Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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V. IT MANNING, . C., WEDNESDAY, MAR.CH 5,1890. O14 The Haunted Chamber. BY "THE DUCHESS." Author of "Monica," "Mona ScUly," "Phyms' etc., etc. CHiAiER I. The sun has "dropped down," and the "day is dead." Thie silence and the calm of coming nigzht are over every thing. The shadowy twilight lies soft ly on sleeping flowers and sWaing boughs, on quiet fountains-the marble basins of which gleam snow-white in the uncertain light-on the glimpse of the distant ocean seen through the giant elms. A floating mist hangs in the still warm air, making heaven and earth mingle in one sweet confusion. The ivy creeping up the ancient walls of the castle is rustling and whispering as the evening brmezo sweeps over it. High up the tendrils climb, past mul lioned windows and quaint devices, until thev reach even to the old tower, and twine lovingly round it, and push through the long apertures in the .ma sonry of the walls of the haunted cham ber. It is here that the shadows cast their heaviest gloom. All this corner of the old tower is wrapped in darkness, as though to obscure the scene of terrible crimes of past centuries. Ghosts of dead-and-gone lords and ladies seem to peer out mysteriously from the openings of this quaint cham ber, wherein no servant, male or fe male, of the castle has ever yet been known to set foot. It is full of dire horrors to them, and replete with le -s-gedotbo~ne days and grew some sights ghasty enough to make the stoutest heart quail. In the days or the Stuarts an old earl had hanged himself in that room rath er than face the world with dishonor attached to hisname; and earlier still a beauteous dame, fair but frail, had been incarcerated there, and slowly starved to death by her relentless lord. There was even in the last century a baronet.-the earldom has been lost to the Dynecourts during the Common wealth-who having quarreled with his friend over a reigning belle, had smit ten him across the cheek with his glove, and thea challenged him to mor tal combat. The duel had been fought in the luckless chamber. and had only ended wi * the death of botk combat ants; the lood stains upon the flooring were large and deep, and to this day the boards bor silent witness to the sanguiny character of that secret fight. Just now, standing outside the castle in the warmth and softness of the dy ing daylight, one can hardly think of by-gone horrors, or aught that is sad and sinful. There is an air of bustle and expect ancy within-doors that betokens com ing guests; the servants are moving to and fro noiselessly but busily, and now and then the stately housekeeper pass es from room to room uttering com mands and injunctions to the maids as she goes. No less occupied and anx ious is the butler, as he surveys the *ork of the footmen. It is so long since the old place has had a resident master, and so much longer still since guests have been invited to it, that the household are more than ordinarily ex cited at the change now about to take place Sir Adrian Dynecourt, after a pro longed tour on the Continent and -lin germg visits to the East, has at last come home with the avowed intention of becom a staid country gentleman, and of settg to the cultivation of turnips, the breeding of prize oxen, and the determination to be the M. F. 1L when old Lord Dartree shall have fulfilled his declared intention of retir ing in his favor. He is a tall young man, lithe and active. His skin, though naturally fair, is bronzed by foreign travel His hair Is a light brown, cut very close to his head. His eyes are large, clear, and honest, and of a pecu liar dark violet: they are beautiful eves, winning and sweet, and steady in their glance. His mouth, shaded by a droop mg! fair mustache, is large and firm, ye eyprone to laughter.. It is quite the end of the London sea son, and Sir Adrian has hurried down from town to give direetions for-the reception of some people whom he had invited to stay with him during the slaughter of tne partridges. Now all is complete, and the last train from EAension being due half an hour ago Br Adrian is standing on the steps of his hall-door anxiously await ing some of his guests. There is even a touch of genuine im patience in his manner, which could hardlyvbe attributed to the ordinary longijig of a young man to see a few of his friends. Sir Adrian's anxiety is onand undisguised, and there is a h efrown upon his brow. Presently his face brightens as he hears the roll of carriage-wheels. When the carriage turns the corner of the drive, and thie herses are pulled up at the hall door, Sir Adrian sees a fair face at the wmn dow that puts to flight all the fears he has been harboring for the last half hour. "You have come?" he says delighted lv, running down the steps and opening thre carriage door huiself. "I am so glad! I began tb think the train ran away from you, or that the horses had Dolted." "Such a journey as it has been!" ex cl aims a voice not belon ~ng to the face that had looked from te carriage at Sir Adrian. "It has been tiresome to the last degree. I really don't know when I felt so fatiguedl" A little woman, small and fair, steps lan 'idly to the gound as she says this, a .gaees .patheticall'y at her host. She is beautifully "got u," both in dress and complexion, and at a first er handi Si .dian's shielet itrest there, as though glad to be at her jour ney's end conveying at the same time by a getepressure of her taper fin gers te fact that she is even more glad that the end of her journey has brought her to him. She looks up at him with her red lids drooping as if tired, and with a bewildered expression in her pretty blue eyes that ads to the charm of her face. "It's an awful distance from town!" says Sir Adrian, as if aoogizing for the spot on which his gadold castle has been built. "And it was more than rodof you to come to me. I can only ryto miake up to you for the discom fotyouhave experienced to-day by throwing all possible chances of amuse merit in your way whilst you stay heie." B his time she had withdrawn her hand,&andso he is free to go up to his other guest and bid her welcome. He says nothing to her strange to say, but itisbhis hand that seeks to retain hers this time, and it is his eyes that look 1on0 nlyinto the face before him. "Yu are tired, too?" he says at length. "Come into the house and rest awE e before dinner. You will like to gow your room at once, pertiaps?" ne