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lewis m. gbist, proprietor, j Independent Tamils Jleirapaper: Jor the promotion of the political, gonial, l^rieultural and (Commercial Interests of the $outh. J TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL 38. YOEKVILLE, 8. C., "WEDNESDAY, JULY 27, 189'2. ^O. 3Q. THE SCUM BY NATHANIEL i CHAPTER XHI. A FLOOD or SUNSHINE. Arthur Dimmeedale gazed into Hester's face with a look in which hope and joy shone ont indeed, bnt with fear be- j twixt them, and a kind of horror at her boldness, who had spoken what he vaguely hinted at, bat dared not speak. Bat Hester Prynne, with a mind of native courage and activity, and for so long a period not merely estranged, bnt oaUawed, from society, had habituated herself to such latitude of speculation as was altogether foreign to the clergyman. Sib had wandered, without rule or guidance, in a moral wilderness; as vast, as intricate and shadowy as the untamed forest, amid the gloom of which they were now holding a colloquy that was to decide their fate. Her intellect and heart had their home, as it were, in desert places, where she ?#?rt w1?? am fUa Tn^ion in IWITU HP nwg (ao vuv *** his woods. For years past she had looked from this estranged point of view at human institutions, and whatever priests or legislators had established; criticising all witlr hardly more reverence than the Indian would feel for the clerical band, the judicial robe, the pillory, the gallows, the fireside or the church. The tendency of her fate and fortunes had been to set her free. The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread. Shame, despair, solitude! These had been her teachers?stern and wild ones?and they had made her strong, but taught her much amiss. The minister, on the other hand, had never gone through an experience calcu- ? lated to lead him beyond the scope of generally received laws; although, in a single instance, he had so fearfully transgressed one of the most sacred of them. Thus we seem to see that, as regarded Hester Prynne, the whole seven years of outlaw and ignominy had been little other than a preparation for this very hour. But Arthur Dimmesdale! Were such a man once more to fall, what plea could he urged in extenuation of his crime? None; unless it avail him somewhat, that he was broken down by long and exquisite suffering; that his mind was darkened and confused by the very remorse which harrowed it; that, heoo on ovntrn^ priminul IWCT7U UC^IU^ OO cut wfvnv>* , and remaining as a hypocrite, conscience might find it hard to strike the balance: i that it was human to avoid the peril i f death and infamy and the inscrutable 1 machinations of an enemy; that, finally, j to this poor pilgrim, on his dreary and desert path, faint, sick, miserable, there appeared a glimpse of human affection and sympathy, a new life and a true one, ' in exchange for the heavy doom which he was now expiating. And be the stern and sad truth spoken, that the breach which guilt has once made into the human soul is never in this mortal state repaired. It may be watched and guarded;j so that the enemy shall not force his way again into the citadel, and might even in his subsequent assaults select some other avenue in preference to that where he had formerly succeeded. But j there is still the ruined wall, and near it; the stealthy '.read of the foe that would i win over again his unforgotten triumph, i The stqsggie, if there were one, need ; not be described. Let it suffice that the clergyman resolved to flee and not alone. x ? "IX, in ail cnese past seven yeans, thought he, "I could recall one instant of peace or hope, I would yet endure, for the sake of that earnest of heavens mercy. But now, since 1 am irrevocably doomed?wherefore should I not snatch the solace allowed to the condemned culprit before his execution? Or, if this be the path to a better life, as Hester would persuade me, I surely give up no fairer prospect by pursuing it! Neither can 1 any longer live without her companionship; so powerful is she to sustain?so tender to soothe! O thou to whom 1 dare not lift mine eyes, wilt thou yet pardon me?" "Thou wilt go!" said Hester calmly, as he met her glance. The decision once made, a glow of strange enjoyment threw its flickering brightness over the trouble of his breast It was the exhilarating effect?upon a prisoner jur.t esc.n;:od from the dungeon of his ov. lieui. ?of breathing the wild, free atmosphe. o of an unredeemed, unchristainized, lawless region. His spirit rose, as it were, with a bound, and attained a nearer prospect of tfio sky than throughout all the misery which had kept him groveling on the earth. Of a deeply religious temperament, there was inevitably a tinge of the devotional in his mood. "Do I feel joy again?" cried he, wondering at himself. "Methought the germ of it was dead in me! O Hester, thou art my better angel! I seem to have flung myself?sick, sin stained and | sorrow blackened?down upon these forest leaves, and to have risen np all made anew, and with new powers to glorify him that hath been merciful! This is already the better life! Why did we not find it sooner?" "Let us not look back," answered Hester Prynne. "The past is gone! Wherefore should we linger upon it now? See! With this symbol I undo it all, and make it as it had never been!" So speaking, she undid the clasp that, fastened the scarlet letter, and taking it from her boeom threw it to a distance among the withered leaves. The mystic token alighted on the hither verge of the stream. With a hand's breadth farther flight it wonld have fallen into the. water and have given the little brook another woe to carry onward, besides the unintelligible tale which it still kept murmuring about. But there lay the embroidered letter, glittering like a lost jewel, which some ill fated wanderer might pick up, aud thenceforth be haunted by strange phantoms of guilt, sinkings of the heart and unaccountable [ misfortune. The stigma gone Hester heaved a long, deep sigh, in which the harden of shame and anguish departed from her spirit. Oh, exquisite relief! She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom! By another impulse she took off the formal cap that confined her hair; and down it fell upon her shoulders, dark and rich, with at once a shadow and a light in its abundance, and imparting the charm of softness to her features. There played around her mouth and beamed out of her eves a radiant and tender smile that seemed gushing from the very heart of womanhood. A crimson flush was glowing on her cheek that had been long so pale. Her sex, her youth and the whole richness of her beauty came back from what men call the irrevocable past, and clustered themselves with her maiden hope and a happiness before unknown within the magic circle of this hour. And, as if the gloom of the earth and sky had been but the effluence of these two mortal hearts, it vanished with their sorrow. All at once, as with a sudden smile of heaven, forth burst the sunshine, pouring a very flood into the obscure forest, gladdening each green leaf, transmuting the yellow fallen ones to gold and gleaming adown the gray trunks of the solemn trees. The objects that had made a shadow hitherto embodied the brightness now. The course of the little brook might be traced by its merry gleam afar into the wood's heart of mystery, which had l>ecome a mystery of joy. Such was the sympathy of nature? that