Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

THE DARLINGTON NEWS, pUBLISHSb BVIETTHUMDAT MORNING 3D. 13, EVAJSTS, PROPRIETOR. / fERft3~M Pw tmnm Ib IdTioee. On« RqO»r«, tl.W Sau*re, MMnd intartion •••*••••••••• 1.00 i—<‘~ » CoatrMi ^farttoMiettU inserted upon the a o«t reeeonftle terns. Ksrrtus Notices nnd Obllnerles, not •xeeedinc six lines, inserted free. DARLINGTON T 1 ••FOR US PRINCIPLE IS PRINCIPLE—RIGHT IS RIGHT—YESTERDAY, TO-DAY. TO-MORROW, FWREVER.” • VOL. xn. NO 23. DARLINOTON, S. C.. THURSDAY, JUNE 10, 1886. WHOLE NO 596. JOB DEPARTMIT, Ourjob departmrnt issupplied with evetp f.-.cility nroes^rjr to enable us to compete both as toprice andqnality of'worb. with e\en those of the cities, end we guerentee sstlf. faction in every perticulsi or charge nothing for our work. We are always prepared ts fill orders st short notice for Hlankr, Bil Heads. Letter Heads. Cards, Hand bills Posters. Circulars, Pamphlets. &c. All job work must be paid for Gash on Delivery- FOUND The Place to Buy Goods At laiying Prices! CAX.L, -A.T J". —AND SEE HIS— JSnEm'XfiT SmiKTCSr —AND— Q-OODS : Before Purchasing Elsewhere- —OF— Byyything Usually Kept in a First-class Country Store. SPECIAL ATTENTION IB CALLED TO THE LARGE STOCK OF FINE LACES, HAMBURG EMBROIDERIES, WHITE GOODS, LAWNS, ETC. ALWAYS ON HAND A FULL LINE OF TBE CELEBRATED BAY STATE SHOE, CLOTHING, HATS, HARDWARE, CROCKERY, AC. GROCERIES IN LARGE QUANTITIES! J. H. EARLY, At our Hardware Store if agent for Steam Engines, Cotton Gins, Feeders. Condensers, Cotton Presses—repairs for same. Stoyts, Engineer’s supplies, such as Belting, Packing, Pipes. All kirns of Steam Fittings, in Iron and Brass. Repairs Engines, Boilers, he. Sewing Machines: White, Weed, Household, Hartford, Amer- oan and Howe ; Needles, Oils and Attachments ; Repairs all kinks of Sewing Machines. Stoves, all the best makes. Furnish repairs for all Stoves •old by us. Cucumber Pumps, Farr patent Sand-box for Buggies, Wa gons, &c. Thomas Smoothing Harrow, Deering Cultivators. April 8,1886. ' ly LAY ME LOW. Lay mu low, my work is done, I am weary. Lay me low, Where the wild flowers woo the sun. Where the balmy breezes blow, Whersthe butterfly takes wing, Where the aspens drooping grow, Where the young birds chirp and sing, 1 am weary, let me go. I have striven bard and long. In the world's unequal fight, Always to resist the wrong. Always to maiotain the right, Always with a stubborn heart Taking, giving blow or blow, Brother, I have played my part, And am weary, let me go. Stern the world and bitter cold, Irksome, painful to endure, Everywhere a love of gold. Nowhere pity for the poor. Everywhere mistrust, disguise, Pride, hypocrisy, and show. Draw tb: curtain, close mine eyes, 1 am weary, let me go. Others mav. when I am gone, Restore the ringing battle-call, Bravely lead the good cause on, Fighting in the which 1 fall. God may quicken some true soul Here to take my place below In the heroes’ muster-roll, I am weary, let me go. Shield and bcckler, hang them up Drape the standard on the wall, I have drained the mortal cup To the finish, dregs and all. When our work is doue ’(is best, Brother, best that we should go. I’m a weary, let me rest, I am weary, lay me low. elrctfb Httni). Steerage And Cabin. I was in the steerage. She was in the cabin. Not that I was not as much astonished to see her, as, possibly, she was to see me. I hail no idea that she was in the Persia, though I knew it was settled some time before that the Dufours were going to Europe. It was a glorious moonlight even ing the third night out. How well I remember it! The first mate was a good friend of mine. He had known me fn my callow days of spending and pleasure, for I had gone as cabin passenger more than once. I was indebted to him for the neat arm-chair in which I posed, nightly, to enjoy m.\ cigar and make mental apostrophes to the moon. Now and then 1 could go on the passenger-deck at night, through bis courtesy; and as I was not yet seedy, though my clothes were far from new, I fancy I did no discredit to the aristocratic loungers who never noticed me, as, at his leisure, I was always in company with Alvord, the mate. Musing, as usual, I set on the lower deck, my hat thrown back, my gaze intent on her majesty the moon, when I heard a voice that sounded familiar. It said: “Oh, mere y P and then a mo ment after: “Don’t let’s stay here, Lu.” I looked up just as the beautiful, proud face was turned, profi e to ward me. “Gracious heavens!” I said un der my breath. “Lily Dufour! the banker’s daughter.” I did not see her companion, and before I could move or speak, if I had been so minded, both ladies had gone. I smiled to myself, though my face burned and ray ears tingled. Only a few months ago and I bail been her partner in a german given at one of the most