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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. j gw Independent dfcmilg Itapapcr: (Jfoij the |ronto(ion of fhij ?olitii[al, j&oqial, g^icultuitat and Commercial Interests of the $outh. J terms?$2.00 a year ef advance. vol" 37 yorkville, s. c., vednespay, apbil 8, 1891. jsto. 9. " " ' mriv " toowiavq I nloarlv inarJAnnatp that, in the absence CREOLE 1 BY T. O. Author of "Pour Yenw In "C^rous T DEDICATED TO HON. HENRY WATTERHON rNPOROOTTEN, AS OUR SHADOWS 1 [Copyright, 1890, by J. B. Lippincott Cor meat wit PART m?CHAPTER VHL EXPIATION. Latour-Bev strode rapidly to his quar tare. Scarce a half hour before be had j left that gateway; but he had lived years ! in that interim* He penned a hasty tel- j egraxn to the minister of war that he would report at Alexandria by the next i , morning's train; then a brief note to the i governor of Cairo requesting conge, j Summoning his orderly, he gave direc- ; tians far packing some clothing and a i few designated papers; then sat down j and wrote full instructions for the Turk. iah eoloneleeaM? rank and for CaptT Mustafa. All this Latour did with the methodical quiet of his regular life before it had been broken in upon by the Martin dales. Indeed, the memory of the past ten days i seemed literally blotted out from Ids ' lite, or as an episode of the far past, with no bearing upon the preset*. Finishing his writing he lighted his chi- > bouque, unfolded Dale Everett's letter, 1 and carefully read once more every word of its well remembered pages. Dated at Paris, six weeks bofore, the letter j began: "Constantly of late, here and at Lon- | don. Lady Martin dale and I have talked : of yon, and of those dear old days, before war separated us, and some later cause, never since explicable to me, finally divided us. Ignorant as lam why you farced the duel on me, I have condnded it a solemn duty to write you | some facts which it is your right to know. For, from chance words escaping her, I am now convinced that Edith j Van der Huysen knew in those (Jays secrets which another's command and | my own sense of honor locked behind I my Hps. "1 oould also swear that she lost or withheld a brief note written me on the day of Bennie's wedding to further seal my lips on the knowledge that the love she denied me was given utterly to you. The wife he had won?and lost! "I am sure now, as I suspected then, that Edith herself loved yon, as far as she is capable of loving. I am convinced she visits Egypt now to test on the man that wonderful fascination of hers which failed with the boy. "Another reason this that I should break my word and my silence now? that 1 should reproach myself for not having done so in the past" Then the letter went on to explain very delicately the story of that cottage on the Hudson, and how it chanced that the pare girl's secret escaped into his keeping. It further told how the young widow chanced to be in New Orleans. She had been wholly ignorant of her husband's total ruin by the war, and Dale would not tell her of his failure to recover the dead man's property, as he had recovered inadame's plantations adjoining. Dale had postponed the ill news, letting her suppose the money he furnished was her own. What betrayed his secret, what caused her sudden change toward him, he never knew: but after Mardi Gras night she positively declined another dollar, and insisted on leaving New Orleans at once. This she did by selling her diamonds. And. from that day Dale had never been ab& to trace her whereabouts, but had received three kind and gentle letters, each inclosing a check, but only adding that she was well and with her father and aunt *E The letter closed with frank forgive- neaB of Latouris violence and insult; with candid praise for the fame he had won in his new service; and with most delicate intimation that, if his memory of his early love was not really dead, he might wish tq find its object once more. Latour again folded the letter carefully, placing it in his inner pocket He was absolutely sure that Dale Everett was as equally ignorant of the base suspicion he had harbored of the wronged woman us that they had ever met and spoken in the garden. His decision had been made as calmly as irrevocably on first reading Dale's letter. There had been no question of it; his duty to himself, to the true woman and noble gentleman ho had so injured, demanded that he should seek them now, striving as best he might to atone for his past. But stronger than duty was his awakened love for the sweetheart of his boy hood?the love he himself had bo long believed dead, not sleeping; that only last night he had boasted to another was buried deep and still as the Memlook (caliphs in their tombs! With La tour, to decide had been to act ever. He stood in that still moonlight, ready and determined to start upon the quest for his spirit's Sangreal, as had been that older and less sinful i Laoncelot. } With the earliest streak of dawn he . had gripped Ahmed Mustafa's hand, i mounted his horse and was riding slowly toward the station of the Northern railway. Ashe rode near the Mosque el Aksar ere yet the first ray of the sun had gilded its lofty minarets, from one of them floated the muezzin's note of its ; advent to the faithful: "Allah il Allah! Mohammed resoul il Allah!" And that call echoed through the chamber where Edith, Lady Martin dale, : lay calm and still upon her bed, as though love and sin and remorse had never been. It sounded clear into the chamber near, where her husband heard, springing from bed as the sound of Sir Roger Arnyffe's rap blended with its solemn cadence. Lord Martindale had been detained long at the British consulate general. "It is my duty to make this a national *nv lrml " her British ma-ieetv'a representative) had insisted on hearing the facta of the capture. "Much as you may desire to avoid publicity, I must report the detail*to the foreign office." "Can't stop the wheels of diplomacy, : I suppose," grumbled Lord Mnrtindale. "Might be worse, though. Devilish lucky not to be in America, you know. Those newspaper fellows would have twenty different versions already in as many newspapers, really! Some comfort in a slow country, after all!" But at last, escaping the consul general and refusing the proffered services of the dragoman, the anxious husband , started for the hotel, walking rapidly through the crooked and narrow streets. But, swift as was his stride, the Englishman's thoughts wero still more rapid, j reviewing the near past and trying to comprehend its punishment for him. He not onlv admiral his wife, but loved D PURITAN. T>e LEON, Retool Capitals," ".Tuny," apposes." r, IN MEMORY OF SCHOOLBOY DAYS, STILL ! LENGTHEN TOWARD THE SUNSET. npany, and published by special arrangeh them.] her with the deep passion of a sluggish nature when waked to feeling; and her insistent return to a demand for a itupa ration pained him more than the tai nts and insults she had heaped upon him that morning. Bat, with all that, no shadow of }eal- j ousy clouded the perfect trust ho re- I poeed in her. Whatever her whim or , imperious temper during the ten-years she had been an acknowledged leader j 1J kAnvi4-?? in T.AW/1 AT\ DA/vinix* nn CU1U CUViCU UWUVJ IU mvuuvu y -w faintest whisper had been heard in any tqoarter 0 1< I Jill P6** j feet discretion. Suddenly the houses seemed strange , to him; the street was narrower, and he , noticed that more than one of the over- j hanging balconies quite bridged it He was at the Turkish quarter of Cairo. With agony of helplessness he realised that he was lost in a city of the dumb; bat what must be thonght of hi.i sick wife had she waked meantime, and noticed his long absence from her side. British plnck rose at thought of her; he turned, pressed round many a tor- ' tuous lane, suddenly halting to mop his brow, with a great sigh of relief, as the Eybikieh showed before him. Five minutes later he had bounded np the stair and passed softly across his wife's sitting room. The lamp npen the stand was turned low, but resting against it was a folded square of paper, addressed to him in his wife's writing. Tearing it open Lord Martindale read: Do not wake me, my husband, hat tf'youlore me take me away at oooa Cairo is hatef dto ma after today! Forgive me all my waywa tineas? my taunts. 