Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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ISSUED SEMI-WEEKI.Y. t. m. grist & sons, Publishers. 1 A |)eirsp:tpcr: .cjfor the fromofion of the political, Social, Agricultural, and Commercial Jnterests of the people. Jtekus?^ear^i* a d\|at ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. P., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1899. .NO, i>9. THE FARM II A TALE OI By FLORENI Copyright, 1899, by Florence Warden. Synopsis of Previous Installments In order that new readers of The Enquirer may begin with the following installment of this story, and understand it List, thft 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: The Rev. Granville Masson, who is traveling In Wales, writes his brother, Dr. Reginald Masson that he is about to go on an excursion in the hills with a wild, uncouth, redheaded guide. After this nothing is heard of the clergyman. Dr. Masson goes to Wales, finds the inn from which his brother started and learns that he was going to the house of Mr. Tregaron, owner cf Monachlog farm, some six miles distant, under the guidance of a man nicknamed Coch Tal. Reginald starts in theafternoon, and, in his baste, without a guide, to make his way in face of a snowstorm to Monachlog farm. Perceiving a figure ahead of him, Reginald hastens and comes up with a large, redheaded man, who on seeing the doctor. shows signs of great terror and darts ahead. Reginald follows, feeling sure that the man is Coch Tal, and, overtaking him, calls him by that name; but the man again eludes him. He pursues the fugitive down a ravine till he arrives at the edge of a clitt", from the bottom of which comes a groan. Above him he hears a voice calling and, retracing his steps, comes upon a farmer, who conducts him to his house. The man's daughter is ill,and Reginald agrees to attend her. On the farmer's finger Reginald sees a ring that had belonged to his brother. Th house and the people in it are mysterious. There are an old woman, the farmer's young son. Tom, and a farmhand called Myrick. Reginald goes to the room of the sick girl, Gwyn, and, upon seeing him, she is struck with horror. Reginald sleeps in the kitchen in a chair before the fire. During the night he awakens to find that some one has entered the room and has evidently tried to rob him, suspicion pointing to the farmhand Myrick, who turns out to be Coch Tal, and the farmer turns out to be Mr. Tregaron and the place Monachlog farm. Tregaron tells Reginald that he found the ring on a hillside near by. Reginald watches at Gwyn's bedside, and she warns him to leave the place before morning. Everything and everybody about the place is mysterious. The old woman never speaks ; - *- T.I It- mr,/\H , out appears w oe saving , v.w?? j while Gwyn Is In constant terror. Reginald, seeing Coch Tal climbing a ladder to a loft, follows him, corners him in his bedroom and questions hint about his missing brother. (Joch Tal admits that he was Granville Masson's guide and says that Masson insisted on climbing where it was not safe. He disappeared, and Coch Tal never saw him afterward. Gwyn recovers and urges Reginald to depart. A heavy fall of snow prevents, and he believes that he will never get out of the place alive. While he is with Gwyn, Coch Tal comes to the door. Reginald goes out to him, and Coch Tal shows plainly that he is in love with Gwyn and jedous of Reginald and threatens him in case he does not depart at once. Reginald pacifies him and returns to Gwyn, who discloses that she hates Coch Tal; but evidently fears him. Reginald feels that she possesses the secret of his brother's disappearance. Reginald discovers a pit on the place and. while examining it, see the old womans watching him. She gives a satisfied chuckle. Gwyn relapses and acts strangely. Reginald, while watching with her. falls asleep. He awakes to find himself bound, a cfoth over his head, and hears Gwyn pleading for hint. She is telling some one, "lie loves me, and I love him, and he is going to marry me." Then Reginald is left alone with her. Gwyn does not explain the mystery, but the next day declares that the attack upon him was a trick to frighten him. She does not explain why she said that she and Reginald were to be married, but declares that such must be the understanding until she can secure his departure, when he will be free. Tregaron congrat ulates Reginald. Reginald determines to sleep in the loft with Coch Tal. He awakens to find Coch Tal bending over him and asking him to wake up and help him control his desire to kill him. CHAPTER XIX. OtVTy TREGARON'S STRANGE LOVER. "Devil V" Masson stammered out the word, repeating It from Coch