Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

SLKGS AND ARROWS By HUGH C02TWAY. Avtiisir of "Called Back," -'Dark Days,' "A Fam?y Affair," Etc. CHAPTER L A CYSIC. 8 the. tale which I am about to tell Js my own; as I my self am the. hero? a pitiful enough hero ?of tho so pages, I shall, by and bye, be forced to say ?o much about my own af fairs that I may well begin by spar ing a lew lines to those of another man, a man on whose grave the grara has been growing for many a long year. His nam - wa* Julian Loraine. His home from the day when first I knew him to the day of hi* death, was Herstal Albey, a fino old house iu that par* of wooded Somerset shire wb-raraUways havo not yet come. Although Mr. Loraine was a man of wealth, and moreover, by education and, I believe. Janiily fully entitled to take a hish social position, Herstal Abbay was not his ancestral home. He had acquired it by fdmpl- light of purchase, having bousht out on ?i! l. improvident, but popular county familv? I outfit it cot 60 completely that, If he did not literally stop into its shoe-, hi su; in its very chairs and used its ?very tables. Such a ? hole;ale buying up of one of their own class by an unknown man always ^annoys,- perhaps frightens, county 'people, Ban! Julian Lorafne's neighbors for some ^^me looke I at him askance. He took none of those steps by which1, a new comer may occasionally gain access to the magic county ?. circle. He brought no introductions. He gave no largo subscription to the hunt?in deed, there v. as not much hunting in that part. He did not, in a covert way, let his willi jjrii'j.s? to givo t'rand entertainment bo known. He . simply completed the pur chase of Herjtol Abbey and its conteuts; took up bis aboJo in the old house, aud troubled nothing abont his noigbbors, which no doubt aunoyei them all the more. Little Julian Loraine eared for this. The truth is he was one of the most unsociable men al.vo, and his cynicism, if distributed through the county." would have "made Somersitshire a region in which life would have been unbearable. He was?1 pea the words lel?ctandy?an utter disbeliever in humanity. Perhaps the lifo which he had hitherto led brought him to this state of mind. For in a very short tune his neighbors found out tkit be was by no means the un ?tBKrjtffnmjtl they?1*hogc;hfrintm.^: "People who knew London lifo had much to say about this Julian Loraiue. It was toon made clear to the countryside that the new man's social claims to the right hanl of fellow skip were indisputable; but other things were also made clear. Loraine bad led a terrible life?the very fastest of the fast. The wonder was that he had survived'?even greater wonder that bo was still wealthy. At one time it was thought he had run through everything, for he bad disappeared, and no onosaw anything cf him for years. But it turned out he had crdy been loading a roving life in far coun trie& Repenting, let us hope. No; Julian Loraine was hot a nice man. But, nice or not, no one had any longer the wish to keep Mr. Loraius at arm's length. Had he cared for it, ho might havo tujoy'.-d mixing with the pick of county society. But he treated civility almost as he treated coldness, with complete indiffer ence; an 1 it soon b'came understood that the owner cf Her :itnl At bey was a man who no longer cuol to mix w.ta hi* kind. It was, of course, incomprobomibb that any on- s::ould buy a flue property aud settle dow s to the life of a recluse; the mcr? so a< the mau w?s still "in the prime of lite, hauUKoiue und wca.thy. But Julian Londuo va an ineoinprcLcuxible mna I, for on -, haw never U-?:: ;.ble to determine Lis Iriiia character, lui'i.ap. 1 Lave shunned luv svra1inx it- ParLapi, lad 1 tried, I siiuul.' pvc ioo:i Uaiuble to outlier trust worthy iri!?ir:aa'jio i a to h.'s true nature, fr. m t:.e i ct that tales afloat concerning his earty life would reach me-last of alL Wuci La uou-^ht Herstal Abbey ho was a widower with one sou, a boy bf 7. This boy te petted find neglected alternately. There were days