aristocratic homes in New York. Her beauty impressed me; the acquaintance ripened into love. She had accep ted, me, and I was the happiest man in the universe. Then a great misfortune occurred, involving me in the disgrace of the bead of the firm. Innocent though I was, I had to undergo many searching in quiries before the true verdict was made public. Stripped of money, my good name under a clon'd, for a time, at least, I looked for sym pathy from my lovely fiancee, and I was antonished beyond measure at the coolness of her reception, the almost indifference with which she listened to my defense. And when, again, she declined to receive me, and wrote me a cold little note in which she informed me, in a beauti ful Italian hand, that our engage ment was at an end, I was absolute ly petrified with amazement. How, often she had talked of love in a cottage! How eloquently declared that, tailing fortune or tailing health, and even honor, her heart would be true to itself and me; her love the shield and the reward. I could not believe it possible. I tried to see her, but was always repulsed. 1 wrote, but received no reply. 1 haunted her walks, her drives. She never looked at me. Desperate and disheartened, 1 oared not what became of me. For weeks I moved, ate, worked like an automaton. I was st my worst when a note came from a young lawyer, formerly my chum, and a good fellow to boot: '•Dear Hal—There is splendid news for yon. Come down to the office as soon as you can. .Yours, Fred.” What news wa^ there that mat tered anything tomeT I scarcely cared to obey the sumnjons. That evening Fred stopped me on the street. “Why didn’t you come!” he ssked. “Of course you got my note f There’s millions in it!” “Millions in whatf” l interroga ted. “Founds, shillings and pence. I happened on an advertisement in an English paper yesterday. I’ve heard yon say yonr family name was Preston ; that there was some coolness between your mother and your English relations. Now here is a certain Halsted Preston, Esq. who has just died at the age of seventy-two, and he leaves—well, enough and plenty to the sou of his sister, who marrie 1 a Thomas l)e Long, in America. Of ceurse he must be your uncle, and they are searching for the heir. So you see you are wanted.” I looked at my much-worn suit. For a moment my heart beat as if it would leap from my body. Now, if this were true (and I knew I had an uncle Halsted Preston in Devon shire—I was named for him), I was the peer of any bunker’s daughter in America. “Keep quiet about this matter, will you f” I asked. “Don’t let it get in the papers just yet. I have good reasons for asking it. Above all don’t talk among your triends. 1 have nothing to do bat to start at once.” “You will let me help you f” be said. “Not a cent. I took an oath that, so help me heaven, I would never borrow again. It has nearly been my rnin once. I have enough to take me there and back, steerage. If on arriving there I can establish my identity, money will be easy enough, and I shall have incurred no obligation. I’ll go just as 1 am.” In less than threo days 1 had plenty of proof concerning my iden tity—my mother’s marriage certifi cate being the most important paper; had engaged my passage- steerage—in the Persia; and.desir ing to be known to no one, enjoyed my peculiar position with the zest of the superior to circumstances Did mp heart throb fas er, when on that beautiful night I saw the lace of the girl I loved Wel\ yea, for a moment or two. lint I had also learned to despise her charac ter too thoroughly to give way to sentiment. If I had not quite con quered my infatuation, I was mas ter of in .n self. She, over there, in her rose color ed reveries, speculating upon the possibility of winning a duke at the lowest in that marvelous Lou don ; I, in the steerage, though kindly cared for by my sailor friend. I smiled as I wondered what her tlioughtscouid be just now I was more than anxious to know her opinion throuJi some available means, and taking advantage of my friend’s permission, I haunted the upper deck nightly. For some time I was disappointed. At last one evening she oame up ou deck, a young lady following, carrying her shawl and a pillow They came quite near where I sat, my face to the sea, watching the wonderful gold-and crimson gleams that mingled with the ripples and wavelets left iti her wake by our goo 1 ' ship “Now, are you quite well fixed I” asked the voting lady, wLo 1 sup pose was her companion. “Yes, thanks. Sit down. I wish to ask you something. Have you found out about him yet!” “No, indeed. How can l talk of it * Nobody knows him but you and I” “Strange that we should meet here of all things, and he in that horrid place!” “Nothing strange, if he is poor,” said the sweet, low voice of the other. “1 hate poverty! besides ” her tones