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IIONO This heading means a great deal, for it is no easy task to per wfect every department-of an establishmert like ours, to handle the volume of trade that we have every reason to expect will be tein dered to us this season. September so far has shown a very I ib eral increase over the corresponding period of last year, and if "Coming Events Cast Their Shadows Before" THIS PROMISES TO BE OUR BANNER SEASON. It is indeed gratifying to note the unusual increase in the vol ume of our business, and to say that we appreciate the confidence reposed in us, gives but a faint idea of our feelings. We regard the interest of every person that does business with us as ours, and will do everything in our power to protect them. We cannot give away gold dollars for ninety cents, no reason ...able person expects that, and wherever you find a merchant offer ing staple merchandise at less than cost, his object is to attract you to his store with a view of selling you something the value of which you are not familiar with, and make up his loss on the lead ing article. as well as, a comfortable profit on the other items. Nothing of that character will be tolerated in this store: we de Asoise it. Our business is based upon a legitimate percentage of profit. and that.figured on as close a basis as is consistent with in telligent merchandising. It is true, we sometimes sell goods at and below cost. but that only occurs at the end of a season, or when we Ave erred in buying something that did not prove to be s good a seller as we expected, or bought too freely of certain lines, then we make our loss as quickly as possible, for experience has taught us that the first loss is always the lightest. Our ambi .ton ought to be satisfied for we are said, by those vho are in a position to know. to be The Largest Retail Dealers in. the State. And while we might be satisfied to remain just in the position we are, that would be practically impossible, we must go backward or forward, and our mercantile pride will not permit of a backward step, and each year will find us in the front rank, seeking new fields, new customers, and keeping fully in touch with the spirit nd progress of the city in which we take such pride. I sill . I 17E Un IV -' * CHARLES CI Cop yright. 1900. by CHAPTER XII. HAVE directed our livery man to send over his best nag and a cutter this morn ing," said Albert at break fast the next day to his friend. "and you and Alice can take a sleigbride and see Sandgate snowelad. I have some business matters to attend to." It was a delightful day for a sleigh ride, for every bush and tree was cov ered with a white fleece of snow, and the morning sun added a tiny sparkle to every crystal. A thicket of spruce was changed to a grove of towering white cones and an alder swamp to a fantatstic fairyland. It was all new to Frank, and as he drove away with that bright and vivacious girl for a companion it is needless to say he enjoyed it to the utmost. "I had no idea your town was so hemmed in by mountains," he said after they started and he had a chance to look around. "Why, you are com pletely shut in, and such grand ones too! They are more beautiful than the White mountains and more grace ful in shape." "They are all of that," answered Alice, "and yet at times they make me feel as if I was shut in, away from all the world. We who see them every day forget their beauty and only feel their desolation, for a great tree-clad mountain is desolate in winter, I think. At least it Is apt to reflect one's mood. I suppose you have traveled a great deal, Mr. Nason?" "Not nearly as much as I ought to," he answered. "for the reason that I can't find 'any one I like to go with me. My mother and sisters go away to some watering place every summer and stay there, and father sticks to business. I either dawdle around where the folks are summers or stay in town and hate myself, if I can't find some one to go off on my yacht with me. The fact is, Miss Page," he added mournfully, "I have hard work to kill time. I can get a little party to run to Newport or Bar Harbor in the sum mer, and that is all. I should like to go to Florida or: the West Indies in the winter, or to Labrador or Greenland summers, but I can't find company." Alice was silent for a moment, for the picture of a young