Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

lewis m. grist, Proprietor. | Sin ^Independent .JfamilD Henspaper: <gfoi: the |)rotnotioa of the $o!itical, Social, Slgrieultural and (Commercial Jnterests of the JHouth. J TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. VOL. 39. YORKVILLE, S. C., "WEDNESDAY, MAIICH 15, 1893. ^TO. 11. BY JAMES KK [Copyright, 1892, by American Press CHAPTER V. ^ ^ J "Do you care for hcrt" Chalmers found the governor in his comfortable office in the capitol, and introduced himself, presenting the letters which explained his business. The - * governor looked them over carefully and patiently. "I am sorryyou have come to me, Mr. Chalmers," he said finally. "I can do nothing for you. I am familiar with th ? _ case," he added, as Chalmers was about to interpose, "and my personal sympathies are always with a young man in his first offense." ? After a moment he continued: "It is beyond my province to advise you; but I hate to see a man, in whom there is doubtless much good, condemned to such soul destroying place and fellowship. I would be glad to help you, if 1 could?to give, him another chance before it is too late. Has every legal re1 source been exhausted?" "Yes. I thought of that first. Nothing seems to have been neglected or lef undone by my brother's attorneys." "Then I fear you can do nothing but submit. The term o:f sentence was ten years; good conduct, you know, will shorten it to about eight. That is not so long when one looks back," said the governor musingly. \ "It is eternity when one looks for- j ward to passing it in hell." The steadiness of Chalmers' manner was in marked * contrast to the vehemence of his words. "You seem to have a poor opinion of , our system," said the governor, looking at him with new interest. "I know nothing of it," answered j Chalmers shortly. "I admit there is room for improvement," said the governor confidentially. | "I am making a study of the matter. > I mean to accomplish some reforms there during my term. Now you are 1 going to see your brother. Keep your; eyes open, and after that come and see me again and let me have your sugges- , tions." The sympathy of the man and the in- j dividual had given way at once before 1 the ambition of the politician, anxious ! to mark his administration with a "re- \ form" that would attract the public clamor. Chalmers saw that nothing could be gained here. He went next to the prison. The brothers met in the office of the warden. The elder studied to make the interview free from restraint j and as though they were meeting on common ground. But he could not [ shut his eves to those horrid stripes that wound round and round his brother's form?the badge of crime and servitude. ' This was almost the worst of it?that j not for a moment could they blot out I this ocular evidence of the impassable gulf between*them. "I am sorry, George," said Chalmers, ! after a firm clasp of the hand, "that I could not have been with you sooner. I learned of it only three days ago at New | Orleans." "Have you been to Cleveland?" "Yes. I went there first to see what . # . could be done." "Then you know the whole story?" For an answer the elder brother . nodded without looking up. "Does Lina know?" This time the other shook his head, but ho 1 >oked straight at the younger 1 1 ?** A*?A^A? rtnnefinn? LI I nil OiiU UJ OUWLUCl l^uwuuu. "Do you caro for her?" "Why, of course, old man; but that's all up now, and there's no r-uson why you shouldn't go in a:: 1 win. if you still want to." Chalmers studied his brother in curious surprise. There was a certain roughness and carelessness in his tone and manner that he had never observed in him before?that he had certainly not expected to find now. And he noticed a weakness about the mouth and the lower lines of the face that was wholly new to him. This was not a sudden or vivid expression, but came in as a sort of undercurrent to his thought. At first it did not occur to him that he had never seen his brother's face before?since he ! had reached mauhood?free from the j heavy beard that he had always worn, j But the prison discipline was a leveler | in this as in all things else. He won- i , dered if his face would loci" es weak if ' he should become a convict ana have his j beard shaved off and his hair cropped. Ha ignored his brother's last words. "I have been trying to do something : for you," he said, "but am afraid I have I failed so far. I have just come from the ! governor's." "Oh, you can't do anything there. 1 ? could have told you that. He and old j Rodney are hand in glove. Did you see Rodney?" "Yes." "He's a wily old fox; he'll block you . at every step." "I found he would not heln us. Can you suggest anything? I came home to get you out of this if it can be done." "I know but one way. Money does ^ anything here, or at least will let you do it for yourself. Two fellows went out over the wall last night." His brother's ready acceptance of bribery as affording him a possible ; t means of escape did not surprise Chal- j mers more than the ease with which ho j seemed to have dropped into prison ways i i and expressions. Was this a proof that i the governor was right when he said the place was soul destroying? Would he . have lowered his standard so readily under the same conditions? He looked | at his brother again more closely. There I was certainly a lack of character in the expression of the mouth and chin. Yet ' it had always been 6aid that the two were strangely alike. As boys, notwith- j standing the difference in their ages, j they had often been mistaken for one j another. "I don't believe that is the best way," i he said finally, as though he had been reflecting on his brother's suggestion. "It's the only way, I tell you," answered the other impatiently. "I have I been here long enough to see that. But if you mind the money" "I don't mind the money; 1 think you know that. I am ready to spend my last dollar to help you out of this, and then we can begin life again together. Perhaps if we had kept closer together this would not have happened." "I don't know; I guess I wasn't cut out to walk quite as straight as you," * 3 it., 1 1.. returneu iue UUICI cuieieooij. "Well, we won't talk of the past. Let us see what we can do for the future." "If you are going to do anything, 1 hope it will be soon. I can't stay here j forever. I am tired enough of the place ; now." I I rAPP REEVE. i Association.] "I must have time to think. There must be some way. Perhaps I shall try the board of pardons. At any rato T shall uot desert you: I will be here again soon." "You will find there is but one way. Money is the only key that will unlock this place." Thev were standing up now, and Chalmers noticed that they were just the same height and seemed to have about the same spread of chest and shoulders. A h /x if WAnlil of ill ngmu uc uuuuci^u n vuwj ITWUAV* OU<* look alike in that dress, and both closely shaven. And this thought took root and grew. He had had his chance at life, and had made precious little of it. Why not give the chance now, such as remained of it, to George, and let him try it over? There was no reason why this could not be done; it would be simple enough to arrange the details, and though he had tried to encourage George with the hope that he could yet secure his release, he