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THE-St^TEKWATCHMAN, Established April, 1S50. Co u sol id a ted Aug. 2, 1881.1 kBe Just and Fear not?Let all th SUMTER, S. 0., 'S& ': bt the?:? B&fc&iitanu Southron Publishing r ? Compaq, ^ stjmter, s. c. terms: '*?wSy^H?Wj^r in advance. AOVKRTI8EMSNTS. Q&e Sqn&xe?<first insertion...........$I 00 j B^ety8ab^aentroiertion......~...r.^^.. 50 1 Contracts for three months, or longer will be made at reduced rates. / : All com mumcations which subserve private in tereais wilt be charged for as advertisements. ^OW^oaet; and tributes of respect will be M arriage-notices and notices of deaths pub* ?orjS$'w>tk or contracts for advertising %idx*&&mkman andc-S&tdhron, or apply at the Office-to ...a. G.: OSTEEN, 'Tc''r- U "Business Manager. STATE BEMOCRATIC TICKET. ^SR*?" for Governor: j Of^ic^tend.^ ^' Governor I^^C^C.^BPPARB, Of Bdgefield. aer '-sr3. For Secretary of State: For Attorney General: - Q^ClflliPSO^ MILES, OT^Chariestpn. f, JOHN P. l?CKARDSON, _ ? 'ComptrMtr General: #3% E. s$oney, Jg X^B?ele^ - % .fir Superintendent of Education z s ; Of-, York. I '^For^Adjutant end--Inspector General: | tGESfr A M. juTANIGA?LT, | ? jf*?".- ?-. - C^&^^JBAEi^. for Btpresen?tives. B. rf?E?& &?: Y:-:;j?J.-iUYES, H.^Er^T^BUEST' * D. E. KEELS. W^A^'COOPEK^ R, W. JENKINS, K. Bl^ULDBOW. x-i for: <fadae of Probated /of fleaooF Vomtoissioner. jftF^Q VARIOUS irret* witt open tn?cscbools " i November, or^aS^soon ^ractic^-bSi^^bey will ou>-"a calendar are is gusTl. By order of theBow^itflExaunneTs jgg? - ^^^W. F? BH?ME, TrSctlT ^ ^feool Com'r. SUMTER COttNTY. f . ^TjiS^S. 04 Oct ^6^1882. >^^p^E|OF-ffflB ^^TTy; FENCE y was unavoidably postponed to-day, but will positively^ t&ktt. .jj'ace oa.THURSDAY* NOVEMBER 9tivi SS2; *t:tolCbnr? House, a 2d continue from dayto day un til, disposed Ci. By order^of the B^ard. , ?i ? f gl ?e>k|^?i^ ountrrC?m.*rsi^ -5 SplH^of^tr?^rmes and A'?vance olease copy. ' _ _ as Oct 17 3t fOR SALE. _/E,SEA-SBORE PLACE in ^SeS?B^pC?hty/lS miles from Mount Pleasant, containing 800 acres, part in culti vatipn..- Situation healthy and land produc tive: ^flsS'Stfif gkme plentiful. Also my plac**in toe edge of Sumter7 con UiQing 30 acres, with 6-room dwelling, and Also asmaH facm in the country. * N. G. OSTEEN, Sumter, S. C. Ml i omtmm battdtg TRWAmB IN HOLLS C?ittFOkTS, QUILTS AND MATTRESSES. SO^v|?T?i^^FACTOEy AND BY merchants iu Sbmter at 10 cents per poand. vl "0% " liberal discount to the trade allowed. ; - :' ?x~ D. JAMES WINN, - jS&jLjS?tj ,, ^ _President. LAST NOTICE. ALL persons indebted to tbe the Kite Firm of DARR k OSTEEN, are hereby noti fied that tbey must PAY. UP, or make ar rangements to do so before November 1st next, or tbe Accounts will be placed in the hazds of a Trial Justice. Settlements can be 'made with either of tbe undersigned. B. L. DARR. Sept 5V1882. N. G. OSTEEN. BVBBEB STAMPS NAME STAMPS FOR MARKING CLOTHING with indellible ink, or for printing visiticg cards, and STAMPS OF ANY KIjVD for stamping BUSINESS CARDS, ENVEL <T>PES or anything el?e. Specimens of various I [wy%? sertrtfTd", which will be shown with pleas- | ore. The LOWEST PRICES" possible, and] orders filled promptly. Call on C. P. OSTEEN*. At the Watchman and Southron Office. SOOO NEWS AT LASfT Walker's Specific Has Never Failed :< " TO CURB CONSUMPTION, BRONCHITIS, TONSILI TIS, LARYNGITIS, and SCROFULA. Price $2.30, ^.00 and $10.00, by mait; One bottle of his Rheumatic Remedy cures tbst disease in any form, in 10 days. Price by Express, $5 per Bottle. : Db. j. w. walker, July 25g _Franklinton, N. C. PATENTS Obtained, and all business in tbe U. S. Patent Office, attended to for MODERATE fees. Ouroffice is'oppositetue?. S. Patent Office, and wecan obtain patents in less- time than those remote from WASHINGTON^ Send JIODEL-OB^ DRAWING, w e advise as to patentability free of charge: and we make NO CHARGE UNLESS w e OBTAIN PATSNT. 5T? refer,, here, to the Postmaster, theSupt. of Money Order Div.^and to officials of the iL. S. Patent Office. Jor circular, advice, I terms and reference to actual clients in your own State, or county address ? ~^^f c- ." C. A. SNOfcS? k CO., I Opposite Pate? Office, Washington, D. C. Angnst 8 i OTL&rlNGTON, COLUMBIA AND - August a r. r. CONDENSED SCHEDULE. _. TRAINS GOING SOUTH. Dat?d \ No. 48, i No. 40 Sept. 24, T882. - J Daily. | Daily. Leave Wilmiogton ......., Ar're'Flemington Ar've Marion....... Ar've Florence.? Ar've Soiuter...;.. Ar've Columbia? ..7..., 10 10 pm 11 51 ? 1 28 am 2 20 ?4 4 35 ? 6 40 ? jit.10 pm 12 17 " 2 02 am 2 -17 " .TRAINS GOING NORTH. No. 43, No. 47, Daily. } Dairy." Leave Columbia_ Ar've Sumter ...... AyT'erFibrenee.. Ar've Marion . ... Ar've Flemington. Ar've Wilmington, w. roop^m 1 46 " 3 48 ? 5 15 <; 10 00 pin 12 05 " 1 32 am 2 38 ? 4 54 " 6 20 " Train No. 43 (tops at all Stations. No*. 48 and 47 stops only at Brinkley's, Wbiteville, Flemington, Fair Bl?ff, MarioD, Florence, Timmonsville, Sumter, Camden Junc tion and Eastover. Passengers ior Columbia and ail points on C. A G. R. R., C, C A. A. R. R. Stations, Aiken Junction, and all points beyond, should takoSTo. 