Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 21, 1889, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. J giit Independent |;amil!i IJcrospapcr i jfor the jpromotion of the political, Social, ^priailforal and (![.oinmrrciat Interests of the j^outh. {terms?$2.00 a year in advance. V"OIj. 35. YOBKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 21, 1889. NO. 34. CHEQUE A FASCINATING ROI SUE By the Author of " By Cr in Velv CHAPTER IV. fioraco saw that there was something wrong tho moment he entered. I noticed the blood rush to his face as his eyes glanced from our faces to tho cheque book lying open on the table, and I was afraid at first that he would make some admission of his guilt before Cynthia Above all things I wished to keep all knowledge of his backsliding from her. so I spoke at once. "TVonrprstavpA m v t.fnie to-nitrht. VOU sea Cynthia has persuaded me to have some heavy tea with you instead of getting back to Clay hill to dinner.!* 'Tin afraid you'll find it a bad exchange," ho said; "we don't keep the sort of table you are used to." "Oh, I shall do well enoughl" I answered; and then, seeing Cynthia mov. towards the door, I opened it for her to pass out, and turned round with my back against it to speak my next words. Horace had gone to the fire, and was stooping with his hands held towards the warmth; but he raised his head when I spoke, and stood with one hand holding nervously on the mantelpiece, looking down at the flames with his profile to wards ma "I have found out everything,Horace, I said. He made no answer, but his face turned deathly pale. "It would be only a waste of time to tell you what I think of your behavior to Cynthia," I went on, "because you know, without any telling, how utterly contemptible it has been from beginning to end. How any one having the poorest spark of manhood in him could take such cruel advantage of a woman's forbearance is beyond my understanding." "Did she tell you?" he asked sullenly, and not raising his head. It would have given me unqualified gratification to have stalked across the room and shaken him until the breath was nearly out of his body; but I remembered Cynthia, and kept my anger well under control. "She tell me?" 1 cried witheringly. "You know she did not. Now the only question is, What am I to do with you? I suppose, with your usual delicacy, you have counted on my relations with your sister to save you from public exposure; but I'm not sure after all that a period of imprisonment would not be the very best thing that could befall you I At any rate it would remove you from the influence of your present circle of acquaintances." "Imprisonment?" ho echoed, turning a scared, incredulous face to mo. "You would never do such a thing?you would not dare! Besides, what have I done to deserve it?" "Done to deserve it! Why, hanging would bo too good for you if every one got his deserts, you good for nothing scampi" I whispered vehemently, trembling with the effort it cost me to keep quiet. "Don't mistake me, and think I am alluding to your paltry theft from me; it's your dastardly conduct to Cynthia that I should like to punish you for. But I can't touch you for that, so I'll take it out by punishing you for this other matter." "What other matter?" he asked, resuming his sullen contemplation of the fire. "1 don't know what you mean." "That's all rubbish I" 1 said, feeling ashamed of myself for bullying him. "You know well enough I mean this!" I took up the book from the table and showed him the blank tally. "Now wait just two minutes, and let me speak before you perjure yourself. This cheque was torn out of my cheque book between . tho time I left my office last night and the timo you returned the book to me this morning, after having it in your possession all night Be quiet, will you, and let me finish! You must see for yourself how clearly suspicion points to you; and. if I put the matter in the hands of the police, you will find yourself in the uncomfortable position of a man under police surveillance. But I'm going to make you an offer. Givo me back tho cheque?if you have not parted with it? or tell mo to whom you have given it, and I will prevent its being presented for payment, and so save you the dis\ graco of a bank prosecution." "You're uncommonly kind, Mr, Quinton," ho said, with a mixturo of bravado and fear in his manner; "but I can't take advantage of your generous offer, for I neither have the cheque in my possession nor have I given it to any one; so I'm afraid I shall have to stand the disgrace of a bank prosecution, after all. But, if you do put tho matter into the hands of the police, I think you'll live to Iks sorry for it?that's all!" Of course this meant ihat my engagement with Cynthia would be endangered if I prosecuted ljirru and yet there waa something in h'i?~|uanner that made me wonder"for a moment if it were possible for any one else to have got at the book. With this idea came the memory of ' Levens' remark that morning about the queer company Horace went into, and tho chances of his pocket being picked. I went to the wretched boy and put my hand upon his shoulder. "Horace, answer me one question truthfully," I said. "Where did you go while you had the book in your possession last night?" He looked up at mo still defiantly; but evidently ho caught my idea, for ho an swered: "I didn't take tho t>ook out with me, if that is what you mean. I left it at homo on the sideboard, and there I found 4 it when I came back at 11 o'clock." "And that is what you call 'taking it away for safety?'" "Cynthia was here all the evening," ho began, and then stopped himself abruptly. "I quite see the force of that remark," I said, "but since you had undertaken the guardianship of the thing >ou ought to have put it under lock and key. IIow were you to know who camo in and out. of the room while you were away?" "Cynthia knew it was there, and I felt sure she would look after it" "Oh, Cynthia knew it was there?" "Yes; she saw me turn it out of my pocket, and asked me what it was, and I told her all about it. It was through her advice that I left it at home." Again there was something in his manner that puzzled me, but only for a moment; then I instantly detected hi3 meaning. Either he doubted Cynthia in the matter of the 6tolen cheque, or he wished to infuse a doubt of her in my mind! This idea roused such a storm of indignation in me that I hardly knew how tc keep my hands away from his rascally throat I really think it was a fortunate thing that the table was between us; had ho been within reach of my grip in the first moment of my passion I should certainly have done him some bodily harm. As it was, I only glared at him speechlessly as he sank into the easy chair bohind him. He seemed ignorant of my rage, however, and went on in the same sullenly injured tone he had used throughout, but without once looking at me: "I think you ought to havo considered .. - L_tf . J tho matter more* miry oeioro you iuaua this accusation against me. You know as well as I do that tho book lay on your office table, open to all comers, for a clear quarter of an hour whilo you were dressing." "But every one had gone; thcro waa NO. 9031. MCE OF A LONDON IURB. ooked Paths," "Sheathed et," Etc. not a soul in the outer oftiees as I passed through on my way up stairs." U'OQ Pinllf) I'Hq " "Richards!" I exclaimed, indignantly. "I would as soon suspect myself! He ha? ->een in the employ of tho firm ever sit v- he was a small lad and lias never been a penny out," "You're not so reluctant to suspect other people." ' Beautse 'other |>eople' aro to my certain knowledge spending more, money than they can obtain honestly." He sprang up from his chair and faced me with scarlet cheeks, finding, like all weak natures, a strength in his rage that was denied him in his more suiter moments "You shall not stand there insulting me any longer!" he cried, his voice tremulous with anger. "If you don't choose to Itelieve my denial, you must do the other