Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 25, 1903, Image 1
^ ^ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKI^ ^ ^ ^ ^ * '
i. k. GRI8TB sons, Pnbiuhers. } % <^amilg jfrrospagtr: 4?r tl" jj'romotion oj[ the f atftital, gorial, Sgrittiltnral, and Communal gnosis af the ftoglt.
established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1903. . 3STO. 59.
1 - " "" I 11 '?? - ? ? ?-? ? * I nnioAnrno a p- tup ij ati a a u
By WILL N. H/
Copyright, 1902, by Harper Bros. All i
CHAPTER II?Continued.
BlahoD clutched this proposition as a
drowning man would a straw. "Well,
I will go see 1m," he said. "I'll go Jest
to satisfy you. As fer as I'm concerned
I know he wasn't tellln' me no lie, but
I reckon you all never '11 rest till you
are satisfied."
He descended the steps and crossed
the yard to the barn. They saw him
lean over the rail fence for a moment
as If In troubled thought
"Poor father/' said Alan to his uncle
as his mother retired slowly Into the
house*. "He seems troubled, and It may
mean our ruin?absolute ruin."
"It ain't no trlflln' matter," admitted
Daniel "Thar's no tellln' how many
thousand acres he may have bought
He's keepln' somethln' to hlsse'f. I re
member jest when that dura sauna op
a lawyer put that flea in his yeer. They
was at Hansoh'8 mill an' talked confidential
together mighty nigh all mornln'.
But lefs not cross a bridge tell we
git to it Lefs talk about some'n else.
I hain't never had a chance to tell you,
but I seed that gal in town yesterday
an' talked to 'er."
"Did-you, Uncle Ab?" The face of
the young man brightened. His tone
was eager and expectant.
"Yes. I'd hitched in the wagon yard
an' run into Hazen's drugstore to git a
box o' axle grease an' was comln' out
with the durn stuff under my arm
when I run upon 'er a-settla' in a buggy
waitin' to git a clerk to fetch 'er
out a glass o' sody water. She recognized
me, an' fer no other earthly reason
than that I'm yore uncle she spoke
to me as pleasln' as a basket o' chips.
What was I to do? I never was in
annh a nltolit in mv life. I'd been un
loadin' aide meat at Bartow's warehouse
an' was klvered from head to
foot with salt and grease. I didn't
have on no coat, an' the seat o' my
pants was non est?I don't think thar
was any est about 'em, to tell the
truth. But 1 knowed it wouldn't be the
part of a gentleman to let 'er set thar
stretchln' 'er neck out o' socket to call
a clerk when I was handy, so 1 wheeled
about, hopln' an' prayln' ef she did
look at me-she'd take a fancy to the)
back o' my head', an' went in the store
an* toid 'em to git a hustle on the'rse'ves.
When I come out, she hauled
me up to ax some questions about
when camp meetin' was goin' to set In
this yeer an' when Adele was comin'
home. I let my box o' axle grease
drap, an' it rolled like a wagon wheel
off duty an' me after it, bendin'?
bendln' of all positions? heer an' yan
in the most ridiculous way. 1 tell you,
I'd never play croquet ur leapfrog in
them pants. All the way home I
4k/vn<?Kf Hrvnr IM HieOTflPAll Vnil."
luuugut uvt? a v? ^
"Oh, you are all right, Uncle Ab,"
laughed Alan. "She's told me several I
times that she likes you very much.
She says you are genuine-genuine
through and through, and she's right"
"I'd ruther have her say it than any
other gal I know," said Abner. "She's
purty as red shoes, an' ef I'm any
Judge she's gennwine too. I've got another
Idee about 'er. but I ain't a-givln'
it away Jest now."
"You mean that she"?
"No," and the old man smiled mischievously.
"1 didn't mean uothin' o'
the sort I wonder how on earth you
.M ??? onnh o nnHnn In vnrp
WUUIU CL ?VI> OWU U UV??VM ^ bead.
I'm goin' to see bow tbat black
scamp bas left my cotton land. I'll
bet be baln't scratched It any deeper
'n a old ben would 'a' done lookln' fer
worms."
CHAPTER in.
HHE next morning at breakfast
Alfred Bishop announced bis
intention of going to Atlanta
to talk to Perkins and incidentally
to call ou bis brother William,
who was a successful wholesale merchant
in tbat city.
"I believe I would," said Mrs. Bishop.
"Maybe William will tell you what
to do."
