Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, April 23, 1890, Image 1
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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | ?fit Jndepcndent Jamils. $t?tisppfr: Jor the fromotion of the fotitieat, jsoeiat, ^(jricultural and (tfommcrrial Jntcrrata of the <$outh. | terms?$2.00 a year in advance.
VOL. 36. YORKVILLE, 8. C., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 33, 1890. NO. 17.
OTIM?I
A Story of Amerl
BY CAPT. CHAR1
Author of "The Colonel's Danf
Desert*
Copyrightod 1888 by J. B. Lippincott G
special arrangement through tl
CHAPTER XVIL
T THE head of a scow
some fifteen minutes
later. His orders from Col. Brainard
were to go to Dunraven, and, tf lie round
the marauders there, to arrest the entire
party and bring them back to the post.
From all that could be learned from hurried
questioning of the sentries and the
dazed, half drunken sergeant of the corral,
the troopers engaged in the raid
must have selected a time when the sentry
was walking towards the south end
of his post to lift one of their number
over the wall of the inclosure in which
were kept the wagons and ambulances.
This man had unbarred from within the
gate leading eastward to the trail down
which the "stock" was driven daily to
water in the Monee. Riley admitted
that "the boys" had left a bottle with
him which he and his assistant had
emptied before turning in, and so it happened
that, unheard and unseen, the
raiders had managed to slip out with a
dozen horses that were kept there and
had also taken six mules as "mounts"
for those who could not find anything
better.
Eighteen men, apparently, were in the
party, and the sentry on Number Three
heard hoof beats down towards the valley
about half past 2 o'clock, but thought
it was only some of the ponies belonging
to the Cheyenne scouts. There was one
oomfort?the men had taken no firearms
with them; for a hurried inspection of
the company quarters showed that the
carbines were all in their racks and the
MnAlnAM in fliOtV MCflO Rrtmfl r\f fKo
10TV1VC10 Ul H1V/U vuovw. wvtuv */? VMW
men might havo small caliber pistols of
their own, but the government arms had
not been disturbed. Half the party, at
least, must have ridden bareback and
with only catering bridles for their
steeds. Th. / were indeed "spoiling for
a fight," and the result of the roll call
showed that the missing troopers were
all Irishmen and some of the best and
most popular men in the command.
Whatever their plan, thought Stryker,
as he trotted down to the Monee, it was
probably carried out by this time; it was
now within a minute of 4 o'clock.
Only a mile out he was overtaken by
Dr. Qoin, who reined up an instant to
ask if any one had been sent ahead.
"Thank God for that!" he exclaimed,
when told that Perry and Sergt. Gwynne
had gone at the first alarm; then, striking
spurs to his horse, pushed on at rapid
gallop, while the troopers maintained
their steady trot. A mile from Dunraven,
in the dim light of early morning,
the captain'8 keen eyes caught sight of
shadowy forms of mounted men on the
opposite shore, and, despite their efforts
to escape on their wearied steeds, three
of them were speedily run down and
captured. One of them was Corp. Donovan,
and Donovan's face was white and
his manner agitated. Bidding him ride
alongside as they pushed ahead towards
the ranch, Stryker questioned him as to
what had taken place, and the corporal
never sought to equivocate:
"We've been trying lor several nights,
sir, to get horses and go down and have
it out with those blackguards at the
ranch. We took no arms, sir, even those
of us who had pistols of our own. All
we asked was a fair fight, man against
man. They wouldn't come out of their
hole?they dasn't do it, sir?and then
they fired on us. We'd have burned the
roof over their heads, but that Lieut.
Perry galloped in and stopi>ed us. 1
came away then, sir, and so did most of
us. We knew 'twas all up when wo saw
the lieutenant: hut there was moro firing
after I left. This way, captain. Out
across the prairie here. Wo cut down
the fence on this side." And so saying,
Donovan led the little troop to a broad
gap in the wide barrier, and thence
straight across the fields to where lights
were seen flitting about in the dark
shadows of the buildings of the ranoli.
Another moment, and Stryker had dismounted
and was kneeling beside the
prostrate and unconscious form of his
lieutenant. Some misguided ranchman,
mistaking for a new assailant the tall
. young soldier who galloped into the
midst of the swarm of taunting Irishmen,
had fired the cruel shot. There
lay Nolan dead upon the sward, and
here, close at hand, his grief stricken
master had finally swooned from loss
of blood, the bullet having pierced his
leg below the knee. Beside him knelt
the doctor: he had cut away the natty
riding boot, and was rapidly binding up
the wound. Close at hand stood G wynne,
a world of anxiety and trouble in his
bruised and still discolored face.
n x J - ..f -l
uruupeu uruuiiu were burnt? ui wie a#sailing
party-, crestfallen and dismayed
at the unlooked for result of their foray,
but ashamed to attempt to ride away,
now that their favorite young officer
was sore stricken as a result of their inad
folly. Mr. Ewen, too, had come out,
snd was bustling about, giving directions
to the one or two of his hands who
had ventured forth from the office building.
The big frame house under whose
walls the group was gathered was evidently
used as a dormitory for a number
of men, and this had been the objective
point of the attack, but not a soul had
issued from its portals: the occupants
were the men who made the assault on
Perry the night of his first visit, and
now they deemed it best to keep within.
Everything indicated that Perry had got
to the scene just in time to prevent a
bloody and desperate lYacas, for the few
ranch people who appeared were still
quivering with excitement and dread.
Ewen was almost too much agitated to
speak:
"Go to Mr. Maitland as soon as you
can, doctor: this has given him a fearful
shaking up. Mrs. Cowan is having a
room made ready for Mr. Perry. Ah!
here's young Cowan now. Ready?" he
asked.
"All ready. Mother says carry tho
gentleman right in. She wants you to
come too," he added, in a lower tone, to
Sergt. G wynne, but tho latter made no
reply.
And so, borne in the arms of several
of his men, Lieut. Perry was carried
across the intervening space and into the
m*?'n building. When ho recovered consciousness,
as tho morning light came
through tho eastern windows, ho found
himself lying in a white curtained bed in
a strange room, with a strange yet kind
and motherly face bending over him,
and his captain smiling down into his
wondering eyes.
"You are coming round all right, old
fellow," he heard Stryker say. "I'll call
the doctor now; he wanted to see you us
soon as you waked."
And then Quin came in and said a few
;i mml
can Frontier Iiife.
LES KING, U. S. A.,
thter," "From the Ranks," "The
>r," Etc.
ompany, Philadelphia, and published by
ie American Press Association.
cheery words, and bade him lie still and
worry about nothing. The row was over,
thanks to him, and he and poor Nolan
were the only victims; but it had been a
great shock to Mr. Maitland and rendered
his condition critical
Perry listened in silence, asking no
questions. For the time being he could
think of nothing but Nolan's loss. It was
such a cruel fate to be killed by those he
came to save.
All that day lie lay there, dozing and
thinking alternately. He wondered at
the tenderness and devotion with which
tha kind old Englishwoman nursed him
and seemed to anticipate his every want.
Quin came in towards evening and
dressed his wound, which now began to
be feverish and painful. Ho heard his
colonel's voice in the hallway, too, and
heard him say to the doctor that some
. body at Rossiter was eager to come down
and take care of him. "Bosh!" said the
blunt surgeon; "I've a far better nurse
here?and a reserve to fall back upon
that will be worth a new life to him."
