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. ^ ^ ggBII-.WEEKI,^ ^ , i. m. oeist * sons, Publishers, j % <jfamil|j Jteirspaper: Ifor f romotion of the political, Social, Agricultural and dtommenciat Interests of (he people. {T?RMs?KoL0corT.EFivENcEK?A1,CE' ESTABLISHED 1855. YOBKVILLE, S. C., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1899. NUMBER 70. THE MYSTE - COUNTJ By FRED V Copyright, 1899, by the American Press Assocla * Synopsis of Previous Installments. In order that new readers of The Enquirer may begin with the following installment of this story, and understand it just the same as though they had read it all from the beginning, we here give a synopsis of that portion of it which has ' already been published: Count Boris Landrinof, a young Russian student at Oxford, receives a telegram from his mother that his father, | Count Yladimer Landrinof, is missk ing and asking him to return to Russia at once. Beford starting for home Boris meets his friend Percy Morris, who i tells him that he saw his father that very day in London. Boris, ou arriving in Russia, finds tjjat his father had gone to the railway station, but bad not taken a ' train. Here the trail was lost. Boris learns from a peasant that he had driven three men to a post station. Percy arrives in Russia, and he and Boris interview the master of the post station and 1 are told that the postmater drove the i party referred to to St. Petersburg. Percy and Boris direct him to drive them to , where he left the party, and be drives ; them to the Landrinof residence. Bo- ] rofsky, a detective, is employed, and it is decided that Percy shall return to London and endeavor to obtain a photograph ot the man resembling the missing count. 1 Percy secures the photograph, which I greatly resembles the count. The count- i ess then tells her son that her father had a brother who fell into criminal ways. Borofsky goes to London for the purpose 1 of bringing back the man who resembles i Count Landrinof. Borofsky follows his , uapc tr? olnHo him ThflV have an interview, and the man agrees to return with him to Russia. Borofskyand the supposed count return. Boris does not believe that the latter is bis father's brother, Andrew Landrinoff. The man (Andre) pretends never to have heard of the count's criminal brother. CHAPTER XVIL ANDRE'S STUDENT VISITOR. After this conversation Borofsky declared that he bad no doubt whatever that our sham count was Andre Landrinof. But. though mother and I were quite disposed to agree with him. we could not think of any way in which this fact could be brought into connec^ tion with the mystery of father's disappearance. Nevertheless, though we knew it not, we were now at last on tbe eve of more important discoveries than that of the mere identity of our guest. We were gbout to strike a trail and a strong one. Among those who visited our guest, whom I shall crave permission to call Andre henceforth, since it was from this time that we became accustomed to regard him as undoubtedly father's < worthless brother; among the shabby \ looking persons who visited Andre and j held long consultations with him in the i apartments set aside to his use was a < student, one of that plaided and spec- < tacled class of individuals, half famiehed and obviously ill nourished and pov- j erty ridden, of whom there are many < hundreds in St Petersburg and from \ among whom the ranks of the disaflEect- ( ed are principally recruited, for the lot j of the Russian student is a miserable t *' one indeed, and it is no wonder that he y is a reckless, discontented individual, only too ready to become the dupe or ? the accomplice of those who preach cru- | aades against property and those who possess it. For he is not like the under- j graduate of Oxford or Cambridge, pass- | ing rich upon a more or less liberal al, ' lowance from his father or his guardian. ' The Russian student keeps himself and | pays his own fees in most cases. He t gives lessons during the hours which are free of lectures, and by means of i the income thus earned he gains just ; enough to pay his university fees and j to starve handsomely on what is left over. The little student who visited j Andre caused poor Borofsky an im- i mense amount of annoyance and tron- ] ble, for he was the only one of Andre's vieitors (of whom there were several) ; whom he bad hitherto failed to track < to his home, wherever that might be ] Borofsky now knew the address of all the rest of the friends of our highly respectable guest. He also knew all the houses haunted by Andre himself, which were doubtless the homes of these same ^ worthies, but the student had been too i clever for Borofsky and would never al low himself to remain long enough in , view to be shadowed for more than a i few minutes at a time. i "He's like a will o' th6 wisp," Borofsky complained. "Yon think you've , got him safe in your eye, and, batzi? he's gone?whithert Heaven knows; I don't Yet he doesn't suspect ma He has