wild, heathen nature of the forest, never subjugated by human law, nor il- , lumined by higher truth?with the bliss ' < HAWTHORNE. of these two spirits! Love, whether newly born or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create a sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance that it overflows upon the outward world. Had the forest still kept its gloom it would have been bright in Hester's eyes, and bright in Arthur Dimmesdale's! Hester looked at him with the thrill of another joy. "Thou must know Pearl!' said she. "Our little Pearl! Thou hast seen her? yes, I know it?but thou wilt 6ee her now with other eyes. She is a strange child. I hardly comprehend her. But thou wilt love her dearly as I do, and * wilt advise me how to deal with her." "Dost thou think the child will be glad to know me?" asked the minister somewhat uneasily. "1 have long shrunk from children because they often show a distrust?a backwardness to be i familiar with me. I have even been } afraid of little Pearl." "Ah, that was sad!" answered the mother. "But she will love thee dearly and thou her. She is not far off. I will call her! Pearl! Pearl!" "I see the child," observed the minister. "Yonder she is, standing in a streak of sunshine, a good way off on the other cido nf thA hrnnlr So thou thinkest the child will love me?" Hester smiled and again called to Pearl, who was visible at some distance, as the minister had described her, like a bright appareled vision in a sunbeam, which fell down upon her through an arch of boughs. The ray quivered to and fro making her figure dim or distinct?now a real child, now like a child's spirit?as the splendor went and came again. She heard her mother's ' voice and approached slowly through the forest. Pearl had not found the hour pass wearisomely while her mother sat talking with the clergyman. The great black forest?stern as it showed itself to those who brought the guilt and troubles of the world intcuits bosom?became the playmate of the lonely infant as well as it knew how. Somber as it was it put | on the kindest of its moods to welcome her. * * * And she was gentler here than in the j grassy margined streets of the settle- : ment or in her mother's cottage. The flowers seemed to know it, and one another whispered as she passed, "Adorn thyself with me, thou beautiful child; adorn thyself with me!" and to please them Pearl gathered the violets and anemones and columbines and some twigs of the freshest green, which the old trees held down before her eyes. With these she decorated her hair and her young waist, and became a nymph child, or an infant dryad, or whatever else was in closest sympathy with the antique wood. In such guise had Pearl adorned ; herself, when she heard her mothers voice and came slowly back. Slowly, for she saw the clergyman. CHAPTER XIV. THE CHILD AT THE BROOKS1DE. "Thou wilt love her dearly," repeated Hester Prynne, as she and the minister ! sat watching little Pearl. "Dost thou not think her beautiful? And see with what natural skill she has made those simple flowers adorn her? Had she gathered pearls and diamonds and rubies in the wood they could not have become her better. She is a splendid child! But I know whose brow she has!" "Dost thou know, Hester," said Arthur Dimmesdale with an unquiet smile, "that this dear child, tripping about always at thy side, hath caused me many I an alarm? Methought?Oh, Hester, what a thought is that, and how terrible to dread it!?tvat my own features were partly repeated in her face, and so strikingly that the world might see them! j But she is mostly thine!" "No.no! Not "mostly!" answered the , mother, with a tender smile. "A little ; longer and thou needest not to be afraid to trace whose child she is. But how 1-1 -T- - 1 - -1 !iL XI strangely ueauuxui sue iuokb, wiui uiutx.; : wild flowers in her hair! It is as if ono I of the fairies, whom we left in our dear j old England, had decked her out to ' meet us." It was with a feeling which neither of them had ever before experienced that they sat and watched Pearl's Blow ad- \ vance. In her was visible the tie that united them. She had been offered to the world these seven years past as the living hieroglyphic, in which was re- 1 vealed the secret they so darkly 60ugbr, to hide?all written in this symbol?ail plainly manifest?had there been a I prophet or magician skilled to read the character of flame! And Pearl was the oneness of their being. Be the foregone evil what it might, how could they | doubt that their earthly lives and future j destinies were conjoined, when they beheld at once the material union and the ' spiritual idea in whom they met and were to dwell immortally together:' Thoughts like these?and perhaps other thoughts, which they did not acknowledge or define?threw an awe about the child as she came onward. "Let her see nothing strange?no passion nor eagerness?in thy way of ac- j costing her," whispered Hester. "Our ! Pearl is a fitful and fantastic little elf sometimes. Especially, she is seldom j tolerant of emotion, when she does not i fully comprehend the why and wherefore. But the child hath strong affeo- ; tions! She loves me and will love thee!" j "Thou canst not think," said the inin- ! ister, glancing aside at Hester Prynne, "how my heart dreads this interview j and yearns for it! But in truth, us I al- j reaay toia uiee, cmiuren a re ?ui icount won to be familiar with me. They will , not climb my knee, nor prattle in my ; ear, nor answer to my smile; but stand apart and eye me strangely. Even lit- i tie babes, when I take them in my arms, weep bitterly. Yet Pearl twice iu her j little lifetime hath been kind to me! ! The first time?thou kuowest it well! j The last was when thou ledst her with I thee to the house of yonder stern old ; governor." " And thou didst plead so bravely in { her behalf and mine!" answered the j mother. "I remember it, and so shall ! little Pearl. Fear nothing! She may ; be strange and shy at first, but will soon learn to love thee!" By this time Pearl had reached the margin of the brook, and stood on the farther side, gazing silently at Hester and the clergyman, who still sat together on the mossy tree trunk, waiting to receive her. Just where she had ' paused the brook chanced to form a | pool, so smooth and quiet that it re- j fleeted a perfect image of her little fig- 1 ure, with all the brilliant picturesque- 1 ness of her beauty, in its adornment of j flowers and wreathed foliage, but more ; refined and spiritualized than the real ity. This image, so nearly identical with j the living Pearl, seemed to communicate somewhat of its own shadowy and intangible quality to the child herself. It was strange, the way in which Pearl I stood, looking so steadfastly at them through the dim medium of the forest gloom; herself, meanwhile, all glorified with a ray of sunshine that was attracted thitherward as by a certain sympathy. In the brook beneath stood another I child?another and the same?with like- ! wise its ray of golden light. Hester felt herself, in some indistinct and tantaliz- I ing manner, estranged from Pearl; as if j the child, in her lonely ramble through the forest, had s> ayed out of the sphere | iu which she and her mother dwelt to gether, and was now vainly seeking to j return to it. There was both truth and error in the j impression; the child and mother were I estranged, but through Hester's fault, 1 J not Pearl's. Since the latter