tiling and act accordingly; but 1 won't allow you or any other man to call me a thief to my face. If you say it again I'll do ray Itest to pitch you neck and crop down the stairs. I don' suppose 1 should succeed, but I'd try my best"? " 1'ou shall not stand there inxutting nu any longer/" He stopped suddenly, and, turning to look in the direction of his glance, I found Cynthia standing, white and motionless, in the doorway behind mo, with her eyes fixed in horrified inquiry upon her brother's enraged face. "Cynthia, go away, my dear!" I cried. But she did not attempt to move until I took her cold hand in mine and gently forced her out of the room. "A thief 1" she muttered in a low tone as I closed the door upon the angry boy. "Did he say you had called him a thief. Gerald?" "No, no." I answered, more annoyed at this consequence of the interview than at all the other details put together. "He was angry and did not know what he was saying. You mustn't give another thought to it?do you hear me, Cynthia?" for she was looking at me with a vacant expression in her eyes which convinced me she had not gathered the sense of my words. "He was angry, and, like all angry people, said a great deal more than he really meant. Ho won't forgive me to-night, though, so I'll get away at once. Come with me, Cynthia; we'll go west and have some dinner together. I've wired to the mother not to wait, so I shall get nothing at Clayhill Come and dine with me, and leavo that angry boy to get cool again!" Cynthia shook her head, and took her cold hand away, gently but decidedly. "I could not leave him just now," she said; "he might think I too believed him to be a thief if I went away and loft him iust now." I tried hard to persuade her to change her mind, but all my efforts were futile? she must stay and comfort Horace, she said; and I was obliged to givo in at last, and go away in a very dissatisfied frame of mind, to dine by myself. All through tho night I thought deeply over the matter, and, just beforo I at last dropped off to sleep, I had decided on ray line of action. I was just a little surprised, when 1 reached the office the next morning, to see Horace at his desk, looking much as he usually did, except that ho did not raise his head to join in the murmured "Good morning" as I passed through, and I wondered whether it was sulky guilt or indignant virtue that kept him silent. As soon as I had got through the morning letters and given directions thereon, I wrote a line to the manager of the bank; "Dear Crosley?Will you let mo know directly my cheque No. 0,031 is presented for payment? Yours faithfully, "Gerald Quinton." I sent Richards off with this, bidding him hold his tongue outside; and in less tlian a quarter of an hour the answer came back: "Dear Quinton?9,031 was presented yesterday and cashed between 12 and 1. Your inquiry has led to the discovery that the signature is a forgery. We havo put the matter in the hands of our usual agent, who will call on you during the morning for any information you can give him on the subject. Yours faithfully, Martin Crossley." This was quicker work than I had anticipated. Tho person who had presented the cheque had certainly lost no time; and this hurry looked to me like guilty knowledge?as if the presenter had known of tho doubtful nature of tho cheque he was offering, and was anxious to get it off his hands beforo its worthlessncss was discovered. Then tho time, too?between 12 and 1, when the first batch of clerks was out for dinnerl Tho more I thought of it the blacker it looked against Horace, and tho more decidedly I made up my mind that I should havo to lose the amount of tho cheque and the price of a good round bribe to the detective besides to hush tho affair up with the bank people. While I was still thinking ruefully of the loss of this unknown sum?for no man relishes tho notion of sitting down quietly while another puts his hands into his inonev box and helns himself?one of tho clerks knocked at tho door and announced that a lady wished to see inc. Thinking it was a Sister of Charity on a begging expedition, or something of the kind, I was about to say I could not be seen just then, when I heard tho rustle of skirts, and, turning round, I found that it was Cynthia! This was tho first visit 6ho had paid me sinco her father's death, and I sprang forward eagerly to greet her. Before I reached her side, however, some indescribable change in her manner checked my impulsiveness. As I held her hand tightly in both of mine, I saw with pain how her sweet hazel eyes seemed to have lost all their charming tenderness, and gazed upon mo with a cold, stern, resoluto expression which filled my 60ul with a presentiment of coming eviL "Come and sit down, Cynthia," I said, trying to draw her to my easy chair by tho fire; "you must bo cold. I am so glad to see you in "illitcr street again!" "I'd rather stand while I tell you what I have como to say," she answered, holding bacl>. and speaking in a curiously constrained tone; "I shall say it a little easier standing." "There's something odd about you, and I fancy you'vo got sotno silly bee buzzing in your bonnet," I suggested, as lightly as I could, though my voico quavered and my heart was heavy. "Como?let us get it over! What wonder have you como to tell me?" "Horace told me everything last nightl" "Just what I expected!" I returned carelessly, though I watched her narrowly the while. "And I suppose you've rushed oil down hero to me with an absurdly exaggerated idea of this peccadillo of the boy's! My dear Cynthia, let me beg you not to get a morbid idea of this business into your head. Many a boy makes a little mistake of this kind in the beginning of his career, and finishes by being a thoroughly trustworthy man of business. I assure you we think nothing of a first event of this nature!" Good heavens, how eagerly I piled up the lies as I saw her faco hardening?slowly but surely hardening?under my gaze! Sho put up her hand and looked at me with such sternness in her beautiful eyes that further lying was impossible. "I had a very long talk with Horace last night," sho said, in measured tones, as though all feeling and emotion had ceased to stir her breast, "and he told me it meant five years' penal servitude, and moral and social ruin ufterwards. Ho said, too, that even if you let the matter drop the bank would insist upon following it up." "Rut the hank shall do nothlner of the kind! Til manage that?never feurl" I cried, trying again to draw her to me, for I yearned to comfort her and drive that terrible expression of despair out of her face. "It's a splendid sign, his having confessed. We'll pull lilra through" She pushed me from her with sudden vehemence. "What are you saying?" she asked. "I did not tell you ho had confessed! I'll swear in a court of law that I never said such a thing. How could I when it is not true?" "Not true?" I echoed incredulously^ "But I understood you that he had told you everything?" "Yes?everything you said to him? your accusation, your threats and the results if he were tried and found guilty; the strong appearances against him too; all this he told me, but not that be had really done this thing, flow could he say such a thing as that? He did not steal your cheque?it was II" I took a step luiekwards, and felt blindly for something to hold on to, for I was falling, falling, falling?always fulling into anabyssof pitchy blackness, and as I went down, down, down, down, there was the roaring of a veritable Niagara in my ears. It seemed to me that I went on thus falling through space, with that hurricane of sound in my ears, for many years; and yet, when my sight and hearing came back to mo, 1 was standing there in my office, holding the back of my easy chair, with Cynthia's white, bUlCKUn IUUU UJUSU IU IIIIIIO, U3 one iwaened the fastenings round my throat and said: "My poor Gerald?you must learn to reconcile yourself to the truth. It was II" CHAPTER V. I seized Cynthia's hand and stopped her nervous attempts to set my throat free, with impatience at my own weakness. "I'm all right!" I s;iid; and then stopped to wonder if it was really I who had spoken, or some one else, for I did not recognize my own voice. "You really must sit down." I urged, pushing her towards a chair, which she no longer refused, for she saw I was shaking like a man with the palsy. We sat there in silence for fully a minute, and during that time I remembered Horace's manner on the previous evening, his reluctance when he said he had left the book at home, and that Cyuthia had advised him to do so. While I thought thus, a feeling of intense pity flooded my heart as 1 realized what my poor, proud, honorable Cynthia must haveendurcd before such a course became possible to her?even to save her brother from exposure and shame. 