Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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_,_* -. - ? -. - t i !-i II' ---^--- 1 ' - ' -^ar" ?BB SUMTER WATCHMAN, E.tabMWied Apur, 18S0. "Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Bad? thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's " TBE TKUESOUTHRON, KatabiUhci *rae, rs*?? Consolidated Aug. 2, 1881.1 SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY. MARCH 27? 1889. Published every Wednesday, BY N. Gr. OSTEEN, SUMTER, S. C. TSRMS : Two Dollar? per annum-io advance. ADV S RT I S S M S 297S . 0*e Square, first insertion.$1 00 ?very subsequent insertion.50 Contracts for three months, or longer will bo made at reduced rates. All communications which subserve private interests will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be charged for. POWDER Absolutely Pure. Th?'?powder never varies. A marvel of purity, strength and wholesomeness. More economical tban the ordinary kinds, and can? not be sold in competition with the multitude Of low test,.short weight, alura or phosphate powders. Sold only in cans. ROYAL BAK? ING POWDER. CO.. 106 Wall-st., Nf Y. T Longstanding Blood Disecases are cured by the pe^^ver?ns: use of Ayer's Sarsaparilla, j This medicine? is an Alterative, and causes a radical* change in the system. The process, in/some cases, may not be quite so rapidVas in others ; but, with, persistence, tme resnlt is certain. Bead these testimonials : - ? 44 For two yeJars I suffered from a se? vere . pain in^my right side, anti had other trouhires caused by a torpid liver and dv?pepsia. After giving several nt?djo#?nes a fair trial without a cure, I V.fgan to take Ayer's Sarsaparilla. I was greatly benefited by the first bottle, and after taking five bottles I was com? pletely cured."--John W. Benson, 70 Lawrence st., I cowell, Mass. I.ast May a large carbuncle broke out on my ann. The usual remedies had no enect and I was confined to my bed for eight weeks. A friend induced me to try Ayer's Sarsaparilla. Less than three bottles healed the sore. In all my expe? rience with medicine, I never saw more Wonderful Results. Another marked effect of the use of this medicine was the strengthening of my sight." - Mrs. Carrie Adams, Holly Springs. Texas. " I l:a<l a dry s^aly httmor for years, and suffered terribly : and,as my ??ruth cr and sister were .similarly afflicted, I presume the malady is hereditary. Last winter. Dr. Tyro?, (of Fernandina, Fla., ) recommended me to take Ayer's Sarsaparilla, and continue it for a j ear. For five montis I took it daily. I have not bad a blemish upon niv bodv for the last titree months." - T. K. Wiley, 14G Chain hers st., New York City. *' I^ast fail and winter I was troubled with a dull, heavy pain in my side. I did not notice it much at first, but it gradually grew worse until it became almost ?abearalde. During the latter part of this ;"::::<.. disorders of the stom? ach and ?ive-r ii.. r<rased my troubles. I began taking Ay ct's Sarsaparilla, and, after faithfully continuing'- the use of this medicine fer some montos, th*, pain disappeared and I was completely cured."-Mrs. Augusta A. Furbush, Haverhin. Mass. . Ayer's Sarsaparilla, MtErAKED CY Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Price $1 ; sis. bottles, Worth $5 a lettie. stimulate* the torpid liver, strength? en* the di sresi ive or ir a ns. re?u ?ate* ine bowels, and are unequaled as an ANTI-BILIOUS MEDICINE. In malarial districts tfiefir virtue*are widely ree?;; nixed, as t hey possess pee nl tar properties in freeing : ?se system from tbat poison. Elegantly sti^ar coated. Dose Minali, l'riee, 2?cts. Sold Everywhere. Office, 44 3Iurray St., New York. if any dealer nays he Ira? the VT. L. Douglas Shoe? without name and price stamped on Die bottom, put him down as a fra.ua. W= L. DOUGLAS $3 SHOE GENTLEMEN. Best in the world. F^aro ineh i* ?5.0O GENUINE HAND-SEWK?) SHOE. ?4.00 HANIKSEWED WELT Mi OK. *LSO POLICE ANO FARMEKS'SHOE. 9ZJS0 EXTRA VALUE CALF SHOE. K?5 WORKINGMAN'S SHOE. K5? and SI.75. BOYS' SCHOOL SHOES. AU made In Contress, Button and Lace. W. L. DOUGLAS S3 SHOE LADTES. Best Material. Best Style. Best Fitting. 22?ot ?old by your dealer, j?rite_ ^ W. L. DOUGLAS LOCKTON, SLA SF FOR SALE BY J. Battenberg & Sons, Agents, |aa. 16 S?J?TER, S. C. FARMERS LISTEN. THOSE WHO STILL HAVE COTTON ou hand can sell the same tor the highest market price by communicating with the un? dersigned. { will attend in reply to telegram or postal card at any point in this and adjoin in^hconnties, and purchase cotton : it being understood that ali cotton shall be delivered ^7 the seller, at searest depot, feb. 27 . C. E. STUBBS. A Coupie of Vagabonds. VAGABOND FIRST. Vagabonds, vagrants, tramps-the class has never been entirely confined to humanity,-those careless, happy-go easy, dishonest, unterrified beings to whom the world is an oyster, and often such a one as is not worth the opening, sometimes possess an interest to the ob? server, entirely disconnected with pity. They always lead reprehensible lives, and usually die disgracefully. They are amusing because of the exaggerated obliquity of their careers, and are, beasts and men alike, droll with a droll? ery that js three-quarters original sin. Among animals, at least, there are few cases of actual misfortune-, though sometimes there is that most pitiable and forlorn Creature, a dog that has lost bis master, or that bit of cruelty and crime which has its exemplification in an old horse that has been turned oat to die. Ordinarily the cases of ani? mal depravity one encounters are 60 by race and ineradicable family habit,, and are beyond the pale of charity and out? side the legitimate field of brotherly love One does not care what becomes of them, and least of ail thinks of try? ing to reform them. But they usually take care of themselves, after a fashion that excludes all thought of pity. Even among the higher animals there are, as with humanity, occasional cases of ex? traordinary depravity. I know at this moment of a beautiful horse, with a white hind foot, and the blood of a long line of aristocrats in his veins, who wears an iron muzzle and two halter chains, whose stall is the cell of a de? mon, who bas made his teeth meet in the flesh cf two or three of his keepers, and who is yet sufficiently sane to try to beat all his competitors on the track, and to often suceeed. I know a little gray family dog, terrier from the end of his nose to the tip of his tail, kind to ail whom be knows, who is yet the veriest crank of bis kind. He hates everything that wears trousers, will not come when called with the