The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, February 21, 1895, Image 3

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

I CHAPTER X, fcontinued.] rue good woman came uirou^n x.vs gate and then ran with all the speed of ■sixteen towards her own home. Mar garet stood in the doorway, listening to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, but Tien mark thought ho had never seen anyone so lovely, and he was startled to find that ha had a most unprofessor-llke longing to take her in hU arms and comfort her, a feel ing which had never assailed him In the dim educational corridors of the igtately university building. Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared it would be his fate to add to her anxiety, and it was not until he saw that she was about to close the door that he found courage to speak. “Margaret,” he said. The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, and the cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with an un known joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there with wide eyes and suspended breath, gaz ing into the darkness. Renmork stepped into the light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigue and anxiety. “Margaret,” he said again. “I want to speak with you a moment. Where is your brother?" “He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. There is something wrong,” she continued, stepping down beside him. “I can see it in your face. What is it?” 1 “Is your father in the house?” "Yes, but he is worried about moth er. Tell me what It la It is better to W1 me." Ken mark hesitated. “Don’t keep mo in suspense like this," cried the girl, in a low, but intense ♦oiee. “You have said too much or too little. Has anything happened to Henry?” “No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed.” “I am alarmed. Tell me quickly." And the girl in her excitement laid her hands imploringly on his. "Arthur joined the volunteers in To ronto some time ago. Did you know that?" “He never told me. I understand—I think ao, but I hope not. He was in the battle to-day. la he—has he been —hurt?” "I don’t know. I am afraid so,” said Renmark, hurriedly, now that the truth had to come out, and he realized by the nervous tightening of the girl's unconscious grasp how clumsily he was telling it. "He was with the volun teers this morning. He is not with them now. They don't know where he ia No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he has been left behind. I have been all over the ground.” “Yes, yes." “But I could not find him. I came here hoping to dnd him.” “Take mo to where the volunteers were,” she sobbed. “I know what has happened. Come quickly." “Will you not put something on your head?” “No, no. Come at once.” Then, paus ing, she said: “ishall we need a lan tern?” “No; it is light enough when we get :out from the shadow of the house.” Margaret ran along the road so swift ly that Renmark had some trouble in keeping pace with her. She turned at the side road and sped up the gentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. “Here is the place,” said Renmark. “He could not have been hit in the field,” she cried, breathlessly, “for then he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing a fence. If he was badly hurt ho would have been here. Did you search this field?” “Every bit of it. He is not here.” “Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the second fence. Did you see the battle?” “Yea” “Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?" ’“No; they did not leave the woods. ” “Then if he was struck it could not have been far from the other side of the second fence. He would bo the last to retreat; and that Is why the others did not see him,” said the girl, with confident pride in her brother’s courage. They crossed the first fence, the road, and the second fence, the girl walking ahead for a few paces. Hhe stopped and leaned for a moment against a The boy lay with his tace m tne grass and his outstretched hand grasping the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far and reached an insur mountable obstacle. Renmark drew the weeping girl gen tly away, and rapidly ran his hand over the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill of joy passed over him as he felt the faint beating ef the heart. “He is alive,” he cried. “He will get well, Margaret.” This statement, how ever, was a somewhat premature one to make on so hasty an examination. He rose, expecting a look of grati tude from the girl he loved. He was amazed to see her eyes almost lumi nous in the darkness, blazing with wrath. “When did you know he was with the volunteers?” "This morning—early," said the pro fessor, taken aback. “Why didn’t you tell me?" "He asked me not to." “He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man’s sefase. You had