Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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/ Ft* A -'CDWaiGHT. /COOK'D EPDODE fN TOE LIPE OF AMELIA BUTTETO V^s-BYANNA KATHAWNC CPEEN^* AITTHOI? OF'/HELEAVCNVADRIH CATE* " DEHIND CUV'ED £5000/* ‘THAI APfAlB NEXT DOOB 1897, BY ANNA It. ROMLF/ - CIC. EC CHAPTER XL MEN, WOMEN AND GHOSTS. Mr. Simsbury gave me quite an ami able oow as I entered the coach. This made it easy for me to say: “You are on hand early this morn ing? Do you sleep in the Knollys’ house?” » The stare he gave me had the least bit of suspicion in it. “I live over yonder,” he said, point ing with his whip across the interven ing woods to the main road. “I come through the marshes to my breakfast; my old woman says they owes <no three meals, and three meals I shall have. ” It was the longest sentence with which he had honored me. Finding ho could talk, I prepared to make myself agreeable, a proceeding which be seem ed to appreciate, for he began to sniff and pay great attention to his horse, which he was elaborately turning about. “Why do you go that way?” 1 cried. “Isn’t it the longest way to the vil lage?” “It’s the way 1 am most accustomed to,” said he. “But we can go the other way if you like. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of Deacon Spear He's a wid ower, you know. ’ ’ The leer with which he said this was intolerable. I bridled up—but no, I will not admit that I so much as manifested by my manner that I understood him. 1 merely expressed my wish to go the old way. He whipped up the horse at once, al most laughing outright. I began to think this man also capable of most any wicked deed. He was forced, however, to pull np suddenly. Directly in our road was the stooping figure of a wom an. She did not move as we advanced, and so we had no alternative but to stop. Not till the horse's head touched her shoulder did she move. Then she rose up and looked at us somewhat in dignantly. “Didn’t you hear us?” I asked, will ing to open conversation with the old crone, whom I had no difficulty in recog nizing as Mother Jane. “She’s deaf—deaf as a post, ” mut tered Mr. Simsbury. “No use shouting at her. ” His tone was brusque, yet 1 noticed he waited with great patience for her to hobble out of the way. Meanwhile I was watching the old creature with much interest. She had not a common face or a common manner. She was gray, she was toothless, she was haggard and she was bent, but she was not oi Unary or just one of the crowd of old women to bo seen on coun try doorsteps. There was force in her aged movements and a strong individu ality in the glances she shot at us as she backed slowly out of the roadway. “Do they say she is imbecile?” I asked. “She looks far from foolish to me." “Hearken a. bit, “said he “Don’t you see she is mattering? She talks to herself all the time. ” And in fact her lips were moving. “I cannot hear her, ” 1 said. “Make her come nearer. Somehow the old crea ture interests me. ” He at once beckoned to the crone, but he might as well have beckoned to the tree against which she had pushed her self. She neither answered him nor gave any indication that she understood the gesture he had made Yet her eyes nev er moved from our faces. “Well, well,” said I, "she seems doll as well as deaf. Yon had better drive on. ” But before he conld give the necessary jerk to the reins I caught sight of some pennyroyal growing about the front of the cottage a few steps be yond, and pointing to it with some eagerness I cried: “If there isn’t some of the very herb I want to take home with me! Do yon think she would give me a handful of it if 1 paid her?” With an obliging grant he again pnlled up. “If you oan make her un derstand,” said he. I thought it worth the effort Though Mr. Gryce had been at pains to tell me there was no harm in this woman and that I need not even consider her in my inquiries I remembered that Mr. Gryce had sometimes made mistakes in jnst such matters as these and that Amelia Butterworth had felt herself called upon to set him right. If that could happen once, why not twice? At all events, 1 was not going to lose the least chance of making the acquaintance of the peo ple living in this lane. Had he not him self said that only in this way could we hope to come upon the clew that had eluded all open efforts to find it? Knowing that the sight of money was the strongest appeal that conld be made to one living in snch abject poverty as