The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, April 24, 1895, Image 6
CRUEL
THE GRAVE:
- 0?'
The Secret of Dunraver
Castle.
? BY ANNIE ASHMORE,
SLnthor of "Faithful Margaret*" Etc., Etc
r- CHAPTER XV?{Continued.)
For this time they separated: for Ed
gar saw that Inchcapo's heart was lull
and that he longed to begin the readins
Of Lady Inchcape's story; and he hopet
tnnoVi from his lnrrishin's softened mood.
It had lain very close to Edgar's bear
to speak of Ulva during the whole ol
the Interview; hut hoDor forbade thai
he should obtrude any personal interest
before he had pleaded, like a true knight,
his liege lady's cause.
He soon left Inchcape Fosse to visit
Ihe Crecys; he remembered in Ladj
Inchcape's story how loyal one of th?
Three Graces had been to her, namel]
Alice; and he wanted now to hear Alice
Crecy's account of Accrington's doings
In Salford. '
As he expected, he fonnd her alone
for it was not noon yet, and the hunters
bad not returned. Squire Crecy anc
Auberon had gone with the rest.
Edgar Arden was a favorite with th?
*entle Mrs. Crecy; she respected him
for his own sake, and loved him because
Auberon did so.
He narrated the adventure of the loss
pf the Merpauser, and his escape witfc
his crew upon a sterile islet in the northfern
seas; but he gave no hint of the
Siscoveries he had made there, but having
satisfied her curiosity about himself,
l?d her on to talk about the events
Which had transpired in Salford during
his absence.
She soon mentioned the advent of Ac;
Winston, and he detected the delicate
khade of restraint in her manner which
thowed how little she liked the brilliant
H-attache and pseudo-representative of
Balford.
"Your fr!ends have been quite fretted
nbout your absence, Mr. Arden," she
laid. Hi confess to a strong desire for
four election, and Colonel Accrington's
Uefeat He is a dangerous man, and, 1
obliged to say, an unscrupulous
toe."
Her agitated demeanor riveted EdJar's
attention: by a little questioning he
rew from her a delicate account of the
Utuation Between Accringion ana miss
pellamere; and the grievous anxiety of
both Mrs. Dallamere and herself about
the issue.
"The dear girl is so utterly innocent
that he dares to employ his wellbractjced
art of fascination without fear
W detection," said Mrs. Crecy. "Mrs.
Dellamere is warmly opposed to any such
Alliance, and t^as emphatically told him
lo; and yet ho presumes to make opportunities
of meeting Loveday, and interesting
her in his own patheth: history, as
?he imagines his ugly past to be. I can
ftot endure the idea of his carrying off
lear, guileless Loveday Dellamere."
MHe must not be permitted any such
triumph," cried Edgar, boiling over witb
Indignation as he thought of Engelonde
inchcape pining in far Sleat-na-VreckeD
through this man's lawless love; while he
was pursuing a fresh love with all the old
flelight.
"I, too, confess to a special antagonism
toward Colonel Accrington, and am re
lolved to balk h:m in several or nis dellres.
Is Miss Dellameie much fascinated
by him?"
Mrs. Crecy searched his rountenar.ee
earnestly. "I fear it; he has been peculiarly
adroit in his manner with her.
He has gradually disarmed her first instinctive
distrust of him?she believes
In his sincerity now. Mr. Arden, I can
lee that you k..ow something concerning
that evil man. and I implore you to use
jjiat knowledge on behalf of Miss Dellamere."
"In a few days I shall probably be In
? position to confide all I know to you,"
aid he, and then changed the subject
He was not ready to confide anything
he knew about Lady Inchcape, even to
her loyal friend, Mrs. Crecy. until Sirtombe
had made his confession.
After lunch, Mrs. Dellamere drove
*ver to Dorimant to assist Mrs. Crecy in
Entertaining the hunters as they stras{led
back, for there was to be a hunt
inner, and a dance afterward. She
?pas deliphted to see Edgar Arden back
frgain; she was now completely disentbanted
with Rh hard Accrington, feared
knri loathnd his annroaches toherdanch
$er, ai.d felt inclined to welcome a stout
antagonist like Arden, who might give
Axcrington something else to do than to
tnake love to ladies.
/ From those two, Mrs. Dellamere and
ilrs. Crecy, Edgar gleaned almost all
Ihe Incomings and outgoings of Colonel
Acerington since he came to Salford,
and felt ready to confront him.
The hunters began to drop In oy twos
and threes. Edgar waited on to see
Loveday a:;d Auberon. Pretty early in
the afternoon Merrion Rae came home,
and with blanched face begged Mrs. Dellamere
to go with her to her room.
There she broke the ill news that
Colonel Accrington had gone off riding'
alone with Loveday: that Auberon had
gone in pursuit, and that she had
Hastened home to the Pavilion, to sei
whether Loveday had returned, as she
had said she would.
Mrs. Dellamvre listened to tbe end
rith ghastly looks which quickened the
humbled girl's apprehensions
"And where was Auberon Crecy, that
my daughter was left to the will of my
enemy?" demanded Mrs. Dellamere,
bitterly; "1 put her in his sacred charge
for the day; I thought he was trustworthy,
atscr tbey were oTd-trme playmates.
"
"Blame no one but me," said Merrion,
giving way to passionate self-reproach.
My vanity made me Colonel Accrinpton's
dupe. He beeped me to arrange
for him a short interview with Loved&y,
assuring me that Auberon?that Auberon?I
will speak out; I deserve this
thame?preferred me to any woman. "
She covered her burning face with her
iands, and wept convulsively; and Mrs.
