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CONEMAUOH. Tly toth# Terribly nog Um c Th« olectrio aonl oT Qainml like The roul ortho We to face with Aoewend to the riwol Like the etaraelroelt. nyr her lodger, LHui Wedge, the i. Ererybody had e kind word for Ralph, and nobody told me then how wicked it waato run about with a boy of each unnatural depravity. Thla, aa you will Bee, waa to eotuo.' He was a tall boy h * ad * rc depicted beforehand all the Or- for his years, and he waa six years older ' a tale of luck and read. Gome, child, give me band; let me read your lines too." It la strange how in the lines of one’s loathe win Unafraid, naming the wild word down Into the lower towsi la there a lower yet and another! Into the valley she at CSn hurl the waning 017. ‘Fly to the mountain! Flyi The water trom Oonemaugb Baa opened Ua ewfnl Jaw. The dam fa wide On tha mountain rider "Fly for your Ufel oh, fly!" They said. She lifted bar noble head— “I can atay at my peat, and die." Face to faee with duty and death. Daar la tha drawing of human breath. "Steady, my handl Bold fast To tha trust upon thae oaat. Steady, my wiral Go, say That death la on tha way. Steady, strong wiral Go, aavo, *• OrandU the power you faara." Ormodor tho ooul that can stand Bohlnd the tramming hand. Grander tha woman who dares. Glory her high pama wean. "This menage is my last!" Shot over tho wtra, and pasasd To tha llataning oar of tha land. The mountain and the strand Reverberate the cry, Ifly for your lives! oh, fly! I stay at my post and die.” The torrent took her. God knows aU. Fiercely the savage currents fall To muttering calm. Ben count their dead. The June sky smileth overhead. God's will we neither read nor guess. Poorer by one more hero lean. We bow the hesd and clasp the hand— “Teach us, although we die, to stand.” -Elisabeth Stuart Phelps In Boston Transcript then myself, which proves how good na- tuiad ho must have been, for few boys of IS or 10 care for the companionship of a girl of 9 or 10. Ae for his face, it has al ways been the dearest face in the world ' to me, and always will be. so that I know not whether other people would call it a handsome face. His eyes were eager, as If—which was the case—he always wanted to be up and doing. They were blue eyes, because be was a Northumberland lad, yet not soft and dreamy eyes, as Is too often the case with the people of the north. His face was oval and his feat ures regular. He carried his bead thrown. back, and walked erect with both hands ready, aa If there was generally a light to be expected, and it was well to bo pre pared. To be sure, Ralph waa one of those who love a fight and do not sulk If they are beaten, but bide a bit and then I on again. When Ralph was nearly 15, a great and terrible misfortune befell him His uncle, Mr. Samuel Embleton, though not aa old marr, died suddenly. After he was buried It waa found that he had left by will Marwick Mill, and the farm, his household furniture, his books, which were not many, and all the money he Rid ; in the world, to Ralph as his sole heir. ; This inheritance proved at first the cause of grgat unhappiness to the poor boy. •Kor,unfortunately,tho will named Mathew j Bumble as guardian and executor, to i whom tho testator devised his best wig : J and his best coat; with his second bast t bed and a gold headed stick. Now H i angered Mathew to think that he be- : ing also nephew and sister’s son of Samuel Embleton, of Morwick Mill, waa ! left no part or portion of this goodly j heritage. It would seem that, knowing his uncle’s design to send Ralph to Cam- i bridge, and his M 1 cum stances of life, easy to be read before hand by thoee who are wise. Yet have I been told that It la not enough to learn the rules unlew yon have the gift •‘He will acme beak." “He xoUl corns backf" eke repeated. after long looking Into the hand. Now, your own hand Here la a long line of life—yet not ea long aa my own. Here is the line of marriagw—a good line; a happy marriage; a fortunate girl—yet there will be trouble, b It aa old man? I cannot rightly read. Something is in the way. Trouble, and even grievous trouble. But all to come right in the end.” "Is my fortune," I asked, "connected with the fortune of Ralph?” She laughed her rough, hoarse sea laugh. "If It is an old man, or if it is a young man, say him nay. Bide your old love. -— hope that he would be- , ^ come a credit to the family and a pillar of i ^ he tkreaten - “7 W® W- the church, he had hoped and even grown Bul0 ^ oar old 8we ethoart. CHAPTER nr. drusxlla’b stobt. I was born in Cheapside, almost be neath the bells of Bow, on October 5, in the year of grace 1758, being the fifth and youngest child of Solomon Hetherington and Prudence, his wife. My father waa adtiaen and glover, a member of the Honorable Company of Glovers, Jds ambi tion being always to be elected, before ; lord mayor, master of his com- 1 ambitipns are laudable iu a city merchant, yet, alas, they are not always attained, and in my unhappy father’s case they were very far from being reached, as you shall presently hear. There 1% I am told, some quality in the London air which eauseth