Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r ISSUED SEMI*WEEHL^ i.m. grist's sons, Pubu.her?. j % ^amilg JtettTgpaggr: 4or the gromotioit of the political, Social, Agricultural, and gommeqcial gntereats a)f the ?eogle. {m"8iNo^0p ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 22, 1903. NO. 58. ? - , ; j ? "~7 " 4 By WILL N. HA Copyright, 1902, by Harper Bros. All 1 CHAPTER I. PfriHE young man stood in tha I I I field road giving directions to a robust negro wno was piowWrw.iH ing the corn, which in parallel rows stretched on to the main road a quarter of a mile distant. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, but the atmosphere had dropped a dim veil over the nearby mountain. Even the two storied farmhouse, with its veranda and white columns, to which the field road led up a gradual slope, showed only its outlines. However, Alan Bishop, as he steadied his gaze upon the house, saw the figure of an elderly woman come out of the gate and with a quick step hurry down to him. It was his mother. She was tall and angular and bad high cheek bones and small blue eyes. She had rather thin zrav hair, which was wound into a knot behind her head, and over it she wore only a small red breakfast shawl which she held In place by one of her long bands. "Alan," she said, panting from her brisk walk, "I want you to come to the house right off. Mr. Trabue has come to see yore pa again, an' 1 can't do a thing with Mm." "Well, what does he want with him?" asked the young man. His glance was on the plowman and bis horse. They had turned the far end of the corn row and were coming back, only the nodding head of the animal being visible beyond a little rise. "He's come to draw up the papers fer another land trade yore pa's makIn'. He's the lawyer fer the Tompkins **.Listen to nothinthundered Bishop. estate. Yore pa tried to buy the land a yeer ago. but It wasn't In shape to dispose of. Oh, Alan, don't you see he's goto' to ruin us with tits root notions? Folks all about are a-laugbin' at him fer buyin' so much useless mountain land. I'm powerful afeerd his mind is wrong." "Well, mother, what could I do?" Alan Bishop asked impatiently. "You kuow be won't listen to me." "I reckon you can't stop 'im," sighed the woman, "but I wish you'd come on to the house. I knowed he was up to some'n'. Ever' "Say fer the last week he's been ridiu' up the valley an' rollin* an' tumblln' at night an' chawlu' ten times as much tobacco as he ort. Oh, he's goiu' to ruin us! Brother Abner says he is buyin' beca'se he thinks it's goin' to advance in value, but sech property hain't advanced a speck sense I kin remember an' is bein' sold ever* yeer fer tax money." * 1t~U ?? "INO, 118 very IOOI1BU ?>l uim, uaiu the young man as the two turned toward the house. "Father keeps talking about the fine timber on such property, but It is entirely too far from a railroad ever to be worth anything. I asked Kay burn Miller about it. and he told me to do all I could to stop father from investing, and you know he's as sharp u speculator as ever lived; but it's his money." There was a paling feuce around the house, and the iuclosure was alive with chickens, turkeys, geese, ducks and peafowls. lu the sunshine on the veranda two pointers lay sleeping, but at the sound of the opening gate they rose, stretched themselves lazily aud gaped. "They are in the parlor." said Mrs. Bishop, as she whisked off her breakclimvl "i:? ritrht in! I'll collie in a minute. I want to see bow Linda is matin' out witb the cburuin'. La! I feel like it'9 a waste o' time to do a lick <>' work witb bim in tliur aetin' H'e a ebild. Ef we both go in together, it'll look like we've concoeked sometiiin'. but we must stop 'iin ef we kin." Alan went into the parlor on the left of the wide, uncarpeted ball. The room bad white plastered walls, but the ceiling was of boards planed by hand and painted sky blue. In oue corner stood n very old piano with pointed, octag -i anil a atnnl with till irolnth >1IHI icga auu u i?v?