University of South Carolina Libraries
99 SENTINEL JOURN AL PICKENS, s. c. You can't tell much about the slzo of the man In the grave by the size of the tombstone, moralizes Ram's Horn. When Opportunity knocks, laments the Commoner, the sound is usually drowned by the noise of the knocker on the inside. As a proof that women are extravagant, insists the Hill City (Kan.) New Era, we call your attention to tlio fart that many a widow does $50 worth of grieving over the loss o? a thirty-cent man. The idea of teaching every girl to thump the piano and every hoy to be a bookkeeper will make potatoes worth $S per barrel in another twenty years, laments the Virginia (Minn.) Enterprise. Insists the San Francisco Chronicle: Our enormous losses from fire are the price we pay for the privilege of permitting easy going city government to allow people to construct lire traps to live or do business in. The child actress is born, not drilled, dogmatizes Francis Wilson, in Collier's. From the time she sits up and babbles baby phrases she lives in a mimic world. From the time che learns to walk, she dances, pirouettes and minces her way along. Her "make-believe" world is full of thrilling happenings, and so when her j talent finds an outlet on the stage, acting Is 110 effort, and she learns j "lines" as the average baby girl abeorbs and memorizes Mother Goose jingles. The automobile will lift the burden from the back of the horse, and meet the need of man for haste. Wo 1 shall have the horse for pleasant ; journeys, sings the Newark Call, when we would see the world calmly; for the licliter labors- for panionship; for the infinite satisfaction which the noble animal gives tjv* its every relation with mankjhd. Cruelty will end; the beneflt?"'which come from tlU. e^rcise oMdndness to animals wiliyhave their just moral effect '.^man; the dumb brute will its intelligence; there will bo finer breeding, better horses, and better men. The horse is not going. It is coming. - 1 President David Starr Jordan, of Iceland Stanford University, does not agree with the California State Labor Commission, which recent ly expressed the belief that Japanese laborers must be employed in the development of California's agricultural interests, "It may be true," he says, "that some of tho fruit growers in California have suffered from want of sufficient labor, and this may have occasioned a certain economic loss, but the question of Asiatic emigration is so complex tlia.t it- rnnnnt ho riiunnun/i wholly on an economic basis. There is more than one side to the matter. A number of the people of California are strongly opposed to having the State inundated with a race which must remain socially Inferior and which cannot be amalgamated. These people are content with the arrange-! inent which has been made with Japan. Japan has promised to keep its laboring people from coming fo the rnited States. This arrange merit, I believe, is better for Japan and better for California " It is not at all probable that the farmers of Massachusetts will object to the proposed new method of tho Inspection of milk destined for the Boston market, once they realize that it. will have many advantages, even if calling for a little more care and labor, argues the Boston Post. For one thing, our producers will be placed on an even basis with those outside tho State, who will be com-1 polled to maintain dairies satisfactory j to our authorities under penalty of having their milk stopped at the border. At present the outsider too often has the better of the competition. Again, it always is true that/anything ; Ihnl .....J _ ...i : I. milk is produced, will in (ho end he for the bent interests of She f;irrn and the farmer. Modern farming?and the most snceesbful ?is distinctly 1 along the lines of education. The inRistence upon rlean and pure milk isn't to hurt the Hay State farmer in the slightest, nor even cause him much inconvenience after | the system has settled down to work. He wfll eventually share in ib? efit that will accrue to all. p Jecu c By IVin ij 4 *+*++<fr??+4?? OUIS PAJIAT, a Fr - tl the French police tc " wall for two years. !| fl H "It ees of a nothii ;; jjollce to explain. ^ % jealousy. 1 cannot f-- ' - -Y free to go and conie X-} + { + {.i don't know wni about It. I know wl clir.'