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E R Are in many respects like other ulcers or U L E R 'Ores, and this resemblance often proves fatal. Valuable time is lost in fruitless efforts to heal the sore with washes and salves, because the germs of Cancer that are multi plying in the blood and the new Cancer cells which are constantly develop Skeep uthe irritation and discharge, and at last sharp shooting pains announce the approach of the eating and sloughing stage, and a hideous, sickening cancerous sore begins its destructive work. FnPbrG1, 1899, I noticod a Small deucer osore c . i lump on my lower lip. The doctor cau No ulcer or sore can exist with- terized it but anothcr came and broke out some predisposing internal cause out into an open sore. I bean to take that has poisoned the blood, and the S. S. S. and after I had taken seven bot ope dichagin uleror he estr-ties the placa healed entirely and no open dischargeig ulcer, or thefester- signs of the disease htve been seen ing sore on the lip, cheek or other w. . rown, Hollands, S. C. IPart of te body will continue to Ispread and eat deeper into the flesh unless the blood is purified and the ncer germs or morld matter eliminated from the circulation. S. S. S. cleanses the blood of all decaying effete matter. It has great tdot an purifi prerties that soon destroy the germs and poisons and restore the blood to its natural condition. And when pure blood is carried to the ulcer or sore the healing process begins, the discharge ceases and the place heals over and new skin forms. S. S. S. is a strictly vege table blood purifier containing no mercury or minerals of any description. If you have an ulcer or chronic sore of any kind, write us about it, medi cal advice will cost you nothing. Books on Cancer and other diseases of the blood will be sent free. THE SWIFT SPECIFIC CO., Atlanta, Ga. CAROLINA PORTLAND CEMENT CO., CHARLESTON, S. C. IKIDUIAN Fire Brick, Fire Tile, Arch Brick, Bull-Head and All Special Tiles. ALSO FINEST PREPARED FIRE CLAY. Carload Lots. Less Than Carload Lots. Stoves and Ranges. For the reason that 0. K. Stoves and Ranges stand alone from a point of merit without competition; For the reason and because ot the wonderful success achieved, together with the most udprecedented general all-round satisfaction given and the verdict handed downr by the people who hav e used them, that O. K. STOVES and RANG1ES are U nequaled, Un approached, Better Than the. Best, We have discarded all other lines of Cook Stoves from our floor and sel Housekeepers, we invite you to see this truly mnagnif.cent line of Stoves and Ranges, they are built for service. We have an exdellent assortment of Plain and Decccrated Lamps from which you could select, and our line of Crockery is allyvou could desire to replenish your stock from. We have the goods at all prices, Shichswen ure oth Lode Shells, Powder and Shot. Caps, Leg gins and Huntess' Coats, Cartridge Belts and the handsomest line of SSingle and Double Guns ever shown here. Come to see us. Very truly yours, Manning Hardware Co. -AT We have just received a ONEl THOUSAND DOLLAR stock of Shoes. We bought out a concern at 50c. on. the Dollar and as we have no room for so much additional goods. hav ing a full stock on hand, we will sell them at First Wholesale Cost Price Until the goods are entirely disposed of. All these Shoes are new, fresh and clean gtoods, all in the latest desirable styles, and it is a rare and good chance for all who want to save money in this line. over.0 M. M. KRASNOFF, Prop. BRING YOUR Job Work TO THE TINES OFFICE. -.1tyC Railph CHAPTER XIV. GRAEME'S NEW RTH. T_ HERE was more left in that, grave than old man Nelson's dead bo'dy. It seemed to ine ti,~ that Graeme left part at least f his old self there with his dead friend and comrade in the quiet coun try churchyard. I waited long for the old careless, reckless spirit to appear, but he was never the same again. The hange was unmistakable, but hard to efine. He seemed to have resolved his life into a definite purpose. He was hardly so comfortable a fellow to be with; he made me feel even more lazy and useless than was my wont, but I respected him more and liked him none the less. As a lion he was not a success. He would not roar. This was disappointing to me and to his friends and mine, who had been waiting his return with eager expecta tion of tales of thrilling and blood thirsty adventure. Ilis first days were spent in making right, or as nearly right as he could, the break that drove him to the west.: His old firm-and I have had more re spect for the humanity of lawyers ever since--behaved really well. They prov ed the restoration of