man complain ing because he had nothing to do but spend his time and money was new to her. "You are to be pitied," she said at last, with a tinge of sarcasm, "but still there are just a few who would envy you." He made no reply, for he did not quite understand whether she meant to be sarcastic or not They rode along in silence for a time, and then Alice pointed to a small square brown build ing just ahead, almost hid in bushes, and said: "Do you see that magnificent strue tore we are coming to, andfdo-youo no tice its grand columns and lofty dome? If you had been a country boy you would recollect seeing'a picture of 'tdIn the spelling book. Take a good -look at it, for that is the-temple of knowl edge, and it is there I teach schooll" Frank was silent, for this time the sarcastic tone in her voice was mores pronounced. When they reached It he stopped and said quietly:'"Ptease hold the reins. I want toA look into the room where you spend your-days." He took a good long -look, and when he returned he said: "So that is what you call.a teznple, is-it? Andait was in there the.litte.girl wanted to kiss you because youo-lookedhappy" And then as they drove on h~e added, "Do you know, I've-thoughtsof'thatspretty little touch of-feegln a.dzeotmensinaeyou told aboutit, and when I go home!I shall sendia box of candy to you and ask you- to do-me-the favor-ofegving it to thtttega." It was not what she expected he would say, and it rather pleased her. When they were nearly home, he said: "You are not a bit like what I Imag ined a schoolma'am was like." "Did you think I wore blue glasses and petted a black cat?" she asked laughingly. "The glasses might be a protection to susceptible young men," he answered, "and for that reason I would advise you to wear them." "Shall I get some tomorrow to wear while you are here?" she queried, with a smile. "I will if you feel In danger." "Would you do it if I admitted I was?" he replied, resolving to stand hIs ground and looking squarely at her. But that elusive young lady was not to be cornered. "You remind me of a story Bert told once," she said, "about an Irishmen who was called upon to pleA guilty or not guilty to the charge of drunken ness. When asked afterward how he pleaded he said, 'Bedad, I give the judge an equivocal answer.' 'And what was that?' said his friend. 'Begorra, whin the judge axed me was I guilty He.sat star'ng mnoodflV at tv flames. or not guilty I answered, "Was yer grandfather a monkey'?" And then be gave me sixty days.'" "Well," replied Frank, "that is a good story, but it doesn't answer my ques tion." That afternoon when Alice was alone with her brother he said, "Well, sis, how do you like my friend?" "Oh, he means to he nice," she re plied, "but he Is a little thoughtless, -a it wmnl Ao him irood to have -in ARK MUNN 3 LEE d, SHE'A'R'D : work for his living a year or two." The two days intervening before Sunday passed all too quickly for the I three young people. When Sunday morning came they of course attended church, and Frank found himself slyly stared at by all the people of Sand gate. He did not pay much attention to the sermon, but a good deal to a certain sweet soprano voice in the choir, and when after service Alice joined them he boldly walked away with her and left Albert chatting with a neighbor. On the way home she, of course, ask ed the usual question as to how he liked the sermon. "I don't think I heard ten words of it." he replied. "I was kept bustv counting how many I caught looking at me, and whenever the choir sang I for got to count. Why was it they stared at me so much? Is a stranger. here a walking curiosity?" "In a way, yes," answered Alice. "They don't mean to be rude, but a new face at church is a curio. I'll wager that nine-out of ten who were there this morning are at this -moment discussing your looks and wondering who and what you are." A realization of her cool indifference tinged his feelings that evening just at dusk, where he had been left alone be side the freshly started parlor fire, and when the object of his thought hap pened in he sat staring moodily at the flames. She drew a chair opposite and, seating herself, said pleasantly: "Why so pensive, Mr. Nason? Has going to church made you feel re pentant?" "I don't feel the need of repentance except in one way," he answered, "and that you would not be