Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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tnl SEMI-WEEKL^ 7. K. 0RI8T-8 sons. Pobii.h.r.,} % 4amit3 $? areppeii: ^for tli?t promotion of lhi{ JDotiticai, Social, Agricultural and ffsmmcrrial Interests of fh? jpeoptii. { TE""^oiJE0?,1tv'""E'"eK""""'" "established 1855. yorkville. s. C., friday7november 10, 191l7 " n~q. 9q. 1^9 A ^ * * A DAR] * * By ETTA 1 * CHAPTER XXVI. Plightkr. This meeting nearly took her breath. He looked as brown and bold and grand as some soldier fresh from a victorious campaign. The reins drop- i ped from Ethel's hand. ims 18 ti grcui bui|ii idc| sue uw?aged to say. "I left the west some days ago," he answered, "and while waiting in Boston for the arrival of a member of our party, who had been unexpectedly detained in Chicago, I, by chance, heard of your late illness. Pardon me, I could not resist the temptation to run down to Blackport to express my regrets, and also to take a final leave of the relatives whom I shall probably never see again. Tomorrow I sail for England." She extended her hand over the side of the carriage. He clasped it eagerly. "How pale you are!" he said, searching her face with his keen, tawny eyes. "It is plain that you have suffered. And I never dreamed that all was not going well ^ith you here. News did not penetrate to the canons of the Yellowstone." She felt a thrill of guilty relief. Then he knew nothing about Regnault, or the affair at the salt-pits! Heaven grant that he would know nothing?at least till he had bidden her farewell forever. "For the few moments that we are now permitted to remain together,'' she inwardly prayed, "let him still think of me as one above reproach!" The dogs were leaping upon him rudely. Chasseur seemed dtermined to devour him alive. Sir Gervase smiled a little sadly as he submitted to the brute's caresses. "Your dogs have kept me in kindly remembrance, I see. It is pleasant to And that absence has not diminished their old affection. Are you wholly recovered, Miss Greylock? And your grandfather and Miss Pamela?are they well? Shall I And them at the villa? She answered him with tolerable coherence. The blood by this time was coming back to her face. Lancer began to move on of his own accord, and Sir Gervase fell into place by the side of the pony carriage, and so walked away to the villa, talking only of com-monplace things. Godfrey Greylock and Miss Pam met the baronet with open arms?he had no reason to complain of his welcome. But the twain looked grave when Sir Gervase announced how brief his visit was to be. "What!" cried Godfrey Greylock, "is it imperative that you should sail tomorrow?" "Yes," answered the baronet, "delays are always dangerous. I have been absent from England for months. Several important reasons urge my immediate return." Everybody avoided the subject of Ethel's illness. The elders were as anxious as Ethel herself that Sir Gervase should take his final leave of them in happy ignorance of what had *'? ?/%# KIo milt passed since me rejeeuuu vi ~ Luckily the baronet asked no questions. His behavior was perfect. Whether or no he had recovered from his disappointment nobody could tell. His manner toward Ethel was courteous, quiet, unmoved. The heiress of the Woods went upstairs to dress for dinner in a fevered frame of mind. "Five o'clock!" she said to herself, as she looked at her watch, "and at 9 the Boston express leaves Blackport. Four hours! and into them I must crowd all the happiness that is Teft to me. Tomorrow is bankrupt?it holds no promise. I have Just two hundred and forty minutes to live. After that I care not what happens!" She put on a dress of black satin, bordered with grebe, and a Medici ruff of yellow Mechlin, out of which her snowy throat.and pale face arose like a lily from its sheath. In her corsage she fastened a great bunch of red leaves. Her yellow hair, heaped in a mass of waves and curls, made a crown of sunshine to this sombre costume. She went down to the drawingroom with no flush, no tremor, but in her eyes burned a strange brilliancy. The dinner passed like all others. We eat, we laugh, we talk of common things, even when our hearts are breaking, and every moment is big with fate. The party arose from the table at last, and went to Godfrey Greylock's library. How fast the moments were going! Ethel could have screamed aloud at this pitiless flight of time. Soon she would hear the carriage In the drive?it would stop at the door. ' then the last word must be spoken, the last look given. Her heart rose up in mad rebellion at the misery she had brought upon herself. Oh, if something would but happen! Oh, the dire necessity of keeping a smile on her lips, and light in her eyes, during this terrible hour, which, when it passed, was to take from her all earthly joy. Something did happen. Aunt Pam, regardless of the baronet's presence, succumbed to an after-dinner doze in one of the deep chairs. At the same time Godfrey Greylock vanished suddenly behind a portiere at the other end of the room. Ethel was alone with Sir Gervase, for Miss Pam, in her present condition, could not be called company. She stood leaning against a glass door which opened on the terrace. Day died swiftly?a moon rose over the tree-tops?its light poured upon her satin dress and grebe feathers and yellow crown of hair. Without, the whole landscape lay dark in shadow? within, an ormolu clock on the mantel ticked the moments remorselessly away. Like a man in a dream Sir Gervase arose from his chair and crossed the room to her side?drawn irresistibly, ^ perhaps, by that regal shape?by the white shining of her face in the gloom. "For all time and all eternity." he 4. 4. .4. 