> loveriug. The fireplace was wide and high and had a screen made of a decorated window shade tightly pasted on a wooden frame. Old man Bishop sat near a window and through his steel framed nose glasses was carefully reading a long document written on legal cap paper, lie paid no attention to the ! DRT?M Author of iKDE/iN, "Weiterfelt." ights reserved. entrance of bis sou, but tbe lawyer, a short, fat man of sixty-five with thick black hair that fell below his coat collar, rose and extended his hand. "How's Alan?" he asked pleasantly. "1 saw you down in the field as I come along, but I couldn't catch your eye. You see, I'm out after some o' your dad's cash. He's buying hiSBe'f rich. My Lord, if It ever does turn his way he'll scoop in enough money to set you an' your sister up for life! Folks tell me he owns mighty near every stick of timber land in the Cohutta valley, an' what he has be got at tbe bottom figure." "ir 11 ever lurus uis wnj, oaiu Alan. "But do you see any prospect f its ever doing so. Mr. Trabue?" The lawyer shrugged hi9 shoulders. "I never bet on auother man's trick, my boy. and I never throw cold water on the plans of a speculator. I used to when I was about your age, but 1 saw so many of 'em get rich by paying no attention to me that 1 quit right off. A man ought to be allowed to use his own judgment." Old bishop was evidently not bearing a word of this conversation, being wholly absorbed in studying the details of the deed before him. "I reckon it's all light," be Anally said. "You say the Tompkins children are all of age?" "Yes, Etfle was the youngest," answered Trabue, "and she stepped over the line last Tuesday. There's her signature in black and white. The deed's all right. 1 don't draw up any other sort." Alan went to his father and leaned over him. "Father," he said softly and yet with firmness, "1 wish you'd not act hastily In this deal. You ought to consider mother's wishes, and she is nearly distracted over It." Bishop was angry. His massive, clean shaven face was red. "I'd like to know what I'd consult her fer," he said. "In a matter o' this kind a woman's about aB responsible as a suckin' baby." Trabue laughed heartily. "Well, 1 reckon It's a good thing your wife didn't bear that or she'd show you whether she was responsible or not. I couldn't have got the first word of that off my tongue before my wife would 'a' knocked me clean through that wall." Alfred Bishop seemed not to care for levity during business hours, for he greeted this remark only with a frown. He scanned the paper again and said, "Well, ef thar's any flaw In this 1 reckon you'll make it right." "Oh, yes, I'll make any mistake of mine good," returned Trabue. "The paper's all right." "You see." said Alan to the lawyer, "mo:her and 1 think father has already more of this sort of property than he can carry, and"? "I wish you and yore mother 'd let my business alone," broke in Bishop, firing up again. "Trabue beer knows I've been worryin' 'im fer the last two months to get the property in salable shape. Do you reckon after he gets it that away I want to listen to yore two i n?ii n-nrln' In nnon nnnndfinn lUU^UCO O'VY UggiU ?u vpvu to it?" Trabue rubbed bis bands together. "It really don't make a bit of difference to me, Alan, one way or the other." he said pacifically. "I'm only acting as attorney for the Tompkins estate and get my fee whether there's a transfer or not. That's where I stand in the matter." "But it's not whar I stand in it, Mr. Trabue," said a firm voice in the doorway. It was Mrs. Bishop, her blue eyes flashing, her face pale and rigid. "I think I've got a right?and a big o outr en In fhla IrlnH f\t fl uuc iv ua i c a ouj ou iu bu*o trade. A woman 'at's stayed by a man's side fer thirty odd yeer an' raked an* scraped to he'p save a little handful o' property fer her two children has got a right to raise a rumpus when her husband goes crooked like Alfred has au' starts in to bankrupt 'em all jest fer a blind notion o' bis'n." "Ob. thar you are!" said Bishop, lifting his eyes from the paper and glaring at her over his glasses. "I knowed " 1 1 *- ? l??