Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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LEWIS M. grist, Proprietor. i fat Jndtptndqnt Jhniilp |tficspapcr: Jbij the ?roinotioit of flu; fotifcal, gonial, Hgijiruliu^l and ?oimnet;cial Interests of the ?outh. | terms?$2.00 a year in advance. VOL. 37~ YOEKVILLE, S. O., "WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1891. 1STO. 1. ? I * AMun TrsmUr. PABT I?AT THE HORTH. CHAPTER L t Dt TSTE MODKBK MART. 61 Bonnie Standish bounded into the room. Angular beyond the hither boundary of primness, and not without its flavor of subacid, was the presence rising perpendicular to the cane sofa and seeming to glint in the flood of summer. For, on that glad June morning of 1860, a softened sunlight saturated the river breeze ere it swept into the wide French windows of Rose villa. Tfr iimiM Twithar the small bunch of keys dangling at her girdle nor the sleek hands of thinning hair above the knotted forehead to. proclaim Hiss Tabitha Fay's unmated state. Her wholes being radiated spinsterhood, and characteristic, while not unpleasing, was the voice that said: "Nonsense, Brother Standish! yon are fadVing as though we had sold oar darling into slavery r And the long white fingers turned the leaves of the housekeepers book with a snap. Benton Standish turned irresolutely and walked toward the window. His round, rubicund face grew shadowed and lengthened visibly as he looked out dismally upon the most tasteful garden on all the banks of the lordly Hudson. The breeze that played about his hair was heavy with odors pilfered from the flowers; but the sniff he gave was of discontent; the gaze, turned inward, recked little of the landscape, judging from the half soliloquy, half reply: "U?um! True, Mason said nothing about mortgages and overdue notes. Neither of us could forget them, though. And I tell you, Sister Tabitha," he added more distinctly, "you hit it right. It's just selling the child to keep Rose villa in the family." "It is rather late to speak of that now," the .lady retorted .in quiet mone-. tone from behind the fortification of a fixed race, "wnen toe weaamg is some six boars off." "Yes, I know it is too late; but, sister, I never should have consented to let the wedding day be anticipated with such unseemly haste!" Mr. Standish spoke warmly and with decision. Miss Fay let ber cold gray eyes rest on him a moment before replying: "Mr. Mason thinks these impending troubles in thh south make his presence imperative on his Bed river plantations. Naturally his impatience could not wait their settlement." "A woman worth marrying is worth waiting for!" Standish answered testily. "Sometimes, Brother Standiah, I think yoa are" "A donkey? So I am," he finished with a little laugh, dwindling to a sigh as he again turned to the window, adding: "Bat I'm worse than that; I'm a beggar! I tell yon, Tabitha, this match was none ol my making." "I consider it extremely well made," was the retort?so quick as to prove that it had been of hers. "Mr. Mason is not mnchr over 50; he has family"?and Miss Tabitha smoothed down caressingly her immaculate morning dress at each enumerated excellence?"reputation, a large fortune, and will inherit more." "And Bennie is just 18," Standish said absently, as if to the Hudson below; "she has beauty, high spirit, not a dollar, and will inherit?debts!" "Nonsense, Brother Standish!" began the unmated voice in the reprehension key; bnt it gradually changed the pitch, ' as curiosity overcame even combativeneaa. "Bat, good gracious! where can the be? Bomping about the woods, I presume; and this her wedding day!" As if in answer a fresh, girlish voice floated through the windows, in the bright notes of "Comin' Thro' the Rye," a light step bounded on the porch and stopped abruptly as the song ceased. "Trim off the big leaves, Thomas, before yoa bring them in," the voice cried; and Bennie Standish bounded into the room, her arms fall of flowers and forest leaves, her big garden hat falling back from masses of golden hair, blown about a fair young face flashed with exercise - and health. She was by no means one of those beauties who set sentimental poets dreaming, or make young artists rave for profiles. Bat she was a fresh, vivadons girl, with the grace of womanhood and the charm of childhood. A complexion of milk and strawberries was toned by a piquant saaciness and pride combined; while the deep blue eyes, naturally twinkling with merriment, had in them something that spoke of strong will, scarcely educated to control, which * * ? - -V- a _? i.1 mignt on occasion nasn one 01 intuu dangerously. A willowy figure, quite plump enough for symmetry, completed an attractive picture, if not a very striking one. Early left motherless, Bennie's father bad unceasingly and unreasoningly spoiled her, while his sister-in-law's alternating tenderness and severity wero regarded rather as a jest than a restraint. Care and money had both been lavished to give Bennie those accomplishments that fit oar yoang ladies bo perfectly for brides, if not for wives; and it was due to her innate truth of nature and her clear intuitions of right and wrong that they had left her the pure hearted girl she was. A finishing trip to Europe, lasting two years, had returned her heart whole, quick wit ted, and not a little reckless; but that often misused and meaning term "fast" had never been coupled with any act of hers. Mr. Standish let his easy going disposition dominate all his business habits, and it left him this year heavily involved, especially to the wealthy southern planter whose partner he had become in cotton speculation. This Mr. Beverly Mason had migrated to the southwest and had largely prospered there. Generally accounted the very hardest of creditors, he had shown peculiar leniency in this case?a mystery that was cleared by his proposal, after much delay and with unwonted shyness, to make the hope of the Standish household the head of his own. At first Bennie herself seemed strangely indifferent to the proposed arrangements, regarding them as a future possibility. She had contented herself with a few flippant speeches, but Miss Tabitha had raised the song of triumph, only checking the jubilant strain long to puritan By J. <?. DE lEOJf, :hor of "Four Years in Rebel Capitals," "Juny," "Cross Purposes." DICATED TO HON. HENRY WATTERSON. leinory of Schoolboy Days, Still Unforgotten, as Our Shadows Lengthen Toward the Sunset. Tight, 1S00, by J. B. Lippincott Company, an< pnblianed by unngtmcut with them. enough to reproach