fell, her words were in audible. “I hope you will never be sorry,” was the answer. “Sorry !” with a scornful langb. “He has certainly lost his beauty,” she added, with a bitterness in her voice that I had never heard be fore, and in which only her pride spoke. “One can never tell in these business troubles how tar dishones ty will lead a man. Probably be is running away!” I pulled my hat lower over my face, which was one burning flame. I longed to turn upon her and up- biaid her with her treachery, but l controlled myself. “Never!” said the other, with emphasis. “How can you speak of such a thing I I believe him to be the soul of honor—a thorough gen tleman I He looks it.” ' Who could this girl be f I tried to steal a glance at her, but could see only the outlines of a very grace ful figure. I remembered then that Lily had once or twice spokeu of a cousin in suoh a way us led me to tbiuk tier a dependent upou her bonnty. This must be she. And how grateful I was for her sweet- felt defense of me ! I wondered if I should see her again. Night after night 1 waited pa tieutiy in the moonlight, until a; last I gave up looking for her. She did come one night, however, with an eluerly gentleman whom l did not know. 1 was in my old place id the steerage. Some of the other passengers were around, lounging about, leaning over the rails, but I bad chosen my seat where 1 could see without being seen. I saw her face. It was as I had hoped, a lovely, youthful face, and I could hear every inflection of her clear, low voice. “Quite nice people, I suppose, go as steerage passengers sometimes.” 1 heard her say. “Oh, yes, even gentlemen in re ditced circumstances. Indeed I once had a rich triend—you might call him a crank—who went ‘lor the fun ol the thing,’ he said, to see life in a new phas« I believe he liked it best,” and the old gentleman laughed. “A girl with such a face,” I said to myself, “must be worth winning; by no means as beautiful as my for nier divinity, but more lovely in every way.” Lily was taller, more queenly, but this girl with the sweet voice and glorious, star like eyes was, in every way but the mere matter of fortune, her cousin’s su perior. Of that I felt assured, and was quite willing her image should haunt me. A few weeks had passed, and I stood before t lie sates of a fine man sion, now my own estate—in a Dev onshire village, and looked up the long avenue bordered by noble oaks. All that my uncle had died possess ed of was left to me, money and lands. I certainty did feel the pride of possession in the fiist Hush of proprietorship—I held my head erect, I was once more even with the world. The country about was exceptionally beau ifully. Rose hedges bordered the village lines— here and there a thrifty farm lay smiling in the sunshine—cottages dotted the hillsides. Everywhere the land spoke ot care and prosper ity. The house was well preserved, and filled with solid though quaint furniture. There were hothouses, and all iuventioqpof this utilitarian age needed for farming on a large scale, ou the grounds. I saw the houses of my tenants. 1 was lord ol the soil. ’ Once more in London, my eveiy thought turned back to my own country and some unsettled busi ness there. There w as yet work to do. mistaken to correct, enemies co meet, friends to reward Among my acquaintances in the metropolis was a young German j baron, who had married a lovely i English girl, and with whom I had i passed many happy hours. “You must come here to-night,” 1 said the young baroness, one day ; j “I expect some Americans whom i perhaps you know—the Dufours. ! The young lady isexqoisitely bean-1 tiful, there are two—cousins, 1 think. “I did know Dufour, the hanker, of New^ York.” I said, quietly, though my pulses fluttered with a new thrill of gladness. “Oh, yes-it must be the same family. You will come f” “On one condition,” I said. “And what is that f” “That you will not speak of me till I come. As I have another en gagement, I shall be here late in the evening.” “What! may I not even tell the story of your good fortune V “Anything, so you do not men tion ray name.” She laughed—her quick woman’s w it comprehended, and protuisiiu to he very careful, she said her adues.” The reach r perhaps anticipates. I was spoken of as the young man about whose extraordinary luck they might have beard—the Amer ican nephew of an old Devonshire gentleman who^had quarreled with his sister, because her marriage had displeased him, but who at the last had relented and left’ millions to her son—but she withheld ray name. Later on I came. They were at tea, my host told me. It was a standing tea. I flatter my self I made my debut with singular coolness—found myself, teacup in hand, face to face with Miss Du four, to whom l bowed with hangh ty empressement. To see her start, grow white and catch