interested in. To be candid, Miss Page, I'm growing ashamed of the useless life I lead, and it's that I feel to repent of. A few things your brother said to me three months ago were the beginning, and a remark you made the day we first went sleighing has served to increase that feeling. Ever since I left college I have led an aimless life, bored to death by -ennui and conscious that no one was made any happier by my ex istence. What Bert said to me and your remark have only served to make me realize it more fully." "I am very sorry, Mr. Nason," she said pleasantly, "if any words of mine hurt you even a little. I have forgot ten what they were and wish you would. The visit which Bert and you are maing me is a most delightful break in the monotony of my life, and I sl~all be very glad to see, you again." And'then, rising, she added,. "If I hurt you, please say you forgive me, for I must go out and see to getting tea." The last evening was passed much like the first, except that now the blusve Alice seemed to be transformed Into a far more gracious hostess, and all her smiles and interest seemed to be lavished upon Frank instead of her brother. It was as if this occult little lady had come to feel a new and sur prising curiosity in all that concerned the life and amusements of her visitor. With true feminine skill, she plied him with all manner of questions and af fected the deepest interest in all he had to say. What were his sisters' amuse ments? Did they entertain much, play tennids, golf or ide? Where did they usually go summers, and did he gener ally go with them? His own comings and goings and where he had been and what he saw there were also made a part of the grist he was encouraged to grind. She even professed a keen in terest in his yacht and listened pa tiently to a most elaborate description of that craft, although as a rowboat was the largest vessz' she had ever set foot on it is likely she did not gain a very clear idea of the Gypsy. "Your yacht has a very suggestive~ name," she said. "It makes one thin of green woods and campfires.I should dearly love to take. a sail in her. I have read so much about yachts and yachting that the idea of sailing along the shores in one's own floating house, as it were, has a fascination for me." This expression of taste was so much in line with Frank's, and the idea of having this charming girl for a yacht ing companion so tempting that his face glowed. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he responded, "than to have you for a guest on my boat, Miss Page. I think It could be managed if I could only coax my mother and sisters to go, and you and your brother would join us. We would visit the Maine coast re sorts and have no end of a good time." "It's a delightful outing you sug gest." she answered, "and I thank you very much, but I wouldn't think of coming if your. family had to be coaxed to go, and then it's not likely that Bert could find the time." "Oh, I didn't mean it that way," he said, looking serious, "only mother and the girls are afraid of the water, that Is all.". When conversation lagged Frank begged that she would sing for him and suggested selections from Moody and Sankey, and despite her brother's sarcastic remark that it wasn't a re vial meeting they were holding she not only played and sang all those time worn melodies, but a lot of others from older collections. When retiring time came Frank asked that she con clude with "Ben Bolt." "I shall not need to recall that song to remind me of you," he said In a low voice as he 'spread it on the music rack in front of her, "but I shall al ways feet Its mood when I think of you." "Does that mean that you will think of me as sleeping 'in a corner obscure and alone' in some churchyard?" she responded archly. "By no means," he said. "only I may perhaps have a little of the se.me mood at times that Ben Bolt had when he. heard of the fate of his swtet AlIce." It was a pretty speech, and Frank imagined she threw a little more than usual pathos into the song after it,' but then no doubt his -imagination was biased by his feelings. When they stood on the 'nlatform the next morning awaiting ine train he said quietly: "May I send you a. few books and some new songs when I get home, Miss Page? I want to show you how much I have enjoyed this visit" "It is very nice of you to say