Sparkler was a woman not used to children, mor? bidly clean, and who had trained Spar? kler by judicious discipline to give prob? ably le6s trouble in the house than any other man in the town. To have two children bronght into the family who had, as she said, moro of the nature of *'wild Injuns" than of "stiddy white folks," was the peculiar form of trial to which Mrs. Sparkler was forced to sub? mit. Moreover, it was " "aggravatin" that Sparkler, a meek and submissive man on all other points, was determined "to fetch up" his dead brother's two orphau girls without the aid of the switch, having a weak sj>ot in him, as Mrs. Sparkler expressed it, toward the motherless. CHAPTER IL "Lei them come to mc." . One day in the early summer Judith had found Prue Sparkler mounted on the topmost limb of a tall cherry tree in the old Kenwick garden, disputing pos? session of the ripe fruit with the birds and squirrels, and throwing down great bunches to her little sister Sally, who stood, with her frock held wide and her curly head thrown back, gazing up into the branches. Jucith forced the child to come down out of the tree and gave her a little lesson on the difference be? tween meum and tuum, which the girl received unabashed, with a pair of bold, black eyes fixed on her face. Her hands and monta were smeared with cherry juice; her clothes were tattered and torn from a rude encounter with the tree branches. She was lean and dark and win*, with black hair hanging straight down on her neck. Her elbows were sharp and her legs totally without calves. Sall}*, on the contrary*, was a dimpled, curly i>ated, chubby little girl, whose will was wholly submissive to her bold and spirited sister, for whom she had unbounded admiration. It was easy to perceive what Mrs. Sparkler meant when she said Prue had '.Injun*' blood in her. She was the kind of girl to stir up all the rebellious elements and thor? oughly demoralize a school. She was a born leader, fearless and bold in her freebooting, and a thorough adept in every form of mischief. Owing to Prue's shining talents she luid been suspended from the public school, and little Sally had gone homo whimpering behind her, with her finger in her mouth. Though Sparkler was thought by the neighbors to be considerably henpecked, in spite of the enormity of Prue's crime he took those two naughty, wicked chil? dren and snnggled them up against his breast, and made a shelter for them with his arms from the wrath of his spouse, who felt it was a great shame to have anj* "feelin about dead folks' feelinV when righteous indignation is balked of its prey. It was the next day after Prue's ig? nominious dismissal from school that Judith caught her up in the cherry tree and made her scramble down, to be led home iu a draggled and torn condition. She took the two little girls through a gap in the wall dividing the old gar deu from the Sparklers' back yard and appeared with them at the kitchen door of the little brown house. "Now, ain't it too bad,*' cried Mrs. Sparkler in a voice of piercing com? plaint as she appeared at the door with a dish towel in her hand, "that Sparkler won't let me take a switch to them little devils, and especially to that Prue, that's the very mother of all mischief? Sally would l>e as good as a kitten if it wam't for Prue, but she's right down there un? der her sister's thumb, and if she told her to go to the top of the house and jump off she'd do it if she knew 'twould kill her the next minute. Oh, she's a ringleader, she is, and Sparkler won't let me lay a finger on 'OTU. I believe he thinks the dead father and mother would get np ont of their graves and spook him if the switch was laid on to them chil? dren. Aud he always such a mild man. like new skimmilk cheese, till these young ones come to live with us! Yo*3 see, miss, they was raised on a farm and allowed to run wild, and there ain't a blessed thug they're afraid of. Prue when she wasn't more than five years old would go right hand over hand across the cows* backs when they stood in a row, and she would ride wild colts round the pasture bareback. "Both the children lived with animals and mothered the old ducks and hens, and was followed nil over the place by lambs and little pigs