Tal's speech, as the huge mountaineer stepped back and glared at him with glowing eyes. Aroused thus suddenly. Masson. who had fallen into a sound and dreamless sleep, almost thought for the moment that it was some emissary from the sulphurous regions of evil who thundered these threatening words In his ear. The next moment, coming to himself. and remembering the facts of his position, lie stretched his limbs, almost with unconcern, under the very nose of his antagonist. "Look here." said he at last, in a voice which was still sleepy, still weary, looking as he spoke straight Into the angry eyes of the other man, "I'm dead bent. I'm absolutely without means of defense if you choose to attack me. And I've had such a pretty time of it siuce I've been in this hole of a place that upon my word. I don't much care whether you knock out my brains or not!" And with these words he sat down on a wooden packing case which served both as a seat and a table and dropped his head listlessly Into his hands. He heard Cocli Tal's labored breathing, heard him throw down the ax with a force which made the tlooriug rattle, heard him nace up and down the bare floor with slow and heavy steps. And he heard also the snorting of the cattle In the shed below, and the stamping ol' the hoofs of one restless beast, startled by the uolse above. "Sir," said Coch Tal In a deep, vibrating voice as he stopped short in front of the doctor and put one hand upon him with a strong grip, "your brains are safe enough. I'd have liked to fight you fair and square, man to man. I'd have liked it dearly." and as he spoke his eyes blazed again and he clinched his teeth as a wave of hatred seemed to pass over him. lie suddenly released Masson's shoulder and stepped back, as if afraid that ills self control would give way. "But if you take It like that and if you don't care what becomes of you. why. I can't do nothiug." And In lii? turn hi> s:it down, ehoos lug the end of his bedstead for a seat and uursing liis crossed leg gloomily. Massou looked at him attentively. "Why should you want to light me?" asked lie. "Come, tell me the truth. I'm at your mercy up here, you know. Tell me the truth and have done with It and then throw me over iuto 0110 of the ravines or crevasses you have up here, which you find so convenient for the accidental disappearance of rash travelers who for some reasou or other are better out of the way.' Massou knew these words were an Insult of the grossest kind, but he did not care. The dangers which surrounded him ou every side made him reckless. If they chose to serve him as they had undoubtedly served his N THE HILLS. ^ MYSTERY. OE WARDEN. brother he could not help it. nnti ni least he would have the satisfaction of braving them to their face. So he did not even look up as he spoke to note the effect of his words. He did raise his head, however, when Coch Tal answered, not in the tones of fierce defiance lie had expected to hear, but in an awestruck, reproachful voice. "Sir. .vou never hear anything but the truth from me. believe me. Not all the truth sometimes. I dursn't always tell you all. But I never tell you no lies, and that's a true word." "Well." said Masson in a less antagonistic tone, "will you tell me. then, why you want to fight me?" "Yes. sir. I may tell you that." But he paused again. "Is it on account of my poor brother? And what I have said to you about him?" "No. sir; It ain't nothing to do with him." answered Coch Tal in a sorrowful tone. "It's because of Gwyn." "And what have I done that you should want to fight me on her account?" The veins in the peasant's face began to swell, and he clinched his fists convulsively. "What have you done? What haven't you done. sir. in the way of bringing misery and ruin and trouble to her? What have you done? Ila, ha, ha!" He uttered a short, hard laugh and then was suddenly silent. Masson stared at him with astonishment and apprehensiou. "Why, man." said he at last, "what tuad notiou have you got in your head? Because you love this girl yourself why must you Imagine that no other man can come near her without loving her? Your love and jealousy make you mad and blind and deaf to reason. She and 1 have been merely doctor and patient and nothing more." "You fool! Clever as you may be, and gentleman and doctor, too, you are no better than a fool where a woman comes in!" cried Coch Tal savagely, staring at him. with his head protruding and ills eyes on Are. "Merely doctor and patient! Ha. ha. ha! Poor lass, poor lass!" Masson looked at him in ever increasing amazement. IIow far had 1 Coch Tal's insane doubts and fears carried him? "Don't you know," said he at last, ignoring the peasant's abuse and trying to bring him to facts, "what Gwyn told her father? You beard. 