could see no other way in which it could be accomplished. With Chalmer^ to think was to plan, and to plan was to act. He made a hasty journey to Now York and put his affairs there into necessary shape. Then Cleveland, and made certain that his compact with Laura Leonard had been carried out. Then he went to see Lina Tennant again. "I can do nothing," he said, in answer to her look of inquiry. "I shall go away and wait until his term is out. Then perhaps I can help him." "I had not expected much," she answered. "I felt how difficult it would be. But I am glad you have tried, and I am sorry that you are going away. I had hoped you would remain here, where I should see you sometimes. It Will be a long while to wait." For a moment his determination wavered. If he remained beside her, what opportunities might not time. bring? This thought had recurred to him again and again. It would not stay down, and the fear that he might yield to it in the end made him only the more determined in his plan. He would make it impossible to be near her, impossible that he should do anything?however much he might be tempted through these long years?to lessen George's "chance" in any way. In these years love might die and love be born again. Without effort or the exercise of volition on his part; by only remaining near her; by doing the offices that a friend might; by steadfast but unobtrusive devotion, might not a change be wrought? And if it were thus wrought would he not have been unfaithful to his brother's cause? Would he not be a supplanter? With other men the temptation might have been strong, but to him it was not so. For if under such circumstances her love came to him' it would not be satisfying, not having been fairly won in a fair lield. He would take no ad vantage of her nor of him?that other who had won her love from him before. And so he answered her gently, as though speaking to a child: "It will not be so long. You are both young yet. You will still be young when he comes back." "Yes; you are not very old yet yourself." She smiled at him sadly as she went on: "You are not so old as we shall be then, and you look so much like Goorgo tonight?as he did when he was a boy. Why!" she cried, with a little 6tart of surprise, "I did not notice before; you have had your beard and mustache taken off. You do look so much like George." After this they naturally fell into quiet, friendly talk of old times?when they had been just three friends together ?and keeping away from sad or dangerous topics, they talked on until Chalmers felt more at home with her than he had with any woman for years. Less like a wanderer he felt?and more as if life ' * 1 * 1 '? * i- Xl migut yet nave some purpose in u?man he had since that long ago time when Lina Tennant had said that she cared more for liis brother than for hi :i. Yet now, just as there w s beginning to be value in life?in this life?again, lie was deliberately making ready to go away and leave it all. Twenty-four hours later Chalmers was back at the prison again. It was "after hours," and George Chalmers, with the thousand and a half of other wretched inmates who were housed within its gloomy walls, was locked securely in his own narrow cell. It was agaiust all rules, but by the use of a liberal fee Chalmers overcame the scruples of the guards and was admitted not only to the prison, but taken straight to where his brother was. What a place the prison was at night. T-er upon tier of cells; corridor after corridor; and all built up of solid, forbidding masonry that seemed meant to outlast the destroying hand of time itself. The lights burned dimly in' the tomblike halls; the silence was heavy, ominous, except when broken by the labored breathing of men sleeping on comfortless cots behind the grated bars, and now and then to this was added the moans of one, the curses of another and the regular footfall of the guards as they paced their rounds. Chalmers followed his conductor through this dreary place, and paused only when they had reached the uppermost tier, almost the farthest cell. Then the guard stopped, unlocked and threw open a heavy, grated door, and mouoneu mui 10 enter. If the corridors had seemed tomblike this seemed the veritable tomb itself, dug in the solid rock. But it was only the home, safe, snug and" secure, that the state had provided for one of her erring sons. Chalmers entered, and as he did so slipped another bill info the guard's hand and motioned him away. The man nodded, closed the grating behind hint, turned the key and went back along the corridor. CHAPTER VI. "Remain until I come, and remember you arc always Ogden Chalmers." George Chalmers sat upon his cot half dressed. "You have come back," he said moodilv. "Yes, as I promised," answered the other; "and I can help you now." "You don't mean that you have secured a pardon," returned the younger man. with sudden interest. "No, but I can help you now; move quick and ask no questions. Put on my clothes." "But what will you do? What if the guard comes back?" j "Never mind me. The guard will uot | dare make trouble. He has already broken his orders in bringing ine here. Dress and we can talk afterward." As ho spoke ho was already divesting himself of his clothing and helping to place them upon his brother. When this was done he drew on a portion of tho convict's dress and sat down upon the side of the cot. "Now look at me," he said. "No one could say that I am not you; and you resemble exactly the man who just came in here. You are a free man. Go out with the guard when he comes." "But what will become of you?" "Have no trouble about that. They cannot harm me. But you must take my name." He spoke low and hurriedly, but every word waS distinct and forcible, as if he had studied how to say the most in the briefest possible time. "Take my keys, go to my room at the hotel and open my trunks. Examine all i my papers, they will tell you how to put vourself in possession of my fortune. | You will find full instructions. Go to ! the City of Mexico. You will find good : opportunities there; engage in business; I "do the best you can and remain until I f come, and remember you are always { Ogden Chalmers." George grasped his brother's hand. "This is too much; I cannot do this, Ogden. I have not deserved it. What if you have to remain here in my place?" "It will not matter much. It will not i be so very long, and maybe I should apj preciate life better then." The guard was coming back; his steps were very near now. Chalmers put his arm across his brother's shoulder and j whispered very earnestly: "Do not try to communicate with me; make a new start, George. Be a good man. And do not go or write to Lina Tennant until you can do so in your own name, when your sentence j has expired. Then go to her; be honest with her; tell her the whole truth. She | deserves it and she will forgive you." There was no time for anything more. The grated door opened and closed again, and two men paced steadily i down the dim corridor, and one of them was George Chalmers, the criminal, he upon whom the state had a lien for ten I of the best years of his manhood. And ! he was going forth again to freedom. And behind, in that dreary tomb up j there, was Ogdeu Chalmers?man of | fortune and of leisure. He had never j wronged any man nor the state. Yet 1 he sat there throughout the slow hours ' of the night looking hopelessly down a ' long vista of years wherein he could see I himself reduced to an automaton, shorn i of his identity, labeled merely "convict number thirteen hundred and seventysix," mocked at and despised among men. And yet there was no bitterness in his heart. It is one of the compensations of this life that we are enabled to adapt ourselves to whatever environment we may be placed amidst. Some succeed in this better than others, not because they Af /?Vl O VOpfor 1 ?