her brother-in-law for not joining loudly in the chorus. Vague rumors of coming trouble between the states of the Union had hastened Mr. Mason, summer though it was, to Mew Orleans on matters of moment, and, fearing to leave so tempting a prize j behind during indefinite absence, he had j warmly pressed for an immediate marriage. Again Miss Fay had overridden her brother's feebly opposed objections, and again Bennie had made no decided remonstrance. At times she would fall into absent moods, suddenly waking into bitter vein and deriding the situation with mocking laughter, that left ; the sting under it after the echo had died away. So it fell out that ou this bright June day every preparation was complete for uniting May and December at the little church near by, -?Mhb Fay's triumph " q was compietea uy ui? aumiuumug w ? famous bishop to perform the rite. The wedding was to take place at sunset, and. the happy pair were to take the evening boat for New York. Mr. Stan dish had., however, insisted on one point, from which all the spinster's "Song of Judith" could not move him. The hasty nuptials were to be as quiet and private as it was possible to keep them. All that morning the bride elect had seemed perfectly happy; indeed, recklessly gay and "quite unwomanly," as Miss Fay described her mood. "Smell those, you dear old papa!" she cried, rosy and panting, as she opened her {dump anns and dropped their fragrant load upon the floor. And then th e arms locked tightly around the old man's neck one instant, ere she turned to her aunt: See, Tab, what a rent I've made in my skirt. But I've had my last scamper over the dear old hills until 1 come back, if ever?Mrs. Beverly Mason!" The rich, musical laugh, rounding the words as though they were too good a joke to keep, stopped with strange abruptness, and no laughter in the eyes bore it company. St&ndish bent down and pressed his lips to the flushed brov/. "How rosy and plump you look, little woman!" he said, cheerily enough; "the picture of happiness and health!" But the face he again turned quickly to the Hudson belied the tone, and its expression spoke as plainly as speech, "It is selling her at so much a pound!" "Reprehensible!" criticised Miss Fay. I "Scampering over hills and climbing ' fences is highly improper upon your wedding day." "How do you know, auntie, dear? You never had one." Mr. Standish turned quickly. F.?iir weather was essential for the coming launch into the deep waters of life, end storm was marking on Miss Fay's facial barometer. "Bennie, my child," he began, "you are?um-m?perfectly happy? You don't mind" i "Becoming the old man's darling and marrying my grandfather?" she finished for him in reckless, defiant rush of words. "Oh, dear, no! Why should I? He's nice enough, as old gentlemen go, and you all know I don't care"?she stopped suddenly, bending her head to gather the fallen flowers?"I think I. don't care for anv one else. And then Tab always I ! reminds me that he's so rich, and that 1 married folks must have money." "Absurdity!" broke in Miss Tabiiha. | "You do not comprehend the awful soi lemnity of this sacrament! You do not : know what marriage means!" ; "Do you?" Beanie's head went pertly : to one side, but her eyee twinkled with ! anything but the merriment responsive to her words. "But I do know, you dear old Tab. Marriage means new card plates, loves of bonnets, opera boxes, rounds of visits and unlimited credit at Stewart's! There! Don't I know?" Miss Fay's thin lips closed ominously, but only emitted the words: i "Poor, motherless niece!" "Poor, husbandless aunt!" Bennie imitated tone and expression with much I humor and some bitterness. Miss Fay raised hands and eyebrows in fierce re, proach, but before she could speak the ' girl whirled around and seized her in an embrace from which her thin limbs nor fast rising ire could release her. "Now confess, you dear old Tab, that those are your sentiments! Eh?" "Oh! that horrid Paris!" gasped the somewhat mollified but still struggling spinster. "Don't, preach, that's a dear," responded her niece, loosing the clasp of the rounded arms. "Don't preach, for my respected husband will probably do that for the rest of my natural life!" Miss Tabitha still sniffed wrathf'olly. "Oh! that Paris!" she repeated. "Finish a girl, indeed! It finishes all the I propriety and all the heart out of her!" Bennie stood .still, her arms dropped at her Bide; the blue eyes dancing no I longer, but fixed vaguely on the distant foot hills. She seemed to answer some 1 inward thoughts rather than the spinster's words; but her own were borne on a deep sigh. "Maybe you are right, auntie. Sometimes I believe I have- no heart; and I i know myself less than ever today. What I am you have made me. I am only a j result; a something manufactured between tutors and dressmakers. What I | am may be a sad fact, even a serious er| ror. But the fact cannot be changed now, and the error is not mine, but that of our false society system!" Miss Tabitha found no words to answer, for the girl's voice trembled, spite of the bitter words it bore, and tears that did not fall brimmed full the softi ened eyes. Reaching up she suddenly pressed her lips to the spinster's 'forehead as she added: "Don't think I blame you, dear old Tab. You meant all for my good; and now it has all come for the best to your thinking. And if I ever find Miave a heart yon shall have a place in it?next , to his!" And, throwing her arms around ntvL- Rjatmia hiil Vipr f*i/?A (On his shoulder a moment. Then she ran to the table again and bent busily over the flowers; but the young face was I bright no longer with sunshine of the heart. A quick cloud rose over the brow; but no human eye saw the tear that trembled an instant on the long lash ere it glistened like a diamond on the fresh rose leaf. Did that crystal drop blot out the ; girl's implied falsehood as did the Recording Angel my Uncle Toby's oath? | Miss Fay's amazement did not permit her even to smooth the silvery bands the j girl's caress had rumpled. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "The child actually thinks!" There was a suspicion of liuskiness, but unwonted asperity, in Mr. Standish's undertoned response: i "Sister Tabitha, you never did under' stand Bennie!" ; "Nonsense, Brother Standish!" Miss Tabitha was herself again. Her ! foot was on its native heath of argument; and her voice was for war, if not still. I But suddenly its key changed, as the I frou-frou of skirts was heard on the gravel walk outside; and a splendid type j of the New York girl confronted Mr. Standish at the window. "Why, Edith dear, you are alone!" it concluded, with as near approach to a coo as Miss Fay's dignity and conformation could permit. I "Quite; since my cavalier, the telegraph boy from the village, handed me this and fled for dear life," the girl answered, in a rich, mellow contralto, with a caress in its tone, as she extended the dingy brown envelope. "A telegram? Bless me!?um?um! Nothing wrong, I hope?" Mr. Standish muttered, not taking the message, but fumbling anxiously for spectacles, in sundry pockets. "Assuredly not," the girl answered brightly, an amused expression on ber strong, dark face. "On Bennie's wedding day nothing but joy can come. 'The stars have said it,' to me as well as Richelieu." PART I?CHAPTER IL AROUND FLIRTATION. 1 "Do you note the peculiar difference in their rldlny?' ' Few studied poses could have been I more striking than Edith Van der Huysen's easy grace, as she held the dingy I envelope extended in her taper hand. It : was a slim, aristocratic hand, not too ' white, and with firm lines and nervous fingers ending in daintily cared for nails, i And the figure of which it ended the long and well muscled arms was perfect , in its poise and in its curves, showing ; through the closely fitting costume. Nor did it need a second glance at the oval olive face, with it& clear cut but calmly i set features, or into those liquid brown I eyes, that could glow almost to blackness , under impulse of subdued passion, to proclaim her "to the manner born." Self : reliance, decision and conscious power showed in every movement, while the ' olive brown complexion, clear as a blonde's, and the massive coils of almost blue black hair, gave a Spanish cast to the face which its features denied. , Straight descended from the real Dutch ! stock, Edith carried easily as a right her early won queenship in the society of : the metropolis; and the reputed emptiness of Philip Van der Huysen's pocket I had not retarded his daughter's unsought i advance to the very front of belleship. j Left motherless in early childhood, ! her inborn savoir-faire had carried | her safely through the social teething, | and she had escaped those diseases frej quent in society infancy. Nor had two ! seasons of charity balls and German co; tillon made any outward change, whatj ever inner revolution they may have i worked, in the perfectly posed type of j metropolitan womanhood, which at once ! attracted aud dazzled the coterie of 1 hyper gilded youth who tried to patron: ize her at the debutante's ball. I Invited for sojourns everywhere that j wealth built country seats, and with that rare tact which shortens visits to i the exact point of insistent renewal, j Edith Van der Huysen had seen more of I summer resorts and of summer homes in her two years of society than had ; most of her set already balancing on ! the uncertain edge of old maidenhood. Indeed she was so much in demand that society quite rebelled at her giving the major part of two consecutive summers to Bennie Standish, first at West Point for encampment; this year to the quiet of Rose Villa. But the girls had been friends and neighbors in childhood, had ; been "finished" abroad together, and j Edith held with apparent loyalty to the 1 old affection. I , , ? , ! She had. not gusnea greauy over tne i Point/as is the wont of belles and would I be belles, married or single, and an early indiscretion?scarcely unintentional in a ; woman whose strong point was tact? j might in itself liave barred her way to j popularity with those petted, if not pru| dent, darlings of the sex, the cadets. At ! her very first cadet hop she had most j innocently remarked to the dashing in| structor of cavalry tactics: "No well brought up girl could help being good up here. It so reminds one j of the boys in her Sunday school class." j There is a mental phonograph at The ; Point which seems to record even j thoughts iu ever}' tent simultaneously; : ^nd "that stuckup Vander Huysen girl" J wa? promptly voted, nem. con., not much i of a'beauty and not a bit bright. The cadets let her severely alone, with an os; tentation of indifference that she bore with placidity that set all the women wondering, while she accepted what | consolation she might from the ugly assistant surgeon. So grateful, indeed, ^?f-' \Tuti ITnvonn U1U 11113 5CTU1 IU Jlt? f 911 U^I xiu;ov<? that it caused equal disquiet to his mill1 ionaire mother, presently domiciled at the same hotel, and to the Hon. Algerj non Herbert Harcoilrt Qreyling Spencer, | younger son of Lord Martindale, who, being her shadow in town, had naturally followed her out of it. "Deuced odd, you know, Miss Staudish," he had one day confided to Bennie, | as Edith and the doctor disappeared I round a curve on Flirtation. "Can't for the life o' me see how she stands it. She i tells me Sawbones isn't good form by any means; talks sh$p, you know. But when she isn't with him, round Flirtation here, hang me if she isn't always on the plain, or at a hop, with one of those twin kids!" I Nor was the Hon. Algernon far wrong, for utterly oblivious of phonographic iteration in camp and of sugary spite of other girls, the two most noted cadets of that .encampment spent every hour off duty with Bennie Staudish and her friend. "Davie" and "John"?as their devotion to each other had dubbed them in that cadet nomenclature which borrows its pet names less often from Scripture than elsewhere?luul quite as marked ?? luul tlia t.wn rnrla. Edith Vun der Huysen had said of them to Bennie: "To the rest they are inarrons glaces to unpolled taffy. I cannot understand why really sensible girls should hunt down the cadets as they do, submitting even to be snubbed for the sake of being bored. Really, these l>oys are the most limited creatures I ever met?even in society. But your two friends seem to be men, and they surely are gentlemen." And the belle's intuition had not erred in this conclusion, made on short acquaintance. Adrien Latour was French au bout des ongles. An orphan of Creole family that boasted noble blood on both sides and inherited imperious indolence with its wealth, he was a born soldier. Ho had given his guardian aud the haughty old grandmother, who idolized him, no peace until family influence had secured him the coveted api>ointment to the academy, which he hastened from school in Paris to accept. Rising grade by grade in the corps, he had never received one military demerit, while often jieriiously grazing a "And," at the semi-annual "exams.;" only saved by his quick intelligence