tumorous Department. HIS OTHER PARCEL. Stories of absent-minded people art constantly accumulating. Lately one has beon told in connection with i benevolent old gentleman who lives in a suburb of Boston. He was seer by one of his neighbors, shortly be fore Christmas, seated in the trair bound for home, bis arms filled wit! parcels. In response to a friendlj greeting, he turned a perplexed face upon his fellow-townsman, as he made room for him to sit down. "How do you do?" he said, absent ly. "I'm glad to see you, but you'l. excuse me if I seem a little distraught for I'm sure I've forgotten one parcel T mua tn rrot. hpfnre enminc to the train, and yet I can't remember whai it is. I didn't expect to go home till the next train, but I can't remembei what the other errand was, and ] seemed to have finished all I had tc do, so here I am." He counted and re-counted hi? bundles until just as the preparatory bell rang, and then be sank back ic his seat with a sigh. "I shall have to give it up!" he murmured. "Probably it wasn't of much consequence," said bis neighbor, in a comforting tone. "Tell me, how is youi wife ?" "Mercy on me!" cried the old gentleman, rising hastily, while his bundles rolled under the seat and out into the aisle as he clambered over his companion's feet. She's the parcel I forgot! I was to meet her! Will you kindly leave my parcels with the station master?" And just as the train began to move, the old gentleman sprang nimbly from the back platform of the car, and hurried off to get his forgotten "parcel," leaving a earful of people convulsed with merriment. He Had to Speak.?'"Laura," said George, with an eager, restless yearning in his gaze, "may I ask a favor of you, dear ?" They had sat in the darkened parlor for hours, in the eloquent communion of soul with soul which needs no articulate sound to give it language. But something impelled George to speak. The longing that surged up from his very heart must find expression in words. Therefore he had spoken. "What is it, George?" she whispered. "It may involve some sacrifice, darling. Bat believe me, Laura, it is for the best." "What is it, George?" she repeated, in a voice that trembled as with a vague foreboding of coming disaster. "You will believe me, dearest," he said, with an agitation Becoming every moment more uncontrolable, "when I say that I am driven to ask it by circumstances over which I have no control, that I have pondered long over it, and am not acting from hasty impulse?" "Yes! Yes!" the beautiful young girl exclaimed, with quivering lips. "What is it you ask, George? What is it?" "Darling," he said, and the wild, imploring look on his face thrilled her to the inmost depths of her being, "I wish you would sit on the other knee awhile. This one is getting horribly tired!" m + Roughly Silenced.?Archbishop Whately had a rough tongue?he was called Ursa Major?the Great Bear? at Oxford?a fact unknown to a young aide-de-camp who at a party in Dublin Castle attempted to cross words with the prelate. Approaching the primate of Ireland, the youth asked, "Does your grace know what is the difference between an ass and an archbishop ?" "No," was the grave answer. Then the youth went on, "An ass has a cross on bis back, but an archbishop has a cross on his breast." "Very good," said the archbishop. "Now will you tell me what is the difference between a young aide-decamp, like yourself, and an ass?" "I don't know," said the youth. "Neither do I," said the archbishop, and walked away. t&F Little Lucy lives in Wellesley Hills, and is not quite two years old. An aunt has begun ber mathematical training by counting "one?two?" then Lucy will add, "three jump," and a toss in the air is the invariable reward. Last night Lucy's mother thought that as she understood counting so well she should be taught the regulation child's prayer. So she took Lucy on her kuee, and, said ; "Now, dear, repeat after mamma softly, 'Now I lay me.'" The words were lisped out, and the young mother continued, "down to?""three?jump !" came iustantly from Lucy. That prayer was not finished last night. Packing and Praying.?A certaic clergyman gave it out from the pulpil one night that he had received a cali to a wider sphere of usefulness in t larger town (and presumably a large] stipend). He could not, he said, make up his mind, but was going to tak< some time to think of it and pray foi guidance. A fortnight later one of th< congregation met the pastor's eldes son, and asked if his father was goinj t.r? Tt . "Well," said Johnny (aged 13), "pi is still praying for guidance, but mos of the things are packed." He Had Experience.?First Burg lar?It's no use tryin' thet place to night, Bill. Ther man an' his \vif< went in 'bout an hour ago an' I heen him tell her he'd buy her a di'mon< necklace termorrer. Second Burg lar?What has thet got t' dowidit' "Plenty ! She won't be able t' slee] fer t'inkin' 'bout it, an' he won't slee] fer t'inkin' how he's got t' pay fer it.' ?hc jstonj Srltcr. , HIS WORD OF HONOR. 