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X , YORKVILLE ENQUIRER. ISSUED iEill'WEESLT. i. m. grist ft sons, publisher.. } % ^amilg gtacspaptr: 4or (1"< promotion off tttg |)olitiqaI, ffaijial, ^flrigntttntat and (^ommcyial Interests o|[ ttig |wglj. {TERM3mo^0coFlEnYlNcE"T8A''c'' ESTABLISHED 1855. YOEKVILLE, 8. C., SATURDAY, JUNE , 1900. NO. 44. A DREAM AND ITS * B"F REV. OTTAS Author of "In His. Steps, What Wou Philip Str< CHAPTER VI. .. Robert Hardy reached his office just In time to see Burns, the foreman, go out of a side door and cross the yard. The manager followed him and entered the machine shop in time to see him stop at a machine at the farthest end of the shop and speak to the man at [work there. The man was a Norwegian, Herman by name. He was running what is called a planer, a machine for trimming pieces of cold metal K Just from the foundry or the casting room. He was at work this morning on one of the eccentric bars of a locomotive, and it was of such a character that he could leave the machine for several minutes to do the planing. Burns talked with this man for awhile and then moved across the floor to the other workman, a small boned, nervous little fellow, who was in charge of a boring machine which ttrove a steel drill through heavy plates of iron fastened Into the frame. , Mr. Hardy came up just as Burns turned away from this man and touched him on the shoulder. The foreman started and turned about, surprised to see the manager. "Well, Burns, now goes everyimngi this morning?" asked Robert. "The men here are grumbling because they don't "have a holiday same as the men in Scoville's department." "But we can't shut down the whole business, can we?" asked Mr. Hardy, with a momentary touch of his old time feeling. "The men are unreasonable." "I'm afraid there'll be trouble, sir. * I can feel it in the air," replied Burus. Mr. Hardy made no reply in words, but looked at him. Within the blackened area of the great shop about 200 men were at work. The whirl of machinery was constant. The grind of steel on iron was blended with the rattle of chains and the rolling of the metal carriages in their tracks. The Genius of Railroading seemed present In the grim strength and rapidity of several machines which moved almost as If Instinct with intelligence and played with the most unyielding substances as if they were soft and pliable clay. In the midst of all the smashing of matter against itself, through the smoke and din and dust and revolution of the place, Mr. Hardy was more than usually alive this morning to the human aspect of the case. His mind easily went back to the time when he himself stood at one of these planers and did i Just such work as that big Norwegian i was doing, only the machines were i K/\44rv?i an/1 ImnrAtrn/l nactt r TOOUJ UCUCi auu iui^iVT^u uvm tuu Hardy was not ashamed of having come along through the ranks of man- j ual labor. In fact, he always spoke with pride of the work he used to do In 1 that very shop, and he considered him- i self able to run all by himself any ; n piece of machinery in the shops, but he could not help envying these men this morning. "Why," he said, "proba- i bly not one of them but has at least < seven weeks to live and most of them seven months or years, while I? Why should these men complain because they are not released from toil? Isn't toil sweet when there are a strong body N and a loving wife and a happy home? < 0 God," he continued to think, "I " would give all my wealth if I might change places with any one of these men end know that I would probably have more than a week to live." Mr. Hardy walked back to the office, leaving the foreman in a condition of wondering astonishment. "Something wrong in his works, I guess," muttered Burns. Mr. Hardy sat down to his desk and wrote an order releasing all the men who desired to attend Scoville's funoral In fho flftpmonn. He did not have It In his power to do more, and yet he felt that this was the least he could do under the circumstances. The more he thought of Scoville's death the more he felt the cruel Injustice of It. The Injuries were clearly accidental, but they might have been avoided with proper care for human life, and Robert Hardy was just beginning to understand the value of humanity. v He worked hard at the routine of his office work until noon. He did what seemed to him the most necessary part of It all with conscientious fidelity. But his mind a good part of the time was with the men In the shops. He could not escape the conviction that if v a railroad company had the willingness to do so it could make the surroundings of these men safer and happier