rambled from her side another inmate had been admitted within the circle of the mothi er's feelings, and so modified the aspect of them all that Pearl, the returning wanderer, could not find her wonted place, and hardly knew where she was. "I have a strange fancy," observed the sensitive minister, "that this brook is the boundary between two worlds, and thou canst never meet thy Pearl again. ; Or is she an elfish spirit, who, as the j legends of our childhood taught us, is i forbidden to cross a running stream? j Pray hasten her, for this delay has already imparted a tremor to my nerves." "Come, dearest child!" said Hester en> couragingly, and stretching out both her arms. "How slow thou art! When hast thou been so sluggish before now? j Here is a friend of mine, who must be ' thy friend also. Thou wilt have twice as much love henceforward as thy mother alone could give thee! Leap across the brook and come to us. Thou canst leap like a young deer!" feari, wunoui responuing m any manner to these honey sweet expressions, remained on the other side of the brook. Now Bhe fixed her bright, wild eyes on her mother, now on the minister, and now included them both in the same glance, as if to detect and explain to herself the relation which they bore to , one another. For some unaccountable j reason, as Arthur Diinmesdale felt the child'? eyes upon himself, his hand? with that gesture so habitual as to have become involuntary?stole over his heart. At length, assuming a singular air of authority, Pearl stretched out her hand, with the small forefinger extended and pointing evidently toward her mother's ?breast. And beneath, in the mirror of the brook, there was the flower girdled and sunny image of little Pearl pointing her small forefinger too. "Thou 6trange child, why dost thou not come to me?' exclaimed Hester. Pearl still pointed with her forefinger, and a frown gathered on her brow?the more impressive from the childish, the almost babylike aspect of the features that conveyed it. As her mother still kept beckoning to her, and arraying her face in a holiday suit of unaccustomed smiles, the child stamped her foot with a yet more imperious look and gesture. In the brook again was the fantastic beauty of the image, with its reflected frown, its pointed finger and imperious | gesture, giving emphasis to the aspect of little Pearl. "Hasten, Pearl, or I shall be angry 1 with thee!" cried Hester Prynne, who, however inured to such behavior on the elf child's part at other seasons, was naturally anxious for a more seemly deportment now. "Leap across the brook, naughty child, and run hither! Else I must come to thee!" 'But Pearl, not a whit startled at her mother's threats, any more than mollified by her entreaties, now suddenly > burst into a fit of passion, gesticulating violently and throwing her small figure | into the most extravagant contortions. She accompanied this wild outbreak with piercing shrieks, which the woods. j reverberated on all sides; so that, alone I as she was in her childish and unreason- 1 able wrath, it seemed as if a hidden j multitude were lending her their syrn- j pathy and encouragement. Seen in the j brook once more was the shadowy wraith of Pearl's image, crowned and girdled with flowers, but stamping its foot, ' wildly gesticulating, and in the midBt of | all still pointing its small forefinger at I Hester's bosom! "I see what ails the child," whispered J Hester to the clergyman, and turning ; pale in spite of a strong effort to conceal her trouble and annoyance. "Children will not abide any, the slightest, change in the accustomed aspect of things that : are daily before their eyes. Pearl I misses something which she has always seen me wear!" "I pray you," answered the minister, j "if thou hast any means of pacifying the 1 child, do it forthwith! Save it were the | cankered wrath of an old witch, like Mistress Hibbins," added he, attempting to smile, "1 know nothing that I would not sooner encounter than this passion , in a child. In Pearl's young beauty, as in the wrinkled witch, it has a preternatural effect. Pacify her, if thou lovest me!" Hester turned again toward Pearl, with a crimson blush upon her cheek, a I conscious glance aside at the clergyman, and then a heavy sigh; while, even be- j fore she had time to speak, the blush yielded to a deadly pallor. "Pearl," said she 6adly, "look down at thy feet! There!?before thee!?on the , hither side of the brook!" The child turned her eyes to the point indicated, and there lay the scarlet letter, so close upon the margin of the stream that the gold embroidery was re- j fleeted in it. "Bring it hither!" said Hester. "Come thou and take it up!" answered Pearl. "Was ever such a child!" observed i Hester aside to the minister. "Oh, 1 have much to tell thee about her! But in very truth she is right as regards this hateful token. I must bear its torture yet a little longer?only a few days longer?until we shall have left this region, and look back hither 21s to a land which we have dimmed of. The forest cannot hide it! The midocean shall take it from my hand and swallow 1 it up forever!" With these words she advanced to the margin of the brook, took up the scarlet 1 letter and fastened it again into lier 1 bosom. Hopefully, but a moment ago, j as Hester hiid sjjoken of drowning it in the deep sea, there was a sense of inevi- j table doom upon her, as she thus received back this deadly symbol from the hand of fate. She had flung it into infinite space?she had drawn an hour's free j breath?and here again was the scarlet | misery, glittering on the old spot! So it 1 ever is, whether thus typified or no, that an evil deed invests itself with the char acter of doom. Hester next gathered up j the heavy tresses of her hair and con- \ fined them beneath her cap. As if there were a withering spell in the sad letter, i her beauty, the warmth and richness of j her womanhood, departed like fading , sunshine and a gray shadow seemed to : fall across her. When the dreary change was wrought I she extended her baud to Pearl. "Dost thou know thy mother now, child?" asked she reproachfully, but i with a subdued tone. "Wilt thou come ! across the brook and own thy mother, j now that she has her shame upon her? now that she is sad?" "Yes; now I will!" answered the child, bounding across tjie brook, and clasping Hester in her arms. "Now thou art my mother indeed! And 1 ain thy little Pearl!" In a mood of tenderness that was not usual with her she drew down her mother's head and kissed her brow and both her cheeks. But then?by a kind of necessity that always impelled this child to alloy whatever comfort she might chance to give with a throb of anguish?Pearl put up her mouth, and kissed the scarlet letter too! "That was not kind!" said Hester. I "When thou hast shown me a little love, j thou inockest me!" "Why doth the minister sit yonder?" | asked Pearl. "Ho waits to welcome thee," replied i her mother. "Come, thou, and entreat ] his blessing! lie loves thee, my little j Pearl, and loves thy mother too. Wilt j thou not love him? Come; ho longs to i greet thee!" "Doth ho love us?" said Pearl, looking | up with acute intelligence into her J mother's face. "Will ho go back with us, hand in hand, wo three together, into ! the town?" "Not now, dear child," answered Hester. "But in days to come he will walk hand in hand with us. We will have a j homo and fir eside of our own, and thou shalt sit