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* XSSUBD SEMX-WBEKLT. l. m. qbisi'S sons, Pnbii.her., } % Jfamitg Dewsgaje*: ^or the promotion of the {political, Social, ^grienltiiral and Commercial Interests of the |eo?tg. { established 1855. YORKVILLE, 8. C., TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1913. NO. lO. ? 1 I 5 THE AM ERIC/ ! | | By ETTA V I CHAPTER XVIII. ? A Tete-A-Tete. It was in October, sombre and brown. The trees In the park had donned Auaumn colors. The season was over, the watering-places were deserted. Crowds of pleasure-seekers, after dancing, flirting, dressing and dining for many 4 a day * "By mountain, stream and sea," had now fled cityward like flocks of summer birds. Belles were counting up their conquests, managing mammas the result nf their nUill nnH lshnr Husbands and fathers were groaning over formidable bills. The shop-windows began to flame with hues like the autumn woods. The fashionable world had returned to its habitations of brick and stone and mortar?to opera and ball reception and matinee, to the splendor and the dissipations beloved by Vanity Fair. Green fields and blue seas, moonlit piazzas, the song of birds, and the wash of warm waves in the sun, were now but things of the i past. m The day was dark and full of unv pleasant drizzle. At intervals a genuf ine downpour broke from the gray October clouds, and a mournful wind sighed round the corners of the streets and up and down Broadway. But a little boudoir in a certain brown-stone f palace upon Fifth Avenue looked bright and cozy in spite of the weather. Rich eastern rugs dotted its parquet floor. The black Japanese furniture was upholstered in Louis Qulnze rose satin. The walls were frescoed, and exquisite pictures, cabinets of gilt and ebony, costly bronzes and vases running over with creamy tea-roses, adorned the place. On -the tiled hearth burned a soft, flickering Are and drawn up before it in an attitude conductive to confidence and repose, sat two girls, chattering as only girls can chatter ? when they have been parted for many months, and are really fond of each other. My dear child," said Ethel Sardls. moving a screen of embroidered rose satin betwixt her pearly face and the too ardent fire (she had landed in New I York with her mother just twenty-four hours before), "my dear, darling Bee, you have altered much since I saw you last." "For the better, I hope" answered Bee, listlessly?Bee, whom Cullen Sardis had brought home from a safe retreat among the mountains to meet the returned travelers. "I am not quite sure. You have lost your wild-rose color, for one thing, mon enfant. You look pale and out of t spirits. Did you really enjoy Newport with the Vanns and the mountains with papa? Tell me about It. We have nothing to do for the next hour but exchange confidences." Bee had changed in the last few weeks?she had lost flesh and color, but gained in what people call style. A grave composure, lately acquired, gave a new charm to her blonde loveliness. "Oh, Newport was very well" she said, with a vast show of carelessness. "I love the sea, you know; but the mountains?I don't much care for mountains. It was very dull there, Guardy was away a great deal?in Boston, on business, I suppose, though I never thought to ask him?and the people with whom he left me?old friends of his, and grave Quakers? ^ were greatly tried with me, I fear?I p am sure I was with them. I yawned myself almost to death. I really thought I should perish with homesickness before guardy was ready to bring me to New York." "I can't think why papa should have whisked you away from Miss Vann so suddenly" said Ethel, leaning down to smoothe a lap-dog that was sleeping on a rose-colored satin cushion before the flre. "He sent some message to mamma In Paris which made her very angry?It was about you, though I could not coax her to show it to me. After that came a long letter, which mamma burned without giving me so much as a glimpse at it; and then, instead of spending a few weeks in London, as she had intended to do, she made her purchases?Oh, how cross she was, by-the-way!?had a fit of nervous illness, as she always has when anything goes wrong?that delayed us an entire fortnight! and bade adieu to our Paris friends in great vexation of spirit. Bee, I hope you did not go and lose your heart to any of those penniless young men of genius whom Miss Vann loves to gather around her hearthstone, and so frighten papa into snatching you away from their dangerous society." By the hot color that surged up to Bee's temples, Ethel knew that her random shaft had struck home. She was half shocked, half amused?a veteran belle may well be amused by frolics which she herself, had outgrown. The next moment, however, Bee rallied bravely. "Bah!" she answered. "Like Madame Montespan, I mean that the strong shall protect the weak?that my head shall take care of my heart. Like Montespan? 1 might have said, with } quite as much truth, like Ethel Sardis! Come, let us not talk of poor me, but of yourself, belle cousine. You have been everywhere, you have seen everything, and you are engaged to a count ?what exhaustless subjects for conversation! Oh, Ethel, are you going I to marry him?really and truly?" She leaned a little lower to caress the dog?Ethel Sardis, beauty, be!le and heiress. She looked a trifle pale and fatigued after her ocean voyage hut this seemed only to increase the perfect loveliness which had quite turned the head of Lawrence Harding, and driven many another suitor, also, to the brink of despair. "Really and truly. Bee! Behold the sign of my bondage!" and she held out her hand, blazing with a big diamond ?Count Stahl's engagement ring. "And you are very happy, Ethel? ^ you love him very much, eh?" urged B Bee, moving her chair nearer to her V cousin and gazing at her inquisitively with a pair of bright blue eyes. Ethel's pearly face never changed. "Happy? Of course. Shall I not be a countess, with castles in Saxony, a hotel in Paris, wealth, honors and an old-world splendor at my command? As for your other question, child, it is scarcely the kind which well-bred people propound to each other; but I will forgive you, because you are altogether unsophisticated. Love-matches are growing obsolete, my dear?only parvenu people make them nowadays; indeed, I fancy that love Itself is getting r to be an old-fashioned disease. Its attacks are no longer of the virulent kind which the old novelists were fond of describing?it is no longer necossarj to a harmonious marriage." "Just as I thought!" said Bee with energy; "you don't care a straw for the count!" Ethel shrugged her beautiful shoulders. "Don't jump at conclusions. Do you expect me to gush, my dear, like the heroine of a three-volume novel? Heaven forbid! Well-bred people never do such things. I respect the count; I admire his courtly manners, his elegance, his?title; and mamma assures ine that this is quite enough. She likes i the French system of marriage, and I am half inclined to like it, too. It relieves one of a great deal of trouble." "What outrageous talk!" cried Bee. her elbow on her knee, her chin on her dimpled hand, her blue eyes still fixed on her cousin; "but you don't mean one word of it. Where is the count? when are you going to marry him?" iN COUNTESS { V. PIERCE. | f "We left