their confidence in his integrity and ability by offering him a place In the firm, which, how ever, he would not accept. Then, when he felt clean, as he said, he posted off home, taking me with him. During the railway journey cf four hours he ardly spoke, but when we had left the town behind and had fairly got upon the country road that led toward the home ten miles away his speech came to him in a great flow. iis spir its ran over. HIe was like a boy re turning from his first college term. His very face wore the boy's open, itno cent, earnest look that used to attract men to him in his first college year. His delight in the fields and woods, in the sweet country air and the sunlight, was without bound. How often had 1 we driven this road together in the old days! Every turn was familiar. The swamp' i where the tamaracks stood straight and slim out of their beds of moss; the brule, as we used to call it, where the pine stumps, huge and blackened, wvere I half hidden by the new growth of pop- 1 ars and soft maples; the big hill, where we uscd to get out and walk when the roads were bad; tne orchards, i here the harvest apples were best nd mest accessible-all had their1 nemories. It was one of those perfect after ions that so often come in the early anad.n summer before nature grw yeary with the heat The white gravel oad was trimmed ori either side with Lurf of living green, close cropped by < he sheep that wandered in flocks along s whole length. Beyond the pictur ~sque snake fences stretched the fieldsI f springing grain, of varying shades of reen, with here and there .a darki drown patch, marking a turnip field orI ummer fallow, and far back wvere the voods of maple and beech and elm, ivith here and there the tufted top of a nighty pine, the lonely representative f a vanished race, standing clear ibove the humbler trees. As we drove through the big swamp, I vhere the yawning, haunted gully lungs down to its gloomy depths, raeme reminded me of that night 4 vhen our horse saw something in that I ;ame gully and refused to go past, and felt again, though it wvas bread day- I ight, something of the growsormenss :hat-shivered down my back as I s::w H .n the moonlight the gleam of a white < :hing not far through the pine trunks. 1 As we egzh eaica iwme tie houses jecame familiar. Every house had its I :ale. We had eaten or slept in most E )f them; we had sampled apples and :herries and plums from their or ~hards, openly as guests or secretly as i narauders, under cover of night-the 4 nore delightful way. I fear. Ah, hap y days, with these innocent crimes 4 .d fleeting remorses, how bravely we I raced them, and how gayly we lived :hem, and how yearningly we look1 ack at them now' The sun was just pping into the treetops of the distant I ivoods behInd as we came to the top I )f the last hill that overlooked the val ey in which lay the village of River- j ale. Wooded hIlls stood about it on I1 :hree sides, and where the hills faded 1 )ut there lay the millpond sleeping and milling In the sun. Through the VIl- 4 age ran the white road, up past the )ld frame church and on to the white 4 aianse hiding among the trees. That i as Graeme's home and mine, too, for had never known another worthy of I :he name. We held up our team to' ook down over the valley, with its ampart of wooded hills, its shining ond and its nestling village. The eauty, the peace, the warm, loving 4 omeliness of the scene, came about ur hearts; but, being men, we could 1 ad no words. "Let's go!" cried Graeme, and down he hill we tore and rocked and sway d, to the amazement of the steady1 cam, whose education from the earli st years had impressed upon theIr I ninds the criminality of attempting to 0 anythIng but walk carefully down a I ill, at least for te-thirds of the way. 1 ?hrdugh the village, in a cloud of dust, I -e swept, catching a glimpse of a well 1 nown face here and there and flinging salutation as we passed, leaving the wner of the face rooted to his place InI stonishment at the sight of Graeme vhirling on in his old time, wvell known ckless manner. Only old Dune Mc Leod was equal to the moment, for as aeme called out, "Hello, Dune!" the )ld man lifted up his hands and called ack in an awed voice:1 "Bless may soul! Is it yourself?" "Stands his whisky well, poor old hap" was Graeme's comment. As we neared the church he pulled ip his team, and we went quietly past :he sleepers there, then again on the ull run down the gentle slope, over :he little brook and up to the gate. He 2ad hardly got his team pulled up be ore, flinging me the linles, he was out ver the wheel, for coming down tihe ivalk, with her hands lifted high, was x dainty little