when the child was with bim from uorntoeve; there were weeks in which#h; .never saw him irom Sunday morning to Saturday night; there were mouths during which Mr. Loraina went wonlerin- off, heaven knows whore, leav ing the'child to the care of servants. "Whether ut home or abroad, he kept up his establishment iu a lavish, wasteful manner. He threw his money about in a cynical way, as one w?o cared not how it weut. Ho expocted bis servants would rob him?no doubt they did. This he considered but human nature, and troubled nothing about it; but woo to the man or woman who in the slishtest degree neglected anything which his comfort or whim demanded] His depenJcuts soon understood their master's peculiarities, and by the exercise of due care managed to keep their place? tor years and years, and no doubt grew rich upon the money he waste 1. As wdl hoou be seen, I have related all, or the greater part of the above, from hear say. The following incident in Mr. Lor aine's bfe I tun vouch for, f.s I heard it from his own Hps. In i be year 1653 he was%eturuiug from Austral a. He did not tell me ?hat Lud tuktn him ttiere, but I ruspoct he went in so .ft h of health. He wa< in a- sailing ve> tel?the 1 lack Swan was her uame. There were other passengers?men, women aud cii Idren. Oue night there wes a crash, a horrible grinding sound, a recoil, an! the Hack Swan quietly setiled down to the Ik lu.:;i o." th' OCiau. Whether the disaster wu> dee to a collision cr to a sunken rock was never known. All w.'.s over in live minutes, and Julian Lorcme found himself swimming tor life, yet without a hope of savin/ it. In swimming, as indeed in every manly exeicis?. Lorair.c was all but unrivaleJ; bat even his great strength was gone when he felt a Iiun.l u:i his collar and was pulled all bat iusensibl i into a small boat, which, it appeared, was the only one that bad bem lowered, or, at any rate, had succeeJed in getting away from the wreck. Tho tea, fortunately, was comparatively smooth or tho tiny beat could not have cetlmd the night. When the morning broke, Julian Loraiao saw all that survived of the ship and her freight. Himself, four sailors, thro: wimon and a baby in arms! Tho sailors were pulling, not from the hope of reaching land, but to keep tho boat's bond to the waves. The mother, with hor child clasped to her Drees-', and the two other vorneu, were crouching in the stern sheet-s. In the boat were a dozen biscuits and a f mall keg of water. With the light, all turned to Loraino for advice and nid. He was a man of coc-i manding pros-?ncer. to whom people of a lower organization would naturally turn sin difficulties. Ho assumed the responsibility. He told the men* to step the mast and hoist what sail they thought safe, and then to steer as close to the wind as possible He assured them that land was not far off. His only reason, he informed me, for taking this course was that he hated the labor of rowing. Any hope of their lives being saved he tcouted. However, before nightfall they did reach land?a bare rock, I ut land. By this time one of the women was lying in the bottom of the boat, moaning, like one in agony. Her companions of the same tex were exchanging frightened glances. The poor thing was carried ashore, and the true state of affairs communicated to tho men. A tent or tcreen was, by the aid of the sail and the oars, hastily rigged up, and in an hoar's time there were ten human beings, instead cf niao, on that barren rock. But not tor long. Before the morning the number was the same ae when they landed, only that the place of one of tho women was taken by a crying, prematnrely born infant The rough men and women did what they could for the poor little wretch. The woman with the nursing baby gave It a portion of what was rightfully bar owo child's. This, in Julian Loraine1 s opinion, was the most rash and misplaced expression of false sentiment ho had ever met with. Toward the evening of that day they scraped a gravo for the mother. They did not fill it np at once, thinking that by and