1 found it impossible for a moment to look at her. I knew what 6he must be suffering, and I would not willingly add to her distress by one glance in her direction. Then at hist, after what seemed an eternity of silence, she spoke, and, if I had been startled at the change in my own voice, I was shocked at the change in hers. "I won't waste any more of your time," she said. "I have done what I came to do, and I'll go. One thing first, though? I should like you to know that if anything in this world could have increased my pain and humiliation in this matter it would have been the sight of your suffering under the discovery of niy infamy. Good-by!" She was moving towards the door, and I was rising with tho intention of stopping her, when we were both checked by a knock at tho room door and tho entrance of tho clerk again, this time with a card. 1 I CW^Ui^VU UIO tiUUlU UV VUVW IW ?? IW tho detective from tho bank! At all costs ho must not see Cynthia! I was unnerved and almost incapablo of clear argument, but I saw that much. "In ten minutes," 1 said to the clerk, with a glance at the timepiece. Tho moment the door was closed again I turned to Cynthia "You must not stop to ask questions nor make objections." I said, "but do as I tell you. There is no way out of this room except through the outer office, where this person is waiting, and I don't wish him to see you?never mind why. You must go into this largo cupboard, which Mrs. Richards has had fixed up as a wardrobe for me, and remain thero quietly until my interview with this man is over. See?I'll move the coats, and then there will bo room for a chair. Do you think you can keep quiet?" She nodded in acquiescence. 1 saw a new fear in her face, and fancied she had guessed who my visitor was. Without another word I mixed a half tumbler of strong brandy and water, and told her authoritatively to drink it up; then I kissed her forehead and closed the door without latching it. I tried hard to recover something of my every day manner before the detective came in. but failed utterly. The moment Mr. Renson's keen glance fell upon me, 1 knew ho saw the traces of my recent disturbance, so I made a virtue of necessity at once. "Good morning," 1 said. 'Sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen of your calling aro always busy. 1 know. Tho fact is, I have received some news this morning which lias upset me thoroughly, and I've been trying to pull myself together a bit before seeing you, but I'm afraid 1 have failed. I'm not in a fit state to discuss this business." "I shan't trouble you much, Mr. t^uinton," he answered quietly; "I only want a few scraps of information which you can give me. To begin with"? "Sit down," 1 said, "and help yourself to the brandy." He thanked me and took the proffered chair, but ho refused tho drink. "1 want to keep my head cool, you see, and pick up this trail while it is still fresh. To begin with, when did you first discover that this cheque. No. 0.031. was missing?" Ho took tho cheque from his pocketbook and smoothed it out on the table as ho 6jx>ko. 1 lOOh'CU 111 11 OUgeiiy, llliu tniw mat tt was drawn in favor of Mr. Pettic-Jones 'for forty pounds. Forty pounds! Tho exact 6um, neither more nor less, of Horace's present debts! Poor Cynthia! "1 found it was missing last night." "And have you any impression of your own as to when it was abstracted?" I was just going to prevaricate, when 1 suddenly remembered that I/evens knew Horace had had the clni|iie book In his [tossession tho wholo of tho night before last. If Benson did not get tho information ho wanted from me, his first proceeding would bo to "pump" and "ferret" cautiously among tho clerks, and Levens would bo only too glad to tell him all he knew. As a natural result, Benson would wonder why I had kept this very suspicious detail bade; so I broke right away from the beaten track, and opened out a trew road on my own account. "Look here, Mr. Benson," 1 Baid, very quietly, getting closer to him, and hoping with all my heart that Cynthia would not hear what I said; "would you mind telling mo what you are likely to get for a job of this kind from the bank people?" Mr. Benson half closed one eyo and turned tho other upon mo with a swift glanco of preternatural acuteness. "That would depend greatly on the amount of work, tho time it took up. and so on," ho observed, slowly. "Well, now, suppose you found out this person, what sum would you take to bring tho news to mo before you took it to any one else?" Ho looked at me again, this time more slyly. "I don't seo that there could bo any harm in that," ho said, in a tone that was impressively cautious. "Harm! 1 should think not! How could thero be any harm in your letting tvin Irnnra linfnrn nnv nnA r>lsn? Would you tako fifty pounds, and obligo m Benson looked at mo for a few moments as though ho would road my vei. soul, and I met his glanco unflinchingly. "I believe you mean square," ho said, at tho end of his scrutiny; "and, if you'll pass me your word as a gentleman that this is no trick to catcli mo tripping, why, I'll obligo you." I held out my hand to him. "1 givo you my word that this is a purely personal matter, only interesting to myself," I said, with quiet emphasis; and I saw ho believed me. After I had given him a few facts in connection with tho matter in handcarefully withholding all thoso likely to bo of any value in tho event of his refusing tho offer I was going to mako presently?I brought tho conversation back again to what was really my main purpose, by asking what was tho biggest price ho had ever received for carrying a job of this kind through to a successful finish. "This class of job doesn't pay so well aS some others," he told me. "Wo don't look to mako much out of a forgery business. Our best chances como in when we've got family hatreds to work on. Now two years ago I had what threatened to bo a divorco court job on. I lived in a house in tho country for three months for tho purposo of watching tho 'mistress of it. Tho husband's mother hated her liko mad, and I really believe would have given ono of her fingers if wo could havo pulled tho business off. Well, she camo to mo when 1 had been in tho house a week?tho mother, you know?a powerful old swell sho was. hut as cruel iis a cat?and offered to pay me five hundred pounds if tho caso against her daughter-in-law was proved through me. That was tho higgest chanco I'vo ever had:" and Mr. Benson sighed resignedly. "You did not 'pull the business off,' "Bless you, no, sir! The woman was as innocent <>f any real harm as a babe unborn. A flighty, skittish pieco of goods, but as honest a woman as you could wish to meet. The appearances against her turned out all moonshine, as I knew they would. Iler husband got ashamed of having listened to his mother's nasty insinuations, and begged his wife's pardon most humbly in my presence; and thcy'ro as happy a couple now as you'll find anywhere. But it was a big chance, you know?five hundrod pounds!" Here w:is my opportunity, and I seized it, dropping my voice to the faintest whisper. "You shall have the chance again, Benson; hut this time you can earn it more easily?by simply holding your tongue." "Five hundred pounds!" he exclaimed, In a clear, penetrating whisper, which was torture to me, knowing how keen those poor listening ears would be. "Fivo hundred pounds only for holding my tongue! About this, of course, you mean?"