lady, with the face oft in angel. In a moment Graem'e had er In his arms. I heard the faint cry,1 'My boy, my boy!" and got down on Lhe other side to attend to my off Liorse, surprised to find my hands trem ling and my eyes full of tears. Back apon the steps stood an old gentleman, with white hair and flowing beard, handsome, straight and stately, "We-omie nome, my lad!' was is ritiing as lie kissed his son, and the :.::o:' of his voice and the sight of the xvo non kissing each other, like wom q,, scnt me again to my horses' heads. -There's Connor, mother!" shouted ,t .raene, and the dainty little lady, n her black silk and white lace, came ut to me quickly, with outstretched "You. too, are welcome home," she ;ad and kissed me. I st<od with my hat off, saying some hin.gi about being glad to come, but ishl g that 1 could get away before should make quite a fool of myself, 'or as I looked down upon that beauti Nl face. pale, except for a faint flush pon each faded cheek, and read the tory of viin endured and conquered, nd as I thought of all the long yea's f waiting and of vain hoping, I found y throat dry and sore, and the words rould not come. Dzt her quick sense neoded no words, and she came to my .elp. "You will find Jack at the stable," he said, smiling. "le ought to have een here." The stab!e Why had I not thought f that before? Thankfully now my iords came: "Yes, certainly, I'll find him, Mrs. |raeme-. I suppose he's as much of a capcgrace as ever." And off I went o look up Gracme's young brother, wlho had given every promise In the ld days of developing into as stirring rascal as one could desire, but who, s I found out later, had not lived bese years in his mother's home for othing. "Oh. Jack's a good boy!" she an wered. smiling again, as she turned oward the other two, now waiting for .er upon the walk. The week that followed was a happy ne for us all, but for the mother it was full to the brim with joy. Her ;;eet face was full of content, and in er eyes rested a great peace. Our lays were spent driving about among he hilis or strollIng through the ma le woods or down into the ttfamarack anamp, where the pitcher plants and .he swamp lilies and the marigold aved above the deep moss. In the enings we sat under the trees on the awn till the 'stars canie out and the ight dews drove us in. Like two lov rs, Graeme and his mother would -ander off together. leaving Jack and e to each other. Jack was reading >r divinity and was really a fine, man y fellow, with all his brother's turn r Rtugby, and I took to him amazing , but after the day was over we ~-ould gather about the supper table, nd the talk would be of all things nder heaven-art, football, theology. L'he mother would lead in all. How uick she was. how bright her fancy, ow subtle her intellect, and through !ll a gentle grace, v-ery winning and eautiful to see! Do what I would, Graemne would alk little of the mountains and his ife there. "Mv lion will not roar, Mrs. Graeme," complained. -"ie simply will not." "You should twist his tail." said rack. "That seems to be the difficulty, rack," said his mother, "to get hold of s tale." "Oh. mother," groaned Jack, "you lever did such a thing before! How oud you? Is it this baleful western ifucnce?" "1 shall reform, Jack," she replied )-ghtly. "But, seriously, Graeme," I remon trated, "you ought to tell your people t your life, that free, glorious life in he mountains." "Free! Glorious! To some men per iaps!" said Graeme and then fell into lenec. But I saw Graeme as a new man the might he talked theology with his 'ather. The'old minister was a splen id Calvinist, of heroic type, and as he iscoursed of God's sovereignty and lectin his face glowed and his voice aug out. Gramne listened intently, now and hen putting in a question, as one ould a keen knife thrust into a foe, )ut the. old man knew his ground and noved easily among his ideas, demol\ shing the enem'y as he appeared with aunty. grace. In the full flow of hIs riumphant argument Graeme turned him with sudden seriousness. "Lcok here, father. I was born a ~alvinist, and I can't see how any one vith a level head can hold anything dse than that the Almighty has some dea as to how he wants to run his uni *erse, and he means to carry out his dea and is carrying it out. But what vould you do in a case like this?" Then he told the story of poor Billy 3reen, his fight and his defeat. "Would you preach elction to that :ap?" The mother's eyes were shining with The old gentleman blew his nose like trumpet and then said gravgly: "No, my boy. You don't feed babes vith meat But what came to him?" Then Graeme asked me to finish the ale. After I had finished the story ' f 