this woman, making the blind to see and the deaf to hear, I drew ont my purse and held np before her a piece of silver. She bounded as if she had been shot, and when I held it toward her she came greedily forward and stood close beside the wheels looking np. “For yon,” I indicated, after making a motion toward the plant which had attracted my attention. She looked from me to the herb and nodded with quick appreciation. As in a flash she seemed to, take in the fact that I was a stranger, a city lady with memories of the country and this hum ble plant, and guing to it with the same swiftness she had displayed in advanc ing to the carriage, she tore off several of the sprays and brought them back to me, holding ont her hand for the money I had never seen greater eagerness and l think even Mr. Simsbury was as- douiKiied at this pnxif of her poverty or her greed. I was iucliued to think it the latter, for her portly figure was far from looking either ill fed or poorly cared for. Her dress was a decent calico and her pipe had evidently been lately filled, for I could smell the odor of to bacco about her Indeed, as I afterward heard, the good people of X. had never allowed her to suffer. Yet her fingers closed upon that coin as if in it she grasped the salvation of her life and in to her eyes leaped a light that made her look almost young, though she must have been fully 80, if not more “What do you suppose she will do with that?” I asked Mr. Simsbury, us she turned away in an evident- fear I might repent me of my bargain. “Hark!” was his brief response. “She is talking now. ” I did hark and heard these words fall from her quickly moving lips: “Seventy; 38, and now, 3 or 10, which shall it be?” Jargon; for 1 had given her 25 cents, an amount quite different from any she had mentioned. “Seventy!” She was repeating the figures again, this time in a tone of al most frenzied elation. “Seventy 1 Thirty eight, and now 3 or 10! Won’t Lizzie be surprised! Seventy! Thirty”— 1 heard no more—she had bounded into her cottage and shut the door “Waal, what do you think of her now?" chuckled Mr. Simsbury, touching up his horse “She’s always like that, saying over numbers and muttering about Lizzie. Lizzie was her daughter Forty years ago she ran off with a man from Boston, and for 38 j’ears she’s been lying in a Massachusetts grave. But her mother still thiuks she is alive and is coming back. Nothing will ever make her think different. But she’s harmless, perfectly harmless. You needn’t bo afeard of her. ” This because I cast a look behind me of more than ordinary curiosity, I sup pose. Why were they all so sure she was harmless? I had thought her expression a little alarming at times, especially when she took the money from my hand. If I had refused it or even held it back a little, I think she would have fallen upon me tooth and nail. I wish ed I could have had a peep into her cot tage. Mr. Gryce had described it as four walls and nothing more, and indeed it was not only of the humblest propor tions, but had the look of being a mere shanty raised to protect her from the weather. There was even no yard at tached to it, only a little open place in front in which a few of the commonest vegetables grew, such as turnips, car rots and onions. Elsewhere grew the forest—the great pine forest through which this portion of the road ran. Mr. Simsbury had been so talkative up to now that I was in hope he would en ter into some details about the persons and things we encountered which might assist me in the acquaintanceship I was anxious to make. But his loquacious ness ended with this small adventure 1 have just described. Not till wo were well quit of the pines and had entered into the main thoroughfare did he deign to respond to any of my suggestions, and then it was in a manner totally un satisfactory and quite noucomniuuica- tive. The only thing he deigned to offer a remark upon was the little crippled child we saw looking from its window as wo emerged from the forest. “Why, how’s this?” said he. “That’s Sue you see there, and her time isn’t till arter noon. Boh allers sits there of a morniu. I wonder if the little chap’s sick. S’poselask. ” As this was just what I would have suggested if he had given me time, I nodded complacently, and we drove up and stopped. The piping voice of the child at once spoke up; “How d’ye do, Mr. Simsbury? Ma’s in the kitchen. Bob isn’t feelin good to day. ” I thought her tone had a touch