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- ^ ' ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ l. m. grist's sons. publishers. } % ^amilji IJeirspaper: |for the promotion of the political, Social. JL9ricuttar(al and Commercial Interests of the people. { SINGLES COPT. FIVE CENTS. established 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, AUGUST 25, 1908. NO. 68. 1 1 . ? I frtbicencDATC MAM I IMCMT * 1[^??? , I A TIE * By ETTA *%??%?<%*>%>$?<$*}?!%?<$<$$? ?ft CHAPTER XXVII. ? L.?ix?r. Mlgnon, with her lover and Mrs. Elllcott, drove rapidly off to the Beacon Street house. ^ Before she reached it, the girl, by a few adroit questions, had made herself possessor of the major portion of Hume's experience with his aunt. "The young fellow is becoming famous in his profession," said Fassel, good-naturedly. "Bellamy, for some unknown reason, [ has thrust him into great prominence," replied Mrs. Elllcott, coldly. Mignon, nestled In a corner of the carriage, was thinking. Now that Hume had discovered her position In the Ellicott household, his sense of p honor would bind him anew to silence. Should he whisper aught against her, he would certainly be accused of jealousy and malice, and a desire to oust her from the place which he had lost, and still secretly coveted. His relation to Mrs. Ellicott was an unpleasant discovery, but as matters now stood f betwixt aunt and nephew, she had lit| tie to fear from that tie of blood. Hume would recognize her right to the name of Hillyer, without suspecting that she was personating Bess. As the danger thickened, the girl's courage seemed to rise. Like a desperate gambler, she determined to play the game on to the bitter end. Fassel followed the two ladles into the drawing room. Morning had come, but he could not leave Mrs. Ellicott without a parting word. "I beg you Will noi Keep me nauiug long for this lltle hand." he said, as he led Mignon up to the old dame. "Ah." she sighed, "must I lose the child just as she has become essential to my happiness? I feel disposed to quarrel with you. Paget, and at the same time It makes me glad to know that she has won a heart like yours. Now you will quit roving, will you not. and settle down to civilized life?" He shook his head. "I cannot promise that, but Mignon has consented to share my wanderings. She wishes to see the world?my world. ^ of adventure and discovery. Whither I go. she will go also." L With a face as wnue as ner ureas, W Mignon clung: suddenly, nervously, to * her lover. | "Yes, yes! take me far away, where no one can find me?I want to begin a new, new life! I also want our en gagement kept secret. Nobody must P know that I have promised to marry >'ou but Edith?your sister." "My dear!" cried Mrs. Ellicott, aghast. Mignon began to sob. "Is it such a great thing to ask? What has the public?what has society to do with my happiness? Strangers shall not talk about it! If you refuse me this little favor, you will make me miserable." "Let her have her way, Mrs. Ellis' cott," said Passel. tenderly. "Do not oppose or thwart her in anything. Her wishes are mine." * * ? vlnldoH tho noint with iUI B. OlllVUlk Jivuvu ...? , a sigh. "Very well. Let me at least hope that you will not take Mlgnon from me for a long time to come." "A long time?" he echoed, joyfully. "Ah, no! In a very short time! I Wf must start for the ruins of Zapatero next month, and not alone?not withA out Mignon!" "Next month!" cried Mrs. Ellicott, in W dismay. "And pray, where is Zapav tero?in Central Africa?" laughed. "Not half the distance?no further away, in fact, than Nicaragua. Its monolithic idols"? "Paget, was it for this that I first told you about Elizabeth Hillyer. and begged you to find her at Cape Desolation? How can this dainty, delicate gin consent to leave all the luxury with which I have surrounded her, and fare forth to explore the wild places of the earth with you? What does she know ? *V or care about ancient ruins and monolithic Idols?" "She knows about love," he anr swered, exultantly, his gray eyes shining with the light that never was on sea nor land, "and she will follow whither It leads." "Is this true, Mignon?" sighed Mrs. Elllcott. "It is true," the girl faltered. And so vhe matter was settled. Mignon's engagement was to be brief and secret, her marriage strictly private, and then Fassel would immediately carry his bride away. Neither the enamored lover nor the indulgent ben(fe. efactress thought for a moment of op* posing the girl's wishes. Everything should be arranged as she desired. With a weary step Mignon ascended to the chamber where Fifine was waiting to disrobe her. "Mademoiselle has had one grand triumph?" ventured the sleepy maid, as she took off the girl's ball dress, and brought forward the embroidered night robe, which had been hanging before the dressing-room fire. "Don't ask me. Fifine," Mignon answered; "my head is in a whirl?help me to bed." Paget Fassel loved her! Oh. the rapture and the terror of that thought! And she, like Elaine, had ?"lifted up her eyes. And loved him with that love which was her doom." f What was Andy Gaff, that he should " stand betwixt her and such happiness? What was her marriage but a horrible mockery? "He is not my husband." she said to herself, in fierce rebellion. "I will be bound no longer to creature void of sense and reason. I will break my fetters, since nobody ever pitied me enough to lose them for me. If he is dead?well; and if he lives, I will nev re again acknowledge his claim upon me. Paget Fassel will carry me far beyond the risk of discovery, and should the worst come I can throw myself on 0 his love and pity. He cannot refuse to shield me?I know he cannot refuse!" ^]03LB I t?