him in Paris" answered Ethel, serene as a sphinx under the other's scrutiny. "He will be in New York at an early date, I dare say?for ' he is in love, if I am not?and I shall ; marry him whenever mamma thinks it proper for me to do so." "How dutiful!" said Bee, dryly. "Are all the daughters of Gotham as docile? ' How abominable! What l as come over ' you, Ethel? Aunt Amelia will not mold . me to her wishes so easily. My veins are filled with the plebeian and unmanageable blood of my pork-packing , grandpa. For my part, I prefer the gushing Amandas of the old novels to such cold-blooded society women as , Mrs. Cullen Sardis. Ethel, do you , know anything about Lawrence Harding?" j It was not a blush that arose to ' Ethel Sardls's face, but rather a white heat like lightning. That name had . power to stir her high-bred pulses ! still. "I know that he returned to New York weeks and weeks ago," she an- t swered carelessly. "I suppose he has ( found employment before this time ; has he not?" j "Yes, upon a daily newspaper. Miss : Vann wrote me about him while I was in the mountains." * "And his mother and sister?" said ; Ethel, "where are they? Evelyn Hard- ' ing and I were bosom friends at school." "Have you not heard? Evelyn was ! engaged to Jack Severne when the . crash came which wrecked the Hard- ' ings. He did not desert her, as all ^ worldly-wise people predicted he ? would do?no, he married her at once, * and when Lawrence arrived from Eu- . rope, he found a pleasant surprise awaiting him in the person of a rich brother-in-law. Guardy says that Jack Severne is very rich?that it will be a maun im nveiyii iu iaKe care of all her kin now. But Lawrence chooses to provide for himself and his mother in his own way. and quite Independent of Jack Sevcrne. The two keep house In some obscure part of the city, and Larry drudges, as I have tola you In a newspaper office. He has written things already which have made a stir in the world?I am sure that he has talent." Ethel arose from her chair, and stood at the corner of the hearth, looking down on its antique tiles, but not seeing them. Her bronze dark hair, her pearly throat, her long trained dress shone softly in the light. Did her heart thrill at Bee's news? the first which she had received of her rejected suitor since that parting in the old cathedral at Luzerne? "Then we are likely to meet the Hardlngs in society again," she said. "Mamma thought they were all dead to the world, and safely burled beyond resurrection." "Why, of course. Mrs. Jack Severne will go everywhere" answered Bee, "and it's probable that she will sometimes take her handsome brother with her, especially as she it said to be very fond of him. Ethel, dear, are you sure that von t r.iQ tori T o wronoA <?ot orV? t O v lives. I wish him all possible good ' fortune in the future, and a wife?well, some one like yourse'f, Bee?true, and 1 sweet, and loving; no worldly calculating creature like me. I am glad that . Evelyn has made a goorl marriage, I J shall take care to renew acquaintance with her at the first opportunity." J Bee looked steadily at her cousin. 1 She was disappointed, she scarcely knew why. She felt that something had come betwixt her own heart and 1 Ethel's, a constraint, a reserve, new ' and unpleasant. While she was pondering over the 1 matter Ethel spoke again. "After all, my dear, you will find 1 that it is a fine thing to have a coun- ] tess for a cousin. A season of triumph and splendor is before us. As for tol- 1 lets I really have no words to describe j the superb things that mamma ordered 1 in Paris. The court will be here in 1 time for your first ball?think of the ' attraction his titled presence will lend 1 to it! And apropos of all this, who is ' the Baron Strozzi that Miss Vann talked of so eloquently in her letters to mamma? She mentioned that he ad- J mired you greatly. Sly puss! Can it 1 be that he is the person who frighten- 1 cd papa into whisking you away from ' Newport?" The bantering tone brought the blood ' again to Bee's temples. "Baron Strozzi!" she echoed, her blue eyes flashing, "Ethel, I hate him! 1 Yes, Miss Vann thinks him a paragon of manly beauty and Old World chival- 1 ry, society admires him; but to me he 1 is frightful. Guardy had no need to re- 1 move me beyond his fascinations, they 1 were scarcely potent enough for that." ' Ethel surveyed this girlish, blonde ~ tknn <-.11 f VlAt* ion.. ] il^uic IUI rl IIIUIIU'Ill, UiCII |JUl lit* n eled hand under Bee's chin and turned her face up to her own. 1 "Bee you are actually keeping some secret from me. Since I went away something: has happened to you of j which I know nothing. You may as well tell me. for I shall soon find it out. i Henceforth we are to live under the same roof, you know, and see each other daily." < Bee opened her red Hps to speak, but at that moment a page in buttons appeared at the door. The conversation i was over. There were callers in the i drawing-room, and Mrs. Sardis wished her niece to come down immediately. "I!" cried Bee; "oh. no, you have made a mistake. Robin. Miss Sardis is the person wanted " But the little page shook his curly head. It was Miss Beatrix, and none i other. "He is right i dare say?go down. Bee," said Ethel, laughing. "I will see no one today; I have not yet recovered from a week of seasickness. Who can have called in this pouring rain? Some acquaintance of yours, or mamma would not have sent for you." "Bee's heart gave a great bound. Could it be the person whom she most longed, yet most dreaded to see? She flung a glance of consternation at the mirror. "Am I a fright. Ethel, dear?" "Not at all," answered Ethel; and so Bee went down. As she entered the great, sumptuous b drawing-room, she found three persons tl seated there. The first was Mrs. Sardis thin, cold, elegant, her aquiline s face showing somewhat the ravishes of time. fi The second was a lady with a beard- b ed lip, a sallow skin, and a rich, loud n toilet?Miss Charlotte Vann. h The third person was Baron Strozzi. e At sight of the noble Roman, Bee's f< first impulse was to turn and fly, but before she could do so Miss Vann was h embracing her with effusion, pressing e kisses that sounded like pistol-shots on both cheeks, and crying: u "My dear child, I came out today ex- c pressly to see you. Observe the weath- a er outside. Of course my coachman w and horses will catch influenza, but I h could not resist the desire to behold y my Newport guest again. And here is h the baron whom I met at your very n door, intent, like myself, upon renewing old frtpndshln and nntte no Inillf. B ferent to wind and rain." Strozzi sprang up from his chair with one hand on his heart, and a flash ?' of light in his black eyes. He made a b deep obeisance to the little heiress, and would have carried her hand to his lips but she drew it quickly back. Jj "This is an unexpected honor," she " said, coldly. "I cannot imagine why ?' Baron Strozzi should wish to see me." " "Ah, you are as cruel as ever," mur- . mured the baron in a low, tender tone. 1 'How could I hear zat you were In a] New York, and not hurry to your side ni ?I. who haf been in desolation, who laf thought of nothing but you ever since you vanished from Newport?" 