48 Night Express. Separate Pullman Sleepers for Charleston and for Augusta on trains 48 and 47. All trains run solid between Charleston and Wilmington. THR0C6H FREIGHT train. Daily, except Sundays. Leave Florence^., .... .~~...-12 00 % m Leave Sumter^ %s:" JL.v?.... 4 05 a m Arrive at Colum?a..^'^. .............. 7 25 a oi Leave Columbia........M. 6 40 p ui Leave Sumter...........~ - 10 10 p m Arrive. at,AFlorenc?......._.. 12 50 a m LOCA^yREijSHT-^(DaiIy<except Sunday.) Leave Florence......... . ..ilj6 00 a m Leave "Sumter...........11 00 a m Arrive at Columbia ...... 3 0 0 p m Leave Columbia.~~.-.. 8 00 a m Leave Sumter...-~^.....wv:~..~i?*l 00 P m Arrive at Florence. ... 6 00 p m JOHN F. DIVINE. General Sup't. north-eastern rTOOT superintendent's office, O fNORTH EASTERN.- RAILROAD CO. " Charleston, S. C, Oct. 11, 1882. On and after this date the following Sche dule will be run, Sundays ijcluded : Leave Charleston." ' Arrive Florence. 7 50 a. m.12 30 p. m. 8 30 p. k.-1 20 a. m. 5 00 p. m?.Arr. Lane's 7 50 p. m. Leave Florence. , Arrive Charleston. 2 40 a> k.;.'....Jfc..........6 50 a. m. 2 00 p. m.6 45 p 51. Leave Lanes. 6 15 a. m.;..8 50 a. m. TraiwleaVfpgJ'lorence at *2. 40 ?. m. will stop foYNr?jrpaSsengers. ' CS2TTBAL KAIL?.0AD SCH3LULE. %| ^J^BAYS EXCEPTED. Leave Charleston...5 00 p m " LaDes..~.7 52 p m Arrive at Sumter.;.9 30-p-m Leave Sumter..? .4 35 a m " LaneY......................... 6 15 am Arrive at "Charleston. 8 50 a m P. L. CLEAPOR, J. F. DIVINE, Gen'l Ticket Agt. Gen'l Supt. charleston jron works, ESTARLKHEDi 1844. - Machinery aad HIII1 Supplies. Largest Stock in the Santa. Place your Orders with Us at Manufacturers7 Prices ?AND? SAVE AGENT'S COMMISSION. Parties having Machiuery to Repair will find it to tbeir interest to send ns their orders. ?E0. W. WILLIAMS, Jr. & CO. CHARLESTON, S. G Sep 26, ~ '_lm WILL^SUPPLIES, Ac, Ac. Consisting in part of ^ INDIA RUBBER AND LEATHER BELTING, HEMP AND INDIA RUBBER PACKING. Lace Leather, Oilers, Wrenches, Machinery Oils, Broalar and Upright Mill Saws, : FILES OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, *. ' s Punches,' Babbit Metal, Solder, Block Tin, Lead, and Gin Bristles, -ALSO? Pratt's Celebrated Cotton Gins, FEEDERS and CONDENSERS Furnished at Manufacturers' Prices in, this city by JOHN C. DIAL, COLUMBIA, S. C. Sept 12 3m COUNTY CLAIMS. OFFICE OF COUNTY COMMISSIONERS SUMTER COUNTY. SUMTER, S. C, Oct. 3,1882. THE BOARD OF COUNTY COMMISSION ejs of Sumter County, will hold their annual meeting on November 8tb, 1882. All persons holding claimsagainst Sumter County fortheSscal years of A.D., 1881 and 1882, are requested to present same for examination and approval, etc., otherwise, under statute they will be debarred payment. By order of Board, T. V. WALSH. Clerk Bd. Co. Comr's. Sumter County. Spirit of the Times and Advance, copy. Oct. 3?4t M. L. KINARD, C LOTHIEE, COLUMBIA, S. C. Our Patrons: The People. Our Study: Their Interests. Our Maxim: Fair Dealing. Our Reward: Success. THE LARGEST STOCK -OF FALL AND WINTER CLOTHING IN THIS SECTION. NEW GOODS. CORRECT STYLES. MEN'S SUITS,. YOUTH'S SUITS, BOY'S SUITS, Gents1 Fumisliiiig; .Goods, Sept 12 DESTINY. Encircled by the cooling clond-land drifts, A tiny spring I know, scarce two hands wide, VTbere green and fair the lofty monntain lifts Its forest banners high in conscious pride. Two baby brooklets, oozing from this fount, Moved by a band unseen, in kindness pressed, Flow winding down on either side the mount And reach, by paths remote, ihe self-same rest. Two children ptay upon the village green, Their chubby handsfcre clasped, they kiss and go ; Then all their lives an ocean rolls between? At last they meet where churchyard daisies grow. As rivers course, through weary winding ways Forever onward, onward, to the sea, So course tby feet and mine, through all our days, Beneath the guiding star of destiny. Aye up and down, through all life's mazy folds, As sweep and sway and rule the tides the sea, A Band unseen so sweeps and sways and holds And roles the hearts and lives of yon and me. WHY I Ail LEAVING ENGLAND. : 'Look, Flukely?there she is?the great heiress of to-dajf? the two hundred-thousand-pounder !* My com panion, Bryce Daubeny of tne ?th Lancers, spoke in a quick, excited whisper, bowing as he did so, with a flush on his cheek; to a graceful daik eyed woman, who rode slowly past where we lounged- against the railings of the Row, .with the A pril sunlight touching into bronze the magnificent coils of her soft hair and setting forth the perfect symmetry of her shapely blue-habited figure. 'What do you think of her ? All the men are mad aboufher.' For the first time for years an at tentive ear might have detected a tone of keen, suppressed interest in the languid, well-bred voice of him who wastnown to his brother-officers as 'the cool of the day/ 'Do you mean the lady who has just gone past?the lady who bowed j to you V I stammered, while the j fashionable crowd around me seemed to sway and surge before my? eyes, and I felt faint and unstrung, .as though I had received a sodden blow;. It was six years since the eyes which "had just glanced at me with perfect indifference had met mine, and they had not been indifferent. 