of mysteriousness in it. I greeted the pale little thing and asked if Bob was often sick. “Never,” she answered, “except, like me, he cannot walk. But I’m not to talk about it, ma says. I’d like to, but”— Ma’s face appearing at this moment over her shoulder put an end to this in nocent garrulity. “How d’ye do, Mr. Simsbury?” came a second time from tho window, but this time in very different tones. “What’s the child been saying? She’s so sot up at being allowed to take her brother’s place in the winder that she don’t know how to keep her tongue still Bob’s a little languid, that’s all You’ll see him in his old place tomor row. ” And she drew back as if in polite intimation that we might drive on. Mr. Simsbury responded to the sug gestion, and in another moment we were trotting down the road. Had wo staid a minute longer, I think the child would have said something moro or less inter esting to hear. She looked bursting with a desire for gossip, but then, goodness me, who wouldn’t if obliged, like her, to sit in one window the balf of the life yon did not spend in a little dark bed room nnder the eaves of a cottage whose whole dimensions oonld be embraced by the walls of my parlor? The horse which had brought us thus far at a pretty sharp trot now began to lag as wo drew into.town, taking np so mnch of Mr. Simsbury’s attention that he forgot to answ ej even by a grunt more than half of my questions. He spent most of his time looking at tho nag’s inud teet. and finally, just as we came in si^ht «.f the store*, he found his tongue sufficiently to announce that the horse was casting a shoe and that tie would be obliged to go to tho black smith s with In r •‘Humph, and how long will that take?" I asked. He hesitated so long, rubbing his nose with his finger, that I grew sus picious and cast a glance at the horse’s foot mysi If The shoe was louse. 1 be gun to hear it clang “Waal, it may be a matter of a cou ple of hours, ” he finally drawled. “We have m blackniuith in town, and the ride np there is two miles. Sorry it hap pened, ma’am, but there's shops here, you see, and I’ve allers heard that a woman can easily spend two hours hag gling away in shops.” 1 glanced at the two ill furnished windows he pointed out, thought of Ar nold & Constable’s, Tiffany’s aud the other New York establishments I had been in the habit of visiting aud sup pressed my disdain. Either tho man was a fool or he was acting a part in the interests of Lueetta and her family. 1 rather inclined to the latter supposi tion If the plan was to keep me out must of the morning, why could that shoe not. have been loosened before he lett the stable? •‘1 made all necessary purchases while in New York, ’ said I, “but if you must get the borse shod, why, take him off and do it. 1 suppose there is a hotel par lor near here where 1 can sit.’’ “Ch, yes, ’ and he made haste to point cut to me where the hotel stood. And it's a very nice place, ma’am. Mrs. C arter, tho landlady, is the nicest sort of person. Only you won’t try to go home, ma am, on foot? You’ll wait till 1 can come back for you. ” “It isn’t likely I’ll go streaking through Lost Man’s lane alone, ” I ex claimed indignantly “I’d rather sit in Mrs. Carter’s parlor till night." “And 1 would advise yon to, ” ho said “No use making gossip for the village folks They have enough to talk about as it is. ’’ Not exactly seeing the force of this reasoning, but quite willing, seeing that he had no intention of taking me back at once, that he should leave me to my own devices as soon as possible, I point ed to a locksmith’s shop I saw near by and bade bim put me down there. With a sniff I might have interpreted in any way, he drove up to tho spot 1 pointed out aud awkwardly assisted mo to alight. “Trunk key missing?” ho ventured before getting back into his seat. 1 did not think it necessary to answer him, but walked immediately into the shop 1 thought be looked dissatisfied al this, but whatever were his feelings he mounted presently to his. place and drove off. I was left confronting the de cent man who represented the lock fit ting interests in X. I found some difficulty in broaching my errand. Finally I said: “Miss Knollys, who lives np the road over there, wishes a key fitted to one of her doors. Will you come or send up there today? She was too occupied to see about it herself. ” The man must have been struck by my appearance, for he stared at me quite curiously for a minute. Then ho