Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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The Barnwell- People Largest Circulation in the Count? IT WAS OPiliY A DKKAM. A Confed«r»i« Veteran Looks Thlrtjr Vears Ahead lo Kind ihe Last bur trltrosa. . Carolina Spartan.. After reading much about the reun Ion of Veterans in Charleston and patiently bearing the burden of years and unremitting labor for a living, at the close of a long, lingering May day, 1 vent to bed with the chickens and •oon deep aleep came to my tired body It was not long,- perhaps about mid night, wnen the wheels of time were roiled back and 1 was in Virginia again with the boys. K. E. Lje, Stonewall Jackson, A. P. Hill and Longstreet were in the saddle. The boys In gray, or any color of cloth they could get, were oamped on a hundred hills, and the dream picture wou'd rapidly change and tk^re would be the drums/ and marching and fun and frivolity, and t en the booming of cannon and then the Interminable line of blue with shining guns and bayonets would rise up in the distance, in dreams that blue line is always a hateful thing. Tne Confederates may shout themsel ves hoarse for Dowey and Shatter and Wheeler. They may tight for the stars and stripes,but their dreamt s re always true to the convictions of l&il. Awak ing from that dreim I was rather glad I was not in camp in Virginia, but in a quiet home. I rej deed in a restored country and felt tiiat even the blue was not such a hateful color, only in dreams. Again sleep overcame mo and the cogs In the wheel 0( time had some how slipped and the old machine wav clicking off 19.'<0. 1 was at a railway •tatlon and on a large poster I read "G and Reunion of the Hi C. V., at Petersburg, Va., July 4, IttiJO." 1 began to take In the situation. The general commanding the U. C. V. wat a nine teen year old private at the surrender All the generals, colonels captains and even quartermasters and chaplains of the army had’passed away. The boy who surrendered at the age (ft 20 al Appomattox was now 85 v Even the 16-year old boys who went in tbe last few months of the war were 80. 1 made up my mind to go to Petersburg where the curtain went down nn the last act. where great aciors were forced to withdraw from the greatest drama of the century. 1 wanted to see the remnant of tbe old army as they came together for the last time. Duly a few of them were left here and there. Year by year the roll had been growing shorter and shorter. Now the surviv ors of the whole army of the Confed eracy could be called Inlets than half an hour. But my dn-am gave coloring to tue scene and pictured the remnant of the grandest army of tbe nlheteenth century as highly honored, the ob served of all observers, occupying the high seats la all the high places. But dreams ars very disappointing. They go by contraries. Instead of honor there was absolute want of recogni tion. Whfen the first section of the train bringing visitors from North Carolina rolled in, I thought 1 .would certainly see a few of the survivors of Chanceliorsvllle and Appomattox lean ing on the arms.. n uI w thNir 800s And daughters. Hut not one did l see. Tbe sons and the daughters with maids of honor by the hundred came In, but not a single Veteran. Tbe next section came In with tbe legend “ Sponsors of the Confederacy." 1 thought sure these youug pjople had the remnant of tbe North Carolina Veterans in their charge. But they came tripping out, each sponsor with six maids of honor, and each maid with two young men dancing attendance. Tnis line was thicker, U not longer than Liu’s line around P. tershurg in the winter of 1864 and 1865. But there wa^ no sign of a veteran in that merry crowd and no Knowledge of one. A little convert tatlon with some of tbe more affable indicated that they had got Light Horse Harry Lie and U E Lee mixed Some of them had an idea that Stone well Jackson was the hero of>Ncw Or leans. The; could not tell whether it was Semmes or Sampson that wa<«8ucb a terror on the seas In the old Confed erate days. The did not know whether the Crater was in Petersburg or Santi ago. Turning sadly from them i looked for tbe coming of the Palmetto divis ion. When the first section relied in sight with drums beating and banners flying my heart bounded with joy when I felt that the sturdy sons and grand sons would bring in triumph the few survivors of the Palmetto State. I was getting lonesome and longed , for the friendly touch of even a conscript who had woyn the grey. But sponsors by the hundred came pouring out of the train and then a thousand maids of honor with their attendant khtghts Prom another division that rolled up 1 hoped still to see the veritaole veteran brought forward in triumphal proces sion. But instead of that 1 saw a long line of sons and