1 am sure!" "Heard! Yes. I heard!" retorted Merrick sullenly and contemptuously. "1 heard her say you and her were engaged to marry. But I knew that It was only a blind. She only said it to get you away with a whole skin. Oh, I knew that." Ii.l.nt OVU fAH trrmhl!n<? vour 1 UVU ? w* ** Vfv. ? head about? If you are satisfied that 1 have never ibade love to her and that what site said was said only to help me to get safely away, what in the world have you to grumble about V" "That is what I've got to grumble about," retorted Coch Tal emphatically. "That it is all a make up. a make believe; that you care uo more for her tliau if she was the grass under your feet aud that you'll go away with a light heart and a free conscience and leave my poor girl to eat Iter heart out here in the hills, with never so much as a thought for her." Again Masson stared. "How often am 1 to tell you," said he, "that there has never been a question of love between us? 1 honor and respect aud admire her as a good, true, splendid woman. But that is not at all like the feeling you have for her"? Coch Tal interrupted him. throwing back his head and showing a face down which the tears were chasing each other. "No. mister." said he. in a trembling voice, "it's not the feeling I have for her. And no more it is the feeling she has for you." Masson was struck dumb. The man I spoke with the earnestness of strong conviction, and in a voice eloquent of 1 A n lluiiij uuu ucvj) cuiuiiuug. anci a. ouu? k pause he went on: "Sir, It's you that's been blind, not me. Love like what 1 have for Gwyn don't make a man blind; it makes him see better and clearer than he did afore. 1 knew when you came it meant danger for her?and for me! 1 felt it, sir, down in my very bones. It's superstition, they say, don't they, to know things are going to happen afore they come? Well, superstition it may be, but It helps as much ns another thing. And I knew it as plain that night you came as if I'd read it In the great book. I knew you'd come to steal my girl's heart away, aud that you'd care no more for what you'd got than I do for the cattle I tend and feed." I'pou these words lie broke down, aud ills voice became husky with suppressed sobs. An awful touching sight it was. this breakdown of the strong, tierce mountaineer, this melting of detiauce and dogged animosity under tin tire of the passion which consumed him. Masson was touched to the quick. "Merrick." said lie. gravely, "I never guessed this. I hope uow It is not true." "It's no use hoping." retorted Coeli Tal, with energy, "because I'm not guessing. I'm telling you wl:it's true, what I know. And I don't even say you're to blame. I don't suppose you are. You're a gentleman, and you're handsome and soft spoken, and your hands are white and soft, almost like a woman's, and whiter than our wom men's by a loop: way. And she knew you were In danger here"? "Why should she know that?" asked Masson eagerly. But the peasant grew more reserved at once. "Well, you've said so yourself." said he roughly, "and I suppose you know. Anyhow, she thought you weren't safe. I suppose, and that makes a man Interesting In a girl's eyes. And so. I suppose, she looked at you and thought about you and compared you with us. j the rough folks she's used to. and saw a difference, and?and that did It. And now there's naught to be done but to ennftH vAn nn vnnr wnv and for her to i face her trouble?alone." i Cocb Tal shook his head despondent- < iy"If she'd liked me afore she might come back to me." said he hoarsely, "but she never has. I've always known that, and as 1 know the girl's heart 1 just as I know my own, for all I'm only a rough. Ignorant man. 1 know, too. that she won't get over this any i more than I could get over the loss of ( her If 1 had to go away from seeing < her. And I know that I shall have to stay on after all I've gone through and see her break her heart and never be ( able to so much as to take her head on i my shoulder and tell her I'm sorry." Masson was listening very attentively, with his hands loosely clasped and his head bent. "If I thought." said he gravely, "that there was any truth in what you? fancy. Merrick, I?I would save her from any such fate as you fear." "What! You'd marry ber?" Coch Tal was alert alive, in a moment. "Yes." said the doctor after a slight pause. "If that were the only way to save the girl from misery, I would do so." The peasant came forward and, drawing a packing case along with him as il seat, sat close to the doctor, look- i lng him straight In the eyes. "Doctor." said he In a deep whisper that seemed to bring the words up from his heart, "it is the only way. You've