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* ; SEMI'WEEKL^ l. x. grists sous, PnbUrton. j % .Jfamitg Uttrsgagtr: jfor fh< Jromotion of tin political, foijiat. Agricultural and (Eomm^cial Jnlirests of the jpeoplo. { ters?Jol'e'cup^.VVve ce^VANCE' ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY, JUNE 18, 1907~ NO. 49." ' ~ 1 n-T7" I ?~~ ? <..-f c. u'hnt hp looks! MAYOR RHETT TO THE EDITORS. nmtm By ETTA -r CHAPTER IV. Two Girls. "Mignon! Mignon!" said a gins * voice from out a green wilderness of fern, lighted by flickering patches of June sunshine, "are you listening?" "Ay. with all my might," laughed I Mignon, as she lolled lazily at the foot of a tree, shading her lily complexion with a huge red parasol, "and, like Oliver Twist, I can only cry for more." These two were stragglers from the main army of Madame Verb's school I picnic. They wore airy white hats, i English walking boots, and the freshest of lawn gowns. At their trim waists hung leather wallets containing 1 specimens. One carried a sketch-book, the other a microscope and a field- > glass. Boston girls? Not at all. Both 1 were strangers and aliens in that city ' of culture. "Ma chere!" said she who had been called Mignon, and whose beauty was 3 ^ the boast of Madame Verb's whole I school, "I give you my word that I never before heard of such blood-curd- ' ling adventures in real life! Robbed, murdered and resuscitated .all in one | night! Why, it quite takes my , f breath. Surely, dear, your lover's | claim to the title of hero Is now fully \ established." Maud Loftus, a Canadian blonde, < rather fat, rather dumpy, with china- , blue eyes, and the fairest of lint locks, j smoothed out a letter which she had , been reading aloud to her bosom , friend, in this snug forest nook?a let- i , ter from Crawford's Ranch, Colorado, | in lvhioh the late tragic adventures of , Mr. Guy Fleetwood were plainly set forth. "Oh," she shivered, "suppose that horrible robber had really killed Guy? what, think you, would my feeling now be?" Mignon, who was sketching a little green vista In the cool wood, dropped her pencil, as if overcome. "There's a limit to everything, even to the human imagination," she answered. in a hollow voice; "but it is my private opinion, dear, that you would rush into crape and bombazine today, and tomorrow you would be flirting again with that good-looking German teacher at the school." "Enough!" cried Maud, severely; "I can forgive your heartless Je?t, Migp non, because you have never loved." Mlgnon, the beauty, the pet, the bright particular star of the most aristocratic finishing school in New England. laughed out: "No;, thank goodness, I never have! It must be an intensely disagreeable business!" "What heresy," cried Maud, "from the lips of a girl who is as beautiful as Psyche herself." Mignon shrugged her shoulders. She was used to admiration and accepted it as naturally as a flower the sunlight. In figure she was slight, but beauti fully rounded?an airy, rairy aaning, j with a skin as dazzling as pearl; lan- i guishing eyes, like seal-brown velvet, i and plaits of hair as yellow as burn- | ished brass. She was barely sixteen, | but her career of conquest had already ( begun, and Mignon Vye was born for < conquest. All her sweet, short life she had been petted and adored by everybody who approached her. "You know, m'amie," said Maud, "that there isn't a girl in school who can compare with you in looks!" ] "Nor can any one equal you in im- | portance," laughed Mignon, as she watched a little caravan of black ants traveling to some desired Mecca across the open leaf of her sketch-book. "You are the only engaged one among us, you see; and to be engaged seems such a strange, delightful and desirable thing to madame's artless flock!" f It was quite true that Maud Loftus, in spite of her undeniable dumpy figure. and tip-tilted nose, enjoyed unusual distinction as a betrothed maiden, among her fair fellow students. "But," continued Mignon, briskly, "we are wandering from our subject. Your fiance, Mr. Fleetwood, is robbed, shot, left for dead?your love letters and photographs fall into the hands of road-agents, and then, mystery of mysteries! they return, they revive the slain, they restore to him his filthy lucre?all?everything, but your letters and picture, and they leave him with his friends, and ride away in a most strange and melodramatic manner. Now, doesn't the whole story strike you. as very odd, Maud dear?" "Very!" assented Maud, as she folded up her lover's letter in a perplexed way. "You see that Guy himself is quite at a loss to explain the matter." "And what punishment would you like to mete out to that Black Solomon?no. David? Surely, something worse than Louis XV visited upon Damiens?" "I would, indeed," answered Maud, betwixt a sob and a shudder. "Oh, poor. dear, darling Guy! Mignon, do you think it could have been my last letter which touched the heart of that fiend in human shape, and led him to return and care for Guy, and convey him safely to Robert Crawford's ranch? Do robbers have hearts, anyway?" "Who can tell? Did you write something very, very touching, dear?" "Oh, yes; I told. Guy all about our lovely dresses at the school tableaux, and how your cousin Cyril quite spoiled mine by upsetting his ice upon it, and I confessed that I had been flirting a little with our German teacher. And then I told him how brilliant our graduating class was to be, and gave him the order of exercises, as well as I knew it at that early day, and I meandered onward to the visit which I was to make you before I returned to Canada, and declared my determination to turn your cousin Cyril's cmntv head with my enchantments. and I assured him of iny faithful, undying love, and bade him be true to me in that dreadful mutton country? and?and?I forget the rest. dear, but it was all in my very best style." "No wonder," said Mignon, "that the I Of CftHi V. PIERCE road-agents relented toward your