Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^ ' ISSUED SEMI-WEEKI i. m. grist s SONS, Publisher., j |Jfamilj fieaspaper: 4or the gromotion of the goliticat, jSoejiat. ^jrijultupt and Commeiiciat Interests of th* geople. j 'rite ii?mVANCI! i established 1855. " Y(>ItK VILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, AIJGTJHT 14, 1908. NO. 65. ?? ^wi-n-r?rr-MT?nM^^T~i 7? ????? i* 4* 4* 4* 4* 4* 4* 4" 4 4- 4 4-* ? 6ASI 4> J By ETTA ^ 4* 4 4 4* "J2 4* 4% 4* 4" 4" 4* *?* 9 CHAPTER XXI. Dawnina Love. won me," replied Mrs. Ellicott, kindly. "We need not talk of your past life, Mignon?forget it now, and think only of the future." ? The grand dame felt no particular interest in Elizabeth's history, but she was well satisfied with her "find." This girl might know nothing of Browning, or the Assembly balls, or a Wagner re^ cital; but she was bright and full of possibilities, and her beauty was marvelous. As the heiress of the Ellicott fortune, she would some day make a ? ? 0 "Your beauty," said Mrs. Elllcott, J- "delights me, and you are by no means as ignorant as I feared to find you, my dear. I will even say that for a girl whose life has been passed with seafaring folks, in wild, half-civilized places, you are a most agreeable surprise The Ellicott blood will tell? even in a dust heap a jewel remains ^ a jewel! Now all that I need do is to send you to some finishing school, where you will acquire the manners and accomplishments indispensable to your new position in the world." Breakfast was over, and the false $ Elizabeth Hillyer was sitting on a cushioned seat at Mrs. Ellicott's feet, with her childish hands resting on tne old woman's knee, and her innocent face uplifted like a flower. She had been telling the story of her life?a bit of fiction carefully prepared to suit t the exigencies of the case. She had taken pains to make the narrative brief and plausible. "The uncle with whom I lived at Cape Desolation was drowned some weeks ago," she said. "He left me ? homeless, penniless, kinless. I found shelter with people who were very hard and unkind, and when your letter came?ah, I cannot tell you how happy I was!" "The reulv which you wrote quite sensation in society. "Must I go to school?" said the girl, aghast. "Certainly. You are a mere child, and you look even younger than your years. It is not to be expected that you can comprehend your own needs, or the world into which you have entered. For a year, at least, you must remain L with competent teachers." I The girl was deeply disappointed and ' chagrined, but she managed to conceal her feelings cleverly. "You know best," she meekly answered; "I want to please you in all things. I will do exactly as you wish." And she flung two soft, white arms around the old woman. Touched by her docility. Mrs. Ellicott 1? * " 4 L ?.? T foal nartflin signea: aii, mi; lhuu, * w. ..... that In you I shall find some consolation for my past sorrows!" Mignon, as she was henceforth to be called, smoothed with a gentle touch the other's mourning gown. ' "You mean the loss of your son?" she said. Mrs. Elicott nodded. "I am very, very sorry for you," murmured the girl "He was your only child, was he not? How dreadful'! Tell me about him." A spasm crossed the face of the elder woman. The wound had never wholly healed?never would heal on this side i\f the cmvp | Taylor to the spot. "Miss Hillver has fainted!" cried Mrs. Ellieott. in alarm. "Do something' for her. Susan! She came in here to look at Mr. Lepers portrait, and at sight of it she fell without a sound." Susan grew grim. "Very strange, ma'am!" r "Not strange at all, Susan?the child has not recovered from her journey of yesterday." "Perhaps not, ma'am." Restoratives were applied, and the new heiress came to herself directly. In a sort of frightful fascination her delicate eyes wandered again to the canvas over the mantel. "Oh. Mrs. Ellieott! is that?that ? your son?" she gasped. "Yes?Repel, who died." She buried her lovely face on the old woman's shoulder, shaking with nerv t "The very dog's in the street loved k him!" she cried, with vehemence. "In * all his life he was never guilty of but one represensible act. At some later day I will speak of that. His portrait hangs in the drawing-room: come and see for yourself what he was like." She picked up her ebony stick, pushed aside the portiere, and the two moved into the adjoining apartmentA cool dimness filled it at this hour, for the shutters were closed, and the plate-glass windows hidden in lace and brocade. Mrs. Kllicott limped forward to the mantel, paused on the tigerskin rug. and looked up at the portrait of the dead Lepel. "This is he." she said, sadly. "I have no# called you to take his place. Mignon. for that could never be?no living creature can fill the place of my son!?out simpiy 10 masf ?. nine terrible the vacancy of my life. Had he lived, you, of course, would not be here today." There was no reply. Mrs. Elllcott turned In time to see the girl fling out her hands toward the canvas?then fall full length to the floor. A pull at the bell brought Susan CIUN I I III. "He does not Ifke to see ine here. He threatens me with his eyes. He will drive me from this place. I feel it! He will kill me. if he can! And lie is so terribly like another person that I remember!' "My poor girl!" cried Mrs. Ellicott, "what foolish thing's are you saying?" Mignon collected her wits by an effort. and tried to smile. "It is all my silly fancy! Since your oAn = riAfirl hp ennnot beexudge the shelter of his mother's house to poor me. And one often finds a queer resemblance in the faces of utter strangers. See! I am not afraid of him now." She shot a defiant look at the picture. "A piece of senseless canvas will hurt no one." "Mlgnon," said Mrs. Ellloott. In a 4- 4- 4* 4* 4* 4" 4- 4Hi* 4* 4* - x~~~~~' J! i W. PIERCE. J ( shocked voice, "how strangely you talk! The dead can feel no jealousy, t Lepei would not hurt you if he could." i Mlgnon shuddered. 