3illy's final triumph and of Craig i )art in it they sat long silent till thge nister, clearing his throat hard and owing his nose miore like a trumpet han ever, said, with great emphasis: "Thank God for such a man In such place' I wish there were more of us ke him." " should like to see you out there, ;ir," said Graeme admiringly. "You'd ;et them, but you wouldn't have time' Or election." "Yes, yes," said his father warmly; [ should love to have a chance just > preach election to those poor lads. Vould I were twenty years younger!" "It Is worth a man's life," said ~raeme earnestly. IHis younger brother turned his 'face ~agerly toward the mother. For an wer she slipped her hand into his and aid softly, while her eyes shone like "Some day, Jack, perhaps. God nows." But Jack only looked steadily at her, nmiling a little and patting her hand. "You'd shine there, mother," said ~raeme, smiling upon her. "You'd bet :r come with me." She started and said faintly: "With you?" It was the first hint he ad given of his purpose. "You are ;oing back?" "What-as a missionary?" said Jack. "Not to preach, Jack-I'm not ortho lox enough," looking at his father and -hakn hs ha_-"nnt to build rnIl-j roads and lend a hand to somed poor chap if I can." "Could you not find work nearer home, imy boy?" asked the father. "There is plenty of both kinds near us here surely." "Lots of work, but not mine, I fear," answered Gracme, keeping his eyes away from hIs mother's face. "A man must do his own work." Ills voice was quiet. and resolute, and, glancing at the beautiful face at the end of the table, I saw in the pale lips and yearning eyes that the mother was offering up her firstborn, that an elent sacrifice. But not all the agony of sacrifice could wring from her en treaty or complaint in the hearing of her sons. That was for other ears and for the silent hours of the night. And next muorning, when she came down to inct us, her face was wan and weary, but It wore the peace of victory and a glory not of earth. I1er greeting was full of dignliy, sweet and gentle, but when she came to Graene she lingered over him and kissed him twice, and that was all that any of us ever saw of that sore fight. At the end of the week I took leave of then and last of all of the mother. She hesitited just a moment. then suddenly put her hands upon my shoul ders and kissed me, saying softly: "You are his friend. You will some times come to me?" "Gladly, if I may,". I hastened to an swer, for the sweet, brave face was too much to bear, and till she left us for that world of which she was a part I kept my word, to my own great and lasting good. When Graeme met me in the city at the end of the summer, he brought me her love and then burst forth: "Connor, do you -know, I have Just discovered my mother. I have never known her till this summer." "More fool you," I answered, for of ten had i. who had never known a mother. envied him his. "Ye; that Is true," he, answered shortly, "but you cannot see until you have eyes." Before he set out again for the west I gave him a supper, asking the men who had- been with us In the old var sity days. I was doubtful as to the wisdom of this and was persuaded only by Graeme's eager assent to my proposal. "Certainly; let's have them," he said. "I shall be awfully glad to see them. Great stuff they were." "But I don't know, Graeme. You see -well, hang It-you know-you're dif ferent, you know." He looked at me curiously. "I hope I can still stand a good sup per, and if the boys cvn't stand me, why, I can't help it.' I'll do anything but roar, and don't you begin to work off your menagerie act. Now, you hear me!" "Well, it is rather hard lines that when I have bcen talking up my lion for a year and then finally segureshim be will not roar." "Serves you right," he replied quite heartlessly. "But I'll tell you what I'll do-I'll feed! Don't you worry," be added soothingly. "The supper will go." And go It did. The supper was of the best, the wines first class. I had asked Gaeme abLout the wines. "Do as you like, old man," was his answer.. "It's your supper. But," he added, "are the men all straight?" I ran them over in my mind.. "Yes, I think so." "If not, don't you help them down, and anyway you can't be too careful. But don't mind me. I am quit of the whole business from this out." So I ventured wines, for the last time, as it happened. We were a quaint combnation-old "Beetles," whose nickname was pro phetic of his future fame as a bugman, as the fellows irreverently said; "Stum py" Smith. a demon bowler; "Polly" Lindsay, slow as ever and as sure as when he held the halfback line with Graeme and used to make my heart stand stilliat his cool