never seen me, except in disguise, , and not twice in the same. Why is he , so suspicious?" "Bad conscience," said Percy, and I've no doubt he hit the right nail on the head. One afternoon in November Borofsky came hurriedly into the billiard room, where Percy and I were busy knocking the balls ^bout for want of a better occupation. "I want your help, both of you," he said. "That confounded young student is in with Andre. When he goes away, we must make another attempt to follow him. I must and will knew where he goes Will you help, both of you?' Though I did not quite see of what use the addresses of all these rascals were to be to us, excepting as strength1 % :ry of .andrinof. TTTTOTT A TXT ? niojaa vv. tlon. ening a case against Andre fn the event of our requiring such evidence, I consented to help Borofsky to shadow his will o" the wisp, and so did Percy. "Good," said Borofsky "Now, see here I am going to take up my stand at the corner of the palace bridge. I shall be in disguise. One of you can go toward the Liteynaya, to the right along the quay, and watch in some gateway or porch in case he goes that way The other should wait until he hears the fellow departing. Keep this door open, and you'll hear him go down into the grand halL I shall warn the porter to look which way he turns up or down the quay and to let you know the instant you appear. Don't lose a minute, but follow him." Percy and I tossed up for the choice of duties, and I won. I chose that of shadowing our man from the very door I preferred a chase to an ambush, having a strong objection to shivering in a gateway in hopes of catching sight of the quarry. So away went Borofsky to the Dvortsovui Most, or palace bridge, and out sallied Percy to stand and shiver in his porch up Liteynaya way. I sat and read, expectant, prepared to dari; forth after my quarry, like a tiger that lies and waits for the native postman just about due (as he knows) to trot through the jungle with the afternoon post; like a spider on the lookout for the fly which Is audible, bnzzing close at hand, bnt has not yet qnite made up its mind to :ome and be eaten, and like a great many other things too numerous to specify. At last I heard Andre's door open and shut. There were light steps running juickly down the marble etairs into the hall, the great door was open, and? and then I was up and after him. "He's gone to the left," whispered old Gregory, the ball porter, "running like a hare." Well, if it came to running like a aare, I flattered myself I could probably go one better than any Russian student, will o' the wisp or otherwiee. that ever "sprinted a hundred I" Away I scudded, running on ray toes, noiselessly?I had put on a pair of tenuis shoes on purpose, for I wished to do my best for poor Borofsky this time. It tvas nearly dark and a cold evening, rery different from an English Novemuer evening There had been a hard frost for a week, and the Neva was covsred with rough pack ice. In a day or two the restrictions against crossing the ce world would be removed, and roads would be formed over Neva's bosom in ;verv direction thut a short cut to any xmceivable spot would justify. My man had not ran far. I saw him pass beneath a lamp 80 yards in front )f me, walking quickly He did not inrn to go over the palace bridge, though he appeared to be about to do so jnd changed his mind. Could he have seen Borofsky? I did. at any rate, and whispered to him as I paesed "It's all right. Borofsky," I said. "Leave this hunt to me: I'm blood aot!" Then 1 continued down the quay, paet the admiralty and straight for the English quay and the senate. There were very few people about The student hastened along, half runQing, half walking, and I after him. about 30 yards away, going noiselessly Suddenly he turned and saw me, or 3aw, at any rate, that he was followed. Be did not know me by sight. Observing this, the student spurted, going a very fair pace for a Russian, but I easily held my own. He turned and observed that he had gained nothing upon me and, like a wise man, slowed down. As for me, I did not care whether he liked to be followed or not or what he thought about it. I intended to follow him to the end. I therefore made no attempt to conceal my intention, but just went straight on. I could see that the poor fellow was growing very anxioua He did not like it. He ran into the Admiralty square and dodged round the Great Peter statue and into the Galernaya, where there were more people and a better chance of giving me the slip, bat when he turned to see i was Btill behind him. Up the street he ran, or half ran, 1 after him and almost at his heels, for I was not going to be shaken off in the crowd, and so we reached the top, at the Nicholas palace, close to the great stone bridge of the same name, and over this bridge he made as though he would go. But suddenly another idea struck him. He turned aside from the bridge and, running quickly down the steps that lead to the water, climbed the "danger" obstruction and'got upon the ice with the evident intention of shaking me off by attempting the dangerous and forbidden enterprise of crossing the Neva before the ice had been pronounced safe. I confess I did not like it It was too cold and too dark for a bath. There was no particular reason for shadowing this unfortunate little wretch all night, until in desperation he should dart into the squalid hole he called his home. What did his address^, matter to us?. I felt that I was doing a foofish thing. Yet I felt also that I must follow. Not because I expected to gain anything by it, bat becanse the English blood in me was of the real old obstinate, bnlldog vintage, I suppose, and I mast stick to a thing once undertaken until I bad carried it through. So I followed with scarcely an instant's hesitation, and?well, sometimes the things which appear to be the most foolish turn out to be the wisest. I followed?risking my life? which was so unspeakably valuable to my dear mother, without once reflect ing tipon that domestic circumstance? and followed in the wiedom of utter foolishness, and? Away scudded my little will o' the wisp, taking a diagonal line in the direction of the mining corps, which is a good half mile or more from the bridge on the other side, and away Bcudded I after him. I could bear him run and pant in front of me. though it was bo dark out here in midriver that I could not see him. We had run, I should think, some 200 or 800 yards over the roughest possible ice that twisted one's ankles and "barked" one's shins at every other step when suddenly there was a scream, followed instantly by a splash and an agonized cry for help. CHAPTER XVIIL rescue of the student. My heart sank. I knew in an instant that I was in for an adventure, a wet ?J akaKoklrr and narhorta a UJUU CU1U uuc jjxuuauijt ouu U very dangerous ona I did not feel heroic. I don't think I am made that way, and I honestly avow that if I had thought this wretched student fellow would be sure to get himself out of the water without assistance from me I should gladly have turned at this emergency and gone quietly home. But unfortunately, or fortunately, my conscience would not hear of it for a moment "The little rascal will go under the ice in a minute," it said, "unless you go and pick him out of danger." I knew my conscience was perfectly correct. One's conscience is about the only thing in this world that is infallible. Conscience is always right and almost always disagreeable and unpleasant. If we listen to it?as we must in order to preserve that peace of mind without which life is not worth living?if we listen to its whisperings, we are obliged, at times, to do very revolting thingsand to leave undone many pleasant ones. On thisoccaeion I felt bound to leave untasted the pleasure of sneaking home, dry and safe, and to undertake the revolting duty of risking my life in order to save this little wretch, now yelling m ~ * lor oeip, irULLJ tut) waicij grave ijuai yawned for him. It was very unpleasant, and I hated doing it. therefore, sarcastic reader, do not imagine that in describing my action, as I mnst now do, I desire to pass as in the slightest degree heroic. I do not I have confessed that I would rather have gone home. What I did I was obliged to do. whether I liked it or* no. and it was certainly "no." The little student had, I found, run straight into a bole in the ice. There were plenty of such holes, for the bosom of the river had not frozen over, be it remembered. The ice had floated down stream from Lake Ladoga and. becoming choked in the bends and bridges of the river, had packed and remained fixed. This is how the Neva becomes closed every year, for if the river had to wait fcr the frost to cover it from bank to bank before retiring from ben for its winter's rest, so strong is the current (I who write, being a rowing man, know that current full well) that many weeks and perhaps months would elapse be fore thfe ice roof, creeping from bank to bank toward tbe center of the Btream. could meet in tbe middle and span the whole rushing river. Bnt tbe pack ice has to fit in as best it can; the round pieces have to accommodate themselves into square holes, and the square ones into circular spaces; hence, there are many gaps for the first few days, and into one of these my little student bad run. It was fortunate indeed for him that he was not instantly sucked under the ice and helplessly drowned. Many poor wretches have come to no less sad an end by attempting to cross the Neva too early in autumn or too late in spring. They have splashed suddenly into water. There hae been, it may be. one shrill cry for help, and they have disappeared, no more to be seen or heard of in this world. But my little rascal, when I rushed up. was clinging like grim death to the edge of the ice, his nails dug into the snow, his stomach and chest tightly pressed against the rough ice margin, and his legs no doubt already drawn by the current well beneath