adsturning to his two visitors. "Tank you-yes. If you will have our tea sent up-stairs," replies Mrs. Talbot plaintively, "it will .be such a eomfort!" she always speaks in a some 'what poutin'g tone, and with heavy ea-nonsense!" respnds Sir Ad rian. "There's nothing like chamipa e a pc-me-up. I'll send you tea ; b. aemy avice, and try the cham hthank yo, I shall so much pre fer my tea!" Mr. Talbot declares, with grcfllittle shrug of her shoulders, which her friend Miss Delmnaine aloud. ccpastinga cl'chievo3s lan at him from under her long Jashes. "And-yes, Dora will take champagne too-when it comes." "Naughtv girll" exclaims Mrs. Tal bot. witi a little flickering smile. Dora Talbot seldom smiles, having learned by experience that her deli&date face looks prettier in repose. "Come. then, Sir Adrian," she adds. "let us enter your enchanted castle." The servants by this time have taken in all their lugga-e-that is. as much as they have been ahe to bring in the car riage; and now the two ladies walk up to the steps and enter tho hall, their host beside them. Mrs. Talbot. who has recovered her spirits a little. is chattering gayly. and monopolizing Sir Adrian to the best of her ability, whilst Miss Delmaine is strangely silent, and seems lost in a kind of pleased wonder as she gazes upon all her charming surroundings. The last rays of light are streamifng In through the' st'ained-glass windows, rendering the olI hall full of myster ious beautv. The g-ri in warriors ii their coats of ixal see, to the entranced gaze of Florence Delmaine, to be mak ing ready to spring from the niches which hold them. Waking from her dream as she reach es the foot of the stone staircase, she says abruptly, but with a lovely smile plag round'her mouth "Surely, Sir Adrian, you have a ghost in this beautiful old place, or a secret staircase, or.-at least a bogy of some sort? Do not spoil the romantic look of it by telling me you have no tale of terror to impart, no history of a ghostly visitant who walks these halls at the dead of night." "We have no ghost here, I am sorry to say," answers Sir Adrian. laughing. "For the first time I feel distressed and ashamed that it should be so. We can only boast a haunted chamber; but there are certain legends about it, I am proud to say, the bare narration of which would make even the stoutest q"God gracious-how distinctly un pleasant" exclaims Mrs. Talbot, with a nervous and very effective shudder. "How distinctly delicious. Tou meani" puts in Miss Delmaine. Sir Adrian, is this chamber anywhere near where I shall sleep?" "Oh, no; you need not be afraid of that!" answers Dynecourt hastily. "I am not afraid," said the girl sauci ly. "I have all my life been seeking an adventure of some sort. I am tired of my prosaie existence. I want to know w s dwellers in the shadowy realms of ghost-land are MAe." "Deer Sir Adrian, do urge her not to talk like that; it is positively wicked," pleads Dora Talbot, glancing at him beseechingly. "Miss Delmaine, you will drive Mrs. Talbot from my house if you persist in your evil courses." says Sir Adrian, laughing again. "Desist. I pray vou!" "Are you afraid,- Dora?" asks 'Flor ence merrily. "Then keep close to me. I can defy ill evil spirits, I have spells and charms." "You have indeed!" puts in Sir Ad rian, in a tone so low that only she can hear it. "And, knowing this, you should be merciful." Though she cannot hear what he says, yet Mrs. Talbot can see he is ad dr'ssing Florence, and marks with some uneasiness the glance that passes from his eyes to hers. Breaking quiel. ly into the conversation, she says tim, idly, laying her hand on her host's arm "This shocking room you speak of will not be near mine?" "In another wing altogether," Sir Adrian replies reassuringly. "Indeed it is so far from this part of the castle that one might be safely incarcerated there and slowly starve to death with out any one of the household being a bit wiser. It is in the north wing in the old tower, a portion of the building that has not been in use for over fifty years." "I breathe again," says Dora Talbot affectedly. "I shall traverse every inch of that old tower-haunted room and all-be fore I am a week older," declares Flor ence deiantly. After which she smiles at Adrian again, and follows the maid up the broad staircase to her room.' Bthe end of the week many other 'iitr had been made welcome at the astle; but none perhaps gave so much plasure to the young baronet as Mrs. Talbot and her cousin. -Miss Delmaine, the only daugher and heiress of an Indian nabob had taken London by storm this past sea son; and not only the modern Babylon, but the heart of Adrian Dynecourt as well. She had come home to England on the death of her father about two ears ago; and, having no nearer rela tves alive, ha'd been kindly received by her cousin. tire IHon. Mfrs. Talbot, who was then livmng with her husband in a pretty house in Mayfair. Six months after Florence Delmaine's arrival, George Talbot had succumbed to a virulent fever: and his widow, up on whom a handsome jointure had been settled, 'when the funeral and the necessary law worries had come to an end, had Intimated to her young cousin that she intended to travel for a year upon the Continent, and that she would be glad, that is-with an elaborate sigh -she would be a de~gree less miserable, if she, Florence would accompan-y her. This delighted Florence. She was wearied with attendance on the sick, hiving done most of the nursing of the Hon. George. while his wife lamented and slept; arnd, beside, she was still sore at heart for the loss of her father. The years abroad passed swiftly; the end of it brouh them to Paris once more, where, felng that her time of mourning might be decent~y terminat ed, Mrs. Talbot had discarded her som ber robes and put herself into the hands of the most fashionable dress maker she could find. Florence, too, discarded mourningfor the first time, although her father 'had been almost two years in his quiet grave amongst the fills; and, with her cousin. who was now indeed her only friend,' if slightly uncongenial. decidea to return to Lon'don forthwith. It was early in May, and, with a sen sation of extreme 'and most natural pleasure, the girl looked forward to a few month s p~assed amongst the best of those whom she had learned under nier cousin's auspices to regara a "societv." Dora~ Talbot herself was not by any means dead to the thought ithat it would be to her adivantage to introduce into society a