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JAKE'S LITTIE GIRL "No, mister," said Uncle Jake, "I alnt ?Spliced, nor never was." For many years old Uncle Jake had {kept a little tavern neur one end of the in lets where the sea. breaks tbrough the long eandbar into the Great South bay, a point About Of teen miles from New York. Of a pleasant Sunday in summer it was a pretty lively resort. Uncle Jake made a jovial ihost, and people used to say that he owed ills good health in a great measure to the frequency with which he drank to it him self. Most of the lishing parties from the larbors along the nay stopped here for a clambake and a cocktail; yachtsmen nn ' ehored near the inlet, and sportsmen ?would put up at the tavern for a week or two at a time. But in winter it was a dreary spot. The monotonous turmoil of the surf was broken only now and then by the shrill cry of a gull or the shrieking of the wind as it whirled across the bar. During t lie long storms only an occasional Wrecker or a patrol from tlio life saving Btation visited the place, and at any time In wilder a party like ours was a rarity. A real Bohemian freak had brought us flown to Uncle Jake's that night. The, evening before a dozen of us artists had met Bt u little reunion in the studio of one of our number, and one of us seeing a sketch of Uncle Jake's tavern on the easel, had proposed paying him a winter's visit. "We all knew Uncle Jake, and the idea of a winter's visit to him was too much 01 a novelty to be resisted. So we set out for tbe tavern the next day, and arrived there beiore night time. Uncle Jake knew that the trip across the bay had been a rough one. So be started a roaring wood fire: and when we had finished supper lie put n steaming bowl of punch on the table. But, despite his attention and the jollity of our party, he wasn't in the best of spirits. Not that he didn't dip his glass into the punch howl pretty often, but he .seemed moody and didn't talk much. His low spirits seemed also to have had a * depressing effect on Samson, his big mas tiff, wbo was about as well known along the coast as Uncle Jake himself. Usually he barked a friendly welcome to everyone who came to the house. But he had been sullen and silent nil the evening and had 6at near Uncle Juke, resting his head on his master's knee and now und then look ing up wistfully at him. I had known Undo Jake and hi* big dog longer than the others bad, and I no ticed that something was wrong. Ex cepting the last two years, which I had spent in Europe, I had been to the tavern off and on for about a dozen summers. I had always liked the place?it. was so far removed from everyday affairs. There was usually a fresh breeze coming over the broad expanse of ocean, a fine surf, Sending its cool spray over the beach, and here and there a white sail outlined against the blue sky. Beside, Uncle Jake was always hale and jovial with young fellows and few of them ever paid a visit to the tavern without returning to it at some future day. The old man seemed glad enough to see me again and made me Sit next to him. But I felt that since I had been there some change had come over him and the dog and the old place, and ut times he looked as though he would like to tell me something, but hesi tated on account of the others. I remembered a pretty, bright eyed lass, about 17 years old when I last saw her, who was at the tavern iu former years, and whom we used to call "Uncle Jake's little girl. She used to make herself handy about the place and was so simple and graceful in her bearing that she was ?i favorite with all who went there. The Sun had browned h<3r hands aud arms, and the wind had played with her fair hair until it hung over her forehead like tangled sunbeams. She was taU aud lithesome, and as strong as she was grace ful. Often, when she wus a mere girl of 40 or 12, I had seen her pulling her skiff across the bay and hailiug the old flsher .men as they scudded past in their smacks. tMany a time they would lay to and take 3ier aboard and tow her skiff home; aud .then she would take the helm from the skipper, trim the sheet and shout with jglee us the spray came dashing over the Sow. I wondered what had be come of her aud asked Uncle Jake, ?but he didn't seem to hear my (question, though the dog sprang to his feet and roamed about the room un easily before he slunk back to his master's feet. I was about to ask the questiou again when oue"*of our party proposed a song. 