The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, March 17, 1915, Page SIX, Image 6
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(V '^^v^llrel
A Comedy of Youth Found
Great Play of the San
From Photogra]
Copyright, 1913, by Do
SYNOPSIS.
Frank O'Connell. young Irish patriot,
1b shot and wounded by British soldiers
while making a home rule speech. He
Is aided by Angela Kingsnorth. an English
society girl, who defends him.
Angela takes O'Connell to her brother's
home and helps to nurse him. He recovers,
end he and the girl become fast friends, i
O'Connell when well Is sent to Jail for |
disturbing the peace. He finally writes l
Angela that he has finished his sentence. I
O'Connell and Angela wed. She has
espoused the Irish cause. Her brother, a
member of parliament, is very angry.
The happy couple come to America to
live. A daughter is born to them. Angela's
brother refuses to help the couple
in any way. Angela dies.
O'Connell names his daughter Margaret
and calls her "Peg." O'Connell receives
a most Important letter from England,
which perplexes him.
O'Connell allows Peg to visit England
at ber uncle's request. The elder Kingsnorth's
heart had finally softened toward
bis dead sister's little girl.
Pes goes to the home or tne unicnester
family in England at the direction of Mr.
Bawkes, Klngsnorth's attorney, as Kingsnorth
suddenly dies.
She first meets Ethel Chichester and
Brent a married man in love with EthelShe
interrupts them by accident in a
secret meetingEthel
is enraged at Peg and haughtily
dismisses her from the drawing room,
lending her to the servants' quarters. The
Cblchesters have iost their money in a
bank failure.
Hawkes arrives and reads the Kingsnorth
will. It leaves most of the fortune
to Peg and offers liberal pay to any one
who will undertake her education and social
training.
Mrs. Chichester finally agrees to bring
up Peg in return for the money promised,
although she openly despises the
shabby young glrL
Peg is heartbroken at the cold reception
given her by the Chichester family.
hntt'OUOr hv t h A
DUO la UIUVU tUJ MV" V*?>|
luxury of her surroundings.
Peg meets Jerry Adair, who takes a
lively interest In her. She finds In him a
real friend. She tells him about ber father.
He's a farmer, be says.
Peg decides to return home, but on
Jerry's plea she decides to remain in
England a month. Brent and Ethel have
another meeting. Both are unhappy.
* Ethel and Peg have a violent disagreement,
and Brent's attentions to the former
are the cause of the dispute, wblch
Is interrupted by Jerry.
Jerry takes Peg to a fashionable dance
Without Mrs. Chichester's knowledge. Feg
halts Ethel in a mad escapade ?Jth Brent.
Peg prevents Ethel from eloping with
Brent, but falls downstairs at midnight,
alarming the house. Mrs. Chichester
abuses Peg for going to the dance.
Mrs. Chichester endeavors to persuade
Alaric to propose marriage to Peg in order
to keep the girl's fortune in the poverty
stricken family. Peg refuses him.
Mr. Hawkes also proposes to Peg and |
is reius?a. an? astts xor money iu uu/
a passage back to America to her father.
Peg learns that she Is an heiress and
that her income until she becomes twenty-one
years old is ?5.000 a year, which
must be spent on education and general
training. Jerry is really Sir Gerald Adair.
Peg returns to her father in New York.
Bir Gerald later follows her, and they
marry after O'Connell gives his consent.
j CHAPTER III.
?' The Irish Patriot.
SO far no man in the little walled
in zone she had lived in had
ever stirred Angela to au eveu
momentary enthusiasm. They
Were all so fatuously contented with
their environment. Sheltered from
birth, their anxiety was chiefly how
to make life pass the pleasautest.
They occasionally showed a spasmodic
excitement over the progress of a
cricket or polo match. Their achievements
were largely those of the stay
nt hniri<? warriors who foncht with
the quill what others faced death with
the sword for. Their inertia disgusted
her. Their self satisfaction spurred
her to resentment.
Here was a man in the real heart of
life. He was engaged in a struggle
that makes existence worth while? the
effort to bring a message to his people.
Then arose a picture of her sister.
Monica, with her puny social preten'
sions?recognition of those in a higher
grade, bread and meat aud drink to
her; adulation and gross flattery, the
very breath of her nostrils; her brother's
cheap, narrow platitudes about the
rights of rank and wealth.