lover after reading all that! Like.Desdemona, you now love him for the dangers he has passed. I wonder," brandishing her red parasol, "If I shall ever have a lover who will write me such bloodfreezing adventures! How the other girls would enjoy this letter, dear! And to think that I am the only person permitted to share Its thrilling contents with you! I ought to feel greatly flattered?as, of course, I do!" "I have no secrets from you, Mignon," said the blonde Canadian; "we are bosom friends, you know, bound by vows of eternal fidelity and devotion, i really believe that I love you next to Guy." There is nothing in life more real, and at the same time more transitory, than these ardent schoolgirl friend1,t"> oloor.oilt llns of Sllipo. A lie pv 4 ivvw, v.vw. M Mignon curled In a sweet little smile. "Thank you, m'amie. And now, do you find yourself quite ready to follow Browning's advice: " 'Love Slve love, ask only love, and leave the rest.' "In other words, dear, are you willing to turn your back upon the world, and fare forth the pretty pastoral of love and sheep In the far, dear, beautiful west?" Maud started in horror. "Never! How can you ask such a question after hearing Guy's letter? Sheep? Oh, I abominate them, living ar dead! And to.call the west dear and beautiful when such monsters as this Black Dave are permitted to run loose about it. robbing and shooting lecent people?well, really, Mignon, It seems a little too much, even though you are western born. Never will I go to Colorado now. On the contrary I shall write immediately to Guy. and urge him to shake the dust of the sage-brush from his feet, and return it once to civilization." Mignon smiled, and twisted the cool, rreen ferns about her .dainty, ungloved Ingers. "Of course," she answered, "that *oad-agents, and the robbing and shooting and bloodshed are all too ireadful for anything, and it is very latural, Maud dear, that after such an idventure you feel little inclination for the land, or the people. But I?yes, I im western born, and," with a sudden *adiance In.her velvety brown eyes, "I ove the west with all my heart! It is ny dear father's coufltfy?It is poor mamma's?it is mine! Why should I tot love it?" "The west is your father's country, >nly by adoption," corrected Maud, to whom the history of her friend was as familiar as her own. "You have told me a dozen times that he was born in the hub of the universe?Boston; and lave I not been in Yankeeland long enough to know that no Vye could aroperly be born anywhere else? From he old judge?your great grandfather, wasn't he?down to your cousin Cyril, [ understand that the Vyes have always been the bright and shining ights of the Suffolk Bar. But, jesting aside, dear, you were such a little thing when you came to live in the east, that surely you remember little jt your western home?" The western girl arose to a sitting nnatm-p amone the ferns. The lovely color pulsed In her oval cheek. "I remember everything," she cried, "the ranch?the free, glad life we_ all led there?the Immense herds that represented my father's fortune?papa was, and Is, a cattle king, you know? monarch of a great, grand domain. Almost from babyhood I was accustomed to the saddle. I used to ride with papa over all his range. I could handle a lariat and branding iron, and curb a bucking horse with the skill of a cowboy. The ranchmen petted me? papa adored me. Ah, a child of eight does not forget, and I had reached that age when mamma's health gave way, and we were told that she must be sent east to the care of competent physicians. Poor mamma was always delicate, and the climate of Colorado did not agree with her. Then, too, it was time for me to go to school? papa said he was very ambitious for me?and so I was torn from my dear ranch, and my wild ranges, and the great herds, and the white peaks piercing the rosy sky. and the free air of those vast solitudes, and brought, with poor mamma, to the east! and papa carried us to Rookwood, his own birthplace, and ordered the best physicians that money could command to attend mamma, and then embraced and blessed us, and went back, alone and lonely, to his herds and rancheros. Ah. I wonder how he has managed to live eight weary years without us there!" There were tears in her lovely eyes. Above all things earthly this girl adored ner ausem mmn. "And you have never seen him since that parting, dear?" said Maud, full of sympathy. "Never!" sighed Mignon. "When poor mamma died he was far away in some remote place buying cattle, and did not hear the news for a long time. I wrote to him in an agony of homesickness, and begged him to come and take me back to the ranch; but he answered 'No,' it was best for me to remain at school; the ranch was no place for me without poor mamma, and he j ... (Triflo Phil ueiivereu mv iuc v??. ^..? ip, whose ward I am"?with a little grimace?"to the present day." "I do not like your Uncle Philip," said Miss !>>ftus, dryly. "No more do I," replied Mignon. with great frankness, "and now that my school days are nearly over, I hope that papa will recall me from my long exile. I do so long for him and for my great, free west! You love civilization. Maud, but I am a western gypsy, eager to give up society and refinement. everything in fact, for the old ranch and the great ranges, and my dear father once more!" "What an affectionate daughter you are, to be sure!" said Maud, admiringly. "Your father must be a Sir Galahad, sans peur et sans reproche, or you would never be so fond and proud of him. I am glad there are good men in Colorado as well as road-agents and assassins. I think better of the place because your father lives In It; but all the same, I will never go there myself i ?Oh, horror! look at that green thing wiggling over your sketch-book, dear! ; Let us fly!" A little snake, like a ribbon of liv- i nig emciltiu, w as Slipping a^? wwo % ?