'Alnle they gathefed In a group around the old piano in the corner, the (Old man stole quietly to the door of .another room and beckoned me to follow 3dm. As I joined him he was stooping .over an old bureau fumbling among some ^papers, while the dog, who had slipped in Sfter him, watched him intently until he iput his hand on a tin type, which he drew out and showed me. It was the picture of a child, and in the features I recog nized "Uncle Juke's little girl." In she next room some one was playing a jang ling accompaniment and the rest were Shouting a boisterous song. I thought then v> ould be a good time to ask him what had become of the girl whose childish features we were looking at, so I inquired, by way of introduction, if he Triad ever been married. It was to this he had replied: "No, mister, I ain't spliced, ?aor never was." "But yer see," he continued, as though he knew what I was driving at, "it's un common lonesome here in winter, an' many a time when I've heard some young one ashore yonder as wasn't caved for at home I've got its folks to let me.take it out here with me. The children kind a cheered me up durm' the long winter eve nin's, an' when summer came I'd ask to have 'em stay a bit longer. The little ones would beg real hard, too, for I made a good deal of 'em, and they thought kind o' well o' me for it. Some o' them stayed a few years, but as they got big an' could be handy at home their folks fetched 'em away from me, an' so at last they all TWent; all but little Maggie, her as they ?Ised to call'Uncle Jake's little girl.' It was a bad home I'd took her from, an' afore she'd been with me long her father wandered off an' her mother died in the poorhuustt. There wasn't no one to take her from me then so she stayed here; an' tight glad I was to keep her. She was a smart, likely little thing, an' I thought as I'd care for her an' lay by a bit o' money ior her. When she lirst came here she "Was no more than 5, and when you saw her two summers ago she was goin' on IS. Yer know Maggie was as good-looking a girl as yer could lind hereabouts, on1 many u foliar as has come here with his boat in summor time has been kind o' took wi' her. I was kind o' proud to have 'cm so, too, for I'd a pre vious good opinion o' Maggie, V I liked "to see 'um back me up. It wo. .n't every one she'd take to, neither, for she'd mako her chcicc like any lady, would Maggie. I let her go sailln' whenever she wanted. I knew she must bo kind o' lonesome hero in winter, an' In summer I was for her to have all the cheer she could. Not that ?ehe ever complained. She was a good feirl, an' a comfort to me summer an' : winter, was Maggie. "It's goln' op three years now, mister, j that a little after the June Maggie got to J be 18 there was a young feller as come over here to stay. He was a good-look in' chap, strong an' quick, an' as handy In a boat as anyone I ever see. He seemed to kind o' like it here. In the beginnin' he hired one of my boats by the week, un' when he'd had it that way about, four weeks he took it for the sea son. Well, I was glad to let him have it, . for it was often as he'd take Maggie out, in' 1 felt easy when I knew Maggie was with him, for, as I told you, he was 1 strong and handy in a boat, an' I felt as no barm could come tu her when she was with him. One bright mornin' in Sep tember, just afore they sailed away, she come a runnin1 into me an" says as they was a-goin' for a long sail and wouldn't be back till late. Well, it wasn't unusual for 'em to stay out till after sundown, especially o' moonlight nights, when they could come in on the tide un' the night wind; an' this time I didn't begin worry in' ubout 'em until it got to be very lute mi' they hadn't come back. Some folks as was nt the bouse walked the beach between the itdets with nie till lute iu the night: but we saw j nothin' of them. But bless me, I didn't give 'em up. It had been a fine day, an' it was a clear, bright night, an' I