5 1 FROM THE FRENCH OF JEAN DU REBRAC. 5 ? . i He was only a boy, not yet 16, but i they were going to shoot him, neveri theless. ' The band of insurgents to which he ; belonged had been routed by the army s of Versailles, and, taken red-handed with some 10 of his comrades, he bad - ? t? . v,? been conducted to me luuine ui mo I Eleventh Arrondissement. , Struck by his youthful appearance, I and also astonished at the boy's coolness in this hour of extreme peril, the ? commandant had ordered that the I fatal verdict should, so far as be was concerned, be suspended for the mol ment, and that he should be kept a ? prisoner until his companions bad met their fate at the neighboring barri ! cade. ' Apparently quite calm and resigned, i his great eyes and his face?the pale face of a Parisian child?showed neith> er emotion nor anxiety. He seemed to watch all that was passing around him as though they held no concern for him. He heard tha sinister report ' of the fusillade which hurled his companions into eternity without moving a muscle; his calm, fixed gaze seemed to be looking into the great "After> wards," which was soon to become i the "Present" to him also. Perhaps he was thinking of bis happy, careless childhood?he had hardly outgrown t it; perhaps, of his relations and their sorrow when they heard of the chain i of fatality which had made him fatherless and had tossed him into the seething turmoil of civil war, and now demanded his life at the hands of fellow-countrymen; and, perhaps, he wondered why such things were. At the time war was declared and he was living happily with his father and mother, honest working folk who bad apprenticed him to a printer; nolitics never troubled that little household. It was Dot long, however, before the , Prussians had slain the bead of the family. The privations of the siege, the long and weary wailing at the butchers' and bakers' shops when the scanty dole of food was distributed in the rigor of that terrible winter, had stretched his mother on the bed of suffering, where she lay slowly dying. One day when he had gone with others to dig for potatoes in the frostbound plain of St. Denis, a Prussian bullet broke his shoulder, and afterward, driven partly by hunger, partly by fear of bis companious' threats, he bad enrolled himself in the army i of the Commune. Like many another, fear and fear only had led him into and kept him in the ranks; he had no heart for a war of brothers, and now that his life was about to pay the penalty he was glad tbat he could lay no man's death to his charge. He was innocent of that, at any rate. The things he bad seen and suffered during the last few months had given , him a dread of life. He hated to think of leaving his mother in this terrible world?his mother whom be . loved so dearly, who had always been so inexpressibly good to him ; but he comforted himself with the thought that before long she would come, too ?she could not have much more suffering to undergo, she was so weak when he last saw her, four days ago. "Kiss me again, dear?again," she had said, "for I feel that I may never see you more." "Ah," he thought, sadly, if they nrsvuM nniu frnst. him?would erive him only one hour of liberty?how he would run to her and then come back and give himself up to the hand that hungered for his life. He would give his word, and he would keep it. Why not? Save his mother?and she, too. was dying?he had no one to regret. To see her again, to kiss her dear lips once more, console, encourage her, and leave her hopeful?then he could | face death bravely." He was in the midst of these sad reflections when the commandent followed by several officers, approached him. ' "Now, my fine fellow, you and I have a score to settle; you know what awaits you ?" "Yes, mon commandant, I am ready." J "Really? So reacy as all that? , You are not afraid of death ?" "Less than of life. I have seen so much the last six months?such awful things?death seems better than such a life." "I wager you would not hesitate if I gave you your choice. If I said, | 'Put your best foot foremost and show me how soon you can be out of sight,' you would soon be off. I'll warrant." 