girl well-born and pes sessed of an almost fabulous fortune. Stray crumbs must surelv fall to her share in a connection of t'his kind, and such crumbs she was prepared to gath er with a thankful'heart. But unhappily she set her affection upon Sir Adrian Dynecourt, with his grand old castle and his princely rente roll-a "crumb" the magnitude and worth of which she was not slow to ap preciate. At first she had not deemed it possible that Florence would serious ly regard a mere baronet as a suitor, when her unbounded wealth would al most entitle her to a duke. But "love," as she discovered later. to her discom fiture, will always "find the way." And one day, quite u'nexpectedly,.it'dawned upon her that there might-if circum stances favored them--grow up a feel ing between Florence and Sir Adrian that might lead to mutual devotion. Yet, strong in the belief of her own charms. Mrs. Talbot accepted the invi tation given by Sir Adrian, and at the close of the season she and Florence Delmaine find themselves the first of a batch of guests come to spend a month or two at the old castle at Dynecourt. Mrs. Talbot is still young, anid, In her style, very pretty; her _eyes are lang uishing and blue as gentian, her hair a soft nut-brown- her tins perhaps are not altogether laultiess. Deimg too line and too e!oselv drawn, but then her mouth is small.~ She looks considera ble younger than she really is, and does not forget to make the most of this comfortable fact. Ind-ed. to a casual observer, her cousin looks scarcelv her junior. Miss Delmaine is tall, slender. posee more or less, whip Mrs.' Talbot is pret tily rounded. pte in every point, and nervously ambiitious of wining the re gard of the male sex. During the past wek private thea tricals have been suggested. Every one is tired of dancing and mui". The sea son had given them more than. ., it of both, and so they have fallen : upon the theatricals. The p lay on which they have decided is Goldsiith's famous production, "She Stoops to Conquer." Miss Villiers. a pretty young girl with yellow hair and charming eyes, is to be Constantia Neville; Miss Delmaine, Kate lardeastle: Lady Gertrude Vin ing, though rather young for the part, has comt M to l'ay 3rs. Ilardeastle, under the impIlrCSsiOnL that she looks well in a can and powdered haiL. An impossible Tony Lumpkin has been diz covered in a nervous young man with a hesitation in his speech and a difficul ty about the letter "S"-a young rpan who wonderfully misunderstands To ny, and brings him out in a hitherto unknown charaeter; a suitable liast ings has been found in the person of Captain Ringwood. a gallant young oftIcer. and one of the "curled darlings' of society. But whQ is to play Marlow? Who is to be the ha;ppy man, so blessed-even though in these fictitious circumstan ces-as to be allowed to make love to the reigning beauty of the past season? Nearly every man in the house has thrown out a hint as to his fitness for the part, but as yet no arrangement has been arrived at. Sir Adrian of course is the one to ward whom all eyes-and some verv jealous ones-are directed. But hi's duties as host compel him, sorely against his will, to draw back a little from the proffered honor, and to con sult the wishes of his guests rather than his own. Miss Delmaine herself has laughingly declined to make any choice of a stage lover, so that, up to the present moment, matters are still in such a state of confusion and uncer tainty that they have been unable to name any date for the production of their play. It is four o'clock. and they are all uding or sitting in the library. In t in uRsual in discussing the diicul y Are all talking together, and, tement that prevails, no one 'or open. or the footman's iction of a gentleman, who leisurely up to where Sir is standing. leaning over it 'Naine's chair. H. 1 man of about thirty-five, with a a ' face and dark eyes, and, withal, a slight resemblance to Sir Adrian. "Ah. Arthur, it is youl" says Sir Ad rian, in a surprised tone that has cer tainly no cordiality in it, but, just as certainly, the tone is not repellent. "Yes. replies the stranger, with a languid smile, and without confusion. "Yesterday I suddenly recollected the general invitation you gave me a month ago to come to you at any time that suited me best. This time suits me. and so I have come." He still smiles as he says this, and looks expectantly at Sir Adrian. who, as in duty bound, instantly tells him he is very glad to see him, and that he is a good fellow to have come without waiting for a more formal repetition of his invitation. Then he takes him over to old Lady FitzAlmont. the mother of Lady Gertrude Vining, and introduces him to her as "my cousin Mr. Dyne court." The same ceremony is gone through 'with some of the others, but, when hie brings him to Mrs. Talbot, that pretty widow interrupts his mode of introduc tion. "Mr. Dynecourt and I are old 'rends," she says giving her hand to te new~(-comer. Tn, turning to her cousin, she adds, ".Florence, is it not a fatality our meeting him so often?" "Have we met so often?" asks Flor ence quietly, but with a touch of hau teer and dislike in her tone. Then she too gives a cold little hand to Mr. Dyne cout who lingers over it until she dis dai'ufl draws it away, after which he turns from her abrupt'ly and devotes himself to Dora Talbot. The widow is glad of his attentions. He is handsome and well-bred, and for the last half hour she has been feeling slightly bored; so eager has been the discussion ab'out the MIarlow matter, that she has been little sought after by the opposit'e sex. And now, once again, the subject is being eram~ined in a'll its bearings, and the discussion waxes fast and furious. "What is it all about?" asks .Arthur Dynecourt presently, glancing at the nmated group in the middle of the room. And Sir Adrian, hearing his question explains it to him. "Ah, indeed!" he says. And then, after a scarcely perceptible pause 'Who is to be Kate Hlardcastle? "Miss Delmaine," answered Sir Ad rian, who is still leaning over that young lady's chair. "In what does the difficulty consist?" inquires Arthur Dynecourt, with appar ent indifference. "Well," replies Sir Adrian. laughing; "I believe mere fear holds us back. Miss Delmaine, as we aWl know, is a finished actress, and we dread spoiling her nerformance by faults on our side. none or us nave attempted the charac ter before; this is why we hesitate." "A very sensible hesitation. I think," says his cousin coolly. "You