?with his gloved finger on the cheque. "You must undertake not to try to find out even yourself," I murmured, nodding in assent; "and you must play with tiio bank people until it is too late to put any one elso on tho job." "Is that all?" ho asked. "There are no other conditions whatever attached to e;u-ning this money? You won't ask mo to do half a dozen other tricks and includo them in tho same bill by and by?" "I will ask you to do nothing but what 1 have now stated." "Then I'm your man!" he said resolutely; and this timo it was ho who offered his hand and I who grasped it, with a relief and gratitude in my heart far beyond the power of words to express. After this I got rid of him as quickly as 1 could, dreading tho effect of this enforced silence on poor Cynthia in her nrouonf unrvniiu ntnfo I t hrnilfrh . otlie arrangements for paying the money, atthosaino time being careful to avoid arousing his suspicion, and hurried him off under the pretense of having another appointment He turned, on his way out, as though a sudden thought had occurred to him, and pledged mo to secrecy as a brother Mason. I answered his sign at once; and I fancy wo both separated all the more satisfied with each other for the discovery that wo wero fellow craftsmen. "Don't interrupt mo for a quarter of an hour. 1 ..ovens," I called out, as I shut the door and went back to Cynthia. 1 found her so prostrated that sho was unable to rise from the chair; but she looked at me with such pathetic earnestness and she tried so hard to speak that 1 felt suro she had heard tho greater part of my interview with tho detective. It was most grievous, but there had been no help for it. My heart ached for tier, as 1 more than half carried her to tho easy chair again, and took off her bonnet and cloak as quickly as my foolish, clumsy fingers would let me, stripped off her gloves and undid the dress buttons at her throat. "Don't try to speak a word," I said sharply, when her lips began to move again; "sit still and rest. Don't worry nowl You'll bo better presently." I bathed her temples with the brandy and water and chafed her poor cold hands vigorously; then as I knelt before her a sudden overwhelming feeling of compassion seized iuc, and I bent forward and kissed her white lips impetuously. "Oh, Cynthia, my dear," I cried heart brokenly, "why did 1 give in to you? Why was I fool cnongh to let you come to this lonely life in London? I should have forced you to stay in comfort at Clay hill instead of subjecting you to this. How can I ever forgive myself? IIow?" * r " "Oh, Cynthia, my dear," I cried heart brokenly "Kind old Gerald," she said presently putting up iier finger and touching ray cheek gently; "good, kind old Gerald!" I smiled at her, though I felt more like weeping. "What are vour two charming little women doing without you this morning?" I asked, anxious to ease the painful strain on her nerves by a chango of subject. "You forget it is holiday time. Wo do not Ixjgin lessons again until Monday." "You will nover begin lessons again, Cynthia," I answered quietly, but very decisively. "I gave in to your whim hist September, and you see what has come of it. This timo I mean to havo my own way, and nothing you can say or do will induce mo to make tho least alteration in ray plans. I am going to marry you this day week and carry you off to Italy for a long honeymoon of threo months. We'll dispense for once with wedding breakfast, trousseau and all tho rest of tho usual absurdities, and do just as wo like, without any referenco to tho opin ions of our acquaintances.' "You mustn't do it, Gerald," sho cried, trying to withdraw herself from my embrace?'"you must not oven think of such a thing! Havo you considered what it would mean for yourself? This shameful crime of mino cannot be kept secret ?it will leak out some day, try as wo will to keep it quiet; and how would you feel when you found people spoke of your wifo behind your back as a thief and a forger? You jdon't seem to havo realized tho enormity of my crimel You don't appear to understand that what I havo told you this morning places me outside the palo of respectable society 1 You don't seem to see" I stopped her peremptorily. "I sco a woman who has been triedall, so sorely tried, my Cynthia!?beyond her strength. I see a woman whose warm affection has for onco overcomo her power of judging between right and wrong? whoso great lovo has, in on" solitary instance, warped her moral judgment: but I see no criminal, nor a sinner who has sinned beyond forgiveness. I sco the woman I lovo just as I havo always loved her, as I always must love her, until heaven sees fit to divide us by death I Cynthia, wo will bo married this day week, and wo will go away for a time and bo very, very happy?so happy, my love, that wo will forget all about this wavo of sorrow that has swept over us." Sho did not attempt to arguo tho matter any farther?indeed, if I looked at all :is I felt, sho must havo seen how useless all argument would havo been in my then state of mind, for I was firmly resolved that Iloraco should no longer have it in his power to cause, or even threaten to cause, unhappiness between us. "I shall tell tho mother and Jem tonight," 1 said, when I had put her into tho cab and given tho man tho address. "They will como to sco you to-morrow, i expect; and you must arrange with them abouta dress for next Wednesday." Sho did not answer, but looked at mo with a world of meaning in her sad eyes as tho cab drove away. [TO NK CONTINUHD NEXT WEEK] A PITIFUL ROMANCE. "Old Jane Hull, the Midnight Specter," as she is called, who was run . i . e* tit it 1 1 ii.? Olll 01 \> oouiaiiu uy uie uiuccrs tut Monday, has a very strange history, says the Woodland (Cal.) Mail. Her name is not Jane Hull, it is Catherine Warner. The woman comes from the south, where the other members of her family live upon the remains of a shattered fortune. The woman is 52 years of age, and for .'12 years has been a wanderer, homeless and nameless. In 1857 there lived in one of the central counties of Georgia the family of Warner, consisting of father, mother, son and two daughters. The eldest of these was Catherine. When she had reached the age of twenty years she was married to a planter by the name of Cornwall. For a year she lived with her husband in blissful, indolent contentment, no trouble flitting over the serene sky of her life, and no sound harsher than the ; sound of the mockpig bird disturbing^' her dreams. Onoi day there carJHf like a ray of summer light, a littlcj visitor to the house of Cornwall; The father was away, but in the evening he returned, and then there was a scene of quiet rejoicing in the stately mansion. Two weeks passed, and a dark cloud seemed to settle upon the household. The father went about with a dark, suspicious look on his face, and the nurses and servants were in a state of dread. Finally the storm broke. Cornwall sent for the i\f ln'ij on/I +#*1/1 flinni I'aituin \u 11in uiivic. aiiu iviu uivm they must cure for lier and lier child in the future, for his supposed heir unmistakably had negro blood in its veins, and the thick lips and woolly hair of the infant, he said, were eloquent of his wife's infidelity. In vain poor Catherine pleaded. In vain her mother shrieked and wept. Cornwall was firm, and old Warner, pale and ghastly as death, sided with him, and said his daughter should never again enter his door. She was sent forth a wanderer, and her child was given to a female slave. Catherine Warner went to New Orleans, and in that city of gilded wickedness was soon lost to her former self. Among thesircns of the New Paris she soon figured as a leader, and was not unknown on the great river steamers, where time and again she assisted to rob unsuspecting travelers. In 18(53old Warner died, following close upon the footsteps of his wife, son and younger daughter, who had succumbed to sudden destroying disease. On his death bed old Warner sent for a notary and had him take down in writing the fact that negro blood was in his veins and negro cunning was in his brain. His daughter, Catherine, had been true to her husband, but the unholy secret of the grandfather had been revealed in his daughter's child. Fearful of losing social caste if he confessed that it was his blood and not the honor of his daughter which was tarnished, he allowed her to be reviled and spat upon and driven from her home to her ruin. After this confession had been taken an effort was made to find and save Catherine. Her former husband?he had already secured a divorce?was appealed to, and he found her at Baton Ituoge, but she had fallen too low and he left her in her living grave of sin. From that time to this she has wandered all over the United States. To-day she may lie in San Francisco and the next day in Savannah. 