grandsons, each with a roil in hit hand and dignity enough in tread for a whole company of Vete rans. I said, who are these und why do they come? The Keply was : "These are the Governor, Lieutenant Lover nor, Speaker of the House, chairman of committees, heads of departments, representatives of all charitable and penal institutions, together with a half dozen select orators from each county, all of whom are prepared to make speeches." In great mercy the angel of sleep then opened my eyes and 1 was thank ful that It was only a dream. - CHAPTER JX. THK INTKRrKKTKR. To Mary's surprise the table was only laid for two persons n man's table lit was small and was spread with a nice clean doth and ser viettes: Us dominant note was a ernet stand. "Take that seat,” said Alan Htarey with a gesture to a chair, a simple lunch, I warn yon. If I cat a big meal now. 1 am no good for the rest of the day. Some people like a regular jinuer at midday. I believe it means apoplexy if yon^ only eat enough arid sleep soon emftigh afterward. What have yon today, John?” “An omelet, sir,” said John, “and mid heel uud-sahui. ” “A luncheon for a king, if the ome let and salad are properly made. Don't yon think so, Mrs. Conway?” sai^ Man Stacey "l do," said Mary, wondering whether she ought to he honest and say that n dish of scrambled eggs was the nearest appVoach to an oigelet that she hud ever tasted in her life. . "I have a little Frenchwoman who makes Ixrth.toperfection,” he,went on “Some people like to make a ^salad at table. 1 don't. 1 know several oelight- fnl houses where it is the task <»f the yonfig ladies to dress the salad, und they do it with a diffidence which re unite in Iputhliness Tell Maltide that this.omelet is excellent, John.” "Very good, sir." Mary nto her portion and,allowed herself to be persnnded into taking.a little more, bnt she refused wine and persisted in taking only water. “I most keep my head clear, ” she said firmly. 1 want to do your work and myself justice this afternoon. ” Alan Stacey tried hard to overrule her. because, as he said, they ought to have a mild celebration of their first day's work and their first meal togeth- eh It is true that ho liked and respect ed her the better that she held firmly to her point. “When the book is finished, Mr Stacey." she said, "if yon then think my work worth celebrating, I will do living had upon Alary Conway. She was still quite young, little more than __ —^ a girl, and during all her early years It was essentially 'romance and the joy of life had never had any chance of growing and flourish ing within her. There is nothing of romance’ about the life of a boan^chool mistress, more especially when ni^V tho continual in- It will i>e flnence of q^ftmner who never forgot her gentility or that her daughter was the child of a gentleman. The-board school mistress who can lovol and he .loved again by n young man whose sphere is the same as her own, a young man whose aims and ambitions are on a 1ev*jl with her own, can revel in ro mance as entirely as the hero of a novel A Ludicrous Incident —A ^hUa delphla real estate man, when go ng through a vacant house the other even ing to see that all was well, heard * •light noise behind him, says an ex Change. Turning slightly he saw the form of a man. As tbe broker was not Armed he did not lik? the idea of meat log a burglar In combat, and besides he la very timid, so he rushed to the door and fumb'ed with the lock, all the time yelling at the top of his lungs. When be got the door open he looked beck and saw that the " burglar ’’ was really hla own reflection in the large drawing room mirror. He had no aooner made this discovery than he wee seizsd by two policemen, who were attracted hr .his screams, and it took nearly a half hour for him to ezplein that he was the- housebreaker himself. ^ —At ea assemblage cf noted men « year or two ago, a lawyer who con duct* tbe legal business of a great ra ; r’ way ayatem tried to “guy the parson ’ In the person of tbe late Bishop Wli Hama of Cjnnecticut, by maliciou* quizzing. At last he aaid : “ Why don't yon get these railway manager- to give you e pasa over-.their reals bishop ? Von can pay for it by giving them entrance tickets Into heaven "Oh, no,” gsetly replied the bishop. " I would net part them so far from l In the other world." And l/n n !