^^r + L W. PIERCE. J s ? ? s s. .?. _S. JL. JK. JS, J&, J8L J5L, f f T T T T T T T V r <r T | Her unlucky meeting with Hume had shaken her out of all fancied security. Should her engagement reach 1 his ears he would expose her at once. 1 Her safety depended now upon secrecy ' and flight. She was walking on a vol- < canlc crust, but it was too late to 1 pause or turn back. She must press J on, and trust to the lucky star which had led her thus far. The Ellicott ' money she might never secure?indeed, her audacious venture had been doom- ' ed to failure from the beginning, but 1 there was something beter than wealth < to which her hopes clung desperately. ' "I will resign the fortune," she 1 sobbed, with ner race Duriea in nei downy pillow, "for It belongs to Bess; but not the love?that is mine?I won it myself, fairly, and I can never?nev- 1 er give it up!" ( Meanwhile, in another chamber, 1 Mrs. Ellicott, assisted by Susan Tay lor. was also preparing for slumber. "I am an unfortunate woman, Su- 1 san," she sighed, "I can keep nothing precious. It is my sad fate always to find myself left alone." "What has happened now, ma'am?" ' replied the waiting woman. "You are not to mention the matter, Susan?it must be kept a family secret for the present?but I am about | to lose my little Mignon." Susan drew the pins carefully from her mistress's gray hair. "Lose her?how. ma'am, if I may make bold to ask?" "Mr. Fassel proposed tonight, and she accepted him. They will be mar[ ried at once. Because you are a privileged servant I tell you this; but you must not breathe a word to any one. Strict privacy is to be maintained in the whole affair. Ah, it is a most desirable match. Susan; but?do you not see??Mr. Fassel will take Mignon to other countries, and I shall again be alone." "She's made good use of her time!" muttered Susan. "Why, as to that. Mr. Fassel has been in love with her for a year. Learned men freouentlv select women of that soft childish type?It Is the charm of contrast. I suppose. Well, I might 8 have known that I could not keep 1 Mignon." "You managed to live without her * for a good many years, ma'am; I trust * you can do the same ag'in. For my 8 own part. I'd rather have Mr. Lepel's shadder In this house?yes, his ghost * ?than any number of Mlgnons!" Mrs. Elllcott started nervously. "Mr. Lepel's ghost!?how can you say such dreadful things, Susan?" "Lord knows he has reason to walk r here in these days, ma'am. Often I 8 ' * r. o tkonrr-V> Vin ^ im creepy anu yucci, a.-> niuugn ?v was making after me through the house." "Nonsense! I wonder at you, Su- s san! Go to bed. Both you and I are s growing too old for balls." Susan Taylor went up to her own 1 room at the top of the house. Dawn c was In the sky; but she had no desire for sleep. Her stubborn enmity r against the so-called Elizabeth Hill- 6 g ver was how blazing up afresh. More men than Paget Fassel had r loved that pink-and-whlte doll! Had s not Lepel Ellicott met his death while *" flying, forgetful of truth and honor, to meet her? What secret part had the girl played in his destruction? Susan burned to know; but who could an- r swer the question! She was a plain, 8 dull woman, unused to indirect meth- ^ ods. She turned the subject in her mind for a space, and finally brought 6 out pen and paper, and in the gray ' light of morning sat down to her ta- r ble, and wrote as follows: "To the Postmaster of Cape Desolation, r maine Coast: f "It's like that strangers sometimes t apply to you for Information, sir, as s nno-V,t /% 1/nnu' T7S-or?\'Kr\/lV in ViVHT own place, and everything that hap- r pens there. "I'm a stranger, and I'm After in- r formation. I hope you'll take the trouble to give it to me at once. "Three years or So ago. a yacht t owned by Mr. Lepel Ellicott, of Bos- r ton. stopped, as I suspicion, at cape c desolation. Mr. Ellicott went ashore and made acquaintances. I aske you c if a girl named Elizabeth Hillyer, a J native, was mixed up with his visit, t Maybe the two was sweethearts?for t reasons best known to myself. I'd go so far as to take my oath on it. But * ' want your written word. sir. That's a Proof. Anything you can tell about Elizabeth Hillyer will be thankfully received?especially now *ue uwujcu Mr. Ellicott and brought him to 1 Death. Yours to command. , "Susan Taylor." In a postscript the Cape Desolation magnate was instructed to send an an- , swer to the Boston postoffice; then, to insure prompt attention. Susan folded a bank note carefully In her letter, and sealed all with grim precision. "That ought to fetch him!"' she murmured, hopefully. CHAPTER XXVIII. [ A Rescue. A wild December night was gather- s ing on the Maine coast. The wind blew straight from the northeast, churning the little harbor t into a fury of foam. For hours the mercury had been steadily falling. Up at Ira Berry's grocery a circle of fish- j I ermen sat around the red-hot stove, , feeding the fire with pine knots, and talking of the weather. "Tom Duff won't pit the mail over f here tonight," said Ira Berry. "He's ? an hour arter time already. Most likely the old mare is stuck in the t drifts." ( Through a storm-blurred window be- | hind the molasses hogshead and the ^ barrel of kerosene. Ira was watching t the road, buried now in whirling snow. , "I'll risk