1 "i moon tn ho i'ppv en ml?sn erond gather up the fragments. At tne same * moment she heard a voice, saying, s "How unfortunate!" And there at her P side stood a girl in street dress, dazzlinglv stylish and chic. She had enter- 8 ed the room unnoticed, and was now looking down on Mignon's mishap with kind concern. "My brother sent me to make your >' acquaintance," she said. "I am Edith n Fassel. I do not need to be told that you are Elizabeth Hillyer." * o-ir-i nn the flrwir started to her v feet coloring: brightly. * "Your brother is very, very kind," c she stammered. "Yes. he told me that you would come soon. As you see. I S have broken Mrs. Ellicott's vase. It e was very stupid of me. but that picture e frightened me terribly?I thopght it S was about to speak!" -s With lively Interest she stared at F Miss Fassel. e "Why." she cried, as though struck F by a sudden thought, "you are the very 1 person that Depel Ellicott was engaged r marry!" "Did Mrs. Ellicott tell you that?" 1 asked Miss Fassell. "No. indeed! Your brother first S1 mentioned it, and today I heard the whole story from a maid that waits on ^ me?not Susan Taylor. I could not en- * dure that frumpish creature, and Mrs. v Ellicott has given me another attendant." she replied. ' "Will you pardon me," said Edith EVtoorO L-ir.rH,- and P-olltlv "if I tell VOU it is not pood form to talk with servants on family matters. Apply to Mrs. Ellicott herself for any informa- r tion you may desire." t "Oh. I cannot, you know. I am a .? good deal afraid of Mrs. Elllcott. in ? spite of her kindness. It is much more 1 easy to chat with servants. Moreover," ? with charming naivete, "they tell ev- ] erything without reservation, and their betters do not." 1 Miss Fassel could not repress a i smile. r "You are very young and inexperi- t enced," she said, apologetically. < Mignon pouted. I "You mean very ignorant. Mis. El- t licott has the same opinion. She is de- t lorminod In send me nw.iv to school. I do not want to go?I am quite satisfied j with myself as I am. No," thought- < fully. "I mean that I was satisfied un- ! til you appeared before me a moment 1 ago. Now I see that I am a barbarous i creature. If I could be like you," her i eyes dwelling admirably on the elder i girl. "I would go anywhere?do any- ' thing." < There was truth in the words. Edith i Fassel was a revelation to the new heiress. Though unused to class dis- < ' tinctions, she recognized in the patri- 1 clan girl a being utterly apart from her- I self?the perfection of thorough breed- I ing and aristocratic refinement. Be- 1 fore another word could be spoken. Mrs. 1 ' Ellicott entered the drawing-room with I . Paget Fassel. Mignon ran to meet the lord of Storm 1 Island, with a glow of unmistakable < . pleasure in her face. 1 Delays in such maters are always dan- t gerous. Yesterday you were poor and * unknown. Mignon, but today you may ? consider yourself one of the richest t< heiresses in the commonweaJth." li it was after the lunch hour. Steph- a ens, the lawyer had come and gone. 11 and Mignon's future assured. For the n present, special teachers in a fashionable school would take charge of the girl, and instruct her in all necessary P accomplishments. s Mrs. Ellicott was now closeted with a ^ ladies' tailor and a modiste, who had 11 been summoned to receive orders for ? the new heiress; and, unwatched by any one. Mignon stole solftly into the *' s drawing room. It was empty. Drawn forward by a b power stronger than herself, she approached the canvas over the mantel. b It seemed to beckon her forward. She b shivered, yet was compelled to advance. d Fearfully Rhe examined the face, hop- b lng to find it less startling than at s first sight. But no! the longer she gazed upon it the more striking ap- e peared Its resemblance to one who had y once been her lover. She could hardly repress a scream of terror as she stu- b died the handsome features. And Mrs. b Elllcott's son had looked like that! ? the adored dead son. whose possessions e she had snatched from Bess Hillyer! A superstitious awe seized her. As e she recoiled from the mantel she w brushed against a costly porcelain vase, ^ and dislodged it from its niche. It '' crashed on the floor. Ignorant of the ? value of Sevres, Mignon stooped to - . *1 that he will have no cause to reproach 1 me. I will love and obey you like a t daughter." Mrs. Ellicott pressed the young creature to her heart. Then observing a > certain curious expression on Susan t Taylor's face, she said, sharply, to that t old servant ? "You can go, Susan." t The door closed on the gaunt figure. 8 "That woman detests me!" said Mignon. "You must not mind Susan," replied d Mrs. Ellicott, kindly. "Lepel was her a idol. She will always regard my prospective heir as an interloper?the t usurper of the rights of the dead. My * nephew was here before you. I meant to have given him the Ellicott fortune, b but he utterly failed to please me. Su- b san disliked him, also. One must be 3 indulgent to an old and faithful ser- b vant." "She has been in your employ for a long time, then?" 1 "Miipo than a onarter of a century, c Give me your arm. my dear, and let us e go back to the library. Your pretty c color has returned?that is good. I may as well tell you that I have sent for e my lawyer this morning to write my will?a new will, in which the entire li Ellicott fortune will be secured to you. " "Oh, how nice of you to come so soon!" she cried. "I was wondering if rou would forget me in a single night." His steel-gray eyes grew warm and bright. "Not in a single night, nor In a lifeline," he answered, playfully. "I dare say you are homesick already for the sea?you wish me to carry you back this morning to the cliffs and fogs of Maine?" She shuddered. "Oh, no, no! I never want to see :hat part of the world again?I never .vant to hear it mentioned, even! I lave swept my