Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r ft*****************************! * *■ *' *• ft' ft' ft ft' *' ft' ft' ft ft' *' *' ft: ft' ft' ft' ft' *' ft 'ft %€ REFORMER By CHARLES M. SHELDON. Aalbor of HnlOs Steps.’* “Robert hardy’s Seven Days,” Etc. CopyriohU 1901, by Charles If. Sheldon When Gordon reached Hope House, ho found waiting for him a note from Archie Penrose’s aunt, Mrs. Constanco Penrose. Mr. Penrose was a society young man wiio had no visible means of sup port aside from the money his father, recently deceased, had left him. Archie Penrose had never made a cent of money by n stroke of labor of any kind, but that was nothing against him in the eyes of fond mothers with marriageable daughters. There were i thousands of women in the city who ! would have counted themselves or their i daughters as specially favored if Archie Penrose had come into the j house as a suitor. It made no differ ence that his reputation had suffered in various ways. lie had money, he was of a distinguished family, his man- i ners were regarded as elegant, and he i had an aunt who gave the most select receptions and entertainments in the city. In the sight of any man or w om an of right definitions of manhood this young figurehead of an aristocratic family was simply one of the ciphers of civilization. He made nothing that added to humanity’s comfort or kuowl- j edge. He contributed absolutely not j one grain of helpfulness or comfort or | hope to a suffering, struggling, needy world. He lived to get all the pleasure he could himself, much if not all of it gained with a total disregard for any one else’s pleasure, and yet he moved through what is called the best society, ; courted, admired, fawned on, eagerly j invited out to an endless round of so cial functions which a certain class of rich people in America make the most important business of their lives. Mrs. Constance Penrose was a person of more value than her distinguished ! nephew. She was rich, but not given over altogether to society and its shal- j low enthusiasms. There were other things in which she was genuinely in- 1 terested, and among them was the ca reer of John Gordon. She had known him as a boy, had watched him through his college course and his trip abroad, and, being a woman of very decided and individual opinions, she had more than once expressed her interest in the j experiment Gordon was making. More ; than once she had compared him to j her nephew, to that young man’s great j disadvantage. The note which Gordon found at | Hope House was an invitation to an i evening at the Penrose mansion in ! Park avenue. Why have you cut yourself off from all | of your former friends? L •> you owe nothing to us rich sinners, as veil as to the poor ones? Come and reform the boulevard if you are really in the reform business, for we need it as much as the slum. Why are there no social settle ments among us? It strikes me that peo ple like your Miss Andrews are living at the wrong end of the problem. If we could only be saved, we have the means and ability to save the other end; but I want you to come and see me and tell me about Miss Andrews. Have you fallen in love with her? And how about Lmella? Young man, come and give an account of yourself. Luella will be here, and Mary and the Howells and the Cranstons and that graceless nephew of mine, who, by the way, now that you are out of the way, is paying court to Huella. You have neglected us all shamefully. We will for give you if you appear among us again. It will not be a large company—about twenty-five. Surely you have not cut tis All out of your acquaintance forever. If you don’t care for the rest, come to satis fy my curiosity about your future. You know I was one of your best friends when you were a boy in the university. I have a real interest In your future, and I am not all frivolous or given up to the whirl Of the world, as I hope you know. Hop ing to see you, I am your friend and well wisher, CONSTANCE PENROSE. Gordon thoughtfully considered the Invitation and finally accepted it. When the evening named by Mrs. Penrose came, he went up on the boulevard. There was nothing particularly un usual in the situation, and yet in some unexplained manner us he entered the Penrose mansion he was conscious of • strange excitement, as if before the evening was over events would occur that would make serious history for more than one of the guests. Mrs. Penrose met him with a genuine friendliness. “Ah, welcome, Mr. Reformer! I ap preciate your coming out of your social dungeon to see us. You cannot always be living