the city, in spite of much that is foolish a£ regards cleanliness, to be a healthy place, and favorable to children. So that, for my own part, though I waa brought up in the Wry center and'heart of the city, with no green Helds to run In, nor any gardens lave those belonging to the Drapers’ com pany, I. ss welT as my brothers and sis ters, waa a healthy and well faring child up to the age of 8, when L with all my brothers and sisters, war afflicted with that scourge of mankind, smallpox This dreadful dtr^ase, to the unspeakable grief of my parents, killed their four eldest children, and spared none but myself, tho youngest, and a girl I recovered so far that, although I was weakly and ailing for a long time, I was not marked by a single spot or any of those ugly pits, which sometimes ruin many a woman’s .beauty and thereby tob her of that choic est blessing, the love of a husband. So different, however, was I from the stout and hearty girl before the smallpox, that my parents were advised that the best chance to save my life—this being for the time their chief and even their only hope —was to send me Into the country, there to live in fresh, pure air, running in tho ■un, and fed on oatmeal porridge, good talk, fat bacon and new laid eggs. Then my father bethought him of his own mother who lived far away indeed from London, namely at Warkworth, in Northumberland. And he proposed to my mpther that they should take this long Journey, carrying me with them, and leave me for awhile in charge of my grand mother; which being done, and my health showing signs of amendment, they were constrained to go beck to their own busi ness, leaving me in good hands, yet with sorrowful hearts, because they were going home without me. And for six or seven yean I saw them no more. No girl, to be dure, had kinder treatment eg acne indulgent governess than myself. My grandmother, Dame Hetherington— though not a lady by birth, but only a fanner’s daughter—lived In the house which stands outside the town, beyond the bridge, among the trees. ‘ My grandmother was a wise woman, and reflected that, aa I was sent away from London In order to recover my health .and grow strong, 1 was allowed s^d encour aged to run about in the open air as much as possible, so that, as this part of Eng land la quite safe, and there are here few gyp*iee(wbo mostly stay on the other ride of Cheviot) nor any robbers On the road— nor, indeed, any road at all to signify—I very toon grew to knew the whole country within the reach of k hearty girl’s feet. There is plenty to see, though this part of Northumberland iaflatr while the rest la wild and jtqqqqfcaibans* i where are thk ruins of tiie pfd c*^tlvftbWJt jrhleh it it always pleasant for a. ohild . to rtm ind climb, or'forla ggpwn pesseB -to meditstd on the vanity , -of. earthly things,' Seeing that this pile of ruins wajf onceW^rfeat Ood Stately castle, uid. this, greensward was onoe hidden benMRVChs feet of fierce soldiers, who now art dust and' ashes in the grave yafdv From the castle one looks down upon the Coquet, which would ever continue in my e^es the sweetest of rivers, even were I to see the far darned Tiber, or tl^esilver Thames, or the great Ganges, or the mysterious Nile, or even the sacred Jordan. , rnp the river Was Morwick Mill, where Ralph Embleton Bted with 'his Beyond the town, half a mile out to •am Uea the little (sland of Coquet. Ralph onsa sowed me across the narrow channel. We explored the desert .Island and thought of tloMnsonOrusoe which ho had me. Bht this wafl before' 1 the time ethen we took to ptstiniUptf at la thoee days, which seam to have been so happy, and I dare say were, Ralph was fret, and could eome and go aa pleased him best, save that he went every morn ing to the vicar, who taught him Latin and Greek, and sometimes remembered— but In kindly moderation—tha advice of Solomon. The reason of this freedom was that his unde, with whom he lived, loved the lad greatly, and intended great things tor him, even designing that he should become a great eeholsr rad go to Cambridge. For once there waa a member of his family who took to learning rad rose from being a poor scholar in that university, which haMwer been a kindly muse or foster mother of poor scholars, ** he a doctor of divinity rad a bishop, “®*my Ralph was never to be a bishop or * doctor of divinity. And a sad eb ^S 9 was to happen at tha mHL Everybody was our friend in those days, wss Mr- Outhbert Carnaby, Justice ei - - * % fcOflf hoped and even grown | to bollcvo firmly and to expect it as a right, that the mill at least, if not the i farm, or a portion of it. would be left fc> him. It was, thorefore, a bitter blow for him to find that ho was left nothing at all except what he could make or save os guardian of the heir and administrator of tho estate, with free quarters at the mill for six years. Surely for a man of pro bity and common sense that would have been considered a great deal. He came with his sister, who was as . much disappointed as himself, in a spirit j of rancor, malice rad envy. He regarded | tho innocent boy as a supplanter. The first thing he did was to inform him that he