00, Herbert, take me homo and 1 will never ask to leave you again. iSotm The great,' sturdy fellow read these lines over and over, through suspicious moisture in his eyes: with a great lump i in his throat "Husband! Herbert! The first time she has used those names for months," he said aloud. "Poor child! how her pride muat have suffered tobriogcon- ! feasion! But she loves me the same, thank God! Go? Of course she shall; I first train, by Jove!" He dived deep in his pocket, drew out his "Murray," and scanned the train list j eagerly, mattering: "Um, tun! 6:10 a. m.; yes, that will i do. Plenty time to pack after dawn." | He stood irresolute a moment, his face glorified almost into beanty by the radiance of a new born joy. Then he softly j raised the portiere of his wife's room, i The stillness of death was there, broken , only by the heavy, regular breathe of the Enclish maid sleetnnir nrofouncQv on a < near divan. Only reflection from the brilliant moonlight lit the room. Thrown carelessly upon the bed he saw the graceful, stately form he so loved, the loose j glory of her superb hair sweeping about j the shoulders and shadowing the face. ! The husband paused beneath the lifted j curtain, the impulse to pass die two j paces between and softly seal their new ! peace upon her lips strong upon him. | But he mastered it, dropping the por- j tier? gently as he whispered to himself: , "She would wake so startled! She is ' sleeping so light! But at dawn)" Lightly crossing the room he sought J his own, where he found Harris, with ; bandaged head and pale face, sitting up ; for him. To the groom's infinite amaze as he rose to his feet Lord Muxtindale rushed upon him, seized his hand in vise like grip and shook it fiercely. "Glad you're all right! Thank yon sincerely?very sincerely! She told me, you know!" the British peer blurted out at the dumfounded serving man. Harris let his relinquished hand drop limp to his side, gasping with surprise and flaming red with pride. "Oh! me lnd! me lnd!" wus all he could mutter, but the tone wsa as eloquent as most after dinner speeches are not. "Leave this cursed place at dawn, Harris," his lordship added. "Train at 6:10. Get to bed now and wake me at first light Here, send this to Sir Roger ,at once. Most see him to say good-by, you know. That's all!" And soon the lately anxious husband threw himself upon his bed, the happy j light of the new day dawning for him ofill oViirnnc in Ma t ^Did the beautiful woman lying iu the Toom so near know what a load her , words had lifted from his true, undemonstrative heart? When Adiien Latour's last words had crashed upon her sickening sense, when ; his tall form passed from her sight, as , she felt forever, the horror frozen in Edith's face rested there, cold and still. A cunning sculpture of despair had been not more motionless than the stately woman there, while the little clock ticked sixty seconds out upon the deadly stillness. Gradually the rigid arms relaxed, the horror softened in her eyes?only the anguish left; and a great, gasping sob j eVnvpT<vl from her heart. '"ho state!v head, shadowed by the loose hair, ! dropped low in her hands; again the sob rent her?this time a moan: "Is anything left?" So many minutes. Then the face was raised, white and sorrowful, the eyes now dark and luminous, the lips no longer set, but quivering w th the almost soundless words: "Yes?expiation!" She grasped the curtain, rising to her ! feet and putting back the hair from her broad, low forehead with both hands. | Quietly, calmly she moved to the table, opened her desk with steady hand and began to write rapidly. "I dare not see him to-nigh;," she said, ' in low tones. "What I owe his faithful j heart I will begin to pay?to-morrow!" A luminous resolve lighted the grand j oval of her face. Rapidly she folded the note and placed it on the stand with out, the low voice?not trembling now, but clear and sweet?repeating: "Expiation! Yes, thank God! expiation!" Turning back, the raised curtain still j in her right hand, a quick agonizing spasm shot through her side. Her left hand clutched the laces above her heart, crushing them hard against it; a labored breath or two and the pain passed away. ' "That is the first step! The next is so ; hard?so hard!" Her whisper was full of shame and i sorrow; but never hesitat ng 6he sat j once more anu wrote in rapid characters, j but firm and clear: "Knowing you as I do, Adrien, know- ] iDg myself as you now know me, I feel that you will never look into my face this side of the great mercy seat. That I sinned against you all, more against j myself, most against God, through my wild love for you is no palliation. For what I thought love itself was only crime! That love which schemed to make you my husband, which would have made me your slave had you so willed?that passion is dead You killed it at a blow, showing me myself in the full glare of my sin; but, God be thanked, not hopeless now. And when we do meet there expiation will be done, if his mercy lets contrition, lifelong study of duty atone here. For now I see that lust is never love. It may rise to the dignity of passion, never to that better, purer love she feels for you. I have told i my husband enough to lift the load I studied to heap upon that true heart, so little conscious of the bareness in mine. Confession now would pn:aish him as I am punished! Everything Dale Everett . believes of me?yes7 far more than he suspects?is true! I lied to him, lied to that pure girl, lied to you in everything save when I said I loved you! And the letter she wrote to Dale on her wedding day I gave to" Again the sharp pain pierced her side, fierce, unbearable. Agonized, racked, she pressed her hand upon her breast. With ashen lips apart, breathless, she leaned against the table. Mechanically her hand reached for one of the bottles near, sprung the stop* per and the sickening odor of chloroform stole into the air. She placed it to her nostrils; the tortured lungs moved gaspingly, each breath a stab, then gradually more naturally, under the numbing drug. Her right hand closed the bottle wearily, pushing it back among the others, then dropping nervelessly upon the written page. A moment later that hand closed hard upon the sheet, crushing it with Spasmodic strength against her heart She rose to her feet not noting the jar that overturned the candle; staggered to the bed and fell upon it with one deep gasp of relief unspeakable! The sputtering taper on tne tame flared high up, then went 0Trt,~!lsltving the moonlight dim about the room; but Lady Martindale lay calm and motionless as a tired infant on the mother's breast, until the first gray 6treak of day rose over the eastern desert and, peering through her casement, lightly touched the soft folds of her white drapery. Then from the minaret swelled out the call of the muezzin, heard by La to or as he went forth to his quest; by the eager husband fresh awakened into his new life of love; by the trusty old friend corning to bid them Godspeed. ? But if the sleeping woman heard the ; call she made no sign, lying there quiet and peaceful as though love, remorse and sin had never been. Sir Roger was doubtful if his patient's strength was equal to an early journey, but Lord Martindale would hear no doubts. In his new found joy his wife's will was not his law alone; it must be law to circumstance as welL