>< </«n <i s/kII of huril work it with pleasure As yet yon don't snow whether 1 have not made the most fearful “linsh of yiiur -work or whether I may not tarn out to be ten times more aggravating/than either Miss Blunk or the good gentleman who did not mind waiting.” * “1 don't tliiilk so.” lie said in n tone -of conviction. ^ His instinct proved tu’lie correct, ns .the instinct u^ca man who has given his life up to tho studa fit character nsnal- ly is. After a delightful luxurious half hour of chat Mary went back to tho study and began to work, and by 6 •o’clock had finished her transcription of Iho niorning’s work. Alan Stacey, Vbo was as keenly interested in the result of the experiment us she was, came in from tlie garden and read over the fair typewritten pages. He did not speak till he had read to the end. "Mrs. Conway,''' he said then, “yon are a perfect treasure. Can yon keep it up'?" “How?" - . / “Yon have taken me down literally, Word for word, point for. point. You have caught the exac t spirit of my iejea. Mrs. Conway, if you can keep it np we shall get on splendidly.” ■ She had flushed up scarlet in her ex citement and suspense.and Alan Stacey, looking n't her, said to himself that surely his star hud been in tiie ascendant when such a dainty creature had sud- denlyjfallen from the skies in lieu of the bulldog features apd staring goggle, eyes of the patient individual who had but’just left him.* “I am .80-glad,” she said with her pretty, shy Air; “so proud to be aide to help you. I'll try hard never to be any thing but your interpreter.” 'He laughed alond and held out his band. “That's a good name for yon, Mrs. Conway,” he said. "I can never say \my typist dors this’ or ‘mystenog rapher does that.' You're not my sec retary, and it would sound pretentious to call yon so. But ‘interpreter’—that's a splendid name for yon. I shall always call yon by it. And so he did. She went that very evening and looked at various rooms in the neighborhood, fixing on some in a quaint out of the world nook which they call Parson’s Green. I don’t mean all that intricate bewilderment oTBSiAll, featutvleae, mean little streets which lie between Fulham palace and the cemetery, hut a corner on the other side of the railway line, a corner which then wasstiH rejoicing in tall old trees and spacious wide fronted houses, such as kept an air of dignity about them which came as a surprise to the stranger wandering through the neighborhood. x And then began a long spell of hard work, ypt work that wae intensely en joyable in character. It is almost im- poeeiblef < adequately to describe the effect which this way of earning her or the lord of the manor. A young girl may spend her life in the stuffy class room of the state schools and yet invest her lover with all the tender and idyllic romance of a knight of old, bpt if she is cut off by class grade from inter course with those men among, whom she is thrown by circumstances nil the romance which may be in her heart is of necessity bottled np for sheer want of an outlet: Mary Conway? frail and delicate of being as she was, gentlewoman to her finger tips, a girl in whom all tbe signs of g<M)fl breeding were present to a very marked degree, was of a nature in which romance was indigenous, and un til the time when she became'associated 4n work with Alan Stacey, the novelist, no sort of ontlet hud afforded itself, and all the natural lovo in her heart had been pent up until it wa* fiHed nigh to bursting and was ready to over flow at the first kind word from a sym pathetic soul, at the first touch of a kind hand, at the first glance of a pair of magnetic eyes. In Alan Stacey. Mary found not an employer, bnt an idol. From the first day she worshiped him. I know that it is not a commonly accepted idea that a woman should love a man at first aight. In a sense she did not do so, and yet she idolized him. The jiossibility that one day she might he something more to Alan Stacey than his interpreter never for a moment entered her head. But she loved him' with a dim, faroff, almost a religions, feeling. He was so brilliantly clever ls»th in his work—for wheie were such vivid, brilliant, haunt ing hunuru books to lie found as those which Lire his name?—and in himself. There were times when he worked at fever heat untiringly, restlessly, almost puseiott»t*dy :-times, when the fit wason him, w hen be almost wore her out call ing on her to como early and to stay 4n*e; times when they snatched their meals and when she went home to her lied dug tired and brain weary. Yet always with the same charm and sweetness of way. "Mrs. Conway, I must get on with this while the idea is alive in me — You'll help me through it, won't yon?” or “Need you go? 1 know it's time, hut cannot we take a little holiday wiieu it’ir done? Surely it s best to make hay while the sun shines. " ► - - At such tiim-s M.irv (’cmvay w-.iuM willingly rather have died than have failed him At others he would- laze through the days, letting his work slip intii.brilliant, easy gossip, telling her his nb-Hs,- bis hopes, his aspirations^ making her look over his great collec tion of stamps, help to arrange his au tographs, discussing furniture or the next smart little tea party that he meant to give, and ’apparently wholly