And, weak and feverish though he was,
Perry's heart thrilled within him; ho
wondered if it could mean Gladys. Two
days more he lay there, the fever skillfully
controlled by the doctor's ministrations,
and the pain of his wound subdued
by Mrs. Cowan's cooling bondages
and applications. But there was a burning
fever in his heart that utterly refused
to go down. He strained his ears
listening for the sound of her voice or
the pifc-a-pat of her foot fall in the corridor.
At last he mustered courage and
asked for her, and Mrs. Cowan smiled:
"Miss Maitland has been here three
times to inquire how you were; but it
was while you were sleeping, Mr. Perry,
and she rarely leaves her father's bedside.
He is very ill, and seems to be
growing weaker every day. I don't
know what we would have done if we
had not found Dr. Quin here; he has
pulled him through two or three bad
seizures during the past year."
"Where had you known the doctor before?"
asked Perry, with an eager light
in his eyes.
"Nowhere; but it was as though one
of his own kith and kin had suddenly
made his appearance here to welcome
Mr. Maitlaud. The doctor is a first cousin
of Mrs. Maitland's; she was from Ireland,
and it was from her family that
the ranch was named. Lord Dunraven
is of the peerage of Ireland, you know,"
added Mrs. Cowan, with the cheerful
confidence of the Englishwoman that
every person of any education or standing
must be familiar With the pages of
Deorett.
"How should I know anything about
it?" laugncd Perry. He felt in merry
mood; another page in his volume of bus
picion and dread was being torn away,
and Quin's relations with the household
were turning out to be such as made
him an object of lively Interest, not of
jealous doubt
Then came the callei> trom the garrison.
It seemed as though all of a sudden '
the blockado had been raised and that no
people were so warmly welcomed at
Dunraven as the very ones who had been
especially proscribed. Mr. Maitland,
weak and ill as he was, had asked to be
allowed to see Col. Brainard on tho occasion
of that officer's second visit; Stryker,
Dana, Graham and Parke had all been
allowed to come up and see Perry a few
moments, but Mrs. Cowan was vigilant
and remorseless, would allow them only
a brief interview, and, with 6miling determination.
checked her patient when
he attempted to talk. The third day of
his imprisonment Dr. Quin came scowling
in along in the afternoon, manifestly
annoyed about something, and said a few
words in a low tone to Mrs. Cowan, and
that usually equable matron fluttered
away down stairs in evident excitement.
"It's Mrs. Belknap," explained the
doctor, in answer to Perry's inquiring
look. "She has ridden down here with
Dana and sent her card up to Gladys?
?L. u i 4.U lj. I r j u
wno can u ucar uio bigiiu ui iter; 1 uun w
know why; intuition, I suppose."
Presently Mrs. Cowan reappeared:
"Miss Gladys has asked to be excused, as
she does not wish to leave her father at
this moment; and the lady would like to
come up and see Mr. Perry."
"Tell her no!" said Quin, savagely.
No?here: I'll go myself." And down
went the doughty medical officer, and
straightway the rumbling tones of his
harsh voice were heard below: the words
were indistinguishable, but Mrs. Cowan's
face indicated that there was something
in the sound that gave her comfort. She
stood at the window watching the pair
as they rode away.
"Miss Gladys shuddered when she had
to shake hands with her th ..t day when
we came away from Mrs. Sprague's," said
she. "I hope that lady is not a particular
friend of yours, Mr. Perry?"
"We have been very good friends indeed,"
said he, loyally. "To bo sure, 1
have hardly known Mrs. Belknap a
month, but both she and the captain
have been very kind to me." All the
same, down in the bottom of his heart,
ho did not wonder at Miss Maitlaud's
sensations. lie was beginning to despair
of ever seeing her, and yet could get no
explanation that satisfied him.
"You know she can walk only with
great pain and difficulty even now,"
said Mrs. Cowan. "Her ankle was very
badly wrenched, and she hardly goes
farther than from her own to her father's
room. You ought to feel complimented
that she has been hero to your
door three times."
"I feel more like butting my brains
out for being asleep," muttered Perry in
reply. "I wish you would wake mo
next time, Mrs. Cowan. I shan't believe
it until I see it, or hear her voice at the
door."
She had excused herself to Mrs. Belknap,
and tho doctor had denied that
lovely woman her request to be allowed
to come up and see Mr. Perry; and yet
the very next day, when the big four
mule ambulance from Rossiter camo
driving up to tho front door, and Mrs.
Sprague and Mrs. Lawrence, escorted
by the colonel and Capt. Stryker, appeared
on the veranda, how did it happen
that the ladies were speedily ushered
upstairs to Miss Maitland's own room,
and that, after an animated though low
toned chat of half an hour with her,
they were marshaled down tho long corridor
by Mrs. Cowan in person, and, to
Perry's huge delight, wero 6hown in to
his bedside? It looked as though Quin
were showing unwarrantable discrimination.
Stryker and the colonel, too, camo
in to see him, and the latter told him that
both Mr. Maitland and Mr. Ewen had
begged that the arrested soldiers might
not be punished. Including Sergt. Leary
and Kelly, thero were now twenty men
under charges more or less grave in their
character, and he had asked that a general
court martial be convened for their
trial. The colonel deeply appreciated tho
feeling displayed by the stricken proprietor
and his overseer; he was touched
that even in his extreme illness and prostration
Mr. Maitland should intercede for
the men who had made so hostile an invasion
of his premises and brought upon
the inmates of Dunravenanightof dread
and anxiety; but discipline had to ho
maintained, he replied, and the ringleaders
in the move had been guilty of a
flagrant breach which could not be overlooked.
But on tho following day?tho fourth
of Perry's stay?tho doctor came down
with a face full of gloom and distress.
Both nurse and patient noted it, and inquired
the cause. For a time Quin
avoided any direct reply: "something
had ruffled him up at the post," he answered:
"can't tell you about it now.
I'll do it by and by. I want to think."
He examined Perry's leg, dressed and rebandaged
the wound, and then went
back to Mr. Maitland's room. They could
hear his voice in the hall after a while,
and Perry's heart began to throb heavily;
he was sure the low, sweet tones, almost
inaudible, that came floating along the
corridor, were those of Gladys. When
Mrs. Cowan spoke to him on some ordinary
topic, he impatiently bade her
hush?he could not bear to be disturbed
?and, far from being hurt at his petulance,
Mrs. Cowan smiled softly as she
turned away.
Then Quin came back, and, after
fidgeting around a moment, abruptly addressed
his patient:
"Perry, do you remember that morning
you rode down here right after reveille
and met mo on the trail?or at
least would havo met mo if I hadn't
dodged and gone over to the other side
of the valley?"
"Certainly I do, doctor."
"I may as well explain that singular
performance first You may have heard
that I didn't get along amicably with
your predecessors of the Eleventh. Their
colonel was ass enough to totally misconstrue
the purpose of my visits here, and
I was ass enough to make no explanation.
The Maitlands went away; 1 was
not called for again while the Eleventh
remained; and therefore I 6aid no more
about it. Mr. Maitland returned unexpectedly
soon after you came, and the
first I knew of it was the signal lights
telling me he was there, ill, and that I
was wanted. It was the night of the
colonel's dinner party. I couldn't explain
then, and decided to go at once
and explain afterward. When I met
you all of a sudden the next morning,
the first impulse was to get away out of
your sight, and I obeyed it simply because
of the unpleasant experiences 1
had been having with your fellow cavalrymen.