Dellamere curbed her own emotion
enough to draw her to her bosom; and
whisper sweetest thanks for her Belflacriiicirtg
confession.
"Dear eirl. vou are not to blame." she
eaiu. -wiiat are we pour simpie-neariefl
women in the hands of a sjiecious misAWAnni
1-AnPt IC fV>Ot VlO PQT> 11 CCk oil
jtiraut tvaci V?1J ?*^W W??
mankind through their weaknesses?
And my beautiful Merrion has her heartache,
too! No, no, my child, there is
Siothing to be ashamed of; there are
few true-hearted women who have not
loved."
"But have they loved unsought?"
sobbed M&rrion.
"You are, 1 think, mistaken in that,
said Mrs. Dellainere, generously hiding
iier keen disappointment. fcI have
fancied many times of la:e that Auberon
Joved you. He does not love my poor
Xoveday, I am sure of that"
i-"You did aot see hua as I 8aw.him
' ' ??
when tirsl we missed"" "Lovfeday and T1
Colonel," said Merrion, despairingl
"Such grief and self-reproach I nev
saw on human face."
"He was distressed because he hi
not been true to his trust," suggest
Mrs. Dellamere, though her hopes ros
Ah, madam, simple chagrin nev
Wi)re such an aspect!" moaned Merrio
"He said he would nevdr return witho
f her?or Accrington: love and jealou
breathed in every accent Ay, ai
they are worthy of each other!" cri<
she, nobly: u and if ho loves her, I w
pray heaven that she may love him!"
[ "Great heart!" murmured Mrs. P<
lamere, with emotion. And she pressi
one of her rare kisses upon Merrior
brow.
It was agreed between them th
nothing was to be said about their an:
etv. and they appeared at the hunt di
ner with not a cloud on their serenity.
Accrington had not been seen at tl
i hunt, so that the continued absence
Miss Dellamere and Auberon Crec
though gayly observed, was not coi
nected with his name.
As time wore on, Mrs. Crecy's anxie
. about the absence of Auberon obligi
Mrs. Dellamere to contide the matter
her, when her apprehensions rose
such a pitch that Edj?ar perceived h
misery, and connected it with the then
of their late conversation.
Fearing the worst from Richard A
crlcgton, he got the two ladies apart fi
a moment, and implored them to mat
him of use if Miss Dellamere's safe
was in question.
The terrified ladies looked' beseec'
lngly at each other; should they tru
him? oh, yes, yes ? If truth lived c
earth, surely it lived in E'dear Arde
and, too, did he not possess a mystenoi
power over the enemy?
So they confied all to him, and the r
suit was that be started off with a fres
horse to aid Auberon Crecy.
All this time the honest squire hs
been kept in ignorance of the troubl
I lor bis place wa> obligatory at me nea
i of the table, and be could not have di
, gulfed bis uneasiness for a moment.
It was trying to see hi? big, beamic
i eyes traveling round and round tt
i table every few minutes in search of tt
fairy Loveday and his idolized Auberoi
i but he was tlow of speech, and Mr
Dellamere was always ready with a sail
in time to repres-his loud inquiries,
i Then came tbe dance, and then indee
the bright queen of joy was missed; bt
some subtle spirit set a hint circulatin
that Mamma Dellamere did not care t
commonize her daughter by grantin
the same company two appearances i
one day: so that little Loveday was vor
likely at home, dressed in girlish can
brie and romping with her dog, instea
of monopolizing all the eligible partner;
and though the gentlemen might mui
mur against madam's policy, the ladic
approved her.maternal terderness; an
made the best of Loveday's absence.
But where was Auberon Crecy?' Tha
was the next query.
"You know that Edgar Arden Is n
turned?" said Merrion Kae, very impre<
sively.
"Ye?, wa< he not at dinner? Wha
then?"
"Depend upon it, he has carried Ai
beron Crecy off with him for a chat: vo
know they always were wonderfu
friends. Oh, we sha'n't see Auberoi
Crecy here this evening; it is not ever
day that an adored friend comes home.
So that explanation was accepted al9c
and busy rumor had nothing as yet t
insinuate concerning Miss Dellamere1
affairs.
The hunt dance ended, Dorimant wa
left to repose; ana still Auberon haa no
returned.
Mrs. Dellamere went homo to the Pa
vilion, hoping against hope that sh
might find Loveday there; but n? on
greeted her save her own sleepy maid
whom she hastily sent to bed before sh
could observe that Miss Dellamere wa
not with her mother.
And then the unhappy lady drew he
cashmeres about her again, and stol<
outside to endure her wild terror alone
Richard Aecrington had taken his re
renge on her for her early sin. Alas
he had known where to strike to wounc
her mortally.
Laura Dellamere's proud head bowei
under the blow; her heart bled for he:
sweet child: something of the fell spiri
of Accrington was revealed to her, sh<
knew him now, merciless, vindictive
Satanic; ar.d this man held her darlinf
Loveday at his mercy!
The night was cold and bleak, the av
enue where she l??.d paced was whit<
Xith the hail that had fallen a fewhoun
' earlier; a pining and bitter wind moaned
tLroueh the trees.
She felt no cold; like a spirit she loit
ered in the llmo walk, weeping, praying
listening with strained ear, agonizinf
with breaking heart?a mother bereavec
of her child.
And in that dark hour of sorrow tl>#
recollection of Engelonde lncl
ed upon her with a new reverafiffn-of hei
brief story.
~Alice C'recy had always believed her a
guiltless wife, defamed by Richard Accrington
in revenge; while she had condemned
her through a lurking sentiment
in favor of Accrington.
