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l. m. grist's sons. Pabiishers. } % ^amilg JBetcspaper: 4or the promotion of the political. Social. Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the people. {TKK,?N0^corVVn" [LAT"VAHIi ESTABLISHED 1855. VORKy'lLLK, S. O.. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, li)Q?. N"Q. 70. 4? and the faint, fine shadows along tne carved wall. "Is it really true," she murmured, "that you never loved any woman before me? Let me hear you say it J By ETTA CHAPTER XXXI. A Girl's Tears. The wintry moonlight was falling in the long avenues of Windmere, and over the bare, frostbitten terraces. Mignon, standing in a low, wide window with that white radiance on her brightly Joyous face, gazed out into the night, and clung a little closer to the arm on which she leaned. "1 am so happy, Paget!" she whispered to her lover. "Yes, I know that , I am too happy." He smiled as he looked down upon her soft, childish beauty?to him the most beguiling upon earth. "It is impossible for you to be too happy," he answered. "Little darling, f for whom was happiness made, 11 not for you? The sadder things of life shall never come near you while I have power to keep them away." She lifted her face In the moonlight? I "Fair, not pale." , A half-blown Catherine Mermet k rose was in her hand; a faint smile J parted her red lips. Her eyes wore a meditative expression. Behind the lovers stretched the long hall with a| blaze of hickory logs on the hearth, > make you very angry, rag^-? a stern look about your eyes sometimes that bodes ill to evil doers. You might cease to care for me altogether ?you might despise?detest me, perhaps." He kissed the last word passionately from her lips. "How dare you talk such heresy? Nothing could make me despise you! I would as soon think of an angel of light doing wickedly as you, my little Mignon." "But"? | "But should the impossible become possible?why, I would forgive you, darling?I would hide you and your sin together deep down in my heart of hearts." He fancied that he was talking to an innocent child; but she who listened was, alas! a woman, daring everything. defying everything, to secure a forbidden love. Her violet eyes k shone like twin star>. "I will never doubt you again?nerk er!" she cried. Joyfully. "I want you to believe that I, too, loved you in r your ocean tower. Never before had I known a real passion. It was you I who awakened my heart, and changed the world for me." "How can I doubx it?" he answered. ardently. "Why, you are a mere child still?a lily, whose petals have hardly unfolded." She had that day been dining at Windmere, with Mrs. Ellicott and a few other guests. Pinner was now over. The lovers had slipped away for a tete-a-tete in that moonlit window. From the neighboring drawing % t U A *?/? _ room came a num ui v??n.-c?, uic i?ille of coffee cups, an etude of Thalberg. Mignon nestled her golden head against her lover's shoulder, his r arm encircled her lissom body. "My king!" she whispered, proudly. solemnly, and he, from the depths of his adoring heart, replied: "Darling?precious darling!" At that moment a man entered the hall by the main door. It was impossible for him to avoid seeing the lovers. As his eyes fell upon them he gave an involuntary start. Paget Fassel. remembering the secrecy that was supposed to invest nis engagc^ ment, withdrew his arm reluctantly from his betrothed. She looked ui>? i grew frightfully pale and dropped the Catherine Mermet rose. 1 "That man!" ,?np easped. "It is Aunt Latimer's physician." answered Fassel, in a lew voice. "She had a nervous attack at dinner, and persisted in sending for him." Forbearing to glance a second time at the window. Nigel Hume ascended the carved stair. Aunt Latimer was in her own chamber. He presented " * * 1?? n Oinintonunno nimst'll Demre lier, mill u. gloomy, distrait. , "You see that I am utterly prostrated tonight, doctor," groaned the old woman, from the depths of an invalid chair. "My nerves are all on edge. I must have something quieting?a little chloral would not come amiss. (I nearly fainted at table." "Now what is the meaning of all this?" demanded Hume, kindly, but firmly. "First of all." said Aunt Latimer. In a feebly aggrieved voice, "nobody ?not even Fclith?tells me anyining In this house. T am supposed to be unable to keep a secret. Yet I can see some things. I am not altogether 1 imbecile. Today, at dinner, I watched my nephew Paget?Paget, whom no woman could ever before subdue. He sat next Mignon HUlyer?I saw him look at her. Oh! oh!" shaking ^ her head dolefully, "that was enough. She Is charming?she will be a great heiress; but the Influence of the Elli I x x=:-^ J , . W. PIERCE. J I nnttc nnnn thft Fassels is evil?evil. I Any second attempt to unite the two families will surely bring disaster upon us all. I am frlghtene, . Dr. Hume? I am tori, with preser.'iinents." As a sensible man, it was Hume's duty to laugh at this outbreak; but unluckily, he had presentiments of his own, so he only said: "Be calm, Mrs. Latimer. You are making yourself ill for nothing." "Ah. doctor, can you wonder that the bare thought of another 'ove affair betwixt a Fassel and any creature of the Elllcott blood quite unnerves me? Remember Edith's hu miliation?her ungated nopes?ucr broken heart"? "Aunt Latimer!" From the far end of the room, where she had been concealed in shadow, Edith Fassel glided quietly