kind ?' trusted the young feller, for he scented kind o' fond V Maggie, an' I thought he wouldn't let no harm come to her. An', sure as yer live, next day, early in the mornin'. we spied the boat sailin' up the inlet, nn'. I began wavin' an' shoutin' to 'em for joy. But some one as had a spy glass said they wasn't aboard?an', mister, they wasn't. The feller as was iu her came from the Jersey coast, un' .he'said its a man and u girl had landed there the day before, an' the man?a young, good look in' chap, he said?had paid him to bring the boat over. I'd kept up pretty well till then, but when I know'd she wasn't come back, an' felt all of a sudden I as site might never come back, I hid my face iu my hands an' cried like a baby, j Folk> tell me as I wasn't a good one to be I get tin'along with for the next few days, an1 I irucss they were about right. She was all the world to me, was Maggie. I j took her to me as a child an' brought her up, an' set my heart on her, and for her I to leave me in my old days was mighty I hard. When I got quieted down they be gan to comfort me a-stiyhi' as she might i come back. All, mister, if she only had. j I'd have welcomed her, for sin- was still my little Maggie, an' I'd ha1 loved her as j much as ever. But it got to be winter I an' spring au' Stimmer an'on toward tall, an' I heard not bin' of her. "It wasn't "much more than a year I after she'd left when one mornin' a feller came sailin' over from the shore with what he said was a telegram forme. It j came from the city, an'it read (hat if I was to go to one o' the hospitals there I'd find a girl as would like to see me: an' it told me to come quick, too, for she was very low, perhaps a-dyin'. Yer may know who the girl was: an' it's likely yer know, too, as I wasn't long a-gettin' to her. But T wasn't any too soon. She was lyin' on a cot, an' when she saw me, it was just all she could do to 'stretch her arms out to me, so she could put 'em around me an' press her poor, pale faco against mine. " 'Father,' she whispered, 'I went back on yer?and yer who'd been so good an' kind to me; an', father, I want yer to say before I die as you've forgiven .me.' "I couldn't say nothin'. mister, I just held her closer, but I guess as when she felt my tears ii-roUhV down on her face she know'd she'd trot what she wanted. I held her till they told me she couldn't speak no more, an' then I laid her back. It was only a few minutes tifter that she lived, but afore she died she opened her eyes once more an' moved her lips. I bent down to her an' she could just whisper: " 'Father, I'm sure yer haven't gone back on me. I'm sure yer forgive me. But?father?I want you to forgive him, too. For?father?I've forgiven-' " The old man buried his face iu his hands and sobbed, while the dog inoved up close to his master and howled piteously. The piano was still jangling in the other roam and the singing was at its loudest. But he' didn't seem to hear it. After awhile, though, they got through, and, missing him, began to call for him. But before he went out he passed his hand gently over the dog's bnck and said, turn ing to me: "I forgive her, mister, an' Pye tried to forgive ldm, but it's more than A poor old man like me can do. I'll try again, mister; I'll try hard for the lit tle girl's sake. I know as hii sin's n-goin to drive him back here some time?drive him back that he may go on his knees to me an' tell me how he wronged her an' me." I had always been fond of Uncle Jake, but after what he had told me I liked him better than ever. I knew that his "little girl's" death weighed heavily on him, and alter that I got up as many parties as I could to visit the tavern to cheer him up. One day toward autumn, two years after ward, he culled mc aside and said: "Mis ter, it's gettin' kind o' lonesome for the dog an' me down here winters, an' I guess I won't stay here no longer after the fall. I've, got a house as I took over in the village ashore yonder, near to where the little girl's buried. The dog tin* I wants to be near Mngyie, an' if yer'U come down off an' on we'll be glad to sec yer, for it ain't much company we'll be bavin'." Well. Uncle Jake took the house, and I did go down there as