should have no skulking or Idleness, i He therefore put a stop to the Latin and | Greek lessons with the vicar, and employed the boy about the work of tho place, giv ing him the hardest rad most disagreea- | ble tasks on the farm. For freedom was substituted servitude; for liberty, re straint; for affection rad kindness, harsh language and continual floggings; while Barbara, with her tongue, that ill gov erned weapon of a woman, made him feel for the first time in his life how idle, how useless, how greedy a creature he was. The boy bore with all, as meekly as was his duty, for quite two years. But he often came to me or to the fugleman with fists clinched, declaring that he would en dure this ill usage .no longer, and miring in wonder what he had done to deserve it. And at such times he would swear to leave the mill, and run. away and seek his fort une anywhere—somewhere In the world. It was always in his mind from the first, when Mathew began his ill treatment, that he would run away and seek his fort- une. In this design he was strengthened by the example of my father, who left the village when a boy of 11 to seek his fort une, rad found—you shall hear presently what ho found. I dissuaded him as much as I could; because it was dreadful for me to think of being left without him, or of his running about the country helpless and friendless. The fugleman, who knew tho world and had traveled far, pointed out to him very sensibly that he would have to endure this hardness for a very short time longer, that he was al ready 16 and as tall aa most men, rad could not for very shame be flogged much longer, while as for Barbara’s' tongue, he declared that a brave man ought not to valne wib&t a woman said, let ber. tongue run as free as the sergeant at drill of re cruits, no more than the price of a rope’s end; and again, that In five years’ time, as soon as Ralph was 81, he would have the right to turn his cousin out of the mill, which would then become his own prop erty,. rad a very pretty property, too, where aa old friend would expect to find a pipe rad a glaos of Hollands or rum. And he promised himself to assist at the ducking In the river which he supposed that Ralph would give his cousin when that happy day should arrive, as well aa at the great feast and rejoicing which he supposed would follow. The result of these exhortations, to which were added those of my grandmother, Was that he remained at home, apd when Mathew Humble cruelly belabored him he showed no anger or desire for revenge, rad when Barbara smote him with harsh words rad found texts out of the Bible to taunt him with he made no reply. Nor did he rebel oven though they treated him as if he were a common piOwboy and farm drudge, instead of the heir to all I confess, and have long felt sincerely, the wickedness of the thing which at length brought open disgrace upon poor Ralph, and drove him away trom us. Yet, ’deserving of blame rad punishment as our actions were, I cannot but think that the .Sonduct of. Mathew in bringing the chief culprit—he knew nothing of my share or of the fugleman’g—before his worship, Mr. Justice Carnaby, waa actuated more by malice than by u honest desire to bring criminals to punishment. Tfafrtdes, he had for some months before ♦hi« been spreading abroad wicked rumors about Ralph, saying, among other false and malicious things, that the boy was idle, gluttonous, lying, and even thieving, in somuch that the vicar, who knew the con trary, rad that the boy was as good a lad aa ever walked, though fond of merriment rad a little headstrong, opefaly rebuked him for malice and evil thinking, saying plainly that these things Were not so, and that, if they 'were so, Mathew was much to Marne in blabbing. them about the dountry, rather than trying-to-correct the lad's faults, rad doing Ms best to- hide them from the general knowledge. Yet there are some who always believe what Is spoken to one’s dispraise, rad sour looks rad unfriendly faces were bestowed upon the boy, while my grandmother was warned net to allow me to ran wil i with a lad of so notorious a bad charactei Fhis is all that I meant when I said just now that at first all were our friends. When Ralph Whs gone I, took little joy in anything until I got my first letter from him, which was not for a very long time afterward. Now, one day, as I whs walking sorrow- folly home, having sat all tip afternoon with the fugleman, I saw Sailor Nan beckoning to me from her stone outside the door. "Child," she said, “where’s your sweet heart?" "Alack," I replifc “I know not. Sailor Van.” "Yeung maids," aha went en, "ansi not poke agd pine because they heat nothing for a while of the lads thty Jove. B» of good Maar. Why, 1 aed Ma Ms - gg "There was an old man came over the lea, Heigho I but 1 won't have *un; Game over the lea, A-courtin' to me, WV hie old grajr beard ju*t newly shaven." She crooned out the words In a cracked and rusty voice, and pushed my hand away roughly. Then she replaced her pipe in her month, and went on smoking the tobacco, which was her chief food and her chief eolace, rad took no further heed of me. CHAPTER V. ▲ sacoxo warrmroroN. The