# open page. The conversation ended . abruptly. Both girls sprang up from the lair of fern, and ran off screaming Into the woods. < Where were the other members of i the class, and the two under-teachers who had the "fair girl graduates" In charge? They looked and listened, but 1 neither saw nor heard anything of the < rest of the party. i "Oh, they are spreading lunch some- 1 where, I dare say," remarked Maud ' Loftus, ruefully. "I fear the patties 1 and cold chicken win all be eaten be- I fore we find them and alas! I am dreadfully hungry" 1 The June forest was full of the odor of pines and scented green things ] growing. There was a soft musical I stir of young leaves everywhere, and a I sound of birds twittering high up In the tree tops. j "I think we are lost, like the.Babes in the Wood," said Mlgnon, gayly, "and i It Is very delightful. Let us hunt for I specimens and wait for the rescuing 1 party, wmcn wni surety De sem uui . when Miss Grimes awakes to a reallz- i Ing sense of our loss." ' But Maud was not so well pleased i with the situation. "Perish all specimens, ma belle, If 1 only the jelly and sandwiches remain! I Attention! Do your olfactory nerves I detect the odor of tea in the atmos- ; phere?' 1 "No," said Mlgnon, "It Is sweet-fern I and brier-rose." "Pooh! I tell you it Is tea; yes, and J bouillon. Can It be that a banquet Is 1 In progress near by? Miss Grimes i was going to light a fire, you know, I and boll a kettle. Eureka! what Is ( that curling up through the trees yon- I der? Smoke! I smell young twigs t burning, I smell the flesh pots of j Egypt. We are saved, Mignon?you 1 from the fever of specimen hunting, and I frop. uevouring you In my ex- < cessive hunger." 1 The girls, guided by a sound of i voices and some gray spirals of smoke, curling up through the neighboring .? branches, made a dash forward but 1 suddenly stopped aghast. They had ( stumbled, not upon any guardian un- ! der teachers with a class of fair girls i around them, not upon sandwiches and i cold chicken, but upon something so l strange and unfamiliar that both stood ' dumbfounded. ] In a cool hollow of the wood was j a tent?an old, weather-worn canvas i ~4 ?~ ~ U ? /vw nnlno with ft PAPIlftr ' O LI Cltliru UI1 pujvo, ??in? ? ? hitched up for air. Near it were grouped wagons, like the ships of the desert 1 which Mlgmon had seen on the plafns in her childhood. Tethered horses fed cld&e' by, and over a erackllng"-flre of sticks swung a big iron pot. in which some savory mess seethed and boiled, and around which lean dogs and brown, half-nude children tumbled and rolled together. Two swarthy, gleaming-eyed men lay on the turf in front of the tent, smoking clay pipes and thumbing a pack of greasy cards; and the cry of a baby, mingled with a woman's low crooning, came from under the canvas. It was a camp of gypsies?those mysterious nomads that come and go everywhere, like crows in the tree-tops, and whose reputation is questionable in all things, but especially in that of a horse-trade. As the two girls stood surveying the scene somebody arose from a pine stump near the boiling pot and advanced to meet them?a preternaturally tall woman, with a red handkerchief twisted about her head, and enormous hoops of gold swinging in her ears?a brown. Imposing creature, with a glance like lightning, and strong, white teeth showing betwixt dusky red lips. "Pretty ladies, shall I read your fortunes?" she said, in a wheedling tone, holding out her dark palm for the customary fee. Mignon shrank back. "No, oh, no," she murmured, but Maud Loft us gave her a vigorous pinch. "Oh, you dear little goose. Of what are you afraid?" she whispered. "Of course we want to know our fortunes! This is surely some Romany queen. Do you happen to have any change about you?" Mignon was one of the few school- 1 girls whose allowance always seemed i to exceed her expenditures. She produced a little purse, and Maud prompt- 1 ly took from it two silver pieces. j "Are you sure that you can read fortunes?" she asked, rather skepti- i cally. "Try me and see." replied the gypsy. "We did not come here to pry into the future." said Maud, with great dignity. "We are looking for a picnic party. I suppose you have not seen anything of the kind here in the woods?" The Romany grinned. "Yes, preity lady: down yonder by 1 the brook. I have been there, reading fortunes?two?four?eight?ten of 1 them." "Is it possible," cried Maud, indignantly. that Miss Grimes has been in- J didging in such frivolity at her time 1 i f life. We will not be outdone by the s. creatures, Mignon! Fifty cents worth of revelation, if you please, Cassandra." and she tossed the silver ; pieies into the gypsy's hand. ! The swarthy card-players went on with their game. The lean dogs and scantily clad children rolled together on the forest earth beside the crackling tire. An old hag ran out from among the trees and stirred something in the savory pot. With a mysterious air, the Romany seized Maud's palm and beean: "You have a lover, pretty lady, but he is far away. He has been in great clanger, and there's a greater yet in store for him." Maud gave a nervous start. "Dear me, that does that mean?" "It means that you feel sure of your lover, lady. He vows he loves you? he has put a ring on your hand, he has promised to marry you, but all the same you will lose him?you will never be his wife." "I know that Is a lie!" cried Maud, hotly. The Romany smiled calmly, and by a shake of the head set the great gold hoops swinging in her brown ears. "It Is no lie, lady. Men are very fickle. Let me give you a word of warning: Beware of the tempest!" "The tempest!?what tempest?" said Maud, derisively. "A tempest full of destruction for you and yours!" answered the Romany. "Do you hear the twigs crackling under the kekari yonder? Your lover's vows are as empty as that sound. Now, shall I tell you who you will marry, and will you believe me?" "Tell me anything you like," answered Miss Loftus; "as for believing your grudlo?that is another matter." "Ho? von have