her breath— to hear her unguarded: “Why, Hal!” Well, it was almost worth losirtg a fortune for, that experience. “Miss Dufour I” I said, with a chilling bow. Pen of mine cannot describe her discomfiture. Jt was almost like terror. For once the reigning belle, the woman of the world, was foiled, mortified, extinguished. Rallying at last, she tried in some sort of way to regain her lost pow er ; but I was in love with tbe star ry eyes aud soul-lit face of her cou sin Lucy—had been ever since that eventful night when I, looking up from the lower deck—and ou one other memorable occasion—saw her sweet face and board her speak for and almost the powertv stricken banished man. ******* We took our honeymoon trip back in the Persia. Since the failure of the great hanking house of Dufour Brothers, and the death of the ban ket himself, Lily has had a home with us, for I feel that in some sort The Town Cow. One of the most annoying things that the country people have to con tend with, says the West Union (O ) Defender, is the ordinary town cow. When the farmer leaves home he puts in the bottom ot his sleigh a bountiful armful of bay. This answeis the twofold purpose of a I owe to her my treasure < f a wife, seat and to keep the teet of himself — Ft ant; fjexlie'x. John B. Gough's Last and Best Book. This new ami splendidly illus trated volume* is the last book written by the world-faimyis John B. Gough, ami was completed by him just previous to his death Every one is familiar with the story of his early life, and of his rescue from a drunkard’s grave, and how this once wretched and despised sot became one of the most famous men of our time. “Platform Echoes” is John B. Gough in print. In it he lias given to the world in permanent form his best thoughts, his most touching tales, his umst stirring anecdotes and incidents, his most telling stories. As a story teller he has never been equalled. But whether he narrates a stor\ of mirth nr ol sorrow, it is always to illustrate great and living truths. Stranger stories are here told than romance ever dreamed of, every one ot them drawn from real life by a master hand. In every chapter he weaves in anecdote after anecdote, incident after incident, story after story, and underneath them all lie “Living Troths,” that standout as beacon lights. He plays upon the reader’s feelings as with an enchanter’s wand, at one time filling his heart with gladness, at another blinding his eyes with tear$. At his bid- dit g, hearts are melted, ami stern, strong men, as well as sensitive women, weep tears of compassion, are aroused to indignation, or moved to uncontrollable laughter in spite of every effort to control their feelings. Now that the silver tongue is silent, “Platform Echoes” is the richest literary legacy of John B. Gough. Tne aroma of his inimit able humor, tbe felicity of his des criptions, the adroitness and skill which enabled him to captivate and then capture hearts on both sides of the sea an* reproduced upon these pages. The orator and dramatist, the philanthropist and the reformer, for he was ail these, are portrayed here in the freedom and spontaneity ot autobiography. The book is what its name imli cates—real “Echoes” ol the man whose death humanity mourns. Its illustrations are the best we have ever seen. Jt contains two hundred and twenty seven fine engravings by the best artists and engravers in the world. Many of these illustrations aro “too funny for anything” while others depict wretchedness and woe. Sixteen of these engravings are tulip ge ones, and are magnificent specimens of art. Two hundred and nuie are text illustrations. There are two fine steel-plate portraits. One is from a life-size lull length painting, showing Mr. Gough as he appeared shortly after his tescue. The other is from a photograph* taken just he fore his death. All in all, it is one of the finest ever produced by the - American press. We advise our readers to buy Platform Ec hoes at the first op portunity. They can, in our opin ion, much better afford to dispense with a dozen other hooks than not |M)ssesH tins. Once begun it will not willingly be laid aside till the last page is finished Care For riles. Piles are frequently preceded by a sense of weight in the back, loins and lower part of the abdomen, causing the patient to suppose he has some aflectiou cf the kidneys or neigh boring organs. At times, symptoms of indigestion are present rt tulency, uneasiness of the atom ach, etc. A moisture like perspira tiou. producing a very disagreeable itching, alter getting warm, is a common attendant. Blind, Blewl- ing and Itching Piles yield at once to tbe application of Dr. Bosanko’s Pile Remedy, which acts directly upon the parts affected, absorbing the Tumors, allaying the intense itching, and effecting a permanent cure. Price 50 