I did not want to have to answer
questions. See? I was ashamed
of it, but too late to turn back."
Perry nodded. "I understand it?
now," ho said.
"Well, what I want to ask is about
Sergt. Gwynne. Did you meet him bofore
you got back?"
"Yes?a mile or so out from the post."
"You stopped and talked with him,
didn't you?"
"Yes?for several minutes."
Mrs. Cowan's needlework had fallen in
her lap. She was seated near the window,
and had been busily sewing. Now she
was looking up, eager and intent.
"You've known him a long time,
haven't you?"
"Yes?over since he joined. He's one
of the best sergeants I ever knew."
"You would hardly think him guilty
of any dishonesty, would you?"
Mrs. Cowan was rising from her chair;
the needlework had fallen to the floor.
"Dishonesty! Not by a?good deal!"
was the reply that bade fair to bo even
more impulsive, and was checked only
in deference to the presence of a woman.
"Well, neither would I, from what
I've seen of him; and yet Mr. Maitland's
seal ring was found on him last night."
"Mv God! Of r.nnrsfi ho eouhl exolain
it in some way?"
"He couldn't?or wouldn't He simply
stood there, white as a sheep except
where those bruises made him green and
blue. He had denied the charge flatly
when accused; and yet there it was in
his chest I never saw any man so taken
aback as Capt. Stryker; ho said ho would
have sworn to his innocence."
"So would I!?so I do, by Jupiterl It's
some foul plot!?it's"
But he got no further. To his own
amaze, to the utter bewilderment of Dr.
Quin, Mrs. Cowan precipitated herself
upon her patient, seized the hand that
lay nearest her on the coverlet, and
burst forth into half articulate, sobbing,
indignant words, mingled with kisses
showered passionately on that astonished
hand.
"Oh, bless him for the words! Oh,
God bless you, Mr. Perry! * * * Oh,
the fools! the lunatics! * * A
thief, indeed. * * * The idea of his
being accused! * * ? Oh, God! what
would his mother in heaven say to this?
* # * As though ho had not borne
far too much already! * * * It's his
own?his own ring, I tell you! Who
elso should wear it? * * * Who dare
take it from him now? * * * Oh, the
infamy of it all!"
In her wild excitement, in her incoherent
praise and lamentation and wrath
and indignation, her voice, her sobs,
rang through tho room and out along
the broad corridor. Even in their amaze
the two men heard a hurried step approaching,
a limping, halting, painful
step, yet rapid and impulsive. Quin, absorbed
in his contemplation of the excited
woman, paid no attention; Perry's
eager eyes were strained upon the door
way, where, the very next instant, with
pallid features and startled mien, Gladys
Maitland appeared and 6tood 6taring In
upon the spectacle of Mrs. Cowan kissing
and sobbing over Perry's hand. Already
he had divined the truth, and
strove to warn the tear blinded woman
of her presence; but Mrs. Cowan's excitement
had increased to the verge of
hysteria; she was laughing and crying
now by turns, blessing her soldier patient
for his faith in the accused sergeant, and
then breaking forth anew in indignant
expletive, "Who are his accusers? Who
dare say thief to him? * * * Not one
is fit to look him in tho facel 'Twas the
very ring his mother gavo him, *
his own! his own!"
And then tho doctor seized her and
turned her so that she must see GladysGladys,
wild eyed, panting, staring, tottering
forward from tho doorway. One
sharp cry from tho woman's lips, one
spring towards tho reeling form, and
she had caught the girl in her arms.'
"Gladys, Gladys, my little pet! ray
own baby girl! Look up and thank God!
I've tried to keep my promise and his
secret until ho released me. I've tried
hard, but it's all useless; I can't, I can't.
Oh, Gladys, sweetheart, your mother's
smiling down on us this day. Who do
you think has como back to us, safe and
strong and well and brave? Who but
your own brother, your own Archie,
Gladys?"
CHAPTER XVIII.
J '
fES, certainly very pretty?
now. It's 6uch a pity tnat
Englishwomen grow coarse
md stout and red faced so
very soon after they are married." The
speaker was Mrs. Belknap, and her soft
voice was tuned to a pitch of almost
pathetic regret. They wero talking of
Miss Maitland, who had just been assisted
to her saddle by the colonel, and
now, followed by tho faithful Griggs
and escorted by Capt. Stryker, was riding
away homeward after a brief call at
the post. Fort Itossiter, once so humdrum
and placid and "stupid," as the
ladies termed it, had been the vortex of
sensations fa: a whole fortnight, and
one excitement had trodden on the heels
of another with such rapidity that peoplo
were growing weary.
Perhaps tho happiest man in garrison
was Capt. Stryker; he had refused to believe
in the guilt of Sergt. Gwynne when
Capt. Wayne came to him to say that
there were men in his troop who openly
accused the sergeant of having that cherished
seal ring secreted in his chest. So
confident was he that he had gone with
the captain and Mr. Farnham to the
stables and there told Gwynne of the
charge against him. Gwynne flushed
hotly, denied the truth of the story, but
hesitated when asked if ho would allow
his chest to be searched. This was quickly
noted by Wayne and Farnham, and
the search was insisted upon. Gwynne
then said there were a few items in that
chest which he allowed no one to see; he
pledged his soldier word that they were
nothing but a paper or two, some little
photographs and a book. These he asked
permission to remove first; then they
might search. But Wayne sternly refused.
The sergeant turned very white,
set his lips, and hesitated still, until his
own captain spoke; then ho surrendered
his key.
Wayne and Farnham bent over the
chest while the troop first sergeant rapidly
turned over the clothing, books, etc.,
with trembling hands. There was a little
compartment at one side, in which were
lying some small items?a pocket compass,
a pencil case, some keys, a locket
and a neck chain, and, among these,
something wrapped in tissue paper. This
was handed to Capt. Wayne, \vho unrolled
the paper,and?there was a massive
seal ring. A crest was cut in the stone,
and, taking it to the light, Wayne was
able to make out the motto, "Quod 6ursum
volo videre." It was the ring Maitland
had lost.
Stryker looked wonderingly at his sergeant,
who stood there as though petrified
with amaze and consternation, pale
as death, and unable to say a word.
Asked to explain the matter, he could
only shake his head, and, after awhile,
hoarsely muttered, "I know nothing
about it. I never placed it there."
"Do you mean to tell me you never saw
it before?" asked Wayne, sternly. And
Gwynne was silent.
"Is this the first time you ever saw it,
I say?" repeated the captain angrily.
"No, sir; I have seen it before," was
the answer.
"Then you must have known 'twas
stolen, and you have connived at its concealment,"
was Wayne's triumphant
conclusion; and on the report of his officers
Col. Brainard had no alternative but
to order G Wynne's close arrest. Only
Stryker'sappeal and guarantee saved the
6ergeant from confinement in the guard
house.
The next sensation was the sight of
Dr. Quin galloping back to the post like
mad and bolting unceremoniously into
the colonel's gate. Then Stryker was
sent for, and the three officers held an
excited conversation. Then the orderly
went at a run over to the quarters, and
in five minutes Sergt. Gwynne, erect as
ever and dressed with scrupulous care,
looking anything but like a guilty man,
was seen crossing the parade towards his
colonel's house. The men swarmed out
on the porches as the tidings went from
lip to lip, and some of the Irish troopers
in Wayne's company were remarked as
being oddly excited. Just what took
place during that interview none could
tell, but in ten minutes the news was flying
around the garrison that Sergt.