bye the child must be laid in her arms. Atone ti;:.e it seamed that it mutt bo so. The sailors and the womea, no doubt, think ing that a gentleman is nearer heaven than themselves, brought tho poor little wailing atom to Loraino, and asked him to christen it With death so closa at hand to all it was not worth whilo making any demur; but I can fancy the man's cynical smilo oh ho sprinkled water from a large shell on the child's hen L He,. Julian Loraine, doing a pries.'s duty, anl doing it for the pleasure of other people! However, so far a?s he knew how he bap tised the child, and thinking that a name was ^dispensable with a.kind of grim butnor chrlstono 1 him, for it was a boy, Julian, ?Atter all no one elsj dioJ, not oven the str?ng ;ly-bom baby. Tho next day a sail hove in Hi;-ht. Such signa s as the .ship wrecked party could make were seen, and men, women and babies were sooa, ia safety on board a hom::ward-bou:i I ship. Not one, not even her feDow-passengOK, knew'tho name or anything about the wo man who had died. Her clothe.--, such as she wore, bore no mark. Her husband, if on board, had gone down in the Black Swan.' What was to become of the child? Loraino settled this. Perhaps hi thought the child had a certain ridiculous claim upon him. He was no niggard with his money. Ho told tome one?he would not have taken the trouble to see about it "him mIX?to find a csiafortafclo liccao lor the child, and to apply to him when money was wanted. Then he went his way, and lived for years as he cho.se. Every now and tUen, when har paymas ter was in town, the woman who had charge of the child ventured to bring him to see his benefactor. Sometimes the benefactor scowled, sometimes smiled bis cynical smile and took notice of the little boy, who was called by his baptismal . name, Master Julian. TVlicu tho l>oy was 7 years of a^e, Julian Loraino sent instructions that he was to be forwarded to Herstal Abbey, Somer setshire. Ilaving been told by tha gool people about him that the grand geutlomau ho now and again saw was his fither, he addressed him by that endearing term. Julian Lorain), no doubt, stare J end laughed, but ho said nothing forbidlin;- the appellation being used. So to himself and the world tho boy was Master Julian, only son of Julian Loraiuo, of Herstal Abbey. What strange freak induc?d the man to present a namehss child, of humble and un known paronts, to the world as his son I sball never know. I have tried to think it was from t Section toward the child?from tho need even his own nature felt of (some thing he could love and call his own; but I caunot think so. It may have beou pure cynicism. Ho may some dav have wanted to turn round uul say: "What is lirihl See, I lake this low-born brat, bring him up as a gentleman, aud every one thinks hifn born to tho station I" It may have Leeti a base? motive, that of revenge. I shall never know. Tho boy grew up. Ho passe j from the stage of Master Juliau to that of Mr. Julian, or younp: Mr. Loraine; yet his re puted father kept the secret?kept it until the boy was 19, and, like many other boys of that age who ore only sou; of rich fathers, bejran to give himself airs. Then .one summer's evening, when the man and the boy were sitting over their claret, Juliau Lsra'no thought fit to relate, even more fully than I have given it ubove, the story ol the wreck nad the history of the child born on that rock. And I?for I was the boy to whom he told it?turned d -adly pale and gasped for breath. 1 believe 1 had never really lov<vl the man whom I supposed to be my father; his was not a lovable nature. Of t?n un I i faVu 1 had reproached myself for my lack of filial affection. But now, as I turtle 1 my (laud eyes to his face, and saw the satirical smile with which ho re:;nrdcl me, I all but hated him. I rose unsteadily. "I must go and think all this over," ] stammered <">ut. "Certainly, go and think it over." He spoke carele>?lv and return? 