past behind me, like? ike rubbish," smiling through quick ears. "Mrs. Ellicott wishes me to forret it. Are vou eroine back to the is and soon?" "No. I have just wired a message to Terry, bidding him not look for my reurn at present." She clapped her pretty hands. "Oh, I am glad of that! I shall see 'ou often here, shall I not? You have ?een so good to me! Besides, you were he first friend that I found?I know drs. Ellicott will allow me to give you he first place, henceforth, in my re:ards." Mrs. Ellicott smiled. "What a child it is!" she said, inlulgently. "I wonder if I shall ever be ble to make a woman of her, Paget?" "Yes." replied Paget Fassel, in a low one. "and one that will work mischief nough by and by!" During the few days that intervened ietwixt her arrival at the Beacon street louse and her departure for school, Jignon managed to subjugate all learts but Susan Taylor's. ?v*!nrk* o *> J ooir ill_Kro/1 tHmora one 11115111 uu cinil oaj ui uicu 1111x50 -foolish and absurd things, but from he highest to the lowest?Mrs. Elliott's old waiting woman alone exceptd?every member of the household exused the girl with the same words, She is only a child." Paget Fassel, ven more than others, dwelt constantly on this. fact. In spite of Storm Is*nd, and his unfinished book, he relained contentedly at Windmere till he day when the so-called Elizabeth lillyer went away to the finishing chool which Mrs. Ellicott had selected r> receive her. "I hope the teachers will make me ke your sister," she whispered to him t parting. "I want to be like Edith so luch. You call her Queenle, and the aine suits her well!" t t rit? Miniru. "You will never be like Edith," he relied. "You are a being of another tamp, Mignon. But remember the ueenly woman, with fine, cold maners, is not always the most admired, r the best beloved." > It was a rainy, dubious morning, and n the silent, gloomy parlor of the c-hool, the Fassels and Mrs. Ellicott ook final leave of Mignon. Edith and the grande dame embraced er tenderly. She turned from the two o Paget Fassel, and leaning her golen head against his arm, pathetically egged him to forgive all the trouble he had made him. "Trouble!" he echoed, with vehemnce. "My dear little girl! what can ou mean?" "Think of the days that you have een kept from Storm Island and your ooks?all because of me." "That is of no consequence what-1 ver!" "You are so kind! I will try to learn verythlng?I will be good. Meanwhile," gazing at him with soft, doubtul eyes, "you will be?where? Explorig strange countries?far away on the ther side of the world, perhaps." "Wherever I go, Mlgnon, I will reurn in time to witness your debut in ociety?your first plunge In the whirlool." "Oh. will you?" she cried, in a glad, leeful way. "I promise faithfully." Her lovely face was wet with tears. "I shall remember?I shall look for ou?wait for you?I know you will ;Ot disappoint me?" A dark glow burned in his cheek. Tis eyes gazed into hers, turbulent i'ith a sudden great passion. Paget 'assel's hour, though long delayed, had ome at last, and Mlgnon, with the luick instinct of her sex, shrank and Tew pale. He loved her?this culturd, elegant man?her superior In evrything. Ever since the morning at ?torm Island events had been leading t-iitriif mi tn this crisis He loved ler! His eyes, speaking for him, thrilld her like strong- wine. She was des>erately frightened, and at the same ime a mad delight throbbed in every lerve of her being. "Good-bye," she sobbe<l. softly, and he room seemed reeling around her. "Good-by." he answered, with his lips ilmost upon her golden hair. "My bird if the sea, good-bye?for a little while! fou will not forget me, and God knows cannot forget you. In one short year ve shall meet again, and then"? It was well for both, perhaps, that he eft his sentence unfinished. CHAPTER XXII. Mume. The last clay of the year had died tut in storm and thick darkness. A jitter north wind was whirling the snow and sleet through the city streets, ind into the eyes and ears of all luckess pedestrians. Over the high roofs ind steeples hung a sky, starless and >al!-like. At the door of a fashionable South \nd hotel several carriages were standng on this closing night of the year, ind the luggage of newly arrived tuests blocked the entrance. A little otnpany of elegant people?an opera jarty. evidently?was Just descending he main staircase, talking gayly to \och other. "My dear Edith," said a orunene m fellow, "do von remember that night >f state opera at Covent Harden, when Marie Ro/.e sang the aria from 'Carnen." and Nordiea tried to outdo her .vith something from 'Traviata?' Caniot you still see that crimson-carpeted nterior, and the entrance lobby, lined Aith Yeoman of the Guard?the color d lights, the box and stalls, filled with ill the swell of London"? Edith Fassel, the person addressed, 'eased to listen to the speaker, and let tier eyes wander suddenly to two porters. who were hurrying to remove the luggage near the door. One, a hercu lean fellow, seized a huge Saratoga, with an air which proclaimed his perfect ability to wrestle with the monster. The other, no less willing, but far weaker physically, with difficulty hoisted a smaller trunk to his shoulder. An tie staggered under the load, he, by some unhappy chance, looked up at Edith Fassel there on the staircase, her superb opera cloak, with its border of white ostrich tips, shimmering like cloth of silver?in her gloved hand a fan of half-blown La France roses. Overhead, a frightfully brilliant light revealed each to each with cruel fidelity. Miss Fassel turned quickly to her friends; the burden bearer hurried away with his load. When he returned, a few minutes later, to struggle with a fresh trunk, the opera party had vanished?all save one gentleman, who lingered in the door, and looked at the porter curiously. "Aw?those traps of mine, you know," he said, and slipped something Into the man's hand, and went off to one of the waiting carriages. "Vicryl T-T.i 1 ?