without getting poorer work or even losing any money by it. When noon sounded, he went home resolved to do something as far as lay In his power to make the men feel that ^ they were regarded as something more than machines. George was down stairs when his father came In and looked at him with 3 CONSEQUENCES. . M. SEEBIiZIOSJ. Id Jesus Do?" "The Crucifixion of >ng," Etc. "I'm afraid there'll be trouble, sir. lean feel it in the air." curiosity rather than with any feeling of shame for the scene of the night be fore. After luncn was over air. uaray called his son into the study for a little talk with him before going down to the funeral. "I do not need to tell you, George," began his father quietly, but with feeling, "that I felt the disgrace of your drunkenness last night very bitterly. You cannot know the feelings of your father and mother in that respect But I did not call you in here to reproach you for your vices. I want to know what you intend to do in the face of the present conditions." Mr. Hardy paused, then went on again: "I am perfectly aware, George, that you regard my dream as a fancy and think I am probably out of my mind. Isn't that true?" Mr. Hardy looked George full In the face, and the young man stammered: "Well?I?ah?yes?I?don't just understand"? "At the same time," went on bis fattier, "I realize that nothing but a conviction of reality could produce the change in me which you and all the rest of the family must acknowledge has taken place. And you must confess that I am acting far more rationally than I did before my dream occurred. It is not natural for a father to neglect his own children, and I have done it It is'not rational that be Bhould spend his time ana money ana strength on himself so as to grow intensely selfish, and I have done that. My son, you may doubt me, but I am firmly convinced that I shall not be alive here after next Sunday. I am trying to live as I ought to live under those conditions. My son," Mr. Hardy spoke with dignity and a certain Impression which George could not but feel, "I want you to do as you know you ought to do under the circumstances. When 1 am gonp, your mother and the girls will look to you for advice and direction. You will probably have to leave college for a little while. We will talk that over this evening. But I want you to promise me that you will not touch another glass of liquor or handle another card as long as you live." George laughed a little uneasily and then lied outright: "1 don't see the harm of a game once in awhile just for fun. I don't play for stakes, as some fellows do." "George," said his father, looking at him steadily, "you have not told the truth. You were gambling only a few nights ago. It is useless for you to deny it. That is where the very liberal allowance I have given you has been squandered." George turned deathly pale and sat with bowed head while his father went on almost sternly: "Consider your mother, George, whose heart almost broke when you came In last night. 1 don't ask you to consider me. I have not been to you what a father ought to be. But if you love your mother and sisters and have any self respect left you will let drink and cards alone after this. In the sight of God, my dear boy, remember what he made you for. You are young. You have all of life before you. You can make a splendid record if God spares your life. "I would gladly give all I possess to stand where you do today and live my life over again. I can't do it The past Is irrevocable. But orife can always repent. George, believe me, your mother would rather see you in your coffin than see you come home again as you did last night. We love you"? Mr. Hardy, proud man that he was, could say no more. He laid his hand on the boy's head as if he were a young lad again and said simply, "Don't disappoint God, my boy," and went out, leaving his son sitting there almost overcome by his father's, pow erfuf appeal, but not yet ready to yield himself to the still small voice that spoke within even more powerfully and whispered to him: "My son, give me thine heart Cease to do evil; learn to do well. Cleanse thy ways and follow after righteousness." It was 1 o'clock when Mr. Hardy came down stairs, and as he came into the room where Mrs. Hardy and the girls were sitting he happened to think of some business matters between himself and his only brother, who lived In the next town, 20 miles down the road. He spoke of the matter to Mrs. Hardy, and she suggested that Will go down on the 3 o'clock train with the papers Mr. Hardy wanted to have his brother look over and come back on > the 6 o'clock in time for dinner. Clara asked if she