1,1 "I regret that you should waste your houghts on such an insignificant and fl mappreciatlve subject," said Bee dryy. "When you left Newport, Mees Bea- te :rix," he went on, with a sublime in- ai liflference to her snubbing, "ze place >ecame to me like a desert without a v'f 'ountain, a garden without a rose. I cl :ould stay there no longer?I rushed C? iway to friends in this city where, for P( :e last six weeks, I haf lived only in ze ai lope of meeting you again when ze bl season should open." "Heaven grant that our meetings nay be like angels' visits, few and far fl< letween," murmured Bee, in a voice to 111 ow for Mrs. Sardis's alert ear; and, w vlth an angry, disdainful glance, like g' i Parthian shaft, she leaned back in h< ler chair of clouded tuya wood, inlaid 01 vith ivory and, like d< 'A rosebud set with little, wilful s' thorns," di efused to open her red lips to him 8' igain. w The baron turned his attentions from t* ibdurate Bee to Mrs. Cullen Sardis, a cr shange of base that spoke well for the 8e nan's shrewdness and cunning. "Madame,' he said, with his hand on b3 lis heart, "you haf been in Rome. Did w 'ou see there ze Strozzi palace on ze d< lanks of ze Tiber??my birthplace, ze P< ilrthplace of my family for centuries? a-1 ily ancestors, madame, were in the vi lenate with Caesar. Ah yes, we are H rery old. Many English people lodge in 8* nv nfllflOA now opHdU BPlllntn-n ^ Were not you a little cruel to throw him over for the count, and when he was in such trouble, too? Betwixt his money losses and the loss of you, I think the world must have seemed to him just then like a house of cards." She stood up there on the hearth of that luxurious boudoir, tall, white, beautiful looking down on the younger girl with a faint, flitting color, and uneasy smile. "What extraordinary questions you ask, Bee! Cruel? Not at all! The real cruelty would have been in marrying him, my little ignoramus. What sort of a wife would I make for a newspaper scribbler? What sort of a helpmeet for a man who must work for his daily bread? I did not throw him over, that is vulgar slang, and you an heiress and an embryo belle, must not use slang. I thanked him for the j honor he would do me, and bade him a courteous farewell." ( Etnei, 1 rear you nave grown very , heartless since you went to Europe" said Bee, solemn as an owl. "Did not . you like Larry better than Fred Brad- ' ford or Archie Van Dorn, or any of the 3 others that you have rejected?" Ethel laughed a low, sweet laugh that had, however, nc mirth in it. , "Good Heaven! what a catechism! ' Does Mr. Harding know what a stanch ' partisan he has in you" I like Larry; I always liked him, of course; why not? ' We have known each other all our lemians. It brings me a good rent. I lo laf vineyards, too, outside of Rome. D ind olive-orchards. My beautiful S< taly! Madame, my heart burns with- F n me when I think of her." v< Mrs. Sardis did not remember the n< Strozzi palace?she had passed but a n< ew days in Rome being mortally afraid ci >f the fever?but she looked with calm, qi ligh-bred approval on the proprietor lo >f that palatial lodging-house and the si dneyards and olive-orchards, and was la lighly gratified to add him to her list >f acquaintances. le As for Charlotte Vann her talk, as g? isual, was mostly of art and artists, fe he coming exhibitions, the opening of tli he winter campaign of fashion. With a wildly beating heart, Bee lis- N ened, hoping to hear the mention of ai Sric Saxe's name, but no! Miss Vann th lever once alluded to her favorite? d* lever once hinted whether he was tsill pj vatcliing the blue waves at Newport gc >r Aquidneck. or executing crayon leads in his Gotham studio. n( At last the two callers arose togeth- se >r to go. Miss Vann patted Bee's cheek vith one gloved finger. jrj "My dear, you are as pale as a Ni- ol >be," she said: "at the beginning of 'our first season, too! Come and see ny 'Hector and Andromache*?it is . inished quite to my satisfaction." "Adieu, Mees Beatrix," whispered tl Strozzi, in her unwilling ear; "nothing ihall make me angry with you; wheth- ,t ;r you treat me kindly or otherwise, I im now and always your devoted ., ilave." ? Then he went, and Miss Vann also. ? ind Bee was left alone in the drawing " oom with Mrs. Cullen Sardis. There was a severity about tha' lugust lady's aquiline profile which ^ joded no good to her niece. "Sit down a moment" she said, pointng to a chair; "I wish to speak with rou alone." a< Bee obeyed. "You are my husband's niece and ward," began Mrs. Sardis, surveying ft :he girl with a protesting air, "and as mch it is my duty to look closely to .'our welfare. The air which you as- " jumed toward Baron Strozzi just now p( was very rude, very offensive. Since a , jerson of his importance has chosen to Ef ?how you marked attention, it is my * wish?yes, my command, that you re- * :eive it with becoming courtesy." The hot, angry blood surged into p) Bee's cheek. 5' "Baron Strozzi! I cannot, Aunt :Y Amelia!?don't ask me. I detest the " nan and his attentions!" j*j "Your taste is as defective as are four manners. He is a most delightful D; person?he is also a nobleman. His w jnconcealed devotion to you an un- J?1 fledged girl, is most flattering. Now if listen to me. I shall do my utmost to ^ 3ecure for you an advantageous mar- ** riage?a husband of whom your Sardis ~ relatives need not feel ashamed. I have heard of your Newpotr folly and dl [ wish to say to you, Bee, that no ob3cure, penniless artist, no low fortune- tr hunter shall ever wed my husband's a' ward, or control one dollar of her e< money. Don't color like a mllkkmaid; 3uch violent tints are always unberoming." "Aunt Amelia, how dare you!" . "Hush! not a word more. I trust 10 that affair was an idle flirtation; let us call it such, at least. I know yi four nature Beatrix, and I expect you w will give me trouble, but I am prepared ri for it; if you are wise, you will submit tl quietly to my control. Now there is tl but one thing more to say. It la this: [ wish you to accept Baron Strozzi as pi your lover." To have her secret uncovered in this ni manner?to know that either her uncle ai Dr Miss Vann had Informed Mrs. Sardis e1 of the summer idyl at Newport was rr unbearable to poor Bee. She stamped on the rich carpet. u "Never!" she answered, quite breath- ft less with wrath. "I hate Baron Strozzi! fi [ will not treat him even with common ai courtesy." Mrs. Sardis's thin face paled. ol "You will not??you defy me then?" a: she said, in a low. even voice, that Ethel always found more ominous than !i any outward sign of wrath; "that is ir very foolish, you will soon regret it. I h make it a point to have my wishes h obeyed. Go now to your room." tl Bee went, with flashing eyes and a hot, indignant heart. Betwixt herself y and Mrs. Sardis war to the knife had h r?An? hfifrim h CHAPTER XIX. b Bee's First Ball. J A fortnight later. Count Stahl ar- si rived from Europe, and took up his quarters at a Fifth Avenue hotel. si Society was all agog. The engage- n ment of the rich banker's only daughter was the latest sensation in the II fashionable world. ' d Rumors were rife concerning the r< count's wealth, his vast domains in n Saxony his hotel in Paris, his retinue p of vassals and his absorbing love for v the belle and beauty who had shattered V so many male hearts in her own land. o Even the envious ones acknowledged that Ethel Sardis would make