The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, February 20, 1890, Image 3
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5?oetvy. i
A Thank;til Piu»on
. pious purfion yood and true
Wa« cro.Hsinj' o’er the seat,
When suddenly there Hereby blew
A wild and sweeping breeze.
He feared the ntf
wreck.
His heart was sore afraid.
He sought the captain on the deck
And found him unddismayed.
The captain saw his awful fear
And led him un to where -
The servant of the Lord could hear
The sailor* loudly swear,
“Yen clearly see,” the captain said,
‘If danger hovered nigh
They’d.all be un their knee* instead
And;taking grace to die.”
The parson felt his words wete true,
And when the skies grew fair
He marveled how the sailors knew
Just when to pray or swear.
But when the seas which wildly ilowed
Had ceased to plunge and *pou‘,
I nto himself he sai : “If showed
They know what they’re about.”
But later on another storm
Came fiercer than before.
The parson heard with wild alarm
The ocean’s angry roar.
He sought the deck with awful dread
To near the sailors get.
He listened—then he bowed his head-r-
“Thank God, they’re swearing yet?’
—[Chicago Herald.
nappy
We
with
sn very
of all
brought
a
learned in the law. and
on the bunks
entlcman and a
servants, he rode
the ship would | work o.’ knitting
her open at some
By WALTXB BE8ANT.
CHAPTER XH.
• OOD IlKST YOU. UKKKY GENTUCXBX.”
What remains to be toldf
Ralph was borne again What more
could I have prayed forT
While these things went on we were
sitting In the kitchen In my mother's
eyes I seemed to read a reproach which
was not there, f believe, but in my own
heart I bad prophesied smooth things,
and promised health from soma mysteri
ous quarter which had not come
“There are five guineas left,’* said my
mother ’When these are gone, what
shall we dot”
1 tried to comfort her, but. alas! I could
And no words Oh. how helpless are
women, since they cannot eveq earn bread
enough to Uve upon When the bread
winner can work no longer, hapless la our
lot What were we to do when tbeee five
guineas were gonef For, if I could find
work to keep my fingers going from morn
till night. I could not make enough to
keep even myself, without counting my
father and my mother What should we
do when this money was gonef We must
live upon charity, or we must go upon the
parish. At the moment of greatest need
my faith failed me. I thought no more of
ibe letter I was to receive. I ceased to
hope, my paradise disappeared I was
nothing In the world bat s helpless wo
man. a beggar, the daughter of poor, eld,
broken down people, whose father was
Uttla better than a belpleas lunatic.
We heard from the parlor, where they
were holding the auction, a murmur, of
voices, some high and some low Sud
denly there was a change; from a murmur
of words there arose a roar of words—s
tumult of words. Strange and wonder-
full I sheold have recognized the voice
which moat 1 loved. But 1 took little
heed. The misery of the moment was
very gnat
"So”—now, indeed. I heard the voice of
his worship, which was a full, deep and
sonorous voice—“so may all traitors and
villains be confounded! Kidnaper,
where are now thy wilest”
I heard afterward how Mathew would
have slunk away, but they told him (It
was not true) that his wife was without
brandishing her cudgel So he stayed,
while his attorney, ignorant of what all
this meant, congratulated his client upon
the asla of the cottage. Five hundred
pounds, he said, would not only suffice to
pay his own bill of costs, which now, with
expense of traveling and loss of time,
amounted to a considerable sum, but
also repay Mathew’s mortgage of £200
In full, and still leave a small sum
for the unfortunate gentleman they
had sold up Mathew made no re
ply He looked fearfully Into his cousin’s
face; it waa stern and cold. There was
no hope to be gleaned from that face, but
the certainty of scrutiny and condemns
Uon. What had he done to merf;. lent
encyt Conscience—or remorse—told him
that ha had tried to kidnap his cousin's
sweetheart; to drag her down to destltn
tlon, while, as regards his own trust and
guardianship, none knew better than
himself the state In which his accounts
would be found.
The words of Mr. Carnaby reached every
ear. But yet I heard them not, as I sat
looking before me la mare despair. For I
knew not what to hope for. what to ad
vise, %r what to do.
Then the door was thrown open, and
there was a trampling of feet which I re
garded not at all, or as only part of this
misery The feet, I supposed, belonged
to the man who was coming to turn us
out. 1 hurled my face in my hands and
bunt Into violent weeping
“Is this some fresh misfortune?" It
was my mother who sprang to her feet and
■poke. ‘Are you come, sir. to say that
we owe another £200? What would you
have with us on such a dayf We have
nothing for you. sir, nothing at all, who
ever you are; we are stripped naked.”
“Madam.” this was his worship’s voice,
“you know not who this gentleman is
Look not for more misfortunes, bat for
Joy and happiness."
Joy and happiness I What Joy? What
happiness? I began to prick up my ears,
but without much hope and with no
faith.
“My lord”—this time It was my father,
who saw before him a splendid stranger,
and concluded in his madness that it waa
some great nobleman come to visit him—
“my lord, I thank yon for the honor of
this visit. My lady will call the men and
maids. I fear you are fatigued with
travel You shall take, my lord, a single
bowl of turtle soup, as s snsck, or stay
stomach, the finest ever made for the lord
mayor, with s glass or two of Imperial
tokay, the rarest In any cellar, before your
dinner. Not a word, my lord, not a word,
till you are refreshed; not a word, I In
sist."
At thess utterances I raised my head,
hut before 1 had time to look around me a
hand waa laid upon my shoulder, while a
voice whispered in my ear. “Drury!”
Oh, we foolish women! Far when the
thing we moat long for Is vouchsafed, in
steed of prayers and praise upon bended
knee, we fell to crying and laughing, both
togethor.
Why, when 1 recovered a Uttla, they
I concerning themselves about me,
; to have bami doing honor
to Ralph. The fugleman hndT^ass of
cold water in his hand, my mother waa
Tan was bant
ing a feather, my eweetboart waa holding
my bead, and my father wi
9
°f tfrj
clerk. !wslde his
first to the mill
Bo found Barbara engaged In her usual
: o.’ knitting with the Bible before
chapter of prophetic
woe No change in her. exrept that sho
I looked thinner, and the crow's feet lay
, about her eyes Hhe recognized him. but
showed no emotion
“You are come home again." she said.