1 to his claret, while I rushed wildly from tho room. CHAPTER II. "DE MOItTClS ML NISI BON UM." It was not un il late in I he aftoruooii of the next day that I could bring myself to meet again the man whom I hal always be lieve I to be my father. Daring the time while I held myself aloof from him I passed I j through many stages of sorrow, but I l>e- j j lievo my anger was even greater than my I grief. I was but 19 years of age, but I j j fancy that my thoughts and ideas were in [ j advance of ray years, The curious, tdmi-stl [ solitary life which I had led for many I years nt Herstal Ab!)?y no doubt conduced to making me older than I really was. Till tie time came for me to go to Oxford I saw I little of any one save my supposed tuti.-er, ' my tutor and the servants of the kous ?. But latterly all had changed for the bet- ? tor. I hud been two terms at the uuivor-j 6ity. I had made many frletuL?. Life was i just opening to ma?a new, fresh lifo, full j of pleasure and exritemaut. I found myself j fairly j opular with my fellow*. 1 was wolJ supplied with money. I was looked upon j ?& an only son, and heir to a fins property. I Iii short, my lot seemed to he cue in ten thousand. And that moment Mr. Loraiuo had chosen to reveal to mo the secret of my lowly birth. To dash me from the pedestal upon which he had placed me. To show me that I bad no claim upon him?that, instead of boing young Mr. Loraine, of Herstal Abbey, I was no one! I remember how, ?hortly before he told mo the tale cf the shipwreck, I had been discoursing iu a somewhat arrogant, colf satisfied and glib manner as to the duties incumbent cn eld families and landed gen try; asserting' that the existence cf the aristocracy was an unmitigated blessing to the laud. In fact, I was giving my sup posed father a bash-up of a speech which I bad hoard at the Union. I thought my sentiments gave him satisfaction. He smiled and looked amused. No doubt he was amused, bo amused that the demon of sarcasm rose within him, and hurried on the revelation wldch be may or may not have intended should be made. The temptation to prick the bladder inflated by my youthful arrogance must have been ir resistible to Mr. Loraine. From a child I had noted this cruel trait in bis character. I had noticed it tritb servant*, tucb ac" quaiutanc-n; as he bad, and with myself; The way of listening, of even leading one on to talk, and then suddenly, by a biting piece of sarcasm, crushing the unlucky speaker. It was from this and kindred actions that, even while I thought him nsy father, I did not love the man. Nor did he love m?. Hal he loved me ever so little ho would have kept the secret, and spared me my present humiliation. So, In spite of all he had done for me, my auger. rose and bunted against Julias Loraine. . j Imnyhave been wrons; but, as will be soon discovered, I wai full of faults. Per haps the very association, more or less, during twelve years with a man of Mr. Loraino's stamp must develop faults? There! Let ms write no more to hi* detriment. He worked mo ev?, and he work*! me good. He is doad. As I raise my eyes from my pap*r and glance through my window I can almost sae hin grave. In th.i nftcruooa I went in search of feim. I found him rending in the library. He ncd.led as I ontcre.L then returned to his book aud finished the paragraph. "Well. Julian!" he said, as a signal that he was at my service. "I have been thiukiug over what you told me lost uight, Mr. Lorain-\" He raiso-1 ids dark eyebrows as he heard mo address him in this wise. Till now I bad generally ubod the old-fashioned "sir"; sometimes, not ofte:i, "father." "I bale changes, Julian," Le said. "As you know, the old landed gentry nro rooted to old mstonn." Even at that moment he could not forego his sarcasm. My chsek flushed. "Sec how you hava changed life for me!" I said, hotly. ''See how you have clumged life for meP "Ah! yes; greatly, no doubt I wonder what you woull have been nowf1 'Tell me what I am now." "So far as I know, a young man of 19, thoroughly well elucated, gool-lookintr, full of church aud state principles. Why, tho rector stopp* I mo yesterday and assured