/\/?lr/lAitrn on' 1 U LIU Yfc* IU Iiuvtr a auvn:auvnu au drag out tight with you 'fore I signed my name, so sail in an' git it over. Trahue's got to ride back to town." "But whar in the name o' common sense is the money to come from?" the woman hurled at her husband as she rested one of her bony hands on the edge of the table and glared at him. "As I understand it, thar's about 5,000 acres in this piece alone, an' yo're a-payin' a dollar a acre. W bar's it a-comin' front, I'd like to know? Whar's it to come from?" Bishop sniffed and ran a steady hand over ltis short, gray hair. "You sec how little she knows o' my business." he said to the lawyer. "Heer she'. raisin' the uovii an uom ?vuiuei mwi the trade, an' she don't so much aknow whar the money's to come fro.n. "How was 1 to know?" retorted ti: woman, "when you've been tellln' i:. fer the last six months that ?! wasn't enough In the hank to give the house a coat o' fresh paint an' patch une barn roof." "You knowed I had $3,000 wuth o' stock in the Shoal Itiver cotton mills, uidn't you?" asked Hishop defiantly and yet with the manner of a man throwing a missile which he hoped would fall lightly. "Yes, I knowed that, but"? The woman's eyes were two small fires burning hungrily for Infcriuation beyond their reach. "TVell, it nappens that snoal stock Is Jest the same on the market as ready money, up a little today an' down tomorrow, but never varyln' more'n a fraction of a cent on the dollar, an' so the Tompkins heirs say they'd Jest as lleve have It, an' as I'm Itchin' to relieve them of the'r land It didn't take us long to come together." If he had struck the woman squarely in the face, she could not have shown more surprise. She became white to the lips and with a low cry turned to her son. "Oh, Alan, don't?don't let 'im do It It's all we have left that we can depend on! It will ruin us!" "Why, father, surely," protested Alan as he put his arm around his mother, "surely you can't mean to let go your mill Investment which Is paying 15 per cent to put the money Into lands that may never advance In value and always be a dead weight on your hands! Think of the loss of Interest and the taxes to be kept up. Father, you must listen to"? "Listen to noth!n\" thundered Blsh V--l? -t~t nhoU "Vn. U{J, null I IBillf; liuui UIO tuaii body axed you two to put In. It's my business, an' I'm a-goln' to attend to It I believe I'm doln' the right thing, an' that settles It." "The right thing," moaned the old woman as she sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "Mr. Trabue," she went on fiercely, "when that factory stock leaves our bands we won't have a single thing to our names that will bring in a cent of Income. You kin see how bad It is on a woman who has worked as hard to do fer her children as I have. Mr. Bishop always said Adele, who Is vlsltln' her uncle's I n Atlanta ohnnlH hnvp thflt stock for a weddin' gift ef she ever married, an' Alan was to have the lower half of this farm. Now, what would we have to give the girl?nothln' but thousands o' acres o' hills, mountains an* gulches full o* bear, wildcats an' catamounts?land that It ud break any young couple to hold on to, much less put to any use. Oh, I feel perfectly sick over It!" There was a heavy, dragging step In the hall, and a long, lank man of sixty or sixty-five years of age paused In the doorway. He had no beard except a tuft of gray hair on his chin, and his teeth, being few and far between, gave to his cheeks a hollow appearance. He was Abner Daniel, Mrs. Bishop's bachelor brother, who lived in the family. "Hello!" he exclaimed, shifting a big quid of tobacco from one cheek to the other. "Plottln' agin the whites? Ef you are, I'll decamp, as the feller said when the bull yeerllu' butted Mm In the small o' the back. How are you, Mr. Trabue? Have they run you out o' town fer nome o' yore legal rascality?" "I reckon your sister thinks It's rascality that's brought me out today," laughed the lawyer. "We are on a little land deal." "Oh, well, I'll move on," said Abner Daniel. "I Jest wanted to tell Alan that Rigg's bogs got Into his young corn In the bottom Jest now an' rooted up about as many acres as Pole Baker's plowed all day. Ef they'd a-rooted In straight rows an' not gone too nigh ofolira hor mnimhf 'a' Hnna fHn V4-AV7 Ol UIU0, LIIVJ UJVUgUli M V?V**V MAW crap more good than harm, but the'r aim or Intention, one or t'other, was bad. Folks is that away. Mighty few of 'em root?when they root at all?fer anybody but the'rse'ves. Well, I'll git along to my room." "Don't go, Brother Ab," pleaded