“I have expected this Mathew said tho
girl lied but he was afraid, and 1 knew
| she did not. Girls do not lie about such
; things Yon come at a fine time, when
I your sweetheart Is begging ber bread.”
! “Whatr asked Ralph
“I said she was begging ber bread. She
paid you were prosperous if fine clothes
: mean aught you may be Lord grant they
were honestly come by "
“1 will now. Col Bmbleton." said the
attorney, “place my clerk In possession
and aeal everything."
"Where Is Mathew?" asked Ralph.
"He is in the town. You will find him
selliug their cottage—Drusilla’s cottage
By this time your dainty girl will be ia
the road, bag and baggage.”
“Whatr
“Pride Is humbled. The girl has be
gun to repent of her stubboranesa Of
course so fins a gentleman as you would
scorn a beggar wench. ”
With ouch words did this foolish
spiteful women inflame the heart of a
man whom she should have conciliated
with words of welcome.
He left her and rode into the town with
such speed as the snow, now two feet
deep, wottld allow.
An hour later. Mathew, pale and trem
bling. rushed breathless into tho mill
"Has he been hereF
Barbara nodded.
Mathew went hastily to his room. Here
he found the attorney with his clerk.
“These are my papers,” he cried, now
in desperation. “Everything is mine
The bouse is mine, the mill is mine, the
farm is mine. ”
“Gently, gently," said the lawyer.
“Let ns hear. ”
Mathew played his last card.
“A second will was found,” he said; “it
Is In the desk."
“We will wait," said tbs lawyer, “until
the return of Col Embleton."
When Ralph came back, accompanied
by Mr Carnaby, he found Mathew wait
ing for him.
“Now," said the lawyer, “let us see
this second will. ”
He opened the desk and drew forth the
paper which Mathew pointed oat. When
be had unfolded and looked at it for a
moment, he looked curiously at Mathew.
"This," he said, "is your second will?"
“It is." Mathew replied. “Found five
years ago. and”
“Quite enough." said the lawyer.
“Friend," he had by this time compared
the signature with that of the first will,
“1 make no charge. I only Inform you as a
fact that this document Is valueless, as
bearing neither date nor witnesses, and if
It did. it would still be valueless, because
the signature is a forgery, plain and palp
able It will hang some one if it is put
forward."
Mathew dropped his hands by his side
This was the fruit of his labors. He had
forged the will, he bad made it of no use
•na jewels for uw twir wtueo my lover— I
bade me so fine that his worship was se
good as to say that never a more beautiful
bride had been married, or would here
after be married. In Wark worth church.
Thus do fine feathers make fine birds.
When the next bride is married in bro
caded silk, with a hoop, ber hair done by
the barber, and ber homely person decor
ated with Jewels, people will be found ta
say the same thing Yet, since my hus
band. who is the only person I must con
sider, was so good as to find his wife
beautiful, should I not rejoice and be
thaakful for this strange power of one’s
outward figure—women cannot under
stand It—which bewitches men and robe
them of their natural sense until they be
come used to it
After the wedding we went home to the
mill, where my husband spread a great
feast In the evening came the mummers
with Sailor Nan. who drank freely of
punch, and wished os joy in language
more nautical than polite. His worship
slept at the mill because he was overcome
with the abundance and strength of the
punch. Even the fugleman, for the first
time in man's memory, had to be carried
to bed. preserving his stiffness of back
even in tho sleep of intoxication. And
the next day we had another royal feast,
to which all were invited who had known
my dear husband in his youth. But to
me it was a continual feast to be in tho
presence of my dear, to have my hand in
his and to rejoice in the warmth of his
and steadfast eyes.
A Story of American
Life.
Frontier
By OapL CHARLES KINO, U.8.A.,
Author of "The CotonePa Daughter,” “fYom
the Ranke” u The Deserter” Etc.
Copyrighted 1888 by J. & Uppiocott Company.
Philadelphia, sad published by spscial arrange
ment through tho American Press.
CHAPTER L
by Perry’s sudden exclamation. Mrs.
aoout it? ui course you ao not seex ex- Belknap turned languidly in her ham-
pert testimony In asking me. He tries, I niock glanoedover her pretty wi
suppose, to adapt himself to. circum- shoulder. The colonel followed her eyes
stances. But why do you ask?" with his and gave a start of surprise.
“Because 1 see that he has been indue- The doctor turned slowly and composed-
ing Hr*. Belknap to take off that little | \y anil looked silently towards tho glis-
tassel on the button of his cap. He has ; teuing object, and then upon ttie officers
worn it when off duty ever since he j of the cavalry there fell RUdden luitonish-
eainc; and we supposed it was something ment.
he cherished; I know she did.’’ “What on earth ebuid that havo been?”
Graham broke forth in a peal of merry : asked the colonel. “It gleamed liko the
laughter, but gave no further reply, for head light of a locomotive, away down
just then the colonel aud the doctor left there in the valley of the Monee, then
their chairs, and, sauntering over to the
hammock, brought mighty relief to Bel
knap at the whist table and vexation of
spirit to his pretty wife. The flirtation
was broken at a most interesting point,
and Perry, rising suddenly, came over
and joined Mrs. Lawrence.
If she expected to see him piqued or
annoyed at the interruption and some
what perturbed in rqanner, she was
greatly mistaken. Nothing could have
been more sunshiny and jovial than the
greeting he gave her. A laughing apol
ogy to Graham for spoiling his tete-a-
tete was accomplished in a moment, and
then down by her side li? sat and plunged
into a merry description of his experi
ences at dinner, where lie had been
placed next to the chaplain’s wife on the
suddenly went out
“Be silent a moment and watch,”
whispered Mrs. Lawrence to Perry.
“You will sec it again; and—watch tire
doctor.”
Surely enough, even as they were all
looking about and commenting on the
strange apparition, it suddenly glared
forth a second time, shining full and lus
trous as an unclouded planet, yet miles
away beyond and above tho fringe of
cottonwoods that wound, southeastutard
with tho little stream. Full ludf a min
ute it shone, and then, abruptly as be
fore, was hidden from sight.
Perry was about starting forward to
join the colonel when a little hand was
laid upon his arm.