me you were ouo of the finest young fellows he ever know; quite a credit to th<3 county." This banter seemed to stab me. "Tell me, sir," I sai l, "oaght I to thank you for what you have done for mef "Personally, I huto expressions of grati tude; but if it gives you any satisfaction, thunk mo by all means." "No; I do not thank you. Had you placed me in som3 humble position, suited to my birth, and let mo make my way in the world, I could havo thanked you. But for years to lot me bs called your son; why did you do it, sir?" "I had some reason at the time. I almost forget it." "Mr. Loraine, I have thought it all over-" "So you told me, Julian Gjoii." "You may lnu^h at nie, but I consider that I havo a great claim upon you." He simply ruisjtr -bis eyebrows, but did not deny my assertion. "You bavj kept me in iguoranco for years," I continu-d, k|k;aking quickly. "You fcave brought in: up, and let me go out iu the world under false odors, Now just a- I enter upon manhood you tell m? who I am, or rather ?ho I am not Why ycu did this you uloue know. V'ou had some reason for it. in return, I have a right to demand something "Demand] A right! Never mind. Gc on." I ha 1 expected au outburst of-.rage. His calm euc juraged me. "Yes, sir; 1 ask that I may be allowed tc finish my course at Oxford. Thon, when 1 have takeu my degtx", I will go and earn my own living as best 1 can, J shall, of course, pow call myself by some other name. Can you suggest one?" Mr. Loraine laughed a curious laugh. "I like fellows who demand bettor thai, those who beg," he said. "Ou lack to college by all means. As to a name, is not Julian Loraine good enough for you? Yoa are per fectly welcome lo use it" '?But it is no- mine." "Never mind; uvs it I choose that you shall use it so long as you arc dependent on me. I also choose you to be thought my son. No"?ho saw mo about to speak?"I wiU give no reasons; perhaps I have none. You may be sure that it will be no hin drance to your future, being thought n rich man's son. Besides, I bate change*. Now, don't talk uny more. You have demanded; I have acceded. Go away." Puzzled und dis>atisfi.-d, I left him. I had fully persuaded myself that I bad a right to claim what I had claimed from him. It was also not hard for me to learn to think that if it was Mr. Loraino's wish that I should still pass as his sou and licar bis name, it was my duty to do so. Be sides?remember, I was but a boy, and &o need not be ashamed of tho truth?with all my assume I independence, the thought of proclaiming my humble and unknown par* entagc to my friends was gull and worm wood to ni?. To sink from the position which I held as Mr. Loraino's son to that of no ouo at all was a change greater than I could picture to myself with equuuiiuity. Sol objected no more; and a* Mr. Loraine sternly forbade the subject being reopen ed, my life, hi spite of its clou led future, went on in its accustomed groove. He:e, to avoid any mislealing, I may say that all I over learned about my true parent age was what Mr. L.iraine told ma. Who and what was my ill-fated mother I know no more than 1 know for what reason my reputed father allowed me to bo brought up as bis sou. _ Tho terms and tho vacations went by. 1 did not, during tho latter, sea a gre:it deal I of Mr. Loraine, nor did he press mu to spend tho time at Herstal Abbey. But n certain feeling, if not of-gratitude, of what seemed right'and proper, induced mo to stay tlicro on several occasions. Tlicro was really little j apparent change in tho relations between j Mr. Loraino aud myself. What chnngo j there might be was perhap; for tho better. I was cecepting his benefits, but accepting i them because I considered I had a right to j them. Moreover, I was determined that, when the time camo, I would be quite inde pendent of bis favor. I endeavored now and again to show him my feelings on this point; and, in spite of the mocking smile with which hs rtcoivei my hints, I do not '.think he liked me the less. lam not sure but in time a sincere friendship'migbt have