4- j- -j- J. ,-i. 4-4- ? K DEED |+i " r 4? v i' W. PIERCE * 5 f ' I* ? *f* "f0 ? ? f" -f* ? said, "I should like to remember you, ? Ethel, as you stand?like this!" She made a sudden movement, and s the red leaves dropped from her cor- d sage. He caught them &s they fell. n "With your permission I will keep n these," he continued,. his voice grow- i ing thick and uncertain. "Could I carry away from Greylock Woods a n more fitting 'memento than a handful a of withered leaves?" s She caught her breath curiously. o "I hear the carriage," she stammered, craning her fair neck toward the o driveway. "It is not yet in sight," he answer- d ed, with a touch of resentment; "are you in haste to say good-by? I was e angry with you when we last parted, I Ethel. You had said some unjust n things to me?do you remember?" ' "Yes," she answered. h "I was angry, and I tried my best to ' forget you out there in the wilds of >' the west God knows how vain the f' effort was! You haunted me every- 11 where?by midnight camp-fires, in vast K solitudes, in the depths of lonely can- fi ons, in daylight in darkness! And so e I have brought back to the east the h same thing that I took away?a disap- n pointment for which I can find no c consolation?a dead hope, that leaves n my future empty and dark." "Did you come to Blackport today to n tell me this, Sir Gervase?" "No," he answered, bitterly; "why E should I wish to torment you further? But you nave torcea tne woras irom me. in spite of myself. I came to Blackport simply because I could not n avoid it A power as irresistible as death drew me hither for one last look n at you." "The carriage is coming?it is here!" she gasped, as the horses' heads appeared in the moonlight below the a terrace. He held outh is hand. "This time, at least," he said, in a fl shaken voice, "I do not part with you Q in anger. It was not your fault, but w my misfortune, that you could not h [love me, Ethel! Your hand one moment?there, good-by!" y The strain upon her nerves had been grievous and prolonged. As his fin- a gers closed about her own the moonlit n terrace vanished, the dark, rich library n swung round before her. sight. She *1 called his name once, and the next h thing she knew strong arms were 6' clasping her. Sir Gervase's kisses s rained like fire on her face and hair. a "Ethel! Ethel!" he cried. "Is it ? possible that you care for me after a all?" She dropped her face against his heart and sobbed. 81 "I have cared for you from the first n day of your coming here. No, do not " think that I tormented you for my own pleasure. I shall conceal nothing b from you now?I shall tell the miserable truth, even as I told grandpa, and " when you know all you will despise 81 me!" h His brown cheek pressed her white S! one. a "Darling, darling, what can you P mean?" E "Wait, listen! Gervase," she falter- e ed, trying to hold him off, but failing z' ignobly, while she faltered forth her e confession. z With great gravity, in perfect si- A lence, he listened. When all had been d told he gathered her still closer to his heart. G "Poor child!" he said, tenderly. "How wickedly you have been tormented! Ah, why did you not tell me b your secret weeks ago? I might have t' helped you?I might have saved you from a part, at least, of this wretched a experience. It was the mistake of a e schoolgirl. Forget it, Ethel; we will e never speak of it again. And so you h loved me even when you sent me 8 away? How blind I have been?how t stupid! But tonight," exultantly, "to- t night J am the happiest man on earth, s for," with a mighty contempt for the d reserve powers of Fate, "nothing earth- t ly can part us more!" P After that no sound broke the si- H lence of the library save the happy h murmur of lovers' voices. Aunt Pam slept serenely on. The horses waited 1 impatiently below the terrace; their h trampling startled Ethel at last. ? "Oh," she faltered, "the carriage is t still waiting! Will you go now?" >' He smiled. 1 "I think not. I must crave your grandfather's hospitality a little longer. My plans for the future are now entirely changed. I shall not sail for England till I can take my wife with t me. You owe me some recompense, TTthtfkl fr?r what I hflvp pndiirpd In thp H last two months, and I shall require it r of you in the form of an early marriage day." n A hand lifted the portiere, and s Godfrey Greylock stepped into the p room. The attitude of the young pair seemed not to surprise him?he had had his own reasons for leaving them J to each other. Sir Gervase led Ethel to her grandfather. ii "She has told me everything." he a said, simply, "and she has also prom- 1" ised to become my wife!" c * Iris Greylock came up from Rose Cottage next day to congratulate her t daughter. She put her arms around Ethel and kissed her. ^ "My dear child," she cried, "what s an unexpected turn of affairs! I am I unspeakably glad that you are so well b i|un \n juui luummn', \ inanition rvegnault. Let that experience be a life- h long lesson to you, foolish girl! And f now, when are you going to marry r your spotless Sir Galahad?I mean the haronet? Your grandfather sent word a to me this morning that everything was arranged?such extraordinary con- 1 decension from my great enemy made > me suspicious that joy had turned his a head." Ethel neither blushed nor stammered. There was something solemn in her new and sudden bliss. She had t come so near to losing her life's hap- 1 piness that even now she scarcely a "I have long had this project in my s lared to believe In Its perfect securty. "I am to marry the baronet the first yeek in December, mamma," she anwered, in a low voice. "He wishes to each England in time for the holtlays. It seems very strange, does il lot, that I am to be Lady Greylock, ,fter all?" "You are quite equal to the position, ove. These English marriages are ;etting to be everyday affairs with Lmerican girls in good society. The Irgt week In Decepiber!" with an nxious knitting of her faded brows, I wish it was even sooner. I long to ee you well settled in life." She tapped the carpet with her ound foot. Ethel was secretly wonlering what it was that made her nother look so worn and old this nornlng. Presently the truth broke rom Mrs. Ins. "I have had another tllT with Hanah Johnson, mv dear. Six months go I doubled her wages, and today he had the impudence to demand anther increase." "Of course you discharged her at nee." said Ethel dryly. Mrs. Iris glanced askance at her aughter, then frowned. "Do not be absurd, Ethel. I have xplalned to you again and again that cannot get on without Hannah. I lust keep