“Wait; once more you’ll see it,” she
whispered. “Then take me in to Capt.
Do you see that tho doctor
We are all. 1 hope. Christian folk,
wherefore no one will be surprised to hear
that on the morning of the day after the
marriage, which was Christmas day, after
the singing of the hymn, “When the
Shepherds Watch their Flocks by Night,”
my husband, giving me his hand, led
me forth before all the people, and
t In their presence thanked God solemnly
for his safe return, and for other
blessings (1 knew full well what these
meant) Then the fugleman leading, his
pike held at aalute. he recited the Lord's
prayer Thus In seemly and solemn
fashion was the long sorrow of nine years
turned into a Joy which will endure, I
doubt not, beyond this earthly pilgrimage.
THE END.
Title Page*.
A magazine has just begun to write
“The History of a Title Page.’’ It may
seem a Email subject, but it isan inter
esting one. It lias also a very marked
bearing on tiie history of literature In
volved in it we find the questions of
titles, new, borrowed or unitated; of
authorship, real or assumed; of dates,
accurate, inaccurate, or absent alto
gether. In tho mere arrangement of
type on the title page, not much vari
ety is to be looked Tor. Some origin
ality in that respect is shown now and
then by publishers with taste and
fancy, out it is obvious that not much
| novelty is feasible. Every now and
then wo have the name of the author
at the top of the page, instead of in the
middle, after the French fashion; the
effect is quaint, and pleases. Now and
again, the title of the book starts at
the left hand top corner, and is run
on hke a sentence till nnished, instead
of being divided and spread out over
the page, in orthodox style. But when
all has been done that can bo done in
this and other directions, the present
day publisher soon discovers that tho
variations are by no means endless.
device which has not of
The only JWBH
by neglecting the witnesses; he had [ a {£ been greatly exploited is that of
forged it so clumsily that be was at once the illustrated title page, with its
detected. broad margin of artistic design in-
“Any well wisher of yours, sir,” said | closing the smallest possible amount
the lawyer, "would recommend yon to of type. This used to bo very popular,
put that paper in the fire. ” but has now fallen into almost entire
Mathew did ao without a word. disuse. The preference now is for
title pages of simplicity in design and
brevity in wording. In tho latter re
fer, i
presently
I with much i
rthat be
Us
?i %H,
• whispered with much gravity
long sines designed Us DraslUs tat
lordnUp, fast arrived, who. though
"Sir," said the lawyer, “you have saved
your neck. Have you any more to say
about the will?”
He had no more to say The plots and
designs of nine years came to this lame
and Impotent conclusion.
“Then, Mr Humble. ” the attorney con-
tinned, “1 have nothing more to say than
this Col. Embleton expects an accurate
statement of accounts and payment to
himaf all sums due to him without delay.”
Mathew made no reply; be was defeated.
He left the room, and presently, one of
them looking through the open door, saw
him leave the house with his sister.
Ralph spoke not one single word to him,
good or bad By this time he had heard of
Mathew’s attempted abduction and all his
Iniquities. There was no room in his
heart for pity
In the morning Sailor Nan came to drew
her pay She heard that her husband had
deserted her She lamented the fact, be
cause the had Intended to be kept In pork,
nun and tobacco ao long as he was alive.
Bat she was easily consoled with a jorum
of steaming punch.
Tims vanished from among us one who
had wrought ao mnch eyil. for which I
hope that we have long since entirely for
given him (bat he was a desperate vil
lain). and we never knew what became of
him.
It was ten yean later that Barbara
came back alone.
We found her in the porch one summer
evening She was worn and thin, and
dressed In dreadful rags.
“Oh," 1 cried, moved to pity by her
misery, “come in and eat. and let me find
some better clothes for you.”
She refused, bat she took a cup of milk.
“I want to see the boy.” she replied in
her old manner of speech.
When Ralph came home she said what
she had to say
“Mathew ought to have had the mill
If it had been his, he would not have
taken to drink and evil courses You
were an interloper, and we both hated the
eight of you. When you went away I
used to pray that you might never come
back. The waiting for you and the fear
of yon made him wicked. That Is all I
have to say "
"Where Is Mathew?”
“Dead. Ask me no more about
He is dead.”
Ralph led her, unresisting, [into the
houaa
“Wife," he said to mo, “you have heard
Barbara’s confession. I, too, have had
hard thoughts about her. Let us forgive,
as we hope tor forgiveness. ”
She stayed with us that night—an un
willing and ungracious guest—and the
next day Ralph placed her in a cottage
and gave her an allowance of money,
which she took without thanks. Perhaps
her heart grew leas bitter as years fell
upon her, bat I know not, for she died
and made no sign.
On that year Christmas dsy fell on a
Thursday Now, Ralph, who though a
grave man and the colonel of his regi
ment, showed more than the customary
impatience of lovers, would be content
with nothing short of being manied on
the very next day after Us return. It is
almost Incredible that he should have had
the forethought to bring with him a
special license, so that we were not
obliged to have the bans read o rt. Could
I refuse him anything? The afore, on
Wedneedav morning, the very next day
after be came book, we were married ia
the pweenee of aD the town, I believe—
man, warns* ipd child, while the hells
nag out, sMl Mr Joyful hearts were
warm, despite the ebid without. I was so
pom In worldly goods that 1 must have
gone to the sacred ceremony with nothing
better than my plain stuff frock bat for
the benevolence of good Mrs Carnaby,
who Mb me a few
silk gown, which, with al Unis ef tor-
brevity in wording,
spect wo go, perhaps, to an extreme,
reserving all our explanations of the
volume’s scope for the preface, and
thus giving trouble to the casual in
spectors of books. On one point one
might almost ask for legislative enact
ment—on tho point of including on
every title page the date of the year
in which the work is published. There
are publishers who systematically
evade this duty, and tho result is that
one cannot tell whether their publi
cations are old or new, without mak
ing inquiries which cost time, and
which should not bo forced upon the
weary student—London Globe.
How Kavm U Maiiufaotared.