Gwynne was released from arrest, and
in less than half an hour, to the wonder
ment of everybody, he was seen riding
away towards Dunraven with Dr. Quin,
and for two days more did not reappear
at Rossi ter.
But when the story flashed from house
to house about the garrison that Sergt.
Gwynne was not Sergt. Gwynno at all,
but Mr. Archibald Wyndham Quin Maitland,
late of her majesty's ?th Lancers,
the only surviving son of the invalid
owner of Dunravan Ranch and other
valuable properties, the amaze amounted
to stupefaction. It was known that
old Mr. Maitland lay desperately weak
and ill the day that Quin the doctor
came riding back. All manner of stories
were told regarding the affecting *
turo of the interview in which the
long lost son was restored to his overjoyed
father, but, like most stories, they
were purely the offspring of imagination,
for at that interview only three were
present: Gladys led her brother to the
room and closed the door, while good
Mrs. Cowan stood weeping for joy down
the long corridor, and Dr. Quin blinked
his eyes and fussed and fidgeted and
strode around Perry's room with his
hands in his pockets, exploding every
now and then into sudden comment on
f h a citiintmn om/1
LUU lULUailkiV/ liaiui U vi HAVJ OilUdUUH cum
the idiocy of some people there at Rossiter.
"Joy does not kill," he said;
"Maitland would have been a dead man
by the end of the week but for this; it
will give him a new lease of life."
And it did. Though the flame was
feeble and flickering, it was fanned by a
joy unutterable. The boy whom the
stricken father believed his stubborn
pride and condemnation had driven to
despair and suicido was restored to him
in the prime of manly strength, all tenderness,
all forgiveness, and Maitland's
whole heart went up in thanksgiving.
He begged that Brainard and Stryker
would come to him, that ho might thank
them for their faith in his son; he bade
the doctor say to Perry that the moment
he could bo lifted from his bod ho would
como to clasp his hands and bless him
for being a far better friend to his son
than he had been a father.
The sergeant's return to the post was
the signal for a general turnout on the
part of the men, all of whom were curious
to see how he would appear now that
his identity was established. Of course,
his lato assailants could not join in the
crowd that thronged about him, but they
listened with eagerness to everything
that was told. "He was just the samo
as ever," said all accounts. lie had
never been intima/e with any of them,
but always friendly and kind. One thing
went the rounds like lightning.
"You'll begetting your discharge now,
sergeant," said Mrs. Reed, the voluble
wife of the leader of the band, "and
taking up your residence at the ranch, 1
suppose. Of course the Britisih minister
can get it for you in a minute."
l.if nf if TUrii Pood " U'MS thf?
laughing answer. "I enlisted to 6erve
Uncle Sara fivo years, and lie's been too
good a friend to mo to turn from. I
shall serve out my time with the ?th.1'
And the sergeant was true to his word.
If old Maitland could have prevailed, an
application for his son's dischargo would
have gone to Washington; but this the
soldier positively forbade. Ho had eight
months still to serve, and ho meant to
carry out his contract to the letter.
Stryker offered him a furlough, and
Gwynne thankfully took a week, that
he might be by his father's side and help
nurse him to better health. "By that
time, too, the garrison will have grown
a littlo moro accustomed to it, sir, and
I will have less embarrassment in going
on with my work."
Two days before his return to duty
thero camo a modified sensation in the
shape of tho report that a trooper of
Wayne's company had deserted. He
was a man who had borne a bad reputation
as a turbulent, mischief making
fellow, and when Sergt. Leary heard of
his going he was in a state of wild excitement.
Ho begged to bo allowed to
see his captain, and to him ho confessed
that one of his littlo party of three had
seen tho ring drop from Mr. Maitland's
finger tho night of tho first visit to Dunraven,
had managed to pick it up and
carry it away in tho confusion, and had
shown it to his friend in Wayne's troop
when they got back. Tho latter persuaded
him to let him take it, as the
lockers of tho men who wero at Dunraven
were sure, he said, to bo searched.
It was known that ho had a grudgo
against Gwynne; ho was ono of the men
who was to have gone to the ranch the
night they purposed riding down .and
challenging tho Englishmen to come out
and fight, but had unaccountably failed
at tho last moment. They believed that
he had chosen that night to hide the
ring in the sergeant's chest: he could
easily have entered through the window.
And this explanation?the only one
ever made?became at once accepted .'is
the true one throughout the garrison.
During the week of his furlough the
sergeant found time to spend many hours
by the bedside of Lieut. Perry, who was
rapidly recovering, and who by the end
of the week had been lifted into an easy
invalid chair and wheeled in to see Mr.
Maitland. When not with Mr. Perry,
the young trooper's tongue was ever
wagging in his praise. He knew many
a fine officer and gallant gentleman in
the service of the old country, he 6aid,
and he admired many a captain and subaltern
in that of his adopted land, but
the first one to whom he "warmed"?the
first one to win his affection?was the
young cavalryman wHo had met his painful
wound in their defense. Old Maitland
listened to it all eagerly?he had
already given orders that the finest thoroughbred
at Dunraven should be Perry's
the moment he was able to mount again
and ho was constantly revolving in mind
how he could show his appreciation of
the officers who had befriended his son.
Mrs. Cowan, too. n/ tired of hearing
Perry's praises, ancf eagefly questioned
when the narrator flagged. Thero was
another absorbed auditor, who never
questioned and who listened with downcast
eyes. It was she who seldom came
near Perry during his convalescence, she
who startled and astonished the voung
fellow beyond measure, the day Uio ambulance
came down to drivo him back to
the fort, by withdrawing the hand he
had impulsively seized when at last she
appeared to bid him adieu, and cutting
short his eager words with "Mrs. Belknap
will console you, I dare say," and abruptly
leaving the room.
Poor Nedl In dire distress and perplexity
ho was driven back to Rossiter,
apd that very evening he did a most sensible
and fortunate thing; ho told Mrs.
Spraguo all about it; and, instead of condoling
with him and bidding him strive
to be patient and saying that all would
come right in time, the little woman's
kind eyes shone with delight, her cheeks
flushed with genuine pleasure; she fairly
sprang from her choir, and danced up
and down and clapped her hands and
laughed with glee, and then, when Perry
ruefully asked her if that was the sympathy
ho had a right to expect from her,
she only laughed the more, and at last
broke forth with:
"Oh, you great, stupid, silly boy I You
ought to be wild with happiness. Can't
you see she's jealous?"
And the very next day she had a long
talk with Dr. Quin, whoso visits to Dunraven
still continued; and one bright
afternoon when Gladys Maitland rode up
to the fort to return calls, she managed
to have quite a chat with her, despite the
fact that Mrs. Belknap showed a strong
desire to accompany that fair English
girl in all three of her visits. In this
effort, too, the diplomatic services of
Capt. Stryker proved rather too much
for the beauty of the garrison. Was it
possible that Mrs. Spraguo had enlisted
him also in the good cause? Certain it
is that the.dark featured captain was
Miss Maitland's escort as she left the
garrison, and that it was with the consciousness
of impending defeat that Mrs.