so," she replied, "and I shall be glad to be remembered and hope you will visit us again." When- thefai+..am ea in herathar hurriedly ofered nis hand and witi a "Perinit me to thank you again" as he raised his hat turned away to gather up the satchels so as not to be witness to her leave taking from her brother. CHAPTER XIII. I N summer Southport island, as yet untainted by the tide of outing travel, was a spot to inspire dreams, poetry and canvases covered with ocean lore. Its many cores and inlets where the tides ebbed and flowed among the weed cov ered rocks, its bold cliffs, sea washed, and above which the white gulls and fishhawks ci'cled; the deep thickets of spruce through which the ocean winds murmured and where great beds of ferns and clrsters of red bunch berries grew were one and all left undisturbed week in, week out. At the Cape, where Uncle Terry, Aunt Lissy and Telly lived their sim ple home life, and Bascom, the store keeper and postmaster, talked unceas ingly when he could. find a listener, and Deacon Oaks wondered why "the grace o' God hadn't freed the land from stuns," no one ever came to dis turb its quietude. Every morning Un cle Terry, often accompanied by Telly in a calico dress and sunbonnet, rowed out to pull his lobster traps, and after dinner harnessed and drove to the bead of the island to meet the mail boat; then at eventide, after lighting his pipe and the lighthouse lamp at about the same time, generally strolled over to Bascom's to have a chat, while Telly made a call on the "Widder Leach," a misanthropic but pious protegee of hers, and Aunt Lissy read the paper. Once in about three weeks, according to weather, the monotony of the village was disturbed by the arrival of a small schooner owned jointly by Uncle Terry, Oaks and Bascom, and which plied be tween the Cape and Boston. Once in two weeks services were held, as usual, in the little brown church, and as often the lighthouse tender called and left coal and oil for Uncle Terry. Regu larly on Thursday evenings the few pLously inclined, led by Deacon Oaks, gathered in the church to sing hymns toe- repeated fifty-two times each year, to a prayer by Oaks that seldom --:1 in a single sentence, and heard . ie Leach thank the Lord for his ":ny mercies," though what they were in her ,ase it would be hard .to tell, unless being permitted to live alone and work hard to live at all was a mercy. The scattered islanders and the handful whose dwellings comprised the Cape worked hard, lived frugally and were unconscious that all around them was a rocky shore whose cliffs and inlets and beaches were so many poems of picturesque and charming scenery. This'was Southport in summer, but in winter, when the little harbor at the Cape was icebound, the winding road to the head of the island buried beneath drifts and the people often for weeks at a time absolutely cut off from communication with the rest of the world, it was a place cheerless in Its desolation. Like so many wood chucks then the residents kept within doors or only stirred out to cut wood, fodder the stock and shovel paths so that the children could go to school. The days were short and the evenings long, and to get together and spend hours in labored conversation the only pastime. It was one of those long even ings and when Aunt Lissy and Telly were at a neighbor's and Uncle Terry, left to himself, was reading every line, including the advertisements, in the last Journal, that the following met his eye: WANTED.-Information that will lead to the discovery of an heir to the estate of one Eric Peterson. a landowner and hipbuilder of Stockholm. Sweden, whose son, with his wife, child and crew, was known to have been wrecked on the coast of Maine in March, 187-. Nothing has ever been heard of said Peterson or his wife, but'the child may have been saved. Any one having information that will lead to the discovery of this child will be ~mply rewarded by communicating with NICHOLAS FRYE, Attorney at Law, - Pemberton Square, Boston. "Waal, I'll be everlastin'ly gol darn ed!" Uncle Terry exclaimed after he had read it for the third time. "If this don't beat all natur I'm a goat." It was fortunate he was alone, for It gave him time to think the matter over, and after half an hour of aston ishment he decided to say nothing to his' wife or Telly. "I'll jist breathe easy