sprang up between us; for, whatever may have been Julian Loraine"s inner nature, when ho chose to meet any ono on terms of equality and companionship ho could make himself ono of th* most charming men in the world. His talk, although dangerous and hitter, was witty and brilliant Bat time would not allow this incipient feeling to grow up. Just after my t wenty ' first birthday I was summoned in hot haste from Oxford. Mr. Loraine was dying. I reached Herstal Abbey just in time. My benefactor?yes, I most call him so was just sensible, but speechless. I bent over him and took his hand. His fingers gave mine a faint pressure. Even at that solemn moment I wondered at this show of feeding. And ? wondered at the strange look in l? dark oyes. They met mine yearningly, and I knew that the dying man had much he wished to say to me; yet i somehow I knew it was not about myself he wished to speak. I stooped down dose to hiui.. His dry lips moved, t ut cculd not I articulate. He gave a faint sigh; bis eye* lids flickered, and all was over. Whatever I were those last word a he wished to speak > th?y remained unspoken. I ros-) and left him. I walked to the I room which was known as Mr. Julian's room, and, I am thankful to say, wept After all, this man had given me much. But for him I might hare been consigned to 'the workhouse; might now bo nothing more than a mason's apprentice. Julian Lcraine had at least given me the means to start fairly in life. Yes, he had teen my benefactor. My grief, if not as deep as it shou'd have been, was roally sincere. It was some time before I began to reflect as to the imme diate consequences his death would bring to myself. I had money in hand, for the allowance made me by Mr. Loraine had al ways been an ample one?so largo, indeed, that when the truth of my birth was known to me, I had asked him to reduce it The right I presumed to claim fell fur . short of this. Mr. Loraine told mo scorn fully not to bother him about money, mat ters; so I had been unable to follow out the plan which I had laid down?of taking from him only sufficient for my needs. Never theless, I had not Rpent the surplus, and it would now serve mo in completing my edu cation. From him I expected nothing. I had shown him. both by act and word, that I expected 'nothing. Who were bis heirs, or to whom his wealth would be left, were matters about which I troubled little. Now that Julian Loraine was dead, I could with a full heart thank him for all he had done for me. Then I cculd resign his name and force my own way in tho world. His BoKcitor came down and gave instruc tions concerning the funeral He diJ this at my. request Knowing that shortly I should be an alien in the house, I would ntmnrrt" no responsibility. The only order I 'jf?&Fvji* thxit>-greTy>thing,sboqia -~be ttoho tfufe?y and simply. I know tho dead man's ideas about conventional obsequies. The funeral over, we looked for the will I.would not have a papor moved until then. ? We soon found it i "Not that it makes much difference, I suspect," 6aid the solicitor, l,you being his only son." He was opening tho envelops as ho spoke. Tsnid nothing. '?Shortest will I ever read," said tho solicitor; "made by himself, too, but all quite right and legal." He handed tho papsr to me. I read: "I bequeath nil my real and personal estate to my adopted son Jul an, commonly known as Julian Lunine." This, duly signed and witnessed, was Mr. Loroiae's will I sank on a chair, feeling dizzy and confused. Mr. Loraino dead was a greater puzzle to me than Mr. Loraine living. By a few words?dashed off, it mi.lit be, 0:1 the spur of the moment?ho had left me all his wealth. Was it from affection, sense of justice, cynicism, or what.' "J did not know you were an tidoptjd son, Mr. .T"l:in," sad tho lawyer, In tono; of surprise. '?Yes," id, cjllectiig myself. "Do you think . Ji be ri.giic in accepting this bcquo'.tf' ' Why not;* '.'Are there uo close relatives; Although 1 posse I as his son, 1 know so little about l.im." "I suspect I know less. But I never heard