the slippery surface which would afford his feet no I hold or resistance. Obviously he must let go in a minute or two. me current was tugging at him "for all it was worth," and as a pulling force it was worth a good deal. "Help I Hold me, for God's sake I I can't hang on another second I" he gasped. I ran round to his end of the hole, which was about eight feet long by four or five wide. There I secured the best foothold I could get, and then,, bending, seized my man by the collar of his shfrt, digging my fingers well down under his chin. When I felt I had him tight, I bade him try to struggle out. "I can't, I can't I" he gurgled. I sup pose I was half strangling him. "My legs are right away under the ice. I can't get them back. I have no power. Save me, for GotTs sake, whoever you are! I never did you harm!'' "I am trying to save you," I said. I pulled at him. It must have been a choky process for the poor fellow. But I could not move him. "Let go with your hands and I'll pull you along the edge up stream," I said. "Don't lose your head. It will be all right. I won't let you go I" "No. nol I can't, I daren'tI" he gasped. "If I lose my hold on the ice, the current will suck me away in an instant Hold on tight till some one cornea!" "No one will come," I said. "If you keep your head and let me pull you along quietly, you may be saved. Let go with your hands, I tell you." "I won't I" he screamed. "It's my only chanca Oh, the cold of it I Get a j good foothold and pulL " "Let go. you fooll" I said angrily. I "I can't move you this way, and the "Help! Hold meI 1 can't hang on another second!" strain of holding yon will weary me before lcng. Letgowith your bands!" Bnt the fellow screamed and refnsed. I came closer to the edge and got my band farther round toward the back of bis neck. Then I pulled at him, trying to force him to let go and float, so that I might tow him sideways to the edge. He would not loose bis frenzied grip, however. Then I forced the game. I purposely stepped upon one of his hands, and with a yell and a curse he let go. Quickly I pulled him backward and along. The plan succeeded admirably. * --.4 nnainat fKn nf 1 gui UlUi niucvvajo a^aiuoi iuw muu v* the ice, higher up stream, and hitched his face and' left shoulder upon the edge. But the frightened fool epoiled my game by loaing his head and sfcrng- ' gling to lay held of something for himself. Unfortunately the thing his hands first met and clntched was my left leg. He seized it and tugged. Heaven knows what be hoped to gain by the euicidal action. What he actually did was to cause me to slip and lose my balance. I fell close to the edge of the ice. and the fellow instantly clawed at me and pulled me into the water. By the mercy of Providence I kicked myBelf free of him as I slipped into my icy bath or he would have pulled me down beneath the surface, and we should have died together, fighting madly for a moment or two beneath the . ice. I don't think 1 was in the water five seconds; I cover even allowed myself to float down stream to the lower end of the hole. As I touched water I struck out upward and. seizing the rough edge of the ice. swung my chest i well out of the water and lay thus a second half in and half out The cur- i rent swept my legs up behind me and rather assisted me to make good my escape. In another second I lay full length on the ice, half dead wtih cold, but safe and grateful. i Then I thought of the student and i looted ronnd over my snouiaer as i struggled to my feet. He had gone. I i doubted not. beneath the ice and was by this time 50 yards away, bobbing his poor bead against the pitiless ice roof that kept him from life and hope ?drowning fast, perhaps already dead, i But, to my surprise, I saw that he still clung, exactly as be had clung at first, before my attempt to rescue him. to the farther edge of the ice. There he ( clung and gasped, trying to yell, but making very little noise, for his head had been under, I suppose, and he was , half choking with the water. My mind was quickly made up. I i knew what I should do now I had no intention of being pulled into the water 1 a second time. I might not be quite so ] fortunate as to kick myself free from | the frenzied little fool again. I ran round to his end. He saw me. j "Save me, save me I" he gasped. I I laid hold of him by the collar as be- j fore, using my right hand, as the , stronger; then with the left I dealt him ( as hard a blow on the ear as my doubled ( fio*/v->nlr1 ^ool in this awkward nnsitinn. i It proved hard enough for my purpose. Tho poor fellow gave a kind of snort His hands loosed their grip of the ice. his body floated backward and came unresistingly along in obedience to my tugs. He lay like a log, and like a log I dragged him out and stretchfed him on the dry ice?safe, half drowned, half stunned and more than half frozen, but safe, little as he deserved his safety. TO BE CONTINUED. piswltatuMW $tearting. SAYS NEGROES MUST GO. Open Letter on