Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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-> PS -ii-. -CS- ' WMTJKK WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850 Consolidated Aug. 2. 1881.1 'Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aims't at. be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's." SUMTER, S. C., TUESDAY JANUARY?2??1886. THE TRUE SOUTDROX, K stablish ed ?une/ 136?fc Sew Series-Yoi. V. WtmZZ ---- ?$t SEatc^maii aita ^out^ron Published 67617 Tuesday, BY K. GK OSTEEN, SUMTER, S. C. TERMS : Two Bollars per annum - in advance. : VJ ADVERTISEMENTS. Square, first insertion-.............$1 00 Erexy subseqaen t insertion.-.-..... 50 Contracts for three mon tbs, or. longer will be made at red aced rates. Alt communications which snbserre private Interests will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tribales of respect will be notices and notices of deaths pub ?sbed free. Absolutely Pure. This- powder never vertes. A ?i.trvel ot purity, strength and whol<esorue??ess. Mo?** economical than the.nrditiar'- kinds, ?nd ca.nr .Ot be sold in competition w.*?h the multitude offow'test, short weijjht. alum or pho5pha> . powders. Sold only in cans. R( > Y AL RA K ING POWDER CO.. 106 vvnii-*;;.. N V* DON'T TRADi ^^'^NTIL YOtJ HAVE -?_TfciE * i ? S? --IN* G-eiieral Merchandise "KOW BEiNG OFFERED BV ?J. B. OA k j&n-tzami nation of our stock and priers ^by~ ?ash buyers, before making their purchases ici? conduce '* them that ice are offering . . ... . BARGAINS. ? - , - -_ A NICE LIXE OF PRINTS, Latest Styles?, Ver* Low. "CASHMERES, jersey Jackets. ^ "Corsets and Hosiery, --Bleached and Brown Hompspnn. PILLOW CASING AND SHEETING Different Grades. *?. Low D??wr. - Ladies' and Gents' Gloves, GENTS* SCARFS, WHITE AND COLORED SHIRTS, CLOTHING, A fall line in the Latest Styles. . HATS AND SHOES, A Large Assortment of ' HATS FOR MEN AND BOTS, -AND t?K HAND-MADE SHOES FOR : Ladies, Ge uta and Children. -o GROCERIES. '?:.~>e..\'?t-ri-;-i A F?LL LINE OF HEAVY AND FANCY . GROCERIES, AND Oaniied Goods Of Varions Kind3 DRIED FRUITS. Peaches, Apples, Cherries, &c. Give me a call, next door ??ort h of VTr??ia-?han*s ? ..J B- CARR, : t'&aT.Z ' : ?_SU': TER. S C. Pl@AN CULTURE. rnHKPBCAN FLOURISHES WHEREVER X THE HiCEORY, grows, and a well grown tree yields n net annu.ci income of |?to$5a ?r A. C. Daniel of" Crawford, Ga., (Oglethorpe Co } has a tree that be.trs fro?TE^to FIFTEEN bushels of fine nuts They "self readily at from $4 to $5 per bushel. Th? trees begin to bear when six to eight jrears/orcL I am now selling fine two y eur tttet, of the best and earliest bearing variety ?ithe following very low prices : " Jtach .'" 50 cents Per Doien S 4.00 ..Fer Fifty 10.00 J Per Hundred 15.00 So charge for packing. Trees ready for drip-ii t< November 1st. ? ^: ? 8. W. PEEK, Proprietor, Hartwell Nurseries. ' ? Hartwell, Ga. ^^*st*tor;oC "The Nursery and tbeOrchard." | Frlea in cloth $1.25 per copy, in boards tl.OOi ;S*cd far copy and be your own ? .mrymaft? JOHN R. KEELS, - Attorney at Law5 ' - .?JF?^E-R; S C. ' Will practice" in adjoining counties ? v. Ctelbci?ng-.made a specialty. t*ftxmd?gaffiaat o?v ?st oo? r ?Y LAD Y'S MME Y By WILKIE COLLIES. AS EPISODE IN TETE LITE OF A YOUNG GIRL. FART THE FIKST. THE DISAPPEARANCE. CHAPTER L ! LD Lady Lydiard sat meditating by the fireside, "with three letters lying . .open on her lap. Time -had discolored the paper and had turned the ink to a brownish hue. The let? ters "were all addressed to the same person "The Right Hon. Lord Lydiard"-and were all signed in the same way-"Your affection? ate cousin, James Tolu?idge.'' Judged by these specimens of his correspondence, Mr. ToUmidge must have possessed one great merit as a letter-writer-the merit of brevity. He will weary nobody's patience, if he is al? lowed to have a hearing. Let him, therefore, be permitted, in his own highflown way, to speak for himself. # First letter: "My statement, as your lord? ship requests, shall be short and tb the point I was doing very well as a portrait painter in the country, and I had a wife and children to consider. Under these circumstances, if I bad been left to decide for myself, I should certainly have waited until I had saved a lit? tle money before I ventured on the serious expense of taking a house and studio at the west end of London. Your lordship, I posi? tively declare, encouraged me to try the ex? periment without waiting. " And h?re I am, unknown and unemployed, a helpless artist, lost in London, with a sick wife and hungry children and t^ankruptcy staring me in the face. On ^ hose shoulders coes this dreadful responsibility rest? On your lordship's!" Second ierter: 'After a week's delay you favor me. my lord, with 3 curt reply. I can be * qusLy < urt on my! side. T indignantly dory that I or my w ife have ever- presumed to use your Iord>hip's name as a means of rn 0 rnendaiion to sitters without your per? mis ion. some enemy has slandered us. 1 C?6J:I., as my right, to know the name of that eceitiV? ''. Third (and last) letter: "Another week ha- passed and not a word of answer has ^ rea-h? d me from your lordship. It matters little. I have employed the: interval in making inquiries, and I have at last dis? covered the hostile influence which has esrrangod you from me. I have been, it seem*, so unfortunate as to offend Lady Lydiard (how, I can not imagine) ; and the a?-powerlul influence of this noble lady is now used against t :e struggling artist who is united to you by the sacred ties of kindred. Be it so. I c:.n light my way upward, my lord, as other men have done before me. A day may yet come when the throng of car? riage- witing at the door of the fashionable j ortrait painter will incl?do ber ladyship's veh ele, and bring me the tardy expression of her ladyship's regret. I refer you, my Lord Lydiard. to that day!" Having read Mr. Tollmidge's formidable agitions relating to herself for the second time, Lady Lydiard's meditations came to an abrupt end. She rose, took the letters in both hands to tear them up, hesitated, and threw them back into the cabinet drawer in whk-h she bad discovered them, among other pape-s that had not been arranged since Lord Lydiard's death. .'The idiot !:' said her ladyship, thinking of Mr. 