upon his knee and he will teach thee many tilings and love thee dearly. Thou wilt love liiin, wilt thou not?" "And will lie always keep his hand over his heart?" inquired PearL "Foolish child, what a question is that!" exclaimed her mother. "Come and ask his blessing!" But whether influenced by the jealousy that seems instinctive with every petted child toward a dangerous rival or from whatever caprice of her freakish nature, Pearl would show no favor to the clergyman. II was only by an exertion of force that her mother brought her up | to him, hanging back and manifesting her reluctauce by odd grimaces; of which, ever since her babyhood, she had possessed a singular variety, and could transform her mobile physiognomy into 1 a series of different aspects, with a new mischief in them, each and all. The minister?painfully embarrassed, but hoping that a kiss might prove a talisman to admit him into the child's kindlier regards?bent forward and impressed one on her brow. Hereupon Pearl broke away from her mother, and running to the brook stooped over it and bathed her forehead until the -unwelcome kiss was quite washed off and diffused through a long lapse of tho gliding water. She then remained apart, silently watching Hester and the clergyman, while they talked together and made such arrangements as were suerirested by their new position and the purposes soon to be fulfilled. And now this fateful interview liad come to a close. The dell was to be left a solitude among its dark, old trees, j which, with their multitudinous tongues, would whisper long of what had passed there, and no mortal be the 'wiser. And the melancholy brook would add this other tale to the mystery with which its j little heart was already overburdened and whereof it still kept up a murmuring babble, with not a whit more cheerfulness of tone than for ages heretofore. CHAPTER XV. THE MINISTER IN A MAZE. As the minister departed in advance \ of Hester Prynne and little Pearl he ; threw a backward glance, half expect- < ing that he should discover only some faintly traced features or outline of the mother and the child slowly fading into the twilight of the woods. So great a | vicissitude in his life could not at once be received as real. But there was Hester, clad in her gray robe, still standing beside the tree trunk, which some blast had overthrown a long antiquity ago and which had ever since been covering with moss, so that these two fated ones, with earth's heaviest burden on them, j might there sit down together and find a single hour's rest and solace. And there was Pearl, too, lightly dancing from the margin of the brook?now that the intrusive third person was gone? and taking her old place by her mother's side. So the minister had not fallen asleep and dreamed. In order to free his mind from this in Uldiiiiuiutroo auu au|mtuj v* uupcooiuu, which vexed it with a strange disquietude, he recalled and more thoroughly defined the plans which Hester and himself had sketched for their departure. It had been determined between them that the Old World, with its crowds and cities, offered them a j more eligible shelter and concealment than the wilds of New England or all j America, with its alternatives of an In dian wigwaiu or the few settlements of Europeans scattered thinly along the seaboard. Not to speak of the clergyman's health, so inadequate to sustain the hardships of a forest life, his native gifts, his culture and his entire development would secure him a home only in the midst of civilization and refinement; the higher the state the more delicately adapted to it the man. In furtherance of this choice, it so happened that a ship lay in the harbor; one of those questionable cruisers frequent at tViat rlov whiVh. without heincr abso lutely outlaws of the deep, yet roamed over its surface with a remarkable irresponsibility of character. This vessel had recently arrived from the Spanish Main, and within three days' time would sail for Bristol. Hester Prynne?whose vocation, as a self enlisted sister of charity, had brought her acquainted with the captain and crew?could take upon herself to secure the passage of two individuals and a child with all the secrecy which circumstances rendered more than desirable. The minister had inquired of Hester, with no little interest, the precise time at which the vessel might be expected to depart. It would probably be on the j fourth day from the present "That is j most fortunate!" ho had then said to himself. Now, why the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale considered it so very fortunate, we hesitate to reveal. Nevertheless, to [ hold nothing back from the reader, it . was because on the third day from the : present he was to preach the election sermon, and as such an occasion formed an honorable epoch in the life of a New 1 England clergyman he could not have ' chanced upon a more suitable mode and time of terminating his professional career. "At least they shall 6ay of me,'' thought this exemplary man, "that 1 j leave no public duty unperformed nor j ill performed!" Sad, indeed, that an introspection so profound and acute as this poor minister's should be so miserably deceived! We have had and may still have worse things to tell of him, but none we apprehend so pitiably weak; no evidence, at once so slight and irrefragable, of a subtle disease that had j long since begun to eat into the real substance of his character. No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true. The excitement of Mr. Dimmesdale's feelings as he returned from his interview with Hester lent him unaccustomed physical energy and hurried him townward at a rapid pace. The pathway among the woods seemed wilder, more uncouth with its rude natural obstacles, and less trodden by the foot oi man. than he remembered it on his out,'n.,?.,av Tin f Tin loiinoil si err ism WttiU JVU1UVJ. Ayuv the plashy places, thrust himself through the clinging underbrush, climbed th' ascent, idunged into the hollow, and overcame, in short, all the difficulties of the track with an unweariable activity that astonished him, Ho could not but recall how feebly, and with what frequent pauses for breath, he had toiled over the same ground only two days before. As he drew near the town ho took an impression of change from the series of familiar objects that presented themselves. It seemed not yesterday, not one, not two, but many days, or even years ugo, since he had quitted them. There, indeed, was each for ner trace of the street, as he remembered it, and all the peculiurities of the houses, with the due multitude of gable peaks, and a weathercock at every point where his memory suggested one. Not the less, however, came this importunately obtrusive sense of change. The same was true as regarded the acquaintances whom he met, and all the well known shapes of human life about the little town. They looked neither older nor younger now; the beards of the aged were no whiter, nor could the creeping ba'nj of yesterday walk on his feet today; it was impossible to descrilxj in what respect they differed from the individuals on whom he had so recently bestowed a parting glance; and yet the minister's deepest sense seemed to inform them of their mutability. A similar impression struck him most remarkably, as ho i assed under the walls of his own church. The edifice had so very [ strange and yet so familiar an as{>ect that Mr. Dimmesdale's mind vibrated j between