her?I realy have no choice i th'i matter. But you do not know ow J arti vexed and worried. My life i becoming a burden to me. I envy ou because you will soon be far away rom?from?this place and everybody i it. And then your prospects! What irl could ask for brighter ones? Godrey Greylock cannot last much longr, and you are sure to come in for is entire fortune. Ah! you must relember me then. Ethel! You were ertainly born under a lucky star. But ever forget that you owe everything, ven your titled English husband, to ly shrewd management, child." "I will not forget, mamma," replied Jthel, rather wearily. There was small danger of such a atastrophe while Mrs. Iris had a sngue. After a pause the older wornn.asked, abruptly: "Ethel, what has become of Regault?" "Mamma, how should I know?" "What! have you heard nothing pom him, nor of him, since that night t the pits?" "Nothing." "Well, I hope he will give you no urther trouble; but you need not feel uite sure about it. He is a man ithout heart or conscience?that is," astily, "of course he must be, from tie manner in which he has treated ou." Regnault! Only with dread and version could Ethel think of him ow. Whither had he fled? She did ot know or care. It was certain tiat he had no further power to harm er, since she herself had revealed veryfhlngTIo her nearest and dearest? he was so sheltered now, so hedged bout by love and care tha. surely he ould never dare to approach her l?ain. The autumn days went on, full of tie light that never -was on land or ea. All her life long Ethel would relember this time of perfect tranqull:y. Wonderful tints of crimson and old filled the woods. The winds reathed balm, purple hues clung to tie sea and the marshes; marvelous ght hovered over the paths where he waltced with?her lover, her life, er king. He was constantly at her ide, and the villa rang with prepartions for such a wedding as Blackort had never known before. Verily, Ithel was happy in these days! Evry cloud h xd vanished from her horion, the past was covered up, the presnt seemed a paradise, the future dazled her with its radiant promises, .nd all the while, alas! a tempest arker than death itself was gatherig over the unconscious heiress of rreylock Woods. One night Sir Gervase took fond ?ave of his betrothed in the great all, and stepped out upon the terrace o smoke a solitary cigar before going o bed. It was November now, frosty nd cold. The leafless chestnuts raisd skeleton arms in the midst of the vergreens. The imposing villa looked ilgher and darker than ever on its rand knoll. He could almost fancy hat both house and woo.ds knew of neir imjicnuiiiK luaa, ttnu mat, > V.UI1equence, they had already assumed a lejeeted air. She was going with him 0 a new home across the sea, and the laces of which she was the pride, the ight, the crowning glory, would know ler no more. "Sir Gervase Greylock!" said a voice, 'he figure of a woman, in a shawl and lood, leaped suddenly up at the far end f the terrace, and advanced toward he baronet. "I've something to say to ou, sir," she began, with a deprecaory gesture. He flung down his cigar. "Who are you?" he demanded. "A friend," said the woman. "That is good, but indefinite. I must rouble you to be more explicit." As he approached the figure it imnediately made an alarmed retrograde uovement. "Never mind who I am," she stamnered, "it is enough for you to know, ir, that I've something of great importance to tell you." "Concerning what?" "The girl you are going to marry? diss Greylock." "Ah!" said the baronet, dryly; "this s too mysterious by far! Upon such 1 subject no stranger can possibly lave anything to say to me which 1 ould wish to hear." "Don't be too sure of that." He turned on his heel. She ran af er him. "Stop, sir! You're very particular! Veil, since you must know, you've een me before, on shipboard and at lose Cottage. I belong to the houselold of Mrs. Greylock." Reluctantly she pushed back her lood, and revealed the sullen, dark ace of Hannah Johnson. It was a full noment before he recognized her. "I remember," he said, at last. "You ire Mrs. Greylock's maid." "Yes. that's what I'm called. I've ived with Mrs. Greylock for years and fears. What I don't know about her ind Miss Fairy ain't worth the knowng, sir!" He stared coldly. "They haven't treated me right hose two," she went on. "I hate them roth! Moreover, I don't like to set inybody walking blindfolded into a (trained my eyes to catch some sigr trap. I'm English born myself, though perhaps you wouldn't guess it, and I : know the pride of men like you, Sir Gervase Greylock. You'd rather die i than be hoodwinked, victimized, disgraced. Then take my advice and : leave the Woods tomorrow, and every, body and everything here, and go back as fast as wind and tide and , steam will carry you, to England!" ! At last he understood the drift of i her talk. > "That will do," he said, sternly. "I i decline to listen to you further!" , I "Sir, I've a whole nistory to ten? i you haven't heard a word of it yet, | and it concerns you more than any body else. You'd better let me go on." "Not a syllable more!" he answered. Do not dare to mention Miss i Greylock's name to me. I advise your mistress to look after you a little closer, since it is plain that you are scarcely a servant to be trusted." She was furious at this repulse. "And so you will not stoop to take a warning from such as me, sir?" she hissed. "Assuredly not," he answered with cold disdain. "Then," she cried, fiercely, "I swear to you. Sir Gervase Greylock, that the hour will come when you'll be forced to listen whether you like or not! Your wedding day is set, all goes well with your love affair, but bear this in mind?never, on this side of the grave, will you marry Ethel Greylock!" With this Hannah Johnson turned and vanished down the terrace. CHAPTER XXVII. Polly Speaks. The winter closed in early, an oldfashioned New England winter. Tremendous storms swept the coast. Night after night I lay in my chamber at Cats' Tavern, and heard the rafters rock and the old windows shake with the violence of the gales. Blackport' harbor was locked in ice, vessels went by sheathed