unconscious that she took any more in terest in him thgp the man wise waited had done. ” . . "What was your father?” ho asked hot suddenly between the pauses of his work one day when Christmas w-as drawing jpear. ."A clergyman He was curate of Elphinstowe, ” she replied. “Ah, you were young wh< a bodiedV "Yes, quite a child.” “And.your mother?” “She died after I was married.” “I see Foigive me for asking. Bnj were you long married ? Well, of course you couldn't have been, you are still so young. But did you lose”— "I lost my husband only a few months after our marriage, ” Mary snid, rising suddenly from her place at the little table w here she worked and going to the fire, where she stood nervously holding her hand out to the warmth and keeping her face half turned away from him. “He was—he was—I mean was he— was he”— ' “He was a sailor, captain of one of The Red River line or steamers, ” said,' .Mary almost curtly. “He was drowned. ” There wa^ n moment's silence. ’"It must hjjvTlieen a great shook to yon,” he said a't last. Hv* was busily occupied With a paper knife and a slip of note paper and xpoke in a studiously indiffer ent tone its if tirt-y were discussing sonni question almolutely impersonal to both of them.. "It killed my mother,” said Alary, still warming her hands. “And you ?” He rapped out the ques tion in a strange, breathless fashion. Alary looked aside at him. ‘“Why do you ask me this- Air. Stacey ?’^8be asked brusquely. “I was beginning to be happy, to forget all the horrid past. I’ll tell you. and then never, I entreat yon. speak of it again. I sold myself beeguse mV mother was ill and because she yearned to lie well off. I was hottest with hi in. and he professed so much. I told him^I did not love him, And he took me. Our marriage was a failure, a most dismal failure. I was wretched I hated and despised him. He was bit ter and mean and vindictive toward me. My poor little mother was the only one who got any sort of satisfaction . out of fhe Bargain, and she did not have ] it long. poor, soul, for the news of the | loss of tbe ArikhamA killed her, and it ; was as well, for he left every penny away frem me. As for me, I-won’t pre tend to be better than I am. I won’t "1 lost my hutband only a few months of Ur 6 Ur marHam." sham. I’ll tell you the truth. I thanked God when I found that he was gone. Yes. I did, fer I would,have put myself In the river befdreT would have lived with him agaiir**^.’’*- "He was older than yon?” “Many years. Ho is dead, and they say wo should never speak ill of - the dead. I can’t help it. He was a brute. Only a few weeks after we were mar ried he struck me. Oh! Why did yon ask me these questions? I had almost forgotten, at least I did not always think of it as 1 did at first. Why did yon ask me?” With two strides Alan Stacey was by jter side.' “My dear, my deAr, shall 1 tell you why I asked yon?” he cried. “Because I hacl’a vital interest in want ing to-know. I've always had a sort of feeling that you belonged to that dead husband of yyurs; that in; stood be tween us,'keeping us more widely apart than if all the world stood between us Can't you understand that I wanted to know —that 1 - oh, Alary, child—don't yon nnderstnnd tjiat 1 love yon and 1 cannot live without you?” CHAPTER X A NEW VKRANUEMENT. When Alan Stacey had once brolr- - the ice sufficiently to hiivq told his lovi to Alary Conway, he did not, by am means, let'the grass grow under lus feet. Mary drew back a little, partly because the pleasure of being betrothed to the man of her heart, the man of her brightest aiid most fervent admiration, was very great It was natural enough •Her first'engagement had been a dry as dust b a situ an arrangement wbicbr' was altogether in the light of u bar- . gain There was no bargain between her and Alan Stacey, only the sweet and nu.-qiokcn bargain of trust and affection, mingled with the resjiect and admiration which tiie one had for the other There was no question lie tween them as to whether he Would give her a dress allowance or as to what house* keeping money she would huvelo spend. there was no question as to whether she would be ub]j^ to do her duty by him. No; they loved each other, and that was enough for both. “But, 1 ' he urged,'"there/is no reason why we should wait. We have nothing to wait for You have no relatives, and mine do not -interfere with me. As to your vague and indefinite* suggestion a hunt clothes—well, I don’t know much about ladies' dresses, but it seems to fne that you fan get'a .couple of new frocks in a week aiid that when we edme home again you can buy as many garments as you find yon will want Don't, when we -have both iieen"lonely and wretched apart don't let our hap* pim.-s wait for anything so paltry as ■elrth<~. i.. t US be lu.