forward. Her trailing dinner dress shone with a dull blue lustre. In her hair a diamond star sparkled like fire. "My heart is not, and never has been, broken," she said, sweetly. "When you talk like that, you make me feel like a gigantic cheat, dear Aunt Latimer." Her mystic eyes put on a weary look. "It is hard to maintain a falsehood, year after year, you know, even when one's motive is good." "My dear?" cried Aunt Latimer, helplessly. "Do I not make my meaning plain * ~ """ *> T n rr\ tipoH nf T & net Flli,"Ott's IU y KJ U . X Uii! VII vu V? ?x name. I never loved him living or dead. True. I was fond of him in a sisterly way, until I discovered what a poor weak coward he was?after that I simply despised him." "Edith!" cried Aunt Latimer, in shocked amaze. She had not once looked at Hume, but. somehow, her words seemed directed to some other than the old woman in the chair. Her voice took a cheerful, almost joyous tone. "For Mrs. Ellicott's sake, I have held my peace, and let the world think as it would; but one grows weary of dissembling?of being always misunderstood. The humiliation that Lepel brought upon me was not too great a price to pay for my escape from him. Had he married me I must have been the most miserable of mortals." again, Paget." "It is absolutely true," he replied, with a fervor that might have laid to rest the darkest doubt. "You were made for me?I see it now. I waited long, lonely years, mateless, restless, and at last you came to your lover? ah. you were well worth waiting for!" She trembled a little in his embrace. Her face, silvered over by the moon_ light, was like that of an angel. What * man in his senses could have associated the thought of guile with that delicate, dainty loveliness? "If you ever love me less," she ? A ,.j, ,?jn hp time for me to wrnspeceu, n ..... die!" He laid his bronzed cheek upon her golden hair. ft "And if death does not come till I I cease to love you, Mignon, you may look upon yourself as immortal." *' "Death is not the only thing that parts human hearts," she faltered. "I | might do some wicked thing, and horn iQ "I am astonished at you!" said poor Aunt Latimer. She drew a deep breath, as though she had thrown off some burden. "I am astonished at myself, Aunt Latimer," she answered brightly;" at my own prolonged hyprocrisy. Pity for Mrs. Ellicott must be my excuse. I feared to speak the truth, lest I should open a'l her old sad wounds." Hume's heart was beating with suffocating strokes. Suddenly she turned her proud, dark glance upon him, and with a smile, said: "Dr. Hume, I wish you would Induce your patient to come down to the drawing room again, and entertain her guests, and forget her forebodings." He remembered the sight he had seen in the hall window, and shook his head. "Mrs. Latimer will do well to remain here for the rest of the evening. I will leave her a sedative." And soon after he turned to go. Miss Fassel, standing by her aunt's chair, watched him quietly. "May I ask you to step outside a moment?" he said, in p. low, embarrassed voice. "I have something to tell you which Mrs. Latimer must not hear." Without a word she followed him. He closed the door on his patient. A j cluster of lights burning near snoweu him the vivid crimson pulsing in Miss Fassel's cheek. "Do not be alarmed," he said, stiffly. "I am not going to allude to any past madness of mine" It was an unfortunate beginning. A woman does not like to hear that her sway is a thing of the past. Miss Fassel grew a trifle more regal. "It is difficult for me to pick my words," he went on, with studied coldness, "but you must be warned. I beg to ask if your brother is engaged to Miss Hillyer?" She drew back a step. "I am not at liberty to answer that question, Dr. Hume." "Let us hope that he is not, for Miss Hillyer can never marry him." "And why?" she asked, coldly. "For reasons that have existed for years?good and sufficient reasons," he answered. "Perhaps you will mention one." "Unfortunately, I cannot!" "Ah," she said, with a faint curl of the lip, "you have no friendly feeling for Miss Hillyer?she is your aunt's heiress!" The words were not out when she would fain have recalled them. He grew pale, as though she had dealt him a hard thrust. "You dislike me too much to be just," he said, huskily; "but I warn vou again?Miss Hillyer cannot marry your brother." "Why do you say this to me? Would .it not be better to go to Paget, or to Miss Hillyer herself?" "Without doubt?pardon my stupidity," he answered, in a bitter voice; and with a flush of anger on his face he went off down the stair. The moonlit window was now deserted. Hume, inwardly cursing the fate which had entangled him with all these people, passed out through the entrance door at Windmere, and descended the steps to the long driveway. There a slender figure, hatless, cloak less, darted rrom tne sneuer or me nearest tree, and faced him in the moonlight?M ignon. "Oh, I)r. Hume," she said, in sharp appeal, "what do you mean to do?" "That is a question which I might, with good reason, propound to you," he replied, sternly. She pressed her hand to her heart. "Oh, do not speak so loud! I stole away from the drawing room to meet you here, when you should come out. Show me a little mercy!" "What mercy are you showing these Fassels? You owe them some consideration. do you not? They are Mrs. Ellicott's intimate friends." Her small, childish face was gray with fear. "I