and even* blessed thing, and Sparkler says it ain't no won? der they can't bear to l>e shut up and set prim and pro*>er on a bench and be made to study. "Why, that giri Prue-I never did know anything like it. Seems as though she just loves the earth. She'll go out into the yard and put herself fae:- down flat on the ground and clutch the grass as if it was a human being and had a heart in it and she could hear it heat, and there she'll lay and go fast asleep, i tell Sparkler she's that wild she'll take to the woods some day and drag off Sally to live up a tree. What am 1 go? ing to do with such creeturs. Miss Ken? wick? They've turned her out of school, an(| I can't make Sally go alone, and 1 pan't keep 'em herp shet up like a squir? rel in a- page, especially with Sparkler that set on the whippin question. If 1 could find somebody to teach 'era pri? vately, even if they didn't learn much. ! just to take 'em off 'ray bands a few times a day, 1 would, be willing to pay a good price." i'-^et them pome to rue," said Miss Benwipki Who bad now sat down on a kitchen pbair, still keeping hold of Sal? ly's little chubby hand. "1 will teach them all 1 know," she added, blushing find hesitating a little. Mrs. Sparkler squared her elbow? and ! poked ont lier chin in a. way peculiar to j herself. She was rather a portly wonjan, ' and her apron made H fine curve as it . descended over her neat print gown. . "Mercy me, Miss Kenwick, what would your pa say? He'd go into con? vulsions if he knew you was colleaguing with folks like me. Why, he don't think me and Sparkler is fit to wipe his old 6hoes on." Miss Kenwick blushed even mor* vividly, and the heightened color was very becoming to her style of beauty. "Why should he kuow, Mrs. Spni kier?" said sh*\ softly patting the litt?' hand that lay in hers. "He id an gentleman, who has his pet pre judi that must be humored, and i-erhaps has grown a little childish of Jute ye; He is away all day at the library p ing over his books, and why shouh trouble him about this matter?" Mrs. Sparkler shook her head v> skeptically at first, but before Jud went home it was agreed between th that the children should come to 1 every week day at ten in the morning remain until two, bringing with then small luncheon to appease the child pangs of hunger. There was also to a little recess, when they were to run the garden and let out their "whoop." Mrs. Sparkler expressed it. For 1 services in teaching them their sm lessons Judith was to receive a cert* specified sum-Mrs. Sparkler was a bi ness woman, and insisted on havi everything down in black and white. The little Sparklers had been uni Judith's instruction for about th: months now, and she flattered hers that the progress toward good ms ners, a proper behavior and docility h been considerable, proceeding as it d however, by fits and starts and vari by not infrequent out breaks of rebelli< Little Sally, the curly pated, di m pl child, certainly loved her teacher, t Prue was a strange, incalculable beii wayward, capricious and fascinating turns. Judith that morning had ji arranged her table to give the childr a lesson on shells, for she varied the n ular order of teaching by object lesso from nature-ou birds and beasts, mi erais, insects, leaves, flowers and grass? It was just at this moment that M. Sparkler, wild eyed, bonnetless, sbav less, rushed into the house. She h; scrambled through the gap in the gard' wall and come in the back way. "They're gone," she cried, lookii hurriedly round the room, "lt's just 1 said. They ain't here. You cou knock me down with a feather," ai then she sank into the nearest chair, ai putting ber thick, red hands over h face she burst into tears. "Oh, Mi Renwick, 1 can't ketch my breath. I' gaspin like, for Sparkler sets such ?to by them children if anything shou happen them he'd go out of his mind.1' Judith was standing by trying to qui her. "I can't tell no straight story, Mi Kenwick. It's that Prue that has ii away Sally. They've been puttin the heads together in a corner these last tvs or three days, and I felt sure Prue WJ cookin up some mischief. This mornir when 1 came down stairs early the boru was still as death. ! looked for them i the stable where Sparkler keeps