ou heroics. There must be some comedy to relieve the tragedy, eh V’’ “Some kinds of tragedy cannot be re lieved by any kind of comedy,” Gordon replied grimly. “But I’ll promise not to talk shop unless I am drawn into it. You didn’t ask me to come for that, did you?” “Didn’t I? You are the lion of the oc casion. Everybody is talking about you.” “Ijot us change the subject then.” “And talk of Miss Andrews?” “No,” Gordon said coldly. “No? Is that forbidden ground?” She spoke seriously. “I am actually interested in her and in all you are doing. Some time you must tell me. Will you?” “Yes,” he answered earnestly, a lit tle ashamed of his curtness. “Of course I believe in It all, only I didn’t ■wish to seem to lug It in on this occa- aion.” “I understand,” Mrs. Penrose an swered brightly, and as Gordon passed on she Introduced him to Professor Emory of the university. Gordon had heard of Professor Em ory and had read two of Jits books. The man was a scholar and bad read everything in his own line of sociology. Without meaning to do so Gordon soon found himself deep in a discussion with the professor over one phase of the social question, which one of the professor’s books had touched on—“The Personal Element of Responsibility For Relief of Unjust Social Conditions.” Gordon disagreed totally with the professor’s conclusions and frankly i told him so. The professor blandly I smiled and laid down another proposi tion to which Gordon found himself totally opposed. The professor again smiled in such an exasperating manner that Gordon almost lost his temper. He pulled up just in time, however. He was so near it that he asked a ques tion that otherwise he would not have asked. “What you say is good theory, pro fessor, but have you ever lived among the people and studied them at first hand to see if your theory will work?” The professor changed color and lost his bland and condescending manner. "No, sir; 1 do not consider that a necessity to the proper discussion of the fiiets. I understand perfectly well what you moan. Nearly all social set tlement residents make the same mis take. They think personal contact is necessary to a clear comprehension of situations. I do not so regard it. Not that I deprecate the service you are rendering,” he added hastily, “but you exaggerate the importance of your contribution to the solution of the problem.” Gordon was spared the temptation of a reply hy a voice near by and a hand laid on his shoulder. “John, must I introduce myself? Why have you neglected us all so shamefully?” It was his sister Mary who had just come in. Gordon was really delighted W i imx —j % / "John, must 1 introduce myself?” to sec her. The swift and eventful current of events that flowed around Hope House had carried him along so tumultuously that he. had let the old relations with his home drift, and yet, lu spite of all that had to be counted into a swift receding past, he could not deny the strength of the blood re lationship. He turned from the professor with a feeling of relief and began to chat with his sister. She was the same careless, thought less, superficial creature she had al ways been, and yet she had an affec tion for her brother that John Gordon felt was very real. It touched him, even while he was wounded by many things she carelessly uttered about his own choice of life. “Father is not very well,” she said In reply to a question. “He fell one day last week and had to be carried home from the office. I feel worried over him sometimes. I wish you were at home again.” “Do you miss me?” “Do I ? You know I do, John. Aren’t you coming back ever?” “I don't know. The old life seems unreal to me.” “Does this seem unreal?” She tapped his arm with her fan and then de scribed a little circle with it that In cluded the rooms and their brilliant contents. “It seems very real to mo,” she added with a liuht laugh. John Gordon let his look go over the Interior of that princely residence. All the soft, easy, luxurious appliances of modern civilization within the reach of lavish wealth were evident on every side. Velvet carjwds, golden decora tions, the most costly pieces of art, wood carving from Bavaria, exquisite medallions, portraits by Handailo, and paintings the price of any one of which would have been more than the life earnings of a hundred families in the tenements—Iwfore he was aware he was putting flesh and blood values up against all that physical luxury. Then he suddenly looked into Mary’s face and said, with a smile: ”The things are real enough; It Is the life that Is unreal.” “Don't lie tragic. John,” she