-irri. d at • nee. ” “But it .Meins so siM.o,"-Riuil Mary. “Not at all We ranjiot pi*ssTbly jmll it oil under a fortnight, and we knuw each other so wvll.. There "is nothing like Working together for getting to know somebody. ” "But the story ?” she nrged. “We must tiiii'li the story. ” Alan Stacey looked grave for the first time. "Yes, 1 had forgotten the story. Little woman, what a business-head yon have! I-pruUiised it fur the end of the month, didn't I ?” » "Yes. you did." ' ^ "Yes, I should ljk._ to finish the story, hut. perhaps, cliet rtully, "ii vie were Ip push on. we might be able Ui manage it> M Tliere is still half of it to do. ’’ “And I shall want you I can’t let yon spend arTybuf ne^-ai tie- oldtyjSh writer nov. I wonder if I could work with anyhidy else?” . "You are not going to try,” said Alary, speaking in dirnled tones for tb^ first time. , "Is there nn way in-whicjvfino could ease yoii a little?"- “Uh.yxsLLet ;ue>ave a good.typist in the atternooii^ruiTl I can dictate the work off v< rp-mnch inore quickly than, l ean do jMnyself. But I don’t see why I can^Cwurk'jtist as usual. What 'HffeXe enCe is there? The fact that I know yon love life need not turn me lazy all at one©.” “No; nothing could do that. But 1 shall want you more with p* 0 - You for get, that up to now I have done my morning's work and have been free for the rest of the day, and you, poor little soul, hjive sat here fagging your heart out. as I don't mean to let you do when wf are married. <)f course I would rath er work with yon, because yen are you, 1 and you know my thoughts almost a- they come, Yon interpret me to perfec tion, But at the same time l shall want more of your society than I have ha,Pin the past." “I see noway,” said Mary, "except ing, ns 1 suggested, a typist svno will work at my dfetation. Eventually she -gave way aijd con eented to be married ‘ as sooi. as the proper arrangements could be made. Tt- was all so diir. rent from her last mar riage. Then* everything had been ar ranged for her: how. everything was arrangeiFso as pi fall in with her slight-" est wish Her first husband had bad very'little, to offer in r. vTu n put in. Comparison with Alan .Stacey. ’Captain Conway had been elderly, rough, plain and only comparatively well off. He had demanded' impossible things, ’and whin ho disitiver.-d that_ his desires Were impossible of gratification his love fof the girl ufiiom he had sworn to pro teach yon to lave me, I will kill yont” His was thitkind of natnre which says, “if I cannot bend, I will break;” th© natnre which looks at every situation of life from Us own standpoint and judges all the world entirely by its own doings- It is always this kind of na ture which is inherently dominant and essentially domineering. And how dif ferent was Alan Stacey t He, gifted, in tellectual and brilliant, was content to lay everything at the feet of the woman lie lyved—all the fame he had won, the position he had made, the wealth he had amassed. His desire was not to be his wife’s master, bnt her knight; not to feel that he was yonferring honor and status upon her, lint to assume al ways that in giving herself to him she was laying him undfer an everlasting and delightful obligation. It wasr bnt natural that Mary was not only filled wftJCMffVe, but with a boundless and unbounded admiration. This was the man at whose feet she would have been content to sit for tfie rest of her life, not daring to lift her eyes bigh«p-than his knees. This was her king among men, gifted and blessed with the right royal inheritance of genius. This rrtan wbp asked so little, who gave so much, was not one who had power only over a handful of men. No, the name with which he was en dowed was one which was known and known approvingly thronghont the world; known wherever the English Well, in due course the sTory was finished, and when tho last words had been taken down he asked her eagerly what she thqfight of it. "Give me your candid opinion,” he said. , “I think,” said Mary, “that, it is by far the greatest book that yon have ever done.” ,* » And then they were married, going quietly to chntch one morning, attend ed only by a great friend of Alan Stacey’s and the girl through whom indirectly the marriage had come alxmt —the:girl who had first given Mary the 4 idea of taking up typewriting as a seri ous profession.. Then they went hack to the Sycamores and had a dainty Ijttle lunch, at which they made miniature speeches, drank, each other’s health and were as merry asdf the party had been one and forty instead of but four persons. Then at the last aliment, just before they rose from the b>?