*CQ j pVOOCOO IVOO Vii.lA.lVJ VI VUW4 UVUVA, (WW positiveness in pursuing a set course, but because they are able to perceive in j due season the utter futility of an unequal combat with fate or with circumstance. The weak character, forced from its accustomed or congenial environment and into a lower plane of existence, becomes a maudlin railer against the world; while the stronger one. with like occasion, sets himself with grim determination to so fit himself to this new sphere as to receive the fewest knocks possible. On the other hand the weak character, thrown amid a broader environment, would fail to seize its opportunities, while the strong character would rise to the occasion and become the leader of a great movement or the hero of a forlorn hope. In this respect the two brothers were opposites, the elder representing the latter and more fortunate class. From this it must not be inferred, however, that prison life and discipline sat lightly upon I him. Yet it was not in regard to its i physical aspects that he was compelled j to summon all his fortitude in order to | endure without complaint. It was only j when ho found himself reduced to a | mere machir-> with a number, robbed of ; his own volition in even the commonest : acts of life, his days and hours and min! utes ordered at the will of another, that j the spirit of revolt surged t,p in his breast. But Chalmers recogrized the folly of such thoughts and curbed them with a masterful will. In the whole j prison there was no man who seemed to i fall more easily into Ins place. Even the ! "lockstep" seemed natural enough to ! T-T;iv? vnn f>vpr seen the loeksten? Have you ever seen a chain each link of i which was a human being? Have you ever seen some fifteen hundred men, 1 bound together with invisible cords, inarch as one man? You say that you have seen your crack I regiment on dress parade! They drill i like the awkward squad or a band of country militia compared with this striped coil that winds through the prison yard. Each link in this coil has allotted to it some fifteen inches of space. This link has two hands, and they are placed squarely on the shoulders of the link in front. The link has two feet, and they rise, swing forward and fall precisely in line and time with those of the link in front, and they fall precisely in the place from which those of the link in front have been lifted. Two eyes has this link, but they must glance neither to right nor to left; in the hollow of the neck of the link in front must their gaze i rest, and only there. A lifted hand, a I halting foot, a restless eye and the link is marked. Ah! excellent device is the lockstep. The link forgets that it was once a man, that it has a soul, that it lias (or did have) volition. It forgets that it may riot, burn, kill; that it may hew down men and walls that stand between it and freedom. An excellent device. But for George Chalmers there was noiie of this. At his brother's word ho | had gone out from the prison a free J man. Armed with his brother's letters, | furnished with his brother's money, j dressed in his brother's clothes, equipped j even with his brother's name, a plain and easy path of life was opened out before him. He went out with good rei solves, made the more serious and thoughtful as the full measure of his brother's sacrifice forced itself upon him?more serious perhaps than he had ever been before in all his life. The consciousness of this sacrifice, the immensity of it, grew upon him; at first it had been so sudden that he did not realize it all. Ho had thought that i maybe Ogden had some plan by which he would be .released when it was found that the real criminal was gone. When | he did realize, as he finally came to dc in a little while, he could almost have ! gone back; but to that point lie could not quite bring himself. But he determined to do Ins best to follow Ogden's advice, and so to merit, as well as he , could, all that had been done for him. In Mexico he found little trouble in establishing himself. There were many I schemes afloat?mining, railroads, colonization?and his knowledge of banking and finance stood him in good stead, ! He took hold of safe schemes, put money ! into them, floated the bonds and stock, and was soon recognized as a valuablt man in promoting matters of value in , the internal development of the newly awakening republic. Into these matters j he threw himself with all his ardor, try 1 inrr fr, r>nf thn rwst hphitld llilll. But il '"b vv' f"" i ? would not wholly down. Ho oftei 1 thought of Lina Tennant and woulc have written to her had it not been foi Ogden's injunction. He had wholly givei her up now; in fact had done so in hi: own mind from tin; day of his arrest, fo: he knew tluit sooner or later she nius know the whole story, and he under i stood the depth and force of her naturi j well enough to know that it would b : all over between them when that tinr came. She might forgive much, but sh would not forgive him Leonie. Itmigh be best if he should write now an 1 tel ' her all?about Ogden is well as about I himself. He honestly hoped that she ! might come to care for Ogden. now that he was out of the way. If she knew what Ogden had done? 1 and what he himself had permitted?peri haps it would help, and it would ho I some recompense. So, taking his promI ise to Ogden as an excuse, he put it off from day to day and it became harder and harder to do. She had loved him i once, and now to belittle himself before : her thus, and show how unworthy he 1 tied lionn nf her lnvn sinrl trust, was | more than lie could bring himself to do. And Leonie! Ogden had no right to : impose restrictions upon him there, or j at least no right beyond what might be ' implied by the use of his money. But I in a little while George had money i enough of his own, and this ho might; j use or hazard as he chose. If there was j to be nothing between him and Lina j Tennant, it would not matter about i Leonie. It was not difficult to get trace of her, j and she came to him at once, and gladly, j They were both social outla ws, and they j found that the less conventional southern life suited them capitally. She told him of his brother's munificence toward ' her. "1 pretended to be terribly grieved : at my banishment," she said. r'But I j was not going to stand in the way of his ! helping you. I knew you would find ! me quick enough when you had the ! chance," sho added confidently. "And ! this money that he has had paid me, see! i 1 have used only a little. He said I had ! ruined you; so 1 thought if you came 1 out a beggar this might help you a j little." ; With this she tossed toward him a | shower of bills. "All honest money," sho cried, "earned by being good and staying away from you. Just think how rich 1 could be in I ten years." 