an' sag up," he said to himself, "same as though I was crossin' thin ice, an' if nothin' comes on't nobody 'Il be the worse for worryin'." Then he cut the slip out and hid It In his black leather wallet, and then cut out the entire page and burned it "Wimmin are sich curis creeters they'd be sure to want to know what I'd cut out o' that page," he said to himself, "an' never rest till I told 'em." When Aunt Lissy and Telly came home Uncle Terry was as composed as a rock and sat quietly puffig his pipe, with his feet on top of a chair and pointing toward the fire. "Were you lonesome, father?" asked Telly, who usually led conversation in the Terry home. "We stopped at Bas cor's, and you know he never stops talking.V "He's worse'n burdock burs ter git away from," answered Uncle Terry, "an' ye c':.n't be perlite ter him unless ye want t' spend the rest o' yer life listenin'. His tongue allus seemed ter be hung in the middle an' wag both ways. I wasn't lonesome," he contin ued, rising and adding a few sticks to the fire as the two women laid aside their wraps and drew chairs up. "I've read the paper party well through an' had a spell o' livin' over, bygones," and then, turning to Telly and smiling, he added: "I got thinkin' o' the day ye came ashore, an' mother she got that excited she sot the box ye was in on the stove an' then put more wood in. It's a wonder she didn't put ye in the stove instead o' the wood!" As this joke was not new to the lis teners no notice was taken of it, and the three lapsed into silence. Outside the steady boom of the surf beating on the rocks came with monot onous regularity, and inside the clock ticked. For a long time Uncle Terry sat and smoked on in silence, resum ing, perhaps, his bygones, and then said: "By the way, Telly, what's be come o' them trinkets o' yourn ye had on that day? It's been so long now, 'most twenty years, I 'bout forgot 'em. I s'pose ye hain't lost 'em, hey yey' '-Why, no, father," she answered, a little surprised. "I hope not They are all in a box in my bureau, and no one ever disturbs them." "Ye wouldn't mind fetchin' 'em now, would ye, Telly?" he continued after drawing a long whiff of smoke and slowly emitting it in rings. "It's been so many years, an' since I got thinkin' 'bout it I'd like to take a look at 'em, jest to remind mc a' that fortunate day ye came to us." The girl arose and, going upstairs, re. ~ind with a small tin box shaped like , trunk and, drawing the table up in nt of Uncl rry, set the box down en it. As he opened It she perched She watched him take out the contents. ean: ing against his shoulaer, passed one arm caressingly around his neck and, watched him take out the contents. First came a soft, fleecy blanket, then :wo little garments, once whitest mus lin, but now yellow with age, and then another smaller one of ftnnel. Pinied :o this were two tiny shoes of knitted wool. In the bottom of the box was a small wooden shoe, and.thouglbelumsy in comparison, yet evidently -fashioned to fit a lady's foot Tucked in this-.was little box tied with faded ribbn, and .n this were a locket and chain, two Ings and a scrap of paper. The writ ng on the paper, once hastily scrawled )y'a despairing mothers' hand, had al most faded, and inside the locket were .wo faces, one a man's with strongly marked features, the other girlish with >ig eyes and hair in curls. These were all the heritage of this 6vaif of the sea who now, a fair girl with eyes and face 'like the woman's >icture, wras leaning on the shoulder )f her foster father, and they told a >athetic tale of life and dcath; of ro nance and mystery not yet unwoven. How many times that orphan girl ad imagined what that tale might be; ow often before she had examined ?very one of those mute tokens; how nany times gazed with mute eyes at ,he faces in the locket; and how, as the years bearing her onward toward naturity passed, had she hoped and maited, hoping ever that some. word, ;ome whisper from that faroff land of er birth might reach her! And as she looked at those mute rel ics which told so little and yet so much >f her history, while the old man who. ind been all that a kind father coukd* >e to her took them out one by one, she realized more than ever what a lebt of gratitude she owed to him. Then he had looked them over and >ut them back in the exact order in which they had been packed, he closed the box and, taking the little hand that ind been caressing his face in his own wrinkled and bony one, held, it for a noment. When he released it the girl stooped and, pressing her lips to his weather browned cheek arose and re sumed her seat "Waal, ye better put the box away o," sa-d Unclerry at last. "I'll >'hnt anten himtle otim tcotnin." 