kindest in? tentions, attacks all other dogs, big and little, who intrude within his line of vision, and confines his friendships exclusively to people who wear skirts and bonnets. He wears his heavy coat all summer because he has said to the family collectively that he will not be clipped ; and, when an attempt of that kind is made, shows bis teeth, even to the Httle girl who owns him. He re? minds one of the incorrigible youth of an otherwise God-fearing family, and has been let go in his ways because he is too ugly and plucky to spend the time upon. I know a cat, now not more than half grown, with a handsome ash-col? ored coat and a little white neck-tie, who is already as much a tiger as though boro in the wilds of Africa. His play fal bites draw blood, and his unsheathed claws are a terror, even when one is stroking his back. His tail quivers and bis eyes have a tigerish expression, even when be is but catch? ing a ball of yarn He was after mice, and caught them, in his early infancy, and he was crouching and skulking after things when he should have been lapping milk. It is plainly foreseen that he will never be a family cat, and will take to the alleys and back fences before he is grown. He has in him, more than other ?cats have, the vaga? bond and depraved instinct-not amen? able to Christian influences. But the two persons of whom I shall doubtless seem to have as full recollec? tion here as their characters justify be? long to the extensive family of natural vagabonds, and first dawned upon me in the days when there was a frontier. I was in those days perfectly hardened to a bed on the ground, and was amus? ed with the companionship of pack mules. . I was dependent for mental stimulus upon the stories of the camp? fire, and for recreation upon the wild realm in which the only changes that could come were sunrise and evening, clouds, wind, storms. There was a lonely vastness so wide that it became second nature to live in it and almost to love it, and a silence so dense that it became companionship. There was then no dream of anything that was to come. The march of empire had not touched the uttermost, boundary. We wondered why we were there. And the blindest of ali the people about this wonderful empire were those who knew it best. I really expected then to watch and chase Iudiaus for the remainder of my natural life ; looked upon them and their congeners as permanent institu? tions ; m?de it a part of business to know them as weil as possible; and wondered all the while at the usclessn-css of the government policy in occupying, even with a few soldiers, so hopeless a territory. Very often there was noth? ing else to do. All the books had been committed to memory previous to being absolutely worn out. It was a world where newspapers never came. When the friendthip of certain animals be? comes obtrusive,-when they take the place to you of those outsiders whom you do not really wish to know, but who are there nevertheless,-you are likely to come to understand them very well indeed, and to find in after years that they seem to come under the head of persons rather than creatures-the casual wild creatures of whom one ordi? narily catches a glimpse or two iu the course of a lifetime. There was a bushy and exalted tail often seen moving leisurely along above the taller grasses that lined the prairie trail. One might encounter it at any hour, or might not see it for many days. I finally came to look upon this plume with something more than the interest attaching to a mere vagrant polecat, and even ceased to regard the end that bore it as the one specially to be avoided, however common the im? pression that it is so. In civilization and in the books nobody had ever ac? cused the parti-colored creature of other than a very odorous reputation ; and thc tricks of his sly lifo-such as rearing au interesting and deceptively pretty family under the farmer's corn crib, and refusing to be ejected thence ; vis? iting, with fowl intent, the ben-house ; sucking eggs ; catching young ducks ; aud forcing the pedestrian to go far around bim upon the occasion of a chance meeting, were condoned as mat? ters that could not be helped in the then condition of human ingenuity and in? vention. With us, on the plains, he bad acquired another and more terrible reputation. Nobody koows how infor marion becomes disseminated in th wilderness, but it seemed to be sprea with a rapidity usually only known in village of some three hundred inhabi tan ts, with a Dorcas Society ; and w came tc kuow, from authentic instances that his bite, and not bis perfume, wa dangerous. In 1873, the Medical Her aid, printed at the metropolis of Leav enworth, stated that a young man sleep ing in a plains camp was bitten on th nose by one of the beasts. Awaking he flung his midnight visitor off, and i immediately bit his companion, upoi whom it unfortunately alighted. Bot! of these unfortunates died of bydropho bia The same year a citizen came te th U. S. Army surgeon at Fort Harker Kansas, havi?g been bitten through th I Dose by a mephitis while asleep. H ! bad symptoms of hydrophobia, an< shortly afterwards died of that disease The next case of which printed recor< was made was that of a young man who while sleeping ?>Q the ground, was bit ten through the thumb. The write states that the "animal had to be killec [ before the thumb could be extracted.' This man also died of hydrophobia ir the town of Russell, in Western Kan sas. Other cases are recorded abou this time, with less detail. I mention these instances! substan tiated in cold print in a medical journal merely to show that what we thought we knew was not a mere frontier super? stition. With a righteous hatred die we hate the whole mephitis family The little prairie rattlesnake often crep! into the blankets at night for thc sake of warmth ; and it is a noticeable fact that he did not "raUle" and did not bite anybody while enjoying their unin? tended hospitality, and that such things were not much thought of. But thc sneaking presence of a skunk, usually considered merely a ridiculous and dis? agreeable creature, would always call out the force for his extermination, promptly, and by some means. Yet mephitis has the air of seeming rather to like, than to seek to avoid, mankind. It is one of his curious traits. You cannot certainly tell whether he really does ; but if he does not, it is strange with what frequency he is encountered, exhibiting on such occasions a singular confidence, not in any case reciprocated. It is certain that he has crossed a railroad bridge to visit the bustling metropolis of the Mis* souri Valley, and been