1 Low she travels no one knows, but she never seems embarrassed for a way to reach or leave town. When in'a city or town she may always be found in the neighborhood of a house of ill-fame, and here it was the Woodland officers found her Sunday night. Wednesday she left for the north, and within a week may lie heard of in Victoria or Chicago. Tin-: Rkasox Why.?The question, "Why is a dram-drinker's nose red ?" is answered by Dr. J. B. Johnson, of Washington, D. ('., who says: "The drain-drinker's heart beats about thirteen times oftener in the minute than the heart of one who does not drink alcohol. The arteries in consequence of this increased heart action carry the blood to the nose quicker than the veins carry it back. The blood therefore becomes congested in the overfilled vessels, and the nose, and the face as well, thus becomes habitually red. So stagnant is this blood, that when the dram-drinker's nose meets a sudden current of cold air it immediately turns nurnle. and so remains until warm air restores the red color. So the red nose is caused hy congestion. Every organ in the body is in a <imilar state?a warning of an impending fate not to he avoided." Tin* stomach of a whisky drinker, says Dr. Howell, is in a had state also. teg" Humility is most serviceable in an undcr-garment, and should never he worn as an overcoat. A YORK COUNTY STOCK FARM. ?? THE SIGNIFICANT ACHIEVEMENTS OF AN ENTERPRISING FARMER. ? An Enquirer Reporter Spends a Day oil the Plantation of Mr. J. Edgar I'oag, and Gatliers Some Interesting Points in Regard to an Important Industry. It is not generally known, even in York, that this county boasts of a real first-class, well appointed stock farm, where cattle, sheep and hogs are raised, and grain and grasses are grown to the almost entire exclusion of cotton. Such is the fact, however, and a model place it is. The farm in question is the property of Mr. J. Edgar Poag, and occupies five hundred acres of blackjack lands, in the south-eastern corner of liethesda township. It is about sixteen miles from Yorkville, eight miles from Rock Hill and about a mile and a half from Smith's Turnout, the nearest railroad point. In the belief that a deserintion of this most important enterprise would prove interesting information to most of our readers, Tue Enquirer sent a reporter not long since to "write it up." The following is his story : Arriving at Mr. Poag's farm, by I way of Smith's Turnout, I found the proprietor in the piazza of his farmhouse, a neatly pamted old-fashioned country seat. Of course, I received a cordial welcome, and on making known my business, was assured: "Why, certainly, I'll show you over the place. We havn't done very much, and there isn't much to see, hut I'll show you what we have, with pleasure." While waiting for another team to he "hooked" up, my preliminary questions developed the fact that the farm is nearly square and is all under plank fence. Surveying it from the front steps of the farmhouse?the highest elevation, hut not more than twenty feet higher than the lowest acre on the place?were it not for the 125 acres of woodland, the whole plantation would he in plain view from that point. Just in front of the house is a twelve acre stubble field, enclosed as a sheep pasture. To the right and rear of this is a tract of some three hundred acres, including all the woodland, and used as a pasture for cattle, sheep and goats. ()ver to the left is another big sheep pasture, a forty acre corn field, about twenty acres of cotton, and a large patch of sorghum cane. Scattered about, wherever convenient and desirable, in the pastures and elsewhere, are patches of clover, millet and rye, enclosed by portable fences. And browsing in the different pastures are some four or five hundred head of stock?cattle, sheep, goats and hogs. Before the survey was completed, however, the horses were ready, and Mr. Poag suggested that we "drive over there and see my hogs," and in a few minutes some fifty or sixty were called up to the corner of a large stubble field. They were a fine lot of pigs?mostly Berkshires and Jerseys, ranging from two days to two years old. While we were looking at these, Mr. Poag volunteered the information: "You sec that old sow over there"?pointing to a red Jersey with ten pigs?"she nets me from fifteen to twenty dollars a year. I keep the pigs until they are about Km innnth? nld !Mld soil tlioni for from two to three dollars apiece. There is pood money in them. I like the Jerseys hotter than any other hrced." In the same field was a flock of about fifty sheep "hut these are nothing extra?just common stock that I have bought one place another." They were all fat and in good order, however. An adjoining field was the cattle pasture where a few less than a hundred head were feeding and Mr. Poag said: "I don't raise many cattle yet, until I can get a breed that suits me. Jerseys are getting too common, but I'm rather partial to the Ayrshires. I just buy these scrubs over there, when they are poor and cheap, fatten them up and sell in the fall at a good profit." Among the cattle was a flock of goats, some thirty or forty in number, including some beautiful Angoras, and another large flock of sheep?"just common fellows." About half a mile from there we came to still another sheep pasture. These were the "fine ones," and they were a pretty sight. A large imported Oxforddown ram weighing .'illl) is at the head of the flock. He cost the owner seventy-five dollars, and sever- ! al of the ewes, some of them Southdowns, cost twenty-five dollars each. "These," Mr. Poag explained, "are the finest sheep to he gotten. I always aim to get the best, because i they don't eat any more than the : common kinds, and bring more money. Now there is good money in sheep?more than in any other kind ' of stock. They pay for themselves twice?once in wool and once in mutton, and it's no trouble and don't cost much to raise them. J am bothered a little with dogs?not very often? and that's about all. Yes, sheep pay bettor than anything else. Why, they come pretty near paying for themselves in manure, too. I have brought up some of my lands almost double, just by penning the sheep on them and changing the pen to a different place every week." In this pasture were half a dozen mule colts, from six months to two years old, in fine condition and giving promise of healthy development. "Now I'll show you my chickens," said Mr. Poag. "Not raising poultry too?" "Yes, 1 am?just commencing on the fine strains, hut we've been raising the common ones all along. They have paid first rate and I am satistied that the fine breeds will pay better. It don't cost much to experiment, anyway." And then we visited the chickens, findingthem iptnrtcrcdin the yards of the tenement houses, and each strain occupying a separate range. There were Plymouth llocks, Wyandottes, Minoreas, Leghorns, Belfast Reds and Muff games; also some turkeys, different varieties of ducks, and