Belknap gave utterance to the opening
? 6 In /ili#i nfnm ? D/mn rf lm/1
oeill/eilUU Ui una uiaptci, aula, icuj nau
distinctly avoided her ever since his return.
One lovely evening late in May Mr.
Perry was taking his first ride on the
new horse, a splendid bay and a perfect
match for Gladys Maitland's favorite
mount. Already had^his circumstance
excited smiling comment in the garrison;
but if the young man himself had noted
the close resemblai?:e it conveyed no
blissful augury. Everybody remarked
that he had lost mach of his old buoyancy
and life, and it must be confessed
he was not looking either blithe or well.
Parke had suggested riding with him?
an invitation which Perry treated so
coldly that the junior stopped to think a
moment, and began to see through the
situation; and so Mr. Perry was suffered
to set forth alone that evening, and no
one was surprised when, after going out
of the west gate as though bent 011 ridInn
im tlm JUnnoo ho was nresentlv seen
*"tj "F * ??? ? r
to have made the circuit of the post and
was 6lowly cantering down towards the
lower valley. Out on the eastern prairio
another horseman could be seen, and
presently the two came together. Col.
Brainard took down his binocular and
gazed out u.'ter them.
"I declare." said lie, "those two figures
are so much alike 1 cannot tell
which of them is Perry."
"Then the other is Sergt. Gwynne, colonel,"
said Stryker, quietly. "Put him
in our uniform, and it would indeed be
hard to tell the two figures apart. Mr.
Maitland told mo last week that that was
what so startled and Btruck him the first
time ho saw Perry."
"How is Mr. Maitland now. do you
know?"
"Ho gets no better. After the first
week of joy and thanksgiving over his
boy's restoration to him, tho malady
seemed to reassert itself. Dunraven will
have a new master by winter, I fancy."
Tho colonel was silent a moment. Then
ho suddenly asked:
"By the way, how was it that Gwynne
wasn't drowned? I never understood
that."
"Ho never meant to bo," said Stryker.
"Ho told Perry all about it. He was
ruined, ho thought,in his profession and in
his own country, and ho knew his father's
inexorable pride; so ho simply decided to
put an end to Archie Maitland and start
a new lifo for himself, lie wrote ms
letters and arranged his property with
that view, and ho called tho steward to
enable him to swear ho was in his stateroom
after the 6teamer weighed anchor.
Then in a jiffy ho was over tho side in
tho darkness; it was flood tido and ho was
an expert swimmer; ho reached a coasting
vessel lying near; ho had money,
bought his passage to France, after a
few days at Capo Town, and then came
to America and enlisted. He got a confession
out of one of their irregulars who
was with him, Perry says, and that was
ono of tho papers ho was guarding so
jealously. Ho had given others to Perry
that very night."
"They seemed to tako to each other
like brothers from tho 8tart," said tho
colonel, with a quiet smile.
"Just about," answered Capt. Stryker,
Meantime, Perry and Sergt. Gwynne
have been riding slowly down tho valley.
Night has come upon Dunraven by tho
hour they reach tho northern gate?no
longer closed against them?and as they
near the house Perry slowly dismounts.
"I'll tako tho horses to the stable myself:
I want to," says his trooper friend, and
for tho second time tho young officer
stands upon the veranda at tho doorway,
then holds his hand as he hears again the
6oft melody of tho piano floating out
upon tho still night air. Slowly and not
without pain ho walks around to tho east
front, striving to move with noiseless
steps. At last ho stands by the open
casement, just where ho had paused in
surpriso that night a month agone, and
slowly drawing aside ono heavy fold of
curtain, gazes longingly in at Gladys
Maitland, seated there at tho piano, just
where he first saw her lovely face and
form.
Presently, under tho soft touch of her
fingers, a sweet, fumiliar melody comes
rippling forth. He remembers it instantly;
it is the same he heard the night
of his first visit?that exquisite "Spring
Song" of Mendelssohn's?and he listens,
spell bound. All of a sudden the sweet
strains arc broken off, tho music ceases:
sho has thrown herself forward, bowed
her queenly head upon her arms, and,
leaning over tho keyboard, her form is
shaken by a storm of passionate tears.
Perry hurls asido tho sheltering curtain
and limp3 rapidly across tho soft and
noiseless rug. She never dreams of his
presence until, closo at her side, a voico
sho has learned to know and know well
?a voico tremulous with love, sympathy
and yearning?murmurs onjy ner name,
"Gladys," and, starting up, she looks
one instant into his longing eyes.
Sergt. "Gwynne" Maitland, lifting the
heavy portiere a moment later, stops
short at the entrance, gazes one secon '
at the picturesque scene at the piano,
drops the portiere, and vanishes, unnoticed.
Things seemed changed at Dunraven of
late years. The ?th are still at Rossiter,
bo is Lieut. Perry. It may be the climate
or association with an American sisterhood,
or?who knows??perhaps somebody
has told her of Mrs. Belknap's prediction,
but Mrs. Perry has not yet begun
to grow coarse, red faced or stout. She
is wonderfully popular with the ladies of
the ?th, and has found warm friends
among them, but Mrs. Sprague of the infantry
is the woman she particularly fancies,
and her gruff old kinsman Dr. Quin
is ever a welcome guest at their fireside.
It was he, she told her husband long
after, who undid the mischief Mrs. Belknap
had been able to sow in one brief
conversation. "I've known that young
woman ever since she wore pinafores,
Gladys, She has some good points, too,
but her one idiosyncrasy is that every
man she meets should bow down to and
worship her. She is an Alexander In petticoats,
sighing for new worlds to conquer,
has been a coquette from the cradle,
and?what she can't forgive in Ned Perry
Is that he simply did not fall in love with
her as she thought he had."
Down at Dunraven the gates are gone,
the doors are very hospitably open.
Ewen is still manager de jure, but young
Mr. Maitland, the proprietor, is manager
de facto, and, though there is constant
going and coming between the fort and
the ranch, and the officers of the ? th
ride in there at all hours, what makes
the ranchman so popular among the rank
and file is the fact that Sergt. "Gwynne,"
as they still call him, has a warm place
in his heart for one and all, and every
year when the date of his enlistment in
the?th comes round lie givesn barbecue
dinner to the men, whereat there are
feasting and drinking of healths and
song and speech making, and Leary and
Donovan and even tho recreant Kelly
are apt to ho boisterouslv prominent on
such occasions, but blissfully so?for
there hasn't been a shindy of any kind
since their old comrade stepped into his
possessions at Dunraven Ranch.
[the end.]
gpfetlliittMUS! Reading.
THE DRAINAGE PROBLEM.
NOT HOW TO RUN THE WATER OFF,
JtVT HOW TO KEEP IT ON THE
LAND.
Dr. Win. M. Walker, of Yorkville,
is a good farmer. He works hard,
observes closely, and being of a very
inquiring turn of mind, continues to
progress as he grows older. For the
past two years the doctor has been
developing a pet, original theory as
to a practical and economical method
of terracing, and having perfected
his ulnns tr> thnt, Tinint, where thev
may safely be called a success, a few
days ago he invited a reporter of The
Enquirer to go out and see what he
is doing. His farm is just within the
incorporate limits of the town, not
more than fifteen minutes' walk from
The Enquirer office, and in company
with the doctor, the reporter
has taken occasion to accept the invitation.
Dr. Walker's farm, like the larger
portion of the lands in this section, is
decidedly rolling, and of a character
requiring the most judicious drainage
for its continued preservation.