not got the means to Judge what I have, you don't know all I know, you can never know it, but you may take my word for It, if you marry the girl and take her away from here, from the whole lot of us. and if you'll be kind to her and treat her as you ought, you'll be doir ; the only thing that can make her happy and repaying her goodness to you like the gentleman you are." , But Masson felt less certain of this. "Are you. so sure," said he, "that marriage with a man who has nothing 1 warmer than admiration and gratitude J to give her is the highroad to happiness for a woman V" Coch Tal's features expanded in a J strange, dreamy smile. "I am sure." said he. "You see, sir, I know Gwyn. and I know her feel- ' "You arc no better than a fool where a woman comes in!" cried Coch Tal. ings. because they are the same as my own. If she could trust herself to me, with or without love, just out of gratitude like, I shouldn't ask no more. And I'd be as happy as a bird on the tree. And I'd make her happy, too, that I well know." "And you don't think it foolish of you to throw away your only chance of her coming round to you?" Coch Tal's rugged features glowed with a look which was almost sublime as he answered: "No, sir. For if I know her to be happy, why, it'll be a kind of happiness for myself too. That's how you feel. sir. when you care for a girl as I 'IVa/rnmn ? cure iui nu^uivu. Masson bowed bis bend. There was < a noble sympllcity in the inau which 1 made praise of bis conduct, of his i feelings, au impertinence. f In silence he lay down to rest and listened to the deep sigh which Coch i Tal uttered from time to time from his resting place in the corner. ( i CHAPTER XX. | CWYJf lit".AHS A IMtOTOSAL. When Massou awoke next morning, | he found himself alone in the loft, Coch Tal having long since descended to his day's work. The sunlight was already strong, and Masson saw, with a mixed feeling of relief and dread, that there were signs of thaw on the sparkling surface of the snow. If the thaw continued, the way back to Trecoed and thence to civilization would soon be open. Hut the thought i of the changed course of life which this might inaugurate was not one of unmixed joy to the doctor. For with his admiration and liking for (Jwyu Tregaron there mingled no feeling strong enough to be called love. It was gratitude alone which prompted him to the resolution lie had come to of 1..... I... I.lu U'lf.l So, having made up Ids mind, ho sought and found an opportunity of speaking to the girl. When they met at breakfast, lie saw, now that Coeli Tal had opened his eyes, certain signs in Gwyn which went far to conlirm what the peasant had said. There was a restlessness, a nervousness in tne girl's manner, a shy. timid look In her eyes when they met his. which made It impossible to doubt that there was more than mere friendliness toward hhn In her heart. He came upon her suddenly, and she started and blushed. "You mustn't work too hard just at first," said he kindly. "Remember, you have not got your strength back yet, and you don't want to be 111 again." "No,!' said she. "1?1 don't want to be 111 again." She looked as If she wanted to say something more, but finally she turned away in silence. He followed her across the room. "Gwyn." said he very gently, "will you be sorry when your doctor goes? Will you miss your sweetheart?" If he had been in any doubt of the ktnte of her feelings toward him, he was at once put in possession of the whole trutlk This question, put to her suddenly, brought up to the surface out of the depths of her heart the hidden reserves of passionate affection which site had believed safe in their hiding place. She (lashed upon him one look of startled emotion and then, turning abruptly away, hung her head without reply. "Gwyn." said he. "will you be my wife?" The girl looked up at once, trembling from head to foot. -What!" she whispered breathlessly. And there shone for a moment In her 'Gbwyn," said he, ' will you be my wifet" Plack eyes a radiant look of happiness 3ucb as no man could have witnessed jnmoved. "What! Do you mean It? You!" "Lndeed I do. Gwyn. I mean it most jteadfastly, and I ^111 do everything n my power to make you happy." Still she stood as if under some spell, quite still and breathing quickly. A sort of glory seemed to frame her face md make It at that moment more exquisitely beautiful than that of any woman he had ever seen. After a pause of some seconds Masson put out ais right hand and gently raised hers :o his lips. Kind, tender as the action was, perhaps the quick Intelligence of the love stricken girl detected In the touch something which told her of the difference between his feelings toward per and hers