-n o the nnrfpr ahrmlriprpfl Fv*?v., the second trunk, tore up the stair, and deposited it in its place. Then he snatched up his hat, and rusned out of the hotel into the night. She had seen and recognized him! He laughed wildly. For six months he had heard nothing from her. And now? great God! he must meet her like that! Hume was weak and famished, and light in the head. An empty stomach and a proud heart go ill together. With her own queenly eyes she had looked on his humiliation and want?the straits to which he was reduced. The sting of that thought was a thousand times sharper than hunger or cold. Without a doubt the swell at the door had given him the money at her bidding. By a street lamp he examined the coin which had been thrust into his hand. It was a ten-dollar gold piece. Suspicion became certainty. In a sudden fury he flung the money into the street, and rushed away to his dreary lodgings. Since the little episode at Cape Desolation. and his return to the Hub and the old routine of life, things had gone badly indeed with Nigel Hume. eq jqSjui sqjuoiu asoqj jo Xjojsjq aqx briefly summed up in three words? poverty, struggle, disappointment, ne had graduated from the medical school with honor, and hung out the shingle of a full-fledged physician In that poor quarter of the city where he lodged; but his last dollar was gone, and patients failed to appear. Even the kindly presence of Jack Harold was denied him In this time of discouragement, for his one only friend had been called West on family business, and would not return for months. On this closing night of the year, Hume, plodding drearily through the snow and sleet, felt that the medical profession was sadly overcrowded, and that a young doctor, without money, friends or influence, might as well throw up the sponge and starve at once. "And, after all. starvation Isn't so bad, when one gets used to it," muttered the young fellow, as he stumbled up the dark stair to his poor lodging room. "If I had a trifle more brawn, I would bid good-by to a calling that refuses to keep me, and become a porter In good earnest. As tt Is, I am growing so disgracefully weak, even that humble shift looks impracticable." He stopped midway on the flight, to regain his falling breath. He had eaten nothing that day, his rent was unpaid, his pockets were empty; but he was not thinking of these things. The unexpected encounter with Edith Fassel had driven all minor ills from his mind. By this time she was in her box at the opera, and that swell who had given him the gold piece was bending over her, whispering his adoration in her ear. He fancied all the glasses in the house leveled, not at the silver-throated prima donna, but at that one white queenly girl.' Was she thinking of him there?wondering at the depths to which he had fallen? His cheek burned, his heart beat madly. She would never guess that by the humble work of a porter, performed in hours when necessity was strong upon him, he had managed from week to week to keep body and soul together. And for even this poor chance to earn a pittance he was indebted to a hotel official, who had accidentally discovered the young doctor's need, and regarded it half with contempt, half with pity. Hume pulled himself together, and continued the ascent to his room. It was bare and nreiess. rne young fellow's overcoat had been sent some time before to the sign of the three balls, and In consequence he was chilled to the marrow. He lighted a kerosene lamp, restored his sluggish circulation by a few turns across the floor, then took from a shelf of medical books a ponderous volume, opened It, and sat down to read. In his professional research Hume usually found oblivion from physical discomfort: but tonight his wonted solace failed him. A woman's face, pale as a magnolia petal, arose betwixt his gaze and the page. The events of the year trooped back, like grim phantoms, on his memory. What was that bit of society gossip which had recently reached his ear? His aunt. Mrs. Elllcott, had found a new heir?a young female?some connection of her long-dead husband! The r*o ?>-?** r\f flao prpa til rp WAS. as yet. unknown to Hume, but her occupation of the place left vacant by himself meant tlie deathblow to his last hope. TTP to the present time he had felt few regrets for the Ellicott millions: but tonight. pinched with want, disheartened. despairing:, the thought of his loss mocked him painfully. "What a precious idiot I was to throw away a chance like that!" he muttered. A sharp flurry of snow smote the window. The cold became more intense every moment. His hands were so numb, he could hardly turn the leaves of his book. Perhaps at that very moment Edith Fassel, in her opera box. was smiling at the remembrance of the figure he had cut, with the trunk lifted on his shoulder! Hark! Some one was coming up the stair?a rap sounded on the door. It was his landlady, most likely, bent on demanding the unpaid rent. riime in: chiicu nun it-. An elderly man in a seal-lined overcoat. gray. distingue, keen-eyed, en tered?Dr. Bellamv, the autocrat of the hospital, the best-known operator in the city?a man upon whom the students had always looked with profound a we. "How are you, Hume?" he began, graciously. Poor Hume could not remember that the distinguished surgeon Iliad ever before neigneci mm me smu.ii- | est notice. "You have hung out your shingle, I see. Uphill work at first, eh?' "Yes," assented Hume, In a bewildered way. "Older and abler doctors seem to have secured the practice of this locality?of all localities, In fact." "H'm!" Dr. Bellamy flashed one irlanm nmnnS the hare fireleas rnnm "My carriage Is at the door. Do me the favor to oome home with me. I have a little private matter to talk over with you." Hume stood thunderstruck. "What Incredible thing was this? The rich, powerful Bellamy seeking a