making up for negligence of class work. Tliat he valued his first captaincy in the corps far above a commission in the engineers, all his friends understood; and he frankly avowed only ambition enough for graduation in the cavalry arm. Frank, impulsive and prodigally generous as the race and fortune he was born to warranted, the young Creolo was conceded as the best rider and swordsman of the whole corps, with one exception. In the fencing school his peculiarly quick eye and flexile wrist ever met one opponent whose coolness and ' srrengtn caught his lightning like play and repaid hit for hit. When the riding hall was thronged with beautiful and i brilliant women and their "cit" danglers, with occasional officers off duty, ! pretty faces flushed and bright eyes eagerly followed the lithe, tall form that sat a horse with centaur like naturalness, guiding him seemingly more by intuition than by the light touch that ' hid the nervous strength of a hand trained from childhood. Near Latour, ! the best riders appeared effortful and stiff, the lightest rein seemed to tug at ' the bit. In ull the "show movements" he was the cynosure of bright eyes and - experienced ones alike; and even "Gallery Pete"?as the cadets named a showy Kentuckian who "rode for the girls"? ; failed to win the praise for his set feats ! which fell to Latour for ease and unconi scions grace. But when the wild rushes came and j I the flying ruck o f riders swung at the imrrtlps? when the trleam of sabers made j , the air one flash of steel, in right and ! left cut at rolling "heads;" when the unsteady went down in the sawdust, at imminent risk to limb if not to life, and the hot frenzy of the cavalry charge was ; mimicked almost to reality, then ever ! beside the proud, olive face of the Creole I was another, pale and placid even, with ; its steel gray eyes ouly gleaming under i the fair brows that scarcely emphasized ; the broad white forehead. For Dale Everett was a born soldier too, carrying in his veins blood that had j i boiled hot enough under oppression to j send his ancestor acrous seas to set his j foot on Plymouth Rock; blood that had ! later flowed in Indian fight and Revolu- | tion; blood that had. lately made bis clear faced mother point to his grandi sire's1 name, boldly standing out among the signers of "the Declaration," hung in the parlor of the old Massachusetts homestead, as she blessed him in fare- j ! well and bade him study and remember what that name demanded of those who j bore it. Hp was a clear type of that "Brahmin caste" of New England which has set its seal upon all her best work? ; which, in the glow of its pride, fuses conservative bigotry and supreme steadI fastness into an amalgam that hardens I under stress into the density and strength of her own granite hills. Holding first place in his class for two years past, Everett had naturally devoted ' less care than his impetuous friend to j the soldier side of cadet life. But duty was his creed, and his military record ali most equalled Latour's for performance, i while it lacked as largely in brilliancy as did the latter's in scholarship. But in the fencing and riding schools the Yankee boy found congenial exercise to ! keep the body rigorous and healthy, spite of the great strain upon the healthy ! .1 Ati/1 in r?c.ifVinr <lu1 j anu viguiuu? maiu. auu am uv??mv* ?.? the dashing Creole fail to meet the match i for his most impetuous rushes, when chance placed the cool and steady New Englander opposite his blade, or mounted by his side in the swirl of the charge. "Do you note the peculiar difference in their riding?" the bluff old commandant once asked Miss Van der Huysen, as ! I he watched with proper veteran's admiration the deeper glow in her eyes that j followed them as they swept by, neck and neck. Those eyes, glittering ali most to blackness when fixed on the rid- ! ! ers, seemed only laughing brown as they looked into the colonel's rather bloodi shot ones, and the voice was very quiet ; in which she answered, slowly: "In real war, i>erhaps, Mr. La tour" j might kill the most horses: Mr. Everett ! the most men." | The colonel made no answer in words; f but that night, over his third cigar, he ' j suddenly blurted out to the senior sur- I : geon: "May I be sent to the frontier if that 1 : Miss Van der Huysen oughtn't to be a j i troop captain. But damn me if I under- I stand her, though!" A nnf monir man of WPflt. Pnint ! <ni?U UV/V UMMiJ UAVU MM ? 1 vw? w ? w | | that summer subverted military discipline by knowing more on that score j than did the ranlring officer. To men and women at the hotel, to officers and - their wives in quarters, even to the laboi riously distant cadets, the girl was cour; teous and affable always?often brilli iant. But under the affability was a j something that repelled familiar ap: proach; and a few of the hotel women, ; headed by the anxious mamma of the assistant surgeon, confidentially con- ! fessed that they "actually hated her," with no given reason therefor. But the son of the leader of this antij Van-der-Huysen cabal was ignorant of its existence; and, revelling in that frequent folly of the conquered, pride of conquest, he would have laid his sword and his scalpel, his own heart, and the maternal millions at her feet on the least ; provocation. But, though ready to ape the Caesar who bore the Egyptian to his ! capital, the young doctor somehow never i found just the opportunity to perfect his 1 triumph. Meanwhile the Hon. Algernon was, as became a possible peer, held : well in the silken leash by the taper but dexterous hand?growing restive ever : and anon, but returning to obedient fol1 lowing at a single sound of the rich contralto, which could woo or command with change of inflection rather than of i tone. "It's deucedly odd, you know," his lordship in posse sometimes confided to Bennie, who was by nature everybody's friend. "I can't make out how she stands the Sawbones, really. But there I is something about the boys, you know." And to the boys?as the Hon. Algernon designated the two six footers in wax : fitting pigeon tails?Miss Van der Huysen's manner was quite perfect. Frank and cordial, it never gave hint of simul, ated sisterhood?that favorite cloak to warm cadet flirtation?and was equally free from suspicion of anything like "an affair" with either. ' "They are your property, dear," she said to Bennie, in the quiet of a still hunt for cadets. "I really believe they are both in love with you, though I cannot tell which has the pas." At which impeachment the other's rosy cheeks