nicked ud a Romany ivord, lady! Now, listen! Baa?ba-a!" She Imitated to perfection the bleating af sheep. "Your future husband carries that sound always In his ears?he loves It better than music, and you will live away in a wild place, among herds that make that noise the day ong." Mignon burst into a merry peal of laughter. "A sheep ranch!" she cried; "oh, Maud, Is It possible? A sheep ranch, in spite of all your antipathy to mutton!" "Let us go!" said Maud, with disgust uid indignation. "Hold!" said the Romany; "that is not fair, lady?I have said nothing; to this other little one. Give me your hand. How soft It is?how white! A.h, my poor dove," fixing' her gleaming ?ypsy eyes on Mlgnon's startled face, 'the hawks are after you! They are ready even now to tear you in pieces! Ask me the things you most wish to (mow, little one. You do not believe In the gypsy's skill? You will not? Well listen! It would be better for you if pour face were not so fair. You will have many lovers, but to some women love brings joy, and to others, misery. With all your beauty, it will not bring |oy to you. The man who Is fated to love you more than all the others? more than his own soul, will do you the greatest wrong?yes, a cruel and Jeadly wrong. When you cross water ay night, lovely lady, remember what the Romany said to you?you are lost if you take to the water under the ight of the moon." So weird and impressive was the creature's look as she delivered these vords that Mlgnon started back lnvoljntarily and grew pale. "You're in great peril," went on the jibyl, "and It comes upon you in many forms?ti's all around you like a net. 3h, take care what you do?take care! *hall I name your dearest wish? You ire young and beautiful. You are ich?you have plenty to follow and hatter you; but your heart is not here, ifou are longing to make a Journey"? Maud uttered a crp of surprise?"to one i long way off, but near of kin. Be.vare, little lady! Don't turn that way. rhere are dead men in the path!" This was too much. Mignon tore her land from the gypsy. ^ "Enough!" she said; "do not tell me my more?J do not Want to hear any "Nor I!" cried Maud. "What a surfeit of horrors! My dear Madame Romany, the Witch of Endor was bothing to you;" and,then, seized with i sudden panic, the two girls turned ind fled. A low derisive laugh seemed to folow them as they darted back Into the woods, pausing to take breath only when the gypsy camp was beyond sight or call. Then they looked at each >ther. Both were white and breathess. Maud began to laugh. "What precious geese we are!" she cried. "It was bad enough to listen to that creature's twaddle of tempests ind dead men and false lovers, but infinitely worse to believe It." "Quite true," answered Mignon, ralylng also, though her heart still throbbed painfully. "Beware, Maud dear," ind she tried to imitate the Romany's tone, "that you do not lose the love bf Mr. Guy Fletwood." Maud tossed her blonde braids. "The woman does not live who can take him from me," she replied, audaciously. "We have adored each other since childhood. It would take more than a gypsy's ravings to shake my confidence in Guy's fidelity. Ugh! how earnest that creature seemed, though! She gave me a terrible fright, which was my Just recompense for squandering your money for naught, tlear. Oh, joy! here are Miss Grimes ind the girls?Just opening the luncnbaskets, too!" A sudden turn in the woodland path bad brought them in full view of th? picnic party. The appearance of the stragglers was greeted by a frantic waving of handkerchiefs and parasols. Maud Loftus paused a moment before joining the company and looked at her friend. "Mignon, you will not believe anything that female Ishmael said; surely ?surely you will not?" And Mignon answered, lightly: "Not a word!" CHAPTER V. Rookwood. It was a charming room, furnished in blue and terra-cotta, with deep, wide chairs and sofas, and long windows that opened into what seemed to be a wilderness of roses?roses of every hue and size, blooming in splendid thickets, climbing, coiling, twisting wide arms of beauty: for it was June, and the garden of Rookwood was in its glory. "It is time for our travelers to ap " " JwitfloJ CitII Vvu nulling out u.o...^u w... . ~ , his watch and giving- at the same time a careless kick to his mother's lapdog, a snub-nosed English pug who had ventured to approach him too closely; "the blone Canadian, Miss Eoftus. is a jolly girl, with no nonsense about her, but in the matter of beauty you will find her leagues behind Mlgnou." The person addressed stood at one of the long windows, wistfully watching the driveway?a fragile, middleaged woman, with a timid, oppressed look. Her dinner dress swept in long, rich waves upon the carpet, superb diamonds Mashed on her thin, nervous hands and in the priceless lace at her throat; but her wan, dreary face told its own story. Nobody over thought of envying the wife of that distinguished lawyer, Philip Vye; nobody ever thought of calling her a happy woman. "Few girls can, in paint of beauty, compare favorably with Mlgnon," she answered. "What joy it will be to have her again at Rook wood!?to have herj constantly now?I am glad her schoollife is ended. The child is as dear to, me," with a sigh, "as if she were my own." "She is very dear to me, also," said Cyril Vye, dryly. He was not all like his inslgnlfl- ? cant mother. He was arrogant, foppish, Insufferable. He wore an eyeglass screwed in his pale gray eye, .. and his red mustache was waxed to the last degree. Red also predominated In his brows, his lashes and his hair. Ill-natured people sometimes likened ? m Cyril Vye to that mean little animal, the ferret; nevertheless he was a power In his father's famous law firm. w The study of law had been a passion with all the Vyes. They boasted of j Judges and magistrates In the family, and many brilliant names well known In the annals of the Suffolk Bar. "I come of five generations of lawyers," Philip