should fh'ank me then for coming to your re lief this mornfag; I have playved the part several times, and shall be llelight ed tou*letake it again, and help you out of your difficulty." At this Miss Delmaine flushes angri ly, and opens her lips as if she would say something, but, atter a second's re flection. restrains herself. She sinks back into her chair with a proud lan guor, and closes her mouth resolutely. Sir Adrian Is confounded. All along he had secretly hoped that, in the end, this part would fall to his lot; but now -what Is to be done? How can he re fuse to let his cousin take his place. especially as he has declared himself familiar with the part. Arthur, observing his cousin's hesita tion, laughs aloud. His is not a pleas ant 'laugh, but has rather a sneering ring in it, and at the pesent moment it jars upon the ears of the listeners. "If I have been indiscreet," he says, with a slight glance at Florence's proud face. "pray p~ardon me. I only meant to render von a little assistance. I thought I understood fromt you that von were in a dilemma. Do not dwell ~upon my offer another moment. 1 am arraid I have made myself somewhat oflicious-un intentionally, believe mc." "MIv dear fellow, not at all." dechtres Sir Adrian hastilv, shocked at his own apparent want ot courtesy. "I assure you, von mistake. It is allI so mauch to 'he 'ontrary, that I gracefully ureept your offer. 'and beg vou will 'be Mar' "But really-" begings Arthur Dyne court. "Not a word!" interrupts Sir Adrian; and indeed by this time Arthur D~yne court has brounght his cousin to believe he is about to confer upon him a great favor. "Look here. young fellows." Sir rian goes on, walking toward the otber men, who are still arguing and disputing over the vexed question. "I've settled it all for you. Here is my cou~sin. he will take the difficul~y ofl your hands. and be a first'-class M< low~ a tie sam tiimP." A suppressed consternation follows his announcement. Many and dark are the glances cast upon the new comer, who receives them all with his usual imperturbable smile. Rising, Ar thur approaches one of the astonished group who is known to him, and says something upon the subject with a slight shrug of his shoulders. As he is Sir Adrian's cousin. every one feels that it wN Il be impossible to offer any objection t-) his taking the much-covet ed part. "Well, I have sacrificed myself for you; I have renounced a very aear de sire all to nlense you," says Sir Adrian softly, btfnding down to Florence. "Have 1 succeeded?" non have snweeeded in displeasing me iire than I can say," she returns coldly. Theon. seeing his amazed ex pression, she goes on hastil-. "Forgive me, but I had hoped for another Mar low." She blushes prettily as she says this, and an expression arises in her dark eyes that moves his deeply. Stooping over her hand. he i1nprints a kiss upon it. Dora Talbot. whose head is turned aside. sees nothing of this, but Arthur Dynecourt has observed the silent ca reqs, and a dark frown gathers on his brow [Continued.] A CHARACTEIITIC JOB. low the Natio.-il eevernmeaS IN MIade to Reward Petifeggers. On Friday last the United States Senate'passed without discussion a bill ordering the payment of $2,500 to the firm of Porter, Harrison and Fisbback for legal services. The alleged servi ces consisted "in defending ex-officers and ex-soldiers for acts done by them in obedience to the orders of a superior officer of the United States Army in In diana during the late war." The Harrison in this firm of claiinants is the Hon. -Benj-in'in Harrison, Presi dent of the United States. This same claim has appeared in we previous Congresses, generally, if not al ways under the titie of "A bill for the re lief of Sewall Coulson and others"- the "others" being Porter, larrison and Fishback. The character and extent of the services rendered by the President's law firm were once very clearly explain ed to the Forty-ninth Congress by Mr. Bynum of Indiana. The claim originated during the days of the war. A man named Andrew Humphreys was arrested on a charge of conspiracy, and indicted and tried, and for a time confined to the limits of two townships in the county in which he lived. After the war he brought suit for damages in the County Court against the officers who had ar. ested him. A motion was made to transfer the case to the Federal Court, under the statute covering such cases. The county Judge overruled this motion, and a jury brought in a verdict of damages for Humphreys. The case was then carried to the Supreme Couit upon the ground afforded by the error of the County Court in refusing to transfer Humphrey's suit to the Federal Court, where it belonged. At this stage of affairs, Porter, Harri son and Fishback appeared for the first time as counsel for the defendants. They filtd a single brief, presenting tho obvious and unanswerable proposition that the motion to transfer the cause to the Federal Court ought to have been granted. The error was as plain as a pikestaff. The Supreme Court re7ersed the judgment, the case went back to the County Court, whence it was immediate ly transferred to the Federal Court, and there dismissed. All that the President's law firm ever did in connection with the case was to file that one brief. The State of Indiana paid them $550 for that service, proba bly very much more than the service was wortb. Btit for years, in Congress, they have been pressing their claim for $2,500 more, to come out of the Federal Treas ury. 'The reappearance of this sleazy old, claim at a time when one of the claimants is president of the United States is nothing less than scandalous. Gen. Harrison may think that he is fairly entitled to the $2,500 he demands from the Federal Government, in addi tion to the $520 already received from the Governor of Indiana, for filing that wonderful brief. He has a right to his opinion He has a perfect right to urge now as at say time the claim which' has been rejected and pigeonholed in the Forty-seventh, Forty-eighth, Forty-ninth and Fiftieth Congresses. That is a question of ethics and of taste. But it strikes us that the Republican party could afford to pay him ten times the sum he demands, rather than have this notorious Porter, Harrison, and Fishback claim pushed through while the middle partner happens to occupy the White House.-New York Sue. A Big Company to Mine Kaolin CoLUMBIA, S. C., Feb. 27.