'Yes, that is Miss D'Eyncourt?j Gertrude D'Eyncourt, the brightest star in London society. Splendid, isn't she V *But she is no heiress.' - Daubeny faugh ed-tbe pleasant laugh of superior knowledge. 'Perhaps you think so ; but, in my eyes, six'fig?res are very neat?and that is her mark at the present time. However, she was not alwaj's an j heiress?you are quite right there. Come this way, and Til tell you all abont it; the stor> is rather interest ing ;' and, slipping his well-gloved fingers through my arm, Bryce Dau beny led me - along, ithe promenade pertaining to the Lady's Mile. It is sevenjears since 'she - came out? seveu years ! By Jove, that should cover a good part of a woman:s his tory ! 1 would not count time agaiust j her so ruthlessly if the years had i treated her unkindly & but any one who saw her at her deluf- will admit that she is ten times more glorious now. She was the eldest of three, and she came out alone?and a pretty fair sensation she made, I can tell i you ; for, though sbe had uot a farth ing in the world, she was well con nected, and they had enough to dress and live decently on. Their father, the General, was dead ; but the moth er, the three girls, and a small boy, Geoffrey, the youngest, lived in a j very presentable house in Brook j Street, and contrived to know only j the best-people. By "the bye, Geoff is in the Guards now. He is nine- j teen, and' is one of the handsomest | fellows in London. He has a face j just like the girl's a most musical voice, and the sweetest eyes, and is j the m?Vt infernal young scamp I ever I knew;. <His sister makes him aj splendid allowance ; he lives in a last j set, hasn't a hair on his chin, looks like a cherub, and has all the women mad about him. I'll introduce him to | you, if you like. But I'm digressing. ! Where was I ? Oh, at Brook Street! Well, the whole of them lived in Brook Street, and Gertie was the success of her season. Her beauty, ber wit, her vivacity, her style,.were talked of everywhere, and bhe might have mairied anybody; but 6he laughed at all suitors, held them all aloof, yet kept them faithful, and was free herself. At the end of the sea son the family went abroad?to Men tone, or Nice, or Switzerland, or Rome?I don't know where ; and j the second season was well begun be-! fore they returned. Those whom | Gertie had impressed before were i eager to see her again, and asked her J constantly among themselves. But she was slow in coming back. Don't j start, man?nothing dreadful had happened. Gertie D'Eyncourt re- j turned, and those who worshiped her j were as many and as ardent as before; they were other admirers however, j for the woman bearing her features j and looking at you with her eyes was j another woman. Nobody quite knew i what was wrong, but there was some thing missing, something which hurt the hearts of those who had loved her. I don't pretend to guess at what had occurred ; but my own surmise is that abroad she had learned to love soqje one who must nave proved an in-1 fernal scoundrel, and so deprived her I of the power of caring for any one or i anything for many a day. You see, in the unconventional life one lives I abroad, any one who constituted him- j self their friend would have opportu-1 nities of rendering himself important j and invaluable, such as he could never find at home.? 'Let I fl 'By all means/ he agreea^iHsTW commonly Lot. We will sit down and rest, Why, yotT have -iai-oed quite white man, like a girl! Well, Gertie had as many offers in her se cond season as in her first, but from quite a different order of men?from the old stagers, you know, who pre fer style to 'go.' I tried my own luck, and got kicked of course, but in a way that, though it wrung my heart, rather soothed ray pride. I don't know how she managed it; but I know I left her presence thinking bet ter both of her and myself than I had ever thought before. Her sisters came out the nest season and got married?well married, too ; for tbe mother was a perfect chaperon, and the girls were right at all points. Gertie's years mounted up from nineteen to twenty-three, aud her most faithful followers, though they never dropped off, gave np hope of ever reaching her. Nobody quite knew what she meant to do, but all saw that she did not mean to marry. It is three years ago now since she met old Brummagem of Bengal. 'He was as wealthy as a nabob, yellow as a guinea, and fiery as a red pepper. Gertie took to him, rode his horses, accepted his presents, showed herself at his entertainments, and made us all think less of her fortune-hunting. Bat 3heiet uobody's sneers affect her ; she continued kind to the old fellow, and kept us in hourly expectation of | a marriage",, till he died; then the truth came out. He had been fool enough to want to marry her, bnt-she j bad refused him; and for this favor j he was so grateful that he left her all he had in the world. She had made | him happy by her friendship and kind ness, so he said, and she had not humiliated him for his felly in daring to love her ; so be left her his two ! hundred thousand pounds as an ade quate mark of his esteem, and his blessing. The girl behaved uncom monly well. She wore mourning for the old fellow, as was becoming, and applied to lawyers to hunt up heirs at-law. When they succeeded in finding only remote cousins, 6he set tled on these relatives what they thought enough, aud quietly accepted tbe remainder. She now lives in one of the best houses in Prince's Gate; with a chaperon, for the mother died a year ago. She put her brother into the Guards, that he might be near her. That is all there is to be^ said about the most facinating woman in town. But you are dreaming, Flukely. I can't be a very lively narrator I'm afraid/ ':" ' ' I roused myself with an effort.. I had heard all he had said ; but I saw nothing of the realities around me. Instead, Gertrude D'Eyncourt's. eyes looked into mine, moist with passion and pain, us I had last seen them, in the moonlightf by* the -Lake of Lucerne. 