no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know and your duty to tell me. Through your negli gence and stupidity my brother has lain here all day—perliaps dying,” she added, with a break in her angry voice. "If you had known—1 didn’t know anything was wrong until I saw the volunteers. I have not lost a moment since.” “I should have known he was miss ing, without going to the volunteers.” Renmark was so amazed at the un just accusation from a girl whom he had made the mistake of beUeving to be without a temper of her own that he knew not what to say. He was, how ever, to have one more example of in consistency. "Why do you stand there doing noth ing, now that I have found him?” she demanded. It was on his tongue to say: “I stand here because you stand there unjustly quarreling with me,” but he did not say it Renmark was not a ready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. “Margaret," he said, sternly, “throw down that fence.” This curt command, delivered in his most Bchoolmastery manner, was in stantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to a young woman, but it is a feat easily accom plished in some parts of America. A rail fence lends itself readily to demo lition. Margaret tossed a rail to the right, one to the left and one to the right again, until an open gap took the place of that part of the fence. The professor examined the young soldier in the meantime and found his leg had been broken by a musket ball. He aaised him up tenderly in his arms MARGABET, HI SAIT). 'tree. “It must have been about here,” she said, in a voice hardly audible. “Have you searched on this side?” “Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and wood a.” "No, no, not there, but down along the fence. He knew every inch of this ground. If he were wounded hero, be would at once try to reach our house. Search down along the fence. I—I can not go.” Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made by the zigzag of the rails, and he knew without looking back, that Margaret ■with feminine inconsistency was fol lowing him. Suddenly she darted past him and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing out a cry that out Ren- mark like a knife. might be it you were a stranger. • Margaret was gone before ho could say anything more, and Renmark sat down, devoutly hoping that no one would rap at the door of the room while he was there. CHAPTER XI. Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse when she opened the stable door and Gypsy replied with that affection ate low guttural whinny which the Scotch graphically term'“nickering.” She patted the little animal, and if Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at that hour of the night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing Its nose lovingly up and down Margaret's sleeve as she buckled the different straps. There was evidently a good understanding between those two. “No, Gyp,” she whispered, “I have nothing for you to-night—nothing but hard work and quick work. Now, you mustn't make a noise tlU we get past the'house.” On her wrist she slipped the loop of : a riding-whip which she always carried 1 but never used. Gyp had never felt the Indignity of the lash. The little horse was always willing to do what was re quired merely for a word. Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and there was therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although the passing of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that If her father heard the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come out to Investigate. Half way between her own home and Bart lett’s house she sprang lightly into the saddle. "Now then, Gyp." The horse required no second word. Away they sped down the road towards the east, the mild June aireomlng sweet BE RAPIDLY BAN 1IIS HAND OVEB THE PROSTRATE LAD. and was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He walked through the open gap and along the road towards the house, bearing the unconscious form of his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to his side, her fingers every now and then unconsciously caressing the damp curly locks of her brother. “We shall have to have a doctor?" Her assertion was half an inquiry. “Certainly.” * “We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that 1 should tell you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there.” “We cannot help disturbing some one." “I do not think it wiU be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur I will go for the doctor, and no one need know." “I will go for the doctor.” "You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, and wiU soon be back.” “But there are prowlers and strag glers all along the roads. It is not safe for you lo go alone-.” "It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen can over take