1 She laughed as she said this, but in a i moment had changed again, and said | petulantly, as a spoiled child: "But 1 have no chance to prove my ; devotion. I see you are rolling in wealth. I 1 came to play at love in a cottage and I you put me in a mansion." She smiled quietly as she rattled on, I and after a little his sibnce attracted her notice, sue looked at turn curious]}'. "Why don't you talkJ" she asked. "You are as solemn as an owl--as solemn as that brother of yours that sent me away." ; "Don't laugh at him, Leonie. Do you , know what he did for me?'' j "Bribed somebody tp lei you escape, ] I suppose. How else would you be here?" "No: he is serving my sentence for me." ."What?" "Yes; he helped me to escape, and then staid in my cell in my place." "1 did not think he cared that much for you, or for any one." "1 did not think any person would care that much." "Yes," said Leonie, nodding her head with an air of conviction, "that is doing something. It is not much to be willing to live in a cottage; I was willing to do that. It is not much to offer to give up money. Miss Tennant did that" "What is that? I don't understand; 1 don't know what you mean," interrupted her companion. "You don't? Then I am sc rry I spoke," said Leonie dryly. "I am not fond oi sounding the praises of that model young woman. I warrant she would never do as much for me. But if you want to know, she went to old Rodney and offered to give up everything she had to the bunk if it would let you off." "How do you know this? Who told you?" "Rodney told mo himself." And then she stopped shcrt, as if she had said more than she had intended. "But how the mischief (lid that happen? How did he come to tell you! Where did you see him?" The questions were thrown out in rapid succession. Leonie looked at him deiiantly, with heightened color. "1 will tell you all now," she said. "1 had not meant to?but I am not goingtc praise her above myself. 1 saw him a1 his house. 1, too, offered to /jive up all I had, if it would help you." "What did the old curmudgeon say?' "He said he thought all the women in town were crazy after you, and then he said 1 was not the first one that had made this offer. Of course I knew the other was Miss Tennant," George came over to where she sat and bent down very soberly and kissed her on the forehead. "I am glad that you did it, Leonie. J would have hated to know that she had offered to do more for me than you." The woman blushed prettily, not sc much at his words as at his caress, the ' gentlest and most chaste perhaps thai she had ever received from any man. "This would have paid me," she said, "even if he had taken my offer." Then they were silent for a l ittle time both busy with their own thoughts, bul | Leonie was of too lively and mercurial a temperament ever to remain long under the influence of one emoticn. "Have you heard from your brothei since?" she asked. "No; he said it would be best not tc communicate, and I have not told yoi all. He has given me all his money and his name. I am Ogden Chal ners here.' "You look almost like him now, yot are so sober," she said, "and I am afraid you will care more for him thar ! for me, he has done so much." j "No, you need not be afraid of that. and it is different." ; "If you do I shall hate him," she said i warningly. "But as it is now, I like - f it-iuli I nniitl fir I 111111 C*U OW ulUtu. A II ?i>n * vwv?*v? V.V something for liini." "1 do not see what we can do now but wait. But I shall make lots oi ' money for him and have it ready when 1 he comes. Yet he has never cared much 1 j for that." CHAPTER VII. . | ' : Toit arc Oytlcn Chalmers. Tell in what it means." Almost a half score of years of th< , j lockstep and other little matters of pris on discipline had left their yh press oi Ogden Chalmers. There were dee; ! lines in his face and gray threads in hi r ! hair when at last the state was satisfiei i and had declared him again a free man ' He felt no elation at the fact that h j. was to go out into the world again am t | become a part of it. He had lost toucl j with it, and felt that he had no longe any sharo in the world's work. Al j though he had not thought of it, pel a haps if the question had been asked h * ' would just as lief have served the res j. I of his days out there. The prison lif : does not make a man ambitious, am i ions to cope with his fellows. At the warden's office, where lie mus i go for his formal discharge, a woma 0 was waiting to meet him. Some siste j of mercy?a would bo good Samaritai j he supposed, and wished she had nc J o - ? o ? ? He laughed easily. "You have asked me to come with you." They dined together, and then Chalmers went to the station with Lina and put her on the train, but he did not go with her. With the money that she had given him ho first got himself decently clothed; then he went to a hotel and registered in a good, bold hand, "Ogden Chalmers." Then he sent this tele- J gram: To Ogden Chalmers, Esq., City of Mexico: Aro you all right? Answer here. OODEN CHALMERS. The answer camo back: To Ogden Chalmers, Esq., Columbus, 0.: Dear old boy. am A No. 1. Will you come? Ooden Chalmers. To this he replied: Not just now. Send letter and some funds to Cleveland. He thought that he would go to Cleveland at once: but as he delayed it I he found more and more satisfaction in ; staying where he was, in being free and j unknown. He felt some surprise that j the remembrance of the past sat so j lightly upon him. And us long as this I was so he was reluctant to do anything j that might disturb this mental repose. ! If he shcmld see Lina again and she should not prove responsive to his wishes he felt as if he might not be strong enough to withstand the depression into which it would cast him. and he had no assurance that she could care for him as he wished. He had better let well enough alone. But In the course of a little time he did go to Cleveland, and there received a letter from his brother with ample funds and a full statement of his opera tions. The letter ended as follows: "i have been very successful. Inclosed account will show that I hold subject u your order the entire capital that you placed in my hands, plus one-half the total earnings. Also an additional sum of some forty thousand dollars?which Leonie iustructs me to say she has su? rendered to you very cheerfully, as she has not kept the compact. We are both outlaws, you see, and so perhaps best suited to each other. As for Miss Tennant, please say to her that I am a very worthless fellow. I trust time will bring its compensations and that you may be happy together." Chalmers did not show Liua the letter, but he told her all it contained, except the ending. He remained near her and found a quiet satisfaction in her presence, but not the same exaltation that he had known during those first few hours in the city streets. He would not permit himself that again. And the memory of his prison life came back too vividly. "I cannot forget," ho said, when she remonstrated with him upon his depression. "It lias burned too deeply. I can never blot out the disgrace." "You wrong yourself," answered Lina. "It was a sacrifice and not a crime." "The result is the same: I am an exconvict." "You are a saint, and should be canonized." come, but with his old instinct of cour-1 tesy toward all women ho went forward \ and greeted her. It was Lina Tennant. "I wrote to the warden,*' she said in j quick explanation. "Ho told me it! would be today; so I havo come to see 1 yon and to say goodby." Chalmers stared at her, but did not, answer. She had not extended her1 ' hand nor given any other sign of greeting or of recognition beyond her mere words. Ho tried to think why she had come?why at all if only to say goodby i ?and why was she so cc Id and distant? It | had not been so" when they last met. Ho ' looked down while ho was asking him-1 self this, and his eyo took in the coarse suit that hud replaced his prison dress. 