his sister. "I want you to he'p me stand up fer my rights. Alfred is about to swap our cotton mill stock fer some more wild mountain land." In spite of his natural tendency to turn everything Into a Jest?even the serious things of life?the sallow face or tue tan man lengtnenea. tie starea Into the faces around him for a moment; then a slow twinkle dawned In his eye. "I've never been knowed to take sides in any connubial tussle yet," he Bald to Trabue in a dry tone. "Alf may not know what he's about right now, but he's Solomon hisse'f compared to a feller that will undertake to settle a dispute betwixt a man an' his wifemore especially the wife. Geewhilikins! I never shall forget the time old Jane Hardeway come heer to spend a week an' Alf thar an' Betsy split over buyln' a hatraek fer the hall. Betsy had seed one over at Mason's at the campground an' determined she'd have one. Maybe you noticed that fancy contraption in the hall as you come in. Well, Alf seed a nigger unloadin' it from a wagon at the door one mornin', an' when Betsy, In feer an' tremblin', told Mm what it was rer ue migniy mgn uau a nr. Jtie said bis folks never had been above hangin' tbe'r coats an' hats on good, stout nails an' pegs, an' as fer them umbrella pans to ketch the drip, he said they was fancy spitboxes, an' wanted to know ef she expected a body to do the'r eliawin' an' smokin' In that windy hall. He said It jest should not stand thar with all them prongs an' arms to attack unwary folks In the dark, an' he toted it out to the buggy oho/1 Thnt rmt Rotov'a /In nHnr tn\ on* DUVU. I WUi o wu uut.l U|/, UII she put it back agin the wall an' said it 'ud stay thai- ef she had to stand behind it an' bold it in place. Aif wasn't done yet. He 'lowed ef they was to have sech a purty trick as that on the hill it had to stay in the best room in the house, so he put it heer in the parlor by the piano. But Betsy took it back two or three times, an' he larnt that he was a-doin' a sight o* work fer nothin' an' finally quit totlD* it about. "But that ain't what I started in to tell. As I was a-sayin', old Jane Hardeway thought she'd sorter put a word in the dispute to pay fer her board an' keep, an' she told Betsy that 14. - ..II ^v.4Ilw. ?ttu i? fhi. Uiulinna 11 WUS ill! UM1II IU lUir U J iuc uioiivpa was raised thut Alf couldn't stand to huve things nice al?out 'lm. She said all the Bishops she'd ever knowed had a natural stoop that the}' got by llvin' In cabins with low roofs. She wasn't spreadin' 'er butter as thick as she thought she was?ur maybe it was the sort she was spreadin'?fer Betsy blazed up like the woods afire in a high wind. It didn't tuke old Jane long to dlsklver that thar was several breeds o' Bishops out o' jail, an' she spent most o* the rest o' her visit tiraggin' on seme she'd read about. She said the name sounded like the start of 'em had been religious and substanch." "Brother Abner," whined Mrs. Bishop, "I wisht you'd hush all that foolishness an' help me 'n the children out o' this awful fix. Alfred always would listen to you." "Well," and the old man smiled and winked at the lawyer, "I'll give you nil *Uck aH vine T Irln Knw the uuiu an iuv ? Shoal River stock is a good thing right now, but ef the mill was to ketch on Are an' burn down thar'd be a loss. Then as fer timber land, it ain't easy to sell, but it mought take a start before another flood. I say It mought. an' then agin It moughtn't. The mill mought burn, anr then agin it moughtn't. Now, ef you una kin be helped by this advice you are welcome to it free o' charge. Not changin' the subject, did you uns know Mrs. Rich?crr\t a nn 1 fI ranlrnn nruBUti a uciiti o c^v ? VM? she won't borrow so much milk after hers gits good." Trabue smiled broadly as the gaunt man withdrew, but his amusement was short lived, for Mrs. Bishop began to cry, and she soon rose in despair and left the room. Alan stood for a moment looking at the unmoved face of his father, who had found something In the last clause of the document which needed explanation; then he, too, went out. '* CHAPTER II. LAN found bis uncle on the back porch washing his face cud bauds In a basin on the ggSsj water shelf. The young man leaned against one of the wooden posts which