"I'd see Perkins fust." advised Abner
Daniel. "Ef I felt shore Perkins bad
bunkqed me, I'd steer cleer o' William.
I'd bate to beer Mm let out on tbat subject.
He's made bis pile by keeplu* a
sharp lookout."
*'I hain't bad no reason to think I
have been lied to." said Bishop doggedly
as be poured bis coffee into his
> .1^ nl.nnl* a l./.llt tfl ft 1 11A
DQUl'Cr illiU ?uuun auvui w wv.,
body could bear bis deathknell rung every
nilnute ef he'd jest listen to old
women an'
"Old bachelors." interpolated Abuer.
"I reckon they are alike. The longer a
man lives without a woman the more
he gits like one. 1 reckon that's beca'se
the man 'at lives with one don't see
nothin' wutb copy in* in 'er an* vice-aversy."
Mrs. Bishop had never been an appreciative
listener to her brother's philosophy.
She ignored what he had just
said and its accompanying smile, which
was always Abner's subtle apology for
such observations.
"Are you goiu' to tell Adele about the
Mil mud?" she asked.
"I reckon I won't tell *er to git up a'
excursion over it "fore the crossties is
laid," retorted Bishop sharply, and Abner
Daniel laughed, that sort of response
being in his own vein.
"I was goin' to say," pursued the
softly treading wife, "that I wouldn't
mention it to 'er ef?ef?Mr. Perkins
ain't to be relied on, beca'se she worries
enough already about our pore way
o' livin' compared to her uncle's folks.
Ef she knowed how I spent last night,
she'd want to come back. But 1 ain't
a-goin' to let Brother Ab skeer me yet
kOT^T^M Author of
LKDIlrlN , "Westerfelt."
ights reserved.
It Is jest too awrul to think about
What on earth would we do? What
would we, I say?"
That aftprnnnn Bishoo was driven to
Darley by a negro boy who was to
bring the buggy back home. He first
repaired to a barber shop, where be
was shaved, bad his balr cut and bis
shoes blacked; then be went to the station
half an hour before time and impatiently
walked up and down the
platform till the train arrived.
It waB 6 o'clock when be reached Atlanta
and made bis way through the
jostling crowd in the big passenger
depot out Into the streets. He had his
choice of going at once to the residence
of his brother, on Peacbtree street, the
most fashionable avenne of the city,
or lookiug up Perkins in bis office. He
decided to unburden bis mind by at
once calling on the lawyer, whose office
was in a tall building quite near
at baud.
it was the hour at which Perkins
usually left forborne, but the old planter
found him In.
"Oh. it's yuu, Mr. Bishop," be said
suavely as he rose from his desk in
the dingy.- disordered little room, with
its single window. He pushed a chair
forward. "Sit down; didn't know you
I mai-o in tnwn- ot vniir hrnther'8. I reck
on. How are the crops up the road?
Too much rain last month. I'm afraid."
Bishop sank wearily into the chair.
He bad tired himself out thinking over
wbut he would say to the man before
tim and with the awful contemplation
If what the man might say to him.
"They are doin' as well as can be expected,"
he made answer. But he
didn't approve of even that platitude,
for he was plain and outspoken and
hadn't come all that distance for a
J mere exchange of courtesies. Still, he
lacked the faculty to approach easily
! the subject which had grown so heavy
within the last twenty-four hours and :
of which he now almost stood in terror.
"Well, that's gooti." re.urneci rerklns.
He Jbs a swarthy man of flftyflve
or sixty, rather tall and slender,
with a bald head that sloped back1
sharply from heavy, jutting brows, on-;
der which a pair of keen black eyes
shone and shifted. "Come down to j
see your daughter," be said; "good
thing for her that you have a brother
In town. By the way, he's a fine type
of a man. He's making headway too.
"You are a scoundrel, Perkins," he said.
His trade Is stretching out In all directions;
funny how different you two
are!"
"I 'lowed I'd see William 'fore 1
went back," said Bishop rather irrelevantly.
Then, seeing that Perkins was
6taring at him rather fixedly, he saidIt
was a verbal plunge:
"I bought some more timber land
yesterday!"
"Oh, you did? That's good." Perkins'
eyes fluttered once or twice before
his gaze steadied Itself on the face
of the man before him. "Well, as 1
told you, Mr. Bishop, that sort of a
thing is a good investment 1 reckon
It's already climbing up a little, ain't
it?"
"Not much yet." It struck Bishop
that he had given the lawyer a splendid
opportunity to speak of the chief
cause for an advance In value, and his
heart felt heavier as he finished. "But
I took quite a slice the last time?