'VEa agt ter ghoer pastone" rm arsid ngl aro rynd his c fen Fi stme oneey blaetus th e lin.'bt sarti yell ith age, and Ten anohesm a'tle on 't ban e gne tore thweetBom'nss of knited oo.n the dtan f the bo' wannin 'smball ooenghoen."og~cus inocompalionye dipldomacyNotondd Seto inven'sfot Tuesone ehxcuse or oittl by ectiegwth fersbof, both aco thias wlceadcin, toe engl du thempe, onc e hatlay e riy aofespis moter handTl ad wel-. nost saed iad isie the lCapet ee :wo fandcommne one, an wit stonglya aedtteratresof t ther Unclis Try Butgo ye Bsohem tand htorinocrls Tihes weenl the rite nd nthei if aosa thepest wof nocauri gsil vatheyehs Yandkeae ikthewma' At Barfoter aher an heyhold wa thet teof ifen and dea ofumo >famneyn frmyhsrno yetl sanwoe. How" hemay toimsehat o"I'd bettr ind. aI nee whtida tale ma-h bawe; oWhn oftebfre snhal nihad riexamuind hich one of i the mtokns; haorw isn ies andethough mut copays at rrhedce in Botohe fet ad how woul h ras bariieg her nasrangeoar 'eturity padsted had sheif hisedlfn tgaint theopetmting htsmwordhi some, whose fromtt fro wolad ofk 1er bitre migh reacher!td fieo And ea sih looke aTer thoke uters csiousch atol ittccuandt. s mc baWbe ll that an kIdo fahr you?" bed oefe hertokte oustone had neo "Waralize answred thncleverry whta ngb of gattde saighes owedo tohm Woor heie hm, looke theme ove rande t curis brack. ind theactn ode the ;ich he had bfen packedforecposce h box wad, knh ite han thFry badyee'crighs face brightened. "Inkler gand o onee, editfr. Ter -y,"ohed sand, pessning toerb lis toands ather. browneu chaeek aroy facts re searchefr sat.ert hi saew "Whall bedtt pyuf them away no, dUncle Terry oe atth lawyer -a~l ntmentenr e answerig totrni. "I said' Ule er to al Ifew aefstg ofe dasatr. "Ilowa' buthsoshpmec aon go duutae nre tatn'll gitar yout fust Tel ant tnow tho lighslon for thupe nihs> a'ty? Iwn't." gn Innta Fryeo's nto stae meoup "This plan hawot benany ery wat oss, de toughtoacy. tnle said bI'havt invennt a riertysonal discuse mt ing byno excitn farsof cantes alys h, but asued hat aly the En.armall youlmae like it Cae ervey >fe mvalee, werwll eiteow to "Ian rcomned on andt netc on was betterift,"replfItda Uncle Terry. " in't cum theed ofokinter ay, not eto ite tat smaltewaso crious gossipe taxe h'igs gotke true. AtWBath sir, haidFri a fwhusuait andce we too he ankn drwo sumth "Lawyer artie serced shaps onmust m"ersad thiamaf dbtteroftiim n esae awaits liel clant, btak :imntd mus nesdtakle ai lawyer detity bosnd th sht." dub Whrden, afte anu allnit ide, tdusting whic e satone." sokn arwt his chln wnn- S aumo- ane nger while he deliberated, "I 'pose I may as well tell ye fast as.last I cum, here for that purpose, .an' alLNIt~vanlct fix is, if thar's nothin' in -it-ye'd. keep It a secret an' not.raseianyfalsehopes In the minds o' -them'as'sinear, and dear to me." "It's a lawyer's professional duty never to disclose any business confi dence that a client may confide to him," answered Frye, with dignity, "and in this matter I infer you wish to become my client Am I right, Mr. Terry?" "I didn't cum here exactly purposin' to hire ye," answered Uncle Terry. "I cum to find what's in the wind, an' if 'twas likely to 'mount to anything to tell all I knew an' see that them as had rights got justice. As I told ye in the fust on't, I'm keeper o' the light at the end o' Southport island, an' have been for thirty year. "One night in March, just nineteen year ago comn' this spring, thar was a small bark got a-foul o' White Hoss ledge right off'n the p'int and stayed thar hard an' fast. I seen her soon as 'twas light, but thar was. nothin' that could be done but build a fire an' stand an' watch the poor critters go down. Long toward noon I spied a bundle workin' in, an' when it struck I made fast to it with a boat hook an' found a baby inside an' alive. My wife an' I took care on't and have been doing so ever since. It was a gal baby, and she growed up into a young lady. 