1 He was not a convict now?but?and , slowly and fearfully the truth dawned upon him?burned like molten iron through all his being?sent the red; blood surging up over face and fore-;' head?made him shrink and cringe from . this woman's eyes as lie had never be-' fore from any human being's?dawned ! upon him, I say, the fact that now and j ? for all time he was an ex-convict. To i Lina Tennant, to all pure women and j noble men he was now and for all time an outcast. He heard her words but dully as she spoke again. He wished that sho would have mercy on him and go away. "I promised you," he heard her saying, "that I would waii;, that if living 1 would be here to meet you today. This i promise I have kept, although you cannot know what it has cost me. But j i another promise that J made I cannot, keep, and because I am not willing that you should mistake my reasons and so think hardly of me I will tell you why. j If you had not deceived me I would yet i have been your wife. If, having de-1 ceived me, you had yet confessed your wrong and asked to be forgiven I might; 1 have yielded. But now both love and ; and faith in you are dead. Goodby." j i She put out her hand with the last j words, and Chalmers took it and held it j i close in his own, while his poor confused ; brain tried hard to understand her, 1 meaning. ? She had promised to be his wife. No, not his, but George's wife, and now , 1 she would not, for "both love and faith !. were dead." Love for him? No, for j ' George that was dead. She was talking i of George, not to him. And she thought > it was George before her. 1 Chalmers held her hand in a grasp of ) iron, so that she winced with pain; but , he did not see, for he was clinging, j ; through it, to life and hope and love. I "Lina! Lina Tennant." His voice was ; only a hoarse whisper, but something in ! 1 it brought a startled look to her face. j 1 "Look at me," he said. "I am not; George' Chalmers. Do you not know ! > me?' ) "Yes, yes," she said, gazing at him i ; with wide eyes. "I know you. I know j you now. You are Ogden Chalraeri : , Tell me what it means. How did you j come here?" , "Wait!" he answered, cautioning her. | t "Not here?not in this place. Let us go 1 away, outside?anywhere." They went out together upon the street into the midst of the busy life of ' the city; but Chalmers forgot to look | about him at the brightness from which > he had been shut so long. There was i i but one fact in the world for him now. > I Lina Tennant had renounced her love i ' for George of her own free will, and he i was free now to win her if he could i against the world. He forgot the past, i the horrible life of the prison, the ineradicable taint that it leaves upon all who 1 have served within its walls. When they found themselves fairly within the busy crowd, they two alone , ; in it, though hundreds of their fellow , ; beings were about them, Lina began to i question him again impatiently. ' | "Now, tell me," she said, "tell me ! | all." i ! "What shall I tell ycu first?" i "Of yourself. How came you there? j how long have you been there? What j does it mean?" she repeated. "I had never meant to tell you; but 1 I will tell you now. I went there of my 1 own accord. I have been there all theso j years." He shuddered involuntarily at j the remembrance. ? "Where is your brother?" "I am not sure. We exchanged names j curl ttliw-nu Ho \V!IS to L'O to Mexico." "Do I understand? Have you been : there for his sake, so that he might go I I free?" "You understand in part. 1 have j j been there that lie might go free. But | I it was for your sake, Linn, more than ; ! his." "This is too terrible," said the girl; J "too horrible. How you must have suf-| fered." "It is all over now." ' They walked 011 in silence. Chalmers I began to look about him. It was good | to live again, to be in the world, to I j jostle people in the streets, to feel that | one other human being was in sympa- j I thy with him. He began to feel light- ; hearted. "Lina, where aro we going?" he asked ; 0 | finally, after they had walked a long : j distance. "I have just remembered t rJ that I haven't any home." p "Come home with me," she said ims pulsively. j "I can't. I'm not presentable," and : | he looked down at the coarse clothes p | that the state had munificently allotted Lj him. "Besides, aren't you ashamed to Ij i be seen with an ex-convict?" f j For an answer his companion came up I i_ I closer by him and took his arm timidly. | .. i "I tell you what, Lina," lie said prese | ently; "I can't go with you in this rig. ;f. j You will have to lend 1110 some money." e ; She laughed and slipped a roll of bills ._ i into his hand. "Where is all your money?" I "I gave it to George to set up shop." n j "All of it?" r j "Yes. I suppose he has made millions ! for us both by this time." "And he has taken your name?" I SjMf sSsit O "Yes. ] told him to take both tho name and iho money, and do the best he could with both until I could come." "Arft von iminer to liim now?" TO UK CONTINUKI) NKXT WKKK. The publication of the above story was commenced last week. The Umbrella Is a Mark of Itaiik. The Chinese hook of ceremonies, "Tcheou-Li," dated about 300 A. D., gives directions for the uso of an umbrella to be borne over the imperial car. In Hindoo mythology it was with an umbrella borne over his head that Vishnu visited the infernal regions. The uso of the umbrella in ancient Greece and Rome as an adjunct to the toilets of people of fashion and in several ceremonies is attested by countless quotations from such writers as (Elian, Pausanias, Aristophanes, Aristotle, Plutarch, Ovid, Martial, Juvenal, Pliny and others. The Greeks called it "skiadeion" and the Romans "umbella" and "umbracula." The Roman umbrella was formed of skin and leather stretched on rods and could be lowered when not in use. The honor of bearing it over the owner was reserved to the favorite slave or servant. Umbrellas formed part of the luxuries of wealthy Byzantines and Romans. The Emperor Claudian carried a golden umbrella with a carved ivory handle. A Roman writer (Gorius) says that the Romans got it originally from the Etruscans. In Siam the king grants the right to employ an umbrella as a patent of nobility. The Indian and Persian title of satrap comes from tho words Ch' hatra-pati, or "lord of the umbrella," the Hindoo and Burmese for umbrella being "Chata." The king of Ava was "king of the white elephant and lord of the twenty-four umbrellas." The umbrella is in fact all over the east a mark of high rank.? Clothier and Furnisher. Two Receptions. Though I have served scores of writs upon all classes of persons, I have never had so much as a finger