toward him. However that may be, after a lapse of another noment she gave a long sigh and then drew away her hand sharply, with a augb which grated a little on bis ear. "Doctor," said she sharply, "you are eery good, very good, and I thank you. But no. We won't spoil it. You are ray sweetheart," and again her voice quivered on the word, "while you stay Pere, but when you go, and that will ae soon now, very soon, you and 1 will >e both as free as air." "But if I don't want to be free, Gwyn?" persisted Masson with all loverlike ardor. The girl flashed upon him a proud, searching look. "But you do!" cried she quickly. There was a moment's silence, then it was she who spoke again: "I'm not ungrateful, doctor. 1 don't Jeny that If I was in your rank of life :hat?that I'd give you a different answer." "But surely that is my business," interrupted Masson quickly. "If 1, unierstandlng all the circumstances just is well as you do"? "But I doubt if you do," said she julckly. "I doubt If a man, even a :lever man like you, can understand ind see It all as well as even a simple sort of a woman. Anyhow, I've made up my mind, and I beg you not to say any more about it, because I don't 3eny It's a temptation for me." She tried to laugh a little. "But as it's a temptation I don't mean to yield to, and as I know what's best for me as well as you, why, talking would only make it worse for me to bear." "But, Gwyu, I don't understand you quite." She shook her head gently and smiled. He went on, "You are not happy here, I know." She raised her hand quickly to stop hint, evidently fearing what he might be going to say. "I am not very happy," said she. "I ilon't deny that. But my going away ?? lint* t,,i iittlna* 1 WUU1WU I iikiiw uiv immfivi. tliould always be worrying about those I had left"? "And you dou't think you would be happy enough as my wife to forget your worries?" After a short pause she answered in a low voice: "No. Because I feel the differences between you and me and between my friends and my ways and yours more than you can do Just now. You dou't see me with open eyes just yet. sir, because of all the circumstances of your seeing me first. You can't see that I'm only Just a farmer's daughter, with the ways of my own class, which are not the ways of yours. I dou't know whether I could ever do right in a new life, and I know you'd have to go through a deal on pay account at first. Oh, I know it; I know It! And so, if you please, sir, we'll say no more about it, but stick to our bargain.. And you're my sweeiueari ?sue iiusueu ua ?uv uttered the word?"while you're here, but you're free and I'm free as soon as you reach the bottom of the hill." And with these words, with a pretty glow In her proud face, she left him abruptly, going out through the washhouse before he could stop her. Then he was free! And she was free! I He stretched his arras and prepared to go out to his work, when he was startled by a slight noise In the outhouse, which betrayed that there had been a listener to their conversation. He was on the alert In a moment, for he knew that there was a new danger to himself In the possibility of their compact becoming known. Who was the eavesdropper? TO BE CONTINUED. ^Miscellaneous Reading. FIGHTING WHISKY FIENDS. Constable Cornwell Sacrlfles His Life to | Their Treachery. It was impracticable to give in the 1 last issue of The Enquirer more than a brief mention of the bloody affray 1 that occurred at Greenville on Tuesday 1 of last week between Dispensary Con- ! stables Cornwell and Cooley and ' George Howard and other violators of 1 the dispensary law. The Greenville ' Mountaineer of last Saturday contains 1 a complete account of the horrible af- ! fair, aud from this account we extract tKii uUl.mont that PnnataKlA PnnipV 1 made to the coroner. This statement, ' which is generally conceded to be cor- ' reel, covers all the main facts in the 1 case. It is as follows: 1 "About 2 30 o'clock, Tuesday afternoon, I got information that there were two men in the woods Just this side of the overhead bridge. I got a horse and ! buggy from Sitton & Kelley's stables, . and came by LsFar's for Cornwell. We went out the Paris Mountain road, 5 and as we got to the fork of that little , road that flanks the piece of woods where the shooting occurred on the 1 north, I left the buggy, circling into ' the woods at the right of the main ( road and crossed the main road just ! this side of the bridge. Cornwell went j up the side road about 25 yards and got | out and came through the woods to , meet me. Nearly in the centre of this little piece of woods, about 50 yards from the main road, Cornwell and I j both saw two men about the same time. They were sitting