Gypsy. Now, don’t say anything more. It is best that X should go. I wiU run on ahead and enter the house quietly. I will take the lamp to the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry him around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and will show you the way.” With that the girl was off, and Ren mark carried his burden alone. She was waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way around the house to where the door window opened upon the bit of lawn under an apple tree. The light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the hoy gently upon the dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmark whose room he was in. It was decorated with those pretty little knick-knacks that are dear to the heart of a girl in a snug gery which she can call her own. "It U not likely that yon will be disturbed here,” she whispered, “until I come back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor.” “Don’t you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don’t like the thought of youjroiRg’ alone.” "No, no. Please do just whst I tell you to. You do not know the way. I shall be very much quicker. If Arthur should—nhoii Id - wake, he will know you. and will not be alarmed, as h» WITH A WILD SNORT OF ASTONISHMENT THE HORSE SPRANG FORWARD, and cool and fresh from the distant lake, laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. The stillness was in tense, broken only by the plaintive cry of tha whippoorwill, America’s one- phrased nightingale, or the still more weird and eerie note of the distant loon. The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shown any where. The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter of the day, and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to have retired into its shell. A spell of silence and dark ness was over the land, and the rapid hoof-beats of the horse sounded with startling distinctness on the harder portions of the road, emphasized by intervalsof complete stillness when the fetlocks sank In the sand and progress was more difficult for the plucky little animal. The only thrill of fear that Margaret felt on her night-journey was when she entered the dark arch of an avenue of old forest trees that bordered the road like a great gloomy cathedral aisle in the shadow of which anything might be hidden. Once the horse, with a jump of fear, started sideways and plunged ahead; Margaret caught her breath as she saw, or fancied she saw, several men stretched on the roadside, asleep or dead. Once In the open again she breathed more freely, and if it had not been for the jump of the horse she would have accused her imagination of playing her a trick. Just as she had completely reassured herself, a shadow moved from the fence to the middle of the road, and a sharp voice cried: “Halt!" The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted its two front hoofs together and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so quick ly to a standstill that it was with some difficulty Margaret kept her seat. She saw In front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready to fire if she at tempted to disobey bis command. ‘Who are you, and where are you going?" he demanded. “Oh, please let m^ pass.” pleaded Margaret, with a tremor of fear in her voice. “I am going for a doctor—for my brother: he is badly wounded, and will perhaps die if I am delayed.” The man laughed. “Oho!” he cried, coming closer; “a woman, is it? and A young one, too, or I’m a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I’ll have to investigate this. The brother business won’t work with an old soldier. It’s your lover you’re riding for at this time of the night, or I’m no judge of the sex. Just slip down, my lady, and sec if you don’t like me better than him; and re member that all cats arc black in the dark. Get down, I tell you.” “If you are a soldier you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. I must get to the doctor." "There’s no ‘must’ with a bayonet in front of you. If he has been wounded there’s plenty of better men killed to day. Come down, my dear.” Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but even in the darkness the man saw her intention. "You can’t escape, my pretty. If you try it, you’ll not be hurt, but I’U kill your horse. If you move, FU put a bul let through him.” “Kill my horse!” breathed Margaret, in horror, a fear coming over her that she had not felt at the thought of dan ger to herself. “Yes, missy,” said the man, approach ing nearer and laying his hand on Gypsy’s bridle. “But there will be no need of that. Besides, it would make too much noise, and might bring us company, which would be ineonvenient. Bo come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are.” “If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here and be your prisoner.” The