starving, freezing wretch at nine o'clock at night, and Inviting him to his own house! "Don't look so dazed," said the other, kindly; "and don't keep me waiting, my dear fellow, for the hour is late." Confident that he was laboring under some amazing hallucination, Hume put out his oil lamp, and like a man In a dream, followed his visitor down the stair to a handsome brougham which waited at the door of the lodging liuuotr. The two rolled away In the direction of Copley Square, and stopped before a brownstone palace, where the great operator lived. Transformed Into themost affable of hosts, Bellamy ushered his guest Into a magnificent Interior, full of summer warmth and fragTance, and lighted with many lustres. "First of all," he said, "let us see If my cook has spoiled the supper." Directly Hume found himself seated at a wonderful repast?a feast fit for a king. A silent, respectful manservant 1 V- A I? it. JUUnn UlUUfclll III llie Mltfailiilis uiaucn anu poured the wine. Dr. Bellamy did not talk much during the meal. Perhaps he meant to give his gaunt, holloweyed guest a full opportunity to enjoy It undisturbed. But as soon as the servant was dismissed he leaned back In his chair and said, quietly: "You are not altogether a stranger to me, Hume. I often see you at the hospital, you know. Tell me something about yourself. For your own sake I ask you to confide in me as though I were your father." So persuasive was his tone that Hume began to tell the whole story of his struggles and privations. The great man listened attentively. "I was once a penniless young fellow myself he said, "and I have not yet forgotten that trying period of my life. Permit me to explain my object In looking you up tonight. I am growing old. I find It difficult to attend to all the patients that crowd my office. It Is time for me to take a young assistant. I think you will suit me. Come here tomorrow, and I will lend whatever Influence I possess to Introduce you to fame and fortune. Mark you, I do not doubt that you have sufficient talent and nluck to win both for vourself. Hume, but you had better accept my offer. You are in a strait similar to one that I once occupied. A helping: hand was stretched out to me, and I <rf*.ped it. In grateful remembrance of the way In which I was befriended, I now seek to befriend you." He quietly slipped a check into Hume's hand. "You can repay me at your own convenience. Come, this is New Year's P\'n Pnn clHnr vnnr m I a fr\rfnnn hilHpfl v* V/Vl.w.wv. JVMI ? tonight with the dead year, and tomorrow look for new. and better things!" An hour later Nigel Hume went back to his lodgings, and lo relieve his overwrought feelings executed a wild fling In his poor, bare room. Tl be Continued. HOW INVENTIONS WERE STOLEN Precautions Taken Before Days of Patents to Preserve Trade Secrets. Before patents were granted for Inventions, the Inventor had but one way to secure a return from his Invention. That was to keep It secret. Secret Inventions were the most valuable possessions of many families and guilds. But In proportion to their value, they tempted the cupidity of competitors. The secret of mak ing Venetian glass was greatiy prizeu and was most jealously guarded. A Venetian named Paoll, who possessed the secret, left Venice and wandered northward practising his art. He was stabbed In Normandy with a dagger marked "Traitor"? a measure taken to preserve the secret. In 171ft the elector of Saxony learned that a man named Bottger had discovered the secret of making porcelain. He accordingly confined him In the castle of Albrechtsburg until the discovery had been perfected. The workmen were sworn to secrecy, and the drawbridge was kept up except to admit those specially authorized. Thus was the manufacture of the famous Dresden ware begun. The secret was soon carried to Vienna, where a royal factory was established, and to France, where it was the foundation of the manufacture of the famous Sevres pottery. The stealing of the secret of making "cast steel" in an interesting example. A watchmaker named Huntsman was dissatisfied with the watch springs the market afforded, and in 1760 conceived that It' he could cast the steel into an Ingot, springs made from it would be more homogeneous. ? ?" woo oiiooousfiillv car MI.S ctnil'trpiiwil nan ? ried out. and a large market was established for "Huntsman's Ingots." Large works with tall chimneys were soon built. Every effort was made to keep the secret. Xo one was admitted to the works. The process was divided, and persons working on each part were kept in ignorance of other parts of the work. One bitter winter night a man. dressed as a farm laborer. came to the door apparently In an exhausted condition and asked admittance. The foreman, deceived by his appearance into thinking the man was incapable of understanding what he would see, let him in. The man dropped down in sight of the furnaces and seemed to sleep. Through furtively open eyes he saw the workman cut bars of steel into bits I and depositing them into crucibles, put the crucibles in furnaces and urge the fires to the highest pitch. The -I-KaO ?n nrotect themselves v\ u I rv 11it-11 uuu r . ? from the heat by wet cloths. Finally the steel melted, he saw the crucibles were withdrawn and the steel was cast into moulds?and the secret was a secret no longer?American Industries. iff Life isn't worth living for those who think it isn't. ittiscfllaiteous grading. MR. STEWART AND WINTHROP. Facts About Candidate's Sacrifice o His Home. ine rouowing communication ad' dressed to the Editor of the RocI Hill Record is taken from the last issue of that paper: To the Editor of The Record: In the published report in the Yorkville Enquirer of the York county campaign meeting held at Ogder on August 7th. Mr. W. H. Stewart candidate for the senate, is quoted a.' follows: "In Rock Hill the other day people had said that they would not supporl him because he was an