laid upon me, the nearest approach to personal violence being offered by an irascible old red faced grocer, who. disturbed in the midst of poring over his bills, leaped to his feet and threatened that, if I did not at once take back the writ he would knock my head off or pitch me through the window, neither of which fearful contingency, however, ensued. Another grocer I remember, too, of a totally different type, for he insisted upon my taking tea with himself and family, and at the termination of my visit pressed upon my acceptance a large pot of raspberry jam. "They'll bo selling us up in few days," he observed quite cheerfully. "So, you see, it don't matter much what goes." When I got home and opened the jam pot I found tho writ inside.?London lit-Bits. ITHIISITMIM. Big* Money Invested in a Small Farm. RAISING HORSES, CATTLE AND HOGS, j Strain Power for Cutting up FredThe Silo a Success?How the Cattle nre Housed?Money in Shetland | Ponies?Different Breeds of Fine j Hogs?Crimson Clover for Hay? j How to Keep Irish Potatoes?Will j Also Make Cheese?Fiftv "Acres Knough for Anybody. For years after the war, the cultiva- i * ' tion of cotton in this country was a j profitable business. Notwithstanding even loose business methods and unnecessary extravagance on the part of many, the margin between the cost of production and the selling price of cotton, was sufficient to warrant a reasonable profit. Influenced, however, by the laws of supply and demand, the : margins of profit have each year been j growing smaller and smaller until the business of raising cotton has been so thoroughly disorganized that a radical j change in the agricultural methods of i this country has become imperative. , j Though they constantly see it and feel j it, a great many people are unable to bring themselves to a realization of this fact. Their fathers once got 25 cents a pound for cotton; they themselves have received from 15 to 20 cents, and they cannot understand : how or why this condition of affairs ! i pmilil ovpp hnva hopii ptinnrrpft Tin. VVM*V* v' v* "VV.. V..M..QWU. ? ? | der the old condition of affairs, cattle, stock, hogs, grain and grass could ; not only be ignored but held in con- j tempt, and reluctant to forget the good , old days that were, many of our peo- I pie are exceedingly slow to look with : j favor now on the things that they were j i then taught to despise. But, however slow, the time is comI ing when these despised things of old i must again be restored to high favor. Under the changed order of things, it j is clear that agriculture in this county > I must be reduced to a science. To | make it pay, it must be given the same amount of time and intelligent attention that is devoted to any other j business. It has become necessary to utilize any and everything that is possessed of any elements of utility, and ; those farmers who watch up their [ business the closest and turn to the i best advantage every hour of their j working time, will be the ones who j will realize the greatest measure of j success. The old days of cotton and corn? ; that is, the days when it was the prin- j cipal concern of the farmer to set his J crops with a view to securing a maximum amount of cotton with a'minimum amount of corn?have passed j away. Successful farming of today ! requires first, the home production of ever necessary possible for which j money would have to be paid out were it not produced at home; second, , the production of all possible surplus for conversion into money. We have no doubt but the best thought of our people will soon be concentrated in these lines, and for this reason the ideas and experiments of the pioneers are of especial interest. Ono nfthp foremost boldest,, and most progressive of these pioneers, is Dr. John O. Blank, or Blaekuhnrg. Hp in of the linn conviction that he can innke a good living out of his farm without raising any cotton whatever, and has entered upon the prosecution of his ideas in a way that commands admiration, and at the same time the full confidence of those who are familiar with his operations. The doctor has already done enough work and spent enough money to show his earnestness in the matter, and we are sure that a short outline of his plans and achievements will prove of interest to our readers. A representative of The Enquirer visited him recently for the [ purpose of getting this information, j and here is the story : at the doctor's home, i I had informed Dr. Black of my desire j to take a look at his operations on the I evening before. He very courteously ' granted my request, assuring me that he would give me all the information : | in his power, and the next morning j j called for me at the hotel in a pretty I I little plneton, drawn by a pair of beauI tiful black Shetland ponies, neither of i j which were more than 48 inches in i height. After a brisk drive of a few \ minutes, we arrived at Dr. Black's 1 ! residence in the outer edge of town, j The doctor's residence is a handsome | one story brick structure of ample ; nronortions. situated in the centre of a ! spacious yard, around which there are 1 numerous outbuildings for the various , purposes required by the business in , which he is engaged. Annexed to the front of the doctor's 1 residence is a beautiful conservatory, j filled with all manner of rare plants i and flowers. A few yards to the right : of the house is a water tower and windmill. In the rear is an airtight dry cellar for storing garden products, j j Farther on is a large garden, and ad- j joining it quite an extensive little vine! yard. Down a gentle incline to the j ! left of the house, and perhaps 200 feet distant, is the engine house, silo, carriage house, barn, cow and horse sta- j bles, and chicken yards, etc. Across -j the road from these buildings there are . a number of pig pens and a big cow i ! pasture. THE ENGINE AND MACHINERY. Alighting from the phseton, Dr. j Black first conducted me into his en- j I gine house. The building is perhaps ! eight feet wide by twenty or twenty- j ! five feet long. Inside is a small grain mill, a feed cutter, a circular saw and a two horse power kerosene engine. | I "It is out of the question," said the j { doctor, "to attempt to run a business of this kind without some good, reliable power. The windmill won't do, because you can't depend on it. Ilorse t power is too expensive, and under the i circumstances, I find that the best ; thing is a good steam engine. This one is two horse power and will do easily all that I require of it. We never feed anything whole?grain or roughness? | but cut or grind up everything. On ; the cutter here, I cut up all the dry roughness, shucks, fodder, hay and the I like, for immediate use, and also the ' cornstalks, neavines and other stulf I used for ensilage. With this arrange- | ! nient one hand can easily cut up two tons of cornstalks for ensilage in a day. ; i On the mill we grind all of our grain ! ! feed, never feeding anything whole, j We grind our peas and corn together, , j and the result is a very superior food, j much better than if not ground. The saw we use for cutting our wood, j Having more power than we need for i the other purposes, I have found it a matter of economy to make use of a portion of it in this way. One hand ; can cut up a cord of wood so much ? quicker than with an axe, that there 1 is no question of the saving." THE SII.O A SUCCESS. "It is not worth while for you to say | much about the silo," said Dr. Black, { ?