man laughed again, in low. tan talizing tones. This was a good joke. “Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn't bom so recently as all that A girl in the hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now come off that horse, or IH take you off. This is war-time, and J’jp not going to watte any more pretty talk on you,- The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at hel, and some thing in his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that he apparently was not prepared for any sudden movement Her right hand hanging down at her side had grasped the short riding-whip, and witli a swift ness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow she struck him one sting ing blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought down the lash on the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with her left over her enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment the horse sprang forward, bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatter that woke the echoes; then, with an Indignant toss of the head, Gyp sped along the road like the wind. It was the time Gypsy had ever felt the cut of a whip, and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further obstruction on the road, turned her horse's head towards the rail fence, and Gypsy went over it like a bird. In the field, where fast going in the dark had dangers, Margaret tried to slacken the pace, but the little horse would not have It so. It shook its head angrily whenever it thought of the indignity of that blow, while Margaret leaned over and tried to explain and beg pardon for her offense. The second fence was crossed with a clean-cut leap, and only once in the next field did the horse stumble, but quickly re covered and went on at the same break neck gait. The next fence gallantly vaulted over brought them to the side- road half a mile up which stood the doctor’s house. Margaret saw the fu tility of attempting a reconciliation until the goal was won. There, with difficulty, the horse was stopped, and Margaret struck the panes of the upper window, through which a light shone, with her riding-whip. The window was raised, and the situation speedily explained to the physician. “I will be with you in a moment,” he said. Then Margaret slid from the saddle and put her arms around the neck of the trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, and sniffed the air with offended dignity. “It was a shame, Gyp,” she cried, al most tearfully, stroking the glossy neck of her resentful friend; “it was. it was, and I know it; but what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only pro tector I had, and you did bowl him over beautifuUy; no other horse could have done it so well. It's wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had to strike you.” Gypsy was still wrathful, and Indi cated by a toss of the head that the wheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult more than the pain; and from her—there was the sting of it. “I know; I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear, and I don’t blame you for being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there was no time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That’s why it came down so hard. If I had said a word ho would have got out of the way, coward that he was. and then would have shot you —you, Gypsy. Think of it!” If a man can be moulded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, how can a horse expect to be exempt from her influence, even if he is a su perior animal to man? Gypsy showed signs of melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. | “And it will never happen again, j Gypsy—never, never. As soon as we are safe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew you wouldn't—” Gypsy's head rested on Margaret's shoulder, and we must draw a veil over the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man to meddle with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar of friendship the un offending whip was doubtless offered as a burning sacrifice. When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, and proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way—the Con cession, as it was called. They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light In the windotv. The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from the house, and walked together, to the win dow with the stealthy steps of a pair of house-breakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closed window, and thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. Bhe-tapped lightly on the pane, and the professor threw back the door window. “We were getting very anxious about you,” he whispered. "Hello, Peggy,” said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his head slightly from the pillow and dropping it back again. Margaret stooped over and kissed him. “My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!” “Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was going to die within sight of the house.” The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited until the examination was over, and then went out to find her. She sprang forward to meet him. “It is all right,” he said. “There is nothing to fear. He has been exhaust ed by loss of blood, but a few days' quiet will set that right. Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience at being kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks.” “Oh, I am so glad! and—and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Renmark!" “I have done nothing—except make blunders,” replied the professor, with a bitterness that surprised and hurt her. • “How can yon say that? Y’ou have done everything. We owe his life to you.” Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlier part of the night had deeply pained his over-sensitive nature, and he hoped for some hint of disclaimer from her. Be longing to the stupider sex, he did not realize that the words wore spoken in a state of intense excitefnent anti fear —that another woman Would probably have expressed her state of mind by fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had left absolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmark spoke: | “I must be getting back to the tent, ! if it still exist*. I think I had an ap- i pointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but to this moment I had forgotten it. Good night." Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had done to offend him. He stumbled along tUe dark road, not heeding much the direction he took, but avtomatioaUy mmim the nearest way to tne tent 'atigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet Were os lead. Although dazed, he was con scious of a dull ache where his heart ought to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool of himself. He entered the tent, and was sta rtled by the voice of Yates: “Hello! hello! Is that you, Btoll- ker?” “No; It is Renmark. Are you asleep?" "I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Have you provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?” “There’s a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven’t been near the tent since early morning.” “Ail right, only don’t expect a rec ommendation from mo as cook. I'm not yet hungry enough for niw pota toes. What time has it got to be?” “I’m sure I don’t know." “Seems as If I had been asleep for weeks. I'm the latest edition of Rip Van Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I was dreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk.” “What have you done with him?” “I'm not wide enough awake to re member. I think I killed him, but wouldn't be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong (bat very likely he is alive at this moment. Ask me in MARGARET STOOPED OVEB AND KISSED HIM. the morning. What have you been prowling after all night?” There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep, “I’ll ask you In the morning," mur mured Yates, drowsily—after which there was silence in the camp. [TO BK COKTINITKD.J Easy to Take And Perlecl in Their Action, AYER’S PILLS Never fail to relieve Dyspepsia, Constipation, and Headache. “I have proved the value of © Ayer's Pills, in relieving dyspep- o sia and headache, with which ® complaints I was so long troubled © that neither the doctor nor my- o self supposed I should ever fie well again. Thiough the use of the altove medicine 1 am better © than I have been for years.”— o A. Gaskill,Versailles, 111. g “I have used Ayer’s Pills for © 15 years as a cathartic in liver o complaint, and always with ex- ® tremely beneficial effect, never 2 having had need of other medi- o cine. I also give Ayer’s Pills to ® my children, when 'they require ® an aperient, and the result is al- © wavs most satisfactory.”—A. o A. Haton, Centre Conway, N. II. ® “Ifavine been severely afflicted © with costiveness, I was induced o to try Ayer’s Pills. Their use has ° effected a complete cure, nfid I © can confidently recommend them o to all similarlv afflicted.” — C. A. ® Whitman, Nipomo, Cal. © AYER’S PILLS® Received Highest Awards AT THE WORLD’S FAIR ® o o o o o o o o c o q qo o op peoooao c — STA TE OF SO UTH CAROLINA. Count]/ of Darlington. In Common Pleas. Corbett & Gore, vs. J. N. Suggs A Co. Execution Against Pioperty. By virtue of the above stated execu tion, I will sell in front of the court house of Darlington county, State aforesaid, on the fiist Monday in March next, during the legal hours of sale, all of the right, title and in terest of the defendants in and to the following real estate: First, a lot of laud known as Low- ther's Lake, containing