'i ollmidge. "I never even heard of him in.my husband's lifetime; I never even knew that he was really related to Lord Lydiard, :ill I found his letters. What is to be done next*' i- he looked, as she put thav, gestion to her? self, at an open newspaper thrown on the table, which announced the death of "that accomplished artist Mr. Tolimidge, related, il said, to the late well-known connoisseur, Lord Lydiard." -In the next sentence the writer of the obituary notice deplored the destitute condition of Mrs. Tolimidge and her children, "thrown helpless on the mercy of the world." Lady Lydiard stood by the table, with her eyes on those lines, and saw but too plainly the direction in which they pointed the direction of-her check book. Turning toward the fireplace, she rang the . bell **? can do nothing in this nmtterf she thought to herself, "until I know whether the report about Mrs. ToUmidge and her family is to be depended on. Has Moody come backr she asked, when the servant appeared at the door. "Moody" (otherwise her ladyship's steward) had not come back. Lady Lydiard dismissed the sub? ject of the artist's widow from further con? sideration until the steward' returned, and gave her mind to a question -of domestic in? terest which lay nearer to her heart Her favorite dog had-been ailing for some time pest, and no report of him bad reached her that morning. She opened a door near the fireplace, which led, through a little corridor hung with rare prints, to her own boudoir. "Isabel!" she called out "how is Tommie?" A fresh young voice answered from behind the curtain which closed the farther end of the corridor, "Ko better, my lady." A low growl followed the fresh young voice, and added (in dog's language), "Much worse, my lady-much worse!" Lady Lydiard closed the door again, with a compassionate s: rh for Tommie, and walked slowly to and fro in her spacious drawing room, waiting for the steward's return. Accurately described, Lord Lydiard's widow was short and fat, and perilously ne^r her sixtieth birthday. But it may be said, with? out paying a compliment, that she looked younger than her age by ten years at least Her complexion was of that delicate pink tinge which is sometimes seen in old women with well-preserved constitutions. Her eyes (equally well-preserved) were of that hard light-blue color which wears well, and does not wa.-h out when tried by the test of tears. Add to this her short nose, her plump cheeks that set wrinkles' at defiance, her white hair dressed in stiff little curls, and, if a doll could grow old. Lady Lydiard at sixty would have been the living image of that doll, taking life easily on its journey downward to the pret? tiest of tombs, in a burial ground where the myrtles and roses grew ali the year round. These being her ladyship's personal merits, impartial history must acknowledge, on tba list of her defects, a total want of tact and taste in her attire. The lapse of time since Lord Lydiard s death had left her at liberty to dress as she pleased. She arranged her short, clumsy figure in colors that were far too bright for a woman of her *ge. Her dresses, badly chosen as to their hues, wem perhaps not badly made, but were certainly badly worn. Morally, as well aa physically, lt must be said of Lady Lydiard thatcher out? ward side was her worst side. The anomalies of ber dress were matched by the anomalies of her character. There were moments when she felt and spoke as became a lady of rank, and there were other moments when she felt and spoke as might have become the cook in the kitchen. Beneath these superficial incon? sistencies the great heart, the essentially true and generous nature of the woman, only waited the sufficient occasion to assert them? selves. In the trivial intercourse of society she was open to ridicule on every sid?- of her. But when a serious emergency tried the metal of which she was really made, the people who were Jpudest in laughing at her stood aghast, and wondered what had become of the famil? iar companion of their every-day lives. Her ladyship's promenade tad lasted but a little while, when a man in black clothing presented himself noiselessly at the great door which opened on the staircase. Lady . Lydiard signed to him impatiently to enter the roora. "I have been expecting you for some time, Moody," she said. "You look tired Tate a chair." The man in black bowed respectfully, and took his seat CHAPTER II. Robert Moody was at this time nearly forty years of age. He was a shy, quiet, dark person, with a pale, closely shaven face, agreeably animated by large black eyes set deep in their orbits. His mouth was perhaps his best feature; he had firm, well-shaped lips, which softened on rare occasions into a particularly winning smile. The whole look of the mnT, in spite of his habitual reserve, declared him to be eminently trustworthy. His position in Lady Lycliard'g household was in no sense of the menial sort He acted as her almoner and secretary as well as her steward-distributed her charities, wrote her letters on business, paid her h?ls, engaged her servants, stocked her wine cellar, was authorized to borrow books from her library, and waa served with his meals in his own room. His parentage gave Wm claims to these special favors: he was by birth entitled to rank as a gentleman. His father had failed at a time of commercial panic as a! country banker, had paid a good dividend, and had died in exile abroad, a broken-heart? ed man. Robert had tried to hold his place in the world, but adverse fortune kept him down. Undeserved disaster followed him from one employment to another, until he abandoned the struggle, bade a last fare? well to the pride of other days, and accepted the position considerately and delicately offered to him in Lady Ly diard' s house. He had now no near relations living, and he had never made many friends. In the intervals of occupation he led a lonely life in his little room. It was a matter of secret wonder among the women in the servants' hall, con? sidering his personal advantages and the op? portunities which must surely have been thrown in ais way, that he had never tempted fortune in the character ef a married man. Robert Moody entered into no explanations on that subject In his own sad and quiet way he continued to lead his own sad and quiet life. The women all failing, from the handsome housekeeper downward, to make the smallest impression on him, consoled themselves by prophetic visions of the future relations with the sex, and predicted vin? dictively that "his time would coma" "Well," said t Lady Lydiard. "and what have you done? "Your ladyship seemed to be anxious about the dog," Moody answered, in the low tone which was habitual to him. "I went first to the veterinary surgeon. He has been called away into the country; and--" Lady Lydiard waved away the conclusion of the sentence with her hand. "Never mind the surgeon. We must find somebody else. Where did you go nextF' "To your ladyship's lawyer. Mr. Troy wished me to say that he will have the pleas? ure of waiting on you--" "Pass over the lawyer. Moody. I want to know about the painter's widow. Xs it true that Mrs. Tollmidge and her family are left in helpless poverty?" "Not quite true, my lady. I have seen the clergyman of the parish, who takes an in? terest in the- case-*' Lady Lydiard interrupted her steward for the third