pouted. “Have some fun tonight. You don’t look as if you had been having much lately. Tell me, is it true that you and Luella have quarreled? Tell me all about it. She is coming tonight. Will it lie embarrassing to you?” And then before he could answer she rattled on carelessly: “And Miss Andrews—the papers say she is a remarkable person. Tell me, is she handsome, like Luella? Are you impressed? But how do you live in those horrors? I should think the sights and smells would lie simply— Oh, Miss Cranston, you have met my brother John?” Miss Cranston had met Mr. Gordon while he was a student in the univer sity. John stood chatting with her awhile, and was still talking with her when dinner was announced. He took her out, in obedience to a nod from Mrs. Penrose, and when once at table he looked, quietly enough outwardly, but with inward tumult at the guests, and noted Luella seated by young Pen rose at the farther end, but facing Gor don. while Penrose was almost wholly obscured by Gordon’s right hand neigh bor. The dinner proceeded ns usual with such dinners, only the gifted art of being id! things to all guests that Mrs. Penrose possessed in such a large de gree saving the occasion from the in- sufferable dullness of many similar gatherings. A seven course dinner in a rich woman's house may and often does afford as much real misery to the assembled company as can w r ell be packed into a bad hour and a half. Witli Mrs. Penrose as hostess affairs went on with more brilliancy. It is one thing to talk yourself, and another to get other people to talk. The latter gift, allied to a species of social genius, Mrs. Penrose possessed, and the din ner was progressing finely, seasoned with just that right degree of conversa tional interest which at times included every one at the table and then broke up into little groups of talk between two or four. John Gordon talked with Miss Crans ton on a variety of topics, but did not introduce any mention of his own work. Mrs. Penrose, who sat at his right, once or twice alluded to Gor don’s residence at Hope House, but he answered briefly and at once reverted to something else. Evidently he did not intend to be drawn into any dis cussion or description of his work. Mrs. Penrose was too shrewd as well as too courteous to insist in asking questions she plainly saw w T ere not agreeable. “Very well, she said good naturedly. “As the lion of the occasion, if you will not roar in the presence of this au dience will you favor me some time with what I am dying to know? It is not idle curiosity,” she added in a lower tone. “I really am interested in your plans. I want to help.” Gordon looked up at her quickly. The thought of what this woman, with her wealth and social influence, might do if she would to bring life and light into the dead, dark places of the city kindled ins imagination. It was an other ray of hope to place alongside Mrs. Effingham’s letters. “Thank you.” he said gratefully. “I will come and talk it over with you.” As he finished and turned his face again toward Miss Cranston he en countered l.uella’s glance. She in stantly looked down. Once again, to ward the close of the dinner, Gordon intercepted her look as it swept past all the guests and stayed just a mo ment with him. Just how it all happened John Gor don never knew. The last course had been served. There was the inevitable settling bad. of people who had suc cessfully observed one of the rites of polite society and were ready to enjoy the programme of the evening in an other stereotyped direction. The voice of Archie Penrose rose over the well modulated conversation; “It’s a dangerous move for any one to make, 1 think, professor. The classes are too much at war now. All these anarchists ought to be hunted out of society like wild beasts. She is encouraging anarchy when she en courages those people to discuss their views.” “Miss Andrews”—the bland voice of Professor Emory smote John Gordon like a blow—“is not encouraging an archy, Mr. Penrose. You do not un derstand the exact situation. The men she invites into Hope House to discuss government may be mistaken as to many theories of government, but the free speech that Miss Andrews encour ages among them is not dangerous to society. As I understand it, she dis courages all expressions of violence What u’os that form lying half on the floor? and is really doing good service to th« city In educating a group of men who might be dangerous into good citizens.'’ “BWh you, professor!” John Gordon said to himself. “You are a formal, pedantic, heartless, professional soel ologlst, with no more real knowledge of the humanity you are writing about than a mummy, but I’ll forgive all tlii’t for what vou have lust said. Yon may be of no real account as a sociolo gist, but you are fair to your own log ic, fair as a mathematical problem.” The voice of Archie Penrose rose again. Argument had no weight with him. “But I say this is a dangerous wom an. She makes the people discontent ed with their surroundings and creates bitterness between classes.” “I don’t agree with you,” the pro fessor's smooth, easy voice answered again. “She is doing great good in her way. Mr. Gordon”—the professor was sitting three chairs below Gordon on the opposite side of the table—“you are surely in a position to verify my statements about this estimable wom an. Set this misguided young man right in the matter. He has been mis informed by some one.” Every face at the table was turned toward John Gordon except Luella’s. She looked down at the table. It was very still. Penrose was red and nerv ous. Just how he had precipitated the discussion Gordon did not know until several weeks afterward. It was enough that the entire subject of his personal life work was now at once the object of interest to all these people. It was the last situation in the world he would have chosen for himself, but it had been thrust upon him through no seeking of his own. In the hush that waited his answer to the profess or Gordon saw a blue eyed woman dig ging with bleeding hands at a ruin out of which ghastly faces peered, and it was the vision of a whole life that for fifteen years had flung itself down into the tragedy of humanity to save it re gardless of suffering to itself. "Miss Andrews,” lie said quietly, but his soul was shaken with the passion of his long repressed feelings, “is to my mind the most gifted, most useful, most Christian woman in this whole city. She is today suffering more, giv ing more and doing more to right the wrongs of our boasted civilization than any other woman of my acquaintance. The man who says she is dangerous to society does not know what he is say ing. Miss Andrews is the superior of every person here at this table in all the gifts and graces of the highest de veloped womanhood.” He need not have said that last sen tence. It was not at all necessary. But his spirit was at high tension. The contrast between the selfish, heartless, luxurious, even vicious social life rep resented by some of the persons at that table in addition to Archie Penrose and the patient, loving sacrificing life of the head of Hope House voiced his indignant assertion. Luella did not look up. She sat as cold and still as a statue. Mrs. Penrose, with a tact that did her great credit, broke the silence by asking just the right question. Just what it was Gordon himself did not re member when he went all over the scene afterward; but, whatever it was, it led the way naturally to a descrip tion of Hope House settlement, and John Gordon found himself doing what he had declared to Mrs. Penrose lie would not do—lie was soon pouring out the story of Bowen street and Tommy Randall and Mrs. Caylor and Louie and all the heartbreaking conditions of the pale dwellers in the tenements. Had ever man such an audience? It is not often the reformer can reach the men and women of society. lie talks to the crowd, vaguely conscious all the time that the rich, cultured, leisure classes either do not care or do not know or do not understand and never go to hear him. But for over half an hour Gordon said his say. He spared not one sylla ble of horrors. The guests paled at his description of the fire and shuddered at the picture of the child’s arm thrust up out of the ruins and circling Bar ton’s neck in a convulsive death agony. Luella looked up once. Her eyes glowed with u feeling that John Gor don interpreted into deep compassion, and his heart bounded. For a moment he lost control of himself. Then he went on steadily. When lie was through, Mrs. Penrose quietly signaled for the company to rise. In the other rooms, as the guests seated themselves at card tables for the rest of the evening, different ones took up the topic and a certain unusual hush pervaded the perfumed atmos phere that was n stranger to the gos siping company, Mrs. Penrose passed out by Gordon. “You made a deep Impression,” she said half admiringly, half seriously. “I had no idea you could talk so well.” “I did not intend”— “Of course not. All the better. Ar chie got his answer. So did we.” She laughed a little cynically. “It will do us good. Did 1 not toll you we need reforming—worse than the slums?” To