know, and I am very weak, very wicked. But answer me one question, Dr. Hume. Did you ever love any person with all your heart and soul?so dearly, so entirely, that the world *n hnm nr> nthur?that nnthinr else in the wild universe was of any Importance to you?" He was dumb. "You understand me, I see. Then give me a little time to find out if I am still bound"? "You are still bound!" said Hume, sharply. "Do not doubt It! Andy Gaff lives, and you are his wife." She gave a despairing cry, and the hand which had been pressed to her heart fell helplessly at her side. Under her feet the frosty pebbles glistened in the moonlight; over her uncovered head the bare branches of the trees rattled mournfully in the wind. "You have found out for certain?" she shuddered. "You have seen some one from Cape Desolation?" "Yes." She trembled, and seemed unable to frame another question. "I cannot, all In a moment," she murmured, faintly, "break my own heart and?his. I must have a little preparation?one week?two weeks?I then I will tell him. But no sooner? oh, no sooner! You will not deny me a short reprieve?" It was Hume's misfortune that he could never feel anything: but compassion for this unhappy girl. "You cannot escape from these complications without trouble," he said. "You have allowed an honorable man to make love to you. Take my advice, and without delay confess everything to him, or Miss Fassel." "Oh, I cannot!" she answered, in alarm: "not yet?not yet!" and she burst Into wild weeping1. "You are like an executioner who holds the ax above my neck. I ask your mercy for only a fortnight longer?one little fortnight!" Like all men, Hume had a horror of woman's tears. "You will not listen to reason," he said, impatiently. "Well, have your way. But remember what I told you at the ball. These Fassels are nothing to me." with cold indifference; "yet, I must keep you from dragging their good name in the mire. I will remain silent, then, for another two weeks? not a day longer. It is the last favor [ can show you." "I will ask for nothing more, Dr. Hume," she replied, In a queer, stifled voice. Hp staJkod awav. and left her stand Ing there in the moonlight, her face as white as hoar frost, but on her lips a wicked little smile of triumph. CHAPTER XXXII. Restored. Stretched upon a table, in a private operating room, lay a man, breathing heavily under the Influence of ether. By his side stood Nigel Hume, in white gown and rubber apron, with some delicate gleaming instrument in his hand. Dr. Bellamy and one or two assistants were stationed close by, their faces full of professional interest. Hume had just removed from the skull of the man on the table an ugly splinter of wood, which for years had been pressing on the very stronghold or tnougni ana reason, nrsi iu auopect the presence of such a substance there, the young fellow had made a thorough examination of Andy Gaff, and operated with perfect success. A deeply depressed bone was deftly raised, and wound cleansed, the scalp replaced. Hume stood looking thoughtfully down on his patient. "Strange," he mused, "that I, of all men, should be selected by a mysterious fate to make this discovery!" Andy Gaff was consigned to a trained nurse, and Hume, true to his kindly nature, hastened to inform Bess Hillyer of his successful operation. "Behold the confirmation of my suspicions!" he said, producing the splinter. "A club was broken over Andy's head?here is the portion which remained in the wound, to work no end of mischief. I am more than curious to know what effect its removal will have upon the man. He must be kept perfectly quiet for the present, but you shall hear news of him continually." Hume's patient slept like a child. During his waking hours he was silent, and apparently thoughtful, answering his nurse only in monosyllables. When Hume was present his eyes followed the surgeon in a puzzled, astonished way. "He is pulling himself together," was Hume's inward comment. One day he discovered something in Andy's countenance that made his heart beat high. "Your head reels Dener, aoes it not?" he asked, with feigned carelessness. Ardy raised one hand to the rapidly healing wound. "I will answer your question by asking another," he said, dryly. "What is the matter with my head?" "Well," replied Hume, "you've been a trine off, for a space back, and I, Dr. Nigel Hume, quite at your service, have had the good luck to perform an operation which seems to have relieved you somewhat." "Ah!" "This Is my house?you are my guest. Don't disturb yourself in any way. For several reasons my interest in you is extraordinary. Strange to say, your face seems changing daily before my eyes. You now bear a curious resemblance to some person that I have seen before, but cannot call by name"? "Hold on!" interrupted the patient, brusquely; "is this house of yours in Maine or Massachusetts?" "Bravo! Your memory is asserting itself. You are at the Hub, my dear fellow?in its very heart. By and by I will bring an old friend to see you, who will tell you everything you wish to know." An hour or two after, the surgeon entered the room again, and with him came Bess Hillyer. The patient put out his hand in quick recognition. "Bess! Is it you?" "Yes?yes!" she answered, and looked as though she was about to faint. "Where is Rose??where is my wife? In Heaven's name, am I spending my honeymoon in the house of this Dr. Hume?" She took his extended hand. Her own