had become crimson; and her usually saucy eyes, cast earthward, were wholly innocent of the strange gleam that darkened her friend's, though the velvety voice went on without pause or change: "Either one takes me as vicarious atonement when the other has sailed away in a waltz for the golden fleece. But I shall not enact the daughter of JE&tes, for I I really like both boys, and find them, the only bearable pair of 'white legs' in the entire corps." "Boys!" Bennie ventured in pretty deprecation. "Why, Edith dear, they are both years older than we are. Dale was at Harvard before his appointment, and Mr. Latour was 20 in his second class year." . Miss Van der Huysen smiled 'with her red lips and white teeth, but her eyej ignored the levity cf the lower features, as she slightly emphasized the title: "Mister Latour is scarcely as matured as 'Dale,' so far as I can judge; and I thought you and ho were older friends"? "The families were," Bennie broke in quickly, with another blush. "But I have known Dale never so long! He's such a brave, true fellow and so smart, isn't he? Adrien's mother and mamma were at school together iu Paris; and his grandmother?Madame ;is the only way any of them everspeak ofther?is a perfect model of the old legitimate one reads about 111 the Quartier St. Grennain." "And they aro immensely rich, are they not?" Edith queried innocently. "Immensely, I believe; but I never understand the details of those things." "You are a wonderful little girl, Bennie dear," Miss Van der Huyseu rejoined. "I do not wonder that all the men adore you, and that 'only not all' tho women praise." The brown eyes gazed straight into the blue, which fell at tho next question: "The Latour plantations adjoin Mr. Beverly Mason's, do they not?" "I'm sure I don't know," Bennie answered, with something prettily akin to ' a pout. "Aunt Tab has that part of Louisiana geography no (thoroughly at her fingers' ends that I never studied it." "Du liebe kindl" uughed Edith. "Truly art thou Elaine'of the tower, loving Launcelot for feis shield's sake and his doughty arm, not for the jewels of his tourney. And yet, when I had you in town last winter, all the world said Mr. Mason was very" "Very?so he was?very kind and nice to me? So he was," Miss Standish broke in, not without a suspicion of petulance. "He's an old, old friend of papa's, closely connected with him in business, i.nd"? "Here come David and Jonathan, j prompt to military timd," Miss Van der Huysen interrupted in her turn, her tact telling her more than the other's words. And the prettily contrasted pair rose from the recks, where they hat I kept tryst for the young men, and advanced to meet them with that mixture cf convenance and school recess freedom which ; perhaps is the real charm to society of a i West Point summer. Loitering through the grand old walk ; the couples drifted apart, Dale and Ben- ' nie Standish gaining a! hundred yards while a refractory shoelace somehow resisted Miss Van derH^ysen's firm tin- I gers. And when thc-fracefaf head was ! raiapd at last, the cloriona eves looked straight through the cadet's, when she said, naturally, as though continuing a I subject: "Had Guinevere been Elaine, do you believe Launcelol; would have lot his great love outweigh his love and loyalty j to the king?" "Like as not. Launcelot was a ponderous old prig," Latour answered with a laugh. "I have always read between the lines that Guinevere made the pace in the lovemaking and flattered the old boy into belief that he was a genuine j lady killer. He was never true knight, though, :for all his sword play and horsemanship " "And why not, pray, Sir Critic?" I "Because false friend could never be true man," the cudet answered. "To have loved the queen truly Launcelot must first have been capable of true friendship to the good natured king who made him friend and knight. He would have acted what the later Briton wrote: I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honor more! Friend, indeed! Why, figure to yourself, if you can, my making love to Dale's wife when we' both go to the frontier!" There was no amusement at the cadet's gnsh, with its startling transition from many towered Camelot to an- Indian reservation, on the face the society girl turned to him. "And Dale Everett is your Arthur," she said slowly, almost sadly. "You i love him with a purer love than you will ever give to woman." "He is the noblest gentleman God ever made," La tour answered warmly. "As for truly?in earnest, you knowloving some woman that will come perhaps. But that is so different from love J for Dale. He is Arthur in greatness of 1 soul, but he is a better man than any fellow could have been who spent his life riding around clad in iron pans, even 'for redressing human wrong.' I tell you, Miss Edith, Dale hasn't his equal on earth! Why, the fellow who could be false to him would be false to his Maker!" "You are a friend worth having," the girl said warmly. "There is something in your southern Bun that wtirms southern blood as none in our north can warm. I have always felt that I understood you better than?any of them!" She held out her hand franklj. "Ah! what would it not be worth, surrounded by wordings, or idiots, to have one friendship such as that!" "But you know you have mine, Miss Edith?" the cadet asked in blundering honesty, but not releasing the slender g$nt suede while he spoke. "That goes without saying!' You must feel that of all the women here?and they are the majority of a'tl I have ever Imown?you are the most brilliant, the meet bewildering. Do you not feel that :C prize your friemlship far beyond what my awkward way of telling you ex] tresses?that I feel how good it is of you to make me an exception to all the corpi?" The girl had gently withdrawn her hand ;1aut the face she turned toward the breeze tossed Hudson glowed with I* something nearer kin to a blush than the ! homage of all the great leaders of her j city gprman had ever called to its olive | smoothness. Longfellow has told of those moments ; in life when the heart is so full of emo. tion that a aire less word may cause an j overflowing splash; andAdrien Latour's was probably brimming, for lie went on ! eagerly, as the girl did not reply: | "But of course you know how 1 prize j it! and so does?Dale." j Edith Van der Huysen uever changed ! a feature; and the excusable smile at j the gauclierie.of nature in the Creole's 1 peroration did not come to her lips. She i still looked river ward as she answered | slowly, but without a pause: | "Yes; I believe I understand. And