seen compla? cently ambling the streets there at midnight. If, in crossing a "divide" or threading a reedy creek-bottom, there is seen before you one of those im? posing plumes before referred to, stand? ing erect above the long grass, without any perceptible attachment, and moving slowly along, it wiil be prudent not to permit any curiosity concerning the bearer of it to tempt you to a nearer ac? quaintance. Indeed, should he dis? cover you, in turn, it will be rather out of the usual line of his conduct if he does not at once come amiably ambling in your direction, intent upon making your personal acquaintance, or, as is more likely, of finding out if there is anything about you which he considers good to eat. There is something both amusing and fearful in this desire to make acquaintances regardless of all the forms of introduction and the usages of society ; and no other animal possesses the trait. No one, as far as known, has ever wanted to see what special line of conduct he would pursue after he came. The chances are that, he would stay as long as he had leisure, and then go without offence; yet no one can foretell his possible caprice?. He might conclude to spend the afternoon with one ; and, as he is known to be a pivotal animal, reversing himself, upon suspicion arising in his mind, with a celerity perhaps not fully appreciated until afterwards, one might find it at least irksome to remain so long idle and quite still. I knew a soldier once who had such a visit while walkin? his guard-beat. He did not dare to fire his gun in time, for fear of the serious accu? sation of wishing to kill game while on duty. He could not scare away the cat, and dared not leave his beat lie stood stock still for an hour or two, and then called the corporal of the guard in a subdued and whining voice. When that non-commissioned autocrat at last appeared, he considered twenty yards a convenient distance for communication, and declined to come any nearer. Mephitis was at the moment engaged in stroking his sides against the sentinel's trousers, while his host did not dare to either move or speak in a voice the cor? poral could hear. The latter went away and obtained permission from tho officer of the day to shoot something, and returned with four more armed men The visitor here saw an oppor? tunity to make new acquaintances, and j started to meet the latest arrivals half way. They all ran, while thc sentinel took the opportunity to walk off in a direction not included in his instructions. The animal was finally partially killed ! by a volley at. forty paces, leaving a pungent reminiscence that did not de- I part during the remainder of the sum? mer, and necessitated some new ar rangements for the liues of defenco about the post. In more recent times an entire com- j patty of hunters with a dog to every j mao, have been 'driven from the field j repeatedly by tho persistency of the in- | Docent gaze, or the foolish confidence of the approach, of this extraordinary br>re ; { fur one can't shoot him if he is looking -not because one can't, but because, if one did, a souvenir would bc left, at least among the dogs, that would linger with them until the natural time for the shedding of hair should come again, and deprive their owners of the pleasure of their company for an indefinite pe? riod. And, in addition, thc people with whom one might wish to stop for the night might make remarks accom? panied by nasal contortions not usual in ordinary conversation, and would be likely to suggest the barn, or other? where out-of-d"urs, as being good and refreshing places to spend the night in Even the hunter's owu family will prove inhospitable to the verge of cru? elty under such circumstances, and con? duct unheard of before will become per? fectly proper on the part of one's best friends. Such discomfitures have hap? pened ere now to most sportsmen in Western preserves, and for some reason j a crowning misfortune of the kind is j apt to be coosidered a joke eyer after wards. But an uncontrolable desire for hu man intimacy is only on? item of thi oddities of this little beast. As a vag abood of the wilderness he was lib other vagabonds there, and got on wei enough without any human association Carnivorous entirely, he cannot be ac cused of looking for the well-filled gran ary of later times he invades no cab bage patch, and is entirely guiltless o succulent sweet potatoes and milkj roasting ears. His presence in increas ed numbers among the fields and farmi of civilization is accounted for by th< fact that he has simply declined to mov< on. He will not retire to the wilds o the pan-handle or the neutral strip driven thither by the too copious out pour of civilization. His conduct indi oates the just conclusion that he cat endure all the vicissitudes of the school house States, if they can, in turn, en? dure him. Doubly armed, this auto erat of the prairies holds in unique dig? nity the quality of absolute fearlessness, and aside from any hydrophobic endow? ments, is now the chiefest terror of th( free aad boundless West." A figure-head seems to be ne.cessarj in the eonduct of all the ?a?ger affairs ol life. From this idea ha\a come all the griffins, and the sphinxes, and the St. Georges and Dragons, the hideous cary? atids, gnomes, gorgons, chimeras dire, the eyes of Chinese junks, and the wooden cherubs that until later yea? looked over the waste of unknown waters beneath the bows of every ship that sailed On the seals of one-half ol all the Western States and territories mephitis might figure as the chiefest animal of their natural faina, and for bim might the buffalo and the bear be properly discarded. They are gone ; be remains and impresses himself upon the community unmistakably. Bat mottoes and great seals and epitaphs are things not expected to be governed in their making by anything like actual fact. It will be conoeded that no other beast approaches this io the particulars of bis armament. So confideut of his resour? ces is he that the idea that he can be wors'ed never enters his elongated cra? nium. Though he never uses his phe? nomenal powers except upon what he considers an emergency, these supposed emergencies arise quite too frequently for the general comfort and piety of his neighborhood. It is said that the little western church never thrives greatly in a neighborhood that is for some reason peculiarly infested by him. Yet it is a remarkable fact that when he visits the farmer's hen roost, which he often does, the owner, if he came from some tim? bered country, nearly always lays the blame upon the :i:uch-uialigoed "coon meaning, of course, that pad-footed