The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, January 16, 1890, Image 3
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