gave a hem and a haw and said: “Certainly. What kind of a door is it?” When I had answered, ho gave me another curious glance and seemed uneasy to step back to where his assistant was working with a file. “You will be sure to come in time to have the lock fitted by night.” I said in that peremptory manner of mine which means simply, “I attend to things when and where I promise aud expect you to do the same. ” His “Certainly” struck me as a little weaker this time, possibly because his curiosity was excited. “Are you tho lady who is staying with them from New York?” ho asked, stepping back, seemingly quite unawed by my positive demeanor. “Yes,” said 1, thawing a trifle; “1 am Miss Butterworth.” He looked at me almost as if I were a curiosity. “Aud did you sleep there,” he urged, “last night?” “I thought it best to thaw still more. “Of course, ' 1 said “\ Tere do you think I would sleep? The \ oung ladies are friends of mine.” lie rapped abstractedly on the counter with a small key he was holding. “Excuse me,” sc id he, with some re membrance of my positii n toward him as a stranger, “but weren't yon afraid?” “Afraid?” I echoed. “Afraid in Miss Knollys’ house?” “Why, then, do yon want a key to your door?” he asked, with a slight ap pearance of excitement. “Wedon’t lock doors here in the village; at least we didn’t.” “I did not say it was my door, ” I be gan; but, feeling that this was a prevari cation not only unworthy of me, but one that he was entirely too sharp to accept, I added stiffly: “It is for my door. I am not accustomed even at home to sleep with my room unlocked. ” “Oh,” be murmured, totally uncon vinced, “I thought you might have got a scare. Folks somehow are afraid of that old place, it’s so big and ghostlika I don’t think you wonld find any one in this villagu that wonld sleep there all night.” * “A pleasing preparation for my rest there tonight,” I grimly laughed. “Dangers on the road and ghosts in the honse. Happily I don’t believe in the latter. ” The gesture he made showed incredu lity. He had ceased rapping with the key or even to show any wish to join his assistant All his thoughts for the moment seemed to be concentrated on me. “You don’t know little Rob,” he in quired, “the crippled lad who lives at the head of the lane. ” “No,” I said; “I haven’t been in town a day yet, but I mean to know Rob and his sister tea Two cripples in one family rouse my interest.” He did not say whv he had spoken of him, but began tapping with'his key again nd y>iu are sure you saw nothing?” he whispered. “Lots of things can hap pen in a lonely road like that. ” “Not if everybody is as afraid to en ter it as you say your villagers are,” I retorted. But ho didn’t yield a jot. "Some folks don’t mind present dan gers,’’said he. “Spirits”— But lie received no encouragement in his return to this topic. “You don’t be lieve in spirits?” said ho. “Well, they are doubtful sort of folks, but when honest and respectable people such as live in this town, when children even, see what answers to nothing but phan toms, then I remember what a wiser man than any of us. once said— But perhaps you don’t read Shakespeare, madam?” Nonplused for the moment, but in terested in the man’s talk more than was consistent with my need of haste, I said with some spirit, for it struck me as very ridiculous that this country me chanic should question my knowledge of the greatest dramatist of all time, “Shakespeare and the Bible form the staple of my reading.” At which he gave me a little nod of apology and has- tened to remark: "Then you know what I mean—Ham let’s remark to Horatio, madam, ‘There are more things,’ etc. Your memory will readily supply you with tho words. ” I signified my satisfaction aud perfect comprehension of his meaning, aud feel ing that something more important lay behind his words than had yet appeared I endeavored to make him speak moro explicitly. “The Misses Knollys show no terror of their home,” 1 observed. “They can not believe in spirits either.” “Miss .Knollys is a woman of a great deal of character, ” said ho. “But look at Lueetta. There is a face for you, for a girl not yet out of her twenties, and such a round checked lass as she was once! Now what has made the change? The sights and sounds of that old house, I say. Nothing else would give her that scared look—nothing merely mortal, 1 mean. ” This was going a step too far. I could not discuss Lueetta with this stranger, much as I would like