the Race Question From General M. C. Bulter. Columbia, S, C., dispatch, 25th. General M. C. Butler, former United States senator, has written for publication a letter dealing with the race Droblem. It is called forth by the re cent whipping of Negroes at Greenville. "I am no apologist for lawlessness at the hands of any class," he says, "but public meetings and denunciation will not cure this disease. It is in the blood and will break out somewhere else. You must strike at the root to eradicate it. The poor white men who have to earn their bread by the sweat of their faces cannot compete with cheap Negro labor. To attempt to do so implies tbeir degradation and ultimate destruction or expatriation. One race must go to the wall, and with the kindest feelings of good will toward the Negro, I faust side with my own race. Two races cannot live together in peace, on terms of equal, civil and political rights, and the sooner we realize that, the better for both races. "The separation of the races is the only solution of the terrible problem. It is very easy for Tillman and others to denounce the lawlessness of the 'one gallus, wool hat crowd.' Let Mr. Tillman and those who join him as the guardians of the Negro put themselves in the poor white man's place and walk between plow handles from sun-up till sun-down in competition with Negro labor at $5 a month, a peck of meal and three pounds of bacon a u/oolr "Some justification for this lawlessness may be dug from the depths of poverty into which cheap labor has plunged many worthy whites. Cheap labor is the curse of any country. The trials of white men for whitecapping would be a farce and lawlessness would not end. The government of the United States ought to appropriate $100,000,000 and duplicate it as often as necessary, to assist the Negroes in settling a colony to themselves. This was done for the Indians when they could not live at peace with the whites. A temporary inconvenience by the Negro leaving the country might reBult; but the whites would meet the emergency. "The wild harangues of men who openly advise the murder of the Tolberts and keeping the Negro in a state of quasi-slavery deserve the execration of right-thinking men. That is not the way to bring peace and order to a country. "The methods of the Negro do not justify an attempt to lift him up by increased wages. So long as the races are in immediate contact on present terms, lynchings, whitecappings, moblaw, every form of lawlessness, will constantly menace society, obstruct progress and keep up a state of anxiety." GENERAL BUTLER'S PLAN. Issue Is Taken With the General's Deportation Scheme. Washington Post. We hardly recognize our old friend, Hon. M. C. Butler, formerly senator from South Carolina, in a recent published utterance which makes him say that the only solution of the race issue at the south lies in the wholesale exportation of the Negroes. If we had been asked to name a man of General Butler's class in the whole south likely to cherish such a sentiment, we should have thought of him last of all. Nevertheless, he has spoken, (or he is so reported), and that being the case, we are bound to give him credit for sincerity, however astounding the proposition may seem coming from such a source. It is very certain that General Butler understands the social, political and industrial conditions in bis section as profoundly as any man alive. It is true also that he is a true and conscientious gentleman, who loves his country and his people. We are bound to assume, therefore, that there have been, in his state at least, transformations radical enough in their nature and alarming enough in their promises for the future, to justify him in the attitude be has now assumed. But we are fairly familiar with these conditions ourselves, and notwithstanding General Butler's melancholy postulate, we still believe that there is a practicable way out of the difficulty?for we do not regard General Butler's scheme as practicable. We do not believe that the Negroes can be expiated so easily. Thousands of them own their own homes. Thousands of them are industrous, conservative and prosperous. We should say hundreds of thousands, in fact. What right have we to tear them from surroundings where they are happy and comfortable? They ' are citizens with equal rights before the law, and so far as concerns the element we have in view, they are at least as desirable citizens as the "onecallus, wool-hat whites" who populate piuey woods and mountain ranges of the south. It may well be that quite i recently the situation has been altogether changed. We know of no such change, however, and we are not ready ' to believe that the welfare of the whites, either north or south, demands ' 3uch heroic?may we say violent?? treatment as General Butler has suggested. I It is urged that the "one-gall us, 1 wool-hat" whites caDiiot compete with the Negro, because the latter will work for lower wages than he can live upon. That may be true of