supported the low roof of the porch and waited for him to conclude the putting, sputtering operation, which he finally did by enveloping his bead in a long towel hanging from a wooden roller on the weatherboardlng. "Well," he laughed, "yore uncle Ah didn't better matters in thar overly much, but what could a feller do? Yore pa's as bullheaded as a younp steer, an' he's already played smash anyway. Yore ma's wastlu' breath; but a woman seems to bave plenty of it to spare. A woman s tongue s nae a windmill?It takes breath to keep It a-goin', ait' a dead clam 'ud kill her business." "It's no laughing matter. Uncle Ab," said Alan despondently. "Something must hove gone wrong with father's Judgment. He never has acted this way before." The old man dropped the towel and thrust his long, almost jointless fingers ln& bis vest pocket for a horn comb which folded uj? like a jackknife. "I was jest a-wonderin'," as he began to rake his shaggy hair straight down to bis eyes "I was jest a-wonderin' ef he could 'a' bent his skull in a little that time his mule th'owed Mm ag'ln the sweet gum. They sdy that often changes a body powerful. Folks do "It's no laughing matter, Uncle Ab." think lie's off his cazip on the land question, an' now that he's traded hh best nest egg fer another swipe o' the earth's surface 1 reckon they'll talk harder. But yore pa ain't no fool. No plumb idiot could 'a' managed yore ma as well as he has. You see, I know what he's accomplished, fer I've been with 'im ever since they was yoked together. When they was married, she was as wild us a buck an' certainly moil/-. nnr Hnrlflv Wfllk A ptlAlk line, but Alfred has tapered 'er down beautiful. She dldu't want this thiug done on< bit, an' yet It is settled by this time"the old man looked through the hall to the front gate?"yes, Trabue's unhltchln'. He's got them stock certificates in his pocket, an' yore pa has the deeds in his note case. When this gits out, mosabacks from lieer clean to Gilmer Ml be trapsin' in to dispose o' land at so much a front foot." "But what under high heaven will lie do with it all?" ' Hold on to it," grinned Abner; "that is, ef he kin rake an' scrape enough together to pay the taxes. Why, last yeer his taxes mighty nigh floored 'im, an' the expenses on this county he's jest annexed will push 'im like rips, fer now, you know, he'll have to do without the income on his factory stock. But he thinks he's got the right sow by the yeer. Before long he may yell out to us to come he'p 'im turn 'er loose, but he's waltziu' with 'er now." * * -* *???? \l?.. /.omo I A.X, mis JUiJL'LUfC 11119. DiOliUp muit out of the dining room wiping her eyes on her apron. "Mother," said Alan tenderly, "try not to worry over this any more than you can help." "Your pa's gettln' old an' childish." whimpered Airs. Bishop. "He's heerd somebody say timber land up in the mountains will some day advance, an' he forgets that he's too old to get the benefit of it He's goin' to bankrupt us." "Ef I do," the man accused thundered from the hall as he strode out "k'll be my money that's lost?money that I made by hard work." He stood before them, glaring over hiB eyeglasses at his wife. "I've had enough of yore tongue, my lady. Ef I'd not had so much to think about in thar jest now, I'd 'a' shut you up sooner. Dry up now?not another word. I'm doin' the best I kin accordin' to my lights to provide fer my children, an' I won't be interfered with." No one spoke for a moment. However, Mrs. Bishop Anally retorted, as her brother knew she would in her own time. "I don't call buyln' thousands o" acres o' unsalable land providin' fer anytning except me porenouse, Hue fumed. "That's beca'se you don't happen to know us much about the business as I do," said Bishop, with a satisfied chuckle, which to the observing Daniel sounded very much like exultation. "When you all know what I know, you'll be laughin' on t'other sides o' yore mouths. I reckon I'll Jest have to let you all know about this or I won't have a speck o' peace from now on. I didn't tell you at fust beca'se nobody kin keep a secret as well as the man it belongs to, an' I was afecred it ud leak out an' damage my Interests, but this last 5,000 acres jest about sweeps all the best