Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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. " " ISSXJEIJ SIXX-WIEHL^ L m. OKIST & SONS, Publishers. | % ^'amitj fcicspagcr: 4or the fromotion of the political, ?ociat, gjrieulturat, and Commercial Interests the feogte. { tebm9^qleUcoApt! mte cents*""8established 1855. YOEKVILLE. S. C., WEDISTESDA-Y, APRIL 10, 1901. NO. 29. AIM ? M BY THOMAS F Copyright. 1901, by Thomas P. Montfort. CHAPTER VI. SIM SURPRISES HIS NEIGHBORS. Situ Banks did not go home at on<?, but passed on down the street in the direction of Hicks' store. It had been his custom to go there every night to join the little group of men who always congregated around the store stove In the winter and on the platform in front of the door in the summer to loaf away their idle hours. He had long been one of the leading spirits in these meetings, and heretofore be had come to them boldly, and In the talks that followed his voice had been heard taking an important part. But tonight he approached with halting step and shamed face and sat down quietly on the edge of the platform on the very outskirts of the group. He hoped no one would notice bis presence, and he was careful to do nothing to attract attention to It "'on ^ItAHA on/1 Tocnn I up omupsuu nas iuciu auu uuwu Roberts and Jim Thorn and a number of others, and most prominent among them all and most In evidence in the conversation was Ebenezer Sparks. Very naturally, the subject under discussion was the war and the battle that had that day been fought in their hearing. Ebenezer, with wonderful ef* frontery, seized the first opportunity to begin a rehash of the oft told stories of brave deeds performed by him in the Mexican war and to reannounce his consuming desire to again take up a soldier's life and join in the fight and experience the dangers and hardships of war as be had done in days gone by. Sim listened to Ebenezer in astonishment It was a mystery to him how a man could have the assurance to boast of his bravery when only a few hours ago he had showD the very men to whom be was talking that he was an arrant coward. Sim knew that he had acted the part of a coward, and he knew that every man there knew It, and be was resolved that if no one mentioned that event until be did it would never be mentioned. Ebenezer talked on for some time before Pap Sampson brought his cane down with a thump and said: "Thar, Ebenezer Sparks, that'll do. We ail know how brave you are, so tbar ain't a grain of use in the world for you to waste your breath a-tellin us about it Lord, you made that all plumb plain to us today, you an sun Banks both." "Sim don't seem to be doln much talkln 'bout the way he done." Jason observed, with a laugh. "Guess be believes in lettin bis actions speak for themselves." "Lord, Jason, I reckon the way Sim's woman done kind of took the tucks ^ ^ QJ. v He hoped no one would notice his pres ence. outen him," Pap said. Then, turning to Sim, he added. "She kind of bit you pooty hard, didu't she, Sim?" "No harder'n 1 deserved, 1 guess," Sim replied dryly. "1 did act the miserable coward, an it ain't no wonder she was ashamed of me." "Say, by granny, nut tnars one way to talk, ain't It?" Jason said after a short silence. "You ain't a bit like Ebenezer, Sim. He done more cowardly tlian you. but you won't ketcb him own in of it. Lary a time." "I can't help nothln 'bout what El> enezer does." Situ replied. "It don't do no good to deny the truth when everybody knows what I done." "You're right that-. Sim." Pap Sampson said heartily. "Addin vinegar to a sound puddin ain't goiu to make it no sweeter, au addin u lie to another fault ain't goin to muke the other fault no less. Them is gospel truths if thai* ever was one outside of the Iloly Writ, an it'd be a good thing for you. Ebeuezer Sparks, to take 'em Into your craw an digest 'em along at odd spells." "Pap Sampson," Ebenezer exclaim ed, bristling up. "do you 'low to Insinuate that I been a-lyin?" "Lord, no. Ebenezer! I ain't no hand to Insinuate, but when a coward makes out like he's brave if lie ain't lyiu lie's gittin right slap next door to It." "You better be keerful. Pap." Jim Thorn sa!d,_"or first thing, eon know you'll Dave Ebenezer's old woman down on you. Can't nobody make her think he ain't brave, you bet!" "She ain't much like slut's wife, is she?" Jason