5,000 acres at the old figure, you know
?a dollar a acre."
"You don't say! That was a slice."
Bishop drew himself up in his chair
and inhaled a deep breath. It was as
if he took into himself in that way the
courage to make his next remark.
"I got it from the Tompkins estate."
"You don't say! I didn't know they
had that much ou hand."
"Sence I bought the land I've accidentally
lieerd tliut you are 6ome kin
o' that family."
Perkins started slightly and raised
his brows.
"Oh, yes! On my wife's side, away
off, some way or other. I believe the
original Tompkins that settled there
from Virginia was my wife's grandfather.
1 never was much of a band
to go into such matters."
"When I beerd that, Perkins, it wai
natural fer me to wonder why yon
you see?why you didn't tell then
about the railroad."
The sallow features of the lawyer
seemed to stiffen. He drew himself
up coldly and a wicked expression
flashed in his eyes.
"Take my advice, old man," he
snarled as he threw down his pen and
stared doggedly into Bishop's face.
"HHolr tn unnr fnr miner and don't waste
| WW ? ? . |
your time asking a professional lawyer
questions which have no bearing on
your business whatever. Now, really,
do I have to explain to you my personal
reasons for not favoring the
Tompkins people with a?I may sayany
piece of information?" s
Bishop was now as white as death.
His worst suspicions were confirmedhe
was a ruined man; there was no
further doubt about that Suddenly he
felt unable to bridle the contemptuous
fury that raged within him.
"I think I know why you didn't tell
'em." was what he hurled at the lawyer.
"You think you do?"
"Yes; It was beca'se you knowed no
road was goln' to be built You told
Pete Mosely the same tale you did me,
an' Abe Tompkins unloaded on 'lm.
That's a way you have o' doin' business."
Perkins stood up. He took his silk
hat from the top of his desk and put
it on. "Oh, yes, old man," he sneered;
"I'm a terribly dishonest fellow, but
I've got company in this world. Now,
really, the only thing that has worried
me has been your un-Christlan act
. st AU.A l -1 rrnmn
ID DUyiDg an U1&1 UtliU 11ULU iuc xwwir
klns heirs at such a low figure when
be railroad will advance its value bo
;reatly. Mr. Bishop, I thought you
were a good Methodist"
"Ob, you kin laugh an' Jeer all you
like." cried Bishop, "hut I can handle
you fer this."
"You are not as well versed in the
law as you are In fertilizers, Mr. Bishop."
sneered the lawyer. "In order to
make a case against me you'd have to
publicly betray a matter I told to you
in confidence, and then what would
you gain? I doubt if the court would
force me to explain a private matter
like this where the Interests of my clients
are concerned, and if the court
did I could simply show the letters I
have regarding the possible construction
of a railroad in your section. If
you remember rightly. I did not say
the thing was an absolute certainty.
On top of all this you'd be obliged to
prove collusion between me ana me
Tompkins heirs over a sale made by
their attorney, Mr. Trabue. There is
one thing certain. Mr. Bishop, and that
is that you have forfeited your right
to any further confidence in this matter.
_ If the road is built, you'll find
out about it with the rest of your people.
You think you acted wisely in attacking
me this way, but you have
simply cut off your nose to spite your
face. Now. I have a long car ride before
me, and it's growing late."
Bishop stood up. He was quivering
as with palsy. His voice shook and
rang like that of a madman.
"You are a scoundrel, Perkins," he
said?"a dirty blacksnake in the grass!
I want to tell you that!"
"Well, I hope you won't make any
charge for it."
"No; it's free." Bishop turned to the
door. There was a droop upon his
whole body. He dragged his reet as
he moved out Into the unllghted corridor,
where he paused Irresolutely. So
great was his agony that he almost
obeyed an Impulse to go back and fall
at the feet of Perkins and Implore his
aid to rescue him and his family from
Impeudiug ruin. The lawyer was moving
about the room, closing his desk
and drawing down the window shade.
"It's no use," sighed Bishop as he
made his way downstairs. "I'm ruined!
Alan an' Adele hain't a cent to their
names, an' that devil"? Bishop paused
on the first landing like an animal at
bay. He heard the steady step of Perkins
on the fioor above, and for a mo
ment bis fingers tingled with the
thought of waiting there in the darkness
and choking the life out of the
.subtle scoundrel who had taken advantage
of his credulity.