Tom," replied Hiram Duff. , the father of the belated mail carrier, * from his chair by the stove. "He'll pull ( through. The mare she ain't so swift ( as some, but she's stiddy. One thing's , sartin?nobody'll be coining: over from t Hillyer's Cove tonight arter lettei-s." <, "Dunno 'bout that," responded Cap- ^ tain Ira, doubtfully. "That sailor gal's ) neither sugar nor salt. It'll take more'n ( a nor-easter to keep her at home. She ] comes constant, month in and month out; and, after all, she's never got but one letter. Deep shadows now filled the corners of the grocery, and gathered on the rickety stair that led up to the sail loft. Captain Ira started to light his oil lamps. "It's to be feared," he remarked, "that Caleb Hillyer and the sailor gal has that 'ere ldjit on their hands for his nat'ral life." "And Caleb he's laid up with a crick in his back, and can't hobble," answered Duff, curving his homy hands around the rusty stovepipe. "He war never a saving man. I calkerlate Bess keeps the house." A blast of wind shook the grocery door, and rattled the dry shark's tall nailed thereto; then the latch was lifted, and Bess Hillyer, breathless with the buffeting of the elements, and powdered white with snow, stepped into Berry's grocery. She wore a plaid cloak, and a close tiood tied over her black hair. She was a trifle paler and thinner than of 3ld, but she still kept the bright, untamed look which had always distinguished her. Not waiting even to shake the snow from her garments, she advanced to the counter, and asked, jagerly: "Is the mail in, Captain Ira?" He shook his head, "Tom's late?lost in the drifts, most ikely. Gracious Lawd! How'd you ?ver cross the cliffs tonight, Bess Hillyer? Go up to the stove and. warm yourself, girl? How's Caleb's back?" flchormon mnvAfl LJ U i L UIIU itic vmici iioiivi i?v? respectfully, to allow her to approach, t>ut she shook her handsome head. "Thank you. I'm not cold. Uncle Baleb is worse tonight. He wanted to iome in my stead, but I knew he could lever make his way through the snow." Ira Berry turned again to the stormslurred window, and directly espied a slack, moving speck on the distant 'oad. "Mall's in sight," he announced, sriefly; and soon after Tom Duff, mufled to the eyes, and with a rime of 'rost on his red beard, stalked into Berry's grocery, and flung the mail bag )n the counter. "Blessed if I was ever out in slch veather afore!" he growled. "It's 'nuff ;o freeze every drop of brine in the Atantic! You'll be lucky if you git back :o the cove alive, miss," as his eyes ilighted on Bess Hillyer. She did not hear?she was watching ra Berry, as he opened the bag and Irew out the letters?not more than a lalf-dozen in all. He looked them . arefully over; then said, regretfully: "None for you, Bess?and a shame, oo, arter the walk you've had?better uck next time, maybe." For weeks and months the same dlsippointment had met her in the same dace; yet it had never seemed so keen is on this night. She clinched her lands involuntarily under the cloak. )h, Rose!?wicked, willful, cruel, yet ilways fondly loved! Without another word Bess turned to he door. At the same moment Ira Berry took up a letter addressed to the >ostmaster of Cape Desolation, broke he seal, and, with an astonished air, Irew out a bank note, and began to ead; suddenly he made for the door ts fact as his maimed legs would pernl > "Bess, I say!?Bess Hillyer?come >ack, will you?" The girl was already truggling In the deep snow. "Here's ome female woman a-writing to me i.bout you, and from Boston city, too. 31essed If I can make head or tail out if it!" Bess turned back at the call. Excitenent is always contagious. The fishrmen arose from their seats by the itove, and crowded around the postnaster. "Do you know any she person named Susan Taylor?" said the latter to Bess. "No," she answered. "Then listen to this, for a brazen me." And Captain Ira rested his crip)led limb on an overturned bait basket ind proceeded to read aloud Susan raylor's letter. "Any remarks to be made?" he askr, dryly, when he had astonished the ittle company with that curious comnunicatlon. "Does any of you know ibout the yacht, or the gentleman lamed Ellicott? As a government of* >!?'?? /InAftf frv onllo-htAn lt'er, II S III^ JMaiii uwijr w vniicow.. his female woman. Moreover, she's ient five dollars to furbish up my nemory." Hiram Duff helped himself to a plug >f tobacco from Ira's counter. "I've seen a good many yachts at ?ape Desolation," he answered; "but I lunno as I remember one from anither. There was never any Mr. Elli:ott in these parts, to my knowledge. Susan Taylor better put her head in he nearest water pall. And as for hem questions about Elizabeth Hill er, they're insults?downright insults, ls we all can see." "Jest so," assented Ira. Bess stood bewildered ? amazed, rhough the writer of the letter was i ? nrtrl nPP JltliUlY it II IIUIIIWIC u.IIU iii.vvimvv t,w. :on, she dealt with startling subjects. "Strange!" said the girl, slowly. Lepel Ellicott was my kinsman. Unle Caleb knows about him. His mother once offered me a home In her louse. I decoyed?I sent him to death? >vhat can the woman mean?" "Don't mind her meaning, miss," redied Captain Ira, soothingly. "Was dr. Ellicott your sweetheart??that's he question I'm called to answer." "I never saw him in my life?he died leveral years ago!" "That settle* it!" said Ira, with a ju Ilcial air; and he tossed the letter on he counter. Bess opened the door to depart. "See here. Miss Hill.ver!" cried Tom Juff, moving briskly after her; "won't rou let me walk with you to the cove?" But she waved him back. "No, indeed! 