asked. Then he added: "By Jinks. I think Sim's wife cut up too rough with him. 1 tell you rigiit now I'd like to see my woman try any sicb capers as them on me. especially right afore folks. Lord, I'd leave 'er so quick that It'd make her head swim." "You all hearu what Mary Maun said, LI 11 >. MONTFORT. -?' Pap Sampson and the rest interfered. I guess.'r Jim Thorn remarked.' "I been thinkin 'bout tbat. an 1 don't know If the word she spoke wa'n't a true word. Sim's woman did 'pear to be a right smart struck with the looks of that stranger, an"? "Jim Thorn, you are a liar!" They all looked up in astonishment, and there was Sim Banks standing among them, his eyes ablaze with anger and his form trembling with suppressed rage. "Jim Thorn." he repeated, "you are a liar, a dirty, cowardly, miserable, sneakin liar, an you'll take back them words or I'll knock your bead clean down your throat!" Thorn sprang to his feet and started to run. but in an instant Sim bad hold of his collar with one hand and with the other had giveu him a blow on tin* side of the head that sent him to the floor as limp as a rag. Sim would have followed up his advantage and pound ed Thorn unmercifully, but Pap Samp son and the rest interfered, and five or six or ttiem ueiu mm wane me oiuera got Tborn away. After It was all over and Sim bad been released tbey stood about him for some time, looking at bim in silence and with a kind of awe. To them be had suddenly become a new man, and tbey felt that tbey did not know him. It was Hicks who broke the pause. "Why. Sim." be said, "what's come over you? Who'd 'a' ever dreamed of you doin sicb a thing as that?" "Let bim keep bis mouth sbet an quit a-lyin 'bout Loueesy, then." Sim replied, not exactly in line with Hicks' questious. "I'll bit bim ag'in if be dast to say sicb another thing, an I'll bit anybody else that does it, an I'll bit to kill." "Well, that's all right, Sim, but you jest cool down now. Jim Tborn was the only one that said anything, an you've done hit bim. so thar ain't no more to do, an you'd jest as well git quiet." "My land, Sim. you shore bit bim a good un!" Jason said. "I never see a purtier lick struck in all my life." "An it was all done so quick," another observed. "Why. tbem words wasn't much more'n outen Jim Thorn's mouth till Sim was a-standiu up here an sayin. 'Jim Tboru. you are a liar!' jest that a way. Then Jim starts to run, an afore I knowed it Sim had gathered bim by the collar an give bim that lick." "An wasn't it a lick, though?" Jason said. "Why. say. it jest keeled Jim over thar so quick that 1 bet be never snowed wuat uone u. "1 bet be didn't know nothin touched him?jest hopped down thnr for all the world like a shot hog. Didn't 'low it' was in you to hit a feller like that, Sim." "Lord. 1 reckon Sim never knowed It neither." Pap Sampson said, "but he knows it now. an you all better look out. No matter how harmless a dog is while he's asleep, he may he the wust kind of a dog when you wake him up. An Sim Hanks is awake now." "An you'd all better not fool with him if you don't want to git hurt," Hicks added. "You'd all better not say nothin 'bout Loueesy." Sim said, "'less'n you all wants to git your heads punched." "Guess nobody hain't goin to say nothin 'bout Loueesy." Pap Sampson replied, "so you mought's well quit a-throwin that at us. Jim Thorn had no business to speak the word he did, even if it had been a true word, an 1 most know it wasn't, an you done right an nat'ral to take it up. I'm a peaceable man myself, as you tins all know, an ingin'ally I set my face ag'iu fussin an foughtin. but I ain't got nary a word to say ag'ln a man what tights for his woman's good name. So I say. Sim Hanks, an I say it open an aboveboard. you done jest right. an ever' fair minded man en woman is bound to say the same.1' "That's what they are," Jacob Ilieks promptly agreed. ".My land. Tap, you uns all knows 1 ain't no hand to mix up in no furse an that 1 ain't never lit nobody in all my life, but you jest let some feller say ary a single word ug'ln my woman, an if the fur don't tly It won't be my fault. Them's my sentiments ever' time, an I ain't a-keeriu who knows it." "Course, Sim done right." another said, with that ready sympathy people are apt to feel for the victor as against the vanquished. "I'd 'a' done jest like him if I'd 'a' been in his