-R. A. Lynch, who left here and located in Boston some months ago, has induced a numnber of Boston capitalists to in vestigate the Kaolin mines in Lexing ton. Mr. Lynch, accompanied by several of thes. gentlemen, has been prospecting in Lexington for the past week, and they have concluded the purchase of about 330 acres of land four and a half miles from Jolumbia. A company has been formeC known as "The Columbia Kaolin CJompany," with a capital of six bundre. 1 thousand dollars. This is the first step toward still larger investments by the gentle men through Mr. Lynch's real estate agency in Boston for the sale of South Car::iina lands. Self-Abnegation. He had come to spend the evening and she had received him in the libra ry. The parlors were occupied. The OldI Settlers' Association was holding a meeting there. "Miss Fredonia," said a domestic, opening the library door. "IPm sorry to disturo yez, but they're a wanting more chairs. Pil have to take all yez can spare.". The face of the young girl grew radiant with the glow of generous self sacrifice. "Alfred," she whispered, resolutely, "those old people must not stand. Nora, you may take everything except this rocking chair."--Albany Argus. It is rumored that Speaker Reed re cently won $75,000 in the Louisiana Lot tery. The story was started by a Balti more lawyer who was defending a man charged with keeping a "bucket shop.' The lawyer claimed that a poor man who can invest but a few cents should have the same right to risk his mite as the well-to-do person who could invest more in the Louisiana Lottery. Possibly tbs story was the invention of the law yer. However this may be, it is certais that Speaker Reed has been doing some things far worse than buying lottery ARP ON THE NEG IP. THE NORTH'S IGNORANCE 0] THE SOUTH. Sonic teflectionm on the Faie impreaonIoD Conveved by tp.rtinau Newspapers-Th Negro and his Social Status. I receive d a letter the other day fron: a Virginian who thinks of movinc South, and he wanted to know hon long it would take him and his family to be come acclimated, and what wa the safest time of the year to make the change, Ifhe had ever been Sout: he would not have asked such ques tions. Most of the Northern peopl associate the South with malaria and bad, sickly weather. They look on the map and see the parallels of lati tude, and so form their opinions. Well, there is some malarial coun.ry away down South somewhere, but up here in Georgia we talk about going to Florida to spend the winter, just like the Northern people do. The only difference between Georgia and Virginia is that our winters are shorter and milder, and our summers longer and cooler. The climate is just vigor ous and bracing. Now, it is " fNct that the Southern people know a great deal more about the North than their people know about us. The tendency of trivel is northward, and has always been so. A hundred travelers would go north- to where one came south. Business and pleasure called them there. Until the great army of drummers came into ex istence, the Southern merchants went north twice a year to buy their goods, their spring stock and fall stock, and they became well acquainted with the people and their manners and customs and politics and religion. For seven years I was P. merchant and mingled with them from Boston to Philadel phia, but none of them came south to mingle with me. Before the war we sent hundreds of our boys to Northei n colleges, but they never send any to ours. We have always taken their newspapers and magazines, but they have never taken ours. Thousands of our wealthy people visit thair watering places and their great cities every summer, but they never visit ours, and so they are still unacquaint ed with us. In recent yearsagood many af their nabobs and invalias take a straight shoot for Florida every win. ter, but they go in Pullman sleepers with the curtains down, and when they get there they huddle together in a fine hotel at five dollars a day and don't get acquainted with the natives and don't want to. They come chock full ot the prejudices of a century, prejudices that are part of their re igion and they don't want to lose them. You might as well try to get a Baptist, or a Methodist, or a Jew, to change his religion. There is but one channel open to removal of prejudice and that is through the pocket. The only hope of promoting peace is in get ting acquainted, and the only hope of eing acquainted is throagh business hannels. Russell Harrison came down to Atlanta to a banquet and he be haved like a gentleman, and I expect he is a gentleman, but he has gone :ack believing that our people are illing and per3ecuting the negroes nd robbing Republican postmasters as a general business, a kind of amuse ment. But our climate and our mine al treasures are drawing their good people down here pretty fast. T1hey are investing their money and they stay to watch it, and the longer they stay the better they like us. Their deep concern about the negro soon passes away and the race problem bug bear vanishes into a myth. The truth is, there are too many alarmists about the negro, even in our own sec tion. There is plenty of room here for white and for black, and will be for acentury to come. I can't see any vol :ano nor hear its mutterings. The race problem has already been solved in other countries. I was talk ing to a traveler a few days ago-a man who has seen enough of the world and humanity and government to can cel all his prejudices, and cause him to lock upon everything with the eye of a philosopher. Not long ago he took a trip to the Windward islands, the little Antilles, and spent some weeks upon them. He visited St. Kitts and Dominica and Antigua and Bar badoes and Trinidad, and found the English people in charge, and although the population was mostly negroes, there was no trouble anywhere. There was no social equality, nor any, other equality. England makes their laws and they ha' e to obey them. The English rule is kind and humane, but it is firm and absolute. In those islands there are about thirty thous and whites and three hundred thous and negroes. Those negroes were emancipated in 1843S, and they are now pretty much what the were then. Some industrious, some lazy, some vaga bonds, some beggars, but all dependent upon the white man and happy in in that dependence. They have plenty f religion and are content with the present and have but little concern with the future. They cultivate the lands and make all the sugar and mo lasses. The lands are owned by En glish landlords, who live in London. Ihe governor-general is appointed by the