But with a groan that was half a
prayer he went on down the steps and
out into the lighted streets. At the
first corner lie saw a car which would
take him to his brother's, and he
hastened to catch it.
William Bishop's house was a modern
brick structure, standing on a well
clipped lawn which held a Gothic summer
house and two or three marble
statues. It was In the best portion of
the avenue. Reaching it, the planter
left the car and approached the Iron
gate which opened on to the granite
sieps leauing up me lerruue. n wus
now <iulte dark. Obeying a sudden
impulse, the old man Irresolutely
passed by the gate and walked farther
up the street.
"Somehow I don't feel one bit like
It," he mused. "I couldn't tell William.
He'd think I wanted to borrow
money an' 'ud git skeerd right off. He
always was afeerd I'd mismanage.
An' then I'd hate to sp'ile Adele's
visit, au' she could tell thar was
some'n wrong by me bein' heer In secb
a flurry. I reckon I do show it. How
could a body he'p It? Oh, my Lord,
have mercy! It's all gone, all?all me'n
Betsy has saved."
He turned at the corner of his brother's
property and slowly retraced bis
halting steps to the gate, but he did
not pause, continuing nis way DacK toward
the station. A glance at the
house showed that all the lower rooms
were lighted, as well as the big prismatic
lamp that hung over the front
door. Bishop saw forms In light summer
clothing on the wide veranda.
"I'll bet that tallest one is Sis," he
said pathetically. "I jest wish I could
see 'er a little while. Maybe It 'ud
stop this awful hurtln' a little Jest to
look at 'er an' heer 'er laugh like she
always did at home. She'd be brave;
she wouldn't cry an' take on, but It
would hurt 'er away down in 'er heart,
especially when she's mixlh' with secb
high fliers an' money spenders. Lord,
what'll I do fer cash to send 'er next
month? I'm the land porest man In 1
my county." 1
Reaching the station, he Inquired
about a train to Darley and was told 1
that one left at midnight He decided 1
to take It and sat in one of the iron
armed seats without moving till he
heard his train announced. Then he '
went into tbe smoking car and sat 1
down in a comer. 1
He reached Darley at half past 3 in
the morftlng and went to the only hotel
in the place. Tbe sleepy night clerk 1
rose from bis lounge behind tbe counter
in tbe office and assigned him to a
room, to which a colored boy, vigorously
rubbing his eyes, conducted him.
Left alone In his room, he sat down
on the edge of bis bed and started to
undress, but with a sigh he stopped.
"Whaf s the use o' me lyln' down almost
at daybreak?" he asked himself.
"I mougbt as well be on the way home.
I cayn't sleep nohow."
Blowing out his lamp, he went downstairs
and roused the clerk again. "Will
I have to paj> fer that bed ef I don't
use It?" be questioned.
"Why. no.iir. Bishop," said the clerk.
"Well, 1 believe I'll start out home."
"Is your tea|m in town?" asked the
clerk. . '
"The team I'm a-goin' to use is. I'm
goln' to foot'.It I've done the like before
this." t
"Well, It's a purty tough stretch,"
smiled tbe clerk, "but tbe roads are
good."
CHAPITER IV.
AT J rr was a little after sunrise.
ISI1 rhe fam?y had just left the
BSg breakfast table when Bishop
Eaal walked In. His shoes and
trousers were damp with dew and covered
with the' dust of the road. His
wife saw him entering the gate and
vailed out to him from the hall:
"Well, I declare! Didn't you go to
Atlanta ?"
He came slowly up the steps, dragging
his feet after him. He had the appearance
of a man beaten by every
Btorm that could fall upon a human
being.
"Yes, I went" he aald doggedly. He
passed her and went into the sitting
room, where his brother-in-law stood at
the fireplace lighting his pipe with a
live coal of fire on the tip of a stick.
Abner Daniel looked at him critically,
his brows raised a little as he puffed,
but he said nothing. Mrs. Bishop came
In behind hefi husband, sweeping him
from bead to foot with her searching
eyes.
"You don't mean to tell me you
walked out heer this mornln'," she
cried. "Lord have mercy!"
"I don't know as I've prepared any
set speech on the subject," said her
husband te*ily. "but 1 walked. I
could 'a'- gone to a livery an' ordered
out a team, but I believe thar's
more'n one way o' wearin' sackcloth
an' ashes, an' the sooner I begin the
belter I'll feel."
Abner Daniel winked. The Scriptural
allusion appealed to bis fancy,
and he smiled impulsively.