a tl rare countess. h Of all the fair Americans who?hap- o pily or otherwise?had married titled v foreigners, not one had ever equaled in tl eauty or style this sole daughter of he patrician banker's house and heart. Cullen Sardls gave his prospective on-in-law a gracious welcome. Mrs. Sard is was in a state of proDund beatitude. IHhel received her etrothed with qule'; grace. She was ot a demonstrative person, and, with er thorough breeding, could not be xpected to show any vulgar fondness or her future husbund. Her manner sorely puzzled Bee, who ad her own girlish ideas in relation to ngaged people. The impression made by the count pon this latter person was of a mixed haracter. His tall figure, his courtly ddress, his blonde, aristocratic face, rith its sleepy blue eyes and thin, fair air, met with her approbation, and et she did not like him. Something in is handsome exterior and polished mnners filled her with vague doubts. "He is a great improvement upon laron Strozzl," said Bee to her cousin, but I do not think I could ever quite rust him, Bthel or feel at ease in his ompany. It must be that I am too opelessly plebeian to ever appreciate tied people." One bitter, winter night, when the tars were snining fair and frosty in ie purple sky Bee made her orthodox ntrance into the world of gayety and ishion, and danced at her first ball. It was a grand affair, given by the anker to celebrate simultaneously the rrivai or tne count ana tne aenut or Is rich young ward. From the basement to the roof the Ifth Avenue house shone with myriad ghts. Flowering shrubs and vines reathed the carved stairways and perimed the landings. Baskets of daph?s and violets swung from every win3w and lintel. Great sprays and clusrs of roses embedded the mantels id drooped, heavy with their own veetness. from the chandeliers. Sevres uses, crowded with bolden-hearted orlids, scarlet passion-flowers, waxen imelllas and hot-house geraniums, jured incense from every pedestal id corner. The superbly frescoed illroom blazed with light, and refunded with the delicious music of trauss's waltzes. Across its waxed >or moved crowds of notable people? en in sombre evening dress women ith Jewels flashing, white bosoms earning, vaporous laces shining like )ar-frost. Looking from one gorgeis apartment to another, through >orways draped in white and crimson lk, at the display of bedecked and izzling humanity, visible between 'aceful sprays of leaves and blossoms, ith here and there a mirror reflecting le scene, multiplying the light and ineasing the delusion, the whole place *med like a scene in fairyland. Bee stood, a pale young debutante, / the side of Mrs. Sardis, and looked ith bewildered eyes upon this splen>r. Her dress of tulle and silk shone irely white, without a tinge of color jout it save the pale-blue convolilus which looped its exquisite folds, er cheek was colorless but her eyes lone large and bright with excitement, his was the hour for which she had nged?of which she had dreamed. Id the reality equal the anticipation? :arcely?It rarely does In this life, or one thing, at least, she felt de)utly thankful?Baron Strozzi had Jt yet appeared?Strozzi, who was jw the torment of her life, who perselted her with calls and attentions, jlte indifferent to her detestation, so ng as Mrs. Sardls encouraged his >it. It was nearly eleven. He was te. "Heaven grant that he has broken his gs!" thought Bee, wickedly, "or for>tten the date of the ball, or taken ofnse, at last at my many gibes. Anyilng?anything to keep him away!" Archie Van Dorn, a good-looking ew Yorker, and one of Ethel's ardent imlrers. led Bee out to dance. He lought her a pretty girl, fresh as a ilsy?a sort of Charmian to the Cleoitra whom that sleepy-eyed count had Jbbled up. "By Jove! he's deuced devoted, is he 3t?" said Mr. Van Dorn, glaring re ntfully at Count Stahl, as the latter grated by with his betrothed In his m8?he the lion of the night?the jserved of all observers, with foreign ders on his breast, and a knot of iolets In his button-hole; she, the belle ' the ball, arrayed in cobweb lace rer satin of the palest water-green nt, with lilies and pearls for ornaents. No color stained her . face? was as coldly white as the camellias i the Sevres vases. The ruffled onze hair, the downy skin, the lanjishing eyes, the faultless contour, id never seemed as lovely as on this [ght. Many a man looking on the >unt, envied him fiercely, and said to i himself that this neerless New York irl deserved not a coronet, but a own, for her beauty. "It's hard lines for her native-born Imirers, eh?" sighed Mr. Van Dorn. "Yes," assented Bee. "The count had no end of a row with awrence Harding at Lucerne. I was lere at the time. Poor Harding! He as awfully cut up about your cousin, fonder if he has yet recovered his sace of mind?" Bee danced like a fairy, and partners ustered around her thick as bees, rom one figure to another she sped, itching glimpses now and then of her uardlan, calmly surveying the cornany gathered in the gates?of Mrs. ardls stately as an empress, In a ress of uncut velvet and black Chanlly lace, with diamonds that fairly sizzled the eyes; of Charlotte Vann, i brocade and old point, surrounded y a group of admirers?for the ealthy, clever Miss Vann, bearded, gly and passee though she was, was a ivorite with evrybody; of old Madame ann, in crimson satin and priceless russels point; of Mrs Jack Severne, arry Harding's sister smiling and right in bride-like lleeces; of hunreds passing and repassing in gor sous tissues and flashing jewels while le splendid measures of the music rose ad fell, and the abundant light pour3 softly down the long rooms. At her own request, Bee's partner inducted her, at last, to a seat beside [188 Vann and went to bring her an They went, e. "You nre enjoying it very much, are ou not, my dear?" said the latter, ith a good-natured smile. "That is ght. You look charming. Where can le baron be? I have been watching le door for the last hour." "I trust he is safe in some distant lace!" answered Bee. "Fie! Without him your ball would ot be complete. He dances superbly, ad he Is overwhelmed with invitations verywhere. En passant, has he ever let Count Stahl?" "No," said Bee; "though both honor s with frequent calls, they have thus ir chosen different hours; so our titled iends have not yet made each other's cquaintance." Miss Vann leaned back in the shadow f a crimson silk curtain, and looked round the ballroom. "What color!" she murmured; "what ght! And how heavenly Ethel islooklg to-night! I wish Eric Saxe was ?>? ? sho would be a study, indeed, for Im. And that reminds me, Beatrix, lat Eric is painting' you as Elaine, 'The lily maid of Astolat.' Irs. Sardis must let me take you to is studio some day, that you may see ow lovely you look upon canvas." Bee's heart gave a hot suffocating ound. She had not heard that name >r weeks and months, and the sound f it went over her now like an electric hock. "Me!?painting me!" she stammered, carcely knowing what she said. "You lust be mistaken." "Not ail," answered Miss Vann, ghtly. "It is easy to recognize your aisy face anywhere, my dear. Eric is ?ally growing famous?he has sold lany pictures this autumn. Oood leaven! how very pretty Evelyn Seerne, nee Harding, looks to-night, t'here is her brother Lawrence??he ught to be here." Bee could not see Evelyn Severne? 