Crossing the sitting room with a boy's step the husband moved swiftly to his wife's side. The kiss he withheld last night might wake her now. He stooped and pressed it softly on her lips. Sir Roger in the doorway saw him 8tagger back against the will, wide eyed. a ghastly horror in his race. At the bedside in an instant, the surgeon raised the rounded wrist Quickly he stooped and passed his cheek before the lips, then placed his ear to the heart Tenderly he laid the still hand by her side, and the face he raised to the husband struck him to his knees by that bedside, his strong frame racked by soundless sobs, his white face pressed hard on the cold, still one of the wife he had won?and lost! No word was spoken: but the old surgeon turned away. His practiced eye caught the writing case, the candle overturned, the bottles. One of these he raised, smelled the chloroform and shook his head. Then, conscious of the crumpled paper left in his by the stiffened fingers he had held, he opened it and read a few lines. Glancing at the still bowed head, at -the calm, peaceful face near it, with infinite pity, Sir Roger moved swiftly to the door and held the paper in the night lamp there. When it had curled, blazed and shriveled black to cinder still no word was spoken. Only the breathing of the sleeping maid was heard in that still chamber, whence a woman and her secret had both gone out into the new dawn. Had her own mocking words been prophecy? Had her CEdipus come to her? And, with the riddle of the ages solved for him, had a later Sphinx found life was bearable no more? PART HI?CHAPTER IX. WHAT QUEST BROUGHT. ; I I Full memory hu>l come back novo. A heavy snow drove across Broadway, freezing against the window of the hotel whence Adrien Latonr peered anxiously into the late December day that closed the old year. From Alexandria, where he chanced on steamer day, he had gone direct to | Paris. From the military attache of the j United States legation there he learned that Dale Everett had sailed for home i soon after the Martindales left for Egypt, I hnt that his arrival at a New York hotel i had just appeared in late papers. La tour 1 promptly cabled there, taking the next I Havre steamer; and as her gangplank touched the New York wharf, not waiting "the law's delay" in custom house matters he drove straight to the hotel. Awaiting him there he found tough old Dr. Minot, an army surgeon known in boyhood's days; and from him learned j that his cable had reached Dale too late for answer. He had been ordered home - j for special duty, and arriving quite sick had insisted on attempting it. Exposure in the dreadful weather had developed typhoid symptoms; and he now lay ill at the hotel. "Is he dangerously ill?" Adrien asked the doctor, his face white with anxiety, j "How the devil can I say?" the old J surgeon answered gruffly. "You might ! as well ask, Do men get killed in battle? j Some do; some don'tl Typhoid is as bad as bullets. If he weathers,the fifth day I from this he'll probably pull through. Come up and help nurse him." And Latour did nurse him, with the tenderness of a woman, never leaving the bedside save to confer with the lawyer and detective he had promptly put on a Bearch for Bennie Mason. But ad- | vertisements for heirs of Beverly Mason I were unanswered; and the detective sys- j tern of New York remained ignorant ! whether Bennie or her father was in that city or not. Twice in that weary suspense of five days Dr. Minot had shaken his head ominously on taking his patient's temperature, and Adrien read in his face that Dale would die. But twice the mighty frame and unbroken constitution had ( wrestled successfully with the grim foe, ; for it seemed that the strong will which had borne him from boyhood to honors and distinction had decreed that the matter it dominated should not yield. But through the wandering fancies of the fever one had recurred again and again?meaningless to all else, but thrilling Adrien Latour -with infinite pity, j Half moan, half entreaty, would come the words: "We're old?old friends, Bennie!" And hearing them the Creole had more than once hid his face in the coverlet and pressed his grim mustache against the wasted hand lying helpless upon it. This wns the day of crisis. Outside the snowflakes flew faster and more blinding, pedestrians turned up coat collars about their ears, and the few cab horses left at the stands seemed mutely begging pity and shelter. Inside Dr. Minot nodded comfortably in an easy chair before the fire, waiting the wak- j Ing bo meaningful; Adrien Latour, at j the window, gnawed his mustache in ! restless thought, mechanically counting ; the few street lamps now visible through I the storm. Suddenly a movement in the bed, and both watchers started forward to see the longed for sanity in the eyes of Dale , Everett feebly turned from one to the j other. Gradually memory crept into them, now steadily fixed on Latour; the wasted fingers crept out to his hand, and as the Creole bowed his head over them Dale whispered feebly: "Letter?came?dear old boyP Then, closing his eyes in very weari- ; ness of content, he slept softly. "Will he get well?' Adrien whispered eagerly. "How the devil can 1 tell?* again answered old Minot, this time rather huskily and with suspicious moisture in his eyes. And he blew his nose trumpet lie before he added, "Watching and WiiiU} UUU UO a (Ut A&fyuv uvnt Since the day his appointment as ca- | det reaohed him in Paris, Latonr had | never felt the joy that now thrilled through him. When the doctor left he sat before the glowing coals dreaming, while the snow fell faster without; and darkness crept into the sick room. But he heard nothing save the regular breathing of his sleeping friend, saw nothing bat pictures of the long past in the glowing vistas of the sea coaL Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder. "Tapped twice, and feared to disturb ; him," the new comer said, jerking his head toward the sleeper. "How'a be, getting long?" "Better. Any luck?" Adrien replied anxiously. The other motioned him into the parlor and closed the door before he answered, quietly: "Luck's not in my line, general. Dick Peerman's reputation was made by trusting to something better'n that. No , luck." The speaker was wiry, medium sized, and close shaven. He was dressed in scrupulous black, with natty boots and stitched tan gloves. The hat he had not removed was flat rimmed, with a broad band of crape. He was an ordinary man, with two extraordinary things about him: one that, coming from the furious storm, there was no speck of moisture on shiny hat or glossy boots; the other the cool, incisive, meaningless stare of of his keen, gray eyes. Yet Capt. Richard Peerman was the sharpest detective Uncle Sam had ever paid for unearthing a paymaster'8 "little game" in war or "clicking the bracelets" round a felon's wrists in peace. "So you cannot find any clew?" La tour asked wearily; but he eagerly seized the card the other extended by way of answer. "Toughest case I ever worked up on no clew," the detective said placidly. "Tens o' thousands of 'em exactly alike in this town. But when Dick P*erman goes for a thief or a woman, either may as well come down." The Creole had read the card over and over by the fitful firelight Without reply he threw on a heavy army cloak, and whispering the other to wait stole out and softly closed the door. Through howling storm and blinding snow the driver of a chanced on cab steered La tour over the East Side, where tenements swarm with human vermin, where poverty and pestilence stalk hand in hand through nazes of their ceaseless carnival Miles they struggled northward, out of the closer district, to where progress had not yet crowded his victims so closely; then they stopped before a tall, dingy house, and La tour, springing out, ascended the crazy stair