1 am not afraid;" and or the second time she stepped out done into the darkness. On all the bleak north coast no wlld r spot could be found than Gape Desdation in mid-December. It seemed ike a place cut off from the living vorld?forsaken, forgotten?given overo death. No friendly sail dotted its raters on this night, no screech of tug jor voice ??f man disturoea tne areaiuui lolltude. The black sky hung1 low iverhead, the thundering breakers crashed on the shore like artillery; ev ry landmark was fast disappearing in he snow' Only here and there a lamp <hining from some fisherman's cottage rave sign of life and cheer. Hess drew ler plaid cloak closer about her slenler hut compact body, and staged for idIIIyer's Cove. Fruitless had been her errand to the postofflce?sad was the heart that she carried back to Caleb's cottage. But no suspicion of the truth had yet dawned on her mind. Perhaps Rose was sick or dead?perhaps she meant tc break forever from the cape and all upon it. Eighteen months had passed since her flight, and still she did not return. Better than anybody else, Bess understood the character of her cousin. "We shall never see nor hear from her again!" she said to herself, as she tolled forward along the perilous cliff I path. ] Then her thoughts turned to Susan Taylor's letter. How strangely the woman had associated Elizabeth Hillyer's name with that of the dead Lepel Ellicott! "Maybe the two was sweethearts." Foolish, ghastly words! Bess felt that she had touched upon a mystery, yet had no power to grasp it. She determined to ask Ira Berry to i give her the letter. She suddenly felt ] a strong desire to possess it?to study its meaning at her leisure. i How dark the night was growing! Bess could no longer see the stunted < I balsam firs that made black specks I along the dreary white waste. The i cold, too, was intense?piercing to 1 I one's very marrow. And her garments, i coated with ice and snow, weighed up- ] I on her like armor. She struggled on. 1 The gale seemed to increase every moment. The great waves crashed against the cliffs, as though they would ' tear those stern coast barriers from I their foundation. For once Bess Hill- 1 yer's intrepid heart quailed. A terrific blast swept her off her feet < ?hurled her to the dizzy verge. She i managed to rise and breast the wind i again. But she was bewildered by the l whirl of thick snow flakes in her face, 1 and benumbed with the cruel cold Again she was dashed prostrate. She 1 crawled forward on hands and knees for a space, but was soon obliged to i stop?frozen, exhausted. 1 She comprehended the full danger of ' the situation. Not half the distance to 1 the cove was yet traversed. In the < darkness and blinding storm she was ! likely to be swept over the cliffs. A 1 false step, a strong gust, and she wouid 1 go down into the foam and terror of 1 the breakers. To crawl cautiously forward was her last expedient, but her icy garments impeded her movements, ' and so difficult was that means of i progress that Bess soon relinquished J it as hopeless. * Once more she tried to stand upon < her feet. The wind had grown stronger, or her own limbs weaker. To her dismay she was unable to rise. f "And if I stay here," she thought, ' "I shall be frozen stiff before a halfhour goes by." All power seemed to leave her. She < could not even lift her voice to cry for help. And who was abroad cn that terrible shore to hear, even if she sue- 1 In uViT*</alr inir lnn^or thnn winfl ( trcucu in ouiitiviiig I'/uuvt ... and wave? She tried to remember < Andy and Uncle Caleb. "What would become of the two If she should perish 1 on the cliffs? But the thcugfit no 1 longer nerved her. She fell with her face to the earth, and the snow drifted over her in millions of stinging, swirl- t ing flakes. Several moments passed. What touch ' was that upon her shoulder? Her t failing sense revived?she moved fee- J bly. A man was bending over her in ' the storm and darkness. ? "Andy!" she cried. 1 He raised her bodily from the snow. In some way he seemed to comprehend * that she, his best friend, was in peril < and needed assistance. In spite of the * gale, he held her firmly, securely?the poor fellow was as strong in oouy tus he was weak in mind. "Come home!" he said. "I cannot," she answered, faintly. "I think I am dying." * He tnrew an arm about her and drew her forward. She stumbled for I the third time. He snatched her up, 1 and then she was dimly conscious that 1 he was bearing her in a pair of iron arms on and on, through the drifting t snow. Immediately feeling and knowl- ? edge slipped away from Bess, and a 1 foil 1 h' cdi uai ivucoo ivii. She awoke in the living room at 1 Hlllyer's Cove. Martha Bray and Un- < cle Caleb were chafing her numb hands, 1 and pouring scalding mixtures down her half-paralyzed throat. "Lord bless us!" cried Caleb, as the ( girl's dark eyes opened, "I told you not to start out on such a night, Bess. Did < you git any letter?" "No," she half sobbed; "Rose has forgotten us?she will never write again. Was it really Andy who met ine on the cliffs?" Uncle Caleb pushed her armchair ^ nearer to the roaring fire. His weath? er-beaten face was gray with anxiety. "Yes, 'twas Andy. The critter was sitting hur in the chimbly corner, all * ouiet enough, when Martha Bray she .r came in, and says she, 'Bess will be J blown over the cliffs, or