and ring tailed creature who is credited with a slyness verging upon iotellect, but who never visited a prairie in his life. He does this because there is no pene? trating and abiding savor left behind except io ca?c of accident-in any of these maraudings It is a mere piece of cunning Ile wishep to come again some other time. The victims of his appetite, comprising everything smaller than Limself iu that region, are never subjected to his caudal esseuces, and a good reason for this would be that he wishes to eat them himself. Those who know mephitis well, and also know this irait of his character, are impressed anew by thc mercifulness of some of nature's instincts and freaks. And here arises the question of a cer? tain occult power apparently possessed by this creature alone It seems to be established by undisputed testimony that he is the mist skillful packer cf meats, with the least trouble and ex pcDse, known in the annals of the art preservative. His hollow logs have beeu repeatedly split in his absence, and found full of dead fowls, killed in a neighboring farm-yard, squeezed io closely side by side for future use, and all untainted and fresh. How does he accomplish this ? There are evidently various things to learn from the field of natural history which might be turned to the uses of man. To say nothing of the value of the patent, this would be a very useful household recipe if known. The infereuce is that there may be an occult quality in his strange and char? acteristic endowment not heretofore suspected. Our western friend has an extensive family relationship. There are at least six varieties of him in various latitudes. No one brandi of the family is believed to have any fellowship with any other branch, piobably for weighty and suffi? cient family reasons ; though to the or? dinary human senses there is so little difference in the sachet that one cannot see reason for being so particular among themselves. Two of him are very common West of the Missouri one as big as a poodle and variously striped, and the other of a smaller and more concentrated variety, more active also in his habits. It is the bigger of thvse two who goes about waving his plume and seeking new acquaintances, as though lie contemplated going into the Bohemian oats business among the farmers, and who courts admiration while he spreads consternation. It is he who lies in ambush in the corn shocks, in the carly days of the yellow autumn, apparently for the express pur? pose, through flu; media of thc farmer's h-iys and the district school, of inform- 1 ing the whole neighborhood, and espe? cially the little girls, that he is still ahmt. It is he who is borne oftenest in spirit, and eseence, through the open windows of tue settler's house, causing the mistress thereof to wish, and to often say that she wishes that she ?ad nevr-r come away from Ohio, or wher? ever she used to reside, and where she declares mephitis to have been a nui? sance utteily unknown. It is he who lopes innocently along th : railroad iJlck, deciinging to retire, meeting death without a murmur, knowing, per? haps, that Iiis dire revenge will follow the fleeting train, whose wheels have murdered him, for many a mile, even across the plains and into mountain passes, and perhaps return with it and add a little something, a piquant mite, to the loud odors of the Missouri River terminus. The passengers all know he has been killed, and know it for the remainder of the journey, or else they wonder at the pungency of the at? mosphere apparently pervading a stretch uf w?iii?j as big as all New England, and which they will talk about as ooe of the western drawbacks after they have returned home. It is be who rather rejoices than otherwise at the number aud ferocity of the farmer's dogs, and who is indirectly blessed if they have the habit of going into the house and lying under the beds. Then indeed may be fulfil his mission. When they at first, and through inexperience, attack him, he routs them all without excitement or aoger on his part, causes an armed' domestic investigation of them, and their banishment without extradition, and through them impress? es himself upon the unappreciative western understanding. The little one, the other common variety is perhaps more rarely seen, but he is at least frequently suspected. Not much bigger than a kitten, a&d almost or quite black, he lacks the look of in* nocence and the appearance of docility so falsely worn by bis relative. Once : they hibernated : at least the books say i so. Now, as one of the changes wrought by the settlement of the coun j try, this small one becomes a frequent all-the-year tenant of the farmer's out? buildings. His battery is quite as ! formidable as the other's is, and may, indeed, be considered as an improve? ment in the way of rapidity and concen? tration, like the Gatling gun. The barn is not always his residence ; and without inquiring ?f it is entirely con? venient he frequently takes up his domicile in or under the dwelling. A mephitis in the cellar is one of the Kansas things. He does not, while there, produce any of the mysterious noises that indicate ghosts. The bouse is koowa not be haunted, for everybody understands quite well who is there. But the owner must not attempt eject? ment. Peace and quiet be insists apon. You must bar him out some time when be is absent OB business, wait until spring, or move to another house. It is the middle one ol these remedies that is usually adopted, if any. While be stays, there are no joint occu? pants with bim in -he place be has pre-empted. He will catch mice like a cat, and the joy of his life is the breaking of a rat's back with one nip behind the head. He has a most for? midable array of teeth, and eschews vegetables entirely. He is the foe of all the little animals who live io walls or basements, or in holes or under stones. Even thc weazel, that slim incarnation of predatory instinct, de? clines to enter into competition with him, nd goes when he comes, or comes when the other goes. One of them is suspected, from this fact, of eating the other, and mankind, with the only form of disinterestedness of which we can justly boast, does not care which of the two it is The biggest one of the mephitis fam? ily lives in Texas, and that empire is not disposed to boast itself withal on that account. Ile came there from Mexico, possibly on accouut of his being preposterously considered a table luxury in the lafer country. But it is a land of which such eccentricities may be expected. They eat the ground lizard there,-a variety of the cele? brated 'Gila monster,"-and some other creatures