deliberation. But ie was never known' to fumble or funk, and somehow he always got us out s~fe enough. Then thei'e were Rattraj "Rat" for short-who, from a swell, had developea into a cynic witp a sneer, awfully clever and a good enough fellow at heart; little "Wig" Martin. the sharpest quarter ever seen, and Barney Lundy, center scrimmage, whose terrific roar and rush had often struck terror to the enemy's heart and who was Graeme's slave. Such was the party. As the supper went on my fears be gan to vanish, for if Graeme did not roar he did the next best thing-ate and talked q'uite up to his old form. Now we played our matches over again, bit te~rly lamenting the "ifs" 'that had lost us the championships and wildly ap proving the tackles that had saved and the runs that had wmde the varsity rowd go mad with delight and had won for us, and: as their names came up in talk we learned how life had gone with those who had been our comrades of ten years ago. Some suc ess had lifted to high places, some failure had left upon the rocks, and a few lay In tlieIr graves. But as the evening wore on I began to wish that I had left out the wines, for the men began to drop an occasion al oath, though I had let them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had been. But Graemee smoked and talked and heeded not till Rattray swore by that name most sa red of all ever borne by man. Then Graeme opened upon him in a cool, slow way:. "What an awful fool a man Is to damn things as you do, Rlat! Things are not damned. It is men who are, and that is too bad to be talked much about. But when a man fings out of his foul mouth the name of Jesus Christ"-here he lowered his voice "it's a shame; it's more-It's a crime." There was dead silence. Then Rlat tray replied: "I suppose you're right enough. It Is bad form. But crime Is rather strong, I think." "Not If you consider who it is.'" said Graeme, with emphasis. "Oh, come now!" broke in Beetles. "Religion is all right It Is a good hn and, I believe, a necessary thing or the race. But no one takes serious ly any longer the Christ myth." "What about your mother, Beetles?" put in Wig Martin. Beetles consigned him to the pit and was silent, for his father wvas an Epis opal clergyman and his mother a saintly woman. "I fooled with that for some time, Beetles, but it won't do. You can't build a ireliglon that will take the dev il out of a man on a myth. That won't do the tr'ick. I don't want 'to argue about It, but I am quite convinced-the myth theory is not reasonable, and, be ides, it won't work." "Will the other work?" asked Riat tray, with a sneer. "Sure," said Graeme. "I've seen it." "Where?" challenged Riattray.' "I haven't seen much of it."I "Yes, you have, Rattray; you know you have," said Wig again. But Rtattray ignored him. . n Iol tell vn, boys," said rname. "I want you to i:now anyway why I believe what I do." Then he told them the story of old man Nelson. from the old coast days, before I knew him, to the end. He told the story well. The stern fight and the victory of the life and the self sacrifice and the pathos of the death appealed to these men, who loved fight and could understand sacrifice. "That's why I believe in JTesus Christ, and that's why I think it a crime (o fling his name about." "I wish to heaven I could say that," said Beetles. "Keep wishing hard enough, and it will come to you," said Graeme. "Look here, old chap," said Rattray. "You're quite right about this. I'm willing to own up. Wig is correct. I know a few at least of that stamp, but most of those who go in for that sort of thing are not much account." . "For ten years. Rattray," said Graeme in a downright matter of fact way, "you and I have tried this sort of thing," tapping a bottle, "and we got out of it all there is to be got, paid well for it, too, and, faugh, you know it's not good enough, and the more you go in for it the nore you curse your self. So I have quit this, and I am going in for the other." "What? Going in for preaching?" "Not much-railroading. money in it -and lending a band to fellows on the rocks." "I say, don't you waht a center for ward?" said big Barney In his Ceep voice. "Every man must play his game in his place, old chap. I'd like to see you tackle it, though, right well," said Graeme earnestly. And so he did In the after years, and good tackling it was. But that is an other story.. "But, I say, Graeme," persisted Bee tIes, "about this business-do you mean to say you go the whole thing-Jonah, you know, and the rest of it?" Graeme hesitated, then said: "I haven't much of a creed, Beetles; don't really know how much I believe. But"-by this time he was standing "I do know that good