The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, July 06, 1886, Image 1

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4 /?b tfiS SUMTER WATCHMAN? Established April, 1850. ? ? --- Consolidated Aug. 2,1881.1 "Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thoo Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's THE TKUK^OUTHKON, Established June, 186?. SUMTER, S. C., TUESDAY, JULY 6, 1886. New Series-Vol. T. JTo. 49. Publiait every Tuesday, -N.-Gh OSTEEN, SUMXKR, S. C. TERMS: Two Dollars.per annum-in advance. ADVERTISEMENTS. v On? Square, first insertion.........-....$1 00 - c'Brery subsequent insertion_. 50 *>:?; Contracts for three months, or longer will be made at reduced rates. jrt^All communications which subserve private ' "interests will be charged for as ad vertisemen ts. * Obituaries and tributes of respect will be charged for. A QUESTION ABOUT Browns Iron Bitters ANSWERED. ' - - ^tegrtwrtion lm probably been asked thoosands ~- of timos, **Sow can ilk USU ? Iron Bitters euro OVOTJ ! "thing?*? Well.it does**.Bat it dees enre any disease Sor^Rii^?repatablepte7ti^?n^r<HiIdpi?Bcribe roos Physicians recognize Iras, as the best rostearsttre agent known to the profession, and inquiry o? -LUT "Tssfliiigilwini ni finn ?tn .iiirmTiiiiT?wto <Tinmurutimi that there ?re more preparations of iron than of any ^ :. ofhis mimiirinn TI inn in mnitinnn This shows eon- . duaxreiy that non is acknowledged to bo the most - 'minutant f?*ft"-***'-'."'FI 11 "M^?-ii??*^? T?^ bowevec.?re??rkabte fact, that prior to th? daoov . nofBBOW?P$ IKON .BITTERS noperfect I^Staslsctorj min combmttion had ever been found. BROW?'SlfiO!lBinERS?.SSS h-dacha, or produce constipation-all other iron stedkdttes?o. BROWNS XROS BITTERS care? Indigestion, Bflfoasneas, Weakness, ~^Ortpt>1??^ Malaria, Chills and Fever*, TireM'eelinsvC^eneral DebilityJ?ain in the Side, Back or I<i mbs, Heada eh e ?ad Neural - - jria-*oraHthese ailments Iron is prescribed daily BRSWII'SiROfl BITTERS?tl . minntft. latoall other thoroa^h medicines, it acts -mowtjr..\warn taken by tum the first symptom of - y*tt!Ti*XB&sw*d'0z'?zgy. Theransclesthenbecome t jr- finner, toe OhgestacrfimprcTes. the bowels are activa. ^to?pow^theenoctisns?aDyrrxOTlapidar? * ^-rae eyes begin at once to brighten: the skin clears ,np; aemaaj color comes to the cheeks; nervousness * jnaapyesrs; fanetional derangements become regu ter, abd if ammdng mother, abondant sustenance fa.snppBed for tao_cbild. Bemember Brown's Iron Brtysrsisthe ON I. Y iron mediane that is not in . - jSirJons. P*]f*iciaH* and Drnggi*U recommend ii. ' ? The Genmhe baa Trade Hark and crossed red lines cn. Tapper. TAKE SO OTHER._ Mort of thedigweP whi^h afflict mankind are origin? ally cansedbyadisordered condition of the LIVER. For aH oanrplaints of tins kind, such as Torpidity of theLirer. BiHoasnea?, Kervoas Dyspepsia, Indiges _ too. Irregularity of the Bowels. Constipation. Ilatn . ? -Janey. Eructations and Thnnjny of'the Stomach . {sometimes called Heartburn), Miasma. Malaria, " Bloody TTai. Chills and Fever, Breakbone Fever, -ffitr,Ttrri> before or siter Fevers. Chronic Diar? rhoea. Loss af Appetite, Headache, Fool Breath, - Inegolaaties hW^^J to Females. Bearing-down STIOIfiER'S IURMTH fe Invaluabfe. lt is not a panacea fer all diseases, but AllDC an diseases vf the LIVER, win VVnR STOMACH told BOWELS. - ? changes the complexion from a waxy, yellovr . tinge, to a ruddy, healthy color. It entirely removes fcwr. gooray spirits. It ia one of the BEST AL" TEKATIVE3 and PURIFIERS OF THE BLOOD, Und ig A VALUABLE TONIC. STADICER'S A?RANTI1 For sale by aUDruggists. Price $| ,00 per bottle. \ . C.F.STADICER, Proprietor, S4OB0. FKOUT WW Philadelphia? Pa. SAVE im_ MONEY MARKING YOUR CLOTHES -WITH Jil Bit I U STAMP V - ;-AND DSfDELLIBLE DTK FOR SALE BY CP. OSTEEN, At Watchman and Southron Office, i SUMTER, S. C. lah Warranted IttdeUible. A. J. CHINA, < DEALER IN ; V DrugSj medicines and liemicals. USTBlTOILET SOAPS, HAIR AND TOOTH BRUSHES. PERFUMERY AND FANCY ^TOILET ARTICLES, ?c.. ?lc. " TAINTS, OILS, VARNISHES AND DYESTUFFS, GLASS, PUTTY, #c. Fu? supply *f Fresh Garden Seeds. April 9 _ ; PAIWT YOUR BUGGY FOR One l>o2.x?ir. One coat gives an old buggy the blackest black yea ever saw and a handsome gloss - without varnishing, it dries bard in a few boars. No rubbing! No varnishing! No extra tron?le. Each can contains more than' enough to paint a carriage. Retailed at One Dollar per Can. For Sale by DR. A. J. CHINA, FOR SALE. MILK COWS ALWAYS ON HAND-? 'H. H. THOMAS, Wedgefield, S. C. FOR S?LE, t?aap for Cash, or Approved Papers Payable on Jan. 1,1387, One TEN HORSE TOZER ? DIAL POR? TABLE ENGINE. I Ona 60 SAW BROWN COTTON GIN. One Steam BOSS COTTON PRESS, and AboQ t 30 feet of SHAFTING with all nec ts*0y Pulleys and Belting to ran the same. o -iSm ?:? 2pp?y to or address A. D. R?CKER, % April 6? r Sumter, S. C. THE TEMPERANCE WORKER, Removal from Columbia. S. C. . A Live^ Temperance Paper, Published Semi-con thly in SUMTER, S. C. Under the Editorial management of BJPV. H. F. CHRBITZBERG, 6.WX.T. OF I.O.G.T. OP S. C. Assisted by an able corps of Editors. -. .^z- ? . . .Re patronage and influence of ail friends .^f Temp?rance is solicited.- Terms, only 60 cents a year. To advertisers desiring a wide Circulation, it offers an excellent medium. On business; address N. G. OSTEEN, Publisher. BEA?TTS SECRET By ALAS M??ifc Anther of "Vanity Hardware;"* "Golden OirU" J?c BOOK SIX. LADY BEAUTYS JOY, CHAPTER I THE THEEPIECE OF ONE GAT LIFE BEGINS TO STRIKE THE MIDNIGHT QUARTERS. Sophia found her mother seated on the edge of the bed pale and exhausted, but with nothing about her to account for her maid's sudden excitement. The old woman passed her hand feebly across her forehead, trying, it seemed, to collect her thoughts, and then began to speak. "Have I been asleep? I must bave been asleep! Where is Jones? Bid I not see her here! O, Sophy, I have bsd such an odd dream! I thought there was a ball here-in this room, and yet my bed was here too and I lying on it, and between the dances a girl in a bine dress, whose face 1 cot Jd not see, came and sat on the bedside, and she had a lover with her, and they were toying and kissing, and then I called cut something and after? ward awoke. I suppose I awoke. I had not known I was asleep." The maid subsequently told Sophia that, so far as she knew, her mistress had not been asleep at all; that all of a sudden she began to call out very loud, as if she were scolding; and that in the midst of a torrent of words she became deadly pale and seemed to feint away. Seeing this, the maid had rushed oft* for Sophia, and upon their return the old woman was come to herself, and sitting down as Sophia had found her. The doctor being sent for, made the usual inquiries and examinations, and ordered his patient to bed for