I suppose most people by this time
know the orthodox mode of preparing
this. It is chewed, or ought to be, as in
Samoa, by young and of course pretty
girls, and the masticated stuff being
thrown into a bowl and mixed with water,
the woody particles are fished oat with a
wisp of the fiber v&u (a malvaceous tree,
Paritium sp.). and the liquor is then car
ried round to each guest In order Of
course, by the oid school this mode of
preparation is thought very superior to
the Tongan innovation of pounding or
grating the root Certainly the ingre
dients differ somewhat, and the dash of
human secretion In the orthodox mixture
possibly promotes digestion—an effect not
to be despised after a square meal of half
a dozen pounds of yam!
Even In the hnmblest menage the na
tional bowl is not prepared without some
form and circumstance—elaborate tradi
tional motions of the hands in clearing
the bowl and rinsing the fiber, strict at
tention to precedence in handing the cup
to the guests (a matter in whlch.Jwhen
Europeans were concerned, I was in other
islands sometimes consulted), and to other
points of etiquette, the transgression of
which Is viewed with some severity
Thus it is derigueur to empty your cocoa-
nut cup at a single draught. On my first
occasion of drinking I had neglected this
role, for the cap was large, and the-taste,
as I thought, nasty Acec rdingly, on re
turning the cap, which you do by sending
it spinning along the floor to the master
of ceremonies, the usnal quiet clapping of
hands and murmur of applause which
should follow this was withheld. On dis
covering the cause of the silence I has
toned to explain that I had never tasted
the cap before, and thought It so good
that I could not resist prolonging the
pleasure, but I saw that my solecism was
too great to be easily excused.—Block-
wood’s Magazine.
The Crlsle at Waterloo.
All at onco came the tragedy. To
the left of tho English and on our
light, tho head of the column of cui-
raasiers reared with a fearful clamor.
Arrived on the ridge, wild, furious
and running to the annihilation of
the squares and cannon, tho cuiras-
mere saw between them and the Eng
lish a ditch—a grave. It was the
sunken road of Oman. It was a fright
ful moment There was the ravine,
unlooked for, gaping, before their
very horses’ feet two fathoms deep be
tween its banks. The second rank
pushed in the first and the third push
ed in the second. The hones reared,
fell backward, stranded with their
feet in the air, heapingup and over
turning their riders. There was no
power to retreat; the whole column
was but a projectile; the momentum
in together pell meU,
most a tt
>
Duh
and]
T WAS nearly midnight, and
still the gay party lingered on
the veranda. There had been
a fortnight of “getting settled” at the
new post, preceded by a month of march
ing that had brought the battalion from
distant service to this strange Texan sta
tion. The new comers had been hospita
bly weicomed by the officers of the little
garrison of infantry, and now, in recog
nition of their many courtesies, the field
officer commanding the arriving troops
had been entertaining the resident offi- !
cers and ladies at dinner. The colonel
was a host in himself, but preferred not
to draw too heavily on his reserves of
anecdote and small talk, so he had called
in two of his subalterns to assist in the
pleasant duty of being attentive to the
infantry ladies, and just now, at 11:45 p
m., lie was wondering if Lieut. Perry
iiad not too literally construed his in
structions, for that young gentleman
was devoting himself to Mrs. Belknap in
a manner so marked as to make the cap
tain. her lawful lord and master, mani
festly uneasy.
Mrs. Belknap, however, seemed to en
joy the Situation immensely. She was
a pretty woman at most times, as even
her rivals admitted. She was a beauti
ful woman at all times, waa the verdict
of the officers of the regiment when they
happened-to speak of the matter among
themselves. She was dark, with lus
trous eyes and sweeping lashes, with
coral lips and much luxuriance of tress,
and a way of glancing sideways from
under her heavily fringed eyelids that
tho younger and more impressionable
men found quite irresistible when ac
corded the rare luxury of a tete-a-tete.
Belknap was a big and boisterous man;
Mrs. Belknap was small in stature, and
soft—very soft—of voice. Belknap was
either brusquely repellent or oppress! vely
cordial in manner; Mrs. Belknap was
either gently and exasperatingly indif
ferent to those whom she did not care to
attract, or caressingly sweet to those
whose attentions she desired.
In their own regiment the young offi
cers soon found that unless they wished
to be involved in an unpleasantness with
Belknap it was best to lie only very mod
erately devoted to his pretty wife, and
those to whom an unpleasantness with
the big captain might have had no ter
rors of consequence were deterred by
the fact that Mrs. Belknap's devotee
among tho “youngsters” had invariably
become an object of coldness and aver-
lion to the other dames and damsels of
Hie garrison. Very short lived, there
fore, had been the little flirtations that
sprang up from time to time in those
frontier posts wherein Capt. and Mrs.
Belknap were among the chief orna
ments of society; but now matters
seemed to be taking other shape. From
the very day that handsome Ned Perry
dismounted in front of Belknap’s quar
ters and with his soldiery salute reported
to the then commanding officer that Col.
Brainard and his battalion of cavalry
would arrive in tho course of two or
three hours, Mrs. Belknap fiiad evinced a
contentment in his society and assumed
an air of quasi-proprietorship that served
to annoy her garrison sisters more than
a little. For the time being all the cav
alrymen were bachelors, either by ac
tual rank qr "by brevet,” as none of the
ladies of lift —th accompanied the bat
talion on its march, and none were ex
pected until the stations of the regiment
in its new department had been definite
ly settled. The post surgeon, too, was
living a life of single blessedness as the
early spring wore on, for his good wife
had betaken herself, with the children,
to the distant east as soon os the disap
pearance of the winter’s snows rendered
staging over the hard prairie roads a
matter of no great danger or discomfort.
It was the doctor himself who, seated
in an easy chair at tho end of the ve
randa, first called the colonel’s attention
to Perry’s devotional attitude at Mrs.
riel*nap s sme. one was reclining m a
hammock, one little, slippered foot occa
sionally touching tho floor aud impart
ing a gentle, swinging motion to the
affair, and making a soothing swish-
swish of skirts along the matting under
neath. Her jeweled hands looked very
slender and fragile aud white as they
gleamed in tho soft light that shone
from the open windows of tho parlor.
They were busied in- straightening out
the kinks in the gold cord of his forage
cap and in rearranging a little silken
braid and tassel that was fastened in a
clumsy, man like fashiou to one of the
buttons at the side; he, seated in a camp
chair, was bending forward so that his
handsome, shapely head was only a
trifle higher than hers, and the two—
hers so dark and rich in coloring, his
so fair and massive and strong—came
rather too close together for the equa
nimity of Capt. Belknap, who had es
sayed to take a hand at whist in the par
lor.