h business cart, and where they're wild 1 get in along with the horse, and then went to the shop and raised the neigl borhood generally, but they've skoote sure enough." "Where do you think they can ha\ gone?" Judith asked in sympathetic di tress. "Mebbe they made a bee linc for tl old farm up at Hillman's Four Corner who can tell? Prue at times is so hom< sick for them cows and chickens an pigs she looks a sage green, and th whites of her eyes is something dreadfu 1 looked at the book they've been readii They got it at the Sunday school la* week. It's all about Tommy Sawyei that ran away from a cruel g?rdeen an had queer adventures sleepin in barn and sheds until at last he came into hi fortuue. 1 guess it's that story that' put 'em up to this caper, and to think c them two little creatures trudgin alon; the roads, and especially Sally, that' only a baby, is most distractin to th mind of my husband/' Judith tried to console her distresse neighbor by assuring her that the chi! dren could not wander far: that som one would be sure to pick them up an? bring them home before nightfall. Mrs. Sparkler listened with a duml incredulity painted on her face. Sh' was gazing in a vacant stare out of th' window when suddenly she sprang ti her feet exclaiming, "Goodness gracious Miss Renwick, there's your pa comin U] the path. with a young man in tow Don't, for mercy sake, let 'em see me witl my face all blotched from cryiug an< my bair in a tousle," aud she darted ou into the kitchen and home the back wa.' through the garden. It was years since stranger guests hat come to the old house. Judith coull hardly believe her eyes as she saw he father show in the young man who canc? el?se behind him wi.h courtly, old fash ioned politeness. The young man, who? bearing was modest, though his eye wa; quick and lively, must have detected tic expression of dismay in Judith's face for there was a certain pulsating air ol confusion about him as the old mau waving his hand gracefully, said: "Mj daughter Judith, sir; my last, my ooh surviving child. We live here, sir, ir old fashioned simplicity, as yon will see Judith, this is Mr. Mildmay. of Arizoua He has come to speak to me on business tho sale of my western lands, in fact Judith, and you will make him wel? come,^ Judith was conscious of making 8 very awkward bow to Mr. Mildmay, oi Arizona, as she hastily pushed back thc little leeson table she had arranged foi her ptpils and covered it with an old black shawl. Mr. Mildmay, though b* sat there on one of the rickety nate**** chairs looking like the most unobserv ing of mortals, had seen the movement and was speculating as to the cause. Unlike old Renwick, he seemed not tc make the slightest demand on the hom? age of his fellow beings, as if it had never entered his head that he was much of anybody or had the remotest claim to notice. But Judith saw in a glance that he had an engaging smile, frank and friendly, even merry, and his singularly bright hazel eyes wandered into everj' corner of the old room and came back to rest on the face and form of the young girl in her shabby black gown with a pleasant look of interest and inquiry. "You have a fine old house here. Mr. Renwick," the young man was saying, "early colonial of the first period." "Yes, yes," said the old man, with a statelj' bow; "a good house, sir, in its day, not kept up, I am sorry to .say, as it should be. My family has shrunk tc such pitiful dimensions we have con? tracted our way of life, sir: have, in fact, abandoned the best rooms to the j-ats and mico and crept into a corner The house was built by my great-grand? father, whose name figures not dishon orably in the history of our country, sir. if you will stay and din.