often as I could. lie made things night, comfortable in the little house. On the cold winter nights he had a big log fire blazing on the open hearth, ami a kettle of hot water for the punch singing cheerily over the dailies. In front -was a big wooly rug, on which the dog stretched himself, rising only oc casionally to come over to his muster and lick his hands. The old dog had learned the way to the "little girl's".grave very soon, and on days when it was too stormy for the old man to go to it himself, Samson would trot off aud see that all was at rights. The blazing logs and the singing kcttlo . ecmed particularly cheery one January night. A fierce wind wu.s howling around the house. It had been snowing all day, but us it grew colder the snow had stopped, and now the gusts sent icy par ticles rattling against the windows. The dog seemed sleeping peacefully?at least he hadn't stirred?when Uncle .Take weut to the hearth to lift off the kettle. Theold man had brewed a punch, and was just raising the glass to his lips, when sud denly Samson sprang toward one of the > windows with a furious bark. As I turned | in the direction in which he sprain.', what I saw might have bcen.au illusion, it! vanished so quickly?a man's face, pale, haggard and driven, pressed against the pane. A moment later the dog was leap ing against the poor. I sprang toward it and threw it open. The fierce" gust that swept in nearly threw me back, but I held on and saw the black figure of the dog speeding toward tho gate, where ho stopped, still barking furiously as he tried in vain to overleap it. I called him back, but he would not come, and there he remained barking and howling for half an hour after I had closed the door. I told Uncle Jake that I thought a man had been out there, hut all he sidd was: "I guess it was one of them tramps as conies around. Samson ain't particular fond o' them. But if the fellow was cold an' wanted a drink why didn't lie knock an' ask for it decent like:-' Sure he'd ha' got it." The next morning was bright and clear aud very cold. As the wind subsided, Uncle Jake proposed to go over to the graveyard?lie hardly let a day pass with out going there. The graveyard was a little inclosure a trifle further out of the Tillage than our house. As we entered the gate the dog suddenly darted forward barking furiously as he had the night be fore. Following him hastily, we saw what he was barking at. A thin, wlute hand had clasped the headstone, and over the grave lay, face downward, the body j of a man, perfectly still. Uncle Jake grasped me and held me back a moment. Then wo tried to loose the hvnd. But it 1 was clasped so (irmly that we iotild hardly : draw it from the stone. At last it fell, i ?ami we turned the body over. I saw the j same pale, haggard, driven f.ue that was j pressed against the window the night be I fore. "Mister," said Uncle Jake, sol emnly, "he's come back. An'?an*?I think I've forgiven him, as the little girl asked me for to do."?Gustav Kobbe in Baltimore Herald. Queen Christina and Her Charity. Rocked in the ivory cradle, inlaid with gold and silver, presented to him by his grandmother, the ex-Queen Isabella, and nourished by the omnipotent wet nurse, the infant king of Spain continues tc thrive. Queen Christina is gradually re suming her usual duties. She distributes more than 100,000 lire a month in charity, without counting extra donations to alms houses, hospitals and other benevolent ilk ' stitutidns, some of which she founded her I self. Uu the bank of the Manganeres, in t sight, of the royal palace, in an open and cheerful sjuot, one sees n little house ' painted iu bright colors, surrounded by a ' garden, from which in passing one hears ! the laughter, shouts and cries of children. ; The queen had it built as u resort for the j little children of the laundresses, who, while their mothers were working, used to he left on the streets, ft is a mingling of almshou.se and school. She has als?, founded a hospital for foundlings, a house or species of college for the children of the tobacco workers, and :\ distribution ol soup, meat ami bread for all the poor oi the city. She has several times gone quite unexpectedly to assist in the