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SLINGS AND ARROWS By HUGH CONWAT. Author of "Called Back," "Dark Days," "A Family Affair;' Etc. CHAPTER IIL ^S~^~- FIRST LOVE. It was ubout this time, I think, that such training as Mr. Loraine had indirectly given me began to bear its first full crop of fruit. When first I stepped into the world the novelty and freshness of all I saw had kept the ovil which I had imbibed in the background. But now that I was a mon, now that the glamour with which a bov surrounds everything had faded away, much of Mr. Loraine's teachings, many of Li3 cynical axioms, came back, perhaps un awares, to me. The certainty which ha had always felt as to some selfish motive being the hidden mainspring in every action of man or woman, with me became at least suspicion. I had already met with false friends, who had, under the guise ot friend ship, robbed mo not only of money, but of what I valued more?trust in my fellows. " ? After awhile I began to persuade myself that such popularity as I enjoyed was not due to my own merits, but to my worldly possessions; that I was by no moans a fine fellow?merely a young man of large prop erty. This feeling is a danger which contin ually besets a rich and sensitive man, es pecially if his companions are poorer than himself, and his own nature is not such as con accept flattery as his due. Under such circumstances It is easy to develop much of the cynicism of Julian Loraine. "Women had as yet done nothing to lower my self-esteem." Until now, I had not found the woman I could love. Ono reason for thii was, that I wa; still of a romantic nature, and was resolved that whomsoever I nsked to be my wife should love ma for myself?not for my money. 1 wish, so far as possible, to keep this tale free from any sarcastic remarks of my own, but at that time I often wondered if the mothers of fair young daughters would have found ma such a charming fellow had not Juliaa Loraine modo that brief will. But at last I was in love?hopelessly, uu reservodlv in love. My nature is, I believe, a passionate one, and now that it bad found its aim, I gave it full and free scope. I loved madly,'blindly, and, alas! jealously. I had set my heart upon no daughter of a wealthy or well* born family. The girl I loved was not one whom I mot in society; yet I proudly thought of the day when every eye would turn and be dazzled by her beauty?when people who appraised the charms of fair women would rank those of my wife above alL Of course I was partial?all lovers are? but now, as I glance from my paper to tbe portrait which hanss on the wall facing me, I tell myself that my lovo did not lead me far astray. The soft, thick fair hair growing low down on the forehead, and.swept bade over the ear to join the knotted, silky mass at the back of the head. The bead itself, small, well-shaped, and, above all, well poised. Tha large, soft, dark blue eyes, V Too fringe of long, straight lashes?yes, W straight, not curved? fallinj, when the s eyes are closed, literally on the cheek. The f girlish, yet perfect figure. Ah! I need not i look at tbe portrait to recall and describe my love! For the rest, her name was Viola Keith. She was an orphan, and all but alone.. How I met her, where I mot her, matters little. Nearly all first meetings take place under prosaic circumstances." Anyway, as my eyes met hers, I told myself that I looked at the one woman whom it was pos sible for me to lovo with an eternal love. I knew nothing of her family or her sur roundings. I cared to know nothing. One question only I asked myself: Can I win her, and win ber for my own sake? Here, even hero, in tho first flush of my new love, suspicion of motive must be guarded against So when, at lost, I was able to tell her what narao I bore, I changed it, and callod myself Mr. Julian Vane. She should, if she loved mo, marry me, thinking she was marrying one in her own station of life. Not that her station was anything to bo ashamed of. So far as I could gather, she was one of the many whose parents leave their children a slender provision, yet large enough to live upon in respectability and comfort Viola, I found, lived in a small bouse, with a prim old dame, the pink of dignity and propriety, and who had for merly been the girl's schoolmistress; a soli tary, lonely life it must have boon for the girL I laughed as I thought how, if she loved me, I would draw her from her dull home and show her tho great world and the glo ries thereof. How was I to woo hor? We were not likely to meet a1; any mutual friend's house. I had no si?t?r. cousin or any one who could do me a friendly turn in the matter. Yet every moment of suspense would be an ago to me. I must do something. So one day I waited uutU I saw Viola leave tho house. I watchc 1 her tall, grace ful form