enemy ol Winthrop college. As evidence of his friendship for that institution he told of sacrifices he had made to secure its location in Rock Hill. During the contest over the- matter of site, it apneared that one sltp in PnnU Will wa* all that could be desired except for private property that occupied ground that was absolutely necessary for the college. That property was my own home. Black Wilson, who was active in this contest, asked me if I would sell, and in my eagerness to do anything I could for Rock Hill and the college, I told him yes. We appointed a board of appraisers. I one. they one and the two another, and the board fixed the price at $3,000. I took it without a word." If this means anything it mean? that Mr. Stewart sacrificed his home to secure the location of Winthrop college at Rock Hill. It makes a right pretty story and, if true, might prove that Mr. Stewart was friendly to Winthrop college some fifteen years ago. But Is it true? Here are the facts: The board of trustees of Winthrop college decided to accept Rock Hill's bid for the college, as many citizens of Rock Hill will remember, at a meeting held in Spartanburg, S. C., April 21. 1893, and afterwards at a meeting held in Rock Hill, May 31, 1893. The bonds voted for the college by Rock Hill and the land donated for a site were turned over to the Winthrop board at this last meeting. Mr. W. H. Stewart's home, of which he speaks, was not a part of the site donated to the college, as he states, and it had not been secured for the site by Mr. Black Wilson, as he claims. Mr. Stewart's home was bought by Winthrop college trustees seven months after the college was located In Rock Hill, on December 30th, 1893, at the good stiff price of $3,900 fifteen years ago, instead of $3,000, as he claims. Any one can verify this statement by reference to the books of the county register of Mesne Conveyances, where the deed of sale was recorded on Feb. 17, 1894. Mr. Stewart was not called on, therefore, to sacrifice his home to secure the location of Winthrop college here, and as a matter of fact never sacrificed it. He got a good stiff price for his home, and was glad to get it. Instead of being a benefactor of Winthron col lege In this matter, as he attemtts to make It appear, he was benefited by the transaction. Mr. Stewart's friendship for Wlnthrop college In this transaction Is somewhat like that shown by him when he gave his services to the college as superintendent of construction, at a good salary. One of the Appraisers. CORK OUTPUT IS DECREASING. Disease Among Cork Oaks Threatens Supply. That the output of cork Is rapidly decreasing, owing to disease among the cork oaks and lack of knowledge regarding their treatment and the proper methods of gathering the bark, is asserted by P. Santolyne in The Paris Cosmos. It may be that in future years we shall have to depend entirely on substitutes for the many uses to which this substance is now put. The writer quotes especially the observations of Dr. Ducomet, who nas Deen stuaymg me suujeci ior uvu years past and who advises certain methods for preserving the growth of the trees. He says: "The cork trees are perishing throughout certain regions, those of Mezen and Lavadec, for Instance. Stunted trees with the ends of their branches dead are sometimes attacked by parasites, mostly fungi. In these conditions the bark forms a thicker crust with more numerous holes, it has no longer the Hexibleness. the fine texture or even the color that have given it its value. This diseased state of the tree makes it difficult, in dry years, to remove the bark without injuring the tree * A third of the product must be reject ed on account of Its small thickness, which scarce reaches fifteen millimeters (three-fifths of an inch) instead of at least an inch. "The slowness of growth of the inner bark does not, as has been thought, cause a finer grain and greater elasticity; besides, if these advantages strictly existed, they would be offset by increase in the number and size of the cavities. On the other hand, by delaying the time of gathering the bark, which is done normally once in ten years, the thickness is not sensibly increased. The annual layers, in fact, diminish in size from the outer bark Inward. Besides, the 1? l ^ ?AnAooor'ir Atroru tPII Uai'KlIlK UeCUIIICS nctrMai.i i.v.j years to restore the tree to its normal activity. 'Surfeited' cork, older than the usual ten years, is also subject to attack by ants. The principal defect is the formation of the canals simple or branched, that traverse the entire thickness of the cork and finally become filled with a dusty brownish powder. "The state of decreptitude of the rvolro ie iwttir'Pi] eSDeciallV ill places where the maritime pine flourishes, in dry regions, in an undergrowth formed almost entirely ol heath, moss and lichens instead ol the vegetation encountered in richet and moister soils. But tne elimination of the pine, whose injurious action is not clearly understood, does not benefit the cork trees, which, thus isolated, become stunted or die. II has been observed that the young corli oaks flourish best in places where the undergrowth impoverishes the soil, removes its fertilizing principles anc facilitates the rapid disappearance ol the organic matter. Cultivated groves are always inferior to wild ones. "Besides these general causes ol deterioration we should mention cold and caterpillars. Heavy frosts causf the bark to separate, injure and dislocate the wood and do other kinds of damage, with much loss of sap. ? The men who gather bark 'bleed' the trees with a hatchet stroke to faclllf tate the outflow of the sap before its decomposition. The tool must be kept in a perfect state of cleanness c to avoid possible contamination." In specifying sources of injury to the trees, the writer goes on to mention various diseases due to parasitic fungi, some of them aided by insuffl cient nourishment. Further: "Without desiring to close a ques. tion whose investigation can hardly ' be said to be complte as yet, Mr. Duromet advises rational methods of ? treatment. Including absolute suppres; sion of any use of the ground about , the trees for farming or pasturage, 1 thousands, or might look with much ^ Indulgence on another who had done j. so. The negro does not often steal thousands. 