Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, August 25, 1908, Image 1
- ^ ' 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
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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