summer rad the autumn paseed but no sign or letter came from Ralph. The people in the town ceased, after the manner of mankind, to think of the boy. He was gone and forgotten, yet there were two or three of ne who spoke rad thought of him continually. First, there was the fugleman, who found his life dull without the boy to talk with. He prom ised to make a collection of birds’ eggs in the spring as a present for him when he should return. Then there was the old woman, Sailor Nan, who kept his memory green. Lastly, there were my grand mother and myself. We knew not, how ever. where he was or anything about him, nor could we guess what be was do ing or whither he had gone. Twice in the year, namely at Christmas or the New Year, and at midsummer, I had letters from my parents, to which I duly replied. It was in May when Ralph ran away, so that they had three letters from me that year. When my Christmas letters arrived there was mention of our boy, but so strange a tale that we could not understand what to believe or what the thing might mean. The letter told us that Ralph reached London safely in four or five weeks after leaving us, having walked all the way, save for such trifling lifts and helps as might be had for nothing on the road; he found out my father’s shop; he gave him the letter; he slept in the house, and was hospitably entertained. In the morning he was taken by my father to the East India's company’s great house in CornhiU, and left there by him, to talk with a gen tleman abont the obtaining of a post in their service; that, the conversation fin ished, being dismissed by the gentleman with whom he had taken counsel, Ralph left the office. Then he disappeared, rad was seen no more. Nor to the inquiries made waa there any answer given or ray news of him ascertained. “So wicked is this unhappy town,” wrote my mother, "that men are capable of murdering even an innocent lad from the country for the sake of the silver buckles, or the very cost upon his back. Yet there are other ways in which he may have been drawn away. He loved not the thought of city life; he may have taken the recruiting sergeant’s shilling, or he may have been pressed for a sailor and sent to sea; or, which heaven forbid, he may have been decoyed into bad company, and now be in the company of rogues. Whatever the cause, he hath disappeared and made no sign. Yet he seemed a good and honest lad." So perplexed were we with the strange and unintelligible intelligence that, after turning It abont in talk for a week, it was resolved that we would consult Mr. Car naby in the matter. It would perhaps have been better if we had kept the thing to ourselves. For this gentleman, though he kindly considered the case, could do nothing to remove the dreadful doubt under which we lay, except that he re commended us to patience rad resigna tion, virtues of which, Heaven knows! we women who stay at home must needs con tinually practice. We should, Isay, have done better had we held our tongues, be cause Mr. Carnaby told the barber, who told the townsfolk one by one, rad then It was whispered abont that Ralph had joined the gypeies, according to some; or been pressed and sent to sea, according to others; or had enlisted, according to others; with wild stories told in addition, born of imagination, idle or malignant, aa that he had joined a company of common rogues rad robbers; or—but I scorn to re- P*at these things. Everybody, however, at this Juncture, remembered the wicked things said of the boy by his cousin. As for Mathew himself, overjoyed at the wel come news, which he received open mouthed, so to speak, he went about call ing all his acquaintances to witness that he had long since prophesied rain and dis aster to the boy, which, indeed, to the fullest extent, a lad so depraved as to horsewhip his own guardian, richly de served. As for coming back, be said that was not likely, rad, Indeed, Impossible, because he was already knocked on the head—Mathew was quite convinced of thla—in some midnight brawl, or at least fallen so low that he would never dare to return among respectable people. These things we could not believe, yet they sank Into our hearts and made ns uneasy. For where could, the boy be, and why did he not send us one letter, at least, to toll ns what he had done, and how he had fared? •Child," said my grandmother, "it Is certain that Mathew does not wish his oousili to return. He bears malice in his heart against the boy, and he remembers that should he never get back the mill will be his own." Already he began to give hitw—if the airs of the master, and to talk of selling a field here rad a field* than, and of improving the property, ss if all was his. . ' . . “He will oome back,” said the fngl»- maa. "Brave hearts and lusty legs do not get killed. Maybe ho hath enlisted, tom no doubt will get first, sergeant nest, and fugleman. Or maybe, as your lady mother says, he hath been pressed, rad is now at sea, so that he cannot write. But, wherever he is, be sore he is doing well Where fore, heart uni” Well, to wiorten the story, we got no news at all, and could never discover, for many years, what had