dl-dri button to assure herself that no abuse was made of it, aud having once discovered some roguery she provided against nnj repetition of the offense. The sisters oi charity receive from her every month 70, 000 lire.?New York World. The Oyster und Ills Shell. Suppose that, placing two oyster shelh In their natural position, we insert ? piece of India rubber between the valves i at the point where they are hinged to gether. If we now forcibly close the sh?lls by pressure, the India rubber is compressed. When we release the; press ure of our fingers, trfe elasticity and re coil of the India rubber forces the valves apart. In such a fashion, then, doe: nature provide for the constant main tenance of the unclosed condition. The "ligaments" of the shell are natura elastic pads existing at the hinge line. By their elasticity they keep the rajh?g unclosed. There is no strain invol^jtfp the action, which is u merely intfH| one after all. ^Si/ But when the more infrequent act ol closure has to be performed, then mus cular energy requires to be displayed. Tin quick snap of the valves reminds us thai muscular exertion, even if necessitating vital wear and tear, has its corresponding Advantage in the rapidity and effective ness with which it provides for protectioi against" the entrance of disagreeable oi noxious elements into the internal ar raugements of oyster or mussel life.? Longman's Magazine. A Georgia Ozler Willow Farm. About a mile below the city of Mason Ga., is an ozicr willow farm. The willow switches, at the end of two years, an from four to seven inches long, and ut< cut and uthered into bunches lik< sheaves ot wheat. They are steeped ir water and the bark at the larger end loosened for a couple of inches by ma chinery. The leaves and bark arc re moved by a little machine, and th? switches ure placed in the mechnnica' stripper, and with a pair of pliers an pulled through with a sudden jerk. The} are then wiped off with a woolen cloth bundled and laid away to dry. All th< leaves aud barks are dried and baled. They are used for medicinal purposes, aud command a price of 25 cents pel pound. The average yield is i\ ton to thi acre. When dried the willows command $200 per ton, and find a ready market.? ? Chicago Herald. Tim Very Conspicuous Tutly-Uo. Nothing could be more unrctiring thai the coaching that has become Intense!] fashionable to a few of the most preten tious people in town. A four horse drag with flittering harness, bright vehicle, liveried llunkies, loud bugler und loud o) women gayly dressed, is cpuitc as re splendent us a circus ehariot and com ma .ids as much attention us it rolls along u crowded street. But it is the loading Ol unloading that is particularly au amuse me:it for the spectators. I have seen i distinguished belle mounting to the tor of v. coach in the midst of .a rabble, ? every way as conspicuous as a queen ol the wire about to ascend to the height ol a tent pole, with a saucy urchin comment ing shrilly on her appearance, like t clown helping on the exhibition, and she was all the while as placid as though se cluded In her own boudoir.?New York Letter. John Q. Adams and HIS Coachman. A few days before the inauguration ol President Harrison, the horses of Johr Quuicy Adams became frightened near tin Capitol, by the dis;hargc of Colt's fire arms before a committee of congress, and ran away, overturning the carriage and injuring the coachman. Mr. Adams re maincd at home for two daj-s, and be stowed all the attention and time tipor the man that a child could give its father, regarding alike the religious condition and physicial sufferings of his unfortunatt serve t. The first interview between raar and master was quite touching. "Youi horses are gone and the carriage wit! them," said the servant, when lie first saw Mr. Adams after the accident, and adding tu this that he was a "dying man.' "Never mind life'horses and* carriage,' said Mr. Adams, kindly. "If you are-s dying man, think of your soul."?Ben Perley Poore. In a chivalrous but patheticjway Mon tana bachelors name a town in honor of i girl and then wait for the girls tacome.? Intex-Ccean. 1836! i SWIFTS SPECIFIC.)! 