pass out of sight, and by a great effort repressed my desire to follow ber. <fl?hen I walked to hor house and requested to sec Miss Rossiter, the prim old maiden lady aforesaid. I told her in plain words the object of my calling. I spoke frankly of my great love for her companion, and I begged that my fearer would aid me to remove obstacles ^vhich stood in the way of a closer inter course. No doubt, with u lover's cunuin^, I made myself most agreeable to tho ancient gentlewoman. Pormission was graciously accorded me to visit at thj house?as a friend. I wanted no more I rose to take my leave, longing for to morrow to come, as I did not like to venture two visits on the first day. Just then the door opened and Viola appeared. Just then Viola appeared. A look of surprise flashed into her face? surprise, but not displeasure. A faint blush crossed her cheek, and these signs told me I should win her. Now that my foot was inside the citadel. I went to work fiercely, impetuously, tc gain my desire. The days that followed arc to me too sacred to bo describe.!: but nol many passed before I knew that Viola'; love was my own. We went to tho kindly spinster who was responsiblo for Viola's safety and told her the glad news. Tho old lady dropped her knitting needles and looked bawddered. "Oh, no, no!" she cried in horrified tones; "you cannot mean it!" Viola's blush and my words showed her we were in solemn earnest. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" sighed Miss Ros siter. "What sball I do? You have only kDOwn each other a week!" "A day would have been long enoug"h on my part!" I cried, looking rapturously at my lovely Viola. "It is so sudden," continuel Miss Rossiter. "I never dreamed of such a thing. In old days matters were manage I much more decorously. I thought, Mr. Vane, you would bo at least three months in making hor acquaintance. Oh, dear! I am much to Mania!" The old soul seemed so distressed that Viola ran over and kissed her. "Oh! what will Eustace say? He wil blamo me terribly. Ho is so masterful, you know, Viola." ? "Who is Eustacef I asked. I thought that Viola's face grew -thoughtful as she heard the name. "Mr. Grant, my guardian and good friend," she said. "Then I mmt see him. "Where can I find nimr "Ho is away," said Mis3 Rossiter, plaint ively. "Oh, I am so much to blamo 1 ought to have made air sorts of inquiries about you, Mr. Vane." "Your friend cau mako them on his re turn. When will that be?" "No ono knows. To-morrow, perhaps; next month, next year. One uever can say Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" I laughed and drew Viola away. We wero so happy that we forgot all about Mi?s Bos Biter's plaintive sighs, and I troubled nothing about Viola's guardian. I did not even ask what manner of man he was. But two days afterward I knew. In the evening I colled as usual at Miss Rossitcr's. Viola heard mv knock and met mo in tho hall. * "Eustace came back to-day. He is here now," she said joyfully. I kissel her and followed her into tho room to make tho acquaintance of her guar dian. Although she had called him by his Christian name, I fully expectod to And him a sober, middle-aged man; but iu tho easy chair, lounging as if the place belongel to him, and talking volubly to Mks Rossiter, 1 saw a strongly-built, suuburnei man who could bo but few years my senior. He rose as I entored and Viola shyly introduced us. He was tall?tailor than I was. His shoulders wore broad; his limbs long and muscular. A man who, If not liandsorne, would certainly bo noticed anywhere. The thought which succeeded my astonishment at his unexpected appearanca was, "By what right is this man the guardian of the woman I love?" He gave me his hand; bat not, I faucied, cordialb-. He looked me full in tho face, and I knew that ho was trying to gather from my looks soma knowledge of myself. Then suddenly 1 saw a surprised expression on his face?saw tho corners of bis mouth droop as in half-suppressed scorn; and from that moment my feelings toward h im were those of mistrust and dislike. He staid so late that I was the ono to make tho first move. For once I was not sorry to leave Viola. Tho appearance of this man among us, the close terms of in timacy upon which it was clear ho stood with Miss Rossiter and Viola, cast a kind of gloom upon me. I chafed at the thought that my happiness was In any way depend ent upon his favor. 