>le, tho best man thought of something. “Aly dear chap, ” said he to the bride groom, “there is one thing about Winch yon have given me mi instruc tions What about tiie announcements (p the paper* ?” . "Need it he announced ?” asked Mary "My (Jear Airs. Stacey,” replied the best man, “it is absolutely esseiHaud? Bohemian as Stacey is—has always been—he is yet at the same time a per sona grata in eocioty. and unless your marriage is announced formally and im mediately I ain afraid that it vi^ll not be so pleasant for you when you come home again H re, give me a bituf pa per, Stacey, Tell me how you wish tiie announcement to lie worded, and I will see that it i* in nil tomorrow*! papers.” Alan Stacey got up and fetched a sheet of paper and a pen and ink from the writing table in tHo window. "Give it to me, said Mary. "This is my fiTea what tivsay. ” Sire‘took the sheet of paper from his hand and wrote clearly and firmly: "On the loth, at the parish church, Fulham, by the Rev. F. D. Johnson Brown, Alan Stue. y. only , son -of the late Colonel John Stacey, Bengal staff corps, to Alaiy Conway, (laughter of the late Rev <i. rge Hajnilton. ’‘ She handed tho paper across the table toiler husband, and he.^knoiying her well, realized instantly th.1t her horror and dt t. -t.itiun of her first marriage She took the sheet of paper from his hand and wrote clearly and firmly. had remained with her* to such an ex- langnage was spoken; flay, more than known, for it was loved. I do net wish to portray the charac ter of Alan Stacey as that of a perfect being. Indeed I must own, what Alary had found out very early in her knowl edge of him, that his besetting sin was idleness, which is the besetting sin of most spinners of stories. He was beset, too, with idleness of two kinds, the genuine and-ordinary sort-and the idle ness which afflicts tho brain worker. It is only your nobodieswho are thorough ly industrious in art. Great genius, is always subject to*what it usually calls “idleness”—in othef words, to brain fag.^ To my mind the most pathetic rec ord that we have of George Eliot is where she conveys in a letter to a friend that she has no natural desire for work and has to flog hotbrain continually so that she may get her#promised task completed in time. She, too, speaks of it as idleness. And with that same kind of idleness Alan Stacey was continually afflicted, as he was with a real love of doing nothing. In times gone by he had many a day sat down to work in tbe morning, say ing: “Now, Mrs. Conway, I have got to work today; I have got to work hard- Now, you keep me np to it” And no sooner had Alary inscribed half a dozen •Itnes in her potebook than he would get up and say. "By Jove, there’s another robin building its nest in that holly bush!” or some such remark, which was interesting enough in itself, but which did not help upon its way tbe story then in hand. And often and often Mary had had all. her work cut ont to keep him chained to his task, and after they had come to an understanding with one an- teet and cherish had been cnrionslv in- other it seemed'to her as if be never terniingled with an absolute hatred. His wnsiitbe kind of nature which to begin with says, “I will teach yon -to love mej” and afterward, "If I cannot meant to work again, as if he could not keep his mind off their plans for tbe fntnre, and as if any and every subject was more interesting to him than the lascfnatmg romance upon which they were then at work. “Yes, we will go to Monte Carlo, ’ she said at last one day, “bnt. we will not go to Monte Carlo, of to Paris, or to church, or, anywhere else until you have finished this story. Come, now, I am waiting to hear what ych are going to do with Evangeline now.” ' 'Ttbink l shall chock it up,” was his reply. - • “No, no. To that I resolutely decline to be a party. I am not coming into your life to ruin you. You have to fin- cah dream of “ IjROAlJ TIRES AND ROADS. Mr!” D. A. Tompkins, of Charlotte, N. C., has published in pamphlel form, with illustration?, an interesting ;e- sutre of the history of road building in "Mecklenburg County, North Caro lina, where already'fifty-five mile? of . macadam roads have been .constructed. %ucfi a system haviug+een successfully beeun, it has been found that the use of broad tires upon wagons using the roads will do away largely with the ex pense of maintaining them. The sub ject of broad tire© i? discussed suc- - - * - -’-‘con- - — (l ish that story before we being married. Come, pull yourself to- j cmctly by Mr. Tompkins, who iu gether. Think! Evangeline is standing clu-ion writes : at the top of the staircase wondering what is going to happen next ” tent mat she would not, even in the formal announcement, identify herself with the man who had commanded the Arikhama, the man who had bought her with a price, the man who had given her the only blow that she had ever received in the whole course of her life. - [to be cojrrxKUBDw] EDUCATED FARMERS. Whatever stimulates thought, other