And it is this problem of drainage,
which has so long puzzled the more
advanced agriculturists, that the doctor
thinks he has solved.
On the road to the farm, Dr. Walker
remarked:
"When I was boy, nearly all the
creeks in the country were full of
deep holes. Take Allison creek, up
here. It used to be full of fish?good
big fish?and every few hundred
yards was a great hole that would
swim a horse. But now you might
hunt from source to mouth without
finding more than one or two places
you can't wade. Now, of course, there
is a reason for this, and if you will just
think about it for a moment you will
see it. It is just this: The timber
has been cut away; the lands have
been put under cultivation, and
whenever a rain comes, large quantities
of loose dirt are washed right
into the creek. There is too much
to be carried off with the current,
and consequently it just settles to the
bottom of the stream all along, filling
up the holes, clogging the channel
with *and and utterly defeating the
purpose for which nature intended
the creek.
"It is an alarming fact that our
bottom lands are rapidly becoming
worthless. Scarcely any of them will
average a crop every other year, and
the present outlook is that before a
great while longer they will be fit
only for pasturage.
".Now this was not the case nctorc
the timber ainl undergrowth were cut
away. Then, when a big rain fell,
the leaves an(l undergrowth absorbed
a large quantity of the water, and,
acting as a filter, collected most of
the dirt and sand. In this way the
creeks were kept clean.
"But the lands have to be cultivated,
and before they are cultivated
they have to be cleared?that's plain.
So the question arises, 'Whatare you
going to do about it ?' The only practical
answer given by most people is
ditch ; but that won't do. I've been
watching the matter all my life, and
I have never seen that remedy prove
entirely successful yet. Some people
understand ditching better than others,
and can use this knowledge to
corresponding greater advantage in
holding their lands; but whenever it
rains, just note those muddy, red
streams rushing toward the creek,
through and across ditches, like a mill
sluice. They hold in solution your
guano, your stable manure, and in
fact, a large proportion of the best elements
of your soil. Every rain
leaches out more or less of your fertility,
and that matter which goes to
color the water is usually the very
cream."
"From that, it would seem, Doctor,
that you don't want the water to run
otf at all ?"
"That's it. That's it. That's the
whole secret. You don't want one
drop more water to run otf your hillsides
than you can help. You want to
keep it standing right where it falls
until it is absorbed in the ground,
and that is just what I am going to
show you how to do ?"
By this time we had arrived at a
long, sloping hill, falling about three
feet in twenty-five yards.
"Now, see here. * I have just commenced
on this field this year. You
see how the land lies and the way I
am going about terracing it. The
idea is to build dams, so to speak, one
to every three feet of fall. If the
land falls three feet in fifty yards,
then you want them about every
fifty yards apart. They should be
thrown up as near on a level as possible,
so the water can't find low places
to break over. And you will observe
this doesn't cost any more, or require
any more labor than to cut ditches.
All 1 have had to do here, was to run
three or four furrows and throw the
dirt 011 the upper side.
"Now, what water falls 011 this
side of yonder terrace runs down to
this one and is held here. They are
close enough together, and each terrace
having to hold only such water
as falls within a limited space, there
is 110 possibility of breaking over.
"That is the theory of the thing,"
continued the doctor. "Now, come
over here further and let me show
you the practice."
In another part of the farm we
came to another series of embankments.
They were from two to three
feet high ami becoming covere<I with
front of his lino, his eyes nxeu on tno
vast columns of Federals maneuvering
on the plain in his front, to note
their first movement in his direction.
The General said to him: "Stackhouse.,
you must hold your position
here." "I will hold it, sir, as long as
one of us," with a glance along the
line of the old 8th, "is alive." This
was said, continued the General, not
in a spirit of braggadocio, but in that
cool, low, firm tone, which lie was
accustomed to use in ordinary conversation,
but one had only to look
into those honest gray eyes to be convinced
that he meant and would do
what he said.
Continuing the conversation. Judge
Kershaw said: "I don't think I
oversaw him excited." Kershaw's
Brigade was often placed in positions
a species of blue grass. Explained
the doctor:
UI have been working on these for
over two years now, and you see
what has been done. The idea is to
keep on building the embankment up
a little every year until you get it as
high as desired. But just observe the
practical results. You notice the surface
of the earth on the upper side of
this embankment has already been
raised fully twelve inches higher than
the lower side. And this accumulated
soil is of the very richest. Why,
just look at those cotton stalks. They
tell the whole story, getting smaller
as they get further away from this
bank. But where would that extra
foot of soil be if it hadn't been for
that terrace ? It makes me regrettul
to think about it. I feel as if I had
been standing idly by, year after year,
and letting hundreds of dollars slip
through my fingers and not able to
help myself, when if I had just
thought of this simple plan ten years
ago, my whole farm would now be a
garden. Yes, sir; when you have
your land fixed in that shape, you
can rest content that all the manure
that is notused in the nourishment of
this year's crop, will be here when
you want it next year.
"were you ever in me lower part
of the State, down below Columbia,
and see those rich lands on the Congaree?
The soil is of almost indefinite
depth, and just as fertile as an asparagus
bed. Do you know how it came
so ? We poor fellows up here furnish
the manure. AVe put it on our lands.
It is leached out by the rains, and
deposited down there as sediment
from the overflows. But if all the
lands between here and Columbia
were fixed like mine are now, the
biggest rain that comes along would
scarcely be sufficient to raise the
river out of its banks. And instead
of our lands getting poorer and poorer,
each succeeding year would find
them richer and leveler.
"Yes, sir ; lam satisfied that here
is the solution of the whole drainage
problem. Take care of your uplands.
Terrace them in this manner, and the
bottom lands will take care of themselves."
COL. E. T. STACKHOUSE.
It is doubtful if any man in this
State is entitled to higher praise, not
for what he has done for himself, but
for the example which he has given
to the country, than Col. E. T. Stackhouse
; and it will be to such men
that the State will be indebted for
the position, which at her present
rate of progress, she will occupy in
the near future.
As Col. Stackhouse is not so well
known in this part of the State as in
the eastern counties, a short sketch of
him may not be uninteresting.
The father and uncles of Col. Stackhouse
lived in the upper part of
Marion county. They were farmers
of the class known as good-livers,
and they were men possessed of more
than average intelligence. They
were industrious, frugal and hardworking
men, characterized by honesty,
sobriety, and a firm adherence
to conviction of duty?and from a
line of duty, as they understood it,
nnfhinfr pmilrl mnvP thpm TliPSP
characteristics are possessed in a high
degree by the subject of our sketch.
The Colonel had such educational
advantages as the higher private
schools of that day furnished. But
those who remember what many of
the ante-bellum schools were, will
not be surprised that a boy possessed
of a good mind with the energy and
perseverance which he exhibited
from a very early age, should make
rapid progress.
Before he completed the course
which he had marlced out, and while
studying and teaching, he met and
married Miss Anna Ford, one of the
handsomest, stateliest and most intelligent
women that county has produced
in the last half century. And
to her he is indebted in no small degree
for the success that has crowned
his life.
After he married he settled on a
farm which one of his uncles had
owned and which, report says, he
abandoned because the land was too
Eoor to sprout cow peas. It was poor,
ut one would not think so to see it
nnw. Thomas hoimn his cron with a
single farm hand?himself, and with
but one horse?old Gray. But soon
his untiring energy, directed by a
mind trained to study and investigate,
began to show itself in its improvement.