is good, and bad Is bad, and good and bad are not the same, and I know a man's a fool to fol low the one and a wise man to follow the other, and," lowering his voice, "I believe God is at the back of a man who wants to get done with bad. I've tried all.that folly," sweeping his hand over the glasses and bottles, "and all that goes with it, and I've done with it." "1'll go you that far," roared big Bar ney, following his old captain as of yore. "Good man," said Graeme, striking hands with him. "Put me down," said little Wig cheer fully. Then I took up the word, for there rose before me the scene in the league saloon, and I saw the beautiful face with the deep, shining eyes, and I was speaking for her again. 'I told them of Craig and his fight for these men's lives. I told them, too, of how I had been too indolent to begin. "But," I said, "I am going this far from tonight. And I' swept the, bottles into the chain pagne tub.' "I say," said Polly Lindsay, comning up in his old style, slow, but sure, "let's il go in, say, for five years." And so we did.' We didn't sign any thing, but every man shok hands with Graeme~. And as I told Craig about this a year latc', when he was on his way back from his-old land tr'~p to join GraemeE in the tnountains, he threw up his head in the old way and said: "it was well done. It must have been worth see ing. Old man Nelfson's work is no. done yet. Tell me again." And he made me go over the whole scene, with ill the detaiis put in. But when I told Mrs. Mayor after two years had gone she only said, "Old things are passed away; all things arE become new," but the light glowed in her eyes till I could not see their color. But all that, too, is another story. CHAPTER XV. COMING TO THER OwN. AMAN with a conscience is of' Aten provoking, sometimes Im. possible. Persuasion Is lost upon him. He will not get angry, and he looks at one with such a faraway expression in his face that in striving to persuade him one feels earthly and~even fiendish. At least this was my experience with .Craig. He spent a week with me just before he sailed for the old land for the pur pose, as he said, of getting some of the coal dust and other grime out of him. He made me angry the last night of his stay and all the more that he re maned quite sweetly unmoved. It was a strategic mistake of mine to tel: him how Nelson came home to us and how Graeme stood up before the var sity chaps at my supper and made his confession and confused Rattray's easy stepping profanity and started his own five year l'eague, for all this stirred in Craig the hero, and he was ready for all sorts of heroic nonsense, as I called it. We talked of everything but the one thing, and about that we said not a word till, bending low to poke my fire and to hide my face, I plunged: "You will see her, of course?" He made no prectense of not under standing, but auswercd: "Of course." "There's really no sense in her stay ing over there," I suggested. "And yet'she is a wise woman," he said, as if carefully considering the question. --. "Heaps of landlords never see their tenats, and they are none the worse." "The landlords?" "No, the tenants." "Probably, having such landlords." "And, as for the old lady, t'eer'e must be some one In the connection to whom it would be a godsend to care for her." "Now, Connor," he said quietly, "don't. We have gone over all there Is to be said. Nothing new has come. Don't tur-n it all up again." Then I played the heathen and raged, as. Graemne would have said, till Craig smiled a little wearily and said: "You exha:ust yourself, old chap. Have a pipe-do." And after a pause he added Ia his own way: "What would you have? The path lies straight from my feet. Should I quit it? I could not so disappoint you-and all of them." And I knew he was thinking of Gramec and the lads in the mountains he had taught to be true men. It did not help my rage, hut it checked my speech, so I smoked In silence till he was moved to say: "And after all, you know, old chap, there are great compensations for all losses, but for the loss of a good con science toward God what can make But, all the same, I hoped for some better result from his visit to Britain. It seemed to me that something must turn up to change such an unbearable situation. The year passed, however, and when I looked into Craig's face again I knew that nothing had been changed and tn+hat enr1d ome back to take up again his life nlone, more resolutely hopeful than ever. But the year had left its mark upon him too. He was a broader and deep er man. Ile had been living and think ing with men of larger ideas and rich er culture, and he was.far too quick in sympathy with life to remain