it I is very good of you?and Mr. Everett." Poetry, the riding school, the last hop J and like great movements of his little | world filled Latour's talk for the re| mainder of that walk, but somehow, ] though he had managed to get one foot i in the stirrup, Edith would not let nun ' mount the cadet hobby, flirtation. And | only ae they sighted the guard tent, | homeward bound, did she recur to Dale Everett. "So King Arthur, in this godly Ninej teentli century, may ride around the ; laud with Guinevere on his pilliou, while 1 never a Launcelot fears she! But what if Wizard Merlin should weave a witch armor, all golden and studded with big i 6olitaires? Will the fair queen be ever I the wise queen, and peer through the j gemmed visor for truth in tho eyes of j the greybeard? What say you, Sir Critic?" j "Why, what do you mean?" -asked Ln tour, in genuine mystification. "Nothing!" Miss Van der Huysen answered, with a little laugh. "Of course j you could not understand. I was only ; 'talking society,' and society never understands itself. Ah, now you must go!" As she spoke the clear note of nssemj bly for dress parade cut the evening air, | and Everett and Bennie Standish, still j talking earnestly, hastened across the rvluin tn irtiii them. Edith shot one quick i*?*" glance into the cadet's eyes?her own seeming to him darker and more luminous than over l>efore?;is she said slowly: "King Arthur may yet love?Elaine! Hush! I am not asking betrayal of confidence, only stating a possibility. And as for the Lily Maid, she" The second bugle note rang out clear, commandful. The other couple joined them, and jis the hands of the four crossed, in hurried leavetaking, only Latour caught tho low whisper: "Farewell, Sir Launcelot!" PART I?CHAPTER III. in thk society pklmkit. Bennlc rushed to her father. When Mr. Standish at length found his spectacles he read the dispatch, glanced ne:rvously over his shoulder at Bennie, then read it again, with puckered lips. "Well?a?urn?m,?you were right, Edith," he said. "No bad news." "Of course not! 'Altars, augurs, circling wings,' told me so," she answered, brightly. "And my own heart confirmed them!" "You can hear it," Mr. Standish continued. "It reads, 'We passed exams. Appointed today. Adrien gets Cavalry, and I Engineers Will be down noon boat Dale Everett."' "Coming here?Today!" Edith ut- j tered the exclamation in natural surprise; and that strange glow of hers? that was never a blush, but a warmth of her whole olive skin?came to the face sho turned toward the Hudson, as the light in her eyes deepened and burned. "Yes, it is?a little?urn?m?awkward,"the old gentleman replied,'half to her and half to his own thought, add- j irannlnnlv. "Pnt f Via Vvwo nra ftl. ?"b (?*???? ?.. J ~ j wayB welcome here; and, after all, I'm rather glad. Sister Tabitha! Bennie! here's a surprise for you. West Point assignments we made, and D^le* tele- j graphs he will be down on the next I boat." 1 "Dale coming! Oh, I'm so glad!" Bennie cried, as she turned from her flowers j and ran to the window. "Mr. La tour will come with him, of ; course," Edith added, without turning her head. "Adrien!" Only the name escaped Bennie; but her color grew deeper and * her bosom i rose and fell faster than her late scam- j | per warranted. It was Miss Fay who showed most power of speech. "Invite them! Why, Brother Stand- i ish, you were the one to insist on the j j wedding being absolutely private!" | "They invite themselves," Mr. Standish answered, i "And perhaps know nothing of 'the , event,'" Miss Van der Huysen added. "Dale is an old, old friend," Bennie naid. trravelv. "I am glad he is com ing." "But that reckless, obstinate young Creole," her aunt rejoined. "I wish he'd | stay away. While we were in Europe ! he even attempted to tease mel I'm J sure I was very glad when his appoint] ment called him home." j "Pshaw, sister! Adrien was a boy five years ago," Standish rejoined. "But when I took the girls to West Point last summer he was the handsomest and most popular of the cadets." Bennie had not moved from the win: dow, her head resting lightly against the frs.me, and her eyes, too, seeking the ripplet; on the distant river. "Adrien at my wedding! How odd!" were the words she softly spoke, more to herself than to others; but as she lifted her eyes to the distant mountains their j haze seemed to reflect a softness into her face, vastly prettier than its usual sauciness. Miss Tabitha was herself again. Mounted on one of her favorite hobbies, she cantered gayly over the historic fields 1 whereon the Everetts of many a generai tion had wrought their deeds of derring | do. She followed the family down from the stimmit of Plymouth Rock, through those days when stout arm and stouter ; heart held foughten field, winding up j her eulogy with the highest praise of 1 Dale. When a small break in her col; umn of talk permitted chance for insert; ing a point of the wedges Mr. Standish ! retorted: "Trnfl. Tabitha. Dale is of good old stock, but bo is Adrien Latour." ! At the repetition of the name Bennie : again started, a crimson flush dyeing brow and cheek down the slim curve of I the graceful throat. Only for a second; then it faded out, leaving her paler than before. But the quick flash of Miss i Van der Huysen's eye had caught it, as i she slowly faced the group once more, 1 her own face placid and calm. And : quickly, also, Bennie's more than normal sauciness returned; and she rattled out, as though she must say something: "But they are coming, Tab, and they i are welcome. Why can't they be groomsi men? Two are not many, dear, but then | they are two more than you'll ever have! I Edith shall stand with Dale, and Sophie : Lord with?Adrien." She paused bei fore speaking, but only for an instant, ! adding giddily: "They'll both- be de j lighted. We all love tne ounous,. en, ; Tab? Corae, confess; didn't you like the I buttons, never so long ago?" /Vnil without even a glance at any one ! else Beunie rushed to her father, threw both arms round his neck and held his i face close against her own. Theu she , ran out of the room with a laugh that died suddenly as she reached the hall stairway. "I can't quite make Bennie out today," j Mr. Staudish said, staring toward the door the girl had slammed behind her. "Naturally she ought to be nervous, bu.t" "Nonsense, Brother Staudish!" cut in Miss Tabitha. "Who wouldn't be nervous six hours before marriage? I should. I'm sure!" "And very naturally, too." added Edith, as she dropped gracefully into an armchuir and picked up the morning's Herald. "I almost believe I should be nervous myself?then}" "And that reminds me, my dear," replied Mr. Standish, "that?urn?m?unless my memory fails me, one of these boy8 was very devoted to you last summer." "Both," answered Edith, with a little nod, not looking up from her paper. "They could not have been nicer to me had they been my younger brothers." 