a day or two, saying that she had over? taxed her strength; but -when alone with Sophia he told her that there had evidently been an attack in the brain -hich might be the forerunner of something very grave, or might be only a symptom cf weakness and old age. "The latter I think," he said as he was leaving; "your mother is a very aged person, I should fancy, and her last decay has prob? ably begun. How long she may live no one can say; but she will not be "the same woman again, and the rest of her lt!? will be going down hilL how fast or how slow depends on her constitution and our car?.0 "I told you, Sophy, that I felt a little shaken," the old woman said, when her daughter came back to her bedside. "Dont you remember what I said about the peach rees? A little rest, Sophy, trill set me up-a litt?e rest I have had a hard life of it, enjoy? ing myself; I dont feel tired of that in the least, but every one wants rest sometimes." There followed the contraction of life which is the sure token of advancing age. Old Mrs. Temple got up late; she seldom drove out, and then only at the sunniest hours, and abe had all through the day her little delicacies turtle soup in tablespoons, champagne in tiny glasses, and all the usual dainty forms of .nourishment for wasting lives. Sophia re? marked, however, that her mother was more than ever solicitous about expense. "I declare it is a sin to be eating this soup, she would say. How much is this a quart? a guinea, I daresay. And as to sending to Gunter's, Sophy, it is waste, sinful waste. You would get it quite as good at the confec? tioner's here. Fancy if I weat on with cham? pagne and turtle at this, rate for a year or two, why, money would come to an end, Sophy-money would come so an end." Everything pointed in one direction: Mrs. Temple was living on capital; and she dreaded the approaching exhaustion of her means. Sophia tried to ger some knowledge of ber affairs. "Could not I do that for you, mamma?" she asked one day, as the old woman was figur? ing over her bank book "Yon, Sophy!" she answered, with a gleam of her former vivacity. "You, dear child! you would not know which side is which which is the mother and which the banker." "Let Archibald heh) you, then F Sophia re? joined. "Archibald, indeed!" the old woman ex? claimed,, "That great man stooping to my tittle bit of business would be like a camel trying to get through a needle's eye. iib, thank you." Elsewhere, too, some gleams of her old spirit broke through the clouds of weakness and illness, but Sophia, watching her nar? rowly, thought the vivacity only assumed. Even now she fancied she could discern a look of deeper care on the old woman's face as she returned to her calculations. Next day they drove to the bank, and feeble as Mrs. Temple was she insisted on going in alone; and she had a long interview with the manager. When she came out she showed Sophia a roll of notes. "Two hundred and fifty pounds, Sophy," she said. "I shall put it in my drawer, and if I am not able to get out again this winter there will be money enough to go on with. I don't wish anyone to go to the bask about my business again-mind that; and you need not pay any bills just at present What ready money is wanted we can take out of this." AU this was alarming to Sophia. She was not the girl to give way to covetousness at a time like this; but who, without queasiness, ' could face the prospect of supplies perhaps suddenly cut off at the most trying juncture} As to herself, Sophia did not feel much anxiety. Had Percival continued true to her, how gladly she would have put any for? tune she might have inherited into his hands to repair his loss, but now she was not in? terested enough in life to fear poverty. Be? yond car*? for her mother she imagined them was nothing to live for. She had tried ever, after Mrs. Hands' visit to disbelieve re? ports which had seemed so fatally authenti? cated; but the very next day ?sibyl told her that she, too, had heard Zrom another quarter the most indifferent, account of Percival. At this Sophia became hopeless. It was curious that the oiiiy person to whom she said any? thing about her trouble was Prendergast^ "Whatever had passed at the time of his pro? posal had set up something like an intimacy between them; and one day when he called, noticing that she looked pale, he made some remark upon the trial her mother's illness must be. "It is not, mamma," she replied; "that I could bear; but oh, I feel so weary and sick! I have heard such dreadful things' about the man I believed loved me. Have you heard anything? Oh, do you believe it all?" ""I am afraid Brent has forgotten himself," Prendergast replied gravely, and said no more. Meanwhile her sisters, with the above ex? ception, maintained on the subject an omin? ous and dreary silence; and her mother, whom she carefully kept in Ignorance of the reports, never mentioned Percival's name. So poor Sophia, with her broken hopes, went her dull round from day to day, nursing her mother and communing with her own sad heart, and there was not one ray of cheerful? ness in her life. She grew pale and worn; and though she tried to be cheerful, every one could see that care was eating her spirit and strength away. Certainly the constrast of her appearance with that of Caroline, or even with that of Sibyl, was a warning against living for an idea in this worldly world. The other sisters might not indeed have grasped the whole substance-in this life who does? But Sophia's very shadow had vanished away, and she was quite alone, and destitute not only of pleasure but of illu? sion, toa CHAPTER IL MRS. TEMPLE DELIVERS A FAREWELL SER? MON ON LIFE. Winter darkened on apace, and while the old woman's health more visibly de? clined. Sophia was pained to find that she would not allow the idea of death to near her. From occasional remarks that she let fall, it seemed that Mrs. Temple was willfully main? taining this delusion of returning strength, with an undercurrent cf conviction that she was to die after alb But to Sophia she always spoke as if her recovery were a certainty; and she even said one day: ''Next year I shall go to Paris and the year ofter that to Vienna." _ _ "Mamma," Sophia said seriously, when : heard this extraordinary speech, "next ye and the year after that! Does it never str you how uncertain life is?" "Of course Hie is uncertain," the old won replied briskly. "I never knew the ti when it was anything else. But we m make our arrangements, and then take < chance. You were taught to dance wt you were seven years old, although you woi not require it for nine years more, and 1 was as uncertain then as now. Still, it woi never have done not to have taught yon dance." "Yes, but when one is weak and sick th things seem to come nearer, don't th? mamma?" Sophia said with the greatest b derness. "Seem