Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 04, 1913, Image 1
* 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.