'I wonder whether I could meet your heiress V I said, after a pause. 'We must have many muturalfriends. Could you not contrive to bring us together ? I should like to know her.' 'Oh, that will be managed: easily enough! She goes everywhere. But it is quite useless for you to en ter the lists ; they are crowde.d al ready, even were you not handicap ped ;' and Daubeny laughed. '1 should like to meet Miss D'Eyn court?that 1*6 all I said,' I answered indifferently. 'Oh, of course! But we all know what that means where the is con cerned ! Take my advice, Flukely, aud don't put yourself in the way of needless pain and humiliirtiori. You know a widower with two children could scarcely be attractive to any woman j and Miss D'Eyncourt's tem perament is aparticularly delicate one. Beside^, you are not at all the 6tyle of a man she affects.' 'I feel extremely grateful for your care of me ; but it is quite needless, I assure you. If you don't wish to introduce me to your friend, I shall trouble some one else?that is all.' 'You tnest not get lofty. I allow no one to be lofty but myself I have uttered my note of warning ; you can now take your own way.. She will be at the Carringtou's ball to-morrow night; will you come V 'I am not invited.' '3ut you know Leo, and you can reckon on being welcome. I shall call for you at ten.' ***** 'There she is with Stanhope! Bon't they make a splendid pair V 1 smiled at the necessity my frieud was under of pointing her out tome. As if that were needful! As if I should not know her masked among a million ! * * Watch them : they are the best dancers in town.' 'It was he who was riding with her yesterday.' * 'Yes, it is a case, and no mistake; J and she encourages him shamefully if j she does not mean anything.' I They were gliding down. Lady I Carrington'8 ballroom, to the measure of the 'Blue Danube,' she a white j robed pearl-decked queen, who lis j tened with down-drnpped eyelids and j smiling tremulous lips, to the words ; that were being -whispered to her ! under the mustache so needlessly i closu to her pink ear. j He was the colonel in Geoffrey's J regiment, so I learned, this soldierly, 1 handsome man of thirty five or there I aloufs, whose eye? vere as true as I steel and warm as- flame, the j motion of whose lithe limbs was em bodied music, the clasp of whose arm around Gertrude's supple wai6t told my jealous eyes a volume. ! 'I suppose 6he'll marry V I interro < gated. 'I don't know ; but we all believe that Stanhope has the best chance. If he do6en't win, I shall cease to be I lieve that she has a heart in her body. ! Just look at him ! There is not his ! like in London ; and that is saying a j good deal.;. But here is Carringtou. I'll get you introduced now.' 'No, never mind,' I said in a low tone ; but Daubeny moved away. I no longer waited the introduction, for those large gray eyes bad again ' m t mjge iJQ. u t tex blaik, i n difference, forsaken. I meant to accept her un spoken mandate, meant to go away and leave her in peace, but I found my friends at my elbow,' and heard my host's voice say :? 'This way, Flukeley.' I followed him mechanically across the floor, and met her and her com panion in their promenade. Carring ton stopped them. 'Miss D'Eynconrt, allow me to in troduce my friend, Major Flukeley.' I meant to bow,- request the plea sure of a dance?which she would re fuse?and then withdraw, never to intrude on her presence again, for I was sick at lieart with the crowding memories lhat surged within me, only to render me more despicable in my own eyes. To my surprise, she extended her slender, gloved band. 'I thought it was j'ou whom I saw here to-night, but I could not be quite sure?seven years changes one so,' she said in the old maddening musi cal tones. 'They haven't changed you at any rate/ I said, huskily. I should know you anywhere.' She smiled, and let the implied compliment pass ? 'My friend Colonel Stanhope? Major Flukeley,'she said, introducing us ; and we bowed stiffly and -stared at each other hostilely. I felt that I was detaining them, and I prepared to retire ; but she re tained me. 'Is Mrs. Flukeley here to-nigbt V 'Mrs. Flukeley is dead,' I answered curtly. She paled a little, her beautiful inoutb growing grave. 'How sad for your poor little chil dren I 'You have children, have you not V 'Yes, two boy3.' 