And now her own innocent Loveday
bad fallen into his power; and of what
avail had her innocence been to preserve
her from him?
He had craftily involved her in circumstames
which would fatally compromise
her, even as Engelonde Inchcaj.e
had been compromised?and the
world would be as ready to condemn hex
darling as she had been to condemn the
other.
"I may have wronged her all these
years!" mourned Mrs. Dellamere; "yes,
let me confess it before Heaven, I be,
lieve through cruel jealousy I have
wronged the innocent Merciful God,
punish me, but not through my child'
Take life, riches, ay, even my reason,
but spare my guiltless child!"
She sank on her knees on the road:
her heart was bowed down within her;
the worldly, brilliant woman prayed.
Even as she knelt, the sound of approaching
wheels reached her?stopped
at the gate?entered. With a stifled
shriek she flew toward the midnight visitors,
but even then the instinct to conrea.1
the dread she had endured for hei
naughter'9 sake drageea ner Dick and
wnt her the other way.
When the strangers halted at th?
door, a crim=on silk curtain was lifted
from the parlor window, and a cheerfu)
Btream of light illumined the faces ol
Col. Accrlngton, Auberon Crecy and th?
farmer's lad who had driven them.
Mrs. Dellaraere. drew back from th?
window with one last throe of anguish.
"He is here, but where is my daughter'
Has he married her already?"
thought she. But she appeared at th?
door with a composed mien.
Auberon clasped her hand9; his eye?
were flashing with joy.
"She is safe at Farmer Grover's
house," said he: "there was an accident,
and she was exhausted, though unhurti
mo hAfh r>amA toll mil n
iipt .Accjiiigtpn was in one of his
daflci silenl f'ages; lie deigned no fn
formation.
"And this lad?does he retnrn hom<
to-night?" indicating the gapiug farm'
er's boy.
Auberon had arranged that he should
obtain refreshment for himself and hil
horse at Dorimant, and return immediately,
bearing any message Mrs.
Dellamere might wish to send Mist
Dellamere.
He dispatchcd him to Dorimant then,
promising to bring him the messagi
80?fl, ? -
' k. .V.W V .
he ~ The three were* left inthevertlbulei
y. Mrs. Dellamere wotild not ask Col. Ae
er criDgton inside her door. The brighl
lamplight from the window ?hone ful1
id upon his lowering face. Mrs. Deliaed
mere turned on him with a commanding
ie. gesture. v
GI "Speak, CoL Accrlngton; I presume
n- yon are here to do so. And pray bi
concise, for this 13 the last time Mrs.
R5 Dellamere shall have the honor of an inid
terview with Col. Accrington."
Her withering tones roused him.
M* "Madam," said he, quietly, "I an
here to say that unle9S a marriage fol>
lows the imprudence committed to-day,
Miss Dellamexe's innocent name will b<
i'S
fhe prey of every foul'mouth in Salford
I shall marry her."
. "Never! never!" ejaculated Mrs. Del"
lamere, growing pale as death; "yoi
n" I have doubtless played the game verj
, adroitly, and will have a rich revenga
I If defeated; still I shall defeat you. il
0 It be as you say, that you have pat mj
daughter's name in every foul mouth ii
a" 8alford, I shall take her far from England
and begin a new life. The gray/
^ were preferable to a union with you."
"Think, fair friend; marriage wil
1 save her," said Accrington, softly; "an
you right to sentence your innocent
el daughter to be infamously slandered, U
a6 the breaking of her heart and the ruli
of her prospects "
c' "Ah, have mercyl" gasped the un
ur hjuuay mother." covering her ears witl
t5 her "hands. "What- demon Inspires thfl
man, that he can play on human heart)
h. strings whatever tune he in his wicked
s, ness desires? My daughter! my sun
)Q bright Loveday. scorned and shamed
n her spirits crushed?her heart broken
J oh, my God, is there no way to save h J
but this wayl"
g. She wrung her hands and wept, and
;jj Accrington, leaning in the easiest attl
tude, drank in her despair with exultinf
L(j joy. He thought he had vanquished th<
e. mother; and in his elation he felt quitr
L(j strong enough to vanquish the daughter
jj, in turn.
Auboron suddenly spoke.
lg "I have waited to hear Colonel Ao
ie crington's apologies for the distress hi
l0 has caused two helpless ladies; and hii
v assurances that no harm has been done
s' I hear, Instead, a threat that Miss Delia
ly mere shall be defamed if she does not
marry him. Marriage will save her, yoi
l(j are quite sure of that, sir?"
[t Accrington bowed low and mockingly.
? Auberon took Mrs. Dellamere's cold ant
^ trembling hand, and caressed it betweei
? his own warm nervous ones.
n "Then marriage shall save her!" criel
? he, flushing up, and fixing his sparklini
eyes beseechinghly upon Mrs. Delia
d mere, while the thrill from his owi
y heart tingled through his hands inti
.! hers, and crept along all her veins liki
|3 new life. "Marriage shall save her; bui
'd I shall be the bridegroom, if you, dear
est madam, will consent Dear Mrs
^ Dellamere, let me marry Loveday.
beseech you, say yes!"
^ ~xou, my Doy;~ wnispereu rara.
j, mere, gazing at him almost wildly, whiU
Accrington sprang erect with a fierc?
I air. "But is not this pity? a generoui
pity, which yet fills me with humilia
tion!"
"Pity!" echoed Auberon, hot'y, "wh<
j shall dare pity Loveday! I assure you
j Mrs. DeHamere, that as circumstances
y have fallen out, Loveday is in no dan
? ger, not the slightest, as you will see foj
,. yourself when you have heard all. ]
1 love her, and she loves me?"