.n the uxorious Mr. Parat to a st just to let him set a ohiuin' tr> Ifnm that eftuses him so much inconvenient I wonder if Madame Parat ever had ^d to the wall. I suppose the gallant gentleman In wife believe that she was a very lucl so much about her that he had to k going crazy with jealousy. You'll remember how Mr. Mantalin for him by telling her that he loved tc was so graceful when sl.e was busy, graceful when she was chained to th< Of all miserable, selfish, outrageous terrible. A woman who has a jealous husbai one of two things the day she marries Either she will be miserable as long to teach him to break himself of (ho i Well-founded jealousy is one thing, either to be as blind as a bat or as du harm in every little harmless pleasant ed friendship is nothing more or less to it should be brought to realize that Is your husband so jealous that he without, him, and that he turns green car conductor? Call in a brain specia Your husband needs his services. A sort of persecution go 011 unchecked.? 3 College?an Bv President I HK old curriculum, wi 1 petition. Where all rank meant somethir elective system we and koi better teach with competition be ?nd the stimulus tli has been a serious athletics in our colic is the onljf place where there is real different types of character. It was curcJculum to think that, all the stiu is/I believe, an equal mistake for the a t?ftat each student requires a different large number of subjects of interest t of occupations which the students ar comparatively small number of types If we can have four or five honor c lloh ??! I ...? ?-- ? on iiiiniriBuics, n iu'I U llltr Kllllllffi UTO to^meet the needs ot these different t Advantages of the elective system 01 ourselves to its evils. I am oonfider lective intellectual interest which is and can establish competitions whic lege, but in the world as places who them. It may be objected that any such r a boy to study the particular things ti regard this as its cardinal advantage me to be one where a student learn* after life by methods that lie is going student breadth, while the latter elern lie's Weekly. n/T ! L-T ~ - | jviuuLtrrri i/ur * By Jamas NR of the favorite ar; m X the normal place I'o * H H T home, fulfilling the I 1 Jf * therewith, w>man li x T in r noblest service t # ? ??? illcation and limitatii x home is still experiei home had a large pa days of homespun, /roods for its own consiimntion. and ni tion was performed by the w union, of home production to the factory aysl largely from tin- home and woman's o tal qualifications of sup< i vising and <i mai environment when indus:r.v was c ought. t'> be equally qualili/d to perfori rvstein is in VOgue. The question 01 uxinan's pi ce in state of (lux. The status of the nunc experience has established its functir truly determine woman's normal sphe 4- + 'Ir > > i* ?! > ?i fJV1 Forty Jicr Jape t ~_L_ 1 By Pro/es.so ?*wnraa < CORDING to official j/ I in its main islands. I population of 48,5-12,' 1 is 21,:!21 squaro in 1 8 mile, and besides tli ^ I cat He and horses, m 8L m giving a population < tS ' 1" to each forty ac Helently different fr farm to make tJi?? l?us!?*st man among The old farmer who permitted tm that there were twelve in his famih fifteen mow of land, which is two ar team?a cow and snjaJi donkey -ihe rate of 102 people, 10 <jows, 1G donkej a population density of 3,072 people, per squaro mile.?Farm and FXvesidi 1 lousy m 'red Black ^ ench druggist, has been called before > tell why he kept his wife chained to a iR," said M. Parat, when he went to the "I liavft in niv heart hut a enawing live and do my work when my wife ib where other men may look at her." it the French police are going to do liiU 1 wish they'd do. I wish they would aple, and keep him tied up two years, to control that same gnawing Jealousy :e. any jealous pangs while she was chainthis case quite succeeded in making his ;y woman to have a husband who cared eep her chained up, to keep him from 1 persuaded his wife to do all the work > lie in bed and watch her work, she 1 suppose Madame Parat was very 3 wall. rornirf or insanity, jealousy is tne most id might as well make up her mind to i. : as she lives with him, or she will have >erverted egotism he calls jealousy. No one expects a husband or a wife 11 as an owl. But the Jealousy that sees ry, and wickedness in every open-heartthan a form of insanity, and the victim won't let you move out of the house when you hand your fare to the street list. inrt you'll need them, too, if you let that -New York American. d Afterward ' ladley, of Yale ith all its faults, had the element of comthe