'You must come and tell me about them later in the night. I ana enga ged just now.' She bowed, smiled, and passed on, while for the moment I anathematized in my heart the two little lads with ridiculous names who were at school down in Gloucestershire. . - Could anything, 1 wondered, make a man more utterly absurd than to be questioned about his children by the woman to whoni he- would, still play the lover ? I did see her later in the night. I admitted a few facts relative to my Thomas, and my Benjamin.; and, when that was over, I went .out into the silent night, execrating my des tiny and myselfr No woman would ever be to me what Gertrude D'Eynconrt had been? still was. I would barter all the memories of my past, all the hopes of my future life, to feel once more the pressure of those sweet lips on mine, the clasp of those wnite arms about my neck. _ Now the lips smiled at me 'indifferently, now the white arms wore gems to the value of the gold for which 1 had sold her. 'A truce,' I cried, 'to these mad dening thoughts I' I tried to banish them as I hurried from the scene of revelry?now- a scene of misery to me ; but they fol lowed me to my solitary rooms at the Langham, and would not" be driven away. She had loved me, an? she bad let me go; and now I ground my teeth and anathematized myself for leaving her. The whole of the story of my rela tionsbip to her was disgraceful to-ine ; and its worst bitterness at this mo ment lay in the fact that she thought too meanly of me now to feel even re sentful. I had met her abroad, had loved her from the first moment I saw her on the steamer playing between Gene va and Chillon, had got introduced to her and her mother by a mutual friend, and had rendered myself indispensa ble during their tour, in which I was permitted to join. I taught her to love mc/I won her girlish affection, and then I. flung it away with the specious lie corned to break her lfeart and my own. I had been engaged to another before I met her?was bound in honor to marry her. I must give her, Gertrude D'Eyncourt, up. 1 had been so mean and false and contemptible that, had my conduct been known, I should have been shut out from the society of all houorable men life long. No explanation could have explained it away, no falsehood could ever have glossed it over. I had sacrificed her on the altar of Mammon?had married Bessie White that her money might pay "my debts and leave my futuie free?had been perjured lo\ er to one woman and per jured husbaud to another,, and utterly unworthy both always. And now one was dead, and the other, one of the wealthiest untitled women in England, was dearer to me than all the world beside. Yet I Could never reach her, never clasp her hand in honest friendship, never meet the frank glance of her clear blue eyes fearlessly. I fell asleep to dream of her I awoke to lay a hundred plans by which I might meet her, might speak to her for a moment. Oh, I was mad to imagine the past could ever - be wiped out or ?toned, mad to expose { myself to the laughter of men as I did, mad to thrust myself in her way and dog her footsteps and hannt her! But the love of my youth had beome the passion of my manho&l; and that it had turned my brain I honestly be lieve now. Yet I had something to build on. She had loved me once ; and did uot poets tell us love cannot die ? If so, might I not succeed in reawakening hers ? Still her very friendless, her i way of meeting me, rendered her un approachable. She would discuss the topics of the day, the plays, the operas, with me as with a score of other men ; but anything' beyond literature or art found her indifferent, uncomprehending. She would permit no reference to the past, till sometimes I was ready to ask myself whether it was not all a delusion that I had ever held her to wy breast, iiad everJriseedherperfect .. v .-_ ._ -. -- ^ _ Hd ever clasped her slender | Jgny own as I told her that I worshiped her. It was in vain that I secured her boxes at the opera or the play in the hope that I might accompany her. She was either engaged elsewhere or had accepted another escort. It was in vain that I haunted her doorstep ; she was always 'not at home' when I called. It was in vain that I consti tuted myself her shadow in the Row. Of what good was it to be a shadow where there was a lortunale attendant cavalier ? 'Give it up, Flukely,7 Daubeny counseled good-humoredly. 'You are only hurting yourself by tilting against a dead-wall. Why, men who beat you at every point have no chance with her; besides, I believe she is engaged to Stanhope/ 'If so, why has not the Morning News told us so V I answered, dog gedty, and held on my way. 'You are looking ill, she said, as she met me at the Academy, opposite to the favorile Millias of that year. 'Is there anything the matter with you?' ^ '1 think I am about to die/ I an swered, with a mirtnless laugh. 'Oh, no?oh, you must not! What would become of your poor little children thenV she said, with grave! concern. 'For Heaven's sake, don't mention my children ! They are well enough. What does it matter about them ? You will always talk of them, never of me. Will you not let me speak to you once for five minutes before I leave London V 'If you have anything to say, speak now.' 