become of the boy. When four years had passed by without a word or Une from him, Mathew grew horribly afraid, because Ralph’s one-and- twentieth birthday drew near, and he thought the time was oome when the heir would appear and claim his own. What preparations he made to receive him ] know not Perhaps a blunderbuss and a cup of poison. But the day passed, rad there was no sign of Ralph. Then, indeed, Mathew became quite certain that ho would no more be disturbed and that the mill was his Own. As for myself, I sat at homo chiefly with my grandmother, who was now be ginning to grow old, yet brisk rad nota ble still There was a great deal to be done, and the days pass swiftly to indus trious brads; yet not one so busy and not one so swift but I could find time to think and to pray for Ralph. Still tha fugelman kept up my heart, rad Sailor Nan swore, as if she was still captain of the foretop, that he would come home safe. I was young, happily, and youth Is the time for hope. And about the end of the sixth year I had cause to think about other things, because my own misfortunes began. I had long observed in the letters of my dear parents a certain difference, which constantly caused doubt and questioning; for my mother exhorted me continually. In every letter, to the practice of frugal ity, thrift, simple living, rad the acquisi tion of housewifely knowledge, rad, in short, all those virtues which especially adorn the condition of poverty. She also never failed to bid me reflect upon the un certainty of human affairs rad the insta bility of fortune; and every letter fur nished examples of rich men become poor, and great ladlM reduced to beg their bread. My grandmother bade me lay these things to heart, rad I per ceived that she was disturbed, and she would have written to my father to ask if things were going ill, but for two reasons. The first was that she could neither read nor write, those arts not hav ing been taught her In her childhood; and I testify that she was none the worse for want of them, but her natural shrewdness even increased, because she had to depend upon herself, and could not still be run ning to a book for guidance. The second reason was that the letters of my father, both to her rad to myself, were full of glorious anticipate and confidence. Yes, while my mother wrote in sadness he wrote In triumph; when she bade me learn to ocou» pot* he commanded me to study the fashions; when she prophesied disaster he proclaimed good fortune. Thus he ordered that I was to be taught whatever could be learned in so remote a town as Warkworth, and that especial care was to bo taken in my carriage and demeanor, begging my grandmother to observe the deportment of Mrs. Car naby, rad to bid me copy her as an exam ple, for, he said, a city heiress not uncom monly married with a gentleman of good family, though impoverished fortunes; thatsomedty heiresses had of late mar ried noblemen; that aa he had no son, nor any other child but myself, I would in herit the whole of his vast fortune (I thought how I could give it all to Ralph), rad, therefore, I must study how to main tain myself in the position which I should shortly occupy. He desired me ospecially to pay very particular attention not to seem quite rustical rad country bred, and to remember that the common speech of Northumberland would raise a laugh In London. With much more to the same effect. I say not that my father wrote all this in a single letter, but in several; so that all these things became implanted in my mind, and both my grandmother rad my self were, in spite of my mother’s letters, firmly persuaded that we were already very rich rad considerable people, and that my father was a merchant of the greatest renown—already a common coun cilman, rad shortly to be alderman, sheriff and lord mayor—in the city of Lon don. This belief was also held by our neighbors rad friends, and It gave my grandmother, who was, besides, a lady of dignified manners, more consideration than she would otherwise have obtained, with the title of madam, which was surely due to the mother of so great rad successful a man. Now the truth was this: My father was the most sanguine of men, and the most ready to deceive himself. He lived con tinually (If I may presume to say so with out breaking the fifth commandment) in a fool’s paradise. When he was a boy nothing would do for him but he must go to London, refusing to till the acres which would afterward be his own, because he was ambitious, and ardently desired to be another Whittington. See the dangers of the common chap books, in which he had read the story of this great lord mayor! He so far resembled Whittington that he went up to London (by wagon from New castle) with little in his pocket, except a letter of recommendation from the then vicar of Wark worth to his brother, at the time a glover in Cheapside. How he became apprentice—like Whittington—to this glover, how he fell in love—like Whitting ton—with his master’s daughter, how he married her—like Whittington—and in herited tho business, stock, capital, good will rad all, may here only be thus briefly told; but by the death of his master