1 grew moody and silent, and for mo the evening was a dull ons. But not for my friends. This Grant was evidently a brilliant and clever talker. Ho narrated, in an amusing way, his experi ences in some out of the way Alpino village in which, for some reason which did not transpire, he had been staying. Yet at times I fancied that his merriment was forced, and ugaiu and again I saw his kern eyes turned on me with a searching glance, which annoyed me beyond measure. When at last I rose, ho followed my example. Viola, as was her custom, accom panied mo to the door of the house, but this oveniug I noticed, or fancied I noticol, a certain reluctanca and hesitation in hor manner. Eustace Grant passed on in front, of us. Ho opened tho door and stood on tho stop I lingered for a moment to bid Violu a last good night. Presently Grabt turned, as if impatient ab my delay. Thoro was a lamp exactly oppo site the house and the hall was also il lumined. I could, therefore, see the man's face distinctly, and there was an indescrib able look in his eyes which told mo tho whole truth. This Eustace Grant, whoever ho was, laved Viola oven as I lovoi her! All my jealous and mistrustful naturo surged to the surface. I grasped Viola's hand and hastily drew her into a littlo sit ting-room close by. She looked at mo in a startled manner. "Viola," I said, "who is this nianf'' - "Dearest, 1 told you; Eustace Grant, my guardian." "Who is he? what is his profession?'' "Ah! that is a secret as yet. Ho will tell you soino day; for, Julian, you will lovo him liko a brother when you know him." "Never! Listen, Viola. That man is in lovo with you!" Sho* made no answer, and by tho light which passed through tho half-opeund door I saw a soft expression of pity and regret upon hor sweet face. "You know itr I asked. She sighed. "I am afraid it is so, or has been so. Poor Eustace!" Tho intonation of tho last two words car ried comfort to my heart It told me that I need fea r no rival. I embraced Viola, and left hor. Grant was still oa the doorstep. Ho was evidently waiting for me. 1 paused in tho road, looking out for a vacant han som. "Do you mind walking a little distance with me, Mr. Vaue?" said Grant. "1 havo some distance to go. 1 would rather drive." "I will not toko you far, but I havo some thing I must say to you." He turned in an authoritative manner, as though fully expecting I should follow him. I hesitated, thun joined him, and wo walked side by si le. Thcro was frigid silence between us; but as I glanced at tho toll, manly figure by my side, as now and again by the light of tho gas lamps I saw that powerful, striking face, the demon of self-distrust began to rise again. How, I asked myself, could it be possibl?, all things being equal, for a woman to choose mo iu preference to this man? And thanks to my concealing my name and true position the chanoM appa rently were that Grant had as much to offer a woman as I had. By and bye my companion stopjwd and opeued the door of a house with a latch key. He invited me to enter, and showed mo iuto a room on the ground floor. Once inside his own house his manner changed. He was now host and I was a guest He . apologized for the state of confusion which I reigned iu tho room. Ho had only ra I turned to his lodgings yesterday, and had not yet got things straight The room, al though plainly furnished, showe I that its i tenant was a man of taste and culture. ? Books were scattered broadcast, here, there I and everywhere. Grant swept a pfl> oil : tho chair which he offered me. "You smoke?' he said, producing a cigar case. "I can give you some brandy and I soda, too." Ho opened tbe cupbourd and brought out tho bottles. I dccliued his proffered hospi tality, and awaited Lis communication. Ho stood with his back to the mantel-piece, aud mechanically fillet a pipe. He did not, however, light it; and, although I looked as carelessly as I could in another direction, I knew that he was attentively scanning my face. Tins scrutiny became unbearable. "You have something to say to m.;, Mr. Grant;" I remarked. "Ye.7. 1 am only considering how to say it I am something of a physiognomist, and have bean studying your face for ray gmdance," I smiled scornfully, but said no more. He was welcome to look at me all night if ho chose to do so. Suddenly, in a sharp, ab rupt way, ho spoke. "Why are you passing under a false name?" he asked. CHAPTER IV. M Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive!" The attack was so unexpected t?.nt I crimsoned, and for a moment was speech less. I knew that my true motivo for the concealment was, in respect to Viola, if un worthily conceived, at least free from eviL This thought strengthened me, and I was able to face my in te rrogator. But, all the sarao, it was a great mortification to foeJ that in order to explain1 mattors to this man I must, as it were, lay bare my most sensi tive feelings. ' You Know my true name?" I asked. ".No. But I have seen you somewhoro? Vieuna, Paris?I forget where. Tuen you were not called Vane." "My name is Julian Loraine," "Julian Loraine," ho repeated, musingly. "I have heard that name in tha world, and with little good attached to it But it could not have referred to yourself. You arc too young. But your reason for the decep on? Speak 1" he said fiercely. I curbed my rising auger, and, as well as I could, told him why I had wooed Viola under a falso name. I think he behoved me, but I saw scorn on his face as ho lis tened. "Tho act of a fool," ho said. "Mr. Lor aine, such romantic affairs should be left to poets and novelists. Viola Keith would need neither riches nor poverty with tho mau tho loved. I toll you, if I were to go to-morrow and make known to her your doubt of her gjpglo-heartedness, I could shutter tho wholo fabric of your happiness. Why should I not do so?" "It would be the act of a fiend," I said. He laughed, not pleasantly. "Yes, it would. 