time: "You have not mentioned my name?" she asked, sharply. "Certainly not, my lady. I followed my instructions, and described you as a benevo? lent person in search of cases of real dis? tress. It is quite true that Mr. Tollmidge has died, ieaving nothing to his family. But the widow has a little income of ?70 in her own right" "Is that enough to live on, Moody?" her ladyship asked "Enough, in this case, for the widow and her daughter," Moody answered "The dif? ficulty is to pay the few debts left standing, and to start the two sons in life. They are reported to be steady lads; and the family is much respected in the neighborhood The clergyman proposes to get a few influential names to begin* with, and to start a subscrip? tion." "No subscription!'' protested Lady Lyd? iard Mr. Tollmidge was Lord Lyd? iard's cousin, and Mrs. Tollmidge is re? lated to his lordship by marriage. It would be degrading to my husband's memory to have the begging-box sent round for his re? lations, no matter how distant they may be. Cousins I" exclaimed her ladyship, suddenly descending from the lofty ranges of senti? ment to the low. "I hate the vfery name of them! A person who is near enough to me to be my relation and far enough off from meto be my sweetheart is a double-faced sort of person that I don't like. Let's get back to the widow and her sons. How much do they want?" "A subscription of ?500, my lady, would provide for everything-if it could only be collected" "It shall bo collected, Moody! I will pay the subscription out of my own purse." Hav? ing asserted herself in those noble terms, she spoiled the effect of her own outburst of generosity by dropping to the sordid view of the subject in her next sentence. "Five hundred pounds is a good bit of money, though; isntit, Moody F "It is indeed, my lady." Rich and gen? erous as he knew his mistress to be, her pro? posal to pay the whole subscription took the steward by surprise. Lady Lydiard's quick perception instantly detected what was passing in his mind. "You dont quite understand my position in this matter," she said. "When I read the newspaper notice of Mr. ToHmidge*s death, I searched among his lordship's papers to see if they really were related. I discovered some letters from Mr. Tollmidge, which showed me that he and Lord Lydiard were cousins. One of those letters contains some very painful statements, reflecting most un? truly and unjustly on my conduct-hes, in short." her ladyship burst out, losing her dignity, as usual "Lies, Moody, for which Mr. Tollmidge deserved to be horsewhipped I would have done it myself if his lordship had told me at tho time. Ko matter; it's useless to dwell on the thing now," she con? tinued, ascending again to the forms of ex? pression which been mo a lady of rank. **This unhappy man has done me a gross in? iustice; my motives may be seriously mis* ?udged if I appear personally in communi? cating with his family. If I relieve them anonymously in their present trouble, I spare them the exposure of a public subscrip? tion, and I do what I believe hig lordship would have done himself if he had lived My desk is on the other table. Bring it here, Moody, and let me return good for evil, while I'm in the humor for it." Moody obeyed in silence. Lady Lydiard wrote a check. ''Take tliat to the bankers and bring back a ?.fjQ0 note," she said "I'll inclose it to 1he clergyman as coming from *nn unknown friend;' And bc quick about it I am only a fallible mortal. Moody. Don't leave me time enough to take tho stingy view of n:m:y Moody went out with tho check. No delay was to be apprehended in obtaining thc? money; the banking: house was hard by, in St. Janies street Loft alone. Lady Lydiard decided on occupying her mind ia the gener? ous direction by composing ber anonymous letter to the clergyman. She had just taken o shoot of note paper from her desk when a servant appeared at the door, announcing a visitor: "Mr. Felix Sweeten*." CHAPTER m. "My nephew!" Lady Lydiard exclaimed, in a tone which expressed astonishment but j certainly not pleasure as well. "How many i years is it since you and ? last met?" she asked, in her abruptly straightforward way, as Mr. Felix Sweetsir approached her writ? ing table. The visitor wa?? no? a person easily dis? couraged. He took Lady Lydiard's hand, and kissed it with easy grace A shade of irony was in his manner, agreeably relieved by a playful flash of tenderness. "Years, my dear aunt?' he said "Look in your glass, end you will see that time has stood still since we met last How wonder? fully, well you wear! When shall we cele? brate the appearance of your .first wrinkle? I am too old; I shall never live to see it" He took an easy chair, uninvited, placed himself close at his aunt's side, and ran his eye over her ill-chosen dress with an air of satirical admiration. "How perfectly suc? cessful I" he said, with hi3 well-bred insolence. "What a chaste gayety of color?" "What do you wantf1 asked her ladyship, not in the least softened by the compliment. ''I want to pay my respects to my dear aunt" Felix answered, perfectly impene? trable to his ungracious reception, and per? fectly comfortable in a spacious armchair. No pen-and-ink portrait need surely be drawn of Felix Sweetsir-he is too well known a picture in society. The little, lithe man, with his bright, restless eyes, and his long iron-gray hair falling in curls to his shoulders; his airy step and his cordial man? ner; his uncertain age, his innumerable ac? complishments, and his unbounded popu? larity-is he not faroiliar everywhere and welcome everywhere? How gratefully he receives, how prodigally he repays, the cor? dial appreciation of an admiring world I, Every man he knows is "a charming fellow." Every woman he sees is "sweetly pretty." What picnics he gives on the banks of the Thames in the summer season 1 What a well earned little income he derives from the whist table! What an inestimable actor he is at private theatricals of all sorts (wed? dings included) I Did you never read Sweet sir's novel, dashed off in the intervals of curative perspiration at a German bath? Then you don't know what brilliant fiction really is. He has never written a second work; he does everything, and only does it once. One song-the despair of professional composers. One picture-just to show how easily a gentleman can take up an art and drop it again. A really multiform man, with all the graces and all the accomplishments scintillating perpetually at his fingers' ends. If these poor pages have achieved nothing else, they have done a service to persons not in society by presenting them to Sweetsir. In his gracious company the narrative brightens; and writer and reader (catching reflected brilliancy) understand each other at last, thanks to Sweetsir. "Well," said Lady Lydiard, "now yon are here, what have you got to say for yourself? You have been abroad, of course. Where?" "Principally at Paris, my dear aunt The only place tba* ls fit to live in-for this excel? lent reason, that the French are the only people who know how to make the most of life. One has relations and friends in Eng? land ; and every now and thea one returns to London-" "When one has spent all one's money in Paris," her ladyship interposed. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it F "When me has spent all one's money in Paris," her ladyship interposed. Felix submitted to the interruption with his delightful good humor. "What a bright creature you are!" he ex? claimed. "What would I not give for your flow of spirits! Yes; one does spend money in Paris, as you say. The clubs, tbs stock ex? change, the race course; you try your lu^k here, there, and everywhere; and you lose and win, win and lose, and you haven't a dull day to complain of." He paused, his smile died away, he looked inquiringly at Lady Lydiard. "What a wonderful exist? ence yours must be!" he resumed "The everlasting question with your needy fellow creatures, 'Where am I to get money?' is a question that has never passed your Iii?. Enviable woman!" He paused once more, surprised and puzzled this time. "What is the matter, my dear aunt? You seem to be suffering under some uneasiness." "I am suffering under your conversation?' her ladyship answered, sharply. "Money is a sore subject with me just .now," she went on, with her eyes on her nephew, watching the effect of what she said. "I have spent five hundred pounds this morning with a scrape of my pen. And only a week since I yielded to temptation, and made an addition to my picture gallery." She looked, as she said those words, towards an archway at the farther end of the room, closed by curtains of. purple velvet "I really tremble when I think of what that one picture cost me before I could call it mine. A landscape by Hobbema; and the National Gallery bidding against ma Never mind!" she concluded, consoling her? self, as usual, with considerations that were beneath her. "Hobbema will sell at my death for a bigger price than I gave for him that's one comfort!" She looked again at Felix; a smile of mischievous satisfaction began to show itself in her face. Anything wrong with your watch chain?" she asked. Felix, absently playing with his watch chain, started as if his aunt had suddenly awakened him. While Lady Lydiard had been speaking his vivacity had subsided little by little, and had left him looking so serious and so old that his most intimate friend would hardly have known him again. Roused by the sudden question that had been put to him, he seemed to be casting about in his mind in search of tho first excuse for hi? silence that might turn up. "1 was wonder? ing," he began, "why I miss something when I.look round this beautiful room; something familiar, you know, that I fully expected to find here." "Tommief ' suggested Lady Lydiard, still watching her nephew as maliciously as ever. "That's it!" cried Felix, seizing his excuse, and rallying his spirits. "Why don't I hear Tommie snarling behind me? Why don't I feel Tommie's teeth in my trousei'S?" The smile vanished from Lady Lydiard's face; the tone taken by her nephew in speak? ing of her dog was disrespectful in the ex? treme. She?showed him plainly that she dis? approved of it Felix went on, nevertheless impenetrable to reproof of the silent sort "Dear little Tommie! So delightfully fat and such an infernal temper! I don't know whether I hate him or love him. Where is her "111 in bcd." answered her ladyship, with a gravity which startled even Felix himself. "I wish to speak to you about. Tommie. You know everybody. Do you know of a good dog doctor? The person I have employed so far doesn't at all satisfy me." "Professional person?' inquired Felix. "Yes." "All humbug*, my dear finnK Tho worse the dog gets the bigger Ibo I*?ll grows, don't you seo? I have cot tito man for you-a gen? tleman. Knows more about horse? and dogs than all the veterinary surgeons put together. We met in the boat yesterday erosssug tho channel You know him ty name, of course. Lord Rotherfield* youngest son. Alfred Ha rayman." "The owner of tho stud farm? Tire man ? who has bred the famous racehorses;" cried ; Lady Lydiaifl. "My dear Folix, bnw ean I j presume to trouble such a great, personage ? about my dog:" Folix hurst into his gordal laugh. "Never j was modesty moro woftilly out of place," he , rejoined. "Hardyman is dying to be pre- j ?ented to your ladyship. He hnd hoard, like ? everybody, of thc magnificent decorations of j this house, and he is longing to soe them. His chambers aro close by, in Pall Mall if bo is at homo we will have bini boro in five min? utes. Perhaps I had better si.e the dog first?" Lady Lydiard shook her head. "Isabel says be had Petter hot be disturbed," she an? swered. "Isabel understand* linn bolter thau anybody." Felix lifted his lively eyebrows with a mixed expression of curiosity and surprise. "Who is Isabeir Lady Lydiard was vexed with herself for ? carelessly mentioning Isabel's name in ber ! nephew's presence. Felix was not the sort of ; person whom she was desirous Of admitting 1 to ber confidence in domestic matters. "Isa? bel is an addition to my household since you were here last,*' she answered, shortly. "Young; a^d pretty?*' inquired Felix. "AhI you lock serious, and you don't answer me. Young and pretty, evidently. "Which may I soe iirst, the addition to your household or the addition to your picture gallery? You look at the picture gallery-I am answered again." He rose to approach the archway, and stopped at his first step forward. "A sweet girl is a dread? ful responsibility, aunt," he resumed, with an ironical assumption of gravity. "Do you know, I shouldn't be surprised if Isabel, in the long nm. cost you more than Hobbema. Who is this at the door?" The person at the door was Robert Moody, returned from tho bank. Mr. Felix Sweet? sir, being near sighted, was obliged to fit his eyeglass in position before he could recog? nize the prime minister of Lady Lydiard's household. "Ahl our worthy Moody. How well he wears! Not a gray hair on his head-and look at mine! What dye do you use, Moody? If he had my open disposition he would tell As it is, he looks unutterable things and holds his tongue. Ahl if I could only have held my tongue-when I was in the diplomatic service, you know-what a position I might have occupied by this time! Don't let me interrupt you, Moody, if you have anything to say to Lady Lydian!" Having acknowledged Mr. Sweetsir's lively greeting by a formal bow, and a grave look of wonder which respectfully repelled that vivacious gentleman's flow of humor, Moody turned towards his mistress. "Have you got the bank note?" asked her