he became actual and sole owner of a London shop, whereupon, my poor father’s brain being always full of visions, he was In flamed with the confidence that now, in deed, he had nothing to look for but the making of an Immense fortune. Worse than this, he thought that the fortune would come of its own accord. How a man living in the city of London could make so prodigious a mistake, I know not. Therefore he left the whole care of the business to his wife rad his apprentice, rad for his own part spent the day in coffee houses or on ’change, or -wherever mer chants and traders meet together. This made him full of great talk, rad he pres ently proceeded to Imagine that he him self 'was concerned In the great ventures rad enterprises of which he heard so much, or perhaps, because he could not actually have thought himself a merchant adventurer, he believed that before long he also should be embarking cargoes to the East rad West Indies, running under eouKoy of frigates safe through the ene my’s privateers. It was out of the profits of those imaginary cargoes that he was to obtain that vast wealth of which he con tinually thought and talked until, in the end, he believed that he possessed it. Meantime his poor wife, my mother, left in charge of the shop, and with her house hold cares aa well, found, to her dismay, that the reepeetaMe business which her father had made was qukkly falling from them, a* their old friends died, one by one, or retired from trade, and no new onsa coming In their places; for, as I have bean credibly informed, the Tiuslnsaa of a tradesman or merchant In London is so precarious and uncertain that, unless it bo oonstaaily w etched, encouraged, coaxed, fo% For want of thamartarfe lack of pushing and Tandy returns of the^shop grew mother. . to tno tact, no only add that business was. In tho nature of things, fluctuating; that a bad year would be succeeded by a good year; that had recently been made by traders to Calicut rad Surinam, where hie had designs of employing his own capital, and that ventures to Canton had of late proved extremely successful Alas, poor man! he had no capital left, for now all was gone—capital, credit and custom. Yet he still continued to believe that his shop, the shop which came to him with his wife, was bringing to him, every year, a great rad steady return, and that he I AM ALL READY FOR CHRISTMAS, > amassing a fortune, ne d”.y—it wi One d”.y—it was a Saturday evening in May—in the year 1770, six years after the flight of Ralph Embleton. when I was in my seventeenth year, rad almost grown to my full height, I saw coming slowly along the narrow road which leads from the high way to Warkworth a country cart, rad In it two persons, the driver walking at the horse’s head. I stood at the garden gate watching this cart idly, and the setting sun behind It, without so much as won dering who theee persons might be, until presently it came slowly down the road, which hew slopes gently to the river and the brijWe, and pulled up In front of our gate, when the cart stopped a lady got quickly down and seized my hands. “You are my Drusllla?” she asked, and without waiting for a reply, because ahe was my mother rad knew I could be no other than her own daughter, ahe foil upon my neck In a passion of weeping rad sob bing, saying that she knew I was her daughter dear, and that she was my most With choice Citron, Raisins, Currents, Nuts of all kinds, Apples, Oranges, best Confectioneiy, Iceing-sugar, Prunes, Evapora ted Apples and Minced Meat for pies; all kinds of Flavor ings, Spices, best Creamery Butter, Pickles by the bottle and quart, Table Sauces, Hams, Sausages. ALL WILL BE SOLD AT THE LOWEST MARKET PRICES, .A.T HOFFMAN’S VIENNA BAKERY. November 28, 1889—6m Lewenthal & Hennig, — DEALERS IN THE — Farmers* Alliance Rye Whiskey. GROCERIES, WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS. Corner Pearle Street and Court House Square, DARLINGTON, S. C. December 19, 1889—3m She knew I teas her daughter dear. unhappy ruined mother. It was my father who descended after her. He advanced with dignified step and the carriage of ono in authority. I observed that his linen rad the lace of his ruffles were of the very finest, rad his coat, though dusty, of the finest broadcloth. He seemed not to perceive my mother’s \ fare; he kissed me rad gave me his blessing He bade the carter, with majestic air, lead the “coach” —he called the country cart a coach—and take great care of the horse, which he said was worth forty guineas If a unny; but tho horse was a KTyear-oia worth at most four guineas, as I knew very well, because I knew the carrier. Amazed at this extraordinary behavior, I led my parents to my grandmother, and then we presently learned the truth. My father, if you please, was ruined; he was a bankrupt; his schemes of greatness had come to nothing; his vast fortune lay In his Imagination only; ho had lost his wife’s money and his own. He had returned to his native county, his old friends having clubbed together rad made a little puna for him, and his creditoas having con sented to accept what they could get and to give him a quittance in full, because