to come, Sophy! They do co: nearer. I wish they did not But that is reason why we should bring them nearer si by our own reflections and guesses." "But, mamma," Sophia said, now resolv to press the matter, "ought we not at su times to think a little about the other WOT and prepare for it?" "Prepare for the other world!" the c woman exclaimed, impatiently. "Tell rr how shall we do itt You talk as if one cox make ready for the other world like a flow show or a ball. I don't know anything abo the other world. I hope everything will right, but there is nothing I can da" "See a clergyman, mamma," Sophia sal growing timid before her mottler's unwave lng hardnesss. "See Mr. Knox. He is ve: kind, I am sure, and not the sort of man excite you." "Very well. Sophy," her mother retorte getting a little flushed with excitement, bi speaking with sarcastic self-repression. "L us suppose Mr. Knox comes to see me. I c? tell you what will happen. He will have black book with him, which at first he wi try to keep out of sight, and he will edge into view as he is talking about the weathe That will be a signal to me of what is con ing. Then he will begin by saying that th is a world full of pain and care and trouble She hit off the clergyman's voice exactb but more, it seemed, from her old habit < ridicule than from any present wish to 1 flippant. "If I say what I think, I sha answer, 'Not a bit of it; it is a cozy, brigi world enough, and I never complained of it Then he will go on and talk about loving tl world. 'Weiy I ought to say, 'I do love i and never more than now when I am shi out from it.' Yes,* he will say, 'bt people ought to be serious.' 'Serious I shall answer. 'Believe me, the pei son who produces one hearty laugh froi another does good in the world. Serious, ii deed! give me round faces, not long ones Wont this be improving talk, Sophy, and d good to me and good to Mr. Knox? Then h wfll talk about sickness being a blessing, an if I give him my mind I shall say that sid ness is one of the few things I know which j an unmitigated bother and perplexity. Won' that make Knox whistle? He will feel h must put me down; and next he will say w are all sinners. What then? If I say th truth I ?h*!! answer: 'I dont see it I hav done my best in life. I have not been a har or a thief, or cruel. Enjoyment came to m and I took it and what a fool I should hav been if I had not taken it! But I have trie< to be a good mother and a kind friend, an< though" I dont mean to say that I have no often been in fault like other people, still ; have never done anything to make a fus about The Almighty won't judge us fo: mistakes and little slips of temper-that I an quite sure of. I have always gone to churcl when I could, and if there is any better wa] to heaven than that I don't know it, nor any body else.' So please, Sophy, don't have Mr Knox here; either I say what I do think ant shock him, or I tay what I dont think, whicl is not likely to do any good to anybody." "But mamma," Sophia went on, "do yoi never feel as if you wanted something bette] than this world? It is very happy and al that while it lasts; but do you never wish foi another?" "Never, Sophia!" her mother replied, no* with distinct harshness in her voice. "I have told you a hundred times. I am satisfice with the world, and with other people, anc with myself. I tell you I find only one faull with the world-I want it to last and il wont" This reply was delivered in a way thal finally closed thc conversation, and Sophia never dared again allude to the subject December drew to its close, and she saw that her mother was more and more declining in strength, and that even ber insatiable ap petite for the world itself was departing. She no longer cared to hear the talk of the town. Her beloved Meaning Post would lie ! day after day unopened. The little meals, ; which she used to take with the eagerness of one who is determined to overcome illness, wer? now languidly put aside to another I hour. She slept more frequently, and every? thing showed plainly that she was quitting the stage of the world, where, a popular actress indeed, she had so long and so bril? liantly figured. CHAPTER HL SOPHIA EAS THREE COUNSELORS. Nor was poor Sophia left alone with her sorrow. We have all friends in this world some who wish us well, and some who wish us nothing of the kind. J? wishers and well wishers sometimes are equals in making us uneasy. And thus lt was with Sophia, for while she was shut up with her mother in tho sick house various persons found opportunity to disturb her with counsel or warning. The indefatigable Mrs. Hands, who had fully made up her nundtbdt the you^g wo*7,rtn must and should marry veting J/Jon Done, managed to work ter vrrjy into the house several times. Sopb^ now feared and hated the wido*r in ^nal parts, although she could not deny cnat, in telling her the truth about ?'Cloival, sho had acted the part of a friend. "My dear Sophia," this energetic darno said, "I hear that Brent is coming home bankrupt, they say; character and cash both gone! I should like to see you comfortably settled before that time, and in a position to treat him as be deserves. Now, while your mother is still living, and able to be com? forted, settle yourself, Sophia, settle your? self. My dear, I know one young man, at least, who would bo at your feet in an hour after the time I told him there was a hope that you would change your mind and say *yes.' I know the young man." "Thank you," Sophia replied, hastily. Her cheeks were on fire at the bare idea of seeing Percival again. "I shall stay with mamma to the last; and I am not going to marry any one." "Certainly not a man who has treated you badly," the widow said, resolved to pledge ! Sophia to this much, at least "I am not going to marry anybody," Sophia ? repeated, tartly. She had another counselor. Egerton, hav? ing heard that Percival was returning, ven? tured to advise Sophia on the whole sub? ject "It is not his being a little wild. Sophia, that I would so much object to," he said "We are all that sometimes. I mean all \ young fellows, not girls, though I said *we.