trembled. The months and years which had elapsed betwixt his marriage and the present hour were as a blank to him now. "You were married a Ions' time ago," said Bess, gently. "Try to think?try to remember the day, and what happened, when you went to the Hillyer tomb with Rose. Some one was waiting there?surely you have not forgotten? You received a dreadful blow, and from that time to this you have realized nothing." He looked impatiently around. "But Rose?Rose!" he repeated; "Where is she. I say?" "Rose is safe and well. You must not agitate yourself. By and by we will talk more." When she was outside the door with Hume, the latter said, bluntly: "You need not think to shield Rose? it is impossible! You must tell Andy everything." "No, no!" "But the duty is imperative?you cannot evade it," he said. Something in his tone startled her. "What do you mean?" "Rose is in love with another man, who has not the smallest suspicion that a being like Andy Gaff exists. She made a step backward. "Dr. Hume, can this be true?" "Unfortunately?yes." "And the man?" "His name is Fassel. He is a most honorable and distinguished gentleman, and I hear that he is madly in love with Rose. We, who are familiar with her fascinations, cannot doubt it." "Go to him!" gasped the sailor girl. "Warn him that Rose is not a free woman. Why, she must be mad!" "Pardon me," answered Hume, dryly. "I must beg to be excused. Her husband is the proper person to interfere. Tell Andy the truth?the whole truth. To withhold it now would be highly reprehensible." "You are right," assented Bess. "I will come to-morrow and bring Martha Bray;" and she went her way. heavy of heart. Hume, ODeying an aurac-uun wnn.n he could not wholly explain, returned to his patient. "Andy, have you no relatives?" he asked, warily; "no friends save the Hillyers?" The face of the patient clouded. "How can I tell?" he replied. "A man who has been dead for years cannot expect to find a place again with the living, or to be owned of them." "Strange that no inquiries were made concerning you at the time of your misfortune?that none have been made since that date." "Not in the least strange?I fixed my affairs beforehand." "You mean"? "Never mind my meaning now?I would rather not explain it." "One thing Is certain?you - have no right to be called Andre Gautler." "How do you know that?" "Because you are American and the name has an outlandish sound. You probably assumed it for some particular occasion." "I did!" confessed the patient, gloomily; "and now I may be forced to keep it till the end of my days, as a punishment for my sins. The next morning Bess Hillyer appeared again at the door of Andy Gaff's room. He was reclining in an easy chair, absorbed evidently in his own thoughts. Martha Bray, who attended her mistress, held up both hands at sight of him. "Whoever would have believed it!" cried the cape woman. "Why, it's the very man that first came a-courting Rose at Hillyer's Cove! Gracious Lawd! Mr. Andy"?her suddenly respectful tone telling plainer than words how deeply she was impressed by his changed appearance?"you've got all your old looks back again. I calkerlate you'll never mend nets any more." He motioned Bess to draw nearer. "Why have you not brought Rose?" he demanded. "Why are you keeping my wife from me? Have I not been mystified enough?" Bess quietly dismissed Martha Bray. The twain, thus left together, looked at each other?he questioning, she sad but determined. "I am here to tell you everything," she said, "since it is sin for me to keep silent longer." Then, briefly and plainly she set before him all the events which had happened since his marriage night? his own mental eclipse?the long, dreary period when he had mended Caleb's nets in the cottage porch?Hume's fateful visit to the cape? Mrs. Ellicott's offer of a fortune, and her own rejection of the same. "Andy," she said, "you were sitting with us at the cottage the day Mrs. Ellicott's letter arrived, and you heard us talking of it, and you cried out 'Go!' as though you understood the wonderful opportunity that was held out to me. Uncle Caleb bade me an inn Hut Rnsp was in rreat trnu hie?wildly rebellious against her lot ?and I could not leave her. Oh. you must not be hard in your judgment of Rose, nor blame her too much! She was desperate?reckless. I wrote an answer to Mrs. Ellicott. and gave it to Rose to post. T know now that she never sent it. After her adventure with Mr. Hume in the boat, she made her way. somehow, to my rich kinswoman?she took my name?she impersonated me!" He had not moved a muscle nor ut tered a sound. His face was turned away from her. but she knew that he was listening intently. "Rose is in Mrs. Ellicott's house today," went on Hess. "She is to inherit her wealth. I have this information from Dr. Hume, who is the lady's nephew, and would have been her heir, after the death of Lepel Ellieott. had not some unfortunate quarrel separated them. Here are the two letters which Rose wrote after her flight." She laid them on Andy's knee. He took them up?read them mechanically. " Ton my soul," he said, with a short, mirthless laugh, "she has play I'd lier films Mt-n; "Andy, we must make 'such excuses as we can for her. She was so young, so beautiful, and she always longed for wealth and pleasure?to see the world." "Let me grapple with the facts as I find them. She has stolen your name, crept Into the place that belonged to you