ha was known to be a man of Integrity; otherwise ho might have been lodged m Jail, where many an unfortunate, yet honest, man lieth in misery. The disaster was more than my father’s brain could bear. First, as soon aa he fairly understood what had happened, he fell into a lethargy, sitting In a chair all day ia silence, and desiring nothing but to be left alone. After a while the lethargy changed Into a restlessness, and he must needs be up and doing something—it mat tered not what. Then tho restlessness disappeared and he became again his old self, as cheerfuf, as sanguine, as confident, with no other change than a more settled dignity of bearing, caused by the belief, the complete delusion, that now his for tune was indeed made; that he possessed boundless wealth, and that he was going to leave London and to retire into the country, as many great merchants used to do, In order to enjoy it. He was fully possessed with the idea that he was as wealthy as he ever desired to be. His poor brain was turned, indeed, on this point, rad after a while I thought little of it, because wo became accustomed to It, rad because It seemed a harmless I craze. Yet it was not harmless, as you will hear. Indeed, even an Innocent babe In arms may be made the Instrument of mischief in the hands of a wicked man Our first visitor was Mathew Humble He came first, he said, to pay his respects to my father. Then he began to corns with great regularity. But I perceived soon, for I was no longer a child, but already a woman, that ho had quits another object in view, for ho cast his eyes upon me in such a way as no woman can mistake. Even to look upon those eyes of his made me turn sick with loath ing.' Why, if this man had been another Apollo for beauty I would not have re garded him, and so far was he trom an Apollo that a fat and loathsome satyr more nearly resembled him. He was already three or four rad thirty, which I, being 17, regarded as a very great age indeed; and most Northumbrian folk are certainly married and the fathers of children already tall before that time. He was a man who made no friends, and lived alone with his sister Barbara. No girl at all, so far as I know, could boast of having received any attentions from him; he was supposed to care for nothing except money rad strong drink. Every evening he sat by himself in the room i^hich overlooks the river, with account books before him, and drank usquebaugh. But he loved brandy as well, or Hollands, or rum, or Indeed anything which was strong. And being naturally short of stature he was grown fat rad gross, with red hanging cheeks, which made his small eyes look smaller and more pig like, a doable chin, rad a nose which already told a tale of deep potations, so red and swollen was it. What girl of 17 could regard with favor—even if there were no image of a brave and comely boy already im pressed upon her heart—such a man as this, a mere tosspot rad a drinker? And, worst of all, a secret and solitary drinker —a gloomy drinker. (To be continued.) DIAMOND DROPS, The latast improvement on the celebrated GOLDEN RYE WHIS KEY DROPS. Sole A;,ent. . FIVE BARRELS JUST RECEIVED, Mr. S. Manne proposes to sustain to the fullest extent the busi ness recently conducted by his father, and to the end solicits a continuance of the patronage which has heretofore been ac corded tho firm. 0 GREAT RUSH TO MANNE’S A-TJOTIOlsr C3-003DS I THIRTY PER CENT. LESS THAN ANY HOUSE IN TOWN. September 12, 1889. Schedule of the Hartsville R. R. Hartsvillk. 8. C., Deo. 7, ’89. DAILY MIXED TRAIN. Leaves Hartsville, 7.15 A. M. Leaves Jovann, 7.40 “ Arrive at Floyd’s, 8.05 “ Making connection with the South bound passenger train on the Cheraw & Darlington Railroad. RETURNING. Leave Floyd’s, 10.00 A. M. Leave Jovann. 10.20 “ Arrive at Hartsville, 10.60 “ This train waits two hours, if necessa ry, for the North bound freight train on C. 81. D. R. R. Extra train every Monday and Sat urday connects with the North bound passenger train on C. &. D. R. R. Leave Floyd’s, 9.00 P. M. Leave Jovann, 9.20 “ Arrive at Hartsville, 9.45 “ J. L. COKER. President. FOR C. & 1). AND C. & 3. RAILROADS Pibsidbht’sOrrics ) C. & D. andC. & 8. RAILROADS, \ Charleston, 8. C., May 12, 1889. j On and after May 12, the Irabu on these roads will run as follows (Sands. ex cepted) every day: DOWX TBA1X. Leave Wadesboro Bennetts Morven’s McFarland... Leave Cheraw 7.80 Cash’s Society Hill. Dove’s ... 8.02 8.22 Darlington... 8.42 Palmetto Arrive at Florence. • ••••#••••• ••eeee 9 16 VP TRAM. Leave Florence Palmetto Darlington.. Dove’s Society Hill.. Cash’s 9.12 flank of ZJrtdittflttm, • HAS OPENBD A And from and after this dale will receive deposirn of One Dollar and upwards, and pay quarterly interest on the same, at the rate of five per cent, per annum, under legulations to be made known at the Bank. This is a favorable opportunity for Farmers, Clerks, Mechanics, Laborers, — and — ’ Factory Operatives, To save their earnings. J. L. COKER, BRIGHT WILLI A MSON, President. Cashier. Darlington, S.C., June 18,1889 P M LcaveCberaw 9.43 P M McFarlan 10.08 Morven’s 10.20 Dennett’s 10.36 Lake Wadesboro 11.00 Freight Train going up. Leare Floren'Ce 7.00 am Arrive Darlington 7.45 a m Freight going down Arrive Darlington 3.00 pm Leave Darlington 3.60 p m Arrive Florence 4.10 pm A F. RAVENEL, Pre*. G H Matter Transportation. 