: The memory of her mother was the
only link that bound her to her childhood?the
gentle, uncomplaining spirit
of her, the unselfish abnegation of
her, the soul's tragedy of her, giving
ud her life at the altar of duty at the
bidding of a hardened despot.
She was roused from her self searching
thoughts by the doctor's voice and
the touch of his hand.
"Goodby for the present. Miss Kingsnorth.
Sure it's In good hands I'm
lavin' him. But for you he'd be lyin'
In the black jail with old Dr. Costello
glarin* down at him with his gimlet
eyes."
Angela sat down at a little distance
from the sickbed and watched the
/Wounded man. His face was drawn
iWith pain. His eyes were closed. But
ihe was not sleeping. His fingers lock,ed
and unlocked. His lips mov&I. He
Opened his eyes and looked at her.
PEG
OMY
IE ART
y J. Hartley Manners |
led by Mr. Manners on His
le Title?Illustrations
phs of the Play '
dd, Mead l*> Company
- _,'Tou need not stay here,1'"he said.
| "Would you rather I didn't?"
? **Why did you bring me here?"
"To make sure your wounds were
attended to.'*
"Your brother is a landlord?'Kingsnorth.
the absentee landlord.' we used
to call your father as children. And
I'm in his son's house. I'd betther be
in jail than here."
"You mustn't think that."
"You've brought me here to humiliate
me?to humiliate me I"
"No. To care for you, to protect
you."
"Prntort mp''1'
: "If I can."
"That's strange."
"I heard you speak today." She
paused. "You mustn't go to prison."
"It's the lot of every Irishman today
who says what he thinks."
"It mustn't be yours! It mustn'tr*
Angela's voice rose In her distress.
She repeated: "It mustn't! I'll appeal
to my brother to stop it."
"If he's anything like his father It's
small heed he'll pay to your pleading.
The poor wretches here appealed to
old Kingsnorth In famine and sickness
?not for help, mind ye, just for a little
time to pay their rents?and the
only answer they ever got from him
was 'Pay or go!'"
"I know, I know!" Angela replied.
"And many a time when I wag a child
my mother and I cried over it."
He looked at her curiously. "You and
yer mother cried over us?"
"We did. Indeed we did."
"They say the heart of England Is in
its womankind. But they have nothing
to do with her laws."
"They will have some day."
"It'll be a long time comin', I'm
thinkin'. If they take so long to free
a whole country how long do ye sup
pose it'll take them to free a wnoie sex
?and the female one at that?"
"It will come!" she said resolutely.
"And you cried over Ireland's sorrows?"
''As a child and as a woman," said
Angela.
"And ye've gone about here tryin* to
help them, too. haven't ye?"
"I could do very little."
"Well, the spirit is there?and the
heart is there. If they hadn't liked you
it's the sorry time maybe your brother
would have."
He paused again, looking at her intently,
while his fingers clutched the
coverlet convulsively as if to stifle a
cry of pain.
"May I ask ye yer name?" he gasped.
"Angela," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Angela," he repeated. "Angela!
It's well named ye are. It's the ministerin'
angel ye've been down hereto
the people?and?to me."
"Don't talk any more now. Rest."
"Rest, is it, with all the throuble In
the wurrld beatin' in me brain and
throbbin' in me heart?"
"Try to sleep until the doctor comes
tonight."
He lay back and closed his eyes.
Angela sat perfectly still.
In a few minutes he opened them
again. There was a new light in his
eyes and a smile on his lips.
"l'e heard me speak, did ye?"
"i'es."
"Where were ye?"
"Above you. behind a bank of trees."
a ninvfni smile nlaved around his
lips as he said, "It was a good speech,
wasn't it?"
"I thought it wonderful," Angela answered.
"And what were yer feelin's listenin'
to a man urgin' the people against
yer own country?"
"I feit 1 wanted to stand beside you
and ecbo everything you said."
"Did you?" And his eyes blazed and
his voice rose.
"You spoke as some prophet speaking
in a wilderness of sorrow trying to
bring them comfort."
He smiled whimsically as be said in
a weary voice:
"I tried to bring them comfort, and I
got them broken heads and buckshot."
"It's only through suffering every
great cause triumphs." said Angela.
"Then the Irish should triumph some
daj*. They've suffered enough, God
knows."
"They will," said Angela eagerly.
"Oh. how I wish I'd been born a man
to throw in my lot with the weak, to
bring comfort to sorrow, freedom to
the oppressed, joy to wretchedness!