to our pampered notions not less repulsive ; though they seem to avoid, by peculiar management, that quadrennial banquet of crow which con? stitutes our great national dish. Mephitis is, however, purely American wherever be comes from. ?urope knows him not in quadrupedal form. Ile is one of the things got by discov? ery, though he may nut take rank, per? haps, with the gigantic grass we call "corn,'' or with tobacco, ur even with ginseng or sassafras, or the host of ac quisitions which would distinguish us as a peop!e*even if we had him not at all. And now that we have got him, we must apparently cherish him ; and with our usual thrift we have made many attempts to utilize him. Ile often ap? pears iu polite society under the name of sable, or some such thing, and no odor betrays him. Of the strange fluid, which is one of the most wonderful natural defeuces ever bestowed upon an ?limai, pharmacy has concocted a med? icine, and the perfumers an odor for the toilet. Yet it must be admitted that one of his chiefest uses, so far, is to furnish the western editor with a synonym and comparative, and a telling epithet in time of trouble. He often caps the climax of a controversial sen? tence as long as one's arm, and if you take the couuty paper you need not be long in discovering that while we scien? tific may call him mephitis, he hath another name not often heard by ears polite, or frequently mentioned in the society in which the reader moves. [CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK ] Iii By E EIDES HAGGARD. rCOXTJXUED.l CHAPTER XXXV. nOW THE GAME ENDED. Mr. Quest entered the house by a side door, and, having taken off his hat and coat, went into the drawing room. He had still half an hour to spare before starting to catch the train. ..Well," paid Bollo, looking up, "why are you so pale?" "I have had a trying day," he answered. ""vTbat have you been doing!" "Nothing in particular." "Rending tho Bible, I see." "How do you know that?" she asked, color? ing a litt!':, for she had thrown a newspaper over the book when she heard him coming in. "Yes, I have been reading the Bible. Don't you know that when everything else in lifo has failed them womeu generally take to religion r "Or drink," ho put in. "Have you seen Mr. Cossey lately?" "No. Why do you ask that! I thought that we had agreed to drop that subject." As a matter of fact, it had not boen alluded to since Edward left tho bouse. "You know that Miss do Ia Molle will not marry him after all?'' "Yes, I know. Sbo will not marry him be? cause you forced him to give np tho mort? gages." "You ought to be much obliged tome. Are you not pleased f "No. I no longer caro about anything. I am tired of passion, and sin, and failure. I j care for nothing any more." "It poems that wo have both reached the same goal, but by different roads." "You?" she answered, looking up; "at any ra'e you aro not tired of money, or j-ou would not do what you have dono to get it." "I never cared for money itself," he said, j "I only wanted money that I might be rich and therefore respected." "And you think any aseaos justifiable* so. long as- you get itP **I thought so. I do not think so now." **I dont understand yon to-night, William. Itris time for ms to go tc*dress for dinner." 4'Don't go* just yet. Em leaving in a minute." "Leaving? Where for?" "London;. I have to go up to-nffht about some business.'' "Indeed; when are you coming backP "I dou't quite know; to-morrow,, perhaps. I wonder, Belle," ho went on, his voice shak? ing a little, "if you will always think as. badly of me as you do now." "IP she said, opening ber eyes widely; "who am I that I should, judge you? How? ever bad you may be I am worse." "Perhaps there are excuses to be made for both of us," he said, "perhaps, after all, there is no such thing as free will, and we? are nothing but pawns moved by a higher power. Who knows? But I will not keep y cu any longer. Gocd-by-Bello 1" "Ves." **May I kiss you before I gor She looked at him in astonishment. Her first impulse was to refuse. He had not kissed her ?or years. But something, in tho man's face aroused her it was always s re? fined and melancholy face, but to-oight it wore a look which, to ber seemed almost un? earthly. "Yes, William, if you wish," she said; "bot I wonder that you care to." "Let the dead bury their dead," he an? swered, and stooping he put his arm round her delicate waist, and drawing ber to him kissed her tenderly, but without passion, on the forehead. "There, good night," ho said, "I wish that I had been a better husband to you. Good night," and be was gone. When he reached his room be flung himself for a fow moments face downward upon bis bed, and from the convulsive motion of his back an observer might almost have believed that be was-sobbing. When he rose, how? ever, there was no trace of tears or tender? ness upon his features. On the contrary, they were stern and set, like the features of one bent upon some terrible endeavor. Going to a drawer, he unlocked it and took from it a Colt's revolver of the small pattern. It was loaded, but ho took tho cartridges out and replaced them with fresh ones from a tin box. Then he went down stairs, put on a large ulster with a high collar and a soft felt hat, tho brim of which he turned down over his face, placed the pistol in the pocket o? the ulster and started. It was a dreadful night, the wind was blowing a very heavy gale, and between the gusts the rain came down in sheets of driving spray. Nobody was a boot the streets-the weather was far too bad, and Mr. Quest reached the station without meeting a living som*. Outside the circle of light from the lamp over the doorway be paused and looked about for the clerk Jones. Presently he saw bim walking backward and forward under the shelter of a lean to, and, going up, touched him on tho shoulder. The man jumped up and started back. "Have you got the ticket. Jones?" he asked, "Lord, sir," said Jones; "1 didn't know yoo in that get up. Yes, here's the ticket." "Is the wyman there stillr "Yes, sir; she's taken a ticket, third class, to town. She has l>een going on like a wibi thing becauso they would not give her any liquor at the refreshment ba.', till at last she's frightened them into letting her have six of brandy. Then she began and told tue girl all sort3 of 'ales at out you, sir-said she was going back to London because she was afraid that if she stopped hero you would murder her-and that you were her lawful husband, and that sho would have a warrant out against you, and 1 don't know what alL 1 sat by there, and heard her with my own ears. "Did she-did she, indeed P said Ur. Quest, with an attempt at a laugh, "Well, she's a a common thief, and worse, that's what she is, and by this time to-morrow I hope to see ber safe in jaiL Ahl here comes the train. Good night, Jones. 