1 will not do it I will even keep your secret and let you cony out your ridiculous plan. But I will also do this: I will follow you on your wedding morning, and see with my own eyes that you have married Miss Keith in your Tight name. "No!" he said, seeing I was ready to spring from my seat in indignation, "No! I will have no protost You havo brought this upon yourself. You have given mo the right to mistrust you." "Will you bo good enough to show me the right by which you interfere at allf I stud. "U.ilil her twenty-first birthday I am Miss Keith's guardian." "A very young one," I sneered. "Yw; but older thau you funk. Her mother (iied six years* ago. I was then 30; "sh: tli< ught me old enough to be her child's guardian, and I will see tho trust to the endi" The meaning thrown into the last sen tence di I not escape me. It implied that he ? Btfli viewed -me with dtefcrrwt- My anger^ ' was thoroughly aroused. "Perhaps, Mr. Grant," I said, "there is a nearer and dearer right you wish to exer cise over your ward?one which sho her self alone can bestow." He drew h?nself up to his full height "That, sir," he said, cainily, "is ungou eroti'. I had hoped that my lovo'for Miss Keith was a matter unknown to all save myself. 1 love her as'it may ho beyond your power to love a woman. I would lay down my lifo for her far more easily than to-day I lay down my love. Yet I do this, and to you, my rival, can say: Take her, and make her happy?make her happy.'" The repetition of tho last three words was not a wish; it aas a command, a threat Grant was still standing above mo, and as I lookod at him I saw that his face was pole, and on his forehead were drops of moisture. His appearance almost startled mo; but I said nothing. I rose and wished him good night. Somehow, in spite of the dislike with which the man had inspired me, there was about him a strength and dignity which impressed mo more than I cared to own. He accompanied mo to tho door. When it closed, I paused for a moment to light ono of my own cigars. Thea I crossed the road. As I did so, I glanced back. Tho gas was burning in tho room which I had just left; the blind was drawn up. I saw Grant enter, throw himself into the chair which I had left vacant, stretch his arms out on the table, and lay his .heal upon them, like one in agonies of grief. He was bewailing the loss of the happiness which I had won. 1 pitied him, but I hated him. It seemed to m i that if this man set his heart upon a woman's iove, sooner or later she must give it to him. What would it be if now ho asod all his power to rob me of Viola? I knew that till tha ring was on her finger I should have no peace of mind. The next day, when I paid my visit to "/tola, I was full of the /ear tkntl should (hid Eustace Grant at her side, perhaps ex ercising all his craft. In spite of his as sumption of frankness, I believed him to be crafty, to my disadvantage. It was a fear which had no foundation. Neither on that nor on succeeding dftys did Grant in any way interfere with mt monopoly of Viola. Ones or twice I met him, apparently com ing from the house. On these occasions ho bowed gravely, but did not stop to speak. His visits were evidently paid at such times as dkl not clash with mine. I raged in wardly to think that ho had a right to visit Viola at uny time; but I was too proud to remonstrate. It was some comfort to me to hear Miss Rossiter occasionally remark that they saw littlo or nothing of Eustace now. Viola sellotn mentioned his name. No doubt, with a woman's quickness, she un . derstocd that it was distasteful to me, I Nevertheless, 1 know that she held her , guardian In the greatest esteem, and looked forward to the time when we should be ; friends. This I swore should nevor come. Viola once my wife, the acquaintance be , tween her and this strong-willed, attractive man should cease. As I said, I am Indeed a pitiful horol But if 1 saw nothing of Grant I heard from him. Ho wrote me, telling me he had been informed by Mi6S Keith that our inor , riago was to take place very ?hortly. Ho would be glad to know my intentions re , spectiug the settlement of her own smuli fortune. There was a peremptorincss about . the wording of the letter which nettled me [ extremely. 