'I cannot. This is not the place. May I call on you to-morrow ? Ah, do see me, Gertie, for Heaven's sake!" Hush, Major Flukeley, you will be overheard ! Well I will, I will see you to-morrow.' 'And alone V 'Yes, alone/ I wrung her hand convulsively be fore I strode away to count the hours until I should stand in her sweet j presence. [coxcl?deo next week [ Paris Letter. Parts France, Oct. 9, 1882. i Tbe return of Mr. Stanley to Europe j from the Stations which be has planted upon bis mighty river, the Congo or Livingstone, has given rise to a lively controversy in the* French journals. If the American public were not so much absorbed in political questions, it is probable that their attention would be engaged by the efforts being now made in France to wrong the greatest living traveller and to filch from tbe association which he serves the golden fruit of toils. The fact is that French politicians and journalists are rather 'on the rampage' just at present for prestige and territory, to make up for recent re buffs and losses. Hence their remarka ble activity abroad in Cochin China, Madagascar, aud elsewhere, and their excitement at home over the Egyptian Control, and this last affair of M de Brazza. To cotfple two such questions as that of the Nile and the Congo may seem to some absurd; but the day will come, I believe, when the control of the navigation and commerce of the central African river will not be a much smaller matter than any Egyptain traffic, and when the splendid and prodigious ser vice wrought for civilization by Henry Stanley?first in tracking the won drous channel from its source, and next in opening its waters to trade and inter course?will place bis name amoug the chief benefactors of maukind. None were more forward than the French to acclaim and welcome Stanley when- his magnificent discovery was. announced. ^Frenchman are enlight ened and generous?when their inter ests are not concerned; and no Paris journal at that date found any fault with the explorer's conduct. They praised, him to the skies for-all he bad achieved, and afterwards hailed the beneficent ! mission which sent him forth under il kistriou3 auspices to open the river fee^had given to the world, by making a roa?^rn below tbe Congo cataracts to Stanley^ool, that lake-like enlargement of the -strMm down to which navigation is.clear rod easy, from the far inte rior.- But while Stanley was patiently toilingat his roads and stations, a French lieutenant, M. de Brazza, groping about the country of the Gaboon, found, or thinks that he found a shorter way to the Pool by the Ogowe and Alima rivers. There is, doubtless, such a path, and de Brazza came by it to a point opposite tbe chief station of Stan ley upon the Pool, but he had no appli ances, followers, or funds to ?Vove the capabilities of his route ; what he did was by some hocuspocus with the natives to obtain what he calls, and what the French journalists maintain to be, 'a treaty of occupations/ giving, him in the name of France, possession of this very important region of the river. If ever a noble work should have been left to its projector and bis enlightened friends to complete and to profit by, this, by every rule of equity and chivalry, was the work. Let, therefore, the plain truth be told as to the mode in which M. de Brazza has sought to steal the credit and the reward of Stanley's vast labors; and what a miserable pre tence it is which the French journals are not ashamed to sustain, because j they hope for cheap annexations in I Africa. De Brazza boasts the possession of a 'treaty' with Makoko, tbe chipf of the Stanley Pool country, granting, him a I cession of the land lying between tho Gue and the Impila. But this was in reality only an ordinary permission to build at Mfwa, which De Brazza calls Ntanio and De Lcsseps Brazzaville. Mfwa is on the north bank, and consists of two small villages, inhabited by ivory buying Bateke, who sell ivory to the Bacongo and Babwendc. This cession of privilege is thus no more than has been made io any !reveller or mission ary by MakuWs chiefs aud merely .means, 'you may build houses, make j gardens as mauy as you please, but we i will not give our fathers' lands away to the stranger. It is not the custom of I the Bateke' This, indeed, has been I the very laDguage usea Dy ixaucuu, me great chief of Makoko, to those who have asked for land. Id return for so very mild a favor De Brazza gave a similarly small quid pro quo, viz: a French flag, four feet long, which was too short for a loin-oloth, or otherwise might have breeched a savage, twenty four cotton handkerchiefs and three fathoms of a bright striped cloth, with a dozen glass beads, the value of all be ing ?2.50. A good idea of the transac tion will be derived from knowing that this same Ganchu who brought De Brazza to Stanley Pool offered to build another person a grass hut twenty feet long, ten broad and eight feet high, for 200 brass rods, valued at ?4,25. One does not purchase kingdoms at this rate! De Brazza, therefore, perverted leave to build into cession of territory. I be lieve he wrote a piece of paper, got Ganchu and bis friends to touch tbe pen, ignoraot of what they were doing, j then left his sergent and two sailors