'Ah! you sly darling," Miss Fay exclaimed, "I know what brothers' and cousins' devotion means, especially to a girl like you." The pair were fast allies; but the spin eter sat at the feet of her junior's aplomb and world sense with an awe struck meekness foreign to her nature. And she owed Edith an unspoken but deep debt, too; for in all preliminary training necessary to break Bennies high spirit to the double harness proposition so necessary to family prospects, nothing had availed like Miss Van der Huysen's precept and experience, not to add example. And during the town winter succeeding the encampment, and in all tho present spring, all three had been used unceasingly. For, while no such word was spoken at Rose Villa or even whispered in the city, it was tacitly understood that tho beautiful American was only waiting a decorous interval before following tho examplo of fortunate belles who had accepted English titles. Important events had occurred in the Martiudalo peerugo within the twelve months past. Harcourt Annesley Dudley Vernon Mortimer Spencer, its heir apparent, had followed one fox too many. A nasty cropper at a blind ditch in a hotly contested field had landed him on his head and beyond the care for earthly coronets. Then the Hon. Algernon, summoned by cable to nurse his venerable lordship in tho illness caused by the terrible shock of his heir's death, arrived only in time to receive his blessing and the title of Algernon, Lord Martindale, tho seventeenth of the line. "I shan't pretend to be broken hearted, you know," he had later written to Edith, in a straggling, boyish, round hand, "for in fact I had hardly ever seen Harcourt since we were little cliil1 dren. And the poor dear old governor was really quite 80, you see, and few men of i>olitics and fashion were fitter to die than he. But I was awfully cut up, dear Miss Van der Huvsen, when I knelt for his last blessing and saw his dear old eves look so wistfully into mine. It made me feel I ought to be worthier of my people; and I am going to be a better man from this, really now; and I want you to let me hope that some day you will let me ask you to help me keep my promise to the dear old governor" And to this, and much more of tho same sort, Edith had replied in the most delicate style or condolence, ana in a most English handwriting, firm as her will and clear as her insight into human nature as it grows in the society ' hothouse. Only this and nothing more; but it was known at the clubs that Lord Martindale would soon be over, and perhaps it was known only to Edith that when the seventeenth Lady Martindale was presented at court, American aids to the peerage of Britain would feel no shame for their latest addition. Something of this was perhaps behind the brown eyes; for they darkened deeply ! and steadily, thongh only fixed on an announcement of Amidon's hat? in The Herald. "And by the way, Edith, what became of our young friend the surgeon?" Standish went on reminiscent. "His mamma married him," Miss Van der Huysen said simply, but still studying Amidon's hats. "His mamma marry him!" echoed Miss Tabitha, literally. "Why, my dear, what do you mean?" Miss Van der Huysen "came back : from Africa" with a half sigh; the eyes ? ? ??? +a A mi/lnn'a Viafo Kaam. UUkb W CI C UliK/XV W AUUUVU W MMW ^v.w. ing brown upon Miss Fay as she answered: >\ "Oh, she followed the injunction witH her doughnut that is often given to children with theirs. She put it where the dies of society could not get its sugaring of bank account and bonds. But, alas! one cannot have her cake and eat it too; so his wife made him resign, and now they are doing the Rhine, while mamma is left to Saratoga alone." "Edith Van der Huysen, I do think you are the most remarkable girl I ever did know?' gushed Miss Fay, with extremely italicized admiration. "It seems tome you 6ee through human nature just as though it were common glass!" "I am afraid it is; sometimes very common," the girl of nineteen answered, with the slightest suspicion of weariness in her tone, as she rose and threw down The Herald. "But I'd best follow Bonnie and see to the last touches of bonnet and wrap. Even a traveling dress wedding has its demands, you know." And the graceful woman swept through the same door Bennie had slammed in the childish rush of her exit "A remarkable girl! She is really a wonder to me!" Miss Fay cried warmly, as she gazed through the vacant doorWay. "And learned it all herself, -poor child?for she never had a mother, at least not for years." j "Well?um?m?perhaps that's the reason," her brother replied, i Miss Tabitha bent one painfully pitying look upon him, but the only three j words she vouchsafed were: "Nonsense, Brother Standish." Governor of New York. DAVID BENNETT HILL. David Bennett Hill was born in HaI vana, N. Y., Aug. 29. 1843. He obtained an academic education only and studj ied law in Ehnira, where he was admitted to practico in 1864. When but ; 21 years old he was city attorney. He j has been many times delegate to Demo: ocratic state und national conventions. In 1870 and '71 he was elected to the legislature; in 1882 he was elected mayor of Elmira, and lieutenant governor with Cleveland. In 1885 and 1888 he was j elected governor. A Noted Preacher. RET. ROBERT COLLYER. Robert Collyer was born in Keighly, Vorksliire, England, Dec. 8, 1823. His , education was received at the winter terms at a night school, for at the agefof 8 he had to begin hard work, and at 14 he was apprenticed to a blacksmith. Ho educated himself, liQwever, and gained fame as a Methodist preacher. Coming to the United States he continued to work at his trade and preach on Sunday till his views underwent a change, and he became a Unitarian. In 1860 he began to preach for Unity church, in Chicago. In 1879 he becamo pastor of the Church of the Messiah, New York city. A London JournalUt. HENRY LABOCCHERE. Henry Duprc Labouchere was born in London in 1831, and was descended from a French nuguenoi exue. ne >vu? m mo diplomatic service from 13.74 to 1804, anil a Liberal member of parliament most of the time thereafter till 1808. Ho then entered journalism, and has become famous as editor of The London Truth. During the siege