and paused at every landing. At last he halted, a flood of wondering, pitying tenderness sweeping his face as he looked around that cheerless home of poverty. Twice he raised his hand, twice he paused before he tapped nervously upon the door. The answer came prompt and sharp, but again he caught his breath | hard before he ventured to lift the crazy ' latch. Over a very Bmall fine, in a clean but almost bare room, sat Miss Tabitha Fay and her brother. She was only a shade more angular, he far less rotund than of yore; but over the faces of both time and poverty had unmistakably passed their hands. "Nonsense, Brother Standish! I did hear a rap. Come in!" were the words that carried the visitor back on a flood of memory and pity, Surprise, greeting and explanation were 60on over, and La tour asked anxiously: "Where is Bennie?" "She is rather later than usual tliia evening," Miss Tabitha answered apologetically. "She usually returns by early lamplight." "Where from?' queried La tour impatiently. "It is a very long distance," the spinster went on as indirectly as ever, "and the artist photographer detains her at this season." "And she now, fortunately," Mi1. Standish put in, "has been able to secure extra work." "Work! A night liko this! Thank Bod! I have-found her!" Adrien cried in a half groan. Then, answering at random the spinster's voluble cackle and the nnmy questions of her brother, the Creole paced the room nervously; ever and Again pressing his face against the frosty little pane, or pausing to catch her treat! upon the creaking stair. At last it came. Pinched with cold and covered with snow, Bennie yet ran in cheerily and kissed her father before aarxr visifnr. "Oh! I beg pardon," she said. "I did not know you had a visitor, papa!?You here!" She drew up in surprise, as she recognized Latour, u dash of old time hauteur over her face. But the expression on : his stopped her. "Bennie, please hear me before you | speak," ho said, more humbly than he j had ever spoken to mortal before. And, I hearing, Miss Fay signaled to her i brother, strode over, took his arm and marched him from the room. Bennie stood silent, her eyes dropped, her hands clasped listlessly before her. But eagerly the man went on: "Bennie, ten weary years ago you asked my forgiveness. In my pride and folly I refused it. Five years later you I besought me, still unchastened by sor- ! row, to stay my cruel judgment. Once | more, in my sinful blindness, I refused, j Now, in penitence and contrition, I j come from lonely wandering to beseech what I would not givo. Bennie, for the sake of the old days, can you forgive mer Those blue eyes, once saucy, proud I still, raised quietly from the floor met | his eager, hungry gaze. The voice was j low and sweet, but it never trembled as | she answered: "From my heart I forgive you!" His arms were around her, the snow dampened head pressed close to liis breast. | "Bennie! darling!" he whispered, "I ' know all. Dale told mo your secret!" I "Dale told!" I Quickly she broke from the strong1 , arms; a scarlet flood dyed the face she ; bent upon the ground. "Dale told!" she repeated in trembling j tones. "How could he" "Hush, darling!" he interrupted. "Do I not judge him until you know all." Taking Dale's crumpled letter from I his breast he put it in her hands. And ! Bennie, standing statue still, read it i slowly through. But, as she read, the j play of deep emotions flickered on her j face, then faded out, leaving no sign to t the eyes that watched so yearningly. Then she folded the letter gently, ten- ; derly, and put it in her bosom. "This letter must be mine," she sai<l j quietly, but turning her face away. "Dale's sacrifice for me I guessed be- \ fore, but some things in it I never dreamed till now. What he has 'writ- j ten of me must be mine, tntil I can put this letter into his own hands again.," j Again, ns she ceased, the crimson flood swept the pole face; but Bhe met La- i tour's eyes bravely as she naked: : j "Where is Dale now?" "At tho hotel very ill, ? have" "I most go to him, tbm," she inter- J rnpted calmly, but very pale. "Take ! me, please." j 1 And again she raised her eyes and 1 looked fearlessly into tho? of the first j man sho had ever loved. ? ? < VHien Bennie Mason softly followed 1 Adrien Latour into the sick r6om Capt 1 Richard Peerman was immersed in the i bioijraphy of Jamee Mace, ISsq., in the i current number of a theniamons society f journal. He rose, removed his hat, as though that act were greatest conces- 1 ?' .nil -nmirlrivl- | i OJUUy OUU 4 CUM*-?r?. _ "Excuse me,^n.iss, but hanged if you 1 ain't as promptna Dick Peennan!" 1 Then, with a voluminous glance at his , employer, he discreetly retired and closed the door. j 1 Bennie stood by the bed. and looked down silently and long upon the sleeper. ? Opposite stood the man who had loved i and wronged' a?2^" at last, understood 1 her. ; < Suddenly the sleeper moved restlessly j and the ever recurrent words came very i gently this time: \ "Old, old friends, Bennie!" < Noiselessly and very tenderly the wo- y man sank upon her knoeu, the bright i masses of her hair shadovdng the face i bent over Dale's pale hand. But his i opening eyes first fell upon his friend's < face. Full memory had come back now. i "Dear old boy I" he whispered feebly, j ".Letter all right Find Bennie" i Then he saw the form beside him. i Without surprise, without one stan: his j joy went out in^ne low whisper: f "Bennie!" ( The woman did not raise her head, | but her hand very gently pat oat the j lottter from her bosom. j "Take this back, dear Dale," she said ] softly. "Some of it is?true; some must , be forgotten." < Feebly stroking the bright hair he < answered: < "Yes, all sorrow must be forgotten, r.ow! (Give me your hand, dear old j Adrien. You have found her!" , Lying there so feebly, the sick soldier ( tried to join the hands of those two he ( lied loved so loyally, even as he whis- , jiered: "When yon are happiest, Bennie, re- ( member yon said, we are old, old friends!" , Very pale was the face the woman Ihen raised before both men. Very Ijeutie, bat firmly clear, was the voice | l;hat bore these words: "We were old friends, dear Dale, j Now with the blessing of God, we will be more than that, forever, 'till death , do us part!'" THE END. THE BLAND DOLLAR. , There is a curious story about the j head of Liberty on the obverse of the < Bland dollar. This is said to be mod- ] eled from the head of Miss Anna W. Williams, now instructor of philosophy and methods of kindergarten training ( at the Girls' Normal school in Philadelphia. At the time the Bland dollar made its first appearance, the se- I cret leaked, out somehow, and to avoid notoriety the most indefutigable efforts , were made to deny the fact, and even J to this day it4s difficult to get any of ] Miss Williams's friends who are in the secret to admit it. Her name went \ broadcast over the land, however, and j from almost every quarter of the globe j she was deluged with the most flatter- ing offers of marriage. Miss Williams i was a student of the Academy of Fine , Arts when Engraver George Morgan, , who made the pattern from which the j dollar was copied, was casting about j for a model. Some ladies among the j students at the academy were selected < to pose. The contour of Miss Williams's features was chosen as coming \ nearest to the pure Grecian ideal. Be- j fore the pattern was finally adopted ( it was sent to the academy to get the \ opinion of some artists as to its artistic ( merits. The profile was criticised in several particulars, chief among which ] was what was regarded as a too prom- inent chin. But the authorities at the 1 mint thought it was one of the most j beautiful types of faces that was ever i submitted for the head of a coin, und j it was adopted. As to its strong re- < semblance to the original, those