Vye was wont to say. "all of whom have made a mark In their ^ profession." A brilliant, distinguished race?an arrogant, ambitious race, mighty In wealth and social position, yet with lew lovaDie qualities. "My dear mother," said Cyril Vye, airily twirling the red mustache, "there Is one thing that you must make haste to prepare yourself for?Mlgnon with her beauty and fortune, tvill be sure 01 w have no end of suitors." ^ The pale, faded lady looked at her ^ son with something like horror. "Mlgnon! why. she Is but a child! Suitors? Not yet, I hope?no, no. not yet, Cyril!" He shrugged his carefully padded shoulders. "Mlgnon Is almost seventeen. Shall I tell you a secret? I am going to marry her myself." She gave a queer little cry. "Cyril!" " "Yes," he replied, with great sang frotd, "my mind Is made up. I have adored Mlgnon from her saucy, :an- ^ tallElng childhood, and I give you my r( word that I shall move heaven and n earth "to make her my wife!" "But she Is your cousin!" gasped the w tfi poor, pale lady. "And what of that?" he sneered. a' "Why do you stare at me so stupidly > Is there a law in the commonwealth, to prevent the union of cousins?" She was a little stupid, perhaps. A woman who lives under a purely despotlc form of domestic government, with neither strength nor courage to resist that despotism, is apt In time, to ? grow stupid. "I don't know?I don't know!" she n answered, wringing her hands, help- 111 lessly. "But there Is sometlng In the t( world besides law. Mlgnon professes Vl an open aversion for you, Cyril, and she has made no secret of the same since the day she came to us, a child 1 from the west." c< He started up from his chair and be vl Ban to walk about the blue ana terracotta drawing room. "There Is a love that thrives on dls- B couragement," he answered, "and mine n la of that sort. As a child, spirited. P Insolent, spoiled, Mlgnon fascinated me ^ strangely. The more unkind she was tn?T?e, the more I adored her, and now, B that she has grown to womanhood, It y Is the same, I am her slave?her frowns are dearer to me than the ^ K smiles of other girls. All her slights " and Insults add fresh' fuel to the flre w of my passion." "I tell you. Cyril, that Mlgnon dls- S likes you!" repeated this Illogical wo- 11 man. e! He stopped short In his walk, and ^ gave her an ugly, unfllial look. Cyril B Vye might be foppish and shallow and B Insufferable, but he was also danger- g ous. c "It Is of small consequence," he c sneered, "whether she likes or dislikes rl me?this fact remains the same?Mlg- c non, willing or unwlllng, will be my w wife. Willing, or unwilling, our pert w western princess must, at no distant 11 day, fall body and soul Into the hands a of her despised Cousin Cyril. That P high spirit of hers needs to be tamed, and," with an ugly glitter in his weak, 11 gray eye, "I am the person most ea- w ger to undertake the task! The Vyes, d you know, are famous for home gov- w ernment. They always find means to n bring their women into proper subjec- a tion. My father says that, as a family, p we are noted for our docile wives." She shuddered. Only too well did she e know the marital characteristics of the c Vyes. r "Oh," she half sobbed, "you have laid some unscrupulous plan against d Mignon's peace! It is her fortune that " you want, Cyril. You know that she " 1" her father's sole heiress; but you ( reckon without your host. Mignon has a a will of her own, and the days are n past when a girl can be forced into an obnoxious marriage. If you make Rookwood unpleasant to her, you will 8 only defeat your own purpose, for she ? will complain to her father and he will 1 come and carry her back to Colorado." ^ "I shall not make Rookwood unpleas- c ant to Mignon," answered Cyril Vye, ^ as he twirled the red mustache. "Aw? * no?I love her too much for that! v She will find me her devoted slave. ^ Nevertheless. I Intend to press my suit a with vigor. And now. my dear, foolish 1 mother, you may ask. perhaps, why I ^ have told you all this. Because Mignon n is fond of you?because she will listen readily to any plea that you may make, ^ and I want you to Intercede for me? c you must Intercede for me"? ^ She interrupted him with a quick v gesture. u "Don't ask me, Cyril, I refuse! I a will not attempt (o Influence the child. ^ You are not calculated to make her n happy?with your habits you are not v fit to be her husband!" He laughed mockingly. "Thanks for the compliment, mam- r ma! When I marry Mignon I will r mend my ways, as my father did when r he married you." r To Be Continued. t I The Happiest Home.?Six of the seven wise men of Greece give their r opinions of what constitutes a happy . home as follows: Solon thought the house most happy where the estate f was got without injustice, kept with t distrust, and spent without repent- i ance. Bias said: "That house is happy where the master does freely and r voluntarily at home what the law 1 compels him to do abroad." Thales held that house most happy where the master had most leisure and respite from business. Cleobulus said: "That < in which the master is more beloved r than feared." Pittacus said: "That , home is most happy where superfluities are not required, and necessaries ' are not wanting." Chilo added: "The - house is most happy where the mas- { ter rules as the monarch in his kingdom." And he proceeded: "When a 1 certain Lacedaemonian desired Lycur- 3 gi'3 to establish a democracy in the ? city, 'Go you, friend,' replied he, 'and . make (he experiment first in your own house.' " ( Miscellaneous trading, ?i THE WINNER OF THE DERBY. . tn ge ow Blood and Training Count For . Victory. t<) To have your horse a winner in the ro reat races and to take him in the yc ioment of his victory while his blood er id his spirit are yet bounding splen- ^ dlv with the fire and the mettle hich made him a thing of the wind nf i the track, and then amid the plaudh of his admirers to lead him your jj( vn self past the crowded grand- yc and where the King of England sat ru ? witness the Derby?isn't that some- n{ ling to be proud of? It is out of the question for one who not a fancier of racing horses to yc >mprehend what it means to win the erby; and It Is difficult for the most yc -dent devotee of the turf to fully un?rstand it unless he has lived in Eng- qj ,nd and imbibed the Derby atmos here and spirit. It Is the greatest >orting event on the racing calendar A] ' the English people. It is the king's ar ?