* I had what we call an affair with Miss John ; son at that glove shop myself many years ago, and it went BO far that once or twice we i were on the point of going out walking to? gether, and all that sort of thing-you know I what I mean. Sophia; but it was the time for the equinoctial gales, and the weather got I unsettled and that stopped it; and then I got engaged to Caroline, and she was such a tre? mendously fine girl that she steadied me. I dont want to find fault with Percival Brent, who is not half a bad fellow, I think. But you are not tho woman for him, Sophia, that is where it is-you aro not the woman for Mm. In every coso a weman ought to be tho woman for a man. A man of Percival's sort ought to be engaged to a woman with a whip in her hand. Some of us-I mean th?j fellows with 'go'-want to be influenced, and things to be brought to bear on us. and we ? want forcible feminine character about us. j and the rest of it and in such cases there is j nothing like a woman with a whip in her hand." More solemn and weighty words were ad- I dressed to the poor heart-sick girl. Goldmore I no sooner heard that Percival was coming I back than he became sincerely alarmed for . Sophia's future. j *L tremble for that girl," he said to bis wife one morning, "kind, impressible, virtuous a? ? ?he is. I wish she would accept Prender gast, who is as much in love with her as ever, and to whom fortune will make no difference. I fear-I very greatly fear-that Sophia will be very poor at hf r rc other's death Every? thing points that way. But she is the sweet? est cf girls," he added in tones of solemn ap? proval; ''she is a sister you may well be proud of, and she shall never want a brother while I Uve, Sibyl She shall Uve here if she will make this house her home." "I dont know that Sophy would care to live here," Sibyl answered curtly. "She is fanci? ful and quixotic. Perhaps she wfll marry Percival Brent after all." "Not after bis improper behavior," Gold more remarked, with the solemn morality of a Great Briton. Sibyl laughed a little. "Women forgive that sometimes," she said. Accordingly Goldmore, in fear" of some? thing which he could not quite define to him? self, resolved to give Sophia the benefit of his experience of Ufe. His kindness and his good intentions were undoubted, and his words were those of a man who "knows." "Dont be deceived by that soft forgiving heart of youri into marrying a profligate, Sophia," he said. "A young man may fell into many errors and come out of them, and be as good as ever, but a profligate never re? turns to the state of his youth. He may seem respectable, but he is never truly restored. He has lost that which he can never regain. There will always be a hardness and a coarse? ness about him, and he may any hour relapse into evil ways. Such men moke a pretense of reforming when they want to marry, and perhaps even believe themselves reformed but, Sophia, a profligate can no more reform and be what once he was than a man who has lost an eye can see again as perfectly as when he had twa Be firm, Sophia! Be true to yourself. Hear nothing the youngman says." Poor Sophia began to cry. "I am not saying this thoughtlessly, my dear girl," Goldmore continued, taking her hand. "I admire a young woman who loves a man and wfll make a sacrifice for him, and I may take the liberty of assuring you, Sophia (so great is my interest in you), that I had resolved, had the young baan been hon? orable, that no Uttlo difficulty of a pecuniary kind should have stood in your way. But now, Sophia," Goldmore said, with all the magnate upon him once more, "I must inter? fere in quite another sort of way." Late that night, when weary Sophia stole back to her mother's room, she found it dark, for the lamp bad gone out. "Are you awake, mamma?" "Is that you, Sophia?" the old woman answered, in a clear and singularly collected voica "That girl in blue is here again, you "What, mamma? Where?" "Here, at the end of the bed, and that young fellow with her. They have been danc? ing, and came here afterward. They have not spoken to me, not a word. Only they sit there kissing and laughing. I don't object to laughing or t?ssing either; only they should not choose this place, where so many people are passing up and down. But, Lord! how young people will go on!" Tune after time during several days the old woman would imagine that the bedroom was a ballroom, and that the girl in blue and her lover were sitting at her* bed's end, flirt? ing and misbehaving themselves in a way which tickled the old woman; for she often laughed aloud, and said over and over again: ."Lord! how young people will go on!" At last, on Christmas eve, Sophia was sit? ting beside her, and she spoke ali at once in a low, penetrating whisper: "Sophy, I know who that girl is now." "Who, mamma?" "Myself, dear-myself." She uttered this in a whisper of secrecy, low, but intensely clear. "I saw the face just this moment. And that is Jack Dallimore-'Spider Jack' we used to call him, he was so thin; but he was clever and so handsome! We stole out together during tho dance at Lord Mount? joy's. There he is kissing her again! How cold it is!. Let us go bock; let us go back; let ns go back!" She turned and composed herself to sleep, and all night long she lay placidly. When the doctor came in the morning he found hei much weaker, and said she must have brandv every half-hour, for she was sinking fast But she woidd take nothing; only slept away, while hour by hourjthe beating pulse reported failing strength Sophia, feeling the end waa near, sent word to Car and Sibyl, and the three sisters watched beside her all the after? noon, while Egerton and Goldmore waited down stairs. The breath grow fainter; fixed line? came out on the mobile face; the three daughters stood round the bed; and tho worldly little mother passed without a pang away. CHAPTER IV. rERCTTAL RETURNS. It was about the middle of January. The funeral was over, and Sophia was sitting alone in tho little morning room which had been her mother's favorite spot Car and Sibyl had gone home, and Goldmore was down stairs in the library examining the old lady's papers, the greater portion of which had only just now been obtained, as her solicitor had been from home. He had arrived half an hour ago, and, together with Goldmore, was going into the affairs. Sophia sat alone, full of foreboding and dreariness. It was after four o'clock; the skv wa* killen I and gray; a mist was risingro^a'the house. Dreary, ,d**^iy variai Sophia's heart went.p*^aS jt hid done a hundred tunes frTt-ry i?y for months past-to Aus? tria P^? Percival, and that odious Mrs. Lanigan. She had in her mind's eye quite a picture of her rival; a tall, handsome woman, with free eyes, a high cole*, and dark eye? brows and hair. How could Percival have liked such a creature? Then there was the wonder which had haunted her now for weeks. Would Percival come to see her when he arrived in England? Would he imagine she did not know/ Could she steel her heart and repel him as shs ought? So constant had these reflections and ques? tionings been of late that what followed was a coincidence only in appearance. "Will Porcival come to me?" was actually on the tip of that inward tongue with which we soliloquize wheo ber maid came into the room with an expressive face, saying: "Gentleman called to see you, miss," adding, in a kind of unofficial whisper: uIts Jar. Brent, mias.m She had heard all tho gossip of the town: but her face and tone signified that if she were mistress and not maid, Percival