alone, robbed you of a fortune"? "You speak too harshly. From my heart I forgive her everything." He |ftnred moodily into space. "And all this bother comes from the death of one man?that scoundrel, Lepel Ellicott." "I never heard that he was a scoundrel," said Bess, startled. "Oh, but he was! Surely, Bess, some of the fellow's dishonorable deeds must. have reached your ears." "You forget that I was a total stranger to the Elllcotts, although a remote relative. Even Dr. Hume never saw his cousin." "No great misfortune that! By the way, Bess, why did you not turn me out, after Rose's desertion? Why did you continue to burden yourself with the wretched idiot that she had forsaken?" "Uncle Caleb and I could not turn you out. We never found you a burden. While we had a home, we meant that you should share it. And it was well for me," sadly smiling, "that we never thought of parting with you. Think of the night when you saved me on the cliffs." "Did I really do that?" he asked, thoughtfully. "Then it must have been blind instinct which directed me. You were my one friend, Bess?in spite of my mental darkness, I suppose I somehow recognized the fact. Recall my first visit to Hillyer's Cove?to Caleb's cottage." He shuddered involuntarily. "I felt a strange foreboding of evil at sight of the house that night?a sickening disgust, incomprehensible at the time. Some supernatural power must have whispered to me of my future sufferings there. At any rate, the preoontlmoni ,\t ill woe mnst oiiHnuslv verified." Her handsome face told how deeply she was moved. "But now you are yourself again," she said, cheerfully. "Yes?thanks to you and to Mrs. Ellicott's nephew!' When she spoke of the curious letter written by Susan Taylor to Captain Ira Berry, Andy made no comment whatever?only stared. In undisguised trepidation. Bess hurried on to the fiia' disclosure. 'Now," she said, "the worst of all remains to be told! Rose believes you to be lead?yes, I am sure she believes that!?and?she has found another lover!" Ho gave a violent start. "You must interfere immediately," urged Bess, in an anxious, troubled voice; "you must save Rose from further sin. It is rumored in the city that she is betrothed?this I heard from Dr. Hume. I begged him to do something, but he refused. He thinks it is your business?not his. Do not waste a moment. She will suffer shame, exposure, loss; but no alternative is left you? Rose must be prevented from working any more harm to herself or to others." "Who is the lover?" he asked, sharply. "His name is Fassel. He is rich and distinguished, and he loves her dearly." He uttered an exclamation. "You know him?" cried Bess. "Well?a trifle." "Oh, I am sure something ought to be done immediately." "My poor brave Bess, something shall be done!" he replied, in a grave, determined voice To be Continued. FISHERMEN'S SUPERSTITIONS. Dancing F'or Salmon?Words Jo Be Avoided When Baiting a Hook. In British Columbia the Indians ceremoniously went to meet the first salmon and in flattering voices tried to win their favor by calling them all chiefs. Every spring in California the Karaks used to dance for salmon. Meanwhile one of their number secluded himself in the mountains and fasted for ten days. Upon his return he solemnly approached the river, took the first salmon of the catch, ate some of it and with the remainder lighted a sacrificial fire. The same Indians laboriously climbed to the mountain top after the poles for the spearing booth, being convinced that if they were gathered where the salmon were watching no fish would be caught. Very widespread, in fact, is this native belief of the necessity of caution whenever Adam is on fishing bent. In Japan among the primitive race of the Ainos even the women left at home are not allowed to talk lest the fish may hear and disapprove, while the first fish is always brought in through a window instead of a door so the other fish may not see. The Esquimau women of Alaska never sew while the men are fishing, and should any mending be imperative they do it shut up in little tents out of sight of the sea. Under no circumstance on the [ northeast coast of Scotland will a fisherman at sea mention certain objects on land, such as "minister," "kirk," "swine," "dog," etc., and the line will surely be lost if a pig is seen while I baiting it. As on the land chickens must not be counted until they are hatched, so at sea fish must not be counted until they are all caught. It is good luck to find mice nibbling among the nets; a horseshoe nailed to the mast will help, and a herring caught and salted down will produce wonders. In the Shetland Islands a cat must not be mentioned before a man baiting his line and among the Magyars of Hungary a fisherman will turn back and wait over a tide if he meets a woman wearing a white apron. Every year the natives of the Duke of York Island decorate a canoe with flowers and fern, fill it with shell mo ney and cast it adrift "to compensate the fish for their fellows caught and eaten." It was always the custom of the Maoris, the primitive inhabitants of New Zealand, to put the first fish that they caught back into the sea "with a prayer that it might tempt other fish to come and be caught." If the fish did not come soon enough in British Columbia the Indians used to employ a wizard, who made an image of a swimming fish and put it in the water to attract live fish to bait. ?bos Angeles Times. .