3 "Ha!" snarled Accrincton, looking ai
if he would spring upon him. "Yoi
, take much for granted, my modest boy.'
j "Colonel Accrington. to snare jou ani
further trouble in this matter, which ha/
ceased to concern you, I shall explaii
e that Miss Dellamerc and I have plightei
e our troth to each other, subject to Mr3
Dellamere's approbation," said Auberon,
e proudly.
s And without waiting to watch the tor
tured face of his vanquished rival, ai
i the truth struck home, he bent his curl]
s head and received Mrs. Dellamere's fer
vent kiss upon his brow, then caugh:
her in his arms as she sank under thi
j wild revulsion of feeling.
j As he tore her into the hall he saw Ao
crington striding away in the darknes
j as if swept by the storra.
r
t CHAPTER XVI.
3 EDGAR APPEALS l.V VAIN.
Edgar Arden returned from a vail
' nnnct. frnm \f iss Tlfillnmerft. with a Bnen'
horse and the assurance that no runa
way couple had left by any of the neigh
3 boring railway stations.
j He found a note from Mrs. Dellamen
' conveying the welcome news that het
daughter was safe, and the earnest re
quest that he would coine to her tha'
> day, as she wished to consult him upoi
> a painful subject.
1 "Richard Accrington aeain," thought
Edgar, with rising wrath. "Beware,
1 Sir Diplomatist, that you do not go tor
far, for I may feel obliged to unmasl
' yon."
Having rested and refreshed himself.
Edgar inquired where he might find Lord
Inchi ape. He was conducted to a roou
which went by the name of "My Lady'l
' Chamber;" he bad been told long ag(
that Lord Inchcape's beautiful second
r wife had arranged it according to hei
1 own taste, and had loved It in her time:
1 also, that Lord Inchcape had never entered
it since he lost her.
Signing the servant to leave him at
the door, Edgar knocked and spoke, thai
my lord might know his visitor in timi
1 to receive or refuse him, as he desired.
"Come in, Edgar, I want you," called
' the earl, and Edgar entered, and found
both his hands instantly grasped by Lord
t Inchcape, whose appearance Indicated
that he had been np all night. The tablt
was covered with papers; a burned-oat
Alio suiuiuui cu in iuu ^latu,
"I have read her story," said my lord,
"aDd I pray God for proof of its truth.
1 To win back the love of such a heartis
she not a sweet soul? And if she did
for a single moment falter in her loyalty
"
"Then you do not believe her?" exclaimed
Edgar, in grieved surprise; "you
think she deceived you?"
"No, no!" cried Inchcape, emphatically:
"but she has deceived herself. She
is now all my own; and she never was
unfaithful in look or word?she has fori
gotten her heart- There must have
been some hope held out for Accrinston,
unconsciously given, perhaps, but he understood
it, and sold his honor through
that hope. Sweet soul! I have been
harsh to her as fire to a butterfly; I
Bhould have remembered the disparity in
our ages, and not expected a perfect
love."
"Alas, my lord! you never wronged
her more than you wronz her now," said
Edgar, with heartfelt fervor; "yet how
can I prove it? If you will not be ieve
her. whom will you believe? Not even
Sircombe's testimony, from which I
hound so much, will convince you."
"That is a different matter," said my
, lord, eagerly. "I could believe the testimony
of a disinterested person, when
it is an impossibility for this stubborn
heart of mine to believe altogether the
emotional outpourings of an exquisite
spirit like my Engelondo's, after the
I cruel sufferings which she ha< patiently
endured for my sake. She believes what
she has writt-n, because it describes the
I state of her heart now; but?oh, that I
I could believe!"
The last words burst from him like a
wail; he turned from his young kinsman
and gazed with unseeing eyes from a
window.
i.dear's youthful ant?er died as he observed
the haughty noble. The storm of
misfortune syhich h>d j>as*ed pvei him
'iv f 1
V'... ./ i. ' '
had wrought'such ft revolution in his
nature as only the afflicted know.
The spring of his mind was broken; no
longer could he hope or love or trust at
will. The cruel whisper of a sad experience
was ever at his ear reminding
him that he had been betrayed.
Edgar saw that, although Lady Inchcape's
story had moved him to the
depths of his heart, she had not yet
gained the victory; proof was needed.
He counted the hour9 to Sircombe's arrival.
He remained for some time with the
Earl, and his whole talk was of Sleatna-Vrecken.
Lord Inchcape listened
like one spell-bound, saying little, but
never suffering the subject to be
changed.
Ulva was spoken of, but as a child,
for her father had not seen her for two
years, and manlike, pictured her as he
had last seen her, without taking note
-v 9 At ?n>A A*
<J1 tILUO. ?iU^ai ftutfcrueu tuo OVTCCU
6ocret of his own iove loyally; for he
was too highminded to utter his hopes
to Lord Inchcape at a time when he was ~
him under such dees obligations^
"Wait," he thought, proudly; "when
he is happily reunited to his beautiful Jl
young wife, he may give me Ulva of his "
own free will, but this ig not the time to ^
crave such a favor." - ai
That afternoon Edgar rode over to ai
Co'onal Accrington'i new purchase, ta
Castle Skeltjfaik. He was astonished at the
evideaeos of unbounded wealth
which met him at every turn; he recognized
the strength of his opponent more p
fully, aud his hopes of a compromise
sank.