"That thar is," he said. "Thar's a
whole way an' a half way. Some folks
Jest wear it next to the skin whar It
don't show, with broadcloth ur silk on
the outside. They think ef It scratches *
a little that'll satisfy the Lord an' ^
hoodwink other folks. But I believe (
Ha meant it to be the whole hog or .
none."
Mrs. Bishop was deaf to this philosophy.
"I don't see," she said In her
own field of reflection?"I don't see, I
aay, how you got to Atlanta, attended
to business, seed Adele an' got back
beer at sunrise. Why, Alfred"?
But Bishop Interrupted her. "Have
you all had prayers yet?"
"No; you know we hain't," said his
wife, wondering over his strange manner.
"I reckon It can pass jest this
once, beln' as you are tired an' hain't
had nothin' to eat"
"No; It can't pass, nuther. I don't
want to touch a mouthful. Tell the
rest of 'em to come in, an' you fetch
me the Book."
"Well!" Mrs. uisnop weni um. ?uu
told the negro woman and her daughter
to stop washing the dishes and go
In to prayer. Then she hurried out to
the back porch, where Alan was oiling
his gun.
"Somethln's happened to yore pa,"
she said. "He acts queer an' says sech
strange things. He walked all the
way from Darley this mornln' an' now
wants to have prayers 'fore he touches
a bite o' breakfast. I reckon we are
ruined."
"I'm afraid that's it," opined her son
as he put down his gun and followed
her Into the sitting room. Here the
two negroes stood against the wall.
Abner Daniel was smoking, and Bishop
held the big family Bible on his
quivering knees.
"Ef you mean to keep It up," Abner
1?? n?/v<imnnfnthrolTT 11 flcht
was sayiug oisuuicumiMnj, ..a?
an' good, but I don't believe in sudden j
spurts o' worship. My hosses Is bitched '
up ready to haul a load o' bark to the
tannery, an' It may throw me a little 1
late at dinner, but ef you are a-goin' 1
to make a dally business of It I'm with 1
you." '
"I'm a-goin' to be regular from now
on," said Bishop, slowly turning the '
leaves of the tome. "I forgot whar I 1
read last." t
"You didn't finish about Samson tyIn'
all them foxes' tails together," said '
Abuer Daniel as he knocked the hot
ashes from his pipe Into the palm of '
his hand and tossed them Into the ^
chimney. "That sorter Interested me. '
I wondered how that was a-goin' to '
i'?* hnt? t/> have a nansle o' foxes 1
C11U. M. U MM*- ?? ? ? m
with torches to the'r tails turned loose
in my wheat jest 'tore cuttin' time. It 1
must 'a' been a sight. I wondered 1
how that was a-goin' to end." 1
"You'll wonder how you're a-goin' to <
end if you don't be more respectful," 1
said his sister.
"Like the foxes, I reckon," grinned 1
Abner?"with a eternal torch tied to <
me. Well, ef I am treated that away '
I'll go into the business o' destruction 1
an' set fire to everything I run across."
"Ain't you goln' to tell , us what you l
lid In Atlanta 'fore you nave prayer7"
isked Mrs. Bishop, almost resentfully.
"No, I hain't!" Bishop snapped. "I'll
tell you soon enough. I reckon I won't
read this mornln'. Let's pray."
They all knelt reverently and yet
with some curiosity, for Bishop often
suited his prayers to important occasions,
and it struck them that he might
now allude to the subject bound up
within him.
"Lord, God Almighty," he began, his
lower lip hanging and quivering, as
were his hands clasped In the seat of
tils chair, "thou knowest the struggle
thy creatures are makln' on the face of
thy green globe to live up to the best
if the'r lights an' standards. As 1
vonH hofnro thPA thin mnrnln' I realize
how small a bein' I am to thy sight
10' that 1 ort to bow In humble submission
to thy will, an'-1 do. For
many yeers this family has enjoyed
:hy bounteous blessings. We've had
good health an' the Influence of a
Bible readln', God fearln' community,
in' our chlldern has been educated in
i way that raised 'em head an' shoullers
above many o' the'r associates an'
?ven blood kin. I don't know exactly
ivbar an' how I've sinned, but I know
[ have displeased thee, fer thy scourge
las fallen hard an' heavy on my amiltions.