things being equal, induces thrift, says the Southern Farm Magazine. An unthinking farmer caunot be prosper ous; because without thought there can be no method, and without method there can be no success on the' farm. Reading suggests subjects of thought, and this, added to tho practical skill of tbe farmer, often p'-oduccs valuable results. . Jt is only the .uneducated and those who do not read-that decry agri cultural . journals and agricultural works, and, of course, are ignorant of what they condemn. Their judgment in the matter is worth nothing, because it does not rest upon competent knowl edge. ’ • A farmer is often successtul though he may not read, but it does not follow that he does not think. ' Such an one aright have been still more successful had his horizon of ibought been en larged by a systematic 'course of read ing. Every man feels instinctively that the .greater the amount of knowl edge he can bring to hear on his busi nesk the greater will bq his success provided the same exertion is used in 41 e one case as in the other. It is ab-. surb. to say that H is a disadvantage to one’s business to learn all he can jdiout his business, and yet there are manr person who maintain that 'Vcadinsr about farming is of .ho-profit, (hough tlm, same person will a'-k and follow the advice of competent farmers iu their neighborhoods. In other words, according to them, tbe advice is good if communicated, orally, but if con veyed through print it is worthless.. This unreasoning a.nl senseless preju dice, we arc glad to know, N rapidly passing stway, and many men who ten years ago felt an opposition to ami spoke in derision of agricultural jour nals are now the most ardent supporters of them "The question of transportation then is not of road construction alone. The roadbed, the vehicle and Ihe mo tive power are all prime factors enter ing into the problem and bearing ftu intimate relalion To each^ other. The roadbed eliculd not make undue de mands upon the vehicles and the mo tive power, nor should the vehicles be so constructed as to be unduly destruc tive to the roadbed. Popu ation and civilization always find a way to utilize all the factors of transportation to the best advantage. In new and unde- -ve!op£d countries like Alexico the road bed is entering a -mountain path and a vehicle and motive powef is a native. In more progressive communities a condition is reached where cbmmon dirt roads, ordinary vehicles and mules and horses are employed in transporta tion. The 'next step in road process is wheie the wide-tired vehicle and the macadam roa^ arc used. Ultimately the more pdpujous communities will reach the asphalt roadbed and pneu matic-tired motor, whose motive power is either electrical or compressed air, as is now (he case in some parts of New York city. In the latter case the perfection of road building is reached, and when the asphalt roadbed, the pneumatic tire and the motive power now used under such conditions are all perfected, tho cost of transportation will be reduced to the minimum.” Work has begun on a big exp'erimeu- tal dairy farm near Frederica, Del. Dr. Paris T. Carlisle, of Frederica, and Dr. Lester L. Carlisle, of Milford, Del., brothers and men of means, having had a long exoerience in agricultural pursu its, decided that the business of dairy (aiming could be earned on uiam a large scale to far greater advantage than in a linuied way, so their tine taims near Frederica were united. As a safe storehouse Sot gtain a modem barn will be fust erected, 125 by 50 feet, and will contain three silos with a capacity of 750 ton©. Neartbis will be. Hr: main tow stable, for sheltering in bud weather the cattle. It will be 31*2 by .’i.’l feet, having stall capacity for 150 cows. As soon as work on these buddings is completed, another barn, of the same size and dimensions as the first, will be built. The creamery building will be 1'2’2 bv 40 feet, and will he tilted with aerators, separators and all the modern i uprovoinents for mam, butter and eheesc making. As tiie light of knowledge adranccTl'™ 1 ^'! 1 a1 " 0 *>? bnildlti S f,,r ,he the clouds of ignorance, error and prejudice a.'e dispelled jurY sttciicc, with its 'ever-varying horizon. .