buried under the snow, sartin sure. A wus' night it * never was my lot to see, and I'm going out to git some of the cove men to look for her. as you can't but jest hobble. and Andy's no good anyway.' And as soon as ever he heard that, Andy 1 he started up and was off like a flash, and sez I to Marthy, 'I bet a taller N candle that poor critter understood!' C C and she ran to the windy, and, bless my soul! he was actually taking the cliff path. And half an hour arterward in he came a'lugging you in his arms, 5 and you frozen, stiff, and next to dead." Bess started suddenly up in her chair, pressing back the hair from her white face with two shaking, unnerved hands. Near by in the chimney corner j Andy sat, as unmoved as though nothing had occurred. But he looked less heavy and soulless than usual. Some- c thing youthful, handsome?a likeness, perhaps, of what he had once been? appeared in his face; or was it only the deceptive brightness of the firelight? "Why, he saved my life!" said Bess, in slow amaze; "I was perishing, Uncle Caleb, when he found me!" She ran to the corner. "Andy, Andy! You have repaid us tonight for all our past care of you!" she cried. He put out his hand and touched her dress, as though to make sure that all was well with her. Uncle Caleb watched him with a sudden accession of interest. "Sure enough, he did save you, Bess," said the old man, thoughtfully, "for I can't lift a leg. and afore Mar thy tsray nati rousea me cuve ineii|, you'd have died In your tracks. Now, maybe, something' might be done for that poor critter." "Uncle Caleb, haven't we often consulted the doctors about poor Andy?" "True, gal; but the downright learned ones?the miracle workers?ain't found in these parts. That reminds me?the last time I was over to Berry's grocery some of the fishermen had a newspaper, and they was reading about an operation that a Boston surgeon had performed In A hospital. And who do you think the operator was? Why, Mr. Hume, that shot you in thel arm?him as was locked up for killing Rose!" "No!" "Yes, I say. Wasn't he a-studying for a surgeon when he was at Cape i Desolation ?" "I remember that." < "Well, according to the newspapers, 1 he can now handle a knife in good 1 shape. Who knows but what he might i help Andy's head?" 1 "Who knows?" repeated Bess, me- i chanically. < "Seems to me, a man that tramps 1 out of a night like this and saves a life l ?especially your life, sailor gal?ain't ! ajiogeiner an luju. ne uaa ins nines, has Andy, when he appears to be trying to git himself In order ag'ln. And Rose," shutting his lips tightly?"Rose was a heartless minx to run away and leave him as she did!" "I will go no more to the postofflce, Uncle Caleb," said Bess, dejectedly, 'Rose does not mean to write again. Somebody ought to go and search for her." "She was an ongrateful Jade, and a contrary and self-willed one, always!" stormed Uncle Caleb. "First she must marry Andy offhand, and when mlsfortin come, then she must be quit of him! Who's a-going In searcn or ner, Bess, and where do you spect she's to be found?" 'T will go, Uncle Caleb. The letter In which Rose sent the money was postmarked Boston. She must have been In that city at the time It was written?perhaps she Is there still. To that city I will go. What you have said about Andy tonight puts new thoughts in my head. Nigel nume tvas a kind gentleman?you and I liked film well, did we not?" "Sartin." "If he has become famous, it will not be hard to find him. I've a little money?I'll take some and go to Mr. Hume, and ask him to help Andy, and ilso to tell me some way by which I :an discover Rose." Caleb gave a grunt of disapproval. 'Maybe, you've forgot the trouble that jal made Mr. Hume about eighteen months ago." "He is not the person to bear malice ?I am certain he will give me whativer aid he can." Caleb looked at her wistfully. "Is your mind made up, sailor gal? ( [ know right well you can't be scared >ut of a thing, nor talked out of it, , rnce your mind is made up." "Uncle Caleb, I must go and look for Etose?Rose, who is lost somewhere out n the great world!" Caleb's eyes wandered to Andy. "Take that poor critter with you, hen. and lay his case afore Mr. Hume. las recently visited Morocco, and at he present moment Parisians are deiving instruction and entertainment 'rom her work, "Une Francaise iu Maroc." Children in Morocco, she ells us, are brought up to show the greatest respect and deference to their >arents. A Moorish child never enters lis father's presence unless called, he cisses his father's hand and similarly rreets any friends who may be there. Only on rare occasions does ne taKe ds meals with his parents. As a rule he child has but one dish, which is ient outside to him after the parents' neal. Although the discipline seems severe, Moorish parents love their chilIren dearly, and it is a pretty sight to :ee a swarthy Arab with rugged featires playing with his children in front >f his house. The girls have a monotinous time, spent at their mother's side. At the age of five the father takes lis little son to school. He carries with litn a present to the master, or "foklh," ind some sweetmeats to cheer up the ittle chap for the first few days. At he end of the first week the parents five a party to signalize the boy's ntry to school, and all the small boys's ittle friends, who have a half holiday or the occasion, are invited. The learning from our standpoint is <.....'11.. I.fho n.nnip and if a lit l II III,) ??UI H.J ?...u ? le