I wanted to see my boy heer
i good, obedient son an' my daughter
:har in Atlanta able to hold the'r
ieadi up among the folks they mix
ivlth, an' so I reached out Maybe it
4- KaH nnf Ktr n analro
rr tin IUIU1UUCU null UI.JI UUL UJ U UUU1U
n the devil's service. I don't know?
hou knowest Anyways, I steered my
rourse out o' the calm waters o' conent
an' peace o' soul into the whirl)ool
rapids o' avarice an' greed. I
lowed I was in a safe haven an' didn't
iream o' the stormclouds bangln' over
ne till they bust in fury on my head,
few, Lord, my' Father, give them
" Wuaar' gasped M* wife.
learta of patience an' forgiveness fer
he blunders of thy servant Wbat 1
lone I done In the bullheaded way
hat I've always done things, but I
neant good and not harm. These things
ve ask in the name o' Jesus Christ
jut blessed Lord and Master. Amen."
During the latter part of the prayer
lira. Bishop had been staring at her
lusband through her parted fingers,
ler face pale and agitated and as she
ose her eyes were glued to his face.
"Now, Alfred," she said, "what are
rou goin' to tell us about the railroad?
[a it as bad as brother Ab thought 11
would be?"
n,-u?- v. nnl*n If OOOTTlfWi DM if
OIHLLUJJ ucniuiLcu. &?. ?- ..
ie bad even then to tear himself from
he clutch of his natural stubbornness.
Ie looked Into all the anxious, waiting
'aces before he spoke, and then he
rave in.
"Ab made a good guess. Ef I'd 'u'
lad his sense or Alan's, I'd 'a' made a
>etter trader. It's like Ab said it was.
>nly a sight wuss, a powerful sight
vuss!"
"Wuss?" gasped his wife in fresh
ilarm. "How could it be wuss? Why.
brother Ab said"?
"I never have told you the extent o'
ny dealin's," went on Bishop in the
:urrent of confession. "I never even
;old Perkins yesterday. Fust an' last
"ve managed to rake In- fully twenty
housand acres o' mountain land. I
ivas goln' on whnt I 'lowed was n dead
ihore thing. I secured all I could lay
ny hands on, an' I did It in secret. I
was afeerd even to tell you about what
Perkins said, thlnkin' it mought leak
>ut an' sp'ile my chances."
"But, father," said Alan, "you didn't
lave enough money to buy all that
and."
"I got It up"?Bishop's face was dogjedly
pale, almost defiant of his overwhelming
disaster?"1 mortgaged this
!arm to get money to buy Maybry and
Norton's four thousand acres."
"The farm you was going to deed to
llan?" gnsped his wife. "You didn't
4t,ntV'
JiLlUlIC liiU k
"Not In that deal," groaned Bishop.
'I swapped that to Phil Parsons fer
lis poplar an' cypress belt."
The words seemed to cut rasplngly
into the silence of the big room. Abner
Daniel was the only one who seemed
unmoved by the confession. He filled
lis pipe from the bowl on the mantelpiece
and pressed the tobacco down
with his forefinger; then he kicked the
ishes In the chimney till he uncovered
1 small live coal. He eyed It for a
moment, then dipped it up In the shovel,
rolled it Into his pipe and began to
jmoke.
"So 1 ain't a-goin' to git no yeerly
pas9 over the new road," he said, his
ibject being to draw his brother-inlaw
back to Perkins' action in the matter.
"Perkins was a-lyin' to me," auiwered
Bishop. "He hain't .admitted
u yei, Dui ue was a-iyin. nis ODjeci
was to he'p the Tompkins sell ont fer
a decent price, but he can't be bandied.
He's got me on the bip."
"No," said Abner. "I'd rather keep
on swappln' gold dollars fer mountain
land an' lettln' It go fer taxes 'an to
try to beat a lawyer at his own game.
A courthouse Is like the devil's abode,
easy to git Into, no outlet an' nothin'
but scorch while you are thar."
"Hush, fer the name o' goodness!"
cried Mrs. Bishop, looking at her husband.
"Don't you see he's dyin' from
It? Are you all a-goln' to kill Mm?
What does a few acres o' land ur
debts amount to beside killin' a man
oi'a tuun frMHn' +r> holn no all? Alfred
it ain't so mighty awful Tou know it
ain't! What did me an' yon have when
we started out but a log house boarded
up on the outside, an' now we've got
our childern educated an' all of us in
good health. I railly believe it's a sin
agin God's mercy fer us to moan an'
fret under a thing like this."
"That's the talk," exclaimed Abner
Daniel enthusiastically. "Now you
are glttin' down to brass tacks. I've
always contended"?