ladyship. Moody laid the bank note on the tabla "Am I in the wayf ' inquired Felix "No," said his aunt "I have a letter to write; it won't occupy me for more than a few minutes. You can stay here, or go and look at the Hobbema, which you please." Felix made a second sauntering attempt to reach the picture gallery. Arrived with? in a few steps of the entrance, he stopped again, attracted by an open cabinet of Ital? ian workmanship filled with rare old china. Being nothing if not a cul ti vat #1 amateur, Mr. Sweetsir paused to pay his passing ti ^Jo? ute of admiration before the contents of ne cabinet "Charming! chaimingl'' he saia .o himself, with his head twisted appreciatively a little on one side. Lady Lydiard and Moody left him in undisturbed enjoyment of the china, and went on with the business of the bank note. "Ought we to "take the number of the note, in case of accident ;" asked her ladyship. Moody produced a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket. "I took the number, my lady, at the bank." "Very well You keep it While I am writing my letter suppose you direct the en? velope. What is the clergyman's name?" Moody mentioned the pame and directed the envelope. Felix, happening to look round at Lady Lydiard and the steward while they were both engaged in writing, re? turned suddenly to the table, as if he had been struck by a r sw idea. "Is there a third pen?' he asked "Why shouldn't I write a line at once to Hardy man, aunt? The sooner you have his opinion about Tommie, the better-don't you think so?' Lady Lydiard pointed to the pen-tray with a smile. To show consideration for her dog was to seize irresistibly on the high road to her favor. Felix set to work on his letter, in a large, scrambling handwriting, with plenty of ink and a noisy pen "I declare, we are like clerks in an ofiice," he remarked, in his cheery way. "All with our noses to the paper, writing as if we lived by it? Here, Moody, let one of the servants take this at once to Mr. Hardy man's." The messenger was dispatched. Robert returned and waited near his mistress, with the directed envelope in his hand Felix sauntered back slowly towards the picture gallery for the third tima In a moment more Lady Lydiard fiuished her letter, and fo'ded up the bank nota in it She had just taken the directed envelopa from Uoody, and had ju?*t placed the letter inside it when a scream from the inner room, in which Isabei was nursing the sick dog, startled everybody. "My lady! my lady!" cried tb* girl distractedly, "Tommie i3 in a fit! Tommie is dying!" Lady Lydiard dropped the unclosed en? velope on the table, and ian-yes, short al she was and fat as she was. ran-into the in? ner room. The two men, left together, looked at each other. "Moody," said Felix, in his lazy,- eynlcal way, " do you think if you or I were in a fit that her ladyship would run? Bah! these are the things that shake one's faith in human nature. I feel infernally seedy. That cursed channel passage-I tremble in my inmost stomach when I think of il Get me some? thing, Moody." " What shall I send you, sir?1 Moody asked, coldly. "Somedry Curacoa and a biscuit And let it be brought to me in the picture gallery. Damn the dog! I'll go and look at Hob? bema." This time he succeeded in reaching the archway, and disappeared behind the cur? tains of the picture gallery. CHAPTER 17. Left alone in the drawing room, Moody looked at the unfastened envelope on the table." Considering the value of the inclosure, might he feel justified in wetting the gum and seenring the envelope for safety's sake. After thinking it over, Moody decided that he was not justified in meddling with the let? ter. On reflection, her ladyship might have changes to make in it, or might have a post? script to add to what she had already writ? ten. Apart, too, from these considerations, was it reasonable to act as if Lady Lydiard's house was a hotel, perpetually open to the in? trusion of strangers? Objects worth twice five hiindred pounds in the aggregate were scattered about on the tables and in thc un? locked cabinets all round him. Moody with? drew, without further hesitation, to order the light restoratives prescribed for himself by Mr. Sweetsir. The unclosed letter reposed in its place on the table. The footman who took tho Curacoa into the picture gallery found Felix recumbent on a sofa-to all appearance so completely ab? sorbed in the Hobbema that he was quite un? able to look at anything else. He took the Curacoa mechanically, drained the glass at a draught, and held it out to be filled for the second time. " Don't interrupt . me," he said, peevishly, catching the servant in the act of staring at hun. " Put down the bottle and go!" Forbidden to look at Mr. Sweetsir, the man's eyes, as he left the gal? lery, turned wonderingly towards the famous landscape. And what did ho seo? He saw one towering big cloud in the sky that threatened rain, two withered, mahogany colored trees sorely in want of rain, a muddy rond greatly the worse for rain, and a vaga? bond boy running home who was afraid of the rain. Tliat was the picture to the foot? man's eye. He took a gloomy view of the state of Mr. Sweetsir's bia?ns on his return to the ?servants' hall. "A slate loose, poor devil!'* That was tho footman's report of the brilliant Felix:. An interval of some minutes elapse.!, and at last the .silence in Mi? picture gallery was I broken by voices pr-nstroting into it- from the drawing room. Felix rose to a sitting posi? tion on tho sofa; Kc had recognized th* voice of Alfred Hardyman saying, " Dont disturb Lady Lydiard; an 1 the voice of Moody an? swering, " I will just knock at the door of her ladyship's room, sir; you will find Mr. Sweetsir in the picture gallery." The curtains over the archway parted, and j disclosed the figure of a tall, Jean mau, with j a closely cropped head set a little stiffly on ? his shoulders. Th? immovable gravity of j face aud manner which every Englishman j seems to acquire who lives constantly in the society of horse?, was the gravity v i i ich this ? gentleman displayed as he entered the pic tore gallery. Ho was a finely made, sinewy ? man. with clearly cut. regular features. If j he bad not been nfFocted with horses on the j bm in, he would doubtless have been person- | ally popular with the women. As it was, the ? serene and melancholy gloom of the handsome j boif-e breeder daunt efl the daughters of Eve, : and they failed to make up .their minds about the exact value of hun, socially considered '. Alfred Hardyman was. nevertheless, a re markable man In his way. He had been of- j fcredthe customary alternatives submitted j to the younger sons of the nobility-the : church cr the diplomatic sendee-and bad ! refused the one and the other. "I like ! horses," he said, " and I mean to get my liv? ing out of