One or two of the ladies, also, were
silent observers of the scene—silent as to
the scene because, being in conversation
at tho time with brother officers of Lieut
Perry, they, were uncertain as yet how
comments on his growing flirtation might
bo received. That their eyes should oc
casionally wander towards the hammock
and then glance with sympathetic sig
nificance at those of some fair ally and
intimate was natural enough. But when
it became presently apparent that Mrs.
Belknap was actually unfastening the
little silken braid that had hung on Ned
Perry’s cap ever since the day of his ar
rival-all the whiMM, looking shyly
up in his eyes asnHPfingera worked;
when it was seen that she presently de
tached it from the button and then, half
hesitatingly, but evidently in compliance
with his wishes, handed it to him; when
he was seen to tore it carelessly—even
contemptuously—away and then bend
down lower, as though gazing into her
shaded eyes, Mrs. Lawrence could stand
it no longer.
“Mr. Graham,” said she, “isn’t your
friend, Mr. Perry, something of a flirt?”
“Who?—Ned?" asked Mr. Graham, in
well feigned amaze and with sudden
glance towards the object of hie inquiry.
“How on earth should I know anrthinx
one hand, and she had been properly ag
grieved at his attentions to Mrs. Belknap I^wrence.
on the other. is leaving?”
“You must remember that Mrs. Wells Without saying aword to any one, the
is a very strict Presbyterian, Mr. Perry; post surgeon had very quietly withdrawn
and, for that "matter, none of us have ! from the group on tho veranda. He
seen a dinner suck as tho colonel gave us could not well leave by the front
this evening for ever and ever so long.
We are quite unused to the ways of
civilization; whereas you have just come
from the east—and long leave. Perhaps
it is the fashion to bo all devotion to
one’s next door neighbor at .dinner.”
“Not if she he as repellent and vener
able as Mrs. Wells, I assure you. Why,
I thought she would have been glad to
leave the table when, after having re
fused sherry and Pontet-Canet for up
wards of au hour, her glass was filled
with champagne when she happened to
bo looking the other way."
“It is the first dinner of tho kind she
has ever seen here, Mr. Perry, and I
don’t supposo either Mr. or Mrs. Wells
has been up so late before in years. He
would havo'enjoyed staying and watch
ing whist, but she carried him off almost
as soon as wo left the table. Our society
has been very dull, you know—only our
selves at the post all this last year, and
nobody outside of it.”
“One would suppose that with all this
magnificent cattle range there would bo
some congenial people ranching near
you. Are there none at all?”
“Absolutely none! There are some
ranches down in the Washita country,
but only one fine one near us; and that
might as well be ou the other side of the
Atlantic. No one from there ever
comes here; and Dr. Quin is tho only
living soul in the garrison who ever got
within the walls of that ranch. What
ho saw there ho positively refuses to tell,
despite all our entreaty.”
“You don’t tell me there’s a ranch
with a mystery hero near Rossiter!” ex
claimed Mr. Perry, with sudden interest.
“Why, I do, indeed! Is it possible
you have been hero two whole weeks
and haven’t heard of Duuraven Ranch?” j
“I’vo hoard there was such a thing; I
saw it from a distance when out hunting
tho other day. But what’s the mystery?
—what’s the matter with it?”
“That's what we all want to know—
and cannot find out. Now, there is an
exploit worthy your energy and best
efforts, Mr. Perry. There is a big,
wealthy, well stocked ranch, the finest
homestead buildings, we oro told, in all
this part of Texas. They say it is beau
tifully furnished—that it has a fine
library, a grand piano, all manner of
things indicative of culture and refine
ment among its occupants—but the own
er only comes around once or twice a
year, and is an iceberg of an English
man. All tho people about the ranch
are English, too, and the most repellent,
boorish, discourteous lot of men you ever
saw. When the Eleventh were here
they did everything they could to be
civil to them, but not an invitation
would they accept, not one would they
extend; and so from that day to this
none of tho officers have had any inter
course with tho people at the ranch, and
tho soldiers know very little more. Once 1
or twice a year some very ordinary look-
ing men arrive who are said to be very
distinguished people—in England; but 1
they remain only a little while, and go
away as suddenly as they came.”
“And you havo never seen any of
them?”
“Never, except at a distance. Nor
has any one of the officers, except Dr.
Quin."
“And you have newr heard anything
about the inmates and why they keep
up this policy of exclusiveness?”
“We have heard all manner of things
—some of them wildly romantic, some
mysteriously tragic, And all of them,
proMtuiy, uusuiu. ,vi ail events, Cupu
Lawrence has told mo he did not wish
mo to repeat what I hail heard, or to be
concerned in any way with the stories
afloat; so you must ask somebody else.
Try the doctor. To change the subject,
Mr. Perry, I see you havo lost that mys
terious little silken braid and tassel you
wore on your cap button. I fancied
there was some romance attached to it,
and now it is gone.”
Perry laughed, his blue eyes twinkling
with fun: “If I will tell you how and
where I got that tassel, will you tell me
what you have heard about Dunraven
Ranch?”
“I cannot, unless Capt. Lawrence
withdraws his prohibition. Perhaps lie
will, though, for I think it waa only be
cause he was tired of hearing all our
conjectures aud theories.”
"Well, will you tell me if I can induce
the captain to say he has no objection?”
persisted Perry.
. “I will to-morrow—if you will tell me
about the tassel to-night,”
“Is it a positive promise? You will tell
me to-morrow all you have heard about
Dunraven Ranch if I will tell you to
night all I know about the tassel?”
“Yoe—a promise."
“Very well, then. You are a witness
to the compact, Graham. Now for my
confession. I have worn that tassel ever
since our parting ball at Fort Riley.
That Is to say, it has been fastened to
that button ever since tho ball until to
night; but-Fve been mighty careful not
to wear that cap on any kind of duty.”
“And yet you let Mrs. Belknap take it
off to-night?"