'Bout ten years ago we took out papers legally adoptin' her, an' so shlz' ourn. From a paper we found pinned to her clothes we learned her name was Etelka Peterson. an' that her mother, an' we supposed her father, went down that day right in sight o' us. Thar was a locket round the child's neck an' a couple o' rings in the box, an' we have kept 'em an' the papers an' all her baby clothes ever since. That's the hull story." - "How did this child live to get ashore?" asked Frye, keenly interest ed. 'That's the curis part," replied Uncl4 Terry. "She was put in a box an' tied 'tween two feather beds an' cum ashore-dry as a duck." Frye stroked his nose reflectively, stooping over as he did and watching his visitor with hawk-like eyes. "A very well told tale, Mr. Terry," he said at last. "A very well told tale indeed! Of course you have retained all the articles you say were found on the child?" "Yes, we've kept 'em all, you may be sure," replied Uncle Terry. - "And why did you never make any official report of this. wreck and of the facts you state?" asked Frye. "I did at the time," answered Uncle Terry, "but nothin' cum on't.' I guess my report is thar in Washington now, if It ain't lost" "And do I understand you wish to retain me as your counsel in this mat ter and lay claim to this estate, Mr. Terry?" conthined Frye. "Waal, I've told ye the facts," re plied Uncle Terry, "an' if the gal's got money comin' I'd like to see her git it . What's goin' to be the cost o' doin' the business?" "The matter of expense Is hard to state in such a case as this," answered Frye cautiously. "The estate is a large one. There may be,.and no doubt will be, other claimants. Litigation may follow, and so the cost is an uncertain one. I shall be glad to act for you in this matter and will do so If you re tain me." It is said that those who hesitate are lost, and at this critical moment Uncle Terry hesitated. He did not like the looks of Frye. He suspected him to be what he was a shrewd, smooth, plausible villain. Had he obeyed his first impulse he would have picked up his'hbat and left Frye to wash his hands with invisibl'e soap, and laid his case before some other lawyer, but. he hesitated. Frye, he knew, had the matter in his hands and diight make the 'claim that his story was false and fight it with all the legal weapons Uncle Terry so much dreaded. In the end he decided to put the matter in Frye's hands and hope for the best "I shall want you to send me a de tailed story of this wreck, sworn to by yourself and wife," said Frye; "also the articles found on this child, an4d I will lay your affidavits before the at torneys for this estate and report progress to you later on." When Uncle Terry turned .his face toward home his pocket was lighter by $200. "I s'posed I'd git skinned," he mut tered to himself after he was well on his way home. "an' I reckon I. have! A lawyer knows a farmer at sight, an' when he ketches one he takes his hay! Ie's taken mine fur sartin, an' I begin to think I'm a consarned old fool, that don't know 'nuff to go in when it rains! How I'm goin' to git the wimmin to give up them trinkets 'thout 'lowin' I've lost my senses is one too many fur me!" CHAPTER XV. T effect of Albert Page's vig rous efforts to attain success ~was not lost upon his friend Frank. After their Christmas visit to Sand gate Albert had applied himself dili gently to the care of Mr. Nason's legal needs. This brought him Into contact with other business men, and the fact that .Tohn Nason employed him easily secured for him other clients. In two months he not only had Mr. Nason's affairs to look after, but all his re mining time was taken up by others'. He had spent several evenings at the Nasons' home and found the family a much more agreeable one than Frank had led him to espect. Both that young man's sisters were bi-ight and agreeable young ladies, and though a little affected, they treated him with charming courtesy and extended to him a cordial invitation to have his sister make them a visit. Since the day he had shaken his fist at the closed door of Mr. Frye's law of fice Albert bad met that hawk nosed 3awyer twice and' received only a chill ing bow. The memory of that con temtble contractitheihad-tactlY-alow edFrye to-consder'es enrbrought a :luhttohBfaceevery time he thougbt' of It, but he kept his own counseL Once orece-hebadibee.