1 This Is based on race prejudice. But j there is social prejudice also. One j. higher up in society does not want r o be considered like one lower down. g and will, therefore, avoid the habits ^ 1 and customs, including the vices, of ' the Inferior classes, while Indulging In others perhaps a great deal more harmful to himself and to society. Greek fathers, It is said, used to make their servants get drunk and show off In the presence of their sons, so that the sons would refrain from drunkenness as a custom belonging to the lower classes. A Greek youth of social standing and pride of position would have felt greatly mortified to be * caught behaving like a servant, so he , kept sober. To return to the beginning and 1 comment on matters nearer home: It , Is noticeable that the more the negroes kill each other In Newberry county the fewer homicides there are among the whites; of course there are other and better reasons why the ' white" do not kill as much as former- ' ly?the advance of civilization, the ^ influence of churches and schools and 1 better influences and environments ? generally, resulting in a higher pub- * lie opinion: but it cannot be doubted ' that the increase of the homicidal 8 mania among the negroes has tended c , to lessen It among the whites. c Now. let us hope that the negroes, ? who are disposed to imitate the a ) whites, will follow their better exam- ? pie in this. It Is said, though, that It c Is the worse traits of the whites that ? the negroes are most inclined to imi- -J tate. But good example and a strict ? administration of the law will have 8 their influence on the inferior race? fl whose disregard of human life has ^ reached a point In this state and coun- c ( ty that Is fearful to contemplate.? a Newberry Observer. I , ? i SHARK FISHING OFF HONOLULU. q e pHook or HarDOon Used?Mon- ' I the maintenance of the undergrowth, * 1 moderation in the height to which the * p removal of bark extends, and reduc- i i tion of the number of cuts, drainage * ' of accumulation of liquid, destruction of the maritime pine, and the 1 i keeping of the tree within its natural limits of territory, without any at- s tempt at extension toward the forest * of resinous trees. I "The uses of cork are very numer- t ous; and after the-most valuable part ' of the bark has been utilized, all the ? debris and residues may be employed. * ! In one French factory these are a , transformed into protecting covers J , for glass vessels, polishers for glass," ' etc., etc.?Literary Digest. , # a THE PHILOSOPHY OF CRIME. J The Effect of Race Prejudice and So- j ' cial Prejudice Upon It. ? 1 Far be it from the Observer to en1 courage the negroes to kill one another. Really they do not seem to ^ need any encouragement in this line anyhow. But it Is a fact, out of which g some satisfaction or compensation rather, may be drawn that the more the negroes kill one another the less I the whites reeort to homicide. The philosophy of It Is that homicide Is coming fast to be a negro custom, and race prejudice, as well as a feeling of social superiority, makes a . I white man wish to behave in a way different from the behavior of negroes. If petty thievery should be a crime?we don't say it is?of the negro race a white man, even without regard to the moral sense, would have a great contempt for a petty thief, ^ and would consider himself everlastIngly disgraced if caught stealing an j 1 article of small value, while he might g 1 hold up his head and "defy public opinion" if he should manage to steal , FRIEND OF PLANT LIFE. John Randolph's Rebuke of a Youth Who Had Felled a Young Hickory. An old, weather beaten, one-room building standing In the courtyard at Kenbridge, Lunenburg county, Va., Is ;he office In which John Randolph of Roanoke practised law. It was the :ustom of the times to build these ittle offices on the courtyard green, ind many a famous lawyer has worked up his case In such an odd little ihelter. No building of the kind, lowever, was ever occupied by a awyer of more Interesting and unique character than this little office at Ken mage, une or Kandoipn's peculiarties dwelt upon by Powhatan Bouldln and illustrated by an incllent which proves that the stern and sccentrlc man formed a society, all >y himself, for the prevention of sruelty to plants. The story is told >y a friend of Randolph's nephew: When I was a boy I visited at Roanoke. The house was completely mvlroned by trees and underwood ind seemed to be in a dense virgin orest. Mr. Randolph would not >ermit even a switch to be cut near he house. Without being aware of this one lay I committed a serious trespass, dy friend Tudor and I were roving ibout when I, perceiving a straight roung hickory about an inch thick, elled It. Tudor said his uncle would be very ingry, so I immediately went and inormed him what I had ignorantly lone and expressed my regret. Mr. Randolph took the stick and ooked pensively at it as if commlseritincr ItQ fa ta Thon era rr{n or at ma Via aid: "I would not have had this done or fifty Spanish milled dollars!" I had 75 cents and had entertained lome idea of offering: it, but when I leard about the fifty dollars I was ifraid of Insulting him by such mearre compensation. "Did you want this for a cane?" isked Mr. Randolph. "No, sir." "No, you are not old enough to ieed a cane. Did you want It for any )artlcular purpose?" "No, sir. I only saw that It was a stiolr onH tKrvufyKt I* ' r* w%?vn Uiivi iiivugiu A VI VUt IV* "We can be justified In taking anlnal life only to furnish food