with a flag as an earnest, that be would return to build afterwards, distributing little French tricolors to unsophisticated villages of Mfwa, as one might dis tribute coppers or sweet-meats to chil dren ; slapped tbem all on tbe shoulder in a jolly mode and amiable temper with all the world, and thetuwent off. as a friend, to fraternize with Stanley at Ndambi Mbongo. The first issue of this stratagem was that two English mission aries, coining into tbe region with a British ensign, were driven out by riot raised a Nshassa, probably through the intrigues of De Brazza's representatives. But when, by and by, Mr. Stanley himself appeared, the mirth of 'annex ation and occupation1 seems to have vanished very quickly. De Brazza's sergeant cooled down into quietude, and the chiefs came round the great traveller, recognizing him as an old friend, and declaring that be must dwell witb them and no one else. Mr. Stan ley has founded stations, built large es tablishments, surrounded "by a populous town ; placed vast quantities of stores and merchandize there, launched bis steamers and boats o? the waters of tbe glorious river, and finally invited the missionaries to come back, returning this time in peace and safety. De Brazza's sergeant and two followers im mediately disappeared from the vi cinity, and the relics of the bogus? sovereignty founded by this gentleman are, we believe, a grass hut in ruins and a piece of paper, which might be a treatise upon mid-wifery or conic sec tions for anything which Makoko's peo ple know abo^ib. They Turned a Rule. . Less than threc?months ago. a wreck of a man staggered into the office of a weekly paper in Eastern Michigan and asked for money to buy whisky. Strangely enough the publisher was an old schoolmate. They were boys tor gether. They were apprentices in the same town. They worked side by side as fiuished compositors. One had so briety and thrift?the other had a good heart and open hand. Twenty years made tbe one rich and influen tial?the other a drunkard who slept in the gutter as often as in a bed. The one bad made use of what God had giv en him, but the other had deliberately made himself a wreck. The meeting called up a host of re collections, and the contrast between their situations was so great that the old drunkard was sobered as be realized it. j He was offered work, but he bad become too broken. Th? stick and the role were no longer for him. He was offered a temporary home but he looked at his rags and felt his shame for the first time in months: When money was handed him he waved it back and said: *I shall not want it. I ask, in the name of olden days and as a fellow craftstnan, one little favor.' It shall be granted/ 4When you know that I am dead, then turn a irule for me and give me a single liue.' The promise was made ana* the old wreck floated out again on tbe current -of life, borne'here and there and feeling that* ?eath was to be the end. Yester day alcopy of tbe weekly reached tbe FrekPress with proof that the editor had fulfilled his promise. Re had turned a rule for -ijM^poor wreck, and had given iiiFa line: "Died, Septejn*6eV27, 1882, George White.' That was all, but in that line was such a sermon as no man on earth could deliver. For every, word there was a year of woe and.^degradation. For every letter there were tears and heart-aches and promises and failures. ?Detroit Free Press. Mrs. Keruble vouches for the- fact that William Makepeace Thackeray, on* tbe occasion of his first delivery of lectures on 'The Four Georges," was, despite his great reputation and un doubted genius, absolutely unmanned I by fear of his audience. This accom plished lady happened to look in at Willis's Rooms just before the hour fixed | for Thackeray's reading, and to her surprise she found the eminent satirist standing, 'like a forlorn, disconsolate giant/ in the middle of tbe room, staring about hirn 'He held my hand like a scared child.' writes Mrs. Fanny Kemble, 'crying, 'Oh, don't leave me! I'm sick at my stomach with fright!' 'But.' said I, itfbackeray, you mustn't stand here. Your audience are begin ning to come in ' and so saying, Mrs. Kemble kindly led him out into the re tiring room adjoining the lecture hall. The novelist had left the manuscript of his lecture on the reading desk, and Mrs. Kemble volunteered to recover it for him. and in so doing scattered the leaves all about the floor. In the'great cst confusion and distress she took the wreck of his manuscript back to Thack eray thinking that she had done some irreparable injury. Tbe real kindness of heart of 'Mr. Titmarsh' showed itself at once. 'My dear soul,' he -said, 'you Couldn't have done better for " me. I have just a quarter of an hour to wait here, and it will take me about that time to page this again, and it's the best thing in the world that could have happened.* 'So I left him,' adds the daughter of Charles Kemble, 'to give the j first of that brilliant course of literary i historical essays with which beenchant j ed and instructed countless audiences j I in England and America. 