crown, and he has enough officers and agents to enforce the laws and keep the peace. Negro policemen are appointed to keep order am~ng th negroes, and they do it. Now, what 12 the matter with this picture? Nothing. t is just the same picture that is here. Right here in this commumity we have some honest industrious negroes whc work regularly every day, and are lever, law-abiding citizens. We have others who work when they feel likE it and steal when they don't. About half the boys from ten to eighteen are sreet vagabonds, who run the streets and the depot platforms, and are ready to make a nickel at anything that 15 quick and easy. They laugh and frolic and are greaesy and ragged and dirty and smell loud, and are perfectly hap py. Sometimes they steal a half -1o1 lar's worth of something and atone foi it by breaking up rocks on the streets for a week, but they don't care so they get enough to eat. These boys are no1 the ee ation but are the rule. If thE law was enforced the last rascal o them would be in the chaingang, bul our people won't entor :o it. We don'1 want to, our feelings oi sympathy foi the little vagabonds prevent a prose cution for these little pilferings. The3 wait upon us so willingly and blacli our sces, and carry our parcels, ani bring our water, and sweep out ou offices, and carry sweet notenfrom th bys to the girls and vise versa, an< are always on hiud waiting for nickel, and so we take the bad with the good and are 3ontent. There is no volcano about them. Old England is smart,mighty smart. She gets the labor of these negroes for their food and clothing. just like she did before she freed them. That's about all the toilers get anywhere, whether white or black. Ha-3py is that race that is content with their lot. BILL ARP. THE LENTEN SEASON. The Value and Significance of the FRt, Stated by a Catholic Jcurnal. It is hardly necessary to call the at tention of our readers to the fact that we are once more upon the threshold of the penitential season of Lent, or to remind them of the important and essential duties which this period imposes. At the very outset by the solemn ceremony of the ashes, the Church impresses on our minds the necessity of preparing ourselves for that eternity upon the brink of which we at all times stand tremblingly. A moment's serious reflection upon the transitoriness of all thiugs mun dane, is all that is required to urge a thoughtful mind upon the path in which the Church lovingly and per sistently seeks to direot our footsteps. There are no considerations that affect the welfare of the Christian as intimately or as constantly as those which touch the future life. Our temporal interests and needs-the weightiest and most pressing of them -are the merest trivialities when con trasted with our spiritual ones. It is 4h.e height of folly, if indeed it deserves no stronger name, to subordinate the urgent duties that bea- upon our sal vation to the imaginary requii'einents of our mortal state. What are busi ness successes and the earthly triumph of social or intellectual effort if they are achieved at the expense of what concerns the eternity of the - oul? These are thoughts that should force themselves upon all minds at all times. There is no existence, no mat ter how deeply involved in the things of life, that can afford to turn aside from the chastening thoughts that come to it of that after life which begins with the grave. All effort and sacrifice are absolutely wasted that do not hinge upon the thought of immer tality. These are the coasiderations that the Church urgently holds out to us in all her teachings and ceremonies; they are the lessons of her festivals and her. fasts. Especially during Lent, a period of prayer and contemplation instituted in imitation of the long trial and mortification self-imposed by the Divine Saviour for the perfection of His wonderful mission, does the Church call upon us to give up our minds to holy thoughts and our lives tV holy acts. No Catholic, no matter how callous, who will thoughtfully ponder the significance of the holy season, can remain indifferent to its obligations. The commaad that calls us to prayer and a sober study of our spiritual needs, is the command of a loving and tender mother, solicitous, not for her own glory, but for the glory of God and the good of souls. There are none of us who can afford to turn a deaf ear to the summoas. Not a life time, but an eternity depends upon our dutiful response.-Catholic Mirror. A BRIDAL HORROR. Thc Groom Expires in His Newly .11arried Bride's Arms. The story of a widow of half a marri age night is the sensation of Brainerd, Mion. Thursday night was set for the marriage of Miss Lillie Dean, the daugh ter of a North side widow, to J. B. Ul mer. The latter was yard train clerk of the Northern Pacific. The ceremony was performed about 8 o'clock, and after an cvening spent in the usual felicitous manner with guests and friends the twain said good night and retired Another couple who had been brides maid and groomsman to the happy cou ple, were just leaving when there was a wild scream in the windows above, to which the bridal pair had retired. Again and again the cry was repeated, with hurry of soft feet overhead, and then a rush of a female figure down the stairway, with moans and calls fearful to be heard and never to b3 foruotten. Then open flew the stair door, and there was the bride, who but a short time be fore was so radiant, in snowy bridal night raiment. She sprang through the door and fell almost into the arms of hec sister bridesmaid. "0, God! go quick! Jimmy is dead; Jimmy is dead," was all they could understand of the mournfui cries she uttercd, as she swoon ed in her sister's arms. From various chambers swarmed members of the fam ily and guests not yet departed, all filled with consternation, surrounding the stricken form. When the groomsman started to lead the way to the bridal chamber above, the girl revived, sprang to the hallway and, taking the lamp in her bans, led the way. It was a small room. The bridal chambr-r was weirdly lighted by a lamp turned only partlj up. The bride, with her hair wildly streaming, threw herself upon an inanimatc form upon the bed. No response was made to her endear ing calls or to efforts begun by those now surrounding to bring him to life. T.Ne groom was dead. lie seemed in a natural sleep, and efforts to restore him were not discontinucd pcnding the arri val of physicians sent for, but even un der every effort at restoration the