1 wrote back that it was quite . truo wc were to be married in a few weeks' i time, but that it was not my intention to settle my wife's monay upon her. The sum , was: to ) paltry to trouble about, as it would - Lo qui-o lost sight of in the large.post nuptial settlement which I projx>3ed mak ing. If Mr. Graut felt any doubt as to niy means he could make inquiries of raj' solici tor, who had my instructions to answer all his questions fully. To tins letter he aid not reply; but I heard that be made tho inquiries, as I sug gested. No doubt, Viola's interest, he was right iu so doing; but I liked him none the more for the action. Yes; Viola, overcome by my impas sioned prayers, had consented lo an almost immediate marriage, Tboro was, indeed, no rea:on why we should wait a day. Sho loved me, and was willing to trust her future in my hauls. I loved her, and longed for tho moment which would make her mine forever. Moreover, I longed for tho time (o come when I might tell her all; confess the innocent but foolish deception I had practiced, and bog her forgiveness? not for mistrusting her, but her sex in general 1 was sorely tempted to reveal the truj state of affairs without further de lay; but Grant's warning rose to my mind, and I determined that, until tho irrevocable words were spoken, I would keep my ?secret. We were married in tho quietest way possible. Viola, it seemed to me, had no bosom friouds?no relatives who would bo mortified unless they were, asked to the wedding. The old spinster, who looked very prim, and ready to apply her favorite word, ''indecorous," to tho whole proceed ings; a brother, as .prim as herself, and ono trusted friend of my own formed the wed> ding guests. . Eustace Grant had Deon asked to accompany us, but Viola told mo that for some reason or another, he had excused himself. At this sho soomed greatly vexed. I was also troubled by his refusal. It showed too plainly his feeling3, both to* ward mo and toward Viola. But ho was in tho church; ho was. thoro even before I was. As I walked up the aislo I caught a glimpsa of his strongly marked profile. He was in a far-off pow, and was almost the only spectator of tho He was in a far-off pew and almost tlie ? only spectator. ceremony. Doubtleis, when Viola and I left tho church, man nnd wife, Eustaca Grant walked into the vestry, and, as ho had expressed his intention of doing, saw with his own eyes that I had married Viola in my true name. We drove straight from the church to tho railway station. When alone in tho car riage almost the first words my wife said were: "Julian, Eustace was in church. Did you see himf' ? "Yes, I saw him." "Why did ho not come and wish mo good bye? It was not liko him. I must havo offended him. I will write and ask bim how." I hated tho idea of Eustace Grant being, in such a moment as this, uppermost in my wtfe'-^ihoughts. "Never mini, deareat," I 7*iift;^--~httt<s Euotace Grant to usf "Oh, much, very much to me, Julian 1 Ho was my mother's friend, he has beon my one friend ever sinco I can remember." "I do not like him," I said. "But you will liko him; you must like him. Ho is so good, so nob!e, so clover. Promise me, Julian, you will like bim for my sake." Although I would not credit him with tho two first qualifications?goodness and no bility?I was willing tobalievo that Eustace Grant was clover?perhaps too clever. The disadvantage at which ho had hold mo upon that night when I was for tho time, in his eyes, on impostor, rankled in my mind. I But to day I could afford to Ik> generous. I drow Viola close to me. "Doarost," I said, "I will try -and get rid of my prejudice. I will try and forget that this man loved you, and would havo made you his wife. I will try to Cvase from wondering why, when he is so good, noble and clever, you should havo chosen me." Viola laid her soft cheek against mine. "Julian, my husband," she whispered, "oro you not all that Eustace Grant is?and more. I love you." With her words all my doubt, all my fear of Eustaca Graut fled? never, I hoped, to return. With Viola's arms round me, her kisses on my lips, I could afford to pity ray unsnccossful rival. Whan wo were in stalled in the compartment of tin train which was, by a venal arrangement of the guard's, reserved to ourselves, I fell to considering how I should best make known to Viola that tho name by which she had hitherto known nu was assumed. I was beginning, or fancied I was begin ning, to kno w something of my wife's true nature; aud I told myself that tho task be fore mo was not so easy as I had oncJ im agine! it would be. My confession was hurried on by a question s-he herself asked mo: "Julian, what name was it you signed in tho book at church!" V