boys were studying the same thing, ib to them all. With the introduction of secured competition between teachers ing; but we have practically done away tween students, and have lost at that iat we gained at the other. This loss one. Much of the undue interest in ge life today Is due to the fact that tills competition among a number of men of a mistake for the advocates of the old louts required the same treatment. It ulvocates of the elective system to think t treatment. For while there is a very to study, and an almost infinite variety e going to follow afterward, there is a of mind with which we have to deal. ;uuiouo, nuiiiumiiitt ntvu I UUHl? Ul lilt: grouped and the examinations arranged ypes, we can, I think, realize the chief r the group system without subjecting it that we can secure a degree of colnow absent from most of our colleges, u miii uu r(;i'UK[ii?eu not uuiy ill coire the best men can show what is In irrangement would render it difficult for lat he was going to use in after life. 1 . The Ideal college education seems to i things that he is not going to uso in to use. The former element gives the eat gives him the training.?From Les716 ] Is Changing 1 r i _ t tr. Elevens * gumonts against woman suffrage is that, r woman is the homo, and that in the duties and responsibilities connected as her supremo [unction and performs 0 the race. This argument needs moduli if it is to bo consistent, because the iicing radical processes of change. The rt of the supervision of industry in the IOac.h household produced most of tlie inch of the supervision of home producNow we have passed from tlio system em and Industrial supervision has gone verslght. If woman had the fundamenlir: ( ting labor and determining its norarrled on largely in the home, then she n that service while our present factory 1 the economic and social order is in a . , . .1 ...I .r> mill' IS"IHS .mil 'VI,I'll us and limitations, then wo can more re. es and the inese $ r F. H. Kinz \ statistics putdishrd In 1U08, Japan has exclusive of Formosa and Karafuto, a iI'.O and the area of Its cultivated fields ' s. This Is 2,277 jK'??[do to the Bquare i so there are also maintained 2,600,000 arly all of which are la/></rlns; animals, ?f 112 people and seven horses and catros of cultivated field, a condition surma our most fully occupied forty-acre us stop and do Rome thinking. to hold his plough (old my Interpreter and that ho owned and was cultivating id one-half acres, and that bosides his ii ually feci two plus. This la at the s ?nd 3? r Iga on a forty-aero farm, and 2T.C cov.- . 25C donkoyB and D121 swine I I r<0ra2SH5H5HS2J5H5HSE5B5HJ5r? [THE MAN' |! By EFFIE ADE (U k . <N c;c^3 c-p rV-, ^L, Asssas; CHAPTER VI. 5 Continued. "Oh, she told yon that, did she? he asked, looking; up at her in a cur ious way. "So that was the lie shi blinded you with! Oh, she's clever is Dorothy Knebwell, very clever, bu she'll find her match some day. Then, with a different accent in hi voice, ho wont on- "Put vor imrHi away; It don't hold so much, I guess that you can give money to others I slia'n't forget you, neither. A felle don't run agin many like you ever; day." Enid slipped her purse back inti her pocket. Her ears were painei by the words he had spoken abou Dorothy, and with all her usual truth lumens sue oroacnea tnis subject. "lias ray cousin done you soim wrong, that you abuse her as yoi do?" she said, hurriedly, and a llttl< timidly. He just smiled a faint, unpieasan Bmile. "Don't ask no questions, miss, am you won't hear no nasty stories. 1 ain't for you; you're one of them a goes straight and honest?you don' understand lies and wickedness. Wi shall meet again, miss, and I'll no forget what you thought of me. I'l not forget." Enid bent her head and move* away. September came in with a continu ation of the splendid weather that ha< done nil in its power to recompense for the changeable, unsatisfactor: summer that had visited the earlie months of the year. Out on th< moors the sportsman, freed fron tranimel and care, forgot, his dail; town existence, and trudged valiantl; after the birds, breathing in a ston of sweet, fresh air to strengthen hi lungs for the late autumn mists am fogs. livery seaside place wa crammed, and round about Londoi the river resorts and small farm houses still held a goodly company o health rather than pleasure seekers. Close to a lock in one of the pret tiest parts of the upper Thames then was a