place, only I bet J.'d 'a'.laid Jim Thoru out so's he wouldn't 'a' got up no"" more tor a mouth." "By granny," said another, "I 'low Jim got off pow'ful easy myself! It were a good thing it wa'n't me he had to deal with." F "An you can bet your hide it was moughty fortunate for him," remarked a third, "that it wa'n't me." Pap Sampson thumped his cane t against the floor aud laughed. t "You uns are all a-talkin pow'ful i< big," he said, "but you uns better not * forglt that Jim Thorn ain't dead yit a 'Tain't sensible to go foolin roun' a o mule's heels' 'less you got business a thar." f As Sim Banks walked home that I night he felt greatly elated, and in his o soul there was a kind of feeling closely J akin to intoxication. He stood erect, "5 with a bearing proud and disdainful, v held his head well up and walked with c a step firm and confident. t In knocking Jim Thorn down the t way lie did he had demonstrated to bis o neighbors that he was not so much a "V coward as they had supposed. That e within itself was a greal deal to be prowl of, for be felt tbat In removing t the stain of cowardice from bis name a he had raised an almost insupportable b burden from his soul. But tbat was p not all nor yet the chief cause of his g elation. s Louisa would learn what he had t: done, an^l she would know that he had s done it for her sake. He would not fl tell her. but others would. His knowl- e edge of human nature was limited, but n it was broad enough to tell him that v his praises sung by others would, be far E more effective than if sung by himself, o That she would be pleased he felt as- a sured. for she would .understand bow d well be loved her and how more ready c he was than any one else on earth to t< stand up In her defense. Then. too. she a would realize that he was not the con- y temptible coward she had thought him n and because of which she had spoken q of bim and to bim in such harsh terms. Perhaps she would even speak words p of praise for his conduct, and perhaps? ti oh. happy thought!?she might put her ^ arms about his neck and kiss bim. That ti would be a reward Indeed, aud for such a a reward he would be willing to fight j, the whole world. q Fond, sweet hope! But how many d of our most precious hopes are born a only to perish with their first breath of n life! t] When Sim reached home, be found the house dark and Louisa in bed. He T " ^ t< \V)val did it meant w went In and struck a light and pre- j pared to retire. His wife was asleep, w and be moved about noiselessly so as 01 not to wake her. ol Presently his eye fell on a scrap of a paper lying on the floor. Mechanically ^ he took It up and glanced at the writ- e( lug it bore. Instantly he sat up and ^ read it eagerly through. Then, puz- w zled and mystified, he read it again jr and again. These were the words the a paper contained: a My Dear Louisa?Never let anybody know that CJ you Know mo. ana ior uoa 8 wise aon i leu a nv .. lag soul who 1 am. So soon aa possibi* 1 will bm you and explain. What did it mean? TO BE CONTINUED. 1W A BOY OF ENTERPRISE. He was a freckled-faced, foxy-look- fl lng boy of 13 or 14, and not more than e] about half as big as he ought to be, but he was wiry, and his eyes were clear. The proprietor of the store was is in his office when the boy entered. fl "Do you want a boy here?" asked the youngster with confidence. "What do I want with a boy?" re- " plied the proprietor, with an intent to ti have fun with his visitor. "I don't know," was the unabashed response. "I guess they have boy3 around stores sometimes, and I thought f< you might want one." bi "Well, since you have mentioned it, Q I do." & "What kind of a boy do you want." The proprietor looked him over with s< a more or less suspicious eye. y, "I want a good boy," he said siowly. "Then I won't do," said the youngster. "Why won't you do? Are you not a tc good boy?" "Um-um-er," hesitated the caller, "I'm just a boy, that's all. There's w something wrong with "em when they tf are good." ne hiuileu out, wnen rne proprietor called him back. "Hold on," he said. "Maybe you are what I want." "If you want a pood thing I'm it," said the boy, "and you won't have to push me along either." "How much pay do you want?" si "I want a million, but I'll take $3 a week." "When can you begin?" "This very minute if you'll give me is my supper. I haven't had anything to eat for three weeks." "Nothing to eat for three weeks," exclaimed the proprietor. ft "Nothing fit. I've scraped nlong as I could, but I haven't had a square meal with pie on the side." "All right; you shall have your supper. and where will you sleep?" u "Oh, I won't sleep at all. I'm going to stay awake of nights when I ain't busy, so's I can feel how good It is to have a job and got money in my S1 clothes. Hully gee, there's a kid out there trying to get away with a piece of lead pipe. Let me crack him once." And the new employe dashed out after the offender."