a flock of Toulouse geese. When all these had been visited Mr. Pong informed me that he was then making iirrnniTnionts to build coons, erect the necessary houses and go into the poultry business quite extensively. Before* 21 great while lie expected to he able to furnish sittings of eggs or pairs of line chickens, and had no idea but what the venture would amply repay him for the time and trouble. "Why, there's no chance for much loss. If you lose the whole layout you are out only two or three hundred dollars. Your biggest danger is from the hawks, and that doesn't average a loss of one a week. So far as disease is concerned, you've got to know your business and keep things clean. If you lose many chickens from that cause it is your own fault." "Well, whatabout the farm ? What do you plant ?" In answer to this question, Mr. Pong replied: "A little of everything, mostly oats. I raised over four thousand bushels this year. ('0111c around and see them," and he leading the way to the barn yard, I found all available shelter packed with oats, still in the straw. The barn loft was full, the loft of the mule stables, also that of the cow stables and the various other buildings. I was informed that the variety was the red rust proof. The straw is a beautiful golden yellow, absolutely clean and nice, the whole crop having been harvested before the rains, and housed from the fields. ()nly a few have yet been threshed and these turned out an average.of one and a half bushels to the dozen bundles. The sheafs arc quite large, however, having been tied up with the McCormick harvester. As to wheat, Mr. I'oag informed me that lie didn't raise a great deal? didn't plant much and it didn't do so well. I To raises large quantities of millet and clover, however, some : rye and enough sorghum to make four or five barrels of molasses besides r furnishing considerable feed for the stock. Corn wasn't doing so well this year, hut he expected a thousand bushels off of forty acres. "How about cotton ?" I asked. "I don't raise very much cotton, i There are twenty acres in that field over there, and it'll make a hale to ( the acre, hut there isn't much money in it. The same field would have brought over a thousand bushels of < 1 oats. One crop is worth over five 1 hundred, and the other about eight \ hundred dollars, and when you con- i sider the time and expense of mak- i fi,? 4*..,.r 41... nil" ill I Villi ID ill iu>wi wi in*.; outs. I wouldn't plant any cotton at all except it gives employment to my 1 hands when they wouldn't have any- } tiling else to do." 1 "What is your experience with 1 improved agricultural machinery?" i "Good. Use all you can. It pays 1 a hig per cent, on your investment. 1 I wouldn't sell my harvester or ' mower and bind myself not to get < another, for a thousand dollars! Yes, sir, use all the machinery you can. Now it cost me a good deal of money 1 to get the place in fix to-iise the liar- 1 vester, hut I believe it is well spent. 1 These rocks, (pointing to great piles 1 at different places) haven't got any < business in the field no-way, and 1 i am going to use them to macadamize i the roads through the plantation 1 some of these days." Mr. l'oag has < between fifteen hundred and two < thousand dollars worth of machinery i on the place, and his motto being I "anything you can't feed, put it under shelter," of course it is well taken care of. I Mr. 1'oag commenced work here in j 1874. When he started he had little else but the land. A stock farm has 1 been his one aim, however, and from < the outset he has kept that end in < view. Of course, he has been mak- i ing haste slowly, at first being able i to do but little else than graze his i stock through the summer and sell it < off in the winter. But watching his 1 business carefully it has continued to 1 grow (piite steadily, each succeeding j year showing a gratifying increase I over the preceding one. Having i reached the point where he can raise i large quantities of grain and grasses, ] he makes every department of the 1 business profitable, and from all ap- '< pea ranees, realizes larger returns on i his investment than most cotton and 1 corn farmers. He makes a profit on 1 all his stock and all his crops, and 1 though the latter, as a rule, are unu- ] sually fine, he claims that most nion- i cy is realized from the stock feature, to which, of course, the crops art; a \ necessary auxiliary. To those who would like to sec this 1 place, I will say that Mr. Poag is not 1 at all selfish and takes pleasure in showing visitors around. Hedoesn't 1 seem to think he has accomplished a > great deal, however, and when I left 1 him he admonished: "Don't you go 1 and say too much about my farm now. J might 'bust' some of these 1 times, and then what'll people 1 think?" i ?. ( A WOMAN BETS ON BASE BALL. A couple pretty well-known in ] sporting circles in Boston are said to have gone to a ball match not long ] since and thereto have met another ( couple of choice spirits, a man and | his wife who were almost as much given to sporting life as themselves. ( In the course of the afternoon the ex- , citment waxed apace and the gentle- ( men hot with a good deal of vigor. The ladies, nothing loath, followed 1 their example, and by the time the game was concluded a considerable ( amount of money had heen wagered. ( Mr. A. had all the afternoon been bet- j ting on the Boston nine, and to his i great disgust he found himself a loser, the home team having failed J to score a victory. On the way home lie complained to his wife of his hard j luck, adding that he had lost more | money than he knew how well to sparejust then. ; "Oh! that is all right," his wife re- 1 sponded. "I won from Mrs. B. j just as much as you lost to him, and ( I told her we'd trade the two things , off and call ij: square." < "Why, how did that happen nor i hu.shand asked in surj)rise. ! "Well," was her reply, "I knew 1 the other team was sure to win, and ( sat where I could hear you het. So , every time you put up anything 1 < covered it with Mrs. B." I "But," persisted her other half, "what in the world made you think 1 the out-of-town nine would win ? ! You said beforehand that you should , hack the Bostons." i "Oh ! yes," replied Mrs. A. with i feminine logic, "but the moment that \ 1 saw what a lovely straight nose that short stop had,*I couldn't bear j to have them beaten, and so 1 bet on i them." Whatever her husband thought of i her logic, it would have been niani- I festly ungrateful in hint to object to 1 her method of betting when it helped him out of an awkward place. < | Iowa's Ice Cave.?A party left Decorah recently to visit Iowa's fa- 5 mous ice cave. It is but half a mile ; from the town, and produces unlimited ice in summer. The party walk cd half a mile along the Iowa river. 1 The bluffs at this point are about j four hundred feet high. There is a steep climb of two hundred feet, and a rock, having the appearance of f gypsum, juts out for fifty feet. The 1 entrance to the cave is a fissure, ten { feet wide and twenty feet high. A 1 strong current of cold air was issuing ! from theeave. Candles were lighted, ( and preparations made to enter. ( Thirty feet inside the cave the oath * turns to the left and downward to- ' ward the river. The slope is gradual, . the wallsand rool'being within hand's ! reach most of the time. One hundred ' feet from the mouth the roof and 1 walls were found coated with ice, j which increased in thickness as the party penetrated. There was no drip- ! ping or mud, and pieces of ice two feet 11 - " ' Mii.i.i? l IOIlg Will I'll fill lliu nun. unui^ iv. the fitful light and danger of explora- ' tion, the party did not go in more 1 than two hundred feet. The path continued to incline toward the river, and the temperature was freezing. Ai'ti.v Si'okkn.?One of the largest, wealthiest and most successful hankers in the country remarked the other day, on being rallied on account of* liis liberal and extensive advertising patronage in newspapers, "1 would sooner take down my sign than discontinue my advertising. You must catch the public eye in a well displayed advertisement if you expect to catch the public purse, and the standing newspaper advertise- j ment when changed frequently, is better, cheaper, and a thousand times j more effective than reading notices . or circulars. There is no business so u high, so strong, or so exclusive that j it can not be benefitted by advertis- ( ing. I would as soon think of doing ( business without clerks as without f newspaper advertising." 