should bo forgiven at once, and more than forgiven shortly. But Sophia was too agitated foi observation. Should she soy: Not at homel Engaged? Cannot see him? Her heart had almost stopped beating; but, resolved not tc let her moid see anything, she said, in as quiet a voice as she could command: "Show him up." BOPITIA TEMPLE. She gave one hasty glance in the mirror to Bee that sho was fit to I? seen, as girls say. Let female seers prognosticate what they will from it, she did not caro to meet Percival even that fickle and false Percival-looking ber worst Then. the door opened, and he was ushered in. Tho two stood looking at each other in silence for a moment He saw her pale, worn, i and clad in black She saw bim bearded, weatberburnt, stronger looking, handsomer than ever. Sho was ready in her heart-sick? ness to cast herself in his arms and take her chance. But just then she saw the mark of a cut upon his f orehead,. and she remembered ine 8cctt?v~b wiux Mrs. .uanigan Why he had waited that moment I cannot tell A man never should pause when the woman he loves shows the smallest sign of readiness for his embrace. Perhaps Percival only wished to give the maid time to go down stairs. It is certain that next moment he sprang forward, with his arms stretched out, to take Sophia to his breast; but that little space of waiting gave jealousy tdme to erect a barrier before her heart She would even then have given the world for his em? brace, if but it had been honest; but per- ! plexed, tortured, and at last fairly mad with ! jealousy, she turned deadly white, and, sob- j bing, she cast herself on the couch, where, I grasping the satin cushion in her hands in a passion of grief or disappointment "Oh, I can't, I can't, I can't!" she cried, in a heartbroken voice. The room was hah* in darkness, and Per? cival by no means understood the true cause of her agitation He came to her side, and, kneeling, took her in his arms without a word. She felt his embrace winding about her, so full of strength! She was nothing in his arms! In her wretchedness she felt thank? ful that he had taken her so. It was not her doing! She was too frail to resist him. And so he drew her gently up until their eyes met again Let me tell you a secret, reader. Some men and women-not many-are bom in this world who are honest by nature. Earth sprung honesty I should call theirs, to dis? tinguish it from that which is the result of sound teaching and example. These people are never so awkward as when they are doing anything mean or underhand; and for the rest of their lives their honesty is pro? claimed in their aspect Such was Percival Brent He was a simple, straightforward man, true by instinct, and the idea of having been seriously false to Sophia-or that he could have been suspected of such an of? fense-had never crossed bis mind And now, as he looked down into her troubled eyes, his own, which were dark brown, and very speaking in their way, beamed out steadfast rays of love and truth. There was a little surprise, a little sadness in the ex? pression; but the clear, strong gaze could never have come from any but a true man. Sophia felt it Before he opened his lips she knew she had misjudged him Already she was beginning to hate herself for her doubts. A moment longer he gazed at her, not, as it would seem, wishing to hurry her kiss; and she grew so impatient to expiate her fault that she was going to kiss him first. He gently held her back. "Sophia," he said, "do you remembsr the day we said good-by at the Beeches?" She nodded her head in answer. She could not speak Her eyes were running over. "I could not say good-by. I was too broken -far too broken" She pressed his hand to tell him how well she remembered all "But" he continued, in his quiet voice, "while I held you to my heart I vowed a vow that when I took my lips away from yours I would never touch a woman's lips again until ours met once more." He stopped. "I understand," Sophia said to herself, with a sudden flash of new interest in his words. "Hois going to confess to me about Mrs. Lanigan! I daresay he only flirted with her a bit; and he must have been very lonely in Australia; and no doubt she was very for? ward-like an actress!" All this ran through her mind, not only faster than it runs from my pen, but faster far, reader, than your eye travels along the line of words. Without a pause Percival went on: "Aud I have kept that vow, Sophia. I wanted to "tell you before I kissed you. You can take your good-by KISS back again; for the lips have been all your own since then." "Oh, wait-wait one moment!" she cried. She wished to collect herself for the com? ing joy. Besides, ought she to kiss him with her eyes wet with tears? So she made ready. Then she turned her warm and melting lips upward, and, as she drank his long kiss, she sighed a sigh of rapture too deep for words, almost too deop for thought "I am his, and he is mine." Oh, how that pure embrace re? warded her, in one great spell of bliss, for all her waiting and her pain! She forgot every? thing but her deep happiness. She was in a trance of joy, and all beside joy faded out of her consciousness. There was neither past nor present neither hope nor fear, neither wish nor regret-all was merged in the full and blessed NOW! I declare I will not have my lovers peeped at for tho next few minutes. And I shall tell you nothing at all, but let your fancy paint what passed on that sofa. Glance back over your own fives. Have you ever had such a moment of love after years of pain? Just recall your own sensa? tions, and leave Percival and Sophia to enjoy theirs undisturbed, as happy lovers should. Even when their first transports are over there they sit, exchanging at slow intervals one low spoken sentence for another. So at full tide on some quiet coast a wave breaks with a low plash of music on the shore, and then there is silence, and then another wave answers in the same murmur? ing note, as in its tum it lays its head on tue golden beach Or so, deep Jn *h5 wc*^ at summer noon, when .? be?;? is rest and st?lness, ont sin^ bird trffis out a few notes o? passion, and then the golden stillness recurs, until the mate answers from another tree in notes as laden with music and tenderness. Break, shining sea, wave after wave of joy! Sing, birds of love, and let the voice of your passion go to and fro from breast to breast! And you two pure and faithful hearts, touch each other at last and tell in what language you please that earthly paradise is here, within your clasped arms. "But, Sophia," Percival says at last, "for what possible reason did you behave yourself PERCIVAL BREST. 