11886 i'A BEMEDY KOT TOE A DAY, BUT FOB! SISISI HALT A CENTURY SlSlS BFd^IEvTNG SUFEEmG HUMANITY! ' SISISI AN INTERESTING TREATISE ON BLOOD AND SKIN DISEASES SENT FREE TO ALL APPLICANTS. IT SHOULD BE READ BY EVERYBODY. ADDRESS THE SWIFT SPECIFIC CO., ATLANTA, GA. s 3 JOHN C. WHETSTONE, ROWESVILLE. S. C, Practical Machinist and Millwright, AGENT FOR mm fcsgasa THE SMITH IMPROVED GIN, FEEDER AND CONDENSER. ALSO AGENT FOR THE TAYLOR ANJ) RAY STATE ENGINES, GRIST .MILLS, &c. 23V* Will order Machinery of any kind when requested to tlo so. ^""Repairing of all kinds of Machinery a specialty. All orders promptly attended July l-3m to. Address as above. STONO 'Phospliate Company, CHARLESTON, 8. C. ESTABLISHED 1870. HIGH GRADE FERTILIZERS! HIGH GRADE FERTILIZERS! SOLUBLE GUANO (highly amrooniated.) DISSOLVED RONE. ACID PHOSPHATE. ASH ELEMENT. HlOSl'HATK FLOATS. OER MAN KAN IT. U1GH GRADE RICE FERTILIZER, James Van Tassel i?i~Ai.i:ie i> CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES, Wines, Liquors and Segars. i T MY EST AI'LISIIA1EXT CAN BE FOUND ALL THE STANDARD iV articles nf GROCERIES at Ruck Bottom Prices, as well as purest and best WINES, LIQUORS, &c, sold anywbciv. Also the choicest SR< iARS ANT) TOBACCO to be found In the inarkei. wisb:> B.ootii\<; akoi ai> OJivi; .^ib: a cai.i.. JAMES VAN TASSEL. To ?!?<* l*nl?li?*. l or Sale kpiIOROUt.IIDli ED J Kit SEI' j JTAKK l'LEASl'KE IN AN- 1 Calve-. One yearling registered Jer nounc'ni" that I will run the Ice Bust- >cv Bull. Registered Ayreshirc heifers. _t. V,.... 1 ( ? MM i'.,ei.nnuv< llliKIC. ! S.'v....i1 irrl.l.. In.il",.r.; ?1? ?Un <i.viT:ll MHi-ll : ncss from May 1st, lSS?. Customers plw reserve your orders and oblige. i"ours trnlv, Jali-'b CHARLES P: BRUNSON. Several grade heifers as also several Milch Cows in' mi Ik. Apply to E. N. ClliSOLM, Rowcsville, S. C. I JOHN A, aiHIILTOW, DEALER IX ? COTTON GINS, MaeMnery Sullies, Olis, &c, ORANGEBURG, S. C, OFFERS Tlus GULLETT STEEL BRUSH, COT TON BLOOM, ami Improved TAYLOR GINS. Trices as low as in the State, 'Work guar anteed, Terms accommodating. 9 1sq,Am nislies Saws, Ribs, and parts of Gins tW repairs, Bristles, &c. IN STOCK, Brass CHECK VALVES, Piping, Coup lings, Round ami Sheet Gum Packing, Babbitt Metal, &c, etc. SUGAR MILLS, and SYRUP KET TLES furnished at factory prices. John A. Hamilton. JOHN Q. PIKE, ORANGEBURG, S ft, DEALEI? IN CHOICE FAMILY AND Heavy Groceries. ALSO Willow Ware, Glass Ware, Crockery, &c, Call and examine my Goods before purchasing. They are Ii i st class and my prices are as low as ;,!;? lowest. JOHN C. PIKE. ESTABLISHED 1877. " Twenty-five Years Experience. T. DeChiavette, Watch Maker and Jewej.ek, a ml dealer in Watches, Clocks, Jewelry ? Spectacles, Silver and Plated Ware and Musical Instruments. All work warranted for one year. Orangeburg. . C Charles A. Cairo, Jr., BOOK AND JOB PRINTER ?a no? BOOKBINDER 08 RICHARDSON STREET, COLUMBIA, S. V. 4 LL KINDS OF PRINTING, RUL 1 V ing and Binding done at low figure;, and in the very best manner. Catalogues of Schools, Colleges and Church Associa tions a specialty. Lawyers' l!riefs?lper limited page for 23 copies. Old Books ite bound and Repaired. Cash Hooks, Ledg ers, Day Books, .Journals, Sc., made to urder at short notice. Orders solicited and satisfaction guaranteed. SET Subscribe for THE Co I. I'M UIAWEEK LY ItKClSTKK?eight pages of fresh reading matter?the latest telegraphic news?cleat large print. Only one'dol'lar a year. X Loads Bkm.yij.u: ami State Load. TIAVING BOUGHT THE RIGHT I L to sell the AM M (UN'S PATENT PLOW GL'At iE AND GUIDE in Orange burg County I am prepared to furuisli them ami solicit the patronage of all the farmers n thecounty. M. M. METTS, Aprij l.'-:;iuo St. Matthews, S. C. For Sale. ONE TEN HOUSE POWER EN gine and Boiler complete. Also otic Circular Saw Mill. The above can be bought on verv reasonable terms. ]?',?!>?_>.-, ' _HAltPIN BIGGS Notice. i J.i. PERSONS HAVING CLAIMS i\ against Hie Estate of Thomas It. Zimmerman, deceased, .\i!l present the same duly attested to the undersigned, and all persons indebted :<> said Estate will make payment to Moss & Dantzlcr, Attor neys at Law, Orangeburg. S. C. 1RVIN II. ZIMMERMAN, Qualified Eecutor ol Estate of Thomas 11. Zimmerman, deceased. July 8-3t