1 can manage for myself now." . What's his garnet" said Jones to himself, as he watched his master slip on to tho plat? form by a gate instead of going through the booking office. "Well, I've had four quid out of it, any way, and it's no affair of mine," and Jones went borne to tea. Meanwhile Slr. Quest was standing on tho wet and desolate platform quite away from the lamps, watching thc red lights of the ap? proaching train como rushing on through tho storm and night Presently tho train drew up. No passengers got out. "Now, ma'am, look Eharp if you're going," cried tho porter, and ibo woman Edith came out of the refreshment room. "There's tho third, forward there," said the porter, going to the other end to see about the packing away cf the mails. On she. came, passing quito close to Ur. Quest, so close that ho could hear her swear? ing at tho incivility of tho porter. There was a third class carri ago just opposite, and into this she got. It was ono of those car? riages that are still often to bo seen on pro? vincial lines In which, tho partitions do not go up to the roof and was, if possible, more vilely lighted than usual. Indeed the light which should have illuminated the after half of it had either never been lighted or had gone out. There was not a soul in tho whole length of the carriage. As soon as the Tiger was In Mr. Quest watched his opportunity and, slipping up to the dark carriage, opened and shut the door as quietly as possible and took his seat in the gloom. Tho engine whistled, there was a cry of "Ri;;ht, forward," and they were off. Presently ho saw the woman stand up in her compartment and peep over iuto the gloom. "Not a blessed soul!*' ho heard her mutter, "and yet I feel as though that devil Biiiy was creeping about after me. Ugh! it must; bo tho horrors. I can seo the look he gave mo now." A few minutes later tho train stopped at a station, but nobody got in, and presently it moved on again. "Any passengers for Effry?" shouted the porter, and there bad been no response. If they did not stop at Eifry thero would bo no halt for forty min? utes. Now was his time. He waited a little till they got up tho speed The line here ran through miles and miles of fen country, more or less drained by dikes and rivers, but still wild and desolate enough. Over this great flat tho storm was sweeping furiously-oven drowning in ita turmoil tho noisy of the trav? eling train. Very quietly be rose and climbed over the low partition which separated his compart Very q-uietly he rose and climbed over. merit from that in which the woman was. Sho was seated in the corner, her head hack, so that the feeble li^ht from the lump fell oi> it, and her pyes were closed. Ho slid himself along tho seat til! he was opposite her, and then ho paused and looked at the fierce, wicked face on which drink and paint and years of evil thinking and living had left their marks, looked at the talon like hands, the lougr, yellowish teeth, and tho half dyed hair hanging hi tags beneath tho gandy bonnet of peacock feathers, and looking,, shuddered. There ^as his bad genius, there I was tho creature who had driven him from. I evil to evil, and finally dest*jyed him. Had ! it not been for her he might have been a good i and respected man, a:, i not what ho was? uo>v, a fraud uer. t, ruined outcast. All his I j life seemed to llash before bis inner eye in j these few seconds of contemplation, ail bis ? long weary years of struggle, and crime, and ! deceit. And this was the end of it, and there was the cause of it. Well, she should uot es- j cape him; be would be revenged upon her at- j last. There was nothing but death before j him. she should die toa He set his teeth, drew the loaded pistol j from his pocket, cocked it, and lifted it to her breast. What was the matter with the thing? He had never known the;puil of a pistol to bo so heavy before. No, it was not that. He could not do it He could ux?t shoot a sleeping' woman, devil though she was: b9 could not kill lier in ber sleep. His nature rose against ia. He-placed the pistol on his knee, and as he did so she opened her eyes. He saw the look of wonder gather in them and grow to a stare o' agonized terror. Ker face became rigid like a dead person's, and ber lips opened, to scream, but no sound came. She could only point to the pistol. "Make a sound and you are dead," he said fiercely. "Not that it matters, though," be added, as he remembered that the scream must be loud which could be heard in that raging gale. "What are you going to do?" she gasped at last. m What are- you going to do with that pistol? And where do you come from?" "I come out of the night," be answered, raising the weapon: "out of the night into which you are going." "You are not going to kill mer she moaned, turning up her ghastly face. "1 can't die. I'm afraid to dla. It will hurt, and I've been wicked. Oh, you are not going to kill me, are you?' "Yes, I arc going to kill you," he an? swered. "1 told you months ago that 1 would sill you if you molested me. You. have ruined me now; there is nothing but death left for mo, and you shall die, too, you fiend!" "Oh, no! no ! no! anything but that. I was drunk when I did it; that man brought me there, and they had taken ajl my ?hings,and I was starving," and she glanced wildly round the empty carriage to see if help could bo found, but thero was none. She was alone wit h her fate. She slipped down upon the floor of the car? riage and clasped his knees. Writhing in her terror there upon the ground, in hoarse accents she begged and prayed for mercy. "Y? used to kiss me," she said; "you can? not kill a woman you used to kiss years ago. Ob, spare me! sparc me!" He set his bps and placed the muzzle of the pistol against her head, and at the contact she shivered and her teeth began to clatter. He could not do it. He must let her go, and leave her to her fate. After all she could hurt him no more, for before another sun had set he would be beyond her reac*h. His pistol hand fell against his side, and he looked down with loathing not unmixed with pity at the abject haman snake who was writhing at his feet She caught his eye, and her faculties, sharp :ened by the imminent peril, read relentment there. For the moment at any rate be was softened. If she could roaster bim now while be was off his guard-he was not a very strong man. But tho pistol Slowly, still groaning out supplications, she rose to her feet -Yes," bo