A candidate with so much money at
command, could afford to laugh at his
forbearance?truly, it seemed as If he .
could get on without it f
But he pushed forward with a grim b1
resolution to stand to his guns. m
Enquiring for the Colonel, he was In- bi
formed by the gentlemanly footman
that his master was in his library, en- tt
gaged with his agent ^
"But he will 6eo you, Mr. Arden,"
prophesied Hardy reverentially. "Just
step in here one moment while I send
in." And he led the singular visitor into h<
a superbly designed and arranged re- ~~
ception room, and backed out, bursting
with curiosity as to the secret of this
visit of the rival candidate.
in a very lew minutes . _ ,
ton himself appeared, calm, courteous <
and inscrutable, and greeted Mr. Arden i"
without offering his hand (which he perhaps
feared might be rejected).
Edgar Arden and Richard Accrington f
had met several times in the course of
their lives, but in such fashion that they
had never chanced to make each other'9 ?
personal acquaintance; they knew all
about each other, and possessed many th
mutual friends. \ p]
The present meeting was, therefore ar
easy and dignified; and the Colonel made Be
his political opponent very welcome to m,
his own houf-e, referring with graceful
raillery to the professional rivalry be- P*
tween them. m
"You find me up to the eyes In elec- w,
tloneering business, and quite resolved to
rout the enemy," said he, laughing; "or
If that be impossible, as I dare say it Is,
to give him a hard fight for his victory."
"I am quite sure I 6hould find Col. Ao
j crington a foeman worthy of my steel, if
j I intended to dispute the field with
j him," replied Edgar; and his tone and ?
steady gaze convinced Accrington thai
something very personal Indeed was
coming. He resented the young man's
cold manner, and writhed consciously
under his condemning gaze. What! was
every young jackanapes who chose to
sit in judgmont upon him, and treat him !
to mystifications in this high-and-mighty [
ety!e?
"You don't intend to give in without a
tussle sure?" drawled he, putting on hil
delicately in-olent manner.
"Oh, don't do that, Arden; I should
have no plea-ure in the affair if you al;
low me to walk over the course in drears
folitude. But, perhaps I have misunderstood
you; Inchcapo ha>n"t failed you,
has he? I supposed of course that yon
had his support, and, I confess, rathei
dreaied your power. Speak out, sir,
don't be afraid; you have come to ask
me to do something or other, I can se?
that." * 6t(
"I have, indeed," said Edgar briefly; an
"I have come to as yon, as a gentleman
and a soldier, to do an act of justice to. ha
one who has suffered wrongfully for five an
years."
[to bs continued.]
ric
EMICRAN7S BOUND SOUTH. wc
Alabama anil Tennessee Lands lleing Occnpied
by Northern Farmer*. tri
While largo colonies and orgnized bands ^0
of prospectors are going South to seek
home?. Alabama and Tennessee receiving gr
the major portion of tho immigrants, who
come mostly from Kansas and Nebraska, ,
there are two other classes of immigrants C1(
which are worth notice. pll
One is a small army of renters and truck plj
farmers, bound for the plateaus of West
Tennessee. They come from Michigan, the p
southern portion of Wisconsin, and the *c
northern lines of Ohio nnrl Indiana. Their ha
wagons are covered with cloth or muslin. At r,0
one end a stove is erected, which helps 5*
w?rm the family, and on it the food is prepared.
Some bedding and the keepsakes of
tho family complete the load. Sometimes hi
several wagon.? are necessary for the family.
All dav thev drive, sleeping at night in some .
wood or farmer's barnyard. Southern rail- WJ
roads help them on their arrival in the way co
of land purchase, and all are advised to se- tr(
euro onlv small farms and raise truck.
The other class comes from Minnesota P
largely. They are people of some means,
weary of the severe winters and the necessity
for large farming in that section. These people
are all bound for the James River Valley.
Many thousands of acres in that fertile district.
idle since the war, have been cut up by
syndicates into farms, and are sold at reasonable
prices and on the mo?t favorable
terms. Almost every dav parties of five to
ten reach Cincinnati.coing to these lands over
the Chesapeake and Ohio, which is fostering
the boom. While the road favors these new
small farms, it is not financially interested,
its only object being to populate that great 1
valley of bif,* plantations now lying idle. It
is urged that theve is no better location for
truck farming, becau.v of the softness of the
climate and the facilities for reaching the .
(Treat markets ot New York. Washington, I
Philadelphia, Baltimore and Richmond, L.
BISMARCKIAN CHRONOLOGY. ph
an
nfstory of the Iron Chancellor in Brief
Paragraphic Form.
Given in brief paragraphic form. Bis- *rf
niarck's history may be given as follows: ba
131.0, April 1?Bismarck born.
1832?Entered Gottingen. fiif
1833?-Entered University of Berlin.
1835?Admitted to tlie bar. ' ve
1847?Attended first united diet at Berlin as ari
a nobility delegate. an
1849?Urged increased powers for the
1851?Appointed Prussian Ambassador to
the Germanic diet.
1859?Sent to St. Petersburg as Prussian
Ambassador. an
1802?Ambassador at Paris. m?
1862-- Appointed Triine Minister. p
1865 -Promoted to'the rank of Count.
1866?Concluded an alliance with Italy and
declared war against Austria. an
1867- After defeat of Austria was made 8C]
Chancellor. rp.
1870?Met France's declaration of war and
crushed the Empire. fin
1871?Dictated the treaty of Frankfort go
May 10. ^iy which Alsace and part of Lor- ^
raine were ceded to Prussia, including tho ,
indemnity of $1,000,000,000. Promoted to
the rank of l'rince. -ic
1872?Expelled the Jesuits from Frussia.
1890?Resigned the Chancellorship.