1 "Try m'e, mon commaudant, try me ! ' Put me to the proof; it's worth a trial. ' Oue more or less for your men to shoot, what does it matter ? One hour of freedom only, not more; you shall i see whether I will keep my word, and t whether I am afraid to die." I "Oh! da! you're no fool, but you i must take me for one. Once free and r far away, and then to come back to be i shot just as you would keep an ordinai ry appointment ? You will hardly get r me to swallow that, my boy !" i "Listen, sir, I beg of you. Perhaps t you have a good mother ; you love ner, ; your mother, more than aught else in the whole world. If, like me, you t were just going to die, your last t thoughts would be of her. And you would bless the man who gave you the opportunity of seeirg her once more, - for the last time wlon, commandaut, do for me what you would pray others i to do for you. Give me one hour of 1 liberty, and I will give you my word 1 of honor to return and give you my self up. Is life itself worth a promise ? broken ?" o While he was speaking the commano dant was pacing to and fro, tugging " viciously at his mustache, and evident ly struggling hard to appear unmoved. " 'My word,' " he murmured. "This urchin talks of 'my word' as though he were a Knight of the Round Table !" He stopped abruptly in front of his prisoner and asked in a severe tone, "Your name ?" "Victor Oury." "Age ?" "Sixteen on the 15th of July next." "Where does your mother live ?" "At Belleville." * i i * _ r_ 11 " \v Dai maae you leave uer iu lunuw tbe Commune?" "The 30 sous chiefly ; one mu9t eat! Then the neighbors and my comrades threatened to shoot me if I did not march with them. They said I was tall enough to carry a musket. My mother was afraid of them, and wept and prayed for me to obey them." "You have no father, then ?" "He was killed." "And where ?" "At Bourget, fighting for his country." The commandant turned toward his stafif as though he would consult them at a glance. All seemed moved to interest and pity. "Well, then ! it is understood," the officer said, gravely, after a moment's reflection. "You can go and see your mother. You have given me your word of honor to be back again in an hour. C'est bein. I shall know then whether you are a man of character or simply a cowardly boy. I give you until evening. If you are not here by 8 o'clock I shall say that you are a braggart, and care more for life than honor. Allons 1 Quick march !" "I thank you, mon commandant. At 8 o'clock I will be here." "You are sure?" "Certain." "We shall see when the time comes." The boy would have thrown his arms about the officer in his wild joy and gratitude, but tbe latter repelled him eentlv. "No, not now," he said. "This evening, if you return, I will embrace you?in front of the firing party," he added, grimly. "Off with you !" Victor ran like a hare. The officers smiled as they watched him disappear. Twenty minutes later he knocked at his mother's door, and the ueighbor who was tending her opened to him. She started and exclaimed when she saw him, for, like every one else, she believed him dead. He would have rushed to his mother's room, hut the woman stopped him. "Go very quietly," she said in alow voice; "she is asleep. She has been very ill since you went away, but she is a little better now. Tbe doctor said yesterday that if she could sleep she would soon get stronger; she must not be awakened. Poor thing! she will be glad to see you, for she has asked for you so often. When she was not calling you she was praying the Bon Dieu to preserve you and to restore peace in the land. Helasl oue would say he had abandoned us, the Bon Dieu, and let men do just as they liked. It is awful!" But Victor, impatient, though he heard bis name called in a faint voice. He moved on tiptoe toward his mother's bed. He had not been deceived? the sick woman's eyes were opened wide. "Victor! my boy !" she cried, in her thin, weak voice. Without a word he lay down beside her and her arms closed around him hungrily. And now the boy who had faced death so impassively could do naught but sob. Now. in his mother's arms, he became a child once more, timid, despairing. The sick woman, who seemed to gain strength from his presence, sought in