-v ini?U/\ u'lnrtar A /lino _ . IU IIIVUC II1C niiuibt IV M?u? 1th him on Derby day. Established gt l 1780 by Lord Derby with a prize of 500 sovereigns'. It Is antedated by nly two English turf affairs?the St. t0 eger by three years and the Oaks by ^ ie?both long ago outclassed by the erby. This great event Is regularly :tended by royalty and fashion, and n< n the eve of the races a great assemlage of coaches laden with the gay- te y and fashion of England take up p osltions of vantage over night. At pJ lis year's Derby, the 127th, King Ed- cj ard, the Prince and Princess of fales, with dukes and duchesses and ct rand dukes and other notables of >yalty, were present to witness the a, ices. A Before such a cloud of witnesses a( ho would not like so to run as to obtin the prize? And to be the owner tJ. nd, more than that, the breeder of m ie winning horse and lead the fine g umb thing proudly out before the re Ing! ot All of these self-same honors are w ie very ones which came Richard roker's way last week when his iree-year-old Orby proved himself a c) asslc in horse-flesh and placed the (j( lue ribbon of the world's greatest je icing event to the credit of Tarn- rs lany Hall. And Croker had a right > be proud. There are a great many a fry respectable people who cannot ^ link of many things in this man Croer's career that he has any right to ^ e proud of; and there are a few who f0 in even start a small catalogue with |n lings he has done which ought to be ^ lewed by him with feelings contrary m > those of conscientious satisfaction. ut of his Derby achievement the jv lan we used to see picture^ in the apers as a bad, bad striped old tiger as Just cause to be proud. You remember the story of It all? j, [ow he moved to England not many ears ago and set up to live at Wanige? He took some of his favorite ^ orses along, among them a dashing g( [entucky Ally named Rhoda B, who jj, on some pretty distinctions. Later g( e sold his Interest in the Belle Meade e] tud Farm near Nashville, Tenn., and ansferred his entire stable inter- Q] sts to England. He wanted to try ir the Derby, and so he looked to CJ Lhoda B for the colt to win It with. lut his English neighbors didn't reard Croker as a fit person to asso- l late with. And they wouldn't asso- ^ late with him. Oh, that was their Ight, maybe. If they wanted to exerIse it. And they snubbed him?a ay people have of doing other people a rhen they don't like 'em. There was fie Jockey Club who excluded Croker nd his horses from the great semi- ? c< ublic training grounds at New Maret Heath?gave no reasons, just shut im out. The Wantage folks didn't rant to associate with Croker and j idn't want their horses to associate ci rith Croker's turf-pounders. So the c, lan who used to wear the tiger clothes |r nd the tiger claws in the pictures, ulied up his belongings and moved y cross the divide over into his belov- y d Ireland. The folks were more so- 8] lable in Ireland and at Baldoyle he a e-establlshed himself. He also set ^ Is heart on winning the Derby. Rhoa B's colt by the great English stal- S) Ion Orme was now a year old. Orby t< ras his name. And for two years ir hey trained Orby to give as good an c: ccount of himself as possible in the k lost famous race in the calendar of T he racing world. Racing day came last week at Ep- \\ om Downs. The famous young thor- sj ughbreds of England were on the h rack. The favorite of the English c ackers was the Irish horse, Slieve a iallion, ridden by an English Jockey, g 'his horse had just won the New b larket stakes a month before. Orby a ras ridden by an American Jocky, ohnny Reiff, Wool Winter,' ridden by s! n English Jockey, was in the number p hat started, as were Lord Roseberry's f( tensonian and John Bull and others? a ine in all. o Orby, the odds are against you. a 'ou are unknown. You have Ameri- n an blood in you. Only one American e lorse, Lorillard's Iroquois, has ever /on the Derby. You have no big rep- t! itation to spur you on. The odds are t gainst you, that's right, but you'll do fi our best. They've done your boss, p nighty bad and all that; and if you y /In, it brings him the stakes of $32- p 00. and it will bring you the blue rib- tl ion and add enough to your fame and tl trice to run it all to a quarter of a million?and many a proud Englishnan would give half a million to win p in your hoofs today. But that's all h ight, Orby, just do your best, and w here'll be no kick coming from your 7 rishman boss. n The track is a horse-shoe shape? 1 nile and a half long. Epsom Downs c s Its name, but the first mile is up till; the riders pass out of sight on tl he crest, but reappear "coming down a till at the famous Tottenham Cor- 7 ier," and then finish on an uphill fur- a ong?so It is sometimes called the e 'Ups and Downs." There's a fierce beating of hoofs out s >n the rain-soaked track as the nine v acers leap outward from the start, c rhere was John Bull and Slleve Gal- 0 ion and Bensonian strung out ahead o ^ ' -II?Uo a Inn fT with the t ?uruy is uii|->|Mii?, . ommon herd. Wonder what Johnny a ielff is saying: to his mount? Save ( rour wind, Orby. It's a hard track md you've got to cover a mile and a a inlf in this rush. Take the measure * )f the clumsy blokes ahead. We'll || <e. Oh, you're good Orby. No, >n't pass another yet, you are runng well. I see your heart's In this Ing and I'll be good to you?till we it over the crest near the toe, any>w. Ah, here you are Orby, on the p