*nai luwl n full /Incorinh'nn nf it ill J uu " -?i | The Enquirer some time ago. But ! you can say it ij a success. The ensil| age is all gone ndw, but it kept perfectj ly until all of it was used. The cattle i and stock were as fond of it as of green ' food, and the effects on the milk and butter were practically equal to June pasturage. To my mind this experi< incut has fully demonstrated the fact | that anybody can have a silo at a very small cost, and it will pay anybody to j build one." A MODEL COW STAHLK. I)r. Dlack's cow stable is a model of convenience and cleanliness. The building is about twenty-five feet wide, fifty feet in length and two stories high. Overhead is a well stored barn, and underneath the cow stalls, twelve in number, six on either side. Each stall is provided with a manger and water trough, and a system of piping running through the building from the water tower up in the yard, furnishes an abundant supply of water. The droppings fall on a plank floor, and carefully cleaned up once or twice a day, are deposited on a heap in the barn lot and from there hauled away to the adjoining fields and thrown off in nilps. X THE SHETLAND PONIES. In another stable, a short distance away, is quartered a number of Shetland ponies. The animals are hale and hearty, thriving well under the doctor's treatment, and the indications are that the venture of raising them for sale is going to prove a success. So far there has been two colts?one a horse and the other a mare. It is the doctor's purpose to keep all the mares for the present and sell the horses. He found ready sale for the first colt at $75, and does not anticipate any trouble of disposing of others at this and even better prices. The doctor tells me that it costs very little to feed the ponies, and they do not require any extraordinary attention. The Shetland pony is, of course, a luxury only to be enjoyed by people of independent means, but it is this fact that insures better prices aud more ready sales. So well pleased is he with the j venture, that the doctor recently added another pair to his herd by purchase, and will probably add still others. The outlook is that the business is going to prove very profitable. REGISTERED HOGS. From the pony stables, Dr. Black conducted me to his pig pens. These lie across the road, fifty or seventy- i five yards from the cow and. pony ' stables. The pens are four in number, j Kach takes up a quarter of an acre, and lying on a hill side, one end is high i and dry, while the other runs down \ to a low meadow. Shelters are pro- j vided for the pigs at the upper end of the pens, and the pigs are able to seek whatever condition their inclination I demands. In the first pen are some registered Cheshires, weighing about ! 125 pounds each. In the second are full blooded Essex pigs. The tiiirci is given up to a fine Berkshire sow with | young pigs, and the fourth is occupied j by common scrub stock. The doctor , is thoroughly familiar with the merits ! of each of these breeds, but having a ! fondness for line stock of all kinds, j prefers to raise a number of varieties ; rather than confine himself to any one | of them. Speaking of raising hogs, he said : j "This winter I killed seven hogs that netted me 2090 pounds, and I never fed them any corn until they were ready to fatten. I don't know what you want to feed hogs on corn for anyway. It won't give them muscle and bone and make them grow. It won't do anything but fatten. You don't want to feed a growing hog on J corn. You want to give him wheat j shorts, buttermilk, ensilage and wheat ' straw until you get him ready to j fatten, and then feed him on corn j meal. But better than anything else for feeding hogs or cattle either, is j the mangold beet. On good land you ! can raise from 10 to 15 tons to the ! acre, and by proper care and prepara- 1 tion^keep them through the winter at i very little expense. "The mangold beet is especially fine food for cattle. They eat it with more relish than anything you can ! give them. It is a good nutter producer and does not taste the milk. It will pay anybody to raise them for their j hogs und cattle, because they cost a great deal less and will go much further than corn or almost anything else you can plant." CRIMSON CLOVER AND RYE. "Now," said Dr. Black, "my friends and neighbors around here call me a crank. They may he ngnt, htu or \ course I don't think so ; anyhow, we will go over here and I will show you my hobby." A short walk through a cow pasture brought us to a ten acre field that is just beginning to turn , green. "This field," the doctor ex- ; plained "is sowed with crimson clover and rye. The crimson clover I consider generally more desirable than the ordinary variety, and the rye is : sowed with it to keep it from lying ' too close. By the 20th of April, the | field will be knee high all over j and ready to mow. I will cut the clo- [ ver and rye off and then plant in corn for eusilage to fill my silo. I am satisfied that I am going to make a nice thing out of this field, but in deference to those who think otherwise, all I have to say is just watch and see the result. IRISH POTATOES. I had heard that I)r. Black had been very successful in raising Irish pota- j toes and keeping them through the i winter, and asked him especially as to ! his methods of preserving them. On ! this point he said: "As a rule, the Irish potatoes preserved in this country are watery and not as good for table use as those which come from the North. This is not on account of the difference in climate, or anything of that kind, but the fault is : with the common method of preserving. The idea is to prevent such chemical changes as will destroy the starch, j This can nest ne none uy me use ui u cool dark cellar, or an air tight house, ! constructed with no provision for ventilation. To get more room, it is a good idea to have tiers of shelving on the inside, one tier twelve or fifteen inches above the other. On digging the potatoes, put them on these shelves to a j depth of about four inches. Then keep the door closed tight during the day, j and open at night until about the first j of December, when the potatoes may ( be put in barrels and headed up. Aftliat, of course the door should remain closed. Every week or two its necessary to go over the potatoes 011 the . shelves and throw out all that are faulty. If treated in this way, the potatoes are bound to be as mealy as j could be desired and the flavor will be j delightful. I have sold about eighty j bushels of potatoes this winter at a dollar a bushel, and the purchasers consider them in every respect equal to the Northern potatoes." BUTTER AND CHEESE. I)r. Black sells large quantities of butter. Notwithstanding the abundance of green summer food obtained from his silo, he finds that he is still unable to make June butter in Febru- j ary. lie is satisfied, however, that he i has discovered the reason, and is now | at work to correct it by the erection of a model creamery. He lias just commenced the work by digging a deep, square pit. "The reason why we can't get June butter in February," says the j doctor, "is because we don't have June temperature on the cream. By going down in the ground a certain depth, we can get an even temperature all j the year round. That is what I am : preparing to do now, and this summer, ; in addition to lots of butter, Iain going to commence making lots of cheese." 