- with ns I shall be pleased to show you somo autograph letters from Alexander Hamilton and General George Washington addressed to my ancestor." Mildniaya perceptions were of tho acutest. At a glance lie had taken in the bare, poverty stricken aspect of the room, and hy thought he could interpret aright the look of confusion and trouble in Judith's face, rio ho teized his hat he h;id laid upon the floor and said firmly, "1 think I must return at once to the hotel," "No, sir, you must remain." cried old Renwick with a pugnacious obstinacy. "I shall not allow you to go away with? out breaking broad." Judith, with the memory of the bag of oatmeal and the half peck of potatoes in her mind as the only available re? sources of the larder, had got la-hind Mildmay"* chair and was making fur? tive but desperate gestures to her father to refrain from pressing tho gentleman to remain. But the old man, eager arid intent in his effort to keep Iiis gu was totally oblivions to the patin dumb show Judith was carrying on hind Mildmay's back. She stood th pleading as if for dear life when sudde she happened to glance at the oppo: wall, where to her horror she saw old fashioned, long mirror, hanging v aslant from its fastenings, which fleeted everything in that part of ' room. Mildmay's eyes were fastened the mirror, where her own face and fo and every gesture she made were plaii visible. Suddenly her hands fell to 1 sides, and she turned of a vivid, fiery i all over her cheeks, brow and neck, a even the tips of her ears burned like L coals. The yonng man sprang to his fe fie still held his hat in his hand, and face was quite crimson with embarra ment to match the flag of shame hu out in Judith's cheeks. "Really, sir," he stammered, not kno lng what he was saying, "I must go. -I find I shall have to be oi? by the U train. Very importiert busi ? s whi? ter the moment I had forgotten." i glanced at Judith furtively with a rei swing look to tell the golden hair young lady that she should not be tro bled by the presence of au unwelcoi: guest if the heavens fell. "But you must remain," cried the o man imperiously, getting on his feet, shall not allow you to leave my house this manner. Our busiuess is unfinishe 1 want to talk to you about your pee gree." "My what?" said the young man sm ing. "Your pedigree. 1 am particularly i terested, as you must know, in fami histories, and 1 think it more than pro able that you may be descended fro that Sir Bruce Mildmay, who fought the Wars of the Roses and was ciiambe lain to Henry VII. Judith, request M Mildmay to stay and dine. He bears fine old historic name, but he will n< mind our simple fashions. He will n< expect a very extended bill of fare. Ju pot luck, sir; pot luck." Judith, still with burning cheeks, can slowly up to Mildmay and said, with h< eyes dropped and a quiver in her voie "Do stay, sir; it will be a great pleasu] to my father and to me." She raised h< eyes, and Mildmay thought he detecte a suspicious brightness about tbeni something like a tear that hung su pended on the lashes and made the gi adorable. He studied her face a ui< ment with a gentle, inquisitive glano and then he said slowly, "As it will I such a pleasure to you. Miss Ren wick, will stay." Judith frowned slightly at this speed She was angry and she hardly knew wh* But suddenly her face began to dimp] with a consciousness of the absurdity c the situation. He caught the reflectioi and they both broke into a suppresse gurgle of laughter. Judith ran out into the kitchen an Mildmay sat back in his chair, and wit those apparently unobservant eyes c his that saw everything began to stud the great bare room with its details c ill disguised and pinching povertj Everywhere he saw the dams an patches and makeshifts of a skillft woman's fingers trying to put the bes side out, and there was a pathos in i when contrasted with old Kenwick1 high tone and exalted pretensions. Judith meantime was surveying th cold kitchen, where the wood fire wa always allowed to die out between meals to save fuel. The place was chil and dreary, and she shivered slight!; through her shoulders as she looke< about her. Already she had investigates the safe and the cupboard. She ha< found nothing but a slice and a half o bread; four cold potatoes on a brokei plate, saved from yesterday; no tea o coffee, no meat, no dessert-not foo< enough, all told, to satisfy the app?tit of one healthy person. There, to be sure was the bag of oatmeal But how conk she offer a dish of oatmeal porridge to J dinner guest. Moreover she had takei only a pint of milk that morning, jus enough to put in her father's tea The girl st'Hxl thinking, quite at he; wits' end. She had only a few pence ii her pocket, and the Ren wick credit wai not good