90 very oddly when I first came into the rcoral I really thought you were angry or fright? ened. What could you mean by it?" He laughs, but when he looks at her ho sees her lower Ii]? givo a twitch, and she makes a little shivering noise, as if she wore going tc burst out crying. "I suppose you have had so much trouble lately," ho says tenderly: "Think no more about it, dear." She hated herself for her doubts. She would confess all to him. No, she would not. Yes, she would Then at last she answered: "It was not my home troubles, Percy. It was-it was-" ''What was it?" It is so sweet to bend over her and question her in this low voice. "Well, yon know, it was-it was-" He sees that twitch of the lip once moro. He sees her eyes move round the room, as if looking for something, but she stops again. "What can it have been?" ho asks a?, third time. Then all at onco she looks up, laughing like a shining April shower, though her voice trembles still. "It was nothing-nothing in the world, but that I was so delighted to see you, dearest, dearest darling!" She seals that statement with a kiss. But, my moral young woman, we have caught you telling a decided fib. CHAPTER V. LADY RIVALS WITH THE SEAS BRWXEff TIIE1L After these first transports were over ^phia noticed, that her lover spoke .In a voice of sadness, and not with the exulta which so Joyful a meeting might be supp to inspire. Sophia at once remembered v she had been told of his ill fortune, and rx no doubt that he was dejected by the thot of it She could not understand what de rion meant just then, being in so happ mood that her spirits flew far above ei vulgar cara She had a kind of feeling that all woul< 'well somehow, but she asked her lover derly if any anxiety pressed upon him, he at once told her the truth. "I have not prospered," he said sai "Complaint always comes with a bad gi from one who ?3 unsuccessful, but I ass you I have not had a fair chance. The r with whom I was working promised to t me into partnership, and all seemed to well for a while, but we had a quarrel." "About what?" Sophia asked, with keen terest "Was Bessie "Warren in the quarr she says to herself. She tosses her head v a little of the triumph of the woman who won the man. Percival is as unconscious it as Miss Bessie Warren herself can be. "Oh, as to what we quarreled about, tba not of any great importance," Percival plied, with a little hesitation. "A short ti after his daughter-" "So!" Sophia thought, "I was rather pecting her to come in somewhere here." "His daughter," continued Percival, " engaged to another man-" "To another man!" exclaimed Sopt "Had she an affair with any one before?' "How sharp you girls are in love matter says plain Percival, not seeing her drift, he ever. "It was not exactly an affair; I think ? took a liking to a man who would not tak liking to her." "Now just tell me," Sophia said, stoppi hil? here, "was she pretty?" "How quick you girls are to ask about ea other's faces!" cries plain Percival aga "She is in Australia, and yon hero. Prel or plain, what is it to your "I want to know," Sophia said,* "ami kni I shalL Was sho pretty?" "Very pretty indeed," Percival answers. "And you say she took a liking to a m who did not take a liking to her?" "Yes; he did not care for ber." All through his life Percival never und stood why just at this moment Sophia go little closer to him and pressed his hand kindly. "Go on, Percy," she said: "tell mo more.* "Well, she engaged herself to another ms and he and I never got on; and then the e man became rather disagreeable, and nothl: went right, and it ended in my throwing t thing up and here I am, Sophia, quire pen: less. Indeed, dear, if it had not been i what you hid in that pocket I should n have been here to-day." He stopped and shook hi?: head sadly. "Never mind, Percy!" Sophia saidgayl "You are here in safety. Something w turn up for you. Archibald will get y something. I am sure. Archibald makes pet of me!" "No!3 cries proud Percival, 4T have got t promise of a situation in Sydney-a enpit situation too, and out there I shall go, ai work my way." At this Sophia's face fell, ard >he w about to speak with great eagerr.?ss, whi the maid came in and announced that Gol more wished to see Sophia in the librar Percival was for going away, but she wou not hear of it "It is my bouse now," she said, with a st smile; "you must s'ay with me a little longe Wait until I come back." With a doubting sud fearful heart si descended to the library. She was fully pr pared for the worst as regarded her mothei affairs, and, alas, money had never seem? so precious in her eyes before. Had she bi a fortuno now, how happy she and Perc might be! She braced herself, however, f< the shock which she felt sure was cominj and opened the library door. Seated at table, all covered with papers, were h< brother-in-law and her mother's solicito and by the candlelight their faces, ha shaded and half seen, looked very ominou To Sophia, at least, everything seeme gloomy. Goldmore rose from his seat so emnly and set a chair for her at the tab! and then with his usual three syllable cen mony began to speak. CHAPTER VI A SUBPRISE. "We have been examining, my dear Sophia your mother's papers, and we are now in position to let yon know exactly how yo stand I have waited before calling yo down, in order that I m^ht be able to satisf; your mind in all particulars, and not mere!; read over documents to you which woul deal in general terms without making th fact of the case clear. I think as you mother has made a very special communjea tion to you about her affairs-* ??himanica tion which she wisba^ ^er executor to rea before showing J4* to you-I think I may no1! readletter^and thus it will be sheans *06 I who wiH tell you how you are left Sii&il I read the letter, or will you read it fa yourselfP "Bead it, pifiase?" Sophia replied, trembling with excitement Goldmore drew the candle closer to him self, adjusted his glasses on his nose one began: " 'My Dear Sophia-I have for a long tba felt great anxiety about you and your future when I shall be taken from you. For Caro line and Sibyl I am not concerned; they an happily married, and will never want eithei wealth or counsel. With you the case is verj different You must be aware that yom course in life has not been such as I appro vee of. I regretted, and I shall always regret that you did not marry when you had i favorable opportunity, and you know wei that, in acting as you did, you cast aside all my precepts, and, indeed, disappointed al! my hopes. But I am bouud to say you nevei forgot yourself, and }'our behavior was as mild and daughterly as possible under the circumstances; and I cannot but tell j*ou that your affection forme at that time touched me deeply, although I was angry. You gave mo the idea of a girl who, though acting from a mistaken principle, was doing it in a high minded way. And since then, every day, I have had fresh tokens of your love and care. " 'You three girls will have at my death a thousand pounds apiece. The whole