?Washington Star. S Miscellaneous Reading. SOME NOTABLE PRECEDENTS. unston's Capture of Aguinaldo Recalls Pn vious Similar Incidents. Gen. Funston's achievement in cap urlng Aguinaldo recalls earlier at empts made by officers of other arm es to make prisoners of the leaders c lostile forces. The first attempt a elzing a general was never carrle iut. It involved too many person! .nd the plotters engaged In it worke rom the inside, not from without, a ^unston did, and their plans wer verheard. This w$s the attempt i une, 1777, to seize Washington in Nei fork. The plans of the conspirator irere overheard by a woman, who dis losed them to the American authorl ies, and as a result the men implies ed were captured and punished, on f them, Private Thomas Hickey, c Vashington's bodyguard, being hang d. After Arnold's treason and his fligh o the British, the Americans made a iiempi tu acnc Him. x nis unaenaK ig was like General Punston's ex loit. Sergt. Champe, of Lee's Le Ion, was the principal actor in th cheme. His plan was known only t he chief in command; so when he de erted to the British his late comrade red upon him, and he reached the en my's lines under a shower of bullets arrowly escaping with his life. Thl as an excellent introduction to th tritish, and Champe was received wit] pen arms. But he was unsuccessful .mold moved his headquarters th ay on which Champe had arranged t apture him, and Champe had flnall; 0 desert from the English and returi gain under fire, to our lines. Whei Washington wished soon after to pro lote him for his gallantry, he fount !hampe had died of disease. The capture of the British general rescott, in July, 1777, was perhap tie first successful attempt of thi ind. General Prescott commandet tie British forces in Newport, R. I, nd went for the summer to a fin ouse some five miles out of the city olonel William Barton, knowing this ecided to capture him if possible nd on July 10, 1777, with 41 comrades swed across from Warwick Point, oi tie west shore of Narragansett bay nd reached the house undiscovered 'he door of his house was burst in b; Negro, who used his head as a bat ;ring ram; Prescott was asleep an< woke to find himself a prisoner. H 'as not allowed to dress, but in hi loak, with a captor carrying hi lothes, was forced to the boat, am iken within the American lines ant len to Washington's headquarters ii few Jersey. He was exchanged latei he successful capture of Genera toughton by Mosby and his Ranger 1 March, 1863, was the result of i arefully made plan. Mosby, with 2 len entered Fairfax Court House assing themselves off as belonging t ie Fifth New York cavalry, and whll )me of the band attempted to captur olonel Wyndham, the leader went t ie house where the general was soun< sleep. At the name of Mosby, Gene il Stoughton sat up In bed, wld< wake in an Instant. "Have you go im?" he asked. 'He's got you," re lied Mosby. The prisoner was takei ) General Fitzhugh Lee's headquar ;rs, from the very midst of a camp li hich lay several thousand troopE he attempt to capture Sitting Bui as not made by strategy or trick ur Indian scouts went openly to thi Id chief's tent, and when they tried t< rrest the famous Sioux were met wltl ullets; they returned the fire and kill 3 him, losing some of their own num er. Funston's capture of Agulnaldi as marked by a well-devised plan ivolvlng more danger than that o ny other plot except Sergt. Champe'i nd requiring longer time and mori ireful work, with the same excep on.?New York Sun. HAD SAMPSON BEEN THERE. If William T. Sampson had been a tanila:? Sampson?How do I look, Grldley? Grldley?All right. Your swallow tal ts you without a crease. Your pat nt leathers and kid gloves are au fait / ait a minute, admiral. Your crava i riding over your collar. Let m< x