at the grocery store and th? meat market Where was Mr. Mild may's dinner to come from? Suddenly a light broke in. She remembered tba Mrs. Sparkler owed her a quarter's tui tion of the children, and here seemed ? loophole of escape fr--rr fhe sorel." hedged path. She had I . z uer shawl ix thc living roma and wo?dd not go back Hastily she t!:rew an old red tablecloth over her bead, and softly opening thc back door sped throngh the garden tc the gap ia the wall. She found hei neighbor in the clean kitchen mourn? fully concocting squash pies. There were pots and saucepans on the stove all bubbling and boiling and emitting a I good odor, proof positive that the family dinner was well in hand. "Have yon heard any news of them children?" Mrs. Sparkler cried excitedly as she saw Judith flit past the window with the red tablecloth over her head. "No indeed; 1 only wish 1 had. 1 have come to you, Mrs. Sparkier, on my own account. 1 am in a great strait." ."You in trouble too? Poor thing! Well. & does fo?k as if the whole wor' J TS art? crooliea'To^ttV-gone topsy turvy. There's Sparkler gone off nearly dis? tracted, with his horse and wagon, tc scour the country. He's locked his shop and put out a sign, 'Closed on account of misfortune.' Polks will think be's burst up or gone crazy. But what is the matter with you. Miss Kenwick? ls your pa took poorly?" Judith shook her head. "No, it isn't that. It's something perfectly ridicu? lous," and she burst into a hysterical laugh. ''He has brought ai stranger, a Mr. Mildmay, home to dinner!" Mrs. Sparkler paused in the act of trimming the crust from around a pie plate, and looking over her shoulder she repeated vaguely, "Home to dinner?" "Yes, and that is the joke of it." and Judith laughed nutil the tears ran down her cheeks. "There isn't anything ic the house to eat-not enough to feed a cat." "And you want some of my dinner.*" said Mrs. Sparkler brightening, glad to do a kind deed and for a moment to for get her worry. "What's neighbors fox if not to help each other inf a pinch, and haven't yon heljxed me. Miss Kenwick, and been a real streak of sunshine, what? ever happens to tliera young enes? 1 don't know what I was about cookin np a big dinner if it wasn't for Von in your hobble. Sparkler ain't here, and a mouthful would choke him if be was. and as for me 1 hain't no more appetite to eat than a sick kitten. "1 guess I kind of did it todistract my thoughts. There's boiled beef and vege I tables, carrots and turnips and beets ami : potatoes. I've got some bread new ! baked. Had the best kind off luck with my bakin this time, and yon shall have one of these sri ash pies and a pot of ?.ofTee. Now um go home and lay the table, and i'll bruvj the dinner in a basket through the gap in the wall around to your back doorin less than half an hour." Judith could have fallen down and kissed Mrs. Sparkler's old shoes, but she did dash home with the red tablecloth over her head, singing prams of thanks? giving in her heart. [TO DF. rONTTNl*Er?. J Rent Liens, plaii and with cotmn Pwd clause, for sale at 'he Watchman and tivirthroii NEW MARBLE WORKS. COMMANDER & RICHARDSON, LIBERTY STREET, SUMTER, S. C. WK HAVE FORMED A CO-PARTNERSHIP For the purpose of working Marble and Graulte, niinufaciuring Monuments, Mimi lc, And doif-p a General Business io that line. A complete work-shop has need titted np or. LIBERTY STREET, NEAR POST OFFICE And we are now ready to execute with promptness all orders consigned to us. Satis? faction guaranteed Obtain our price before placing an order elsewhere. W. H. COMMANDER, G. E. RICHARDSON. June 16 COTTON STALK Ch.opper. The TMale Tio-?ow Cotton Statt Chopper Was again awarded the first prize at the Sooth Carolina State Fair, held Nev. 6th to 10th, this year. There is no O'ber i m piemen t that will clear your land of the old stalks like this one. Many of. them have been in use for three years, and withoattezeeption each and every farmer using one has pro? nounced it a complete success Send in your orders promptly if yon want a machine and don't wait until the last moment when the stalks, must be cut, or knocked off on the top like your great grandfather used to do. Respectfully, JOEL E. BRUNSON, SUMTER, S. C. Dec. 14. 