two ideas?either that he had | seen it only in a dream hitherto, or that he was merely dreaming about it now. j This phenomenon, in the various shapes which it assumed, indicated no external change, but so sudden and important a change in the spectator of the familiar scene that the intervening space of a single day had oj>erated on his conscious ness like the lapse of years. The minister's own will, and Hester's will, and the fate that grew between them, had wrought this transformation. It was the same town as heretofore, but the same minister returned not from the forest. He might have said to the friends , who greeted him: "I am not the man for whom you take mel I left him yonder in the forest, withdrawn into a secret dell by a mossy tree trunk and near a | melancholy brook! Go seek your minj ister and see if his emaciated figure, his thin cheek, his white, heavy, pain wrinI kled brow be not flung down there like a cast off garment!" His friends, no i doubt, would still have insisted with him, "Thou art thyself the man!" but the error would have been their own, , not his. Before Mr. Dimmesdale reached home his inner man gave him other evidences i of a revolution in the sphere of thought i and feeling. In truth, nothing Bhort of a total change of dynasty and moral code in that interior kingdom was adequate to account for the impulses now communicated to the unfortunate and startled minister. At every st?p he was incited to do some strange, wild, wicked A1. Aflinr nntll II flAtlHA fhof if U'Alll/1 1>6 at once involuntary and intentional, in spite of himself, ^et growing out of a i ])rofounder self than that which opposed j the impulse. * He had by this time reached his dwelling on the edge of the burial ; fjround, and hastening up the stairs look refuge in his Btudy. The minister was glad to have reached this shelter, without first betraying himself to the world by any of those strange and wicked eccentricities to which he had been continually impelled while passing through i;he streets. He entered the accustomed ::oom and looked around him on its books, its windows, its fireplace and the 'apestried comfort of the walls with the same perception of strangeness that 'tiad haunted him throughout his walk from the forest dell into the town and thitherwjird. Here he had studied and written; here, gone through fast and vigil, and come forth half alive; here, striven to pray; here, borne a hundred thousand agonies! There was the Bible in its rich old Hebrew, with Moses and the prophets Bpeaking to him, and God's voice through all! There on the table, with the inky pen beside it, was an unfinished sermon with a sentence broken in the midst, where his thoughts hacl ceased to gush out upon the page two days before. He knew that it was himself, the thin and white cheeked minister, who had done and suffered these things and written thus far into the election sermon. But he seemed to stand apart and eye this former self with scornful, pitying, but half envious, curiosity. That self ws j ;one. Another man had returned out )f the forest, a wiser one, with a knowledge of hidden mysteries which the sim plicity of the foruer never couia nave reached. A bitter kind of knowledge that! While occupied with these reflections * * the minister summoned a servant of the house and requested food, which being set before him he ate with ravenous appetite. Then, flinging the already written pages of the election sermon into the tire, he forthwith began another, which he wrote with such an impulsive flow of thought and emotion that he fancied himself inspired, and only wondered that heaven should see tit to transmit the grand and solemn music of its oracles through so foul au organ pipe as he. However, leaving that mystery to solve itself or go unsolved forever, he drove his task onward with earnest haste and ecstasy. Thus the night fled away as if it were a winged steed and be careering on it; morning came and peeped, blushing, through the curtains, and at last sunrise threw a golden beam into the study and laid it right across the minister's bedazzled eyes. There he was, witn tne pen still between his fingers, and a va?t, immeasurable tract of written space behind him. [to bk continued next week.] Uncovered in Court.?A young lawyer was asked in Boston the other day why, in the English courts, a woman must always remove her hat. He could not tell, but an old lawyer, to whom the question was referred, recalled the opinion of Sir Edward Coke on the matter. It was a murder trial, where the prisoner was a woman, and appeared before the court with her head covered. Sir Edward Coke ordered the prisoner to remove her hat, and said, "A woman may he covered in church, but not when arraigned in a court of justice." The witness tartly replied : "It seems singular that I may wear my hat in the presence of (Jod, hut not in the presence of man." "It is not strange at all," replied the judge, "for the reason that man, with his weak intellect, cannot discover the secrets known to (Jod ; and, therefore, in investigating truth, where human life is in peril and one is ehnrged with taking life, the court should see all obstacles removed. The countenance is often the index to the mind, and, accordingly, it is fitting that the hat should be removed, and therewith the shade which it casts upon your face." The hat of the prisoner was taken off, but she was allowed for modesty's sake to cover her hair with a kerchief. Summer Food.?Half the illness that occurs at one season, I think I can safely say, is due to improper dieting taken at another, writes Doctor X. E. Yorke Davies in the 1'opular Science Monthly. We hear of people feeling weak in the spring, or suffering from those different ailments due to inal-nutrition, such as boils, skin diseases, obesity, or debility. Now, this would not he so if the person adapted his diet to the requirements and to the season. No sensible person would think of keeping a large fire burning in his room in summer. If he did, he would undoubtedly soon feel the effect of it; but many a man, who would feel himself insulted if he were not thought a ' sensible person, will eat in the summer to repletion, foods the particular action of which is to supply heat in excess. I'crhaps I cannot do better here than to explain that the foods that are converted into heat?that is, keep up the neni oi me uu?i>?im: .