It. Sampson?Confound It ! Somethln* ke that always happens at a critlca me. Grldley?That's true. And thos< paniards have got their ships clearec >r action, and we ought to begin th< all at once. There you are, admiral hall I open up on 'em? Sampson?Don't be In such an un;emly hurry, captain. I wish to as! ou a few questions and I desire a cat?orical answer. Gridley?But these fellows are aboui > fire, admiral. Sampson?Never mind. Have yoi ashed your face this morning, Captin Gridley? Gridley?I have. Sampson?Have you taken a bath? Gridley?I have. Sampson?Did you use Fig's soap? Gridley?I did. Sampson?Did you put on a clear lirt ? Gridley?Yes. Sampson?Have your shoes been polled? Gridley?They have. Sampson?Is your handkerchief per lined? Gridley?Certainly. Sampson?Is the ship's band ready tc lay Strauss' "Beautiful Blue Dan be?" Gridley?It has the music before it. Sampson?Are my whiskers combec tralglit? Gridley?They could not be straigh iV. Sampson?You don't see that fellov chley anywhere around, do you? Gridley?I do not. Sampson?Are the correspondentf - here so they can catch my next remark? Gridley?They are all here. Sampson?Then you can fire, Gridley.?Memphis Commercial Appeal. >- MEDICAL GENERALS. "" Appropos of the nomination of Genel~ ral Wood to be a brigadier general In * the regular army, It Is an Interesting fact that he Is not the first surgeon d who has made a* high military reputa9' tlon on being transferred from the staff d to the line. General Samuel W. Craw8 ford, at the outbreak of the Civil war, e was a captain and assistant surgeon, n stationed at Fort Sumter. As one of N Major Andrson's officers he took more 8 than a surgeon's share In the defense of the fort, actually commanding one " of the batteries that responded to the " Confederate fire. e Transferred to the line of the regular '' army, he accepted a brigadier's com mission in me vuiunieers, anu suusequently rose to the command of a dilt vision, serving with distinguished credn it at Gettysburg and In Grant's Vir" ginia campaign. After the war, at " which he won brevent general rank in " the regular army, he long commanded e a regiment stationed in the South, act0 ively engaged in the enforcement of the " reconstruction laws. Gen. Crawford 3 was generally esteemed a most capable " officer, though he did not escape the !> prejudice line officers have against offl3 cers who came into the line from a staff e corps, as the medical department is. h Sheridan at one time protested against Crawford's selection for a high come mand on the ground that he had been 0 a "pill-roller," but had to admit that y Crawford was at least an exception. 11 At no time was General Crawford n likely to succeed to the command of the " army, and therefore he did not chal^ lenge line sentiment to the extent that Gen. Wood challenges it. In the natu'? ral order of promotions and retire3 ments, Brig. Gen. Wood, if confirmed 3 as such, will beccme Lieut. Gen. Wood ^ in 1909, and will not attain retiring age i until 1924. It is the prospect of the e army being commanded for 15 years by ' a lieutenant general who began his '? military career as a surgeon that ruf1 fles every feather in every chappeau of . the army. ti . , PLEASURE OF BOOKS. I. ?_ Like Human Folks the Dress Does Not Always i Tell the Man. e You ask me to write on some books 9 that have helped me. I have a few 8 score companions sitting and lying 3 around me here. Some are very well ^ dressed; others somewhat shabbily. n Some have dust on them which have ' been slapped on the sides and blown ' upon more frequently. As in my cir8 culating library, bound in bone and a flesh and skin, things are not always ? as they seem; so in here. I glance over my shelves and see a few bright0 backed, gilt-edged fellows, whose mide wives, tailors and haberdashers have e done all they possibly could for them, 0 but who are yet very shallow in the 3 inward parts. Some other few, whose " outward parts are positively plebian, e have hearts of gold. * As I look some smile at me; some " wink with a merry twinkle; some are 3 very grave; some make my heart faint?take all the spirit out of me; 3 make me feel like a puny Ignoramus. ' These last are those whose coats are 1 full of dates and black and white facts. The plague on him who Is full e of dates and facts unless he will keep 3 them to himself. But the plague