"For God's sake, don't talk that
way!" said Bishop to his wife. "You
don't mean a word of it You are Jest
a-sayin* it to try to keep me from
seein' what a fool I am."
"You needn't worry about me, father,"
said Alan firmly* "I am able to
look out for myself and for you and
mother. It's done, and the best thing
to do is to look at it in a sensible way.
Besides, a man with 20,000 acres of
mountain land paid for is not broken
oy a long jump. /
"Yes. I'm gone," said Bishop, a
wavering look of gratitude in his eye
as he turned to his son. "I figured on
It aJllastnlgfit r cant pay the heavy
interest an* come out I was playin'
for big stakes an' got left. Thar*s
nothln' to do bnt give up. Me bayln'
so much land has made it rise a little,
bnt when I begin to try to sell I won't
be able to give It away."
"Thar's some'n In that" opined Abner
Daniel as he turned to leave the
room. "I reckon I mought as well go
haul that tan bark. I recktn yon won't
move out 'fore dinner."
Ian followed him ont to the wagon.
"It's pretty tough, Uncle Ab," he
said. "I hadn't the slightest idea It
was so bad."
"I wasn't so shore," said Daniel
"But I was jest a-thinkln' in thar.
You've got a powerful good friend In
Rayburn Miller. He's the sharpest
speculator In north Georgia. Ef I was
you, I'd see him an' lay the whole thing
before him. He'll be able to give you
good advice, an' I'd take It ' A feller
that's made as much money as he has
at his age won't give a friend bad advice."
" * * - * i-i? i-l AUm
"i inougnt 01 mm, tmiu aibm, uui
I am a little afraid he will think we
want to borrow money, and he never
lets out a cent without the beat security."
"Well, you needn't be afeerd on that
score," laughed the old man' as he
reached up on the high wagon seat for
his whip. "I once heerd 'lm say that
business an' friendship wouldn't mix
any better'n oil an' water."
TO BE CONTINUED.
British South Pole Expedition.
Captain R. F. Scott, who commands
the British antarctic exploring expedi?/.n
whi^ii established a record in
. < S
MMfflHHHWp
reaching latitude 82.17 and made
baany Important sclentlflc discoveries,
will remain another year in the south
polar regions. Captain Scott is an officer
in the British navy.
Giri.s Oittwork Men.?According to
n report which has reached "Mr. Gerow,
free employment agent, the Eastern
college students who came to Kansas
to work In the harvest fields are not
doing as much work as the farmers'
daughters.
"The girls of Pawnee county," said
A. G. Miller, of that county, today, "are
nuttlne the trained athletes from
Princeton, Yale, Harvard and the other
colleges out of business when it
comes to shocking wheat behind a selfbinder.
"The girls are working in the fields
because it is necessary, and they know
how to do the work. The muscles of
the students have not hardened sufficiently
to enable them to keep pace
with the girls.
"Two sisters, daughters of Oscar
Swenson. near Larned. are working
with four of the students, and they are
doing more work than the four men.
"If the students stay in the fields
until they can do as much as our
young women they will go home trained
athletes."?Topeka, Kan., letter to
New York Telegram.
The man with kind eyes and a
gruff manner is like the dog that
growls and wags its tail?you are never
sure which sign to believe.
Some people haven't sense enough
to use a hint if they had sense enough
to take it.
rniouncno v/r i nc y a i iwah?
Condition of ths Popes 8ince the Loss
of Their Temporal Power.
It was the great Napoleon who broke
the temporal power of the Papacy.
When he overturned the power of
nearly every government In Europe, he
did not allow the government of the
church to escape. For centuries, until
the Corsican soldier came to desolate
Europe with fire and sword, the pope
had been the power above king and
emperor. No throne was secure that . '
he did not support, and he even claimed,
and sometimes exercised, the right
of conferring and taking away the
sceptre. ine roouu was more man
Imperial. He was the supreme power
of Europe and every priest was a minion
and executive of his power. Napoleon
took away the power of the
kings of Europe, and then he took
away the power of the pope. Thus it
is that Pope Leo was the-first pope to
be a spiritual ruler only.
In 1800 Napoleon declared the temporal
power of Pope Plus VII, at an
end. Plus VII retaliated by plactag the
ban of excommunication upon the emperor.
Enraged by the act of the
Pontiff, and determined to show his
power over the head of the church, the
emperor had the Pontiff brought to
France a prisoner, and kept him until
1813, when the pope was allowed to
return to Rome, but without temporal
power.