couldn't go, too, and Bessie added her request, as sne bad not seen her aunt for some time. Mr. Hardy saw no objection to their going, only he reminded them that he wanted them all back at 6. Alice volunteered to amuse George at home while all the rest were gone, and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy departed for the funeral, Mr. Hardy's thoughts still absorbed for the most part with his older boy. Clara bad asked no questions concerning the interview with James, and her father simply stated that they could have a good talk about It in the evening. The tenement at No. 760 was crowded. and in spite of the wintry weather large numbers of men. and women stood outside in the snow. Mr. Hardy had ordered his sleigh, and he and his wife had gone down to the house in that ready to take some one to the cemetery. The simple service as it began was exceedingly impressive to Mr. Hardy. Most of the neighbors present looked at blm and his well dressed wife in sullen surprise. She noticed the looks with a heightening color, but Mr. Hardy was too much absorbed in his thoughts of what he had done and left undone In this family to be influenced by the behavior of those about him. Mr. Jones offered a prayer for the comfort of God to rest on the stricken family. He then read a few words from John's gospel appropriate to the occasion and said a few simple words, mostly addressed to the neighbors present The poor widow had been removed to a small room up stairs and lay there cared for by the faithful sister. The minister had nearly concluded his remarks when a voice was heard * in tbe room anove, voices expostulating In alarm and growing louder, followed by a rapid movement in the narrow ball above, and with a scream of frenzy the wife rushed down the stairs and burst into the room where fte dead body of her husband lay. She had suddenly awakened out of the fainting stupor In which she had been lying since her husband's death and realized what was going on in the house with a quick gatheHng of passion and strength, such as even the dying sometimes are known to possess. She had escaped from her sister and the neighbor who were watching with her and, crazy with grief, flung herself over the coffin, moaning and crying out in such heartbreaking accents that all present were for a moment flung Into a state of inaction and awe. But Mrs. Hardy was first to move toward the stricken woman. Where did the wife of the once haughty and proud man learn the touch of sympathy that drew that other poor sister nearer to her and finally soothed her into quiet ness? Certain it is that suffering In her own home had marvelously taught tne ncnly flres&ed woman, the refined, cultured lady, to hold this other one to be of the same household of God with her. So it was that she finally succeeded In drawing her away into the other room and there held her, gasping for breath, now that the brief strength was spent, and crying feebly: "O God, help me! Don't keep me here in this world 1 any longer!" ' If this brief scene thrilled the neigh- 1 bora with pity, what shall be said of Its effect on Robert Hardy? For a ' moment it seemed to him more than he ' could bear. He started to his feet and , put his hands before his face. Then, calming himself by a great effort, he sat down, and his face became almost like a stone In its rigidity. When his wife finally succeeded In getting the woman Into the rear room, his face re O.God, help me! Don't keep me here in this world any longer!" laxed, and he breathed more easily, but as 800D as possible he arose and went out and stood silent there until the body was brought out and placed ; In the hearse. Then he went In and spoke a few words to his wife and told Mr. Jones that he could take four or five to the cemetery if they wished to go. Mrs. Hardy would stay with , the" suffering widow until Be came back. Mr. Hardy also whispered something to his minister and gave him a large roll of bills to be used for the family, then went out again. That ride in the cold gray of the declining winter afternoon was a bitter experience to Robert He roused himself at the grave as he heard the words, "Raise us frota the death of sin unto the resurrection of righteousness," and something like a gleam of hope shot through his heart at the woyds. Surely there was mercy with V. 1 1 J J A-1. M 4.1 lulu wuu uuu coiiquereu ueuiu iur uit' sake of the human race. He drove back with more peace of soul than he had thought possible. By the time he had reached the shop tenements it was growing dark. He drove home with his wife and thought with something of a feeling of pleasure of the evening before him with