-i.w> iik and fut. and those that more partieuj larly nourish the nervous muscular system are the albumen and salts. The largest proportion of summer food should consist of fresh green vegetables, cooked or as salads, white or lean meats, such as chicken, fish and fruits. fifctfr The wives of some of the Indian braves have names as odd and often as funny as their husbands. They seem to have names of their own, too. and not to take the names of their husbands only. Some of the actual names given in a census of the families of the scouts at Fort Supply, includes Mrs. Short Nose, who was before her marriage Miss I'iping Woman; Mrs. Big Head, formerly Miss Short Face: Mrs. Nibbs, formerly Miss Young Bear; Mrs. White Crow, formerly Miss Crook I'ipe: Mrs. Howling Water, formerly Miss Crow Woman : also, Mrs. White SkunK. Mrs. Sweet Water, Miss Walk High, daughter of Mr. White Calf, and Miss Osage, (laughter of Mr. Hard Case. Bfcar It was demonstrated recently for the first time that there is gold in the worlds of space as well as upon our own globe. W. 11. Turner, a geologist of Washington, two months ago made a marvelous find during an exploring journey in the hill country of Calaveras, California, where he discovered a meteoric stone, the size of a man's fist, i It was Decked with gold throughout. CANDIDATES FOR ^S?gg BENJAMIN R. TIM.MA For Governor. Kt'OKNK H. OAKY, For Iilcutenunt-Ooverno PfctttbmtmtjSi gliding, DIBBLE S REPLY TO 1RBY. He Insists on the Right of His Fac- I lion to bo Hoard. Chairman Dibble, of the Conservative Democracy of the State, has an- : swered the recent letter of State Chairman Irby, in which the latter said that ; he concluded "that any white man j known to he a Democrat, who takes 1 the obligation at the time he votes at : the primary election, will, and ought j to, be permitted to vote, whether he j has hitherto favored a third party, or ! j has been an Independent Haskellite, j or now favors Prohibition, woman's suffrage or otherwise." It will be remembered that Senator j Irby said in his letter that he thought that his committee was competent to carry out "the orders of the State Democratic convention without interference j or suggestion from any one." The fol- , lowing is Mr. Dibble's letter: Rooms of the Executive Committee j i of the Conservative Democracy ! of South Carolina, Columbia, S. C., July 18, 1892. Hon. John L. M. Irby, Chairman State Democratic Committee of South Carolina, Washington, I). C.: Sir?I read in a newspaper on Saturday, and have since received your letter of 13th instant, in reply to my communication of 4th instant, in which 1 requested, in behalf ofthc Conservative I Democracy, that the State Democratic j committee take into consideration, and ' explicitly declare, what is to be done j at the August primary in regard to Third party men who offer to vote, and I whether enrollment in a Democratic j club is necessary to entitle one to vote. I stated that you had been reported in the press in favor of allowing Third ! party men to vote, and in favor of allowing Democrats not enrolled to vote; and that your published views had I evoked discussion, and that opinions differed as to their correctness; adding that it was necessary to a fair election , that all doubts should be set at rest on j these important points by the State Democratic committee at its next meet ing, when we desire to submit our views, as the representatives of our wing of the Democracy of the State. In your reply you state that you "know of no Third party in South Carolina," and that you "therefore con elude that any white man, known to be a Democrat, who takes the obliga- : tion at the time he votes at the primary election, will, and ought to, be permitted to vote, whether he lias hitherto favored a Third party, or has been an Independent Haskellite, or now favors Prohibition, woman's suffrage, or j otherwise." You add that the State Democratic committee will meet on Tuesday, the 2(ith instant, to consider ] this and other questions. The obligation taken by the voter does not settle the question, for it is prescribed by the rules of the party in . the following form : "I do solemnly swear that I am duly qualified to vote at this election according to the rules of the Democratic party, and that I have j not voted before at this election." J am surprised to learn that you "know of no Third party in South Carolina," in view of your predictions at Chicago that Cleveland would not carry South Carolina; and the only logical conclusion from your utterances, is that you expect the Republicans to carry South Carolina for Jiur rison. This cannot happen, unless white men desert the Democratic party for the Third party or for the ltepuhj lican party. Should such men be allowed recognition as Democrats, and participate in the primary to elect delegates to the September convention which is to nominate the Demo era I itr electors ? I do not wish to he misunderstood here. The doors of the Democratic I tarty?the party of the people?are j ever open for accessions from Unpeople of those who may have been connected with other parties: hut they should render full allegiance to its platform and its candidates. A supporter of Weaver, the old (ireenhack party's candidate for president, and now the Third party's candidate, on substantially the old (ireenhaek platform, cannot he a Democrat at the same time: and if not a Democrat, should not participate in our primaries. As to the matter of enrollment, tinState Democratic constitution declares that "the club rolls of the party shall constitute the registry list, and shall he [ open to inspection by any member of the party, and the election under this * clause (i. e. the August primary) shall he held and regulated under the act." etc. The rules adopted by the State committee contains the expressions, "(jualilication for membership in any subordinate club of the Democratic party of this State, or for voting at any Democratic primary, shall he as follows:" etc.. and enrollment is not mentioned as one of the <|Ualilieations. You are no doubt aware that these clauses are construed differently in diilereut counties, and this is a sullieicnt reason for a more explicit declaration from the State committee, i You also state that the "<|Ucstion of GOVERNOR AND LIEUTE N, r. K appointing more than three managers to conduct the primary election" will j also he considered at the meeting of the State Democratic committee, and I have no doubt that it will b? consider- j ed in that lair ana impartial spirit, i which belongs appropriately to the body, which is the executive organ of 1 the entire Democracy of the State, and not of any particular wing or fac- ; tion. In the conclusion of your letter, you j have made?permit me to state?an illogical distinction. You consider that only Democrats who are aggriev- i ed, or who represent a grievance, j should have audience of the State Democratic committee. You also as- ! sert that the State Democratic committee is competent to exercise its del- ! icate aud important functions "without interference or suggestions from ; anyone and add, "we are not dis- j posed to convert the State Democratic Executive committee into a debating I society for questions of imaginary { grievances." This pretension of exclusiveness and infallibility would ordinarily be remarkable us the utterance of a DemoTT5rrnnrrTTrrn is a -vromrnxreaxTng**--* time. I call your attention to the fact , that the matters in question arise from j some of your jiersonal utterances in the capacity of chairman, and I can j hardly imagine that you assert for your- ! self the right to commit the State Democratic committee to the position you j have indicated, or that you mean to j declare that you are the master and not the servant of the Democracy of j the State. We would free you from the embarrassment of such a position by declaring that in acknowledging your legitimate authority as State chairman and the jurisdiction of the State Democratic committee, we claim it as our right to address yourself as chairman, or the State Democratic committee at any time, upon party j matters which concern us as Democrats, I and to present our views upon sucli I questions; and we feel assured that j while "howling down" may suppress free speech from the stump, such a course will not be imitated by the State Democratic committee when con- j sidering matters important to a fair i and impartial primary of the party, even though the State chairman desires ( such suppression. The