who see Miss Williams oflenest are best able ] to testify. It is considered a good likeness, but drawn somewhat finer ; than the living model. Mr. Morgan, . by the way, is an Englishman, and some people insist that lie managed to , declare his origin in the "Bland" dollar. By holding the coin with the date uppermost, and cover the figures 011 a line across the eye to the hair, the ( profile develops a likeness of King George, the chin being his nose. Hold- ( ing the coin in the same position and covering the medallion 011 a line from : the base of the cap, the curl of the nair develops a uoa wim u? nunc ???. left.?Illustrated American. Faces With Lanterns Behind Them.?There is nothing more catching than a face with a lantern behind j it, shining clear through. I have no admiration for a face with a dry smile, meaning no more than the grin of a false face. But a smile written by the hand of tiod, as an index or table of contents to whole volumes of good feelings within, is a benediction. You say : ' My face is hard and lacking in mobility, and my benignant feelings are not observable in the facial proportions." I do not believe you. Freshness and geniality of soul are so subtle | and pervading that they will, at some I eye or mouth corner, leak out. Set | behind your fate a feeling of gratitude to CJod and kindliness toward man, j and you will every day preach a sermon jus long as the streets you walk, a i sermon with as many heads as the ! number of people you meet, and dif- ! fering from other sermons in the fact ! that the longer it is the better. The | reason that there are so many sour faces, i so many frowning faces, so many dull ! faces, is because men and women con- : sent to be acrid and petulent and stu- i pid. The way to improve your face is to improve your disposition. At- I tractiveness of physiognomy docs not depend on regularity of feature. I know nersons whose brows are shaggy, I and whose eyes are oblique, and noses ! are ominously longitudinal, and the < mouth straggles along in the unusual , and unexpected directions; and yet ! they are men and women of so much t soul that we love to look upon them, 1 and their presence is an evangelism. They get married sooner than the i painted doll-babies that call themselves | young ladies, and make home happy ! long after the curls have turned gray, ; ami the foot of the dance has turned into a rheumatic shuttle.?Talmage. ( Monopoly-(.Yiwkd.?The Tinted i States to-day is the worst monopolycursed nation on the face of the earth. | They have made more millionaires in twenty years than all Europe and England have made in 500 years. Everything in the country is controlled by a syndicate, pool, combination, trust, pat- I ent or corner. If a boy, now grown to : manhood, desires to go into business, he must buy himself in. if he wishes to < enter commerce, he must buy a seat 011 j the Hoard of Trade; if he wishes to go into manufacturing, lie must buy himself into a combination which represents and has monopolized that busi- } ness. New Orleans Democrat. jjfttisretlanfous Reading, j ON BOARD THE PENSACOLA. P 1 faval Cadet O. W. Williams Writes I an Interesting Letter from South t .America. r The following letter from Cadet Geo. 11 Y. Williams, son of Auditor W. B. (Villiams, of Yorkville, will be read with nterest by his many friends and ae- t luaintances in this county. Cadet f Villiams is one of the crew of the 0 Jnited States Steamship Pensacola. 9 The Pensacola has been stationed at ^ tfoatevideo, the capital of Uruguay, j, South America, for several months c )ast, but on account of a civil war that v s now raging in Chili, the ship has j] )een sent to Valparaiso, to protect j. American interests at that point. The v etter is addressed to Cadet Williams's (] nother at this place and is as follows: t U. S. Steamship Pensacola, Pos- c esaion Bay, Straits of Magellan, Feb- i' uary 5,1891.?We left Montevideo on * Wednesday, January 27, and steamed li lown the river in the very teeth of a 1 jampero [violent wind that often r iweeps the South American pampas] i intil the next day at noon, when we f . hanged course to the southward. The t vind hauled aft during the next day i ind we made sail, and by Sunday, 8 ?oon, we were 770 miles from Monte- f /idee. That night, however, the wind r ?ame out ahead and blew a gale and f aised a heavy sea, through which we \ plunged for thirty-four hours, making c jut a little over one hundred miles n that time. Monday night we got ? i fair wind, accompanied by a smooth 1 sea, and at 8.30 Tuesday morning, ? Jape Virgins, at the eastern entrance to c he bay, was sighted, and at 4 p. m. we I inchored here in Possession bay in 21 > "athoms [86 feet] of water. During the a light a blow came on with such force t is to malice it necessary to let out more t jhain to keep from dragging the an- ? jhor ; so now we are riding to more J lhan 600 feet of cable. * The tidal current runs with such $ force through the first "Narrows" that * v ship but of moderate steam power * mnnot go through it if the wind also is ? - ontrary. Such is the case now, and we t ivill have to wait until to-morrow at ' 10 a. m. when we can catch the force 1 if the flood tide. t Our passage, or at least the last * three days of it, has been rather un- ] pleasant:. Going south, of course, made i it colder, and since Sunday we have i been shivering in our overcoats. The season makes no change here. We 1 had hail at sea Monday night, and ' sleet here yesterday, and the strong 1 wind that is now blowing is bitterly I jold. ][ am thankful to say that I have < no night watch to stand, but I will have < a hard time of it all day to-morrow, up 1 an the bridge, taking bearings. I had a taste of it from 5 to 9 o'clock, coming 1 Dut of Montevideo, and it was not pleasant as far north as that even. Down below, however, with the steam coils, and heavy curtains before . the doors, it is cosy enough and I 3leep very comfortably. ' We will probably remain at Sandy Point, our next stopping place, eighty < rnileB from here, until Monday. Then 1 we will tackle the western end of the ' 3traits, which consists of long narrow 1 rocks or channels from two to five miles wide generally, but at places narrowing down to one mile. We will probably pass Cape Pilar, at the west- ( ern end of the strait, next Wednesday 3 morning, and we hope to reach Valpa- 1 raiso within a week afterward. What 1 we will do after we get there is a mat- ] ter of conjecture. Nobody knows, 1 and nobody cares?at least the cadets 1 do not ; for we have to be back in the 1 States by May, 1892, and after putting j in three months on the Chilian coast, it matters very little where we go, as 1 we have but a short time to stay. ! The passage of the straits promises to be very interesting, as such scenery j and weather cannot be seen anywhere else in the world. Here the country { is nothing but barren hills, as bleak a looking country as I have ever seen. 1 But further west there are high, heavi- ' ly wooded mountains, which, together 1 with the narrow strait, makes a scene 1 that is very picturesque in its wildness. Bandy Point, (Punta Arenas, as it is on J the map) is a Chilian convict colony, and aside from containing some living ! specimens of the Patagonian tribes, possess nothing of interest. I have longed to see a Patagonian ever since I saw that picture in the back of "Polar Explorations," that use to lie around home, and I am looking for- ! ward with pleasure to the gratification of my wish. i When we get to Valparaiso, I will probably have something more to write ' about than drear looking scenery and a dead town. The Chilians seem to be having a lively time of it all by them- ' selves, and we consider ourselves quite fortunate in having some hope of seeing some naval battles between modern 3hips. Our only fear is, however, that at the rate we are going now, all the trouble will be over. By the time this letter reaches you you will probably know a great deal more about the Chilian troubles than I do, but I will tell you what I under- j stand about it. Judging from President Balmaceda's proclamation, the struggle seems to grow out of a feud between him and congress. The congress will airree to not hi uir but to tret D* ' ' " ?O ?