said, "be quiet while I thiele if ? can spare you," and ho half turned his head away from her, and for a moment nothing was heard but the rush of tho galo and the roll of the wheels running over the bridges. This was her opportunity. All her natural ferocity aroso within her, intensified a hun? dred times by the instinct of self protection. With a sudden blow sho struck the pistol from his hand, and it fell upon thc door of tho carriage, and then, with a frightful yell, she sprung like a wildcat straight at bia throat So sudder>was tho attack that the loug, lean hands were gripping his wind? pipe before he knew that it bad been made. Back she boro him, though he seized her round tho waist. She was the heavier of the two, and back they went crash! against the carriage door. It gave Oh, God, the worn catch gave! Out together, out with a yell of despair into the night and the raging gale, down to? gether through sixty feet of spaco into the black river beneath! Down together, deep into the watery depths-down inso the abyss of Death! The train rushed on, the wild winds blew, and tbe night was as the night had been. But thero in tho black water, though there was never a star to see them, thero, locked together in death, as they had been locked to? gether in life, the fierce glare of bato and terror yet staring from their glazed eyes, two bodies roiled over and over as they sped silently toward the sea! CHAPTER XXSVL SISTER ACNES. Ton days had passed. The tragedy bf which the foregoing is a record had echoed through all the land. Numberless articles and paragraphs had been written ia number? less papers, and numberless theories bad been built upon them. But tho echoes were already commencing to die away. Both actors in the dim event were dead, and thero was no pending trial to keep the public in? terest alive. The two bodies, still linked in that fierce, dying grip, had been picked up upon a mud bank. An inquest had boca held, at which an oren verdict was returned, and they had been buried. Other tragedies had occurred, the papers were lilied with the reports of a note?.! and remarkably full flavored divorce case, and the affair of the country lawyer who committed bigamy and together with his lawful wife came to a tragic and myste? rious cr.d began to be forgotten. In Bcisingham nt:d its neighborhood much sympathy was shown with Belle, whom peo? ple still called Mrs. Quest, though she had i no title to that name, but she received it coldly and kept herself secluded. As soon r.s hir supposed husband's death ! was proved beyond a doubt. - Belle bad ! opened his safe, for he bad left his keys on his dressing table, and found therein bis will ?nd other papers, including the mortgage deeds, to which, as Mr. Quest's memorandum ad? vised her, she had no claim. Nor, indeed, had her right to them boen good in law, would she have retained them, seeing that they were a price wrung from her late lover under threat of au action that ce?ld not bo brought. So she made them into a parcel and sent thom to Edward Cossey, together with a formal note of explanation, greatly wonder? ing in ber heart what course ho would take with reference to thom. She was not left long in doubt. Tho receipt of the deeds was acknowledged, and throe days afterward she heard that a notice calling in the borrowed money had been served upon Mr. de la Mode on l>ehalf of Edward Cossey. So he hail evidently made up Ivis mind not to forego this new advantage which chance threw in his way. Fressure anil pressure alono could enable him to attain his end, and he was applying it unmercifully. Well, she had done with him now, it did not matter to her, but she could not help faintly wondering at the extraordinary tenacity and hardness cf purpose which his action showed. Then she turned her mind to the consideration of another mutter, in connection with which her plans wore approaching maturity. lt was some days after this, exactly a fort night froto thc date of Mr Quest'sdentU, that Kdward fossey was sitting ono afternoon brooding over tho fire i;i hi< r >o:ns. He Lind much business waiting bis attention in lan? don, but lie would not go to London. He conhl not tear himself away from Bois?ng ham. and such of the matters as could not be attended to thero were left without attention. He was still as determined as over to n*arry ida, more determined if possible, tor from construit brooding on the matter ho had -ir rived ata condition approaching monomania Ile bad l>een quick r?> see. the advantage re- { suiting to him from Mr. Quest's tragic d-'ath and the return <>f the deeds, and thtHigi) ?ie knew that Ida would bute him tho more for doing it, he instructed his lawyers Uvcall in thc monee, aud. make UK? J? eVcsy v-oasible legal means to harass aiiij pot pressure upon ; Mr. de la Molle. At the same time he .had? ' written privately to the squire, calling hi? '. attention to the fact that matters were now onoe more as they had been at the beginnings but that he was as before willing to carry oat \ the arrangements which. he had already specified, provided that Ida could be. per? suaded to consent to marry him. To this Mr. de la Molle, notwithstanding his grief and - irritation at the course his would be son-in law tad taken about the mortgages on the- " death of Mr. Quest, and the suspicion that be ' now had as to the original cause of their ' trausfer to the lawyer, had answered courte? ously enough, saying what ho had said be- ' fore, that he could not force his daughter ' into a marriage with him, but that if she . chose to agree to it be should offer no objec? tion. And there thc matter stood Once or"" twico he had met Ida walking or driving. She had bowed to him coldly, and that was 4 all. Indeed, he had only one crumb of com*- - fort in his daily bread of disappointment and that hope deferred which, where a isdy is concerned, makes the heart more than nor? mally sick, and that was, he t*.new his bated ' rival, Cob Quaritch, had been forbidden the castle, tm? that, intercourse between him and . Ida was practically at cn end But he was a dogged and persevering man, * and he knew the power of money, and the shifts to which people can be driven who ara made desperate by the want of it. He knew, *.' too, that it is no unusual thing for women who aro attached to one man to sell them? selves to another of their own free will, real? izing that love may pass, but wealth, if the *. settlements are properly drawn, does not. Therefore, he still hoped that with so many circumstances bringing an ever increasing ; pressure upon her Ida's spirit would in timo be brokcu, her resistance would collapse, and he would have his wilL Nor, as the sequel - will show, was that hope a baseless one. As for his infatuation there was literally" no limit to it. It broke out in all sorts of ways, and was for miles around a matter of ' public notoriety and gossip. Over the mantel? piece in, his sitting room was a fresh example .