vain to console him. "Why do you distress yourself so, my child, my best beloved ?" she asked. "You shall never leave me again. We will throw that hateful uniform away ; I never want to see it more. I will make baste and get well; I feel so much stronger since you came. Soon you will go to work again, and you will grow up and marry some good girl. The past will only look like a bad dream then, and we will forget it completely ; completely dear." Poor soul, how should she know that her picture of a bright future only deepened her boy's anguish ? She was silent, telling herself that t he best way to dry tears is to let them flow freely. She kissed him and let his weary bead fall back on the pillow, and then she gave herself up to dreams of happier days in store for both of them. Victor's sobs grew frequent and less violent, and soon nothing could be heard in the little room but the regular breathing of the mother and her child. Ashamed of his weakness, the boy forced himself into self-control, and then he raised his head from the pillow, once more believing himself stronger that love of life, his mother, yielding to the reaction which her sudden joy had caused, was sleepingly peacefully. The sigl; restored his energies. A kind Providence, he thought, had wished to spare him a scene which his strength and courage could not have borne, and he resolved to go at once. Lightly he kissed his mother's forehead, and gazed at her earnestly 1 or a few moments. She seemed to smile, he thought; then he went out hurriedly and returned to his post as quickly as he had come, not seeing a soul he met not daring to look behind him. "What! so soon ?" the commandant cried, astonished. He had hoped, like the good-hearted man he was, that the boy would not return. "But I had promised !" "Doubtless, but why be in such a hurry? You might have stayed with your mother sometime longer, and still have kept your word." "Poor mother! After a scene of tears which seemed to take all my courage?tears of joy for her, of despair for me?she fell asleep so calmly, so happily, that I dare not wait for her to wake. She fell asleep with her arms about me, thinking I should neve- leave her again. How could I have told her the truth ? Who knows whether I should have had the courage to leave her after doing so? Aud what would you have thought of me if I had not come back ? "So I kissed her, and slipped away like a thief while she was sleeping, and here I am. Pray God may be good to her as she has been to me. Mon commandant, I have one more thing to ask ?to finish quickly." The officer looked at the boy with mingled pity and admiratiou. His own eyes were full of tears. "You are quite resigned, then ; i- *j ?? on UtiniLi uues uut inguicu juu i uc asked. Victor answered him with a gesture. "And if I pardoned you ?" "You would save my mother's life, too, and I would revere you as a second father." "Allons, you are a plucky lad, and you have not deserved to suffer as you have done. You shall go. Embrace me first?bien! Now go, and go quickly. Join your mother, and love her always." As he spoke the last few words the officer took the boy by the shoulders and pushed him away gently. "It really would have been a pity," he said, half apologetically, to bis staff as he turned toward them. Victor did not run?he flew home. His mother was still sleeping. He would dearly have liked to cover her with kissis, but he did not dare to wake her, although her sleep seemed troubled. He lay down again beside her. Suddenly she sat up crying: "Mercy Victor! My child ! Oh I Mercy !?Ah ! you are here; is it really you," she added, waking. Her thin, weak hands wandered all over him ; she pressed him close to her and rained kisses on his face. Then she was shaken by convulsive sobs, which Victor could not calm. "Oh I my boy! my boy !" she moaned, "I dreamed they were going to shoot you!" Jp POWDER I Absolutely Pure To You! THEY were passing the inevitable subscription paper for the benefit of the family of the "good fellow," says The Montreal Underwriter, who had suddenly died. Said one business man: "I give this little for the relief of their immediate wants, and I give under protest. Nothing will I give to create a fund for the relief of the dead man's family, however. You ask why ? I reply because in these enlightened days of life insurance no man has a right or excuse for leaving a destitute family. He has no moral, and he should have no legal right, to create a family