/ ? rid of the president, and the president does not propose to be gotten rid of. He prorogued both houses and administered the government himself. Congress attempted to incite a revolt, but Balmuceda drove its members on board the fleet, which is in sympathy with it. I have not heard enough to form an opinion yet as to which side is right, but I rather admire the unllinching nerve with which Balmaceda meets the issue. He says that he has assumed a dictatorship because he believed that it was his duty. He proves, or claims to prove, by the letter of the constitution, that congress has acted in violation of the fundamental law, and therefore he is justifiable in his course. I will probably write again in a few days, but after that you need not be alarmed if you do not hear from me again for several months. The Chilian coast is blockaded and no vessel can enter the ports. It is possible, however, that we may have an opportuni- j ty of sending our mail by stopping j some outward hound vessel after it j passes the three mile limit. Coi.rMill's's Body.?Christopher Co- ! lumhus died in obscurity and poverty : at Yaladolid, Spain. May 20, loOG. j By special favor of the monks of St. j Francis, his body was, for a time, de- | posited in the vault of their church in I that city, hut some years later, in pur- j suance of his own expressed wish, the remains were translated to Hispaniola and placed in a crypt under theeathe- i dral of San Domingo. In 1520 the I body of Diego, the son of Columbus, was also buried in the crypt, and some j years afterward that of Luis, the (lis- j coverer's grandson, was laid with the j other two. In 17J)5 the Spanish purt 1 of San Domingo was ceded to the j French, but before the cession perm is* j sion was given for the removal of Co- : lunibus's body to Havana. A mctalie case, supposed to contain | the body of the discoverer, was re- ! moved and placed in the Cathedral of j Havana, and the matter rested until I 1S77, when a metalie casket was found ; in tlio San Domingo vault, which be- j yoild ull doubt was that of Christopher Columbus. It was inscribed both with- 1 i&n v(urjoiiuiio. . The family at a Pennsyslvania farm house were kept from church and Sabbath-school one very stormy Sabbath, and the boys and girls were anticipating a long tiresome day, when Uncle Ned came to the rescue with the list of questions below. Bibles were brought out, and the search for answers kept them all busy and interested a large part of the day. Perhaps some of our young people would like to look for them too: 1. Where does the Bible speak of boys and girls playing in the streets ? 2. Who cut a book into pieces with a penknife and threw the leaves into the fire? 3. What young man went to sleep and fell out of a window while at a preaching service ? 5 . 4. What news did the first carrier i and without, with his name ana tiles, and proved that beyond question, hat through haste or carelessness, the lersons who effected the removal in 795, had carried away the body of )iego, the son of Columbus, and that he remains of the great admiral now est beneath the Cathedral of San Dolingo. AMONG STRANGERS. To correctly estimate the real worth, here is nothing like getting away rom home and being thrown upon ne's own resources among entire trangers. The friends among whom a man has een reared are rarely ever capable of udging him fairly. They either critiise him unjustly, or overestimate his rorth. The stranger views him with inprejudiced eyes; he perceives his Dibles, is cognizant of his faults, and las no knowledge of latent virtue, vhich might make him slow to conlemu and ready to excuse. The wise raveler comprehends this, and, not benuse he is a hypocrite, but because it s required of him, is on his good belavtor. He "minds his manners" and lis speech. He is courteous to hia frlj ow-travelers, and his self-conceit (fiainishes rapidly. He realizes that he s not so perfect as his injudicious riends have led him to imagine. He >ecomes aware of his limitations, and, nstead of an indispensable member of ociety, realizes that he is only a small raction thereof. Perhaps this is the eason such delightful people are to be bund upon cars and boats and in lotels and wherever else tourists most lo congregate. They may be divided into two geniral classes?those who have traveled ittle, and those who have traveled a :ood deal. Unless he is a hopeless jynic and malcontent, the traveled >erson is like those little pebbles vhich are to be found upon the seaihore. They have been tossed about, o and fro, back and forth, until all heir angularities have been worn iway, and if not brilliantly polished, a jood deal of smoothing down has been iccomplished. He has learned to be iffable, patient and forbearing. The nodel traveler is the product of time ind experience. He has had to ierve a long and exacting appreniceship. When he has spent a certain lumber of years deploring the trains ie has missed, anathematizing the runks that will get lost, the boats that ire delayed?an evolutionary period narked by much whinning and groanng and scolding?he at last achieves esignatiou. He has learned that these arc unavoidable incidents, the bitter to be .wallowed with the sweet. The unpleasant things attendant upon tripling are finally expected, as a matter | if course, and the good fortune is received as a special manifestation of Providence. There are, perhaps, a few who can never be improved, at least in the brief span of this mortal existence, rhe experienced know them at a glance. They go with a limp, dejected gait; their eyes are dull and languid, their voice is fretful and nothing pleases or interests. "IjrOOU," US xeiuiysuii iviuiu in ino optimistic days, is really to be the 'final goal of ill," then the poor souls have many leagues to journey before they reach that blissful destination. THE EVlVoF HASTE. There are few things worse for any one's mentality, or for one's achievement, than this wild breathless hurry? liurry to be dressed so that nothing is put on properly; hurry to be through reading, so that nothing is received into mind or memory; hurry to reach i place to the point of tripping and Tailing; hurry to be over with a meal, to the point of choking and of incurable indigestion ; hurry at work till the lingers are all thumbs, and nothing is [lone as it should be done; hurry to bed, too tired to sleep, even the dreams it last hurrying; haunted by huddling visions of purposes not to be carried jut. Is it a marvel that such a one who is always hurrying, never succeeds in reaching success, or anything else, indeed, but shattered nerves and ruined health ? And the effect of this hurry on other people, meanwhile, is nn injurious one; other hearts with that one beat more quickly, and breaths are short and circulations disordered ; it is contagious-, it begets restlessness, it is vexatious, it disturbs the whole atmosphere with bustle and confusion of thought. On the other hand, the person who is the exact opposite of the hurrying sort, the person whose movements are always regular, measured, unvarying, and never-failing, not necessarily slow, but never taken at a faster rate than can be maintained throughout, reminding you of the steady, never-accelerating movements of a great engine's eccentric beam, is the one who must always come oft* a winner in the end. And all the world about that calm, uuhurrying person receives some of the calm, and is refreshed as if by a gracious balm, by the unshaped conviction amounting to instinct that nothing here is begun that will not be finished coolly and quietly, without strain or discomfort, and is content to [jo ulone 111 tiie compamonsnip ui ohu who, in the language of the day, always "gets there."