in 1 tenfold fiercer form take him who " comes and punctures my sails with his question about a date or a fact. I 3 have no dates and I know no facts. Get Fred Fooly and Tom Thickhead, * who have been blowing and swelling at 9 one another for several years, to tell 9 you their troubles and see how you come out. There are no facts. There are assertions and refractions of something?probably of beams straight from the eternal source?which would t register facts If they could hit straight, but they are obscured and turned aside. I renounce all help from dates 1 and those stubborn things. I have tried to tie some of them to me at . times, but they jingled and dangled t about me so that I think I should have i gone mad with them., I carry none with me. I have a repository for them f here In these shelves. I shall hence1 forth handle them physically. And you, man, whoever you are, when you i come upon me sailing along serenely 1 on the wings of fancy, all radiant with i the coloring extracted from the dry r??H otifira nf votip so-called UU1ICO UIIU Mkiviw ^ __ truths and facts, and you prod me - with "Who Built Westminster Abz bey?" "How far is Sleepy Hollow - from Greater New York?" I'll say?I think you are fit only to look at men t in stralghtjackets and at lambs, kittens and little boys when they are i asleep. The only books that have helped me are the books that I love, and have absorbed and woven into my heart and soul. I am fond enough to think that I have put a few through that process. I do not speak now of the book of books. I hope that we have all 1 so read it and thought over it that we conform to its teachings in thought and word and act with the certainty - and regularity of instinct. I read "David Copperfield," and "Vanity Fair" quite often, sometimes - twice a year. (I don't' read them critically, and I don't want you to ask me, "What do you think about Dora or ) Agnes; about old man Osborne or Mrs. - O'Dowd?") I sit with them, talk with them, fall asleep with them sometimes (like I would with you), let them strike 1 in on me, change color with them, cry a little with them, laugh some with - them, feel like kissing some of them and kicking others of them; and 80 I ir say they get woven up into my life. What do I care for else? When I reach up and pull down the great blushlni i juicy peach, and spoil my shirt boson with It, what do I care about how th sunshine got into it and transmute* Itself into such deliciousness. You de serve a bone medal for directing m; attention to the black roots and rougi bark. Now let me specify. I am a bachelo with housekeeping proclivities. Tha may mean something like an old maid | I have a little nephew who visits m< occasionally. He can jump as higl and kick in as many directions as an] | little boy you know. He has developec the very unusual tendency of llttli boys to play locomotive through th< house with great puffings and blow , ings. Carpets are fine tracks and col llsions with chair polish and desk fit tings are never fatal to the locomotive I developed great "firmness. My ey< was very steady, my voice very low costralned and business-like. I got thi little fellow by and by so that I couk glance at him and put him Into ? straight jacket at once. I fell in witl Mr. Murdstone, the man with blacl whiskers and cold eyes, and little Da vid Copperfield. I heard Mr. Murd stone say: "Come, now, Clara, firm ness, my dear; firmness." My litth boys now have right of way over al my tracks. The furniture is gettinj somewhat dull in color, but the spirit! of the boys are bright. I pack my grip sometimes and go t< the city. You need a little help wher you first get to it from the country Your mental centre of gravity is variable, not to speak of the fit of youi clothes and the supernumerary condi tlon of hands and feet. You are presented to a well-groomed, office-looking gentleman as he steps from a victoria. Your whole inwards melt awaj when the familiar question rises t< your lips: "How is your grain looking?" "Ploughs all running today?' I don't say I needed any help wher first so situated, but I say you wil need it. Jump into the carriage witl Becky Sharp in "Vanity Fair," anc ride with her to the finish. To preserve your nerve you may imagine they are all Rawdons and Beckies until, perchance, you can go with them; then you won't give a "rap" how it is ?Rev. Oliver Johnson in Associate Reformed Presbyterian. ABSENT-MINDED PEOPLE. yuccr Adventurers into nnicn wooi-i>ainerin| Will Lead People. Absence of mind causes women sometimes to do queer things. Mrs. X., ? woman whom her Intimates regard ai delightful to know, but who is rathei formal to most of her acquaintances called one afternoon lately on a frlenc whom she had not seen In many weeks The friend was out, but the servant stating that she would be back at a certain time, Mrs. X., ensconced hersell In a comfortable chair with a book and awaited her return. Later the friend returned and walkec straight Into the sitting room from tht street door, hat and wraps on Just at she had been equipped for the street, Before she could utter greetings, Mrs, X. came forward to her, saying mosl cordially, with outstretched hand: "Why, how do you do Annie, come right In and lay off your things. II was so kind of you to come." There was a second's bewildermenl between the pair and then it dawned on "Annie" that Mrs. X., believed herself to be In her own house receiving a visitor and had forgotten she was out calling. Funny Incidents occur with people whose minds travel on ahead of their bodies or else lag behind them. A certainly elderly woman went with her young cousin lately to make a round ol reception calls. She had a bad memory for names and so made some memoranda beforehand as to titles and relationship. "When we call on Mrs. Smith," she said, "I must be sure to remember tne name of her married daughter who is here for a visit from Cincinnati. I have made a note of it," and she took a little slip from her card case on which was written "Mrs. Brantley, Mrs. Smith's married daughter." "Now," she said, to her cousin, as the two stood on the doorstep of a house and were about to ring for admittance. "I shall be sure to remember and get things straight." "But this Is not Mrs. Smith we call upon here," warned the cousin. "Oh, yes, I know," was the assuring answer; "This is Mrs. Thompson's. I was only rehearsing for the Smith's call." At Mrs. Thompson's there were several people present. She introduced the visitors to a friend who was receiving with her, and all went merrily until Mrs. Absent Mind's wits became overzealous. She had been talking animatedly with the hostess at one end of the big drawing room, while her cousin mingled with a group at the other end gathered about Miss Blank, the young stranger who was receiving. Presently Mrs. Absent Mind rose, shook hands with Mrs. Thompson and made her way to Miss Blank. "I am so glad to see you back in town, Mrs. Brantley," she said with her most gracious manner, "How delightful for your mother to have you with her! Will you remain long? And how do you like Cincinnati?" The young woman heard this address with amazement. "I'm Miss Blank." she corrected gently, endeavoring to keep a straight face. "I have never visited Cincinnati." A dazed look came over Mrs. Absent Mind's countenance and the cousin who knew her ways, was convulsed with laughter. But absent minded people can generally acquit themselves very creditably in emergency. This one turned confidentially to her companion. "Do you know, my dear, I thought I had just greeted Mrs. Smith and was speaking to her married daughter," she explained. Then she made some witty g comments on the situation and bore the 11 laugh against herelf with excellent e good humor. i In this case Mrs. Absent Mind's ideas - had skipped over the distance between y two houses quite as definitely as if she i had been mesmerized. But as Mrs. Smith was somebody worth knowing, it r was a forgiveable error.?New York t Sun. * LESS DRINKING IN THE SOUTH. / 1 Habits of the People Mightily Changed Since the War. Before the beginning of the Civil war and for several years after, the distinction of the Southern states as those which produced and consumed a larger amount of spirituous liquors than ar.y other group of states in the country, was unchallenged. But since the close of the war, or, rather, since the effacement of the passing generation of fighting colonels and thirsty majors, a complete, palpable and very marked change has come almost imperceptibly over the face of things in the South, and while Kentucky and Maryland continue to produce whisky in large j quantities, as warehouse returns to f the United States treasury indicate, 