18U5, April 1?Eightieth anniversary -of his
birthday celebrated. nil
*
BIGfWEST BATTLESHIP OF
UNITED STATES BATT
When completed the coast-defence tops
ittlesbip Iowa will be the most im- pou:
artant and the biggeBt addition to fire
le United States Navy. She will be i maj
50 feet long, and will be heavily | She
rmed with numerous breech-loading and
id rapid-firing guns. Her one mili- wat<
iry mast will have three "fighting be J
FOR SEASIDE OR MOUNTAIN.
fl
lane For a Cottage Which Will Cost
$1800 to Erect
(Copyright 1895). Kaj
Hundreds of city dwellers of mod- feat
ate means have found it possible to test
lild comfortable homes for the sum- ban
er months away from the heat aad cyli
istle of the crowded streets. of
What could be more homelike than P&P
ie cotiage pictured here, with its ker<
road veranda, its pleasing effect of bur:
>oi construction, viemg in artistic
Dpearanoe with surrounding nature the
jreelf. dari
der
f/f-"J _
' '.^Coop. Boa O'/VG fi AM s4$S<Z BeDS
X crc c rz svy. * men
The cost o! the house, as shown by
ie perspective view and the two floor ^
ans, is $1800, not including mantels
id range, which nre generally
lected after the owner's own taste.
tie estimate is based on New York an(s<
ices xor materials and labor, and in
any sections of the country th9 cost ???
13 -L. i armi
juld be less.
Its general dimensions are: Extreme ftQ(j
idth, 50 feot 6 inohes; depth, includ- 8jQW
g veranda and porch, 48 feet ? thro
ches. .
First story, 9 feet high; second
3ry? 8 feet- then
13 _ _ a vuicnun ^ u
B!dRJ ,w< bicy
_____ 7t* ?el , f,
1 | K of tl
' B#dB- I l -f?-? kaul
0"*' rlW tt?7
IM1 r"3 ?'n'n8 " s
fluff
P?'i0' |2*x ib'o" I She
"""3<>' | ^ | . e?P.e
Veranda P'C^1
7* Wide sh0V
1 T T * has,
First Floor
Thos
Exterior materials: Foundation,
>ne piers; walls of first story, gables
d roof, shingles.
Interior finish: Two coat plaster,
rd white finish. Soft wood flooring
d trim. Staircase ash. Chair rail
kitchen and dining room. All in ior
woodwork finished in hard oil.
These general dimensions and mateds
may be changed, and as to colors
>uld offer as a snggestion: Shingling
first story and gables, pearl gray;
m, including water table, corner
Arris p.ftsincrs. fiornices. bands, etc..
lite ; sashes and shingled roofs, dark
een ; veranda floor and ceiling oiled. 80m
The principal rooms, their sizes,
jsets, etc., are shown by tho floor
ins. No cellar or blinds.v Open fire- ^ene
ace in first story hall, making a rQcej
eerful and attractive room in itself.
irtiere opening between parlor and
11'; servant's bedroom off kitchen; * *
>od sized room for storage in second Ai
>ry. ^ mitij
This design is capable of many feasi- are t
e modifications. Cellar may be put pora
ider whole or portion of the house, wage
th inside and outside entrances and ing <
ncrete floor; bath room could be in- is dr>
sduced in second story with full or menl
rtial set of plumbing; open fire- crue
_? may
\ /\ bodi
** ?'L ' [| bula:
* the c
fl inK
__ Plied
wage
very
,M' biliti
rtPL brati
? ?caJ I"!R1 ? ? POUD
B#dR rl B*s R. bors(
lit X ?-. L? Btr uc
c I r?"? i0'4! ct the g
liics
5?COr,d r I ? r' that
will'*
ices may be introduced in parlor Adve
d dining room ; brick set range may
placed in kitchen.
ThiB design also presents a very attctive
appearance if it is run up a S
If story more, Mansard roof.
Let it be by the seaside or on the . <
>pes of the mountain, with broad V
randa inviting repose; everything
ound is restful ana a man gains rest
d strength in peaceful enjoyment.
I
Dc Castcllanc Scrap Books.
The comments of the newspapers
d periodicals of the country on the
irringe of Miss Anna Gould and
iiint do Castellane, with all the ilitrations
used, have been collected
d made into six handstftae library De
n PuneonimiTnnrPiirftnn 1mn/1
,ap uuvno WJ UX XVOJVli^iU^Ayu&VUUl uuuu
ie books have two hundred pages, the t
cl each is bonnd in morocco with an u
Id stamping. The great variety of tery)
s portraits of the Countess de Castel- mon1
ie is a novel feature of the collec- foiud
,2.?New York Advertiser. boss
? I to sh
Hall of the world's product of qui- | into
ie is used in the United States. j poip<
(i U* ' :r't'
' ' ' ' . ' ' , ' -T ' ODE
NEW NAVfc
\
tury
T TMTTTTi inrrri nln
x^oiiir iinvA. ^ goble
i" of four-inch steel, capable of'
ring *an enormously destructive thai
on the decks of any adversary which
approach to within close quarters. ?*t?
will be propelled by twin sorews, Lon
the engines will be separated by A
er-tight bulkheads. Her cost will 14 lj
53,200,000. J
can
A Sintrular Fire Test. the 1
[ax L. Lane, writing in the Pro- it j,
jsive Thinker, gives the following wak
;a yir t HnH
incuco \Jt ca^oi icuto witu 1U.1C. IStt
nor at Milwaukee, Wis.: "The ,
are of the evening was the 'fire
,' during which Mrs. Kaynor T1
died with impunity a very hot drin
nder, direct from over the flame
a kerosene lamp; also passing two!