Mr. Loraine speak of any relatives. His adoption of you proves you entitled to the money." I sat in deep thought It was oll sc strange, so sulden. "By the by, Mr. Julian," said the solici tor, "without wishing to intru le my a 1 vice, I.should, if I were in your place, say nothing to let peoplo kno w I was not Mr. Loraine's sou. Ho evidently wished it to be thought you were. I fancy that by saying nothing you will be<r. carry out. his wishes. I my self shall keep silence On the matter." I weighed his couusel, cud at last, rightly or wrongly, decided to .follow it. No one cculd bo harmed by my continuing to pass as tho dead man's son. The fact of his hav ing left mo all his wealth showed, or I fan cied it showed, that he looked upon mo as a son; so I buried the story of the shipwreck in my own breast, and was still Mr. Loraine, of Herstal Abbey. 16taid my time at Oxford; I took my de gree. After this I went abroad for many months. I let Herstal Abbey; as I had no. need of such a large place. When I returned to England I led tho usual life, no better nor no worse, of a young man of fortune. Three years after tho d#ath of Julian Lorain? I fell in love. TO BE CONTINUED. For Sale. nplIHEK THUItOUHBHED JER 1 sey Bull Calves. One Thoroughbred Jersey Heifer Call. One Grade Jersey Cow, two weeks in ii ilk, with or without Calf. One Thoroughbred Registered Jersey Hull 22 mouths old. Two Registered Avreshire Heifers. All of the almve Cattle an- of excellent strain and will he cheap E. X. CHIMM.M, March is Itowesvillc, S. <'. *Voti<*4a of BM*?llliss.ll. / TIIK I3TII DAY OF APRIL V " next I will file my final account with the Judge of Probate as Executor of the Will of .Martha Huffman, deceased, and ttsk to be discharged. T. E. HUFFMAN, March 18-41* Executor. Fon Brooms, Baskets, Brushes, Bowls, Bath Bricks, Raisins, &c, go to P.\W. Cantwell. I CLEARING OUT ' SALE! AS THE SEASON IS NEAR AT HAND FOR PUTTING IN SPRING GOODU kJPIUSG GOOUO And wishing to make room, we will make it to the interests of all to eall and get Great Bargains As we are determined not to carry over any Fall Stock. We still lead in low _~.".. prices and are Headquarters for GENT'S, YOUTH'S AND BOY'S CLOTHING. 4 _? ?'. j_- . Our trade in Zeigler's Fine Shoes For Ladies was never better. Every pair guaranteed. We ?.*arry the largest and best Stock of Gent's HAND-SEWED SHOES In the market. All warranted. Grroceries At CHARLESTON QUOTATIONS. COME AND SEt:FOR.YOURSELF. GEO. E. CORNELSON. Special Bargains! TREMENDOUS SACRIFICES AT THEODORE T/-OHN'S a HEODORE XVOHN'S FASHIONABLE DRY GOODS EMPORIUM. We are now closing out the balance of our Winter Stock of DRESS GOODS, CLOTHING, CLOAKS, HATS, &c, at lesslhan cost of raw material. Now is the time to procure Great Bargains. Everything selling, off at unheard of low prices. This is; a golden opportunity for all to SAVE MONEY. THEODORE KOHI establishes) C. & E. L. Kerrison, 83 EIASEE STREET, CHARLESTON, S. C. DRY GOODS, Black :?mi Colored Wroxs Good?, LINENS. HOSIERY. &c, &c, IN LARGE VARIETY. S?~A11 Orders will receive prompt and careful attention. JSTCnsh orders amounting to #10 or over will be delivered in any county free of charge. C. ?V H:. IL. e?<'?*i*i*?ou, augJulv Charleston. S. C. mm light . ON TUE Snbject. I will now devote my entire at tention to o: u?iui i With an experience of ten years 1 am in a positiou to know what variety of Lamps to keep on hand thai will suit any purpose and give entire satisfaction. When in need of a Burner that will give vutt a large brilliant light eall for '?.SORKNTitUE'a GUARANTEE". I give full directions how to use it and a guarantee for a year with each IJurner. Ivcnieinber that "FAIR DEALINGS LOW PRICES and BEST QUALITY is my Motto, and don't forget that whateveryou may need in the way of or for a Lamp you will he .-nie to get ii. at SORENTRUE'S ec ite?Aa> stoke, Headquarters im Lamps. Jan 21-Syr n. H. MOSS. C, ('.. DA.VTZI.EH yjoss a: ]>ANTZi.Ki:. A'l TORN Ei S AT LAW, OnASGEISUKC, S. V. J W. BOWMAN". ATTORNEY AT LAW OKA>'GEBUltO, S. C.