of the hill! Let's get busy. It's ugh down hill this way, I know, but iu're gaining. Yonder's Wool Wind ahead, SMeve Galllon next to him. du haven't called on your heart or ur wind, bring them Into action >w. Oh, you cheerful youngster? u've left Bensonlan?you've got Gal>n wobbly on his legs?and now u've put the champion out of the inning?only Wool Winder's heels >w spatter your pretty front?go up side him?now you've got a neck on m?they are Shouting for you, Orby, ur Irish neighbors and the folks om your mother's home?show him ur length, you bully colt?your other was bred In Old Kentucky, rby, take another length on him and -make the finish! Orby did so. He and his game little merlcan rider were alone at the goal id when the old Tammany chief mself lead Orby past the king's and, he felt that he owned the andest horse "that ever looked irough a bridle." Oh, It was a thing lure the pen of a Lew Wallace or a 'Inston Churchill! The king departed from the cus ras ana aian i invite ine .ueroy wmsr to dinner that night?but Just the .me Richard Croker has a right to el proud of his achievement. The rogresslve Farmer Is not a society iper, and has no concern In the soal scandals of the English turf; It Is it a sporting paper, and is not contrned In the gains and losses of the ice track; but it Is a believer in blood id scientific breeding, and, being merlcan, Is naturally proud of the :hlevements of American horses, and ' horses with American blood In iem. And so we have written this uch about Tammany's Derby day at psom Downs In order to get at the >al meaning of this event?the stamp ' merit through blood and training? hlch Is so succlntly given by the ew York Times: "Mr. Croker's victory Is in the same ass with that of Mr. Lorillard. It motes that the owner of Orby has arned how to breed, train, and run ice horses. When he transplanted is American dam, and united her to British sire, for the express purpose ' breeding a Derby winner, and when le result justifies his aspirations, one is to own, as one has had to own be>re, that there Is something scientific , the breeding of race horses. Truly, le Dipea in sucn a case is enuueu w ore than the usual share of the jnors of the quadruped."?Progresse Farmer. CAMPHOR FARM8 IN TEXA8. wo Have Been Sueeeeefully Started By th? Government. Camphor farms are the latest adItion to the resources of the Lone tar state. So far there are only two, 9th of which are operated by the jvernment, but Texans confidently cpect their state to become one of le great camphor producing regions f the world. Practically the entire supply of imphor now comes from Formosa, he demand has Increased to such ti extent that the attention of all the >ad!ng countries of the world has een directed to opening up a new jurce of supply. This Is made necsssary by the fact that In the manuicture of modern explosives which re used In high power guns camphor >rms an Important Ingredient. Now that the Japanese government antrols the world's supply of the roduct, It is by no means certain lat It may be obtained In the des-Ird quantities at all times In the future, n order to provide against any such mtlngency as this the growth of the amphor shrub Is being encouraged 1 Texas. The camphor experimental farm at Wharton was established nearly a ear ago, says the Southwest. The hrubs have thrived wonderfully well nd they are now as high as a man's ead. The process in operation a: Formoi fora extracting the camphor is to > chop the trees down and cut them lto small pieces, from which the amphor Is then distilled. Dr. WatIns will adopt a different method in exas. He sows the camphor seeds like heat or oats, and the shrub quickly prouts. When it is has attained a eight of about three fet it will be ut down by a mowing machine at height of about one foot from the round. The several portions will e put through the distilling process, nd the camphor extracted. From the tender stubble other hoots will spring up, and the cutting rocess can be repeated once a year ar several years. It is asserted that better quality of camphor can be btained by this method than by the ncient process that is in use in Forlosa. The crop requires no attention vo?nt the sowing and harvesting. It is claimed by Doctor Watkins hat a large portion of southwest 'exas is specially adapted to successLil camphor growing. At present rices one acre of camphor would ield a profit of about $450. It is exected, however, that when its culIvatlon becomes general In Texas here will be a drop In prices. Miohty London.?The 6,500,000 peole In Greater London live In 928,008 ouses. The population 100 years age as Just one-fifth what it is now. 'hough the number of births was early double the number of deaths in 904, the birth rate Is steadily dellnlng. The postal figures show that in 190E here were 1,028 poatoffices in London nd 2,435 public telephones working 'he total imports at London In 1904 mounted to $849,086,000, and the tota! xports $462,299,000. Some Idea of London's wealth is hown by the assessed income taj alue in 1904 in the administrative ounty, houses representing $219,264,on trarisa and nrofesslons $364,045, 00; profits of companies and other ine rests. J698.511.000; salaries (corporte bodies), $115,044,000; salaries army and navy), $103,674,000. In 1905 there were 2,993 motor cars nd 1,852 motor cycles in London -icenses to drive were granted t( ,070 people, the fees received amountng to $36,800. Humorous Welcome From Charleston's Popular Mayor. The following able address of welcome delivered by Hon. R. O. Rhett, mayor of Charleston on the occasion of the assembling of the State Press association at the Isle of Palms last Thursday morning, will be read with Interest and amusement. It was especially enjoyed by the editors: "Gentlemen of the South Carolina Press Association: It was Sir Henry Irving, I think, who said that the actor and the politician constitute the steady diet of the press. I presume that baseball