his family. This second day had been more agitating in some ways than his first He had been unnerved at the funeral and had felt remorse more keenly than he had once thought possible. As he reviewed the events of the day with his wife he felt dissatisfied. And yet he had truly tried to do his duty in the light of eternity. What more could he do? He felt anxious about George and told his wife of the conversation he had with him. Mrs. Hardy felt the same anxiety with her husband. After the horses were put up and the father and mother bad gone into the house they continued the conversation. Alice was up stairs with George, and the other children bad not come back. . It was dark, but husband and wife sat by the light of the open fire and talked together until nearly 6 o'clock. Mr. Hardy had just said something about Clara, and Mrs. Hardy replied, "Isn't it about time they were here?" when the VvA11 i.u? 11U1A uuepuuue utJii iaug IU me unit: uiuue adjoining the hallway, where Mr. Hardy did some of the business of the company, being connected by wire with the shops. He went in and answered the call, and a series of sharp exclamations and questions was soon followed by his coming back int;o the room where his wife sat By the light of the open fire she could see that he was very pale. His overcoat was lying on the couch where he had thrown it as he came in. He hastily put it on and then said to his wife: "Mary, there has been an accident to the 6 o'clock way train between Baldwin and here, and Burns has telephoned me to come down. Don't be alarmed. We will hope for the best" Mrs. Hardy started up. "Why, Will and Bess and Clara were coming home on that train/" "Mary"?Mr. Hardy's voice trembled, but he tried to speak calmly and In comfort?"let us hope for the best" / "What did Mr. Burns telephone? Tell me all, Robert I can bear it with you." "He telephoned that the train was derailed and a dozen people killed and as many injured. I must go down the road at once. Oh, my God, spare our dear ones!" Mr. Hardy was almost overwhelmed by this last stroke, aud yet he asked himself how many accidents had occurred this last year on the road, and he had never given much thought to the suffering of those families afflicted. Now perhaps It had come to him, and, bidding his wife pray and hope, he rushed out of the house and down to the station with the energy and rapidity of the youth who In college days had taken prizes for athletic superiority. At the yard he found a special train Just ready to go to the scene of the accident It consisted of a wrecking car. a caboose and one coach with tender and engine. He mounted the engine with a feeling that it was a little nearer the fatal spot and would reach there first At the last minute no more definite news concerning the particular persons killed and injured had been received. Mr. Hardy felt almost glad of the uncertainty as the engine pulled out and started on its run of 15 miles, soon attaining a speed of 55 miles an hour. The snow was falling in large, moist flakes. It was growing warmer and would rain before morning. He gazed at the narrow band of light on the track ahead and leaned forward as If to help the engine go faster. He did not speak, and so the train rushed through the night. And so the second of Robert Hardy's seven days drew to a close. TO BE CONTINUED. Papers Knew It Before He Did. An old gentleman living on Walnut An old gentleman living on Walnut Hills with his grandchildren was left at home with two servants one evening. The old man retired early, so did the servants, and when the gentleman and his wife returned from the theater they found that the house had been entered and robbed. The matter was reported to the police, and an account of the robbery appeared in the next morning's papers. The old gentleman had slept through it all. and the next morning he hied himself to Kaps' barber shop, near Peebles Corner, to be shaved, Ignorant of the fact that the house had been robbed. "1 see," said the loquacious Kaps as he stropped his razor, "that thieves broke in your house." "When?" gasped the old gentleman. "Last night." was the answer. "I read all about It In the morning's paper." The old fellow arose from the chair, hastily wiped the lather from his face and left the shop as fast as his rheumatic legs would carry him to see about the robbery. ' piscellancous pacing. SOME HISTORIC CORNERS. Various Speculators Who Have Bitten Off More Thau They Could Chew. New York Press. Inasmuch as the failure of Price, McCormick & Co., involves a large amount of paper profits and paper losses, the general market remains undisturbed. The suspension of the