* of it. He had, by one means and another,., obtained several photographs of Ida, notably ono of her la a court dress, which she had worn two or three years before, when her brother James bad insisted upon her -beic&T presented. These photographs he had caused to bo enlarged, and bad then commissioned a^ well known artist to paint from them a full ? length lifo size portrait of Ida m her court 1 dress, at a cost of ?500. This order bad been * executed, and the portrait which, although,, as might be expected, the coloring was not entirely satisfactory, was still an effective . likeness, and. a fino piece of work now hun&. in a splendid frame over his mantdpiece. There, on the afternoon in question, be waa 'i sitting before the fire, his#eyes fixed upon tba portrait, cf which the outline was beginning ; to grow drju in tho waning December light, - when a servant girl came in and announced that a lady wanted to speak to him. He' asked what her name was, and tho giri said - that she did not know, because she had her veil down and was wrapped up in a big cloak. - In due course the lady was shown up. He : bad relapsed into bis reverie, for nothing, seemed to interest him much now unless it had todo with Ida-and be knew that tba' lady was not Ida, because the girl said that . she was short. As it happened, he was sitting with his right ear, in which be was stone deaf, to the door, so that between his in? firmity and his dreams he never heard Bella, -for it was she-enter the room. For a minute or more she stood looking at * him as ho sat with his eyes fixed upon the picture, and as she looked an expression of pity stolo across her sweet, pale face. "I wonder what curso there is laid upon vt ' that we should bc always doomed to seek fc#" what wo cauuot find," she said, aloud He heard her now, and looking up saw he?'' standing in tho glow and flicker of the fire light, which played upon her white face and black draped form. Ho started violently, and as bc did so she loosed the heavy cloak and hoed that she wore, and it fell behind her. But where w*as tho lovely rounded form, and" where the clustering, golden curls? Gone, and in their place a coarse robe of blue serge^ o? which hung a crucifix and the white boo&> of the nun. He sprung from his chair with an excla? mation, not knowing If he dreamed or if he5, really saw the woman who stood there like a* ghost in the firelight; .'Forgive me, Edward," she said presently, in her sweet, low voice. "I dare say that - this all lo?les theatrical enough, but I have - put on this dress for two reasons; firstly, be? cause I have to leave this town in an hourV* time, and wish todo so unknown; and sec? ondly, to show you that you need not fear " that I have come to be importunate W?v yoa light tho candles P Ho did so mechanically and then pulIedT down the blinds. Meanwhile Belle had seat-"* ed herself near tho table, her face buried ?v her hands. "What is the meaning of all this, Belief " he said. " 'Sister Agnes,' you must call mo now," she said, taking her hands from her face* ? "The meaning of it is that I have loft t?s?T world and entered a sisterhood, which works among the poor in London, and that I havo come to bid you farewell, a last farewell." He stared at her in amazement, He did not find it easy to connect the idea of this beauti? ful, passionate, human, loving creature with ' the cold sanctuary of a sisterhood. Ho did not . know that it is sutures like this, whose very-' greatness and intensity is often the cause of their destruction, when they come ia adverso contact with laws which are fitted to the av? erago of their race, that aro mest capable5" of theso strange developments. *Tho man or woman who can really love and endure-and they aro rare-can also, when their passion * has utterly broken them, tura to climb the ' stony paths that lead to love's antipodes. "Edward," she went on, "you know in ? what relation we have stood to each other, . and all that that relationship means to1* woman. You know thc* I have loved yon . with all my heart, and ail my strengte, and all my soul; that your voice has been music ' to me, and your kindness heaven." Here she " trembled and broke down. "You know, too," she continued presently, . "what has been tho cud of all this, the shameful end I am not como to Llamo" you. 1 do not blame you, for the fault was mine, and if I have any? thing to forgive I forgive it freely, and what? ever memories may still livo in my heart ?* swear I put away all bitterness, and that ray" most earaest wish is that you may be happy, as happiness is to you. The mistake was* mine, that is, it would have been mine were * wo free agents, which, perhaps, we are not. I should have- loved my husband, or rather the man whom I thought my husband, for" with all his faults ho was of a different clay " to yon, Edward" He looked up, but said not-ring. "1 know," she weut on, pointing to th* pic-*; turo over the mantelpiece, **that your mind' is still set upon her, and that I am nothing, * and less than nothing, to you. When I am : gone you will scarcely give me a thoagh??, , 1 do not know if yon will succeed in your ead, and 1 think that the methods you are'? adopting are wicked and shameful. But whether you succeed cr uot, your fate also wi?i be what my fate is-to love a person who is not only indifferent to you. but wno positively dislikes you, ami reserves all her secret heart for another mau, and I know no . greater penalty than is to be fonadin thafri daily misery." "You are very consoling,*' he said, sulkily.* "I only teil you the truth," she answered."- . "What sort of life do you suppose mincha* been when I am so utterly broken, so entirely robbed of kopo that 1 have determined to.? leave tho world and hlda myself and m*fv misery in a sisterhood?* And now. Edward,"" she weut on after a pauso, "1 have somethings to tell you, for I will not go away, if, indeed,, you allow me to go away at all after you* have heard it, until 1 have confessed"-andi she leaned forward and looked? biro full hw the face-"I shot you on purpose. Edward"* "What:" he saul, springing from his chair,, "you tried to murder ric?" ?TO BRC0?T1N7K& ] SHK IS "GRATKFUL." ?'I savtd i\w life of ui- little girl by a prom*>tfc u*8 of Dr. Acker's English Remedy for Con* .jum-ition."-Mrs. Wm. JJarriuian, Kow Yvr&* SoU by J. ?. W. LteLvrawt.