body grew into the stark. stiff signs of death. Then the horror stricken bride, who lingered still in her night robes. was re moved from her dead. Dr. Groves, the surgeon summoned, stated that death had resulted from paralysis of the heart, probably the result of nervous strain or shock coming from weakened heart. It seems that ab~out Christmas time~ the de ceased was taken with la grippe, and al though he had been confined to the house but a short time had not fully re covered. The stricken bride giving an account of the afiair, said that it was exactly 11 o'clock when she and her newly-made husband wvent up stairs, saying "good night" and "good bye." "When at last we were alone," she said "James was only usually fo-id and deearing. When our night toilets were prepared and we retired he kissed me and said 'good night,' turning to oneI side from moe. Almost instantly a strange, awful sound escaped from' his lips, which startled me. It was like a smothered cry from nightmare. I sprang up and endeavored to raise him. Fail ing, I fled; and you know the rest." TIhe bride of this horrible experience is a medium-sized brunette, inclined to plumpness, with black hair, large dark eyes, a really handsome face and good form. She is 19 years of age. A TALE OF HORROR. SICKENING DETAILS OF THE PRISON OUTRAGE AT KARA. Women PrLonern, Drifen to Despair, Seek to Starve Themselves--Subject to Revoltina Brutalities, by Their Beastly Guards--Male Prisoners Attempt Whole sale Suicide. Further details ofthe outrage in the political prison at Kara have reached Russian exiles in London, from friends who are located a short distance from the scene of the horror. They are brief but conclusive, confirming fully the report of the affair received there from an official in St. Petersburg, who is in sympathy with the cause of the people. According to the details just received, it appears that trouble at the Kara prison originated in a '-hungry strike" in August, when the women political prisoners tried to starve them selves to death to escape the brutali ties of their jailors. All the women imprisoned thero abstained from food for fourteen days. The jailors did not believe that they would be able to keep up the struggle. At first they jeered at the women, then tempted them with food and then finding this of no avail, threatened them. When several of the women were at the point of death from their voluntary abstinence from food, the prison olficials resorted to artificial means to compel them to take nourish ment. The methods adopted, however, were violent and licentious and the women wejre compelled to abandon their strike. Abominable outrages followd-& were of daily and hourly occurrence. This state of affairs led Madam Sigida, whose death by flogging has already been announced, to ask for an inter view with the doctor of the prison in the hope of securing an amelioration of the condition of the prisoners. This request was granted, but when she was taken before him, she found him abusive. It was said that in her indig nation at his abuse she called him a villain and slapped his face. It is not positively known, however, what took place during the interview, but what ever did happen, Madame Sigida did not return to her companions. She was taken from the Director's office and conveyed to the prison in which com mon offenders are confined. Three of her companions from among the roliti Cal prisoners were permitt ed to join her. The advices just received state that these were Mary Koalesey, vife of Professor Koalesky, of Kieff, Ma dame Smirnitsky and Maria Kolujny. The last two ladies were from Odes sa. Two months elapsed after the event before the Agent, Baron Koreg, Gov ernor General of the Province of Amour, instructed the directors of the prisons that the edict of March, 1888, which ordered that political prisoners should be treaed-by risovofficials in precisely the same manner as crimi nals condemned for common law of fenses, would be enforced, and ordered the directors to notify the political prisoners of both sexes that they would be liable to corporal punishment if they violated certain of the prison regulations. The male prisners, fore seeing immediate danger, held a con sulation and sent to the director of the prison a petition that he would tele graoh to the Minister of the Interior at St. Petersburg, requesting him to suspend the application of the edict. The director refused to pay any atten ion to their petition and thereurpon the men warned him that the flogging of a political prisoner would be the signal for the others to commit suicide together. Three days afterwards, Baron Koreff sent a special order that Madame Sigi da be flogged acoording to the regula tions and the ordor was executed to the fullest extent. Madame Sigida was stripped and received 100 lashes. She was carried off bleeding and in an unconscious condition and her death ensued from rupture of the heart. Her three companions committed suicide within an hour of the time of hearing of Madame Sigida's death. The corp ses of the four women were buried at the same time in the court yard of the common offenders' prison, For weeks the cordon of vigilance was so closely maintained around the prison that nothiug was know of what was happening within. Since the secret channel of information has been reopened it has been learned that the men carried out their Lhreat of suicide. They met together and thirty of them shared what poison they could obtain and then went to their cells to die. The quantity of poison which had been smuggled into the prison was not suffi to kill quickly, but in the course of the evening two of those who had shared it, Bebookor and Koluzry died. Their convulsions and the death scene which reigned in other cells roused the attention of the guards, and they immediately summoned physicians, who adninistered emetics to the sur vivors and endeavored by every means to counteract the effects of the poison. A Kind-Hearted Woman. Mr Fainwed: 'Then you refuse to marry nme?" Mrs. Mamnchance: "For the present I must. My husband is in good health, and we are the be2; of friends." Mr. Fainw ed. "And you can give me no encouragen'ent?" Mrs. Mainchance: "I will keep your address, and if a vacaney should occur I will drop you a line." (N. B.-This happened in Chicago, of course ) Generous Touth. Mother: "Tommy, I hear you got a thrashing in school to-day." Tommv: "yes ma, the teacher whip. ped me, ~but he is getting so old and weak that it didn't hurt mnch." "Did you cry?" "Oh, yes; I bawled so you could have heard me on the next block." "Why did you do that?" "I wanted to make the old man feel happy once more." D)ick IHawes Hanged. BIRMINGHAM, Ala., Feb. 28.