firm was discounted weeks ago. All occurrences in Wall street are discounted before the geberal public gets the slightest inkling of them, therefore, Wall street is never surprised, while the public is ever amazed. Three of the general partners in this bouse are men of ordinary meaus. One is a millionaire. ' The special partner, Mr. George Crocker, is said to have a fortune of $5,000,000 or $6,000,000; but bis liability is limited to the $5()0,000 which he subscribed in cash on the 29th of last November. The magnitude of our moneyed interests and the stability of our financial system are well illustrated by the indifference with whicb a failure for $13,000,000 to viewed in the street. Ten years ago the theft of Mr. Russell Sage's loan tickets precipitated the suspension of Messrs. Decker, Howell & Co., one of the largest firms in this city, for $11,000,000. Through the efficient offices of Mr. William Nelson Cromwell, the creditors of this firm were paid in full, and the lawyer was handsomely rewarded in money and plate. * It is noteworthy that this gentleman has been engaged to straighten out the affairs of Price, McCormick & ' Co. ! Corners in grain and stocks are dan- : gerous things to toy with. Mr. "Deacon White" had experience of that on more than one occasion. His greatest ouraen was corn. xoung Mr. joaepo Leiter's experience came later and was more disastrous. His attempt in wheat cost his father numerous mil- ' lions. Still later came the corner in 1 Tennessee coal and iron, which, however, proved unprofitable only to the non-members of the pool. Two healthy corners collapsed in 1887?the coffee 1 corner and the Chicago corner in 1 wheat?the latter causing the failure of the Fidelity National bank of Cincin- ! nati. In 1880 81 Mr. James R. Keene undertook, in connection with large operators in this city and Chicago, to corner wheat; but his allies failed to sustain him, and his losses involved 1 him in financial wreck, wiping out an interest in railroad stocks that would ' have cleared a profit of from $7,000,000 to $10,000,000. Mr. Jay Gould's attempt to corner gold in 1869 caused the panic of ''Black Friday," which carried down thousands of firms throughout the country. The price of the precious metal was forced up to 162} ; then the government stepped in, became a seller and 1 saved what was left of the day. It was the corner in Pacific Mail that MitinA/) Mn Tnm mnno Tckrrvmxx wKn i n_ i uiucu iu^i juaniouvv wi vuuvj ?? uw amvested bis last dollar io it under the belief tbat tbe stock would go to 1,000. i It fell to 25 wbile be was touring Italy and carried away bis fortune. Tbe 1 Harlem railroad corner at the beginning of tbe war ruined many. Tbe shares were forced up to 285. There : recently died in this city a man who undertook many years ago to corner 1 the Virginia peanut crop. He met with disaster and remained a poor privilege trader on tbe curb till tbe < day of bis death. < With a little more help it is possible that Mr. Price could have cornered the ' cotton crop of tbe universe. But help of tbe right sort is always lacking at ' tbe critical moment. No one man or firm can operate a successful corner wbile there are hundreds and thousands of able bears "gunning" for bim or it. And there were many "gunning" for Price, the boldest cotton J plunger of the day. , SCHEMES OF DIAMOND THIEVES. i Remarkable Methods of Concealing The , Gems. New York Telegraph. Probably there are more ingenious thieves in Kimberly than in any city of its size in the world, and tbey are all after diamonds. One day a Frenchman appeared at Kimberly. He wore boots with Parisian heels, two inches or more in height. A trifling matter of having been seen talking confidentially with a native woman attracted attention to him. His boot heels were hollow and filled with diamonds. There was a man well known about Kimberly who use to go to Europe three or four times a year. He always had a magnificent Great Dane with him flnfl nicxht, at. a Kimherlv club. while his master was playing billiards, his dog kept digging at himself with bis hind leg. On looking at the sore spot, a long split was found on the dog's skin, sewn with silk. The threads were cut and out dropped a diamond. When the dog's hair was shaved off it was found that bis body was literally covered with the scars of incisions in which diamonds had been placed and smug- ' gled out of the country. j Most dramatic was the incident of a i man named Travers, who was well known as a successful "runner" of diamonds ; but could never be caught red-handed. He was a desperate character, and, therefore, when be left Kimberly with a large amount of