certain parts of South Carolina, perhaps of Florida and Georgia also ; but on the great estates of Louisiana and Mississippi, maybe of Alabama, too, the industrious Negro makes very handsome profits of his labor, and no "poor white" should find himself unable to exist upon the same terms. Among the large planters in those three states the agricultural laborers enjoy excellent opportunities. He can either rent his "patch" outright or he can plant on shares with the proprietor. In either case, honest industry brings a competence. In either case the poor white has an equal opportunity. Both are furnished with homes, implements and seed, while their food and clothing, etc., were ad vanced to them. On the great sugar plantations the wages are higher than are paid to agricultural laborers anywhere. There the field band makes anywhere from $250 to $400 per annum, besides which he has his own house, his garden patch, pasture for his cows and horses, and his firewood? all free. If those "poor whites" to whom General Butler refers, cannot exist on such terms, it proves only that they are lazy and worthless, and that the deportation of the Negroes would not help them in the least. Men of such kind do not want to work at all; and if all the Negroes in the United States were exterminated at one blow, still there would not be an employer in the country who would pay them wages for doing nothing. General Butler's scheme, in our humble opinion, is not apropos. We cannot exile the Negroes, and, even if we could, the southerners of General Butler's kind would stubbornly oppose the plan. They do not want the poor whites in their houses. They do not want them in any relation whatsoever. They remember that-while the Negro remained faithful to their families during the Civil wr, the poor whites played the part c. spy and traitor. All through North Mississippi, North Alabama, North Georgia, East Tennessee and East Kentucky and Western North Carolina, the poor whites hated the Confederacy, hated the slaveholder and expressed that feeling in service to the Union armies. If one could obtain access to the private papers of General Thomas and General Sherman, who operated'largely in those districts, he would find proof of the fact strong as holy writ. Today they furnish a large proportion of the criminal classes of the south?the moonshiners, outlaws and lynchers. They are still, to all intents and pur poses, what their ancestors were when Oglethorpe brought them to Georgia in the Seventeenth century. If these people cannot make a living it is not the Negro's fault, and if the south bad the selection of the class to be deported, it would not choose the Negro. COMMISSION FOR JENKINS. Strong Effort to Get the Rough Rider MaJor Into the Volunteer Army. Colonel James H. Tillman is still doing all he can to secure a commission in the volunteer army for Major Micah Jenkins, and he is pursuing the work with unselfish zeal. He recently wrote to Governor McSweeney as follows: "My Dear Governor: Feeling deeply your kindness and that of other ? prominent South Carolinians in recommending me to the secretary of war for a majorship in the volunteer service, I beg to say that if South Carolina is to receive but one such commission I am persuaded that it should be given to Major Micah Jenkins who, as an officer in the Rough Riders, by his dauntless courage, commanded admiration of his superiors and the plaudits of every patriotic South Carolinian. His gallant father, the Confederate general, fell leading a desperate charge, and his brave son has proven himself worthy of the name he bears. A movement is now 09 foot in South Carolina and a sufficient sum has nearly been raised with which to present him with a sword, and at the proper time I shall ask your excellency to turn over the sword to Governor Roosevelt, His old commanaer, ior presentation to Major Jenkins. I do not hesitate to say that if Major Jenkins is appointed I will enlist under him as a private, although I but recently declined a commission. I beg that you read the enclosed letters from Colonel Roosevelt and Major General Wood." Every One Can Have a Date Palm.?About 12 years ago as Mrs. J. R. C. was eating dates she put one of the seeds into a jar of rich earth, "just to see if it would grow." It was early springtime, and in about six weeks a long, hard, green spike came up. After a little it unfolded and became a broad leaf, then in a short time another formed and took its place opposite, each leaf coming from the centre. On and on they grew, until now Mrs. C. has as fine a date palm as can be bought at a greenhouse for $25. A friend of Mrs. C., wishing to grow some, planted 50 seeds in a shallow box, and when Palm Sunday came she loo?oa frtnf innhoa Irtnor fn I1UU puiiii JV/C4 V V,0 iUUI IUVUVW W ? send to her friends. Care should be taken to plant the round end of the 3eed down.?New York Tribune. P&T The physician is the man who tells you that you need change, and then takes all you have.