Some six or eight years later, and
he had several hands and several
horses, paid for with money made
in farming, and the farm itself had
become the most productive in the
county, while a large and handsome
residence had taken the place of the
dilapidated log structure which had
been the dwelling.
But now the war began and E. T.
Staekhouse was among the lirst to
respond to the call. He had a comfortable
home, a devoted wife, three
loving children, everything in fact to
make life pleasant, but duty called
and with him there could be no compromise.
On the organization of the
company raised about Little Rock he
was deprived of the honor besought,
that of high private, by being made
captain of the company, which became
part of the 8th regiment, South
Carolina Volunteers, Col. Cash, commanding.
During the long struggle which followed,
his cool, deliberate courage,
united with intelligence and quickness
of conception, qualities in as
high demand in the army as at home,
soon drew upon him the attention of
those above him.
During his recent visit to this
county, Judge J. B. Kershaw related
an anecdote of Col. Staekhouse,
which shows how highly he was appreciated
by his superior officers and
gives a full insight into his inmost
character. While the battle of Fredericksburg
was being fought, Gen.
Kershaw found that a creek which
debouched into the valley on the left
of his position could furnish concealment
to a column of the enemy, not
only till they could pass our flanks,
but until they had reached a position
almost in our rear. If the enemy
should discover this creek the day
would be lost, and not only the day,
but the army, because owing to their
vast numbers we could not have continued
the struggle, with our army
cut in two and attacked in front,
flank and rear. Our little force was
already stretched out over a line far
too long for our numbers, and we had
no troops to spare for that position.
Turning to Staekhouse, who was
then commanding the 8th regiment,
he explained the situation to him.
"Now, Staekhouse, take your regiment
and occupy that position and
hold it against any force that the
enemy may send against it." Later
in the day, as the enemy continued
to throw heavy masses of troops
across the river, and as the troops
drew nearer and nearer the creek,
Gen. Kershaw's fears,lest they should
discover the advantages which the
creek's bank would give, became so
great that he determined to visit the
position. There he found Staekhouse
standing motionless on a little rise in
that a veteran of the Old Guard
would have been pardoned for exhibiting
some excitement, but such
men as E. T. Stackhouse, whom a
sense of duty governs at all times
and under all circumstances, are surprised
but never excited, as we use
that word.
In I860, when the war department
ordered the consolidation of the
smaller regiments, the 3rd and 8th
were thrown together, and Col. E. T.
Stackhouse was appointed to the
command of the new regiment. He
soon gained the confidence of the
veterans of the 3rd regiment as fully
as he had long enjoyed the trust of
his own 8th.
When the last blow was struck he
returned to his home?not such as he
had left it four years before?but it
was a home. He laid aside his sword
for the plow handle, and clothed in
such garb as the freedmen around
him wore, he started to work on his
farm, making two full hands.
In 1867 he had brought up his farm
to an extent that on one field of forty
acres he made thirty bales of cotton;
on a second field of thirty acres he
made thirty bales, and on a smaller
lnf lio mnrlp thrpp thnnsanrl nminrls
of seed cotton to the acre.
This, it rtust be remembered, was
before the days of fancy farming, and
on land which had been abandoned
a few years before because it was too
poor to sprout cow peas.
His farm has not only brought him
a competency, but its production has
increased until the yield per acre has
become like that of his neighbor
Drake, almost fabulous.
But he has not devoted his whole
time to his farm. He has found time
to read the newspapers and study
carefully the questions which they
have discussed, and it will be hard to
find a man more generally informed
or better versed in the history of men
and things, past or present.
He not only finds time to give to
his own improvement, but he has
found time to superintend the education
of all his children, for he is a
strong believer in the higher education
of women, and has given his
daughters every advantage which
our collegiate institutions furnish.
He finds time, too, to attend every
service of his church, whether on
Saturday or Sunday, and to attend to
the duties of the many official positions
the church has placed him in
for thirty years or more.
But he not only gives his time to
his church, but his money also?and
that freely.
Just after the war, when with him,
as with every one in the country, it
was a struggle for bread, Stackhouse
met with an aged minister who had
lost all his savings through unprincipled
men, whom he had trusted.
Stackhouse, on hearing of the condition
of the minister, went to him
and handing him some money, said:
"My brother this will help you some.
I wish it was more, but it is every
cent I have in the world."
Such is the man the alliance has
selected for its president in this State.
If he were to do no other good than
serve as an example to the young
men of the country, the selection will
Erove to be the best that could have
een made.
Col. Stackhouse's success in farming
has been greater than the average,
but his success ought to be a
lesson to every young man in the
State. Few men can begin life poorer
or on poorer land than he did, and
few will be compelled to undergo
such a long interruption as he had to
submit to during the war. If Col.
StopU-hnnep anp/'ppflpfl whv cannot
others ? Let every farmer follow the
course he has marked out and in twenty-five
years the highest honor you
can pay a man will be to say he is a
successful farmer, for the intelligence,
the refinement, the culture as well as
the property of the country will be
in the nands of the farmers.?[Survivor,
in Barnwell People.
THOUGHTS O.N SPRING.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
The Spring season has, in truth, arrived?a
welcome return of the reanimation
of sleeping nature; fit
emblem of man's resurrection. All
nature is beginning to be clothed
with the variegated habiliments of
real life. The atmosphere is redolent
with the sweet odors of the peach,
the plum and the dogwood blossoms.
How bracing to ride out now
through the country roads whose
hedges are bedecked with all the
diversity of green nature's effusion
of leaves, buds and blooms. It seems
that we can never inhale asufficiencv
of the morning breeze freighted with
such a combination of delightful delights.
We know the city people, whose
olfactories are always full of smoke
and steam, do envy us country folk
in the lovely spring season.
All nature, dressing up herself so
attractively in spring, reminds us
that we could make our homes more
attractive and inviting by a little attention
and exercise of taste, similar
to nature's dress. People in rural
homes could beautify their homes
and make them more cozy and
heartsome to occupy, and more effectual
in retaining the affections of
the young people of our land if they
would only cultivate a moderate dej
gree of taste and neatness. It does
not cost any more to fix up nicely a
home in the country than in towns
and cities. It is only our indifference
nml slnvpnliness that oroduee that
characteristic rugged neks of country
homes. Tone up in this respect an<J
make home pleasant and neat and attractive,
and you will find that the
hearts of the children will more readily
cling to the sacred spot with its
associations; and in their heart of
hearts they will sing the song of the
immortal Payne?
"There is no place like home."
Do not wait until somebody else
tells you that you are somebody.
Believe within yourself that you are
one of God's creatures and fix up
yourself and your home, and if any
of your neighbors deride your efforts,
and even smile knowingly at your
care and taste, just muse within your
own soul thus: "Why do the heathen
rage, and the people imagine a vain
thing?" Iteligion, pure and undefiled,
does not require any person to
estimate everybody else better than
yourself, nor does it even require any
one to wear a long face and walk
with his head between his knees.
Look up, and have some taste and an
opinion of yourself and your family.
I VAX ILOE.
HOW MASON EXPLAINED IT.