?Harper's Bazar. About Governor Nichols.?Governor Nichols, of Louisiana, has lost an arm and a leg, but so deftly have the artificial members been fitted to the stumps, that few people are in the secret of his loss. His colored body servant was left behind on the occasion of his last visit to Yicksburg, and at his disposal during his stay was put a likely young lad, who was told to try and take the old body servant's place. That night, when Governor Nichols was ready to retire, he stretched out one of his legs to Ned and said : "Ned, unscrew that leg." Ned's eyes began to open with horror, but he obeyed and took the leg off. Governor Nichols then said, calmly stretching out an arm : "Ned, unscrew that arm." The boy rolled up his eyes until nothing but the whites could be seen, but he obeyed and unscrewed the arm. The governor, who now realized his condition of mind, determined to have a little fun with him, so, reaching out his neck, he said: "Ned, unscrew that head." But the boy never waited to see whether his head would come off or not, and no one succeeded in getting him to go near Governor Nichols again.?New York World. Shades ok Fai.sk Tkktii.?Said a dentist, recently, referring to the variety in the shades of false teeth, "I have in stock teeth ranging in color from the dark ones suitable for a negro, to the lightest blonde." "Dark ones suitable for a negro?" was tlie response; "I always thought negroes had the whitest of teeth." "They appear so by contrast with the black skin ; but the fact is that negroes' teeth have a decided greenish tinge." If a false tooth of suitable color for a white man were inserted between a negro's teeth, the effect, as far appearance goes, would be worse than no tooth at all. Not only does the color of false teeth have to be thus adapted to different races, but also to different complexions of the same race. A good dentist is particular that your false teeth shall blend with your complexion. Also seemingly dirty false teeth are inserted in the mouths of people whose own teeth, by long neglect, have become permanently discolored. pigCVU ? 5. While cutting wood near a river ' a man lost bis axe-head 4n the water. 1 How did he recover it ? 1 6. What man escaped fronj a walled city while his enemies were watching ' for him at the gates, by being let down 1 from the wall in a basket? .... J7. On what occasion was * large ' army put to flight by three hundred men using only lamps, pitchers and 1 trumpets? 8. Who hid some ear-rings under an oak? 9. Who hid two spies among some , stalks of flax upon the roof of her house ? 10. What little girl was the means , of curing a man of leprosy and turning ( him from idolatry to the worship of the true God. POTATOES. The potato is a native of Peru. ?? ? i o i -J.fi-J When tne ?pamaras nrn visueu me West coast of South America, they found this esculent cultivated by the natives, although it grew naturally in uncultivated places, wherever a sufficient degree of moisture enabled the plant to live. Tradition has it that It was on the top of Mt. San Lorenzo, the islaud in the harbor of Calloa, where the Spaniards found the first potatoes, and from whence they took the seed to Europe. I have seen the plant as it grows wild on San Lorenzo, and I could hardly recognize it. It was about six inches high, with delicate little vines and a pretty blue blossom scarcely larger than a violet, while the potato on the roots below was no larger than a hazel nut. From this insignificant plant has been evolved, by cultivation, the numerous family of the potato, which, within three hundred years, has made its way to every part of the civilized world, and now forms an important item in the world's bill of fare. I watched a few days since a company of laborers at work digging potatoes in a field in the valley of the Bimac. A team of oxen ploughed up the hills with, a light plow, leaving the tubers exposed on the ground. Six Indian workmen picked up the potatoes and carried them to a pile in one corner of the field, while the overseer, a Spaniard, stood watching the work. The men who were picking up the potatoes had neither pail nor bag nor box in which to carry them. Two of them put the potatoes in their hats, and the others carried them in their hands, each one going from every part of the field to the pile in one corner, carrying five or six potatoes each trip.?Consular Report. An American Engineer in Mexico.?On the tramway between the towns of Zacatecas and Guadalupe, in Mexico, which are a few miles apart, the way from Zacatecas is down grade. The cars go at great speed by their own gravitation; no animals are attached, for the descent is as steep as a toboggan slide. It requires six mules, however, to draw each car back again. The animals are harnessed three abreast, like the horses in the Paris omnibuses. Even the projectors of the tramway had no fixed idea as to how it should be operated, and an American overseer has been in charge from the beginning. The care were ordered from Philadelphia, and while they were being built, the steel rails, which came from Liverpool by way of Vera Cruz, were laid down from one end of the route to the other. When the care arrived, it was found that they would not run on the track, as the rails had been laid on a guage three inches narrower than that for which the care were designed. The Mexicans, in their ignorance, saw but one way out of the dilllculty; that was, to rebuild the cars, make the bodies narrower, and cut off the axle-trees to fit the gauge of the rails. The present superintendent, a practical American engineer, was in Zaeateeas at the time, and took in the state of affaire at a glance. He offered for five hundred dollars to show the owners how to get over the trouble without altering an article on the cars. The money was paid, and with twenty men and proper tools, the American took up a few rods of the track, and made a gauge for the rest, and in one day had the care running over the short distance. The managers of the road at once put the American in charge, and he has held the position ever since. A Cat's Extraordinary Leap.? In the latter part of 1880, at a time when the Washington monument had reached a height of 1(50 feet, an adventurous and patriotic cat ascended the interior of the shall by means of ropes and tubing. When the workmen arrived at the upper landing the next morning and began to prepare for the day's work, pussy took fright and, springing to the outer edge, took a "header" of 100 feet to the hard earth below. In the descent, which was watched closely by two-score of men, the cut spread herself out like a Hying squirrel and alighted on ull fours. After turning over on the ground a few times in a dazed manner, she prepared to leave the grounds and had gotten almost beyond the shadow of the monument when a dog belonging to one of the workmen pounced upon her and killed her, she, of course, not j being in her best running trim after j performing such an extraordinary feat, j One of the men procured the body of the dead feline, smoothed out her silky , eout, and turned the remains over to a i representative of the Smithsonian In- i stitution, who mounted the skin and j plaeedituudernglassea.se. The label 1 011 the ease tells this wonderful story in j a few words : "This eat, 011 September 2:3, 1880, jumped from the top of Wash- j ington's monument and lived."