of my remaining income goes back to the family of my first husband I hoped to have seen yen married and settled before I died; but, as this was not to be, I could not think of your be? ing left in so miserable a condition. For this reason, while my income was still very Large. I resolved, without telling any one, to m'.uce my expenditure, and lay up a li: tie money for you. I have already accumula tf-d rather moro than eight thousand pounds, und be? fore I die this sum will no doubt, be in? creased You will be my residuary legatee, and at my death tho sum I have saved will be yours absolutely. I must charge you to be cautious with it. Submit yourself im? plicitly to the guidance of our good Archi? bald; and, as you love my memory, and re momber the sacrifice I have made, you must not. in any freak of affection, let the fortune slip away, lt is meant for your comfort. You will ill repay me if you allow any other person to squander it " 'You have chosen your way in life; and, although it is not mine, I hope you will bo happy Of cours?; I lui ve no, right to f oreo my views on you. You have got to live your own life, and to get eujoymeut in your own way. The great thing in life is by some means to get enjoyment out of it, which I sincerely hope you mardo. Try, anyway, irt be a credit to your mother. Remember, whatever else you tlc, always dress hand? somely and keep up apiva ranees, and think Homctimes of your cid worldly mother, " 'BARB.VRA TEMPLE.*" Goldmore laid the letter on the table, nnd then, with his most imposing air, took up another paper, on which were some columns of figui-cs, sot out with great care. He re? adjustee! his glasses, and began afresh: ''Tho property you receivo in this way," he said, "amounts to about twelve thousand pounds, and the manner in which it is in? vested is most satisfactory. I should like you to glance over this-" Archibald, not just yet," Sophia said, in great agitation. "To-morrow-another time , will do. I feel a little upset Will you give | me mammas letter, and then excuse me for a j while? I don't think I can speak very much t just now." "With an agitated bow to the man of law she got out of the r?oa "Hiss Temple Ls a little moved," ?ie solici? tor remarked. "By no means unnatural" "She is a tender-hearted girl," Goldmore said, adding, in his testimonial style: "I have a high opinion of ber." And Sophia hurried away, not to her lover, but to her mother's room. There she cast herse?f on Mrs. Temples bed, and poured out mingled tears of gratitude, grief and joy, 6uch as I hope, reader, may bedew your memory some day. The little worldly mother, who seamed-and who, iu a way, was-so selfish, "how kindly she budgeted at the last! Sophia thought of her frivolity, her obstinate refusal to make any preparation for death, her absorbed spirit of worldliness; and then ibis kiad deed coming up like a flower out ol her very grave! She was a tender-hearted girl, as Goldmore said; but, perhaps, most of us, one time or another, have felt something akin to the feeling which filled her breast, as, through her tears, she called out, although there was none to hear: "Mamma, mamma! Oh, if I could only tell you-if I could only have you for ten minutes to tell you!" |*T0 BE COXTrS?EO.] What Our Editors Say. Carolina Spartan. General Bratton, of Fairfield, now and then a candidate for Governor or something, has assailed the Farmers' Convention as ill-considered, inconsider? ate, radical and unreasonable, and ut? terly regardless of the difficulties and complications here in South Carolina." From this it would seem that the Gener? al will not be a candidate before a Far? mers' Convention. Greenville Xenos. It ls fashionable to talk of Cleveland's luck., Luckas an explanation of his remarkable career is as convenient as empty. Cleveland's luck has consisted of his doing and saying the right things at the right time, and he has done that because his sound judgment has guided an honest purpose to do right, and he has not been deflected from his course and purpose by greed or fettered by fear. Try an Experiment. Camden Journal. Would it .not be a good idea in talking up the "new deal" to require candidates to express their views on certain points-such as the Columbia Canal, the Railroad Conimission, the homestead law, the concealed weapon law, etc? We think that the concealed weapon business needs about as much attention as anything we can think of just now. Thc decent and peaceable citizens of the State deserve a little consideration at the hands of our Legislators as well as ruffians and rowdies who, tbu3 far, seem to have ail the law iu their favor instead of against them. The pistol is a curse to civilization anyhow, and in order to bring it within proper bounds why not pass an act requiring every man who carries a pistol to pay a license of ?500 per annum for thc luxury be thus enjoys, and any one found with a pistol who bas not this license, let him be sent to the penitentiary for ten years. No good citizen can object to such a law, and the bad citizens should be made to obey it. Such an act would do more towards suppressing crime than all the moral suasion you could use in a century. We would like to see thc experiment tried anyhow. We arc satisfied that no good citizen would suffer by such a law. Hctcs and Courier. Pay for the old coat before you bar? gain for a new ene. Limit your wishes by your own means rather than by the means of your neighbor. Turn the world out of doors and live at home, if you cannot keen up ?ith th? ^vs of i?e world. Command the respect of others by respecting yourself. Measure your lot by your deserts rather than by your desires, and, above all, don't try to put on appearances which do not fit you, and which when donned only wear body and heart and soul like a garment of ?essus. Third-termism. Abbeville 3Iedium. The State convention is to bc held on August 4th. It is time the people were thinking of our next State officers. The general sentiment we believe is against third-termism. If this objec? tion was powerful enough to defeat such a man as Gen. Grant, it certainly should give us a new deal in the State. It is the Democratic idea and it is the correct one. A free government should not perpetuate offices in certain indi? viduals and families. In this way oli? garchies spring into existence and pow? er. It is time for us to have a care in thc matter. There is no scarcity of men to fill all our offices. Capable and deserving men can bc found in every section of thc State who should have a chance at thc honors and emolu? ments of thc party. Two Exceptions. Florence Times. It is considered that rich editors bo? long to a period so remote that thc memory of man runneth not to the time thereof, but as in everything else, there are exceptions. While in Marion re? cently, we were surprised to soc