timber in the whole Cohutta section, an' I mought as well let up. I reckon you all know that ef?I sav ef?mv land was nigh a railroad it ud be low at five times what I paid fer it, don't you? Well, then, the long an' short of it is that I happen to be on the inside an' know that a railroad is goin' to be run from Blue Lick Junction to Darley. It'll be started inside of the next yeer an' '11 run smack dab through my property. Thar now! You know more'n you thought you did, don't you?" The little group stared into his glowing face incredulously. "A railroad is to be built, father?" exclaimed Alan. "That's what I said." Mrs. Bishop's eyes flashed with sudden hope, and then, as if remembering her husband's limitations, her face fell. "Alfred," she asked skeptically, "how does it happen that you know about the railroad before other folks does?" "How do I? That's it now?how do I?" and the old man laughed freely. "I've had my fun out o' this thing, llstenin' to what every crank said about me bein' cracked an' so on, but 1 was jest a-lyin' low waitio' fer my time." "Well, I'll be switched!" ejaculated Abner Daniel, half seriously, balf sarcastically. "Geewhillkins! A railroad! I've always said one would pay like rips an' open up a dern good, God fersaken country. I'm glad you ore a-goln' to start one, Alfred." Alan's face was filled with an expression of blended doubt and pity for his father's credulity. "Father," he said gently, "are you sure you got your Information straight?" "I got it from headquarters." The old man raised himself on bis toes and knocked his heels together, a habit he had not Indulged In for many a year. "It was told to me confidentially by a man who knows all about the whole thing, a man who Is In the employ o' the company that's goln' to build it" "Huh!" The exclamation was Abner Daniel's. "Do you mean that Atlanta lawyer, Perkins?" Bishop stared, his mouth lost some of Its pleased firmness, and be ceased the motion of his feet UTTTU^i mnnflAn hlo nomoV YY Llfctl UittUC JUU UiCUUUU uiu UHWV be asked curiously. "Oh, 1 dunno. Somehow 1 Jest thought o' him. He looks to me like he mought be buildiu' a railroad ur two." "Well, that's the man I mean," said Bishop, more uneasily. Somehow the others were all looking at Abner Daniel, who grunted suddenly and almost angrily. "I wouldn't trust that skunk no furder 'n I could ding a bull by the tail." "You say you wouldn't?" Bishop tried to smile, but the effort was a facial failure. "f ?Mm nnthor RrnthoP I >Y UU1UU I 11 UOt IUI ui* ^avvmv* Ab," chimed In Mrs. Bishop. "As soon as 1 laid eyes on Mm I knowed he wouldn't do. He's too mealy mouthed an' fawniu'. Butter wouldn't melt in bis mouth. He bragged on ever'thlng we had while he was heer. Now, Alfred, what we must git at is, what was his object in tellin' you that tale." "Object!" thundered her husband, losing his temper in the face of the awful possibility that her words hinted at. "Are you all a pack an' passle o' fools? If you must dive an' probe, then I'll tell you he owns a slice o' timber land above Holley creek, j'inin' some o' mine, an' so he let me Into the secret out o' puore good will. Oh, you all cayn't skeer me. I ain't one o* the skeerin' kind." But. notwithstanding this outburst, it was plain that doubt had actually taken root In the ordinarily cautious mind of the crude speculator. Abner Daniel laughed out harshly all 1 il ...... "Wl.d + 'a ill Ulice uuu meu nua aiiciii. n uu>. ?? the mutter?" asked his sister in despair. "I was jest a-wonderln\" replied her brother. "You are?" said Bishop angrily. "It seems to me you don't do much else." "Folks 'at wonders a lot ain't so apt to believe ever'thing the/ heer," retorted Abuer. "I was just a-wonderin' why that little, spindle shanked Peter Mosely has been holdln' his head so Mn.1i Hio hist wpclr fir SO. I'll bet I could make a durn good guess now." "What under the sun's Peter Mosely got to do with my business?" burst from Bishop's impatient Hps.. "He's got a sorter roundabout connection with it. 1 reckon." smiled Ab ner grimly. "I Happen to Know that Abe Tompkins sold Mm 2,000 acres o' timber land on Huckleberry ridge Jest atter yore Atlanta man spent the day lookln' round in these part's." Bishop was no