One year later Napoleon's empire
tell, and the Papal States were restored
to the pope. The restoration, however.
did not reDlace all the former
power of the Vatican. The pope held
all the central part of Italy, but his
former power over the kings of Europe
had broken forever. The Papal
yoke had been a heavy one, frnd those
who had been relieved of It would bow
their necks to It no more.
When Plus IX ascended the throne
of Peter In 1846, the Papal dominions
consisted of nineteen states, situated In
central Italy, covering 17,000 square
miles and having a population of 3,000,000.
The pope maintained a standing
army?of whitah the noble guard
and other small companies, which now
guard the Vatican, comprise the existing
remnant?and collected a revenue
that Is believed to have approached
$14,000,000 annually.
The Pontiffs power in this large dominion
was absolute, both temporal
and spiritual, and It so continued until
thirty-three years ago, since which
time the pope has been, as both Plus
IX and Leo XIII, expressed it, "The .
Prisoner of the Vatican." In the Papal
States all offices, both spiritual and
temporal, were filled t>by priests, and
to this day the Roman Catholic priests
are. still educated as if. In view of their
having af some flmeTlo^ll temporal offices
under the power of the Vatican.
Pope .Leo, during the reign of Gregory
XVI was * governor of the provinces of
Benevento and Perugia, and filled the
office with marked success and ability,
his administration being chiefly marked
by the disappearance of the banditti,
whom he routed out of mountain
fastnesses and imprisoned: or executed.
In 1850 the powers in Italy, besides
the Papal States, were the kingdoms
of Naples and Sardinia and. the prov
inces of Lombardy, Tuscany, Modena
and other provinces, all under the dominion
of Austria. These provinces,
under Austria had for a long time been
misgoverned and oppressed, and there
had been a number of rebellions. Finally,
an army under the Patriot Oarabaldl
and King Humbert of Sardinia threw
off the Austrian yoke and then proceeded
to Naples and Sicily, driving
out King Francis n,. whose reign over
that country had been remarkable for
tyranny.. King Victor Emmanuel was
elected king of the United Italy, and
only the Papal States remained out of
the United Kingdom. These states,
extending across the kingdom and cutting
it in two, and having within them
the city of Rome, the natural capital
of the country, were covetously regarded
by King Victor Emmanuel and his
advisers. Since 1849, however, France
had protected the pope in his dominions.
a French force having been
placed in Rome after a period of practical
anarchy, during which the Eter
1 />!?.. ?... I. n# a mrih
nai Vtiiy woo in - iiic ucuiuo v& u. mw
that had driven out the pope.
When It became an open secret that
Victor Emmanuel only waited for a
chance to seize the Papal States, Emperor
Napoleon III, put a large French
army In Rome and kept it there until
1870. The war with Prussia then compelled
him to withdraw this force, and
the pope was left helpless. It Is doubtful
if, even with his opportunity, Victor
Emmanuel would have endeavored
to seize Rome by force had It not been
for the fact that a powerful republican
spirit was growing In his kingdom.
France had again established a republic,
and Italy seemed ripe for It. It
w#? nnrtlv to divert this BTowlne sen
timent that King Victor Emmanuel, In
September, 1870, marched on the Eternal
City. Pope Pius was a man of
peace; he resolved, that no blood
should be shed to preserve his power,
nnd gave orders that as soon as the
walls were breached the city should be
surrendered. This last command of
the pope, as a temporal ruler, having
been promulgated, the Pontiff retired
to the Vatican, a self-immolated prisoner.
For four hours the cannon of the invader
thundered at the walls of the
Eternal City until a breach was made,
and the Papal flag was then hauled
down from the defences. Itfcwaa never
raised again save in the Acred precincts
of the Vatican. 1.
Pope Pius DC made a treaty with
King Emmanuel whereby he was to
retain the Vatican, having full power
over its area, including the colleges and
churches connected with it, and was to
T ? - -m n nee AAA?
nave an ineuiiie ui o.^uu.uuui, uui mc
Vatican has never been reconciled with
the Italian government, and the claim
to the right of temporal power over
the Papal States has -never been
abated. The pope has always refused
to accept the Income allotted him by
the Italian government, and it has accumulated
until it now amounts to
between 115,000,000 and $18,000,000.
The Vatican, which is really big
enough for a city of 10,000 to 20,000/ii8
all that remains to the pope. Fromjfts
boundaries Pope Pius IX and Pope aso
XIII, always refused to go; they would
not leave the prison allotted to them
by the uprising government of Italy.