1 , JteaSrJIoro is a pointed story about " the danger of undeceiving the ex- i tremely young. The gist of it is this: 1 A little boy began to go to school, ] and his conscientious teacher thought 1 it well to explain to him that Santa 1 ("laus is a myth. The little boy was i not exactly satisfied, and referred the t matter to his papa at home. The t father was constrained to admit that < what the teacher had said about Santa Clans was true. The little boy : went away sorrowfully to bed; but < he returned, and as be held on to the i doorknob and peeked in with his i night dress on, be said, "Well, there's 1 a devil, ain't there, papa ; you have ( not been filling me up about him, t have you V" 1 SURVIVORS' RE-UNION. THE VETERANS OF THE 1717/ CARTHUR 1> AT OVERLOOK PLACE. Hie Old Soldiers Gather at lllaeksburg, are Addressed l?y their Old Colonel and a former Captain and Parolled to Meet again in the Pair Grounds at Columbia next August, ly nur own Reporter. "It was the best re-union we have jver seen." That was what the surviving vetrams of the Seventeenth South Caroina Volunteers said of the re-union it Illaeksburg last Thursday. And t was a grand affair. Blaeksburg lever saw a larger crowd, nor old York a more splendid success. Invitations had been issued, entertainment arranged for and a well digested program rife provided. 1 n fact the various committees had been working like heavers for nearly a month, and it was no wonder that when the auspicious day arrived, it proved to he what they aimed at, 'the biggest entertaiment of the kind iver held in the up country." The old soldiers began arriving on Wednesday afternoon and continued to come in by twos and threes until a late hour in the night, filling up the hospitable homes of. comrades, the hotels, and some camping in wagons in the outskirts of the town. Next morning at daylight the influx commenced airain. and from all the roads leading into Blacksburg the visitors continued to flock, until tlie arrival :>f the Three C's special, bringing in re-enforcements from all the section between Blacksburg and Lancaster. Upon the arrival of the train the veterans of the "Seventeenth" were formed in line at the depot, and here they met their old colonel, F. W. McMaster, who, beginning at the bead of the column of twos, went lown the line shaking hands and listributing badges to his old comrades?one hundred and nine in number. After meeting them all md providing each with a badge, the olonel mounted the white horse that bad heen provided, and took his position at the head of the column, which, preceded by the Three C's cornet land, commenced the march up the mountain. Of course the column moved slowly, but it was a most impressive spectacle. There were some whose step still retains all the vigor uul elasticity of fully developed manhood; others were weak and tottering, and their heads of silver white; along the line were a number of empty sleeves, and here and there was a wooden leg bravely keeping step with the others. A march of about half an hour, uul "Overlookplace" was reached, llere the crowd, which had been collecting all day, was variously estimated at-from 2,000 to 8,000. Guided by Captain \V. II. Edwards, the moving column now tiled into a spacious dining pavilion, where it was found a most sumptuous feast bad been prepared. All being seated, in a short, beautiful and touching prayer, expressing f-liA lwitin tlinf ?ill mnnf ?urain mv> iiv/j/c unit uviiiuv tui iiiu v u^kiu in the great feast beyond the grave," Colonel McMaster invoked Divine blessings on the occasion, and the veterans fell to on the good things before them. Then followed a delightful half hour of eating drinking and reviving [)f old memories, during which the band played "Dixie" and "Yankee Doodle," after which Major Jones jailed the tables to order, introducing Col. \V. U. Wilson, who would introduce the orator of the day. His voice betraying much feeling, the colonel spoke as follows: My friends and Comrades, Survivors of the 17th Regiment: Gratefully I appreciate and thank you for the high honor just offered, and it is a great pleasure to me to meet you on this occasion. Out of the gloom, suffering, toil and thick perils of four years war wo meet to-day in tholight of joy, peace ami prosperity. The throb of lite war drum is tio longer hoard, and you look back with prido on the terrible past, knowing that your duty was faithfully performed to your country and her cause. True, the "'auso was lost, but indications were frequent throughout the long conflict that I.iod Almighty did not intend that the grand republic of fJoorgo Washington should be rent asunder. Our victories ould bear no fruit. Sydney Johnson foil at Shiloli with victory in his grasp. Stonewall Jackson fell,"and then our resources failed. No! God's will?not wiis?was done. Hut the South did iter whole duty; her splendid manhood, her ourageand her devoted patriotism will ftver shine on the pages of imperishable history, fApplause.] Hut 'amidst all the pleasures and joys in Litis hour of re-union, tny friends, we cannot forget thoso. our lamented comrades, who on the field or in the hospital gave Ihcir lives for their country. Theirs is Lite sleep of tho bravo. Honor! all honor to their memory! Nor can we forget that noble old hero, Governor John II. Means, tho beloved commander of our regiment. When, wHIt his gray hairs, lie fell amid the roar of battle, that gallant and cltivalric officer, who I know you aro all glad to moot to-day, assumed ommand and led you on, and will now have the pleasure of addressing you ? L'ol. McMaster. [Applause.] Rising to his feet, C'ol. McMaster ast bis eye down the long tables and commenced his speech: "Comrades!" [lie was also visibly iffccted, and after a long pause, reflectively completed the sentence,] friends of my might!" Twenty-five years have passed since the smoke of tattle was lifted away, and now we noet once more as survivors who lave passed through scenes of terror, Tod grant, shall never revisit our xreat land. Then advising his comrades of the futility of lamenting iresent conditions, and stating that ie believed in the hope and grit eltaricteristie of the soldier, the colonel mtercd into an interesting discussion >f the causes and results of the war, >f which the following is a pretty till abstract: As true and good men and in the iglit of history, we must admit that :he patriotism of our northern brethren was as pure as our own, and enleavor to trace the causes which en\>r/.n/l tlui ur.tr mwl t/i lfVirtl thf>W rom lessons of wisdom to guide us n the future. Both sections agreed :hat government was derived from :lio people, and the constitution expressed their compact. The North onstrued this instrument as transferring all sovereignty to the central government. The South considered he sovereignty, except in a few matters, as resting in the individual States. The first construction considered the dignity, power and peace >f the federation. The second conrihuted more to the liberty and development of the citizen in local government. The legal justification of he South was its adherence to strict onstruction ; the reservation of the ight of secession of two of the States it the formation of the government, md the infraction of the constitution >y the North. A written constitution has the inlerent defect of not being readily idajitcd to the groyth of a country. \t the formation of the government n 1787, the Colonics were sovereign, and in a measure foreign to ;ach other. Charleston was as far rom Boston as from London. In 800 it once took Mr. Jefferson two veeks to go from Montieello to New i'ork to attend a meeting of the cabnet. Were he alive in 1S00 he could >reakfast at Montieello and dine in Vew York. Steam and electricity aid made foreigners neighbors. Hence, science and commerce had nade a nation out of confederated states. The moral argument was in his particular in favor of the North>rn construction. Another cause of the war was that it the formation of the constitution >ur delegates did not appreciate the wils of slavery and its inconsistency vith their boast that all men were torn "free," and New England, in jpposition to Virginia contributed o extend the slave trade until 1808. iVhereas if it had been limited to 17!