Gordon’s great relief Mary came up and said she felt uneasy for her father, and begged Mrs. Penrose to ex cuse her. “You will go home with me, John, won’t you? I came with the Cranstons. Father needs me. He did not look well when he came home this evening.” “It must lie serious if Mary is ready to leave this early,” he thought. But he was glad to escape the formality of the rest of the evening. As he went out with his sister he had a view of Luella seated listlessly at the table where young Penrose was. On the way home Mary seemed un easy. She was suffering also from a headache and sharply accused her brother of lugging his reform business into the company’s talk. John Gordon was silent. Afterward he learned that young Penrose’s attention to Luella was the real source of Mary’s bad feelings. As they mounted the familiar steps be felt strangely oppressed, as If some new or unexpected trouble was about to come into his life. The excitement Incident to his defense of Miss An drews had given way to a dull depres sion that weighed him down and gave him a foreboding. One of the servants was in the hall. He said that Mr. (Jordon had gone into the library early in the evening and had given orders not to be dis turbed. John and Mary went Into the reception room. The library was next. They en tered it side by side. What was that form lying half on the floor, half on one of the leather cush ioned chairs? Gordon sprang forward as Mary cried out. They lifted him and laid him on the couch. A frightened servant ap peared at the door. But John Gordon knew as he looked into the stern old face that the soul of Rufus Gordon had gone to God, who gave it, to give account of the deeds done In the body, whether they wore good or whether they were bad. This story will be continued in next Friday’s issue of The Ledger. A SeiiHUtion. There was a big sensation in Lees- ville, Ind., when W. H. Brown of that place, who was expected to die, had his life saved by Dr. King’s New Discovery for Consumption. He writes: “I endured insufferable ago nies from Asthma, but your New Dis covery gave me immediate relief and soon thereafter effected a complete cure.” .Similar cures of Consump tion, Pneumonia, Bronchitis and Grip are numerous. It's the peerless-reme dy for all throat and lung troubles. Price 50c. and $1.00. Guaranteed by Cherokee Drug Co., druggists. T ial bottles free. The Reichstag budget committee voted in favor of appropriating $700.- 000 for Germany’s exhibit at the St. Louis fair. Cures| Itldiid I'olson.Caneer,l'lcers,',Ee*« nm Carbuncles, Ktc. Medicine Free. Robert Ward, Maxey's, Ga., says: “I suffered from blood poison, my head, face and shoulders were one mass of corruption, aches in bones and joints, burning, itching, scabbj skin, was all run down and dis couraged^but Botanic Blood Balm cured me perfectly, healed all the sores and gave my skin the rich glow of health. Blood Balm put new life into my blood and new ambition into my brain.” Geo. A. Williams, Rox bury, face covered with pimpies, chronic sore on back ,of head, sup purating swelling on neck, eating ulcer on leg, bone pains, itching skin cured perfectly by Botanic Blood Balm—sores all healed. Botanic Blood Balm cures all malignant blood troubles, such as eczema, scabs and scales, pimples, running sores, car buncles, scrofula, etc. Especially advised for all obstinate cases that have reached the second or third ! stages. Improves the digestion; I strengthens weak kidneys. Drug- ; gists, $i. To prove it cures, sample 1 of Btood Balm sent free and prepaid | by writing Blood Balm Co,, Atlanta, | Ga Describe trouble and free medi- i cal advice sent in sealed letter. Sir Robert Reid urged in the House I of Commons.that international action j be taken to limit naval armaments. Caution! This is not a gentle word—but when you think how liable you are not to purchase the only rermdy univer sally known and a remedy that has had the largest sale of any medicine in the world since ISOS for the cure and treatment of Consumption and Throat and Lung troubles without losing its great popularity all these years, you will be thankful we called your attention to Boschee's German Syrup. There are so many ordinary cough remedies made br druggists and others that are cheap and good for light colds perhaps, hut for severe Coughs, Bronchitis, Croup—and es pecially for Consumption, where thar • is difficult expectoration and c. ugh- ing during the nights and mornings, there is nothing like German Syrup. The 25 cent size has just been intro duced this year. Regular size 75 cents. At all