twenty-four hundred and seventy-eight (2478(acres, more or less, hounded by Pee Dee River and Lowther's Izike and lauds formerly belonging to Sam. H. Wilds, and composed of three several tracts, to wit, one for sixteen hundred and sixty eight acres, conveyed by Eliza beth Wragg to John D. Wiherspoon by deed dated March the 4th, 1808; one for seven hundred and ten acres conveyed by heirs at law of Robert hrvin to John D Witherspoon by deed dated Ma, 5th, 1846; and one for one hundred acres conveyed by Marv E. Wilds to John D. Witherspoon by deed dated August 6th, 1846; Second, a tract of land containing six hundred and ten acres, more or less, hounded oil the north by lands formerly of Marco and Lewenthal, east by lands of Sam. P. Ervin, s-mtli and south west by Lowther's Ijtk* ;—the same being »ra. t No. 2 ol the Back Swamp Place, now or formerly of the Est. of S. H. Wilds;—the same being lands conveyed to me by S Marco by deed of date March 21st, 1892, of Record in office of R. M. C. for Darlington coun tv in Book No. 17, Page 2;—to satisfy tliis and other executions now in my office. G. P. SCARBOROUGH, Feb. 12, 1895. Sheriff. STA TE OF SO VTU CAROLINA. County of Darlington. COURT OK COMMON PLEAS. M. Sutton & Co., vs. J. C. Black- well. Execution against Property. By virtue of the above stated Execu tion to me directed, I will sell in front of tlie court house of Darling ton county, State aforesaid, on the first Monday in March next, during the legal hours of sale, all of the right, title and interest of the De fendant in and to the following de scribed real estate: All that certain piece, parcel or tract of land, situate, lying and being in the county of Darlington and in the State aforesaid, containing four hundred acres, more or less, and bounded on the north and north-east by the run of Black creek,“east by lands of W. G. Brunson, south by Mill creek, and on west by lands'of W ;,M. Hunter; the same.having been con veyed by deed from J. Boyd Brunson to J. C. Blackwell, January 1st, 1890, and recorded in office of R. M. C. for Darlington county, Book No. 18, Page 79. Also, ell the right, title and interest of the defendant of J. C. Blackwell in and to the following described tracts of land: First, a tract of land known as Lowther's Lake, containing twenty- four tiundred and seventy-eight(2478) acres, more or less, bounded by Pee Dee River and Lowther’s Lake and lands formerly belonging to Samuel H. Wilds, and composed of three sev eral tracts, to wit: one for sixteen hundred and sixty-eight acres, con veyed by Elizabeth Wragg to John D. Witliersjioon by deed dated March 4th., 1898; one foi seven hundred and ’en acres, conveyed by heirs at law of Robert Ervin to John D. Witherspoon by deed dated Maj 5th, 1846: anil one for one hundred acres conveyed by Mary B. Wilds to John D. Wither spoon by deed dated August 6th, 1846. Second, a tract of land containing six hundred and ten acres, more or less, bounded on north by lands formerly of Marco t Lewenthal, east by lands of Sam. F. Ervin, south and south west by Lowther’s Lake, the same being tract No 2. of the Back Swamp Place, now or formerly of the estate of S. H. Wilds;—the rame being lands conveyed to me by S Marco by deed of date March 21st. 1892, of record in office of R M. C. for Darlington conn ty, in Book No. 17, Page 2;—to satisfy this and other executions now in my office. G. P. SCARBOROUGH, Feb. 12, 1895. Sheriff. TTARTSVILLE RAILROAD. Junes, 18# L MIXED TRAIN Leave Hartsville 4.80 a m Jovann 4.45 a m Floyd’s 5.05 a m Darlington 5.25 am Palmetto 5.40 am Arrive Florence 6.00 a m Leave Florence 8.50 p m Palmetto 9.05 p m Darlington 9.25 p in Floyds 9.45 p m Jovann 10.00 pn. Hartsville 10.15 pm J. F. DIVINE. Gen. Snpt. CHARLESTON, SUMTER AND NORTHERN RAILROAD CHAR1.ES K. KIMBALL Recelvr. In Effect Jan. 16, 1894 NORTH. SOUTH. 9 8 P.M. P.M. Lv 4.10 Charleston 2.30 Ar 5.20 I’regnall’e 1.10 7.25 Sumter 11.02 8.87 Darlington 9.60 9 29 Bennettsville 9.00 9.52 Gibson 8.87 Ar 10.20 Hamlet 8.10 Lv P.M A.M No 9 connects at Hamlet with S. A. L. Vestibule train for Raleigh, Rich mond, Washington, Baltimore, Phil adelphia and New York. No 8 connects with 8. A. L. Vesti bule train from above named points. Trains run solid to and from Charles ton. C. MILLARD, Superintendent. [ 'I A D. and C. A S. RAILROADS. J» In effect June 8, 1894. M1XED.TRAIN Leave Wailesboro 2.00 p m Bennett’s 2.25 p n.' Morven’s McFarland Cheraw 3.45 p m Cash’s . 4.10pm Society Hill Dove’s 4.40 p m . 5.15 p m Floyd’s 5.30 p m Darlington 6.05 p m Palmetto Arrive Florence Leave Florence Palmetto . 8.00 a m Darlington 8.85 a m Floyd’s 2.00 a m Dove’s . 9 15 a m Society Hill 9 45 a m Cash's . 