that W J. Mongtomery, the editor, of the Pee J Ve Index, who is also a lawyer, a fanner, a florist and poultry raiser, a good man withal, and successful in ail of his specialties, had thc foundation laid for haifa block of brick storehouses. And in Columbia, Kev. Sidi H. Browne, thc editor of the Christian Neighbor, had begun to build another brick dwell? ing alongside his present palatial resi? dence. It is indeed gi:.? .viug to note this evidence of prosperity among our successful confreres, that inspires the hope that some of those days thc editor of the Timen may bc abie to build him j a house, and one large enough for two. Crem ville Xcirs. One of :he most absurd performances j of the century is thc expulsion from I France of the Orleans princes. The J average kiug or prince is always made weak and harmless by familiarity. When it is seen that he is only a little dude with very ordinary strength and j au assortment of inherited diseases he cease? to be dangerous to anybody. ; Only tue incorrigible fogies and flunkies! believe now that there is virtue or di- . viuii-y ia royal blood. luiclii?enc peo- j pie generally understand that, with tb? exception of the reigning family in Prus? sia, the royal blood of Europe is about as bad and productive of physicial and mental scrubs as any in the world. Where monarchs reign they endeavor t?? hold the respect of the populace* by keep? ing far from it and trusting to imagina tion to give them the traditional king? ly qualities they lack. The Orleans princes are singled oot and banished, made martyrs aud re? moved to a dibia?C? which will allow their adherents to exalt them before the people as saints and heroes. Fur? thermore, the act of expulsion is evi? dence that the republic distrusts its own strength and fears to allow the exiles to live at borne. If anything can pos siby cause the people of France to ac? cept a monarchy again this action will. Judge Aldrich's Charge? Columbia Retord. The remarks of Judge Aldrich to the grand jury at the opening cf the Court on Monday were trne and fal! of in? struction. His criticism of the custom of South Carolina farmers keeping their smoke houses and corn cribs in the ~ West, and his refutation of the ide? that the consequences of want of econo? my and bad practices can be cared hy legislation, were replete and forcible and coincide entirely with the views so often expressed by The Record. What he said about the injustice of the abase that has sprung up against thc lawyers was also eutirely true, but we do not think that profession is likely to suf? fer from the abuse referred to. indeed, that abuse seems to proceed only front a comparatively small number of per? sons, and cot to meet with the sympa? thy of the body of the people. Those politicians who seek to gain prominence by pulling down, or trying to pul! down, an honorable and useful profes? sion, will find out their mistake to their own cost. So far as we have been able to discern thc attitude of the lawyers generally, they do not think the at? tacks upon their profession deserving of any attention or reply whatever. Andersen Intelligencer* Thc acquittal of Ferguson in Abbe? ville last week upon the fourth trial, for the murder of Benedict, is one of those conspicu -:'-s instances tn which the Courts of cocotra try are brought into contempt by the failure to mete out justice to offenders. If there ever was an unjustifiable murder, we be? lieve this was one of them, and there is no excuse for such a verdict, except that the defendant bad money and in? fluential friends to manage his trials, while the poor man he killed bad none. Such verdicts lower Inc respect and confidence which the people fee) ia our Courts. It Won't Do. Orangeburg Times and Democrat* The Columbia Register and other journals are advocating the nomination of State, Congressional and County officers by the primary plan. We be? lieve this plan can be made to.work satisfactorily in making County nomi? nations, but when it. comes to extend? ing it to State and Congressional nomi? nations, we think it will be found too cumbersome and expensive. Eve? when confined to County officers, the primary is attended with a great deal of trouble and worry, and often fails to give entire satisfaction, but these local difficulties can be overcome.. Ex? tend the system, however, to State offi? cers and any dissatisfaction engendered by thc result would be hardx to heal, from the fact that tuc territory is so extensive. If there should happen to ue many candidates 'IQ tlje field, which is not at all unlikely, it would take sev** eral elections to decide the matter, which would weary the people and make the friends of defeated candidate? lukewarm and indifferent in the real election. We had better go slow about these matters, and . let well enough alone. Let us have the primaries inf. the Counties, but the present mode of nominating State and Congressional! candidates can't be improved on by the adoption of that system in regard CO' them. It won't do. David Davis, died at Bloomingt?tf; Illinois, Saturday morning Jnne 2<5tn. He was one of the Supreme Court judges in 1S76 and was one of the com? mission to decide the Hayes-Tilden con? test. There being a vacancy for th's Senate in his State, the legislature fear? ing that he would favor Tilden, elected him to the Uoited States Senate. His. acceptance of this office took him out of thc commission and Judge Bradley was put in his place. In politics Senator" Davis claimed to be independent. While he was an honest man and had grea? ability, he was not a leader. A few years ago he married a second wife con? siderably younger than himself? She was a North Carolinian, -- '*" - A Criminal Lawyer. Major Gassaway, a prominent San1 Antonia lawyer, seemed tired and worn' out on returning to his residence. .You look tired, dear. I suppose to? have had a hard's day's work again iff Court,'said Mrs. Gassaway. 'Yes, Fm very tired. I've bad ar difficult case, but I've won it.' .You had better drink a cup of te*f and then go to bcd early and get a good night's rest. 'No rest for mo to-night. I'll have" to sit up and watch , thc stable with ar shot-gun to see that the carriage horse is not stolen/ 'Why, who is going to steal it?r 'You see, I was defending one of the* worst horse thieves in Western TexasV this afternoon, and I cleared brm. Bs is foot loose now, and I am afraid he" will come around to-night and steal mv horses. Nobody's horses will be safe until that doable-dyed scoundrel is out of town.'-Texas Siftings. In Full Dress. Country Aunt: 'It mast be terribly hard work dancing at a- f?ll dress ball * City Niece (dressed for the ball i) It is very fatiguing." Connery Aunt: '? thought so. seeing as y?>u re almost stripped to the waifcfc tot' k.' - ?. >?? - ' -r-.-ri?^isf^ ?.V.C.'; ....-* ?r~ ;-' -? ; ??&f*?!&?j?>?