1e whole ballroom was whirling before er eyes. He had thought of her, then, r he would not paint her upon his canas. Why, why had he never given her ie smallest token of remembrance? "Did?did Mr. Saxe remain long at Newport after I left?" she stammered, twisting her costly fan in a ruinous manner about her nervous fingers. "He remained until October. You quarreled with him, did you not, before you went away?" "Quarreled!" grasped Bee. "No." "I feared you might have done so, because, strangely enough he never once mentioned your name nor made any inquiry about your departure, which was sudden enough, you remember, to take away one's breath. However, at dinner yesterday, he spoke of you for the first time?yes, he really asked If you were well." Bee grew red, then white. "Did he, indeed?" she answered, bitterly. "How good of him! I am greatly obliged. Ah! here comes Mr. Van Dorn with an ice." Miss Vann nodded, and moved away, quite unconscious that she had turned all the Joy of the night into dust and ashes for Bee. He had never cared for her in the least?never once remembered her after sne left Newport! Her heart sank like lead, weighed down with the bitter consciousness that she had given too many thoughts to one who had not once thought of her. "By Jove! how pale you are!" said Archie Van Dorn: "you're not ill, I hope. Miss Beatrix? Shall I go for smelling-salts? Shall I speak to your aunt?" No. she was not 111. The power to dissemble, which seems Inherent In womankind, came to her aid. "I fear I am a little giddy with so much dancing," she said, brightly; "and look at my smart lace flounce? Count Stahl stepped upon It and tore it quite In two. May I ask you to take me to the dressing-room??I can dance no more until I am repaired." She handed her Ice, untasted, to a servant, and Von Dorn tucked her under his arm and sailed off with her through the crowd. Meanwhile Count Stahl had drawn his betrothed out of the hot ballroom Into the cool dim conservatory, which chanced to be deserted as the two entered. In the centre of the place a fountain played softly in a round basin, bordered with emerald moss and violets and daphnes. Tropic vines curled upward to the roof, their odorous flowers hanging midway, like gorgeous birds suspended In flight. Scarlet lillies, like cups of Are burned behind barricades of green. Colored lamps swung overhead, and Egyptian vases, crowded with the dusky splendor of heliotropes sent forth a stifling fragrance from every side. In her rich ball-dress, with the pearls gleaming In her bronze hair and on her marble throat, Ethel stood In the rose hued light of the place, fairer, statelier than any exotic which It held. With adoring eyes Count Stahl looked down upon her?this fair American, whom he had coveted at Baden-Baden, won at Lucerne, and crossed the sea to wed now In the New World. "I fear you are sadly bored with so many new acquaintances," said Ethel, with a faint, sweet smile. "On the contrary," answered the count "It is a delight to meet your friends. They all adore you, I see? they are madly envious of me. That is not strange. One person, however, whorq I expected to meet here to-night, has not yet made his appearance." She looked up quickly. "I mean Monsieur Harding." All her self-possession, and she had a great deal of It, could not keep the blood rushing into her cheek. She reached and plucked a spray of hellotrope from a vase overhead. "No?he is not here." The count eyed her closely. He was ] jealous still or his former rival. "H/-.-*se you met him since your return from Europe, Ethel?" "No," she coldly answered; "I think he goes but little Into society now. He has become poor; he is working for his dally bread. You do not comprehend the meaning of those words, I suppose?" The count smoothed his waxed mustaches with one white-gloved hand. Very haughty and handsome he looked in his orthodox evening-dress, with the foreign orders glittering on his broad chest. "Scarcely," he replied; "I was born above such comprehension. You have heard of Mr. Harding, then, if you have not seen him? Ah, heaven! Do you think of him?do you remember him with kindness, perhaps regret?" Her beautiful face grew chilly and surprised. "Those are strange questions to ask of me," she said, with a hauteur that recalled him at once to his senses. "Is it strange," he cried, wildly, "that I, who regard you with adoration, should dislike to think that another man has loved you. A faint, cold smile flitted over her lips. "Many men have loved me," she answered frankly. "But not as Harding did." "Perhaps not," she murmured, with something like a smothered sigh; "whatever Lawrence finds to do, be it a wise thing or foolish one, he does it with all his might." The count gnawed his long mus tacnes. "Forgive my jealousy," he pleaded, "for the sake of the passion which has made me your slave. If I adored you less I should be less fearful of losing you. Thank heaven, the time is at hand when you will be mine irrevocably? when"? He paused abruptly. A step sounded near by on the floor of the conservatory. A man had entered the place, and was eagerly looking around it as if In search of some one? a tall, swarthy man in faultless evening dress?one of the guests of the night. Ethel turned and held out her hand with a smile. "You are late, baron," she said. "We feared you had forgotten us." The baron made a deprecatory gesture. "Forgotten! Oh, impossible. I was detained by unexpected business. May I ask if your fair cousin. Mees Beatrix, is anywhere about?" Then his eyes fell upon Count Otto standing Just behind Ethel, with the light falling on his blonde face his decorated breast, his imposing figure. The glib tongue of the baron seemed suddenly to freeze to the roof of his mouth; a strange, livid hue overspread his pock-marked face. He started as if struck. "Baron Strozzi." said Ethel, "allow me to present you to Count Stah]?I think you two have never met In this house before." Where were the count's manners? He spoke not a word, he did not even bow. His blonde face was as livid as the baron's. i He, too, recoiled a step and dashing back his gloved hand, as if he was about to strike at something, he dislodged the Jar of heliotropes from Its place by his side, and down it came, crashing to the floor with all its odor-J ous contents. When Ethel looked again, the two titled gentlemen were standing with the shattered vase between them glaring over its fragments at each other in a very odd, threatening way. The baron was the first to recover himself. "Monsieur le comte," he said, recoiling step by step, as if from the vicinity of something dangerous, "I salute you! Pardon, Miss Sardls, with your permission 1 will continue my search for your enchanting cousin." He wheeled quickly, and went out of the place like a shot. Ethel looked at her betrothed. "You have met the baron before?" she said. "Never!" he answered in a voice that seemed a little hoarse and constrained, "who is the fellow?" "A Roman by birth, and a lion of New York society by accident," she replied, with a faint smile. "Papa and my cousin made his acquaintance at Newport last summer while I was abroad. Entre nous, he is Bee's ar a en i aumirer. The count drew his breath hard. I "And he is a baron, you say?" "Yes, with great estates In or neai Rome, Let us go back to the ballroom. It Is near twelve o'clock?the hour foi supper." Meanwhile that late arrival, Baror Strozzi, was diving hither and thlthei among the crowd searching for Beatrlj and finding her not. Finally, In passing the open door of a dressing-room, he espied Bee standing within, under a chandelier, her drooping face looking pale and weary, her gloved finger* plucking absently at her bouquet, while on the floor beside her knelt a coffeecolored woman in a white cap and apron, arranging the lace on the sweeping train of the young debutante'* dress. The person thus employed wa* Finette, Mrs. Sardis's French maid. A* the baron paused on the threshold to stare in at the unheeding girl whose thoughts were far, very far away from all the festivity of the night, Finette lifted her head and saw him there?a black, portentous shadow, stretching up toward the lintel of the door. She saw him and, strange to say, the sight seemed quite as unpleasant to Mrs. Sardis's waiting-maid as it had been a fflw mmtuntl hafniw Cnmit A??