in rattling mall. Snow covered the marshes, and spread a white desolation over the town, which had grown very dull and silent after the flight of its summer population. In fair weather and foul Dr. Vandine was abroad. His practice had rapidly increased. Throughout Blackport and in adjacent towns also, he was constantly In demand. We saw but little of him at the inn, and even when there he was always shut up with his books, always absorbed and silent. Perhaps it was this continual labor which made him look so grave and changed. Indeed, he began to seem like a stranger to me. The hurts that I had received from Regnault's knife at the pits still troubled me. I did not gain flesh or strength, and I was often weary and depressed. One day while tolling up the innstairs with a basket of fuel fcfr one of the guest's chambers, I was overtaken suddenly Dy jjr. vanume. rue dho.ii.ijed the burden from my hand and carried It himself to the room above. "No more of this, Polly," he said, sternly. "Do you want the wound In your side to re-open? You must do no hard work at present. Mercy Poole assured me she would not require it of you." "And she does not," I answered. "But I cannot receive full wages at the inn and not work." You see, Mercy Poole had paid me for all the time of my absence at Greylock Woods?not a cent had she deducted from my weekly dues, and I thought it wonderful generosity, for Mercy Poole loved money, and though kind to her help, she exacted from them all that was her lawful right. "Never mind that," said the doctor. "I shall not allow you to kill yourself before my eyes. I have settled your affairs with Mercy Pooled?that is," hastily, "she knows that you must rest until you have regained your strength. If you go about, getting knife wounds intended for other people and losing in consequence, the wages of two or three months, how will you ever accumulate money enough to begin the search for your lost sister?the Nan of whom, by-theway, I have not heard you speak of late. Are the distractions of Blackport driving her, at last, from your memory, Polly?" 1 My heart thumped violently. "No," I faltered; "oh. no." "And you haven't abandoned your original design of finding her, eh?" he urged. i I did not answer. I was thinking of what he had said about my wages. Suddenly it burst upon me that he was at the bottom of Mercy Poole's generosity, and that from his pocket, and not hers, my full pay for the last two months had come! Besides all this, i he had absolutely refused to accept anything from me for professional services. "You always called me sharp, Dr. Vandine," I flashed out, "and so I am ?at least, sharp enough to see what : you have done. And I do not like it? oh, I cannot bear it!" He put on a highly aggrieved ai^. i "Look here, Polly?no nonsense! For years I have regarded you as something belonging to myself. Have , I not tried again and again to keep you out of an untimely grave? Didn't I consign you to that mob of Steeles who drudged you nearly to death?and wasn't it I who brought you down here to Blackport, where the knife of i a ruffian all but made an end of you i at once? Are these the favors you cannot bear, Polly? Poor, deluded : child. I never did a decent thing for you in my life! You are under no more obligations to me than to the man in the moon; but wait!" His KrAufn fofo lltrhtprt nn with some of its old. gay glow. "Heaven knows, s Polly, I would fain have helped you to better fortune long ago; but the fact is, I never at one time, possessed five dollars that I could honestly call my own. Impecuniosity has ever been my ; besetting trouble. Of late, however, I the wheel of fortune has taken a new turn with Dick Vandine. The freaki ish, fickle goddess is smiling, where formerly she frowned. My prospects ; grow brilliant. I now have a plan for I you, Polly. After the holidays, which are, as you know, close at hand, I am going to take you away from Cats' Tavern and send you to school?in fact, I have already engaged board and , tuition for you at the best young i ladies' seminary in the state." ' I was speechless. He did not wait i for an answer, but added, simply: i mind, but could never execute it till now. I feel as If I had a perfect rlgh to lead you into pleasanter path! Thus far you have had a hard lift you brave little thing! You shall b educated for a teacher, or somethlni of that sort, and to soothe your pridt of which you have an inordinate sup ply, I will say that years hence?ter twenty, fifty, may be, when I am poo and old, and you rich and atlll young you can, If you like, repay me. No\ get some flesh on your bones, am some color In your cheeks, Polly, am look forward confidently to bette days." The next moment I heard him de scendlng the stairs. I dropped on th floor by the fuel basket, burled m; face In my old dress and cried am cried till I was exhausted. To go t( school?to become a teacher! Ambl tion awoke within me. Life of a sud den teemed with possibilities. Ah, 1 was too good to believe! Days passed. He did not speak t< me again?Indeed he was seldom a the inn, except to eat and sleep; bu he left books for me In the living room, and Mercy Poole beg^in to trea me as a guest, rather than a servant It was plain that he had told her o his plans concerning me. Meanwhile happiness reigned a Greyloek Woods. News reached th< inn of all that was transpiring there With unspeakable Joy I heard lha Miss Greyloek had regained both hei her health and her English lover, an< that she was to marry Sir Gervase and sail at once for the Old World. "Thank God!" I thought, as I laj upon my bed In the silent night watches, when the storms were whist ling around the Inn, "her happiness li now secure! She Is an Innocent par tlclpator In a great fraud. Once th< wife of Sir Gervase, no harm cai reach her, for he loves her?he wil shield her through all the future Though I may never see her more, 1 will be blessed for me to know tha she is happy with the man she lovei across the sea." One morning my sister?no! I mus not call her that?the heiress of th( Woods and Sir Gervase, her lover, ap> peared at the inn In a splendid sledge with prancing horses