tiny, old-fashioned cottage rustic in its exterior, yet replete will every comfort and luxury within. I bachelor had furnished it. and j danty nest it was, a casket worthy In its way, of any gem. The owner tired of the serene beauty of th< river, sought other scenes, and pu up his cottage bungalow for hire It was at once taken, and thither after sending down servants an< making everything more charming if possible, than before, did Gervais Lord Derriman, bring his young wifi a week after their marriage. The wedding had been as quiet a the most rigid upholder of etiquetti could have wished, no one being pres ent save Lady Derriman and a secotx cousin of Dorothy's, the present hold | er of the title, Sir George Knebwell She had gone to the altar in a simph cotton gown, and no two .peoph started 011 their new life with deepe prayers for future happiness thai was breathed for them by Gervais mother. A halcyon time followed. Doroth; declared again and again that, she wa in a paradise with which there wa no compare. Her love for her hus band was still the same blind, ex traordinary passion, while his for lie was deepning into that tenderness that sweet protection that is mor lasting than the truest affection. "(ierVais, I think 1 shall go for etxs.ll " "' ? -l-l-l-i'-- * L,uu>i, mir mini, miit'KiiUK ner pvo from the sun with a small, whit hand. "I will go and inquire for tha poor child we saw run over the othe day." "I will corno with you," was th answer, and away went the newspape at once. Hut Dorothy shook her head. "No, no!" she cried, with a lang that somehow was scarcely easy <> musical; "you must work; rememhe those letters you said were so im portant! I shall not lie an hour, an we ran spend all the afternoon on th river; so, my lord, be industrious fo once' I hid you au rovoir!" And, waving her hand, Doroth went through the window, calling t her maid to bring her a shady ha! parasol and gloves, <*ind, tlni equipped, she blew a kiss to her hand some husband, and walked awaj with all her proud, graceful hearing. Her way lay through a most pi< turesmie nud ovfinlcit/. ?iit <>f i... but Dorothy had no eyes for kcpikmm the sight of her lovely face in th mirror was enough for her, and s< deep in her thoughts, she walked o and on, never heeding which way sh had taken till she found herself alon in a lane bordered on each side b trees tinged with autumn's decayin touch, and came to the conclnsio that she must bo a good two mile from her cottage home. She looked around her, and at fir? could discover no one or no thim ' till suddenly a coil of blue smok lifted itself above the trees, and ino\ ini; toward It, she saw a tiny work man's but, with the door wide opoi The stop was snow-white, and on till stop a baby child was playing?small tot, with hair of curly brown. Dorothy was drawing her daint pkirts away from the contaminatln touch of the baby when suddenly I wr-x:T*t) ' ' ' ' :<Vv' " "' iasHsasHsasasEsasasasHSEss^ SHE LOfED] I n] LAIDE ROWLANDS. 11 <L ^ lSHSHSHSaSa5H5H5HSa5H5HSa;!lJ> lifted Its head and gazed at her wim Its great blue eyeB. She stood still ? und looked down at It, her gaze riveted on the Bmall, tanned face with those glorious orbs and the mark of a " ccar just across the left brow. Tho color had fled from her own cheeks, ? her lips were pale, and as the sound of steps approaching from Inside S rnof'n ti rl l > -VMV.1VU , ??^uvuc luimiiB, ?uu e pimply extending her small gloved ' hand toward the baby on the ground, k phe asked, In a strange, far distant r voice, forgetting what her real quesy lion should have been, forgetting all In the sudden rush of terrible dread J and alarm that came over her: "That child IT* pretty. Can you tell 1 me whose it Is?" There was no answer from the newcomer; and, as if drawn by some 5 powerful magnetic influence, Doroth> 1 turned round. As ner eyes rested on E' the man leaning against the doorway, i sneer on his pale lips and a look of triumnh written over bis rnHmmit beautiful face, she drew hack involuntarily and shivered with ague. The man stood gazing at her foi s several seconds; then lifting his left 1 irm?the right was suspended around t! Ills nock in a sling?he pointed to tho j I baby, who was once more playing ' with its sticks and stones; heedless I end ignorant of the drama being en' | iicted above its pretty little head. "So you trace a likeness, do you, I " f.adv Derrtman? Well, it ain't i ! strange; she's the very spit of me, : ain i snev one would think a mothe? I ^ i needn't have asked that question; but j r eince you have, I will answer it. That l' j ;hild is called Barbara Laxon, and she 1 belongs to you and me!" Y i CH.