JL Liu. L IS jUUi ILliSSlUIi. nuw J. CliVJ
you! I glory in what the future has In
store for you. Live for it! Live for
it!"
"I will!" cried O'Connell. "Some day
the yoke will be lifted from us. God
grant that mine will be the hand to
help do it. God grant I am alive to see
it done. That day'll be worth livin'
for?to wring recognition from our enemies,
to?to?to"? He sank back weakly
on the pillow, his voice falling to a
whisper.
Angela brought him some water and
helped-him en -wlille^he_drank It She
smoothed back the sbmiii^ ..siir-red.
shot through gold?from Ids forehead. M
He thanked ber with a look. Suddenly \
he burst into tears. The strain of the ^
n^ux2 Jb iliflff ^
O'Connell Had Endurod Month* of fl
Torture. J
day had snapped hSs self control n( J
last. The floodgates were opened. H<
sobbed and sobbed like some tired. 4
hurt child. Angela tried to comfort T
him. In a moment she was crying too.
He took her hand and kissed it repeat J
edly. the tears falling on it as he did so
"God bless ye! God bless ye!" he A
cried.
In that moment of self revelation 0
their hearts, went out to each other. U
Neither had known happiness nor love W
nor faith in mankind. M
In that one enlightening moment of j
emotion their hearts were laid bare to 4
each other. The great comedy of life J
between man and woman had begun.
Three days afterward O'Connell was ^
able to dres9 and move about bis room. If
He was weak from loss of blood and A
the confinement that an active man re- a
sents. But bis brain was clear and (m
vivid. They had been three wonderful j
days. IP
Angela had made them the most J
amazing in his life. The memory of T
those hours, spent with her he would {
carry to his grave. J
She read to him and talked to him 4|
and lectured him and comforted him. ?
And in a little while be must leave it
all. He must stand his trial under the [
"crimes act:" for speaking at a "pro- I
claimed" meeting. I
Well, whatever his torture, he knew
he would come out better equipped for
the struggle. He had learned something
of himself he had so far never
dreamed of in his bitter struggle with
the handicap of his life. He bad
something to live for now besides the
call of his: country?the call of the
heart?the cry of beauty and truth and
reverence. B
Angela inspired him with all these.
In the three days she ministered to
him she had opened up a vista he had ^
hitherto never known. And now he ?
had to leave it and face his accusers '
and be hectored and jeered at in the
mockery tiaey called "trials." From 0
the courthcuse he would go to the pris- b
on, and' thence he would be sent back f<
into the world with the brand of
the prison oell upon him. w
And back of it all the yearning that a
at the end she would be waiting and *c
watching for his return to the eonilict ^
for the great "cause" to which he had
dedicated ma nie. i r)
On tlie morning of the third day Mr. ^
Roche, the resident magistrate, was
sent for by Nathaniel Kingsnorth. Mr. d;
Roche found him firm and determined, ti
his back to the fireplace, in which a ?
bright fire was burning, although the
month was July.
' I've sent for you to remove this jj!
man O'Connell," added Nathaniel aft- (;]
er a pause.
"Certainly?if he is well enough to ^
be moved." il;
"The doctor. I understand, says that w
he is." 111
"Very well. I'll drive him down to
the courthouse. The court is sitting ^
now," said Roche, rising. g
(To be continued.) 01
m
sc
SAMUEL J. NICHOLLS. m
1 k
Spartanburg Lawyer Weds Lady j..
From Wisconsin. vj
Spartanburg, March 9.?Special: m
Capt. Samuel J. Nichclls. of this city
and Miss Eloise Margarot Clark, of
Green Bay, Wis., were married in t?
Greenvillo Sunday night, the ceremony
being performed by Rev. E. P. b(
Davis, pastor of the Second Presby- ol
terian Church, at the parsonage. gi
The wedding is said to be the cul- m
mination of a love-at-fi:rst-sight ro- m
mance which had its beginning in ai
Spartanburg, only a few weeks ago bi
when Mrs. Nicholls, as Miss Clark,
came to this city as a representative si
of the international lyceum bureau, tt
. ngaged ;o put on a oenofit concert fc
for the Good Samaritan Hospital, th
Finishing her work here she went to ei
Greenville. Capt. Nicholls called d<
on her there Sunday and the wedding lu
followed. Capt. Nicholls is promi- ti
nent socially and politically through- ^
out the State. He is an announced h<
candidate for Congress. The wed- m
ding was a complete surprise to his T
friends and relatives here. ai
?