up to a fire made in a tree and were facing me, though they appeared to take no notice of me. We ( walked right up on them before they . saw us. About 10 or 15 steps from ( them on my side I found two kegs of liquor, and informing Cornwell of this j fact, I told him to arrest the meD. They said, 'All right,'consented to the arrest, and I never thought there would be the least trouble. One of the men I knew, and recognized him as George Howard. The other man I did not know. Howard, I could see, had been drinking. If the other fel- low had been drinking, I could not urirut it. "When they consented to arrest, I < looked down on the ground and saw a I carbine rifle, evidently belonging to i them, and while Cornwell went through < their pockets to search them for weap- 1 ons, I stooped down and picked up the gun. I told Cornwell to take charge of the men and that I would ' get the liquor together and load it. While I was tugging away with a heavy keg on the opposite side of the buggy from them, and with my back to the men, and while Cornwell was going through them for weapons, Cornwell said : 'Look out, Cooley, this man ' has a gun in his pocket.' "I turned (I was on the opposite side of the buggy from the others, including Cornwell), and looked and saw Howard jerk his pistol from his right-hand overcoat pocket. I saw the pistol, and i just as he got it out, Cornwell grabbed i his hand. The third man was standing near the fire, 10 or 12 feet from me and < 3 or 4 feet from Cornwell. Howard i was then 12 feet from me and to the left, i Cornwell was slightly to the right of * Howurd and about the same distance from me as Howard. Cornwell and I Howard were facing each other tussel- < ing over Howard's pistol. Cornwell turned the pistol loose and stepped ! hack about two paces, and, just as he | did so, Howard fired twice in rapid i succession at Cornwell. At the first 1 shot Cornwell threw his right hand < to his stomach and cried: 'Mr. Cooley, < he has shot me and he has killed me, < ? , low. "I hud carried the carbine rifle I had seized from Howard and the i stranger around with me on the oppo < site side of the buggy from them. As < Corn well cried out I reached for the ' gun in evidence?the carbine?which I was lying five or six feet from the bug- j gy. I was at the buggy loading the I whisky. I had a heavy keg trying to i get it into the buggy, and picked it up. t As I did so the stranger standing at i the tree shot me in the hack. (The < gun is the gun I picked up and fired I at Howard.) As I turned with the 1 gun the stranger ran behind the tree s he was standing by and continued to j run, keeping the tree between me and i him. I theu turned on Howard anil i fired the gun at him. After that the i repealing rifle hung aud I threw it ' down and drew my 5-shooting 38 Smith i & Wesson revolver from my hip-pocket I and fired four times at Howard. ( "As I fired my first revolver shot, I Coruwell had emptied his first revolver I and was in the act of closing in on How- < ard and shooting him in the neck with t another. I closed in on Howard and f fired two or three shots, I won't be positive which, into his left side, feeling for i his heart. As I did so Howard said ; t " 'Don't shoot me no more j you've killed me.' i "Just before J closed in on bira be i says: " 'You'd better get away ; I've got i two or three more pistols.' < "When he said don't shoot me any | more, I quit and the battle closed. I i Clio not Know at tnat time that l nao another loaded cartridge in my revolver. The revolver introduced in evidence is the one I used iu the fight. There were only four men present? Corn well, Howard, the stranger aud myself. "The fight, as near as I can get at it, occurred between 3 and 4 o'clock, Tuesday afternoon, December 5th, 1899?probably nearer 3 than 4. I left Sitton & Kelley's stable in Laurens street, near police headquarters, at about 2.30, and drove directly to the scene after picking up Cornwell at the homo of Dhief T,aFnr in West Wash ington street. "When the shooting was over, I went afier the team, the horse having been frigbteued away, about 200 yards. I brought the team back by where the fight occurred, and got into the main road between the bridge and where Cornwell had set down on the side of the road near the cabin. I passed Howard in the main road before I gol to Cornwell. "I never did see any more of the stranger. "As I drove up to Cornwell, he said again, 'He has shot me and killed me,' and asked me not to tell his wife. He said he was too badly hurt for me to carry him in the buggy, and asked me to send a doctor to him. I came in with the buggy and whisky to LaFar's and reported the matter to him and he sent assistance to