\I'TKK VII. 0 Her Slianu*. ? Dorothy, Lady Derriman, stood like 1 ! a woman turned to stone. Her fare ? I was ghastly pale, and her eyes fixed i I before her, while one hand clutched - ] at a post of the door for support, f i The man stood opposite, watching hei with a smile on his lips, a nasty, un pleasant smile that was like that ol ? *n animal waiting ready to spring on , I its prey at the first opportunity. i Two minutes ticked slowly by, and ^ ! the old clock hung just inside the i door sounded ponderously in theli , ears; Dorothy noticed in a strange, , , vacant way that the larger hand was a ; oroken and pointed in a jagged condit | :ion to the figures. "Well," he broke the silence al I , | last; "have you nothing to say?" 1 She lifted one hand and loosened . the lace at her throat; then speech , came. e "You?you said she was dead," sht answered, her clear, bell-like tone? s ; liusky and thick. ) b I "I say many queer things"?he - I shrugged his shoulders and leaned 1 i negligently against the door?"but 1 - - like to see people pleased. I ain't on* . | :o disappoint folk, and so as you a | wished her dead 1 took pains to Id b you think you'd got yer wish, that"? r all." Dorothy's slender fingers closed spasmodically round the rough wood Df the post. She shuddered as lie y :eased, and a few words broke from s lier pallid lips. s "Oh, Heaven! what am I to do?** "Ah! I've got you now, hav n't I? - j Vou see what it is to defy (leorro ' l.axon in a hurry. Why didn't you , , Jo as 1 asked you that morning wo e I met in the woods? You remember j lhe morning of the day your father? n . ilied." s | He paused just an instant before ho sain mi- last word, aim uorottiy sliivt ercd again. There was something r sinister in It is manner, but her whole brain and mind were fixed on the hor< ilile problem of the moment, her misr fry intensified as the instants passed. "Not dead!" she said once to herself, in the same husky voice; "not h dead! What shafl I do7" r The man only laughed in answer to r this. He took out a pipe and filled it i- slowly, while the child put out its t! dirty little hands and grasped Dor( othy'a lace sunshade, uttering little r -ounds of delight as it played with the flittering handle. % As the man saw what the bahv was ii loinir lie Ktrumi'fl nuil millm* ?v>.. o.... t, \ rfhnrie away. s | "Such tilings ain't for you, alI though your mother?" Ho stopped. Dorothy put her hand on his arm. "Hush, hush!" she said, in low, terrified tones. "Don't?" He shook her hand off roughly, e j "My tongue is iny own; 1 shall >, dpeak when I like!" n She understood him, and stood e j half paralyzed. e j "I am ruined!" she said, slowly, to v , herself. "Ruined! It is horrlhlp' i? g is horrible!" n He put her sunshade in a clean a corner, and lighted his pipe carefully. It seemed to give him intense satisit I faction t<i watch her agony of mind. r( . "You don't hold your head so high e | now, my lady, do you?" he said, after - I one or two puffs at his pipe. "Now, why wouldn't you be reasonable that i. j day? Things would have been much s ; better as 1 wanted than as they aro a now. I was straight and to the point. I offered to do the best thing 1 could, y Make an honest woman?" i; lie did not finish his sentence, for It Dorothy seemed to wake from he*' , - - ma tv> < p " ' ' ' J lethargy, and at his culminating in* nult reared herself up In all her beauty, and faced him. "How dare you? Coward, cruel, vile coward that you are! After all the wrong you did me, have you no fear? Take care! Bigamy is not a nice word, and so surely as you hunt me down, I will drag you down, too. Then which will come out the worst, the man who deliberately plotted and worked against a foolish, vain child? for I was no more than a child when ?when I became, as I thought, your wife, or the victim of your sin? How wrmlri nil tilmlfiprnhlo Una vnn me bear the light of day? Come, answer; am I not right when I tell you to beware how you try to ruin me?" He looked at her In sullen admiration. "You were always a handsome girl, Dolly," he Bald, after a pause; "but on my life, you're perfectly beautiful now, I begin to think I like you a.8 well as ever I did!" She drew back with a shudder, and her face grew a shade paler. "George! George! don't