**' When is a newspaper like a delicate child? When it appears weekly* it":" A married man thinks he could have saved a lot of money had he remained a bachelor, but he couldn't. iUiscrllancou.s Reading. NEW HATS ARE GIGANTIC. Huge Crowns and Brims Larger Than Ever. At ine rirsi IHll upemn^ ui miiistrnng, Catnr & Co., held recently, were shown the advance styles of the fall season's hats. As on previous occasions the display was large and comprehensive. and many exquisite examples of fashionable millinery were exhibited to the admiring crowd of buyers. I cannot be truthfully said, however that many of the fall styles In hats are individually beautiful. They are only pretty as compared with other hats of the present. Indeed, the mil- j linery outlook is dark and gloomy. There are murmurs of revolt against the styles, and if Hobson, the warlike, were interviewed on the subject he might say the following: Prepare for war, prepare! Make ready for carnage; get out the battle-[ ships and polish up the armor and the I coats of mail. There is going to be a civic strife. And the cause? The winter's hats! This broad land, this glorious nation that the politicians allude to so tenderly is going to be divided against itself, and, therefore, according to Aesop's fable, the number 23 must fall. Such a sad, sad strife, too, as will overtake us! Men united against wo- | men: sweethearts against lovers: wives against husbands, and sisters against brothers. And somewhere in the middle, to augment the feeling and stir up the trouble, will be the milliners. For, let it be said at once, the hats are broader, larger, taller and wider than the famous Merry Widows. Well, it is a dire prophecy to make when the weather is so warm, but an eminent authority on the habit of the sex masculine has said that the men will not stand larger hats. Of course, everybody knows there are reasons for such an assertion. In the first place, with the increase in size of the hat comes the increase in the bill?and that is a subject worth mentioning. Secondly, the nerve-racking, soul-piercing, altogether-hurtful propensities of the Merry Widows have already overstepped the patience that J a mere man is said never to possess. An added inch to the width of a brim, J an increased $1 to the bill will be the straw to swing the scales too far. Seriously speaking, though, the hats as seen this early in the season are to be feared. Of course, the styles may change later and such freaks may fall by the wayside, but at present the outlook is bad. To be truthful, there isn't any outlook; the hats leave no room. Not only are the brims wider than last season, but the crowns are huge, monumental, colossal. Some of them are seven inches, others have the appear ~ n lnonlncr f AU'Pr of Pi.Qf|? clllt'C Ul u. Olk/Uk iVUiiuiM vw W There are Tam-O'-Shanter crowns large enough to cover that well-known gentleman and his entire family. Some shapes resemble inverted kitchen utensils. such as the humble dlshpan. Firemen's jhelmets are quite popular, too, and derbies, the sort favored by the king of England, and felt stovepipes are designed to adorn fair heads. Just how little women and plump women and dowagers will look In these topheavy concoctions is a subject too portentous to contemplate. Picture an inverted dishpan with a 24-Inch brim and an 8-inch crown resting lightly on a person five feet tall! And they will .ill wear them, of course. They will find the biggest they can. They will be laughed at by their brothers, joked about by the cartoonists and the funny men, and?maybe?there will be that 'Mre revolt mentioned previously. So long as the revolution is only mentioned, however, there is no serious danger and it is well to know a few of the fads, even If their adoption forebodes ill. There are some lovely colors, such il - 1 A^f? Kill A as nue Diue, it iuvci,v ucm u>uv., taupe, the old smoked gray, or ele-1 ohant's brefith, masquerading under a new name, and rosewood, a shade that is a cross between mahogany and old r< se. Most of the hats flare up sharply >n the right or left side, arid the number of large crowns is marked. To increase the size of the crowns, the newest device there is In the collar effect of wings, finished off with a big cluster of large wings at the front >r left side. This collar effect is seen 'ftcn, too, in cascades of quilled ribbon and ostrich plumes. The new method >f trimming is directly in the front i >r at the right side, and the fancy Iuills and aigrettes are frequently stood >orpendicularly against the crown. Some of the crowns slope as do the milk pail and others flare out and puff. The buckles that are to be such a 'nature of the season are mammoth, to correspond with the crowns. Some of them are six and eight inches long, \mong the popular felts will be the short nap beaver, and velvet and satin ind the new Ottoman silk will be used 'n combination on brims and crowns. Fancy braids and trimmings, some passementerie effects, and cretonne will be arranged on many of the hats. Persian effects will still be popular. As a contrast to the huge hats there will be worn also some jaunty little toques, close-fitting and trimmed wun quills and soft curling plumes. The directolre hat Is the fad of the fall and winter. It is like the familiar mushroom sailor and is finished with long fringed loops of ribbon fastened on each side of the edge of the brim and arranged to tie under the chin or to form a band effect around the neck and droop down over the shoulder.? Baltimore Sun. Tai.kixc! Down?The superintendent of a Sunday school class in Philadelphia recently called upon a visitor to "say a few words" to the class, the members of which are mostly children of a tender age. The visitor, a speaker well known for his verbose and circumlocutory mode "f haoro n hi<3 o/!HtV>SQ H Q f<*1 - lows: "Tills morning, children, I purpose to offer you an epitome of the life of St. Paul. It may be. perhaps, that there are among you some too young to grasp the meaning of the word 'epitome.' 