Cornwell, "I didn't know who the men were before we went out to the place. It was reported to me that two men were n the woods with whisky violating Lhe dispensary law. Their names were aot giveu me. "I was wounded in two places?in :he small of the back and in the left forefinger. Howard must have shot me in the finger as I pulled down on him with the rifle. The keg of wbis ky introduced iD evidence is the keg I seized from Howard." Constable Corn well died at 2 o'clock rhursday morning, and George Howard died at 3.80 o'clock Thursday afternoon. Constable Cornwell realized from the first that he was fatally shot, and his miud wandered considerably. At one time be stated that Constable Cooley tried to run away ; but the facts prove that he was mistaken. Howard stated, before he died, that Cooley was the man who fired the shots that killed bim, in the manner that Cooley states. Both Cooley and Cornwell had the reputation of being thorough gentlemen in every respect. Cornwell was a total abstainer from liquor and Cooley is quite temperate. Cornwell was a Chester man, and was a son of the late Representative Cornwell of that county. Constable Cooley's home is at Honea Path. CHRISTIANITY IN INDIA. Important Work of the Missionary In the Uloody Path of the Soldier. \tlanta Journal. While Christianity has made very slow progress in China, Japan and some other countries where missionary enterprises have been established, and missionary zeal exerted, the advance of Christianity and the influence of Christian precepts and examples upon the vast population of India during the present century has been marvelous. The Philadelnhia Record Dubiishes a long and interesting letter from a correspondent in India who is himself not a missionary, but one who has had exceptional opportunities to observe the effect of missionary work in that country for many years past. Very few persons are aware how vast is the moral difference between the India of 100 years ago and the India of today; how great has been the elevation of the people aud how completely the vicious aud cruel practices which were almost universal in India at the beginning of the present century have been stamped out. Sucb a revolution in the habits and conduct of a vast nation bus seldom been accomplished in so short a lime. Commenting upon the facts set forth l>y its Indian correspondent, the Philadelphia Record says: Less than 100 years ago the fires of Suttee were publicly blazing in the presidency cities of Calcutta, Bombay and Madras?those fires of Suttee, in which the screaming and struggling widow, in many cases herself a mere ubild, was bound to the body of her lead husband, and with it burned to ashes. Less than 100 years ago infants were publicly thrown into the Ganges is sacrifices to the goddess of the river, nuly to be devoured by horrid crocodiles. Young men and women, decked with flowers, were slain in Hindoo temples before the hideous idol of the goddess Kali, or hacked into pieces in the Meras iu order that their quiverng flesh might be given to propitiate he god of the soil. The cars of Juggernaut were then rolling over the land, ;rusbiug hundreds of human victims oeneatb their wheels. Lepers, too, were buried alive ; fanatical devotees starved themselves to death in public places, and children brought their dyng pureuts to the banks of the Ganges ind hastened their end by filling their mouths with sand and water of that sacred' river. There was no industry, no commerce of any consequence; but oday the sceues which disgraced In1ia may he sought in vain. Civilizalion has largely supplanted heatheu barbarity, aud industry has created jut of savage India one of the richest ind most profitable of the British possessions. Lord Olive used to say that he would rather see a baud of devils enter Iudia than a band of Christian missionaries. Vet it is these latter who have played 4 very promineut part in the regeneration of the land. It is American as well as English missionaries who have Jone this work. Of course, the influence of the civil authorities has been sreat; but the missionaries have made it greater. Ciive's extraordinary in sinuation to toe contrary proved unworthy of so gallant a man. Those who took in task the work of transforming India, though branded as fanatics and satirized as fools, have suppressed tremendous evils and routed hideous halluciuations. "The India of todpy is nothing like the India of a century ago, or less. Besides the prosperity resulting in many places from its vast commerce, schools, colleges, manual training institutions and religious edifices of various Christian cults have sprung up everywhere." The advocates of Christian foreign missions may find in the