/> Stahl "Mon Dleu!" Those two syllables, mingled with a stifled shriek of terror, rank suddenly through the room. The needle dropped from Flnette's brown Angers, she crouched down behind Bee's shimmering figure in a frightful, palpitating heap. "Good heaven! Flnette, what Is the matter?" cried Bee, turning sharply. "The needle, mademoiselle, it entered my hand," answered Finette in a fierce whisper, and with her dark face half burled in the girl's dress. "Look, some one is at the door; look!" And Bee looked, and beheld the very unwelcome face and figure of Baron Strozzi. Finette did not attempt to rise from the floor; in that attitude she was wellnigh concealed from the baron's sight. She cast the lace flounce wildly from her hand. "Go, mademoiselle," she murmured, with white lips; "it Is done. He waits for you?go quickly!" Bee walked to the threshold, saluting the baron with a cold bow. "Oh, you are here, then!" ahe said, In an ungracious tone. He smiled as serenely as if she had given him the warmest of welcomes. "Behold me, Mees Beatrix." "I hoped?that is, I thought you would not come." "Nothing but death could keep me from you tonight. I am Inconsolable to find myself late. How charming you look?how fair! You dazzle my eyes. Your good aunt commands zat I take you to supper." "L am sorry to disobey my aunt's command," said Bee, drawing coldly back, "but I have already accepted another escort. Here Is Mr. Van Dorn coming for me even now." And as the gentleman thus named appeared upon the landing, Bee slipped her slim hand through his arm and walked quietly off to supper. Never glancing Into the dressing room, where the brown waiting-maid had scrambled to her feet and was making off in undisguised terror through an opposite door, Baron Strozzi hastened to And a substitute for Beatrix In the person of Miss Charlotte Vann. Twelve o'clock had struck, and the doors of the superb supper-room were standing wide open. Thither rushed the banker's guests like a crowd of locusts. The long tables glittered with crystal, gold and sliver plate, and groaned with French wines and FVench viands ?terrapin and truffles, fish cooked In champagne, game of marvelous quality, spiced meats and pastries, pate de foie gras, .fantastic confections, costly and unseasonable fruits. Dancing Is a violent exercise, and it engenders a ravenous appetite. Bee, sheltered somewhat by Archie Van Dorn, devoured her salad and boned turkey, heeding as ll'tle as possible Mrs. Sardls's cold, disapproving looks, and the burning glances cast upon her continually by Baron Strozzl. The tables were crowded with merchant-princes, foreign consuls, millionaires, fair women with reddened faces caked with pearl-powder, all chatting, laughing, eating fiercely after dancing like dervishes. Opposite Bee was Madame Vann, in her gorgeous crimson satin, covered with Brussels point. Our heiress watched her for a moment, then whispered wickedly to Van Dorn: "What Is that strange beverage which madame is drinking??she has just emptied her third glass." Van Dorn looked, meditated, smiled. "It Is a mixture of brandy, green tea, rum, soda-water, champagne, sugar and broken fruit," he answered, "and It is called?punch." "Is It Intoxicating?" "By Jove! I rather guess so! It would be well to station a footman somewhere near the old lady, to catch her when she begins to slip under the table. Look! your aunt wishes to speak to you." Mrs. Sardls caught her niece's eye and leaned suddenly toward her. "I wish you to reserve two dances for Baron Strozzl," Bhe said, calmly. "Excuse me, aunt"?. "Impossible! I will take no denial." Bee toyed with her claret cup. "Very well," she murmured: "I will dance like a Moenad If you desire it! You can force me to do many unpleasant things, Aunt Amelia, but the forcing only makes your purpose more hateful to me?don't you know?" Vis-a-vis at the same table were the two titled lions of the night, but they might have been two statues for all the need wnicn mey gave 10 eacn omer, Count Otto devoted himself entirely to his beautiful betrothed; the baron chatted with Miss Vann and watched Bee. In truth, the pair seemed little inclined to cultivate an acquaintance. "By Jove! look at them," whispered Van Dorn to Beatrix; "one would naturally think that such blue-blooded fellows would rush straight into each other's arms. It looks like a clear case of natural antipathy, eh?" But when the enticing strains of the german began to call, when the satiated crowd poured back to the ballroom, in the passage thereto the count and Baron Strozzi met, and, under shelter of the swelling music, the rustle of rich fabrics, the murmur of voices, they exchanged a few sentences In guarded French. "In God's name, how came you here?" said Count Stahl. "In the devil's name, you mean, monsieur le comte. It is a long story. I dare not tell it?I might be overheard." "I have a mind to speak and denounce you to this company. Why should I not, you insolent hound?" "Because you might find it bad for yourself as well as for me, monsieur. A moment's reflection will convince you that I have deserved something better at your hands." The count grew livid. "Come to my hotel tomorrow?I will talk with you there." He slipped a card Into the baron's hand. "Very good, monsieur le comte. I will wait upon you at an early hour." The two separated the ball went on. They did not exchange another word or look that night; but It wae plain that ?< /"?? ? V, o a to,a tn Mian Snrdla LUUIIl VfciU uuu uvu tw ? when. In the conservatory, he declared that he had never before met the noble Roman. Verily Baron Strozzl was an old acquaintance! (To be continued.) 'tis' Pa, what is a rara avis?" "A Democrat, my son. who doesn't think he's going: to get some sort of Job soon."?Birmingham Age-Herald. XX Knicker?Have you a library? Bocker?Yes; a check book, a cook book and a dictionary for the baby to sit on.?New York Sun. XX-Poor Hamlet had a dog's life." "Well, wasn't he a great Dane?"