?New [ York Commercial Advertiser. Ql'KKK I'KN N'SYI.VA NIA JfrtTIOK.? i A novel sentence has been pronounced by a justice at Huntingdon, in this I State. A wife had kissed "another ! manher husband had chastised her with corporal punishment, and Justice Kelly, supplying the third act in a 1 * 1- -! tnn 1 (U'ilina llllli:i]l[)ll\ mm IV.U much fmiuenry in all our courts, gave [ a verdict "that the wife retire to her usual place of abode, and lock the ; doors s?> that 110 strangers can he adi milted for a period of six days; that j the husband for the same length of j time hoard with his next door neigh- I ! bor and sleep in the barn, and that ! each party pay half the costs and stand j committed until the sentence is coin- , plied with." Of tho cflicacy of such j an original judgment there cannot he much doubt, although a question ' I might he raised on the constitutional j ground of its being cruel and unusual , j punishment?at least for the next j door neighbor. The usual punish- I ! ment for wife-beating, however, is so i )f a whipping poet, the result of the lew departure in dealing with this iespicable crime deserves careful watching.?Philadelphia Record. VST Apropos of Matthew Arnold, it jeems that his son Mat. had very derided opinions. One night the boy leard some one say the moon was lihde of green cheese. Very quickly lie said: "I don't believe the moon is made of green cheese." "Don't you ?" laid his father. "Why not?" "O," said the young gentleman, "I don't enow why ; but I don't." "Well, for my part," said his father, "I have no respect for people who give opinions for which they can give no reasons." young Mat. was very much mortified, ind went off by himself to hide his feelings. The next morning, as bright is possible, he greeted his fhther with this: "I know now why the moon is aot made of green cheese. I found it rot in Genesis." "Ah," said Matthew Arnold, Sr., "you have the advantage if me; I did not know the subject was mentioned in Genesis." "O, yes, papa," said the boy, "there is an account of the creation, and the moon waa made* before there were amy' cows." So Matthew the younger triumphed over Matthew the older. Origin of Long Measure.?Our measures of length originated in the dawn of civilization, and came to us through the Anglo-Saxons. The yard was originally the length of a king's arm; the foot, the length of his pedal extremities. The word inch is derived from the Latin uncia, a twelfth part; but why the foot was divided into tno+An/1 nffant.Hg ni* Alovanthfl IVVClibUOj uiowuu w? r do one claims to be wise enough to tell. It has been suggested that probably the inch was originally the length of the second joint of the forefinger, and that twelve of these equal the length of the forearm, which averages about one foot in length. The inch used to be divided into three "barley-corns," which were simply the length of the grain or "corn" of the barley. The "mile" was reckoned at 1,000 paces, as its name shows, from the first word of the Latin phrase millia passuum, "a thousand paces." The origin of the "rod" is doubtful. 9&~ By far the larger part of the coffee used in the United Stafes comes from South America. The imports there amount to more than 525,000,000 pounds annually, of which 69 per cent, comes from Brazil. The second largest shipper to this market is Venezuela, 11 per cent. The first cost in this country averages 10 cents and a fraction a pound, aggregating $56,347,600. The first record of production in Brazil begins with 1870, when 180,000,000 pounds were shipped to the United States. High-water mark was reached in 1885, with 400,000,000 pounds of shipment. One large item of expense in Brazil is to get coffee to market. Freight charges as high as 14 cents a mile have been-paid, which from a distant plantation to Rio Janeiro, means $1.75 to $2.50 a sack. The highest charge from Rio Janeiro to New York is 65 cents a bag.?St. Louis Republic. Area of the Counties in South Carolina.?From the census bulletin just issued by the Department of tho Interior, the area of this State in square miles is as follows: South Carolina: Gross area, 30,570; water surface, 400; land surface, 30,170. By counties: Abbeville, 1,006 ; Aiken, 1,068 ; Anjnmnn rofl bnnill'oll 1 21 4 ? rpau UC/iOVll) UWV J A/Wtunvwj . ? J fort, 967; Berkeley, 1,742; Charleston, 793; Chester, 570; Chesterfield, 986; Clarendon, 664; Colleton, 1,920; Darlington, 673; Edgefield, 1,852 ; Fairfield, 775; Florence, 578; Georgetown, 742; Greenville, 716; Hampton, 1,141; Horry, 980; Kershaw, 775; Lancaster, 535; Laurens, 680; Lexington, 780; Marion, 1,024; Marlboro, 530; Newberry, 600; Orangeburg, 1,400; Oconee, 620; Pickens, 464; Richland, 608; Spartanburg, 949; Sumter, 870; Union, 660 * Williamsburg, 948 ; York, 750. VST The grip of an ant's jaw is retained even after the body has been bitten off and nothing but the head remains. This knowledge is possessed by a certain tribe of Indians in Brazil, who put the ants to a very peculiar use. When an Indian gets a gash cut in his hand, instead of having his hand sewed together as physicians do in this country, he procures five or six large black ants, and, holding their heads near the gash, they bring their jaws together in biting the flesh, and thus pull the two sides of the gash together. Then the Indian pinches oft' the bodies of the ants, and leaves them clinging to the gash, which is held together until the gash Is perfectly healed.?Medical Record. S?T The hour before falling asleep at night is one of the most important of the twenty-four. The reading or conversation of that hour usually takes a deeper hold on the mind than that of any other. Long passages may be easily memorized by reading them over carefully several times during the last waking hour. They appear to imbed themselves in the mind while it rests in sleep. The impressions parents leave on the minds of their children at night have much to do with the formation of their characters. Punishments inflicted at that season sometimes loosen the bonds which bind the hearts of children to their homes, while kind words and affectionate counsels, given at that hour, often prove a savor of life unto life. fikir The most perilous hour of a person's life is when he is tempted to despond. The man who loses his courage, loses all; there is no more hope of him than of a dead man. But?it matters not how poor he may be, how much pushed by circumstances, how much deserted by friends, how much lost to the world?if he only keeps his courage, holds up his head and, with unconquerable will, determines to be and to do what becomes a man, all will 1 1' T4 - - ? .-,(/]a A#1 KSm I)C WC11. 11 IS IIUIIIIII? omnmi; ui jiiui that kills; it is what is within that makes or not makes. SaT To every 1,000,000 whites in this country there are 500 convicts. To every 1.000,000 blacks there are 2,000 convicts. One in every 120 adult male negroes is a convict. This is a fearful showing for the colored people, but it cannot be set down to an unfair discrimination in the South. In some Northern States, one in every twenty-five adult male negroes is a convict. New York has eighty-live negro convicts to every 10,000 of colored population, while Mississippi has only six to every 10,000. Thk Collie.?The name "collie," used for the Scotch sheep dog, takes rise not from any peculiarity of breed in the dog. but from the kind of sheep he once drove. In Scotland there was a class of sheep with black faces and legs called "collies," from the AngloSaxon "col," signifying black. The dogs which looked after those slieep were collie dogs, which in time became shortened to "collies;" hence the name which the sheep dog now bears. flnT A stalwart young man at Leavenworth, Kau., recently accepted a wager that he could not stand a quart of water dropped into his open hand drop by drop, from a height of three feet. Before 500 drops had fallen into his hand, he almost cried with pain and said he had enough. After a little water had fallen each drop seemed to crush his hand. A blister in the center of it was the result.?Boston Journal.