'Epitome,' children, is, in its signification. synonymous with synopsis."? Philadelphia Ledger. i'.' The total value of the stone product of the country in 1906 was $66,378,794. an increase of $2,570,046 over that of 1905. VOTE F OK UNITED How the Various Candid Prin Evans J< Grace Abbeville 402 2 Aiken 1583 37 Anderson . . 304 8 Bamberg 135 5 Barnwell 557 10 Beaufort 176 7 Berkeley 100 1 Calhoun 180 6 Charleston 358 1048 Cherokee 525 8 Chester 470 2 unesierneia * i t a Clarendon 651 2 Colleton 540 9 Darlington 644 24 Dorchester 279 6 Edgefield 526 3 Fairfield 386 10 Florence 260 6 Georgetown 55 8 Greenville 1125 39 Greenwood 587 8 Hampton Ill 3 Horry 072 13 Kershaw 316 11 Lancaster 262 1 Laurens S28 5 Lee 289 0 Lexington 878 < Marion 537 4 Marlboro 310 6 Newberry 552 4 1 Oconee "26 27 Orangeburg 1137 10 Pickens 598 9 Richland 856 72 ^aluda 4 30 16 Spartanburg 3516 12 rumter 422 14 Union 1105 8 Williamsburg . . . . 353 4 York 1196 10 Total votes 25723 1494 Grand total reported THE VOTE FOR GOVERNOR. I Ansel Defeats Blease by Majority of 19,407. Following is the official vote for governor as tabulated by the state executive committee with a few scattering precincts missing. County. Ansel. Blease. Abbeville 1010 505 Aiken 1148 20421 Anderson 2425 1388 A 1 (\ I Bamberg ns Barnwell 1173 1017 Beaufort 668 145 Berkeley 640 564 Calhoun 493 304 Charleston 2105 3043 Cherokee 1132 530 Chester 1208 628 Chesterfield 1277 779 Clarendon 940 802 Colleton 1828 939 Darlington 1634 886 Dorchester 825 578 Edgefield 1026 710 Fairfield 794 509 Florence 1834 617 Georgetown 950 517 Greenville 2817 1609 Gheenwood 1607 898 Hampton 419 155 Horry 2710 1177 Kershaw 771 634 Lancaster 1784 583 Laurens 1132 1382 Lee 905 651 Lexington 2063 1698 " ------ oecc 8Q1 Marion w Marlboro 1139 739 Newberry 1268 1385 Oconee 1704 1032 Orangeburg 2164 1258 Pickens 1121 1198 Richland 2331 1935 Saluda 726 1363 Spartanburg 3449 2180 Sumter 1437 543 Union 1236 1284 Williamsburg 1614 584 York 2158 1081 Total 60.492 41,085 Grand total vote reported, 101,576. OLD SCHOOL BOOKS. The Bizarre Problems In Old Arithmetic Books. To the grammar school pupil of today It would seem Impossible that there could be any Interest In studying the rrYya. wording or arunmeuu pruuicuu. mc solution of a problem generally presents quite enough difficulty in and of itself without worrying as to the nature of the language in which the figires are put. Even if they felt so inclined, they could find little of Interest in such questions as. "Bought 12.000 l^ng tons of coal at $4 and sold the whole at the same price per short ton. What did I gain?" Or. "What number -I'btrncted from 80,005, 88 times will leave 18 as a remainder?" (From an arithmetic now in use in Chicago schools.) If we go back to an arithmetic published in our own country in 1788, however, we find problems that, whether or not they Interested the pupils at that time, certainly are amusing now, says the Chicago News. In an arithmetic written by Nicholas Pike in the year mentioned, problems -ueh as this appear: "An ignorant fop, wanting to purchase an elegant house, s v.* 1 J a facetious gentleman toiu mm ue nou me he would sell him on moderate terms, viz., that he should give him a' >enny for the first door, twopence forj 'he second, fourpence for the third, and so on double at every door, which were thirty-six in all. It is a bargain.' cried the simpleton, 'and here Is a guinea to bind it.' Pray, what would the house have cost him?" From books in use in 1790 are taken -ome even more remarkable examples: "A man overtaking a maid driving a lock of geese said to her: 'How do you do. sweetheart? Where are you going with these 100 geese?' 'No, sir,' said she, 'I have not 100, but if I had as many, half as many and seven geese and a half, I should have 100.' How many had she"/" "A person was 17 years of age 29 vears since, and suppose he will be drowned 23 years hence; pray, in what year of his age will this happen?" Should these questions be put to the present generation, probably there would be more giggles than answers. rr?i r, nOeHnn "Whv {<2 1 lie pupuiiu Ijuviiiiuii, .. -.J .w ? mouse when It spins?" Is scarcely more Impossible than one in "The Scholar's, Arithmetic" of 1817: 'When hens are 9 shillings a dozen, what will be the price of six dozen eggs at 2 cents for three eggs?,l/^No doubt, many curly pates have been given cause to wonder "why Is the hen?" Trick problems like the above were quite the rage. Another curiously worded question is: "At Surat is a hospital for sick animals, in which there is a tortoise that has been there seventy-five years. What is three-eighths of that number?" The fondness for ghastliness in the problems makes us wonder as to the value of such training for childish minds. "In 1831," says one problem, "119 persons died of drunkenness in New York and 137 In Philadelphia. How many in both?" Again: "A man had seven children. Two of them were killed bv the fall of a tree. How many had he left?" "Judas, one of the twelve apostles, . STATUS SUINAJLUK. iates Stood in the Recent lary. ^hnstone Martin Smith Lumpkin Rhett 374 15 28 312 373 394 245 183 775 548 jn i it Ota iuoo jvo 81 34 38 196 709 269 90 86 387 757 137 45 42 368 66 5 20 45 561 481 89 10 13 102 396 78 25 15 3549 180 40 23 111 293 672 474 68 62 335 485 31 72 231 239 254 55 104 16 203 738 185 21 171 161 1308 91 ' 59 65 536 1106 29 20 24 591 497 539 61 121 262 242 109 130 44 363 350 50 38 53 385- . 