1 FIFTY ACRES ENOUGH FOR ANYBODY. During the course of his conversation innnncr other tinners. I)r. Black ' made the following positive statement, I which is respectfully recommended to j the careful consideration of the farm ers of this section. "Fifty acres of land is as much as any one man lias any business with. It should be stocked with not less than twenty-five head of various kinds of farm animals, and if the owner can't find profitable imployinent for every hour of his working time, I think he should own up that he is a failure." WATERWORKS OR FIRE ENGINE? Engineer Robertson Throws some Light on the Important Question That is Agitating tht People of Yorkville. To the Editor of The Enquirer : from a recent issue or your paper x learn that it has been decided by the authorities of the town to let the fire protection question be settled by a direct vote of the citizens?whether they shall have a series of properly located cisterns and fire-engine, or fire-hydrants in connection with waterworks. Knowing the place as I do, and with ideas of waterworks construction acquired during the last year, I send this communication hoping that it may throw some light on the subject, and present, to some extent, the possibilities of both plans. The first plan mentioned above is more readily executed and certainly more easily understood by the average citizen than a sytem of waterworks, which is generally considered a vast undertaking and consequently seldom receives that consideration which often would prove a future benefit to the taxpayers and a very material aid to the upbuilding of the town. The workings of engines and cisterns are generally known, and where volunteer fire service is enterprising and efficient, furnish good fire protection ; but a thoroughly quick and well trained volunteer department is something seldom found. This plan represents a constant exnenso with no pos sible income save reduction of insurance, which should and would be considerable. Should the growth of the town ever demand the*construction of waterworks, the cisterns would become useless encumbrances. Two good engines, necessary hose, engine-house and twelve cisterns (capacity 25,000 gallons each) would represent at a minimum calculation, nn outlay of $13,000 to $14,000. Increase this amount $1,500 to $2,000, and a successful waterworks plant could be placed in Yorkville, which would include at least thirty double-nozzle fire-hydrants, situated not over 400 feet apart, affording a pressure from a tauk on a tower constructed at the upper end of town, sufficient to do efficient work upon the tallest building in the place. I judge that a pump and tank on a tower could be so located near some stream in the upper portion of the town, in the vicinity of the K. M. M. S. building, or to the rear of Judge Witherspoou's place, which would give ample pressure?even in the most olevated portions of the town?the topography of the place being especially favorable to low cost and practical construction. The water-mains would of course be tapped as usual for service pipes, furnishing pure, wholesome water for all domestic purposes, and at so small cost, and so great convenience, that many of the citizens would doubtless obtain most or all of their water supply in this ready way. Thus from erection, or soon afterwards, the system would become more than self-sustaining. It may not be amiss to call attention to the fact that many manufacturing cutclprioce can iro itttluood iu luvt*to iu those places only that have a convenient and ample supply of good water ; also to the direct saving of cupital by reduction of insurance, which invariably follow the installation of fire-hydrants, and an indirect saving to a great extent from the fact that a good fire service will render the carrying of insurance less necessary. A properly constructed waterworks plant?no matter how small?is never worthless; but a sure foundation for a more extensive system as the growth of the place may demand. The idea that waterworks are to be only possessed by the larger cities is fast dying out, and now all but the smallest and deadest towns are rapidly adopting this plan for efficient fire protection and convenient water-supply. W. F. Robertson. Albany, Ga., March 4, 1893. A New Theory ok Leprosy.? Mr, Boyle, an eminent sanitarian of England, has been making a study of the leprosy in it native haunts in the East Indies. He says that he was especially struck with the enormous proportions that the evil has assumed in Burmah, where he found thousands of its wretched victims, and where no provisions are made for treating them or preventing their contact with other people. He found the same condition of affairs at Mandelay, and in the C1 m'lama flin fnriukio 3UI1UW1CII ISlilliua nntit mv ivmu.v disease has decimated the native population. Mr. Boyle has a curious theory that leprosy, if not originated by, owes its spreading largely to cannibalism, the disease "being spread wholesale through the eating of infected bodies." He has frequently seen in New Caledonia and the South Sea islands human bodies "hanging up in the native huts, intended for future repasts, though then in an advanced stage of decomposition and exhaling a sickening odor." SSTDr. Adler, of London, recently told the following story of the Emperor Hadrian, according to the New York Tribune. With the object of casting ridicule upon the Bible, Hadrian once said to a Jewish rabbi, "Why, your God is represented therein as a thief, for he surprised Adam in his sleep aud robbed him of oue of his ribs." "The rabbi's daughter, who was present, craved permission to reply, and when her request was granted she said : "Let me implore thine imperial protection. A great outrage has been indicted upon us." "What has happened ?" asked the Emperor. "In the darkness of the nigtit an audacious thief broke into our house. He took a silver flagon from our chest of plate and left a golden one in its place." "Would that such a robber would visit my place every day!" said Hadrian. "And was not the Creator such a thief as this?" retorted the girl, "for he stole from Adam a rib and in lieu thereofgave unto him a living, lovely wife." #?T"When you pass a farm," says a writer, "and see a large barn and a small house, you may know the man is boss. When you see a fine house and a dilapidated barn, you may understand that the woman has things her own way; and when there is a new house and a good barn, you may take it for granted that the woman and man are about equals." i 84a?" A gentlemen never attemps to he humorous at the expense of people : with whom he is but slightly acquainted. He would as soon hoard at their I cost, or request them to frank him at their tailor's. In fact, it is neither i good manners nor wise policy to joke at anybody's expense?that is to say, to make anybody uncomfortable merely to raise a laugh.. ffdT A man who is rough and awk; ward at everything else will show a delicacy and skill greater than any woman's when he has to patch a torn ten-dollar bill.?Atchison Globe.