1 xne JLnsappomtea uanaiaaie. The candidate who got left at the county convention caD be toldr by the way he grasps your hand, braces himself against the gurgling emotion, and wbisperingly inquires: - Did you ever hear of a case like it r You never did. You tell him that you never did, and he pulls you into a doorway and continues: Poi done with politics forever f * 'No !' 'ies, lam, and with the party, tooP 'You don't say P Oh, but I am. This thing ha* satisfied me that there is no such thing as honesty in politics, and that a politi cian has no more word than a dog. I sold out.' Possible!' * Sold oat and lied/ouV ~Tbey used money to beat me. They lied about roe. Tbey played the hypocrite and knave. Here I have- served ?ie party for nineteen long years and never asked for an office, and the minute - I decide to accept the nomination for a little fifteen cent position they go back to work and beat me in convention with a wodden head who doesn't know enough to mark a barrel of " pork. Cor ruption?cor-rup-shun?and the whole ticket will be defeated on account of it.' And the best of it is he takes you for a man who isn't posted. He. doesn't believe yoa have the. slight est idea that he packed three or four caucuses, bought a dozen dele gates, told three lies to the other men's one, and was beaten because his delegates sold out. He .takes you for an innocent, and be grasps your hand again at parting and chokingly says: ? * 'Corruption?vile corruption I. moat barefaced fraud in American politics1 Can't train with a party upheld by^ the practice of such ^priqplea-? can't possibly do it.1?Detroit Pre? Press. A Remarkable Discovery. The United States patent office has; just extended its official wing over cine of the most remarkable discoveries of the, preseot century, and one, it is safe to* to say, which will not only effect a^ revolution in the present method .of. producing and applying heat, but se riously undermioe the very structure upon which the at present generally: received scientific notion of heat rest*. The model apparatus patented by Mr,. Calver, the inventor, consists of ? a number of small looVjoig,.. glasses ^?r^ ranged in rows upon a frame so fixed that they can be converged upon any one point. * ; ' : . : A working model, of which - he has. a number, was exhibited to a Wash ington Post reporter in the yard in* the rear of his residence. Forty .innoV cent, guiless-looking fifteen . cent gilt-framed mirrors, each 3J. inches by 5J inches, were arranged upon a. frame propped up like an artist's" ,ea-'" sei and bearing a striking resemblance thereto. l^^l Facing the easel was the fragment of what was once a barn door propped up and partly covered w?fi^ worn and faded sheet of zinc bore umistakable evidence of HaV-5, iog been burned through in. several^ places. It was but the work of a; minute to converge the forty mirror* upon a space 3f inches bj inches' upon the barn door, and then the re> velation began. As each mirror cast its quota of light upon the' common store the parallelogram * of light' grew whiter and more dazzling," until at last it looked like a batch of electrio ? lights. r-^ But little patience was required, to, awaits results. In less than tbirty^sec onds a thin curling puff of smoke gave evidence of the progress of-the expert^ raent. In a minute the board was bursting out in flames. The ^focna was then shifted upon the zinc. In a few moments it began to turn color, then shrink as if anxious to get away: where it was cooler, and then in lese than three minutes the entire surface covered by the focus was literally? melting, drop by drop. To melt lino requires a temperature of over 700 de grees Fahrenheit. . German Carp. About the middle of August, less thaff three months ago, Capt, J. C. Boyat placed in his pond a few specimens of Carp, which he purchased from Mr. Joseph Marcbbanks. The fish weref then between three and four*inches itt length?the largest not exceeding four inches. Yesterday Capt. Boyd drew off the water from his pond and to his great suprise be found his fish now measuring from eight to thirteen inches. The largest specimen meas ured fourteen iuches in length, between ten and eleven inches in circumfer ence its weight being estimated about three pounds. This would make the growth of the fish average an inch * week.?GrecenviUe News. The African traveller, Henry M. Stanley, is engaged in establishing trading stations along a great commer cial route into Central Africa. He is* acting for the King of the Belgians, and he reports four stations ready and several steamers as plying on the Con go, a river absolutely unknown a firtr years ago. The Boston Journal of Commerce ex-, presses alarm because Western men are. buying up the timber regions of the. South and getting their hands on all the available lumber resources of that re gion. This writer claims that New England ought to look out and secure a share. Our railroads have gone where our forests are going. Will our farm ers follow suit? At the present^rate of progress, Southern men to the manor born, will not own much of their patri mony, fifty years hence. Mrs. Mary Austin, who lately died: at Washington, had forty-four male children, eleven of whom survive. She was a doctor of medicine and a surgeon, and sefved through the war with, the, rank of major. ~ - ; I