50.15 a m Cheraw 11.00 a m McFarland 11.40 a m Morven’s 11,55 a m Bennett's 12.10 a m Arrive Wadesboro 12.30 a m Local Freight. Leave Darlington 4 30 pm Palmetto 4.42 p in Arrive Florence 5.00 p m Leave Florence 8.30 a m Palmetto 8.50 a m Arrive Darlington 9 05 a u A. F. RAVENEL, President. Creditors’ Notice. All persons having claims against (he Estate of J. H. Sparrow, deceased, will present them, duly sworn to. and all parties indebted to the said Estate wiH please make payment to W. C WILSON. J31-3t. Administrator. FOR SALE. A plantation on the Santee River, a mile and a half from a well known public landing, fifteen miles fiom St. Stephen’s Depot, N. E. R. R., suitable for growing fine tobacco, sandy lands, clay subsoil, lime-stone foundation. Address, P. G. PALMER, Wren P. O. Berkeley Co.. S. C. ORTHEASTERN RAILROAD. In effect Nor. 18,1894i SOUTH BOUND. H aving purchased the Plant of the Atlantic Phos phate Company, together with the entire Stock, brands and good-wiil, we take this tnothod of thanking the friends and patrons of the Chicora Fertilizer Company for their cordial support and patronage in the past, and now solicit the patronage of the Atlantic Phosphate Company, as well as the Chicora brands, guaranteeing that, under the management of the Chicora, the reputation earned by the Atlantic brands will be fully sus tained. CHICORA FERTILIZER CO-, Charleston, S. C. Geo. A. Wagener. General Manager Sheriffs Sales. STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA. County of Darlington. COURT OF COMMON PLEAS. Under and by virture of an execut'on to him directed and delivered, the Sheiiff of Darlington county will sell at public auction before the court house door at Darlington, to the high est bidder, for cash, within the legal hours of sale, on Monday, March 4, 18*5, (sab-sday) all that tract of land situate in the county of Darlington, State of South Carolina, containing sixty-three acres, more or less, bound ed north by lands of Mrs. Waters, east by lands of estate of Mary Shu mate, South by lands of John D. Howie, west by lands of - estate of Henry King, levied upon at the suit of H. J. Lee against H G. Waters, ad ministrator of estate of W. 8. Shu mate, deceased. G. P. SCARBOROUGH, 8. D. C. i; Docs This i I HilYon?! ;; The management of the ;; Equitable Life Assurance ]; Society in the Department of ] J the Carolinas, wishes to se- J | core a few Special Resident ] | Agents. Those who are fitted J [ for this work will find this ii A Rare Opportunity 1! It is work, however, and those ] | •who succeed best in it possess II character, mature judgment, ] | tact, perseverance, and the \! respect of their community. I [ Think this matter over care- ; [ fully. There’s an unusual ; | opening for somebody. If it J! fits yon, it will pay you. Fur- II ther information on request. ! ! W. J. Roddey,'Manager, : ! Rock HUI, S. C. ‘ •MIMIIIIMMIMIMM* N ». 85. Leave Florence . 3.10 a m Lanes 4.20 a m Arrive Charleston G.10 e m Leave Florence No. 23. Kingstree 8.46 p m Lanes 9.07 p m Arrive Charleston Leave Lanes No. 53. 7.05 p m Arrive Charleston 8.40 p m NORTH BOUND. Leave Charleston No. 78. Lanes 5.40 a m Kingstree 0 00 a m Arrive Florence 7.05 a in Leave Charleston No. 32. 8.55 p m Lines 5.44 p in Kingstree . 5.59 p m Arrive Florence 6.55 p in Leave Charleston No. 62. 7.15 a m Arrive Lanes No. 52 runs through to Columbia via Central R. K. of S. C. Train Nos. 78 and 14 rune via Wileon and Fayetteville—Short Line—and makes close connection for all points North. J. F. DIVINE, Gen. Supt. VY JILMINGTON, COLUMBIA * AUGUSTA RALROAD. In effect June 8,1884. SOUTH BOUND. No. 55. Leave Wilmington 3.80 p m Marion. 6.21 p in Arrive Florence .'....ir...-t»- -I-IQ P IB . No. 5b. Leave Florence 7.25 p in Sumter 8.36 p m Leave Sumter 8.38 p m Arrive Columbia 10.00 p m No. 58. Leave Florence 3.15 a m Arrive Sumter 4 21 a m No. 68. Leave Sumter 9.58 a m Arrive Columbia 11.10 a m No. 52 runs throngh from Charles ton via Central Railroad; leaving Lanes 8.48 a m, Manning 8 85 a m. NORTH BOUND. Leave Oolumbil ...» « Sumter.... -mm; Arrive Florence Leave Florence ... Marion Arrive Wilmington.... Leave Columbia.. Arrive Sumter No. 51. . 4.30 a n . 6.53 a n . 7.10 a n No. 56. .. 7.35 a n ..8.16 an ..11.00 a i No. 53. . 4.20 p i 5.43 pi No. 59. Leave Columbia Sumter 5.47 p m Arrive Florence 6.55 p m No 53 runs thiouKu to uuarleston via central Railroad, arriving Man ning 6.21 p m Lanes 7.05 p m, charleston 8.40 p m. Trains on South and North Caro lina R. R», leave Atkins 9.40 a. m. and U.30 p. m., arriving Lucknow 11.10 a. . m. and 8.00 p. m. Returning leave Lucknow 6.45 a. m. and 4.20 p m., ar riving Atkins 8.15 a. m. and 6,50 p. m. Daily except Sunday. Trains on Wilmington, Ohadbonrn and Conway Railroad leave Chad- bourn at 10.10 a m, arrive at Conway 12.30 p m, returning leave Conway at 2:00 p. m.. arrive Chadbouru 4:50 p. m. Leave Chadbourn 6.35 p m arrive at Hub 6.20 p. in. Re turning leave Hub 8.15 a m, arrive at Chadbourn 9.00 a m. Daily exepet | 9 “joS JOHN F. DIVINK. Gen’l Sept.