valuable stones, eight men were told off to bring him back. Starting at once the pursuers galloped along through the last of the daylight, which shots down at night like the drawing of a thick curtain ; and then on through the dark, across the veldt, skirting ant-eater holes with sudden swerves, which would dismount a novice; and then, with a short rest, forward again before the dawn rose. As the hot flood of light blazed down far off they saw the man they sought, riding a tired horse, casting about from side to side, with bis gun in the hollow of his arm; as if looking for game. When the pursuers were within about 200 yards a veldt hen arose in front of him. He flred both barrels and brought down the bird, hooked it up to his saddle, and as the men came up was idly dropping two more cartridges in the chamber of his gun, casting the empty shells away. He was ordered to dismount and strip. The men went over every rag of his clothes, looking at the boot heels, the lining and crown of his bat, cut open several of the cartridges in bis belt, tapping his gunstock, examined the sheathing, went over' horse and harness and finally had to let him go. Some few months later be died of a fever in England, and an old diamond) broker in Cape Town said to one of hia would-be captors: "Ab, he was a great man! He leaves lots of money. Do you remember the time you chased him right down to the desert, searched him and found nothing. He had over 1 AAA AAA k)m Ikan (llfVUV)WV 111 OV*;UCO TTIIIU . UiUi VUVUp He had the veldt hen that he shot as you rode up in a bag at his saddle bow. When he saw that you were bound to catch him be released the bird, shot off both barrels as it fled, and was caught as he was putting two cartridges in his gun. You fellows looked everywhere but the right plaoe. In the barrel of his gun were two cartridge cases, each at least a foot long, loaded with diamonds. UNIQUE DISTINCTIONS OP H. R. H. . Here are some interesting facts about the Prince of Wales, which are , . condensed from his biography as written by his private secretary He is a colonel eight times over. He has one private secretary, two assistant secretaries, and a staff of clerks to assist him. He receives 200 letters a day and answers most of them. He has every order of knighthood in Europe. His uniforms are worth $75,000. He is the chief horse owner, dog owner and yachtsman in England. He goes to church every Sunday morning. He started life with an income of tfifi OOO A vftAr. ^ , He loves to travel incogDito ill Paris. His favorite vehicle in London is a . hansom cab, yet bis stables cost $75,000 a year. 1 , He bas friends in every hation and speaks German, Freocb, Italian and Russian. He is 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds. 9 He is 57 years old and has four grandchildren. When he was young he was very tender-hearted and cried for days when a tutor left him. > / He is said to be one of the best shots in England. He sets the fashions in clothes for the whole world. He has thirteen university degrees. He has made more speeches than my other man io the world, but mostly short ones. He owns the deepest mine in England. He was the first Christian to dine with the Sultan. DENSE IGNORANCE. It Is almost impossible to imagine an Ignorance so dense as that said to be possessed by the average French conscript from the provinces. Did it not exist, however, his comrade from the city, who writes about garrison lite, would hardly have told about It One day a fiery adjutant questioned Jacques, the provincial: "Come!" he said, "you are a Frenchman?a soldier; do you know why you are here Instead of working In the fields? I ask you why you are here?a soldier? You give no answer. Have you never beard of the Germans?" "No. my adjutant" "You have never heard of the Germans? What Is Germany?" "I don't know." "Are you a Frenchman or a German?" "I don't know." "This Is wonderful! Where were yon a ii? inn u; "At Vaucouleurs, my adjutant" "At Vaucouleurs, and not a patriot! Did no one ever tell you of the invasion?" "No, my adjutant" I ' The clerks In the registration offices in many American cities relate wonderful Ignorance of would be American citizens, still it is doubtful whether any one of them has had to deal with a Jacques de Vaucouleurs. Sweet Innocense.?"When I grow up," said Ethel, with a dreamy, imaginative look, "I'm going to be a schoolteacher." "Well, I'm going to be a mamma and have six children," said Edna. "Well, when they come to school to me I'm going to whip 'em, whip 'em, Whip "em." "You mean thing!" exclaimed Edna as the tears came' Into her eyes. "What have my poor children ever done to you?"