2>TEW SOHEIDL/LB fORTHEASTERN RAILROAD. N' IF. II^OIR.IMIIEIN'T, F H R E ■ -'Sact Charleston, 8. C., May 12, 1889. On and after this date the following schedule will be run ; GOING SOUTH. No. 27, Daily. Leave Florence Leave King-tree * Arrive Lane* Leave Lancs Arrive Charleston No. 23, Daily Leave Florence Leave Kingstree Arrive Lanes Leave Lanes Arrive Charleston No 63. Leave Lanes Arrive Charleston Train No. 63 takes No. 63 South of Lanes Train on C & D R R conn sts at Flor ence with No 23 Train GOING NORTH, No, 78, Daily, Leave Charleston *1 35 a m 2 29 a u a 2 60 a m 9 50 a m ■ 00 a m *9 80 a in 10 65 a d 11 20,i 11 Mat, 1 «0a si *7 60 P. M. 9 80 p. m. IKTSTJUaKTOE -A-GEEHSTT. REPRESENTS TEN OF THE LARGEST AND OLDEST COMPA NIES IN THE WORLD. Insures all classes of property, including Gin Houseii, in any part ot the County. Office over DARLINGTON NEWS building. Decemmber 6,1888. I Arrive Lanes Leave Lanes ; Leave Kingstree ! Arrive Florenco | Leave Coarleilon Arrive Lancs Leave Lancs Leave Kingstree ; Arrive Florence No. 14. •19 25 a m 3 45 a a 2 60 a m 3 i0 a m 4 20 , m •4 80 p m 6 28 p m 6 28pm 6 46 p m 7 66 p m '0 am 10 a m -AT ENTS, Caveats and Trade-Marks obtained, and all Patent business condueted for Moderate Fees. Our Office ia Opposite U. S. Patent Office and we can secure patent in less time and at less cost than those remote from Washington. Send model, drawing or photo., with description. We advise, if patentable or not, free of charge, Our fee not due till patent Is secured. A Lrrrtt Book. “How to Obtain Pat ents,’’ with names of actual clients in your State, County or town sent free. Address, C. A. SNOW & CO. pp. Patent Office, Washington, D. C For Sale. A large lot of well seasoned framing lumber. Apply to Jan. *-8t W. D. WOODS. Read these Prices. Call at .EAR 1,000 yards assorted Worsteds at 10 cts, worth 20 to 40cts; A full line Cashmeres at 12i and 15 cts. We arestil Iran* ning our famous 25 cts. yard wide Cashmere in all shades more popular than ever this season. 45-inch Henrietta at 50 cents. A large line of Black Goods consisting of Cashmeres, Henriettas and Imported Reps from 15 to $1 per yard. A well selected s^ock of Ladies’ and Misses’ Wraps consisting of Jackets, Modjeskas and New Markets. A specially large line of Staple Dry Goods, and Notions at prices that move them rapidly. SHOES. Our line of Shoes is large and complete and well adapted to the wants of the people. We continue to maintain our reputation for selling solid goods. Gents* Furnisliing Goods, Our success in the Gents’ Furnishing Goods Depaitment war rant us in the belief that our Clothing and Hats Men’s,. Youths’ and Boys’ suit the people, both as to quality and price. We carry always in stock a full line of Hardware, Crockery, Tin, Harness, &c. • GROCERIES. The Grocery Department is large and kept well supplied, at ^bek-bottom prices. H jm DWARF. At the Hardware Store, Managed by J. H. Early, is kept Stoves, Sewing Machines, Pumps; Gins, Belting Steam Engines, Ac., iu fact everything that comes under the head of machinist’s supplies. REPAIRING A SPECIALTY-" October 31,18 No. 62, Daily. Leave Charleston Arrive Lanes • Daily, f Daily except Sat, Train No. 62 tikes No. 62 North Train No. 14 connects at Flor Train on C & D R R for Cheraw Wadesboro, N. C. Nos 52 runs through ts Columbia via Central U R ofS C. Nos. 78 and 14 run solid to Wilmington, N. C., making close oouseotion with W. & W R R for all points aorth. J R. KENLY, , J. F. Divine, Supt. Trans. Q #B M Saf’t. T. M. Emebsom, Gen’l Pass. Agt. ULMIMTON COLimiA AM ABCI1CTA Rin.qii May 12, 1889. GOING SOUTH No. 23. Leave Wilmington Leave Marion Arrive Florence No. 60. Leave Florence Arrive Sumter Leave Sumter Arrive Columbia Ne. »7 Leave Wilmington Leave Marion Arrive Florence No 52 Leave Sumter Arrive Columbia No 68 Leave Florence Arrive Sumter No 52 runs through from Charleston vis Central R U. Leaving Lanes 9 15 A U., Manning 8 58 A M. - Train on C & D R R connects at Florsne* with No 68. GOING NORTH. No- 61. *ie.l6 p a 12.40 p ■ 190am flO 83 a ■ 11 66 p ■ f9 20 a m 10 28 a m r,eave Columbia. Arrive Sumter Leave Sumler Arrive Florence No. 78. Leave Florence, Leave Marion Arrive at Wilmington, No. 69 Leave Sumter Arrive Florence Leave Columbia Arrive Sumter No. 63, •10 85 p ■ 11 68 p a 11 68 p m 116am 48«am 6 20am 8 86am f6 87 p a 7 60 p a •6 20 pm 6 82 p a . *» 16 pm 8 69 p a u 60pm No 14 Leave Florenes Leave Marion Arriv< at Wilmington •Daily. |Daily except Sunday. No 63 runs through te Charleston, Central R R, arriving Manning 7 04 P Lanes 7 42 P M. Charleston 9 80 P M. No 69 conueets at Florence with C train for Cheraw and Wadesboro 1 . Nos 78 and 14 make elosa sosasot! Wilmington with V k W RR for aU North. Train on Florsnoo R. R. leave I dally except Sunday 4.40 P. M., Rowland 7.00 P. M. Beta Rowland 6,80 A. M., arrive Pea F" A. M. Train ou Mam leaves Sumter A. M., arrive turning leari nve Sumter' • . 'i J J. R. KENL T M. I