“Why shouldn’t I? There was no
sentiment whatever attached to it I
haven't tlio faihtest idea whose it was,
and only tied it there for the fun of the
thing and to make Graham, here, ask
questions.”
“Mr. Perry!” gaspe-d Mrs. Lawrence.
“And do you mean that Mrs. Belknap
knows—that you told her what you have
just told me?"
“Well, no," laughed Perry. “I fancy
Mrs. Belknap thinks as you thought—
that it was a gage d’amour. Hallo! look
at that light away out there across the
prairie. What can that be?”
Mrs. Lawrence rose suddenly to her
feet and gazed southeastward in the di
rection in which the young officer point
ed. It was a lovely, starlit night. A
soft wind was blowing gently from the
south and bearing with it the fragrance
of spring blossoms and far away flower-
•So. Others, ton had nrisen attracted
without attracting attention; but he
strolled leisurely into tho hall, took up
a book that lay on the table, and passed
through the group of officers seated
smoking and cflatting there, entered the
sitting room on the south side of the
hall—the side opposite the parlor where
the whist game was in progress—and
there he was lost to sight.
A third time tho bright light burst
upon the view of tho gazers. A third
time, sharply and suddenly, it disap
peared. Then for a moment all was
silence and watchfulness; but it came no
more.
Perry looked qaestioningly in his com
panion’s face. She had turned a little
white, and ho felt sure that she was
shivering.
“Are you cold?" he asked her, gently.
“No—not that; hut I hate mysteries,
after what I’ve heard, and wo haven’t
seen that light in ever so long. Come
hero to tho corner ono moment." And
she led him around to tho other flank of
tho big wooden, barrack like residence of
the commanding officer.
“Look up there,” she said, pointing to
a dark window under the peaked dormer
roof of tho largo cottago to the south.
“That is tho doctor’s house.”
In a few seconds a faint gleam seemed
to creep through tho slats. Then tho
slats themselves wore thrown wldo open,
a white shado was lowered, and, with
tho rays behind it growing brighter ev
ery instant, a broad white light shone
forth over tho roof of tho veranda. An
other moment and footsteps wero heard
along tho doctor’s porch, footsteps that
presently approached them along tho
grass.
“Come,” sho said, plucking at his
sleeve, “como away; it is tho doctor.”
“For what reason?" ho answered.
“That would seem hke hiding. No, Mrs,
Lawrence, let us stay until ho comes.”
But tho doctor passed them with brief
and courteous salutation; spoke of tho
beauty of the night and tho holm Of tho
summery air, and went* in again by tho
main door to tho colonel’s quarters.
Then Perry turned to his partner:
“Well, Mrs. Lawrence, what does it all
mean? Is this part of what you had to
tell me?”
“Don't ask me now. 1—Ididuotwant
to see what we Live seen, hut I had
heard queer stories and could not believe
them. Take me in to Capt. Lawrence,
please. And, .Mr. Perry, you won't sjK'ak
of this to any ono, will you? Indeed, if I
had known, I would not have come out
here for the world; but I didn’t believe
it, even when she went away and took
the children.”
"Who went away?"
“Mrs. Quin—the doctor’s wife. Aud
she was such a sweet woman, and so de
voted to him.”
“Well, pardon me, Mrs. Lawrence, I
don’t see through this thing at all. Do
you mean that the doctor has anything
to do with tho mystery?"
She bowed her head as they turned
back to the house; “I must not tell you
any more to-night. You will be sure to
hoar something of it all, here. Every
body on the piazza raw the lights, and
all who wero here before you came knew
what they meant."
“What wero they?”
“Signals, of some kind, from Dunraven
Ranch.”
(To be continued.)
my companion to a uttla conversation.
There could be no Impropriety in » man of
‘ was 88) endeavoring to begulla
of a lazy Journey by convers
ing with a fellow traveler, a school girl-
end certainly not out of her teens. It
waa, therefore, with au almost paternal
feeling that I addressed ber.
“There are not many passengers by this
train,” I remarked.
“Two thousand and throe,"* was the
answer, that not a little startled my
equanimity.
I looked at the speaker, expecting to
find a mischievous smile dancing in her
eyes, or larking at tho corners of her
month. Nothing of the sort. She was
perfectly serious, even stern, and her eyes
had still the same dreamy far away look
, in them.
“Very absent minded, or else In lovo,”
I thought to myself. However, I tried
again.
"I think wo shall havo a fine day for
our journey," I ventured to remark.
She turned upon me with that fierce,
despairing, yet restless look tliat wo see
in a trapped rat
“How you tulle, talk, talk!" sho said In
dignantly
“But”
“Are you mad?” sho screamed In a tone
of Intensified shrillness, and with such an
awful, hungry look In her eyes, that the
truth flashed npon mo like an inspiration.
Sho was mad!
Medical mnu as I am, a fooling of hor
ror overcamo mo when I reflected that 1
was shut up alone In tho carriage of a
gate 1 train, traveling at express speed, with a
Schedule of the Hi
R.R.
Hartsvillk. 8. C., Dec.
DAILY MULED THAI
7.15 A. M.
7.40 “
8.05 “
Leaves Hartsville,
Leaves Jovann,
Arrive at Floyd’s,
Making connection with the South
bound passenger train on the Cheraw
& Darlington Railnfed.
RETURNING.
Leave Floyd’s, 10.00 A. M
Leave Jovann. 10.80 “
Arrive at Hartsville, 10.00 “
This train waits two hours, if mmrssn
ry, for the North bound freight train
on C. fir. D. R. R.
J. L. COKER.
President.
lunatic. True. I was a strong man, sho
only a girl But It Is Inconceivable what
extreme strength is possessed by many of
the Insane I have known a woman thus
afflicted require two, and even three,
powerful men to restrain her during one
of her paroxysms.
However, I endeavored to keep as cool
os possible as I looked tho young girl
steadily in tho face. Sho looked at mo
for a moment or so without quailing; then
she sank back in her corner, resumed her
apathetic posture and sat gazing out of
tho window with tho far away look In her
eyes, os If no such person as myself was
in existence.
"Poor girl!" I thought; and I began to
wonder who or what sho could bo, and
how sho came to be traveling alone.
Could sho havo escaped from an asylum?
If so how came sho to be possessed o!’ suf
ficient firads to procure a railway ticket?