them. Don't talk to me about my ! position in the world. Talk to my eldest brother, who gets the money and tue title." Starting in life with these sensible views, and with a small capital of five thousand pounds. Hardynaan took his own place in the sphere that was fitted for hun. At the period of this narrative he was already a rich man, I and one of the greatest authorities on horse breeding in England His prosperity made no change in him. He was always the same grave, quiet, obstinately resolute man, true to the few friends whom he admitted to his mtimacy, and sincere to a fault in the ex? pression of his feelings among persons whom he distrusted or disliked. As he entered. the picture gallery and paused for a moment looking at Felix on the sofa, his large, cold, steady gray eyes reste?! on the little men with an indifference that just verged on con? tempt. Felix, on the other hand, sprang to his feet with alert politeness, and greeted his friend with exuberant cordiality. "Dear old boy I Thisi3 so good of you," he began. " I feel it; I do assure you I feal ftP "You needn't trouble yourself to feel it," was the quietly ungracious answer. "Lady Lydiard brings me here. I come to see the house-and the dog." He looked round the gallery in his gravely attentive way. "I don't understand pictures," he remarked, re? signedly. "I shall go back to the drawing room." After a moment's consideration Felix fol? lowed him into the drawing room, with the air of a man who was determined not to be repelled. "Well?" asked Hardyman. "What is it?" "About that matter/" Felix said, in? quiringly. "What matter?" "Oh, you know. Will next week do F "Next week xvonH do?" Mr. Felix Sweetsir cast one look at his friend. His friend was too intently occupied with the decorations of the drawing room to notice the look "Will to-morrow do?" Felix resumed, after an interval. "Yes." "At what tune?" "Between twelve and one in the afternoon." "Between twelve and one in the afternoon," Felix repeated. He looked again at Hardy man, and took his hat "Make my apologies to my aunt," he said. "You must introduce yourself to her ladyship. I can't wait here any longer." He walked out of the room, having deliberately returned the contempt? uous indifference of Hardyman by a similar indifference on his own side at parting. Left by himself, Hardyman took a chair and glanced at the door which led into the boudoir. The steward had knocked at the door, had disappeared through it, and had not appeared again. How much longer was Lady Lydiard's visitor to be left unnoticed in Lady Lydiard's house? As the question passed through his mind the boudoir door opened. For once in his life Alfred Hardyman's composure deserted him. He started to his feet, like an ordinary mor? tal taken completely by surprise. Instead of Mr. Moody, instead of Lady Lyd iard, there appeared in the open doorway a voung woman in a state of embarrassment who actually quickened the beat of Mr. Hardy man's heart the moment he set eyes on her. Was the person who produced this ampang impression at first sight a person* of import ance? Nothing of the sort She was only "Isabel," surnamed "Miller." Even ber name had nothing in it Only ' 'Isabel Mil? ler!" Had she any pretensions to distinction in virtue of her personal appearance? It is not easy to answer the question. The women (let us put the worst judges first) had long since discovered that she wanted that indispensable elegance of figure which is de? rived from slimness of wa^st and length of limb. The men (who were better acquainted with the subject) looked at her figure from their point of view, and finding it essentially embraceable asked for nothing more. It might have, been her bright complexion, or it might have been the bqi? lustre of her eyes (as the women considered it) that dazzled the lords of creation generally, and made them all ilike incompetent to discover her faults. Still, she had compensating attractions which no severity of criticism could disputa Her smile, beginning at ihe lips, flowed brightly and instantly over her whole fa~e. A deli? cious atmosphere of health, freshness and good humor seemed to radiare from her wherever shs went and whatever -he did For the rest, her brown hair gr*v.- ;ow over her broad, white forehead, and was topped by a neat little lace cap with ribbons of a violet color. & plain collar' and plain cuffs encircled her smooth, round nock and her plump, dimpled hands Her merino dress, covering but not hiding the charming outline of her bosom, m atched the color of her cap ribbons, and was brightened by a white mus? lin apron coquettishly trimmed about tba pockets, a gift from Lady Lydiard Blushing and sm?ing she let the door fall to behind her, and, shyly approachbig the stranger, said to him in her small, clear voice: "If you please, sir, aro you Mr. Hardyman/" "Are yent Mr. ffardymanf1 The gravity of the great horse breeder de> serted him at her first question. Ho smiled as he acknowledged that bc was " Mr. Hardy? man," he smiled as he offered her a chair. "No, thank you, sir," she sahl, with a quaintly pretty inclination of hoi* bend. " I am only sent here to make her ladyship's apologies. She has put the poor, dear dog into a warm bath, and she can't leave him. And Mr. Moody can't come instead of me. be? cause I was too frightened to bo of any use, aud so he bad to hold tho dog. That's aiL We aro very anxious. ?ir. to know if the warm bath is the right thing. Please co.ne into the room and tell us.'' She led the way back to the door. Handy? man, naturally enough, was slow to follow hi?r. When a man is fascinated by the elatrra of youth and beauty he is in no hurry to transfer his attention toa sick animal in a hutb. Hardyman se::;*! on tho I'rs!; excise that he contd i'ev>:>> for keeping Lsabel to himself-that i* lo say, for keeping i?or ic tho drawing room. "I think 1 shallh.? hotter HV? to help yo i," j he said, " if you '.viii tell ino sc.-n.\hi:;g about hv dog first " Even hi-- accent in sppaki.rg ha ' altered to a certain degree. The quiet dreary mo?;o? tone in which be hab:tt:?i ly .poko quickened a little under his present e-coitc-U! nt. As for Isabel, she was too deeply in'e:**-in Tom n de's wei fare to Pirwo i 5 ii tit >!:.? was being j i made the victimof a stratagem. Sae left the door and retuned to Har-lyman with <t:e:er ey^s. '* What can i toil you. sir f' she- nsksd, innocently; Hardyman pressed his advnntago without mercy. "Vou eau tesl me what sort of do-? iw l>r' "Yes, sir." "How old ho is'" "Yes. sir." 'What his nntne is?-what h;<: t>mpcr is? what his illness is!-what ilteeajs his father ? ?nd mother?