to have known just what he had to say about her. “I don’t know,” I remonstrated, tak ing up my black satin hag, without which I never stir. “One would think the terrors of tho lane she lives in might account for some appearance of fear on her part. ’ ’ “Yes,” said he, but with no very hearty admittance, “so it might. But Lueetta has never spoken of those dan gers. The people in the lane do not seem to fear them at all. It is we out siders who don’t know what to make of the thing. Even Deacon Spear says that, set aside the wickedness of the thing, he rather enjoys the quiet which the ill repute of the lane gives him. I don’t under stand this myself. I have no rel ish for mysteries like that or for ghosts either. ” “Yon won’t forget the key,’’ I said, preparing to walk ont, in my dread lest he would introduce again the subject of Lueetta. “No,” said he, “1 won’t forget it.” But there was something not quite hearty in hi. voice which should have warned me that I need not expect to have a locked door that night. “J This story will be continued in next Friday’s is«ue of The Ledger. Contract Let for Building Road. Knoxville, Aug. 7.—The contract for the construction of the Knoxville, La- Follette and Jellico railroad (the Louis, ville and Nashville extension into Knoxville) f om LaFolIette to Beaver Ridge, near Knoxville, 28 miles, was lot today to Mason & Hoge, of Lex ington, Ky., and St. Louis, Mo., and Walton & Co., of Roanoke, Va. It Involves about *1.000,000. Death of Professor Watson. New York, Aug. 7.—Professor Jonn Jay Watson, a well known musical di rector and author of many popular works, is dead, says a Boston dispatch to The Herald. He was born In 1830. Natural to Him. “Your husband,” said Mrs. Oldcastle as she again availed herself of the privilege of inspecting the splendid li brary of the new neighbors, “seems to have a particularly fine taste for arti cles of vertu.” “Yes,” her hostess replied, “I know It But then, ft’s only natural be should have. John’s one of the vlr- tuousest persons—for a man—that I ever seen.”—Chicago Herald. Satlafled. Senator Grab—A man called on me this morning and offered me $1,000 for my vote on a certain measure, but I re fused it Political Purist—Bravo! You ought to have the approval of your conscience. Senator Grab—I have. We finally agreed on $2,000.—Boston Post FOOLED HIS SUPERIOR. Five New Bales of Cotton. Sylvania, Ga.. Aug. 7.—Five bales of new cotton have come to Sylvania ami were bought by L. H. Hilton & Co. There was a premium offered for the first bale by the Hilton company, ana it In-ought 10 cents per pound and classed middling. The first hale of new cotton received last year was on August 21. The prospects for a good crop in this section are better than they were last year at this time, but not as bright as it looked two weeks ago. An AatoniMheil 1'aitlta nnil a Llentea* ant Who Won Promotion. Kassim Pasha when minister of war for Egypt was very particular In re gard to the personal appearance of his officers and issued stringent orders that they should never appear un shaven In public. One day he met upon the street a lieutenant who had bearded the pasha and disregarded his orders. “To what regiment do you be- h.ng?" doma*.ided the indignant minis ter. “To the regiment, at Abas- seub,” replied the frightened lieuten ant. “Get into my carriage at once so that 1 can carry you to the encamp ment and have you publicly punished,” was the stern command which follow ed. The young man obeyed, and the twain rode along gloomily enough for smie time, when the pasha stopped his carriage aud entered an office where he would be detained for some time on business. Seizing the opportunity, the culprit spra- g from the vehicle, darted into a neigh noring barber’s stall and regained his post before the return of his Jailer minus his beard. For the remainder of the ’ jute the officer bur led his face in hh hands and seemed the picture of uppn 1 ension. Abasseuh was ren ..ed at last, and all the officers were assembled to wit ness the degradation of their comrade, who all the while kept well in the rear of his chief. “Come forward, you sou of a dog!” cried the Fate pasha, when there stepped before him an officer with a face as clean as a baby’s and a look of the most supreme Innocence. His excellency gave one look of blank astonishment and then, with an ap preciative smile breaking over his war worn features, turned to the assembled officers and