I had had some experience in “mad
cases,” and I know that tho most out
rageous ones are those where tho patient
maintains an even sullenncss of de
meanor. Tho girl's ease did not seem to
mo to be ono of them. On tho contrary,
her sudden change of mood when I an
gered her seemed to indicate it to bo a
case of temporary aberration of mind, and
consequently a curable one.
I looked at my watch. In a quarter of
au hour wo should bo at Basingstoke. I
was In tho very act of returning my watch
to my pocket when my companion, with a
mocking laugh—tho peculiarly metallic
ring of which it is quite impossible to de
scribe—literally hurled herself upon mo
with overwhelming force, broke tho watch
from its chain and scut it spinning
through tho window In another second
sho was endeavoring to force herself also
through tho window
1 Then commenced a terrible struggle, of
which I even yet shudder to think. My
muscles wero strained to their utmost
limit of tension, tho perspiration poured
down my face, and my arms felt as if
about to bo wrenched from their sockets.
And all this to restrain one of tho sex
commonly called tho “weaker” from self
destruction.
All this time tho poor girl uttered uo
sound that could give warning to the
guard or our fellow passengers of tho ter
rible struggle for life or death that waa
going on within a few yards of them. As
for my own voice, the extraordinary
physical effort 1 was making to restrain
tho would bo sulcido entirely prevented
my making tho slightest use of it. But
just as my powers were failing mo, and I
felt that I could no longer prolong the
struggle, tho train began perceptibly to
slacken speed.
“Thank heaven! Basingstoke at lost."
What followed is easy to relate. Of
course, assistance was at hand, and tho
unfortunate young lady was removed to a
place of safety From letters which wo
found on her and some articles of jewelry,
which wo advertised, wo speedily dis
covered her friends. Naturally I, as a
medical man, would not lose sight of her
till I had discovered them.
The patient proved to bo a member of a
German family, naturalized in England,
who was subject to periodical attacks of
mental aberration, but had never actually
been la an asylum.
Daring tho attacks, which Invariably
came on without any warning, so that it
was difficult to watch her, she was seized
with a restless desire to wander over tho
j country, and, it appeared, had merely
selected the Southwestern lino because it
happened to bo tho nearest to her own
homo.
Sho had boon so long without an attack
that her mother and sisters had on the
previous night ventured to go to an even
ing party, leaving Lotta fast asleep in bed
at homo. During their absence sho eluded
the vigilance of the servants, got up and
dressed herself, walked about for some
time and took a ticket for the early Ports
mouth mail—at least that was what she
j imagined, and told us, on her recovery.
1 Her memory, howover, was very Imper
fect, but tho poor child must certainly
have walked about tho streets for some
tlmo prior to tho departure of tho ex
press.
It was natural that under tho circum
stances—I havo already stated that I had
had considerable experienco In such cases
—her friends should ask mo to endeavor a
cure.
I undertook it and entirely succeeded.
And also I undertook and succeeded in
something else.
It is my wife who Is looking over my
shoulder as I write, and who says:
“My dear, the maddest act of all my
life was when”
But here I stop.—HartfonYTimes.
Te'Uiiff KiigiisKin*-h i* CretmUty.
An American gentleman who was re-
FOR C. & D. AND C. & 8. RAILROAD 8
PaisiDiaT’sOnrics )
C. & D. and C. A 8. RAILROADS. V
Charleston, S.C., May 12, 1889. j
On ami nfitr May 12, the tralai oa
these roads will run follows (Sunda ex
cepted) every day:
DOWM TRAIM.
L».tve Wadesboro
Bennetts
Moreen s.,■•«,,•• ••••«•••• •••• 6.86
McFarland 6.60
Leave Cheraw • •••••••» ••••#•••••■*••• • I e 80
Cash’ Seeaoa*•••••• 7« 46
Society Hill 8.02
Dove’s 8.22
Darlington 8.42
Palmetto - 8 66
Arrive at Florence 9 16
vr TRAIN.
Lc*ve Florence 8.10 P M
Palmetto 8 26
Darlington 8.86
Dove’s 8.62
Society Hill 9.12
Cash’s 9 17
LcaveCheraw 9.43 P M
McFarlan 10.08
Morven’e 10.20
Bennett’a 10.85
Lake Wadesboro ...11.00
Freight Train going up.
Leave Florence 7.00 am
Arrive Darlington T.46 a m
Freight going down
Arrive Darlington t.00 p m
Leave Darlington 3 60 p ro
Arrive Florence 4.!0pm
A F. RAVEN EL, Pres.
G II Mavier Tmnepririaiion.
InTEW SOHEXJTTXjE
OkTMEA.STERN RAILROAD.
N'
ClIARLKHTON, 8. C., 'lay
12, 1889.
On and after this dale the fol’owing
schedule will be run :
GOING SOUTH.
No. 27, Dally.
Leave Florence
•1 85 a m
Leave Kingstrce
2 29 a m
Arrive Laifes
2 60 a m
Leave Lanes
2 50 a m
Arrive Charleston
6 00 a in
No. 23, Daily.
Leave Florence
*9 80 a m
Leave Kingstree
10 66 a n
Arrive Lancs
11 20 a i
Leave Lanes
11 20a i
Arrive Charleston
1 30 a m
No 63.
Leave Lanes
*7 60 I*. M.
Arrive C'hnrlegton
9 80 p. m.
I rain No. G3 takes No. 68 South of Lanes
Train on C A D UR conn *ta at Flor
ence with No 23 Train
GOING NORTH.
No, 78, Daily.
Leave Charleston
Arrive Lanes
Leave Lanes
Leave Kiugstrce
Arrive Florence
No. M.
Leave Cnarlerlou
Arrive Lanes
Leave Lanes
Leave Kiugstrce
Arrive Florence
•12 26 am
2 46 a m
2 60 a m
3 10 a ui
4 20 a m
•4 30 p m
6 28 p m
6 28 p ui
U 46 p m
7 66 p m
No. 62. Daily.
Leave Charleston 7 '0 am
Arrive Lanes ( i0 a m
•Daily, f Daily except Sun
Train No. 62 ttkes No. 02 North Lanes
Train No. 14 connects at Flor with
Train on C & D R U for Cheraw „an«l
Wadesboro. N. C.