unless he has and will agree to keep a good-sized policy on his life. If uninsurable, he should not be allowed to marry. I knew G. (the deceased) well. He bad a good income and could have been well insured. Now, why should I or any other man be expected to contribute out of our savings to pay G.'s debts?" Why should I pay for his selfishness, or his carelessness or extravagance? The idea that anybody should put a premium on selfishness is a wrong idea, and these coilections for destitute families are responsible for much improvidence and selfish neglect of life insurance. Men should be impressed with a knowledge of their duty to save and to insure by the entire absence of any makeshift in the form of a post mortem collection. Let us be just as well as generous." The Foregoing Remarks were made by a business man way up in Canada, but the points he makes will apply as well in South Carolina, as there. It is true that kind hearted and sympathizing friends often have many words of sympathy for the bereaved widow and ornhans immediately before and after the funeral, and sometimes go so far as to render substantial temporary aid, but can't and DON'T KEEP IT UP, and the widow and orphans without property or cash are sure to suffer. Nothing Is More Uncertain than human life. Death is inevitable and often comes upon a man suddenly and unawares leaving his family and those dependent upon him entirely without support, and in spite of THIS FACT many men decline to insure, or tail to do so. Reader, are you one who has neglected this duty? Do you think, honestly, that you are acting in a manly way ? There Is Absolutely No Excuse for not protecting those dependent on you. We represent The Mutual Reserve Fund Life Association, of New York, which we know to be the best and STRONGEST life insurance organization in the world. It furnishes absolutely gilt edge protection and its rates are as low as honest and RELIABLE insurance can be furnished. We are always anxious to furnish full particulars to either men or women who want protection for their loved ones, and will take pleasure in talking to you?the reader?on the subject if you will kindly signify a desire to have us do so. Call on us or invite us to call on you. Either way will suit us. Hard times?your excuse?dou't cut any ice with the dread reaper. SAM M. A L. GEO. GRIST, General Aeents Yorkville, S. C. F1MEY ?fc BKICE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, Yorkville, S. C. ALL business entrusted to us will be given prompt attention. OFFICE IN THE BUILDING AT THE REAR OF H. C. STRAUSS'S STORE. THE TW'ICK-A-WEEK ENQUIRER IS an up-to-date family newspaper, always tilled with clean and wholesome home reading and is published and mailed on time. Subscription price, $2; in clubs of two or more, $1.75. Everybody is invited to make up clubs. YORKYILLE FOR HERE IS THE OPPORTUNI1 OF CHARACTE TO GET IIP CLUBS FOl Pleasant V and Cerl IN UNUSUALLY VA1 Two High Grade Buggies a Leaders and Every COMMENCE TODAY BETWEEN this date and the MIDDLE OF MARCH, it Is usual for the people of this section to select their reading matter for the following year. Being one of the cleanest, most enterprising and reliable newspapers in the state, it Is natural, therefore, tnat THE YORKVILJ-E ENQUIRER should also be one of the most popular. Ninety per cent, of the families In the county desire it as a regular visitor to their homes, and all those who can afford It, may reasonably be looked upon as probable subscribers. One of the most serious drawbacks, probably, is the Inconvenience of writing letters, sending money and attending to the matter of subscribing at the proper time. It Is this fact that makes it especially desirable for us, Just at this time, to secure the services of a large number of intelligent and energetic assistants,and to make It worth their wnlle to give the matter their attention, we are making the liberal offers which \yc will presently explain. The price of a single subscription one year Is TWO DOLLARS. This Is to the individual who does not give his name to a clubmaker ; but sends it direct to this office. In clubs, however, the nrlce is only ONE DOLLAR AND SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS. That Is the price which the subscriber pays the clubmaker, and the price which, under all circumstances, he Is expected to pay us. Now to our propositions: THREE BIG PREMIUMS. The three leading premiums are a CAROLINA BUGGY, a ROCK HILL BUGGY, and a