-what-" j Isabel's head began to turu giddy. "Ono 1 tiling at a timet sir! ' she interposed; with a gesture of entreaty. "His name is Toramia We are obliged to call him by it, because he won't answer to any ether than the name he had when my lady bought him. But we spell ic with an te' at the end, which makes it less vulgar than Tommy with a y.' I am very sorry, sir, I forget whan else you want? ed to know. Please to come in here, and my lady wili tell you everything." She tried to get back to the door of tbs boudoir. Hardyman, feasting his eyes on the. pretty, changeful face that looked up at him with such innocent confidence in his author? ity, drew her away again from the door by the one means at his disposal He returned to his questions about Tommie. "Wait a little, please. What sort of a dog is he?" Isabel turned back again from the door. To describe Tommie was- a labor of lova "He is the most beautiful dog. in the world I" the girl began, with kindling eye. "He has the most exquisite white curly hair and two fight brown patches on his back, and, ohl such lovely dark eyes! They call V?m a Scotch terrier. When he is well his appetite is truly wonderful-nothing comes amiss to him, sir, from pate de foie gras to potatoes. He has his enemies, poor dear, though you wouldn't think it. People who won't put up with being bitten by him (what shocking tempers one does meet with, to be sure!) call him a mongrel Isn't it a shame? Please come in and see him, sir; my lady will be tired of waiting." Another journey to the door followed those words, checked instantly by a serious objec? tion. "Stop a minute! Ton must tell me what Ins temper is, or I can do nothing for him." Isabel returned once more, feeling" that it was really serious this tima Her gravity was even more charming than her gayety. As she lifted her face to him, with large, solemn eyes, expressive of her sense of re? sponsibility, Hardyman would have given every horse in his stables to have had the privilege of taking her in his arras and kiss? ing her. " Tommie bas the temper of an angel with the people he likes," she said "When he bites, it generally means that he objects to strangers. He loves my lady, and he loves Mr. Moody, and he loves me, and-and I think that's alL This way, sir, if you please; I am sure I heard my lady call" " No," said Hardyman, in his immovably obst?nate way. "Nobody called About this 'og's temper? Doesn't he take to any trangersi What sort of people does he bite in general?*1 Isabel's pretty lips began to curl upward at ?he corners in a quiet smile. Handyman's last imbecile question had opened her eyes to the true state of the casa Still Tommie's future was in this strange gentleman's hands; she felt bound to consider that And, more? over, it was.no every day event in Isabel's ex? perience to fascinate a famous personage, who was also a magnificent and perfectly dressed man. She ran the risk of wasting another minute or two and went on with the j memoirs bf Tcimmie. "I must own, sir," she resumed, -that he behaves a little ungratefully-even to stran? gers who take an interest in him. When he gets lost in the streets (which is very often!, he sits down on the pavement and howls till he collects a pitying crowd round him; and when they try to read his name and address on his collar he snaps at them. The servants generally find him and bring him back, and as soon as he gets home he turns round on the doorstep and sr.aps at the servants. I think it must- be bis fun. You should see him sit? ting up in his chair at dinner time, waiting to Ut helped, with his forepaw on the edge of the table, like the hands of a gentleman at a public dinner making a speech But ohl"'' cried Isabel, checking herself, with the tears in her eyes, "how can I talk of him in this way when he is so dreadfully ill! Some of them say it's bronchitis, and some say it's his fiver. Only yesterday I took him to the front door to give him a little air, and he stood still on the pavement, quite stupefied. For the first time in his life he snapped at nobody who went by; and oh, dear, he hadnt even the heart to smell a lamp post I" Isabel had barely stated this last afflicting circumstance when the memoirs of Tommie were suddenly cut short by the voice of Lady Lydiard-really calling this time-from the Inner room. "Isabel! Isabel!" cried her ladyship, "what are you about?" Isabel ran to the door of the boudoir and threw it open. "Go in, sir! Pray go in!" she said "Without youf Hardyman asked. "I will follow you, sir. I have something to do for her ladyship first." She still held the door open, and pointed entreatingly to the passage which led to' the boudoir. "I shall be blamed, sir," she said, "if you dont go in." This statement of the case left Hardyman no alternativa He presented himself to Lady Lydiard without another moment of delay. Having closed the drawing room door on him, Isabel waited a little, absorbed in her own thoughts. , She was now perfectly well aware of the effect which she had produced on Hardyman. Her vanity, it is not to be denied, was flat? tered by his admiration-he was so grand and so tall; and be had such fine large eyes. The girl looked prettier than ever as she stood with her h ead down and her color heightened, smiling to herself. A clock on the dnmney piece striking the half hour roused her. She cast one look at the glass as she pa-sed it, and went to the table at which Lady Lydiard had been writing. Methodical Mr. Moody, in submitting to be employed as bath attendant upon Tommie^ bad not forgotten the interests of his mis? tress. He reminded her ladyship that she had left her letter, with a bank note inclosed in it unsealed. Absorbed in the dog, Lady Lydiard answered: "Isabel is doing noth? ing, let Isabel seal it Show Mr. Hardyman in here," she continued, turning to ?abel, "and then seal a letter of mine which you will find on the tabla" "And when you have sealed it," careful Mr. Moody added, "put it back on the table; I will take charge of it when her ladyship has done with me." Such were the special instructions which now detained Isabel in the drawing room She lit the taper, and closed and sealed the open envelope, without feeling curiosity enough even to look at the address. Mr. Hardyman was the uppermost subject in her , thoughta Leaving the sealed letter on the table she returned to the fireplace and stud? ied her own channing face attentively in the looking glass. The time passed and Isabel's refle tion was still the subject of Isabel's con * temptation. "He must see many beautiful ladies,'' she thought, veering backward and forward between pride and humility. "I .wonder what he sees in mc?" ' The clock struck the hour. Almost at the same moment tho boudoir door opened and Robert Mood}-, released at last from attend? ance on Tommie, entered the drawing room. [TO B:: CONTINUED-*] What Our Editors Say. New Year Suggestion. Pee J)ce Index. Those cold wintry days and nights, when business mon and farmers are sit? ting around warm Gres planning their j business for the New Year, it is a good lime tor the Kiitor to make suggestions and" ?rive Iiis quota of advice. In farm life we have observed' that the farmer who always makes his provisions j seid oni lias to borrow money lo pay ii is j debts. There must bc a reason for j this : if so, those who fail to thus pro- j vide h li on Id endeavor to Sud it oat, and profit thereby. Thc reason, as we understand it, is because having first made his provisions bis cotton crop is a surplus, and lie does not have to dr.iw upon it. to buy these supplies. If this be true, tbo fariner in : laying bis p!un> for flic New Year, ; should set -?part enough land to" make' all the corn, peas, po'?t???, oats, ?c., necessary to support his farm. If lie is behind and owe* debts, this should not change the rule. ? This making a big cotton crop to~ge? out of debt, without making properprc?? vision for the support of the farta St stuff. When land is set apart safidefl^t?