of 1870-71 he was in Paris, and made fame with his letters to The London News. Dr. Hubert Koch. Dr. Robert Koch, whose discovery of the lymph treatment for consumption and lupus has caused so much exciteIns (' ?f tuberculoi on. UOBF.RT KOCII. time. In 1SS3 ho led the cholera expedition to Egypt, and shortly afterward announced the discovery of the cholera bacillus, which was followed bv much heated discussion. Tt^ l.n.pnlU' War Moaamoat. | INDIANA. The mammoth figure "Indiana," which is to surmount the soldiers and sailors' memorial in Indianapolis, is being modeled by George T. Brewster at Cleveland. | The figure will be cast in bronze, will be 22 feet high, anhwill stand on a globe and base 18 feet high, making a total of 40 feet. It is to cost $12,300, and will be the largest female figure ever cast in bronze in the United States. England*i Liberal Leader. W. E. GLADSTONE. [From a house of commons sketch.] William Ewart Gladstone was born in Liverpool, England, in 1809. He was educated at Oxford, graduating in 1881. He entered parliament as a Conservative in 1882, held various places of trust till 1859, when as chancellor of the exchequer in Palmerston's cabinet he acted with the Liberals. He was made prime minister in 1868, retired in 1374, was again chosen in 1880, resigned in 1885, returned to power later in the same year, and was overthrown on the question of home rule in 1886. ? A Popular Illuitrator. MISS FRANCES HUNT THEOOP. Miss Frances Hunt Throop, treasurer , of the New York Woman's Art club, is j best known to the general public by her ! illustrations in St. Nicholas and other j periodicals for juveniles. Her more am- \ bitious work has, however, attracted i much attention among art connoisseurs, 1 I particularly her painting "The Re- j veille," which was exhibited at the j Academy in 1889. Henry Vlllard. Henry Villard was born in Spire, Ba- 1 wo i-4?i Anm'l 11 ifla-i his familv name being Hilgard. He was educated at Munich and Wuerzburg, came to America in 1858, studied law in Peoria and 1 Belleville, Ills., but finally entered jour- i nalism. During the civil war he acted as army m wfc correspondent. f ^ After the war he Pr went to Europe, j y CT returning in 1858, J and was made /[ president of the yytL American Social Science association,butinl870re turned to Europe. w' There he engaged ' villard in the negotiation of American railroad securities, and in 1874 came to the United States, repre- j sonting foreign investors. In 1875 he became interested in various transportation J companies, notably in Oregon. In 1881 he was made president of the Northern Pacific railroad. In 1884, in an endeavor to support his properties, he lost his fortune and returned to Europe. He came to the United States again in 1886. In 1888 he regained control of his Oregon interests, but lost heavily in the "slump" of 1890. He married Fanny, daughter of William Lloyd Garrison, in 1860. a Veteran ltuilroud Kiigiueer. Zachnriah Lord, of Webster, Windham county. Conn., is the oldest locomotive engineer in New England. Ho is of a family of eleven, and was born in Gardiner, Me., Feb. 10, 1821. In 1840 he worked at 1 o c o m o t i v o building in Bos- Br j ton, and three . a.iTu l;itl?r tO()k { 1 I once noted Comlocomotive on the Boston and Port- ^ '\V^TO^ land railroad. In ^ \?-' i 1831 lie went to zachariaii lord. the Grand Trunk railroad, where he ran the Jenny Lind. In 1800 lie took the Prince of Wales 117 miles, from Point Lechaine to St. John. X. B., in a little less than 117 minutes. In 18G2 he returned to the United States. Senator Jo*cpli M. Carey. United States Senator-elect Joseph M. Carey, of Wyoming, was bom in Delaware in 1843. Ho ^ X studied 1 a w in / Pennsylvania and f ? New York, was admitted to the I "/. " Jju) bar in 1807 and LjmjL JL two years later removed to Wvomitig. There ho 7%^has held the ofli- ^y, ^ ces of Unit e d / Cj States district attorney, justice of J0SI':,>11 M> CAREY. the supremo court, mayor of Cheveune (three terms) and territorial delegate to congress (three terms). He is Repub. licau in politics. A. J. MOrvrji )T-JKPHSON. [Reproduced from his murstire pnbllshart by Charles Scribtier's Sons, New York.] When Emin, in 1^88, asked Stanley for a picked office! to go with him . through his African province, Mr. ,L J. Mcnntjoy-Jephson vras selected. His work was well done, ind its resnlta have been embodied in a book which has been eagerly read because of its bearing an the "rear guard disclosures," with vrhich nveiry newspaper reader is familiar. "Giant of the European Press." DE BLOWTIZ. M. de Blowitz is the common title )f the now famous "Giant of the European Press," the only man who ever interviewed the sultan, and the man who had toe main points of the celebrated Berlin ,'n Tina Ten^nn TimflSofflca licavij1 1U KJpw ?U AMV ? ...... before it was signe-L Bismarck exhaust >d all resources, but never could learn how i t was done. Strangely enough no one is certain of the correspondents real name ?some think it Oppert and some Oppurt de Blowitz. He is of Jewish and Gh?man blood, born in Moravia, but soon naturalized in France. "Father of the Atlantic Cable,** ~~ CYRUS W. FIELD. Cyrus West Field was born Nov. 80, 1819, at Stockbridge, Mass. His father was Rev. David Dudley Field, and his brothers are all men of note. David Dudley Field is the author of the Field codes; Stephen Johnson Field, justice of the United States supreme court, and Henry Martyn Field, D. D., editor of The New York Evangelist. Cyrus W. is best - ? J known from the fact that ne managed the successful laying of the first Atlantic cable. A Noted Woman Artlftt. wmm MRS. RHODA HOLMES NICHOIS. Mra. Rhoda Holmes Nichols, vice president of the New York Water Color society, was born in Coventry, England, her father being vicar of Littlehainpton. She came to the United States in 1884, and her canvases at once attracted attention. She has latterly worked almost exclusively in water colors. A Rusaian Nihilist. REROIUS STEPNIAX. No one seems to know the real nam of Sergius Stepniak, as the most noted, nihilist living calls himself, though it i. stated to be Michael Dragomonoff. H.? is 40 years old and is now in America. A HowIUer for a Monument. JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY'S MONUMENT. The monument to John Boyle O'Reilly, poet and Irish patriot, is a great bowlder which has been placed on the highest point in Holyhood cemetery, Brookline, Mass. A single tablet, on which are inscribed the name, birthplace, etc., of the poet, has been cut into the face of the stone.