? Baltimore American. XX Chicago has a school for brides. If it guarantees every graduate a position it is bound to become the most popular institution of learning in the country.?Cleveland Plain Dealer. ; SftisctUatirous iSradinp. I h ! MR. ABNEY 18 NOT RUFFLED C _____ ti g ; Noted Lawyer Submits Courteous Re* [ ply to Senator Tillman's Attack. i The Anderson Intelligencer of last ? Friday prints Mr. B. L. Abney's reply i to the recent attack that was made v . upon him by Senator Tillman. The reply is dated Columbia, January 23 and I is addressed to Senator F. H. Weston, u of Richland. It is as follows: Ii i Dear Sir: On my return from Edge- a AaM T ronrf tha nrnrpprlintrs In the Sen- . i ate upon the subject of Senator Till- 118 i man's letter. I am not at all concern- tc : ed with the disposition, of the contro- tl i versy between him and Gov. Blease, t. but I feel that I, in some way ought to express my sense of Indignation at the tt deliberately unfounded statement made e. by him with reference toward myself and my conduct towards the members _ of the senate. ? How Senator Tillman could make such a foolish statement I am at a loss to ? understand. He has no warrant from ,, any information of the facts that he has, to indulge in any such charges. It * is purely a creature of his own lmagl- * nation, engendered, doubtless, by personal venom towards some Individuals. f Individually I care nothing for chargesj * so ill-conceived and unfounded as this,; * and would pass them by unnoticed, but my regard for the feelings of senators, I * both of former and of the present leg- 8T islature, and for their good opinion, re- r quires that I should make some expres- ' sion, in some appropriate way, so that they may feel that I participate in ? their sense of indignation against such jr. charges. 2' There is not a senator upon the floor ic who can say that I have ever approach- *V ed him in any way on the discussion of pending measures other than at committee meetings and in attendance thereon, by way of presentation of the views of the interests affected by the bills before the committees, and the conditions that surround their opera""? t i0 not a linorle senator. IAUUO. AUCIAA ?? ? 0 that can by the utmost stretch of mem- m ory, recall any instance in which I have a? attended the lobby, or interviewed sen- n< ators upon pending questions while the JL1| legislature was In session and other than above stated. There is not a single senator who does not feel the con- 80 sciou8ness of my never having at- tr tempted to influence his actions unduly or by any other means than arguments presented to the committees, orally or m in writing. I regret that a man so * high placed as Senator Tillman, could a< dream, much less charge, of such conduct upon the part of senators and ; ) upon part of one who was attempting th to fairly and justly and honorably rep- ?a resent the interest in his charge, and who never had been in his way politl- J" cally, and who had never taken any J? part in any controversy, political or Dl otherwise antagonistic to his personal feelings or to his personal interest. As stated above, I have no desire to do anything more than to Inform the senators with whom I have the honor to be acquainted, that I feel the same th Indignation as they do against such f0 charges, and I would thank you, if you could in some appropriate way, convey 8e this information to them. th Yours very truly, m B. L. Abney. he ? it BUFFALO A8 BEA8T OF BUADEN fu Work in Balkan War?Fighter That ra the Tiger Fears. dc Tht pictures and reports of the J" war in the Balklns have brought into p( nmmln?ne? a auadruped which, though well known aa a domestic an- WJImal In the East, is very unfamiliar to Western eyes?the buffalo. If ~ mentioned at all this beast Is gener- 'e ally thought of as a savage brute, but de in the war area we find him, says The London Standard, doing duty as a transport annual equally with the fa- p miliar ox, from which he is easily 18 distinguished in the illustrations by Btl his low set down-curving horns, and 88 muzzle carried almost straight for- PJ ward. People who have to travel by buf- P? falo cart are to be pitied, for the Vl buffalo is the slowest of all beasts p; of draught It is his great strength 18 that gives him the advantage over the ox. The load that a single yoke of p buffaloes will pull is something 111 astounding, and in India they are always given the kind of load which is J? assigned to dray horses here, ordl- tn nary horse work?except passenger 111 traffic?being there performed by the le; humped oxen known over here as w zebus. of India, indeed, is the native home f1 of the buffalo, and it still exhlsts there 181 as a wild animal. Very wild Indeed it is, too, and an old bull is very apt to attack unprovoked, contrary to the . usual custom of almost all wild ari- c ? * -? j ?m mals. jbJven us tame aescenuauu) ?tain plenty of spirit. When In a herd sj> they do not fear the tiger, and a rec- ga ogognlzed method of getting "stripes" . to bolt when he has taken cover Is to 18 drive in a herd of buffaloes to rout 11< him out, which they will do to a al certainty if they get on his scent m Even tame buffaloes can make tl| themselves very unpleasant to people th they do not know, and they are not _ at all safe for a European to ap- er proach In India, but?aud here the t0 more attractive side of their character comes out?they display toward se their owners a faithfulness one usual- Q] ly associates rather with dogs than M with cattle. W( The true Indian buffalo is really to 80 a great extent an aquatic animal, and ^ when off on duty likes nothing so much M as to lie up to its ears in water, but like the duck, it can if necessary re- w I'oaI# nviatonoo wffhnnf fl hflth. t*1 That an animal so nearly naked of g. skin as it is should thrive in so cold a climate as is that of eastern Europe is a remarkable fact of acclima- be tization. Dl Its presence in Italy is less surpiis- Hl ing, but even there its introduction ]e, seems to be merely of mediaeval de.te. 8b Scientifically the tame buffalo is of interest as having, like the ass, va- M ried so little from the wild type. Pled jy buffaloes are as rare as pied donkeys, though white and fawn colored va- jn rieties occur as well as the natural g8 black. Like the ass also, the buffalo gt Is a despised animal, yet in local util- go ity both beasts may surpass their more ne aristocratic relatives, the horse and w while in intelligence and force of character they are certainly far superior. ? th ml Champion Potato Grower.?G. W. ap Orpin of Swannanoa, N. C., grows po- Al tatoes, and he exhibited such good potatoes at the Buncombe county fair da last year that he was given as a prize. ta a free trip to the Corn exposition. He er finds something of interest in every Pr feature of the show, but it is of potatoes that he would rather talk than Bt anything else. ^ Mr. Orpin is a Canadian and comes all from a section of Canada where po- "8 tatoes are the principal crop. He was ha born in Nova Scotia, where the sea- lai son of warm weather is too short to cu permit corn to reach its full growth, th but where potatoes grow admirably. Pe Mr. Orpin came to North Carolina ot about a year ago and bought a farm. lai He made inquiries about growing potatoes and found that in North Caro- 12 Una the varieties commonly grown re were Early Rose, Burbank and Red Bliss. In Nova Scotia they don't think a# tKAQA tforlotino o oonrH I r? tn (n Mr. Orpin. They only raise Red Bliss th tubers to feed the hogs or sell for th starch. Ti So Mr. Orpin sent up to Aroostoock T1 