and jingnni bells. I hurried to the living-room. Miss Greylock, wrapped In furs. an< looking so bright and lovely that held my breath as I gazed at her rushed forward and kissed me on botl cheeks. Then, still holding my hands she turned with tears in her eyes t< the baronet. "Gervase," she said, "this is th? good, brave girl who risked her owi life to save mine." That he was noble in every sense o the word I could not doubt. He tool my hands from Miss Greylock, presse< them kindly, and thanked me wltl simple earnestness that went to m: heart. "My dear Polly." said Ethel Grey lock, with a bright color in her ova cheek, "I am here this morning to beg as a particular favoi: to myself, tha you will attend my wedding. Oh, yoi must not look so astonished! M: happiness would not be complete i you were not present at the ceremony Sir Gervase knows how positive m] wishes are upon this point." And the baronet, with a quiet smile answered: "I do, indeed! And I an sure your good little friend, to whon you owe so much, will not refuse thii contribution to our Joy. If she dlsap points you, she disappoints me, also.1 Then Miss Greylock put her glove< hand coaxingly on my shoulder, an< said: "Ah, you will come to the church t< see me married, will you not, Polly' Think how sincerely I must desire it when I bring the baronet to urge yoi in person! I assure you," laughing "I have favored no other friend in iik< manner." As she stood there in her beauty am happiness, with her future stretchinj out so bright before her, how I long' ed to take her in my arms, as I usee to do when we were poor little stree vagrants, and hold her close to mj full, faithful heart! She was my sis ter, and I loved her tenderly, and sh< would never, never know it! The se cret must live and d!? in my owi breast. "I will come to see you married Miss Greylock, and thank you," I fal tered, "and I wish you and Sir Gervasi Joy?much joy." They remained at the inn but a fev moments. After their departure i box marked with my name, arrive< from Greylock Woods. I opened It and found a dress of shining, silkei stuff, an elegant mantle, a Paris hat fine lace, gloves, ribbons, and, last o all, a little note from Miss Greylock begging me, for her sake, to accep the gifts and wear them at her ap proachlng wedding. Mercy Pooh shrugged her shoulders. Dr. Vandlni made hlmsejf conspicuous by his utte; silence. Alas! I knew only too wel onnthor beside mvsel who would long remember the fair, fa tal face of Sir Gervase Greylock'i bride. One bitter night the doctor was call ed to visit a sick fisherman In at outlying district of Blackport?a lone ly place, among frozen creeks an< marshes. He had been in the saddli all day, and was Just ready to sea himself at supper when the summoni came. "Never mind," he said, as he prompt ly arose from the untasted meal an< struggled Into his overcoat; "it's evl dently a bad case. I cannot delay But keep the tea In a warm corner Miss Poole; I will return In an hour.' And off he hurried through the col< and darkness. One hour passed, but he did not ap pear. Another and another came am went, but brought no doctor. Mercj Poole put the cats In their baskets and then betook herself to her owi bed. "Doubtless the doctor found the mai so sick, that he concluded to stay witl him through the night," were her las words to me; "you had better bolt th< door and go upstairs yourself, Polly.' By scratching the frost from th< window I could see that snow wai ??- -?*? ?The win< wnirurtg mtiui.v tore In great gusts around the inn, am set the old signboard creaking ove the door. On the beach the high, win try tides roared. It was a fearfu night, and as I looked out into th? storm and darkness, somehow I couh not accept Mercy Poole's explanatioi of the doctor's prolonged absence. J premonition of evil assailed me. of his approach, but in vain. It wa nearly midnight, and only wind an< t snow moved in the town, i. 1 dressed myself in my warmest gar>, ments, and lighted a lantern. By thh e time everything in the inn was fast g asleep. Softly I stepped out of th< s. weather-beaten door, and, through th< - clamorous night started off to fine i, Dr. Vandlne. r The wind cut like a knife, the snow flew in blinding clouds. Being slendei v and not overstrong, I could not at first d make much headway against the ternd peat. It snatched away my breath, II r beat and buffeted me, It blew meaooui like a weathercock. But my resolu tion Increased as my body grew veak e I clutched my' lantern and struggled y along:. d The town was soon left behind me 0 the road became a vague, gray track - which the snow was fast blotting out - In the near darkness roared the sea t All around were dreary creeks and lonesome marshes, solitude and blttei 3 silence, and not so much as a light t anywhere to relieve the gloom, t Presently I stopped in the whirling - snow, filled with sudden shame and t consternation. What would he think of me? What right had I to sally f forth like this, in search of him, because he had failed to return to Cats' t Tavern at the appointed time? Was e I bold, unmaidenly? I was about to i. turn back discomfited, when I heard t a loud tramp and a horse dashed by r me In the darkness and disappeared In 1 tho dlrontlnn r\t tnxvn !, My heart leaped Into my throat. The lantern had shown full upon the f animal?I recognized him as the prop erty of Dr. Vandine, and he was rider less. 9 Fear gave me fresh strength. I flew - forward like a wild creature, lifting e my voice and shouting his name as 1 i went on. I "Oh, Dr. Vandine," I cried, "it is I? !. Polly! Do you hear me?can you ant swer? Are you anywhere near?" t But there was no answer. 