or to renove a hurtful object. We cannot be ustlfled In taking even vegetable life vithout some useful object In view, tfow God Almighty planted this thing md you have killed It without any idequate object. It would have grown nto a large nut tree and furnished ood for many squirrels. I hope and >el!eve you will never do so again." "Never, sir, never!" I cried. He put the stick Into a corner and escaped to Tudor. It was some time >efore I could cut a switch or Ashing *od without feeling I was doing some tort of violence to the vegetable klnglom.?Youth's Companion. Tribute to Or. Gill Wylie. The friends of Dr. TV". Gill Wylie of s'ew York will be interested in the ollowlng which appears In the August ssue of The Broadway Magazine unler the heading. "The Originator of lospital Sanitation:" "Thirty years ago when physicians Irst talked of martial law for the government of public hospitals, the jsual coterie of scoffers that every Injovatlon brings forth found a conspicious victim In a young doctor who vas advocating startllngly systematic tnd arbitrary regulation of hospitals, rhe young physician who fought for lis Ideas on sanitation at that time vas Dr. Walter Gin Wylle, the New fork specialist on abdominal surgery, iis fight has been successful, too. roday If you have occasion to visit he hospitals of our larger cities, you (annot help but feel that you are In he grip of a system, as arbitrary as t Is comprehensive, which Is no repector of persons. It Is the system >f sanitation. The phenomenal deTease in hospital deaths Is the result >f its rigid enforcement. Dr. Wylle is tn expert in the science of sanitary tnglneering, and evidences of his peuliar talent can be seen in almost (very big hospital of the country. He las devised hospital systems, and his (ssays on the subject of hospital orranization have been read by hospital uperlntendents all over the world, ts an important part of his system >f sanitation. Dr. Wylle has built up i chain of training schools for nurses, n New York Dr. Wylle took a leadng part In organizing the Bellevue rralning schools, and ever since its stablishment In 1873 has been its eading spirit. Abdominal surgery las been successfully practised only luring the last generation, yet Dr. .Vylie has taken cases rejected by >ther surgeons a? Impossible of cure ind turned out sound men in 96 out >f 100 cases. Of course, such pracIce has netted him a handsome torune. He is said to be worth close to i million dollars, wnue nis income )er year is estimated to be not less han $60,000. "Dr. Wylie is a Southerner. As a >oy he attended a village school in Chester county. South Carolina, until lis 16lh year, when he entered the irmy of the Confederacy with the ank of lieutenant. He has beem esablished in New York since practicaly the close of the war." THE NORMAN FARMER. de Carrie* Hi* Top Soil With Him When He Move*. The modern farmer was applying dectrtcal massage to a cart horse's iprained knee. During the intervals >f rest he talked farm talk. "There are tenants," he said, "who, * * ? formu vnen mey muvt, tauj vith them as the tortoise does his louse. These people are the Norman French, the world's best farmers. iVhere you or I would require tweny or thirty acres of land to keep one amily, the French farmer will keep lis family on a quarter of an acre. If le chose to cultivate twenty or thirty icres he would become a millionaire, lis secret lies in the perfection to vhich he brings his top soil. What vlth fertilizing and watering and 'learing. his topsoil is the blackest. Inest, richest soil on earth. His top toll is to the French farmer what her roice is to a prima donna. And when le rents he contracts that on the ter- . ninatlon of his lease he may carry >ff eighteen inches of the top soil with llm. "When you see a French farmer noving, one small cart carries his lousehold goods, and in seven or >ight enormous drays his top soil umbers on behind."?New York Press. sters Often Caught Near the Shore. "One of Honolulu's most exciting pastimes is shark fishing." said Geo. T. Wilson, a planter of Honolulu. "Large sharks abound off Honolulu harbor, and fishermen may usually count on bringing back one or two sea , monsters from eight to fourteen feet long by going three or four miles . from shore. The fish may either be harpooned or hooked, the latter meth. od being the easier. The harpoon, Ing is more dangerous and more difI flcult. " i "The shark fishers need a small , launch, a dead horse, some harpoons , or hooks and some large calibre ri. fles. The horse is sometimes killed a . day or two before the expedition, as . sharks are supposed to like their horse I meat 'high.' The horse is tied at the ' - * - *?loft tr? flnat n hOUt en CI III U I IJ uc dim iv tv vv, I ? sixty feet away from the launch, and . then the wait for the sharks begins. "A shark will usually show up in a very short time. At a distance of six- s . ty feet he is a long green object of in- c i definite outlines. He approaches the . dead horse slowly until a few feet \ . away and then veers off to one side 1 : and disappears. But he always re- ^ ' turns. Over and over again, some- f times for an hour, he will circle about f . the dead animal, seeming to be as | suspicious as any fox. While the shark ? < is making these repeated investiga- J , tions the bait is slowly drawn toward > the boat. When harpooning is to be ^ L done the bait is drawn gradually closer c ; until the shark come right up to f ? the boat. Then the harpoon Is plung- s - " * * * ? tIA . ed into him and the battle oegins. nc , pets exhausted by and by and then 1 I the rides come into play. r f "The sharks are more easily hook- c , ed than harpooned. Many tourists f who come to Honolulu pet up shark flshinp parties. There are launches r f and assistants for hire. The shark 1 I usually goes to the fishermen who e help, and a small sum is to be real- 1 ! Ized from the oil its liver affords." 1