>0, the element of slavery would have been peacefully eliminated in the progress of civilization. For this the North is responsible. Another great cause of the war was the violation of the constitution by the general government by the passageof the tariff laws which ali- I enated the wealth of the South for the I enrichment of New England. The j Nullification of South Carolina was j a political blunder which lessened love for the Union and intensified hostility. However, the action of South Carolina in advocating "free trade and sailors' rights" was in advance of the nations of the world, and will eventually redound to her glory as tjio greatest of political measures for promoting the wealth and prosperity of a country. This atones for the blunder of Nullification. The principal cause of the war was the agitation of the Abolitionists, which began with fury after Nullification had severed the ties which bound the Union and put brethren in hostile array. For this history will hold the North responsible! The right of secession is gone, and slavery luts been abolished, for which both we and the negro are profoundly thankful. The problem of the age is devolved on us, and we are the onty people who can solve it to the m benefit of both races. His condition will be improved, but he will never bean important factor in civilization, and in fifty years hence the descendants of the Abolitionists will be amazed that their ancestors were animated by the thought that (iod had not ordained the Anglo-Saxon as the king of men. One fact is sure; in South Carolina, the nursery of the negro, the white man will never be left out in the cold. States Rights, though for a season ^ impaired, under the influence of sound statesmanship and the courts, have resumed their pre-eminence. The protective system which the North has maintained, is unconstitutional and adverse to the liberty of the individual and oppresses us still, but under the teaching started in South Carolina in 1832, reason will triumph in a few years and immense prosperity will ensue to the whole country. There is no sentiment of humiliation at the overthrow of the Confederacy, for the field of carnage does not decide the fate of races. The moral heroism and political wisdom of the South is impressed on millions and will expand with civilization. Ho cited a number of battles during the war in which the Northern forces were much larger than those of the South, and some in which they were twice as many. The number enlisted in the 17th ^ Regiment was 1.035. Those dismiss cd and transferred 230. Of the balance, 393 were killed and died, being 49 per cent. At the close of the war there remained 410 survivors. At the battle of Second Manassas, the casualties were 07 per cent.?the largest of any Confederate regiment in a single battle, except three regiments; one from Texas, one from Georgia and one from Tennessee. He warned his comrades against the fallacy of the phrase of the "New South" devised by protectionists, and ended with an exhortation for peace, law and liberty, and paid a tribute to the irlowinir memories of the com rades who had passed over the river. After the speeches, it was moved and adopted that the survivors hold another reunion on the fair grounds in Columbia next August. Then a resolution of thanks was voted to the good people of Blacksburg, surrounding country, and the ladies especially, for the royal entertainment which the survivors had received at their hands. And when Col. McMaster had requested such non-commissioned officers as were present to make up rolls of their respective companies, the tables were vacated in favor of those of the visitors who had not yet been served with dinner. The time being too short to make complete rolls of all the companies represented, the following facts were ascertained: Officers present: F. W. McMaster, colonel; Col. W. B. Wilson former captain company F; W. li. Edwards, captain company A; E. R. Mills, captain company E; \V. S. Moore, captain company F; J. T. Summerford, lieutenant company K ; J. W. Neil, lieutenant, company K ; J. C. Sanders and John Morrow, lieutenants, company C; 11. U. Broom, color bearer of the regiment, who was captured in the blow up at Petersburg, and tore up his flag to keep it from falling into the hands of the enemy. The number of privates present were as follows: Company A, 1; company C, J2; company D, 1 ; company E, 7; company F, 41; company II, 1; company I, 3; company lv, 20. Companies F, C, Eand K were from York; A and 1) from Chester; II, from Barnwell, and 1 from Lancaster. The tasteful arrangement and artistic skill so generally commented upon, with which the bounteous tables were laid, was the work of Mrs. Dr. T. B. Whitesides, Mrs. Geo. Maring, Mrs. Geo. Nutting, Mrs. M. E. Deal, Airs. J. L. Hartwell, Mrs. J. F. Jones, Mrs. M. F. Anderson, Misses Mabel and Catherine .Jones, Mrs. J. J. Whisonant, and Mrs. A. B. Crosby. And it was under the personal superintendence of these ladies that the feast was conducted throughout. Tiik Remedy.?A medical authority tells how, theotherday, a woman came to the London Hospital complaining of what was called a skin disease. The clever but sarcastic physician to whom she applied for treatment saw at once that the "skin disease" was of a peculiar but not very uncommon nature. "1 should advise you, madam," lie said, with great courtesy, "to fill a bath with water of a temperature of ninety degrees, and to immerse yourself in it; then take some yellow soap, rid) it vigorously on a piece of flannel, and apply the flannel with considerable friction to all parts of your body." "Hut, doctor," said the patient, "that sounds like telling me to go home and wash myself." "I confess, miulam," was the reply, "that it is open to that objection." She never came back. tea?" If we may believe the London Truth, there is* a very funny story going around Washington at the expense of an impulsive and somewhat lightheaded young gentleman attached to the British legation. The youth made a couple of purchases one day, the one for himself?a matter of clothing?the other a box of roses for the adornment of the Washington belle to whom he had lost his heart. In a hasty moment he mistook the parcels, and handed the box containing the clothing to a messenger accompanied by a note addressed to his lady love, bidding her, "Wear these this evening for my sake." The story stops here. tea?" Sweden would seem to bo a country after the heart of the most pronounced advocate of woman's rights. Women are there employed in all the vocations which ordinarily are conceded to be the peculiar property of mankind. Every Swedish girl not born to wealth is taught a trade of some kind, and it is now triumphantly announced that Swedish women will shortly receive equal political rights with their husbands and other male relatives. What avenues of occupation are left to the unfortunate men is not stated, but it is to be presumed they find abundance of work in caring for their homes, and taking care of the babies while the women are filling the places of men in the world. tea?'There is no witness so terrible, no accuser so powerful as conscience, that dwells in the breast of each. U