fool, and he grasped Abner's meaning even before it was quite clear to the others. "Looky heer," he said sharply, "what do von take me fer?" "I 'ain't tuck you fer nothin'," said Abner, with a. grin. "Leastwise, I 'ain't tuck you fer $5,000 wuth o' cot "You mean to say"? ton mill stock. To make a long story short, the Atlanta jack leg lawyer Is akin to the Tompkins family some way. I'd bet a new hat to a ginger cake that Perkins never owned a spoonful o' land np beer an' that he's jest be'pin' the Tompkins folks on the sly to unload some o' the'r land, so they kin move west, whar they've always wanted to go. Peter Mosely Is a man on the watch out fer rail soft snaps, an' when Perkins whispered the big secret in bis yeer. like.he did to you, he started out on a still hunt fer timbered land on tne line or tne proposed trunk line due west vy-ah Lickskillet to Darley, with stop over privileges at Buzzard Roost an' fifteen minutes fer bash at Dog Trot Springs. Then, somehow or other, by hook or crook?mostly crook?Abe Tompkins wasn't dodgln* anybody about that time. Peter Mosely could 'a' run agin 'im with his eyes shut on a dark night "I was at Nell Filmore's store when the two met, an' ef a trade was ever made quicker betwixt two folks it was done by telegraph an' the paper was signed by llghtnin'. Abe said he had the land an' wouldn't part with it at any price ef he hadn't been bad In need o' money, fer he believed It was chuck full o' Iron ore, soapstone, black marble an' water power, to say nothln' o' timber; but he'd been troubled so much about casb, be said, that he'd made up his mind to let 'er slide an' the devil take the contents. I never seed two parties to a deal better satisfied. They both left the store with a strut Mosely's strut was the biggest, fer he wasn't afeerd o' nothin'. Tompkins looked like he was afeerd Mosely 'ud call 'im back an' want to rue." "You mean to say"? But old Bishop seemed unable to put bis growing fear Into words. *"Oh, I don't know nothin' fer certain," said Abner Daniel sympathetically, "but ef I was you I'd go dowu to Atlanta an' see Perkins. You kin tell by the way he acts whether thar's anything in his railroad story or not. But. by gum, you ort to know whar you stand. You've loaded yorese'f from hind to fore quarters', an' ef you don't plant yore feet on some'n you'll co down." TO BE CONTINUED. A Fable. A man who had 9tolen a half million dollars once went to a lawyer for advice. "Where is the swag?" asked the lawyer. "Alas," said the thief, "I undertook to corner the onion market and it proved too strong for me. The dough is gone. I have just $1.83 in my garments. I squandered the money as fast as I stole it, though my wife may have saved a couple of simoleons." "You are crazy, or else a fool," said the lawyer. "Or may be a lunatic. Perhaps all three. You certainly are not sane. But you have no money to hire experts, so you had better plead r^a,-nxr Vnil will O Hilly cilivj ivi 111\ * v j . * w. get off with a sentence of perhaps eighteen years in prison. Next time have sense enough to save what you steal." The next day another thief visited the lawyer. "I have grabbed off $800.000," he remarked cheerfully. "Where is it?" asked the attorney. "Buried," said the thief. "Buried deep. But not so deep that it cannot be dug up." "How much of it?" "All, and more, too. I invested it so well that it has grown. Not a cent has been wasted. I lived on my salary and no one suspected I was becoming wealthy." "You are a genius," said the lawyer. "You certainly have the keenest intellect I ever encountered. Let me shake your hand. We will hire experts, prove that vou are crazv. that vou alwavs were non-compos, that every one knew it, and in a few months you will be out of legal troubles." Moral: It sometimes takes money to prove a palpable fact.?New York Sun. Lots of people would rather not own the things they can borrow. fork's ?ctogenarians. JOHN W. MOORE. Mr. John W. Moore, one of the oldest and most highly esteemed citizens of Bethesda township, was born near McConnellsvllle, on August 16, 1817, and Is now living with nls son, Mr. P. M. Moore, about five miles south of Yorkvllle. He Is today aged 85 years 11 months and 6 davs. Mr. Moore was born on