said, “Here, gentlemen, your old minister Is a fool, and your young lieutenant Is a captain.” THF. SIZE OF F Al WES. OrentureH Who Live In the Poetry of the Klizahethun Age. Readers of Elizabethan poetry are familiar with fairies who . sbion coats from a bat's wing, fans from those of butterflies, coverlets from the skins of snakes, wage war with spiders and make expeditions on the backs of flies. Writers have commonly assumed that such minuteness was the product of poetic fancy, which reduced these spir its to a size much below that admitted by popular belief, but this is an error. Folklore supplies us with abundant examples of fairies who can carry no more than a single straw, who emerge from a molehill and make a thread bridge in order to traverse a keyhole. Concordant is the testimony of lan guage. as when the foxglove passes for being a fairy cap. If a size so reduced cannot allow his torieal interpretation, still less does ethnology explain the qualities of these fays, who in power do not differ from their larger cousins. Queen Mab, no larger than the jewel of a ring, is yet charged with the functions of a birth goddess. The least fairy can steal a bride or a baby; tenuity is of less con- soquenee, since any tiny sprite can at will assume gigantic proportions. The fairies who in one canton are repre sented as dwarfish In the next may be described as gigantic. The contrast, which cannot be ac counted for as arising from historical memories, may be easily explained by the early modes of conceiving nature. In prehistoric conception a mountain might puss for a large man, a river for a tall one. while the inmates of petty hillocks would naturally be imagined as possessing a form corresponding to the narrow limits of their habitants.— International Monthly. AeeommoAatlaar- “The shovel fish of South America,” said Uncle Jerry, “is the most accom modating fish there Is. It has a snout In the shape of a shovel, and it will Jump out on the bank and dig halt for yon to catch It with.” — Baltimor# American. l*omminof IntMapcnMablea. Only those who have to go to the depths of long disused trunks when moving time necessitates renovation and the sifting of belongings realize how much of whet one clings to as In dispensable becomes absolutely useless when laid by for a time. Pictures prized for one reason or another, sou venirs that fail to recall anything but inconvenience, letters that one couldn't bear to bum, odds and ends that one was sure to want, all become as trash In the repose of the stored trunk and are sacrificed without a qualm when moving time comes around to make room for other things that will last their little day and then find the same end.—New York Press. Srveutb Century riUedlework. Before the end of the seventh century needlework was carried to great per fection in convents, where it was used for the embellishment of the church and the decoration of priestly robes. Artists did not think it beneath their dignity to trace the patterns used for embroidery in their natural colors. A certain religious lady, wishing to em broider a sacerdotal vestment, asked no less a personage than 8L Dunstan, then a young man, but already noted for his artistic skill and taste, to draw the flowers and figures which she after* ward worked In gold thread. Simple Words. There are a certain number of ilmple words in the English language that will express the greatest thoughts, and great men use them. To be Incompre hensible may be a algo of knowledge. It may also be the sign of an Intellec tual snob. The world la not moved by men and women who talk In an un known tongue.—School maater. The Ports* *t Large. The Waller—You’H find our calves’ liver very flue. The Professor—I don’t want so much as that Bring me a portion of the liver of one calf. -Chicago Tribune. The manager of one of the most successful furniture houses in Greater New York was asked to what one thing, in his opinion, the success of the concern was most due. He replied: “The founder of the firm was a great believer in advertising, and to this fact may be ascribed the enormous business we are handling.” There is no business, however small, that cannot be increased by judicious, systematic, per sistent advertising. The giant oak does not gain its strength in a day. Magnificent buildings < are not reared all at once, nor can their strength and beauty be appreciated until the finishing touches are put on. Is your business satisfactory? Are you making