-Rich ard Hawes was hanged today at 12.30 p. in., and in twenty-one minutes the body was cut down and delivered over to his brother. The crime for which Hawes paid the pegity with his lifa was the murder of his wife and two children, Mary and Irene, Tues day morning, December 4, 1888. -Senator John W, Daniel, the great Virginia orator, will deliver the address at the reunion of Confederate Veterans to l'r at A tlanta Apny 9a AN ALLEGED SLATE. What a Drummer Sav% is the Programme of the March Convention. "Watch Ben Tillman and the March Convention of farmers," said a drum mer yesterday to a reporter for the News and Courier, "and you will see some developments. I have been around a great deal recently to the various towns in the upper part of the State, and the farmers are quiet over the Convention, but some of the local politicians are comforting them selves with a great deal of clap-trap about the failure of the Ward Conven tion to nominate a ticket. The steady, well-to-do farmers do not Eeem to take any interest in the Convention, and I doubt if the Convention will be a representative one. At all events the Convention will be held.- The leaders of the Farmers' Movement will see to that. And a ticket will be nominated with a whoop and a loud hurrah. You wil likely see the following names on the ticker, a: least from what I can hear.the following ticket has been made up: "For Governor, Benjamin R. Till man, of Edgefield. "For Lieutenant Governor, John W. Ferguson, of Laurens. "For Secretary of State,M. L. Don aldson, of Greenville. "For Attorney General, Y. J. Pope, of Newberry. "For Adjutant General, Hugh L. Farley, of Sp trtanburg. "For Comptroller General, E. T. Stackhouse, of Marion. 'These names are on the slate, but of course, may be erased before the Convention meets. The rest of the tis - ,nnt made up, so far as I can leai u.Ut Ben Tillman will fix all that, and he be the nominee for Governor without a dou . It is, of course, only a rumor, but these man-es were given me by a good Farmers' Movement man."-News and Courier. Governor Hill Must Explain. It is now time for Governor Hill to tell what he knows about the election of 1888. The parties "of the second part" say they bought the Presidency of Lim that year, giving him the Gov ernorship in exchange. What has he to say? M. Ainsworth, Republican, in the New York Assembly, on Feb ruary 27, 1889, said in defense of an alleged deal between Governor Hill and the Republican managers over the Capitol ceiling job: "We ought not to have left it in the hands of Commis sioner Perry and let the politics take care of itself, and we would have had a Democratic President instead of a Republican, if we had done it." The New York Tribune, an even better authority, said in its issue of the 14th of the present month: "Many pe fancy, because Governor ' 511!Hpd New York when President Ole was defeated, that a plurality/of the voters in the State would support him again. But intliat ciatest as many peole here well know, Hill succeed ed only because he was able to sell a presidency for a governorship." This is a confession that the Republi can managers bought the election of Mr. Harrison by the sacrifice of their candidate for Governor. It is also a charge that Governor Hill corruptly bartered away the interests entrusted. to him by his party. Somethingneeds to be done to vindicate the Governor His having a majority when Mr. Cleveland had not is a suspicious cir. cumstance. The Republican confes sions cited above create a presumption that something is wrong.-Baltimore Sun. Facts For Farmers. If a hen lays one egg a week she will pay all expernses of keep. Every, egg over is profit. The greater the number of eggs secured the lower the cost of each egg proportionately. A system of farming which does not provide in an economical way for a re turn, in an available form, of the soil constituents carried ofE by the crop rais ed cannot otherwise but prove ultimate ly a financial failure. John C. Willis, who lives on the farm formerly owned by his father in Talbot county, Ga., says there are good chestnut - rails now in use on the farm that were split by the Indians when they owned that country. A correspondent says that algood way to teach a calf to drink is to pnuch the' pith out of a corn cob, put the cob..in the calf's mouth and put the nose in the milk in the pail. -. A complete change of the soil in flow er pots is sometimes necessary, and will enabi: a plant to secure more food and row better. If the same soil is used oo long, it may become unfit for the health of the plants, as well as harbor worms and parasitic insects. The successful farmer must raise good stock, and he shouild know the history. and merits of the various improved breeds of stock; but how many farmers make the mistake of their lives by blindly raising common stock, saying and believing that fine stock is no bet ter. An acre in fruit, especially of straw berries, will sometimes pay better than five acres of grain. It should pay the farmer to have a sufficiency of fruit for his own usc alone. A large quanity can be canned for winter use, and it affords an agreeable change without much cost. Sugar production was greatly stimu-. lated in Southern Russia by a high tar iff, but the profits of the business led to over production and caused prices to drop to five cents a pound. To encour age exports, the Government has lately voted a bounty of one and two-fifths cents per pound for all sugar exported until the exports reach seventy-two mil lion pounds. An additional bounty of nearly one cent per pound is grantedifor the earlier exportations. Jake Kirain to Retire. Jake Kilrain is about to retire tem porarily from the fistic arena. He has been on the down grade for some time and has recognized that it will, b~e wise to taccept the friendly advice 6f~ Muldoon and others. Rheumatim'ra something else has been gradually ge ting hold of him, and he can hardly . close up his hands, his right shoiirder" i lame and his legs very sore. It-has. been decided that he go to Hot. Springs as soon as possible and re. main there for five weeks. In order to defray the expenses of the trip a benefit will be given him. 2hil Dwyer and Dave Gideon, the New York turfmen, and Geo. A. Kessler and other friends have subscribed $100