letter of the 4th instant was ! sent by me as chairman of the execu- 1 tive committee of the Conservative , Democracy of South Carolina, and as such I accept your notice of the meeting of the State Democratic committee on the 2<>th instant, and will inform my colleagues. For them and for myself, I reiterate my statement in my letter of the 4th ! instant, that "at the next meeting of the State Democratic committee we desire to submit our views on these questions as the representatives of one wing of the Democracy of the State." Respectfully yours, Samuki. Dibhlk, Chairman Conservative Democracy of South Carolina. A THRILLING ADVKNTI'KK. I always liked hunting, but I never will forget a queer hunt I had when I was after big game." The speaker was i Major Archibald Wendell, at one of the best known clubs in New Orleans ; which was entertaining him. He was well known as a man of adventure, and his story was eagerly listened to ] by everybody. "It was in Rio Janei- j ro," he continued, "the first month after my arrival. I met an old ac- ] quaintaiice of mine, Jack Dome, a harum-scarum sort of chap, who had seen nearly everything and bad been nearly everywhere from Hoston to Singapore. We bad not met in three years, and there was never anything more unlikely than our meeting in that . ... -I'll.,. ..I..,..,, mill i'm irivc Olll-Ul-lllC-M |MUU , <?.... JVV you my won I that as I sauntered up the shady side of the street and met him sauntering down the same side, we looked up, recognized each other, and Jack cried, as eoollv as though we had parted not an hour before. Hello, Arch ! Want to go up into the mines? Lots of fun and good hunting." That Jack was a funny fellow, lie had got a 'pull' with some man who was making loads of money in the mines, and he was at that time busily engaged in laying up for a rainy day. He showed me his bank hook, with some very handsome figures to his credit. ' Well, nothing suited me better than to see the interior of the country a little, and the end of it was that in ten minutes I had promised to go, and in less than three hours we were on the way and were rapidly leaving the city behind us. We had fine horses. Jack knew every foot of the way and was friends with a good many people along the road, and we could afford to take our time and travel as slowly or as rapidly as we felt inclined. Jack had stopping places staked out, as he said, and knew piite well every day where we were going to spend tin* night. Jack kept telling stories of the fun at the mines, and the chances for good hunting of all kinds there, and wo got along very cleverly. Hut on the fourth lay. as we jogged along, an accident happened which upset Jack's calculations for that day. .My horse put NANT GOVERNOR. JOHN C'. SHKPPARD, For Governor.. ^MiL" W bsIE JAM KM L. OUR. ur Lieutenant-Governor. his foot into a hole and fell, laming himself so badly' that I had to walk and lead him. "For several hours we made but little headway, and dark came down and found us good ten miles short of the place we intended to stop. 'This don't look very promising,' said Jack, dubiously, trying to peer ahead into the | guthering shadows. 'There's a nasty ! creek bottom ahead, and I hate like smoke to go through it after dark. I caught the glimpse of a snake as long as the Atlantic cable in that bottom once, and I haven't got through running yet.' But the next moment he cried : 'Why what was I thinking of? There's a litttle hut just in the edge of this bottom on this side; an old herb gath- j erer lives there. Why, of course! i We'll spend the night right there.' And hurrying on we found the little hut, a miserable place enough, thatched with leaves and with a great hole broken in one corner of the roof, but a shelter at any rate. The old herD gatherer was away from home, but we took possession, lighted a candle, helped ourselves to some food we found in the great corner cupboard and stretch A'vuiuiiltuw v IIIwj Wuil iv BNfW WU " left the candle burning for the fear of ghosts, Jack said, and I remember looking the room over sleepily by its dim light and seeing the tall, gaunt cuphoard whose door we had left open, and the dark hole in the corner of the.i roof. The last thing that occurred to I me was that I could see two fiery eyes gleaming out' of the darkness through that hole, and then I went to sleep. I had a dream that would have done credit to a candidate for a Keely insti- ; tute, it was so full of snakes and crawl- j ing things: and after I had worried over it until I couldn't stand it any j more, I woke up. I lay there for sev- ; eral minutes looking at the candle, j which was burning low. After a while ! I raised my eyes and started off in a ' yawn, which was frozen on my face, as j it were, leaving my mouth wide open, i For there, hanging from the hole in : the roof and gracefully waving to an fro, was about eight feet of a snake. ; And such a snake ! Boys, I don't be- j lieve I am exaggerating one particle when I tell you that it was as large around as my body. While I lay there and looked at him and saw those smooth, swaying motions, that enormous head and the darting tongue that was kept in constant ]>luy, I felt perfectly conscious that this snake could have swallowed me without a particle 1 of trouble. And however anxious I j might have been for sport, you know I had no anxiety to explore the interior of a boa constrictor. "With some faint idea of selling my j life as dearly as possible, I slipped my i hand softly under the pillow and got I my revolver. The motion, easy as it ! was, roused Jack, and he half turned, j Instantly two or three feet of the huge shining body slipped down through the roof and the horrible head came nearer. Jack saw it then?that citizen of the world always so fertile in expedients? and with one wild shout of '(Jreat Scott! Jump for the cupboard, Arch !' he Hung himself in that direction. With a glimpse ot returning reason I scrambled after him, and in an instant we were crouched 011 the Hoor, under the lowest shelf, with the door closed behind us. We were safe, for the snake could not open the cupboard ; and we sat there and laughed and cried in the most nonsensical fashion ? ?#!% jmtii'olv <rrmo 'Well, if that snake ain't sold!' was Jack's version of it; but I think he felt pretty serious when lie said it. j After awhile we began to find that it | was too close in our cramped quarters and I opened the door a tiny little bit so that we could get a breath of air. We ; found then that the candle had gone out and tlie room was as dark as Kgypt. Hut we could hear something moving in that dark room?soft, gliding motions that made us thankful there were good strong planks between us and the something on the other side. "Time began to pass somewhat heavly in the cupboard. I pressed my face close to the crack in the door to get more fresh air. and suddenly something lightly brushed over mv face again and again. I didn't know what it was at first, but all at once it flashed upon me that it was the tongue of that snake. That was more than I could endure. With a murmured warning, Look (jut. Jack, I'm going to fire,' I put my revolver to the crack and fired at the horrible creature that was caressing me with its slimy tongue. Of course, shut up in that little closet it sounded like the very crack of doom, and we were deafened so that it was some time before we could hear anything. When we recovered a little, such sounds as did greet our ears ! Half a doze"^wiId horses couldn't have made more noise than that snake was making. We could hear it leap away up against the walls and fall and twist and writhe, lashing about with its tail and knocking down everything in the room. At the same time the air became so heavy with the rank, poisonous odor the reptile emitted that both of us turned deathly sick and Jack began vomiting. *.