~On the point of-ellIng.Frank the whole story, but hadirefrnined. Inghishintlente relations -with John that-' Frye's --insinuation against that busy man's character was entirely false. Mr. Nason seldom spent an egennswarYfromhiabome,dandswhen bter thiry ii. tnangt rn mnmatn .relattans, and .a'day seldom passed.that~ankxidinotestep into'his -offeforacat. "Don't nind me,.Bert," that uneasy man ;would -~ when, he saw that Pagewas'b adon'twan1t S[CONTINUED ON PAGE 6.]1 STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, 1larsaenn cunsaty. COURT OF COMMON PLEAS. J. Arthur hodge. Vermelle E. Jervey, Eugenia Rhame. Kate McFaddin, Al len C. Harvin. James C. Broughton, Lillie Davis, Sallie Hodge, Jan Tborton Harvin, by his guardian ad litem E. G. Flowers, Plalitiffs. against Sarah Nelson, Fannie J. McFaddin, Suan Brock, Clara Bates, Charles R. Harvin. Hattie Kaminer. W. Scott Harvin. Charles E. Broughtou. Jackson E. Broughton, William S. Broughtoa, Leo Melle Nelson, Mary Cantey Weeks, Naomi Clara Brough ton, Napoleon L. Broughton, John J. Broughton. Kathleen C. Fletcher, Elizabeth B. Fletcher. Sarah Harvin, James Harvin, May G. Harvin, Mat tie Harvin. and Edward D. Harvin, Defendants. NOTICE OF SALE. BY VIRTUE OF A DEREE BEAR ing date June 7th A. D. 1905 rendered in the above entitled action by the said Court I will sell at the Court House at Manning in the said County, on the first Monday in November, A. D. 1905. (the same bing the 6th day of said month) within the legal hours of sale, at Public Auction, to the highest bid der for cash, All that certain parcel or tract of land situated in the fork of Black River, in the district, (now) County of Claren don, and State of South Carolina, con taining four hundred and fifty-one acres, bounded on the ' North and North Eas, formerly by lands of M. H. Plowden and now of Mrs.- Annie D. Ingram: bounded on the East and South-East by lands formerly of Wil liam E. Plowden, later of Samuel Plow den, and now-of or claimed by D. W. Alderman; bounded on the South by lands formerly of Colonel Thomas Su ter, and said lately to -have been claimed by R. W. Fann, and now said to be claimed by T. E. Smith; bounded on the South and South-West by lands formerly of John M. Hodge -and now said to belong to James Montgomery and to the children or heirs at law of W. B. Plowden, or to his Estate; and to T. T. Hodge. respectively, and bounded on the North-West by lands formerly of John M. Hodge and now of Ben H. Harvin, and land formerly of M. H. Plowden, now of Mrs. Annie D. Ingram. A plat of the said prem ises being on file in the records of the above stated action. In case the person or persons to whom the said premises as ther 'aid sale, may be struck off shall for the space of thirty minutes. thereafter fail or refuse to comply with his, her, or their bid, then under the- terms of said decree, said premises shall forthwith be resold at the risk of the former purchaser or purchasbrs. The purchaser on said. sale will, be required to pay for the sheriff's con veyance of the property. 1 E. B. GAMBLE, I Sheriff of Clarendon County. Thomas N mmer GROCER and FRUITER I desire to call attention to the public that my store is head quarters for all kinds of season able Fruits, which I sell' at wholesale and retail. My stock of .. Choice are e - y confection sore s te, andlIamn sol atown for Lahrney's 3hocola tes and other Candies. Remember. that bhsides an immense stock of Cigars and Tobacco, Jewelry and Fancy Goods, I andle the best of Farnily Groceries at close margin prices. At my store can always be found a full supply of those things that are needed for a good dinner. I want the pubhic to visit my store and look at my line of Novelties, and as to prices and quality of goods, I boldly declare 1 defy competition. Thomas SNimmer. - HOLUSTER S ocky Mountain Tea Nuggets A BSay Medicine for Basy People. hnags Golden Eealth and Renewed Vigor. A snecille for Constipation. Indigestion, Live El oo , adBreath. SlugihBwleaae and Backache. It's Rocky Mountain Tea in tab. Jet form, 35 cents a box. Genuine made by HoL,svEz D)ar Cocrrrr'i, Madison, wis. GOLDEN NUGGETS FOR SALLOW PEOPLE THE SUMMERTON HOTEL Having made special preparations, I am now better preparedI to entertamu the traveling public than' ever lbefore I especially invite the transient pat ronage. ~ H. A. TISDALE, Proprietor.