1893. Harper's Magazine. ILLUSTRATED, ITARPIER'S MAGAZINE for 1893 will continue to maintain the umivalled standard of excellence which has characterized it from the beginning. Among the notable features . f the ytnr thee will be new novel." by A. Conan Doyle, Constance Fenimare Woolson, and William Black. Short stories will be con? tributed hy tho most popular writers of the d?y, including Mary E. Wilkins, Richard Harding Dav?A, Margaret Deland, Brander Matthews, ?nd many others The illustrated descriptive papers will embrace articles by Julian Ralph on new Southern and Western subjects: by Theodore Child on India; by Poujltiey Billow on Russia and Germany ; by Richard Harding Davis on a London rea>on ; by <'.,l'-nel T. A. Dudgeon Eastern Bidets ; etc. Edwin A. Al?bfy's illustra ions of Shakes? peare's Comedies will be contributed by Charles Eliot, Mr.? Jamea T. Fields. William Dean Howells, Brandtr Matthew?, and others. Harper's Periodicals. 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It <g?ves the tollest an t latest iuforinatiou ?Ww Farbtons, and its numerous illustrations. Pari? designs, and pattern -heel supplements .ire indispensable alike to the home dress in .ker ami the professional modiste. No expense is spared lu make its artistic a tractiveness ot' ihe highest order, lis bright sturt*-*, amusing com? edies, and thoughtlul essais satisfy ali tastes, and its last pave is famous as a budget of wit Ki.d humor. In its weekly issues everything is inc'uded which is ?.f interest "Ca women The Serials for will be wi iden by 'Walter Bes?nt and Edna Lyn I Christine Teihuoe Hfrri<-k will furnish a practical series, entitled vt'the Toilet."' tirare King. Olive 'I horne Miller, ?nd Candace Wheeler will be frequent contributors. The work ? f women in the Co uuibiaii Exposition will he f?llt represented with many illustrations. T. W Higginson, ?n. .Women and Men," will please a cultivated audience. iftirper's PeriodieaK Ter Year : ll AR*? 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BKOTHKRS, New York. if yon want A F?RST-CLASS EASY KIDING Road Cart9 ATA REASONABLE PRICE, j (SET A ' Crene^eo^ no. f. mm & sot, Whoi?sale Asen; s, Charleston. S. C. TO RENT. THITHER OR ROTH BUILDINGS, fu j r.ished or in?', opposite-thf A. C L pa sender depot. Lunch ?-out?t*r, arid 2 S?>r Water ap.:rnMjces nad Mil.? Sh?k- altai:' in Call ntl ?r id di ess. CURTIS HOUSE. H. B & C. S CC HT' . buujltr, S.C, AUGUSTA LARNEO. The Latest Story * from the pen of this gifted writer will soon appear in these columns. Its title is Pride m Poverty, the first of a series of Novel? ettes by leading authors we propose publishing. Your Subscription Can Begin Now, Just as Sure as PreacMng is it that the best o? euprent? fiction appears j I ?N ff : i THESE I COLUMNS. We leave m stone teamed* tomaketfti&a HOME PAPER rn every sense of the word. Are jw/ a- subscriber ? A GOOD <? STORY fe as Kinch the part ot a? Home Newspaper as thei news. Therefore the choice fiction frorrc leading: writers constantfy appearing m these columns. if you are not a reginter subscriber enter yow sub? scription at once for THE HOAE PAPER CHOICE + l\kt !j*e one published m th?s: issue ni>^^eature with this Home Nev^jl^You shoakf see to it at orfe-c5 !?^yo?t . Do Not Miss a Number. TH E DICTIONARY HOLDE? Did you ?ver learn ?hat tabulent melts (raw ont ot th* manufacture hy Hr. Noyes of an ornamental ?rand to hold thc dictionary ? Tfc?-atory roa<H like . faule, but to tell it on? mutt .sk another quezon : Har? you ?var noticed the 11 I iliiaiiajaj nt th? Aermotor Company. ?hieb ?tarta, out aa follow? ; 45sordbt'88 It 2.288 sold In ?9 / 6,268 sold in '90 ? 20,049 sold in ^iJ-ft r 60(000?* bs??i?,92 JBBtl ^^^jp^^ On? BOM Olhajf* fOftOW* ff, ?Hd W? **TMiH - COMBtfga* Well tkat <. ?M'.lishuien? txlop^ -rtfTA Hg Ps La Verne W. r<Vy~. ?n?the, r? - "^?J^AEASgl Mean? with whieh it ?aa l>ailt H ^^fmttdl uv uaXil i'. t!i? third Unrest JH mMB?|IBmW B-erof sU, lin. ha West, hems HMffiWBSSl ,ir,,.r.cA h. uto of th?- W__aT-^??J? Ha eaniranioa) jg LWJ H/ <r?a iv)...lly f.