\l last, while the snake was beating against the walls on the other side i of the room, I opened the door a little way, reached hut in the dark and found the candle. I had one last match in my pocket. If it should go out I thought it was all up with us, for I was quite sure we couldn't live till morning in that closet. But fortunately the match was a good one and I made a light, thrust it out into the room a little and viewed the wreck. Coiling, twisting* and throwing himself about in his mad agony, the huge snake had possession of the place. Walls, floor and everything else were covered with his blood and the odor was simply horrible. Just as I looked out he had got himself coiled around a stout oak chair, and with a tightening of the coils the chair was splintered. I incautiously opened the door a little too far, and he hurled himself at me. I hod barely time to pull the door shut when he struck it. And then I got Jack to hold the light while I watched the snake's motions, took careful aim and fired. That shot finished him. He struggled and wriggled blindly all over the room for a minute or two, but finally straighten_.i 1 ? 1* j I _iji| i.J eu nimseu uuu my aim. ouu uicu Jack and I crawled out of that closet more dead than alive, and Jack lit a candle and asked me if his hair-wasn't, gray. And then there was the sequel, for the old herb gatherer never was seen again. When we found that he had really disappeared, Jack and I looked at one another and cold chills ran over us, for we felt as confident then as I do now that the huge snake on some previous visit had killed and devoured the helpless old man, and was merely looking for another meal when he dropped himself down from that hole iu the roof. No, we did not look for any more game on that trip. That one hunt in the night and ip the dark was enough for one time." CAT LEGENDS AND SUPERSTITIONS. In Arabian legends the cat is traced back as far as Noah and the ark. It is one of the animals that came off the ark, but did not go on. When the other creatures entered for safety during the time when "the doors of heaven were to be opened and the fountains of the deep turned loose," there was no cat among them. Puss's origin is accounted for in this way: During the time the ark was floating about over the tall mountains, mice and rats became an intolerable nuisance to the people on the great vessel, and they complained to Noah that everything was being literally devoured by the pesky vermin. That august personage forthwith called the male lion to his side and began to stroke his back, whereupon the great beast sneezed and lo a full-sized cat was blown from his nostrils! The ancient Greeks thought that all creatures except cats had souls, and that that animal lost its soul t.hrnnch a harirain made between a bridge architect and the devil. The architect had besought the devil to get his help in constructing an exceedingly dangerous bridge structure, and his Satanic Majesty only consented to lend aid on condition that the first creature to cross it should lose its soul. This was agreed upon, the bridge finished in due time and the devil sent to the opposite side to await his prey. The shrewd architect took good care to send a cat over before any human being was allowed to cross. On learning of the bargain, the cat recrossed the bridge and scratched the architect's eyes out. The tutelar deity of cats was Diana; UL.H, ni tJni nnt was not only sacred to the moon, but was an emblem of it. Hence cats were treated with peculiar consideration in the land of the Pharaohs, the death*of one being regarded as the greatest family misfortune. Egyptian cat funerals were celebrated with . the greatest pomp and ceremony, their late owners showing respect by,shaving off their efebrows and wearing sackcloth for nine days. In the time of Moses it was a capital crime to kill a cat, and we are told by Diodorus how a Roman soldier who killed one was tried, sentenced and finally put to death. Thk Golden City Boom.?Jones had seen an advertisement in a daily paper which stated that some splendid land was to be sold at Golden City in one of the South American States, almost for the asking. He set out for the city in question. He had been lost for about four hours, and was riding along the trail, hoping to meet somebody who could tell him the way, when he came to a house with a settler sitting on the fence in front. "Good-day," he said, pulling up alongside. "Can you tell me how far it is to Golden City ?" "You're right thar, stranger," was the boastful reply. "This is Golden City." "Great Ca-sar, man !" exclaimed the visitor, "this Golden City? Why, this isn't any town at all, and the advertisement said the population had more than doubled in the last three months, and every man in town had all he could do." "That's right, stranger. Three months ago there wasn't anybody here but me and my wife ; now there's me and her and the triplets?you ought to see those triplets, stranger?and I've got all I can do to provide for the family contingencies. The advertisement is the gospel truth, stranger. Won't you git down and look over some of the lots? Shan't cost you a halfpenny." The stranger invested one shilling in a feed." Whkuk they Missed It.?It was their first baby, says the Detroit Free Press. The young mother was in perfect rupture. It was an ugly baby, but she did not know it. Happy young mother! All of them are like her. But the father hud dark misgivings. H!ti o.il.ifi. >v?i! nnlv ilTi nor xveetr Mild MM it, 'J"'"! J . -- , babies are expensive luxuries. Her father was rich, but he had frowned upon their union, and had heterodox and heretical notions as to supporting a son-in-law besides. Cruel old man ! < )ne day. when the baby was about a month old, the father came home from his desk and found his wife radiant. She was even happy when the baby was out of her sight. "What is it, Jennie y'' asked the husband, gloomily, for he was yet uncertain as to the blessings conferred by the baby. Ife was also sleepy. "O, Charlie," she clumped, "I heard from papa to-day." Charlie looked gloomier than ever. "Don't say anything, dear," she pleaded, for she knew her husband's opinion of her father. "He has heard of our baby, and. though he has not yet detrmined to forgive us, he has sent us a check for $5,000 for dear baby's sake." At iirst the young husband's face showed a gleam of pleasure?then it shadowed again. "Aren't you glad, Charlie?" she asked with a quivering lip. Then he smiled joyfully. "Yes, darling." he whispered: "but we should have had twins." flay The national debt of the C. States less sinknig fund, amounts to about fourteen dollars for each man, woman and child in the country. On the same basis the debt of < treat Britain and Ireland, when the latest ligures were obtained, was $s7.70: France, $11(5.85; Herman Kinpire, $5.20; Austria, $7<>.S4: Russia. $40.50; Italy, $7?!.0ii: Spain, $75.85. The Herman debt here indicated is exclusive of the obligations of Prussia, Bavaria, and the other States of the empire, which are heavy.