a farm, and has been a farmer during all of his active life. In May, 1843, he was married to Miss Margaret Nixon McCalla, and as the result of this marriage there were five children?Martha Vldeau, ? lijTi 111 111 ii , JOHN W. MOORE. who died at the age of 17, Mr. W. Frank Moore of Blacksburg, Mr. P. Mortimer Moore of the Delphos neighborhood, Miss Mfnnte Moore and Mary McCalia, who died In infancy. Mr. Moore went to the war as a lieutenant in Black's company, and served later in the reserves as a lieutenant in Captain T. J. Lowry*s company, and as orderly sergeant in McGlll's home guarcis. His career has been that of an honest. up-right citizen, who always stood ready to perform whatever duty became incumbent upon him. He was known far and wide as a kind-hearted, hospitable citizen who loved to entertain his friends and who would" never turn a stranger from his door. During several years past he has been in indifferent health but still retains a livelv interest in the welfare of his neighbors and in the progress of events. For many years he has been a ruling elder in Bethesda church. f HE DAGOEBftE&fVPE. Styles and Methods In the Days When It Was New. It is not so very long ago when a daguerreotype was the only photograph. Yet today, when In the fraction of a second is made the negative from (which hundreds of pictures may be i printed, we seem very far removed from the days when a separate sitting , was required for each picture. I Abraham Bogardus, one of the first Americans to use Daguerre's process, once favored us with some reminiscences that throw an Interesting: light * . on those "old times." I "In the early days of the daguerreo| type the frock coat was seldom seen. ' A man was well dressed when he wore 'a blue cloth coat with black velvet colI lar and plain brass buttons, his walstIcoat being either white or light yellow iand double breasted. The only time I ever saw Daniel Webster he wore such a coat and a yellow waistcoat. "I often made pictures of old men In full ruffled shirt bosom and wristbands as well and with hair in a cue. Some men still wore straps at the bottom of their pantaloons. Most of them, Instead of twisting their mus taches, employed their hands to ron their hair over their ears. "Indeed, a mustache was seldom seen, and It required considerable courage to appear with one. young women would laugh, and street urchins were ready to ridicule the wearer. "It was common for women to have their hair shaved at. the parting to make the forehead high. The higher and broader the expanse the better the woman was pleased and the greater was the number of her admirers, the high broad forehead being supposed to betoken Intellect. "The pictures we made at that period were pretty severe. Every line and wrinkle would show. We had not learned the art of retouching, and the likeness was sure to be there?horribly correct it sometimes seemed. "As for the retouching process, it Is right to soften strong lines and remove frowns, but it is not right to re move a line wnen uy so uuiuk one ucstroy the contour of the face. I have had persons seventy years old ask If I could take their picture so the wrinkles would not show. My answer invariably was, "yes, but where will the likeness be?" A photograph that is not a likeness seems to me not only a misleading but a senseless thing."?Youth's Companion. Why the Ham Is Too Salty.?"We are having many complaints about the unusual saltiness of ham, bacon and canned goods this summer," said a local butcher who does a large family trade. "I suppose It is the same everywhere else. Standard goods that we have been able to recommend for years are salt as brine now. The packing houses tell us that It Is because they are no longer permitted to use the preservatives that got such a raking over the coals after the Spanish war. They simply must pile on the salt or their ham and bacon won't keep. The packers will be obliged to find some way out of the difficulty, or they will have to go out of business altogether. In the trade we are noticing the falling off in orders from hotels and restaurants. No man wants a rasher of bacon or a slice of ham for breakfast if it Is going to send him round with a raging thirst all day."?Philadelphia Ledger.