9 I crossed a bridge that spanned an arm of the creek, and on the other t side, at a sharp curve in the way, 1 5 found him stretched on the sno'w, the thick flakes falling fast upon him, his i, white face upturned to the midnight ? sky. I put my lantern down and knelt by 1 his side. He lay like one dead. I callI ed his name, but he was past reply , ing. Fortunately in the pocket of his l coat I found a little flask of brandy, i, I took his head on my lap?how heavy 3 and helpless it was?and forced a few drops of the fiery liquor between his 9 lips. Then I drew the gloves from his i icy hands, and chafed them in my own. At last he opened his eyes in a f bewildered way, and, by the lantern t light, looked straight up into my bend1 ing face. i "Great God!" he groaned; "is it you, / Polly?" "Yes," I answered, as steadily as 1 - could. "Can I help you to rise?" I ' He made an attempt to lift himsell up, but feirTieTpTesaly~back. ' t "My horse stumbled and fell with J me?fell upon me." he gasped; "I had / concluded that I must lie here . and f freeze to death. What brought you to my help, poor child?" / "I felt something was wrong," I faltered, "because you did not come back to the inn, as you promised, and so 1 i set forth to seek you." , i "Heaven bless you, Polly. And now s what is to be done??I cannot move? - every bone In my body seems frac" tured. A few rods back on the road? 1 you'll find a house"? 1 His voice failed. Overpowered with the Intense cold and the pain of his > Injuries, he fell back unconscious. ? The house of which he spoke was a , half-mile beyond the bridge. Before i many minutes I was beating on the t door, and calling loudly for help, 5 Luckily for the Injured man, who lay perishing in that wild midnight, help 1 was there. ? Strong men carried Dr. Vandlne home to Cats' Tavern, and the inmates 1 of the house arose from their sluint bers to minister to his pressing needs. f "He has sustained a compound frac ture of the leg," said Mercy Poole, 8 dryly;- "I wonder what disaster we - may look for next, Polly?" > Ah, I never dreamed of the one that was waiting, even then, at the door." I? (To Be Continued.) e SOIL SURVEYS. ' Correspondent Who Thinks Very Doubtful of Their Value. * A recent letter in a southern news paper, 'speaking of the United States 1 government soil survey, says: ' "The survey, when made, will be ' an analysis of practically every soil ' In the county, and the farmers will ' know exactly what their soil is lack Ing, so prepared fertilizers can be aps plied without any waste whatever and B better crops can be grown with less expense." r Now, It will tell them nothing of 1 the sort, for even if a chemical' analyf sis were made of every description of soil in the county, it would simply show whit is In the soil, but will tell s the farrrer nothing about its availability. Ii may show that the most . unproductive soil in the county has plenty of plant food in it locked up, 1 but the soil surveyors will not make * the analysis that the writer thinks. 1 They will take samples of the various ? soils and will wash them out and find c the different percentages of coarse * sand or gravel, fine sand and silt and s clay in each and will give each a fancy name from similar soils found in other localities, such as Cecil clay for the red clay of the Piedmont seci tion. Iredell clay for a tough clay they - found in Iredell, Hagerston loam for the rich loam of that section, Norfolk sandy loam for similar soils where ever found, and so on They will tell " you that Cecil clay is a good wheat j soil, because In Cecil county, Maryland, it makes good wheat, and that Norfolk sandy loam is a good truck " soil, because the Norfolk growers 1 found it out before any soil surveyor f saw it. The bureau of soils of the depariment of agriculture, in connec' tion with the state department of agri1 culture, has spent thousands of dollars In soil surveys in North Carolina, 1 and so far as I have been able to observe, the only result Is a series of 1 parti-colored map3. If any farmer In t the slate has ever had a dollar's worth s of benefit from the surveys, I hope it ho will hold up his hand.?Progressive Farmer. e ' For a Presidential Primary.?Why shouldn't South Carolina have a presii dential primary next spring and let r the people say whom their delegates to the Democratic national convention shall support? South Carolina is the ' home of the whole primary election e idea. Why let its delegates to the j Democratic national convention be n mnoHnty r\t ollmlu attunHpil . I1UBCII ..J. <1 liiccn.in V,. ,, so-called club-meetings, county con^ ventlons and state convention? We I do not choose a governor nor a United _ States senator In that way. A president Is more Important than either.? * Spartanburg Journal. NO EXTRA SESSION. * | Governor Replies to Request from > Marlboro. i . GIVES REASONS AT SOME LENGTH. I In the Firat Placa Extra 8?aaion Would Coat too Much Monay, and 1 in the Second Place, the "Poor Man," Who Would Have to Help Pay the Expense, Would Receive Little BenI efit?Charges That Cotton Mill Merger Waa Organized to Depreas the Price of Labor and Cotton. In a lengthy letter to Mr. J. J. Evan? of Bennettsville, dispatched Tuesday. Governor Blease states in full his reasons for not calling an extra session of the state legislature, as requested at a mass meeting of business interests In Bennettsville Monday night. The letter Is in reply to a telegram received by the governor , Tuesday morning from Mr. Evans, stating the situation, and asking for > a hearing on the matter on the 13th. The extra session was desired to , take some action looking to an immeI diate relief of the present situation of lower prices for cotton. , The refusal to call the extra session is placed on the grounds of t'.ie heavy , expense entailed, the fact that mat. ters are not In shape now to allow a special session to do the business of the regular session, and that the results of any action that might be - taken would be of value only to a limited number of farmers. The governor received Tuesday the following telegram: Bennettsville, Nov. 6. His Excellency Hon. Cole L.' Blease, Columbia, S. C. At a mass meeting of the farmers of Marlboro county resolutions were i passed directing the delegation from ' this county to request you to call the ' legislature together to consider a plan of relief for the present situation. 