headway? Are you using to the best advantage the greatest of all business lev ers—advertising? If you are satisfied that you are, well and good; if not, drop in and talk it over with us. We have advertising space to sell, and advertising is a part of oux business. Perhaps we can help you. Clerk's Sale. statkok South Carolina, i county ok ch khokbe. ( s T. McCR WEY. V8. A. H. FOSTER, etal. In obedience to orders made herein, for partition, dated October 10th, 1001 and July RHC, I will sell at public outcry before the Court House door, at Oartney, S. C.. during theiepal hours of sale, salesday August 4th. lot' - ,’, the following described land, to-wlt: All that certain piece or tract of land con taining sixty acres, more or less, situated In the county of Cherokee near the Pacolet river, adjoining lands now or late of F. W. El son, fJohn I). Jefferies. Jas. Littlejohn, and Tlios. .1. (lames, Iw-ing the same tract formerly known as the Knuckles and Nor ris g Id mines and now known as the I’aco- letGold Mines. Terms off sale:—One-half cash and the balance on a credit of one year from day of sale, with interest from day of sale, secured by a bond of the purchaser and a mortgage of the premises sold, with leave to the pur chaser to pay all cash. Purchaser to pay for all papers and re cording. J. Eh. Jekeiiiies. <Tk. O. C. Pis. and G.8. Gaffney, S. July 14th, Published July Ikth, b’litb and Aug. 1st. Tronbl*. The trouble with roost people Uh- well. It’s trouble -Baltimore News. Summons for Relief. State ok Somit Carolina, * Court of Oom- Coi:nty ok i'HEnoKKE f men Pleas, o John R. Webster. Talftha' K. M il kins anil J. E. Webster, plaintiffs, against Arthur Tate, ( laud Tate, Vance Tar.e, Car rie Hutler. oMaggie Barrett, Claiborne Bowser, Emma Bowser and Pauline G. Webster, the last named supposed to be dead, anti without heirs-at-law and dis tributees, except [the plaintiffs, defend ants. To the above named Defendants in this action: You are hereby summoned and required to answer the complaint in this action, which Is filed in the office of the Clerk of Court for the said county, anti to serve a copy of your answer to the said complaint on the subscriber at Msoftlce, Gaffney, H. C., within twenty days after the service hereof, exclusive of the day of such service, and if you fall to answer the complaint w ithin the time aforesaid the plaintiffs in this action will apply to the Court for relief demanded in the Complaint. Dated Gaffney. 8. C., July Stb, A. D. lidc*. To the defendants, Vance Tate, Carrie Butler. Maggie Barrett- Claiborne Bowser, Emma (Bowser and Pauline O. Webster, If she be living: you are each hereby notified tiiat the Summons anti Complaint in the above entitled action lias been, on the Utb day of July, 1M)2, duly Hied in the office of tin Clerk of Court for Cherokee County. 8. C., and an order obtained for the service of the Summons on you by publicat ion of thir same for six weeks,once a week, in the Gaff ney Ledger, a newspa|M-r published at Gaff ney, 8. C. J. E Wehstku, Plaintiff's Attor ney. July lith, 1001 Julyll-ttt. Winthrop College Scholarship and Entrance [laminations. The examinations for the award of vacant scholarships in Winthrop College and for the atimission of new slutlciits will be held at the C< unty Court Blouse on Friday, July llth, at li a. m. Applicants must not be less than flftoen years offage. When scholarships are vacated after July llth, they will ba awarded to tbose making the highest average at this examination. The next session will open 8cpt*ml>er 17th, 1902. Fur further Information aud a catalogue, addresstPresident D. B. Johnson, Rock Hill. 8. C. June20th, 27th. July 4th. llth. College of Charleston. Charleston, 8. C. Founded In 17M. Htrong Faculty, well etjulppi-d Chein'cul, Physical, and Biological 1 laboratories; Library of 14.000 volumes; the finest Museum of Natural History In the South. Elective courses leading to the de grees of B. A, B. H . and M. A Board wth furnished room In College Dormitory can la-obtained for |I0 a month; tuition *40. One scholarshli) giving free tuoinn Is as sign* d to Cher- see county, the held r tube appointed by the Probate J uflgc. Mini County HuMiintenrieni. Total exjM-nses for H<*bolar- ship students. (112 to $i:fo All csiidhialaa for admission an-iM-rmltu d to coni|M-te for vacant Boyce Nch' larshlps which pay |IW a year. Next session Is-glns Heptember 29th. For catalogue, address Hahhimon Kandoi.ph, President.