torture me! Tell me what you mean to do! Let me know the worst?yes, the very worst?or you will drive rno mad! Do you want money? Well, I have plenty; I will give you what you want! Can I say more?" "Money ain't everything," George Laxon answered stolidly, but his deep-blue eyes flashed for a moment. Dorothv drew n sham hronth faculties were slowly coming back to her. She saw that he had taken the bait, but. she was too clever to let him see that she understood his drift. As she sat there, facing this handsome, common, vulgar man, she loathed herself for the folly, the madness that had seized her when sho was just grown to budding girlhood, the madness that made her forget all pride and modesty; and plan?with a cleverness worthy of a better cause ?and arrange so that she left her convent school ostensibly to Intn hor home, but In reality to fly to this mr.n whose fancy had been pricked by her young beauty and who, hearing that sho was a great heiress, never hesitated to pour forth long stories of ill luck, which, coupled with i:is extraordinary beauty had won him the girl's passionate heart before he could have begun to hope. It was a strange story. George I,axon, for reasons of his own, though he had a plausible excuse ready for Dorothy, refused to let their marriage be known to Sir Robert immediately; he took the girl into the heart of the French capital and there kept her quietly hidden while her father thought of her as safe in her convent school and the superior imagined her back in the world, mistress of Knebwell Hall. It was not long before Dorothy I found her mistake. She had loved in the same wild, unreasonable way as she now loved Gervais, but it could not last. The dingy life, the sense oi something she did not quite understand, all turned her into the cold, heartless, selfish girl whose indifference hud given Enid so much unhappiness, and who might, had she had softening influences, have been something altogether better. Still no thought of shame came to her as she sat day after day, wearily waiting for her child to be born. Vulgar scoundrel, ne'er-do-well as he was, she never dreamed but that George Laxon was in truth her husband, till her eyes were suddenly opened, and such a tumult of degradation, horror and hatred filled her breast as she herself was hardly conscious of. The poor creature whom Laxon had . wjnuv mrt wiie nve years previously, who through his had treatment had ' fallen into a rapid decline and for whose death he was waiting before ho took Dorothy back boldly to Knebwell Hall, found her way to the room in which the beautiful, proud girl had lived during the past wretched months, and where just three weeks ] before she had become a mother. Even when she was alone and secure, Dorothy could not endure to recall what followed. She had frightened the poor soul away by her passion, and when George Laxon cama in later she turned on him more liko a mad woman than a young, highly I uicu Kin wnose uencate beauty was | alike the admiration and the curiosity of the quarter in which they lived. She declared that she should return at once to her father, and knowing the hold he had upon her, Laxon was only too relieved to let her go; It served his purpose to get rid of her for a time, and he was keenly, alive to the fact that if he resorted to violence and detained her by force Dorothy would rouse such a commotion as would bring him into trouble and spoil bis chance of becoming her real husband and living in luxury. With cold, trembling hands the girl had prepared for her instant departure. Her passion was still at fever heat, and when In an unhappy moment Laxon called her attention o the child, holding it forward for ler to caress before she parted from It, Dorothy with mad, blind rage >ushed him aside, and as he Btaggered jack the baby slipped from his hold, 'oii hoouiiu ?? ~ - ......I.; UM mu irunwoni or U1Q Ded, uttered one feeble cry and then ,ay insensible. With all his innate badness, Georgo Laxon was not a cruel man; and as ho aeheld Dorothy go hurriedly from Jhr room without a second thought to her child?whom for aught sh-i knew she might have killed?he realized that there was something stronger in her nature to grapple with beyond lite excitement, anger and despair at u girl. So it was that Dorothy went back to her father's house and took bet place, as we first met her, the goner* ally admired and much-emled hcircB* of Knebwell Hall. ^ To be Cootluued. * \