3 the larger part of the product of both states is shipped to the North; comparatively little is sent South for consumption. In fact, the South is becoming the temperance section of the Union, and of 200,000 retail liquor dealers in the United States having licenses of various sorts, there are only 1,000 in Alabama, 750 in Arkansas, 400 In Florida, 1,200 in Georgia, 350 in Mississippi, 1,200 in North Carolina and 325 in South Carolina, where the dispensary system prevails, and in which there has been a very marked reduction in the sales of liquor during recent years. i Mississippi has had since 1892, a high 1 license law, calling for a tax on each , saloon of $600 a year, and there are I now fewer saloons in that state than . in some wards in New York and in ; Brooklyn. Georgia has been since 1891 . a high license state with absolute pro; hibition in a majority of counties. In . Atlanta there is now one liquor saloon . only for each 1,000 of population, and there is very much less drinking in Georgia, than in any New England state, although climate conditions account, of course, for some part of this. North Carolina has a local license law 1 which permits a majority of the electors in any locality to establish absolute prohibition, and the license rate in West Virginia is $350 for even the 1 smallest tavern. 3 It is not, however, so much in conser quence of laws, as of local custom to which these laws are responsive, that 1 extensive drinking has fallen off so in many of the states of the South. There ^ is no longer in that section the large 1 "leisure class" from which, in a great f measure, the more frequent drinkers ' were recruited. The problems consequent upon the close of the Civil war ' made necessary many personal sacrifl! ces by Southern men, and the era fol' lowing reconstruction was not one fa vorable either to conviviality or dissl pation. There are, relatively, few l , large ciues in tne aoutnern states, ana the enormous improvement In railroad ! connection has had the effect of doing away with the necessity of long journeys by wagon or horseback, such as ' marked the business life of the South 1 during previous generations. Compar' atlvely little liquor is drunk in the 1 South at present, not much more beer arid practically no wine. A state in which wirie and whisky has increased ! considerably is California.?New York Sun. SHE IS 144 AND STILL WORKS. That Is the Account Given by Her Neighbors of Martina Celada, a Peruvian Woman. Here is a case of longevity vouched 1 for by El Morro, of Arica, a city of i the Peruvian provinces, held for ransom by Chile. In the valley of Codpa, in the same province, it says that there is a woman, named Martina Celada, who is 144 years old and to this day works in the fields. According to her many relatives living in Arica, she was born in 1757, ana nas seen most or rne noiea i men of the South American wars of independence. This old woman has seen three centuries, the eighteenth, the nineteenth, and the dawn of the twentieth. She was twice married; the first time at the age of 40 and the second time when she was 60. Her sons and daughters are all dead; some of her grandchildren are living, and she has great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. Two of the last generation are of marriageable age, so the old lady may yet live to see her fifth generation. The old woman has some means, but she does not want to enjoy them, because she says it is not yet time. She wants to live, as she does, in order to entertain all that come to her house. Dona Martina is somewhat blind, for something like a film of flesh covers her eyes; she has completely lost her hearing; and her power to think went shortly after her sight. But she can still walk very well through the fields she cultivates, and as late as 1899 she imniirn tn nlimh iir> a flc trpp tn gather the fruit. It may be said In passing that such stories of great old age are not very uncommon In Peru, where ihe facility for gaining a living and the equable climate seem to conduce to longevity. It Is a very common thing to see Indians, cholos, who are said to be as old as 100 years, or more, doing their dally work with the ease of young men and carrying their years as lightly as in the days of their youth. tti' The smallest as well as the meanest man on earth is he who lives for himself alone.