er, bank bills, silk and lace band- lies i
ihiefs through the flame without
aing them, although one of the th|'(
tlemen of the committee chosen by wen
audience was well blistered for real
ng to handle the same glass cylinwhich
Mrs. Kaynor had held to
face for over one and a half inhe
utes by the watch, while it was on 8676
burning lamp. A boy of eleven ^
ed his hand confidently in Mrs. nen
nors, and, thus protected, she of 11
ised his hand tightly against the
cylinder for over half a minute, Saci
boy experiencing but a pleasant
lation of warmth. After experi
its witn tne cylinder sue took it oil ?
proceeded to pass her fingers
-ly through the flame, then the 0fa
d, and finally the whole arm np to drln
elbow. Before beginning opera- 68111
s Mrs. Karnor had insisted on jjg"
ig washed in the presenoe of the BU t
ience by some of the committee wet
thoroughly soaped hands and
s, and demonstrated that chemicals ovei
3 not used to proteot her. Paper, ticm
also silk, whioh Mrs. Kaynor had hu8|
'ly held in the flame, and passed
ugh it without injury, were dren
ied upon being tried similarly by less
rs, when Mrs. Kaynor motioned
a to do so." - IS?
m prod
smallest Cyclist In the World. 'y 01
rage
i San Francisco there may be seen shoe
bright day a tiny figure on a tiny
cle, scurrying along the roadways
le park of that city. This is little
rine Devany, who is #he smallest
clist in the world. She is only Trap
e years old, a dear little girl, with sen?
y yellow hair and big blue eyes.
rides a wheel that had to be made t{,is
cially for her, of course, and it Hew
;hs only twelve pounds. The
ire of her which is given here
rs what a roguish little face she y0UD
and what a chubby little sprite won<
is in her blouse and bloomers.
ie who have seen her ride say it is ?Tk?<
'owe<
saloo
club?
THE BABY BICYCLIST.
(thing to remember, as those
kling legs churn the pedals and them
bright curls toss back from
ath the Tarn o' Shanter as she
j before the wind.
? once
nuovation in Ambulance Cars.
1 important test, with a view to whol
gating the sufferings of those who vaQi
infortunate enough to be the tem- rejoJj
ry occupants of the ambulance one c
)n, is now in progress. The jolt- ?f y?
inrt nnisft of the wheels as the car
agged rapidly over the rough pave- ions
b of city streets often inflict the wdl,
lest torture on the patient who
be'already enfeebled by disease or 0U.<j)
ly injury. Two rubber-tired am- man,
nces, one equipped with solid and the p,
>ther with pneumatic tires, are beexperimented
.with. When [sup- ?<w
1 with rubber-shod wheels the ting <
>ns, which usually have to be made J16 ('a
heavy for the sake of greater sta- t^s,hl
f and consequent reduction of vi- again
on, may be lightened at least -tOO the u
ids. This lessens the load for the the^a
5s and diminishes the cost of con- posei
stion. So far it is found that from "W
;reat weight of the ambulance the J
matic tii es collapse very often, thia?
the severe strain tears the solid bring
from the wheels, but it is certain Hnd ii
the use of rubber in some foru
;veutually be adopted.?New York tested
irtiser., instar
.?she di
A Surprise lor Dennis. *oouj
inj? ai
tnnis (ft green "The Boss."
, and to whom ?0^
speaking pipe is tuat
nexplored mys- Siam 1
?"I'd give me ftries
;h?s to JJIJ
I out how the Dr
iver managed as a m
queeze liimself ins ftl
that bit iv a would
-Life ,uentft
" ' vj
_i?? t!1
"temperance. i?
!
A GBEAT POET'S 8TBOXO W0BD8. \ ' ->
adness, to think use of strongest winee j
strongest drinks our chief support of,
health.
n God, with these forbidden, made choice^
to rear ? j ^
mighty champion, strong above compare,!
?e only drink was from the liquid brookj
-Milton. .
HOT OSE. | T^jt
)t one good act that will live in the mem-! ,
3 of men, that will And a place of honor . -j
i stone, marble or brass, has ever been'
; by a man besotted by drink. It never,
sbles, it always degrades. It never,
htens, but always clouds the intellect. It
>r makes a man strong or enduring, 10 :
iys weakens and lowers him. > r~i
' DBINK1NO HABITS. \
ie Scotch and Irish, within about a cen-|
, have become a whisky-drinking peo- - ;
but it cannot be said that they are lees; . !
ir than the English. On the. fair days in|
3outh of Irelund there is much drunken-, .>
, though perhaps of less noisy character;
i in the North of England. The drunken
Ik guarded by a sober friend, orawlfe| ' j
ister. and the brawls which follow are1 " '%?
more numerous or murderous than in' - .
don. |
village of a thousand inhabitants may.) , 1 'j*,
s true, have forty public houses, but ?
ikenness depends more on the quality of
or than on the number of daces where it
be bought. The evil is quite as great inf >
larger island as it is in Ireland, and as , ^
ible a scourge on the educated classes as
s on the peasantry. The drinking at
es is still a scandal, but they are con:?d
with much more decency than of'old.]
ackwood's Magazine. . t
? <*Z&&
THE COVSEQUENCEK OF DEIKK.
ie hereditary consequences of strong! v'Vy?