and sweet girl graduates should be classed as summer dishes, and Evelvn Thaw as a snecial relish. I don't know how Sir Henry felt about the way the first course was served in his day, but I am somewhat familiar with the manner in which our press of South Carolina dresses and serves up the politician. I am supposed to be in that class myself, though I have had it Impressed upon me not infrequently that I was a 'darned poor specimen.' When I get fresh I am properly salted. When I get weak I am treated with pepper. When I grow lax I am seasoned with ginger. When I take editorial hints I am served up with sugar and cream. When rank and raw I am properly roasted, and whenever successful am handsomely toasted. "In fact, the press of South Carolina have become such skilled 'news cooks' that there is not one of us who would not starve his palate before he'd deprive himself of the daily food served up to him by his favorite editors. "Now I want you to know that I tried my best to save you from this. I even told the committee I thought you very rightly felt outraged that I had folrnn o rl ?-? o a# a -I Z. umcii OAivalliagc U1 a Bllllllttr OCfaBIOn last year to give you a dose of railroads. A few weekB ago Governor Heyward, commenting on the address I had just concluded in response to one of the toasts at T. P. A. banquet in Anderson, on railroads, of course, told the story that at a public execution in Charleston the condemned man was asked by the sheriff if he had anything to say before he was hanged. The reply being. 'No,' he was about to adjust the cap when Mayor Rhett arose and said: 'Mr. Sheriff, if you have no objection I would like to occupy the time of the prisoner with a few remarks on the subject of railroads.' You see, it was time I was growing sensitive on my Rooseveltlan tactics of utilizing occasions for purposes not always pertinent or appropriate. "Before I leave the subject of the politician I would like to ask the members of the press who are present if any of them know Just where we Democrats are at The Republicans have been hopping and skipping and even turning somersaults in a vain effort to ? keep afloat upon the battered planks which once constituted their platform, Teddy seems to have had such a liking for some of those In the Democratic platform that he annexed them and has been ever since dancing on them in great glee. And what's more, ne nas Deen making many of his august party do the same, though somehow they don't seem overjoyed with the performance. "I heard a story the other day which illustrates the situation not badly. A young man who applied for admission to the bar was told he had failed on all questions upon contract, partnership, corporation law, commercial paper and real estate. 'Well,' he said, 'won't you try me on statutes? I am pretty strong on them.' 'Oh! what's the use?' the examiner said, 'some damned fool legislature may repeal all you know.' The politician who is strong on party plat/orms is in a worse plight. Teddy has already repealed all he knows. The truth is that this welcoming business is becoming a very serious matter. How can a mayor be capturing blind tigers, smashing gamblers, regulating railroad rates, patching up pavements, exterminating mosquitoes, pulling down bath houses, boosting the boosters and knocking the knockers, hunting jobs for the unemployed and keeping the employed In the Jobs they have, if he has to prepare an address of welcome every day or two? After one's vanity has been tickled by public speaking until it has lost its sense of ticklishness in that particular spot, an invitation to respond to a toast or extend a welcome brings to his Hps audibly the same expression as arose unconsciously, if lnaudlbly, to tne lips or ine iaay wnu wn? umtributlng tracts here the other day. She handed one to a policeman, he glanced at it, handed it back, and touching his hat, politely said: 'Thank you, miss, I am a married man.' She looked nervously at the title and blushed. It was, 'Abide with me.' "In some other city now the policeman might have agreed with the prov, erb of the Eastern Sage: 'To be constant in love to one is good; to be con, stant to many is great.' , "I trust you will pardon my pausing a moment to look around, but I am always a little apprehensive of finding myself in the position of the , long-winded and prosy preacher who, raising his eyes during his sermon, was amazed to see his mischievous son in the gallery pelting his hearers in the pews below with chestnuts. While the good man was preparing a reproof the young hopeful cried out: 'You tend to your preaching daddy; '111 keep them awake.' 1 "I know you are expecting me to say something to you on the subject of the new dispensary law, and how it is working here. Well, I'm going to give you an example of how it Is worked : when the ladles take a hand. In or - - ? ?kA .NAlinA ? der to escape tne ciuicnes ui mc liquor comes here concealed in every kind of package you can imagine. The 1 other day the department had intlmai tion that some of it could be found , in a package of dry goods addressed to a certain lady. Upon its being seized at her door she protested that > the package contained nothing but , wearing apparel. The policeman hesitated a moment, but insisted on its being opened, and there was disclos1 ed under a layer of two garments, a I dozen bottles of brandy. 'Madam ' said he, sarcastically, 'do you call these wearing apparel?' 'Certainly,' ' she replied, 'those are my husband's night caps.' "Now, lest you may agree with the little boy who, being asked to define 'elocution,' replied, "It's the way people are put to death in some states,' I think I had best relieve your minds of any further apprehension and bring . this rambling discourse to a conclu sion. "I know you cannot help noting the i growth that has taken place every. where since your last visit, and I hope you will find that our hospitality has not failed to keep pace with all the rest"