Moor does not show aptitude for j study the parent soon takes him away iom school and put him to a trade. Still every boy is supposed to read and , .vrite. Study, such as it is, is literary ( ather than scientific. Moorish selenitic ideas are not only antiquated, but * >ften false. Religious scruples forbid leep study in chemistry and natural ' >hilosophy. Medicine is only In a most J udimentary state. The study of anatjmy is forbidden by religion and the , Moorish surgeon is often the barber. J ?London Globe. m i W Many an otherwise honest young 1 man doesn't hestltate to steal a kiss. J JTou may as well catch two fish on one look. The surgeons they do great :hings In these days?cut a man to bits, ind put him together ag'ln, and he lone the worse for It. Marthy Bray nay go along to help you, and I'll keep louse alone." Should she speak of Susan Taylor's strange letter? After a little delibera:lon she decided not to do so. She simply said: "Uncle Caleb, did you ever see my elative, Lepel Elllcott?he that died?" "No, gal." "Did he ever visit Cape Desolation?" "Lawd above! Not that I know of, jnless 'twas arter his death!" "Of course, tnere is some strange jlunder!" murmured Bess; then she er.ned toward Andy, her grand dark 'ace half sad, half smiling. "Andy, do you want, your poor head aken in pieces and patched togethei igain?" she said. "You and I will go :o Nigel Hume and test his skill. Perlaps he can give, you help. At any ate we will know if a single chance >f recovery is left to you?yes, we ,vill start tomorrow." To be Continued. OBEDIENT MOORISH CHILDREN. >How Great Respect For Parents? Their Training and Education. a vranph lndv Mile. Mathilde Zeys, . piscfUanrous parting. TO COTTON PRODUCERS. Now Is the Time Fop Everybody to Stand Steady. President B. Harris, of the state ParmArs' TTninn hns issnorl pnnthpr call to the farmers to hold cotton, and In this address he makes some very Interesting statements regarding the action of the cotton mills In shutlng down at this period, and also In regard to the cotton crop throughout the cotton belt. Mr. Harris's appeal is as follows: "Why is It that cotton has not reached the minimum price set, 15 cents? Is It too late? I answer no. What, then, is the cause of Its being down? The producer alone is to blame. He Is ready at all times to listen to all he hears about the bear dde of cotton, but falls to look into the true situation and the condition of the crop. He doe.* not realize that cotton Is now scarcer than It has been In twenty-five years, while the de mand is just as great, when we consider the supply of raw material. It . ;?v* TBBP^ Sn '.r-i- -' vnH^iSiH E* ' 41 pn MtZ I I CONFEDERATE MONU Courtesy Rock Hill Record. nust be remembered that last year's :rop was short more than four mlli?n bales. In view of this we can aach no other conclusion but that :ms producer himself Is to blame for lot reaching the minimum before his. He has become frightened at he bluffs of the bear element, the ;pinner and speculator, and has taten their assertions as facts. "Their first bluff was the mills runling on short time. It was necessary 'or them to do this, as it was Impossible for them to secure sufficient aw material to run on. Last year's short crop forced them to curtail, not heir production, but their consump:ion. Cotton was not to be had. They lext bluffed you In making you beieve that they could not sell their roods, and frightened you again. While hey have goods stored in their own ,vare houses the commission houses n New York and other centres have ess g<iods than they have had in fears. Not until the entire surplus s consumed in these centres will the foods be taken from the local ware louses. "On August 1 the mills found it tecessary to close down for ten days, >ut this was not from choice. It was 'or the want of cotton. I know it to ie a fact that most of the mills which ,vere closed down were out of cotton ;o spin. They must have old cotton *??' tifUan If fl ret O WOTK Willi Hie lien tfiicu iv 11.91. ;omes in. It is the old cotton that hey want to get hold of now. "I want to impress upon the farmers that now is the time to hold your )ld cotton, as well as your new. If :otton Is held off of the market hroughout the south for the next sixy days the brokers and speculators ,vlll be compelled to give the price n order to fill contracts sold to the (pinners ahead. You can do this by cutting your cotton in bonded ware louses and borrowing money on it. Money Is now plentiful for legitimate jurposes. "The Continental mills are short of rotton, and there is a demand for acual cotton from this source, while he offerings are small. It is getting larder every day to buy cotton for irompt shipment. The supply in the \merican mills is not sufficient for " ""tv iinvs if that loner. The New England mills will soon have to buy :otton or close down. They have >een buying from hand to mouth for he last three months. I know of )ne hundred bales of cotton sold last veek by one mill. Fifty bales of this \ent to a mill that was closed down, vh ili; the ether fifty went to another nill. These two. mills had to havu his cotton to begin work with on tl* L7th lust. All the mills which have >een clofM down resumed operations ast Monday. From thi3 we assume hat trade conditions must be geting better. I hear from good authorty that all the mills in this section vlll soon begin operating on full time. t is understood that a number of nills have sold their output ahead or several months. All