k are something appalling. A specialist] 'i
lildren's diseases has for twelve years' i'ty
i carefully noting the difference between1 j
ve families of drinkers and twelve fami-j ;
of temperate persons. Of the drinkers,I
ity-flve children died in the first week ofj
as against six on the other side. Among] * i
shildren of the drinkers were fire who
3 idiots, five so stunted in growth as toj
!y dwarfs, five when older became epilep-- ' ;
one, a boy, had grave ohorea, eniing:
liocy; five more were diseased and de-| t
led, and two of the epileptics became byi
iritance drinkers. Ten only of the flfty-J 7,3 ;jh
n children were normal in body aricU/ ;'i7vjy
i. On the part of the sixty-one children
ie temperates two only showed inheritedj
rous defects: five died in the first ;week! :
fa, while four in later years of childhoodj f;
curable nervous diseases, and fifty were a
rery way sound in body and mind.?; '
ved Heart Review.
oh! the pitr or it! ( ' ' ' !
e are fully aware of the fact that it is,
ossible to exaggerate the horrors and the .. y
nt of the misery produced in the homes ..
large proportion of the people by this
k habit; wq know that we cannot folly. . *
nate the loss and injury that the cdm-' ''OsSiafl
ity suffer on account of its awful tax on! : y.-JM
resources of labor; nor can we fathom! : f
he crime and degradation that is the dlw j.i'
outcome of this terrible appetite /or
og drink. No amount of regret can; C:
e for the wail of a mother's awful agony; a
' her lost son, no amount of good inten- 3
will compensate the wife of a drunkenj ' ,1:
land, no tears of anguish or even real reance
will ever repair the broken hearts
ifle the cries of homeless, starving chlU
i who have been made worse than father* ,
by the toleration, and even protection,! - '
the liquor traffic has obtained through; '
s. Eternity alone will reveal allthe hois
that this traffic in alcoholic poisons has
luced. But that the people should tame- V'uj
id willingly tolerate these atrocious ont-i . > -4
s is a fuct that challenges credulity andi
ksour moral sense.?Demorest,
how to combat the saloon.
the Bloomlngdale Church, in New York,
Rev. Madison C. Peters preached to a!
:regation of young men on "The Manjr ' vj;
is of the City." The sermon was net; .'A,
itional, as its title might imply, buV
t simply with an abstract phase of the ,
ition. * The preacher began by reading- ; . -a&I
extract from a letter by Abraham 8.,' /' ,.v*S
itt: ,
lutside the domestic circle provision
la be made by the city, by the churches,
by every social organization to give the .JLa
ig healthful amusements. I sometimes
ler that any boy in Ntew York grows up
le paths of virtue." .
Uowing up this idea, Air. Peters said: , ;j
5 only way to combat the saloon and the
r class of amusements is by giving the
le something better. Under existing so
;onditions the saloon supplies the popu- ' vr d
rant and the masses stand by it, though
their worst enemy, and they will standi
until some counter attraction is pro- 1
them. It would be a wise charity for * F
i rich man to give the poor a first class . k
i of amusemont. As an ethical question, '
f one agrees that amusements are a ' ssity.
The mind, if kept on a steady , /i
jh of duty, will lose its healthy actione
is not, in all this great city to-day, a
? where the great masses can get first - ?
amusement at reasonable rates.
[ the churches want to counteract the
m evil they must establish people's
i. where all kinds of innocent games and
lementscanbe given. Our saloons are ; *,
ited with all the attractions which the
th of the brewers, who own most of J
, can give them."
A COLD WATKK STORY. V'\^|SS
newhere lives a farmer of such social \ ',',i
s that his coming home intoxicated was
no unusual thing. His wife urged him * J
in to reform. "Why," he would say, v!
on't like to break oft' at once; it ain't
esome. The best way is always to get , 3
to a thing by degrees, you know." J ?j|
ery well, old man," his helpmeet wouldf ffi
i, "see now if you don't fall into a hole
if these days, while you can't take care
urself. and nobody near to take you out."
enough, as if to verify the prophecy, a
le of days-after, returning from a glorfrolic,
the old fellow reeled into his own
and after a deal of useless scrambling
:ed for his wife to come and help hin>
idn't I tell you so," said the good wo* ,
showing her cap-frill over the edge of
arapet; "you've got into a hole at last,
it's only lucky I'm in hearing or you
t have drowned."
ell," she continued, after a pause, let- - ;
iown the bucket, "take hold." And up * g
me, higher at every turn of the windantil.
the old lady's grasp slipping from
undle. down he went to the bottom.
. This occurring more than once made
imporary occupant of the well suspic"Look
here," he screamed in fury, at
.st splash, "you're doing that on purI
know you are."
ell, now I am," responded his wife,
uilly. while winding him up once more;
1't you tell me it's best to get used to a
by degrees? I'm 'fraid if I was to
you right up on a sudden, you wouldn't
t wholesome." ;
> old fellow could not help chuckling at
^plication of his principle, and prothnt
he would sign the pledge on the
it. if she would lift him fairly out. This
d. and packed him off to "swear in" as
is he got dry clothes on.
? " m
TEMPERANCE NEWS AND NOTES. ^
a slavery is the greatest slavery the!
ever experienced.
annual drink bill of Cleveland. Ohio,
I to le *10.000.001).
?n money is tight a young man who has
)f it should keep sober.
ronizin* the saloon is greasing the,
s of the drunkard factories.
best "closing act" is when a man
his mouth against all intoxicating
estimated that $40,000,000 were spent
>uor last year in Chicago. What a
I ?
lew Zealand a person convicted of bei
habitual drunkard is photographed
very ,-aloon-keeper supplied with a
Mary II. Hunt is quoted as saying1 5fi>
The liquor trnftlo is so protected iui
jy England and America that mission-! ^
do not dare to put the American flag
?hool houses lest the natives think they.
loons." "' !
Hammond says in speaking of alcohol
edicine, "I am free to say, that, weigh1
the points for and against, mankind
be better, uot only physically, but
liy and morally, if its use were alto^
f .'J&