I have been told a new story, says
a New York Tribune correspondent,
illustrative of the ready wit of Representative
Mason, of Illinois, whose
personal influence was largely responsible
for many of Chicago's votes
in the World's Fair contest. The incident
occurred when he was, years
ago, a lawyer in Des Moines. He
was defending a man named Spencer,
in an action for divorce, brought by
his wife. After the evidence had all
been taken the opposing lawyer summed
up for the 'prosecution and handled
Spencer's testimony without
gloves. The defendant, enraged,
blurted out suddenly:
"You are a liar!"
Immediately the court became so
quiet that you could have heard the
traditional pin drop, and the judge,
scowling, seemed to be thinking of a
suitable punishment for such unprecedented
contempt. At any rate it
looked as if Spencer had irrevocably
prejudiced his case. Mason was the
first man to recover from the shock,
and began at once in his sweetest
tones.
"I presume, may it please your
honor, from the silence which has
fallen upon the court, that my client's
language has been misconstrued.
Know, then, that he is an ardent admirer
of music and is strangely af- '
fected by it. When my learned
friend opened his mouth and I heard
his first eloquent words I feared that
his musical voice would be too much
for my client. Nor was I mistaken,
for it made such an impression upon
him that, forgetting it was directed
against him, he exclaimed in admiration,'You
are a lyre.' Yes, your
honor he said 'lyre,' but it was merely
a musical metaphor. His passion
for music was too great. He meant
lyre, but lyre with a 'y,' may it please
your honor."
In the laughter which followed,
both judge and lawyers forgot and
forgave the offence, and as Spencer's
astonisment had prevented a reiteration
of his statement, he escaped punishment.
OLDEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD.
In the northea tern portion of Dallas,
Texas, between Bryan and Live
Oak streets, and fronting the Houston
and Texas Central railway, lives
Aunt July Cole, who has but recently
grown too old to take in washing.
The cabin in which she lives is a rude
hovel, and yet it is kept as neat as a
Ein. It is surrounded by a dozen
uts of the same kind, though not so
well kept, all huddled together in an
irregular colony. The railway people
have fenced their right of way
with barbed wire to keep the horde
of pickaninnies off the track, but in
vain. They crawl through the fangs
of the fence and gather upon the road
in such numbers that the cautious
engineer finds it necessary in passing
through Freedmantown to use both
bell and whistle.
After the train had passed the other
day the Republic man crawled
through the wire fence, and with
difficulty found the cabin of the "Ole
Furginny Aunty." She sat in a low
chair and smoked a blue clay pipe.
As she raised her face slowly and her
wrinkled features were first seen, the
writer involuntarily asked himself:
"Is it alive?" When she spoke, her
tremulous and cracked voice increased
his astonishment. Rut it was not
only alive, but it smoked and talked.
"My name is July Cole," she said.
"I belonged to Col. Colein Furginny,
and he fit the Britishers wid Gen.
Washington. Norfolk was my home,
sir; right on de sea. My mammy
came from de Cape in Afriky, and my
daddy went back dere. My mammy
was named Lucretia, and was give
to Col. Cole by Gen. Washington's
lady, who had many servants. I
was brought to Henry county, Tennessee,
and sold to Thomas Waters.
I had great-grandchillun den. After
I helped to settle Tennessee I was
sold to William llabb for lan'. Mars
Jeff come to take me home to Tennessee,
but old man Rabb wouldn't
let me go wid him. Den I lived on
Rabb's creek, below La Grange, Texas.
I was took away from my husband
and two chillun in Tennessee,
and my ole man he run away
and followed me till dey caught him
wid dogs right on de banks of de
Mississippi river. Yes, sir, right dar
in de bed of de river, whar de hill is
and de high trees, and right down
by de boat in de dark?fur he was runnin'
to git 011 de boat wid me. But
dey caught 'im and I never saw 'im
any more."
On being asked her age the old
woman began to rise slowly, holding,
in the meantime, to the chair for
support.
"I doesn't know by de figgers, but
knows by happenin's," she said. She
moved to an old trunk, which was
covered with rawhide with the hair
on and tacked with big headed brass
tacks. From this she drew an old
letter on blue paper, which she says
was"de paper" given to Mars Waters
by Mars Cole when she was sold.
Only the lower half of the sheet remains,
the other having evidently
been taken off by time, and the only
legible portion of the writing pur
ports to give the date of Aunt July's
birth. The only words are "was
born Dec. 19, 1745."
The writer had heard that she was
145 years old, but of course he believed
nothing of the kind. The appearance
of the old negro and the
evidence produced by her to prove
her age were astonishing.
"Dey says I is er hundred and
forty-five year ole, an', honey, I spec'
it is so."
"What is your earliest remembrance,
aunty? Do you remember
Gen. Washington?"
"I never seed him," she said, "but
I knows when he was general, and I
knows when he was president, too.
I heerd Mars Cole say when de tea
was flung outen de Boston ship. I
has seed de Tories, an' my brother
was wid Mars Cole when he went
j into de war wid de Britishers. Dat
war was seven years, and Mars Cole
he got shot in de arm. I 'members
when dey fit de French an' Injuns,
too, sir."
It took quite a while to get all this
out of the aged creature, who is very
feeble. She had only one want?
smoking tobacco?ana that was supplied,
after which the writer left her
at her low, hairy trunk putting away
her documents.?[Cor. St. Louis Republic.
A HUMOROUS VIEW OF ADVERTISING.
In this age the business man who
does not advertise is doomed. Every
style of advertising pays, but the
greatest results are acquired from
utilizing the advertising columns of a
' properly conducted journal. An inch
advertisement in a newspaper is
worth a dozen on a fence.
We never knew of but one case in
which advertising did not pay. It
occurred in Chicago. A burglar
overlooked eighty dollars in a bureau
drawer, and the papers so announced.
He returned the next night and not
only secured it, but a suit of clothes
besides.
The man who doesn't hang out his
shingle and advertise, dies and leaves
no sign. The right kind of eyes for
business men is advertise. Puffs in
newspapers help many merchants to
"raise the wind."
No class of people realize the benefits
of advertising as much as actors
and actresses. Mrs. Langtry did
not object to members of the English
aristocracy butting and clawing each
other on her account, as she realized
the benefit of the free advertising she
got. A year or so ago, a half crazy
actor named O'Conor, who was making
a hit, begged the newspapers to
let him alone. They did so, and
soon afterward he was out of a situation
and hauled up for debt.
Death and discontinuance of an
advertisement is regarded as positive e
evidence of going out of business.?
?[8. in Texas Sittings.
A Story of Mr. Astor.?The
following story illustrating the Astor
philosophy in money matters is
told of the late John Jacob Astor by
the man who who was the other actor
in the scene. "I went to Mr.
Astor," he said,"with a business proposition
which demanded an investment
of $100,000 on his part. While
listening to the plan he Kept groping
and feeling about on the floor for
something he seemed to have dropped.
When I had finished he said
readily: "All right; go on with the
affair; I'll furnish the money." At
that instant a man entered to tell him
that one of his buildings had just
burned down.
" 'That happens nearly every day,'
he said, with the utmost unconcern,
and went on feeling about with great
care for that something on the carpet.
"I finally asked him what he had
dropped.
"Why,' he said, raising his head
and looking as woebegone as a small
boy, 'I dropped ten cents here a few
moments ago and I can't find it. If
a man's buildings burn down, they
are gone and he can't help it, and he
is bound to let them go. But a man
who deliberately throws away ten
cents lieeause he won't take the trou