-thrnw= its light upon every department of hu man industry, and most of all, upon ihe -business of agriculture* Within the past thiitv years it has udvenccd from an ignoble lo a iTTguifled science, and farmers should feel and know and appreciate that, in all these movements it magnifies their calling and elevates them in social influence and advances them in material prosperity. The greatest £nemy to the farmer is the farmer himself. Were he to show an eagerness and anxiety for the ele vation Of his vocation it would soon rank with the so-called learned profes sions, and the- vocation would be re garded by the mass of mankind as dis linct from the’ business of a mere la borer as that of a lawyer from a law yer's clerk or that of a physician from a mere apothecary. No occupation is so well calculated to keep in equilib rium all the powers of the mind and body. It calls forth the most varied qualifies—patience, care and diligence ; zeal, industry and economy ; tact and skill to direct and manage. No faculty of the intellect or power of muscle or feeling of Ihe heart hut what is brought into requisition by the successful farmer. Deep silence aqd pliant art must uiiitfc in him. He must not cmly know how to direct, but he must know how to execute. Let him train and prepare himself by increased knowl edge for the brilUanJ future that libs before him, and take that position in die forefront which the God Of Nature intended for him. Agriculture is the foundation of all the arts of civilization. It is the sup port of commerce, the'ground-work of national wealth, the prop and ttay and substratum of public -morals aud na tional strength. It Implies an owner ship in the soil and a consequent patri otism. Whatever class owns the land of a country should feel the deepest interest in the mental and material ad vancement of the country and in the enforcement of laws for the preserva tion of peace and the protection-of persons and property ifi that country. They should be educated and instruct ed go as to elevate the standard of civ- ilizatiou and thus exalt those human izing influences which distinguish the cultivated man from-the ignorant savage. Afore knowledge, more light, a higher social position in the,scalc of society should be the airy and end of ’every farmer in the laud. Where to plapt flowers is really more important than whatto plant. In front of bushes, in the corner by the steps, against the foundation of the residence or outhouse, along a fence or a walk— these ate the places for flowers. A sin gle p» t inia plant against a background of foliage is worth a dozen similar plant© in the center of the lawn. Too much paint may spoil the effect of a good building. The decoration of a yard, or of a house, should tc dainty. A iiltle color scattered in, here anil there, gives the finish ..to the picture.—L. H. Hailey. feet wide. These of iron. Five tone- storage of coru, .'5U structuros/will be ment dwellings, for herdo.v, farmers and ciiginct rs will be ere^M: Caterpillars have held up a train OBT the G.iitmlian Pacific'’ railway. They crept idang the road, aud m places pre sented columns m aily s.x inches deep on the rai’’*. The train came along and pluegcti tnttr the slow moving mass. Tho calerpi airs were killed by Ihe mill* ions, and their bodies got into 'In 1 wheels, around the driving nals and flinong n’l the machinery of tho loco motive, cbnipletel? clogging it and bringing the train to a standstill. Tut glass.needs scrubbing with warm water andjpap. When the dirt is re moved rinse it well with cold water. Wear your hat as little as possible if your hair is weak. Liter the flame on the forge that looked firelass and dark Bre the l>ellowK-draft quickened the (mouldering spark—* So life i* a spark; and life is n fire; And life U a (lame rising higher amt higher. —" One free "breath 6f nature ere hope dies In men And the faat-fading emberii will Waken again. Thousands of people die'ofwastisg weak ening diseases every year who by all rules of nature and reason ought to be restored to health and strength. The medicines they receive from the average doctor ac cording to regulation, stereotyped practice are mere temnorary palliatives; they do not reach down deep into the vital organism where the spark of life lies dormant wait ing to.be awakened. In numberless cases where every other remedy absolutely fails Dr. Pierce’s Golden ~ Medical Discovery breathes its strong vi talizing power upon the slumbering forces of life and wakens them into active energy, Tt quickens the digestive and blood-making glands and empowers them to supply fresh rich nourishment to all the organs and tis sues; imbues the heart and lungs with vi tality: destroying and excreting naturally from the system the bile-poisoned dregs which lurk in the circulation, thus building up neto constitutional vigor and activity. “I took a severe cold ifhich settled on my lungs and chest, and I suffered intensely." writes Mr. Harrison* Smith, of Gapcreek, Kv. "I tried several of our best physicians, anil they gave up all hope of my recovery; they said I had consumption and could not live more than a few weeks. I took five bottles of Dr Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery and am sound and well to day. I feel better than I have in ten years." Sent by prepaid exjfeS"*™ receipt of 8fic. ALLlU^TORILINlMftNT CO.. Charleston H. C. OSBORNE'S 'rL. 0