cents. Address The Dr. Bosauko Medicine Go., Piqua, O. Sold by Wiilcox & Go. Now Has Faith. I had been troubled all Winter with cold and pain in tbe chest and got no relief from remedies recom- mended by Druggists and Physi cians. At tbe same time 1 was advertising Dr. Bosauko’s Cough and Luug Syrup. I had little faith but thought tojffjr it as a last re sort, now I believe even more tbau they tell me of its curative qualities. (From The News, Elizalmthtown, Ky.) Sold by Wiilcox k Co. Dr. Gnun’s Liver Pills. Removes Constipation, prevents Malaria, cures Dyspepsia, and givea new life to tbe system. Only one for a dose. Free Samples at Will cox k Ob’s., Dreg Store. ami the gimd wife warm. He ar rives at town, unloads his wife in front ol some store, and proceeds to hitch his team at some point about the public square. No sooner is his hack turned than a doxan starved cows immediately suiiound his sled, and before he cm say “Jack Robinson with his mouth open,” every straw in his sled has gone throi gh the gastric orifices tf tbe cows We noticed one particularly careful fellow the other day. After hitching Ids team he took Ids hay and carried it into the courthouse yard Fie was goins to have the dead wood on that bunch of hay and departed for a saloon with a grin on Ids face. We watched the proceedings with considerable In terest. He was not out of sight un til three or four long h< rns opened Hi" j^aie and proceeded to the pile and chewed it up. Clubb ng these . lean kind does no good, in fact they rather enjoy the fun. Yon can take an ordinary stick of cord wood and bounce it from off their carcas. ses fifty feet high and they will turn around and smile at yon. They don’t even grunt when you have hit them hard enough to stave in their ribs. Such punishment seems only to act as atonic; it whets their appetites and makes them eu joy the repast which the farmer has hauled to them from Ids home many miles distant. And after it la all over just notice the peculiar look they give the man who came to town sitting on a pile of hay, ns be departs for home on the bare board. The town cow is a nuisance, but at the same time a necessity in all rural villages. A “home without a mother” would not be a more lone some spectacle than a rand village without its herd ot lean long-hom ed, stump tailed cows. A Walking Skeleton. Mr. E. Springer, of Mechanics- butg, P.t., writes: “I was afflicted wi|h lung fever and abscess on lungs, and reduced to a walking Skeleton. Got a free trial bottle of Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption, which did tne so much good that I bought a dollar bott'e. After using three bottles, found myself Once more a man, com pletely restored to health, with a hearty appetite, and a gain in flesh of 48 lbs.” Gall at Wiilcox & Go’s., Drug Store and get a tree trial bot tle of this certain cure tor all L u n g Diseases. Large Bottles ftl 00. A Carriage Drawn by Sheep. Almost every American in Peris who has ridden out toward theBois has r-eeii the old man in the little carriage drawn by sheep pottering along in the Avenue du Bois de Bo logne. These sheep are two fine tat South Downs, but the occupant is a cripple named Dr De Reroy. He lias been by turns a soldier, a trav eler, a politician, a journalist and a man of letters. A nephew of the Abbe Lammenais, he was for a while private secreta-y of Lamar tine, also an intimate friend of the Marquis of Hertford, at whose place in »he Bois hefreqnently met Prince Napoleon. Dnnug the war he vol unteered to carry imimrtant dis patches out ot Paris for the govern ment of the Defense Nationale. He started alone in a baloon, which was jaught in a hrrrican,' carried into Switzerland, and came down in the midst of the Mer de Glace glacier, where his legs were so frbat bitten that they had to be amputa ted. Beside his legs, he lost bis for tune by tbe war. Thousands Say So. Mr. T. W. Atkius, Girard, Kau., writes: “l never hesitate to re commend your Electric Bitun to my customers, they give eltire satisfaction amt are rapid sellers.” Electric Bitters are tbe purest and best medicine kuowu an<1 will posi tively cure Kidney and Liver com plaints. Purify the blood and re gulate the bowels. No family can afford to be without them. They will save hundreds of dollars In doctor’s hills every year. Bold at fifty cents a bottle by Wilioox k Co- Bneklea’s Arnica Salve. The best Salve iu the world for Outs, Bruises, Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, sad all Skin Urn pt ions, aud positively cures Piles, or no pay required. D is guaranteed to give perfect satis faction, or money refunded. Price 25 cents per box. For sale by Will- cox ft Co. “Hughes’ Tonic is generally con ceded to be the ifewt and eheapest remedy lor Chills aud Fever. It ia an honeat and v* B. H. Mitcham, ms* Mi. - ■> - m &