?
Thursdaj
Marc
Store opens
t _ j1
siaru
7,000 yards of
5,000 yards of
This is
Positively No
Coo \J
I>
I Mrs. J
>
HE HEN OF
THE SIXTIES
13Ut wnue me women worneu iui
ie soldiers, they did not disregard
le needs at home. Every man and
3y was taken to keep up the ranks
f the army, and the wortien and
iris were obliged to look after home
atters. But the Southern women
et the stern duties, increased cares
id sad privations with unfaltering
ravery.
Household linen was hopelessly
lort and the family larder down to
ie lowest. Deprived of materials
>r dress and the usual luxuries of
ie culinary department the South-n
maid and matron resorted to
svices which would now seem most
idicrous. Ingenuity and invenon
played an important part.
Torn dresses were replaced with
Dmespun, the colors being interingled
with professional skill,
he woods were searched for barks
id roots t<> dye pleasing colors. A
Their Hardships and Makeshifts.
(From the State.)
!y Mrs. J. W. Mixon, William Wallace,
Chapter U. D. C., Union.
For four years the women of the
outh not only lived through the anuish
of the terrible strife but showi
themselves self-sacrificing heroles.
The daily life of these women was
ne of trial, privation and sorrow,
ut it was borne with patience and
frtitude.
The customery pursuits of life
ere interrupted. As time went on
nd there was no market for the cot>n,
the desolation of the fields was
ide-spread. Many of the slaves
ift and the destitution in the Southrn
homes increased each year. All
^sources were cut off and then it
as that our mothers wits were testJ.
Spinning wheels, looms and
ye pots were brought into requision.
Delicately nurtured women,
naccustomed to labor, had to per)rm
the most menial tasks.
The women vied with each other
i working for the soldiers. "Fairy
ngers" used to toy with the delicate
nbroidery boldly seized and made
le coarse garments sent to the army
fool of home production was speed
y converted by loving nanas into
arm flannels. Every available
aterial was used.
Blankets and carpets were given,
ool mattresses ripped, recarded and
oven into clothing and coverings,
its of woolen fabrics left over from
:her garments were raveled and
,ixed with cotton and knit into
>cks. Even rabbit fur was used to
ake gloves.
Every woman and girl learned to
nit. Young ladies carried their
nitting with them when they went
siting or even strolling in the
loonlight
Supplied Home Needs.
* ? -1 1 1 ?
06 S
Friday an
h 18, 19 a
> eight o'clocl
ing values ir
Lace, worth up to 16
;o go at, per yard
Lace, worth up to 35
to go at, per yard
for SPOT
Lace Charged a
l^indnw I
as. S. Ct
beautiful red was made from pol
berries the color being set with vin(
gar. Ivy and laurel made a nic
gray and red oak bark and walni
I root a rich dark brown and black.
I Silk stockings of ante-bellum daj
were unraveled and transformed i]
1 to neat fitting gloves. One writ(
mentioned having a trim pair <
boots made of the tanned skins c
squirrels.
A calico dress, if one were fort;
nate enough to be able to find th
material, cost $100 or more an
thread was $10 or even $20 a spoo
Buttons were often made from
gourd, cut in sizes required, and coi
ered with cloth.
On children's clothes persimmo
seeds in their natural state with tw
holes drilled through them wer
found neat and durable. Confedei
ate money got so cheap it was har
to purchase anything with i
Ladies who took in weaving r<
. quired something more valuabl
I than money for their work. Un
I lady had 30 yards of cloth woven fo
half a pint of castor oil.
War Styles.
Hats were made of palmetto an
rye straw.
Mrs. Bleckley, of Anderson, say:
"We had but one milliner in our vi!
lage and we all looked upon her as
genus. She ripped up old hats an
bonnets, dyed them and made ther
over. She had btit two styles?
"droop" or a"boulevard," so we ha
to accept one or the other. Th
I 'droop' was a wide brimmed hal
strapped down with colored ribboT
1 or scraps of old silk dresses. 1
j 'boulevard' was a small round ha
that turned over the head like
soup plate or a bowl and was usuall
I MAfAffap yvto/lo frnm fli
inilllHCU 111 lUSCttCO J11C4V4V, liv.u V44
native palmetto bark or leaf."