recent history of India au array of facts and arguments which will give great force to their appeals for more active and better sustained efforts in other lands, where the people are still sitting in darkness. GOVERNOR JONES AN EXPANSIONIST. He Announce* Hiu Position and Gives Some Strong Reasons For It. A surprise was sprung on the Democratsof Arkansaslast Wednesday, when Governor Jones declared himself an expansionist. Heretofore he had been classed among the anti-expansionists. In an authorized statement the governor said : "I have been investigating the question for luy own satisfaction and have formed very decided views and propose to stand by them. I consider the acquisition of the Philipine Islands to be most fortunate for the reason that it furnishes us a permanent foothold near the Asiatic coast, which will protect our commerce with Asia. I believe that the only salvation for the Southern States of this Uuion is in the expansion of our commerce by the opening of new markets in Asia for our products, and in order to maintain and protect such commerce we must have the Philippine Islands for reasons perfectly obvious. "With the immense increase in our commerce, a corresponding increase of expansion of the currency is absolutely necessary. In such event silver must be restored to the currency of the country upon equal terms with gold, un less some better system of finance be adopted. I do Dot believe in imperialism nor a colonial policy, nor do I see any necessary connection between tbem and the expansion which I advocate. The Philippines can be governed as territories, just as Alaska is, and as to tbe question of consent of the governed being necessary to our exercise of dominion over the Philippines, Porto Rico or Hawaii, they have been as much consulted as were the people in the Louisiana purchase, Florida or the Western States which were incorporated into the Union by democratic administrations without asking any of the people then composing them. "These, briefly, are my views upon this question. At the proper time I shall discuss them more at length before the people in the advocacy of my candidacy for tbe United States senate." THE DEADLIEST WEAPON. England's New Twelve-Inch Gun Will Shoot Across the Channel. In accorance with the recommendation of parliament, writes a Woolwich correspondent, tbe British navy is being strengthened by the addition of a new uuu which will insure the su premacy of Great Britain over the seas for many years to come. It is known as the 12-inch steel and wire gun, and is not only the best weapon which the royal navy has ever had, but it is far superior to any gun possessed by any foreign navy. It weighs fifty tons, is forty-one feet long, has a muzzle velocity of 2,307 feet per secoud. The projectile weighs 960 pounds, the bursting charge being 83 pounds, and firing cbrrge 167J pounds of cordite. The admiralty has ordered 450 of these guns at a cost of ?10,000 pounds each. Of these 150 have been completed, and 300 are still in the hands of the contractors. Each man of war will carry four of these formidable weapons, and when the navy is supplied they will be issued to forts on the sea front. The new gun will be the heaviest in the service and will take the place of the 110 ton 100-ton and 80-ton guns, of which no more are to be made. The best Krupp gun can fire a shot twelve and a half miles, and the United States government is constructing, at its arsenal at Watervliet, a monster gun which, it is said, will carry a heavy shot twenty-one miles. The new British naval gun, though less than half the weight of the American weapon, mounted on the heights of Dover, can, however, drop a shell on the shores of France. No accuracy of aim could, of course, be obtained or maintained at this long distance, tKo oflnnttun rannro Kainrr 1 fi Hflfl nor/la I?JO iWjvrww JO'UO, or between nine and ten miles.?London Leader. Old Joe Won't Shelve.?If the powers that be had only pulled Joe Wheeler's bridle otf at the beginning of this Philippine business and let him into the lighting pastures be craved so earnestly, the islands now would be ready for a civil government. Until his plan of campaign was adopted, our arms, made absolutely no progress. You can shelve some heroes ; but "'Old Fighting Joe" respectfully declines the shelviug process.?Anderson Intelligencer, Suspension of Justice?"How do you stand on the liquor question, Wheeler"/"' ".Between wnisKey uuu water, I hardly know which to decide for. I punctured my tire once over a broken beer bottle, and one of the worst headers I ever took was from slipping on a watered street." (6T In a sortie from Ladysmith a few days ago, the British captured two guns from the Boers.