druggist. G. G. Green, Woodbury. N. J. Russia and France favor granting China’s request to have the Chinese tariff duel collected in gold. Maitland, Fla. The Hancock Liquid Sulphur Co., Baltimore, Md. Gentlemen:—I have!"bad eczema over thirty years, have tried many remedies prescribed by various physi cians, but to nothing has the disease yielded so quickly as to Liquid Sul phur. I think if used properly it is undoubtedly a specific for eczema. I have prescribed it for others with most satisfactory results. I consider it the best remedy for cutaneous affections I have ever known, and re gard it as the greatest medical dis covery of the age. Respectfully yours, W. A. Heard, M. D. For sale by the Cherokee Drug Co Throw a lucky man overboard in the Fraser, and he’ll come up with a salmon in his mouth. A DfniDiKtratiou of Wlmt Clixniltcrbtln’H Colic, Cholera ami Diarrhoea Kcincily Can Do. One of our •ustomers, a highly respected citizen of this p ace, had been fur ten yiars a sufferer from chnnic diarrhoea,” writes Walden & Martin, druggists, of Enterprise, Ala. “He hsd used various patent prepar- 11 aliens and been treated by physicians without any peitninent benefit. A few months ago he commenced taking Chamberlain’s Colic Cholera and Diarrhoea Remedy and in a ^jbort time was entirely cured Many (citi zens of Enterprise who know the gen tleman will testify to the truthfulness of this statement ” For sale by Cherokee Drug Co. F u Silberman Bros. Largest Fur House In America. Branches All Over Europe. Highest cash price paid for all kinds of raw furs. Hold your shipment until you get our price list. Writ* for it to-day. We mail it free. R S SILBERMAN BROS., 122 to 128 Michigan St.. Chicago,III. ...SAME OLD STAND... :it>5 days in the year I stand by you. and have for six years, and work is my motto in busi ness. I sell Fine Beef, Pork, Sausage— meats of all kinds when they can be had. Fresh Fish Friday and Saturday Country Produce, Vegetables, Fine Seed Irish Potatoes, Onion Sets, Plent Sour Kraut, Cabbage, Apples, Northern Fruits, Heavy and Fancy Groceries. v All orders delivered promptly on time, sooi and late. Come, or phone No. (id. |{urnett ,| | block. We know our huslnessand attend to It. Yours for business, L. W. McGUINN. Wanted fat cattle and irreen hides. Lot of flue Shad will he in today (Fri day ). Dreadful Attack of Whooping Cough. Mrs. Ellen Hariijon,of 800 Park Ave., Kamas City, Mo., writes as follows: “Our two children had a severe attack of whooping cough, one of them in the paroxysm of coughing would often faint and bleed at the nose. We tried everything we beard of without getting relief. We then called in our family doctor who pre scribed Foley’s Hoaey and Tar. With the very first dose they began to im prove and we feel that It has saved their lives. Refuse substitutes. Sold by Cherokee Drug Co. FOLEYSHONLY^TAR for children! safe, tur*» So opiates KIDNEY DISUSES — =■' - ——- -si arc the most fatal of all dis eases. cm CV*® kidney gore it bULlI c GuaraM Remei or money refunded. Contains remedies recognised by emi nent physicians as the besti for Kidney and Bladder troubles. PRICE 50c. and $1.00. Things We Like Best ^ Often Disagree With Us Because we overeat of them. Indt> ges >n follows. But there’s a way t# esoi pe such consequences. A dosa of s'" good digestant like Kodol will relive you at once. Your stomach is simply too weak to digest what you eat. That’s all indigestion is. Kodol digests tha food without the stomach’s aid. Thus tho stomach rests while the body is strength ened by wholesome food. Dieting is un necessary. Kodol digests any kind of good food. Strengthens and iuvigor&tos, Kodol Makes Rioh Red Bloode Prepared only by E. C. DeWitt & Oo., ChlcafOt She U bottle contain* 2 ^4 times the Mo. sisft Administrator’s Notice. All persons holding claims against the estate of Charles A. I’etty, deceased, ara hereby notified to present the same to lift! undersigned, duly attested, on or bt foreT , the ist day of May next, and all j>ersons l j ( indebted to said estate are requested to '| I settle the same at once with the under signed administrator. T. C. Petty, Adm’r 1.state Clias. A. Petty, Dec’d. 4-3-3F’ s ITOR BUILDERS’ SUPPLIES LUMDER, SHINGLES, LATHS, DOORS. SASH, BLINDS, FLOORING, SIDING, CEILING, MOULDINI ALSO A KING LINK OK Paints and Oils 50c to $1.20 per gal. ^-4 S2JO L. BAKER. 1^01—^ BulldlDK and I'lasterliiK Lime, Coal, and Plaster Hair. Plaster Pans Shingles, Portland Cement, Dynamite, Blasting Powder, Kuse * and Dynamite Caps, call on LimestoBe Springs Lime lorb CARROLL ft CO., Lesices. Tslspbons