together the situation in mining circles is nui so >ad as it is reported to be. Generaly throughout the country the mills vould he running on full time if they rould get cotton to spin. "Now, as to the condition of the trowing crop. We hear it stated rom the bear side that we will make ourteen million bales this year, and hat cotton will decline to eight cents. Phis is another great bluff, and It vill frighten some producers. It is ny honest belief, based upon the information at my hand, that the crop ?f last year will not more than be du Wicateu. Anomer snoriage ukc mm .'ear will produce one of the biggest cotton panics tnat tne worm nas ever known, and the tails of our shirts will have to be made shorter to give every man a shirt. "Crop conditions in South Carolina are not what they were two weeks r? nPVi/* nrnn la fnllv 9 n npr ppnt off. This is due to too much rain in June and early in July, followed by excessive heat. It is impossible now for the plant ever to recuperate and make a top crop. "In Texas reports say that the crop has been damaged in sections by too much rain, while in other sections the crop has been cut off considerably by drought and the devastation of the boll weevil. Texas cannot produce anything approaching what is considered a full crop. "Alabama and Mississippi both report too much rain, followed by excessively hot weather, producing rust, black rot and. shedding. wAnAwfa V* I rtir r> ah n i Inu q UCUI 51a icpuno villi IJ vvuiiiivo fected with black rot, which is damaging the crop no little. Other sections report caterpillars, too much rain, followed by excessive heat. Cotton has deteriorated wonderfully in the last ten days. <Wr yr*lH?/S7 y' I | -0 ; ** ' * :f 1 Vj^ *\* HJj * ^1 ||gMM|En^^H| F SrvhhBS^ a 2^^nuik[' ^.-1 MENT AT EBENEZER. "Then other cotton belt states report conditions Just about as bad. In view of this Information It Is the height of folly for the producer and holder of spots to become frightened and sell. The Farmers' Union Is In a position to get a correct estimate to the crop, and It Is wisdom in the farmer listening to the Union, whose interest is identical with his rather than to listen to the speculator, whose It- in tn oot vrmr r>nttnn IllSt ftS Ill IC1 bOl IV IS VV QW J w?? ..... cheap as possible. "The national convention of the Farmers' Union will convene September 1st for the purpose of fixing the price of cotton. At that time the Union will know the exact condition of the crop, and will fix a price In keeping with those conditions. In view of these facts I urge every man owning a bale of cotton to store It in a bonded ware house, borrow money to meet your obligations and hold on till the price set Is reached. It Is suicidal in us to work hard and make a crop and then let the gambler and speculator have it at less than It cost us to make It. Stand by your guns and make a good fight and victory is ours. B. Harris, President, S. C. Farmers' Union. FREAKS OF LIGHTNING. Annual Crop of Reports Promises to Break the Record. The United States now is gathering its annual crop of reports of the freaks of lightning. Most of the lightning freaks are fraught with tragic consequences to man or beast, says the New York Press. Up in Le Roy, N. Y., two horses were standing in a barn when a bolt struck between them, bursting the eardrums of both animals, bm leavinc them otherwise uninjured. Down In West Virginia a man was riding a horse and hurrying to shelter from an oncoming storm, when the lightning struck the horse, killing it instantly, but not harming the rider in the least. The motorman on a trolley car in Anniston, Ala., actually ?K*r rt K/%1* frnm thA fllfV >V cU5 liliui caocu uj a uv/it ?> .? . The lightning tore his clothes off completely, ripped the face off his watch, melted the chain and left a burned spot on his knee. At Hornell, N. Y., one of the residents was sleeping on a feather bed when a bolt of lightning struck his house. The sleeper was thrown clear out of bed on to the floor, but was otherwise uninjured. In Wlllimantic, Conn., one of the local fire engine houses was struck and the electrical apparatus was put out of order. No one was in the house at the time, so the damage was not noted in the neighborhood. But an alarm was set ringing in the residence of the flre chief, some distance away, and he haotf>nf>ri tn thp pneine house, to dis cover that the lightning had struck the alarm. Out In Petersburg, Ind., three young men were sitting on a farmhouse porch when a bolt struck them and the near-by barn at the same time. The feet of the men were badly burned, and when one of them recovered nnno/iinnoness hp declared he had felt something strike him on the shoulder and run down his back to his feet. On being examined a broad mark of livid red was found on his back from his shoulder to his heel. The same bolt struck two harnessed horses in the barn and not only rendered them unconscious for two hours, but also melted all the harness buckles and ripped the shoes off their hoofs. W It's difficult for a woman to love a man that no other woman admires. ovyn r uui.nn i i? mvi^wini.M To Be Unveiled at Ebenezer on Wednesday, August 26. The beautiful Confederate monument erected at Ebenezer to the Confederate heroes of York county, made possible by the work of the members of the S. D. Barron chapter, Daughters of the Confederacy, will be unveiled and dedicated on Wednesday, at which time an all-day picnic will be held, and the occasion promises to be the most delightful