Nos 62 runs through to Columbia
| via Central R R ofS C.
! Nos. 78 and 14 run solid to Wilmington,
N, C., making close counection with V. R
; W R R for all points north.
J R. KENLY, J. F. Divihm,
Hupt. Trans. Geu’l Sup’t.
’ T. M. Emzrsom, Gen’I Pass. Agl.
A DOCTOR’S STORY.
On a fine cummer day in tho year 187-,
I was proceeding by the Southwestern
railway to visit a friend and former
patient, a resident of Portsmouth It is
not often that a medical man gets a holi
day, and bat for the kindness of a fellow
practitioner, in taking my practice for a
fortnight, I should not have had this op
portunity of enjoying tho sea breezo.
The train by which I started was an
early one, and, having procured my ticket,
I took my place in a second class carriage
and lit my cigar, for it was a smoking car
riage. On entering It I was surprised,
and, I think, naturally so, to find the far
ther corner of it occupied by a lady.
"Oho!" said I, inwardly, “some fast
American demoiselle who desires to in
dulge In a cigarette. ”
On observation, howover, it appeared to
me that the features of my fellow trav
eler did not bear npon them that Impres
sion of enteness which marks American
nationality. She had soft, brown eyes, a
full, round face and a profusion of chest
nut hair. She was dressed In a plain
traveling suit, bound with white braid,
and wore a straw hat.
"Maybe a German," I soliloquized;
"they are terrible smokers.”
But again It occurred to mo that possi
bly the young lady might be neither , cen tly visiting In England thonght he
VILIiNGTW COLUMIIA A9II AUGUST A
May 12, 1889.
GOING SOUTH
No. 23.
! Leave Wilmioglon
I Leave Marion
i Arrive Florence
Leave Florence
Arrive Sumter
Leave Sumier
Arrive Columbia
Leave Wilmington
Leave Marion
Arrive Florence
Leave Sumter
Arrive Columbia
Leave Florence
Arrive Sumter
KAKKIA
1
*6 26 pm
9 38 pm
10 88 • m
Ne. 60.
8.-0 n tf
4.40 n a
4 40 a m
6. 16 a m
No. *7
t
*16.10 D m
12.40 pm
. 120am
No 52
flO 88 a m
U66p»
No 68
f9 20 a ta
10 28 a m
No 62 run* through from Charl**loa vis
Central R It.
^ Leaving Lane* 9 15 A M., Manning 8 68
T rain on C & D R R connect* at Flcroae*
wiih No 68.
GOING NORTH.
No 61
neave Columbia.
Arrive Sumter
Leave Sumter
Arrive Florence
78.
American nor German, but had got into
the carriage without noticing that it was
one reserved for the use of smokers.
Under this impression I bowed slightly to
her, saying:
“I fear my cigar may annoy yon. Per
haps yon are not aware that this is a
smoking compartment?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, with a slight
German accent; “yes, yes, yes, yes."
There was something peculiar In her
slow, deliberate utterance and the four
times repeated monosyllable. A dreamy
look, too. In the speaker’s eyes, as If her
mind waa preoccupied- However, the
train was now In motion, and I had noth
ing for it bat to esconce myself in my
corner, look out of the window and take
a bird’s «ye view of the surrounding house
tops.
For a short time this was well enough;
bat I began at last to weary of the monot
ony of such an amusement. We English
men, aa a rule, are so reserved and unso
ciable that we shrink Into ourselves and
every fresh addition to the occupants of a
railway carriage or aa omnUms ia received
with black looks and a sort of tacit intima
tion that ha has no right to enter Now, I
am feua to ccnfeaa that, whatever ap
fellings, want of sodahttlty is not one «f
them: and I datwinlnad to trv to snosae
would try an experiment to test the ere
dallty of Englishmen in regard to the
United States So one day when he was
with a number of fairly Intelligent Eng
llshmen ho gravely told them that on
various street comers of Chicago there
are peculiar machines run by intricate
clockwork on which is Inscribed the
legend; “Drop ten silver dollars in the
slot and get a divorce." Half of Us
auditors believed the story, and the other
half accepted It In its main features, but
criticised certain details. — New York
Tribune.
She Went on to Say-
She began in ashy, shrinking, stammer
ing sort of way, and Ms heart gave a great
leap year bound, for he loved the girl with
that mad devotion which heiresses alone
can inspire. Bat he was too poor and
proud to say ao.
“Er—Mr. Sampson," she said. “I trust
that you will pardon me—er—that is,
overlook what I—tun—If yon would con
sider”— Then she stopped la shy dls-
Leave Florence,
Leave Marion
Arrive at Wilmington,
No. 69
Leave Sumter
Arrive Florene*
Ne. 68,
•10 86 p a
11 68 p a
11 68 p ■
1 15 a ■
4 >6 a a
6 20am
RUaa
fO 87 p *
7 60pm
•6 20 p u
6 82pm
*8 16 p m
8 69pm
II 60 i. m
“Pray go
r, m i
on. Miss Clara,” ha said
hoarsely, A tho same time hitching Us
chair; “yotf were about to ssy’**
“I was about to say, Mr. P
otock is nearly an hour;
eur dock Is ut»
really getting'
Leave Columbia
Arrive Sumter
No 14
Leave Florence
Leave Marion
Arriv< at Wilmington
*"»ily. fDaily except Sunday.
No 63 runs through to Charleston, via
Central R K, arriving Manning 7 04.P A.
Lane* 7 42 P N. Charleston 9 30 P M.
No 59 conueets at Flore nee with CRD
train for Cheraw and Wadoaboro*.
No 78 and 14 make
Wilmingtou with WAV/ H R for all point' .
North.
Train oo Floranr* R. R. leava Pen Dee
flatly exeept Sunday 4.40 P. M.,* at rive ^
Rowland 7.00 P. M Returning leava
Rowland 6,80 A. M.. / irive Pr* Dor 9.00
A. m. - vVr v,
Train Oo Mauchesier A Angneu 1
irEtXmWiirT”;
turning l« nvo Pii>ew«ud Ig 10 P M ,
r}»e Sumter I.8U P. M.
connection nl
ys
KB
Ir’fiAr
EHi
mo
;y : vi