Cloaks were made of gray o
brown jeans. Pins and needle
were scarce. One-half dozen pin
did duty for a year or two and wer
stuck carefully av ay in a secret hid
ing place. The ladies borrowe
needles from each other. One ol
lady had but one needle and she kep
it carefully hid away in the cloc
"from meddlesome busy-bodies," sh
said.
Shoe blacking was made from el
der berries cooked and strained wit]
a little sorghum molasses stirred ii
the mixture to make it a "glossy1
black.
Housekeepers felt the want o
many of the simplest articles o
domestic use. Then began the les
sons of shift, makeshift and inven
tion which developed so wonderfull;
through the four years of struggle
Even girls became adept in all hous
ovfo firct makina1 their owl
vinegar and putting up their pickles
In fact, the Southern matron learn
ed to evolve something out of noth
ing and from the slimmest material
to fashion the greatest comforts.
All commodities went up in prio
J and such things as coffee and te;
| were put away for sickness or som<
State occasion and substitutes wer<
used. Coco was made of dried an<
parched grain or sweet potatoes
sweettned if at all with sorghum o
[honey. Sassafras roots or drie<
nA 20 >1
ta.m. Some j l
l Lace. j I
So a yard 5 centS i I
ca yard 10 cts. ' j l
CASH t \
it These Prices ^
display |
i i
\nnro,n i
Jbllldll 11
I
:e blackberry or green pepper leaves I
e- were used for tea. H
:e "Delicacies" and Necessities. 9
it Fruit cake was made of dried ap
pies, cherries, pears or plums with- H
rs out spices. For medicines the woods -fl
i- were searched for roots and herbs.
;r Ladies learned to make their own
>f toilet soaps and a coarser kind for V
4.1.^ i J? mi J ??* ? ?
'x cue lauuury. uiey useu iiusueiue
berries to make wax for their fancy
l- work and myrtle berries were made
ie into candles fit for the candelabra
d of a king. Mustard seeds wem,
1. raised and old muslin dresses wegfc-'.
a saved to make bolting cloths for the
t- mustard, after the seeds were
pounded.
n Corn cobs were burned to make
o soda; the dirt of old smoke houses
e was dug up, boiled and drained off to
r- get salt. A favorite night's emd
ployment was found in making ent.
velopes." No bits of white paper A
i- suitable pen and ink could be wasted
e for envelopes. So wall paper or
e sheets of paper with pictures on one
>r side taken from "United States explorations"
served to make envelopes.
These were stuck together
^ with gum from peach trees. The
geese supplied the quills for pens.
, Ink was made from ink balls or oak
[' bark or walnut juice or green per^
simmons colored with rusty nails inj
stead of copperas.
In spite of all sorts of contrivan
~a ces and the use of substitutes it was
^ wonderful how the war time women
e made ends meet. I
t A few luxuries were procured by I
running the blockade, but these were I
^ only used on special occasions. Cow I
t peas was one of the principal arti- 1
a cles of diet and sorghum pies were a
v used for desert. "
'e High Cost of Living.
Flour cost $500 a sack and one
r ' lady was ingenious enough to hide
s ; two sacks by slipping them intoA^ N*
_ J pair of pillow cases on the bed when
S i ? ? '1.1 m j
e j her muse was raiaea. one saveu
l_ i her watch by hiding it inside the
JI ball of knitting cotton that she
j was using.
j. As an e::ample of the "high cost
j. of living" in 1865, we are told of a
e whortleberry pie that cost $30, and
a pound cake that cost $25.
Even when groceries could be pur^
chased the difficulties of transportan
tion were great, particularly on ac?
count of the fear of confiscation.
One housekeeper tells us that she
f had lard sent to her in a band box!
^ And so the years passed?four >
years of hardships endured and sorrows
borne.
" There has never been a more he,
roic or self-sacrificing people on the
g face of the globe than the men and
. women of our South
[I
Wbole Family Dependent
Mr. E. Williamp, Hamilton, Ohio,
s writes: "Our whole family depend on
Pine-Tar-Honey." Maybe pomeon^ta^'
e your family has a severe Cold?pe^*
haps it is the baby. The original Dr.
e Bell's Pine-Tar-Honey is an ever
e ready household remedy?it gives imi
mediate relief. Pine-Tar-Honey peni,
etrates the lining of the Throat and
r Lungs, destroys the Germs, and allows
1 Nature to act. At your Druggist, 25c