1685 31 26 30 360 911 974 123 520 767 871 874 89 59 306 633 79 10 56 201 204 240 44 462 547 1037 218 174 47 207 217 148 42 177 396 1332 316 202 331 867 484 260 13 37 132 829 a r i* oa/? t t* r A'71 r Q C JOO OUO IDi) tlx IOU 227 53 128 683 1812 154 38 49 453 819 391 58 62 140 457 600 72 283 433 516 145 161 93 724 1170 283 66 366. 374 498 665 560 399 1049 686 61? 49 209 106 702 321 62 281 993 643 363 41 26 607 632 305 42 46 524 578 29 14 50 458 1291 282 97 125 867 648 465 3459 6274 22348 28846 101,609 hanged himself. How many were there left?" "Adonibezek said: 'Threescore and ten kings, having their thumbs and their great toes cut off, gather their meat under by table.' How many thumbs and toes did Adonibezek cut off?" "A human body, if baked until all the moisture is evaporated, is reduced in weight as 1 to 10. A body that weighs 100 pounds when living weighs how much when baked?" To a child of 8 or 10, with a particle of imagination, it must have been pleasant figuring out the weight of baked bodies. NEW COTTON PEST. Disease Spreads Rapidly, Causing the Leaves to Fall. For the past four or five weeks reports have been coming Into the state department of entomology with reference to the ravages of a new cotton disease caused by a minute Insect known as the red spider. These reports have come mainly from the sections of the state south of Atlanta. According to State Entomologist Worsham, the red spider Is a small Insect not visible clearly to the naked eye, but easily seen by means of a good hand lens. It has a characteristically red or reddish color, fastens itself to tne unaer siae 01 ine conon ieai, auu multiplies very rapidly, the leaves of the infected stalk dropping off on account of the ravages of the insects. While the color of the leaves on the under side is a distinctly reddish hue, the color on top is not so marked, having a dull brown or black tinge. The disease begins on a few stalks, but in an incredibly short time may spread over an entire field. As soon as the leaves drop from the stalks, It becomes necessary for the plant to develop new leaves, which greatly, decreases its vitality and causes a corresponding shortage in the yield. Dry weather is favorable to the development of these Insects and seems to a great extent to be responsible for the prevalence of the disease In many sections of the state. It is a natural inference that water should be a preventive, if not a remedy, for the trouble, which is true, but it is not a suffciently effective remedy. A mixture of equal parts of sulphur and slacked lime is suggested by the department of entomology as the best moans of disposing of these insects. The mixture is to be thoroughly powdered and dusted carefully upon the under part of the leaves affected. If this is done as soon as the presence of the insects is noticed, it will effectively prevent their spreading over any larger area and render the disease easily controlled. The insects of themselves are power'ess to spread over a field, but may be easily scattered by plowing, unless precaution of destroying them first Is taken. They are also scattered by moans of other larger insects in wnose feet they may become fastened. It Is the opinion of the state entomologist that this disease may be entirely checked and destroyed, if the 'roper methods are used.?Atlanta T'.urnal. THE HUMAN ENGINE. To Operate This Masterpiece Air Is the First Necessity. Of all the engines cunningly devised by man not one can equal that masterpiece of construction, the engine of the ' * ? ~ rn ~ anorino air numan mime. ?-.i i uu mat ?iBu.v ?... is the first necessity. Construct it how you w!" the greater part of the energy which . e?'s a power plant Is lost before it read he applying1 machine. Tht body only has the power of using oner,,* really economically and efficiently. Its food Is Its fuel. To be available all the constituents of that food must be burned, producing heat and power. For that burning the oxygen of the air is essential. Equally true is it that nitrogen must be present to prevent the rapid combustion which would take place in oxygen alone. But, whether the combustion be fast or slow, the action is the same. The body burns the carbon and hydrogen " " " ' ?5 5 ati* avMao a f Or US IOCXJ aim givca uui mc v? these substances, carbon dioxide (carbon acid gas) and hydrogen oxide (water). The water that is formed within . the body by the burning of hydrogen Is of comparatively slight importance in a consideration of the vital questions of the effect of city air upon the individual. but the other factor, the carbon dioxide formed in the body, Is of direct importance.?Hollis Godfrey in Atlantic. I7? Living expenses in New York have been increased by 11 per cent in one vear. There are 262.000 Sunday schools in the world, with something like 26,000,000 pupils.