1 Will it be agreeable to grant us a i hearing next Monday. November 13? (Signed) J. J. Evans. The Governor's Letter. In reply, the governor wrote: Mr. J. J. Evans, BenneCsvllle, S. C. Dear Sir: Your wire of November 1 6 received. I presume you are aware of the ' fact that when the general assembly ' raised their salaries, and in order to , do so attempted to evade the const! tution, mac mey proviuea mai iur 1 each session of the general assembly ' the members shall receive 1200 each. , I fought this very vigorously, be! ing a member of the general assembly at the time, because I believed that It was a violation of the constitution to raise the salaries, and furthermore because under the act members would receive the same pay for , an extra session, even though It only 1 l isted one or more days, that .they receive for the regular sessions. I > thought then I was right, I still think I was right, because were I to call an extra session of the general assembly [ now, under this act, each member I would be entitled to (200, even though [ they only remained in session but for a very short period. At the same time, 1 you will remember, the legislature took a recess and went home and i then came back for a few days to . elect a United States senator to All ; the unexpired term of Mr. Latimer. Many of the members of the legislature took pay for this extra few days' session. As senator, I took the position that it was not right, and that no man had a right to take pay for the extra few days I refused to aca.r\\r onH ro turn Art It to the state treasurer. I was endeavoring then, as senator, to keep down what ' I considered useless and what might 1 be some day very expensive legislation, and I am now still of the same opinion as I was then. Furthermore, | were I now to call an extra session ! of the legislature, who would be i benefited? The farmers who are , wealthy and who have been able to , hold their cotton, while the poor man who Is compelled to sell would re1 ceive no benefit from the extra session, but would be compelled to pay i his share of the taxes which the ex| tra session would cost, and which would possibly be $100,000 or more. In addition to this, there are a large number of taxpayers who have no cotton to hold. They would be compelled to pay their part of the taxes for this extra session, and would re1 ceive no benefit whatever therefrom. The constitution provides when the regular session shall be held, and no I extra session that I might call could do away with this regular session, for It is compelled to convene; therefore. If it met only for a few days at the regular time under the act, which I mentioned in the first part of this letter, they would be entitled to $200 . and their mileage. Therefore, to call an extra session of the general assembly would entail a very heavy expense upon all of the taxpayers of this state t when only those who have held cotton would be benefited thereby. The state officers have not their ! reports ready, and some of them could not possibly get them ready before the convening of the regular session of the general assembly; therefore, the extra sessidh could not act Intelligently upon matters which would be brought up in the regular session, based upon these reports, and for this reason, In my opinion, an extra session of the legislature cannot well be held at this time. Now. as to the cotton proposition: I am with you heart and soul; will ' do anything and everything within my power to help the farmers to get a better price and, in my opinion, if the cotton mill mergers hnd been Jumped upon as strongly as some of the acts of persons and corporations in other matters, the present crisis \*ouId not have come. The legislature, at Its regular session, should pass laws which would aid the farmer in every way possible, and I shall ask them to do so, as I asked them to do at the last session, when they forced such an outrageous appropriation bill uporn the people, and I expect now the people see who was right?the members of the general assembly, in passing such an appropriation bill, or myself for vetoing so much of it, particularly when I stated to them that they were spending $500,000 more than they were collecting in taxes, which was bad judgment, and that in case of a crisis the state would be in a pitiable condition, with no money on hand and unable to borrow. Certain members of the general assembly laughed at the proposition of a crisis; boasted of our prosperity and or our aounaance of supplies, and said: "Ah, go ahead! The people are rich and the , state Is rich." What do you suppose the people think of these legislators today, expending half a million dollars -more than they made levy to collect? I do not claim to be a prophet, but I do claim to have foreseen in part just what we are up against right now. and I am proud to say that enough men in the legislature stayed through the last hour and stood by me like true South Carolinians and i saved the people of the state many i .housands of dollars ? The cotton mill mergers, in my opinion, were gotten up to do Just h what they have done: cut down the i price of cotton, and to better control the price of labor. It is carrying out the purpose for which it was organi Ized. Silence was maintained and nothing done until I spoke in no uncertain terms In the newspapers. The officers of our state, whose duty it was to take charge of such matters, ignored my suggestions, and they and you see the result. Of course, I can not tell yet what may come or what demand may be I made, but as I see matters at present, 1 I would not be justified in putting the people of the state to the expense of an extra session of the general assembly. Very respectfullly. Cole L. Blea8e, Governor. i "BLOWING HOT AND COLD." | Sumter Item Severely Arraigns the Charleston Newspapers. For several weeks the News and Courier has been waging a vigorous editorial campaign against the establishment of a race track in Charleston, and, having the united sup- , port of the church people and moral element of the community, there was ground for hope that the plans of the outlawed race track gamblers to mako Charleston a haven of refuge would be defeated; but today the News and Courier carries a column and a half news article exploiting the first racing meet, announcing the schedule of events and list of prizes. The editorial columns of the News and Courier .may be filled chock full of denunciations of racing and race track gambling every day In the week but so long as the promoters of the race track can obtain the use of the news columns of the paper for advertising the meet and announcing the results of the races day by day, the editorial fulminatlons will worry them not at all. If the News and Courier and the other Charleston papers are sincere In their opposition to the establishment of the race track, they should do exactly what they ask the legislature to do?outlaw the race track. They can do the race track enterprise more harm and do more to accomDllsh the downfall of race track gambling In South Carolina by refusing to print any announcements of ihe race meet and by Ignoring the races when they are In progress than by printing many volumes of editorials. If the race track Is as Immoral, criminal and demoralizing to the community as the News and Courier has editorially declared it to be, then it Is immoral to exploit it as a matter of news. The editorial policy of the News and Courier In dealing with the race track evil and the policy of the news editor are in direct and Irreconcilable conflict, and at the present time the race track promoters have the advantage of position. They are getting all the advertising necessary to attract the crowds of suckers to the races, and they are not concerned with the moral questions involved in racing and betting on races. If the editors of the Charleston newspapers derive pleasure from discussing the ethics of gambling and And satisfaction in denouncing betting on horse races, the promoters who make money by operating the race track will be liberal minded enough to make allowances for the bias of such moral purists and harbor no ill will against them?so long as the editors confine their opposition to theorizing and carefully Ignore practical measures for making their opposition effective. Hard words break no bones, and so long as the race track can be operated the money that the promoters take from the suckers will salve all the Irritation that the pen lashlnf In the editorial columns may catisS. "The race track, ? to succeed and be a money maker for Its owners must have publicity, and the best obtainable Is that given by newspapers when they print yards of stuff In the news columns exploit Ing the big purses offered and the dally results of the races. Do the Charleston newspapers propose to denounce the race track on one page and boost It to success on another?? Sumter Item. The Hawk's Feeding Lesson. While fishing In a remote and wild part of Scotland, a British naturalist chanced to witness an entertaining perfomance In the form of a feeding lesson given by an old hawk to Its young. A cry of a young hawk to its parent was heard, and the naturalist soon located three young peregrine falcons, sitting side by side on a shelf of rock overhanging the lake in which he was fishing. Presently the old bird came into view, like a dot out of the sky, and made straight for her vociferous young. She poised high above the shelt on which they were sitting and, to the surprise of the watcher, dropped the bird she was carrying. She had so chosen her position that the bird cleared the rock as It fell toward the lake. Instantly youngster number one dashed off the cliff. Evidently this was not its first lesson, for It hurled itself into a beautiful swoop and actually caught the prey before it reached the water The youngster was not allowed to enjoy it, however, for down came the old bird, and with the utmost grace snatched It from the young one's grasp and ascended In rapid rings to the height of several hundred feet. The discomfited youngster, with some difficulty, returned to the rocky shelf. The old hawk repeated this manoeuvre. dropping the prey this time in front of number two. The young all knew their lesson, for neither number one nor number three ventured to stir It was number two who started in pursuit and. like ! " r\v olatcLf oiinfiPaHoft In In terruptfng the falling prey before It reached the water. The old hawk did as before, snatching the prey from her offspring. Rising high In the air, she this time dropped It before number three, who. In turn, caught It. But number three was not allowed to possess the prize. The old hawk now ascended to the shelf beside the young ones, tore the prey to pieces and proceeded to divide It equally, among her hungry and expectant- progeny. ? Harper's Weekly. Beattie Appeal Filed.?Public interest in the case of Henry Clay Beattie. Jr., convicted of wife murder and sentenced to die November 24, has been revived with the filing by his lawyers of an appeal from the decision of the circuit court of Chesterfield county. The petition contained seventeen bills of exceptions. Of these the most important are those relating to the refusal of Judge Walter A. Watson to strike from the records that part of the closing argument of Lawyer Louis O. Wendenburg In which the speaker, addressing the Jury, said that should the Jury find Beattie not guilty of the murder of his wife, they should then visit the graves of Jeter Phillips. Thomas Cluverius and Samuel McCue, disinter the bodies of the three murderers and apologize to them. The defense claims that this was an unwarranted appeal to passion and prejudice. Another related to that part of the testimony "of Awon mntKor r\t tKa mui>/4aroH iU I O. IIIWVIIVI v* VIIC IIIUIUU vu Louise Owens Beattle, In which Mrs. Owen was permitted to testify to a conversation had between herself and her daughter about the life Henry Beattle was leading. Four other bills of exceptions relate to the qualification of Jurors and the rest to technical points. "The Carolina Mutual."?Hon. Stanyarne Wilson Is down on Auditor O'Shleld's Income tax list at only 15,000. Hasn't some mistake been made? The Hon. Stanyarne gave out a newspaper statement a year or two ago, in which he declared that his Income was $2,000 a month. What caused the shrinkage from $24,000 a year to only $5,000 a year? Was It the blowing up of the Carolina "mutual" Insurance company, whose sucker list Is now being sued for unexpected assessments??Spartanburg Journal.