* make everything needed upon.the f?rmv then make all the cotton you c?o? Ul you do this, toe cotton yea ci?ke eau very well be appropriated, to jjaying' debts,, but if you do., not thus prosiik^ and should fail on the cotton .?r?p, iii* stead of paying out you are worse, jo-* volved at toe end ?of the year tirari a? the beginning. This question decid?,* the next is the manure. : - Our agricultural jwpulation^'aye JG long trusted to commercial Ur?XwSS until they can't far? mtho??']?i?m: Besides it takes a deal of elbow jrr?sm to make home-made mannree. Yet int point of fact it requires a great de t? more labor to pay for commercial fer-* tilizers than to make home-made ma? nares. Home made manures may Be m?dtf during.the short cold win ter.days? wheal little else can be done, while the ma? jority of farmers work through the ?on? hot summer to make the cotton pay for" the commercial fertilizers bought io th? spring. Nothing is more deceptive tba? this thing of commercial fert?fsers* One wagon load will make a pretty good manuring for 8 or IO acres, andit"?a? be hauled and put out in a verySt?ort time. For awhile it makes everything flourish, and grow off quite beac.ti&lrji But the quantity used by most farmer* is exhausted long before the crop is ma? tured. Then comes the "drooping. t>l forms, shedding of leaves, and' nrf :>hort time the farmer is ready" Uf ?**'? ^ claim like the old negro did about bia catfish, ?'my Laud how he hab swink/* But the fertilizer has to be paid for jas? the same.' - Again our farmers try to cultivate too much land. What is. worih doinj; at all is worth doing weil;. Ja . a-, tow maxim and as applicable to farming aa any other vocation in lif?. Thereat? but few farmers who can cu?t?va^-?oflL 30 to 40 acres to the horse '.. Better plant 20 and .put the manara on it thai is ordinarily, put- on "40. Th??.:?eepj thorough preparation is aa necessary. a? manure or cultivation/ 'Bat enoUgbTof suggestions for this week,- may ie/ we" may offer others before planting time,. ? ' : THe Silver Question; Edgefid?Afc?r???s? y Congressman Tillman has ?Dtroducea a bill.in congress looking to the free coinage of silver. On this matter.Mr,. Tillman has taken square issue witE President Cleveland on the Administr?* tion. We mast confess to a profound ignorance on these questions of finaoc?v The more v" read, ihe less we know; and if the truth mast be told, we have' the same opinion as to everybody'elseV But this we do know; that two or three' years ago gold was plentiful, paid ot?t by everybody, in fact almost a drug; people preferring the paper currency. Now we never see gold at all. Carolina Spartan. - ? ? ? . . - ii The emigration of labor from Koria ? Carolina bas become so great that the agricultural prosperity of, the State is', threatened. Car load after car load of negroes have gone West. It is said that the receipts for emigrant tickets at Wilmington on New Year's day were . $2.715, and" they are still going. One result of this wholesale migration of the negro will be a reduction ia the price., of lands of a gradual i m miration "of small farmers from the North. Tbii may be one factor in the solution of the great race, problem of our country. Should they crowd, in great numbers io one of the cotton States on the Missis? sippi, they might change its politics' very materially in a few years. j Greenville Enterprise and Movntaikeer. A great deal has been written in the Press of the State since the ?djdurff ment of the Legislature, condemnatory* of the General Assembly for not passiog the Census Bill, so as to secure a more just and a Constitutional apportionment of representatives among the Counties of the State. The COD dem nation is just*, but we fear that it is a measure that will be hard to pass, as' a re-apporitou? rnent of representatives will affect Charleston's representation. Charles-] ton seems inclined tb hold on to all she has, even if the plain provisions otrta6 Constitution have to be violated in order to do it. Charleston exerts a great in? fluence in the law-making bodies of.?tfi State. She does this not only .on acr' count of the number of her members but from their character and. att???i? ments. The Charleston members > ara generally highly educated, and are kepi in the Legislature "for the service they can render, and therefore are not chang** ed at every election. An experienced man in any movement can strike more effectively and efficiently than an inex? perienced one can do. There js no proposition clearer than this. It makes but little difference how good and patHr otic a member may be, he cannot, be ot* great service to bis county as a Legis? lator until after be has served a series' of terms in either body. In our opio* ion, many of the counties change theit membership too often "By the time some of them have learned the routine; of legislation, their term expires? and the people fail to re-elect them. . If the other Counties wish tc cope with" Charleston, they must send old and ex? perienced men to our legislatire'coan cils and keep them there for longerrpeV riods than they have been doing for. the past ten years. But the Census Bilf was not the otily measure before the legista ture that was disposed cf in a* wrong way. Magistrate-Ever been arrested ber forer' . Prisoner-'No san;' ;"' Magistrate-'Didn't. I send you're* tho island last winter for ten .days?'!- s. Pirsoner-*l dc-clar's to godnes*? now I looks at yu'. Jed?e, I b lieves yo^ did. But Iso a poo* ban' to 'member faces.'-Guhiory. A colored man. who was hmit'itfg it house to move into, was asked if- h? had paid his rent to his former land'ords." . Jes, sah/, he said,; rather. hesitaiing*T, ly. C*n't yon get a recommendation V ? can get Mr. Smith, my' Tat?d? y rd, to" give me a recommendation.' How 'do; kn<nv you ?ao V 'Oh. I-know I* cany ?| 'cause he wantsmc to ?ct ottTi' -', . ? ,