MONARCH BICYCLE, for lady or gentleman. The "Rock Hill Buggy" Is to be a quarter leather top, and the "Carolina" an open buggy. Both vehicles are to be of the very best grades manufactured by the respective well-known establishments. The Bicycle Is to be of the highest grade manufactured by the Monarch Cycle Company, and the Monarch wheel, as every wheelman knows, is without a superior. TERMS OF THE CONTEST. The clubmaker who returns ana pays ror the largest number of subscribers?NEW AND OLD?will be entitled to the choice of the three above described premiums. The clubmaker who returns and pays for the largest number of NEW NAMES, will be entitled to second choice. The clubmaker who returns the second largest number of names?new and oldwill be entitled to the third choice. In other words, the first choice goes to the largest club ; the second choice to the largest number of new subscribers; and the third choice to the second largest club of old and new subscribers. OTHER PREMIUMS. In addition to the competitive premiums mentioned above, we also offer various other premiums for clubs containing specified numbers of names, and propose to deliver the premiums whenever tne numbers specified are returned and paid for. Upon securing one premium?a watch or sewing machine, say? the clubmaker will be at liberty to try for the same thing again, or for anything else on the list, and if in the aggregate, by the 9TH DAY OK MARCH, 189s, he snail have succeeded in returning and paying for the largest number ot NEW NAMES, he will be entitled to the SECOND CHOICE of the three leading premiums mentioned above, Just the same as if he had not previously taken other premiums. Now, then, read the list: For 60 Subscribers, We will give the clubmaker his choice of the following premiums, each valued at 825: A FOUR DRAWER "ENQUIRER" SEWING MACHINE, together with all attachments; a "HOUSEKEEPER'S" SET OF KNIVES, FORKS AN D SPOONS, made by Rogers; a "WALTHAM" WATCH in coin silver, dustproof case: a NO.0 AUTOHARP. a BANJO. GUITAR, MANDOLIN, or VIOLIN. For 40 and Less Than 60 SUBSCRIBERS, we will give the clubmaker his choice of the following, each valued at Sid: WALTHAM WATCH, in open face sliver ease; set of half dozen ROGERS BROS'. KNIVES and FORKS (11' PIECES): NO. 4 AUTOHARP, BANJO, MANDOLIN, GUITAR, or LOW ARM SINGER SEWING MACHINE. For 30 and Less Than 40 oTTTUlO T"? T T> T7* T> C aViaIaq nf fhn folloU'l D CT Pf)f>b OUDOV^iVlDrjlVO. VI mv iv?ivT>...Dt V%-? valued at 810: NEW YORK STANDARD 7-JEWELED WATCH In dust-proof case; UK ( OLD FILLED WATCH CHAIN, or HALF DOZEN TEASPOONS. HALF DOZEN TABLESPOONS and BUTTER KNIFE (13 PIECES). Address, L. M. GRIS1 October 23,1897. WHEN YOU WANT TO have your PHOTOGRAPH takeD you should not fail to come and see me. I have been in the "picture taking" business for a great many years, and am confident that I know my business. It has always been my desire to please my customer:. I am prepared to take Photographs in the latest styles and at reasonable prices. HAVE YOU ANY Photographs that you would like to have enlarged? If you have, come and see me about it. I can do the work. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW Where my Photograph Gallery is, ask | anyone in town and they can tell you. DURING THE WINTER, You will find my Gallery warm and pleasant. Come and see me whenever you need photographs. Respectfully J. R. SCHORB. THE CENTURY. IN my advertisement, "Whetstones For the Brains," The CENTURY Magazine was inadvertently placed in the list of $3.00 magazines. The price of The Century is ?4.00, and I am prepared to receive subscriptions at that price. OLIVER E. GRIST. HUM 1898. ry FOR PEOPLE R, ENERGY ANU UAPAUIT d A POPILAR PAPER, Vork, Good tain Pay SUABLE PREMIUMS. ind a Monarch Bicycle the Worker a Winner. AND KEEP AT IT. For 20 and Less Than 30 SUBSCRIBERS, we will give a N*0. 2% AUTOHARP, valued at 87.50; or THE ENQUIRER and any monthly magazine or weekly newspaper published in the United States, for one year. For 10 and Less Than 20 SUBSCRIBERS, a CONCAVE WARRANTED RAZOR, SILVER PLATED GRAVY LADLE, or an extra quality FOUR BLADED POCKET KNIFE, with name and address on the handle. Any of the articles mentioned would be a bargain at $2. For 6 and Less Than 10 i SUBSCRIBERS, a "CLIMAX" WATCH, warranted for one year ran extra quality THREE BLADED POCKET KNIFE, or CHILD'S SILVER PLATED TABLE SET. Good values at $1.50. For 4 and Less Than 6 SUBSCRIBERS, a "YANKEE" WATCH, Ann von*