I had hoped that in tho agitation natural to a brido who signs her maiden uann for tho last time sho had not noticed my auto graph. But sho must havo dono so, al though 6ho had said nothing about it until now. So I made tho pluuge and told her all. Told hor my true name; told her of the beautiful house in the west which would bo ours; told her of tho life, f rca from care and anxiety as to the future, which stretched before us. Then I besought her forgiveness for keeping her in ignorauce of those things. I had, bo it Faid, given hor to understand that I was a man with an income just enough to livo upon in comfort. Grant was right. H>; knew Viola when ho told me that, by revealing my deception, ho might destroy tho fabric of my happi ness. Sho said little, but her look told me she was hurt and wouu^ed. I verily be hove her first thoughts were that she would rather I had been what I represented myself to be, than to have the power of sharing such n homo and so much wealth with her. How little men understand womenl Perhaps because no two women ore alike. But Viola forgave me. A woman always forgives tho man she loves, but I knew that she was sad at the thought that I coul I have droatned that riches might have influ enced her. Nevertheless, it was days before I could got hor to join mo unrestrainedly in tho schemes which 1 wove of our future life. Wo went down to a quiet watering place on tho south coast. Hero wo staid for a fortnight. Oh, those sweet summer days!* Shftll 1 over forget thein* For the time there seemed no cloud which could possibly shade our joy. All the cynical, suspicious, misanthropical dements seemed swept cut of my nature. I told myself that the con stant, society of the wife 1 loved was mak ing a hotter as well us a hjippierman of nie. At tho end of our stay by "the soa it was our int?ntion to return to London for n couple of days, and then start for Switzer land. Here, or in what country we chcse, we were to spend months. In fact, I had as yet no home to offer my wife. Tho tenant of Herstal Abbey would not turn out with out six months' notice; ;o, for thct'ino, we must be wanderers. Eustace Grant?I had by now almost for gotten him?wrote once to my wife. She seemed overjoyed ns she saw Iiis hand writing, but vexed at tho ceremonious way in which his letter began. It lies before me now. I copy it: ?'My Dear Mrs. Loraixe: You will re member that next Tuesday is your twenty first birthday. "As I am going abroad very shortly, I am anxious to submit the accounts of the trust to ycu and, of course, Mr. Loraine. I hear that von will be in town on Tuesday. Can I call upon you anywhere, or would it be more convenient for us to meet at my solicitor's?Mr. Monk, 30 Lincoln's Inn Fields? Please let me know. Yours sin cerely. "Eustace Grant." "He might have sent a word of congrat ulation," said Viola, in a vexed tone. "How shall I answer this, JulianT' "Say we will meet him at Mr.. Monk's at 19 o'clock on Tuesday." To which effect Viola wrote. I did noi read tho letter, but I wondered at tha length of it. to ue continued. Special Bargains ! ? Extraorfliiiary Mnctioiis! TREMENDOUS SACRIFICES AT THEODORE T^OH*N'S HEODORE JVOHN'S FASHIONABLE DRY GOODS EMPORIUM. We are now closing out the balance of our Winter Stock of DRESS GOODS, CLOTHING, CLOAKS, HATS, &C, at less than 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 KOM. MORE LIGHT ON THE Suibjeet. I will now devote my entire at tention to" LAMPS! LAMPS! With an experience of ten years I am in a position to know what variety of Lamps to keep on hand that will.suit any purpose and give entire satisfaction. When in need of a Burner that will give you a large brilliant light call for " S 011E N T11U K' S GUARANTEE". I give full directions how to use it and a guarantee for a year with each Burner. Remember that "FAIR DEALINGS, LOW PRICKS and BEST QUALITY is my Motto, and don't forget that whatever you may need in the way of or for a Lamp you will be sure to get it at SORENTRUE'S ISAKttAirV STOKE, Headquarters for Lamps. Jan 21-lyr U. H. MOSS. C. G. DANTZLER A/fOSS & DAXTZLER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, OllANGEBl'JtG, S. C. I. \V. HOW MAX. ATTORNEY.AT LAW On AN CEUUKG, S. C. CLEARING OUT AS THE SEASON IS NEAR AT HAND FUR PUTTING IN SPRING G?ODQ kJPRING GOODJO And wishing to make roorc, wc will make it to the interests of. all to call and get Great Bargains As we are determined not lo cany over any Fall Stock. We still lead in low prices and are Headquarters for GENT'S, YOUTH'S AND BOY'S clothing. Our trade in t Zeigler's Fine Shoes For Ladies was never better. Every pair guaranteed. \Yo eany the largest und host Stock of Gent's HAND-SEWED SHOES In the market. All warranted. Grrooeries At CHARLESTON QUOTATIONS. come and3see:for;yourself. GEG. H.-GORNELSON.