-.in?shed by th? l-l 11 ?? ? ??? - r/irt:. r..iT<- H Oder hnsinea?. Toa ? brings n* bark tu the HolJer, wi ^.LM. tuCkO: -nv a* 1? ^',,T >' '??'c I afta? ?nd held .i d still 1 ...?Ma 'ho field. W&Sj?M3?B? increasing rapidly from year to year. ?XI H The secret ti tba? sure? is this: H ? tr. Nov<? lia? m.vle a most perfect. U LWHM artist.:' d meritorious article.and ^ Maa maintained a ?.ich standard of fffffw^ e^crilrur.r ?nd PTIJ j-tn i the article M MB B, at? low f.ri??. Th* went of theso m m \ ll 3>..tu.iiai7rro;dershi\beet>aocTe*t I I I ll that they' li'erally sol?!, Ihamaeh?, # fifi ll .nd in?i:. >. |.reatqnanli- R ^?k^S?m a [Ti f.t cn >-?w ff ^aBb^MaX each one Ins mad? ll?? ^BBklL M ^^^^1 result abova mentioned ^^"<aw ff ^^fcw They h tv.) gor.etoaln.-sto-.cty ^??W^W habitable ?.>?>:?.ton of the rlobe, M ^Ha^aaW . ven to remot? M ands c" Bafft. W ^^?^.Ja? th? ata, and ar? kept ly ?ll Scribner's MAGAZINE For 189& PA RTIA L MlOSPECT?TS* F? A y CES HOD G30& BURDETT' will contribute the first serial to appear-in H* magazine from her peu for many j en re, en*i-? tled * Tbe One I K iew toe Best of-A?."' H. C. B?N&ER' will furnish a series of six sk'cicBe*-- etrtfr?vd* "Jersey Street and Jersey Lan?."' illustrated-: ROBERT GRANT' will relate the fur-her experiences' of' F?e?"i and Josephine in '*A* Sequel icrtbe Reflections* of a married Mao." Illustrated". HAROLD FREDERIC] will contribute a political nore) of- great1 power, entitled The Copperhead. i?Ir TITE AUTHOR OE ''JERRY?' ' Miss S. B Eliott, the authur of "Jerry*"* will write a realistic story of life amoirg- thc Tennessee mountaineers, "The Onrk'?t Sper? ret." PER&&SM, REUtNICENCESi Some Unpublished letters ot Carlyle tc Sd^ ward Irving and others, dealing?wk?? a pur of Carlyle's life far d;n*erent fi orb t??a? brootfrt' out in the recent i it?r?t ore of Carlyle return iel1 cences. Recoiled ions of Li oro! o and? 9uni^ ner. By the late Marquis De Chambras. Both articles'are full ot new matter. At?' Aitist in Japan. By Robert Blum, wbo-bar just returned trota a residence of- nearly? ttw>* years ia that country. Abundantly itlhsfrk* ted by the author. Historic Moments;- which" bare been a feature of? the* snag nz* ne" during: 189% will be continued by some p*.tt4cu*iriy striking papers, among them several- by- tbV gi^t war correspondents-, William' Wi ftus* sell, Aicbibaid Forbes, and others. ?Elf s OCCUPATIO&S: A> series of ?rdeles on the life work- of me?' in many callings-the chief ways (t-Xtettfsiter of professions )* in which'men-ea rn rtteir Hre-^ li hood. Tm WO-RTiDSPATRTIX CU?CA?O: A series will be published later in the year giving the impression's made t?y* the* ertihi bition upon d.&rient ohserversof oott? both? American and'foretgn and* mu ny et these observers will be also ani3ts>wbo? wiH rHns-' trate their own articles. UtSCERLAifEOi?S^ ARtl'CLESir Further contributions to the FTxir tn great* Cities Mri. rJiirnettV illustrated poper on? the bondon plan for Home .vd to loealid' Children, etc. Of special interest also-wSIIbxr Professor Helphin's authoritative- areouni of the Peary ier-ESpedition ^1 hist ruted)e?*ery? interesting article of Octave dianne os- tbW exhibition of Woman's Art now going on in* Pa-i", and articles upon ar tis tie sublet?,-- acv co-upts of traves, etc. re?o. THE ?LL USTRATW&Si of the year will represent the work oof only*" of the well-known illustrators, but many' drawings will a4*o *^*^bv*ar*:tet9 sbo" atV beet kr: o wives' painters. TP?MQ > $3 A VE AR. I curoo, 23c A, *ITI**BE?V SP ECS H OFFERS'-? The numbeiyfor 189?- and a-sus-^ seri pt ion for 1893, $4 59 The-sante, witfi bsdr numbers, bound io cloth, 8-09 Soo irtik time tb-st?iaar?e. CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SOKSv 743 Broadway, ?esr Vork.. fkt 6ree0 Iatmr fodvstrial an? ? Stark Journal of the Sottib. CttCB TUftTt 90S $L Sample copies witt be maMJJatfT on. ap* plication to ? THE CS&TIVAT?R FTOT^SB?E^K, Box 4iS* Ada**?--, Special PWmiuro of F we Ticket to ~ Fair: ~ ^ ff vg?a GLENN SPRINGS MiSERiL WATEE ?lS?fe, Pleasant Cure -FOR-. ALL D?SHASES OF THE l\m KitNEYS ?wm AW POK ?A LS BT D*. CHISTA, B*. J. F. W. DtLOltiMy W. IT. DKLGA?, Ages?. PAUL SIMPSON, SHfyn, Glean Springs, S. C. HO^BBOTHERS, Gold and Sflwr Watt?w, FINK WAMO0?DS. docte, Jwt?rr, s-peted?, MBRlbfri BHITANTA 81LVBRWAF?i *s< Kt^AlRlNG A SPECIALTY* li tr^si??rHrrJc* euro: bjcv*^li&?: 5 wa ****** r>rr* : " - ?J?* J