un touched by his surroundings. He was more tolerant of opinions other than his own, but more unrelenting in his fidelity to conscience and more impa tient of half heartedness and self in dulgence. He was full of reverence for the great scholars and the grpat leaders of men he had come to know. "Great, noble fellows they are and extraordinarily modest," he said-"that is, the really great are modest. There are plenty of the other sort, neither great nor modest. And the books to be read! I am quite hopeless about my reading. It gave me a queer sensa tion to shake hands with a man who had written a great book. To hear him make commonplace remarks, to witness a fa!tering in knowledge-one expects these men to know everything -and to experience respectful kindness at his hands!" "What of the younger men?" I asked. '"B3right, keen, generous fellows-in things theoretical omniscient, but in things practical quite helpless. They toss about great Ideas as the miners lumps of coal. They can call them by their book names easily enough, but I often wonder whether they could put them into English. Some of them I coveted for the mountains, men with clear heads and big hearts and built after Sandy MeNaughton's modC. It does seem a sinful waste of God's good human stuff to see these fellows potter away their lives among theories, living and dead, and end up by producing a book. They are all either making or going to make a book. A good thing ke havcn't to read them. But here and there among them Is some quiet chap who will make a book that men will _tumble over each other to read." Then we paused aid looked at each other. "Well?" I said. He understood me. "Yes," he answered slowly, "doing great work. Every one worships her just as we do, and she is making them all do something worth while, as she used to make us." He spoke cheerfully and readily, as if he were repeating a lesson well learn ed, but he could not humbug m1. I felt the heartache in the cheerful tone.. "Tell me about her," I said, for I knew that if he would talk it would do him good, and talk he did, often forget ting me, till, as I listened, I found my self looking again. into the- fathomless eyes and hearing again the heart searching voice. I saw her go in and out of the little red tiled cottages and down the narrow back lanes of the vil lage; I heard her voice In a-sweet, low song by the bed of a dying child or pouring forth floods of music in the great new hall' of the factory town near by, but I could not see, though he tried to show me. the stately, gra cious lady receiving the country folk in her home. He did not linger over that scene, but went back again to the gate cottage where she had taken him one day to see Billy Igreen's nmother. "I found the old woman knew all about mne.".be said simply enough, "but there were -many thinis about Billy she had never heard, and I was glad to put her right on some points, though Mrs. Mayor would not hear it." He sat silent for a little, looking into the coals, then went on ina soft, quiet voice: "It brought back the mountains. and the old days to hear agiin Billy's tafes in his mother's voice and to see her sitting there in the very dress she wore the night of the league, you remember -some soft stuff with black lace about. It- -and to hear her sing as she did for Billy. Ah! Ah!" His voice unexpectedly broke, but in a moment he was master of himself and begged me to forgive his weak ness. I am afraid I said words that should not be said, a thing I never do except when suddenly and utterly up set. "I am getting selfish and weak," he said. "I must get to work. I am glad to get to work. There is much to do, andit is worth while, if only toskeep one from getting useless and lazy." "Useless and lazy!" I said to myself, thinking of my lifeebeside his and try ing to get command of my voice, so as not to make quite a fool of myself, and for many a day those words goad ed me to work and to the exercise of some mild self denial. But, moie than all else, after Craig bad gone back to the mountains Graeme's letters from the raiiway construction camp stirred one to do unpleasant ddty long post poned and rendered uncomfortable my hours of most luxurious ease. Many of the old gang were with him, both of lumbermen and miners, and Craig was their minister, and the letters told of how he labored by day and by night along the line of construction, carry ing his tent and kit with him, .preach ing straight sermons, watching by-sick men, writing their letters and winning their hearts, making strong their lives and helping them to die well when their hour came. One day these letters proved too much for me, and I packed away my paints and