county, Maine, and got a carload of se Green Mountain and Irish Cobbler wl potatoes for seed. These varieties, tri he says, are "some potatoes," and so when an Irish Cobbler is properly ca cooked It bursts open and displays be a food for a king. w< Mr. Orpin planted eight acres in ca clover, turned the clover under, ma- m nured the land plentifully, and then wl planted potatoes. The eight acres sti produced more than 2,000 bushels se nd he sold them for 85 cents a ushel. With proper treatment of the soil, e says, there is no reason why South 'arolina should not raise as good poitoes as Nova Scotia.?Columbia tate. The High Cost of Dying. One cannot go among the poor ery much without hearing more or ?s circumstantial stories of how the nscrupulous undertaker fleeces them, n fact, nothing less than ghoulish re some of the stories that are re ited to show how pressure is brought > bear on distracted people to cause lem excessive expense in burying leir dead. A dying husband begged his wife tat she give him only a plain funral. She promised; but when the ndertaker came, relatives were resent As soon as she said she anted only a modest funeral the ndertaker sneered, "Is that all you tought of your husband to bury him ke that?" She was shamed into tending not only more than she had romised, but more than the inirance he had asked her to save. "This is the last thing you can do ?r your wife," one undertaker urged poor porter, "and you don't want > be haunted by the thought that >u were mean." Then the crafty adesman in death pointed to the lildren and cruelly wrung the man's Bart by adding, "if you don't do te right thing by their mother they ill curse you to their dying day." It hardly necessary to say that this stracted man demonstrated his love >r the dead wife and mother by ivlng a funeral which condemned te children to actual hunger and ant Another undertaker refused to go Bellevue for the body of a child itil the mother gave him a golden 'uciflx, an heirloon, as security, ich cases could be multiplied if it ere of any use. Mr. Barrows re ai-KB tnat this is not the very poor i to be almost proverbial. That 1? >t to say that all undertakers, or ren a majority of them, are rogues, hey are precisely like every other >dy of men?some honest, some unrupulous, charging "all.that the alflc will bear." Once having been accepted, the ilture undertaker has the family at s mercy. For Instance, In one case chattel mortgage on all the house>ld furniture was demanded. The mily refused Indignantly. But when ey approached a second undertaker ey found he would not take the ae because the code of ethics foride him. They either had to take e original undertaker on his own rms or submit to having a pauper trial.?Harper's Weekly. Democratic Dulnes*.?Guglielmo Ferro, Is a vivid talker, and what he .ys shocks the listener to fresh ought. He once remarked: "People rget that the lower classes are esntially conservative. In the past ey have not been revolutionary. The ost daring attempt In history to la)' >ld of the external world and shake was the French revolution, and that els conducted by an oligarchical handil. It has always been a little knot of Istocrats who have made the ultradical attempt The masses will not > anything extravagent We are witisslng a democratic epoch, and It will irhaps continue for another fifty :ars. The moral and the economic nditlons of the middle and lower as?>es win d uetierea, dui x rear ror ie intellectual life of society. The inUect has expanded it would seem, un>r the aristocratic regime." The daring, live career of such a man as Winston tiurchill in English politics is an lnance of one of the masters of life ying hold of the external world and taking it But Lloyd-George Is just i ultraradical, and he came out of iverty. And does the intellectual life society necessarily expand more amy under an aristocratic regime? The Ictorlan era was a quickened time in tters and in science. Thought flourhed and took command of things as iver since the days of Elizabeth, nd that too, was more a people's time its widespread activity. Is there ss movement of the Intellect when ie race reaches out for Justice? Will e abolition of child labor quench the inor poets? Will the scientists probe bs deeply while working girls are Inning a living wage and a measure happiness ? Will the rise of the Pro essive party taint our young idealts ??Collier's. High License for Charleston,?The >use last Thursday passed to a third adlng a bill providing a high license stem for Charleston under dlspeniry regulations. The wholesale license fixed at $3,000 a year and the retail :ense at $1,000. There was conslder>Ie debate on the bill, the main arguent being that Charleston is not entled to privileges that denied to ie balance of the state. On second adlng a motion to strike out the lactlng words of the bill was killed 66 45 as follows ttt .kl... a dashln dai _ J. w . Aflllicy, AlAUJOUIl, DO0AI1I, UC?" r, Bethea, Bowers, Boyd, Browning, rice, W. K Laughton, Epps, Evans, riday, Fripp, Oasque, Greer, Haynesorth, Hiott Hunter, Hutchinson, Hutn Irby, Jones, Kibler, McCravey, Mconald, McQueen, Malpass, Means, ower, Nelson, Nicholson, Pegues, eady, Riddle, Riley, W. M. Scott. W. r. Scott, Sherwood, Shirley, White, 'hitehead, Wyche, Youmans and jeaker Smith. Total 45. The nays were as follows: Addy, shley, M. J., Barnwell, Blackwell, Busie, Clowney, Creech, Cross, Daniel, Ick Fortner, Goodwin, Gray, Haile, all, Hardin, Harrelson, Harvey, Hoi- , y, James, W. A., James W. E., Johnon, Kelley, Kirby, Kirk, Lee, Lumpn .Lybrand, McMillan, Massey, Melfl. iller, Mitchell, Mixson, Moore, MoseMurray, Odom, O'Quinn, Pyatt, ;mbert, Rittenberg, Robertson, Robson, Rogers, L. Rogers, W. S. Jr., ipp, Schroder, Senseney, Smiley, anley, Strickland, Sturkle, Thompn, Tindal, Vanderhorst, Walker, Warr, Warren, Welsh, Whaley, Wilbum llliams, Wyche. Total, 66. -New York, January 28: One of e largest bequests ever made for Issionary worK is aisciosea ia an praisal of the estate of Robert rthlngton of England, which was ed with the surrogates court yestery. Although the value of the este is not given, the personal propty alone is appraised at $4,593,000. actlcally all of which is left to two >ndon missionary societies?the iptist Missionary society and the >ndon Missionary society. The will rects that the money be used for Iving to every tribe of mankind that is them not and which speaks a nguage distinct from all others, aerate and faithful copies of at least e Gospel of St. John and the Gos1 of St. Luke, together with the book Acts of the Apostles, printed in the nguage of that tribe." The will rther prescribes that at least 10 or persons of each tribe be taught to ad. Holding Up Confirmations.?Bad feelg has been aroused over the efforts of e Democrats In the senate to hold up e nominations made by President ift of a thousand or so postmasters. ie Republicans say that in the extra ssion they will have their innings lien it will be possible for them to give ouble by holding up President WI1n's cabinet confirmations, which they n do. It may be a bluff, or it may not t; but the Democrats might just as ell go on and hold up everything they n, for the Republicans will give as uch trouble as possible, regardless of tiether the Democrats fall down or and up before them.?Charlotte Obrver.