one of the kind ever held in York county. The Ann White chapter of Daughters, Catawba Camp of Veterans, the local military company and a vast number of our citizens will participate in the celebration. The marshals for the affair will be: Capt. J. W. Marshall and Mr. W. M. Steele, chiefs, with Messrs. Robert Poag, Sam Barry, Archie Barron, Burton Massey, Richard Fewell, Bobbie Fewell, Gus Barnett, Lad Massle (of Fort Mill), J. E. Bass, John R. Shuhley, Irvin Carothers, Thorne Neely, Simril Matthews, Loraine Simril, Max Roach and Martin Von all nt irhnm are sons of veterans. The monument will be unveiled by Mrs. Margaret E. Steele, the oldest member of the S. D. Barron chapter,, and the four cords will be held by the children and grandchildren of veterans, ranging In age from 3 to 18 years. The unveiling will occur between 11 and 12 o'clock. The Record has a copy of the programme for the occasion, but the ladles asked us this morning not to publish It, as they want to give those present several pleasant surprises, which they prefer not to be known until the time arrives. The military company will be present and fire a salute.? Rock Hill Record, August 24. SOLVING SERVANT PROBLEM. Commissioner Watson Makes Some Pertinent Remarks. Commission Watson says he has ? waked up from his dream of solving the domestic servant problem In this section, which is steadily growing more acute by substituting foreign white servants for the negroes. "I'm done with the Job," said Mr. Watson with a sigh. "There's no use. I will make no more attempts at least for the present to bring white servants to any part of the state. Conditions will not warrant further attempts along this line. There are some instances in which the experiments have proved successful in which both sides continue satisfied, but these are few and far between. The chief trouble is th? matter of pay. People in this state are unwilling to pay the increased price for white help. They'll start out with a thorough understanding of what they are to pay, and begin right away bragging on the relief they are getting, and everything will work lovely till pay day, when there is a splitting up and the jig is all up." It is not merely an idle dream that Mr. Watson has been having for he has been working with the energy characteristic of him for several years trying to bring relief to the long suffering public, but every experiment he has made has been a disappoint meiii so iar as ine general pian ne inaugurated was concerned, and he has become a quitter only after the most determined efforts In different directions and after the most exhaustive study of the situation. His first attempts failed because of social conditions, the help he located leaving after a time for the north and the west, even where it was well treated and amply paid. These were intelligent people of some education, whose lives were made miserable, by the nagging of negro servants in the same household and who found nobody outside to commingle with. And the commissioner also soon saw that it would not do to have young girls working as servants far away from their friends and relatives. The commissioner next devised a plan of bringing in the foreigners in groups of families, and he secured some high class people in this way. He found places for the parents on farms near cities, the sons and daughters working in. the cities. Mr. Watson thought he had gotten on the right track at last of the solution of the vexatious problem not only locally, but throughout the south. Peopeople who got this help told him and told their friends how satisfactorily it was working, and the domestics wrote home to friends and relatives to follow their lead. Mr. Watson went to work with that boundless enthusiasm and buoyant optimism that has always marked his endeavors. The situation really warranted him in entertaining confident nope or naving found the key to the situation. But he has been having some rude awakenings lately. So steadily have these jars been coming in that even the commissioner with all his good fighting qualities acknowledged defeat for the time being. The coming of the Wittekind people had a most salutary effect on the negroes not only in Charleston and Columbia, where the quaint visitors were seen the most, but In nearly every town in the state. The negro women servants, and negro men. thought they had genuine competition that would drive them out of their jobs. Lazy, ailing, shiftless and impertinent cooks, washwomen, nurses and waiters took new leases on life, and became competent, willing, obliging, and respectful helpers with such a suddenness as to startle even themselves. But this beautiful situation is a thing of the past now. At present when a housewife or her daughter goes out to hunt up a servant, she is met with the reply on all sides: "You know I doesn't hire out no more," with an air that indicates amazement that "that white servant" has not learned before this time "this colored lady" has reached that stage in social life. 'i*r Mail matter for the Tonga group of islands in the Pacific is delivered ' 1 -- 'vr> ^ a ft*nm nocoin <T VOQ. Uy ?IC<UI3 in i < 'v acir? iiuiu |/aoi7iii0 ? sels. X*f Thomas Kelly, of Ballygawley, county Tyrone, Ireland, who at 107 climbed and repaired his own roof, according to the London papers. Is the latest centenarian to give to the world his recipe for old age, which is made up of "plain food, early rising, hard work, a sparing use of alcohol and plenty of fresh, mountain air." i