brushes and made my vow nto the Lord that I would be "useless and lazy" no loti,"er, but would do something with myself. In consequence - found myself within three weeks walkIng thiLondon hospitals, finishing my course, that I might join that band of men who were doing something with life or, If throwing it away, were not losing it for nothing. I had finished being a fool, I hoped, at least a fool of the tuseless and luxurious kind. The letter that came from Graeme in reply to my request for a position on his staff was characteristic of the man, both new and old, full of gayest humor and of most earnest welcome to the work. Mrs. Mayor's reply was lIke herself: T knew you would not long be content with the making of pictures, which the world does not really need, and would jcin your friends in the dear west, making lives that the world needs so sorely. But her last words touched me - strangely: Iut be sure to be thankful every day for your privilege. * * It will be good to think of you all, with the glorious moun tains about you and Christ's own work in your hands. * * Ah, how we would like to choose our work and the place in which to do it! The longing did not appear in the words. but I needed no words to tell me how deep and how constant it was, and I take some credit to myself that n my reply I gave her no0 bidding to join our band, but rather praised the work she was doing in her place, tell ing her how I had heard of it from Craig. The summer found me religiously do ing Paris and Vienna, gaining a more perfect acquaintance with the extent and variety of my own ignorance, and so fully occupied in this interesting and wholesome occupation that I fell out with all my correspondents, with the result of weeks of silence between us. Two letters among the heap waiting [Continued on next pane.] Bears the The Kind ways Beft Sgnatn of GeotS. Hacker &Son MANUFACTURERS OF C-7 CDU Doors, Sash, Blinds, Moulding and Building Material, CHARLESTON, S. C. Sash Weights and Cords, Hardware and Paints. Window and Fancy Glass a Sbcialty. TO CONSUMERS OF Lager Beer., We are now in position to ship our Beer all over the State at the following prices: EXPQRT. Imperial Brew-Pints, at $1..0 per doz. Kuffheiser-Pints, at .... 90c per doz. Germania P. M.-Pats, at 90c per doz. GERMAN MALT EX \.I RACT. A liquid Tonic and Food for Nursing Mothers -and Invalids. Brewed irom. the'highest grade of Barley Malt and Imported Hops, at........$1.10-per; doz.-. For sale, by all Dispensaries, pr send in your orders direct. Aul orders shall have our prompt and careful attention. Cash must accompany all.orders. THE. GERVIANIA BREM I0C CO., ' Charleston,, S. C. . YELLOW POISi In your blood ? Phiysicians call It raarial Germ. Itcand eseen - changing red bloodyelloW-muden microscope. It works 'da'y and night. First, it turns yourconit plexion yellow. ChRI, aching -sensations creep down your backbone.- You feet weak and worthless. ROBERTS CHILL TONIC wilistop the trouble now. It~ - enters -the blood at once and. drives Out the yellow poison. If neglected and when Chis, Fevers, Nlght-Sweatsand agen eral break--down come later on, Roberts' Tonic wi cure you then-but why wait ? Prevent future sickness. The mnned.e turers know all about this yet low poison and have perfected Roberts' Tonic to drive It ost, nourish your system, restore~ appetite, purify the blood, pre vent and cure Chis, Fevers and Malaria. it has cured thous..- / ands-It wiU cure you, or -your money back. This is fair. Try It. Price, 25 cents. THE R. B. L.ORYEA DRUC STORE. *THOUSANDS SAVED BY This wonderful medicine posi tively cures Consumption, Cought Colds, Bronchitis,Asthma, Pneu monia, Hay Fever, Pleurisy, La Grippe, Hoarseness, Sore Throat Croup and Whooping Cough~ Every bottle. guaranteed. No Cure. No Pay. Price 50.&$I. Trial bottlekree. The R. B. Loryea Drug Store, W HE N YOU COME' TO TOWN CALL AT SHAVING SALOON Wbich is aited up widL al eye to the comfn ort of bai~ cn~ntowrs.. .. .. HAIR CUTT1LNi IN ALL STYLES, SH AVING AND SH AMPOOING Done with neatness an dispatch.. .. .. .. A cordialI inivitation, J. L. WELL.S. Mainning Times Block. Carolina Portland Cement Company, Charleston, S. C. GAGER'S White Lime Eas no equal for quality, strength and ~ooerage. Packed in Heavy Cooper .ge and Standard Cooperage. Also dealers in Portland Cement, [osendale Cement. Fire Brick, Roofing Papcrs, Terra Cotta Pipe, etc. w.C. DAVIS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, MANNING, S. C. JOS. F. RHA.'1E. J. H. LESESNE. RHAME & LESESNE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, MANNING, S. C. J. S. WILSON. W' C. DURANT ILSON & DURANT, Attorneys and Counselors at Law, ~MA NNING,. C.R